...

  Patricia plunged into the suffocating void, darkness pressing against her from all sides. Her hand shot out instinctively, shadows twisting and solidifying into claws around her fingers. With a swift motion, she slashed into the walls of the inner well, slowing her descent and guiding herself downward. 'What should I do?' she thought, her mind racing for a plan. But for now, the shadows offered a strange, fragile sense of safety.

  All she wanted was to see Alexander and ask him the questions that burned in her heart. Now that her chance seemed to be slipping away, she even considered swallowing her pride to become his second wife. Still, the mystery of how Sarah suddenly became his fiancé puzzled her. Why had he chosen Sarah despite his many reservations? The unanswered questions gnawed at her, demanding resolution.

  With a soft thud, Patricia landed at the bottom of the well and quickly scanned her surroundings. Her sharp eyes found an exit—a roughly dug hole left behind after the well had dried. The jagged edges of the passage hinted at a pathway leading straight into the labyrinth of the Underworld. A shiver ran down her spine, but she steeled herself. Whatever awaited her on the other side couldn't possibly be worse than her Mother's wrath. Gritting her teeth, she swallowed hard and darted through the opening, driven by the desperate hope of escaping her fate.

  Patricia's footsteps were nearly silent as she sprinted, her shadow abilities pushed to their limit. But then, the shadows around her began to waver, flickering and losing their usual density—a distressed voice echoed in her mind before she could react. whimpered Charcoal, his voice trembling with exhaustion. Her bonded shadow fox was faltering, unable to maintain his support any longer.

  Since finding them, Patricia had been nurturing them with adoration and care, watching as they grew stronger and developed their unique abilities. Charcoal's [Energy] resonated with the shadows, granting her unparalleled stealth and the power to shape her form. With his support, feats like her earlier escape became almost effortless, a testament to their bond and his growing strength.

  'Don't worry, Char,' Patricia said inwardly, letting the weakened [Energy] dissipate with a gentle sigh. But she wasn't alone in this. 'Lisop!' she called, her voice firm and resolved. A sharp, excited howl almost instantly reverberated in her mind as the wolf monster's high-pitched voice boomed. Her sheer enthusiasm in her tone was reassuring and electrifying, igniting a spark of hope within her.

  Light flared around her in a sudden, brilliant flash, white armor taking shape over her frame as an elegant spear materialized in her hands. 'Good girl!' Patricia shouted inwardly, her thoughts brimming with pride and energy as her mood merged with Lisop's ever-present, infectious excitement. Lisop's vibrant response rang in her mind like a zealous chant. The fox remained silent momentarily, but both could sense his hesitant, forced nod in agreement.

  Patricia chuckled softly, noticing that the gleaming white light of the armor was far too conspicuous for her liking. Yet, with each step, she felt her speed increase, her movements gaining a confident precision. A surge of pride and satisfaction filled her chest. 'This is incredible. I couldn't be happier with my [Divinity Line]!'

  Initially, understanding her abilities proved difficult, as the unusual combination of parasitic [Wild Demonic Energy], typical for the Nine-Fire, and one of the [Mystic Skills] enabled her to tame monsters. However, once she instinctively bonded Lisop and Charcoal to herself, she couldn't have been more satisfied. The bond brought her constant companionship and a loyal team to her side. Yet, the connection wasn't without risks—their personalities would influence her behavior. If their relationship soured or if her strength wavered, they might even harm her body or seize control entirely. Despite the potential dangers, Patricia wasn't concerned. To her, those little pups were the most adorable allies she could imagine—a family.

  Patricia's attention snapped to the scene ahead. The sharp scent of dirty water and metal filled the air, stirring a glimmer of hope within her. 'Finally!' she thought, her heart pounding with ignited determination. Moments later, the exit came into view—another jagged hole. Beyond it, a larger, open space seemed to promise freedom of movement. Her pace quickened, and a brilliant white streak trailed behind her as she surged forward.

  Excitement coursed through her as her mind raced ahead, strategizing her next move. But just as her confidence peaked, a figure emerged from the shadows at the corridor's end. She halted abruptly, her senses sharpening as she caught a familiar scent—black pepper, the distinct aroma of a soap she recognized instantly.

