The sound of water dripping echoed softly through the tiled room, a rhythmic counterpoint to the faint hiss of steam rising from the basin. Kaidan stood motionless, his mismatched eyes—one blue, one gold—staring into the rippling water before him. His reflection looked foreign, his sharp features shadowed by exhaustion, grime streaked across his face, and his black hair matted from days of neglect. A coarse towel was slung over his shoulder, and the faint scent of lavender soap lingered in the air, clinging to his skin.
The events that led him here replayed in his mind. Seris's voice echoed sharply in his memory: "Wash up. I won't have filth trailing through my home." Her tone had been casual but left no room for defiance. She had spoken to him as though he were an unruly object needing polishing, her violet eyes assessing him like a collector examining their latest prize.
Kaidan dipped his hands into the basin, the cool water a fleeting comfort against his raw skin. He scrubbed his face, working to erase the grime and the lingering scent of the auction house. Yet no amount of cleaning could rid him of the chains he still felt around his wrists, the bitter taste of humiliation that clung to him.
What am I doing here? he thought, his jaw tightening. He straightened, droplets of water trailing down his sharp jawline and dripping onto his lean, muscular frame. His body bore the marks of months in the wild—hardened muscles and scars earned through countless battles. But standing here, in this pristine bathroom, he felt exposed in a different way, stripped of the survivalist identity he had fought so hard to build.
The Mansion's Labyrinth
When Kaidan emerged from the bathroom, the servant waiting outside barely acknowledged him. She was a short woman with a stern face and efficient movements, her eyes darting over him only briefly before she turned on her heel.
"Follow me," she said curtly.
Kaidan didn't respond. He fell into step behind her, his mismatched eyes darting around as they moved through the sprawling mansion. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting flowing rivers and mountains bathed in light, their intricate threads gleaming faintly under the glow of floating crystal orbs. The floors were polished to a mirror-like shine, and every piece of furniture they passed seemed to exude opulence.
Yet, despite its beauty, Kaidan couldn't help but find the mansion hollow. The air felt heavy, almost oppressive, and the faint echoes of their footsteps made the grand halls seem even more cavernous. Beautiful, but cold, he thought, his lips pressing into a thin line. Like its owner.
"The lady is in a meeting today," the servant said, her voice breaking through his thoughts. "She will see you tomorrow."
Kaidan's brow furrowed. Good. The less I see her, the better. But the relief was short-lived as the servant led him down a narrow staircase into the lower levels of the mansion. The polished floors gave way to rough stone, and the air grew colder, tinged with dampness.
They entered a dimly lit corridor lined with small, heavy doors. The faint sound of muffled voices and occasional groans reached Kaidan's ears, sending a chill down his spine.
"This is where you'll sleep," the servant said flatly, opening one of the doors and stepping aside.
Kaidan's stomach turned as he stepped inside. The room was cramped, the walls bare except for a single sconce casting flickering light. A thin, threadbare mattress lay on the floor, accompanied by a coarse blanket that looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. The faint smell of sweat and mildew clung to the air.
"The slave quarters," the servant said matter-of-factly. "The others will leave you alone if you don't cause trouble. Dinner is served at sundown. Don't be late." Without waiting for a response, she shut the door and walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance.
The Depths of Hatred
Kaidan sank onto the mattress, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. The faint sounds from the other rooms grew louder as the silence around him deepened. Whispers, sobs, and occasional shouts echoed through the walls, painting a grim picture of the lives lived here.
He stared at the flickering sconce, his mismatched eyes burning with anger. This is what she's done to them, he thought, his mind racing. This is what I've been thrown into. His hatred for Seris grew sharper, the image of her smirking face searing itself into his memory.
Kaidan's gaze drifted to the scars on his arms, remnants of battles he had fought to survive in the wilderness. He thought of the wolves, the Shadowclaw Panther, and the countless other dangers he had faced. Each fight had pushed him closer to his limits, forged him into something stronger. Yet here, in this place, he felt powerless in a way he never had before.
But beneath the anger and despair, a spark of defiance remained. Kaidan's fists unclenched, and he took a slow, steady breath. This isn't the end, he told himself. I've fought through worse. I'll fight through this too.
He lay down on the mattress, the coarse fabric scratching against his skin. The sounds of the slave quarters continued around him, a grim reminder of where he was. But Kaidan closed his eyes, his mismatched gaze hidden behind his lids as he forced himself to rest.
Tomorrow, she'll see me, he thought. And when the time comes, I'll make sure she regrets it.