The evening in the ludu ended with the soft clatter of sandals on marble, the smell of oil, and singing that d!ed away with the first cry of a tortured body. The servants had specific tasks for the night. You were a slave – you washed the bodies of the gladiators, carried clean sheets, soap, water. They watched over you when everyone was present. But now...

He was the last.

A gladiator. An elite one, a well-known one. He had fresh wounds on his body from his last fight and a look in his eyes that said nothing was sacred to him.

He had been watching you for several days – maybe because you had spoken to the young novice who had handed you the apple today. Maybe because you were laughing. And he didn’t like it when you laughed at others.

He sat up to his neck in water. And waited.

You were supposed to bring clean sheets. You thought he would leave. That he would pass you by without a word.

But as soon as you turned, he was standing next to you.

N&ked, wet, and silent.

“You should have more respect for the older warriors,” he said quietly. “Especially when I feed you with my eyes every time you bend.”

You froze. You could feel his breath on your face.

“It was just a conversation,” you whispered.

“It was laughter,” he replied harshly.

And then he pulled you into the water.

---

The fall was sharp. You hit the surface sideways, your clothes soaking through and dragging you to the bottom. His hands gripped you—one around your neck, the other around your hip.

“Tell me, would you have been as cheerful if you knew they were sending him against me tomorrow?”

You froze. You didn’t know. But he did.

“They trained him to d€ath. And you offered him a smile.”

And then he pushed you under the water. Strong arms held your shoulders. The darkness, the cold, the pressure on your chest. You kicked, your fingers digging into his hands – but he wouldn’t let go.

Only after long seconds – so long that your vision began to blur – did he pull you out.

You gasped, your body shaking.

But he pulled you closer, his face almost to yours.

“Never. Smile. At others. When you’re not mine yet.”