This interlude continues the story of the unnamed man, now referred to as "the slave," as he endures years—possibly decades—of captivity under the foreign vampire king. As a Turned vampire, time loses its meaning for him. The king's court, dulled by centuries of immortality, indulges in extreme cruelties, and Turned vampires serve as durable yet disposable entertainment. The slave is one of many in the king's "menagerie," unremarkable and unspecial among the collection.

Despite his efforts to hold onto his humanity, it erodes steadily. His memories of his former life become distant and abstract. He watches the sunrise each day until the light burns his skin, a ritual that connects him to the humanity he is losing. Over time, he internalizes the dehumanization imposed on him—treated as an object, he begins to believe it, finding it easier to survive that way.

The only person who treats him differently is the king's wife, a quiet woman with large, dark eyes. Initially, the slave assumes she is no different from the rest of the court, but over time he recognizes her as a fellow victim of the king's cruelty. One day, after a severe beating, she silently takes his bandages and tends to wounds he cannot reach himself. He resists at first but eventually allows it. The sensation of a kind touch, long forgotten, shakes him deeply and terrifies him because he knows he will never be able to forget it.

From that first act of kindness, the slave and the king's wife gradually draw closer over months and years. They begin with silent companionship, then progress to conversation, then to a kiss—his mouth still bloodied from the king's violence—and eventually to a physical relationship. Both are so starved for genuine connection that they pursue the relationship fully aware of the danger, described as jumping from a cliff and rushing toward an inevitable crash.