Author's Note:
Hey everyone, I know it's been a while — life threw me a curveball (lost my phone and had to pause writing), but I'm finally back!
I've really missed you all, and I'm back on track now.
Thank you to everyone who kept the story in their collections and continued reading — your support means the world to me.
New chapters are on the way, and things are about to get even more intense!
Don't forget to add the story to your library (if it got removed) and vote with power stones to boost it again.
Let's bring this story back to life — together!
With love,
Debby Sabitue.
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"How? How?! How in the world is this possible?!" Ortho yelled, struggling against the ropes that bound him to the chair.
He had tried countless times to escape, but it always ended the same — caught, tied up, and punished.
"Why do I always get caught? I've tried over and over, but it always goes wrong. When will I finally succeed?" he muttered to himself, glaring at Jordan, who stood with his back turned, busy with something.
No matter how many times he tried to escape Jordan, his efforts were always in vain. Jordan somehow discovered every plan.
Losing his powers had placed him at a huge disadvantage — he was completely helpless now.
Each time he was caught, he had no choice but to accept his fate and let Jordan tie him up — there was nothing else he could do. Physically, Jordan was far stronger than him, and without his powers, he stood no chance.
Jordan's sheer physique alone was intimidating — he wouldn't just beat Ortho; he'd bend, fold, squeeze, and mold him like clay.
With a frustrated sigh, Ortho frowned and tried wriggling out of the ropes again, but nothing worked.
"Hey! Are you just going to leave me tied up all day?!" Ortho snapped, but Jordan didn't even glance his way.
"Hmph! Are you deaf now? I'm talking to you! Untie me! Untie me! Untie me! Untie me! Untie me! Until—"
His voice caught in his throat when Jordan suddenly appeared in front of him, gripping the chair's arms, his face inches away, staring at him like he was some strange specimen.
"W-What?! Why are you staring at me like that? I said untie me, not look at me!" he stammered, as if trying to remind him.
"You're such a troublemaker. It's like I'm dealing with a grown-up child. You stress me out," Jordan said, his eyes locked onto Ortho's hazel ones, which sparkled faintly in the sunlight. "You know escaping is useless, so why keep trying?"
"Because I want to run away! Isn't it obvious? Let me go! And I'm not a child! I'm not a child!! I'm not a child!!! You keep calling me that — why?!"
"Because you act like one, Ortho," Jordan replied, and the sound of his name so close sent a shiver down Ortho's spine.
Jordan had never said his name like that before — the deep rumble of his voice right beside his ear made Ortho's skin tingle.
"I'm hungry. Won't you untie me so I can cook for myself? Or are you planning to starve me to death?" Ortho asked, hoping to divert Jordan's gaze. It was too intense, making him nervous.
"Ugh, fine! But if you try to escape again, I won't listen to your begging," Jordan warned, reaching down to untie the ropes.
Once free, Ortho stood up and stretched, wincing slightly, then headed straight for the kitchen.
"Ah, finally," he muttered, rubbing his sore wrists.
Jordan, now lounging on the couch, couldn't help but drink in Ortho's appearance.
Jordan's gaze lingered on him.
God, he thought, he wants to run away, dressed like that?
Ortho was wearing one of Jordan's oversized shirts that barely covered his thighs. The fabric slipped off one shoulder as he walked, revealing more than it should. Jordan had given him a few clothes, but every time Ortho wore them, it looked like he'd been swallowed by a sack.
Eventually, he stuck to wearing only Jordan's tops and shirts—no pants, no underwear—because everything else was simply big.
The thought of Ortho standing there in nothing but that loose shirt stirred something dangerous in Jordan. He shook it off, trying to focus on something else.
He had never looked at Ortho like this before. Maybe it was because Ortho usually dressed formally, or maybe Jordan had just never allowed himself to notice.
Sure, he'd always thought Ortho had a bit of a bratty personality, but now... now he was realizing just how small he was without his powers. How had someone like him ever become a commander?
Oh yeah, Jordan reminded himself, he used to have powers. But still, he looked so much smaller now—had he shrunk? Or had Jordan just never really seen him this way before?
Even if Ortho did manage to escape, how far could he get? He'd barely survive in the forest. Jordan was sure he'd be eaten by wild animals before the night ended.
Well, maybe not. He wasn't that small—he might still be able to defend himself in a fight, just not against wild beasts.
Meanwhile, Ortho was cooking, unaware of the storm of thoughts in Jordan's head.
When he glanced toward the living room and caught Jordan staring at him again, he frowned.
Jordan had been looking at him strangely lately, and Ortho didn't understand why.
Does he... like guys?
But then again, he'd seen Jordan bring a woman home recently—and what he'd done to her had scarred Ortho's brain.
The girl had screamed and moaned so much Ortho thought she might actually die. But after everything, she'd winked at him and told him to call her anytime. That's when Ortho realized... that's just the kind of thing those girls liked.
She wasn't even the first. Since Ortho had been staying here, Jordan had brought different women home and why the fuck is he always staring at him?.
Still, Jordan's lingering glances unsettled him. Ortho stirred the pot absentmindedly, trying to ignore the heavy gaze boring into his back.
'Why is he looking at me like that again?'
Jordan sipped from his glass, eyes fixed on Ortho like he was trying to read him.
He couldn't understand why he was suddenly this aware of the man he'd tied up so many times.
He was supposed to be a prisoner—a dangerous one, at that—but here he was, barefoot in the kitchen, looking too delicate and domestic for his own good.
The oversized shirt swayed lightly as he moved, riding up each time he reached for something.
Jordan let out a low grunt and stood, shaking his head to snap himself out of it.
Get a grip, he warned himself.