Unbearable pressure.
That was the only way to describe what Nyx felt.
Not just heavy—crushing. Suffocating. Every breath burned as if his lungs were being wrung dry, burning. His shoulders hunched instinctively as if trying to protect his chest, though the weight pressing down on him was invisible.
It was like a predator staring at prey, No—that wasn't right.
This was judgment.
As if his very existence was being measured and found wanting.
His pulse pounded in his ears. Sweat beaded on his skin despite the coolness of the chamber.
*Clank.*
The sharp ring of metal cut through the suffocating silence. One of the guards had dropped his weapon, trembling too much to hold it. The blade skittered across the floor, echoing like a death knell.
And just like that—
the pressure vanished.
Snuffed out as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving behind only the memory of its weight.
Nyx's eyes snapped to Caelia.
Her face was unreadable, a mask of cold elegance. But the fact that she alone stood tall, unaffected, spoke louder than any expression.
He ground his teeth until his jaw ached. Heat rose from his chest like a tide. He was done. Done with the suffocating weight. Done with himself. Done with everything.
The anger wasn't even aimed at Caelia.
It wasn't the guards.
Not even this cursed mansion.
It was at himself.
And at the world that had conspired to break him.
How could he have been so naïve? So pathetic?
He knew humanity too well—the cruelty hidden behind polite smiles, the selfishness everyone pretended didn't exist. At least, not if you lived a decent life.
And the world? The world had never been his ally. It had always twisted against him, always ensured he got the worst outcome possible. As if simply being alive had angered some god.
„Like his family. Like fate itself, mocking every step he took."
Maybe fate was just a bitch that hated him from the core, unraveling him thread by thread until nothing was left.
So how had he let himself get carried away so quickly? A few hours of warmth, of comfort—and suddenly he'd almost forgotten who he was. Forgotten that he'd been bought. Bought at an auction, like a thing.
Reality slammed into him like cold iron.
There was no escape. There never had been.
The hunger in him faded. The food on the table—so tempting moments ago—looked poisonous now.
His voice was ice cold when he finally spoke.
"So. What did you want to talk about?"
The warmth he'd shown her earlier was gone. Every syllable was sharp.
Her eyes widened as if she just had realized what she had done.
"S-sorry. I didn't mean to—"
Her voice was soft, tentative. So different from the commanding authority she had wielded minutes before.
Nyx cut her off.
"What are you sorry for, Lady Caelia? Nothing happened that requires an apology."
She bit her lip, the faintest crack in her composure. His words struck harder than any blow.
"I only… I didn't want you to…"
She hesitated, the words stumbling out as if she'd tripped over them.
"Feel uncomfortable."
The pause stretched a beat too long, hinting that wasn't all she meant.
"It's fine."
His tone remained cold.
"Nothing happened. And even if it had—what right would I have to raise my voice against you? I am your property."
The words landed heavy. Her posture faltered, shoulders sinking as if the weight he bore moments ago now pressed on her.
"And as your property," Nyx continued, voice clipped, "I'd like to know what you want of me. What I'm supposed to do. I can't fulfill the purpose you bought me for if I don't know what it is."
Caelia's eyes wavered. For the first time since he'd met her, she looked… uncertain.
"I only wanted to know how you were… yesterday."
Her voice faltered, almost fragile, as if the questrion itself had slipped out before she could stop it. It sounded less like duty, more like concern—though she seemed just as surprised by her own words as he was
"And… what you plan to do from here."
The words left her lips barely above a whisper . The question hung oddly in the air—not quite formal, not quite personal. Almost as if she herself didn't know why it mattered so much.
Nyx studied her. The silence stretched. Finally, he spoke.
"For the first question—it wasn't bad. But for the second?" He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Why should I answer? You didn't answer mine either, did you?"
His mouth twisted into a mask of mock horror, eyes wide in exaggerated shock.
Oh nooo, how dreadful! Forgive me, my lady—how could your worthless slave dare form a thought, let alone a sentence?
The sarcasm dripped like acid.
The guards stiffened instantly, hands flashing to their weapons. Rage twisted their faces—an insolent slave mocking their master? Unforgivable.
But Caelia raised a hand.
"Stop."
The order froze them mid-step. Even Serra and Selene shifted uneasily, their gazes darting between Nyx and Caelia.
"I don't… want anything from you."
Her voice was quieter now, the authority of someone used to being obeyed faltering into something more fragile.
"If you could… keep me company sometimes, that would be enough."
She looked away, almost embarrassed at her own words, as if realizing too late how they sounded.
"Otherwise—you're free to do as you wish. I'll support you, whatever you choose."
Nyx blinked, thrown off by her answer.
He narrowed his eyes.
"But how could a mere slave like me keep you company? Or make use of your wealth? Or your status?"
Caelia shifted in her chair. For a moment it seemed she might refuse to answer, but at last her voice came steady, if quiet.
"You were a slave in the auction house,"
she said, her voice firmer now, though her fingers traced the rim of her glass as if to anchor herself.
"But not anymore."
It sounded like a declaration, but beneath it was something more unsettled—like she was trying to convince herself just as much as him.
Nyx froze.
Seeing him stare at her like that made her chuckle soft and quiet.
"…What?"
Her lips curved in the faintest chuckle at his expression.
"When I refused your collar, it wasn't just a physical leash I rejected. I bought you out of slavery. The moment we left that place—you were free."
"…Eh? I am free, like for real?"
She nodded.
He stared at her, stunned. A sharp laugh bubbled in his chest but didn't escape. Was this the shortest slavery in history? Without dying on top of it? Barely worn chains, and already cut free.
Some achievement he was almost proud of.
Not that pride had ever mattered.
But… he couldn't deny what she had done. She had bought him, treated him with respect, given him servants, freedom—and now this.
Gratitude twisted uncomfortably in his chest. He didn't want to feel it. Didn't want to let his guard down again.
Because trust was still a luxury he couldn't afford.
Only a fool trusted someone whose motives were hidden. Someone who could summon that suffocating pressure with a glance.
Still… her words stirred something in him.
He was tired of powerlessness. Tired of bowing his head. He wanted respect. He wanted wealth. He wanted power to carve his own path, he wanted to survive.
And above all—he wanted to be free.
Free from chains.
Free from his cursed family on Earth.
Free from the shadows of trauma.
The best way to do that… he already had an idea. But it would require her help. Not just a little—he would need all of Caelia.
Better to risk trust than drown in suspicion and still get found out.
His mind was made up.
He would break free of his fate. No matter what it took. Nyx inhaled, locking eyes with Caelia.
"I want to—"