Marceline

perms!

You’ve known your boyfriend to be nothing but a sweet boy. An innocent one. The type of guy you could easily introduce to your parents without any worries.

He was loved by your friends, loved by everyone. And yet, there is no innocence about the way you are sitting in his lap, wildly kissing him. Poor Jake could hardly keep up with you. He gasps for air as you were basically abuse his lips.

“Y/n…, slow down!”, he whimpers but you don’t care. Not when he has such perfect, plump, almost glossy lips. It could hardly be called a kiss anymore. The two of you are fighting, all teeth and tongue, fighting over who is going to give in first.

You are already grinding your clothed core against his hardened cock. You like the way he is all naked and exposed in front of you while you don’t grant him the pleasure of seeing any part of you just yet.

You could see he him begging for it with his eyes when you finally give the poor boy a chance to breathe. Jake is panting heavily now, his lips searching for yours again. He even leans forward a bit, just so you could kiss him again but you won’t, not yet.

“So desperate”, you snicker. It deeply embarrasses Jake how easily you read him. How pathetic he looks underneath you, seated in his own gaming chair. His cock is twitching, leaking precum all over your underwear. You want him just as bad but you absolutely love the way you have him wrapped around your finger. You know you could make him cum just by continuing to grind yourself against him, making him make a mess on himself.

The thought arouses you.

“Please, y/n..”, you hear him whimper already while you were just kissing along his neck. Nothing more. Just a trail of kisses along his neck all the way up to his ear.

Then you whisper: “please what? If you’re going to beg, at least do it properly.”

Jake lets out another desperate moan, his dick throbbing so much it almost hurts. No, it does hurt. There is no pride standing in his way, no shame. That’s what you like so much about him.

“Please, fuck me, y/n. I’ll do whatever.”, he begs, properly now and you grin as you finally take off your clothes. As soon as your tits are out, it’s almost like Jake’s eyes threaten to jump out of his head. He truly needs to contain himself or else he would have drooled over them. His obsession with your beautiful, round tits is no joke and he is so ready to wrap his lips around your already hardened nipple, but you stop him.

“I’ll let you suck on my tits, after I milked your cock dry, you hear me?”

Your words make your boyfriend whimper yet again, an adorable sound and he nods fully devoted.

You don’t bother taking off your slip, you just pull it to the side. “Wait.. I don’t have any condoms on me.”, Jake suddenly speaks, his voice is shaky from how you’re rubbing his tip against your clit.

You can’t help but laugh right into his face when you see the worried expression on your face. “Are you fucking kidding me? If I’m going to fuck you, Sim Jaeyun, I’m going to do it raw. Or do you not want that?”, you ask, only ready to accept one answer and Jake delivers it without hesitation:

“No, of course I want that! I want that so bad.”

That’s when you finally give in. Normally, you like to torture your devoted, pretty boy a little longer. Sometimes you even like to suck or jerk him off a few times without letting him finish before you finally allow him to enter you, but not today. Today is going to be special, you feel it in your bones.

You lift yourself up a little, your hand tightly wrapped around his hardened length as you align his tip with your entrance. You circle it around a few times to collect enough of your sweet juices to use as lube. Then you sink down on him, and you take great care to go painfully slow. You gasp now too, feeling each and every centimetre of your boyfriend’s raw, big and twitching cock splitting you in half, even now, even after so many times you’d had sex.

Jake’s eyes are squeezed shut and his jaw clenched, he tries his hardest not to cum already from just that but he holds back very well as for now.

You take him all in, your walls sucking at him, swallowing and gripping around him. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck and he has his face pressed against your shoulder, his lips pressing kisses to your delicate skin. Jake thinks he has already reached complete ecstasy before you even start moving and when you do, he immediately grabs the table behind you, trying to hold onto anything.

“Ahh- y/n”, he whines slowly as you rock your hips back and forth and you groan softly. Jake looks adorable like this. He’s already fucked out and completely wasted, trying his hardest to stay composed and he knows what you’re about to do to him. He knows you that well and he’s going to be proofed right.

You start bouncing on him, throwing your head back as your tits start to jiggle. Jake doesn’t hold back: he’s groaning and whimpering into the emptiness of his own room. The clapping sounds of your ass meeting his thighs are filling the room and mixing with your shared moans and your juices collecting inside of your pussy, wetting his cock more and more.

“Fuck, feels so good”, you praise your boyfriend who’s struggling so hard, trying to keep his tongue inside of his mouth. A habit of his. It helped him to keep a little quieter for at least some more time.

Your tight pussy feels amazing around his bare cock. It’s been a while since you’ve fucked him raw and you’ve missed it dearly. It drives you mad, like an animal in rut and you don’t care about him already struggling anymore. All you focus on is getting high on the feeling of his tip hitting against your g-spot again and again.

“Y/n… wait…— wait!”

You go harder and harder, faster and faster and Jake’s moans grow louder by the second. You’re going way too fast without any warning, holding onto the back of your boyfriend’s chair for support now. Your chest is pressed tightly against his, your back arched and your ass shaking on his lap.

“Fuck— fuck! Fuck, slow down. Please, slow down y/n.”

But you don’t listen and that’s when it happens. You don’t see it coming, neither does Jake. It slips his lips so naturally, as if he’s said it before but you know he hasn’t. Maybe only in his dreams or whenever he’s jerked off to the thought of you.

“Fuck.. mommy..”. It rolls off his tongue like a habit and it surprises you at first. But somehow, it turns you on even more and makes you move even faster instead of stopping. You stare into his eyes as he stares into yours. You can see there’s a hint of fear in his gaze, as if he feels anxious about your reaction. You know he didn’t plan to say that out loud, probably ever.

But you want to hear it again, immediately that is, so you command it, naturally: “say that again.”. Jake stares at you, blushing now and he shakes his head without noticing it.

“Be a good fucking boy and say it again.”

You see him gulp now and you snicker. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance and he knows you would not let him cum all night if he doesn’t obey, so he does:

“Mommy”, he whispers timidly at first, but as soon as he sees how much you’re getting off on this, how much you’re enjoying it too, he repeats much bolder:

“Mommy, fuck. You feel so fucking amazing, mommy.”, he moans against your lips and you kiss him as a reward. You kiss him as you feel you riding yourself to your high and you already knows it’s going to be the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a while.

Jake feels it too. In fact, it happens way quicker than expected.

“That’s it, good boy.” Those few words are enough to send him over the edge. He doesn’t feel it rolling towards him from afar, like you do, no. It just washes over him out of nowhere. One moment and his entire body is shaking, shoots of cum painting your walls. Your name rolls over his lips now but you continue to ride him until you finally reach your high as well.

And you do as you had announced early: you milk him dry until his cock burns with soreness. Until his legs give out under him - good thing he’s already sitting down.

You have never seen your boyfriend this fucked out before, you have never seen him cum this hard before.

And before you let his cock slip out of you, the two of you already know it:

Jake has a mommy kink. And you might do too.

—

Edit! : There is finally a part 2 to this one!

“Fine,” Suguru hissed, hesitantly pulling out of you but not before throwing Satoru a heated glare. 

“I can keep your concubine company,” she smiled, blue eyes sparkling with satisfaction as Suguru unceremoniously shoved his cock back inside his pants, storming past her to go off and search for an advisor who was likely already tucked into his bed. 

He would just come back for you once he figured it out. 

But by then, Satoru was sure she could kill the mood enough that he wouldn’t get to have you tonight. 

Not without her in the room. 

“I’m sorry,” you softly apologized once he was gone, hastily pulling your dress down, embarrassed that she’d seen you so exposed. 

As if it wasn’t the first time. 

She was well aware of her husband’s preference for you to not wear any undergarments when he was planning on seeing you. Had walked in on the two of you in their marital bed more times than she could count. 

At first, she thought it was better you than her. 

Held no interest in having sex with him herself or making any heirs, no matter how much the court tried to convince her that it was necessary. 

Why would she ruin her body for a man she could barely stand? Who she was forced into a political marriage with? 

Lately? 

She was growing tempted to just take her clothes off and offer herself up if it meant Suguru would go a single day without insisting on having sex with you. Even if she’d be resisting the urge to gag and roll her eyes at every one of his groans.

“I’ll return to my chambers, Your Majesty,” you respectfully murmured, averting your gaze with faint shame creeping into your fair features. You were trying to not make this strange or strained, smoothing out your dress as you pushed your palms off the blanket. 

“How many times must I ask you to call me Toru, hm?” She teased, breaking the tension with an easy laugh. 

It used to be breezy to be around you. 

Before he snatched you from her grip. 

Back when you were both girls growing up together, as a princess and her maid. Your delicate hands brushing her hair and working all the knots out with nimble fingers at the end of every day, chatting about the scullery gossip before Satoru would pull you into the blankets and demand that you sleep next to her. 

To keep the nightmares away. 

Everyone always let Satoru do what she wanted. 

Except for having you. 

Sure, she could drag you around, take you everywhere she went, but instead of simply being hers, you were more of an accessory. 

The most you could be was a maid. A servant. 

Not a lover. 

Satoru tried to be content with that. Truly. 

Accepted it from an early age that you weren’t going to be hers when she was destined for a political relationship and your stare often lingered a little too long on knights instead of ladies.

She told herself that at least she got to bring you along to this palace to be by her side for this marriage, but the moment Suguru saw you standing next to her, he stole you. 

Made you his concubine within the week, put you in your own room and dolled you up in gowns and gems. Satoru had been sneaking blue dresses in your new closet, replacing the jewel tones and purples with the shades of the sky, of the ocean rather than the rich hues he had such a proclivity for. 

But it didn’t make much of a difference when you were tending to him now instead of her. 

“Toru,” you said her name so sweetly, chewing the inside of your cheek now as you reluctantly met her stare. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

“You are not the one who should apologize,” she exhaled, shrugging her shoulders as she walked over to where you were sheepishly staring at the blooming flowers. 

Skimming a delicate hand over your arm, appreciating the warmth of your skin as she stopped just shy of your shoulder, tracing a little heart with the edge of her thumb as she soothed you. 

“Come with me,” she murmured. 

Your head snapped up, your eyes wavering and wide. Unsure. “Where?” 

“My room,” Satoru hummed. “Like old times.” 

Back when the only hands that ever had the fortune to brush over your body were hers. When you belonged solely to Satoru. 

Funnily enough, you were still sleeping in her bed. Just with her husband. 

What would she have to do to keep his calloused palms off her prize? 

“Are you sure Suguru will be-” 

“No man would complain about two beautiful women in his sheets,” she rolled her eyes, interlocking arms with you and pulling you forward. 

It wasn’t exactly true. 

Suguru would have plenty to grit his teeth and groan about when he wouldn’t get the chance to put his dick inside of you. 

But you were naive enough to not realize that, smiling back at Satoru the way you used to, leaning against her arm and sighing with relief, relaxing once it struck you that she wasn’t upset with you. 

“I’m not nearly as beautiful as you,” you wistfully mumbled under your breath, and Satoru’s heart soared. Pale cheeks heating up at your compliment, squeezing you reflexively as she laughed. 

She knew she was beautiful. Blessed by the gods in nearly every aspect from the moment she was born. 

But even when they had given her a face any male would love, they had cursed her with a heart that could only belong to a female. 

To you. 

Had been stamped with your name and sealed to be yours from the first day she found you. 

It wasn’t fucking fair that Suguru got to just reap everything she sowed. 

Got to be the one inside you, on top of you, beside you. Who could just openly want you with no repercussions. 

If his smug smirks and sly remarks weren’t enough for her to loathe him, Satoru still would have hated him for that fact alone. 

“I think you are far lovelier than any of these lousy flowers,” Satoru spoke softly, tilting her head around the garden she’d grown to only feel disgust for too. 

It had been beautiful at first. A work of art she’d taken to walking the winding paths through in the evenings to calm her chaotic mind when the two of you first came here. 

But all it had taken was to walk in on Suguru mounting you on a patio table the third week in for every last petal and blossom of this place to become tainted.  

He was making a fucking fool of her. 

Freely flaunting how much he adored fucking you wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. 

No doubt she wasn’t the first to catch the two of you. 

“You flatter me,” you blushed, turning away from her as you picked up the pace. 

You already knew the way back to her marital room.

Even if she wasn’t the one you usually came there for. 

Satoru had separate chambers, of course, ones that were made solely for her, but she knew that Suguru would retaliate in some petty fashion if she brought you there instead. 

“I am merely being honest,” Satoru hummed, lips curling up in an easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

She knew you well enough to know you were too embarrassed to respond. That you weren’t truly taking her seriously. 

Shouldn’t you know by now that the only person she saved her sincerity for was you? 

“I find myself missing you more and more,” Satoru slowly added, heart thumping so hard she was sure it would somehow end up lodged in her throat as you looked back at her with those big, apologetic eyes. 

Guilt-ridden. 

Weighed down by the obvious worry you carried for fucking her husband. 

“I miss you too,” you murmured quietly, lip curling up in your best attempt at a smile before it immediately fell again. 

“You seem tired,” Satoru observed, reaching over with her free hand to brush the hair away from your face. Treasuring the few seconds her fingertips skimmed across your soft cheeks. “Let’s get some rest.” 

“But Suguru-” 

“Do me a favor,” she purred, offering her most reassuring grin. “Do not worry about him.” 

She could deal with it. 

It was worth whatever trouble would come to watch you trade your dress for one of her silky blue nightslips, staring at the bare expanse of your exposed back as you bent over to shimmy it on, holding her breath as you turned around, looking absolutely delectable. 

The sweetest dessert she could ever dream of. 

And the only one she wasn’t allowed to taste. 

“Do you want me to do your hair?” You asked, fiddling with your fingers as you nervously looked around the room. 

Satoru wished she could wipe your anxieties away. 

“I would never say no to that,” she said instead, putting up a far more carefree front than she truly felt. 

Perching on the edge of the stool of her vanity, passing you her hairbrush as you slowly pulled all of her long, silky white strands back over her shoulder. You took your time brushing it out, carefully separating it as you went and making sure there were no tangles before you slowly began to braid it, nimble fingers working to twist the parted hair. 

She could see your reflection in the mirror, the way you bit your kiss-swollen bottom lip, brows pinched together tightly in focus as your practiced hands made an easy job of it. 

“There you go,” you hummed once you finished, tying a white ribbon at the end as you looked in the mirror back at her. “Do you like it?” 

“I like everything you do,” Satoru replied on instinct. 

Except for Suguru. 

Your face flushed, smiling as you stepped back away from her, glancing over to the bed. 

“Good night then,” you muttered. 

“Good night,” Satoru replied, shoving down the lump in her throat as she tried to discreetly dry her clammy palms on her own nightdress as she stood up. Snuffing out a few of the candles so that the only light was from the flickering fire, crawling into bed after you, pretending to be unaffected by your proximity as she got under the sheets next to your body.

But she wasn’t quite as good at it as she used to be. 

Unable to slow her breathing, chest rising and falling far too fast as you tossed and turned, the short hem of the slip riding up on your thighs under the covers as Satoru desperately stared at the ceiling of her four-poster bed and ignored the heat ignited in her core. 

A steady pulse, an irritating throb straight to the center of her, speeding up each time your leg brushed against hers, or your hand accidentally grazed along her arm. 

“Sweet dreams,” she belatedly whispered, but you had already fallen asleep, soon snoring on one of her pillows like you once did so long ago, hair sprawling out that Satoru couldn’t stop herself from softly stroking. 

Her pretty maid, right where she belonged once more. 

But for how long? 

When would Suguru do something that would fully free you of her? 

God, what the fuck was she going to do if he knocked you up? Forced you to bear his heir? Make you raise a whole brood of miniature hims? 

That asshole would surely move you to a separate palace, maybe claim that Satoru made threats or something equally absurd to justify giving you a title or some security. 

Satoru refused to let any of that happen. 

You were more than just a breeding mare. 

More than just a pawn to be played with – no matter what her husband attempted to turn you into. 

