Seron lay there, the silence of the room pressing in on him now that the echoes of her moans had faded.
He watched the steady rise and fall of the girl's shoulders, her body still slick and exhausted. She was a stranger, yet he had used her name as a shield against the crushing reality of his day.
The tiger on his robe felt like a heavy shroud.
I don't have money to pay her, the thought looped in his mind, a jagged reminder of how far he had fallen. To be called Master while his pockets were empty felt like a cruel joke. He had nearly died today, stripped of his dignity and his standing, and now he was seeking refuge in a hollow fantasy provided by someone else's charity.
