𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒' 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐆 | 𝘷𝘢𝘥𝘵𝘥 𝘹 𝘔.𝘺/𝘯 |

(3) Taming The Barbarian.

"........," 

"I trust you've slept well, (Y/N)?"

Callisto's voice was a low rumble, honey laced with steel.

My mind froze.

Words refused to form, muscles locked in a terrified paralysis.

Nuts! This wasn't part of the game!

Before I could formulate a panicked thought, the familiar agony surged back.

This time it was tenfold worse than before.

A strangled cry escaped my lips as my entire body convulsed.

Blood, metallic and warm, mingled with saliva trickling down my chin.

"Y-Your Grace!"

Hans, ever the loyal attendant, lunged forward, only to be halted by a sharp gesture from Callisto.

"Leave us alone,"

the prince commanded, his voice devoid of warmth.

Hans hesitated, his worried gaze lingering on me for a moment before he bowed and scurried out.

One of the maids, her face etched with concern, followed suit, leading the remaining servants out with a curt dismissal.

The heavy oak door slammed shut, leaving me alone with Callisto.

Adrenaline surged.

Spotting a glint of metal on the table, my hand lunged for the knife.

It trembled in my grasp, the desperate act more of a reflex than a well-thought-out plan.

But the weight of death was enough to make me discard the weapon with a clatter.

Away from Callisto's reach.

This was a game, and getting myself killed wasn't exactly a winning strategy, plus, who knew what fancy respawn animation they had cooked up for this world?

That is, if I was even respawned.

Stuck reliving that for eternity was a fate worse than any dungeon.

Callisto's gloved hand reached out, hovering near my arm.

I flinched, expecting a blow, but instead, his touch was surprisingly gentle.

He grasped my arm, a steadying hold rather than a cruel grip, and guided me towards the soft bed.

Confusion muddled my thoughts.

The Callisto I knew from the game was a ruthless, domineering personality.

This prince, however, was an enigma.

His actions defied expectations, leaving me bewildered.

My body, used to the game's narrative, recoiled from his touch despite the lack of malice in his eyes.

"Sit down,"

He ordered gruffly yet softly, helping me onto the bed before settling beside me with a soft thud.

A wave of dizziness washed over me the moment I sat, forcing me to clutch the edge of the bed for support.

Callisto sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket.

With surprising gentleness, he dabbed at the sweat clinging to my cheeks and the blood trickling from my lips.

"You alright, old man?"

His deep voice, despite the situation, held an unexpected calmness.

Then again, why wouldn't the Imperial Ruffian be cool under pressure?