Visionless

"You understand the plan now?" Adam asked, his voice trembling slightly as he kept his gaze on Ren. The first rays of the sun were spilling over the horizon, casting long shadows across the rooftops. "We might only get one chance at this, so don't do anything reckless, okay?"

Ren glanced at Adam, his tone steady and serious. "Kid, I get it. Don't worry. I'm not the reckless type... not usually."

Adam forced a shaky breath, glancing toward the rising sun. "Ren, you've got maybe fifteen minutes tops. Get in, get out, grab Naya... God, I hope this works, because I am not ready to pack up and run off to who-knows-where right now."

Ren placed a reassuring hand on Adam's shoulder. "It'll be fine. Like you said, we only get one shot at this—so we'll make it count. Trust me."

Adam nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay, yeah... that's great. I'll head over to the market and wait for the priest to show up. I'll stall him as much as I can, buy you the time you need." He paused to catch his breath even though he hadn't moved. "You go in through the balcony, sneak into Naya's room, and get her out. Avoid the maids as much as possible—they're the most likely to catch you. And... and if something does go wrong, you'll still have a few minutes to make a run for it. Just... find somewhere safe, alright? Wherever that might be..." He trailed off, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his nerves.

Ren gave him a firm nod. "We'll start in ten minutes. Kid... don't worry. Whatever happens, I'll take care of it."

_______________________________

"Okay... okay, okay, he's coming! I see him!" Adam thought frantically as he crouched between two carts in the market square. His heart hammered in his chest as he spotted Norman approaching, the priest moving with an air of self-importance.

"One... two... three!"

On the count of three, Adam bolted from his hiding spot and barreled straight into Norman, colliding with enough force to knock them both off balance.

"Ah... what in the name of—!" Norman sputtered as he stumbled back, clutching his robes to keep from falling. His eyes widened as he spotted the small figure sprawled on the ground in front of him. "Child! Are you alright?"

Adam groaned theatrically, slowly raising his head to reveal watery eyes. The scrape on his knee helped sell the act as he sniffled, his face scrunching up. "Waaahhh!" he wailed, bursting into fake sobs.

Norman looked horrified, scrambling toward Adam with his hands outstretched in concern. "There, there, no need to cry! Are you hurt badly? Can you stand?!"

____________________________________

"Naya, I'm coming. Just hold on," Ren muttered under his breath as he dropped from the rooftop and crept toward the mansion, his movements careful and precise. His ears twitched as he scanned the quiet surroundings, his claws flexing instinctively.

The balcony he needed to reach loomed high above, its ornate railings just visible in the dim light. Ren exhaled sharply, bracing himself. "Alright... no room for mistakes."

Digging his claws into the stone, he began his climb. The rough surface scraped against his hands, and the effort burned in his arms, but he pushed on, refusing to let fatigue slow him down. After a tense few seconds, he reached the balcony and hoisted himself over the railing, landing silently on the wooden floor.

"Okay," Ren whispered, his ears swiveling to pick up any signs of movement inside. "Naya's room was this way..."

Keeping low, he crept toward the glass doors, his eyes scanning the dim interior. Every step was calculated, every movement deliberate. He couldn't afford a single mistake—not when Naya was depending on him.

Ren moved silently through the corridor, his steps light as a feather. Left, right, and right again. Naya's room should be the third door on the right. He counted the doors as he moved, his claws brushing against the stone walls for balance. The hallway was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every creak or footstep sound deafening.

Reaching the door, Ren gripped the knob carefully, his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, he twisted it, the mechanism clicking faintly as the door began to open. A low creak cut through the stillness, making him wince. He paused, holding his breath, before nudging the door open just enough to slip inside.

The room was lavishly furnished, far grander than he expected. Paintings adorned the walls, and bookshelves lined one side of the room, their volumes meticulously arranged. The scent of stale food hung faintly in the air. Ren's sharp eyes landed on the table near the corner, where a dozen plates sat, each untouched, their contents long since spoiled.

Ren's stomach churned as he whispered under his breath, "What have they done to you, Naya?"