Like she summoned a demon, the door swung open, and Satoru immediately removed her hand from by your head, sitting up in bed to stare at the intruder.

The real interloper here. 

Suguru scowled at the sight of her next to you, his lips pressing in a thin line as he peeled off his expensive robe. 

“Return to your private chambers,” he dismissed, irritation heavy in his voice. 

“This marital bed is mine too,” Satoru retorted, patting the spot next to her to gesture for him to join. 

She’d prefer not to spend the night suffering the masculine scent of his cologne, but she supposed she could just roll closer to you to inhale your much sweeter smell. It was always light, flowery, like some intoxicating summer bloom she wanted to pluck and preserve.

He laughed at the idea of sleeping together too, a low and cruel one. 

Satoru wanted to snarl back that if she were a man, if they were both vying for your hand, you would have chosen her without a blink. 

But she just had to bite her tongue and stare at the one person who had everything she wanted. 

“Funny that I only find you in here when it’s with her,” he knowingly scoffed. 

“Is it?” Satoru feigned ignorance. “I was the one who brought her here.”

Her husband didn’t care though. 

No, he just walked over as if she had no place in this room, no right to her spot in the bed beside you, stripping his shirt off before removing his pants, as if a little bit of nudity would scare Satoru off. 

“What do you think our love would do if she knew you lusted after her even more than I do?” Suguru mocked, barely making an effort to disguise his thinly-veiled threat. One corner of that irritating mouth of his curling up in a crude smirk, casually dismissing the weight of her affection for you to a simple sin. 

His love? 

Satoru almost laughed back at him. 

You were hers. Had always been. 

And would be once again. 

“Shall I tell her?” He asked, tilting his head towards your sleeping figure as he pulled back the blankets to get in too.

“She would think it’s just a jest,” Satoru rolled her eyes, her nose scrunching up as he actually got in next to her. 

It didn’t matter how obvious she made it to you. 

You were blissfully unaware. 

Clueless to the hunger she harbored in her heart to chain you to her. 

“I suppose we’ll find out soon,” he muttered under his breath, and despite the shield she’d prepared, it splintered with sheer panic at the thought of you taking his word. 

At the risk of you being repulsed by the realization, rejecting her and refusing to exist in the same space for the rest of her life. 

That wouldn’t do. 

Suguru was already a persistent problem. 

But now it appeared she had no choice but to solve it before he could screw her over. Before he could wreck what she’d spent so long building. 

She’d prefer to prepare a guillotine for his cock, to punish him for the crime of being inside you, but she refused to be the one put in prison for it. 

No, Satoru needed a plan. A foolproof way for this to end with you in her arms. 

Perhaps some poison to put His Royal Majesty in a grave while she was at it.  

ε✿з

“Morning, beautiful.” 

You wondered who your king’s groggy morning voice was meant for. You? 

Or his wife? 

Your true master. 

“Good morning, husband,” Satoru replied, her usually sweet voice cold and clipped. 

Of course.

You weren’t exactly surprised. 

But what did throw you off was the two very different arms strewn across your waist, one thick and muscled slung low towards your hips while the other far daintier one was delicately tangled just below your breasts. 

Somehow, you had ended up in between them. 

Rather fitting, wasn’t it? 

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Suguru scolded her, and your stomach just curdled at the annoyance in his tone. 

The weight on your midsection disappeared, and you tried to roll on your side, to pretend you were still asleep, but then he was pulling you against him, and you could only bite the inside of your cheek and focus on the taste of blood on your tongue to hold it together as something hefty and hard pressed into your spine. 

It was just wrong to do this in front of Satoru. 

You didn’t understand what Suguru saw in you anyway. 

It wasn’t like you truly were stunning. Not compared to her. 

You weren’t blind. 

You’d always been rather plain put next to Satoru’s perfect face.

She was the one people stopped to stare at when she walked in a room, the subject of whispers and wishes and fools willing fate to just give them a single chance for the pleasure of one conversation in her presence. 

And beneath her beauty was the sort of one-of-a-kind soul someone could spend the rest of their life searching for. 

Even now, when you were sleeping with her husband, she was still being sweet to you. 

Swearing that she knew you couldn’t do anything about being his concubine, bringing you back to her bed for a sleepover like she hadn’t caught you having sex with him. 

You didn’t deserve her. And you really couldn’t comprehend why Suguru wouldn’t want her. 

Yet, she always tried to spare your feelings. 

Sent away any maid who mocked you and scolded any staff member that attempted to tease you ever since you were children. 

Going from dismissing any knight that tried to flirt or feel you up as teenagers to stripping some lower noble of her rank simply for speaking ill of you two weeks ago over suggesting that she should punish you for trying to steal her husband. 

You hadn’t asked for any of it. 

All you wanted was to watch her fall in love. To stand by her side and see her find her happily ever after. 

Instead, you were embroiled in an affair with the man she married. 

And now the guilt was gnawing through your bones, shame shattering you every time she saw you with him. 

You sort of felt like your life could be divided in two groups. 

Before Satoru. After Satoru. 

She saved you. You were born into servitude, to parents who worked in the worst kind of noble homes. The ones where the money was passed down with generations, belonging to spoiled gamblers and drunks who didn’t know how to do anything other than spend it — and couldn’t care less about their staff members. 

You learned how to scrub baseboards and sweep instead of how to read and write. To never speak unless spoken to. To make yourself smaller than a speck of dust just to survive. 

It didn’t matter. 

They had a son a year older than you. 

One that was particularly fond of pulling your hair and ripping up your uniforms every time you hung them out to dry. 

Who found a passion in pushing you down and pretending to his family that you had committed every variety of petty crimes against him. 

Your life was a living hell. 

Until your angel showed up. 

In a pretty white dress that matched her soft hair, the sun shining on her pale face as she blinked down at you with big, blue eyes. She was visiting with her parents, supposed to be attending a play date with your personal tormentor, only to walk in on him attempting to cut off a chunk of your hair with a knife he’d stolen from the chef. 

He had accidentally cut you with it, a thin streak of blood trickling down your throat as you sobbed hysterically, unable to stop yourself as you curled up against the tree he cornered you against. 

“Drop that,” she commanded, an air of authority to her even when she was still a child. 

He did, even though his obedience seemed to surprise him. 

“You’re not the boss of-”

She was already stepping forward though, kicking the knife away before graciously approaching you, unbothered by the sniffing mess you’d become, just squatting down and drying your tears with her sleeve. 

“You’re coming home with me.”

And you did. 

She had half-dragged you inside, forcing herself to fake tears of her own before crying to her parents that he had attacked her, and that you’d gotten hurt defending her. 

They believed her lie. 

And she bought you from the hellhole you were born into. 

You would probably be dead without her. 

Starved or beaten for not performing your duties well enough, discarded like some cheap possession instead of a person. 

The boy was punished, his family’s status revoked — although you never learned what happened to them after that. 

At least with Satoru, you could be her doll. 

Someone she dressed up and dragged around to tea parties and meals, forcing everyone to have a chair for you like it was normal for a mere maid to dine with royalty. 

She grew out of it when she got a little older, when people began to look down on you for her behavior instead of her. 

But when they announced her marriage, she still refused to go unless she brought you with her, insisting that she wouldn’t adapt without a familiar face before whispering to you in private that she’d never leave her favorite friend behind. 

Did she regret that now? Wish she never took you in to begin with?

You felt like a nuisance.

It was impossible to ignore the whispers of the court here, the constant discussion of the heir that didn’t currently exist. All of it felt like your fault.

Surely, if you weren’t here, if you weren’t imposing, then Satoru might have already gotten pregnant, or perhaps have even had a child already. 

As far as you knew, they had yet to even consummate their marriage. 

You used to whisper about what it would be like to have sex. So sure that she would be the one to experience it first. Giggling under the covers about how the whole thing seemed sorta gross. To let a guy stick it inside of you and listen to him grunt and groan?

Honestly, you never thought it would be you giving up your virtue before her. 

Sugugu hadn’t been shy about the fact you were the only one he was intimate with. 

Turning his nose up and scoffing when you inquired about the status of their relationship, the same way Satoru did, as if it was simply absurd that they could ever have a baby together. 

And now his royal advisors had started whispering suggestions that he should plant his seed in you instead, murmuring that if Satoru was too stubborn, he must secure his line another way as if you weren’t in the same room when they said it. 

As if your loyalty hadn’t always lied with her. 

But she wouldn’t listen to your warnings. 

How were you supposed to convince two people who acted like they couldn’t stand each other to not only have sex, but create a child? 

You knew you were a fool. Naive to still presume that there must be some way to make this work without making Satoru suffer. But you couldn’t stop trying. 

“I would like you to leave,” Suguru snapped at her, and years of experience had engrained the instant impulse to protect her in you. 

To interrupt and insist that she had every right to be here too. 

Even if Satoru had never once needed you to defend her. Not the same way you needed her. 

“Will you drag me out if I do not?” She cheekily returned, and you finally forced yourself to start to stir, to stop the argument already in progress as they both immediately fell silent. Satoru’s soft hand skimmed over your forearm, delicately dragging her fingertips up to your shoulder before yawning, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

“Morning,” you muttered, slowly cracking your eyes open and beginning to sit up just for a second hand to shift to the small of your back. 

“Did she bother you with all her tossing and turning?” Your king asked, concern veiling his contempt for his wife as he peered down at you with those dark purple eyes. Devoid of the light you were used to seeking, swirling with something you weren’t quite comfortable enough to name. 

Sometimes, you wondered how much he wanted you, and how much he wanted to piss her off. Equally unhappy at the situation he’d been thrusted in, forced to marry a stranger he didn’t know or want and finding refuge in pissing off the one person that was also innocent in this. Taking it out on her instead when he had no way to punish the system he was stuck in. 

“Satoru never bothers me,” you answered honestly, still doing your best to mend the bridge between them as you peered up at him with an expression you hoped would earn some empathy from him. 

Or at the very least, get him to not toss her out before she even stepped foot out of the bed. 

“You’re too sweet,” he muttered, sitting up straighter to let the blankets fall down around his bare waist. Tenderly caressing your cheek as you stilled, thinking of what he seemed to leave unsaid. Too sweet for whom? Him? Or her? 

You supposed you were just overthinking it, blinking nervously before he leaned down to kiss you on the lips right there in front of her, pushing his tongue in as you tried not to scrunch your nose up at the thought that he had yet to brush his teeth before slipping his tongue in your mouth. 

But you returned it, accustomed to going with the tides instead of swimming against them, allowing him to possessively splay his fingers across your back as if Satoru’s fingers weren’t still sinking into your shoulder. 

And by the time he pulled away, you had collected yourself enough to smile sincerely back at him when he rested his forehead against yours. 

It wasn’t that you disliked him, or harbored any hatred for him. 

The feeling swirling in your stomach was closer to pity. You felt bad for him. 

He felt like a flip side to Satoru. Reminded you of her in his own strange way when he spoke to you like you were more than just a maid. Even if he only saw you as his own accessory instead of hers.

“Meet me in the gardens at noon,” he instructed, slipping out of his bed as you both stared. His back muscles flexed as he bent over, only throwing a look back to wink at you while Satoru made a quiet gagging noise next to you. 

You nearly giggled, only holding it in when his dark brows pinched together in a glare back at her. 

“Of course, Your Majesty,” you murmured, nodding dutifully as his chest puffed back out with pride. Finishing redressing quickly, his mouth twitching down at the two of you in his bed, but he didn’t say anything to disprove Satoru’s theory about men and beautiful women. 

“Alone,” Suguru added, starting towards the door before Satoru could add something snarky. 

The moment he was out the door, you could hear his voice calling through it for a servant, and you already pictured the way a few were likely stationed at the end of the hall, ready to accompany him and do whatever he wanted.

“Meet me in the gardens,” Satoru mimicked him, rolling her bright blue eyes as her long lashes fluttered dramatically as she twisted you back around to face her. “He’s so insufferable.” 

“Satoru,” you said her name, face heating up at the way the syllables felt rolling off your tongue, still strange to address her so intimately when she was so far above you. “It worries me-” 

“No,” she interrupted you sternly, your shoulders slumping at her unexpected scolding. “There is nothing for you to worry about.” 

“But the two of you-” 

“I know,” she sympathized, knowing what you were about to protest before you had to say it. Seeing through all of you the way no one else ever did, or probably ever would. “But you should just keep doing what he asks.” 

Like you couldn’t see how much it hurt her to even suggest that. 

Satoru was more sensitive than she’d ever show. Feelings hidden under her carefully crafted shield, always pretending to be the perfect princess on her towering pedestal, protected by some impenetrable glass that never let you touch her. 

She could say she couldn’t stand Suguru. But who wouldn’t be hurt at the man they married so blatantly disrespecting them?

“I just want you to be happy,” you softly said. 

“I will be. Eventually,” Satoru stiffly said, dragging her thumb over your bottom lip like she was wiping off his kiss. “We just have to grin and bear it for now.” 

“And things will get better?” You hopefully asked, reaching up to clasp her hand. Feeling a little bit like a child again, looking up to her with blind trust, faith that she could fix problems that seemed far too big for you. Imagining all three of you a few months from now, getting along and grinning over lunch in the garden, sitting underneath the shade of an umbrella and snacking with Satoru on one side and Suguru on the other. 

“I promise they will.” 

There was nothing you craved more than for her to be correct.

But your blind belief in her started to fizzle and fade when the days refused to stop dragging on while you rarely got to see her. Only catching glimpses of her from across the room, usually when one of you was being flaunted on Suguru’s arm and the other was left to stand on the side and stare. Barely getting a chance to speak to her when the king you were both supposed to obey had decided you were better kept in your bed chambers or his private office, away from the wife he pretended didn’t exist around you. 

You tried to tell yourself what she had. 

To just bear it. 

Comforting yourself with the handful of smiles she snuck you, reassuring yourself that you didn’t have to be wracked with guilt every second you spent with Suguru. That you shouldn’t hate yourself for the moments with him where you found yourself actually enjoying his company, or genuinely giggling at a joke he made. 

It didn’t make it easier to stop loathing the parts of you that liked the attention. Being doted on and deemed deserving of more than just the monotony of being a maid. 

Underneath it all, you still knew what was coming. 

A girl like you was only measured by what uses she was good for. 

Could taste his expectation in the air long before Suguru delivered the curdling news over tea, sitting there like a brainless doll as he informed you that he had the maids brew the kind that helped fertility. 

Casually suggesting that you make a fine mother as you feigned agreement, running off to a bush to throw it up the moment he left to attend to other business. 

You couldn’t do that to her. 

No, you wouldn’t. 

You refused. 

It wasn’t like you had any idea how you would refuse, not when you were sure he would be back in your bedroom tonight. Stripping off his robes with that easy smirk of his, placing his crown on your head as he buried his cock in you, probably already planning on no longer pulling out but plunging himself deep enough to make sure the seed he planted was sowed. 

That it would sprout into an heir he could use as an excuse to remove any power his wife politically held. 

You puked again. 

Bile rising that you couldn’t push down, getting sick until you finally managed to suck in enough deep breaths to pull yourself together, wiping the corner of your mouth and standing back up on trembling legs, looking around to make sure no one had seen you. 

But a few maids were standing nearby, wide-eyed and whispering to each other before scampering off in a hurry once your stare caught theirs, surely off to spread rumors about what they’d seen. 

You were stumbling away too, walking back inside the cobbled halls and hurrying through the twists and turns, ignoring the pointed looks you received from staff members and guards passing by. You weren’t sure where you were going until you were there, nervously tapping your knuckles against the door to Satoru’s office, hardly able to keep your breathing steady until you heard her call out in an annoyed tone, “Come in.”

You pushed it open, holding your breath as you peeked inside to see her head hanging down behind her desk. Her cheek resting on her hand, silky hair falling around her shoulders as she sighed and scribbled something into a thick book. 

“What is it-” 

“I’m sorry,” you half-whispered, your voice coming out as a croak from your sore throat. 

