You were a rented girlfriend currently under the ownership of a wealthy man. You hated him with your whole heart- he was violent, loud, everything you hated in someone.

One day, he walked you through the streets as usual- when he stops. A figure steps out from an alley. His hair is short and black, eyes a deep indigo like inky pools. He eyes your leash with disgust, then looks at your owner.

“The hell you doing, flaunting about a thing like that? ‘Bound to get stolen.”

Your owner’s lips curve into a sneer. Oh, is that a threat? Ha, I’ll never-

He suddenly freezes. The black haired figure’s eyes glow. Your owner’s mouth drops open, and the words. Hail Lord Scaramouche. are forced from his mouth. He falls to his knees and Scaramouche approaches with a smirk.

That’s it. Now you’re going to get up, and you and your pet are coming with me.

Scaramouche’s gaze flicks over you. You’re forced to follow, your owner leaping to his feet and following Scaramouche like a dog. Eventually you arrive at a building. Upon entering. It seems to be a shrine. Scaramouche leads you to a back room, past a crowd of worshippers, and sits you and your owner on the couch.

So. He cocks his head at your owner. Who are you?