  "Patty," a calm voice called out, firm but with undeniable authority. "Would you please stop this nonsense?"

  Her heart skipped a beat. She froze, her wide eyes focusing on the figure before her. "Father?!" she blurted, her voice a mix of disbelief and shock. Standing before her was Peter Nine-Fire, clad in finely tailored attire befitting his Lord status. His dark crimson coat was embroidered with intricate golden patterns that shimmered faintly in the dim light, and a high-collared vest complemented his pristine white shirt. Polished boots and a jeweled brooch designed like their household sigil completed the ensemble, exuding an aura of both elegance and authority.

  "It was only a matter of time before Ori lost it chasing you," Peter said with a sigh, his sharp gaze tinged with weariness. "But I didn't think I'd have to get involved."

  The man was a constant enigma to her. She loved him, yet his actions often left her puzzled and uneasy. While he oversaw the administration of their fief, her Mother's deference to him was absolute. She never displayed anger in his presence or questioned his decisions, treating his words as unassailable truth.

  Her Father extended his hand, his voice calm and steady. "Take my hand, Patty." His smile radiated a gentleness that carried an undeniable parental warmth, a softness that tugged at her deepest instincts as a daughter. It was a call that seemed to transcend choice—a need to obey, trust, and follow.

  'I know this,' Patricia thought, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of dread and determination. Tension rippled through her as she felt it—manipulation of overwhelming magnitude subtly coiling around her heart, pulling at it with an almost imperceptible force. Only the scars of her near-death experience and the torment of countless months allowed her to recognize it so quickly.

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  His glowing red eyes cut through the dim light, their intensity heightened by the faint shimmer of his jackal-like ears, adorned with the distinctive blond hair of the Feather-Paw lineage. Even his tail wagged with a disarmingly puppyish enthusiasm, exuding an air of warmth and invitation that seemed designed to draw her in. Yet, Patricia wasn't so easily swayed. She clenched her fist, her nails digging sharply into her palm, the pain anchoring her against his subtle influence. He didn't need skills to control—his natural charisma was a force of its own, masterfully coaxing without ever appearing to coerce.

  Patricia took an uneasy step back, her pulse racing. Her instincts screamed at her that she was in trouble. Still, she fought the urge to run. 'Mother has the real power here. He's just the administrator,' she told herself, though the thought wasn't as comforting as she'd hoped. Summoning every bit of courage she had, she stepped forward instead of retreating.

  "Please don't make me do this!" Patricia shouted, her voice ricocheting off the tunnel walls, each echo amplifying her desperation. The shadows around her thickened, closing in like a tangible, suffocating presence. Instinctively, she called upon Lisop's vibrant [Energy], allowing the shimmering armor to envelop her completely. Its radiant glow pushed back the encroaching darkness and fortified her mind against the doubts threatening to overwhelm her.

  Peter raised an eyebrow, his posture tightening, sending a chill down Patricia's spine. "My dear, trust your instincts for once and stop overthinking everything," he said, his voice calm, laced with a faint trace of amusement. Yet, beneath the surface of his words lay an unmistakable warning she couldn't afford to ignore.

  Patricia bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. With a determined glare, she raised her hand. The spear made of light began to sparkle, spiraling and twisting into a dangerous form. She poured her own [Energy] into it, and a crimson mist streaked with black dots began solidifying around the weapon. Gritting her teeth, she locked eyes with her Father. "I warned you," she growled, her voice low and trembling with effort.

  Peter sighed again, his expression unreadable as he took a step closer. "Alright," he said in an almost bored tone. "I've always hated fieldwork. Too messy. But I'll oblige if you insist on learning the hard way."

  Patricia's stomach twisted as she readied herself. She funneled every bit of [Energy] she could muster into her weapon, the entire tunnel glowing faintly from the intensity. A spell formed on her lips, and she was just about to unleash it until her Father vanished.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Before she could react, all the [Energy] she had summoned drained away instantly. Her spear dissolved into white sparks, and her knees buckled under her suddenly weakened body as the world turned in unnatural ways. She gasped for air, unable to move, as her Father's voice came from behind her.