She immediately stopped what she was writing as her head snapped up at the realization it was you, shutting the book and placing her palm over it. Her blue eyes were razor sharp, freezing over in a flash under furrowed brows. 

“What happened?” She demanded to know without a pause. Ready to go to war with just two words. 

“He wants me to have his heir,” you blurted out, still panicking as you looked to her like there was something she could do about it. 

In all the years you’d known her, the only other time you’d seen the expression that was on her face now was the day you first met her. 

Focused and flat at the same time, not betraying anything as she just blinked at you once more. 

“Tell me you don’t want it,” she requested, completely serious as you struggled to tear your stare away. 

“Of course I don’t,” you answered, shaking your head as your fingers nervously clutched at the skirt of your dress, fiddling with some of the fine embroidery as you struggled to catch your breath, the taste of vomit lingering in your mouth as you thought about what your life would look like a year from now if you did. A black-haired baby on your hip and a hole punctured straight through your heart. 

You almost added that you had only come here for her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to when all that had resulted in was you warming her husband’s bed. 

What would her life have been like had you stayed behind? Would you have been kicked out of the palace you’d spent years by her side in? Left to start over in some quaint village, maybe starting a small farm or working in a local shop instead? 

You would choose any of it over being the reason she was suffering. Even if it meant struggling and scraping by all alone. 

“I will take care of it,” she stiffly said, her nose upturned in the air as she pushed a plate of cookies someone had left on her desk away from her. “You should go now.” 

A piece of you shattered. 

Some deep internal wound ripping open at her quick dismissal, despite your instinct to believe that her words were more binding than any oath. 

“But-”

“Trust me, princess,” she softened her tone, smiling now, like you couldn’t see how tight of a line her mouth made. Using a nickname she hadn’t called you in years, back when she tried to make you feel better about the difference in your status, late night promises that you could be her princess and she could be yours. 

“Toru,” you murmured back, watching her eyes crinkle for a second before she shook her hair and pointed a delicate finger towards the door. 

“Please leave,” she asked, and you had never been good at disobeying her. 

Feeling like a mutt that had been thrown out in the rain, tail tucked between your legs as you walked all the way across the palace to your own chambers. Pacing the floor there in a panic, wringing your hands and wearing out the carpet as you tried to think of some solution. 

Stupid nobles and their moronic obsession with bloodlines. 

Why couldn’t they just adopt a child and raise it correctly? 

You would have his child if Satoru asked you to. If she said she didn’t want to do it herself. 

But you were scared for her. Terrified that she would somehow end up thrown out if you had an heir and she refused to. 

Maybe it would be easier if one of them were less stubborn. If Satoru was less prideful and Suguru more agreeable. 

Was that asking for the impossible? 

Just an idiot jammed between a rock and a hard place and wondering why you couldn’t squeeze out? 

You prepared yourself that evening anyway, going through the motions of putting on the thin style nightdress Suguru preferred, but picking one in a soft shade of blue that reminded you more of Satoru. Carefully applying a thin layer of makeup, exhaling at your reflection as you wondered to yourself where the girl from a few years ago had gone. 

She probably would have strangled you for suggesting sleeping with Satoru’s king, no matter the circumstance. 

And right now, you would give just about anything to go back to those days. Where the most important thing you had to worry about was how to style Satoru’s hair the next day, or what would be served for breakfast in the morning. 

“You’re wearing blue.” 

Your head turned to find Suguru standing there in the doorway, his lips turned down as his hazy stare slid over your body. You hurried to stand, forgoing spritzing the fancy perfume he gifted you across your skin as he strode over to you. Ready to fake moans and feign devotion. 

“Is this not one you gave me?” You innocently asked, tilting your head to the side. 

It wasn’t like you could purchase your own dresses. 

Truthfully, you had no idea what even happened to the funds you saved up before Satoru brought you here. She had said she would take care of the transfer, but within days of coming here, you were being whisked off your feet and away from her by the man in front of you now.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” he muttered, his fingers plucking one of the straps off your shoulder and pulling it down with a sigh as he ignored your inquiry. “I’m taking it off of you anyway.” 

His hands shook while he removed it, his fingers unsteady for once as he tried to shimmy your panties down your thighs next. He kissed you, but the sour taste of wine was still on his lips, and you ached to pull away. 

To ask him to reconsider what he wanted from you. 

Even if you knew that wasn’t your place. 

To your surprise though, he retreated first, your mouth still hanging open as he let out a low groan. You knew something was wrong at the sound of it. How guttural it came out when you hadn’t even touched his cock yet. 

You blinked up at him only to see red. 

Blood dripped down his lips as he stared at you without really seeing you, fear glittering his dark eyes empty in the candlelight as your own fingers reached out to wipe it away. Had you bitten him without realizing it? Was he hurt? 

Before you could even touch it, he coughed hard, and your face was suddenly wet.

Your hand was still outstretching towards him the moment he collapsed. 

Someone screamed, but it wasn’t until servants began running into the room that you realized the horrible sound was coming from you, ripped from the back of your throat as the scene immediately morphed into a mess. Maids shouting for doctors and rushing around to try and stop the bleeding that was still pouring from his mouth, propping him up. But even if his eyes were open, they weren’t blinking. 

Had his soul already separated from the still shell he left behind? 

Something damp hit your palm, your fuzzy vision struggling to focus as it belatedly struck you that you were still dripping with the red, your palms shaking, refusing to stop twitching at the unnerving sight of it. 

Steady drops begging to drop down to your bare breasts, staining your skin as you stumbled back, running from the inevitable as your shattered gasps wouldn’t allow enough air into your lungs. 

This wasn’t happening.

It couldn’t be.

This must be a nightmare. Some awful dream you’d gotten dragged into as you tried to wake yourself back up, desperately wiping your face as you struggled to get it clean, but nothing was working. Nothing was changing. 

Hyperventilating as a maid shouted, calling in guards while your back hit the wall, your fingers trembling as you buried your face in your hands, as if you could hide from what was happening. 

“Is he still alive?” 

No. No no no. 

If he was gone, what the hell would happen to you? 

There were too many people in the room, too much going on for you to focus on what was happening in front of you. Your ears filling you in no matter how much you desperately wanted to shut it all out. 

To rewind the clock, even if it was just for a few minutes. Bring it back to where everything was still normal. 

The palace doctor arrived out of breath as you peeked back up at your world unraveling only to find him shaking his head as he checked the limp body on the floor’s pulse. 

You knew it before he said it though. Had from the moment he coughed and collapsed. 

“The king is dead.” 

The only person in power now was his wife. 

Someone was probably on their way to get Satoru now, to shake her awake from her bed and notify her that her husband was no longer among the living. 

Even if you didn’t want to have his baby, you still never would have chosen this. 

Curling up with your bare knees to your chest, staring at your blood-splattered blue nightdress left in a crumpled pile on the floor, eyes wild as you watched people rush in and out. 

Guards filing in, one of them ripping you up from off the ground with a rough grip on your arm, barking some question you didn’t understand as you tried to shake your head, dragging you out of the room as you got one last glimpse at Suguru’s still form staring up at the ceiling. 

“Did you do this?” 

“What?” You blinked, turning back with disgust as you rebuffed it. “I-I wouldn’t-” 

The guard wasn’t listening, pulling you out only for you to nearly run into someone else. 

Your pounding heart stopped the second you realized it was Satoru. 

Her pretty face pinched up with disdain, long hair loose and cascading down her back, an intricate amethyst-colored gown draping over the cobbled hall as she looked down at you, her mouth twitching as her gaze drifted across your exposed skin. 

You were about to beg her to tell them that it couldn’t have been you, bottom lip trembling as you tried to get the words out, but she cut you off, looking to the knight by her side as she solemnly shook her head. 

“Lock her up.” 

She couldn’t mean it. 

It honestly felt more far-fetched than Suguru’s sudden death. Unable to understand those three sharp words that left her lips until another man was yanking you away, pulling you down corridors. 

Humiliation burned through you as the initial shock started to fade and the reality of your situation began to sit in. Being dragged naked across the palace until you were led up a long spiralling staircase to a tower you’d never stepped foot inside before. 

Spared the cruelty of the cold dungeons only to be shoved inside a tiny room at the top, a heavy door slammed shut as your eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. A barren space with only a small bed pushed against the wall, a small window that was only big enough for you to peek out of, the bitter night breeze blowing in through it as you stood there, waiting for, well, you weren’t sure what. 

Satoru to show up and swear this was all some awful joke? To tell you that she didn’t mean to scare you and that everything was fine? That this was all a part of some plan of hers? 

Wishful thinking, wasn’t it? 

If they thought you were responsible, that you somehow killed him, you would be executed within a month. 

Maybe not even offered a trial, just dragged out to be hanged or beheaded without a chance to defend yourself. 

Who would have sympathy for a traitor? 

A poor maid masquerading as a concubine, one who truly should have never had a place beneath the king to begin with. 

All you were was an ignorant idiot that was born to take the blame. No matter your innocence. 

And yet, when you finally heard footsteps approaching your lonely room, you were still rushing towards it, ready to plead your case to whoever showed up. 

When you heard Satoru’s voice, you nearly sobbed. 

She must be coming to let you out. To explain everything away and bring you back to her room the way she once had. Whisk you away and remind you with that charming smile that she had told you not to worry. 

Satoru wasn’t your knight in shining armor. She was better. 

A hero with her white-haired halo, your blue-eyed angel in a gossamer gown. 

“Toru, please,” you called out, peeking up to discover a rectangle carved out of the thick wood of the door, wide enough for you to look back out into the barely-lit hallway. 

“Make sure no one comes up here,” Satoru coldly instructed the knights outside, your heart stalling as you stared at her through that thin slat. The heavy click of several additional locks followed while her sharp eyes watched you back, your heart shattering into even tinier bits with each one. 

And then Satoru did something that stomped on all the remaining shards of it. 

She left. 

You broke down, sobbing on the floor until there wasn’t anything left in you to cry out. Curling up on the frigid ground instead of the bed, unable to even summon the strength to get up and crawl towards it. 

At some point, you supposed you fell asleep like that, because when you woke up to a fraction of the sun slipping in through your tiny window, there were clothes and food delivered, along with a cold bucket of water and a washrag. 

Too numb to feel thankful, as if someone had scooped every part of you out as you ignored the food in front of you, about to cup a handful of water and drink it before you looked down at your hands and saw all the dried blood still staining them, your stomach shifting once again as the memory of Suguru’s face before he died floated up in your brain. 

You scrubbed your skin, washing Suguru off of you until the bucket had run red, staring at the liquid sloshing around. Refusing to stop until you were certain there were no traces of him left, your hands raw and trembling when you dropped the rag back down. 

Putting clothes back on didn’t make you feel any better. 

Not when you had traded the fancy dresses you had just begun to get used to for a plain one, the material scratching your skin as you finally managed to get yourself up into the bed. 

But even just trying to go back to sleep didn’t work when a knight came barging in to conduct an interrogation. 

Which essentially just meant hours of him asking the same questions and getting angry when you kept giving him the same answers? 

“Did you conspire to kill the king?” No. 

“Did you poison him?” No. 

“Did you have any reason to want him dead?” Yes. No. 

It didn’t matter what you said though. 

As long as it didn’t align with what he was hoping to hear, he wouldn’t give any of your words credence. 

And by the end of it, you were being dragged back to your cell, waiting for a fate far worse than simply being the mother of the future heir to the kingdom. 

Even if you used to think there was nothing worse than betraying Satoru. 

Being abandoned by her was the cruelest sentence of all. 

A raw throbbing ache taking up residence in your chest, reminding you of her absence with every short breath you sucked in, no blankets to curl up and hide under as you waited for the inevitable. 

You knew what the cold felt like. How brittle it could be when it settled into your bones. Knew how starvation felt when your body started to break down bits of yourself for sustenance. 

But knowing her warmth, how full she could make you feel, only ate at you more. Shoved off the pretty pedestal she placed you on, no longer sparkling or polished as you stared at your bitten-down nails and numbly craved pieces of her you knew would never be yours. 

Perhaps this was punishment for dreaming too big. 

For ever thinking that you could have her while you were still catering to Suguru. 

A day passed. 

And another. 

The hours slipping past you in a dull daze, food delivered that you refused to take a bite of. A little voice in your head that was quickly growing delirious suggested that it could be poisoned, and it was the only thing that tempted you into taking a small bite. 

But then you thought of the fear in Suguru’s eyes when he died, and you dropped it again, returning to your uncomfortable bed, curling up to stare at the same wall you’d been studying the cracks in since you first crawled into it. 

You were losing it. 

About to start speaking to yourself just to stop the silence from driving you crazy, only your thoughts to keep you company as you tossed and turned, no energy left in your exhausted limbs as you tried to think of all the ways this could end. 

Unable to come up with a way out of this when the only person you ever found worth living for had decided you weren’t worth it anymore. 

Satoru had told you to trust her. 

But you never had anything to offer her other than loyalty. 

And what good was that when you would’ve had her husband’s baby if he hadn’t died? 

She must hate you. 

“Oh, princess.” 

Great. 

You had lost it. 

Were you hearing things now? Sanity slipping away with every day you decided not to eat? 

“Won’t you at least look at me?” Satoru’s sweet voice called out to you. 

You weren't going to, stubbornly keeping your head forward until you heard the locks actually unlatching. Sitting up on the thin mattress and turning just in time to see the door opening, and your angel returning to you. 

An easy smile curling up on her glossy lips, her ethereal eyes sparkling in the fading light of the day drifting in from outside, a white dress softly fluttering around her frame as she leaned against the wall like she was waiting for you to get down on your knees and thank her. 

“I didn’t do it,” you breathed, almost automatically. 

You needed her to believe-

“Sweetheart,” she softly shook her head as she sighed. “I know.” 

Then why did she throw you in a tower and lock you up like this? Leave you a broken mess, laid bare and bloody? 

“I just had to take care of a few things,” Satoru cooed. 

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. 

Unable to speak when you stared at her, feeling like a stranger in your own skin as you studied her back. 

“Did you think I would just let you rot?” She teased, as if you weren’t still a prisoner while she tilted her head to the side, appraising you like you were some fruit she had finally decided to pluck. 

It hurt. 

A small wound ripping open beneath the surface, one you were quick to bandage up and come up with excuses for. 

Almost immediately telling yourself that surely, she came to you as soon as she could, relief washing over the fresh sting at the realization she truly didn’t think you were behind Suguru’s death. That she hadn’t abandoned you after all. 

“Don’t just sit there and stare at me,” she huffed, sick of your silence, folding her arms across her chest and frowning at you. 

“Toru?” You croaked out her name, wanting to trust that it still had a place on your lips as you waited for her to disappear. Standing up on unsteady legs, muscles sore from how little you’d used them lately as you took unsure steps forward. A piece of you still convinced that you might be imagining this, or drifted off to some pretty dream where she played the same role she always did. 

Your savior. 

But when you got to her, hesitantly reaching out to touch her face, your fingertips trembling as you touched her cheek to discover it was solid. 

Soft. 

“I missed you too,” she murmured affectionately, reaching up to hold your hand there. Relaxing into your touch as you felt something inside you instantly crumble at the tiniest show of regard. 

And before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around her neck, tears welling up as you inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume, burying your face in her throat as a rough sob escaped you. 

She let you. 

Didn’t push you off or give you that look like you had overstepped some boundary. 

No, she just slid a hand over your back, holding you closer and letting you cry into her collarbone. Stroking your hair, slowly picking out the tangles and knots in it as your body shuddered with the force of your tears. 

You didn’t think you had anything left in you to cry. 

But apparently there you weren’t dried out yet, and she held you through all of it. Murmuring soft words into your ear, coaxing you to calm down as you struggled to piece yourself back together after you let it all fall apart. 

“I swear, I would never do anything that could put you at risk,” you added, anxiety still swirling around your thoughts as you shook your head. 

“Don’t worry,” Satoru purred, squeezing you as another shudder wracked through your body. “The right person will be imprisoned soon.” 

As terrible as it sounded, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care who had done it, or even why, as long as it meant you and Satoru would be safe. 

