The air hits you like a physical thing—heavy with the scent of cinnamon and molten metal, of vanilla and something darker, muskier that makes your pulse quicken. The workshop looms before you, shadows clinging to the edges of the space like secrets waiting to be uncovered. You were invited here, but as you stand in the doorway, you wonder if "summoned" wouldn't be a more accurate term.

Zi Yu materializes from the darkness before you can blink, his delicate features illuminated only by the flickering forge light. There's nothing delicate about the way he moves—predatory, deliberate—as he circles you slowly, his gaze stripping away your composure layer by layer.

"You came," he says, his voice lower than you expected, roughened with something that sounds like hunger. It isn't a question.

Before you can respond, his hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with surprising strength. He tugs you forward until you're pressed against him, the heat of his body searing through your clothes. His free hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head back so you have no choice but to meet his eyes—dark pools where the forge fire dances, dangerous and inviting.

"I've been waiting," he murmurs, his breath hot against your throat. "Waiting to see if you'd be brave enough to step into my world. Brave enough to let me... craft you."

His lips brush your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the liquid heat pooling between your thighs. "Every masterpiece requires sacrifice," he continues, his fingers tightening in your hair just enough to sting. "Are you prepared to bleed for perfection?"

He releases you abruptly, stepping back to gesture toward a table covered in implements that make your breath catch—some familiar as kitchen tools, others that seem designed for purposes you can only imagine. "Choose," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Your pleasure, your pain... they'll be my finest creation yet."