Bound to the Demon king

Chapter 6: The Stranger’s Gaze

Leila's Perspective

The rain had stopped by morning, however. Veridia never looked fresh. The city wore fog-like smeared makeup after a long evening that morning—thick, smokey, and uninviting. The skyline appeared smudged, as if someone had attempted to erase parts of the city but stopped halfway through. Leila looked out of the new floor-to-ceiling window of her new bedroom. She was wrapped in an unsuitable silk robe. The top level of Skyreach Tower, the tallest skyscraper in the north section, was as disconcerting in daylight as it was at night—streamlined, sleek, and soulless. Below her, the city pulsed—alive, careless, and dangerous. The city writhed and surged with life. Cars honked, people yelled, and sirens sounded in the distance.

But up here, There was just this stillness. This creepy silence. Almost too quiet

Her reflection in the glass differed from her own. Pale. She was bruised in places she didn't remember hitting. She touched the side of her neck, where the scar from her previous hospital visit still throbbed faintly. The pain from last night lingered in her ribcage. The remainder of her condition felt harsher now.

A faint knock interrupted her thoughts. She turned around to see a man enter silently, clothed in a dark suit and a professional white coat. He carried a leather medical bag.

"Miss Reynolds," he bowed respectfully. "I'm Dr. Aldric Tyrion. Mr. Knight has requested me to oversee your health from now on."

She blinked. "You're. my doctor?"

"Yes," he replied, already starting to organize equipment on a nearby table. "you will be on daily therapy and check-ups. I am up to date on your condition. He had administered something strong enough to relieve her pain, and he'd left a tray of pills on her bedside table that she didn't identify. She didn't ask him what they were. She only took one, hoping it wouldn't kill her as quickly as illness was already trying.

She said nothing as she sat on the bed, allowing him to push the cold stethoscope against her back, test her pulse, and examine the healing scar.

But what bothered her the most was not the doctor, the medication, the silence, or the weight of Damon's words that lingered in her mind—" From this point forward, you are mine."

There was an unsettling sense of being watched.

Not from inside this room.

But from outside... The city.

She returned to the window, looking at the adjacent buildings, whose reflecting windows revealed only sky and steel. Her hands clutched the curvature of the curtain, and she let her sight slide downward.

Something in her stomach whispered to her that she was being watched.

The air was heavy and still with unspoken words. Leila sat on the very edge of her big bed, too soft for her bones, staring at the untouched breakfast tray on her lap. Eggs. Toast. Something delicious and warmed through in a cup. But There was nothing she wanted to eat.

There was a knock at the door. But before she could respond. A woman walked in nonetheless.

Tall, crisp, dark suit. A chilling look.

I am Maren Lannistar. Damon has a legal assistant. You'll be seeing a lot of me. Her tone was swift, efficient, and businesslike, as if she didn't waste words or sentiment.

Leila nodded slowly. "Do I have to address you differently, too? "Handler, maybe?"

Maren curved her lips upward. "Wife with a sense of humor. "that's rare."

She handed Leila a black envelope. On the front, there were gold initials that said K.N.

"What's this?"

You are being introduced this evening to Damon's circle. Play your part. Wear the dress that was delivered to your closet. Smile when the time comes, and Damon handles the rest.

Leila stared. "What if I don't?"

Maren did not blink. "You have breached your deal. And I don't think Mr. Knight will enjoy that.

The door shut behind her with a cell-like click.

She breathed slowly. Her fists were clenched on the sheets. She had not married merely a man.

She married a robot.

Veridia: The World Outside

Down at Sector Seven, a shadowy figure sat motionless and still beneath a broken watchtower. He's been there since first light, unmoving. He wore a black military-style coat. He stood partially hidden behind the long-range scope of a prototype spy rifle.

He did not hunt today.

He was watching... Her.

"Leila Reynolds," he whispered, the name sounding weird on his lips.

Beside him, a small machine buzzed, displaying her portrait in midair. A digital profile flickered, showing her Age, medical history, orphan file, hospital visits, and entire life documented.

The man frowned.

"She wasn't supposed to be in Damon Knight's orbit, he grumbled.

A voice crackled in his comms: "Does the hybrid know?"

"Doubt it," the man responded. "She is... changing something. "I can already see it in him."

Orders?

"Observe. No interference... yet."

But when he lowered his scope, his gaze lingered on her. And something in his expression changed—possibly familiarity. Or perhaps recognition.

Damon's Perspective

He sat in his surveillance room, looking at rows of monitors. The city's veins ran through this room: traffic camera footage, drone patrols on the streets, and infrared scanners. But on this particular day, his eye was on Leila's bedroom window.

Leila was supposed to be a cover. An orderly solution to public problems. However, she was not blending into the background as he had hoped.

She stayed in his thoughts like an ink stain that wouldn't wash away.

"She agreed to go?" He asked without looking at her.

Behind him, Maren nodded. "She will wear the dress. She will play the part. But she is not convinced."

"she doesn't need to be," he said.

"You're taking this personally," she said. "that's not like you."

Damon eventually turned. "I never make mistakes."And I don't let go of what mine."

Damon observed Leila through the surveillance, and she appeared tense and agitated. Her palm hovered near the glass as if she felt something on the other side.

This bothered him.

She wasn't meant to feel anything outside of these walls.

He pushed a button. "lockdown window vision. "shield all external visuals."

"Yes, sir," the voice replied.

However, a different screen flickered.

Static.

Then—an unfamilial signal.

Someone was watching her.

Damon clenched his jaw. He turned and grabbed his coat. Whoever was dumb enough to peer into his world would soon learn that gazing into the lion's den comes with consequences.

Leila's Perspective

When her handler, Eliza, led her into the boutique's dressing room, Leila tried to calm the crawling sensation under her skin. Dresses, jewelry, and high heels—everything was carefully selected. Damon's control now extends to fabrics.

She wore a long, heavy burgundy dress that pinched her shoulders.

The mirror across the room revealed another side of her: exquisite, elegant, expressionless, and cold.

But behind her reflection, For a brief period, she could see eyes behind her mask.

Not her own.

Wide. Steadfast. Far away—but firmly focused on her.

She turned sharply.

No one was there.

Just The mirrored skyline.

Just her nerves. Or maybe something else?

The Stranger's Gaze: unknown Pov

The man at the watch tower leaned closer to the lens.

The sudden and sharp turn she had made startled him. Even he was caught off guard.

"She's sensitive," he mumbled.

That's not normal.

Not entirely.

That is what made her interesting. And dangerous. He dug into his pocket and removed an old metal tag. On it is a foreign name in worn letters from time. He traced it slowly with his thumb. A faint whisper escaped his lips. "Exactly like her mother."