The silence was a solid wall until a bell cracked it with a faint, almost shy ring. Ding. The sound didn't just echo—it burrowed deep, vibrating in my bones like a warning I couldn't unravel.
— "It has been detected that the hostess has been cast into an illusory sleep. Spending 100 points to free her."
My eyes pried themselves open, battling a haze that clung to my lids. The message hovered in my vision, white letters slicing through the mind's darkness. One hundred points? The thought seared before I could grasp why, anger rising like steam.
— "One hundred points for what, Ave?" My voice rasped, sharp-edged, cutting the void as I sat up, arms crossed tight against my chest.
Her reply came in that silken tone, laced with a thread of mockery that set my teeth grinding.
— "Good morning, dear hostess. Waking you from that isn't like rousing someone from a nap. The laws of illusion have claws, and prying them loose comes at a steep price."
The air weighed heavy in my lungs, my body foreign, as if I'd been dragged back from a place that wasn't mine. I rubbed my arms, chasing warmth into skin that still shivered.
— "So why did it cost so much? And who did this to me?"
Ave laughed—a crystalline chime with a bitter undertaste.
— "Nael, of course. He didn't just put you to sleep; he trapped you in a corner of your own soul. Bringing you back wasn't easy. Points are energy, hostess, and energy isn't free."
I shut my eyes for a moment, his name swirling in my head like a storm. Nael. Fragments of his gaze flickered back—heavy, dark, as if he could swallow the world with a blink.
— "Why?" I asked, almost a whisper, my heart pounding in a rhythm I couldn't tame.
She paused, her silence louder than words.
— "Because he can. Because he wanted to show you something. Nael isn't like you, hostess. He plays by rules you don't even know exist. It was a warning."
— "A warning of what?" My voice dipped low, a thread of fear I couldn't hide weaving through it.
— "That he's more than you see. That if he chose, you'd still be there, lost in that sleep. And…" Her tone dropped, dark as a bottomless well. "He doesn't always control himself."
A chill sliced down my spine, sharp and cold. I stood slowly, legs still unsteady, as if the floor might betray me. What is he? The question spun, unanswered.
— "And now? What do I do with this?" I asked, staring into nothing, half-expecting Ave to materialize before me.
— "Watch. Wait. Survive. He's not your enemy… yet. But Nael is a loose thread, hostess. One wrong step, and he'll pull you down with him."
I swallowed hard, her words sticking in my throat.
— "And the 100 points? How do I get them back?" Irritation flared again, hot, as I grasped for something solid.
Ave answered swiftly, her calm too smooth for my liking.
— "Simple. Convince Nael to give you the Purple Fruit. The Fruit of Innate Talent. It's rare as lightning on a clear day—eat it, and the system floods you with billions of points. The Immortal World is one step away."
I frowned. Simple? With Nael, nothing was simple. He was an enigma wrapped in silence, a sea that could drown me without a ripple.
— "I see…" I muttered, arms still crossed, thoughts tangling between doubt and curiosity.
Then I heard it: footsteps. Steady, slow, rolling down the corridor like a drumbeat before battle. He appeared in the doorway, and the room's air shifted—thickened, almost alive. Nael. His shoulders were taut, his face a stone mask, but those eyes… those dark eyes held something I couldn't name.
He saw me. Said nothing, just looked, and I felt as if he could tear through every thought I tried to hide. Before I could speak, his fingers brushed my hair—light, almost tender, but heavy with intent that stole my breath. He doesn't do anything by accident, I thought, heart racing.
Effortlessly, he lifted me, as if I were made of smoke, and set me on the bed. He adjusted the sheet with careful hands, but something was off—a coldness, like he was following a script he didn't feel. I stayed silent, eyes half-open, breathing so shallow it barely stirred the air. If he knows I'm awake, he'll break me, a voice whispered in my head.
He paused, staring down at me. The silence between us was a taut rope, ready to snap. Then he turned, lay beside me, and his breathing filled the room—heavy at first, then slow, deep. He slept.
I lay still, the echo of that bell lingering in my memory, feeling his warmth beside me and the cold he left in my chest. Who are you, Nael? The question wouldn't let go, but his sleep was the only answer I had for now—a silence that spoke louder than words.
Sleep eluded me. My mind was a whirlwind, fragments clashing endlessly. I wasn't gone—the system had pulled me back, forced me to witness what Nael hid even from himself. That moment in Yang Mei's room, when he faltered, when the mask nearly slipped and something inside him cracked.
— He could be good, I thought, my chest tightening as if squeezed by an invisible hand. He could, if the world hadn't twisted him so much.
I sighed softly, almost a breath, and turned my face to him. Nael slept, yet he seemed a storm trapped in a bottle. His face was calm, but his shoulders, rigid, bore a tension sleep couldn't erase.
