Chapter 141: Inside the Circle, Outside the Circle

Chapter 141: Chapter 141: Inside the Circle, Outside the Circle

Chapter 141: Inside the Circle, Outside the Circle

Cyrus Calder slowly lifted his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that Rhea Maddox was still fully dressed.

That alone let him quietly discard the worst possibility he had prepared himself for in the hallway.

Then he properly saw what she had added.

A black collar circled Rhea’s neck.

A narrow lead extended from it, and she held the other end loosely in one hand.

Cyrus stopped moving.

The clothes had not come off. If anything, the situation had somehow become more complicated.

Rhea usually carried herself as though very little in the world could catch her unprepared. Even when she flirted, drank, followed him home, or pretended to be far more intoxicated than she really was, there was always an underlying confidence in her.

That confidence was missing now.

Color had risen across her face, though Cyrus could not tell how much came from the alcohol and how much came from embarrassment.

For once, he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say.

He had prepared to refuse an inappropriate offer.

He had not prepared for this.

The surprise that flashed across his face did not escape Rhea.

She swallowed and stepped toward him.

"I trust you," she said. "I know this is sudden, especially from your perspective, but I am serious."

Cyrus remained silent.

Rhea took another step.

Her voice was less steady now, but she kept going.

"I would do anything for you. If something happens, I will stand on your side. I do not care who the other person is."

She raised the hand holding the lead.

"So you can trust me."

Then she offered him the loose end.

Cyrus stared at it.

Several seconds passed.

He looked at Rhea again.

"Are you actually drunk?"

"I am completely sober right now."

Her embarrassment became even more obvious after saying it.

Even so, she did not avoid his attention.

The room felt warmer than it had a few minutes earlier.

Cyrus failed to notice.

His thoughts were moving too quickly.

"I already believe you," he said eventually. "You do not need to prove anything like this."

Rhea went quiet.

That gave Cyrus time to finally examine the room itself.

The bed was almost empty except for several stuffed animals arranged across it.

Those toys were not exactly normal anymore.

Different knots had been practiced around them. Some were simple loops. Others had clearly been tied and retied multiple times until someone learned how to make them sit correctly.

Cyrus stared.

Understanding arrived.

So Rhea was part of that kind of scene.

He had heard boys at school talking about people with interests like this. The conversation had happened months ago, back when Cyrus had only recently acquired his first extremely basic phone and barely understood half the things his classmates treated as common knowledge.

He had not understood it then either.

Cyrus had spent too much of his life wanting freedom to immediately grasp why someone would voluntarily turn restraint into entertainment.

The idea had seemed almost impossible.

Now one of those people was standing directly in front of him.

Human society truly did allow an impressive range of preferences.

Cyrus did not understand it.

He could at least respect that other people were free to choose what they liked.

Rhea’s silence pulled his attention back.

He still found it difficult to connect the woman standing here with the detective he normally knew.

One version tracked dangerous people, handled police work, and had once pulled him out of a glamourkin incident.

The other had put a collar around her own neck and handed him the lead.

Cyrus had expected the little test he made while she pretended to be drunk to have some effect.

He had not expected anything remotely this dramatic.

Maybe she really had drunk too much today and was only insisting otherwise.

That explanation remained appealing.

Rhea spoke again.

"Do you really trust me?"

"Yes, I trust you."

"Then show me."

Cyrus’s expression tightened slightly.

He did not even have time to ask how she expected him to demonstrate trust before Rhea offered the lead again.

He drew a breath.

"There are plenty of ways to understand someone."

"This way tells you more."

She interrupted him before he could finish.

There was a stubbornness in her expression now that made Cyrus’s head hurt.

He already understood that she belonged to this particular circle. Was that information not enough?

More importantly, did people actually enjoy this seriously?

If Cyrus were handed one of the riding crops he had noticed on a nearby cabinet, he suspected he would ruin the mood immediately. Before he managed to do anything with it, he would probably imagine someone running around the room trying to escape and start laughing.

He collected himself.

His phone rang.

The sound cut through the strange atmosphere so abruptly that both of them looked toward it.

Cyrus pulled out the new phone Helena had bought him.

Unknown number.

He declined the call.

When he raised his head again, Rhea was still standing there with that mixture of embarrassment and determination.

Cyrus finally asked, "Is this really the only way you can think of to prove I should trust you?"

Rhea nodded firmly.

Cyrus hesitated.

In one sense, her argument was not completely ridiculous.

