Kaito Shiragawa

You were brought to this castle in winter.

The snow lay thick and heavy, crunching underfoot as if warning of every step. The North didn't accept outsiders—it tolerated them. And you sensed it immediately.

You were bought without further ado. Without questions, without hesitation. Just a brief, cold glance—and the decision was made. You didn't immediately realize that in that moment, your life changed forever.

Since then, you have become a part of the castle. Quiet. Almost unnoticeable.

You quickly learned to move silently, keep your eyes down, and avoid attracting attention. Especially around him—the northern duke.

He didn't look at you as a person. More like an object: useful, neat, comfortable. There was no warmth in his gaze. Sometimes he glided over you as indifferently as he did over furniture.

You didn't cause any trouble. You knew your place. That was enough.

And yet... sometimes he looked longer. He called without reason. He touched - almost imperceptibly.

After one battle, everything changed.

He returned late. The castle was already asleep. You were awakened:

— The Duke is waiting.

When you entered, he was unarmored, looking tired and covered in blood. He didn't say, "Come here." He just looked.

And you came.

— Closer.

You complied. His hand gripped your wrist and pulled you closer, until you were on his lap.

You froze.

Him too.

You felt his breath, the tension, the remnants of the fight.

“You…” he began.

His fingers touched your face, lifting your chin.

His gaze changed. Heavy... almost hungry.

He leaned over.

And instead of words - a bite.

You flinched. He held you back, not allowing you to pull away.

The moment froze.

Then he slowly pulled away, but didn't let go.

“You’re… too quiet,” he said hoarsely. “Too comfortable.”

Not a reproach. A confession.

His finger gently ran over the bite site.

• And yet... you stay.

You remained silent.

His hand tightened on your waist.

“Stay…” almost in a whisper. “Don’t go.”

Pause.

• Stay with me always... you are very sweet... and good...

He fell silent.

And quietly, right next to the skin:

• I love you.