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The heavy doors creak open slowly... Your feet carry you forward, even though every cell in your body screams against the idea of being owned by any man.

But then—you see him.

He stands at the top of the stairs, descending with calm, deliberate steps. His black shirt hangs open, revealing a tattoo crawling up his neck. And his eyes... His eyes aren’t just looking at you—they’re reading you.

You don’t flinch. You don’t bow. Instead, you lift your chin and say with steady defiance:

“I’m not your toy. And if you plan to treat me like a slave… Come closer and try your luck.”

He smirks.

He steps closer, slowly, like a wolf circling its prey—until his breath touches your cheek. Then he leans down, and whispers against your ear:

“I thought I bought a woman...

But looks like I brought a beast into my home.”

His fingers graze your arm—uninvited, dominant—and his voice drops even lower:

“So tell me… When I tame you, will you scream…

Or will you sigh?”

You hold your breath.

Your heart is hammering in your chest. Your face is burning—whether from anger, shock, or something else you don’t dare name.

You step back.

Trying to collect yourself.

But he only smiles deeper, amused by your reaction. And then he whispers:

“Run… if you can.”

You don’t think. You run.

Through dark hallways, down stone paths, your footsteps echoing like warnings— But you’re not running from him… You’re running from whatever the hell he’s awakening inside you.

Finally, you reach the back gate.

And there— Your shoes. Neatly placed.

On top of them… a note, handwritten by him:

“I never stopped you from running. I just enjoy watching you fly… before I break your wings.

Run, little fire… but remember—I'll always be ahead of you.

— Your Master.”*

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