The laughter from the guests echoed around the room, a hollow sound in the grand space. The Supreme Leader's hand remained steady as he held his goblet high, savoring the moment as the guests fawned over him, but his eyes never left me.
It was as if he knew the fury building in my chest, the heat of it starting to boil over.
And then, with that same unsettling calm, he tipped his glass, and the dark liquid cascaded onto Nine's head.
The room fell still, the laughter quieting, as Nine's hair soaked in the red wine, the liquid dripping down his pale skin, seeping into his clothes, staining him further. His body stayed still, as though his very form had been frozen in place, the crimson liquid almost beautiful against his pristine skin. He didn't flinch, not even a little.
And for a moment, I thought I might lose control.
But I didn't. Not yet.
The Supreme Leader's gaze moved, locking onto Nine with an amused smile. He stepped closer, his boot coming to rest just in front of Nine, the pressure of it almost gentle against the smaller figure's back.
"Clean it up, little thing," he purred, his voice cutting through the thick silence. "Lick it off the floor. Like a good pet."
I couldn't breathe.
Nine's movements were immediate. He dropped to the floor in one smooth motion, bent his head, and began licking the wine from the tiles. The sound of it—the wet, quiet laps—seemed impossibly loud in the room.
The guests continued laughing, their comments growing more vulgar, more lewd.
"Think he'll do tricks if we offer a treat?"
"Such a good boy."
But Nine didn't react. He simply continued, methodical, not a trace of rebellion. His lips brushed the ground, then the leather of the Supreme Leader's boot. He was moving with the same practiced grace, the same forced obedience, that he always did.
But I felt it—like a tremor beneath the surface. The flicker of something he was still holding onto, despite everything. That tiny, broken sliver of hope.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to rip them all apart, tear the world down.
But I stayed still.
I had to. Not yet.
The Supreme Leader looked at me then, his eyes cold, daring me to react. "Remarkable, isn't he?" he asked, his voice thick with amusement. "It's a shame they don't last forever."
I could barely hear his words over the pounding of my heart.
I didn't move. I couldn't. Not yet.
But when Nine sat back on his heels, soaked in the wine, humiliated and trembling, he looked at me.
Not at the crowd.
Not at the Supreme Leader.
At me.
And in his gaze, I saw it.
Not apology.
Not shame.
Hope.
He still believed me.
Even now.
Especially now.
I didn't speak, but I opened the bond just a fraction. Soon.
His eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment, I saw something shift in him.
Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. The world moved on, and no one cared.
But I didn't forget.
And I wouldn't forgive.