Good Dog

[You didn't flinch at the appearance of the corpses, and neither did their deaths affect you. But, knowing that the situation was becoming mess at this moment, your expression grew heavy, and you narrowed your eyes.]

[Inside the silent mansion, lit only by the full moon shining through the windows — its light glowing crimson, seemingly in response to all the bloodshed — you didn't feel despair. Instead, you thought this was a chance. So, you moved, trying to escape from the mansion.]

[Your idea was good, and your execution was perfect. You even managed to slip out of the house unnoticed by whoever, or whatever, group was targeting Selena's people. But it turned out, running away any farther from the house wasn't an option. Around the mansion was a kind of barrier, one that prevented any form of escape.]

[It seemed like the piece of land the mansion sat on had been cut off from the outside world. Around it was something like a membrane of space, thick and unyielding, where no matter what you did — you couldn't tear through it.]

["Looks like one rat got away," you suddenly heard from behind you.]

[Turning your head, you saw a group of men in black clothes. Some were sitting, some leaning against the walls, and others standing, all of them looking at you with amused expressions.]

[You looked at them all without a shred of fear, already preparing yourself to struggle — if only a little.]

[You didn't try to talk with them. Conversations only happen between equals, and you knew you were not equal to them — not in their eyes, at least.]

[Your pride also didn't allow you to beg. The idea of pathetically lowering yourself was impossible. That's why your only option was to fight… fight with all your might — then die.]

[Things went just like you thought. But instead of even putting up a fight, you were casually struck down. Your body slammed into the wall, bones breaking under the impact.]

[You couldn't resist. You couldn't move. And those assassins? They laughed.]

["Such spirit," one of them said mockingly, grinning, "Too bad you're just another decorative corpse at best."]

[You didn't give them any reaction. You refused to let them feed off their ego with your pain. But you still clenched your teeth, frustrated. Because you knew — had you been given more time, just a little more time to train — things could've gone differently.]

[With heavy eyelids, you prepared to welcome death. But then, suddenly, a man who hadn't been there before appeared and said: "Don't hurt him anymore. He's the target."]

[Hearing that sentence, even in your fading consciousness, you wondered — who would want you? Could it be… Lilith?]

[With that last thought, you lost consciousness.]

'Impossible.' Noel replied to the simulated him.

It felt like the simulated him was dreaming too big, and he wanted to go there, to shake him awake, and tell him to face reality.

How can Lilith ask someone to kidnap you? She would kidnap you herself!

Noel, shaking his head, thought silently to himself.

[When you opened your eyes, you found yourself sitting on a cold metal chair, your body chained tightly to its handles. The air reeked of rust and stale iron.]

[You didn't lose your composure, but you already understood — this wasn't your sister Lilith's doing.]

[You looked around the room. Bare concrete walls, nearly painted red from what could only be old, dried blood. A drain in the center of the floor, surrounded by dark, coagulated remains. And at the side, a table lined with tools — tools you instantly recognized as ones meant for torture.]

[You immediately understood — the days ahead would be nothing short of hell.]

[With the flickering light above your head casting long shadows across the floor, and the quiet sound of your own breathing filling the silence, you waited, while mentally preparing yourself.]

[Finally, after hours had passed, a man stepped in — wearing an elegant, clearly expensive coat. His features were refined, and his sharp eyes held no warmth. He introduced himself as Coren. Coren of the noble Merrow family.]

[Naturally, you had no memory of him or his family. But for him, it was a different story. He knew you, very well. And his grudge was obvious from the very first words out of his mouth after introducing himself: Look at you now... nothing but trash. And to think, you were once hailed as a prodigy with few compareble ones. How does it feel?]

["Ah… right," he added, smirking. "You don't even remember anything, do you?"]

[Coren Merrow seemed to have a mountain of grievances stored up, as he kept babbling — ranting about how far the Cross family had fallen, about a history you had no memory of, and about who you once were.]

[Internally, you were seething. Not because of what he was saying — but because you couldn't do anything, not even against trash like him. But after twelve years of pretending, of concealing everything, staying silent wasn't difficult. You didn't flinch, didn't speak. You just stared at him with cold, open disdain…]

[… and that, apparently, touched a nerve.]

[Coren's expression twisted, and without warning, he started beating you.]

[Still, you didn't let out so much as a whimper. And Coren, clearly frustrated by your silence, suddenly said, "Your sister, Lilith, cried and begged just fine. Are you two really siblings?"]

[Even though you knew he shouldn't have any relation with your sister — let alone the power to harm her — something in you still snapped. Your eyes flared, glowing faintly, your fury leaking through at last.]

[Smirking at the change in your expression, Coren doubled down, throwing out more crass words, and then, once again, he resumed beating you.]

[One day later, when barely any teeth remained in your mouth, and your vision blurred from swollen eyes, Coren finally stopped.]

[He took a moment to rest, calmly eating at the blood stained table beside you. And then, as if he'd just remembered something, he wiped his mouth elegantly with a napkin, set it aside, turned his head toward you, and said:Ah, I nearly forgot. It's been a full day, and you haven't had a single bite, have you?]

[After saying that, he casually called out to a subordinate outside, ordering them to bring a dog bowl. When it came, he scraped leftover food into it — not from his plate, but from the servants' scraps — and set it down.]

["Do you want to eat?" he asked with a mocking grin.]

[When you stayed silent, he suddenly chuckled. "Ah, my bad. I forgot all your limbs are still chained."]

[He stepped forward and unchained your hands — but left your legs shackled. And the moment your hands were free, you swung. You aimed straight for his smug face.]

[But he caught your fist easily… and broke your hand without hesitation. You grimaced, the pain flashing through you like lightning.]

["Seems untying your hands isn't an option," he muttered with a feigned regret.]

[With that, he bound your arms again — not to the chair this time, but strapped tightly to your torso. Then he left the dog bowl on the floor, just far enough that you'd have to crawl to it. No hands, no dignity. Just mouth to bowl.]

["If you want to eat," he said, walking away, "then be a good little dog."]

[But you, eyes bloodshot, didn't even spare the trash at your feet a single glance.]