He closed the door behind him, gently but firmly, then wedged a nearby chair under the knob to secure it. The last thing he needed was someone barging in. Turning back, he finally saw her—Naya.

She was lying on the bed, her frail form almost swallowed by the oversized blankets. At first, he thought she was sleeping, but her shallow breathing and the way her fingers clutched the sheets told him otherwise. Ren moved closer, his heart breaking with every step as he took in her appearance. Her once radiant skin was pale, almost gray, her cheeks sunken, and dark circles marred the space beneath her eyes. She was a shadow of the vibrant sister he remembered.

"Naya…" Ren whispered as he knelt by the edge of the bed. He mustered all his courage, his voice soft but firm. "Naya, it's me. I'm here, just like I promised."

Her body jerked slightly at the sound of his voice, and her eyes shot open. For a moment, they were filled with confusion and terror, but as she focused on him, the horror melted into shock, and then surprise.

"R... Ren?" Her voice was hoarse, trembling as though she could hardly believe what she was seeing. "Ren, is that you? What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here!"

Naya sat up weakly, her breath uneven as she stared at him. Her voice cracked as she spoke, and tears welled up in her tired eyes. She looked at him like a ghost had just appeared.

Ren took a deep breath, his voice carrying the weight of years of guilt and determination. "Naya, I'm here to save you. Please, come with me. I know… I know I messed up. I should have been here for you back then, but I'm here now. Please, take my hand. Let's get out of here." His voice trembled, small tiger-like whines slipping out between his words, a sound he couldn't suppress.

Naya froze, her thin fingers clutching the sheets tighter as she shook her head. "Ren… you know I can't go. It's… it's just how it is. Once a member of the Church marries, they must stay together. Ren… I'm married. Please, just leave. I—"

Before she could finish, Ren's voice broke through, fierce and unyielding. "Naya, I don't give a shit about that!" His eyes glistened with tears he refused to shed. "All I care about is that you're miserable here. Look at yourself! You're skin and bones, Naya. Those dark circles under your eyes—this place is killing you!" He moved closer, his voice softening but no less passionate. "Please, Naya. I know you don't love that man. And believe me when I say that the Church is not what it seems. If you truly think that staying here is your duty, that you must be that bastard's wife until death… then fine. Be married. Be his wife. But I'll be damned if I let him lay a hand on my sister!"

Ren's claws flexed, his voice steady but fierce. "I refuse to let him treat you like this. Take my hand, Naya. Let's leave. You can be happy again. You can marry someone who actually loves you."

Naya's hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the blanket, her tears now streaming freely down her gaunt cheeks. Her voice shook as she whispered, "Ren, I… I can't. It's the goddess's will. When they told me to marry that man—Norman—the pope said it was destiny. That this arrangement was chosen by the goddess herself."

Ren's ears flattened as he growled softly, the sound more frustrated than angry. "Naya… he lied to you. You know that." He hesitated, his claws scratching lightly at the floor before he spoke again, his voice breaking. "Did… did you marry him to help the others? The beastfolk, I mean? Did you do it to protect them? Is that it?"

Naya didn't answer, but the way her shoulders shook told Ren everything he needed to know.

Ren's voice softened, the anger replaced with an aching tenderness. "Naya, my dear, stupid, kind sister. You did it. You saved them. The beastfolk are safe now because of you. You've done enough. You don't have to do this anymore. Just take my hand, and I'll take you to them—to our friends. You'll be in Has, with everyone again. With Anri, Dion, Mika. Naya, they're waiting for you… I'm waiting for you."

He reached out, his hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. "When I arrived at that orphanage all those years ago, you were the one who took care of me. You were the one who taught me to read, to be strong. And now I am strong. Let me show you, Naya. Let me show you how much I've grown. Please… take my hand."

Ren's voice cracked as he finished, his tiger-like whines more frequent now. His hand hovered between them, unwavering despite his trembling heart. He prayed she would take it, prayed she would choose freedom over this gilded prison.

The sharp sound of knuckles rapping on wood broke the tense silence.

"Knock, knock, knock. Mistress Naya, it's time for breakfast. May I enter?" A woman's voice, polite but firm, called from the other side of the door.

