was grateful for the hot food. He hadn't realized how starving he was until the stew was placed in front of him. He ate quickly, the warmth spreading through his chilled bones.

  Across from him, Juno ate as well. The same knight who had thrown him into the dungeon, chased him through the forest, and nearly taken his head off with a blade was now sitting calmly, eating stew, and paying for the meal with his own coin.

  It was surreal.

  Ryan had been ready to run the moment they stopped—if the system was wrong, if the binding failed, if Juno somehow broke free. He'd kept his muscles tense, his eyes on the exits, his mind racing through escape routes.

  But the cat had done exactly as he was told. Without hesitation. Without question.

  Ryan chewed slowly, watching Juno from the corner of his eye. He noticed something even more unsettling—when they'd approached the guard at the gate, Juno had followed the command before Ryan had even spoken a word aloud. He'd felt the intent, and his body had responded.

  This is cool, Ryan thought, taking another bite of his stew. But also terrifying.

  He turned the question over in his mind. Did the binding reprogram Juno's mind? Did it rewrite his personality to make him want to help? Or was the knight still in there, fully aware, fully hating every second of this?

  The thought made his stomach turn slightly. He puRyanshed it down and took another bite.

  Looking around the inn, he scanned the other patrons. Mostly animal folk—a badger couple in the corner, a fox nursing a drink alone, a pair of rabbits arguing quietly over a map.

  Then his eyes landed on a table near the bar.

  A human. An actual human, sitting with a wolf-like person, both of them loudly laughing over wooden mugs of ale. The human had scruffy brown hair and a worn leather vest, his boots propped up on the table, as if he owned the place.

  Ryan blinked.

  So it's not all just animal people here in this strange world, he realized. There are other humans.

  Ryan had to know more. He finished his food, wiping the bowl with the last bit of bread, and stood up.

  "Stay here," he murmured to Juno. The cat remained seated, spoon in hand, staring blankly at the table.

  Ryan walked over to the human and his wolf companion. The human looked up as he approached, his face ruddy from drink.

  "Hello," Ryan said, offering a tentative wave.

  The human blinked, then grinned broadly. "Oh, hi! It's rare to see one of ours here in Elaroa. Most humans live on the east continent, not the west." He scooted over, gesturing to an empty chair. "Are you a traveler?"

  "Yeah," Ryan said, sliding into the seat. "Something like that. Just... haven't seen another human for a bit. Thought I'd say hello."

  The wolf-like person across from him was tall, with grey fur and sharp yellow eyes. He nodded politely but said nothing, sipping from his mug.

  "Name's Garrett," the human said, extending a calloused hand. "And this grumpy fur-face is Kael. Don't mind him. He doesn't talk much."

  Kael grunted, his ears flicking in what might have been annoyance.

  "Ryan," he replied, shaking Garrett's hand. The grip was firm, roughened by years of work. "So... east continent? Humans mostly live there?"

  Garrett laughed, slapping the table. "Aye! Big ol' kingdom called Arbaston. Human-run, human-ruled. Been at odds with the beast kingdoms for generations, but trade still happens." He took a long swig of his ale. "What brings you out west? Most humans don't cross the sea unless they're merchants, mercenaries, or running from something."

  Ryan hesitated. "A bit of all three, maybe."

  Garrett was a wolf of information. He'd come to Elaroa for work years ago, he explained between gulps of ale, and he and Kael had hit it off over shared jobs and late-night card games. Kael, the quiet wolf, merely nodded along, his yellow eyes watchful but not unfriendly.

  "So, where are you from, Ryan?" Garrett asked, leaning back in his chair. "You got that look. Like you're seeing everything for the first time."

  Ryan's mind raced. He couldn't exactly say he was from another world.

  "A small island," he said, forcing a casual shrug. "Far off the coast. Nothing but fishing villages and rocks. That's why I don't know much about the continent. Figured it was time to see the world, maybe do some trading."

  Garrett's eyebrows rose. "An islander, eh? Which one? There are a few scattered out in the Sapphire Sea."

  "The... eastern one," Ryan said vaguely. "Small. Doesn't even have a proper name on most maps."

  "Ah, one of those," Garrett nodded knowingly. "Plenty of those little specks out there. Good people, usually. Salt of the earth."

  Kael's ears twitched, his gaze flicking briefly toward the table where Juno sat alone.

  "Your friend," the wolf said, his voice a low rumble. It was the first time he'd spoken. "He's a knight. Silver Paw crest. That's the Lion King's personal guard."

  Ryan's stomach tightened. "Yeah. He's... helping me out."

  Kael's yellow eyes lingered on Juno for a moment longer, then returned to his drink. But something in his expression suggested he wasn't entirely satisfied with that answer.

  With a thought, Ryan pulled on Juno's strings.

  It was still weird, that sensation. If he had to describe it, it felt like growing a third arm—he could move it with his mind just like his normal limbs, and Juno's body followed the signals. It was instinctual, responsive, and deeply unsettling.