The rest was just noise. 

You could go back to being her maid. Waiting on her hand and foot if it meant you wouldn’t have to be away from her side again. 

And if the court tried to take her crown, or shipped her back to her own palace after the rightful king had been killed, well, you both could get through it together, couldn’t you? 

“I thought you left me,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as she tenderly hummed your name.

“I would never,” she swore, petting your head as she pulled you into her chest, your shoulders slumping at how tightly she held you.  

“Promise?” You hopefully asked, needing to know. Needing her to say she wasn’t going anywhere. 

Simply needing her. 

“I promise.” 

You believed her with just two words. 

Under her spell in a handful of moments, your heart pounding in your chest when she eventually pulled away, cupping your face and wiping away your tears like it hurt for her to see you crying. 

“Come with me,” she spoke slowly, her thumb skimming lightly over your cheekbone.

You would follow her anywhere. 

Across the kingdom. To another, or even over the sea to some small countryside village. Any place was fine. 

As long as she wanted you there. 

Skipping down the long stairs after her, your pulse thrumming in your eardrums as you waited to get stopped by some guard, for a knight to pop up and point a sword at you for absconding with their queen. 

No one else was around however, the halls barren and silent as her soft fingers interlaced through yours, tugging you ahead as she navigated through them with ease.

“Were you starving yourself for my attention?” She half-whispered, her voice hushed and husky as she threw you a look you didn’t understand. 

Was she disappointed in you? 

“I haven’t been hungry,” you mumbled, shaking your head. You never thought she’d come check on you. Or even be keeping tabs through whoever came to drop off the food for you. 

“That’s no excuse,” she softly scolded you. 

“I’m sorry,” you automatically apologized, hanging your head lower as she opened a door and ushered you into a room you’d never been in before. 

It looked like it was actually fit for a princess. 

Ornately designed and filled with expensive furniture you couldn’t fathom the cost of, your body freezing just two short steps inside as she shut the door behind you. Quickly making herself comfortable, slipping off her short heels and walking over to the massive bed against one wall, looking back at you with barely concealed excitement, searching your face to see if you shared

“You can stay here for now,” she whispered, winking at you as she ran her palm over the soft fabric of the blankets adorning the bed. “It’ll be our secret.” 

Your secret. 

The words echoed in your head, unable to shut your open mouth as you struggled to take your eyes off of her. 

“Much better than that dingy tower, hm?” Satoru goaded, pride glittering in her brilliant stare. 

“What is this?” You asked, looking around at the intricate tapestries hung on the walls, the plush carpets laid over the floor, the carvings into the wooden dressers and the canopy of the bed. 

“Your room,” she happily hummed. 

“My-” You couldn’t even say it out loud. 

It had to be a joke. 

“There’s a warm bath waiting for you,” she murmured, nodding towards an adjoining door you’d been too overwhelmed to notice before. “And some fresh fruit on a platter by the tub. Your favorites.” 

What were you meant to make of this? 

Her belated apology for locking you up for days? For leaving you behind to handle affairs far bigger than you? 

Something itched at the back of your conscience, telling you to second guess this gift. 

But how were you supposed to listen to your better judgement when everything left of your sensibility had been broken? 

“Please eat something,” she added, and all you could do was nod your head like a moron. 

“I will,” you dutifully answered. 

Who were you to disobey your queen? 

“Do you need help getting out of that?” She asked, glancing towards your dress, nose wrinkling at the dirt on it before she dusted herself off like perhaps you’d gotten her filthy too. 

“No, I can do it,” you insisted, slipping into the bathroom before you could somehow end up even more self-conscious. 

But your muscles were already aching for relief, a throbbing pain beginning in your shoulder when you lifted your dress up and over your head. 

One that was thankfully soothed by the still warm water in the tub, a welcome relief to the frigid water buckets you’d been sticking using the last few days. Flower petals floating on the surface, bath salts mixed in as you sank yourself in neck-deep. 

True to her word, there was a platter of food set up by the tub, and you forced yourself to take a few bites, nibbling on just enough to satisfy her request. 

Satoru was trying to take care of you. 

Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Offering your shoulder for her to cry or cling to after her husband died horrifically? Of course, you knew she didn’t like him. Or well, more accurately, she loathed him. But his passing put her in a precarious position, her own life most likely hanging in the balance when she had no heir to guarantee her safety or status here. 

You didn’t know what she was going to do. 

Which also meant you had no idea what you were going to do. 

A piece of you wished you were born a man. That you’d been given the chance or opportunity to learn swordsmanship, or got to train with the knights. That you would be able to protect Satoru, shield her from these petty and cruel court politics instead of getting caught in the crossfire. 

Washing yourself of the last few days did not help quell your feelings of inadequacy, or solve a single one of your problems, no matter how soothing it was to soak and scrub yourself clean properly this time. 

You didn’t linger in the tub. 

No matter how much you might have liked to, a far greater part of you longed to be around Satoru. Craving her company after you’d been deprived of her presence for so long. You wanted to curl up in her lap like you used to, back when you were children and she’d be the one to comfort you over every skinned knee and scraped elbow. 

Stepping out of the tub with a heavy sigh, squinting when you discovered something wasn’t quite right. 

“Toru?” You called out, glancing around the small room searching for something that was evidently forgotten. “There’s no towel.” 

Or change of clothes. 

Nothing but your discarded dress from before to cover up, although you weren’t exactly inclined to pick it back up. 

You thought she’d just open the door and toss something to put on. 

Not just swing the door open and saunter in a second later, not even blinking as her eyes swept over your bare form. Lingering on the swell of your breasts and the way the water droplets were still rolling down between them. 

“The maid must have forgotten,” she hummed, dragging her stare off of you to do a courtesy sweep of the room. “Give me a moment.” 

You were overthinking it. 

Nodding obediently as you glanced down at your legs, shuffling on your feet as heat rose to your cheeks, thankful for the soft thud of the door shutting. She returned a couple minutes later, a towel in one arm and a white gown that looked an awful lot like a short version of her own in the other, passing both to you with that practiced smile of hers she usually saved for when she was up to something. 

“There you go,” Satoru chirped. “I’ll wait for you.” 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen you naked before. 

But this felt decidedly different.  

And you didn’t know what to do about the strange fluttering in your stomach at the idea of her watching you dress, at the way her eyes had drifted so dangerously slowly over the shape of you. 

Was this a dream? 

Were you still asleep? Still stuck in that tower? 

Wishing for something you had never once been able to admit to yourself that you wanted? 

You took an extra few minutes to dry off, adjusting the way the dress hung over you five times too many before you paused to brush your teeth in the mirror, avoiding your reflection as you spit in the sink, watching the tinged pink drool disappear with a soft exhale. 

Satoru was pristine. Pure. 

And what were you? 

You opened the door, fiddling with the hem of the dress she’d given you as you nearly ran straight into where she was waiting right outside of it. 

“I was getting worried,” she lightly joked, and you were brushing past her, a painful surge of panic bubbling back up. 

“Why are you doing this for me?” You asked, hyper aware of how undeserving you were as you padded barefoot back into the overwhelmingly lovely room. “It’s too much, I-” 

“You should know by now that nothing is too much for me when it comes to you,” Satoru chided with a soft chuckle. Refusing to let you step away from her, grabbing your wrist before you could slip away. 

She was so close. 

That familiar scent of her lulling you back in, daring you to breathe her in again. 

And god, you wanted to. 

Satoru said your name, and before you knew what you were doing, you were leaning up on your tip toes and pressing your lips to hers, impulsively planting a kiss to her strawberry-flavored mouth. 

You knew within half a second that you shouldn’t have done it, but you couldn’t stop yourself, deepening it as your fingertips tenderly grazed her impossibly perfect skin. It took every ounce of self restraint for you to pull away from her, shaking your head as you tried not to cry at the thought you would never get to do that again. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, immediately wishing you could take it back, sure that she would throw you back in the tower for the crime of presuming you could possibly deserve anything as sweet as her lips. “I shouldn’t have-” 

But before you could so much as finish your sentence, Satoru was cupping your face and pulling you back in, her nose nestling against yours as her blue eyes sparkled with something you’d never seen in them before. 

“Do it again.” 

ε✿з

You were kissing her. 

For a moment, Satoru was sure she had died and this was heaven. 

How often had she scrawled into diaries her deepest dreams of getting to experience the taste of you on her tongue? 

Your gentle hands on her face and your heaving chest pressed against hers, lips slipping between her own with desperate affection. 

You. Desperate. For her. 

Her brain only conjuring her small words and short sentences, too overwhelmed by the sensation of your soft mouth to think straight. 

God, you tasted so good. 

Fruity and sweet at the same time, your delicate fingers sifting through her hair as you let out the quietest squeak Satoru immediately wanted to hear over and over, sure she’d never get sick of the sound. 

And behind the lovestruck haze, a jealous voice scoffed that she should’ve killed Suguru far sooner for getting to taste you like this first. 

Slipped the poison in his cup the moment he set his sights on you and made his intent to steal you clear. 

Of course, cleaning it up would’ve been much messier, but red hot jealousy coiled and cut through all her cold logic when she thought of his massive mitts manhandling you instead of treating you like the rare flower you really were. 

Satoru was the one who spent her life watering you, taking care to tend to the soil and fertilize it, making sure you’d bloom so beautifully for her, and he tried to rip your roots out like you wouldn’t just wither away without her. 

“Satoru,” you whispered her name, sucking in a sharp breath as you pulled back, eyes shining with surprise. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you,” she swallowed hard, spit pooling in the back of her mouth. 

From the day you looked up at her like some wounded lamb, you had been hers. 

Perhaps it had just taken a little separation for you to see that too. 

“You were waiting for me?” You repeated, that dazed, dreamy look in your eyes as you looked up at her, as if you thought she was going to change her mind. 

“My heart has always been yours,” she proclaimed, although the confession she used to imagine came out far more shaky than it had in her head. Not nearly as cool or collected or calm as she pictured when your cheek was so warm beneath her palm. 

Praying that you wouldn’t change your mind now that she had no way to take back the words. 

“But I’m-” You were about to put yourself down. To diminish the light inside you that she loved so much. 

“You’re mine.” 

And no one else’s now. 

Before you could protest, claim something silly about the difference in your status, she was pulling you back onto the bed, your form landing on top of hers as the feathered mattress cushioned the fall. You tried to wiggle back, but Satoru simply gripped your waist, refusing to let you budge as she pushed her bottom lip out in a pout you immediately softened for. 

“Say it for me,” she requested. 

“I have always belonged to you,” you acquiesced, and Satoru wanted to bury herself inside of your heart to make sure there really was no space for anyone else inside of it. 

That it was wholly hers the way you already occupied every nook and crevice of her body and brain. 

She was craning her neck up to kiss you again, your mouth meeting hers a little slower, more hesitation creeping in as your body began to melt against her. A possessive hand sliding up your spine, already annoyed at the fabric separating your skin from hers. 

Needing to feel you properly, for your soft flesh to dimple beneath her fingers, to leave lovebites scattered across every inch of you that you offered. 

“It killed me to see you with him,” she muttered, chest seizing at how vulnerable the confession came out. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, shaking your head before she abruptly flipped you over, pinning you beneath her and pushing your dress up to expose-

Oh fuck. 

Was every part of you so pretty? 

Your pussy glistening as she nudged your thighs further apart, her pulse pounding in her ears as she finally got to see all of you up close. Presented perfectly for her, your nose scrunched up like you might be scared she could possibly find something wrong with you instead of being awestruck by the simple sight of you splayed out for her. 

She might not have a cock, but Satoru was sure she could make you cum hard enough to forget about any petty insecurities that might be plaguing you. 

“Take your gown off,” Satoru instructed, only realizing how stern it came out when you faltered, hesitating as you bit your bottom lip. “Please.” 

Before she had to break down and beg for you to strip. 

Satoru sat up and started lifting off her own dress as well, watching the way your eyes hung onto the heave of her breasts, how they kept shyly flickering back up to her face as your fingers slowly moved to remove the fabric. 

You weren’t girls anymore. 

Not kids playing husband and wife, or king and queen. 

Exploring each other for keeps, hands tepidly traveling across hips and thighs and breasts at first, although it didn’t take much time for the touches to turn needy. 

Hungry for something you’d both been starving yourselves of for years. 

Could you really blame Satoru for not being able to stop herself? 

For hooking one of those soft thighs of yours over her shoulder and dragging her tongue along the inside of it before the last little tendril of self-control she possessed snapped? 

She had to have you. 

Slipping two fingers inside you slowly, feeling the way you squeezed around her digits, your mouth forming a delicious little ‘o’ she wanted to kiss again. Already shaking before she even began to swirl her fingers around inside of you, barely able to contain the heat rolling through her core just watching your reactions as she pushed in deeper. 

You whimpered, and every single thing that led up to this in Satoru’s life was suddenly worth it. 

The mocking, the marriage, every mistake she made on this meandering path, she’d do all of it again if you were waiting for her at the end of it. 

Your lips swollen and kiss-bruised as you let out soft sounds of pleasure that were because of her. Your naked form shivering in the same bed as you reached down to run your fingers through her hair, holding it back as she found herself half-delirious with lust she couldn’t hold back. 

Slotting in a third finger the second she thought you could take it, watching your eyes widen and start to water as they rolled back, your hips bucking up to drive her fingers as deep as possible. 

“My princess can take more,” she purred, spreading you further apart, greedy eyes gazing on your stripped bare body, the thin sheen of sweat sticking to your skin as you moaned her name. 

“S-S’toru,” you cried out, and she was a little tempted to just do this for hours and count how many times she could make you say it precisely like that. 

Satoru must have imagined this moment a million times. What your face would look like all scrunched up, how you would shiver and shake as she swirled her fingers in, feeling for all those sensitive spots that had you immediately trying to squirm and wiggle away. 

Pushing and pressing into them while she pleaded for you to stay put in her sultriest voice. 

“Be a good girl for me,” she hummed, and you nodded, loyal as ever. Itching to please her as badly as she wanted to please you. “Let me love you.” 

Let her hold you. 

Fuck you. 

Make you cum as many times as you could in a single night and then give her the rest of them. All your nights. All your days. Everything. 

Satoru had always been greedy. 

And you satiated her sweet tooth more than anything else ever did. 

Sinking her teeth into the inside of your thighs just because she could, feeling your muscles twitch and spasm as you gasped, caught off guard. 

You didn’t stop her. 

No, you let her bite and lick and kiss, her mouth latching onto your swollen clit, swirling the tip of her tongue over it as you let out a raw noise. As if someone had just ripped it from your stomach, pulled it out of you too fast for you to soften it. 

Her fingers continued to thrust in while she nipped at your clit, just for your body to confirm what she suspected by clenching around her hand like you wanted to trap it in there. You were cumming for her already. 

She’d seen you do it with Suguru. 

But this one was so much more visceral, no dramatic or drawn-out moan, just your body melting into a puddle for her to mold as you fell apart for her. 

You were shuddering, limbs trembling, as you tried to pull her back by her hair. 

But you had never been good at telling her no. 

Even when she was driving you right to the brink of overstimulation, and then pushing you well past it, greedily sucking on that sensitive bud, pressing her tongue flat against it as she pumped her fingers in-and-out, finding a steady rhythm to ruin you too. 

Satoru had never had sex before. Her purity protected well into the marriage she was supposed to save it for. No experience of her own to truly compare this too. But she’d touched herself and pretended it was you enough times to have an idea of what would make you unravel just right. 

Operating on instinct, on need, peering up at you from her position between your thighs as pretty tears welled up in your eyes. Satoru wanted to soothe your ache, to kiss them away and drag her tongue over the streaks they left on your cheeks. 

Perhaps she should’ve planned a little better, found something bigger to stick in you, to make you moan and murmur for mercy with, watching you fall apart while she teased and toyed with your body now that you had finally given yourself fully to her. 

You were so beautiful like this. 

