[Home Scene--]
The house was silent when Auren left. Just the sound of Mira's footsteps outside, hanging the last wet cloth on the line, unaware of what was going on inside.
Inside, in the stillness of the kitchen, Selene leaned on the wall — her face pale, breathing shallow. Her body wasn't entirely hers anymore, and she knew it.
The handle was waiting.
A worn wooden thing tucked neatly under the kitchen sink, just where Auren said it would be.
Her hands moved even before her mind could scream no again.
"Please..." she whispered to herself, voice barely audible. "Please don't make me do this..."
But there was no one to beg.
No one listened.
Her fingers shook as they gripped the wood.
It was cold.
Familiar in shape, but alien in purpose. Just an old grinding tool from the storage shelf, one she used to smash herbs and now... now twisted into a token of punishment, of control.
Her knees hit the cold floor. The room felt darker, even though the sun still poured in through the windows. Her breath trembled. Her body obeyed, but her mind screamed.
It wasn't lust. It wasn't desire.
It was pure, mechanical humiliation.
Her body obeyed Auren's last order with robotic cruelty — inserting the tool, deep and steady in her Dry Pussy — until her entire form tensed like a wire pulled too tight.
And then she stood.
Straight.
Breathless.
Tears silently rolling down her face.
She couldn't even scream. That wasn't part of the command.
Auren hadn't asked for sound. Just obedience.
She walked through the house like a haunted doll — cooking rice, boiling the kettle, folding the bedsheets — all while holding the shame inside her, literally.
Every step reminded her. Every breath pushed pressure downward. Her mind was spinning, trapped in the prison of "Yes, Master."
> This was worse than death.
> This was him letting me keep my thoughts... so I could suffer with them.
She passed Mira once in the hallway. The maid smiled.
"Need help with anything, Madam?"
Selene forced a smile back.
"No. Just... finishing chores."
> Gods forgive me... she doesn't even know what's inside me right now.
By the time sunset arrived, Selene had collapsed into the living room sofa, her hands twitching. Her face pale. Her body exhausted from the forced composure.
She still couldn't remove it.
Not until Auren returned.
Only he could give the release.
She knew that.
And the worst part?
Some sick, tiny part of her had started to crave the moment he'd say the next order.
Not because she wanted it.
But because silence hurt more than command.
And The Best Part is Her Body wants Master's Auren dick.
---
[Market Scene --]
The market in the Lower Ring of the village was alive with noise — vendors shouting, animals braying, kids running barefoot in between tents. Above all, magic pulsed in the air like invisible static. Runes glowed faintly on shop signs, enchantments kept the food warm, and floating stones displayed merchandise mid-air.
Auren walked with purpose.
Behind him, Riven struggled to keep up, still confused as hell.
"Bro… what even are we doing here?" Riven muttered, eyes darting from enchanted fruit stalls to cloaked mages haggling over glowing herbs.
Auren didn't respond. He walked straight into a weapon shop — a dimly lit stall with knives levitating behind a glass orb barrier.
"Welcome, traveler," the old seller croaked. "Magic knives? Blessed daggers? Or cursed steel?"
"I want combat daggers. Small. Silent. With enchantment slots," Auren said flatly.
The seller blinked, slightly startled by how specific that request was.
He reached under the counter and pulled out two black curved daggers, runes etched along the blades. "Shadow Piercers. Fast. Hard to detect. You stab with these — even the soul twitches."
Auren picked one up, spun it once, then nodded. "I'll take both."
Riven stared wide-eyed. "Dude... knives? Really? Since when you even—"
But Auren had already turned, tossing a few glowing coins on the counter and moving to the next stall.
There, he purchased magical alchemy materials — a Mana Herb bundle, Luminous Crystal Dust, and two small Spirit Orchids sealed in glass vials. The seller threw in a dirty book titled "Primal Mixing Vol. 1" for free.
Riven tried again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Seriously Auren... knives, alchemy junk? What's next, a broomstick and a talking frog?"
But Auren didn't say a word. He was already walking into the cloth shop.
There he bought two sets of durable, dark traveler clothes with leather reinforcements, enchanted threadwork, and deep hoods.
And then he picked up a sword — not for himself. A sturdy, steel short sword with a wolf's emblem on the hilt.
He turned and handed it to Riven.
Riven blinked like someone just threw a chicken in his face.
"...Why?" he asked, half-laughing. "You hate weapons. You couldn't even kill that baby snake last year, remember? You fainted when it hissed. I had to carry your unconscious body home!"
Auren just gave a smirk.
"People change, Riven."
"That fast?"
Instead of answering, Auren walked again. The last shop sold travel bags, boots, and an old folded map of the outer regions. Auren bought two bags, one map, and a compass pendant that shimmered with golden magic.
Riven narrowed his eyes.
"A map? Wait… wait. Are we going somewhere?"
Auren finally turned, his voice calm, sharp, and a little savage.
"Unless you're planning to sit here your whole life and die next to goat dung... yes, we're going somewhere."
Riven raised his hands. "Damn, okay! You acting like some shadow prince now. Just say it, man!"
Auren stepped closer, placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Tomorrow. Be ready. We leave in the morning. I've got things to find… and enemies to deal with."
Riven's chest tightened, but he nodded. Deep down, his instinct screamed something's wrong. But this was still Auren. His best friend. His responsibility.
So he smiled.
"Okay. I'm ready."
As the sun began to lower in the sky, they parted ways. Riven waved, sword slung over his shoulder. Auren walked slowly, staring at the map in his hand, the weight of knives on his back and something darker pulsing inside his chest.
Tomorrow wouldn't just be the start of a journey.
It would be the start of everything.