Chained Hearts: From Slavery to Sovereignty
Chapter 131: A Past Wrapped in Velvet Shadows

Blackness.

The stone floor beneath his boots vanished.

But he didn’t fall. He drifted away.

Through air? Through time?

He didn’t know.

When his eyes opened again, he was somewhere else entirely.

The sky was a strange color—neither night nor day. Deep red, like old wine mixed with gold dust, stretched across the heavens. But it wasn’t ominous. It was gorgeous.

Cassian stood in the middle of a bustling marketplace. But the noises weren’t right. The voices were different. The scent in the air was sharp, but not unpleasant. Sweet spices, burning incense, and the smell of iron.

His heart pounded.

Because everyone around him... wasn’t human.

Some had small horns curling just above their heads. Others had long black claws in place of fingers but used them as delicately as any craftsman. A woman with glowing eyes sold shimmering fruit from a hovering basket. A child with hooves darted through a row of stalls, laughing as she was chased by her taller brother, whose bat-like wings flapped awkwardly as he ran.

And none of them noticed him.

Cassian turned, eyes wide. No one stared. No one whispered. No one screamed about a human walking among them. They moved past him like he belonged here.

His breath came out shaky.

"This... this is the demon realm," he whispered. "I’ve... been here before."

But his voice didn’t feel real. It didn’t echo. It didn’t move the air.

Then he saw something that made his chest tighten.

There was a version of him standing at a nearby stall.

Younger. Lighter on his feet. His expression was sharp, eyes half-lidded in annoyance as he tapped the hilt of his sword against his thigh. His clothes were unfamiliar—sleek, black with a strange dark violet trim, almost regal but casual. A small emblem glittered on his collar.

He was watching himself.

Before the past Cassian could try to move, a weight dropped against his shoulders.

A hand.

Then an arm was flung casually across his back.

The past Cassian didn’t need to turn.

He already knew who it was.

"Found you," said a voice behind him—deep, low, with that lazy amusement that always slid under his skin like smoke. "You keep slipping away, you know."

The figure stepped around.

It was he. The same man from the painting. Tall, graceful, and dressed in layered robes of maroon and black that shimmered like oil in light. His eyes were a vibrant silver, unnaturally bright, like stars.

He smiled like he owned the world.

Cassian—the younger one—scoffed, stepping away from his grasp. "What are you doing here?" his past self asked, clearly irritated. "Didn’t I say not to follow me to the markets?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," the demon said, completely unbothered. "I just thought you might want to try this new snack stall that opened on Silk Street." He tugged on Cassian’s sleeve. "Come on. I heard the owner adds blood peach syrup. It’s sweet. Just like you."

The marketplace was already lively, but the moment the Demon King strolled down the main street, the atmosphere shifted.

It was subtle at first—eyes turning, heads tilting, conversations pausing mid-sentence.

And then it became impossible to ignore.

The man didn’t just walk—he glided, like every step was designed to be admired. His long coat slipped from one shoulder, revealing a toned torso wrapped in tight silk bands, each one positioned just enough to cover modesty and nothing else. His abs gleamed under the strange red light of the demon sky, as if dusted with gold.

He laughed loudly at a passing merchant’s joke, winking as he leaned closer. A vendor gasped when he kissed the back of her hand. Another demon, male and twice his size, received a playful slap on the chest as the Demon King complimented his horns.

"You’ve grown them thicker since I last saw you," he smiled with a wicked grin. "Makes you look dominant."

The large demon blinked and blushed furiously.

"You need to stop," Cassian muttered, pulling at the Demon King’s sleeve. "You’re causing a scene."

"That’s the point, darling," he replied without looking back, already blowing a kiss to someone across the fruit stall. "A day without scandal is a day wasted."

Cassian groaned. "You’re ridiculous."

The Demon King chuckled, draping an arm around Cassian’s shoulders again, despite the clear attempt to shake him off. "Oh come now, don’t be jealous. You’ll always be my favorite canvas."

"I’m not jealous," Cassian snapped. "I just don’t want to be seen walking with a peacock who thinks undressing in public is a personality trait."