Being brought to the heights of pleasure, worshipped the way you should’ve been from the start, her tongue and fingers working together as she clumsily made out with you, only pulling off to drag the thick muscle over your slick folds for a better taste.

“I-I-” You hiccuped, your voice half an octave too high as your thighs clamped down around her head, your own thrown back as you wiggled your hips, chasing a second climax. “I c-can’t-” 

“You can,” Satoru hummed, rubbing her own thighs together to soothe the aching need between them. “Want you to cum for me again, princess.” 

You wouldn’t deny her. 

You never did. 

Desperately groaning as you gave in, sweat making both your bodies sticky as you tried to not to tug too hard at her hair, still holding back to not hurt her as you crumbled into a crying mess. Tears slipping out that she was quick to climb back on top of you and wipe away, kissing your lips to swallow your whines, enjoying the way you fit so nicely beneath her until you started to come back down. “You look so pretty like this,” she softly complimented, tracing her thumb over your lip, already missing your kiss the moment your mouths were apart. 

“Toru,” you whispered her name, and she was sure that she would never get sick of hearing it. Far fucking better than the way you used to say Suguru. 

“Mhm?” She hummed, chewing on the inside of her cheek as you stared straight through her. That fuzzy look in your eyes fading as understanding replaced the daze. 

Like you’d suddenly gained some clarity.

“It was you, was it?” You asked, and you didn’t need to say what when you were both well aware of what you were accusing her of. 

Were you really just now considering it? 

Was your judgement clouded from your unconditional love? So devoted that you were deluding yourself into ignoring the obvious? 

“No,” Satoru lied, still in the habit of hiding the truth if it meant sparing your feelings. Refusing to lose you after she just got you. “It wasn’t me.” 

ε✿з

You were flying far too close to the sun. 

You knew that somewhere deep inside of you as Satoru snuggled against your collarbone, her warmth wrapped around you as she burned you up. Her scorching touch seared into your skin as she refused to let even an inch separate the two of you. 

Sooner or later, your wings were going to fail you, and send you tumbling out of the sky back to the ground. 

Would she catch you when you crashed?

Or would you be left to stare up at her until she was just a beautiful bird flying high out of your reach? 

All you were doing was damning yourself by dreaming of a happy ending with her. 

You guessed you should just be grateful for what you had while you had it. 

That she hadn’t cut your tongue out for daring to slip it between her lips.

It hadn’t been the first time you had thought about it. 

But even entertaining the idea of her choosing you had always been so preposterous you pushed your budding feelings down deep, refusing to let them devour you no matter how often she occupied your dreams. 

Your life had been built around the pristine pedestal you placed her on.  

Your world revolved around her smile, her laugh, hearing your twinkling voice in your ear and feeling her soft fingers brushing over your skin. 

Everything you’d ever done had been for her. 

So why did it feel like you’d just gone from warming one ruler’s sheets to another? 

As if you were just in her bed for the comfort she brought, the security of her position. 

You hoped she wouldn’t think that. That she understood that if she asked you to run away with her today, you would accept without hesitation. 

Next to her now, her sleepy eyes fluttering open as she hummed your name, it just made you think of how stupid you were not to have been doing this all along. For not seeing this for what it was sooner. 

“You’ll be safe here,” Satoru murmured, snuggling against you as you rolled onto your side. Keeping herself glued to you, her lips lingering on your skin with a content sigh. 

“What happens next?” You murmured, watching the morning sun beginning to rise through the stained glass window, slowly chasing the dark away as your personal sunshine faltered for a moment. 

“They’re still investigating his passing,” she mumbled, refusing to say Suguru’s name. Or call it for what it must have been. An assassination someone wanted to make you the scapegoat for. “You haven’t been officially cleared yet.” 

And still, she’d showed up for you, hadn’t she? “But I will be?” You hopefully asked, your heart thrumming at the thought of this being ripped from you too. 

“Nothing will happen to you,” she swore. 

You had given her your heart. Your soul. Your body. 

Those were all you really had to offer. 

But handing her your trust? 

That was…tricky. 

Especially when she wouldn’t offer any more details about your detainment as the minutes melted into hours and the hours twisted into days that just kept passing. 

In the dark moments, a cold voice suggested that you should at least consider the chance she could have done it. Orchestrated it from the shadows. But she had told you she hadn’t. 

She would’ve confessed it if she had. 

Suguru had his fair share of enemies. Disgruntled rulers from other kingdoms, angry nobles and dukes who wanted more power than he allowed. 

It wasn’t like it was outrageous that one of them had grown sick of his antics and took matters into their own hands.  

So you tried to be content too, Satoru trading your tower for more comfortable quarters, her trusted knights stationed outside the room you caught glimpses at when she slipped in-and-out, leaving you to attend to her duties most days. 

She brought you meals, insisting on hand feeding you half the time, murmuring under her breath that you couldn’t be trusted to do it yourself before she had you for dessert. Hands spreading your thighs apart as she lapped and licked you up, refusing to pull off until you had cum on her tongue or come undone with her fingers, falling apart for her to mend back together. 

Still, it had started to feel like you were becoming more a part of her schedule than like her partner. 

Perhaps that was wishing too much though. 

Wanting more than you had any right to ask for. 

At the end of the day, you would still always be a maid in everyone’s eyes. 

Her pet. 

Her people wouldn’t exactly be pleased to know that their queen was more interested in women than securing another king or providing them an heir? 

Were you a price she was willing to pay for political control? Would there come a day where she would remarry another man? 

Was it already being arranged while you wasted weeks lounging around in her bed and longing for her to join you, smelling her scent on the pillow and aching for her return? 

The worst part was how Satoru was so hesitant to let you hold her, doing everything on her terms as she came up with excuse after excuse to keep your hands either bound behind your back or tethered in her hair instead of tracing over her soft skin. 

Did she think you were too dirty? 

That you would stain her supple flesh if you so much as squeezed her close? 

No matter how much it stung, you still shoved down your discomfort. Told yourself that you should be grateful for what she was giving you and ignore how much she withheld. 

You had to plead with her just to be allowed to visit her office during the days to keep yourself from going insane. A trusted knight always had to accompany you there, a shawl hiding your face as they carefully took you there when no one else would be around. She stocked extra books for you, a basket left next to one of the armchairs with embroidery supplies, sometimes making you write letters for her that she couldn’t care to do herself to foreign kingdoms and nobles to settle their unrest. 

And after a month, you began to settle. 

Setting aside old foolish hopes and accepting your new routine. 

Waiting for her to join you in her office, curling up in one of the other chairs as you tried to tell yourself that she’d come back soon. She had run off to attend some important meeting, patting your head and telling you that it was nothing when you tried to ask what it was about.  

So what if it made you feel a little pathetic for waiting around like a poor puppy dog abandoned by her owner? 

Satoru would return to you. 

And she made all of it worth it. 

Your body was beginning to fall asleep though, pins and needles pricking your limbs when you stood to shake it off, walking around in a circle and wondering if you were just destined to be on her leash before you decided to slump yourself in her chair instead. 

It smelled like her. 

Your body relaxing at the scent, already trained as your eyes skimmed over her cluttered desk space, papers strewn around from the hurry she left in before. 

Curiosity pricking at you as you found yourself slowly opening up drawers and peeking inside to see if there was anything interesting hiding from you. And slipped underneath thick ledgers and blank papers was a plain black leather-bound notebook you’d seen her writing in before. 

You pulled it out, a not-at-all small piece of you hoping that maybe it was a secret diary as you started flipping through it, that you’d find your own name scribbled down with hearts drawn next to it. 

It turned out your name was there. 

But it was the words that were with it that sent your stomach through the floor. 

The contents of it were cold. 

Sharp. Each word punctuated so deeply that the ink bled between the pages. 

The confirmation that she loved you was there. Just sandwiched between white hot anger that someone else had gotten to touch you first. To fuck you in the bed you belonged in with her. 

Queasiness slowly building in your core, something thick and slimy coiling around your heart as you skipped from the earlier entries to the more recent ones, knowing what was coming before you found the entry for the day Suguru died. 

And there in between the lines, the truth stared back at you. 

She had dinner with Suguru. 

Shared a meal together right before he went to join you that she never once mentioned to you. 

No.

This couldn’t be right. 

Satoru couldn’t have-

Or well, if she did, she wouldn’t have framed you for it. 

She loved you.

Swore that you were hers and that she’d never let anything awful happen to you again. The idea that she’d put you through hell just to have you all to herself was crippling. 

Maybe she didn’t outright admit that she’d done it, maybe you still didn’t know precisely how, but you knew it was her with a scary sort of certainty. 

Your body freezing as you read and reread the five short lines in front of you detailing her evening, forcing yourself to turn the page and read ahead, to see her absolutely unaffected as she offered just a single line about Suguru dying. Images of his face, that awful look in his eyes before he collapsed floating back up as you choked on the stomach-churning memory of him. 

An awful thought crept in that she left it here for you to find. That some part of her hoped you’d be nosey enough to snoop and come across it. 

For you to see all of her. 

Was it a test? 

Her attempt to see if your devotion to her was strong enough to stay despite what she’d done. 

You closed the book, shoving it back where you found it and standing up as the knowledge started to sink in, to seep through and cast a darker shade on your days together as you rushed to return to your chair. 

What if it had all been designed to keep you firmly in your place beneath her? Confined to her chambers and chained to her heart? 

Didn’t she already know she didn’t need to do any of it for you to stay? 

The door opened with a creak, and you were reopening the forgotten book you’d been reading before you found the forbidden one. 

“Hi, beautiful,” Satoru greeted as she walked over, bending over to press a soft kiss on your cheek before breezing past to her desk. 

“Hi, Toru,” you echoed, pretending to be absorbed in the book in your hands, hoping she wouldn’t notice you were holding it upside down. 

You closed it, placing it in your lap as you looked up at her with easy obedience, praying she wouldn’t pay any mind to the suspicion now lingering underneath it. 

“Was I gone long?” She earnestly asked as she slid into her seat, scooting it up close to her desk and leaning across it as her blue eyes focused solely on your face. 

“It felt like it,” you confessed, swallowing hard. 

“I must make it up to you tonight then,” your Toru teased, her perfectly cruel mouth curling up as she delivered a cute wink. 

She did make it up to you. 

But it didn’t make you forget what you found. 

What were you meant to do about it? 

Pretend you hadn’t? Pray that no one else would ever discover what you had? 

You wished she would abandon this. Abdicate the throne and take you away somewhere warm. 

But it was Satoru. 

Hadn’t you learned already she refused to give up anything once it was hers? 

The privilege, the power, the promise of a gold gilded future with you waiting on her. 

She would never let it go. 

It was you that didn’t know how to move forward. That could figure out where to go from here when she didn’t seem to notice your indiscretion. 

You spent two days torn over it. Treading softly with her, feigning that you were fine overnight until she left you again and you unraveled in her absence. 

Opening the bedroom door an hour after she left, already knowing who’d you find on the other side. A brute of a man standing guard, his back to the opposite wall as his ruby red eyes narrowed at you with pure annoyance. 

“No.”

You hadn’t even spoken yet. 

Eying him with the same irritation he showed for you, nose scrunching up as you stopped yourself from huffing. 

Most of the guards she had stationed outside your room changed, unaware of who they were even protecting, a rotating roster of men ready to keep you from breaking free. But not him. 

He was always the one posted directly by your door.

Dark pink hair falling down in his face, scarred and marked skin always creased in a stern scowl when he caught you staring at him, one foot about to fall forward before he shook his head.

“Stop,” he grunted as you peeked out of the door, and you feigned innocence, shrugging your shoulders. 

“I just want to go to her office,” you pleaded, and he glared at you, refusing to even entertain your request.

“No,” he deadpanned. 

But there was something underneath his rude facade that you didn’t like. Your brows pinching together as you tried to pout at him, to come up with something persuasive enough to change his answer. 

Before you could, there was the click of heels, and you glanced back to see Satoru returning, a platter prepared with desserts. Her pretty face was pinched up with obvious displeasure though, her mouth twitching down as you hurried to step back inside your room. 

She was slamming the door shut after you a few seconds later, half-shoving the tray into your hands as she turned to you with a disgruntled hiss. 

“Why were you speaking to him?” Satoru snapped, and the only thing you could properly think about was how pretty she looked when she was jealous. 

The downturn of her lips, the way her blue eyes glinted with unfettered annoyance, blowing air out of her nose as she tilted her head to the side all dramatically. 

“I wanted to see you,” you murmured, cupping her face just for her jaw to clench. 

Torn between taking you at your word and questioning it. 

“You know I would be here with you all the time if I could,” she softly said, despite how cold her stare still was. Her hands still held warmth for you though. Delicately picking up a slice of a cake she must’ve requested the chef make, bringing it up to your lips. 

You opened up for her. Holding her stare as she pushed it through, taking a small bite as she watched you swallow it. 

“I worry about you,” you confessed as she wiped the icing from the corner of your mouth. 

“Don’t.” 

You never thought Satoru could possibly ask too much of you. 

But that was simply impossible. 

And the longer you went without any answers, the more you found yourself starting to spiral. To unravel as you waited and waited for something to change. 

What could you do? 

It wasn’t like the court you’d never found any friends in would support what the two of you shared. Satoru had kept you completely clueless to what was happening outside of the two rooms you could be in, ignorant to how much trouble she might be in with no husband to wear the crown. 

Truthfully, you had no plan. 

No magical solution that struck you in the middle of the night. 

But you wanted to help. 

Peeking back out into the hallway a week after you first found her book, ready to prod and press her knight for more information on what you’d been missing, but to your surprise, the hallway was empty. 

No sign of anyone as you slipped out, your heart thrumming loudly in your chest as you started down the familiar path to her office. 

It was a short walk, but every step made your chest constrict, pulse pounding so loud you were sure someone had to hear until you were finally there, her office door cracked open just enough for you to steal a glimpse inside. 

The knight was there, his brows knitted together tight as he looked through all the books lining the shelves, walking over to her desk and carefully looking through the documents on it with that permanent scowl of his. 

Searching for something.

Oh no. 

You had a feeling you knew exactly what he was hoping to find. 

He was going to betray her, wasn’t he? Looking for proof of what she’d done 

His hand reached for the drawer her notebook was in, and you were pushing the door open before he could discover it. 

Your suspicions were confirmed with how straight he abruptly stood, acting as if he hadn’t just been snooping. 

“What are you doing out of your room?” He snarled at you, his voice hoarse and harsh as you refused to tremble or back down. 

“What are you doing in here?” You returned the question, throat constricting at the intensity of his glare.

You weren’t brave. Not nearly as strong or stubborn as Satoru.  

It wasn’t like anyone would ever be intimidated by you. 

But you would try for her.

He didn’t answer your question, just grinding his back molars as he stepped out from around the desk, starting to stomp over as if he planned to drag you out and toss you back into your room. 

If he did that though, he might just come back and find precisely what he was looking for. 

So while he started towards you, you walked the opposite way around to where he’d been, a lie slipping off your tongue like you were used to telling them, “I just wanted to grab some books I left in here.” 

“Hurry up then,” he scoffed, biting his tongue, probably not pushing it so you wouldn’t go and tattle to Toru about him being in here. 

He thought you were stupid. 

Just a brainless fool who was only good for getting fingered and fucked. 

Not batting an eye when you grabbed a couple books you’d set aside on Satoru’s desk before pulling open the drawer and grabbing her diary, sliding it in the middle of the pile as her knight impatiently looked outside the door. 

She would notice it was gone. 

And you would have to fess up, admit that you’d read it enough to know to take it. 

You’d rather her be mad at you than to get caught for her crime. 

Stoking the flames in the fireplace the second your guard half-pushed you back into the room you were supposed to be in, ripping out the incriminating pages first and using them for tender before tossing the rest of the book in. Watching it go up in flames, ashes sputtering out as it turned to dust in front of your eyes while you paced the floor and planned out the speech you would give her. 

Or would have given her had she actually returned for dinner.

