"Before I made the choice to change," he said slowly, "I sometimes wished I would die."

"Why?"

Satori's eyes met hers, dark and fathomless. "Because being invisible while being seen is the worst kind of loneliness. Everyone looked at me and saw only what they expected—a failure, a disappointment, a Zero. No one saw me. Not until you."

Natalia remembered how she had treated him before—with contempt, with disgust, with casual cruelty. The memory churned in her stomach, acid shame rising in her throat. She could recall with perfect clarity the countless times she'd walked past him in the hallway, her lip curled in reflexive disgust, or the cutting remarks she'd made within his earshot, never bothering to lower her voice because he hadn't mattered enough to warrant even that small courtesy.

"Satori, I—" The apology died on her lips, inadequate and pathetic in the face of what she'd done.

"Another round," he cut her off, already shuffling the cards with deft movements of his fingers, the sharp snap of card against card filling the silence between them.

The game continued, each hand raising the stakes of intimacy between them. The pills enhanced every sensation until Natalia felt she was drowning in awareness—the whisper of cards against fingers became a symphony, the brush of fabric against her skin felt like deliberate caresses, the weight of unspoken words in the air pressed down on her chest until she could hardly breathe. Her body had become a live wire, hypersensitive and desperate for contact.

She lost the third hand, her fingers trembling slightly as she laid down her cards.

"Tell me something you want but are afraid to ask for," Satori commanded, his voice low and intimate in the dim room, wrapping around her like silk.

Natalia swallowed hard, her heart racing against her ribs like a trapped bird. The drug loosened her tongue, dismantling the carefully constructed walls around her deepest fears.

"Recognition," she admitted, the word falling from her lips before she could reconsider. "Not just from my father or the academy, but from you. I want to know that I'm not just another 'pillar' in your covenant. That I'm not replaceable. That when you find other women, bring them into your... ensemble... I won't just become part of the collection."

The vulnerability of the admission made her feel naked, exposed in a way that had nothing to do with her state of dress. She couldn't look at him, focusing instead on the intricate pattern of the carpet beneath them, tracing the whorls with her eyes as if they contained some secret code that might save her from this moment of raw honesty.

"You're my queen," Satori said simply, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world, requiring no elaboration or proof.

She wanted to believe him, wanted it desperately, but doubt gnawed at her insides like a hungry rat. She had seen how he was with Emi today—attentive, charming, the perfect gentleman. The way he'd smiled at her best friend, the casual touch of his hand on Emi's arm, the easy laughter they'd shared. Would he say the same things to Emi someday? Call her his queen when Natalia wasn't around?

The fourth hand was dealt. Natalia won again, the cards seeming to bend to her will as her confidence grew, as if sensing the desperate need in her to gain some control over this dangerous game.

"Your secret," she demanded, lifting her chin with a hint of her old imperial manner.

Satori ran a hand through his hair, the movement drawing her attention to the strong line of his forearm, the veins visible beneath his skin, the subtle flex of muscle. Even that simple gesture sent a wave of molten heat through her body, pooling low in her abdomen.

"I'm afraid of what I'm becoming," he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "Of what I'm capable of. There are moments when I look at myself and don't recognize the person looking back. Like I'm watching someone else wear my skin, make my choices, take what they want without hesitation or remorse."

The confession hung in the air between them, heavy with implication, an almost tangible presence. Natalia felt a chill despite the heat coursing through her veins. There was raw truth in his words, a glimpse of the darkness she had sensed in him from the beginning—the predator lurking behind his eyes.

"Is that why you push people away?" she asked, leaning forward slightly. "Because you're afraid of what they'll see if they look too closely?"

Satori smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, leaving them cold and calculating. "That's a question for another hand, Princess."

The fifth round went to Satori.

"Tell me about the first time you thought about me... not as your annoying stepbrother, but as something else. As a man."

Natalia's face flamed, heat rushing to her cheeks so rapidly she felt dizzy with it. This was dangerous territory, more intimate than discussing her fears or insecurities. This was excavating the moment her perception had shifted, the instant the appropriate had become forbidden.

"It was when you carried me in the dungeon," she admitted, the words coming reluctantly, dragged from some secret part of herself. "After I collapsed. I felt so secure in your arms, so protected, and I had this thought—this flash of wondering what it would feel like to dig my nails into those muscles while you..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, the words too explicit even under the influence of the pill.

Satori's eyes darkened, his pupils dilating until only a thin ring of color remained. "While I what, Natalia?" His voice had dropped an octave, rough at the edges, demanding completion.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to cower from her own desire. "While you were inside me. Taking me. Making me yours completely."

The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with electricity, almost crackling with unspoken intent. For a moment, Natalia thought Satori might break, might cross the space between them and take her in his arms, fulfill the fantasy she'd just confessed. She almost hoped he would, her body crying out for his touch, every nerve ending primed and desperate for contact.

But he didn't move. Only the rapid rise and fall of his chest betrayed his reaction to her words, the tight control he maintained over his body.

"Another round," she said, her voice shaking slightly as she reached for the cards, fingers unsteady.

As she shuffled, Natalia realized that this game was far more dangerous than she had anticipated. They weren't just trading secrets—they were methodically stripping away layers of defenses, exposing vulnerabilities, creating an intimacy that transcended the physical, building something that felt terrifyingly close to addiction.

Four hours and ten minutes to go.

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