>Take heart. We can remove the ring whenever we wish.
>You take comfort in the knowledge that you can remove the ring at your convenience. Any comfort, at this point, is a welcome sensation, however small it is.
>Try to focus on this voice. It seems we are married to this course of action for now if it's been that long.
>As you focus your attention on the lone voice, you find that it is, indeed, the voice of your brother. And yet at the same time, different, somehow. It seems stronger, more robust, than you're used to hearing your soft-spoken brother sound. "I still can't get over what you've done to me." you hear him say, before the darkness before you rolls back as it did before. The burst of wind that accompanies it this time seems more comfortable this time. Perhaps because you knew it was coming. But then, perhaps not.
>You see before you part of a room you have never seen before, with red carpet and hardwood walls, and a woman with short blonde hair you've never seen before guarding the door. The black-clad version of yourself is present, as is your brother. He is different than the last time you saw. He's always been sickly, and a bit frail, but now he looks... buff. Ripped, even, as you look at his shirtless form. He seems energized, full of a life he's never had before, as he grins from ear to ear and rubs his hands together. "To free me from the prison of my own body, give me a life I'd barely dared dream of before....
with all that comes with it...."
>The blonde girl at the door raises her arms to her side and intones, "Glories to the favored of the Dark Lady." as Myoren turns to face the other occupants of the room. A lineup of women, each with different outfits and appearances, each with the same hopeless look in their downcast eyes, standing at attention as they are inspicted by your newly virile brother. He struts before the young women, sizing them up with an obvious look on his face as to why they, and he, are here.
>"Do any of these appeal to you, brother mine?" Byakuren inquires of Myoren, who pauses in his appraisement, raising his hand to his mouth in exaggerated consideration. Byakuren smirks at your brother's newfound humor.
>"Well, they're a fine bunch, that's for sure. Certainly adequate, buuuuuut...." he drawls, turning his gaze to Byakuren. His eyes are smoldering. "I think I'd rather have you."
>The blonde door guard starts from her place, her expression outraged, but just as quickly, her stops, her hands flying to her chest, and she screams, dropping to the floor. You note that Byakuren's hand is surrounded by a dark purple glow, Byakuren's neutral face somehow frightening to behold. Myoren's grin seems cruel as he watches the blonde writhe in agony on the floor, black sparks flying from her chest as she continues screaming. The line of women cover their faces with their hands, a gesture of supplication, you believe, rather than simple dread.
>"Mind your place, little demon. Lest I send you back to the world that spawned you." Byakuren intones in a terrible voice, before lowering her hand, the glow fading. The guard screams once more, briefly, before curling up into herself and gasping shallowly. She returns her gaze to Myoren, and crosses the room to him, tracing the musculature of his sculpted chest lightly.
>The last thing you see before the darkness rolls back in upon you and covers your sight, leaving you alone again, is the image of Myoren wrapping his arms around Byakuren.
>Byakuren Hijiri Corruption Score: 25.
>You feel a sharp chill in your heart, accompanied by a pleasant feeling throughout your body. As though the dark and cold were welcoming you to where you belong.