Ren's ears flattened, and his eyes widened in alarm. "A maid!" he thought, his claws flexing instinctively.

Naya, ever composed despite her visible distress, quickly called out, "No, thank you. Just leave it by the door. I'll… I'll eat it in a moment. I'm rather busy right now. Thank you for bringing me breakfast." Her voice was steady, though the faint quiver betrayed her nervousness.

There was a pause, then the maid replied hesitantly, "Very well, Mistress. I do hope you eat. If this goes on… well, you'll just die. Oh! Forgive me, I've overstepped. I'll be on my way."

They heard a soft clink as something was placed on the floor, followed by the fading sound of footsteps retreating down the hall.

Ren let out a quiet sigh of relief, but his expression hardened. He turned to Naya, his voice low and apologetic. "Naya… I'm sorry for what I'm about to do. I hope one day you'll forgive me. But even if you don't…" He stepped closer, resolve burning in his eyes. "…It's fine."

Before she could react, Ren moved swiftly. He clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her startled cry, and tore a strip of fabric from the hem of the curtain with his claws. Despite her weak protests, he tied it gently but securely around her mouth.

Naya squirmed, trying to free herself, but her malnourished state left her too frail to resist effectively. Ren hoisted her into his arms with surprising ease and carried her toward the window. Her muffled sounds of protest grew more frantic as he pushed the panes open, but Ren didn't hesitate.

With a practiced motion, he leapt from the window, his claws gripping the stone ledge to slow their descent. Naya's struggles lessened, fear likely overtaking her, as Ren landed softly on the grass below, his movements nearly soundless.

Inside a grand, candlelit chamber, Queen Leah stood, her sharp, regal gaze fixed on the odd pair before her. Adam, looking disheveled but defiant, shifted nervously while Ren stood silently, holding the still-bound Naya like a protective sentinel.

Leah raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her voice cool and commanding. "…And this is?"

Adam cleared his throat, offering a sheepish grin. "Naya. Her name is Naya. Miss Leah, I know this is asking for a lot, but please—she needs your help."

The queen's lips pressed into a thin line as her piercing eyes scanned the trio. Finally, she sighed, her tone laced with exasperation. "Adam… somehow, every time you come to me, you bring a fresh headache. Fine. Let her stay—I'll hide her from the Church. But," she added sharply, "I want answers. If you wish for my help, tell me everything that happened."

Naya, tied to a chair and looking utterly lost, glanced between the queen and Adam, her confusion evident despite the exhaustion etched into her features.

Several minutes later, after Adam's rushed explanation, Leah sat back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. "…That's what happened. Honestly, I'm just as surprised as you are that it worked," Adam finished with a nervous laugh.

Leah barely suppressed a groan, her royal demeanor strained as her thoughts spiraled into their usual, meticulous chaos.

(Little prince… your moves are beyond my understanding. But this one? I can't even begin to unravel it.) Her sharp, calculating eyes flicked to Adam. (You chose to kidnap the wife of a high-ranking member of the Church? No, not just a member—a higher-up. Why?)

Her lips twitched, and a sly smile began to form. (Heh. There's no way, right? Absolutely no way this little prince could know something I don't. Unless… Unless that member of the clergy is involved in the shipment of those magical weapons my guards confiscated. The weapons I'm certain were meant for the rebellion.)

Her gaze narrowed as she considered Adam, who now looked more like a scruffy puppy than a brilliant schemer. (Are you… are you trying to get closer to me? Is this your way of saying, 'Look, Master, I'm useful! Help me, and I'll always be by your side!')

Leah's internal monologue hit a fever pitch, her lips curling into a smile that only she understood. (Ah, Adam, my little prince… if that's what you want, I'll make you king of whatever scrap of land you came from when this is all over. Our alliance is, by far, the most entertaining thing that's happened in ages.)

She tilted her head slightly, her sharp smile softening, though her mind remained a whirlwind. (Yes, you've chosen me as your master. I wonder why? Is it trust? Loyalty? Or perhaps you're hoping I'll mold you into a better version of yourself, like clay in the hands of an artist?)

