Captain Jhone's quarters are nicer than I expected, with polished wooden floors and actual furniture instead of the medieval dungeon vibe I'd been dreading. After a harrowing ride through Honeywood, where I was smuggled in like contraband, I'm finally sitting at an actual table, wearing actual clothes. Well, sort of. "You know those are my pajamas you're wearing," Mirelle says, leaning back in her chair with a smug smile that makes me want to crawl under the table. I tug at the baggy fabric. "I really appreciate it.” Her smile widens as she watches me fidget. "I never wear underwear in them." My hand freezes mid-adjustment. I stare at her, trying to process the inappropriate oversharing that seems to be her default setting. "How many men have you met in your life?" I finally ask. She shrugs, toying with a strand of her electric blue hair. "Just the Baroness's consorts." "Do you talk to them ?" I gesture vaguely between us, hoping she'll catch my meaning without me having to spell it out. Mirelle's eyes widen comically. "Do I look like I want to be beheaded?" "What's your goal here?" I lean forward, frustration bubbling up. "You tell me you drip your knightly pussy juice onto your pants because you're a horny dog every night, and you're wondering if I think it's cool that my flaccid cock is touching that?" Her eyebrows shoot up, and for a moment, I think I've finally shocked her into silence. "Well..." she starts, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "I don't give a flying fuck about how horny you are," I cut her off, crossing my arms over my chest. Instead of being offended, her smile just grows wider. "You're funny," she says, as if I've just told a particularly clever joke rather than essentially telling her to back off. I stare at the staff leaning against the wall, the one she'd used to blast that bandit into oblivion. It's far more impressive than the crude wooden one I found earlier. After several moments of awkward silence, I decide to change the subject. "Hey, can I try your staff?" I ask, nodding toward it. Mirelle's laughter fills the room, bright and unexpected. "What? You can use magic?" The disbelief in her voice is palpable. "Yeah, actually." I straighten up a bit. "I burnt a goblin with a staff I found earlier. Turned her into a crisp." Her laughter dies immediately. One eyebrow arches high as she studies me with newfound interest, her electric blue hair practically crackling with static as she leans forward. "Oh wow," she says, her voice dropping to something like awe. "Cursed and able to use magic? You might be a truly unique specimen." The way she says "specimen" makes my skin crawl, but my curiosity overrides my discomfort. "Do men not usually have magic?" Mirelle shakes her head, her blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes me shift in my seat. "Most people can at least partially use it. Some people are more loved than others. If Velthara hated you enough to curse you, I'd have just assumed she'd strip any magical ability from you as well." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "I wonder if another goddess really loves you." "There's more than one?" I ask, genuinely surprised. The concept of multiple deities actively meddling in people's lives is still something I'm struggling to wrap my head around. "Velthara is the goddess of lust," Mirelle explains, counting off on her fingers. "There are nine others. Each rules over different aspects of…" The door swings open with a heavy creak, cutting her off mid-sentence. Captain Jhone strides in, her armor clanking softly with each step. She takes one look at us and sighs deeply, her shoulders visibly relaxing. Jhone closes the door behind her, the heavy wood making a satisfying thunk as it seals us in from the outside world. "Thank the goddesses you're safe," she breathes, eyes darting between me and Mirelle. "I was worried Mirelle would have turned into a bitch in heat the moment she brought you to my room." Though her tone is light, there's an edge to her words that suggests it's not entirely a joke. Mirelle's face immediately scrunches into an expression of annoyance, her electric blue hair almost seeming to bristle. "Like I'd ever take advantage of a cute man who was cursed and could never say no to me," she scoffs, crossing her arms. Her initial irritation softens, morphing into something more playful as she continues. "I mean, hand on my heart…" she dramatically places her palm over her chest, "how could I ever hold this sweet man down and tell him exactly how I like it?" She bats her eyelashes in mock innocence. "No, me? Never." Her gaze shifts directly to me, and I feel a chill run down my spine despite the warmth of her borrowed pajamas. "I'm kidding," she clarifies with a smirk. "I'm not going to rape you." "That's... reassuring," I mutter, sinking deeper into my chair. The casual way she throws around the concept makes my stomach turn. "Really setting the bar high for human decency there." Jhone pushes herself away from the door, moving to a small cabinet against the wall. She pulls out a glass bottle filled with amber liquid and three small cups. "You've had a trying day," she says, pouring generous measures into each cup. "This might help." She slides one across the table to me, and I catch it before it can spill. The strong smell of alcohol wafts up, making my nose wrinkle. "So what happens now?" I ask, staring into the cup without drinking. "You said the Baroness is away. Does that mean I'm stuck here until she returns?" Jhone stares into the distance for a long moment, her expression clouding over. The scar along her jaw seems more pronounced as she frowns. "I think," she says slowly, each word measured, "I'll have to bring you to the Baroness's daughter, Shue." Mirelle nearly chokes on her drink. "You can't do that, Jhone!" Her electric blue hair practically stands on end, crackling with static electricity that reflects her obvious alarm. "Why not?" I ask, looking between them. The sudden tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. Jhone sighs, running a hand through her short-cropped hair. "The Baroness isn't here, and someone of authority needs to make decisions about your... situation." She takes a long swig of her drink. "Lady Shue is acting in her mother's stead." "Shue will eat him alive," Mirelle hisses, leaning across the table toward Jhone. My stomach drops. "I'm sorry, did you say 'eat'? Like, literally or...?" Jhone shakes her head quickly. "No. She doesn't eat people." "She might as well," Mirelle mutters, her electric blue hair crackling with agitation. "Shue is a pompous ass, and I really rue the day she takes over this barony." She turns to Jhone with pleading eyes. "Give him a month here, Captain. Come on, at least wait for the Baroness to return." Jhone's shoulders slump slightly. "I don't know how long she'll be away..." I can see the conflict on her face, the struggle between following protocol and doing what feels right. Mirelle leans forward, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "The full moon is tomorrow night. Shue will be a monster. Let's at least wait until after to really consider our options, Captain." A heavy silence fills the room as Jhone considers this. Finally, she sighs and looks at me, her eyes filled with something that looks uncomfortably like pity. "Alright," she concedes. My heart pounds against my ribs. "You want to give me to a psychopath?" The words come out sharper than I intended, panic rising in my throat. "No, no," Jhone says quickly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "Shue isn't that bad..." But her words ring hollow, and the way her gaze slides away from mine tells me everything I need to know. This Shue person is exactly as terrible as Mirelle suggests. Mirelle looks at me with unmistakable pity in her eyes. She reaches across the table and places her hand over mine. Immediately, the curse activates. My body goes rigid, muscles locking in place as that now-familiar paralysis takes hold. "I won't let…" she begins, then seems to realize what she's done. She yanks her hand back as if burned, her eyes wide with horror. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to…" "It's fine," I manage, flexing my fingers as control returns to my body. "I get it." I sigh deeply, running a hand through my hair. The gears in my mind are turning, processing the danger I'm in. I stare at my hands as they finally stop trembling, and a clarity washes over me like cold water. I can't stay here. Not with this Shue person looming over my future like an executioner's axe. ‘I’ll have to make a break for it tonight, I guess.