His consciousness rose slowly like a sunken ship surfacing from the depths.
The first thing he sensed wasn’t light.
It was scent.
Disinfectant mixed with a crisp minty coolness, along with the faint sweetness of milk candy lingering beneath it.
Soren struggled to lift his heavy eyelids.
His blurry vision gradually focused.
He was lying on a soft, clean bed beneath a warm feather blanket.
Above him was an unfamiliar ceiling, where a simple hanging lamp cast gentle light.
The room wasn’t large, yet it was arranged with unusual neatness and warmth, like a carefully prepared guest room.
Only… the windows were tightly sealed behind heavy curtains.
A dull ache throbbed at the back of his neck, dragging back the horrifying memories from before he’d blacked out.
The madness burning in Grand Master Jean’s eyes.
The threat wrapped in mint fragrance yet cold enough to pierce bone.
And the final merciless punch.
“Tch…”
He tried to push himself upright, only to discover his entire body felt weak and limp.
Especially his left leg.
A piercing pain shot through it.
Lowering his head, he saw that his lower leg had been professionally secured with medical splints and bandages, the treatment clean and efficient.
The door quietly opened.
Jean walked in.
She had changed out of the Knights of Favonius’ signature white cape and now wore only a simple cream-colored set of home clothes.
Her pale golden hair was loosely tied behind her head, with several strands hanging beside her cheeks.
In her hands rested a tray carrying a steaming bowl of porridge, a glass of water, and several pills.
The moment she saw Soren awake, a smile instantly bloomed across her face.
It was gentle like spring sunlight.
As though the woman from the alley, the one with twisted eyes who had knocked him unconscious, had never existed at all.
“You’re awake?”
Even her voice sounded soft as feathers.
“How are you feeling?
Is your head still dizzy?
Does your leg hurt badly?”
She walked to the bedside and set the tray atop the nightstand.
Then she gently tucked the blanket more securely around him, her fingertips accidentally brushing against his cheek.
Soren immediately flinched backward.
His body instantly tensed.
Fear and vigilance filled his eyes.
Behind him, his tail reflexively wrapped tightly around his waist, the tip trembling nervously.
Jean’s gaze lingered on him.
Deep within her eyes flashed something impossible to describe.
Satisfaction.
And obsession.
Yet it was quickly buried beneath even deeper “concern.”
“Don’t be afraid, Soren.”
She spoke softly and reached out to stroke his hair.
But Soren turned his head away.
Her hand paused midair.
The smile on her face remained gentle, though a trace of darkness flickered deep within her eyes before transforming into even greater pity.
“This is my fault.
I got too anxious earlier and used too much force.
But you’re injured now, so you need proper rest, understand?”
She picked up the bowl of porridge and lightly stirred it with a spoon.
Scooping up a spoonful, she blew gently on it before holding it to Soren’s lips.
Her eyes were focused and filled with anticipation.
Like a patient mother coaxing a sick child.
“Come on, eat a little first.
You were unconscious for most of the day, so you must be hungry.
I made this vegetable porridge especially for you.
It’s very light and good for your recovery.”
Soren pressed his lips together.
His body rigidly resisted her.
Fear and anger churned uncontrollably inside his chest.
Looking at the gentle tenderness she displayed now only made his skin crawl.
Behind this false warmth lay naked imprisonment and threats.
“Grand Master Jean…”
His voice sounded dry and hoarse from fear.
“Let me go… please…”
The instant the word “please” left his mouth, Soren himself froze.
He wanted to bite off his own tongue.
Terrified, he looked toward Jean.
Sure enough, her movements stopped.
The hand holding the spoon froze in midair.
The gentle smile on her face stiffened like a mask.
Slowly, she set the spoon down.
Then both hands gently cupped Soren’s face.
Her thumbs greedily rubbed against his cheeks.
“Soren…”
Her voice became impossibly soft.
“You’re ‘asking’ me again… how wonderful.
You’re finally beginning to understand that you need me, aren’t you?”
