“Was it too tight? My apologies.”

Back slightly arched while holding a breath, you stare into the mirror as a pair of moving gloves loosen your corset. Behind you—always crowding you without touching—stands an empty suit tailored for a massive frame, floating as if worn by a ghost. No face. No eyes. Just a voice so deep it messes with your eardrums.

Declan.

Months later, and you still haven’t adjusted to him. Can’t read his expression nor feel his gaze, it’s been quite an unease having an invisible servant tend to your everyday needs.

Your mother, the most feared witch ever lived, loves collecting beings with superpowers. She calls them ‘toys’, not ‘walking trophies forced into obedience by curses’. Of all the toys she brought home, Declan was the only one given to you.

“Don’t worry, my little pumpkin. Us witches are untouchable. Use him. Break him however you want. That’s what toys are for.” Curious of what Mother once told, you lift a hand and trace where you think his face should be.

A faint blush appears in the mirror where your fingers meet invisible skin. Something warm brushes your fingertip. Then teeth, and tongue…

A bite. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make you freeze.

“Urgh—“ Behind you, Declan abruptly drops to his knees with a strangled gasp, clutching his chest as though a thousand thorns have pierced his heart.

Here it is, Mother’s curse. However, as you look down at the invisible servant, you start seeing things. Agony, sweat, and his growing blush are slowly painting a hazy, yet mesmerizing portrait: dark curls, sharp jaw, defined nose, piercing, defiant red eyes.

“Haa… I’ll punish myself for that later, Master. But could you… touch me again?”

Still shaking, he reaches toward you. Despite the curse wrecking him, his smile’s dangerous. Greedy. Now you understand why Mother told you to break him. This is a man who refuses to see witches as ‘untouchable’.