Shane looked at her stunned expression and frowned, impatience creeping in. "Who else? If you're not doing it, should Erza and I do it?"
He ran his eyes up and down her, voice full of that familiar Shane-brand sarcasm. "Can't you at least act like a proper captive? Doing housework is a lot better than sitting tied up in a corner, isn't it?"
He took a step closer, staring into her wide, shocked black eyes, speaking faster. "If you hate it that much, then spit out what you know and get out of here. Saves everyone the trouble."
Ultear's chest rose and fell with the effort of swallowing it.
She bit down hard on her lip, her elegant crane-like eyes blazing, pinning him like she could burn a hole straight through.
The air between them seemed to harden.
At last, after several long minutes of inward wrestling, she forced out a barely audible "Mm."
She walked stiffly toward the corner, grabbed the cleaning tools, and under Shane's unceremonious directions wiped down the couch first. Only after making sure Shane and Erza had sat did she pick up a rag and march, movements rigid, into the bathroom.
Erza watched her disappear into the doorway, sitting ramrod straight. Being "waited on" clearly made her uncomfortable. "Shane, is this… really okay? And aren't you worried she'll run or do something if you just let her loose like that?"
Shane slouched back in his chair with a huff. "Acting like cleaning is the worst humiliation in the world— even I don't have that much pride. We used to split chores around the house, remember?
"I just hope that oversized pride of hers actually gets useful and pushes her to talk sooner. Then she can leave and we can all move on."
Then something seemed to click. He smacked his forehead. "You do have a point. Letting her roam completely free isn't ideal."
He stretched out his hand; pale light flickered in his palm and quickly solidified into a dark, sturdy metal shackle.
He bent down and snapped one end around his own left ankle with a crisp click.
Then he stood, dragging the other end as he headed toward the bathroom, where water and scrubbing sounds echoed.
Inside, Ultear was wiping the edge of the tub with rolled-up sleeves, every motion stiff and unwilling. When Shane stepped in, she froze immediately on guard.
He ignored her wary stare, crouched, and, under her startled gaze, locked the other end of the shackle around her bare right ankle.
The cold bite of metal made her whole body jolt.
"What—what are you doing now?!" Her voice trembled with reined-in anger.
"Guarding against you. Do I need to spell it out?"
Shane stood, dusting his hands off, giving her a look that clearly said how can you ask something so stupid.
Then his gaze dropped to her feet, pale and bare on the cold tiles.
He thought for a second, snapped his fingers, and the chain between them flashed and lengthened.
"Fifty meters. That should be enough to move around the house and clean," he said, mentally measuring the house's size and nodding in satisfaction.
He flexed his ankle experimentally. The weight was surprisingly light; he was quite pleased with the "material" he'd conjured.
Besides, keeping it manifested would let him continually squeeze more training out of the "heat flow" in his body. Two birds, one stone.
Once he'd adjusted, he looked at Ultear's face—cycling between pale and flushed—and said, "This shackle's my magic. It's strong, don't worry. If wearing it bothers you, then start talking. You'll feel better. I'll feel better."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and left, ignoring the murderous look she shot at his back.
"Bastard!"
After he was gone, Ultear stared down at the dark chain binding her to that hateful man, teeth clenched.
Maybe… she really did need to seriously consider whether to give up some intel.
If not, who knew how long he'd keep playing with her like this?
Shane came out of the bath a while later, steam still clinging to his skin.
Erza, who'd been sitting prim and proper the whole time, couldn't hide her surprise. She lowered her voice. "She… just accepted it like that?"
Based on what she'd seen these days, Ultear was proud to the bone. This wasn't the kind of woman to submit quietly.
"I'd rather she didn't accept it," Shane sighed, lifting his shackled ankle. The chain rattled softly. "No matter how light it is, it's still annoying."
Seeing him looking both put-upon and resigned, Erza couldn't help but snort a laugh.
"Hey, what's so funny?" Shane shot her an aggrieved look.
He suddenly had the urge to slap a shackle on Erza too, so they could "fondly reminisce" about their Tower of Heaven days together.
Once Ultear had grudgingly finished a basic cleaning of the bathroom—stumbling and muttering the whole time—Shane finally enjoyed his long-awaited bath and collapsed onto the bed he hadn't slept in for ages.
With his body relaxed, his mind started wandering.
They'd had this house for a while now. Why hadn't the "Initiation" trial finished?
How long, exactly, did "stability" have to last? There was no timeline written anywhere.
The thought left him irritated. With Brain's threat temporarily off the table, he wanted nothing more than to advance more trials and earn more permissions.
He'd been eyeing those greyed-out classes and traits for ages, longing to stack up three permissions and do another summoning.
Right then, the shackle around his ankle tugged slightly.
He frowned. At this hour? Don't I get any peace?
He climbed out of bed, the chain whispering over the floor as he followed the pull toward the small, out-of-the-way room they'd given Ultear.
The door wasn't locked. He pushed it open.
The room was bare—just a simple bed and a chair. The sheets and covers were spare linens Erza had dug out. Plain to the point of spartan.
But that wasn't the problem.
The problem was: it was empty.
"Where'd she go?" Shane thought, a spike of confusion.
Someone as sharp as Ultear shouldn't have bolted headlong like an idiot.
His eyes swept the room, finally resting on the open window.
The dark chain between them lay draped over the sill, vanishing into the night outside.
He walked over, followed the direction of the link, and looked up.
With one hand on the frame, he swung himself smoothly onto the slanted roof.
Moonlight poured over the tiles like water.
Ultear sat on the ridge, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, her chin resting on her knees. She stared blankly at the bright moon overhead.
Shane walked over, dragging the chain behind him; metal scraped lightly over tile.
He stopped behind her and took in the curled-up shape of her back—so different from the repressed, composed image she'd shown before.
He couldn't help himself. "What a weak pose," he said softly. "Really doesn't suit you."
~~~
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