Midnight feels like the perfect time to become a fugitive. The castle sleeps around me, nothing but moonlight filtering through the narrow window of Jhone's quarters as I stuff another gold ring into the knapsack. The weight of it feels good, tangible freedom jingling with each item I add. "Sorry, Captain," I whisper to the empty room, rifling through her drawers with the stealth of someone who's spent too many years sneaking midnight snacks past Kayla. "But I'm not becoming anyone's slave. Well, maybe if it was Kayla…" The knapsack, a sturdy leather thing I found under Jhone's bed, is filling up nicely. Three gold rings that look expensive enough to buy passage... somewhere. A wicked-looking dagger with jewels embedded in the hilt. A small pouch of coins I can't identify but definitely feel valuable. And a sword I can actually lift without straining, which feels like a minor miracle given how massive everything in this world seems to be. I tried putting on one of Jhone's shirts, but the damn thing hangs to my knees and makes me look like a kid playing dress-up. Better to stick with Mirelle's pajamas, embarrassing as they are. At least they fit better with them tied back. My fingers trace the worn leather of the knapsack as I cinch it closed. I have no idea where I'm going or what awaits me out there. But the alternative, potentially being handed over to this Shue person in a few days, sounds like shit. "Fuck that noise," I mutter. I heft the knapsack over my shoulder, ready to make my escape, when the door creaks open behind me. My heart nearly stops. "Hey, I just wanted to check if you needed any…" Mirelle freezes in the doorway, her electric blue hair practically standing on end as she takes in the scene. Me with a packed bag, Jhone's valuables missing from their usual spots, dressed and clearly ready to bolt. She quickly steps inside and closes the door behind her with a soft click. "You're running?" Her voice is surprisingly calm, almost resigned. "Yeah," I admit, straightening my spine. No point lying when I'm literally caught in the act. Her eyes narrow, brows furrowing as she crosses her arms. "You really shouldn't, Sam." "Please don't stop me." My voice comes out steadier than I expected, considering how fast my heart is hammering against my ribs. Mirelle sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in obvious annoyance. Then something shifts in her expression, her eyes widen slightly, a spark of inspiration lighting them up like she's just had the most brilliant idea. "If I let you go right now," she says slowly, "and you somehow make it out of the city, you won't even make it past tomorrow night alive." I clutch the knapsack tighter. "I don't care. I'm not becoming some crazy person's slave." A smile plays at the corners of her mouth as she takes a step closer. "How about this, let me have my way with you, and I'll get you safe passage to another city. I'll even help you hide your face." My stomach drops. "No, I'm not fucking you." The words come out harsher than intended, but the audacity of her proposition has knocked any diplomacy right out of me. Her face darkens instantly, the playful spark in her eyes replaced by something harder, colder. "If you don't take my help, you'll be raped." She takes another step toward me, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Probably by monsters, Sam." "I'm leaving," I say, turning away from her. "Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather take my chances." Before I can take a single step, Mirelle lunges forward and grabs my wrist. My body freezes instantly, muscles locking into place as the curse takes hold. The knapsack slips from my shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud. "Look," she says, her voice softening as she steps around to face me. "If you're hellbent on killing yourself out there, at least let me enjoy you just once." Her blue eyes search mine, a pleading look I wasn't expecting. "Come on." "Fuck off," I say as fury builds with nowhere to go in my immobilized body. She ignores my protest completely, maintaining her grip on my wrist as she leads me toward the bed like I'm nothing more than a life-sized doll. My feet move mechanically beneath me, following her direction despite my mind screaming in protest. Once we reach the bedside, she looks at me with an expression that's half hunger, half curiosity. "Strip," she commands, keeping a single finger pressed against my skin. My hands move against my will, untying the drawstring of her borrowed pajamas. The clothing falls away, leaving me naked and vulnerable before her. I've never felt so violated, so utterly powerless as my body betrays me, following her command while my mind rages uselessly against this magical prison. "I'm not letting you steal my clothes," she says with a smirk. "Lay down." My body complies instantly, lowering itself onto the bed. The sheets feel cool against my back, a stark contrast to the burning humiliation coursing through me. Mirelle stands over me, still touching me. Her electric blue hair crackling slightly with excitement. Her gaze travels slowly down my body, lingering between my legs. "It's cute," she says, studying my flaccid member with unabashed interest. She reaches out with her free hand and pokes it experimentally, like a child with a new toy. "Does it get hard on its own, or..." She glances up at my face, eyes glittering with mischief. "Can you make it hard?" "On command?" I ask bitterly, hating how helpless I feel. "Get hard," she orders, her voice dropping an octave. My body responds instantly, blood rushing to my groin as my cock stiffens against my will just like it did for Vessa. Mirelle's eyes widen with delight, like she's unwrapped a particularly exciting gift. "That's so convenient," she whispers, never breaking contact with my skin. With her free hand, she begins unfastening her armor, piece by piece. The metal plates drop to the floor with heavy thuds as she methodically strips. When the last piece of armor falls away and she pulls her undershirt over her head, I can't help but stare. Her body is a battlefield map of small scars and toned muscle, crowned by breasts far more generous than her armor suggested. They hang heavy and full, with pale pink nipples that harden in the cool night air. She's objectively beautiful in a warrior-goddess kind of way. But the thought of Kayla immediately fills my mind, her snow-white hair and golden eyes, the way