The sun setting and the moon replacing it through your window as you waited and waited for her to come for you. Debating and drowning in your anxieties over what could be taking her so long, your eyes compelled back to the burning papers, using the fire poker to keep the flames going before you were finally forced to face the reality that Satoru might not be showing up tonight. 

Climbing back under the freezing covers, the bed so much bigger without her there to curl up against. 

It didn’t matter how silky the sheets were or how comfortable the mattress was. 

You couldn’t sleep anymore when there wasn’t the scent of her perfume and the softness of her skin to comfort you.

Was she upset with you?

Had something awful happened to her? 

To make everything worse, you started to hear a…commotion on the floor below you. Voices and the sound of things moving around, shouts and scuffles that only served to heighten your nerves. 

You almost opened the door to go find out what was going on. Sneak out again to search for the truth, but every time your hand settled on the knob, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn it. 

Ignorance could be bliss. 

But the truth would come out sooner or later. 

Curled up on the edge of your bed, hands clasped together as your eyes stuck to the door, shadows dancing across the floor as the sun rose once again. 

When it opened again, you were immediately standing, wiping sweaty palms on your nightdress as your breath got stuck in your throat, a hot lump forming the moment Satoru actually walked through. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” she softly greeted, exhaustion obvious in the dark circles betraying her beautiful face. 

“What happened?” You asked, studying her features for some clue, heart slamming into your chest as you tried to figure out what the chaos beneath you could possibly be. What could’ve taken her so long to come to you. 

“They discovered who killed our dearly departed king,” she said, a faint hint of amusement shimmering before she turned away to lock the door behind her. 

“What?” Your throat closed up, the word coming out as a stunned squeak as your brain tried to add together everything you knew. 

The person who killed Suguru was standing in front of you. 

If they knew that, she would be on her way to the gallows. 

Not turning around so you could undo her corset. 

You automatically stepped forward, fingers trembling as you undid her dress out of habit. 

“One of the knights slipped poison into his wine,” Satoru apathetically huffed, as if it was a waste of time to even talk about it. 

“One of the knights?” You echoed, reaching for something you didn’t know if you were confident enough to confront her about right as you unlaced the final part. Satoru stepped out of it with ease, her perfect body on display as she twisted back around to look over her shoulder at you. “Which one?” 

“Does it matter?” She scoffed, arching up an eyebrow, clearly unhappy with your question. 

But you still had one more left. 

“Why?” 

Her hesitation to answer gave you a different one. 

“You know as well as I do what he was like,” she said, a little too snappy as she squinted at you. 

But the moment the words were out there, you could see she regretted her response, her fingers skimming over your waist and squeezing you tenderly. “It’s all over now.” 

You stared at her. 

Satoru was lying to you. 

You didn’t know why it surprised you. Couldn’t explain why it left you so shocked, staring at her in silence as you struggled to find something to say that wouldn’t give away what you knew. 

“The knight was executed over night,” she added, your heart stilling as you realized the toll had risen to two. 

But could you be upset when the other option was one, or maybe both of you taking their place? 

“How did-” 

“He stole something of mine,” Satoru muttered, and you knew what must’ve happened without her offering anything else. 

She must have returned to her office first and realized her journal was gone.

And there were only two people she trusted enough to have access to the office it was kept in. 

So she pinned the blame on her knight and beheaded him before he could speak about any of its contents or piece together what she’d done for you. 

“He didn’t,” you breathed, your lungs shrinking as you struggled to get any more air in. 

One of you had to be honest here.

She blinked at you, not comprehending what you were saying. 

“What?” “It was me,” you admitted, stiffly shrugging your shoulders. “I saw him searching your office. And, I, um, took it and threw it in the hearth.” 

“You burned my-?” 

“I read it,” you swallowed hard, that hard lump still there, still choking you up as you avoided her stare. “Before. I know-” 

“No,” she cut you off, grabbing your chin and forcing you to tilt your face up to meet hers. “You, you were supposed to stay out of this.” 

You knew in an instant all she wanted was to protect you. To shield you from the nasty politics and petty games these awful people liked to play. 

But you couldn’t stand the idea of her doing anything at the expense of herself. 

“You should have told me from the start,” you insisted. “I-I would’ve-” 

“Your hands were supposed to be clean.” And your head empty. 

Did she think you wouldn’t have loved her if you knew what she had done? 

And now you had helped her conceal it. 

“We could have-” You started, about to tell her that as long as you were together, you could work out the rest. 

“If I told you before, you would have said there was another way,” Satoru solemnly said, her eyes narrowing as her fingers tightened around your wrist. 

You couldn’t really argue that. You would have said precisely that. Told her it was too risky. Tried to dissuade her from taking drastic measures and attempting to convince her to run away with you. 

You used to wish that the two of them would find a way to work it out. That you could find a happily ever after where everyone would get along. 

What would your reaction have been if she touched your face and told you that she was going to murder her husband? 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She pressed when you took too long to reply, her fingers pinching your chin to draw your attention back to right now. “I was not about to let you carry his child.” 

It wasn’t like you could have hers. 

Even if you’d do that in a heartbeat.

“He would have just kept putting babies in you and pushing me away from you” Satoru hissed, jealousy and anger rolling into her raw voice. “I couldn’t-” 

“I know,” you interrupted her this time, softening as you leaned into her.

“Now it’s just us again,” she whispered conspiratorially, pressing a clipped-short nail against the tip of your nose. 

How were you supposed to be mad about that? 

You held your breath though, still searching for anything that could stand in the way.

“These people, they are not going to just let you rule forever,” you whispered, thinking about what could befall both of you if her treason was ever discovered. Sure, she’d found someone to blame, but there must be other loose ends. Whoever she obtained the poison from. The subjects who never supported her as queen to start with. “If they find out or-” 

Satoru pressed her finger against your mouth, stopping you while you spiralled. 

“Princess,” she murmured, clicking her tongue as her initial emotions swirled into that cocky confidence of hers. Pride returning as she realized that you weren’t going to condemn or curse her, but that you were concerned for her. “Don’t you know me?” 

You hoped that meant she had already considered every side of your fear and took care of every conceivable problem. 

“I love you,” you offered instead, your voice trembling as you put your trust in her hands. 

“His throne is mine,” she smiled softly. And his concubine. 

“What if someone else challenges it?” You pressed. 

“There’s going to be a baby born with dark hair and purple eyes in a few months. His child. The mother doesn’t want the child, so I made a deal. She gets her own estate. We will get our heir,” She explained, speaking in short sentences like it would make the revelation easier to swallow. 

“Someone else was pregnant with his child?” You breathed, taken aback. 

When the fuck did he have the time to plow someone else’s field when he pretended to be so preoccupied with you? 

It was wrong, especially when it wasn’t like your heart had ever wanted him, but it wounded your own pride a little bit at the idea you hadn’t been enough for him.

You supposed you should’ve suspected it, if Satoru wasn’t enough for him either. 

“You weren’t his only-”

“Whore,” you finished for her, the word coming out a little strangled as you saw the situation for what it was. 

All you’d been was a warm body to Suguru. 

You were both disposable, to be used and discarded when his interests drifted. 

“We’ll tell everyone the baby is yours,” she added, as if she had already planned every last detail out. “And until the child is old enough, I can still rule as a regent.” 

Was that why she’d been hiding you away? 

Faking a pregnancy instead of keeping you prisoner? 

“Do you think they’ll accept a child they think is a bastard?” You asked, needing her to say yes. 

To assure you that your fears were unfounded. 

That she’d take care of you the same way she always had. 

“I will give them no other option.” 

When she spoke like that, that cold look icing over her eyes as she steeled her resolve, you knew she would. That she would do anything necessary to make sure of it.

“And what? We live happily ever after?” 

Say yes.

You needed it. Craved her confirmation. 

Looking up at her as your trembling fingers reached out to trace her waist, holding your breath as she nodded slowly. 

“Forever.” 

Your angel was standing in front of you promising you everything you ever wanted.

How were you ever meant to say no? 

Even if she would lead you straight to Hell. 

“You can be my queen,” Satoru murmured, giving you that pretty puppy dog pout you always fell for, placated as she leaned down to leave a soft kiss to your forehead like it was all settled.

Regret still lingering in your body as you ached to actually be that for her. Wishing your circumstances had been different from the beginning. 

That you were never cursed to be so far below her, and in the body of a woman that could never wear a matching ring or recite wedding vows to her. 

“I wish I was a-”  

“Do not,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “You are perfect precisely the way you are.” 

“Then why don’t you let me love you like you love me?” You asked, almost immediately annoyed at yourself for sounding a little whiney. 

But you wanted to be inside of her. 

To feel her squeeze and squirm around you, to hear her dissolve into messy whimpers and whines because of you. 

“W-what do you mean?” She stuttered, her white brows arching up high as her lips got stuck in the sort of ‘o’ that made you itch to slip your tongue inside of her. 

“I want to make you feel good,” you simply said, cheeks heating up as you swallowed the spit pooling in your mouth. 

You had never seen Satoru nervous before. 

Her mouth opened and clamped shut a few times before she started trying to ramble off reasons that she was better at giving, but you were sick of them. Sick of all the stupid things that had kept you apart. 

All the years you could’ve spent in her warmth that you missed out on. Mourning what both of your lives could’ve been if you were born as other people. 

But she had sworn you were enough for her. 

Was it wrong to want to show her how she was far more than enough for you? 

“I-I just like the way you taste and-” 

You kissed her mid-sentence, shutting her up before she could stall this any longer. 

Grabbing her this time, guiding her back to the bed one step at a time, tangling your fingers in her soft, silky hair as your tongue slipped past her lips, tracing the sharp tips of her canines until her back hit the mattress. 

And god, the moment you climbed on top of her, straddling her soft waist and pausing to peel your nightdress over your head, you hated yourself for not doing it sooner. 

For missing out on the view you were currently taking in, eyes slowly drifting over the swell of her breasts, the pink peaked buds of her nipples as she sucked in uneven breaths, staring up at you with those dazzling blue eyes. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, the words ripped from you as you struggled to keep yourself steady. 

It felt like you were defiling something holy. 

Her sacred body below you, your fingertips skimming over her pale stomach, swirling slowly across her nipple as you bit your bottom lip. 

If she was an altar, a god, you’d pray to her every day. 

Swear your faith and undying devotion, shower her with offerings and pray for just a sliver of her favor. 

You couldn't believe she was yours. 

“I’m a virgin,” Satoru suddenly blurted out, your fingers freezing as you drifted them back down below her belly button. 

“Oh,” you blinked. 

You suppose it should’ve been obvious. 

But you had never really thought too hard about it. 

You never exactly prized your virtue. But hers was different. 

Special. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You tentatively asked, about to climb back off of her before her hand gripped onto your hip to hold you there. 

“No,” she answered a little too quickly. 

So you came up with another solution to, ah, quell her nerves. 

The ribbons you used to tie her hair with now strewn all over the bed, a long one in your hands as you adjusted her head forward. 

“I’ll be gentle,” you promised. 

Even though she practically jumped at every tiny touch you delivered to her skin, shivering at just a brush of your thumb over her nipple and when you leaned close enough for your breath to ghost across her throat. 

You wrapped the ribbon around her eyes, excitement tingling between your fingers as you fixed the silk ribbon into its proper place, tying a pretty bow around the back, careful not to get her hair caught in it. 

“Can you see?” You asked, humming softly with satisfaction as you lifted her wrists up next, positioning them above her hair as she writhed in the sheets. 

“No,” she echoed, her voice shaking a little no matter how cocky she still tried to sound. 

“Good.” 

You tied her wrists next, watching the way she tested how strong the knot was by flexing them as you smiled to yourself. 

“You know, you’re so mean,” you murmured, tracing your fingertip across her sharp features, brushing your thumb over her defined cheekbones before drifting down to her soft lips. “It’s only fair I get to play with you too.” 

“I’m never mean to you,” Satoru huffed, and you were a little tempted to grab another ribbon and gag her with it for playing dumb. 

“I hate it when you hide things from me,” you muttered, shaking your head with a soft tut of your tongue. 

“I do it because-” 

“You love me?” You asked, slowly shuffling down her body, pressing kiss after kiss across her heaving breasts down her slender abdomen.

Hoisting one of her thighs over your shoulder, sucking in a breath before you leaned in to leave on the most sensitive spot on her body. 

“S-so much,” her cute voice cracked, nearly crumbling at the soft contact.

All her strength quickly melted into a puddle of pure need, her hips bucking up when you shifted down to start sucking on it, a gorgeous whimper escaping her – and immediately making you greedy for more. 

You never thought Satoru would be at your mercy. 

Her pretty pale body shivering, perfect skin glistening with sweat as she shuddered for you, her soft thighs trying to close around your head as you dragged your tongue down across her soaked cunt. 

You didn’t think anything could ever taste so goddamn good. 

No better than a man, wiggling your own hips down into the mattress to chase friction you couldn’t find, pushing your tongue in-and-out as her muscles twitched and tensed beneath your fingertips. 

Suguru had never gotten you half as wet as her. 

Never worked you up like this, left you soaked and squirming without even being touched. Your thighs pressing together to push down the heat stirring in your core, your pulse pounding so hard you nearly couldn’t hear her whining over it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I-I-” 

You knew Satoru loved to chatter. 

But once you were inside her it was like she physically couldn’t shut up, stammering and stuttering out curses, straining against the binds on her wrists and whining about not being able to see you. 

“P-please, wanna see you, want to, oh god,” she begged, the beautiful arch of her back nearly breaking your resolve as heat soared straight up to cloud your head. 

And before you could stop yourself, you were twisting around, angling your hips down to put your own pussy perfectly above her mouth, shutting her up by giving her something to lick and suck instead. 

“Oh, fuck, ngh-”

Her words traded in for another heated moan as she shoved her tongue inside you, swirling it in with a desperation you found yourself quick to succumb to. 

It really wasn’t fair that she was so good at everything you tried. 

But you still refused to completely lose yourself, working harder to make her cum first, slipping your thumb up to her clit, only pulling off to start cooing and condescendingly coaxing her into coming undone, copying the same methods she so expertly pulled on you. 

“C-come on,” you murmured, dragging your thumb in a slow circle as she shifted to suck on your clit just right, driving you right to the brink with her eagerness to give you everything she had. “Show me how much you love me.” 

Preferably by falling to pieces on your tongue. 

Sweat practically dripping off her, her moans reverberating through you as her body began to shake. On the very brink of breaking, pushed closer and closer as she started to cry out your name. 

Her soft voice was music to your ears, a soft purr that made all the knots in your stomach pull tight instead of making them curdle like Suguru’s sometimes had. 

You slipped your fingers inside her, feeling the way her walls squeezed down on them, trying to keep you in as you worked her oversensitive bud. She made a cute little squeak, her tongue lolling out as she began to babble again, “S’too much, I-I-” 

“Shhh,” you murmured, pressing your tongue down as she spasmed and whimpered desperately at the sensation. “Can’t you cum for me?” 

You glanced back over your shoulder to see the sight of her nodding hard and fast, the blindfold slightly crooked and her hands clawing at the pillow as she chased her climax. 

“Put that pretty tongue of yours to better use,” you softly suggested, ignoring the initial discomfort at your reversed roles as you grinded your hips down on her face. 

Apparently, your Toru could be a good listener too when she tried. 

Doing her best to devote her tongue to you right up until the moment she couldn’t hold herself together anymore, cumming with a cry into your clit as your fingers found a sweet spot right below her cervix, pressing on it as you teased her swollen bud with the tip of your own pink muscle.  

She was trembling, her legs twitching and toes curling as she let out devastated little whines that it wasn’t fair, squirming as you cleaned her up, enjoying the way she whimpered every single time your tongue dragged over her skin. 

You could spend eternity buried between her thighs. 

Or with hers between yours. 

So what if it might be too much to ask?

She would make the universe give it to you anyway. 

ε✿з

“My pretty princess.” 

And her not terribly ugly son. 

Satoru traced your face with her fingers, sighing to herself as the morning sun kissed your face, bathed you in beautiful warmth – oh, and the baby in your arms. Both of you snoozing softly, drool leaking out on your nightdress as you slept on your side, blissfully unaware of the outside world. 

