angel

You bit the inside of your cheek. How did it come to this? You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be her.

Your life—your real life—had been nothing special. Twenty-eight years as a contract worker, with no family waiting for you and no friends to keep you grounded. When your last job ended, you had finally decided that would be it. Your plans had been straightforward: step out onto the bustling streets of Seoul and fade away quietly. No one would miss you.

But fate had other ideas.

It started with a little girl tugging on your sleeve, her big, scared eyes silently asking for help crossing the street. You hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t thought twice. After all, what was one more minute when you had nothing to lose? But that single act of kindness had turned into chaos. An angry voice, an accusation, a knife—it all blurred together until you were lying on the ground, bleeding out. The girl’s tear-streaked face had been the last thing you saw before the world went dark.

You thought it was over then. It should’ve been over.

But instead of finding peace, you woke up in this gilded cage, surrounded by strangers who acted as if you were made of glass. The realization came quickly, too quickly, and it hit you like a freight train: you’d been thrown into the pages of a trashy romance novel you’d read years ago. A novel so poorly written it was laughable—except you weren’t laughing now.

The name Gojo Satoru had burned itself into your memory long before you arrived. He was the male lead, the man with impossible looks and power to match. He was arrogant, manipulative, and utterly indifferent to anyone who didn’t amuse him. And now, somehow, you were his bride. The woman who, according to the book, would suffer for the crime of being tied to him.

The sound of footsteps outside the door jolted you from your thoughts. A tall man entered, his expression neutral as he gestured for you to follow. “It’s time,” he said simply.

Time. The word echoed in your mind as you stood, your legs feeling like lead. The veil they’d placed over your head made everything blurry, but it couldn’t hide the towering spires of the castle or the overwhelming weight of what awaited you. You trailed behind your escort, your heart pounding as you walked through the grand corridors.

You worked up the nerve to speak, your voice barely audible. “Who am I marrying?”

The man glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression briefly softening into something close to pity. “You’ll see,” he replied.

Before you could press further, a sharp voice echoed down the hall. “Where is she?” The tone was low but commanding, each syllable precise and brimming with impatience. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

Your breath caught as he came into view. White hair framed a strikingly handsome face, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto you. He looked every bit as untouchable as you remembered from the book, but the weight of his presence was far more crushing in real life.

“Well?” he said, his tone clipped but calm. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

You froze. The words you wanted to say caught in your throat, tangled with the growing panic threatening to spill over.

You couldn’t find the words to answer, every nerve in your body screaming at you to run. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood frozen as he reached out, his gloved hand lifting your chin. The veil fluttered back, and for the first time, you saw him fully. He was strikingly handsome in a way that felt almost unreal, but his presence was suffocating, his gaze sharp enough to cut.

“Interesting,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. “They didn’t tell me my bride would be this… intriguing.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze despite the fear clawing at your throat. “Do you always inspect your fiancées like livestock?” you snapped, your voice trembling but defiant.

His smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with something that looked disturbingly like amusement. “Oh, so you do have a tongue,” he said, leaning in just enough to make your pulse race.

You clenched your fists, determined not to let him see how much he rattled you.

"I'm not here to entertain you."

Gojo chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. "We'll see." He turned then, motioning for you to follow as he strode toward the grand doors leading to the chapel. You hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Every fiber of your being screamed to run, to fight, to do anything but follow. And then an idea struck-a terrible, impulsive idea, but the only one you had.

Her jaw tightened, but she refused to look away, meeting his gaze head-on despite the warning thrumming in his tone. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears, a mix of defiance and fear she couldn’t suppress.

He straightened, brushing off his gloved hands as though the conversation were merely a formality. “Now then,” he said lightly, his tone returning to its usual playfulness, “shall we proceed?”

With an almost lazy flick of his hand, Gojo gestured toward the doorway, his commanding presence making the air feel heavier. “Let’s not waste more time,” he said, his tone light but carrying a clear edge of finality. “It’s time for you to fulfill your end of the deal.”

She hesitated, her chin lifting as though to steel herself against the inevitability of it all. But after a moment, she stepped forward, the faint rustle of her dress echoing through the otherwise silent room. The veil felt like a prison over her face, but the weight of Gojo’s presence ahead of her was even more suffocating. She forced herself to match his steady stride, ignoring the tightness in her chest with each step.

