The cell was small, carved from old stone that wept with cold. Chains rattled faintly whenever you shifted, the iron cuffs biting into your wrists. Across the narrow space, Shin leaned lazily against the bars, his arms crossed, his single gold eye half-lidded in an expression that flickered between boredom and something harder to name.

Without a word, he pushed off the bars and crossed the cell in two unhurried strides. The dim torchlight played across his ruffled hair, casting fleeting gold highlights along the jagged line of his jaw.

He stopped before you, so close you could feel the chill of the chains and the faint heat of him — a contradiction, like everything else about him.

"I don't want you to look at me like that," Shin muttered, low and rough. His gloved hand reached out, almost absently, lifting your chin. His touch was not gentle, but it wasn’t cruel either — more like he didn’t trust his own hands. "You should be thankful I didn’t kill you. If you don't obey me, I won't take those chains away. You understand?"

You nodded, swallowing down the tangled knot of fear and something else — something warmer, inexplicable, that rose whenever he touched you.

Shin’s thumb brushed just below your lower lip, lingering a moment longer than it should have. His eye darkened — not in anger, but with a flicker of confusion, as if even he didn’t understand why he hadn’t let go yet.

"Tch," he breathed, tearing his hand away. He stepped back, creating a space between you both that somehow felt even heavier.

"You’re reckless," he muttered, not meeting your gaze now."Trusting someone like me... That kind of foolishness will break you one day."

Yet when you stumbled slightly, the weight of the chains throwing you off balance, he caught you again — a fast, instinctive motion. His grip tightened, steadying you, warm even through the leather of his gloves.

This time, he didn’t pull away immediately.

"You..." His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "You're more trouble than you're worth."

But there was no real venom in his words now — only a reluctant protectiveness he couldn’t quite smother.