— I was his Sarah once, the memory cut deep, sharp as glass. The light he followed. But now… what's left?
A cold, clear thought pierced me: He still loves me. Even if he fights it, even if he tries to bury it, something in him can't forget.
I tried to rise, light as a feather, but before my feet touched the floor, his hand caught my wrist—not hard, but firm, leaving no room for escape.
— "Stay." His voice was rough, scratched, almost a plea masked as a command.
My body froze. The air lodged in my throat. It wasn't the cutting tone he used with the world. It was something else, something I'd never heard before.
— "Nael?" I murmured, his name slipping out like a fragile question.
He didn't answer. His eyes stayed shut, but his grip held. Something in me shattered, soft and irreversible, seeing that even in sleep, he clung to me like I was the last tether between him and the void.
I slid back into bed, slow, unresisting. Nael, the untouchable, the monster of ice and iron, needed me. Or maybe just the warmth of my shadow beside him.
Night fell heavy, like a damp cloth over the face, smothering the quiet. His heat wrapped around me, but it wasn't gentle—it was a chain, a bond that tightened without asking. His breath grazed my neck, hot, almost feverish, each exhale a spark lodging in my chest.
— "You won't abandon me again, will you?" His whisper carried weight, a blend of plea and threat that made me shudder.
— "Say it!"
I looked at him. Even with eyes closed, his furrowed brow betrayed an inner struggle. His lips trembled, holding back a scream he couldn't release.
— "I won't," I said, my voice breaking, more to myself than to him. "I won't abandon you… or betray you again."
For a moment, he seemed to settle. His shoulders eased, but soon his breathing quickened, uneven, as if sleep dragged him into a dark corner of his mind.
— "So… you forgive me?" I asked, a thread of sound, knowing awake he'd silence me with a glance.
His answer came sharp, cutting:
— "No."
One word, but it struck like a slap. He drew a deep breath, and what followed was a low, almost feral growl.
— "I hate traitors. Either you're mine… or you're not."
It was his truth, carved in stone, unyielding. Even asleep, Nael was a force that wouldn't bend, wouldn't forgive.
My heart raced, hammering against my ribs like a caged bird.
— "Then you don't want me here?" The words spilled out, hard, laced with hurt and a challenge I wasn't sure I meant. "You'd rather see me with someone else?"
The air thickened, almost tangible. He didn't respond right away. When he did, it was as if the earth shook.
— "YOU ARE MINE. FOREVER MINE. BY CHOICE OR BY FORCE."
His voice was raw, wild, as if something older than him took hold. It was a confession, a verdict, hitting me like thunder. There was no escaping it—him, or what I felt.
He pulled me against him, arms encircling me as if I might vanish. It was brute strength, but there was more—a fragility that made me feel both vulnerable and sheltered. His skin's heat against mine was a fire I couldn't douse, and my heart pounded loud enough to break free.
The room was a world apart, small and stifling, shadows flickering on the walls like ghosts. His weight beside me was a constant reminder: I was here, trapped yet free. His scent—earth, smoke, and something metallic—filled the air, clinging to my skin.
— He hates me, I thought, eyes fixed on the ceiling. But he won't let me go. Why?
I shifted slightly, but his arm tightened, sensing my intent before I did.
— "Don't leave," he murmured, words slurred by sleep but solid as a vow.
I said nothing. Couldn't. My throat was dry, my mind a knot I couldn't untie. He was a paradox, a storm that ravaged and guarded in equal measure.
— "I don't know who you are anymore," I whispered, so faint I barely heard it. "The Nael I loved… is he still there?"
Silence. Only his breathing, now steady, filled the space. But then, as if answering without meaning to, he turned his face toward me. Even asleep, a shadow lingered in his features, a weight I knew too well.
— He's fighting, I realized, my heart clenching again. Against himself. Against what I did.
I closed my eyes, letting his warmth swallow me. Maybe I could still reach him. Maybe there was a slim chance to pull back the man he once was—before he sank too deep, taking us both down with him.
He drew me against him with a force that stole the air from my lungs, as if I were too light to resist—and I was. His bare, burning body pressed into mine, erasing any gap between us. Beneath him, I felt tiny, a dry leaf about to crumble in the wind, yet alive, pulsing with a fear that danced with something darker, hotter.
His hands climbed my back, firm as iron, warm as embers. There was no softness—just a touch that invaded, knowing exactly where to press to make me yield. He traced every curve, every inch of me, with a precision bordering on cruel, as if branding me into his memory. My heart thundered, echoing in my ears, and I trembled, my body surrendering before my mind could protest. I felt something pressing on my belly, it was very big, hard and thick.
— How can he be so…? The thought fractured, swallowed by the tempest that was Nael.
