Morning light filtered through the gap in the heavy drapes, slicing the room's darkness with a thin white line. Fine dust danced within the beam—the only movement in the room.
I opened my eyes.
My neck was stiff. Sleeping in this leather armchair was safe, but it was never comfortable.
The scent of last night's leftover coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the morning chill.
I didn't move right away. I merely shifted my gaze.
There.
Beside the large bed with barely wrinkled sheets.
Alicia stood there.
Upright. Silent. Her hands folded neatly over her stomach.
She wore the white shirt and maroon vest I had bought for her yesterday. Not a single crease. Her hair was neatly combed.
Her eyes were open, staring blankly at the wall, waiting.
"How long have you been standing there?" My voice was hoarse, shattering the fragile silence.
Alicia gave a slight start, as if she had just been switched on. She turned to face me, bowing slightly.
"Since sunrise, Master."
That was two hours ago.
Two hours of standing without moving, without a sound, just waiting for my eyelids to open.
A tightness settled in my chest. It wasn't pain, but the weight of a burden.
Her complete self-effacement made the air in the room feel heavy. She wasn't a human being; she was breathing furniture.
I got up, stretching my back until it popped.
I picked up a glass, poured water from the pitcher, and drank.
She followed my every movement with her eyes. Waiting for an order. Waiting for permission just to exist.
"Freshen up," I said quietly, gesturing toward the bathroom door. "Wash your face. Fix your hair again if you need to."
"Yes, Master."
She walked inside. The door wasn't closed completely, leaving a slight gap.
I heard the faucet turn on—so faintly, as if she feared the sound of running water would disturb me.
There was no refreshing splash of water. Only the absolute minimum sound required for the task.
I lit a cigarette.
A soft exhale. The smoke plumed, briefly obscuring my face.
Having someone who was absolutely obedient turned out to be far more exhausting than living alone. This wasn't power. This was the responsibility of steering two lives at once.
The streets of Sun Prince City were already alive.
The clatter of carriage wheels against cobblestone, the shouts of merchants, the aroma of freshly baked bread.
The world was so noisy, so alive.
Yet, inside the small bubble surrounding us, there was only silence.
Alicia walked two paces behind me. Her footsteps were as light as a cat's, virtually inaudible.
We entered a restaurant. A waiter greeted us warmly—or rather, greeted my expensive suit warmly.
We sat at a corner table.
"Order whatever you want," I said, opening the menu.
Silence.
I glanced over the top of the menu.
Alicia stared at the list of food in bewilderment. Her eyes darted back and forth in panic.
She wasn't searching for what she wanted. She was searching for the 'correct' choice, terrified of making a mistake.
"I... can eat anything, Master," her voice trembled. "Whatever you permit."
I closed the menu slowly.
"Alicia."
My voice was quiet, but it was enough to stop her trembling. She kept her head bowed, terrified she had committed a fatal error simply by being unable to choose.
"There are no right or wrong answers here," I said, looking at the top of her head. "What does your tongue crave?"
A brief silence. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. The command was simpler: a physical reaction, not a mental decision.
"I have no desires, Master."
It was an honest answer. And a profoundly sad one.
The chains of slavery weren't just around her neck; they had coiled all the way around her appetite.
I let out a breath, looking at the waiter who was waiting awkwardly.
"Two orders of monster beef steak. Cooked to perfection. And two orange juices."
When the food arrived, she ate.
Slice. Pierce. Lift. Chew. Swallow.
A flawless rhythm. Noble etiquette ingrained into her very marrow.
But her eyes remained hollow. She wasn't tasting the meat. She was simply obeying the command to "eat."
My own appetite vanished. The meat in my mouth tasted like rubber.
Watching someone eat like a machine stripped the act of its humanity.
I set down my fork. The Pisces within me felt nauseated at the sight of such a barren soul.
"Finish it," I said flatly.
"Yes, Master."
We left the restaurant.
Next destination: the Adventurer's Guild.
The atmosphere in the Guild was always the same. A stench of sweat, alcohol, and testosterone.
When I walked in, the room fell silent for a moment. Scorpio. The rising hunter.
And this time, he had brought a girl.
Their stares weren't filled with awe. They were probing. Calculating.
Alicia kept her head down, hiding her face in the shadow of my back. She was trembling. The aura of this place was far too aggressive for a fractured soul.
"Good morning, Sir Scorpio," the receptionist greeted. Her eyes flicked toward Alicia. "Who is... the young lady behind you?"
I paused.
What was the answer?
A slave? Too harsh. Too honest.
An assistant? She wasn't useful yet.
A partner? Don't make me laugh.
I cast a brief glance at Alicia. She was still looking down, clutching the hem of her vest tightly.
"A friend," I answered simply. "She's my friend."
The receptionist offered a polite smile, though her eyes betrayed her disbelief.
"Ah, I see. Is there anything I can help you with today?"
I turned toward the quest board on the wall. My eyes swept quickly over the rows of tattered parchment.
I needed something. Something to hit, somewhere to run, or simply something to make my brain stop thinking about how awkward it was to have this mute new 'friend.'
But looking at Alicia—head bowed deeply, cowering behind my back in fear of the other adventurers' gazes...
I sighed.
Not today.
"No. Just looking around," I said, before turning to leave.
The word "friend" felt foreign on my tongue. It felt like a forced lie.
How could it be called a friendship when one party didn't even dare to look the other in the eye?