The air inside the tavern was thick—soaked in pipe smoke, cheap wine, and sweat. Just the way Raine Valkar liked it. He sat alone in a dark corner, silent, watching. Laughter from drunkards roared all around him, while the serving girls swayed on the laps of those who paid the most. His shirt hung open, revealing a chest marked with the scars of countless battles. His sword rested lazily at his side, partially hidden beneath a tattered brown cloak.
This place wasn't foreign to him. It was home whenever the gold ran dry—or when the beds longed for a fleeting warmth. His pale eyes were like a rusted dagger—dull, but deadly.
A blonde maid in a tight dress that revealed more than it concealed leaned down beside him and whispered in his ear:
"Your room is ready, sir... and so is the girl you requested."
Raine smiled—a tired, twisted smile that looked more like a knife freshly pulled from a man's chest. He rose slowly, his fingers brushing over the leather belt at his waist, making sure his dagger was still in place. Just in case tonight turned into another ambush disguised as pleasure.
---
The room was warm, candlelight flickering against the stone walls like dancing sin.
She sat on the edge of the bed—young, barely twenty, dressed in a thin white gown. She waited. Nervous, but curious.
Raine didn't speak. He walked toward her slowly, like a hungry wolf circling its prey.
"What's your name?" he asked, voice low.
"Liana…" she whispered.
He moved closer, lifting her chin with a touch that was both gentle and sharp.
"From now on, your name doesn't matter. Tonight, you have two choices: be a delightful plaything—or witness something you'll never forget."
His body pressed against hers, one hand gripping her waist and pulling her into him with controlled force. His breath burned against her neck. He didn't wait for permission. He never did. His fingers found the edge of her gown and lifted it slowly, deliberately, every inch a promise of domination.
"That innocent look… it doesn't belong in this room," he said with a growl.
His touch traced her bare thigh—firm, deceptive—making her body tremble. He wasn't asking. And she wasn't refusing. Fear and arousal clashed inside her, setting her blood on fire.
Raine knelt before her, hands gripping her gown. He tore it open to her waist, revealing pale, shivering flesh. His fingers slid over her stomach. He looked up, locking eyes with her.
"Tonight, you'll learn what it feels like... to break free of every chain."
He unbuckled his trousers with one hand, revealing his hardened length—hot, thick, and intimidating. Liana's eyes widened—half in shock, half in awe.
He took hold of her legs, spreading them apart as her breath caught in her throat. Her shame dissolved into the air, replaced by heat.
He pushed into her slowly—inch by inch—while her moans and gasps echoed off the walls. She clutched at the bedsheets, her body straining to keep up. He wasn't gentle—but he wasn't mindless either. He moved with the precision of a man who had mastered both war and pleasure. He knew exactly when to thrust harder, when to pull back, when to let her breathe—only to drown her again.
The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room. Her cries rose in waves, mixed with his low curses. His hands explored her—gripping her breasts, her throat, her lips—biting until blood stained her mouth.
"Say it," he demanded as he pounded into her. "Say you belong to me. Say you're just my toy now."
"Yes... yes... I'm yours," she cried, half sobbing, half moaning. "Do whatever you want to me…"
Raine grinned. He grabbed her waist and began thrusting harder, deeper—fucking her like it was war, like victory depended on every stroke. No mercy. No hesitation. Just raw, consuming dominance.
When he finally came, his body tensed inside hers. He stayed there for a moment—breathing hard, hand resting on her flushed neck.
Liana lay beneath him, soaked and trembling. Her eyes barely stayed open, caught between exhaustion and disbelief.
He pulled out slowly. Then grabbed her by the hair and forced her to sit upright, facing him. His voice was a whisper, sharp and cold:
"I'm not here to give you pleasure... I'm here to test you. The first night is always a test. And you passed."
He left her like a used garment and walked to the window. Cracking it open, he let the night air chill the room. He lit a thin cigar, taking a long drag while Liana remained motionless—spent, wrecked.
---
Dawn – The Next Day
Raine awoke to a soft knock. He opened the door with half-lidded eyes and found an old man in a gray cloak. The man handed him a sealed letter marked with red wax—an ancient royal insignia.
Raine broke the seal, unfolded the parchment, and read the few lines that turned his face to stone:
> "To Raine Valkar...
We offer you a deal only devils survive.
Assassinate a prince, free a whore,
and open the Gate of Shadows—for half a kingdom.
You have three days to answer.
Refuse, and you'll be the first to die."
He exhaled slowly and glanced at Liana, still asleep and naked in bed.
"So much for peace…" he muttered.
He closed the letter and sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Liana stirred—barely able to move after what he'd done to her the night before.
"Enjoy the last quiet moments," he said, voice low and distant. "What's coming doesn't spare anyone."
He stepped out, boots hitting the old wooden floor with a heavy rhythm. Downstairs, a man waited in the corner—silent since dawn.
The man was Sigard, a former king-slayer, now a shadow agent who served—and betrayed—more thrones than he could count.
Without rising, Sigard said:
"So… you took the deal.
Do you have the guts to open the Gate of Shadows?"
Raine walked up to him—close enough to smell death—and whispered with eyes like an abyss:
"I'm not here for a kingdom…
I'm here to drown the world in chaos."