Leah's imagination took a strange turn as she began to picture Adam with floppy dog ears and a wagging tail, trailing after her with wide, adoring eyes. A quiet laugh escaped her lips, elegant yet unmistakably amused.

Adam froze. "Uh… Miss Leah? Did I say something funny?"

Leah waved a hand dismissively, her voice as regal as ever. "No, no. Simply marveling at the absurdity of it all."

But inwardly, she continued to scheme, her thoughts both meticulous and slightly unhinged. (Little prince, you're mine now. Whether you realize it or not, this little game of yours has only cemented our partnership. And when this is over… I'll make sure you're rewarded. And perhaps… trained.)

Her smile widened ever so slightly, her laughter ringing in the grand chamber once more. Adam couldn't decide if it was comforting or terrifying.

As Adam stood before Queen Leah, he couldn't help but notice the way her gaze had shifted. She wasn't just looking at him—she was studying him, like a cat sizing up a particularly hapless mouse.

(Did… did I do something wrong?) Adam thought, beads of sweat forming on his brow. (But she's smiling, so maybe I did something good? Or—wait, why do I feel like I'm in danger?!) He glanced nervously at Ren and Naya, but they were too busy exchanging bewildered looks to offer any help.

Queen Leah's smile widened ever so slightly, her fingers tapping the armrest of her chair with deliberate precision. The air in the room grew heavy. Adam shifted uncomfortably, swallowing the lump in his throat. (I can't stand this! Stop looking at me like that! I need to say something—anything—before she eats me alive!)

"Uh, uh, my Queen?" Adam stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

At the sound of his voice, Leah's expression brightened, and her eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of amusement and predatory focus. It sent a cold shiver down Adam's spine.

(Why does she look so happy when I said that? Oh no, oh gods, what have I done?!)

Queen Leah tilted her head ever so slightly, resting her chin on her hand, her smile never wavering. Adam could feel his survival instincts screaming at him to run, but his feet refused to cooperate. Desperately, he blurted out the first question that came to mind.

"May I ask a question… uh, Your Majesty? Why do they call you a queen if… uh… we're in an empire? Shouldn't you be… um… an empress?"

The words tumbled out of his mouth in a chaotic rush, and for a moment, the room fell silent. Leah blinked once, then slowly leaned back in her chair, her smile curling into something both indulgent and vaguely menacing.

"Well, Adam…" she began, her voice dripping with honeyed condescension. "You continue to surprise me."

Adam gulped. (Why does it feel like she's about to call me 'adorable' and then kick me into a pit?)

Leah tilted her head again, this time resting it against her hand with a graceful ease that only heightened Adam's growing sense of doom.

"The reason I call myself a queen instead of an empress," she explained slowly, as though speaking to a child, "is because an empress holds total control over her empire. While I do not—yet." Her voice sharpened slightly on the last word, sending another wave of dread coursing through Adam.

Leah's smile widened into something unnervingly genuine, her eyes sparkling with barely concealed ambition. "But once I'm done dealing with the Church… well, I will be an empress. And when that day comes, perhaps I'll bestow a title upon you. Would you like that?"

Adam froze. For a brief, blissful moment, his brain short-circuited. But then her words sank in, and all he could hear was the sound of metaphorical chains snapping shut around him. (Why does this feel like a death sentence? There's no way out, is there?!)

Desperately, Adam tried to refuse as politely as possible. "Ah, no thanks, I—"

But before he could finish, Leah's eyes narrowed dangerously, and her smile thinned, taking on a distinctly predatory edge.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice soft, yet carrying an unmistakable weight of menace.

Adam's instincts screamed at him to retreat, but there was nowhere to go. "I—I mean, I would… love one! Haha, yes, a title! That sounds… amazing," he stammered, his nervous laughter betraying his mounting panic.

Leah's smile returned to its previous brilliance, but Adam's relief was short-lived as a chill ran down his spine. (I screwed up, didn't I?)

Ren, who had been standing silently this whole time, whispered to Naya, "Why does this feel like a conversation between a wolf and its prey?"

Naya gave a faint nod, her wide eyes darting between Adam and the queen. "I don't know, but… should we do something?"