Her face leaned closer.
The scent of mint and cedarwood enveloped him once again, carrying an almost suffocating pressure.
“Look at how obedient you are right now.
How badly you need someone to take care of you.”
Her gaze swept over the splinted leg.
Her eyes filled with unmistakable satisfaction.
“Even a broken leg doesn’t matter.
I’ll take care of feeding you, giving you water, wiping your body down, changing your bandages… I’ll handle every single thing for you.
Look, I even changed your diaper for you.”
Picking up the spoon again, she held it to his lips once more.
This time, her gentle tone carried undeniable command.
“Open your mouth.
You need to regain your strength.
Don’t make me worry, alright?
If you refuse to eat properly, I’ll become very sad… And when I’m sad, I might lose control and do even more things that make you ‘need’ me, okay?”
The upward curl at the end of her words carried an innocent sort of cruelty.
As though she were discussing something utterly ordinary.
Soren stared at the face only inches away.
Those silver-blue eyes overflowed with twisted “motherly love.”
A possessiveness so overwhelming that she wanted to care for him until he lost himself.
Behind that gentle smile lurked an abyss even more terrifying than violence.
Soren didn’t doubt for a second that if he continued refusing her, she would truly break his other leg without hesitation.
Or do something even more horrifying.
All just to make him depend on her more.
Immense fear and helplessness drowned him.
Despairingly, Soren closed his eyes and slowly parted his lips.
The warm porridge slid into his mouth.
Yet he couldn’t taste anything at all.
Only an icy chill climbing from his spine straight into his skull.
Jean smiled in satisfaction.
Her gaze grew so gentle it seemed ready to melt.
Carefully, she fed him spoonful after spoonful with focused tenderness, as though completing some sacred duty.
She even used her fingertips to gently wipe away porridge that wasn’t actually there from the corner of his lips.
“Good boy…”
She murmured softly.
Endless satisfaction filled her voice.
“That’s right.
Just hand yourself over to me.
I’ll take very good care of you… so well that you’ll never want to leave my side again.
I’ll raise you into a helpless little thing incapable of taking care of itself.”
After finishing the porridge, she picked up the water and medicine.
Soren behaved like a puppet on strings, mechanically cooperating.
Once he’d swallowed the medicine, Jean carefully wiped his face and hands with a damp towel.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?
Sleep a little longer.”
She tucked the blanket securely around him again.
Then she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
The cool mint fragrance accompanied a tenderness impossible to resist.
“I’ll stay here with you.
Don’t be afraid.
As long as I’m here, you don’t need to worry about anything.”
She pulled over a chair and sat beside the bed.
And truly remained there silently watching him.
Her gaze was focused and obsessed.
That chillingly gentle smile lingered at the corners of her lips, while her stare felt like an invisible spiderweb, binding Soren firmly in place.
Soren closed his eyes, not daring to look at her again.
The pain throughout his body and the crushing mental pressure left him utterly exhausted.
Yet an even deeper fear prevented him from falling asleep.
He could clearly feel Jean’s gaze resting upon him.
That stare seemed to carry real heat, scorching against his skin.
Soren kept his eyes tightly shut.
Albeit his eyelashes trembled out of his control.
The soft kiss on his forehead carried a cool mint fragrance; however, it felt like an invisible mark branded onto him, keeping his entire body rigid.
He could feel Jean’s attention fixed upon him.
Especially upon the tail hanging limply behind him due to fear and weakness, the tip still twitching faintly.
Time flowed onward within suffocating silence.
Every second felt like rolling across thorns.
Soren forced himself to slow his breathing and pretend to sleep, desperately trying to ignore the constant sensation of being watched.
Even so, the pain in his body and the unbearable tension in his mind made genuine relaxation impossible.
The fracture in his left leg sent waves of dull agony through him, constantly reminding him of just how vulnerable and helpless he currently was.
He didn’t dare move at all.
He feared that even the least bit of motion would shatter this fragile temporary peace.