I stepped into the corridor behind him, and once again, the sheer grandeur engulfed me. Five enormous doors loomed ahead, each one radiating power and secrets. But mine? Mine was in a league of its own. I pushed it open and nearly forgot how to breathe. Silver walls shimmered softly, traced with golden flourishes that stretched toward the arched ceiling. It was luxury in its purest form—yet a luxury that weighed on the chest, as if murmuring, "You belong here, but beware."
The bed stood colossal, gilded, its intricate carvings pulsing with life. It could have easily held seven people, but comfort wasn't its purpose. It was built to awe. To command.
A faint, alluring scent tugged me toward the bathroom. I stepped inside, and the bathtub halted me in my tracks. Crystal-clear water sparkled with a golden sheen, petals drifting on its surface as though scattered moments before. I shed my clothes in a rush and slipped in. The warmth enveloped me, unraveling every knot in my muscles. The fragrance was crisp, yet laced with something deeper—a mystery I could feel against my skin. I shut my eyes, and the world melted away. "This is more than water," I thought, surrendering to its pull.
I emerged after a stretch of time I couldn't measure, still dazed, and drifted to the closet. It was a treasure trove of garments—some as ancient as forgotten tales, others sleek and cutting-edge. I plucked a silver dress edged with gold. It cascaded over me like it had been sculpted for my frame, clinging to every curve just right. In the mirror, I caught my reflection. Silver eyes glinted back, my hair shimmering with improbable hints of pink and purple under the light. "I'm not just beautiful," I thought, a smile curling my lips. "I'm dangerous."
My lush curves, full and firm breasts, and generous, perfectly rounded hips formed a living masterpiece. I knew the power my presence wielded—how a single glance or smile could bend any will to mine.
"Hot?" I whispered, nearly laughing. "No. I'm more. I bend whoever I want." Even Nael, with all his icy detachment, had wavered before me. He'd deny it, but I knew.
I studied my reflection again. The woman staring back defied me with her gaze, as if saying, "The world doesn't know me yet." I adjusted the dress, drew a deep breath, and stepped out. The house was summoning me. And Nael? He'd have to reveal what he was hiding.
That woman in the mirror was more than flesh and blood—she was a threat cloaked in beauty, whispering, "You know what you're capable of. They? They're clueless."
I left the room, the corridor greeting me with its silver-and-gold walls, soft lights casting shadows that danced. Each step felt like an invitation. I was ready to unearth the secrets this place—and this man—held.
Barefoot, I felt the chill of the floor as I moved from the closet. The house seemed to call me, its whisper impossible to ignore. Curiosity pulled me through the hallways, my footsteps echoing in a silence that pulsed with life. The golden and silver walls cast gentle, almost enchanted glows, as if guarding ancient mysteries. Paintings lined the way—some weathered with age, others strikingly modern—watching me pass. I couldn't decipher their stories, but their weight settled heavy in my chest.
I reached the living room and froze, jaw dropping. This was no ordinary space—it was a lavish cinema, boasting a massive screen and sofas that looked ready to swallow anyone who dared sit. I flung myself onto one, the fabric brushing my skin like a caress. Remote in hand, I picked a film: an older woman, humiliated and violated by cocky youths, who rises from ruin to claim the underworld's throne. The tale was raw, brimming with fury and retribution. I saw myself in her—in that thirst for justice, that fight to rise above a world that crushes the frail. For two hours, I lost myself in it. When the credits rolled, an ache lingered in my chest, as if I'd left a piece of me on that screen.
The movie ended, but the rush lingered. I stood, the corridors guiding me forward like the veins of something alive. Then a door stopped me. I pushed it open, and a gym sprawled before me—vast, packed with machines I couldn't name. But the training room stole my focus. Blinking lights and tech straight out of a future I couldn't grasp. I stepped inside, and a holographic panel flared to life.
"Welcome," a voice said, cool and almost human.
The room could conjure anything—a gritty ring with punching bags or a full-blown war with foes bleeding light. I stood slack-jawed. Then he appeared. Nael. In the center, ringed by four clones—four flawless echoes of him. My pulse surged.
He fought like the air itself was his foe. Sharp, brutal strikes flowed in a dance that demolished all in its path. The clones pressed relentlessly, but Nael was a tempest. I held my breath, eyes locked on him, the floor quaking with every blow.
His style knew no bounds—not some polished gym routine, but something forged in muck, fear, and the raw drive to survive. He dodged, leaped, weaving earth and sky as if gravity bent to his will. It was stunning, terrifying—a dance where any misstep could end it all.