Leah ignored them entirely, her gaze fixed on Adam like a hawk eyeing a particularly entertaining sparrow. (Oh, my little prince… Are you perhaps trying to defy me? How precious. But that simply won't do. No, I'll just have to… correct that behavior of yours.)

The queen chuckled softly to herself, a sound both elegant and utterly terrifying. Adam's skin prickled, and his mind raced. (Why does her laugh sound like she's planning my funeral? And why do I feel like she's already picked out the flowers?)

Unaware of Adam's spiraling thoughts, Leah allowed herself a moment of indulgence. (Ah, Adam… such loyalty, even if it's begrudging. You really are like a little puppy. Perhaps I should get you a collar to match that metaphorical leash of mine. Wouldn't that be adorable? A collar engraved with the words 'Property of Queen Leah.' Yes… yes, I think that would suit you perfectly.)

She fought back a laugh at the mental image of Adam with floppy dog ears and a wagging tail, looking up at her with a mix of fear and reluctant devotion.

Adam, noticing her smile growing even wider, felt his knees weaken. (What is she thinking about?! No—don't tell me! I don't want to know!)

Leah straightened her posture, her regal aura radiating power and authority. "You'll make an excellent asset, Adam," she said sweetly. "Just remember, loyalty is rewarded… and disobedience is corrected."

Adam nodded frantically. "Y-yes, Your Majesty! Of course! Always loyal!"

Leah chuckled again, this time allowing the faintest hint of her amusement to escape. Ren and Naya exchanged another glance, both silently agreeing to stay out of whatever bizarre dynamic was unfolding.

As for Adam, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd somehow become both indispensable and utterly doomed. (I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?) he thought, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

The queen's laughter echoed softly through the room, elegant and chilling all at once.

The Queen was undeniably happy—in fact, this was arguably one of the happiest moments of her life. While this might seem tragic to an outside observer, Leah didn't care. Her smile was genuine, but the reasons behind it were anything but innocent. What Adam didn't realize, and what even Leah herself wouldn't openly admit, was that her happiness was rooted in a deeply flawed perspective shaped by her life as a royal. Years of dealing with nobles—masters of deceit, manipulation, and double-speak—had twisted her outlook on the world. In Leah's mind, every action was a move in a greater game, every word a layered strategy.

And Adam? Poor, naive Adam? She had already decided he was playing a game too, even if he didn't realize it.

Leah believed with absolute certainty that Adam was a prince from some distant, insignificant kingdom. The fact that he had no crown, entourage, or political backing to speak of only strengthened her conviction. (A cunning prince wouldn't advertise his status, of course. No, he's far too clever for that. But I've seen through him. He thinks he can outmaneuver me? How delightful.)

Her usual demeanor—the weary monarch burdened by duty, or the fiery ruler commanding respect—shifted subtly yet unmistakably. There was now a predatory gleam in her eyes, and the curve of her smile took on a sharper edge. This was Leah in her true form: not a tired queen or an overburdened leader, but a calculating predator.

In the world of nobles, one didn't simply win respect; one commanded it. Superiority had to be demonstrated in every word, every action, every glance. Leah had mastered this game long ago, but over the years, a hidden side of her personality had developed—a side she rarely let slip into the light.

This side was sadistic, controlling, and, worst of all, insatiably greedy. Leah didn't just want power or loyalty—she craved them. And right now, her mind had latched onto Adam with an almost feral intensity.

(My little prince...) she thought, her fingers steepled as she regarded him. (You came to me like an abandoned pup, wagging your tail and begging for scraps of favor. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I wouldn't take you in?) Heh. No, my dear. You've offered yourself to me, and I'll make you mine. Loyal. Obedient. Perfect.

Leah adored dogs. It was one of her few indulgences in an otherwise ruthless life. Training them wasn't just a hobby—it was a passion, an art form. The process of turning a wild, untamed creature into a disciplined, devoted companion was intoxicating to her. And Adam, in her eyes, was the ultimate stray.

Her gaze lingered on him, drinking in every nervous twitch, every hesitant movement. The way he stammered when he spoke to her, the way his eyes darted around the room like a cornered animal—it was exquisite. He was already halfway there, bending to her will without even realizing it.

