"Young Master, it's time to eat."

Accompanied by Ann's gentle call, Moen opened his eyes.

Ann's voice was so tender that it brought Moen back to those days when he would be woken up gently by Ann every morning in a soft, luxurious bed.

What a pity, that was only in the past.

At this moment, Moen was imprisoned in a cage. Beneath his bare bottom was icy steel, even colder than his heart.

"How long has it been?"

Moen raised his tired eyes to look at Ann. A flicker of exhaustion passed through them.

"It’s been a whole night now."

Ann placed the food container in front of Moen and chuckled softly.

"Did the Young Master sleep well last night?"

"What do you think?"

Moen tugged angrily at the shackles binding his hands, his cold smile filled with frustration.

"Remove these chains, bring in a two-meter bed with velvet blankets and pillows, and stop letting me sit naked on this freezing floor. Then, maybe—just maybe—I could 'get used to' it!"

"Forgive me, Young Master, but I simply cannot fulfill your request. After all, if I accidentally let you slip away, I would be utterly—utterly heartbroken," An replied with a delicate smile.

"Am I not just some pampered fop who's been wasted by you? Do I really deserve this kind of treatment? Even death row inmates have it better than this!"

"One can never be too careful," Ann remarked as she slowly set out the breakfast from the food container. Her smile was as calm as ever. "You seemed a little worn out yesterday, so I prepared a nutritious tonic soup just for you today, Young Master."

"A tonic soup?"

"Yes, I came across it in a book. It’s made from ingredients like tiger penis, ox penis, goblin penis, troll penis, and Mororita grizzly bear penis. It’s said to be very beneficial for men."

"What the heck is Mororita grizzly bear?" Moen's face darkened.

"It's a type of magical beast. They say that when a male Mororita grizzly is in heat and can't find a mate, the trees around its habitat will all be "holey" overnight. That’s why it’s also known as the 'Tree-Hole Bear.'"

"Tree... Hole..."

Moen decided not to ask where those tree holes came from.

He lowered his head, watching as Ann, with her delicate hands, unscrewed the container lid. The pungent black broth poured into a bowl. For some reason, as the soup flowed, he felt his little heart, along with it, tremble.

"You’re sure this concoction is even drinkable?"

"Of course it is," An assured him. "Young Master, there's something you may not know. Since you were ten years old, I've been secretly adding small amounts of these ingredients to your meals. Naturally, given your age back then, I didn’t add much."

"What?!"

Moen's expression twisted in shock and disbelief.

"Since age ten?"

In other words, he had been consuming this so-called tonic soup for a full eight years!

"One must prepare for the future after all. Honestly, what I really wanted to add was dragon whip, but capturing a dragon is no easy feat. That will have to wait for another time."

"Don't talk about capturing dragons so casually! It's terrifying!"

"Why should you be afraid, Young Master? As long as you behave, you know I would never harm you."

Ann lifted the soup bowl and held a spoonful of the broth to Moen’s lips.

"Here, Young Master, open your mouth. Ah—"

"I’m not drinking it!"

Moen turned away, shaking his head to dodge the spoon.

Who knew what kind of side effects would come from drinking this stuff?

He suspected the original reason for the old Moen's foolishness could entirely be blamed on this so-called tonic soup.

"Not drinking?"

Ann’s delicate smile froze.

She leaned in, her face mere inches from Moen's, her enchanting eyes locking onto his.

In those bewitching eyes, Moen saw a profound and flowing darkness, as though a storm might erupt at any moment and engulf everything.

"Are you sure about that?"

Though her tone lacked any overt threat, Moen felt as though a glinting blade was pressed against his chest. The wrong response would surely end with a blade piercing straight through.

"No, no—I’ll drink it. I’ll drink it."

Forcing a strained smile, Moen stretched his neck forward and reluctantly swallowed the spoonful of "tonic soup."

A real man knows when to yield. It's just a tonic soup—what's the big deal?

He had been already drinking it for eight years; what was one more bowl?

Hmm...

Surprisingly, it wasn’t half bad.

...

...

After Ann had spoon-fed him the entire bowl of soup, she suddenly stood up. Before Moen could react, her maid outfit slipped to the floor, revealing her flawless, pale skin.

"Again?"

Moen’s eyes widened in disbelief, his voice tinged with indignation.

"How long has it even been?"

She wasn’t even wearing underwear.

She had planned this all along!

"I can’t help it," Ann murmured, licking her crimson lips. She crawled toward Moen on all fours, her gaze teasing and full of intent.

"I need to leave my mark on the Young Master as soon as possible—one that belongs solely to me~"

"You bitch, stay away! Mm—"

"Hmm... despite what you’re saying, Young Master, your body is being very honest~"

"I-it’s not! Not at all!"

"Oh, really? Hmm... then why are you moving on your own...?"

"Damn it..."

...

Two hours later.

...

After their "session", a thoroughly satisfied Ann dressed herself with ease.

Moen lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes, as though he were a defiled maiden whose life had lost all meaning.

Perhaps sensing she had gone too far, Ann crouched beside him, her delicate chin resting on her hand, an apologetic smile gracing her lips.

"It seems I may have been a bit excessive with you, Young Master."

"..."

Moen shot her a resentful glare, remaining silent.

"I really have a bad conscience for you're reacting like this."

Another glare from Moen.

Conscience?

After all you’ve done to me, you still claim to have a conscience? Ha!

"In that case, I will grant Young Master Moen one small wish, how about that?"

Moen's eyes sparkled with hope. "I want my freedom—"

"Absolutely not."

Ann placed a slender finger against Moen's lips.

"I said a small wish."

"Then release my shackles."

"Denied."

"How about clothes?"

"Still no."

"A bed?"

"Not happening."

"If not this and not that, then what *can* I wish for?!" Moen wailed in exasperation.

"Let me think…"

Ann pondered for a moment, then said, "Perhaps something like deciding what to have for lunch."

"...That’s really small," Moen groaned. "But, I suppose it’s better than nothing."

"Does that mean the Young Master has decided?"

"Yes, more or less."

"What will it be?"

"Now that you mention it, autumn is just around the corner," Moen began, deliberately dragging out his answer.

"This time last year, I remember being on a boat in Lake Beppol, enjoying not only the breathtaking scenery but also the taste of freshly caught autumn fish…"

"The Young Master wants fish from Lake Beppol?"

"Ah, autumn fish are the fattiest and most tender. If steamed and paired with red wine from the Rocke Count's estate, it would be the pinnacle of cuisine."

"But Lake Beppol is so far away. If the fish is shipped here…"

"Ah, last year I was gliding across the lake, so full of vigor and spirit. Now, confined to this tiny prison, how can I not lament such a fall from grace? My life is tragic—so tragic. What’s the point of living? I might as well just die."

"…Fine."

The corner of Ann’s mouth twitched, though she kept her smile intact. "I’ll get the fish, so please be patient, Young Master."

"Oh."

Moen's exaggerated performance came to an abrupt halt. He looked at An, raising an eyebrow as he said, "Then I’ll wait for it, Ann."