Flashes of a distant past blinked in my mind. Nael was once just imposing, a shadow that commanded effortlessly. But this? This was more. He was bigger now—stronger, a man who didn't ask, only took. And I, caught in that embrace, knew there was no way out.
A rough sigh escaped me. He slept, yet still overpowered me. His weight was an unseen chain, his hot breath on my neck sending shivers like lightning down my spine. Even unconscious, he was inescapable, a force that consumed everything around him. And there, crushed against him, I understood: I was his. Always had been. And a treacherous part of me never wanted it otherwise.
— "Say…" His voice broke the silence, low and dragged, a whisper that seemed to scrape his throat raw.
I flinched, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. Fear? Desire? Or both, twisted into a knot I couldn't unravel?
— "What?" My voice was frail, a breath, as if speaking hurt.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his fingers dug into my skin, gripping with a strength that was both pain and flame. My mind screamed to pull away, to run, but my body was trapped, melting in the heat he poured over me.
— Please, stop… I thought, but the words never reached my lips. He wouldn't hear. Or maybe he would and simply wouldn't care.
His weight was a living cage, hot and suffocating. My head spun, searching for an escape, but there was only him—the wild scent of earth and smoke, the heat igniting the air. If I gave in, I'd be lost when he woke. If I fought, he'd break me another way. Either way, I was already gone.
— "That you're mine." The words came low, sharp as a blade, slicing through any illusion I clung to. "Body and soul. Everything you are, everything that breathes, is mine. Only mine."
There was no anger, no warmth—just a cold certainty that pierced me like a shot. It was his truth, raw and bare, and now mine too. My chest tightened, the air growing heavier as those words echoed within me.
I was slipping. My mind clawed for something to hold onto, but his scent choked me, his touch dragged me under. He was a Supreme Nephilim, his power a force that bent even the strongest. Yang Mei fell in seconds, but I was supposed to be different. The title of Mother of Destiny armored me, numbed me to pain or pleasure, made me untouchable.
But not to him. Never to him.
His skin grazed mine, his bare chest pressing until I felt every beat of his heart against my own. Without warning, he squeezed tighter, and a sound slipped from me—a short, gasping cry I couldn't hold back. My wall, that numbness that always shielded me, crumbled to dust. Destiny, my protector from any man, fell silent, leaving me exposed before him.
And the worst part? A piece of me craved it. Wanted more.
The room was a void where time stalled. The air felt thick, hard to breathe. Shadows quivered on the walls, licked by faint candlelight, but none of it mattered. Only he existed here—the heat of his body against mine, his weight pinning me to the bed like an offering.
— I can't give in, I thought, fingers clutching the sheet until it hurt. If I do, he'll unravel me. And then…
The image of him awake flashed through my mind—those cold, ice-sharp eyes that cut deeper than words. He wouldn't see me as weak. He'd see me as a traitor, someone who stole from him while he slept. And that… that he'd never forgive.
— "If I survive this…" I murmured, so soft the sound barely lived. "He'll destroy me later."
But as I thought it, his body moved against mine, hands sliding with a certainty that stole my breath. He knew where to touch, how to disarm me, even without waking. It was instinct, raw and brutal, and that only made it more terrifying.
Suddenly, he rolled, pinning me beneath his full weight. The air vanished from my lungs, and for a moment, I thought I'd suffocate. His face was so close I felt his breath's heat on my skin, his parted lips mere inches from mine.
— "Mine…" he muttered, voice muddled by sleep but laden with a possession that chilled me to the bone.
I wanted to answer, to scream, anything, but my throat locked. I shut my eyes, trying to erase him from my mind, but the heat, the scent, the pressure—it was all there, swallowing me whole.
— I'm his, I admitted at last, the thought cutting like a blade. Always have been. Always will be.
And then, something broke inside me. The fight, the fear—it all collapsed, and I let myself sink, surrendered to whatever came next.
I reveled in it. This longing wasn't new; it stretched back through lives I could barely recall. He hadn't changed—and that was what broke me. Nael was still the only one who could truly claim me. But me? Was I worth the ground he walked on?
My love for him didn't flare up overnight. It grew slow, like weeds overtaking a barren field, coiling around my heart until nothing else fit. It hurt—a pressure in my chest, a breath I couldn't catch—but it was what kept me whole amid the chaos. He was my beacon, my abyss, the thread stitching me together when everything unraveled. And there, with his warmth bleeding into my skin, I knew: I'd always been his. Every struggle, every lie I told myself about escape, was just a futile charade.
Nael wasn't just who I loved; he was who shaped me. My scattered pieces, my doubts, my weaknesses—they all found meaning through him. Stripped bare, no masks left, I knew I'd never be more than this: his.
— "I am yours. Body, soul, everything. Do with me what you will." The words came rough, almost torn, as if I'd held them back for years, waiting for them to burst free.