(Oh, you'll be my most loyal dog, Adam. I'll train you, shape you, polish you until there isn't a trace of defiance left. And when I'm done, you'll stand at my side—not as an equal, but as mine.)

Leah's smile widened, and for a brief moment, her mask slipped entirely. It wasn't the benevolent smile of a queen or the sly smirk of a strategist—it was something more feral, almost dangerous.

Adam noticed, and his discomfort grew tenfold. (Why is she looking at me like that? Why does it feel like I've just signed a contract without reading it?) His instincts screamed at him to run, but he was rooted to the spot, caught in her gaze.

Leah's voice, silky and deliberate, broke the silence. "Adam," she purred, her tone low but commanding, "do you know what separates a great ruler from a mediocre one?"

Adam blinked, unsure if he was supposed to answer. "Uh… no, Your Majesty?"

Her smile didn't waver. "A great ruler knows how to inspire loyalty. Not just respect or fear—true, unwavering loyalty. It's an art, really." Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest of her throne, her eyes never leaving his. "And you… you strike me as someone who could be exceptionally loyal. With the right… guidance."

Adam swallowed hard. "I—I try my best, Your Majesty."

Her smile sharpened. "Oh, I'm sure you do." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze locking onto his like a predator about to pounce. "But loyalty isn't just about effort, Adam. It's about surrender. Trust. Dedication. Are you ready to prove your loyalty to me?"

Adam's mouth opened, but no words came out. He was drowning in the intensity of her gaze.

Leah chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down his spine. "I'll take that as a yes."

(I'm doomed, aren't I?) Adam thought, his shoulders slumping as Leah's laughter echoed in the room.

Ren, standing awkwardly to the side, leaned toward Naya and whispered, "Is it just me, or is this getting really weird?"

Naya nodded, her wide eyes darting between the queen and Adam. "I think she's… adopting him?"

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Like a puppy?"

Naya shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a choice."

Leah ignored them entirely, her mind spinning with thoughts of how to mold her "little prince" into the perfect servant. She imagined him kneeling at her side, devoted and unshakable. It was a delicious image, and she was determined to make it a reality.

Her voice softened, though her words carried a weight that left no room for argument. "You'll serve me well, Adam. I have no doubt."

Adam nodded weakly, his spirit already halfway broken. (This is my life now, isn't it?) he thought as the queen's laughter—regal, commanding, and just a touch unhinged—filled the room.

Adam stood there, his mind slowly beginning to grasp the weight of his mistake. He had misjudged this situation entirely, but he couldn't afford to falter now. Not here. Not in front of her. If this had been under any other circumstances, Adam might have taken the deal in stride.

(Free food and housing? Where do I sign?) he might have thought. But this wasn't about survival—not anymore. Survival was just the means to an end. Adam had a goal, one that burned brighter than fear or self-preservation. He didn't want to live in comfort. He didn't even want to reclaim his old life—he knew that was gone. If his body back on Earth hadn't already decayed, it was likely long forgotten. What he wanted was closure.

Adam wanted to return home. Not to live, but to rest. He wanted to bury himself next to his family, to ensure that the part of himself that still remembered them could finally let go. For that, he needed strength. For that, he needed magic. For that, he needed to hold on to his memories—and, most importantly, he couldn't afford to be shackled here and now.

But Adam was weak. He had always been weak, both in this world and the last. Weak in body. Weak in will. Weak in resolve. Adam knew his limitations better than anyone, and the Queen standing before him was the harsh reminder of everything he wasn't. She was powerful. She was confident. She was in control.

She was everything he could never be.

The truth pressed on him like a weight, and Adam realized he wasn't strong enough to escape her grasp. Not now. Not yet. His only option was to bend before her, to yield, to play the part of the loyal subject until the day he could finally break free.

(I'm sorry, Leah. I'll use you to get back home. But I'll make it up to you. That's the one thing I'm good at—paying my debts. I'll serve you, I'll obey you, and I'll stay at your side. But when I've buried myself beside my family... that's when I'll finally rest.)