Even from a distance, I felt him—a force beyond reason, a quiet roar of defiance: "I won't fall." I couldn't look away.
Those clones weren't mere projections. They matched him—his strength, his fire. Five Naels waging a war that strained the walls. The air thickened, electric, as if the space might shatter.
I can fight. I'm good. But next to him? A kid playing soldier. He was flawless—almost unnaturally so. If I stepped in there, I'd crumble in seconds. That realization scorched me.
As I watched, another truth struck. This house wasn't just a building. It had a soul—Ella, a presence prickling at my back, lurking in the edges of my vision. A silent warden, mastering every light, every door. Knowing that sent a shiver through me. Casa Supremium was alive, observing, listening.
My gaze returned to Nael. He didn't relent—a machine that refused to yield. It captivated me, maddened me. Who was he? A riddle I ached to unravel but didn't know how to begin. Maybe that's what hooked me so fiercely.
Watching him sparked something in me. A flare. I had to be more—not for him, but for me. To stand near someone like that, I'd need to face the same inferno.
"I want to be stronger," I resolved, fists tightening. "Not to impress him. For myself."
Later, we crossed paths in the dining room. He sat there, a black cat in his lap, fingers threading through its dark fur. His eyes drifted somewhere I couldn't follow.
"You took your time. I thought you'd gotten lost in training," he said, his voice a soft rumble.
I dragged a chair over and collapsed into it, my body still humming.
"I got stuck on level 2," I admitted, trying not to sound as wrecked as I felt. "Those clones… it's unfair. How do you face four?"
He fell silent. That quiet of his was alive, coiling through the air. Then he spoke.
"I don't count. I just survive the next blow." His eyes met mine, twin beacons piercing the haze. "Stop counting, and everything becomes simple."
I swallowed hard, my gaze flickering to the room's edge for a split second. Classic Nael—twisting the obvious into something that unraveled my every assumption.
"Easy to say when you master your own chaos," I shot back, aiming for levity, but frustration clawed through. "Some of us are still learning to survive, you know?"
Nael arched a brow, faint, as if he could hear the words I didn't say. His dark eyes slid back to the cat, fingers gliding over its fur with maddening calm.
"You're not learning to survive. You're learning to control." He paused, letting silence drop like a shroud. "Control is more dangerous than chaos, Elowen. When you control, you bear the weight of it all."
The air grew thick, stifling. Before I could fire back, the house's spirits swept in, trays hovering in their unseen grip. The table bloomed with bounty—steaming meats, jewel-like fruits, golden wine that seemed to pulse. But it did nothing to cut the charge between us.
I poured a glass, the liquid chiming against crystal. I tried to shift the mood.
"So, Nael, when was the last time you enjoyed something?" My half-smile dared him.
He fixed me with a stare, eyes fathomless as a void. For a moment, I thought he'd stay silent.
"Now," he said, raising his glass, his gaze unwavering.
My hand wavered, the glass nearly slipping. I caught my breath.
"Really? It looks like you're suffering, not enjoying."
He lowered the glass deliberately, the clink of crystal on wood ringing faintly.
"Suffering and enjoying aren't opposites, Elowen. Sometimes, pain clarifies more than any pleasure."
I leaned in, eyes locked on his, my heart pounding.
"And what do you see now, with all that clarity?"
Time stilled. His voice rolled out like distant thunder.
"That you provoke and ask questions you're not ready to hear the answer to."
Heat crept up my face, but I held his gaze. He turned back to his plate, slicing the meat with icy precision, as if nothing had passed.
"Maybe I just want to see how far you'll go before you back down," I countered, keeping my tone steady.
He gave a slight nod, almost an acknowledgment.
"So that's all it is? Tests and provocations?"
I smirked crookedly, letting silence speak for me.
Dinner wore on, each word a spark on dry tinder. The table groaned under Great Emperor-level meats, too vast even for us. The flavors burst—fiery, alive—but the tension outshone any spice.
Then the air shifted. A subspace yawned open beside Nael, quiet as a breath. A white snake slithered forth, scales glinting like molten moonlight. A black cat followed, tiny wings fluttering, eyes swallowing the light. They rushed to him—the snake twined around his arm, the cat sprang to his lap. Nael didn't smile, but his touch was tender, at odds with his frost.
"Looks like they miss you," I said, easing the edge in the air.
He didn't reply at once, just stroked them, fingers soft on fur and scales. Then they noticed me, approaching with wary curiosity.
