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(All characters, events, names, icons of descriptions, cities, states, and archives of fiction are as such and are entitled to the creator of this fiction. No such duplication of the fiction, or any characters, events, names, icons, cities, and states may be reproduced without the author's consent or used in any manner that would be used as public domain. This work is not public domain. Refrain from unauthorized distribution. Work is collective and intellectual property of Cryptosporidum, 2007.)

Author's Note: The second installment for you. I'm very happy that my work is all ready appreciated, and, being such a fool I am, I just discovered this Java editor. Now my stories can work... Note that this is a series, for those of you that may be wondering. Enjoy, and keep life sweet!

Jailed Soul

-Estate of thine Bitter Heart-

Miss Sapphire was a wonderful woman to behold. She went through all her paces of work, quickly and smoothly, without flaw or contradiction, always ready to help me at a moments notice. She cleaned, cooked the most sumptuous of foods, brought me my paper, acted as a lady of pure etiquette and refined precision. When a month passed during her service, she easily grew on me, a friend, a helper, someone to indulge me and to accompany me. In ways, I regretted that it was because of slavery. I did not want to force her, but as a maiden servant, she had no choice, only the minor rights of "intelligent property". It was the reason I treated her with as much dignity and respect as possible.

I think my only regret was keeping things... hidden. She had no idea what lay beyond the iron door, web encrusted, ancient, feeble rust lingering on its corners. I told her it was forbidden. I told her she was to never see what was inside, never gaze upon a secret that had to be kept. I trusted only myself with it, no one else. And, though Sapphire did her jobs dutifully, minding my every word, I could not help but guess that there were shaded curiosities in her mind, answers she'd like to know. I would have told her. I would dream to tell her. But there are many things, I think, that were best left to the unknown. One day I would tell her, but that would not be for a great deal of time.

At Asylum Majestic, I saw that my mood had improved a great deal, for all my patients, all my co-workers instantly witnessed an overall improvement to my usual, rather solemn facade, a quiet stone that barely spoke or moved unless necessary. It was good for me, and good for those who I was around. It made me flare, for I loved to benefit as many as I could, and to do that with merely my mood was enough to make my spirit glow.

I also did what I could to keep Miss Sapphire pleased. I would take her out, varied times in the week, a good stroll through the park, a shop for botanical items to give the estate a living feel, some general dining here and there. She loved it, I could see, trying to retain that professional visage, but nonetheless pleased, as they sway in her hips indicated, the spring in her stride, the flutter of her quaint fluff tail. I was careful, however. I knew that, to constantly try and override what she was trained for, almost bred for, would be too clumsy. She had to have space to do her job, and this I respected, along with my subtle acts of kindness here and there to remind her that she was still a person, a woman, no matter what a paper said or judge declared.

I would ponder, in my time for her alone, at an excellent theatrical tavern, Rose-Maid (ironically, idyllic, or fateful, I'll never know), where they served some of the best classical meads I had ever tasted. There were many foreign drinks as well, hard liquor that could get you drunk in one swig, while others were mild, a timid beer made for long periods of conversing, some just conjured ideas branded with different flavors. I think I can remember, in Miss Sapphire's third month of remaining at my household, a memorable day, which I did start in the morn at Rose-Maid. It was, in my concluding thoughts, a reason I warmed up to telling her about secrets, though that was still a good time off.

~*~

The enchanting setting of Rose-Maid by the dawn was very classical, to say the least, its aura of proficient theatrics and refined foods and wines for that of lady and gentlemen. Malic, no matter in what state of mind he was, always enjoyed the temper of his surroundings, nose filtered with sweet chestnut tables, the smog of faint tobacco, hard brandy blanketing his tongue, a good meal (though not so great as Sapphire's) set before him with the morning paper, light beckoning through crystal plated windows, as he reclined in his usual spot, glancing at the varied articles from the news he received.

He was in a stoic mood, boggled with the troubles of Asylum Majestic, his usual persona on Wednesdays and Thursdays, being very difficult though he worked only twice a week. For all her wonderful service, Malic had given his rabbit hybrid maid "slave" a day off, told her to relax, sleep, go shopping, whatever she wished. The very least he could do, as the noblemen saw it. So, he ventured into his favorite place to socialize, Rose-Maid, for a stiff drink and to get some general paperwork done, along with all the other busy contingencies the world held in the newspaper.

Tapping a refined, and clearly expensive pen on the table, Malic took note of what stood on the front page of the paper: "Asylum Majestic under question". Infuriating. The first paragraph, he looked, held some ridiculously perverse and incorrect information, as he expected would eventually happen.

