“So, Mag, what are you supposed to do if you want something?”
A neutral, husky voice flowed from the woman.
The man, sitting on the bed, trembling and wearing a beast-like shackle around his neck, was drenched in sweat and terror.
He was as beautiful as a doll sculpted by an artist with divine hands.
Clenching his teeth in fear, he felt an urge to reach out to the woman before him, his body twitching with anticipation.
His white skin, distinct features, and flowing violet hair were in disarray, with sweat rolling down his face like dew on a leaf.
Even in the darkness, the man’s golden eyes shone, albeit clouded as if covered by a thick fog.
Slowly, he climbed down from the bed, kneeling and placing his hands on the floor.
As always, he moved slowly, enduring the extreme fear as he approached her step by step, on all fours as if it were the only natural way.
The woman wore a half-mask, decorated with gold feathers, covering half her face.
The man, crawling towards her, had never seen her face.
She had taught him that it was a sin he must never commit, and whenever he dared to wonder about her face, he faced severe punishment.
In his horrible nightmares, he was repeatedly tormented and abandoned in the darkness alone.
She possessed the power of a “dream manipulator,” capable of controlling and manipulating dreams, even to the point of brainwashing if certain conditions were met. She knew better than anyone how to exploit people’s weaknesses.
On nights when he slept after angering her, he wandered in terrifying nightmares. During those dreams, he could not distinguish between reality and illusion; the dreams felt entirely real.
There were times when he could not wake up for a whole week, experiencing what felt like an eternity in his dreams.
She once released him from a dream only after he had committed suicide within it.
In the inescapable dreams, he would die countless times, be abandoned repeatedly, live numerous lives, and see himself become a forsaken beast.
In those dreams, he begged on his knees, pleading not to be abandoned, overwhelmed with terror.
From those experiences, the man learned, thanks to his sharp mind. He became someone who could suppress his curiosity, no matter how strong, in order to avoid punishment.
Upon hearing her words, he kneeled on the floor as he had learned to do.
“Good boy.”
She reached out, stroking his head in a gesture of praise, her hand moving down to caress his cheek.
He realized that her hand was smaller and more youthful than he had imagined, without the common roughness of calluses.
However, his curiosity quickly vanished in his fear.
“Lady Lyna… sniff, sob…”
The man, who had wandered through horrifying nightmares amplified by a sensory hallucination drug, whimpered, seeking warmth.
He kissed the shoes she wore, suppressing his sorrowful sobs.
“Please, spare this wretched soul…”
A faint smile played at the corners of her mouth, and the man held his breath, waiting.
“Save me.”
Her lips, revealed below the half-mask, blossomed into a radiant smile.
She gently stroked the kneeling man’s head, satisfied with his plea. She perched on the bed, extending her hand.
“Come here, my lovely beast.”
She said, her face beaming.
The man, more beautiful than any sculpture, had an innocent and pure look despite his large frame.
She had kidnapped and tamed him to her liking.
She had taken him at 19, just when he became an adult, and locked him in a sunless cabin, breaking his spirit.
Over a long period, she made him wander through nightmares, convincing him he was a beast.
She destroyed his memories of being human, planting the idea that he was an animal.
He became a beautiful and elegant beast, living solely to protect and obey his master in exchange for her love.
By the time he turned 20, he saw himself as nothing but a beast.
He understood obedience and learned that he could avoid nightmares by holding onto the warmth she provided.
Gradually, she gave him small rewards, making him depend on her.
He naturally stopped resisting.
She taught him obedience with both rewards and punishments.
When he behaved well, she was always kind and affectionate, praising and sharing her warmth. When he erred, she trapped him in nightmares. He learned to show affection and cry before her.
His life was simple, as long as he did what she asked, he was not alone, not in the dark, and did not have to shiver in a cold room by himself.
She made him a beast who would not run away even if his leash was removed.
Everyone thought so.
But one day, the tamed beast managed to unchain himself and escape.
He overcame the brainwashing.
He always pretended to be weak before her, but he was secretly searching for a chance to flee.
Finally, he escaped when her guard was down. Fleeing far from the cabin, he met a woman in a distant village and fell in love with her.
The woman who saved him from death transformed him back into a human, and he eventually reclaimed his place as emperor.
He made the woman who saved him his empress and pushed the evil woman who tormented him into an abyss worse than death.
…This was the storyline of a novel called “The Rebellion of the Tamed Beast,” a rather common and unremarkable novel.
However, it was the only novel I enjoyed so much that I had once written a lengthy email to the author, begging for an epilogue or a side story.
Not that I truly acted like a stalker, but I did send a lengthy email with my thoughts on the beast and the villainess.
I began the letter politely, expressing my curiosity about certain aspects of the story, but it turned into a long list of questions.
I knew it was a nuisance. But I couldn’t accept the happy ending as it was.
I asked questions like, “Did the villainess actually love the beast?” and “What did the beast think of the villainess?” or “Why did the beast choose that specific method of revenge instead of killing the villainess outright?” I was genuinely curious about their relationship.
I wanted to know everything about the villainess and the beast from their perspectives. So, I begged the author to write from their point of view, just once.
I admit I was persistent. I sent an email once a month. I don’t think it was the right thing to do. I know I was a bit crazy, but the story was driving me mad.
Finally, on the verge of giving up after the sixth email, I received a reply. Unexpectedly, after almost half a year.
“Hello, dear reader. You make some valid points. However, even I am not quite satisfied with the ending. If you don’t mind, could you show me another story? If you do, I promise to let you see the epilogue and what happens afterward in this story. If this proposal sounds good to you, please respond.”
That was the gist of the reply. Looking back now, the phrase “I promise to let you see” felt a bit unsettling. But at the time, I wasn’t bothered at all.
Stupidly, without suspicion, I eagerly replied that I was thrilled with the proposal. Then, because it was late, I went to bed.
“Lady Lyna… sniff, sob…”
But why… why is that scene…
“Please, spare this wretched soul…”
…unfolding right before my eyes?
“Save me.”
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