[Chapter 264. Complete Submission]

Searanox knelt, his armored knees clanking softly as he settled before her. He was close enough that she could feel the chill radiating from the metal despite the room's warmth.

"The way I see it, you have two choices." He reached out, tracing a line down her trembling arm with a single, gauntleted finger. "You will not harm yourself in any shape or form, nor will you take action that threatens your life."

Kandora's eyes widened in horror as she realized the trap he had laid. "You can't use the Contract to keep me from—"

The shard of glass slipped from her fingers, clattering against the stone floor. She sobbed raggedly, finding herself entirely unable to pick it back up. Her fingers twitched uselessly, nails scraping the cold stone as tears streamed down her cheeks. The System's grip on her body was absolute, rendering her helpless despite her desperate resolve.

"Now, let's begin by returning your garments. Then you tell me what you told them, and I'll leave." Searanox withdrew his hand. His voice remained steady and devoid of emotion, as if discussing mundane matters rather than forcing a woman to betray her Empire.

She sobbed between the words that barely escaped her throat. "Everything. I told them everything. How you showed up, how you fought us. Your tactics. Even that you tortured us until we submitted." Her shoulders shook with the weight of the admission, her body trembling as if trying to physically reject the treasonous words. She huddled smaller against the bedframe, the coarse blanket clinging to her sweat-slicked skin.

"That's not good, Kandora." He pulled her storage ring from his pouch. "But you may keep your garments." He handed it to her, his fingers brushing hers, making her flinch. "You can retrieve your clothing. Nothing more."

With trembling fingers, she took the ring. Pale flashes of blue brought forth a disorganized heap of clothing onto the bed. She clumsily reached for her undergarments, trying to preserve some semblance of modesty. As she buried the fabric underneath the rest, her eyes widened in sudden realization.

"Where are my letters? The scrolls? They are private, you can't read them." Her voice cracked with renewed horror.

"Why not, dear? Do they contain secret orders from your Empire?" Searanox asked, pulling the ring off her finger before she could object. His gaze was direct and unapologetic.

She shook her head frantically, tears falling unchecked. A flush of deep humiliation spread across her crimson skin. "They're personal!" Her voice broke under the invasive violation.

"No matter. Someone is already looking into them," he said, rising to his full height and looming over her. "All of you will stay here until I figure out what to do with you."

"I already gave my ring to you. There is nothing left to take from me." Her eyes locked on the floor, her voice hollow with defeat as she clutched the simple fabric of her clothes.

"Before I go, I will ask you some questions about the nobility of your Empire." He remained standing, his towering shadow a constant reminder of her powerlessness.

"There's not much to say," she said flatly, devoid of pride. "Our bloodline is ancient. We ruled the lands as the Empire was established." It was as if she were speaking of someone else's history, rather than a heritage just stripped from her.

"And now? What does a noble like you do?" He leaned forward slightly, the leather of his armor creaking in the silence. His eyes narrowed, pinning her in place with a predatory intensity.

Kandora looked up, a defiant spark in her tear-flooded eyes refusing to be completely extinguished. "We manage. We advise. We command." She paused, her gaze dropping back to her hands as they twisted the coarse fabric into knots. "Or we did. Now I'm just... here." Her voice cracked, tearing through what little remained of her composure.

"Tell me of your family's power. Their influence." The question hung in the air—an order disguised as a casual request.

"My family holds lands to the east of the capital. We are counted among the minor houses, with no direct access to the throne." She spoke softly, each admission a fresh wound. "We have soldiers. Resources. Allies." Each word was a concession, a betrayal of everything she had been raised to defend.

Searanox took a step back, a slow, menacing smile spreading across his face. "What about Argun? Can you tell me more about him?"

She pressed deeper into the corner between the bed and the wall like a trapped animal. "Sir Argun is... he's a rising star of House Valerius. His methods are... efficient. Brutal." Her breath hitched, shuddering at some unseen memory. "He won't forgive this." The whispered promise of retribution seemed to terrify her more than her current captivity.

"I gathered he is a high noble. What does it mean to be a high noble? What is the difference between that and your minor noble status?" He tilted his head, his curiosity genuine but his expression clinical.

"High nobles... they have true power. Their words shape Imperial law. They command legions." She squeezed her eyes shut as if the confession physically hurt. "Minor houses... we administer their will." It stripped away the last illusions of importance she had clung to.

"Getting uncomfortable to talk about it? Must be a nasty contract that keeps your lips sealed." He paused. "One last thing, Kandora. What is his level? And I mean not on this world, but inside a dungeon?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "He never fought alongside me. But at the capital... they said he was approaching the fiftieth cycle. Among the high nobles of his age, that is considered... formidable." Her shoulders slumped, the admission draining the last of her strength. "Now, please. I have told you everything."

Searanox walked toward the door, looking back one last time. "If you prefer anything for dinner, let the staff know. Until I figure out what to do with you, you won't suffer more than you already have." He delivered the words with casual indifference, leaving her huddled in the shadows as the door clicked shut.

He made his way down to the Atrium, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished dark granite. The vast circular chamber hummed with activity as clerks bustled behind their desks. Unable to find either Samantha or Rayan, he approached one of the workspaces.

The young woman behind it visibly flinched as she noticed him. He leaned forward slightly, asking in a gentle tone that somehow carried more weight than a shout, "Where would I find Rayan or Samantha?"

The clerk glanced at the empty desk beside her as if it held the answer, her eyes wide with awe and fear. She smoothed down her simple uniform. "They are not here right now." Realizing she had just stated the obvious, she added quickly, her voice barely above a whisper, "They normally arrive in the early hours of the morning, but I haven't seen them today."

"Alright, then I'll take you with me. Do you have access to the Storage floor?" Searanox asked, already taking a step back as if her compliance was a foregone conclusion.

She shook her head, her dark hair brushing her shoulders. "No, my Lord. Only Rayan and Samantha can enter that floor." Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk tightly.

"Congratulations then. Seems like you've been promoted." He waved her over, already halfway to the central node. The smooth stone in the center of the formation glowed with a soft blue light.

"M-my Lord?" she stuttered while trying to make sense of his spoken words.

Searanox looked over his shoulder before saying a bit impatient. "Come along."

She hurriedly moved around the long desk, nearly stumbling in her haste to join him at the node. His proximity seemed to overwhelm her. A moment later, Searanox appeared on the Storage floor—a small hall lined with four doors. The young woman materialized beside him a second later in a flash of violet, staggering slightly from the disorientation.

"May I ask what you need me to do?" she asked, smoothing her clothes and darting apprehensive glances around the unfamiliar space.

Searanox watched her for a moment. "Would you like to share your perverted fantasies with the class?" His soft voice carried an undercurrent of amusement.

Her face took on a deep red tint, the flush spreading down her neck. "I wasn't—"

"I remember you, Clara. Would you like to continue where we left off the last time?" he teased softly, walking toward a free section of the hall.

"I-I wouldn't mind, if that's what you want," she stammered, looking down at the polished floor, unable to meet his gaze as she remembered their previous encounter.

He pulled a table from his storage ring, the wooden surface materializing in a flash of blue light, and called out, "Clara. Head out of the clouds. If you do a good job, we may talk about it."