Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates

The Scenery Biome

It was a living tapestry of serenity, a crafted Eden nestled within the Kingdom's cold steel heart. Surrounding the main biome.

Towering trees stretched toward an artificial sky, their emerald canopies swaying in a gentle, programmed breeze that carried the sweet scent of blooming jasmine and ripe fruit.

Sunlight, filtered through holographic clouds, dappled the mossy ground, where friendly creatures—fluffy rabbits, sleek foxes, and iridescent birds—darted playfully, their movements choreographed to delight.

The air hummed with the soft trill of songbirds and the rustle of leaves, a symphony of peace that masked the Biome's artificial core. Streams babbled over smooth stones, their waters glinting like liquid crystal, and plump fruits—peaches, mangoes, and berries—hung heavy on low branches, inviting passersby to pluck them.

It was a place of beauty, designed to soothe the Kingdom's elite, a paradise where the chaos of the cosmos felt impossibly distant.

In an open glade, bathed in golden light, a small boy played with boundless energy.

Prince Toren, no older than seven, was a vision of royal privilege, his blonde curls catching the sun, his sharp features a miniature echo of the King's stern visage. Dressed in a tailored velvet tunic embroidered with silver threads, he chased after a flock of sapphire-winged birds, giggling as they scattered.

He tugged the tail of a curious fox, which yipped but didn't flee, and clambered onto the back of a docile stag, urging it to prance in circles.

Then his gaze got stuck on a pleasant smelling peach tree.

Plucking a ripe peach from that tree, he bit into it, juice dribbling down his chin, then tossed the pit aside to gather more.

His laughter rang like a bell, pure and unburdened, innocent, completely unaware of the schemes of his siblings around him and the life other people lived.

Nearby, a maid watched with a stillness that seemed to anchor the glade's vibrancy.

Her straight long white hair cascaded over a black frock, its severe cut softened by the white stockings that hugged her legs.

Her pale eyes, sharp and unyielding, betrayed no emotion, her poker face a mask of practiced neutrality.

She stood with an elegance that drew the eye, her movements precise, almost ceremonial, as she followed Toren's chaotic path without any irritation.

When the boy, his hands full of peaches, ran to her, she knelt gracefully, accepting the fruit with a subtle smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Thank you for the peach, Prince Toren. They look really yummy.," she said, her voice smooth as silk, a perfect blend of deference and warmth.

Toren's face lit up, his green eyes sparkling with pride. "I'll find you some more! " he chirped, darting back into the trees, his small form vanishing among the foliage.

The maid rose, brushing a speck of dirt from her frock, and followed at a measured pace, her stockings whispering against the grass. She was oblivious to the eyes watching from a nearby thicket, hidden behind a curtain of vines and blossoms.

A pair of hazel eyes. Dark brown hair and wore a low ranking Kingdom's soldier unfirform.

Syn crouched in the bushes, his heart thudding as he gazed at the maid.

She was a vision—her pale eyes like twin moons, her movements a dance of effortless grace, her beauty a quiet force that stole his breath.

He'd watched her countless times, always from a distance, his courage faltering at the thought of speaking to her.

What could he say without stumbling, without making a fool of himself?

She was perfection, untouchable, and he was just an average looking poor soldier, rough-edged and unpolished.

Yet he couldn't look away, captivated by the curve of her lips, the sway of her hips, the way her stockings framed her legs like a frame around a masterpiece.

A sharp tug on his shirt snapped him out of his reverie. "Syn~" hissed a voice, eager and insistent.

Aster, the blonde princess, the fifth in line to the throne, crouched beside him, her blue eyes glinting.

Her blonde hair was tied back, her training gear smudged with dirt from their earlier drills.

Syn shot her a glare, keeping his voice low. "I'll be back in a minute, Aster. Go practice some more. Hurrying won't help."

Aster pouted, her lips pursing, but she retreated, her footsteps muffled by the grass.

Before Syn could return to his vigil, another figure appeared—Pako, her cropped black hair and boyish frame unmistakable.

Her t-shirt and pants hung loose, her hips and faint curves the only hints of her gender.

