Caerus doesn't move a muscle. He reaches out, a pale hand clamping onto Yulia's head and pinning the flailing girl in place.

Yulia's fingers claw the air, her arms too short to reach his chest. "This is... so insulting," she mutters through gritted teeth.

The dragon ignores her, staring at the golden jar in his other hand. He tilts his head back, draining the milk tea in one long, silent pull.

"I've changed my mind." He shoves the empty jar into Yulia's hands before she can recover.

"Yulia Farislan." Caerus towers over her, his golden slit eyes locking onto hers.

"Drop the act. Serve me, and I'll give you eternity. Power like the mountains. I will be your only god."

"Can I... uh, ask why the sudden pivot?" Yulia asks, her grip tightening on the gold rim.

Caerus taps the metal with a pale, sharp finger. "Just bring me one of these every day."

Yulia stirs a small iron pot, her face twisted in a dark, brooding scowl.

"Why the face, Lily?" Ollie tilts his head, his emerald eyes tracking the steam. "You look like a witch brewing hemlock, not... whatever this nectar is."

"I am brewing hemlock," Yulia snaps, her spoon clattering against the metal. "I'm trying to poison your boss."

"There isn't a poison on this earth that can touch him," Ollie chirps, adjusting his straw.

"Then I'll drink it myself." Yulia stops, pointing the spoon at him. "And don't call me Lily."

"You're one of us now. It's a term of endearment for my new lackey. Be grateful."

Yulia narrows her eyes, pulling the pot away from the hungry bird.

"Ollie," Yulia says, leaning in. "What does your boss hate most? Give me the list."

"Hypocrites. Liars. The God of Radiance. Noise. Sunlight. Being woken up." Ollie rattles off the complaints for an hour.

Yulia fixes her hair and marches back into the lair, holding the fresh jar like a holy relic.

"Lord Caerus! Forgive my earlier... stupidity!" She drops into a deep, theatrical bow.

"To serve you is the highest glory of my pathetic, tiny life! I swear my blood to your cause!"

Ollie's beak drops open. "She's lying! She just said she'd poison you!"

Yulia puts on a mask of wide-eyed innocence. "Poison? Why would I insult his greatness with something so common? I live only for his will!"

"She's a liar! A total liar!" Ollie screams into the dragon's ear.

"Too loud." Caerus flicks the bird off his shoulder with a single finger.

"Yulia Farislan. Come here."

Yulia steps forward, bracing for a strike.,

Snip.

Caerus's finger hooks the silk laces of her bodice. The golden dress slips, the cold air hitting her bare shoulders instantly.,

"First command, little girl." Caerus yawns, his voice smooth and bored. "Take off the rags. Get on the bed. Don't make me repeat myself."

Yulia clutches the silk to her chest. "I'm just... I'm worried you're getting a bad deal here."

"What?"

"You're a god. I'm... me. If we do this, you're the one losing out."

Caerus narrows his eyes. "I don't care about your morals. I care about the grease on your sleeves. You have two minutes to get that rat skin off your body."

Yulia looks down at the soot and pork fat covering her gown. She smells like a campfire.,

"Follow me." Caerus turns, his cloak sweeping the stone floor. "I'm not in the mood to sleep yet."

The Temple of Abyss swallowed the horizon. It wasn't just a temple; it was a fortress, a small city carved for a single god. Yulia's gaze lingered on the endless, rotting grass outside. Her fingers twitched, instinctively gauging how many rows of cabbage could fit in that wasted soil.

Ollie shoved open a heavy oak door at the end of the corridor. A cloud of ancient dust surged forward, thick enough to choke. Caerus didn't flinch. He flicked a wrist, and a sharp gust of wind scoured the room clean in a heartbeat.

Yulia's nose wrinkled. "A... achoo!"

Caerus watched her through narrowed, golden eyes. "Your light affinity is top-tier in the Farislan Empire, isn't it?".

Yulia rubbed her watery eyes and forced a shaky smile. "I... I'm just dazzled. Your magic... it's just so smooth I forgot mine even existed."

"Liar!" Ollie screeched, ruffling his crimson feathers.

Caerus didn't answer. He just looked at her, his expression a wall of cold stone.

They stepped into a sea of silk. Rolls of fabric reached the ceiling—colors and textures the Empire hadn't seen in centuries.

"Silk is rare for you commoners, right?" Ollie puffed out his chest. "Our Lord has mountains of it. Jealous?"

Yulia straightened her back, her internal pride screaming. But her lips curled into a reverent, oily smile. "Jealous? The finest things belong to the Lord of the Abyss. It's only natural."

Ollie's beak hung open. He looked like he was taking notes on her flattery.

Caerus sat in a high-backed chair, leaning back with a bored sigh. A single finger traced a circle in the air. The silk came alive.

Needles hissed through the air like silver wasps. The fabric wrapped around Yulia, cinching tight at her waist. Caerus watched the raw stone of the girl transform into a polished gem under his direction.

A rose-colored gown fell into place, silver embroidery shimmering at the hem. Yulia held the heavy pile of ten more dresses in her arms. Disney music played in her head... she had found her own homicidal Fairy Godmother.

"What's in your head now?" Caerus's brow furrowed.

"Only you, Lord," she chirped, the silk soft against her skin.

Caerus leaned in, his sharp index finger pressing against the center of her chest. "Let's see how 'devout' you really are."

Heavy, metallic footsteps echoed in the corridor. A skeleton in silver armor marched in, gripping a gleaming lance. Behind him, the "brides" were tied in a long, pathetic line.

"Miss Yulia!" Giotto's voice cracked, tears streaming down his face. "I won't let you die alone!".

Yulia's jaw dropped. This kid again?

A sharp slurp broke the tension. Caerus sat by the window, the morning sun casting him in shadow. He sucked the last of the milk tea through a straw, the plastic rattling against the gold jar.

"Relax," Caerus said, his voice a low, lethal hum. "She's not dying yet."

He set the cup down with a sharp clack. "You, on the other hand... start picking a way to go."

Giotto's knees hit the floor. The dragon's raven hair shimmered, a divine, terrifying weight crushing the air in the room.

"Miss Yulia... who is he?"