Yor casting

The evening air in the Forger apartment was heavy with the scent of herbal tea and the ticking of the wall clock. Yor sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, her fingers trembling as they traced the delicate floral pattern of her porcelain cup. She had been staring into the dark amber liquid for several minutes, her mind caught in the violent, messy transition between the "Thorn Princess" and the submissive wife of a psychiatrist. Finally, she took a shaky breath and looked toward Loid, who was reading a newspaper with his usual stoic composure. "Loid," she started, her voice a soft, nervous whisper that barely carried across the room. "There is something I’ve been keeping from you. Regarding the 'city hall' assignment that kept me out all night... the kidnapping. I haven't told you the full story of what happened in that warehouse." Loid set his newspaper down, his professional 'Twilight' mask immediately softening into that of the concerned, supportive husband. "You can tell me anything, Yor. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone." "I was undercover, tracking a ring of extremely dangerous men—a gang of rapists and human traffickers," Yor began, her eyes distant as she drifted back to the cold, damp concrete of the docks. "I allowed them to take me. It was the only way to find their base. When I woke up, I was in their warehouse, stripped of my dignity and suspended by my neck with a heavy silk cord. My toes could barely touch the floor, and every breath was a struggle. The leader—a man with cold, hungry eyes—was laughing. He kept saying how lucky they were to have caught someone so beautiful and 'innocent' like me." She took a sharp breath, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the tea cup. "Because I was suspended and the cord was tied to a pressure-sensitive alarm, I couldn't use my strength to break free without revealing my skills and alerting the rest of the gang before the setup was ready. I had to endure it, Loid. They were relentless. They took turns, using my body in every way imaginable—orally, vaginally, and anal. They treated me like a mindless toy, laughing and mocking me while I was forced to hang there, struggling for air while they hammered into me. It was... intense. I felt every moment of it, the heat, the friction, and the sheer weight of their depravity." Loid remained remarkably calm, his expression unreadable, though he reached out to place a reassuring hand on her knee. "But it was a trap," Yor continued, a flicker of her 'Thorn Princess' steel returning to her gaze. "I had hidden a high-frequency locator deep inside my anus before the capture. I knew they would search my clothes and even my mouth, but they never checked there. The police arrived just as the leader was finishing his second turn. They were all arrested and sent to the high-security black site. My superiors told me... they won't be coming out alive. They are to be executed for their crimes against the state." Yor looked at him, her face flushing a deep, painful crimson. "I'm so sorry, Loid. I had to let them do those things for the sake of the mission. I feel so ashamed as your wife, having been touched by such monsters." Loid reached out, gently taking her hand and squeezing it firmly. "Yor, look at me. It’s okay. In this line of work—in high-stakes security and intelligence—sometimes the mission demands a physical sacrifice. You did what you had to do to catch those monsters and save countless other women from their fate. I don't judge you for it. In fact, I admire your commitment to the job." Yor blinked, surprised by his easy, almost clinical acceptance of her ordeal. "In fact," Loid said, his voice dropping slightly as he leaned back into the sofa, "if I’m being honest, I’ve had to do the same many times before we ever met. During my long-term assignments abroad, specifically in the years before I moved to Berlint, I had to sleep with and seduce almost every target's wife to get the intel the agency needed. It was a standard protocol for deep-cover operations. It was just a tool, Yor. A means to an end. It doesn't mean anything beyond the objective." Yor’s eyes widened, her grip on her tea cup tightening until the porcelain groaned with a sharp *crick*. The soft, domestic atmosphere of the room shifted instantly. A dark, swirling aura of murderous jealousy began to radiate from her, though she kept her polite, practiced smile fixed on her face. Her pupils contracted into tiny points of red-hot focus. "Oh?" Yor whispered, her voice trembling with a different kind of intensity than before. "Almost *every* target’s wife, Loid? And that was all... 'before we met'? I see... I suppose we both have a lot of very interesting 'work' history to discuss in much more detail later tonight."