The grand hall stretched before them, its opulence somehow amplifying the dread knotting in her stomach. The details of the novel came flooding back, every word now a cruel script she was forced to follow. Five months, she thought bitterly. Five months until death.

Her steps slowed, her mind racing. No. If she was going to survive this, she had to act. The script wasn’t unchangeable—not if she could seize some control.

“You’ll regret this,” she muttered, her voice low but cutting, as much to herself as to him.

Gojo didn’t even glance back, though she caught the faint curve of his smirk. “You’re welcome to try, my dear.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The calm dismissal in his voice lit a spark of frustration. She scoffed without thinking, the sound sharper than she intended. “Or what?” she bit out, her voice louder now. “You’ll kill me? Let me save you the trouble.”

Without hesitation, she turned and stepped toward the open window nearby. The cool air rushed in as her dress flared out behind her, the veil fluttering free from her face. She didn’t glance back. The shock rippled through the room like thunder, and for a split second, she thought she might actually escape—not just the marriage but the story itself.

But before she could tip over the edge, a strong arm encircled her waist, yanking her back with an ease that left her breathless. Gojo’s laughter filled the air, rich and mocking, as though the whole thing had been a performance just for him.

“Dramatic much?” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement as he swung her into his arms like a child. She thrashed against his hold, her fists colliding with his chest, but he didn’t so much as flinch. “If you wanted attention, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

“You—let me go!” she snapped, twisting against him. Her frustration only seemed to amuse him further, the glint in his eyes bordering on predatory.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he replied smoothly, turning on his heel and heading straight for the chapel. “Suguru, fetch another priest. It seems this one won’t last long enough for the ceremony.”

Suguru blinked, momentarily stunned before he sighed and muttered, “Yes, Captain,” disappearing down the hall. Even as his footsteps faded, the bickering between Gojo and his reluctant bride echoed through the space.

When the new priest finally arrived, Gojo’s grip remained firm, as if daring her to make another escape attempt. Her glare was fierce, but the subtle tremble in her form didn’t escape his notice. As the priest began the ceremony, his focus never wavered from her face. She clenched her jaw, refusing to let her fear show, though she couldn’t stop her voice from shaking slightly as she spat out her “I do.”

By the time Suguru returned, a faint red handprint was visible on Gojo’s cheek, though it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. In fact, the smug satisfaction on his face made it clear he’d enjoyed every second of her rebellion.

'RUN’ was the word that was cried out on that day. Perhaps they were spoken by her sister or the head maiden who was frantically pacing back and forth between the two rooms, trying desperately to find anything that could save their lives.

They knew that escaping was not a choice, not an option for mere defenseless women. They dared not dream of training or honing the innate powers inherited from their lineage, one of the three greatest families in Jujutsu society, the Zenin Clan. They could only stay where they were, unable to fight the special curse and threat, because they were never trained to control their curse power, unlike the men in the family. They were only taught to be obedient and docile, like stereotypical 'good' housewives meant for marriage and bearing children.

They could only wait as the footsteps grew closer, the voices of each agonizing screech nearby became louder, and her bracelet only grew tighter in her hands as if it was constraining her, taunting her for her weakness and the predicament that beheld them.

She remembered the words that were uttered years ago, "You must never remove that bracelet, for it may cause havoc upon those you love." That crusty old man merely went on and on about how they could not remove the bracelet, no matter how much they wanted to. But right now, her doom was inevitable. The metallic stench of blood only became stronger and stronger as every second seemed to pass by. So, who was she to be blamed for snipping the shackles from her arms? To finally stand up for once in her life and not let mere fate and the words of others determine her actions. Her defiance was palpable, a force to be reckoned with. Yet fate somehow held other plans for her.

The reader did not know that these shackles held down her power, kept it dormant. 

As soon as she ripped the shackles off her hands and stood up to protect one of the few people she had in her wretched world, a lightning-like sparkling curse power surged through her body. The surroundings began to glow from the power overtaking her. She looked at her sister one last time, fear glinting in her eyes, before the immense pressure of power blurred her vision. She had no idea it would be the last time she would see her beloved sister again. Her power became too much to control, overwhelming the floor beneath her. The pressure was so great that it created a circle of destruction.

