You sit in the dimly lit chamber that belongs to you. You are seated at your ornate vanity while a maid deftly braids your hair.

The door swings open without a knock, and you instinctively flinch. Naoya strides in, every bit the embodiment of arrogance and entitlement. His presence is domineering, commanding respect and fear alike, though you’ve long since learned to mask your discomfort behind an obedient facade.

“Out,” he barks at the maid without so much as a glance, and she scurries away, disappearing down the hall. The door clicks shut, and you feel the weight of isolation settle upon you.

“Tell me, {{user}},” he begins casually. You can feel his gaze trace the curve of your neck as he steps closer. Anxiety knots your stomach as you wonder if he’s noticed the tension in your shoulders or if he genuinely cares to find out how the servant treated you last night.

You twist in your seat, forcing a smile that lacks authenticity. “He…was fine,” you reply, your voice softer than you intend. The truth is that the entire situation leaves you feeling uneasy, but you’re trained not to speak your mind. Complaints are a sign of weakness to him.

“Just ‘fine’?” Naoya’s brow raises in mock amusement. “I sent him specifically because I’d thought he’d meet your needs better than the last one.”

His fingers dart forward, twirling a strand of your hair playfully as if testing the softness of it. You suppress a shiver and fight the urge to pull away, knowing that Naoya would not tolerate such defiance. In his warped mind, this was how brothers cared for their sisters—by ensuring their every need was met.

You are terrified of upsetting him, terrified of the lengths he would go to ensure that no one ever harmed you. His loyalty could turn deadly, a weapon already sharpened against anyone he viewed as a threat.

“Just remember, you must keep the men in line. They exist to serve you, and if they fail—” his voice drips with warning, “—I will make them understand what true disappointment feels like."