The estate of House Wolfstein was perched atop the highest mountain of the imperial capital planet, its architecture as cold, sharp, and militarily precise as its master. Black alloy structures interwoven with transparent energy domes reflected a harsh, metallic gleam under the sunlight, overlooking the sprawling, glittering metropolis below like a slumbering leviathan.
Along the suspended bridge leading to the main residence, household staff in immaculate silver-gray uniforms and guards in powered armor stood in silent, unmoving rows, resembling lifeless statues. The very air seemed to solidify as Kaelan Wolfstein stepped from his aircraft. A few paces behind him followed Selene.
She still wore her faded, coarse clothes from the Broken Star Belt, starkly out of place amidst the extreme luxury and high-tech opulence. Countless gazes—both overt and covert—settled upon her, filled with scrutiny, curiosity, and unconcealed contempt for a "low-grade."
A middle-aged steward, impeccably dressed and exuding efficiency, approached. His eyes briefly rested on Selene with inquiry. "Marshal, this is…?"
Kaelan didn't even turn, his voice ringing cold and pure in the vast reception hall. "A low-grade suspect from the Broken Star Belt. Possibly connected to the previous attack. She is to be detained for questioning." He used the word "detained," precisely defining Selene's place here. "Take her to the 'Contemplation Court.' She is not to step foot outside without my permission. No visitors."
"Yes, Marshal," the steward replied, bowing his head, all doubt instantly replaced by absolute obedience.
The Contemplation Court lay in the estate's deepest reaches, backed against a steep cliff and facing an artificial pine forest perpetually shrouded in a chilling mist. It was an elegant, standalone three-story building, its interior lavishly appointed with soft bio-fiber carpets, walls that were artistic screens displaying soothing, flowing light, and an intelligent house system ready to cater to every material need. Yet, all doors and windows were embedded with invisible permission fields. The scenery outside, though beautiful, was like a painting on the wall—visible but unreachable. Two guards of formidable presence stood watch at the single entrance like sentinels, their vigil unceasing.
Selene was silently ushered into this gilded cage. The door closed behind her with a soft, yet final, click. She walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, observing the meticulously designed, lifeless "nature" outside. Her fingers lightly touched the cold glass, feeling the faint energy hum. It had everything, except the one thing she craved most—freedom.
By day, Kaelan Wolfstein seemed to have forgotten her existence entirely. He was buried in backlogged military affairs, strategic meetings, and receiving various dignitaries. Even when his duties took him near the Contemplation Court, his gaze never strayed toward it, as if it were utterly empty. Everyone else in the estate, from the highest steward to the lowest cleaning drone, perfectly mirrored their master's attitude, treating Selene with programmed courtesy and substantive disregard.
But when the twin moons of the capital planet rose, their silver and crimson light filtering through the vast glass domes to bathe the estate, something carefully hidden began to stir.
The first night, a intense sensation of being watched startled Selene from a fitful sleep. Her eyes snapped open to see a tall, straight-backed shadow blending into the darkness near her bedroom door. Kaelan Wolfstein stood there, soundless, his silver-gray eyes reflecting pinpricks of light like a lone wolf on a snowfield. He didn't approach, only stared silently, his gaze so complex it unnerved her—scrutiny, confusion, and a deep, unfathomable struggle. He remained for an immeasurable time before vanishing as silently as he came.
The next night, he came even earlier. This time, he approached the bed. Selena closed her eyes and maintained steady breathing, with every sense in a highly alert state. She felt the mattress tilt slightly due to his weight. Then, a cool hand gently brushed the hair on her forehead, and his fingertips cautiously lingered near her cheek, caressing it, unlike his usual indifference.
The third night, his approach carried a barely perceptible urgency. His fingers, no longer content with her hair, traced the line of her jaw, a slow, reluctant caress. Then, a feather-light kiss landed on her eyelid. Selene's heart hammered against her ribs; she forced herself not to move. His breath, warm and damp with suppressed pants, ghosted across her skin. He seemed locked in a fierce internal battle, one where reason barely won, pulling him back into the shadows once more.
The nights continued like this. His actions grew bolder, more contradictory. Sometimes he merely stood by the bed, fists clenched as if fighting an invisible pull. Other times, like an addict, he would repeatedly press light kisses to the corner of her mouth, the side of her neck, his lips and teeth conveying a desperate, clinging hunger, as if drawing some vital sustenance from her. In the deepest, most unguarded hours, he would clutch her tightly, like a drowning man to driftwood, burying his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply the faint scent of her that somehow soothed the raging storms in his mental domain, losing himself completely.
And always, in the darkest hour before dawn, he would shove her away abruptly, as if stung, his eyes turning cold again, even flashing with anger at his own loss of control, before disappearing into the morning mist.
Selene remained silent throughout. She was a patient observer, recording his every contradiction, every shift in his breathing, the intensity and emotion in every touch. She knew, with utter clarity, that this lost "wolf" was clumsily trying to reach for a warmth he had forgotten but his body remembered. But she knew even better that layered over this instinctual dependence were unbreakable metal bars and the absolute, unquestionable authority of power.
Until one night, after leaving a near-bruising, blood-tinged kiss on her lips, he stared at her feigned sleeping face from inches away. In a voice ragged and broken, he whispered a question he would never acknowledge when conscious: "What… are you?" It was a question expecting no answer, yet it rippled through Selene's mind like a stone cast into a frozen lake. She knew then that the lock on this gilded cage might not be unbreakable. The key lay hidden within this extreme, daily contradiction.