Her sister, worried, rushed to her side, but before she could touch her, the pressure of her power became too much. An explosion erupted in the room, with her at the center of the chaos. Shielded by a force from her own power, she remained unscathed, but her sister whispered something to her—words she could not make out—before she collapsed from the intense pressure, her ears ringing and the room left in ruins.

・・・・・・ʕ ˵ ̿–ᴥ ̿– ˵ ʔ

Hushed whispers of pointed words from the distance awoken her from her unconsciousness. She could only make out slurs of hesitation from an older man, who she could not see due to the blindfold that disrupted her sense of sight. "The verdict must be disclosed once the perpetrator is conscious and ready for questioning," a man with a deep, authoritative voice explained. A crowd of protesters erupted in displeasure at the choice, loud enough to sting her ears to consciousness. "She must be held to a degree regardless of her prowess!" Another man said. "Do not fail to uphold her according to the law and disregard the crimes she had committed. Although she is a Zenin, she cannot simply do as she wants regardless of reason!"

At the mention of her clan, she perked up ever so slightly, making the crowd suddenly go quiet. In a split second, footsteps only came close to her in her rear sight, the harsh light illuminating a hand reaching forward to grab the blindfold from her face. The scene she saw when her eyes wandered was a surprise. What she expected to see was the head of her clan, Naobito Zenin, and the bastard of a father to be facing her, sitting leisurely at the seat center of the Zenin residence headquarters, yet what she saw instead was an old unfamiliar man furrowing their eyebrows at her as if she had murdered his cat. When she let her eyes wander around the room, it became more clear that she was certainly not at her own residence, but actually in the Jujutsu Kaisen headquarters restrained with shackles, treated as some sort of vicious criminal in question. 

 ‘No wonder I could not move,’ she thinks, cursing to herself.

As she searched the room, her eyes followed a familiar ocean-eyed man that she could recognize by touch alone, by smell; she would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. She would know him in death at the end of the world. 

Those ocean-blue eyes that once held so much loving and caring adoration now are ice cold, full of hatred, and hurt. She couldn't think of another time he’d looked like this, not since they’d first met. She swallows the next words that were uttered sending shivers to her spine.

“24 deaths,” the man continued with a nonchalant voice as if they did not just address a massacre. “7 casualties. Is that right, Zenin?”

She had wanted to scream in denial, to plead that it was all a misunderstanding. That there was a special grade curse had infiltrated their residence, forcing her to choose between the people she loved and the greater good. She wanted to so desperately tell them that she had no choice but to protect the people she loved, even though her attempt was futile as her fate, as they ended up as collateral damage in the end and left her all behind to deal with the mess that she made. But deep down, she knew that no amount of justification could wash away the blood on her hands.

Well as the saying, goes, you reap what you sow. In the end, she could not utter those words she longed to say for she knew better. She knew better than to label the whole situation as an accident for she had only herself to blame.

As they deliberated her fate, she contemplated confessing the truth, laying bare the guilt that weighed heavy on her soul. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to speak the damning words that would seal her doom. In the end, her silence spoke volumes, and the shadow of a death sentence loomed over her. Just as it seemed her fate was sealed, a powerful voice cut through the tension. 

Gojo Satoru stepped forward, his intense gaze fixed on her as he interceded on her behalf. “Her immense powers could be vital in safeguarding the world from catastrophic threats,” he argued, “and banishing her would be a shortsighted decision.” Acknowledging that she had misused her abilities for personal gain, the council reached a compromise. They decided to exile her to a remote location, her powers concealed by a powerful sorcery item that would strip her of her ability to wield sorcery. It was a harsh punishment, but one that offered a flicker of redemption and a chance to make amends for the lives she had taken.

She had wanted to be the best, to prove her father wrong, that she was someone worthy, someone who was more than a woman, more than what they saw her as: a weak, feeble marionette. She wanted someone to understand her, for a certain boy to kiss her, to save her little sister from the godforsaken place they called home, to be free. Free from the hallucinations when she was five, free from the pressure when she was twelve, free from the duties that were forced upon her like a noose since she was young and free from the lies she told herself now that she is sixteen. She had finally taken off the shackles and acted upon her life, but everybody was left behind. She had wondered then and there, ‘What was it all for?’

authors note: thank you for reading so far! if you have any suggestions or questions regarding the fanfic please let me know and i'll try my best to answer. hope you guys noticed the song of achilles reference in the chapter hehe. until then, see you next time^^

taglist: @eolivy, @kalopsia-flaneur