Asylum Majestic has long been a father of helping those with desperate needs for mentally ill health, since its founder, Jasper Majestic the Second, raised it in older times. However, under the new guidance of Mr. Majestic's grandson, many are beginning to question the bizarre company this place now acts as a harbinger for. While some are still the needy, it has been noted refined and murderous criminals go there in the case of pleading insanity, which is leading constituents that help fund Asylum Majestic to believe it is now a haven for criminals, those of which go under questionable 'treatment', released perhaps only a few years afterward. Noting that many..."

Malic felt his throat grow hot and empty, and he nearly spat. This was dire ignorance, no doubt a ploy to drive all his work into the ground. People, he always noted, feared the unknown, and now random strokes of paranoia began popping out of nowhere. Or perhaps the always perpetually pathetic media was growing bored. Either way, he knew this would be problematic.

He was drawn to read further, though a chiseled and grating voice broke his concentration.

"Well with all that nonsense going on, let's hope you don't owe me any money," came the statement of a one Vostrikov Gustav, a dark haired man in his late forties, always cryptic and short spoken (save for his idle chat with Malic), but a strange friend, nonetheless. Malic grinned shortly.

"Mr. Gustav." he welcomed simply, as Malic did when speaking to friends. Vostrikov grinned sycophantically, sitting down, under the premise he was allowed to, rubbing his chin in pensive respect.

"Mr. Majestic. You're looking sharp, really sharp," he said with an overlook of Malic's finely pressed suit. "Guess that means you're getting new iron skills, huh?" Malic gave an ambiguous return glance. Vostrikov sneered when he understood, seeing the familiar paper in his friend's hands..

"Oh, the paper. Standard paparazzi crap, as usual. They'll move on, like they always do, but I really gotta' wonder, why you? Feh. Bunch a worthless parasites, that's what I say." came the retort of Malic's friend, as he made a pantomime stab at the paper as though holding a knife.

"If only," Malic snorted, lightly sneering. "How's life been, you old shepard? You don't look as commonly pissed as you normally do, if I may say so," the noblemen observed, noting what Vostrikov really was on the inside.

"Suppose not. But I honestly wish people would get their debts paid back on time." he said, lowering his voice. Malic listened intently, knowing what would be next, Gustav checking around the table for listeners.

"Just last week, this guy missed his payment. All right fellow, kind of a bastard when it came to deals. Anyway, I had to hold him down, smash his whole left hand with a hammer. A sledge-hammer. Should've just wacked em', clean and be done with it." he explained, solemnly. Vostrikov always did have the interesting life, from what Malic understood. He was a loan-shark, after all, what else could he do?

"It's a complication. But, you do your job well, and that's all that counts, I suppose." Malic replied, though he knew his comment didn't help much. In fact, he didn't really mean it to be. Vostrikov was the kind of guy whom hardly regretted what he did, only thought about why. The noblemen had tried to talk him out of being a loan-shark before, but to no avail. It was his path. A dangerous and bloody one, but his choice, one that Malic had to accept.

"True. But what about you? I mean, the Asylum looks like it's headed for highway Hell, and you're usually ghost white about stuff like that. What's the kink? Stock market? Sudden inheritance? House full of jewels in the underground?" Vostrikov implied jokingly. Malic gave a slight shrug.

"Well... I suppose I took some good advice from a friend. You know Global-Sun and the, er, supplies they keep stock of? I bought one," came the noblemen's meek and quick statement, a fickle brush of rose flooding his cheeks. Gustav quirked his brow, until his eyes widened in complacent understanding.

"Ahh, the infamous profiteer of specialized anthropoid servants? Well, that's a chip of gold, no wonder you look like one of those high class preps. How is he? Fast worker and all?" Vostrikov asked, checking his watch once. Malic thought, took a deep pause before answering, wondering if he should be ashamed or casual.

"Her name is Sapphire, and yes, she is quite a delight around the estate. Well raised, perfect manners, makes the best food I've eaten, even from some of these four star restaurants. I'm glad to have her company, by the very least."

"Delight huh? She good in bed, too? Heard those models had to serve their masters in every way possible," said the loan-shark lewdly, grinning in a provocative manner, nudging Malic in the arm.

"That is revolting. Mind you, I treat her as a woman, not some mindless sheep to beckon at my every will." the noblemen grumbled, making a sour face at his friend. Vostrikov raised his arms in defense.

"Hey, hey, just saying. I've wacked a few fellas who have that kind of taste, ya' know. Just wondering if you fell in that stockade."

