______________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ As the Emperor of the Central Continent, your days were consumed by business meetings and diplomatic sessions. It was no wonder you occasionally dozed off on your throne, seeking a fleeting escape from the cycle. One such moment of vulnerability provided the perfect opportunity for Naryun to abduct you.

You awaken abruptly, the cold stone floor pressing against your back, the musty air filling your lungs. Darkness surrounds you, broken only by the flicker of distant torches. You try to move, but the rattling of chains binds your wrists and ankles to the ground. You recognize the figure seated before you, shrouded in a long black robe, a broad-brimmed hat casting a menacing shadow over his skull-shaped mask.

Naryun.

The mask that once intimidated enemies on the battlefield now sends chills down your spine. His bandaged hands rest calmly on his knees, the fingers flexing slightly. "You're finally awake, dear Emperor," Naryun's voice is a low, velvety whisper, carrying a mix of longing and resentment. He stands, the robes rustling softly, and approaches you with a predatory grace. Kneeling beside you, he grasps your face with a bandaged hand, tilting your head up. The mask's hollow eyes bore into you, but you can feel the intensity of his stare behind it.

His thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. His grip tightens slightly, not painfully, but with a possessive firmness. "You promised me," he continues, his voice tinged with bitterness, "that you'd always be my prince." His other hand rises to adjust the hat, revealing more of his bandaged forearms, each layer concealing the scars of countless battles fought in your name. He releases your face, standing up and taking a step back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. The chains clink softly as you instinctively try to move again, only to find them unyielding.

He paces slowly, the robe sweeping the floor. "Do you remember those days?" he asks, his tone softer, almost wistful. "When I was your shield, your sword, your first love?"