"But it is one of my best traits," the demon said, lifting his shirt higher, flashing more of his stomach for absolutely no reason. A group of young demons nearby giggled behind their hands. One waved. He waved back.

Cassian looked like he wanted to vanish into the ground.

He stepped aside, trying to create some distance, but the Demon King closed it again in an instant.

"I hate being dragged into your chaos," Cassian hissed.

"And yet," the man whispered in his ear, his voice low and full of laughter, "you never push me away for long."

"Only because you follow me everywhere."

"Because I enjoy the view."

Cassian looked skyward in agony, muttering under his breath, "If there is a god out there, please strike him with lightning."

But there was no lightning. Only the Demon King, gleaming like a sunbeam in sin, flirting his way through the market while sticking to Cassian’s side like glue.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "That’s disgusting."

"But you like disgusting things," the demon teased with a wink.

Present Cassian could only watch as his younger self reluctantly let himself be pulled down a side street. He remembered none of this clearly... but also... all of it. The feeling of heat on his skin. The smell of sugar in the air. The sound of horns playing a tune from some high tower.

They stopped by a colorful stall. The vendor bowed quickly and handed over a pair of folded pastries wrapped in leaf paper.

Cassian took his with mild suspicion.

"They’re safe to eat, I swear," the demon lord said, biting into his with a pleased hum. "Though if it kills you, I’ll take the body home and cry over it."

"You’re impossible," Cassian said, though his voice was less annoyed now. "Why do you keep showing up wherever I go?"

"Because your taste is impeccable. And because," he said, with a mischievous gleam, "you’re much more fun to watch than the boring demon lord."

Cassian took one bite of the pastry, then immediately grimaced. "Too sweet."

"Ah, but I like you when you’re bitter," the demon whispered.

Present Cassian watched as the man leaned in closer, fingers brushing down his younger self’s spine—bold, shameless, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Then came the question.

That question.

With a slow, lazy grin, he asked, "So tell me, Cassian... don’t you find me the slightest bit appealing? What’s in the Demon Lord you don’t see in me? I can satisfy you in much better ways..."

Cassian nearly choked.

His younger self swatted his hand away, eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Don’t say such disgusting things to me."

The demon only laughed, brushing imaginary dust off his chest. "Disgusting? Me?" He gave a fake gasp, placing a hand over his heart. "You wound me. And here I was, planning to let you ride my dragon."

Cassian gagged.

"I’m serious," he added with a wicked grin. "I made a bet with someone. I said I’d make you fall first."

"You’re delusional," Cassian muttered.

"Mmm, but even your disgust is charming," the demon said, voice low and honeyed. "And I am the Demon King of Lust. Let’s see how long you can stay chaste."

Present Cassian wanted to scream. To grab his younger self and shake him. To tell him not to trust this man. To tell him to run. He knew that this man was very dangerous and was clearly playing with him.

But he couldn’t.

He was just a ghost in this dream. A shadow watching an old stage play.

They kept walking, side by side, down the glowing street, their voices fading under the buzz of the lanterns above.

Then the laughter quieted.

It happened so suddenly Cassian almost didn’t notice. The sounds around him dulled, like someone had pulled a blanket over the world. The crowd blurred. Colors faded.

Then, for just a moment...

The demon turned his head.

Slowly.

Not toward the younger Cassian beside him.

But toward him.

The real Cassian. The one dreaming. The one watching from somewhere outside this strange time.

Their eyes met.

Cassian felt his breath catch.

The Demon King’s smile faded—not completely, but enough. The corner of his mouth dropped just slightly. His gaze sharpened.

And in that quiet moment, the entire world seemed to hold still.

Then he whispered.

"Found you again, my dear."

It wasn’t teasing.

It wasn’t playful.

It was something else entirely—like a thread pulled tight across time, like recognition wrapped in something too deep to name.

Cassian’s heart lurched.

The air grew heavy.

The sky above them flickered like a dying flame.

And then—

The world around him cracked.

A sound like shattering glass echoed in his ears.

The market. The demons. The strange red sky.

Everything broke into pieces.

Cassian jolted upright with a sharp gasp, lungs burning as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.