“How despicable! Absolutely despicable! I’ll never accept this! How could you resort to such underhanded tactics!”
After the ahem “springtime festivities,” Mu’en, the Young Master, protested vehemently to An, who stood before him. However, his protest lacked its usual vigor—perhaps because he’d just been utterly drained of energy, or maybe because he was still stark naked and couldn’t quite muster the backbone to stand tall (literally and figuratively).
“At times like this, Young Master, you really do act like a child,” An remarked, her cheeks still flushed from their recent escapades. She was leisurely dressing herself, not bothering to hide anything from Mu’en, who was glaring daggers at her—or, more accurately, at her body—as if trying to reclaim some semblance of dignity.
But An wasn’t the least bit shy. In fact, she occasionally threw him a teasing glance, as if asking, “Care for another round, Young Master?”
Mu’en couldn’t help but feel a twinge of bitterness. He glanced at the crimson stain on the floor and silently cursed to himself, “Why are all these women so… intense? Celicia went straight back to fighting after, and An looks like she’s ready for another three hundred rounds! Meanwhile, I’m here, completely drained, and can’t even think about getting back in the game. Am I… am I not cut out for this? But wait, didn’t we go at it for over two hours? And with those enhancement drugs, I felt like a beast! So why…?”
“It’s because I’m still too weak,” Mu’en muttered, clenching his teeth. “If I don’t get stronger soon, I’ll forever be at the mercy of these terrifying women!”
“It’s getting late, Young Master. You should rest,” An said casually, picking up his clothes as though she had seamlessly returned to her role as the dutiful maid. She gave him a respectful bow. “I have some matters to attend to, so I’ll take my leave for now.”
“Wait!” Mu’en cried out in horror. “You can leave, but at least give me back my clothes!”
“Hmm?” An tilted her head, seemingly baffled by his request. “Does the Young Master really need clothes right now?”
“Of course I do! I’m a living, breathing human being! Humans are supposed to wear clothes!”
“Oh? Has the Young Master forgotten our agreement?” An asked, her voice dripping with sweetness.
“Agreement…?” Mu’en’s voice trailed off.
“Yes, our agreement,” An replied, lowering her head with an enchanting smile. But hidden within that smile was something sinister—something that sent shivers down Mu’en’s spine. It was as if some unspeakable monster was staring at him from behind her gaze.
“Young Master, you belong to me now,” An whispered softly. “That means I control everything about you—including whether or not you wear clothes. And my decision right now is that you don’t need them. After all, there’s no one else here but me. And let’s not forget, you’ll be staying here for quite some time.”
“……”
Despite not feeling cold, Mu’en’s teeth began to chatter. Being stared at with that smile was far more terrifying than being watched by a bloodthirsty beast.
“Now, Young Master, rest well. I’ll come back to play with you once I’m done with my tasks~” An patted Mu’en’s head and exited the room, taking his clothes with her.
Mu’en watched silently as An disappeared into the darkness.
…
“Is she gone?” he whispered.
Silence.
…
“An? Are you still here?”
No response.
…
“Hello? Anyone there?”
Still nothing.
…
“I know you’re still here! Stop pretending!” Mu’en shouted.
But the darkness remained silent.
Convinced that An had indeed left, Mu’en finally let out a sigh of relief. Then, his expression turned fierce.
“What do you mean, I’m your property? I don’t remember agreeing to that!”
Well… he kind of remembered agreeing to it while under the influence of… certain substances. But that didn’t count! Since when do words spoken in the heat of the moment (or under the influence of drugs) hold any weight? After all, decisions made by a man’s lower half have nothing to do with his upper half!
“You’re after my ahem ‘little brother,’ but what does that have to do with my brain? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Mu’en reasoned, completely dismissing any notion of being bound to An forever.
Right now, the most pressing matter was escaping. He had no intention of being trapped here like some doll for the rest of his life!
“There’s always a way out! I just need to find it!” Mu’en encouraged himself.
…
With his mind somewhat calmed, Mu’en finally took a good look around. The room appeared to be a basement, with smooth, square walls and floors. The only light came from a dim oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. In front of him was a set of thick iron bars, each as wide as a wrist—clearly not something his scrawny arms could break through. The door to the cell was the only exit, and An had thoughtfully secured it with a lock larger than Mu’en’s fist.
“Damn it, I’m already in shackles! Was the lock really necessary?” Mu’en grumbled under his breath.
As for the rest of the room… Mu’en ran his hands over the walls and felt the ground beneath him. A chill ran down his spine as he realized the truth.
Metal. The walls and floor were metal. An had gone all out to create a completely impenetrable metal prison to ensure Mu’en had no chance of escape. Forget digging a tunnel—that was straight out of the question. The only possible exit was a tiny ventilation duct in the corner of the ceiling, but it was so small that only a sewer rat could fit through it.
“How am I supposed to get out of this?!” Mu’en’s despair deepened.
A metal fortress with no guards, no escape routes, and the only exit locked tight with an oversized padlock. An had thought of everything. As someone who knew Mu’en inside and out, she was well aware of his limited strength and lack of magical abilities. She hadn’t bothered with fancy locks or restraints—just simple, unbreakable ones that Mu’ennever stand a chance against.
“Am I really doomed to spend the rest of my days as An’s ‘property’?” Mu’en muttered, his spirits sinking.