She grabbed Syn's arm, her voice a low growl and pleading. "Come on, Syn. Training's waiting, let's trainnnn."

"One more minute," Syn snapped, shaking her off. Pako huffed, rolling her eyes, and stomped back toward the training grounds.

Syn turned back to the maid, his heart racing as she bent to pluck a flower, her movements hypnotic.

Then another tug—this time, a girl with wavy shoulder-length purple hair slid into the bushes beside him.

Vera, her violet eyes sharp with curiosity, nudged him. "Scoot over. I want a look at her."

Syn grumbled but made room, and they watched in silence, the maid's elegance a magnet for their gazes.

Pako returned after a minute, squeezing in beside Vera to gawk at the maid, her expression sour.

"She's cunning, that one," Pako muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. "Look at her—strutting like a slut, luring everyone in."

Syn shushed her, irritation flaring.

"Knock it off, Pako."

Vera's gaze was colder, her eyes narrowing as she watched the maid and Prince Toren, who now tossed pebbles into a stream like a spoiled kid born with a golden spoon, oblivious to the world.

"They live like gods," she said, her voice low, bitter. "While we scrape and bleed."

Before Syn could respond, Aster returned, more forceful this time, yanking at Syn's pants.

"Syn, now!" she whispered, her voice urgent.

Syn hissed, swatting her hand away. "Ok, ok, I'm coming!" He shot a final glance at the maid, his chest tight with longing and frustration, then crawled out of the bushes, the group slipping away as silently as they'd come.

Unseen, the maid's eyes flicked toward the rustling thicket, a faint smirk curling her lips.

She'd known they were there, felt their gazes like a caress.

She reveled in it—their adoration, their hesitation, their inability to approach her.

She was a star, and they were moths, drawn to her light but too weak to touch it.

Men, princes, even princesses fell under her spell, and she wielded her beauty like a blade, knowing a well-placed smile or sway could topple empires.

The Kingdom's elite were hers to manipulate; a flirt, a glance, a touch and a away of her hips and she could be queen.

She suppressed a laugh, her mask of serenity unbroken.

Those beggars in the bushes, those untouchables—they could only dream of her, and she thrived on their worship.

The presence in the thicket was long gone, the rustle fading into the Biome's hum.

She turned her attention back to Prince Toren, his laughter echoing from a nearby grove. Quickening her pace, she followed his voice, her stockings whispering against the grass. The trees thickened, their branches weaving a canopy that dimmed the artificial sun.

She was close now, Toren's giggles just beyond a cluster of ferns.

Then—a prickle at her neck, a shadow at her back. She spun, her pale eyes narrowing, and found a girl standing there, her long hair draping her face like a veil.

The stranger was dull, unremarkable, her clothes plain, her posture slouched. "Who the fuck are you, creep?" the maid spat, disgust curling her lips.

The girl didn't answer.

Her arm moved, a blur of motion, and the maid's world erupted in pain.

psschh

Blood sprayed from her neck, hot and sudden, as cuts bloomed across her throat.

She clutched at the wounds, gasping, choking, her pale eyes wide with shock.

The girl's foot slammed into her chest, sending her stumbling backward into a shallow pit hidden among the roots.

The maid's vision blurred, her strength fading as she crumpled, blood pooling beneath her.

The girl knelt, her movements methodical, and uncorked a blue vial.

A shimmering liquid poured over the maid's body, and the air hissed as flesh and fabric dissolved, leaving only a faint scorch mark.

The girl shoveled soil over the pit, smoothing it with eerie precision until no trace remained. She stood, brushing dirt from her hands, and walked toward Toren's voice, her steps slow.

By the time she reached the glade, her form had shifted.

Her hair was long and white, her eyes pale, her black frock and white stockings immaculate.

She was the maid, an exact doppelgänger, every detail flawless.

Prince Toren turned, his face brightening as he saw her. "Look, more peaches!" he said, holding out a fruit along with some pebbles.

The doppelgänger knelt, her smile a perfect mimicry of the maid's. "Let's go back, Prince Toren," she said, her voice smooth, warm. "It's late."

Toren nodded, taking her hand, and they walked toward the Biome's exit, the artificial sun casting long shadows behind them.