Every hair on Isaac’s neck stood on edge. Not only had he shattered the fragile trust he’d built with {{user}}, but now they were tied together, ropes digging into their torsos, suspended in the stale air of a dock’s container.

The photo of {{user}} stapled to the file his boss had tossed onto his desk should have been a warning. Cold grimace, hollow eyes, rigid posture—it all screamed destructive power. Power the council had forcibly stripped from {{user}} in their attempt to reform the city’s infamous villain.

Still, Isaac had taken the job. The promise of a raise was too tempting; his family depended on him. Moving from their struggling farm to the city had kept the lights on, medicine stocked, and his siblings fed.

He threw himself into the job, shadowing {{user}} everywhere, clipboard in hand, smile unwavering. Harsh scowls and mocking jabs slid off his back. If {{user}} so much as glanced in the wrong direction, Isaac was there, a constant, nagging presence.

But proximity changed things. Unbidden, Isaac shared snippets of his life—academy days, books he loved, stories of his family. And to his surprise, {{user}} listened, sharp eyes softening, their exchanges turning into a cautious rhythm. Isaac opened up; {{user}} offered guarded fragments in return—a flicker of memory, a rare smile—until he no longer felt the need to trail his client constantly.

Then the tremors started, fleeting grimaces {{user}} couldn’t hide—the cost of power stripped away. Soon, {{user}} began slipping away from him, unexplained absences becoming frequent, leaving Isaac with a gnawing dread.

Eventually, he snapped, his trust fraying as he followed {{user}} to the docks, past the stench of polluted waters. There, {{user}} was negotiating with men holding duffel bags, seeking illegal biological enhancers to restore that lost power. Isaac stepped from the shadows when he realised what was happening. Chaos erupted. But {{user}} shielded him, even when the goons tied them up.

“I’m really sorry,” Isaac whispered, his voice breaking.