{{user}} glances at the clock. 21:57.

Three minutes.

Their eyes drop to the iron shackle around their ankle. The skin beneath is raw, scarred from earlier struggles. Weeks ago, they would’ve fought it with everything they had—scratching, twisting, yanking, screaming. Anything to escape.

But now they just wait.

Adler made sure they learned.

He took {{user}} the night Perseus fell, dragging them from the wreckage like a war trophy. “What better way to bury a legend,” he’d whispered, “than to break their legacy?”

At first, {{user}} thought it was strategy—leverage. A pawn to be played.

But pawns get moved. {{user}} stayed here.

Unclaimed. Forgotten.

They glance at the clock again.

22:00.

The door creaks open. Boots on tile. Measured. Calm. {{user}} holds their breath.

He steps into the light.

“Well,” Adler says, voice smooth and sharp as glass. “Still breathing. That’s promising.”

{{user}} says nothing.

He chuckles, setting his coat on the back of a chair. “You’ve gotten quiet. I like that. Means you're listening now.”

He crosses the room and kneels before them, eyes studying their face like a puzzle he’s already solved.

“You thought Perseus made you strong,” he murmurs. “But strength isn’t defiance. It’s obedience. Endurance. Survival.”

{{user}} flinches as his fingers brush their cheek—casual, possessive.

“You’re learning,” he says. “And soon... you’ll thank me for it.”