  Juno stood up from the table, his movements smooth and natural. He walked over to Ryan, bowing slightly.

  "Ryan," he said, his voice calm and professional. "The hour is late, and I must return to my duty in the morning. Let us turn in for the night."

  Garrett let out a hearty laugh, slapping the table. "Oh, it's your bedtime, eh, lad? Well, good night then! Safe travels, islander!"

  Kael said nothing, but his yellow eyes followed Juno as the knight turned away.

  Ryan nodded to them both and followed Juno toward the stairs. The cat moved with purpose, pulling out the key the innkeeper had given them when he'd paid for the room earlier.

  His room. Paid with his money. For his captor.

  They climbed the creaking wooden stairs, the sound of Garrett's laughter fading behind them. The hallway was dim, lit only by a single dying candle.

  Juno unlocked the door and stepped inside. The room was small but serviceable—two beds with thin wool blankets, a washbasin in the corner, and a window overlooking the dark street below.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Ryan entered, and Juno closed the door behind them, locking it with a soft click.

  Now they were alone.

  Ryan just looked at Juno awkwardly.

  "I guess... make yourself comfortable," he said.

  Juno bowed gracefully and walked to one of the beds. He kicked off his boots, setting them neatly beside the bedframe, and sat down on the thin mattress. His posture remained perfect, even in rest.

  Ryan sat on the other bed. It was hard, feeling the lumps underneath the rough fabric. He guessed it was filled with dried leaves or straw—no springs like back home. He let out a quiet sigh.

  They haven't invented memory foam yet.

  Alone for the first time since the summoning, Ryan pulled up the system. The blue-green interface flickered to life before his eyes.

  Name: Ryan Vernon

  Class: Puppet Master

  Level: 1

  Puppets: 1/1

  Same as before. He poked around the interface, swiping through different tabs. Then he found it—a section labeled "Skills."

  He had four skills.

  [Puppet Strings] - Your primary class skill. Allows you to control defeated or willing targets. Current slots: 1/1.

  Ryan paused. Only one? He read the description again. Can I only have just one puppet?

  That was a limitation he hadn't expected. He'd assumed he could build an army, like in his games. But if he only had one slot... every new puppet meant replacing the old one.

  He kept reading.

  [Appraiser] - Allows you to view others' stats and basic information.

  [Item Box] - Access to a pocket dimension for storing items.

  Ryan had seen enough isekai stories to know how that worked. A personal inventory space. Useful.

  [World Tongue] - Allows you to speak and understand the native language of this world.

  Ryan blinked. He hadn't even thought about it. Everyone here spoke English—or something that sounded like it. That must be why.

  He went back to Puppet Strings and read the description more carefully. The "defeated or willing" part stood out. Juno had been defeated. But what counted as defeated? Unconscious? Surrender? And willing... would anyone actually agree to this?

  The question gnawed at him as he stared at the skill, the soft glow of the interface lighting up his face in the dark room.

  Ryan scrolled deeper into the skill description, his eyes scanning the fine print. Then he found it—a subsection labeled "Slot Mechanics."

  Puppet Slots are gained for every 10 CHA and every 5 levels. Base slot: 1.

  He sat back, doing the math in his head.

  "So it's not just one slot forever," he muttered. "It's just that I'm Level 1 and only have 7 CHA."

  He tapped his chin, thinking. The system must have given him one base slot for free, just for having the class. But to get more, he'd need to grind.

  "Ten Charisma for a slot," he calculated. "I'm at seven. So three more points and I'd have two slots."

  He opened his status again and looked at his CHA stat. It was his highest attribute by far—probably from years of talking his way out of trouble back on Earth. But it still wasn't enough.

  "And every five levels..." He was Level 1. That meant Level 5, Level 10, Level 15... each milestone would unlock another slot.

  So I could eventually have multiple puppets. I need to get stronger.

  He glanced over at Juno. The cat was sitting perfectly still on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing.

  But if I want to add another puppet without replacing him... I need to level up. Or boost my Charisma.

  Ryan dismissed the interface with a swipe of his hand. The blue glow faded, leaving only the dim moonlight filtering through the window.

  He lay back on the lumpy mattress, staring at the wooden ceiling. Tomorrow, he'd need to figure out how to actually gain experience in this world. And more importantly, how to survive long enough to do it.

  Ryan looked over at Juno. The cat sat motionless on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall. The question had been gnawing at him all night.

  Is he still in there?

  The system said "puppet," not "mindless zombie." The description mentioned defeated targets, not empty shells. And the way Juno had acted so naturally—the ear twitch, the posture—those were his mannerisms, not some programmed routine.

  "Hey," Ryan said quietly. "Are you... still you?"

  The words hung in the air. Ryan wasn't even sure if he wanted the answer.

  Juno turned his head slowly. His amber eyes met Ryan's, and for a moment, something flickered behind them—something cold and burning.

  "Yes," Juno said, his voice perfectly calm. "I am still me."

  Ryan's stomach dropped.

