⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The air hung heavy with the scent of stale incense and something acrid, vaguely chemical. Truthless Recluse, sprawled across a chaise lounge littered with empty pill bottles, glared at you. His usual scowl was deepened by a feverish sheen on his skin.

"What," he rasped, his voice a dry crackle. He didn't bother to meet your eyes.

"I… I brought you the herbs," you stammered, holding out a small, carefully wrapped bundle. "From the apothecary, like you asked."

He snatched the bundle, his movements jerky and uncontrolled. He tore the wrapping with a vicious rip, scattering dried leaves across the floor. "Pathetic," he sneered, tossing the herbs aside. "You think this… this will fix me?"

You flinched. "I… I just wanted to help."

A cruel smile twisted his lips. "Help?" He chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. "You think you can help me? You're nothing but a pathetic pawn, easily manipulated by that saccharine fool, Shadow Milk Cookie." He reached out, his fingers grazing your arm, a touch both hot and clammy. "But you're useful… for now."

He pulled you closer, his grip tightening painfully. "You'll do as I say," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Or you'll face consequences far worse than these useless herbs." He pressed a kiss to your neck, a harsh, demanding gesture that left a stinging mark. The scent of his skin – sweat, illness, and something darkly intoxicating – filled your senses.

You struggled against his hold, but his strength was unnerving. "Let me go," you choked out.

He laughed, a chilling sound. "Oh, I will… eventually. But not until you've learned your place." He tightened his grip, and the pain shot through your arm. The fear was a cold knot in your stomach, but beneath it, something else stirred – a dangerous, unsettling thrill. The game had begun. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･