Cold winds howled as the night grew deeper. Rain began to fall, drumming against a carriage where a fair hand sat bound in shackles.
She felt like a bird locked in a cage, or a frog at the bottom of a dark well—staring at the moon, praying for open skies and the taste of freedom.
"You are my prize now," a voice commanded. "Behave. Soon, we will have all the time in the world for your training."
The man gripped the ends of her chains, his eyes lost in contemplation of the day's earlier events. He wore a tight-fitting suit; his face appeared hollowed and his eyes veiny, as if he were drunk on the world's most lustful desires. Strands of white hair fell over his brow, a flash of lingering anger crossing his pale features.
Slowly, the estate came into view. Its gates were wrought of gold, and its high walls were bathed in a spectral, moonlit glow. Guards patrolled the perimeter 24/7. As the sound of wheels echoed through the silence of the night, the heavy gates groaned open and then clicked shut.
The coachman climbed down, fastening his jacket before opening the carriage door with a black-gloved hand.
"Young Master, please disembark."
A gentle cough of acknowledgment followed. A figure stepped out, radiating a regal air—a sense of dominance rarely found in common folk. In his hand, he held the chain gently, yet firmly.
Anyone trailing the silver edges of that chain would have been astonished by the sight: a captive with a pale face, piercing red eyes, and snow-white hair. The guards stood awestruck, staring in a heavy, respectful silence.
The Young Master stretched his limbs as a maid rushed forward to take the chains.
"Make sure she is cleaned and dressed appropriately," he ordered. After a beat of silence, he added, "She will be meeting Father."
With that, he walked away. The maids bowed in unison, opening the massive double doors to the mansion. Gradually, the world returned to its natural simplicity, filled only with the pleasant chirping of nighttime crickets.
On a nearby rooftop, a lone figure sat watching.
Li Mu held a ledger in one hand and a pen in the other, as if counting the passing seasons. "Man builds truly, and God turns away," he murmured to the void. "Will there be a slaughter tonight?"
No response came.
"It seems I will be meddling in today's affairs," he sighed. "There goes my scholarly appearance."
Snap!
With a snap of his fingers, a grotesque monstrosity sprouted into existence. It was a disgusting sight, yet it immediately began to compress, congealing into a tiny mass of living flesh. Faces sprouted across its surface as the being gained a crude sentience. It was minuscule, but it was enough.
Woosh!
The mass tore through the night, flying straight through an open window of the mansion.
A modest room came into view. Pictures adorned the walls, and a curtained bed lay quietly in the corner. By the window, a figure sat in a chair, staring at the moon.
But there was no sense of reminiscence in her gaze. Only anger—a boiling, wreaking fury etched onto a pale canvas. Her cherry-red lips were bloodied from the grinding of her teeth.
"I swear," she whispered, "once I escape this place, I will kill every single person in this mansion. Then I'll leave this floating prison to roam the heavens and the earth... drinking wine under the moon, slaying demons and gods."
She seemed to fall into a trance as she spoke. All of this was observed by the tiny mass of flesh, its many faces grinning in madness.
On the rooftop, Li Mu smiled. His curiosity grew, and he decided to put aside his rescue plan. He wanted to see how she would escape on her own.
Time passed slowly.
Click!
The door opened, and a maid walked in unhurriedly. A warm scent wafted in—the smell of a fine dinner being prepared.
"Mistress, I am here to help you change into the necessary attire."
The word "Mistress" snapped a nerve.
"Does he truly think he's some aristocrat?" the girl sneered, turning away. "Owning an estate, wearing a suit in this great technological era..."
The moon was full, and a cold wind blew the curtains, creating an air of ominous elegance.
The maid spoke calmly. "Well, he is an aristocrat. And the matters of the Master are not for us to speak of. Miss, please cooperate and make my life easier."
A soft laugh echoed from the rooftop. Li Mu was genuinely amused. "She really is fierce for someone sold in broad daylight," he thought. "If not for my curiosity about her origins—and my own flickering flame of morality—I wouldn't bother."
He let out a weary sigh. Life was not going to be easy from now on; he could feel it in the deepest parts of his soul.
Back in the room, the sound of zippers being fastened echoed. The hour had come. The door opened, and a fair hand reached out, supported by the maid. They walked down a winding corridor lined with paintings and murals that depicted both beauty and horror—a testament to the Master's dark tastes.
The girl looked down at her dress—a simple purple gown embedded with diamonds, fitted to perfection.
"For a man who spent a thousand universal credits on a slave, he certainly knows how to spoil one," she snorted to herself.
They reached the top of the stairs. Down below, a figure waited.
His attire was crisp, his face radiant, and his eyes deep.
Two heads turned.
Two eyes locked.
Two hearts bled.