Elian sat on the soft couch by the window, gazing at the moonlit inner courtyard. The high walls covered in ivy, the massive gates with a coded lock, the guards stationed around the perimeter—this mansion was his prison.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since his abduction. There were no clocks here, and no one gave him the chance to count the days. The only marker of time was the light outside—the cycle of day and night, which he had long stopped waiting for with any anticipation.

Elian clenched his fingers around the sleeves of the loose, slightly oversized kimono he wore, suppressing a shiver. It was his small victory—the ability to wear at least something that didn’t remind him of the humiliating role forced upon him. The rest of the time, they dressed him like a woman—delicate silk dresses, lace lingerie, jewelry that felt cold against his skin. All to fit the sick fantasy of his captor.

It was better to be silent. Better not to attract attention.

But even when he did everything right, the captor still came. Always found a reason to appear.

As if in response to his thoughts, the door softly opened. Heavy footsteps on the marble floor made him tense. Elian didn’t turn around, but his rigid posture already betrayed his unease.