For four straight days, Lilitha had only touched cold water. Every bath brought her sharp discomfort.

The chill stung her wounds. Just as she began to adjust, the herbs in the tub activated—sending crawling sensations like thousands of ants gnawing her skin, forcing her to flinch involuntarily.

She didn’t want to bathe. She feared the pain.

But she feared even more that Rogue would snatch her Pendant—the keepsake from her father. She clung to the belief: as long as the Pendant remained, her father would find her.

Her mother once warned: beyond Dragon Isle lay danger. Outsiders were lowly, useless, filthy, evil; deceit defined inferior races. Trust no stranger.

Yet her father countered: goodness existed out there too. Weakness didn’t mean wickedness. Learn to discern.

Lilitha hadn’t understood then. Now, slowly, she was beginning to.

This shadowy man before her defied comprehension. He showed kindness—bathing her, bringing food. The green-tinged water stung, yet afterward, her body felt lighter.

But he also terrified her: snatching the Pendant, striking her, flashing cruel looks. During baths, he’d scrub roughly—even her chest and private areas—like a pervert.

Mistakes meant punishment: beatings, withheld food. In four days, Lilitha pieced together Rogue’s logic.

She remained afraid. She couldn’t trust him. She still resisted. Yet his beatings oddly brought a flicker of instinctive reassurance.

She knew he’d scold and strike—but not truly harm her. Endure. Adapt. Her father would come.

Then this morning shattered that thought. He was evil—just as her mother said.

*He’d really kill me. Steal Father’s Pendant.*

*Just like the former mistress!*

Fear flooded her chest, throat seized as if by Death’s own hand.

But now?

Why? He tried to kill her at dawn, yet returned at night with food. This warm medicinal water stirred memories of Dragon Isle.

How long since she’d felt such warmth?

Since becoming a slave, never.

These tears weren’t born of fear.

Rogue didn’t know what crossed her mind. Seeing her stare blankly, he assumed it was morning trauma lingering.

*Went too far,* he thought. *A day locked in darkness worsened her state. Overstimulation left her dazed.*

That’s why he’d used warm water—to soothe her fragile spirit. After despair and confinement, the body craves light. Warmth and food should deepen dependence.

But it wasn’t happening.

Rogue pondered, gently pressing her into the water while scrubbing.

This time, Lilitha didn’t struggle. Exhaustion pulled her under mid-bath. She slept, brows furrowed—unable to relax even in dreams.

Rogue sat watching. He’d seen her vulnerability before, but never such raw defenselessness.

*Given up?*

*Too tired?*

*Or… does her subconscious trust me now?*

He couldn’t tell. After a long silence, his motions softened. He dried her carefully. Even asleep, Lilitha clutched the Pendant—and in the dark, it glowed faintly.

Magic. Someone was reaching through it.

Hesitating only a moment, Rogue left it untouched. He carried her to her corner, draped coarse cloth over her, then glanced back at the bread.

“You were well-behaved today. Consider this a reward.”

He murmured, placing a waterskin beside the loaf.

After tidying the tub, he stepped out.

“Today’s taming failed again.” Parchment journal and quill in hand, he began writing.

*If only someone could teach me. Taming is so hard.*

Next morning, Rogue arrived half an hour early. Food and water were gone. Lilitha was awake, staring blankly at her softly glowing Pendant.

Last night’s rest had restored some strength, but the warehouse’s weight still pressed on her spirit.

At 8 a.m., the door opened. Rogue entered with food.

Startled, Lilitha hid the Pendant behind her back, eyes sharp with wariness.

*Just as expected,* Rogue thought. *As long as I’m here, she can’t relax.*

He set down the tub, filled it with cold water. Morning cleansing was non-negotiable; touch strengthened keeper and pet.

As always, he removed her cloth, pointed to the tub, gestures clear. Nearly a week of routine. Lilitha was sharp—he doubted she misunderstood.

She hesitated. Her hidden hand tightened around the Pendant. Fear of him, fear of punishment, froze her.

Rogue crossed his arms. He wasn’t rushed, but his darkening expression felt like pressure to her.

Disobedience meant punishment.

A spanking? Or like this morning—a chokehold, tasting death?

Lilitha trembled. She placed the Pendant on the floor behind her, hastily covered it with straw, then slowly rose.

Stiff from sitting all night, she stumbled after two steps—nearly hitting the tub. Relief washed over her when Rogue didn’t notice.

Too short to climb in directly, she gripped the rim and hauled herself up.

Icy water stung her wounds, sending sharp itches. She twitched her tail—weak, unresponsive.

A furtive glance at Rogue. She spun, hugged her thick dragon tail, and with a strained heave—*thud*—splashed into the tub.

Droplets flicked onto Rogue.

Terrified, Lilitha shrank underwater, blew two tiny bubbles, and blinked up at him—waiting for punishment.