John felt the familiar lurch of teleportation ripple through every nerve ending in his temporary vessel, the world folding around him like wet paper being crumpled and then smoothed flat again. One heartbeat he was standing in the dim castle hallway with Elrin's limp body slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain, the noble's blond head lolling against his back, warm breath tickling the back of his neck in shallow unconscious puffs. The next heartbeat the castle was gone, replaced by the cool, familiar hush of his private office deep inside the palace.
The shift hit harder than usual this time, maybe because he was carrying live cargo, maybe because the system was still adjusting to the avatar swap. His knees buckled for half a second under the sudden change in gravity and atmosphere, the air here tasting cleaner, sharper, laced with the faint metallic sweetness of Marrianetta's lingering miasma that always seemed to cling to the walls no matter how many times the servants scrubbed.
He was back in his regular body now, the one he'd designed himself. The temporary thirty-year-old advisor skin had peeled away during the jump, leaving him feeling lighter, more himself, more dangerous. Elrin's weight on his shoulder felt almost insignificant now, the noble's slender frame barely registering against the new strength humming through his limbs. John adjusted his grip, one arm hooked under Elrin's knees, the other steadying the small of his back, and carried him across the office floor like he was hauling a particularly annoying piece of furniture.
The triple 8K monitors still dominated the far wall, their curved surfaces glowing with the frozen image of Eliersia's castle interior. John set Elrin down carefully on the wide obsidian desk, the noble's body sprawling limp across the cool surface, chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. The gas had done its job perfectly, deep, dreamless sleep, no twitching, no moaning. John turned to the monitors and raised one hand, fingers splayed. "Pause," he said quietly. The system obeyed without question. The live feed locked instantly, every servant, every flickering torch, every distant conversation in the Eliersia castle freezing mid-motion like someone had hit the cosmic remote. Time in that world stopped dead. Here, in his pocket dimension, the clocks kept ticking. Perfect. No one back there would notice a single missing minute. He could take all the time he needed.
John exhaled, rolling his shoulders once to loosen the tension that had built during the grab. His hands still tingled from the Chlorid release, the faint memory of the invisible cloud clinging to his skin like perfume.
He scooped Elrin up again, draping the unconscious noble over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, one arm locked around the back of his thighs to keep him steady. The blond hair brushed against his neck as he walked, soft and faintly scented with whatever expensive oils the noble used. It felt surreal, carrying the same man who had once kicked him in the face and laughed while he bled. John's jaw tightened. Revenge tasted better when you could feel the weight of it on your shoulder. (Blackbeard writing gif)
The corridor outside his office stretched long and silent, black marble floors reflecting the ambient crimson lighting that bathed everything in a low, bloody glow. He moved quickly but carefully, boots clicking in steady rhythm, Elrin's body shifting slightly with each step but never slipping.
He passed the grand staircase that spiraled up toward the central tower, the air growing warmer the closer he got to Marrianetta's wing. Her presence always changed the temperature, like the whole section of the palace ran a few degrees hotter just because she existed inside it.
He reached her door and pushed it open with his free hand. The torture room greeted him with its familiar mix of polished dark wood, iron fixtures, and the soft metallic tang that never quite left the air. Marrianetta was already waiting, standing in the center of the space like she had sensed him coming from miles away. Her six-foot-nine frame filled the room without crowding it, crimson silk dress clinging to every impossible curve, the heavy swell of her K-cup breasts rising and falling with slow, excited breaths, the inhuman flare of her hips tapering into that massive, rounded ass that strained the fabric with every subtle shift. Her wide-brimmed hat tilted slightly, casting a dramatic shadow across one blood-red eye while the other locked onto him with hungry delight. Those long nails, now safely retracted to a normal length, tapped lightly against her thigh as she took in the sight of Elrin draped over his shoulder.
John lowered the noble onto the floor near the center of the room, careful not to drop him too hard. "The drug," he said, voice still carrying that slight gravel from the recent avatar swap. "Is it done?"
Marrianetta's lips curved into a slow, wicked grin that made the temperature in the room spike another few degrees. She reached into a small pocket hidden in the folds of her dress and produced a tiny potion bottle, barely more than five milliliters of shimmering violet liquid that caught the candlelight like liquid starlight. She held it up between two fingers, letting it dangle teasingly. "Oh, dahling… it's more than done. This little beauty can be drank the moment the victim wakes up. One sip and everything changes. Slow. Delicious. Permanent until I decide otherwise."
She turned slightly and pointed with one elegant finger toward the far corner of the room. There it stood. the torture rack she had prepared specifically for this. Heavy iron frame bolted to the floor, padded leather straps positioned to hold each limb spread wide—wrists, ankles, even a thick band for the waist to keep the body arched and helpless. The wood and metal gleamed under the low light, every buckle and chain polished to a cruel shine. It looked almost elegant in its brutality, like a piece of furniture designed by someone who understood both pain and beauty in equal measure.
John nodded once, setting Elrin down carefully on the cold stone near the rack. The noble's chest rose and fell in steady unconscious rhythm, blond hair fanned out across the floor, compression shirt riding up just enough to show a strip of pale skin at his waist. Marrianetta stepped closer, her massive breasts brushing John's arm as she passed, the scent of her—floral and metallic—wrapping around him like a promise. She knelt gracefully beside the unconscious lord, uncorking the tiny bottle with a soft pop. The violet liquid inside swirled slowly, catching the light in hypnotic patterns.
"Ready when you are, master," she murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth. "One sip and the fun begins."
John crouched down opposite her, watching as she gently tilted Elrin's head back, parting his lips with careful fingers. The noble's breathing hitched slightly but he remained limp, completely unaware of what was about to happen. Marrianetta poured the entire five milliliters between his lips in one smooth motion, making sure every drop slid down his throat. She capped the bottle again and set it aside, then rose to her full height, hips swaying as she stepped back to give John space.
Seconds passed. Then minutes. Elrin's eyelids fluttered first, lashes trembling against his cheeks. A soft groan escaped him as consciousness returned in slow, groggy waves. His eyes opened—blue, confused, then widening rapidly as he took in the dark wood paneling, the iron maiden standing open like a hungry mouth, the rack waiting for him, and the two figures looming above.
"Where… where am I?" Elrin demanded, voice cracking with sudden panic. He tried to sit up, arms flailing, but the drug was already working its way through his system, making his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. "This isn't the castle—let me go! Do you know who I am? My father will have you executed for this!"
John stood slowly, letting the moment stretch. He reached up and touched his own face, feeling the system respond to his silent command. The features melted away, reshaping in a ripple of light and shadow until his original face stared back down at the noble, the same face Elrin had mocked and beaten and humiliated back when John was nothing but a chained servant.
Elrin's eyes locked onto him. Recognition hit like a slap. His mouth fell open, panic freezing into pure, dawning horror.
"Remember me?" John said quietly, voice calm but edged with something colder. "Elrin."