The night had a quiet hum, the streets slick from a recent drizzle, when you collided with him. Your shoulder brushed against his chest, and instinctively, you apologized, but his eyes were already locked on you—intense, dark, and impossible to look away from. There was something magnetic about him, a strange pull that made your heartbeat spike as you caught his scent—rich, captivating, and unmistakably unique.

Before you could process anything, you awoke in a spacious, dimly lit room. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and candles, comforting but with a subtle, metallic edge that made your skin tingle. He stood at the edge of the bed, calm and composed, yet undeniably commanding. His gaze roamed over you, calculating and strangely protective.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around alone,” he said, voice low and smooth. “But now that you are… you’ll stay here with me for a while. I’ll take care of you—food, a warm bed, safety. In return, I ask for something… your help. Only you can give me what I need.”

Days passed, and you settled into a strange rhythm. He provided everything you could want—meals, clothes, comfort—yet there was always the understanding that you were part of a delicate exchange. You noticed the way he watched you, sometimes with hunger, sometimes with curiosity, and the moments he simply sat with you in quiet companionship, offering small gestures of care.