His eyes narrowed with determination, even as his knees bent and his pride shattered. He knew what he had to do. Slowly, deliberately, Adam lowered himself to the floor. His head touched the ground, his voice unwavering as he spoke words he knew he couldn't take back.

"Master Leah," he said, the title stinging his tongue. "Please help me achieve my goal. In return... I'll stay by your side. No matter what."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, a soft chuckle filled the room.

Leah rose from her throne, her heels clicking against the floor as she approached him. Her movements were deliberate, each step measured, each second stretched just enough to keep him trembling. She stood over him, her shadow swallowing his form as she regarded him like a queen appraising a particularly amusing court jester.

And then she smiled.

It wasn't a kind smile. It wasn't even a victorious one. It was sharp, predatory—a smile that promised control and demanded submission.

"Good boy," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her hand reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his hair in a gesture that felt far more like claiming ownership than offering comfort. "You've made the right choice, Adam. You've proven to me that you're more than just clever—you're obedient. And that's the quality I value most."

Adam's jaw clenched, but he kept his head down. (This is fine. This is necessary. I'll endure it.)

Leah tilted her head, her smile widening as she stepped closer. "From now on, you'll be under my care. My guidance. My rule. And I will shape you, Adam. Oh, yes. I'll shape you into something... exceptional."

Her voice was soft, almost tender, but there was a terrifying weight behind it. This wasn't a simple agreement to her. It was a declaration of dominion, an unspoken promise that whatever Adam thought he was giving, she would take tenfold.

Leah's hand rested on his shoulder, her grip firm. "You'll be my loyal servant, Adam. My dog. And in return, I'll help you achieve your goal." Her eyes glinted with something dark, something dangerous. "But don't forget... dogs are loyal to their masters. And I am your master now."

Adam forced himself to nod, his head still bowed low. (She's stronger than me. Smarter than me. I can't win this. Not yet. But one day... one day I'll find my way out of this.)

Leah, unaware of—or perhaps unconcerned by—his inner turmoil, stepped back, her laughter echoing through the room. It was regal and commanding, but there was a hint of something unhinged in it. She had won, and she knew it.

"Rise, Adam," she commanded, her voice leaving no room for disobedience. "Your training begins now."

Adam obeyed, standing slowly, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of submission and defiance. Leah's smile widened at the sight. (Yes, my little stray... I'll break you. But I'll enjoy every second of the process.)

The game had begun, and both players knew their roles. But in the end, only one of them could truly win.

________________

Late that night, Queen Leah reclined in her lavish chambers, her mind a swirling concoction of triumph and obsession. Draped in the finest silk, her regal form betrayed no hint of her darker machinations. Her fingers toyed with a ring adorned with a scarlet gem that gleamed ominously in the moonlight. Her lips curved into a wicked smile, a smile devoid of mercy.

(My little prince... how utterly adorable you are. To think you managed to hold out for so long...) Leah thought, her expression twisting into something unnervingly sinister. The faint glow of the gem cast shadows across her face, deepening the malice in her eyes. (But resistance only makes the inevitable all the sweeter, doesn't it?)

The ring she held was no mere ornament. It was the Master's Ring, an artifact steeped in blood and deceit, crafted by the ancient royals to subjugate any who dared stand against them. Its power was absolute—to diminish the will of any wearer's subject until they became nothing more than an extension of their master's command. Most minds broke within hours, their identities dissolving into blind obedience. But Adam… Adam had proven to be far more resilient than she had anticipated.

Leah chuckled softly, her amusement laced with genuine admiration. (To resist a slave bond for this long... you really are remarkable, Adam. But that ends tonight. I've finally won.)

Her thoughts wandered briefly to the path that had led her here. Leah hadn't always been Queen. No, her rise had been paved in shadows and soaked in blood. The true heir to the Empire had died by her hand when she was just a girl, their cries echoing in the darkness of her memory. Adopting their visage, she had slithered into the royal court, her web of lies tightening around the throne like a vice. One by one, she had eliminated every obstacle, every rival, every distant cousin or pretender to the crown.

And when she finally placed the crown upon her head, she had smiled—oh, how she had smiled.

