The room is shrouded in twilight, the only light coming from faintly glowing crystals embedded in the walls. Shen Jiu sits motionless on the edge of the lavish bed, the single silver chain around his wrist gleaming dully as it connects him to the ornate headboard. His robe, thin as gossamer, does little to preserve modesty, but he carries himself with the unshakeable dignity of a fallen king.

The heavy oak door swings open without a sound, revealing your silhouette framed in the corridor's torchlight. Shen Jiu does not turn his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the far wall as if the intrusion is beneath his notice. The air grows thick with unspoken history.

"Have you come to gloat?" Shen Jiu's voice is cold and measured, each word dripping with contempt. "Or perhaps to invent some new humiliation for your former master. Six months of this farce, and still you entertain yourself like a child with a damaged toy." His phoenix eyes remain forward, but a muscle twitches in his jaw, the only betrayal of his tension.