You made a pretty mother. Loved the little bastard Satoru did her best to tolerate. 

Cradling an infant that neither of you had to carry, kissing his forehead and proudly showing him off to the other members of the court after he was born. 

He’d never know he wasn’t yours. No one would. 

Satoru would make sure of it. 

His mother had been more than happy to take the estate. Especially when she knew the alternative would be Satoru taking her tongue to ensure she’d never talk. 

She was still keeping tabs though. Just to be safe. 

To make sure that this happy little family of hers would stay that way. 

The nobles had protested. Insisted that she had no place as queen with Suguru dead. But his son, with his soft purple eyes and dark hair, well, that was enough to buy her eighteen more years. 

Of course, there were still whispers. 

Rumors swirled that she quickly snuffed out, either with quiet compensation or cold force. So what if a few more people had to be poisoned to protect your life together?

Rewriting history hadn’t been that hard. 

No one needed to remember how much she hated Suguru. Or how rocky the marriage had been. 

She got to be the mourning widow. The gracious wife still honoring her deceased husband by letting his bastard child be the heir. Raising him with a concubine instead of throwing both of them out. 

That was how she’d be remembered.

“Good morning,” you yawned, slowly cracking your eyes open as you smiled at her. 

“Sleep well?” She inquired, tempted to pick up the baby and place him back in his cradle so she could be cuddled instead. 

You still had nightmares sometimes. Ones where you’d thrash around and she’d have to scoop him up and call for a wet nurse to take him until morning. 

Waking you up to soothe you, stroking your hair and pretending not to know she was the reason for them. 

And yet, you looked at her like she hung the sun in the sky and shined bright enough to chase away all the shadows. To bury the skeletons somewhere you’d never see them. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, affectionately glancing between his chubby cheeks up to Satoru’s persistent pout as she puffed air into them. 

“Have any attention left for me?” She pleaded, craning her neck over them to dramatically wait for you to press a gentle kiss to her nose. 

“Always.” 

“You’re not feeling so good, baby?”

For a few days now, you’ve been feeling the tension resting within your boyfriend’s bones. There is no question to it; something’s been bothering him.

He looks like a scared puppy now. The way he’s sitting on his bed, fingers folded, looking down. “Speak up”, you ask again, concern written all over your face. You don’t want to intimidate him, but communication is very important to you. Has always been.

“It’s about… when we had Sex the other day”, Jake finally answers and he looks up into your eyes. Even when your boyfriend lets you take the lead in bed, he’s usually not that shy nor reserved, so at this point you’re really worried he’s upset about something.

“Yeah, what about it”, you ask. You remember that last time so vividly. It’s probably been then best sex you’ve ever had — does he not agree? He seemed to enjoy it, so what could he possibly be saying now?

“Aren’t you weirded out?” Jake looks at you fully vulnerable now, eyebrows furrowed and you’re not quite sure, but it even looks like he’s got tears in his eyes. Your pretty boy. Your hands are on his cheeks immediately as you begin to reassure him.

“Why would I be weirded out, baby? I loved it, you can believe me.”

But Jake shakes his head once again, nuzzling his cheek into your hands. He’s embarrassed and scared any of his friends would ever find out.

“Believe me”, you ask again but he doesn’t seem that convinced yet, so you slowly drop your hands and a thought crosses your mind. An idea at first, like a distant whisper in the back of your mind but the more you think about it, the more it starts to appeal to you.

If your words can’t convince him, your body will. Especially those beautiful tits of yours he’s so obsessed with.

Yes, you will fuck the insecurities right out of his system. The thought arouses you more than it should and before even proceeding with any actions, you already feel your core throbbing with heat. How could it not when Jake looks at you like that? Fully devoted. You feel empowered to say the least.

Jake is still sitting on his bed, watching you very carefully and you’re just there standing in his room, now taking a step back to look at him fully and more importantly: give him a full look at you. He can already see it in your eyes — he just knows you that well. You want him. Right now. His cheeks start to blush and he’s embarrassed by how fast his cock starts to twitch a little in his pants. It presses against his tightly fitted underwear, tip rubbing against it, just by seeing and recognising the look in your eyes.

“I want you to say it again”, you speak clearly, almost forcefully and Jake knows what it means. You wouldn’t back down no matter what.

“I cannot”, he attempts to protest but his words die in his throat when you start to take off your shirt, pulling it over your head, revealing your boobs that are tightly squeezed by your bra. It’s been bothering you all day.

“Say it again”, you repeat. Your hands sneak behind your back with elegance and you unhook the clips of your bra immediately. You don’t let any time go to waste and let it drop to the floor. Your tits are out, fully and large in the light of Jake’s bedroom. It takes his breath away immediately. He’s seen you naked so many times, but it has that same effect on him every single time. You’re unreal, you’re divine, he tells himself. And he’s blessed every time he’s allowed to see you, to touch you. To find himself between your legs, above or - usually- below you. He’s so in love with you, he’d do anything to please you, but this was something different. This was about his own pleasure, HIS desires.

“Y/n-“, he begins again, his painfully hardened dick now leaking precum and making a mess in his pants.

“Jake”, you interrupt him, “just say it again and I will let you suck on them all night.” You know it’s his weakness and he folds right away.

“Mommy.” There’s still some hesitation in the way the words slips his tongue, but it turns you on even more. You’re the one leaking juices now, your own juices dripping past your velvety folds. Your clit starts to swell, screaming, demanding to be touched. You press your legs together for some release, but it only makes things words. If you’d have it your way, you’d already be bouncing on his cock right now, but you want to reward him for being such a good boy for you.

“That’s it”, you praise him and you see the relief in his eyes. Jake is sitting up so straight it’s adorable. He’s waiting for your move; for you to act upon your promise and you do.

You walk over to him and he immediately reaches his hands out to you like a toddler reaching for his mother and you let him wrap them around your waist when you sit down on his lap, sideways. Your arms find their way around his neck with ease and you hold his head gently in your soft fingers. Jake looks up at you now, like he always does. He stares into your eyes as you nod to give him permission and it’s only then that his eyes start to wander down your neckline to your cleavage and then at your beautiful tits. The most perfect pair of tits he’s ever seen. Your nipples are hard and you gasp a little when he leans forward to press a kiss to each of them at first. He makes sure to continue to look into your eyes as he does that.

He looks so fucking hot you let out a quiet moan just from that view. His right hand reaches forward to grab one of them now. Squeezing it gently, massaging it with a passion only Jake has. His finger draws soft circles around your nipple and it makes you shiver. He would never leave your other boob unattended though, that’s why he immediately starts to wraps his soft and plump lips around it.

He starts sucking on your soft and bouncy skin, taking your tit into his mouth and circling his tongue around your nipple. He’s incredibly skilled at that. You start to rock your hips back and forth, grinding yourself on his legs and you throw your head back to gasp and moan and whimper into the emptiness of his room that soon fills with the heat of your bodies.

The vibrations of Jake’s own moans stimulate you even further until he pops your tit out of his mouth with a funny little sound that makes the two of you giggle for a moment. Then he presses yet another kiss to the nipple his tongue had just pleasures. Then he changes to focus his mouth to your other tit.

That’s when you reach forward and slowly unzip his pants. Jake immediately shrieks a little. Adorable, you think. He continues to suck at your tits, changing from one to the other, probably wishing he could devour them both at once but he can’t. You pull at his pants a little and you don’t have to pull them down a lot until his cock springs free, right into your hands. He’s rock hard and you love it. Your fingers naturally wrap around his length and Jake stops for a short moment.

“What—.. what are you doing?”, he whispers through hectic breaths and you snicker.

“I’m rewarding you for being such a good boy. Or are you not?”, you whisper to his lips that are so close to yours now. Your thumb starts running over his pink tip, coating it with his own precum, causing him to gasp against your lips even more that you kiss briefly.

“I am”, he answers in a broken voice.

“Oh?”, you reply in a warning one and Jake immediately understands what you want to hear, so he corrects himself:

“I am, mommy.”

You grin triumphantly as you start to jerk him off slowly.

“You’re what, baby?” You tease him now. Not only with your words but also with the way you’re moving your hand up and down at a painfully slow pace.

“I am your good boy, mommy.”, he finally says with no hesitation now, just like he’s said it the very first time. Jake doesn’t think about it in an embarrassed way anymore, but rather as something that turns the two of you on. He’s courageous today. He even starts buckling his hips up a little, fucking into your hand and you finally kiss him properly now as a reward.

Your lips and tongues entangle in a kiss so intense and passionate, it takes both your breaths away and Jake has a hard time keeping up with it and fucking your hand at the same time. You let him fuck your hand like that, just because it makes you think about all the ways he could fuck your cunt like that.

You meet his thrusts and increase the speed when your lips part from one another and he wraps them back around your tits. He starts to whimper again which turns you on even more.

“I’m … I’m going to.. cum soon, if you—" Jake’s muffled words die quickly on him which you find amusing. “Keep sucking those tits, baby. Since you’re such a good boy today, I’m going to let you cum on them.”.

Jake’s eyes widen now. You’ve never let him do that before and just the thought of it almost makes him nut on the spot and you feel it in the way his body is starting to cramp up underneath you.

That’s why you lift yourself from his lap to sit kneel before him — also something you’ve never done before and by that time, Jake’s eyes are almost jumping out of his head. He’s going to make the best out of this situation, he tells himself. Because he doesn’t take it for granted, he doesn’t even believe he’s ever going to be allowed to do that ever again; treating it like a once in a lifetime opportunity.

You’re looking up at him now. Your hand is still wrapped around his cock, moving it up and down, massaging his length as you jerk him off properly. Jake has stopped thrusting up now, handing the entire control, the pace, the rhythm all to you. Your eyes speak before your mouth can: begging for his cum. You’d rather have it melting on your tongue but you also know how much it’s going to drive your cute boyfriend crazy to see it coating your tits, running and dripping down your nipples.

You don’t even notice how your tongue is sticking out too, just slightly.

“Let go, baby. I know you want to. Be a good boy for mommy and cum all over my tits, just like that.”, you whisper in the most seductive, filthy voice, possessed by your own desire for release and the most unholy sounds your boyfriend is making. Jake’s eyes are completely shut for a moment, his jaw on the floor but then he forces himself to look at you again to not let a second of this view go to waste. And then he feels it rushing to him. At first, there’s the knot in his stomach, the tension and then — finally, release. His legs shake a little when his cum lands right where you wanted it to. Warm fluid on your tits and some of it lands on your tongue and chin. The salty taste on your lips is addictive and you swallow whatever you can, even licking your lips afterwards.

You finally start to massage him a bit slower and draw lazy circles over his tip that you press a gentle kiss to which makes Jake twitch once again from the overstimulation. His body is weak now - made out of jelly and all he wants is to drop back on his bed and focus on catching his breath again which he ultimately does.

That’s when you finally let go off his cock and chuckle a bit, but it’s hardly a sweet chuckle. No, Jake hears it right away: you’re not done with him yet. After all, what about yourself? There’s an orgasm he owes you and he knows after all those rewards, you’re not going to go easy on him. Oh, he already fears for his sore and still twitching cock, but that’s not what you had in mind at all.

He takes a second to catch his breath, then he looks up again to where you’re standing. You’ve taken off your pants now too and your underwear, core exposed as well. You look like a goddess, as always and if he weren’t so wasted from his own orgasm, he would get hard again at the spot. Your pussy is a dripping mess and while he can’t see it yet, he can picture it and it’s making him drool.

He doesn’t want to taste you - he needs to.

“You can say it.”, you smile at him and he smiles back as he says: “take a seat, please.” And he doesn’t have to tell you twice. Now you’re the one feeling a bit desperate, but you’ve been patient for far too long so you crawl over, right past his lap where his softened cock is still resting against his toned abs. Your core is perfectly aligned with his face now, smooth folds levelled with his eyes and Jake is already straining his neck, trying to kiss it but you wouldn’t let him just yet.

You want to take that sweet extra second of enjoying him yearning for your pussy, for your taste. He smells your womanhood, smells the sweetness of it and he sees now how wet you are. When Jake releases a desperate cry, a helpless whine, that’s when you finally lower your core onto his mouth and he receives you immediately with parted lips and a stuck out tongue.

Jake is a messy eater, has always been and you love nothing more than your boyfriend eating you out like it’s his last meal on earth. He’s so sloppy with it right from the beginning, as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing and just following his natural instincts like an animal. Just trying his best to collect every last drop of the sweet nectar you have to offer. He takes your folds into his mouth and sucks at them, just to plop them out of his mouth the next second. The sounds of it mix perfectly with your moans. Nothing has ever felt as amazing as this.

Then he takes his sweet time to focus on your clit. He loves to twirl his tongue around it, that skilled muscle of his. He knows exactly how you like it. Fast and messy kitten-licks all over the swollen, sensitive bud. Then he sucks at it too and he does all of it while keeping his eyes on you, studying your every reaction; the way you’re frowning, the way you’re throwing your head back and grabbing at your own tits to hold onto something. Your boobs look even better from under you, Jake thinks.

He knows that’s where his place is. Underneath you and he takes it very well.

His fingers sneak in between your legs to part your lips further so he can probably dive into your cunt fully now, your entrance, to get the juices right from the source. The sweetest sounds are escaping your mouth — contrasting the devilish smile on your face as you start to grind your cunt against your boyfriend’s pretty face, coating it chin to nose with your juices but Jake wants that. He needs that.

He’s doing his best, fucking you with his tongue but that’s not enough. You start riding his face now, chasing your own state of ecstasy and you can already feel what will turn out to be one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever felt nearing.

Poor Jake is so overwhelmed. He licks and sucks and he just looks so pretty doing it. If he could speak he would beg you to coat his face with your release but he can’t because he’s busy trying to catch his breath with your pussy pressed on his face.

The only thing he manages to gasp out inbetween heavy breathing is the one sentence that ultimately sends you over the edge.

“Please, cum for me mommy — need you — need that..— please cum all over my face.”

You let go, fully. And oh, you do cum on his face. Waves of those juices he’s so addicted to come splashing out of you, wetting his face and his sheets but neither of you care.

And even though you’re basically drowning him in your release, he’s still eagerly lapping at your cunt and sucking at your clit as if he’s trying to suck it out of you.

“Jakey—“, you hiccup between cries of joy and it makes him snicker against your swollen, overstimulated clit. He giggles so cutely which sends even more vibration to your sensitive core. It’s so overstimulating, you have to remove yourself from him at last and now there’s only the look of your boyfriend sending you over the edge once again.

His lips are swollen from how hardly you’ve ground yourself against it and his chin is still dripping your cum. He licks at his lips now, devouring the last drop with desperation and he’s wearing the happiest little-boy smile. Like he was just allowed to rob a candy store.

You cup his chin with your hand and pull him into a gentle kiss now and taste yourself on his lips. The sweetness of your own juices.

“That was fucking amazing”, he speaks against your lips with so much love it makes you giggle.

“It was, baby. And I hope you finally know there’s nothing you need to be ashamed of. Especially not this because I love it.”, you reassure him once again and now, finally, it seems like it’s getting through. There’s relief and there’s trust in his eyes and it satisfies you more than the orgasm he just gave you.

You’re both still breathing heavily. The lack of oxygen is still weighing down on Jake’s head but he truly couldn’t care less. If he ever dies from suffocation in such scenario, he’d die a happy man, he thinks and laughs at his own thoughts.

It takes quite a while for the two of you to be able to stand up again and when you do, you hit the shower almost right away. And you’re pressed against the bathroom wall, one leg lifted with your boyfriend’s bare cock buried deep inside of you, thrusting inside as you’re kissing the lips that have just been abused by your cunt, before even getting to the first round of shampoo.

—

I wanted to thank everyone who’s been so supportive of the first part to this hehe.

I hope you liked part 2!

