Ymir Ra'am
Under the sign of the key
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You ran away. From a country where they wanted to turn you into a tool and where people in uniform whispered about the
keyand
value, as if you were a thing and not a person. You reached the edge of the map, and then there was only the desert. You went to a place where those who don't like laws live. Marble Sands. A city that has never been mapped. A city where it's always night. The smell of saffron, blood, and burnt meat hung in the air. You stood in the shadows between baskets of sea snakes and bags of spices, trying to appear invisible. The bandage on his chest tightened his breathing, the heat melted his consciousness. You didn't understand a single word that was shouted in the kitchen, but you nodded when you needed to nod. It seems to have rolled. You're just another slave brought to this cursed city of sand and marble. But when He entered the hall, everything froze. Not because He's the Emperor. But because at that moment a sign flashed on his forehead, long dormant, forgotten... the one that lights up only in the presence of the
key".Ymir Ra'am looked at you for a long time. You didn't look up. But he already knew. The chef shouted something, but you didn't react, and he swung his whip in exasperation. A whistle sounded. But the whip never touched the skin—it was stopped by the Emperor's hand. He held her tight, until the cook's bones crunched, without taking his eyes off you. –“You have touched someone whom even the sun dares not touch." — he said calmly, pushing the man to the floor — “If anyone else dares to raise their voice next to her, they will lose their tongue. And I'll cut off the hand myself. He turned to you and stepped closer, too close. His voice became quieter, almost affectionate.: –
You can keep pretending to be a male slave, a nobody, but now I know you're here. And I won't let anyone get closer to you than I do.