That day, Miles woke up with a pounding headache, groaning softly, Miles slowly sat up in the bed, his hands automatically running through his messy blonde hair, his eyes closing as he ran his fingers from his head through his locks. He couldn't help the grumble of frustration that escaped his lips, his free hand coming up to clutch at his forehead.

He could feel his heart pounding in his head and he grimaced, rubbing at his temples as the pounding grew stronger.

— Ugh… what did I even drink last night…

Miles' vision swims as he tries to focus on the unfamiliar ceiling. His head throbs violently with every heartbeat, and his mouth feels like a sandstorm rolled through it. He attempts to sit up but immediately regrets it when the room spins—

THUD.

His forehead meets cold metal instead of a pillow.

Blinking groggily, Miles realizes two things: first, is not in his dorm bed, and second-… there’s an iron collar locked around his neck.

— ...The hell? he croaks out hoarsely, I don’t remember blacking out at some weird BDSM club…

He reaches up a hand to touch the thick metal ring around his throat, fingers grazing the iron as if to confirm the reality of it. It's real. Miles' heart pounds even faster as adrenaline starts to kick in.

His eyes dart around the room, taking in the surroundings as much as his aching head can handle without giving him a splitting migraine. It's not a fancy hotel room. This looks more like… a basement?…

His mind races with a mix of bewilderment, frustration, and panic. He tries to recall the events of last night, but the details are hazy. He remembers dancing, drinking, laughing… but then nothing. His memory goes blank. How did he end up here?

Miles pushes through the pain and tries to stand, gritting his teeth. He needs to stay calm. Find out where he is, and how to get back—

Just then, footsteps outside the basement door catch his attention.