Elysia sat alone inside the bck carriage.The night was still, and the wheels cut silently through the dark.There was no sound from the horses' hooves, nor from the rocking of the cabin.Moonlight slipped through the slit of the window and brushed against her silver hair.She stared outside, her face too still to reflect even that pale light.

  The white robes of an imperial mage glowed quietly, even within the shadows.But Elysia knew too well how easily white could be stained.

  Each sway of the carriage stirred something within her.Not quite emotion.No—it must not be.

  He is only a subject. A test subject.

  She repeated it to herself, as if it were the only truth.

  And yet, each time she closed her eyes, the same scene returned.Hands soaked in blood. A gaze sunken deep.That pain—it had begun from her hands.He had said nothing.But in his silence, something inside her had begun to stir.

  “…Don’t feel.”Her lips barely moved, forming the words to hold herself together.

  Light, after all, was fragile.And already, darkness had begun to gather at her feet.

  In his eyes, there had been obedience.But… was it only obedience?

  Elysia closed her eyes.

  Where did that pain truly begin?

  The emperor had told her:

  He is the first weapon you will command.The Hound follows only orders.Strip him of emotion—leave only the command.It’s simple, isn’t it?

  That day in the boratory had been cold.Blood pooled at Kyle’s ankles.His eyes held neither resistance nor submission.

  Just… something broken.

  The emperor had handed him over with a winegss in hand,smiling like an executioner who’d already finished the work.

  Elysia clenched her fingertips quietly.

  I only followed the order.

  And yet since that day,he had knelt before her without a command.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen.That feeling—wasn’t supposed to exist.

  Under the flickering b lights, the blood he shed looked almost too dark.

  She exhaled.The sound filled the carriage like the only real thing in the night.

  Then the door opened.Cold air touched her face.

  She stepped out without a word, her white cloak brushing the shadows.The Hound Project.Even the name had begun to carry weight inside her now.

  He obeyed.He was her Hound.And she—was one of the architects of his pain.

  It should have meant nothing.

  But suddenly,it did.

  She walked slowly.And behind her pristine robes, the scent of blood clung like memory.

  *

  “Did you see?”

  “…Yes. Her eyes—they trembled.”

  *