"Ellie, what’s written in this book... you must be ready to die with me if you gain the knowledge of its contents."

  She met my eyes and held them. Her posture locked into pce, not perfect, but steady through effort.

  "I’m not just ready to die with you. I’ll sacrifice myself so you can live. You helped to steady me when life tripped me. Then you came back, the day it all colpsed. You pulled me out before I sank with it. And even more, you ter showed me something unfathomable. Something worth living for. Or dying."

  Her voice came sharp. Her eyes didn’t shift.

  "Command me, Master."

  I nodded.

  "From now on, we live and die together, Ellie."

  She stepped forward. Her movement was direct, unhurried. She stopped a pace away and met my eyes. "Where you lead, I follow." Her hand closed around mine, grip steady, fingers pressing once before she released and straightened again.

  We left the library in silence and made our way down the hall. In the bedroom, I sat on the sofa near the window. It sagged under my weight, its cushions worn thin at the edges and sun-bleached along the backrest. I gestured to the seat across from me.

  She approached and sat with effort. Her knees missed alignment, hands pced ft in her p. Her back straightened, then slipped, and she corrected with a small breath and visible tension in her shoulders.

  "Before we begin," I said, setting the tome aside on a nearby coffee table, "tell me everything about Mark. What kind of person he was before today. What I meant to you then—and what I mean to you now, after everything that happened. I need to understand both who he was, and what I am to you now."

  She rolled her shoulders back, arms settling tighter against her sides. Her breath shifted as she braced to speak.

  "I was five when I first saw him. He was holding a practice sword, stiff and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure where to rest the tip. It didn’t suit him yet. The moment our carriage stopped at the Ninetails gate, I leaned forward to watch him longer. Father reminded me to behave. I wasn't even meant to be seen outside. But I remember the way he moved. He kept trying, even when it didn’t come easy. That’s the part that stayed within my memory."

  "Our fathers held equal ranks and nd. That alone should’ve sparked rivalry. Status breeds competition. But for some reason, it didn’t. Maybe they were too tired. Maybe both saw too much of themselves in the other. That leveled the field enough for our fathers to meet without insult. The visits were arranged with formality, purely courtesy at first. But over time, they grew habitual. Men talked over matters of nd and conscription. I was allowed to come along, but only when they needed my presence as signal or asset."

  "I started finding excuses to stay longer. Mark didn’t speak much unless there was a reason. He didn’t ask questions unless he wanted answers. But he always noticed. When I limped once, he pointed it out before anyone else. When I spilled ink, he set another page down without saying a word."

  "He taught me numbers before I was even taught letters. Said girls should know what’s being taken from them. In a world where most of us never learned to read, he sat with me under the terrace nterns, tracing letters in charcoal. When I got them wrong, he didn’t mock me. He just drew them again, slower."

  "Sometimes at night, we’d lie together side by side in the garden, gazing at the sky. He’d point at the stars and tell me the ones he’d made names for. It anchored him, because no matter what happened, they were always there."

  "One evening I heard his father shouting. Loud enough to carry through the courtyard. Something about wasted potential. Mark came out after, face dry but pale, and sat beside me without saying a word. Then he said, ‘I’ll never touch a sve that doesn’t want it. I don’t care what my name demands.’"

  "He meant it."

  "Mark was the youngest of his line. I was the only daughter of mine. When the agreement came, it felt more like procedure than promise. Both houses signed off on me being his first concubine when the time came. There was no ceremony. Just a letter delivered and nodded over."

  "I hoped for it. That was the only ending I ever imagined—being his. When the agreement came, I felt relief. Like something right had finally been spoken aloud."

  "Then the demons invaded."

  "Each noble house had quotas to fill. Minor ones bled the hardest. Every year, another brother vanished. Cousins, nephews, family friends. Our two names drained slowly, like a basin with a faulty stopper."

  "Mark changed with each year that passed. Not through talent, but pressure. Grief took his softness and left focus in its pce. His movements turned sharper. His posture held tension. Every swing followed the st. He practiced to survive. To cross a warfront and return breathing. His eyes lost their shine. He never smiled the way he used to. Not even when I was around."

  "Not long ago he told me that he would go to the front after graduating. He said hiding while others bled left a man empty."

  "Last week my st remaining brother was pronounced dead in action. When his notice came back stamped in bck wax, my uncle sent me to the auction house the same night."

  "I was sold before I could grieve."

  "And then... you were there. At the auction. Staring at me like something long buried had just broken the surface. You didn’t say anything. Just stood there, looking. Like your own eyes refused to trust what they were seeing. I thought I was hallucinating. I thought grief had finally cracked something beyond repair."

  "You bought me. Committed everything you had just to make sure no one else would touch me. That should’ve frightened me. Should’ve made me feel small. It didn’t. It made my knees weak instead."

  "I waited my whole life for that moment when I finally became yours. But when it came, it was wrapped in shame and chains. Still, you never treated me like property. Not even once."

  "That night in the bath, something shattered. The world I was taught, where a woman’s pleasure didn’t exist and a body was only a toll to be paid, you undid it with just fingers and mere few words."

  "You moved with intent. Every gesture asked instead of taking. Every touch waited. Every word built a bridge I didn’t know could exist. And when I came... when my body seized and cried and let go in ways I never imagined possible... I knew I couldn’t go back. Not to how I’d been. Not to how I thought."

  "This new you... you aren’t softer. You’re heavier. Like something inside you burns and doesn’t stop. But you look at me like I’m not just a girl you once knew. You look like I matter more now than I ever did then."

  "I don’t know who you are anymore, and I don’t care."

  "I belong to you. Physical chains are unnecessary. My soul already binds to your will."

  The moment her voice died down, I felt a sudden shift.

  A burning sensation intensified in my sor plexus. Then a string of energy shot out of my body and rooted itself in you. My whole body felt like it was on fire as we both screamed in agony.

  ***

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