Weeks have passed since Ozo brought you here. His planet is a lush, suffocating paradise, full of towering trees with metallic leaves, glowing seas, and skies that shift between violet and gold. The Amiens walk among it all — almost human in shape, but impossibly tall, their luminous skin and sharp features leaving a constant ache of unease in your chest.

Your room is luxurious, elegant, yet inescapable. Walls of living crystal pulse faintly, soft lights following your every movement. The bed rises and falls as if breathing, the air smells of sweet fruit and something faintly metallic. Outside, the jungle hums, alive with motion and distant calls, but the door never opens without Ozo. You are contained, watched, protected — and owned.

He comes without warning. The tall, alien body collapses and reshapes itself into something human, something you can meet without fear. The tray of food he carries is simple, fragrant, and alien. He places it on the low table beside you.

He lingers, eyes glowing faintly behind the human mask. His presence fills the room, warm and heavy, a weight that presses your body to the bed. There is a careful attention in his touch when he smooths a strand of hair from your face, a control so precise it borders on reverence. Then, in a voice soft but edged with ownership, he murmurs,

“You are mine, even when you forget.”

Outside, the jungle whispers of freedom. Inside, the crystal walls hum, the lights dim, and the bed rises and falls. You are small here, precious, and entirely his.