She was asking him to learn something private about her while placing the decision-making power in his hands.

If she were not Detective Maddox, Cyrus would probably have already turned around and left.

Her profession made the difference.

Whatever else Rhea was, she had proven reliable when the situation genuinely became dangerous.

The current development was nowhere near what Cyrus expected when he accepted a paid date that morning.

Still, it was better than discovering she had spent the entire day thinking about how to pressure him into something he had already decided to refuse.

If anything, Rhea appeared determined to surrender control instead.

That suited Cyrus considerably better.

It could even become useful later.

If his memory deteriorated and Isolde eventually appeared, having a detective willing to stand beside him would not be a small thing.

Rhea had already saved him once during the glamourkin incident.

Maybe one day she could pull him away from Isolde too.

Cyrus sighed where she could hear him.

Then he asked, "I honestly do not know much about this. What exactly do you expect me to do?"

Rhea’s face brightened immediately.

His lack of disgust was apparently enough to make her forget most of her embarrassment.

"You can do whatever you want."

She stepped closer again.

"Anything you decide is fine with me."

The space between them narrowed until Cyrus could clearly see his own reflection in her eyes.

That did not help.

Telling him he could do anything was useless when he did not know what people in this scene normally did.

Doing absolutely nothing, however, would probably feel like rejecting her after she had gone this far.

Cyrus stayed silent while thinking.

To Rhea, that silence looked like careful consideration.

Her feelings became more complicated.

Maybe she had assumed too much.

If this was what she wanted, why had she not simply told him directly what she wanted him to do?

That would have been easier.

She had already prepared everything.

She had already brought him here.

She had already admitted more than she ever intended to admit sober.

Rhea drew another breath, preparing to speak.

Cyrus suddenly stepped away.

He turned toward the cabinet.

Rhea stopped.

The cabinet held several things she had purchased in a burst of confidence the previous day.

Nothing especially elaborate. Mostly beginner items.

When she bought them, she had not been certain any of them would actually be used.

Now Cyrus was opening the cabinet.

He picked up a pair of padded pink handcuffs.

They looked almost ridiculous to him, though the mechanism seemed sturdy enough.

Before Cyrus could decide whether to put them back, Rhea came up beside him without saying anything.

Then she placed both hands together and extended them toward him.

The meaning was obvious.

So was the expectation in her expression.

Cyrus stared at her hands.

He had already come this far.

Refusing now would probably crush whatever strange courage she had spent all morning building.

With mixed feelings, Cyrus fastened the cuffs around her wrists.

Handcuffing an actual detective was probably an achievement of some kind.

He doubted many civilians could claim that experience.

Then Cyrus glanced at the stuffed animals on the bed again.

An idea occurred to him.

Rhea had said he was the one in control.

She had also said he could choose what happened.

Then perhaps he should approach this in the only way he actually understood.

Maybe if Rhea experienced what having no freedom genuinely felt like, she would decide this entire hobby was much less entertaining than she imagined.

Cyrus certainly had enough personal experience with that subject.

He had never volunteered for it.

He would not recommend it.

Apparently Rhea had never learned that lesson.

Fine.

She could try a very mild version.

Cyrus picked up a blindfold from the cabinet and placed it over Rhea’s eyes.

She cooperated without resisting.

Then he took one of the unused lengths of soft restraint rope.

Rhea’s breathing became more noticeable, but she did not object when Cyrus secured her ankles.

He kept the restraint simple and checked that it was not cutting into her.

Her hands were still cuffed in front, which left her able to reach the blindfold.

Cyrus noticed the problem.

He removed the cuffs, guided her arms behind her, and secured her wrists there instead.

When he stepped back, Rhea was left unable to see, with her ankles restrained and her hands secured behind her.

That looked inconvenient enough.

Cyrus studied the result.

This was probably close to being completely at someone else’s mercy.

Rhea’s uncovered cheeks had become intensely flushed.

She shifted slightly where she stood, testing the restraints rather than fighting them. Her breathing had grown heavier too.

The reaction confused Cyrus.

Was she becoming more excited?

That was the exact opposite of what his lesson was supposed to accomplish.

Cyrus decided not to overthink it yet.

Leaving her like this for a while might make the loss of freedom less appealing.

He did not say anything.

Instead, he pulled out his phone and checked the time.

That was when he noticed a text message he had somehow missed.

The sender was another unfamiliar number.

Only one sentence appeared on the screen.

"Cyrus, don’t you want to know how to remove that ring?"