The first pale rays of dawn filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a soft, silvery glow across the bedroom. Adrian Blake stirred at the chill on his skin—evidence of another restless night. Beside him, Naruse Mio lay curled on her side, eyelashes brushing her cheeks. She shifted, her lips parting in a sleepy smile as she remembered Adrian's teasing definition of a "first kiss." A mischievous spark lit her eyes.
Before reproach could form on her tongue, she bit down playfully on his shoulder, determined to leave her mark on the unblemished skin. Adrian jerked awake, more amused than offended.
"Ouch—Mio! What—?" he began, half-laughing as he sat up.
"Gotcha," she teased, lips twitching into a grin that turned bashful as she realized how aggressively affectionate she sounded. "You said earlier that was my definition of a first kiss…so I claimed it."
Adrian shook his head with mock sternness, hand brushing over the faint red imprint. "Enough of that. We both need a shower—this stench of magic residue won't wash off itself."
Mio pouted but rose obediently. Her wet hair clung to her neck; the damp fabric of her nightshirt outlined her form. Adrian couldn't help a small smile at the sight—she looked vulnerable, real, and somehow more beautiful for it.
He swung his legs off the bed and glanced toward the opposite corner, where Raynare still lay motionless, face hidden in shadows. The fallen angel had feigned sleep, but the contract ring around her neck pulsed with a faint, ominous light—its curse ready to ignite if she resisted.
Adrian sighed. He hated the necessity, but there was no other way. With measured calm, he rose and crossed the room. A steely edge entered his voice as he spoke over his shoulder. "Mio, go wash up. I'll deal with…her."
Mio hesitated, reading his expression in the half–light. "Be careful," she whispered. "Don't hurt her more than you have to."
He nodded once, gently—an unspoken promise of restraint—then turned to Raynare, still prone. Softly, he said, "Rei?" No response. "Raynare." His tone grew firmer. "Wake up."
Silence hung until, with a precise motion, he delivered a stinging slap across her cheek. She jolted upright with a strangled cry, retreating into a defensive crouch. Her eyes, wide and furious, flickered with fear as she realized the ring's curse was active.
"Get up!" Adrian barked, voice ringing like a bell. "No more excuses. You need to purge that curse—now."
Raynare scrambled to her feet, legs wobbling. He rummaged a moment on a nearby table and produced a broom and rag. "Clean this room—from top to bottom. No corners spared."
Her lip quivered. "You—" she began, only for Adrian to cut her off.
"Don't start," he warned. "I don't want to break your spirit—but if that curse goes unchecked, you will die. I can't let that happen."
Her gaze flickered between desperation and defiance. Finally, she mutely accepted the broom. Adrian stepped back, arms folded, watching her body tense and untense as she began to sweep.
—
The next half hour was a chorus of reprimands and whirring effort. Adrian circled Raynare like a hawk:
> "Angle's wrong—wider sweep!"
"More pressure—no, not so much at the edges!"
"Why is there still dust under the dresser? Get it clean!"
With each sharp instruction, Renalei's shoulders sagged further, sweat slicking her hair to her forehead. When at last she collapsed onto the chair, hands shaking, Adrian offered her a glass of water. She gulped it down, water sluicing across ragged breath—then, miraculously, the ring's dim glow faded.
Relief and shame battled across her features. Adrian crouched before her, voice softer now. "Good. You did it. How do you feel?"
Her jaw quivered. "...I—thank you," she whispered, eyes brimming. "If I hadn't…wanted to fight—"
He held up a hand. "Hush. No blame. Right now, we need answers." His gaze hardened again. "Kneel."
She blinked, and with quivering limbs, obeyed—dropping to her knees before him.
Adrian's heart twisted at the sight: proud Raynare, forced into submission. He knelt in front of her, reaching out to lift her chin, to meet his gaze. "This contract," he said quietly, "it binds you to me. I'll be honest—I never wanted to manipulate you. But you left me no choice."
Renalei's breath hitched. "You—"
He paused, collecting the weight of his next words. "If you die because of that ring, I'll never forgive myself. But if you serve me willingly, I'll protect you with everything I have."
Her eyes watered. "I…understand." She swallowed hard. "Ask what you will."
He straightened, voice businesslike. "Tell me everything you know about your companions—and your mission here."
She hesitated only a moment before spilling it all: Kalawarner, Mittelt, Dohnaseek; their plan to recruit the expelled nun with the demon‑healing artifact; the pure‑blood demon they tracked to town; their greed for power and points. With each name, Adrian's jaw tightened.
When she finished, tears stained her cheeks. Adrian inhaled slowly, weighing her confession. Then, gently, he brushed a stray tear away.
"I'm sorry you got caught up in their schemes," he said, tone gentler than she expected. "But you did well to survive."
Raynare looked up, confusion and gratitude mingling. "You—"
He waved a hand. "Don't thank me yet. There's more to do."
He rose and opened the door. "Mio," he called. "Breakfast?"
Mio's sleepy voice drifted back: "Almost ready, Adrian."
Left alone, Renale pressed her palms to the floor, mind reeling. He's my master now, she thought, shock and something like awe swirling together.
—
In the living room, Naruse Maria flitted between counter and stovetop, plating steaming pancakes. The scent of honey and berries wafted through the hall. When she heard Adrian's baritone greeting, she turned with a flourish: "Good morning, Master Blake! I hope you're hungry."
Adrian stepped in, observing the bright table set for four: pancakes, fruit, steaming tea. Maria's eyes sparkled—pride in her cooking, and something more mischievous.
Raynare, emerging from the hallway, maintained her demure posture—head bowed, hands folded. Adrian spared her a nod. "Sit," he invited.
Mio slipped in behind them, clad in a loose robe, silver hair still damp. She managed a shy smile at Renale. "Morning."
Raunere's gaze flickered to Mio, relief and embarrassment warring. Adrian cleared his throat. "Thank you, Maria. It smells…incredible." He offered a genuine smile.
Maria beamed. "I thought something light—nothing heavy after you two had your…exercises."
Adrian sat at the head, Renale to his right, Mio to his left. He poured tea into each cup with careful precision. For a moment, the room was warm and calm—like a family breakfast, if a profoundly odd one.
As they ate, Adrian studied Renale in the soft morning light: the faint bruise on her cheek, the way her shoulders still bore tension. I can't be cruel, he reminded himself. Across from him, Mio nibbled quietly, eyes on Adrian with trust—and something more. It tugged at his chest.
When the last bite of pancake vanished, Adrian set down his fork. "I'll call this…an interim truce," he said. "You follow my orders, you stay alive—and I'll keep my promise to protect you."
Raynare's voice was barely above a whisper: "I understand."
Mio reached across the table and squeezed his hand, courage in her gesture. "We trust you, Adrian."
He returned her squeeze with gentle firmness. "Thank you. Let's face whatever comes next—together."
Outside, the sky brightened to morning blue. Adrian Blake allowed himself a moment of quiet gratitude: for allies where he expected none, for surprised tenderness, for the chance at redemption in the lives he'd upended. The road ahead would be perilous—but for the first time in a long while, he felt he would not walk it alone.