Bound in Chains

Pain still lingers at the base of my skull, a dull, insistent throb that refuses to fade. My fingers hover near the collar around my neck, but I don't dare touch it again—not yet. I'm still gasping from the last attempt. The system's notification—You are now bound to Julius Wren. Obedience is mandatory*.*—burns itself into my mind. I feel sick.

The carriage sways beneath me, wheels crunching against gravel as it moves steadily through what I assume are Julius's lands. The scent of aged wood and leather lingers in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of Julius's wine. Beyond the curtained windows, the occasional flicker of torchlight casts twisting shadows that dance across the interior. Even in this confined space, the world beyond is a mystery, and I hate that. I need knowledge. I need control.

Julius, of course, is watching. He leans back in his seat, golden eyes filled with quiet amusement, fingers idly tapping against his wine glass.

"Struggling won't help," he says, voice smooth as silk. "Well, it might be entertaining for me, but it certainly won't do you any favors."

I swallow my anger and keep my expression carefully neutral. A tantrum won't get me anywhere. No, I need information. What are you, Julius? A captor, a collector, or something worse?

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of my frustration, I lean back against the plush seat, exhaling slowly. The fabric is expensive, too soft to belong to anything but nobility. Another confirmation of his status. "You seem well-versed in this sort of thing."

His smile widens just a fraction. "I make it my business to understand power. And collars like that?" He gestures lazily toward my neck. "Well, they're quite rare. Reserved for things that shouldn't be running around unsupervised."

"Things," I echo. "Not people?"

He chuckles, lifting his glass in a mock toast. "Now you're getting it."

To make his point, he snaps his fingers. Instantly, the collar tightens—not enough to choke, just enough to remind me who holds the leash. My body tenses, my fingers twitching toward the metal, but I stop myself. Don't react. Don't give him the satisfaction.

But gods, the sensation is unbearable. The metal isn't just pressing against my skin—it burns, like something alive, sinking its will into me. It feels wrong, like something is coiling beneath the surface of my very being, whispering compliance into my bones.

"See?" he muses. "This is much easier when you cooperate."

Pain flickers through me, sharp but brief, vanishing as quickly as it came. My jaw clenches. The collar doesn't just punish defiance; it responds to Julius's commands. That's dangerous. That means he can control me even if I do nothing at all.

I roll my shoulders, testing my mobility. The pain from the collar still lingers, but beyond that, my body is intact—just weakened. If I want to escape, I need to understand how this thing works. Does it punish only defiance? What about deception? Does it react to intent or only actions? These are questions I'll have to answer carefully, and preferably without Julius realizing I'm testing my limits.

For now, I play along.

I let out a soft, resigned sigh. "Fine. You've made your point. I'll behave."

He studies me, swirling his wine. "See, that's the smart answer. But the question is, do you mean it?"

I offer him a small, wry smile. "Does it matter? You have me bound, after all."

His golden eyes glint with something unreadable. "True. But I do so enjoy peeling back the layers of people like you."

A slow, simmering frustration rises in me, but I keep it buried beneath a carefully crafted mask of reluctant cooperation. If he enjoys games, I'll play one he won't see coming.

"Then at least tell me where I am," I say, shifting the conversation. "You have me at a disadvantage. I don't even know what this place is."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh? That's an oddly large gap in knowledge. What exactly do you remember before dropping into my lap?"

Careful, Rikard. Too much truth is dangerous. But a little misdirection… that I can use.

"I remember dying," I say, letting just enough truth slip to hook him. "Then… something else. Falling. And now I'm here."

Julius watches me closely. Curious, are we? Good.

"Well," he says after a moment, "you're in the kingdom of Ardentia. More specifically, in my personal domain." His smirk turns indulgent. "Lucky you."

He takes another sip of wine, savoring the taste. The carriage jolts slightly over a rough patch of road, and I brace myself, fists clenching against the seat. The leather beneath my fingertips creaks softly, grounding me in this moment. I still haven't asked the important question: What is he going to do with me? But I can tell he's thinking it.

I bite back a retort and instead focus on what matters. Kingdom of Ardentia. Julius has influence, maybe nobility. That means politics, power struggles, and—most importantly—weak points.

I tilt my head slightly. "And what do you intend to do with me? Keep me as a pet?"

He laughs, the sound rich with amusement. "Oh, I'd never be so crass. Think of it more as… an investment. You're rare. Valuable. And I have every intention of finding out exactly what makes you so."

He lets the words linger between us, watching how I absorb them. I'm fighting not to react, but I feel the tension in my shoulders, the flicker of calculation in my eyes.

My blood runs cold, but outwardly, I only offer a mild smile. "How thoughtful."

Julius watches me for a long moment, then lifts his glass in another mock toast. "Here's to our new arrangement."

I don't raise an imaginary glass in return. Instead, I meet his gaze and let my smirk return. Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Julius Wren. Because one day, this collar will be nothing but a memory.

And when that day comes, I'll be the one holding the leash.