Malic shook his head, planting his eyes downward into the paper, attempting to void out the thoughts. He hated the fact of that, utterly loathed it.

The two remained a bit longer, making more idle chat, clear of the subject that Malic detested so vehemently. Vostrikov lingered on some of his more horrific actions at debt collection, much to the displeasure of Malic, and in return, the noblemen noted the progress of his patients and such, strange geniuses they seemed. Time went on, and Vostrikov made his depart, Malic making last notes in the daily paper. He checked the time, 10:22 AM, and decided it was best to head home, if only for a while. Asylum Majestic would make due without him today.

His return home was a quick one, Malic driving in the long, winding roadway that led into his estate, as he parked the car and stiffly opened the lock to his home. Strangely enough, he had notice the enormous cog and gear were now completely free of webs and dust, a gentle polish resounding off its brass-iron frame. In fact, as he closely inspected, all traces of infinite grime had made its exodus; in other words, completely clean. Malic chuckled happily, making his way inside with a warm thought for Sapphire. The girl was truly a wonder.

The door groaned shut with a somber sound, a crack echoing in the peaceful silence of the Majestic estate. Malic could instantly tell the enormous shift in the air. Though his maid-servant had been with him for some months, he still found her remnants of work shining off of every surface imaginable in the manor. A swelling of light oranges and pine wafted in the air, pictures and fine statues sat and turned precisely with utterly no inaccuracy. Where dirt and dust festered like bad fungi, only did a pure cleanliness remain, Sapphire's training allowing for sheer, objective, beauty.

Malic then began to make his way to his main chamber room, past the many levels of Majestic Estate, through the long, tedious corridors, sliding around doors that knew no end. His focus, however, was instantly shattered when he heard a yelp, a shriek. It was Sapphire. Her panicked yell could be heard bounding off the ceiling and floor, and Malic's eyes widened with shock and concern, immediately trying to find where her voice had come from.

"Sapphire!?" he called out, thinking that her scream came from downstairs, north of his chamber wing (That's the fourteenth most eastern place). He rushed through the luxurious carpeting, swinging around corners and flying down the stairs, afraid for what he might see. Downstairs, he rushed into one of the many living-rooms infesting Majestic Estate, to see Sapphire standing, eyes blazoned with fear and surprise, her hands clasped over her mouth. She hadn't even heard Malic coming.

"Sapphire! Sapphire, what's wrong!?" Malic queried, rushing to her, looking at her body to see if she was hurt. Her eyes slowly went to him, as her lip trembled, a shaky hand pointing adjacent to where she stood.

"M-m-master... t-t-t-the clock... it... t-t-t-talks!" she sputtered out, voice choked with the nightmarish threshold of fear. Malic looked puzzled, but relieved, and glanced to where she directed, seeing... the Omni-Clock.

The Omni-Clock was a grotesque yet beautiful piece of architecture that looked to be an ordinary grandfather clock, only, atop where the arms and numbers indicating time should be, there replaced was a face. A human face. One that could speak, stare, and react, and priding itself on being the only machine of its kind. Malic contorted his lips into a frown, uncertain of how to explain. He embraced Sapphire, comforting her, feeling her heartbeat relentlessly bang at her chest with great speed.

"Shh, it's all right dear, it won't hurt you. What happened? Are you okay?" he asked her again, feeling her arms still for random cuts or bruises. Sapphire nodded meekly, attempting to regain her breath.

"I-I was cleaning... and I n-n-noticed that there was a rag over that... thing... I t-t-took it off to dust it, and..." she clenched her eyes shut, digging into Malic's suit with her hands, trying not to see it, as the Omni-Clock quirked a brow, insulted.

"Well, you'll be fine. He's utterly harmless, really. All the Omni-Clock does is tell time, er, anywhere in the entire world-"

"At any given moment, place, position, point, or area." interjected the clock, it beaming with an ugly pride. Malic sniffed, nodding in affirmation, if not carelessly. Instantly, Sapphire let go of Malic, and curtsied apologetically. Apparently, this also did away with her engulfing fear, as it all vanished in a mere second.

"I'm sorry master, I've disgraced you with my concerns. Allow me to be reprimanded in a way that pleases you," she said timidly, looking altogether submissive, as though she nearly committed a terrible sin. Malic looked baffled.

"What? That's ridiculous my dear, you've done nothing wrong. Actually, the only problem here is that you've been cleaning. Didn't I give you a day off, Miss Sapphire?" the noblemen prompted sweetly, a little frustrated she took no time for herself. She blushed, and bowed her head, eyes downward the entire time.

