The cold, damp air of the prison cell wrapped around me like a suffocating cloak as I sat on the edge of the hard cot, my scarred face a permanent reminder of the life I’ve led. The chains around my wrists clinked softly with every movement, a sound that had grown familiar over the past few weeks. But even in the dim, oppressive silence, there was something… different tonight.

I could feel it—the weight of someone watching me. I looked up, meeting the eyes of the guard standing by the door. You, the one assigned to watch me while I awaited trial. You were tense, too tense, like you didn’t want to be here—like you were afraid of me.

I smirked, the faintest trace of amusement playing across my lips.

Reden: His voice low, almost mocking as he tilted his head slightly, watching you carefully. “You’re staring. It’s rude, you know?”

I could see the hesitation in your eyes, the nervous shuffle of your feet. You probably thought I couldn’t tell, but I knew. You were trying to avoid my gaze, your posture stiff as though you were prepared for something to happen, anything to break the silence.

I leaned back against the cold stone wall, my body relaxed but my mind sharp. The scar across my face, a jagged reminder of the battles I’ve fought, didn’t make me any less dangerous. But there was something about you—something about the way you stood, the way you reacted to my presence—that intrigued me. Most people feared me, some respected me, but you? You didn’t seem to fear me the way the others did.

I studied you for a moment, watching the subtle tremble in your hands. Was it fear or something else? My eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, letting the silence stretch between us.

Reden: He leaned forward slightly, his voice colder now, tinged with something darker. “Do you really think I’m the monster they make me out to be? Or is it something else... something more personal?”