But tonight, she smiled for a different reason. Adam had been an unexpected challenge. His sharp mind, unyielding will, and quiet strength had intrigued her in ways she hadn't anticipated. She didn't just want him as an asset—no, she wanted him. To own him. To break him. To mold him into her perfect creation, her most loyal servant, her devoted pet.

"Adam, enter," she called, her voice sweet yet commanding, laced with an undertone that promised no disobedience.

The door creaked open, and Adam stepped inside, his face a mask of defiance. That flicker of resistance in his eyes made her heart race with excitement. She relished his spirit, knowing it would make his eventual submission all the more satisfying.

"Come," she ordered.

Adam's body moved instinctively, his defiance faltering as his legs carried him forward.

"Stop," she commanded.

He froze in place, his jaw tightening as he struggled against the invisible weight pressing down on him.

"Sit."

There was a moment's hesitation—a final flicker of rebellion—but his knees bent, and he lowered himself onto the floor. Leah's smile widened, her teeth glinting like a predator savoring its prey.

"Good boy," she cooed, her tone dripping with mockery. "Now, paw."

Adam's hand extended toward her, trembling slightly. He didn't know why he obeyed. His mind screamed at him to resist, but his body betrayed him, his will crumbling under the ring's growing influence.

Leah took his hand in hers, her touch almost tender. "Good boy," she repeated, her voice soft and lilting, like a mother praising a child. Then, with a flick of her finger, she issued her next command.

"Bleed."

A thin line appeared across Adam's outstretched hand as if an invisible blade had sliced through his skin. Blood welled up, a crimson bead dripping onto the polished floor. Leah's breath hitched, her eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction as she reached out and dipped her fingers in his blood.

She rubbed the blood across the scarlet gem of her ring, the glow intensifying until the entire room seemed to hum with its power. Adam's breathing grew ragged as the bond solidified, a foreign pressure tightening around his very soul. Yet, his eyes still burned with defiance, the last ember of his resistance refusing to be snuffed out.

Leah leaned closer, her lips curling into a smile so pure, so radiant, it could have belonged to an angel. But the words that fell from her lips were anything but divine.

"From now on, you're mine," she whispered, her voice as soft as a lover's but carrying the weight of an unbreakable command. "Now... bark."

Adam's mouth opened against his will, and the sound escaped—a pitiful, humiliating imitation of a dog's bark. The defiance in his eyes wavered, replaced by a flicker of despair.

Leah reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, her touch almost gentle. "Good boy," she said again, her voice dripping with mock affection. Her expression was serene, her smile almost beatific, as though she had just performed an act of great kindness.

(My little prince,) she thought, her hand lingering in his hair. (You're mine now. Completely. And I'll make sure you never forget it.)

Adam knelt before her, his body betraying him at every turn, but deep within, the embers of his resolve refused to die. He wouldn't let them. Not yet. Not ever.

Leah, oblivious to—or perhaps simply unconcerned by—his inner turmoil, leaned back with a contented sigh. The night was hers, and so was he.

(I… won't break so easily… not until I've fulfilled my wish.)

With that thought, Adam pushed himself to his feet, each movement a testament to sheer willpower. Queen Leah's eyes widened briefly, but then her smile returned, sharper and more wicked than before.

"Boy," she said, her voice dripping with command, "bark for me one more time."

Adam's mouth betrayed him, and a bark escaped. But his eyes—fierce and unyielding—remained locked on hers. Then, without her order, he barked again, this time with deliberate defiance.

"Master," Adam said, his voice steady despite the weight pressing on him, "I'll follow you—but only on the condition that you help me achieve my goal. After that, I'm all yours. But until then, I won't blindly obey. And if you ever betray me…" His gaze hardened, unwavering. "I'll kill you myself."

For a moment, silence hung in the air like a taut wire. Then Leah burst into laughter, loud and unrestrained, her regal demeanor shattering. Her shoulders shook as she clutched her sides, her face alight with unbridled glee.

"Perfect," she said between breaths, her laughter tapering into a delighted grin. "You're absolutely perfect."

Her smile softened, but her eyes gleamed with dangerous delight. "Let's see how long you can keep that fire burning, my little prince."