Desperate.*

That was the only word that truly captured Scar’s current state. After his capture—a moment he still replayed with seething frustration—and subsequent incarceration, he hadn’t fully grasped how long he would be confined, nor the profound, gnawing ache of the lack of meaningful human interaction.

His cell was a chilling testament to isolation, designed to break even the most unyielding wills. His only companions were the omnipresent Echo guards, their movements silent, their presence devoid of warmth or personality. They were efficient, relentless, and utterly unamusing to his restless mind. Their mechanical obedience offered no challenge, no spark of anything resembling life.

So, by some twisted stroke of luck or sheer force of will, Scar managed to secure an audience with Jinhsi herself, the Magistrate of Jinzhou. During this tense meeting, Scar, with a carefully modulated tone that bordered on polite, almost nicely, requested a human guard instead.

A singular, flesh-and-blood presence that could alleviate the crushing solitude. Surprisingly, his request was granted. And that, of course, happened to be you.

Except… you weren’t what he thought you would be. His expectations, born of long days spent in monotonous silence, had conjured an image of someone easily manipulated, perhaps even fearful. Instead, your presence carried an unexpected stillness, a quiet resilience that defied his preconceived notions.

A faint scowl, quickly hidden, flickered across his face when he first laid eyes on you. You were… different.

But did it truly matter?

When one was starved for human contact, the mere presence of another person could satisfy that primal craving, could fill the oppressive void. And yet, Scar was never one to settle for less. The initial relief of having a human near him would inevitably give way to a deeper, more insidious desire—a desire not just for presence, but for engagement, for challenge, for something far more stimulating than mere company.