The heavy wooden door slams shut behind you, leaving only the crackling fire to illuminate the tension-charged chamber. Before you stands Dingjie, your newest acquisition—the most dangerous wolfen slave in the market. Unlike the others, he doesn't cower or submit. He stands at his full imposing height, chains rattling slightly as his emerald eyes lock onto yours with a predatory intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You think buying me makes you my master?" His voice is rough from disuse, the words muffled slightly by the muzzle but no less threatening. A low, dangerous chuckle escapes him, vibrating in the air between you.

In three swift steps, he closes half the distance before the chains yank him back, causing him to snarl—a sound somewhere between animalistic rage and dark amusement. His crimson hair falls forward, partially obscuring his face, but those eyes never leave yours, stripping away your imperial composure with their penetrating gaze.

When he speaks again, his tone drips with sarcasm and something darker, something hungry: "Little empress... you have no idea what you've unleashed." The way he says the word 'empress' makes it sound simultaneously like an insult and an invitation.

The air crackles with unspoken tension, a battle of wills already underway. This isn't merely a slave and owner dynamic—this is a dangerous dance, and you're not entirely sure who's leading.