her smile could light up entire rooms. No one could compare to her, not even this battle mage with her electric blue hair. "Like what you see?" Mirelle asks, misreading my expression as she steps out of her undergarments. I remain silent, refusing to give her the satisfaction. She climbs onto the bed, moving with predatory grace until she's straddling my hips. I can feel the heat of her against my skin, the unmistakable wetness of her arousal pressing against my unwilling erection. "I'm going to put it in now," she announces, positioning herself above me. "Please don't," I manage to say, desperation clawing at my throat. "Mirelle, this isn't…" My words die as she sinks down in one fluid motion, taking me entirely inside her. The sensation is overwhelming, tight, wet heat enveloping me completely. I clench my jaw, fighting back the moan that threatens to escape. She doesn't deserve the satisfaction of my noises. This isn't pleasure, it's violation. "Oh goddess," she gasps, rolling her hips experimentally. Her blue hair crackles with static electricity, little sparks dancing at the tips as she begins to move. "You feel so good." I'm stuck here, unable to move at all, my body locked in this magical prison while she uses me like I'm nothing more than a toy. The worst part is how good it feels. "How does my pussy feel?" she asks, her voice breathy as she grinds down against me. "I hate it," I say. "It's disgusting." She slows her movements, looking down at me with a curious expression. One hand reaches out to stroke my cheek. "Tell me how you really feel about it," she commands, her eyes boring into mine. "You feel good," the words tumble from my lips. Her smile widens, spreading across her face like a predator that's cornered its prey. "You cheeky little liar," she purrs, clearly delighted by my contradiction. She starts bouncing on me harder, her hips slamming down with increased urgency. Her breasts bounce with each movement, blue hair crackling with static electricity that occasionally zaps against my skin. "Do you like that?" she asks, tightening around me. "No," I grit out, still fighting against her control. "Tell the truth," she commands. "Yes," I admit, hating myself even as the word escapes my mouth. Mirelle throws her head back, a triumphant laugh escaping her lips as she rides me harder. "See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?" Each thrust sends unwanted pleasure coursing through my body, a biological response I can't control any more than I can control my limbs under her touch. "Look at me," she commands, and my head turns automatically to face her. Her face is flushed with pleasure, eyes half-lidded as she works herself on me. For a moment, her expression softens into something almost tender. "Kiss me," she breathes, her voice husky with desire. My body abandons my control again, neck straining upward as our lips meet. I manage to keep it light, a bare brushing of lips, retaining some small measure of control. Mirelle pulls back, eyes narrowed. "No," she says firmly. "Kiss me like your life depends on it." My resistance crumbles as my body responds to her order. I surge forward, my mouth finding hers with desperate intensity. She moans against my lips as she continues bouncing on me, setting a rhythm that's becoming impossible to ignore. Her tongue slides against mine, and I feel an actual electric shock, tiny sparks dancing between us where our mouths connect. The sensation is unlike anything I've ever experienced, painful and pleasurable in equal measure. I can't help the moan that escapes me, the stimulus overwhelming my senses. Between kisses, I pull back just enough to whisper, "I fucking hate you." She smiles against my mouth, capturing my lips again with renewed hunger. Her hands tangle in my hair, holding me close as she deepens the kiss. The static electricity crackles between us, tiny blue sparks visible in my peripheral vision. "Tell me you love it," she commands, rolling her hips in a way that hits something deep inside me. "I love it," I say automatically. She slows her movements, looking down at me with challenging eyes. "Make me believe it." My back arches involuntarily as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak. "I love it," I moan, and this time it sounds convincing even to my own ears, my body's response overriding my mind's resistance. Mirelle's rhythm becomes erratic, her breathing hitching as she stares down at me with wide eyes. Her thighs begin to tremble against my hips, her inner muscles clenching around me as she starts to orgasm. Her head falls back. "Sam!" she cries out, her body shuddering above me. "Come on," she gasps, her voice cracking with desperation. "Cum with me, Sam." The command hits me like a physical force. My hips buck upward against my will, pleasure exploding through my body as I release deep inside her. A whimper escapes my lips, half pleasure and half despair as my body betrays me completely. "That's it," Mirelle groans, her inner walls pulsing around me as she milks every last drop. "Just like that." As the waves of unwanted pleasure crash through me, a familiar blue screen flashes across my vision: [New Class Unlocked: Saint] [Curse of Velthara Modified: Those who violate you now have a small chance of developing an obsessive attachment] The notification fades as quickly as it appeared, leaving me dazed and confused. Saint? Obsession? Mirelle collapses on top of me, her breathing ragged against my neck. Her skin feels uncomfortably hot, almost feverish, as she presses against me. The static in her blue hair has calmed, no longer crackling with electricity. Mirelle lifts her head suddenly, and I freeze at what I see in her eyes, a wild, unhinged gleam that sends ice through my veins. It's the same manic intensity I used to see in Kayla's golden eyes whenever she thought I wasn’t looking. But then it's gone, vanishing so quickly I almost doubt I saw it at all. Her features soften into a satisfied smile. "That was unbelievable," she breathes, her voice husky with lingering pleasure. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest, each touch reinforcing the curse's hold on me. "Please get off me," I say, still trapped beneath her weight, my body refusing to respond to my commands as long as her skin contacts mine. She pouts, shifting slightly but making no move to dismount. "Just give me five minutes," she murmurs, nuzzling against my neck. "I want to savor this."