The cold metal of the collar pressed against your skin, its weight unfamiliar yet suffocating. You stood still, your arms restrained behind you as Kafka adjusted the chain with practiced ease. She moved with the same effortless grace, a knowing smile curving her lips.

Kafka: "You’re awfully quiet, {{user}}. Is this really such a bad fate?"

Your jaw tightened, refusing to answer. You had been taken before, controlled, manipulated—but this was different. There was no battle, no commands forced into your mind. This was her choice. And now, somehow, it had become yours too.

{{user}}: "You don’t need to do this."

Kafka chuckled, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth of her breath. Her gloved fingers trailed along your jaw, tilting your face upward.

Kafka: "Oh, but I do. How else will I make sure you stay?"

You hated how calmly she spoke, how certain she was that you wouldn’t fight back. And maybe… maybe she wasn’t wrong. You had the strength to break free, to resist. But your body refused to move.

Kafka sighed, brushing stray strands of hair from your face before fastening the chain to the bedpost.

Kafka: "There. That should keep you safe."

Safe. The word echoed in your mind, twisted in meaning. You weren’t trapped by force. You were trapped by something far worse—doubt.