  "I am fully aware," Juno continued, his tone measured and even. "I can think. I can feel. I can remember everything. The dungeon. The chase. The rock you hit me with."

  The knight's expression didn't change, but his whiskers twitched slightly.

  "I remember trying to kill you. And I remember failing."

  Ryan swallowed hard. He'd expected—hoped—that the binding had done something to Juno's mind. Rewritten him. Made him want to help. But no. The knight was still in there, trapped, watching his own body serve the man who had assaulted him.

  "And you're... okay with this?" Ryan asked, his voice smaller than he intended.

  Juno's eyes bore into him.

  "No," he said. "I am not."

  Ryan made a gamble. He took a careful breath.

  "You're free to speak your mind," he said, his voice low. "Only talking. No screaming to let anyone outside know what's going on."

  He released the constraint. It felt like loosening a grip on that invisible third arm.

  For a heartbeat, Juno sat frozen. Then—

  He clutched his throat, gasping like he'd been underwater for hours. His chest heaved, his whiskers trembling as air rushed back into his lungs. His eyes watered, and he looked up at Ryan with an expression of pure, unfiltered hatred.

  "You," Juno hissed, his voice raw and shaking. "You are a monster."

  The words cut through the quiet room like a blade.

  "You attacked me," Juno continued, his claws digging into his own knees. "You stole my body. My voice. You made me—"

  He choked, his composure cracking for the first time.

  "You made me pay for your meal with my coin. You made me bow. You made me smile." His voice rose, trembling with rage. "I am a knight! I have served the crown for fifteen years! And you reduced me to—a puppet!"

  He slammed his fist against the mattress, the sound muffled by the thin bedding.

  "I should have killed you in those woods," Juno snarled. "I should have dragged you back to that dungeon and let them burn the filth from your bones."

  His chest heaved, his amber eyes blazing in the dim moonlight.

  "And the worst part?" He laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "I can't do a damn thing about it. You hold my strings. You owe me."

  He fell silent, his breath ragged, waiting for Ryan's response.

  Ryan sat up, whatever sympathy he might have had turning to dust on the wind. He looked at Juno, who was still glaring at him with pure hatred, and something hardened in his chest.

  "You dragged me from my home to your world," Ryan said, his voice low and dangerous. "And when I wasn't good enough for you, you threw me into a dungeon. To get the firewood ready."

  He slid off the bed, standing to his full height. He wasn't tall or imposing, but he stepped closer, looming over the seated knight.

  "I wasn't a threat. I wasn't a criminal. I was just a nobody," Ryan continued, his voice rising. "You didn't even ask questions. You just followed orders. Throw the trash in the cellar, burn the evidence before the Church finds out."

  Juno's ears flattened against his skull, but he didn't look away.

  Ryan leaned in close, his eyes cold.

  "So give me just one reason," he whispered. "One reason why I shouldn't burn your kingdom down to the ground and dance on its ashes."

  The room fell deathly silent. The rain had stopped outside, leaving only the distant crackle of the inn's hearth below.

  Juno's jaw tightened. His claws curled into the thin blanket, his whole body tense. But for the first time since the binding, something other than hatred flickered in his eyes.

  It was fear.

  Not of Ryan. Of the truth.

  "Because," Juno said quietly, his voice cracking, "there are innocents there. Servants. Children. People who had nothing to do with the summoning."

  He looked away, the words tasting like ash.

  "And because... I was following orders."

  "Orders? Orders!?"

  Ryan stared at him. Then he started laughing.

  It wasn't a happy sound. It was hollow and sharp, the laugh you give when a joke isn't funny, but you can't help yourself.

  "Orders," he repeated, shaking his head. He plopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. "You were just following orders. That's your defense?"

  He turned his head to look at Juno, his expression flat.

  "Maybe I should just lock you in your mind forever," Ryan said quietly. "Never let you out. Let you follow all the orders you want to hear. Just trapped in your own skull, screaming into nothing."

  Juno's breath caught.

  "Or maybe," Ryan continued, his voice dropping lower, "I send you back to your king. Make you look him in the eye while you suffocate the life out of him. Would you follow those orders, too?"

  The words hung in the air. Juno's ears pressed flat against his skull, his body rigid.

  He could do it, Juno realized, a cold dread settling in his gut. He could make me do it. I would have to watch myself kill my own king.

  Ryan let out a long breath, the tension draining from his shoulders.

  "Let's get some sleep."

  He turned on his side, away from Juno.

  Juno felt it immediately—that invisible grip tightening around his consciousness. He tried to hold on, to keep that small thread of autonomy he'd been granted, but it slipped through his fingers like water.

  No. No, wait—

  But it was too late. He felt himself being pulled back into the puppet state, his thoughts growing distant and muffled, his body settling into that familiar, unnatural stillness.

  The last thing he felt before the darkness took him was pure, unbridled terror.

  The man lying on the bed next to him wasn't just a confused traveler. He wasn't just a victim of circumstance.

  He was someone who could destroy everything Juno had ever known. And Juno was powerless to stop him.