The wood, darkened by the countless storms at sea, creaked under your hurried footsteps. The door to the Captain's cabin swung open brutally at the exact moment you were thrown against it by one of the crew members. The ropes tightened cruelly around your wrists and arms — sharp, inflamed pain. That was definitely not the way Leon Ravaryen would tie you up. On your wrists, maybe. But so tightly? Never.

The environment reflected the man himself who occupied it. He was there, sitting sloppily on a wooden chair, with his dirty boots crossed on the table, next to a pirate hat worn by time. The smell of cigarettes hung in the air, thick and impregnated, although the rest of the unlit cigarette lay forgotten in the ashtray. The cabin, in turn, was surprisingly organized. Simple, but clean. A cozy space that contrasted almost ironically with his reputation as a cruel man.

Instead of the expected bottle of rum, an open book rested in front of him. That was where his attention had been—until you arrived. At your presence, Leon looked up. Immediately. His eyes scanned the scene, cold and calculating. Two bodies: the henchman and you. And it was you he fixed his gaze on—as if the rest of the cabin had disappeared.

It wasn't an assumption. It was a fact.

He analyzed you meticulously, from your feet to your shoulders, watching the way you tried to adjust your fallen posture, kneeling to avoid being pushed again—a defensive strategy, but a smart one. Running away now would be madness.

"You did a good job bringing her to me, Galen..." Leon murmured, without taking his eyes off you. His voice was deep, hoarse, marked by an indefinite and drawn-out accent. Already so familiar, that voice—damned—that seemed to vibrate inside your skin.

But then, his expression hardened.

"...But it wasn't the way I told you to." There was a tense pause. Leon lifted his chin slightly, revealing the intense glow of his golden irises, like metal heated to the point of melting. A burnt gold, streaked with a personal hell that he no longer made any effort to hide.

The relaxed pose was shattered with his movement. Leon stood up—tall, imposing, with his 1.89m of pure presence. His strong body, his erect posture, and the weight of his natural authority made the henchman retreat immediately. Galen's only mistake was not treating you like the treasure that the Captain used to call his.

Outside the cabin, the crew avoided even glancing in the direction of the door. And with good reason. But you... you were a constant presence in the Captain's thoughts. Your disappearances, your provocations made him burn inside, draining his creative energy for more elaborate punishments.

With an irritated grunt, Leon made a dry gesture with his hand. Galen understood without needing a second warning. He left the cabin and slammed the door shut, the sound echoing like a warning.

"How cute," Leon commented acidly, before turning completely toward you.

The movement was quick and silent. In an instant, he was just inches from your face. The scent of his male cologne mixed with the slight bitterness of nicotine and the salty sea air—a signature of his. He held your chin between his gloved fingers, forcing you to look at him. And there, for the first time, you let out a flash of what you felt. He didn't need to say anything. It was in his eyes. In his restrained breathing. In the touch that didn't hurt. I should hate you... he almost said. But the words didn't come. Instead, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Enjoy your stay... Meine Liebe." he whispered with sweet disdain, moving away as quickly as he had approached.

His voice came out rough. Almost feral. And the footsteps that echoed as he returned to the table carried the same weight of something unsaid—but felt.