The silence stretched.
Wind rustled through the garden, stirring faint wisps of Selene's dark hair.
She sat poised, spine straight, a porcelain cup resting between her fingers, steam curling from it like a serpent.
Her eyes stayed ahead, watching the flowers sway with the wind.
Alaric stood beside her, hands folded behind his back.
"What do you think of him, and what would you do with him… if you had the power?" she asked.
Alaric took a breath, deep and slow, before speaking.
"He's a man who mistakes indulgence for influence. Lust for leverage."
His voice didn't rise.
"He's dangerous… but not in the way most think. He doesn't act because he can. He acts because no one ever made him stop."
A pause. Then his eyes flicked to the front too.
"Men like him are… useful. If kept on a leash. They draw attention. Stir chaos. Expose cracks in others."
His jaw clenched slightly.
"But they always believe they're untouchable. And eventually... they forget whose table they're feeding from."
He stopped.
Silence again. The breeze shifted.
Then he added, voice lower:
"So, if I had power over men like Renard... I'd feed them. Let them grow fat. Comfortable. Let them bask in their little delusions."
"They won't fight back when you use them. Won't even realize they're being used."
Another breath. This time, he turned, just slightly to look at her.
"Or... I'd remove them. Quietly. Before they become troublesome."
Clink!
The porcelain clicked as she set the cup down on its saucer.
Selene stared at the flowers, unmoving.
Then, she blinked.
Her gaze shifted, slow and deliberate, meeting his.
"...Quite insightful, you are, Alaric."
Her lips curled with a flicker of amusement.
"You speak carefully... for a man who just claims to be a servant."
She turned back toward the garden.
Her fingers tapped once against the rim of the cup, then stilled.
"I wonder… do you always measure your words this way?"
"Or only when talking about men like him?"
She stirred the tea in slow circles, the spoon clinking soft like a clock ticking.
Her voice dropped, almost casual:
"Though I do wonder… how a slave knows all of that."
Then she turned slightly, just enough for the light to catch her eyes.
"So tell me, Alaric… how are you like that?"
The question hung there. As if indirectly asking, 'Who are you?'
But asked in a way, to give him more room, to craft his answer.
Alaric met her gaze for a second.
Then he nodded, slow and unbothered, before turning his eyes back to the garden ahead.
The wind moved through the flowers, a soft ripple of red and violet swaying.
"Just part of the job, milady. They trained us for different tasks. Taught us how to serve the nobility."
Selene gave a small nod.
"That explains why you cost more than the others."
She leaned back a little, her fingers tracing the edge of her cup.
"Didn't know you were multi-talented."
Then her voice shifted. Slightly lighter but deliberate.
"Tell me, Alaric… if I wanted to tame a man like him, offering treasures or land wouldn't work, would it?"
She didn't wait for him to answer yet.
"He already has more than I could give. So what's left is offering him something..."
A pause.
"Or someone... he desires."
The air held still for a beat.
Her eyes shifted just enough to catch him.
His jaw tightened. Only for a second. Small, barely a twitch, but she saw it.
He masked it well. Straightened the fold of his sleeve. Kept his tone flat.
"It's your decision, milady."
Selene turned her gaze back to the garden, and a small curl tugged at the corner of her lips.
So... he isn't completely cold after all. Just trying to be.
She took one more sip, slow and quiet. Then without looking at him, spoke.
"You can go back now."
Alaric gave a nod and stepped away.
Tap! Tap!
His boots echoed down the hallway, steady against the marble floor.
He walked back toward his assigned wing.
Just what was she thinking?
The question looped in his mind.
Why suddenly question me about him?
He narrowed his eyes.
Then, he commanded internally.
Status!
The translucent panel popped infront of him.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Brandon
(Past Life: Alaric Noir)
Race: Human
Age: 19
Title: Slave, Model Servant, (The Fallen King)
Essence Path: None
Rank: Unawakened
EXP: 75/100
Stats:
STR: 15
AGI: 14
END: 14
WIL: 21
CHA: 25
INT: 13 (??)
Domination Points: 100
Main Quest: Subjugate Selene Gilmore (49% Progressed)
System Level: 2 (Requires 3000 Domination Points to Upgrade)
Skill Tree: ___
Shop: Basic Tier Items
Obedience Meter: Target Not Found!
Loyalty Meter: Target not found!
Harem Tracker: 0
DP Exchange: Available
??? (Locked – Requires System Level 3)
He glanced at it once, then dismissed it.
Hah… doesn't matter.
I got what I wanted.
Now I just have to move faster… before she does whatever she's planning.
He didn't stop walking.
Tap! Tap!
The hall behind him swallowed the sound of his steps.
Meanwhile, in one of the guest chambers—
Smack!
The sharp crack of skin meeting skin echoed off the stone walls.
A small whimper slipped from the blue-haired girl's lips, her cheek red and eyes glassy.
"You fucking bitch."
Renard snarled, fingers tangled in her hair.
"Argh!"
She gasped as he yanked her back, forcing her off-balance.
His hand hovered, and just as he was about to grab her face, her jaw clenched and—
Crackle!
A faint spark of static flickered across her skin.
Then—
Drip! Drip!
Blood began leaking from her ears.
Renard pulled his hand back, scowled, then stepped away.
Without a word, he grabbed the chains and began dragging her like a sack of weight across the floor. The metal clinked and scraped as he tethered them to an iron hook near the chamber wall.
She didn't resist. Didn't scream.
Just stood there, limbs limp, breathing shallow.
He stood over her.
"Still like that?" he asked, tone low. "Even though you haven't eaten. Haven't drunk a drop in days. Just say the word and—"
"...Fuck off."
Her voice was cracked.
Dry.
Barely more than a whisper.
Cough! Cough!
She coughed after, once, then again.
Blood tinted her lips.
Renard's eyes darkened. He raised his fist—
But didn't hit her.
Instead, he turned and slammed it into the wall beside her.
Thud!
Dust spilled from the crack.
"I'll fucking break you. Bit by bit. Until there's nothing left to look at."
Then he turned and walked out.
Slam!
The door slammed shut.
Silence settled.
The girl stayed still for a moment. Chest heaving, face streaked with grime and red.
Then, slowly, she lifted her head.
Her gaze rested on the closed door.
"You'll die a painful death, huma—Argh!"
Her whole body jerked.
Pain lanced through her skull.
More blood spilled down her chin.
Then—
Thud!
She dropped to her knees. Arms hanging. Chains rattling faintly against the stone.