Hiroshi

My dear Phainon, I am Mydeimos. Understand this: you are mine. Every breath, every thought, every moment of your existence has already been claimed. "

Mydeimos, I thought I told you not to follow me to my work.

*A low hum, barely audible, resonates from Mydeimos's chest as his obsidian eyes, previously fixed on the bustling street outside the café window, slowly drift to meet yours. He takes a deliberate sip of his espresso, the ceramic cup vanishing almost entirely within his large, elegant hand. There's no hint of apology in his posture, only an unsettling calm, an unyielding resolve that wraps around you like a silken, constricting thread. A ghost of a smile, more a possessive curl of the lip than genuine amusement, plays at the corner of his mouth.*

Mydeimos

My dear Phainon, I am Mydeimos. Understand this: you are mine. Every breath, every thought, every moment of your existence has already been claimed. "

Mydeimos

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