"Hello, you two," I murmured, offering my hand.
The cat leaped to my lap, light as air, wings tucking in. The snake wound up my arm, cool and sleek. They were charming, yet carried a presence that prickled my skin.
"They like you," Nael said, his tone flat but with a flicker beneath.
"Seems like it. But why do I feel like they're judging me?" I teased, plucking a fruit from the bowl.
He nodded, as if I'd stumbled on truth unawares.
The clatter of cutlery filled the quiet, golden light playing across dark walls. The meal, regal as it was, paled beside the unspoken weight between us. Nael carved another bite, eyes on his plate.
"You didn't answer," he said, offhand.
I frowned. "What?"
"If it's just tests and provocations."
I hesitated, the question's gravity sinking in.
"Maybe I want to understand you, Nael. Even if it hurts."
He paused, fork hovering.
"Understanding is dangerous. Sometimes, it's better not to know."
"But I want to," I pressed, voice firm.
He set the fork down and met my eyes.
"Then ask. But some answers have no return."
The air thrummed. I knew I was on a razor's edge, but I didn't pull back.
"Who are you, Nael? Truly?"
Silence stretched. His gaze drifted to some far-off place.
"I am what's left," he said at last. "What's left of many things."
The ache in his voice caught me off guard—old, jagged, a wound that wouldn't heal. The cat purred in my lap, the snake tightened on my arm, as if they felt it too.
"And you, Elowen?" His voice dipped to a whisper. "Who are you?"
I swallowed, my throat tight.
"I'm still figuring it out," I said, honest.
He nodded, as if he grasped more than I'd let on.
"Then maybe we're in the same boat."
I stole a glance at him, trying to crack a code etched in shadows. Nael sat there, draped in black—not just a color, but a fabric that drank the light, rendering him almost otherworldly, a silhouette carved from living dark. The black cat coiled at his feet, a hint of enigma, while the white snake glided nearby, cold and exact—like two halves of his soul split apart: the void and the gleam, chaos reined by precision.
"They seem to adore you," I let slip, my voice quivering like a leaf on the verge of falling. I aimed for steady, but it came out fragile, almost pleading.
He lifted his eyes—swift, sharp as ice—and for a heartbeat, I felt him cut through me, as if he could see every secret I buried. "They're loyal. They don't want adoration, just purpose." His words were curt, but a melancholy lingered, heavier than the syllables.
He looked away, and that fleeting moment clung to me—a spark snuffed too soon, leaving a warmth I couldn't name.
The creatures, perhaps sensing the gulf between us, turned to me. The cat bounded into my lap, soft fur grazing my fingers. The snake approached, its scales cool and inquisitive against my skin.
"Hi, little ones," I murmured, a shy smile breaking free as I petted them. They nestled closer, and for an instant, the tension dissolved, as if the universe had called a ceasefire.
But I felt his stare. Nael's eyes were a silent tide, distant yet overwhelming, sizing me up with a measure I couldn't fathom.
"You treat them well. That's rare," he said, his voice low, nearly fading into the space between us. It hit me like a stone, tightening my chest.
"Maybe because I feel they carry more than they show," I replied, the words raw, too real. I looked up, and there he was, staring back—an abyss drawing me in.
The silence that followed was dense, a taut wire ready to snap. Not oppressive, not light—a living stillness, brimming with all we left unsaid, hovering, waiting.
Dinner ended, and Nael rose. The cat cradled in his arms, the snake draped over his shoulder—he held them with a softness that clashed with his chill.
The silence returned, lighter now, almost a tacit pact. We finished the meal without more words, but something had shifted. A door had nudged open.
As I stood, he spoke.
"Sleep well, Elowen. Tomorrow will be long."
"You too," I said, already at the threshold.
I glanced back. There he stood, the animals at his side, bathed in golden light. A solitary king, adrift in his own realm.
"He's an enigma," I thought. "But maybe I'm willing to burn to unravel him."
I lingered there, rooted to the spot, heart drumming a rhythm I didn't know. He pulled me like a magnet, repelled me like a gale—a puzzle I yearned to solve but feared to grasp.
Exhaustion crashed over me. A quick bath followed, hot water sluicing over my skin, but it couldn't rinse away the storm in my mind. I sank into bed, and his eyes haunted me—cold, deep, scarred in ways I couldn't see but felt.
Sleep claimed me, my thoughts whirling, a strange certainty thrumming in my chest: something had changed, even if I couldn't name it.