"Yes master, I'm sorry. I... decided to put my needs second to your own, and cleaned your estate with the time you gave me," came her sheepish statement, while her brow angled sadly. The noblemen sighed, pondering on the situation.

"It's fine. But you're overdue for some relaxation, certainly there's something we can do that's fun. What would you prefer, Miss Sapphire?" he asked, receiving a look from the maid slave that was reminiscent of his own disbelief. During this time, the Omni-Clock coughed in disinterest, and slowly began to fall back into pensive sleep.

"I.... any.... anything that my master wishes is my pleasure..." came her mechanic reply, a voice not her own, the depths of her training overriding her own wishes. The noblemen frowned a bit, clicking his tongue.

"Come now, that can't be it. Surely there's something that'll make you happy, yes?" he asked, patting her on the back. It was a dire shockwave that resonated through her entire form. The question drilled at Sapphire, over and over again, until finally, she collapsed to her knees, buried her face in her hands... and began to sob. Malic grew concerned, and confused (like he was so often), that becoming more often with Sapphire's upkeep. He did not understand entirely, but in retrospect, she was made to serve. Perhaps he, treating her as an equal, a woman, upset her. Or did it?

"No! No, no, no! This is all wrong! I am your slave! This is not right... this isn't how it's supposed to be! Why master, why?" she wailed, drenching her fur with thin tears, choking in her throat as it grew empty and cold. The noblemen said nothing, kneeled down, and placed an arm around her shoulder. He moved her hand to brush away a tear, and she looked away, as though to be rebuked, or hurt.

"Why are you so kind?" came a muttered, trembling question. "Why do you treat me this way? I should be second to you, but you treat me as first... why..."

Malic said nothing. In fact, he looked closely, and could see a dark circle rounding her eyes, the exhaustion in her body, the frailty as she drew breath. Sapphire was tired, more so than he thought, and this was overwhelming her. She needed rest. Wordlessly, Malic raised her up, her sobs calming, now just the rain of tears dampening her cheeks, and swept an arm under her legs. With surprising strength (though she wasn't that heavy), Malic picked her up, practically cradling her, and made way to take Sapphire to her room. Inside her chamber, he laid her down on the velvet soft sheets and blankets, comforted her head on a pillow, and turned off the light. Through the whole process, the maid had fallen asleep in his arms.

"Rest now," came his whisper, as she lulled over, curling herself up, taking to dreams she was denied for a good while. The door clamped shut.

The noblemen took a good, long hour or so to figure out his next move. It had all become a chess game, this relationship, now blocked and under turbulence because of either the instinct or want for Sapphire to be... enslaved. Malic at this point was uncertain if he should treat her as an equal, for all it accomplished was distress. Or, perhaps not. Perhaps her outburst of sadness was a sign that she was still a real woman, one with the emotions that seemed lost in her desirable persona. Was it better to not confuse her with his charity, or was it better to press on, slowly break down these slave-training walls entrapping her mind? Sapphire meant a lot to him now, she was such a wonderful person and friend. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her angst, but, in the process of giving her respect, it was almost as though he did do so anyway. A horrid conundrum.

Yes, he imagined it. She had been raised on the sensation of being property, a worthlessness. Sapphire would never expect this type of kindness. A few standard words, a thank you, a 'good job' here and there, but not what Malic had done. Yes... If he wanted to truly make her happy, he would have to restore her own spirit, which was broken for domination. She needed to feel as a woman again.

So, his aching mind drew forth a plan for an outing. Dinner? A movie? Take her to buy fancy clothes? The park? He thought, scraping through some ideas to do with his maid. He didn't like the sound of a fancy dinner, extravagant as it was. Sapphire, still, was an anthropoid, a built slave, and in the upper high class society, Malic with a rabbit hybrid as his date would be awkward, and probably very embarrassing to Sapphire herself. He didn't want to do that to her. Then, the ilk of an idea struck. Wait a minute... there's Paradise Momentum! Yes! The five-star beach resort! Oh, she would love it! Came his ramble of thinking, Malic growing excited. I could skim through my patients tomorrow, get all the necessary paperwork done, and wouldn't have to be back at Asylum Majestic for a week! Perfect!

It seemed quite reasonable. Paradise Momentum was truly a marvel of industrial glory, a wonderful hotel beset with a white sand beach kissed by sea-green water. It resonated as a priding gem, something that many dreamed of, for to be there for any amount of time was heaven, and many paid through the nose to get their own memory. He then decided. Paradise Momentum would be the place, and tomorrow, he would make proper preparations to leave. He would just have to be careful on how he proceeded...