  "You're lucky I found you," he said softly, his calm tone carrying a thread of disappointment. "Ori wouldn't have been this gentle."

  His words echoed in her mind as darkness swallowed her.

  ...

  Patricia woke hours later, her head pounding as she slowly emerged from unconsciousness. 'Where am I?' The thought spun in her hazy mind as she struggled to focus, her senses sluggish. After a moment of surveying her surroundings, recognition dawned. 'It's… my room. Figures,' she mused bitterly. Her eyes landed first on the familiar painted portrait of Alexander. Next, she noticed the soft blanket tucked around her, the warmth and comfort of her bed at odds with the weight of her reality. Then her gaze shifted, and she became painfully aware of the cold, unyielding steel around her neck.

  The slave collar was unmistakable, its intricate design and unyielding enchantment far beyond her ability to crack, unlike Alexander. Any attempt to use mana sent her mind spiraling into chaos, her [Mana Sense] overwhelmed and erratic. 'I never understood how he managed it,' she thought bitterly as she slowly straightened up, her body sluggish under the collar's weight. Her mind drifted to memories of her love—his bad jokes, her tireless efforts to amuse him, care for him, and clean him up. The thought of it all, coupled with the oppressive reality of her situation, gripped her heart like a vice, squeezing until it was hard to breathe.

  'I miss him... I really... do,' Patricia whispered, tears streaming down her face as she hugged herself tightly. The realization hit her like a hammer—she might never again feel his love. 'Why does nobody understand? No...' Her body curled in on itself, her ears flattening against her head and her tail wrapping protectively around her trembling form. With every ounce of her limited strength, she pressed into the pain, letting it anchor her amidst the storm of her despair.

   Charcoal's voice echoed softly in her mind, a fragile thread of comfort. His words carried warmth but also stirred a deeper turmoil within her.

  he added, his tone filled with an innocent optimism that made her chest tighten painfully.

  'Papa,' Patricia thought, the words catching in her throat as she grappled with the painful truth. He might not choose her. He might see her as nothing more than a friend. The mere thought twisted her stomach, filling her with a storm of shame, embarrassment, and sorrow that threatened to consume her.

  Lisop and Charcoal remained silent as Patricia sobbed, lost in her despair, unable to focus or acknowledge the world around her. Then, a voice pierced through the fog of her mind—foreign yet oddly soothing.

  Patricia lifted her head weakly, her eyes vacant yet yearning, seeking solace in the thought of the one she desired most. "I do," she murmured, her voice raw and trembling yet carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of longing—a hunger that refused to be quenched—no matter what anyone tried.

  < Isn't it unfair that he gets to decide while he is yours? Why not take what is rightfully yours?> the voice cooed—a gentle, honeyed whisper that carried a disarming warmth, wrapping around her thoughts like a lullaby. It spoke with an understanding no one else seemed capable of, weaving a melody of desires that swirled dangerously in her mind, each word more tempting than the last.

  Patricia answered with the only words that mattered to her, the only truth she could cling to. "I want Alex," she said, her voice trembling as the intensity of her desire burned through her. A flush crept across her cheeks, betraying emotions that teetered on the edge of yearning and obsession. "Alex is mine," she continued, her thoughts unraveling as she surrendered to the seductive pull of the inner sensations spreading like wildfire within her.

   the voice rang out, louder and more insistent, carrying the weight of a command. It unearthed her deepest, most hidden desire—a longing she had always suppressed. Patricia didn't just want Alexander to love her; she wanted to control him. To make him irrevocably hers, bound and restrained in every way possible. She yearned to pull his strings like a puppet master, to hold absolute power over him—to own him completely.

   The voice slithered into her heart, its words curling around her like a constricting serpent, clenching and twisting with cruel precision. It hissed with an insidious understanding.

  The voice was so tempting and reassuring—or maybe she didn't want to fight it at all—the words wrapped around her thoughts like vines, insistent and persuasive. Patricia shivered; her resolve was slowly igniting to follow the voice's will. Her lips moved on their own, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "I will," her blush intensified, a smile creeping up. "I will do everything to protect Alex," a hidden flame of defiance. Patricia wasn't submitting to her fate; she would pretend, biding her time before making her move.

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