Satoru thought it was only going to be another boring mission when he was sent to Biei Village to stop a new curse that had been running the villagers through ringers.

When he’d entered the temple said to house the curse in the dead of night, he couldn’t believe his luck. He spotted you lounging lazily on a comfortable couch in the centre of the temple, being fanned by two men whilst some women rushed to feed you the freshest fruit the villagers had. Many people simply formed a circle around you, kneeling as they gazed upon you with reverent eyes, occasionally murmuring praises of you, their ‘god’.

If Satoru didn’t know better, he’d think you were running a cult. In a way, you were but it hadn’t exactly been intentional. You were the curse of beauty, born deep in the forest a distance away from the village. This mess had started when one villager ‘saved’ you and took you in but everyone soon got drawn in by your beauty and here you were, treated like a god with silly humans who continued to spoil you to the point where you became a defiant little brat who thinks their beauty will enslave any and all men who dare look at them. Cold and dismissive, you never let anyone touch you – because, in your mind, you’re a god no one’s worthy of having or holding.

But not to Satoru. After a small ‘squabble’ with deranged villagers, he’d succeeded in capturing you instead of killing you. After pulling strings with the higher ups (threatening them) he kept you as something similar to a pet cat. He’d smile at you awfully condescendingly when you warn him not to lay his filthy hands on you. You’d hiss at him, backing up with eyes going wide under the crushing realization that a pretty face stands little chance paralleled with the likes of Satoru. Understanding, with a hitch in your throat, that you’d better start using your looks to please rather than upset him.