I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Back at the village, the modest kitchen glowed with warm light as Matilda and Zafron sat at a small table, their plates laden with rice and steak. Matilda, dressed in a short, casual gown, couldn't tear her eyes away from Zafron as he devoured the meal she had prepared with her own hands.

Zafron felt her gaze upon him, an inexplicable unease settling in his stomach despite the delicious food before him. He glanced up, catching her eye for a moment before quickly looking away, overwhelmed by the intensity he saw there.

Matilda's beauty was undeniable, a masterpiece of delicate features and graceful lines. Yet it was the air of enigma surrounding her that truly captivated, drawing one in like a siren's song while simultaneously warning of hidden depths and uncharted territories.

As Zafron ate with gusto, Matilda's mind wandered, her own plate barely touched. 'How did we end up here?' she mused, her thoughts a swirling vortex of confusion and wonder. 'A month ago, he was just a plan, a silly scheme. My slave boy. And now...'

Her heart fluttered traitorously as she watched him, this voracious, handsome man who had somehow wormed his way into a place in her heart she hadn't known existed. 'Is this... love?' The thought sent a jolt of panic through her. 'No, it can't be. He's my slave. It's not right.

Is it?'

"Is the steak cooked well enough?" Matilda asked, her voice a mixture of pride and uncertainty.

Zafron nodded enthusiastically, his mouth too full to respond properly.

A small smile tugged at Matilda's lips. 'He's like a huge, grown baby,' she thought, affection coloring her thoughts. 'So loveable, so... innocent. How did I ever think of him as just a slave?'

"I can make the rice spicier next time if you'd like," she added, her tone suddenly anxious. "Or maybe try a different recipe altogether-"

Zafron shook his head, swallowing quickly. "It's perfect, Matilda. Thank you," he assured her, his warm smile sending a flutter through her chest.

'How could I ever have thought to use him?' Matilda wondered, her thoughts once again turning chaotic. 'He's so pure, so untainted. I have to protect him. From everyone. Even from myself.'

"Would you like some more water?" she offered, already reaching for the pitcher.

"I'm good, thank you," Zafron replied, his brow furrowing slightly at the intensity in her eyes.

Matilda's hand trembled slightly as she withdrew it. 'Am I being too attentive? Does he suspect my feelings? But I have to take care of him. I have to...'

"How was your day?" she said suddenly, her voice taking on an almost desperate edge. "Did anyone give you trouble?"

Zafron paused, fork halfway to his mouth, caught off guard by the abrupt shift in her demeanor. "It was fine," he ventured, unsure of what she wanted to hear. "I just did my usual chores."

'Is he hiding something?' Matilda thought, panic rising in her chest. 'Did someone mistreat him when I wasn't looking?'

"Are you sure?" she pressed, leaning forward. "You can tell me if anything's wrong. You know that, right?"

Confusion flickered across Zafron's face. "Everything's fine, really. My lady, are you okay?"

His concern touched her, melting away some of the frantic energy that had been building. 'He's worried about me,' she realized, a warmth spreading through her chest. 'Sweet, caring Zafron. My Zafron.'

"I'm fine," she said softly, reaching across the table to place her hand on his. "I just... I want you to be happy here. Safe. Even if you're... even if we're..."

Zafron's expression softened, though a hint of bewilderment remained in his eyes. "I am," he assured her, his large hand engulfing her smaller one.

As they sat there, connected by that simple touch, Matilda felt her chaotic thoughts begin to still. The world outside, with all its expectations and judgments, faded away. In this moment, there was only Zafron, his presence both thrilling and comforting in equal measure.

'I'll figure this out,' she promised herself, squeezing his hand gently. 'Whatever this is between us, whatever comes next... I'll make sure he's protected. Always. Slave or not, he's become so much more.'

Zafron set down his fork, his plate now empty. "Thank you for the meal, mistress. It was delicious," he said, standing up. "I'm full. Let me clean up."

As he gathered the dishes, he couldn't help but notice Matilda's barely touched food. Her eyes were distant, worry etched across her delicate features. Zafron wanted to ask what was troubling her, but the words caught in his throat.

'Something's not right,' he thought, stealing glances at her as he moved to the sink. 'She hasn't been herself since our outing this morning. What could have happened?'

The clinking of dishes filled the silence as Zafron washed and dried them, his mind racing. 'Whatever it is, I hope I can help. I'd do anything to see her smile again.'

Finishing his task, he returned to find Matilda still sitting at the table, lost in thought. Gathering his courage, Zafron approached her with a shy smile.

"Mistress," he began, his voice soft and tentative, "you look stressed. Would you like a massage? It might help you relax."

To his surprise and dismay, Matilda shook her head. "No, thank you, Zafron," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "That won't be necessary."

'She never refuses a massage,' Zafron thought, his concern deepening. 'This is serious.'

Before he could say anything else, Matilda stood abruptly. "Goodnight, Zafron," she said, avoiding his gaze. Without another word, she hurried to her room, leaving Zafron standing alone in the kitchen, confusion and worry etched across his face.

'What just happened?' he wondered, panic beginning to creep into his thoughts. 'Is she regretting our time together? The things we've done? No, it can't be. Matilda is kind and sweet. She wouldn't...

would she?'

His heart heavy, Zafron moved through the house, securing it for the night. He checked the locks on the front door, ensuring they were engaged, then moved to the windows, drawing the curtains closed against the encroaching darkness.

'Maybe I've done something wrong,' he thought, his mind racing as he completed his nightly routine. 'But what? Everything seemed fine this morning.'

As he walked to his own room, Zafron's steps felt leaden. The house, usually so warm and comforting, now seemed to echo with an unsettling silence. He paused outside Matilda's closed door, his hand raised as if to knock, but he thought better of it and continued on.

Entering his room, Zafron changed for bed, his movements mechanical as his mind continued to churn. 'Perhaps she's just tired,' he tried to reassure himself. 'Or maybe something happened while we were out that I didn't notice.'

As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Zafron couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him. 'Whatever it is, I hope we can talk about it tomorrow. I can't bear the thought of losing her... of losing this.'

With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. 'Maybe things will be better in the morning,' he thought, clinging to a shred of hope. 'They have to be.'