"maybe if you actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be in this mess!" your mom retorted, arms crossed, glaring at your dad from the passenger seat.

you resisted the urge to groan out loud and instead slumped back in your seat. what was the point? nothing ever changed between them. you glanced down at your phone; no service, of course. this road trip to the ‘resort’ was supposed to be a goodbye vacation before you headed overseas, but the way things were going, you were counting the hours until it was over.

the car began to slow down as your dad pulled into a shabby gas station. it wasn’t much—a couple of pumps under flickering neon lights and a small convenience store that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the early 2000s.

“we’re stopping here?” your mom said, exasperated. “this place looks like it’s one step away from falling apart.”

“we need gas and food. you can’t survive on passive-aggressive comments alone,” your dad muttered, turning the car off and stepping out.

you stifled a laugh but quickly hid it when your mom shot you a look. without a word, you pushed the door open, desperate for a break from their constant bickering. you could feel their voices rising behind you as you made your way towards the store, the bell over the door jingling weakly as you stepped inside.

the guy behind the counter looked about your age, his face illuminated by the dull glow of a hanging light. his disinterested gaze shifted from the magazine he was reading to you as you approached. the store smelled like stale chips and cheap air freshener, a layer of dust coating the shelves.

“hey,” you greeted, leaning against the counter, “do you know if there are any motels up ahead?”

the guy looked up, raising an eyebrow as if the question itself was a bother. he glanced at the darkening sky outside and then back at you. "motels? there’s a town maybe three or four hours ahead. not much else between here and there, though."

you frowned. “three or four hours?” your stomach twisted. that would mean driving into the night—and with your parents still at each other’s throats, the idea didn’t sit well with you.

“yeah,” he shrugged, “but it’s getting late. if i were you, i’d try to get there quick. you don’t wanna be out here after dark.”

his tone sent a shiver down your spine, but you nodded anyway, brushing it off. you grabbed a couple of snacks and paid quickly, eager to get out of the unsettling atmosphere of the store.

outside, the bickering had not only continued, but it had escalated. your mom was leaning against the car with her arms crossed, while your dad angrily fumbled with the gas pump.

“what do you mean it’s not taking the card?” your mom was saying, her voice sharp with irritation.

“i don’t know! maybe it’s your stupid card,” your dad shot back, slamming the pump back into its holder.

you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. wordlessly, you tossed the snacks into the backseat and climbed in, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. you didn’t want to deal with their drama anymore. after a few more minutes of back-and-forth arguing, they finally got the gas pump working, and soon, you were back on the road.

the silence in the car was thick, broken only by the occasional sigh or muttered insult from the front seat. you kept your gaze fixed on the road ahead, trying to tune it all out, when suddenly the car began to sputter.

your dad’s face tightened as the car jerked, the dashboard lights flickering. “what the—?”

with a final shudder, the car rolled to a stop, dead on the side of a long, deserted road. darkness had fully settled around you, swallowing the car in a sea of black. you could barely make out the outline of the trees surrounding you, their twisted branches reaching up like claws against the sky.

“great,” your mom groaned, massaging her temples. “just perfect.”

your dad cursed under his breath and got out to pop the hood, leaving you and your mom in the eerie silence of the car. you sighed, reluctantly stepping out to help. you had no idea what you were doing, but sitting in the car doing nothing felt worse.

as you peered under the hood with your dad, who was muttering to himself as he checked the engine, your mom’s voice suddenly cut through the night air.

“look!” she said, her voice urgent. “there—do you see those lights?”

you looked up, squinting into the distance. sure enough, faint lights were flickering between the trees far ahead, barely visible but unmistakable.

a chill ran down your spine. you’d been looking at the gps not too long ago, and there hadn’t been any signs of life for miles. no towns. no houses. nothing.

“something’s not right,” you muttered, turning toward your dad. “there was nothing out here when i checked earlier.”

your dad waved you off, closing the hood with a loud bang. “you’re just tired. we’ll check it out. maybe there’s a house or something up ahead.”

your mom was already back in the car, apparently unconcerned. you stood there for a moment, staring at the mysterious lights that flickered in the distance. something about them felt… off, but as usual, no one was listening to you. with a groan of frustration, you climbed back into the car, your nerves tingling with unease.

the engine sputtered weakly to life once again, and as your dad drove toward the lights, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was waiting for you up ahead wasn’t what you thought it was.

the car stuttered one last time before it gave up entirely, coming to a dead stop right in front of the lights. you blinked, heart racing as you took in the sight before you.

a mansion—no, the mansion—rose out of the darkness like something from an old gothic novel. the sprawling, ivy-clad structure stretched far beyond what you could make out in the dim light, its towers stabbing into the sky. faded stone gargoyles leered down from the corners of the building, their grim faces illuminated by the faint, flickering lamps that lined the driveway. the mansion seemed alive, ancient, its very presence looming over you like a dark shadow. it was eerily silent, save for the wind that whistled through the trees surrounding it.

for a second, you couldn’t breathe.

you swallowed hard. “this can’t be real.”

your dad got out of the car first, slamming the door shut with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “we’ll figure out the car in the morning,” he grumbled. “we don’t have a choice. let’s see if they’ll let us stay.”

your mom, already out of the car and standing beside him, nodded in agreement. she didn’t even look fazed, just happy to be somewhere with lights and (hopefully) a bed. “come on, it’s late,” she said, like she hadn’t noticed the eerie silence hanging in the air or the fact that this place seemed plucked out of another century.

“are you serious?” you muttered under your breath, standing frozen next to the car. “this place looks like a horror movie set.”

your dad gave you a weary look. “we’re not staying in the car, that’s for sure. stop being dramatic and come on. it’s just a mansion.”

just a mansion? you wanted to scream. there was no way this was a normal place—no way a mansion this large, this old, could have gone unnoticed on the gps. but the protests died in your throat when you realised neither of them cared. like always, they were too focused on practicalities to notice the screaming red flags around them.

with a sigh, you unwillingly followed them up the cracked stone steps that led to the massive, elaborately carved front doors. every footstep echoed, the wind seeming to still as you approached the entrance. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, like a pair of invisible eyes followed your every movement.

your dad pressed the doorbell—a soft chime rang out, sounding way too delicate for a place like this. you couldn’t help but wince, your nerves on edge. the silence that followed stretched on, thick and suffocating. it felt as though the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting.

then, slowly, the door creaked open.

a young man stood in the doorway, his face illuminated by the warm glow of a chandelier behind him. his expression was neutral, almost blank, as if he had opened the door purely out of obligation. he was dressed impeccably, a sharp black tuxedo that seemed far too formal for a place like this—or maybe it was just perfect for this kind of mansion. either way, it unnerved you.

his eyes swept over your parents first, taking in their travel-worn appearance with little interest. “hello?” your dad started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “we, uh… we had some car trouble just outside. we were hoping… maybe you could help us?”

for a moment, the man—sunoo, as you’d later learn—didn’t say anything. he simply stood there, watching your parents with a blank face, like he was waiting for them to say something more interesting. his eyes flicked up to yours, and the world seemed to tilt slightly as his gaze met yours.

it was only for a second—just a fleeting moment—but something shifted in his expression. his cold, neutral stare melted into something… darker, more intrigued. a spark of something flashed in his eyes before his face returned to its impassive mask. the brief change left you rattled, a chill creeping up your spine.

your mom jumped in to break the awkward silence, her voice bright despite the situation. “yes, we’ve been driving for hours, and when our car broke down, we were hoping to find a place to stay. is this…” she glanced up at the looming mansion, almost sheepishly. “is this a hotel?”

there was a brief pause, and then, without warning, sunoo’s face split into the widest, most overenthusiastic grin you’d ever seen. it was such a drastic change from his earlier demeanour that it made your skin crawl. “oh, of course! you’ve come to the right place. this is a hotel, and you’re more than welcome to stay.” he extended an arm, gesturing grandly to the vast, dimly lit entryway behind him. “we have plenty of rooms available!”

your dad exhaled in relief, completely missing the oddity of sunoo’s exaggerated reaction. “thank god. you’re a lifesaver.”

you couldn’t stop staring at sunoo, watching the way his smile stretched just a little too wide, the way his eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite right. “this is a hotel?” you asked, voice filled with scepticism. “i didn’t see anything about it on the gps.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked back to you, and the unsettling smile never left his face. “oh? how strange. we’ve been here for a long time… surely, you must have heard about it.”

“no,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes. “i’m sure. there was nothing around here.”

just as you were about to explain further, he smoothly cut you off with a bright, “well, no matter! you’re here now, and that’s what counts. come, come! let’s not waste any more time standing out in the cold.”

he practically ushered your parents through the doorway, his sudden energy making you want to take a step back. your dad muttered a quick “thank you” and walked right inside, your mom following closely behind. neither of them seemed to notice the way sunoo’s cheerful demeanour seemed… off.

you, however, couldn’t ignore the gnawing discomfort twisting in your gut. every instinct screamed at you to leave, to drag your parents back to the car, but the reality of your situation left you with little choice. sighing in frustration, you reluctantly followed them into the mansion.

the door shut behind you with an ominous thud that echoed through the long hallway, and the heavy weight of the mansion seemed to settle around you. you felt trapped, as if stepping into this place had sealed your fate.

as sunoo led your parents through the dimly lit entry hall, you lagged behind, your skin prickling with unease. you leaned toward your mom, lowering your voice to a whisper. “this is creepy. something’s not right about this place.”

she barely spared you a glance. “you’re being paranoid. it’s just an old mansion.”

“an old mansion that no one’s ever heard of? that wasn’t on the map? you didn’t see the way that guy was acting. he’s way too happy about us being stranded here.”

your dad huffed, clearly having reached the end of his patience. “it’s a hotel. we need a place to stay, and we don’t have any other options. you can sleep in the car if you’re that worried.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back the rest of your protests. of course, they wouldn’t listen. they never did. they couldn’t see the danger right in front of them.

as you followed your parents deeper into the mansion, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. the walls seemed to close in around you, and every footstep echoed like a warning.

something was wrong here. you knew it. you could feel it in your bones.

sunoo led your parents away, gesturing toward a desk where they could check in. you lingered behind, reluctant to follow them. the dimly lit hallway stretched before you, lined with dark wood panelling and framed with ornate carvings. despite the grandeur of the place, there was an eerie stillness that seemed to swallow every sound. no humming of guests, no distant chatter, no echoes of footsteps on marble floors—just a vast, consuming silence.

you slowly started walking, glancing around, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling crawling up your spine. for a hotel this size, it should have been bustling with activity. yet, there was no one. not a single person walking through the hallways, no staff except sunoo at the entrance. just the soft padding of your own footsteps, echoing like whispers through the still air.

as you turned a corner, your eyes landed on a giant painting mounted on the wall. you stopped in your tracks, something about it tugging at your mind. the painting depicted a dark, stormy landscape—a crumbling stone mansion, much like the one you stood in now, surrounded by leafless trees that seemed to reach out toward it like skeletal hands. the sky above was swirling with ominous clouds, and a full moon cast a pale, ghostly glow on the scene.

but it wasn’t just the image itself that made your skin crawl—it was the strange feeling of familiarity. you couldn’t shake the sensation that you’d seen this before, as though it was pulled from the corners of a forgotten memory. a knot formed in your chest as you stared, lost in thought. where have you seen this before?

suddenly, a voice, smooth as silk, broke through your thoughts.

“interesting, isn’t it?”

you jumped, your heart leaping into your throat as you spun around. standing behind you was a man, and not just any man—he was stunningly handsome. his dark hair was neatly styled, framing a face that could’ve been carved from marble. his suit, a luxurious black ensemble that fit him perfectly, was undeniably expensive. 

but what struck you most were his eyes—wide and dark, locked on yours with an intensity that sent a flush of heat creeping up your neck.

“i'm sorry,” he broke out into a soft laugh as he took a step back. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”

his voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, but he paused mid-sentence when his gaze landed squarely on your face. his eyes seemed to freeze there, widening slightly as if he were studying every detail. a look of surprise, or maybe recognition, flashed across his face for just a moment before he quickly composed himself. but the intensity in his stare remained, his eyes never leaving yours.

you felt a wave of flustered heat rise to your cheeks under his gaze. he wasn’t just looking at you—he was seeing you, like you were the only person in the world. the weight of his attention made you feel strangely vulnerable, your pulse quickening in response.

you cleared your throat, trying to shake off the sudden rush of nerves. “uh… it’s fine,” you mumbled. “you just startled me.”

he blinked, as if snapping out of whatever trance had held him. a slow, charming smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “i’m heeseung,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. “the owner of this mansion.”

“the owner?” you echoed, taken aback. “wow. i… i wasn’t expecting to meet the owner so soon.”

he smiled again, a soft, enigmatic grin that sent another wave of unease down your spine. “i like to keep close to my guests. this place… it’s very special to me.”

you tried to return his smile but faltered slightly, still unsettled by how intently he was watching you. “i’m—” you began, but before you could introduce yourself, your parents’ voices echoed down the hall.

“there you are!” your dad called, striding over to where you stood with heeseung. your mom followed closely behind, oblivious to the awkward tension in the air. “we were just getting checked in.”

you barely had time to react before your dad turned to heeseung, giving him a polite nod. “this is the owner of the mansion,” you quickly explained, introducing him. “heeseung.”

your parents seemed relieved to meet someone in charge, especially after the ordeal with the car. “oh, thank you so much for accommodating us on such short notice,” your mom said with a grateful smile. “our car broke down just outside, and we didn’t know what else to do.”

you shot a glance at your parents, your eyes widening in warning. why are they telling him that? you thought in frustration. it wasn’t exactly the kind of information you wanted to share so freely—especially not in a place like this, with a stranger who gave off such unsettling vibes.

heeseung’s smile widened at your parents’ words, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was far too pleased to hear about your vulnerability. “no need to worry,” he said smoothly, his gaze briefly flicking back to you before focusing on your parents. “i’ll make sure your car is taken care of. i’ll have it sent for repairs tonight.”

“really?” your dad sounded relieved. “that’s incredibly generous. thank you.”

heeseung waved a hand dismissively. “it’s no trouble at all. you’re my guests now.” he paused, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “i’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

you swallowed hard, fighting back the gnawing sense of dread as you all started heading down the hallway. the mansion seemed to stretch on forever, with countless doors and long, winding corridors. despite the size, heeseung explained that most rooms were booked, which meant you would be in a room far from your parents.

your room was tucked away in one of the mansion’s oldest wings, a beautifully vintage suite with antique furniture and intricate wallpaper. the four-poster bed was draped in elegant, embroidered sheets, and the room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of a chandelier. it was charming, old-fashioned, and just a little too perfect. the type of room that might seem cosy under normal circumstances but felt unnervingly isolated in this mansion.

after settling in, you reached for your phone, hoping to check for updates on the car—or anything, really—but your frown deepened when you realised there were no charging ports in the room. none at all. you glanced around, frustrated, searching for a way to charge your phone, but there was nothing modern about this place. to make matters worse, your phone had no cell reception. it was like the mansion existed in its own bubble, cut off from the rest of the world.

letting out an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone onto the nightstand. looks like you’d have to borrow your dad’s power bank later. you were exhausted, but the nagging feeling of unease wouldn’t let you relax. after changing into your nightwear, you slipped under the heavy, ornate blankets, hoping that sleep would take over soon.

but as you lay in bed, staring up at the dark canopy above, you couldn’t help but feel that something—someone—was watching you.

you lay in bed, the warmth of the heavy blankets doing little to ease the chill that seemed to settle deep in your bones. the eerie silence stretched on, the only sound the faint rustling of the curtains as a gentle breeze swept in from the cracked window. you hadn't noticed it was open before.

rolling onto your side, you glanced at your phone again. still no reception. it felt like you were completely cut off from the world, alone in this strange, sprawling mansion with no way to communicate with the outside. the feeling gnawed at you, a strange mix of frustration and unease swirling in your chest.

the longer you lay there, the more restless you became. every creak of the floorboards, every shift of the wind seemed to amplify the unsettling atmosphere around you. the chandelier overhead swayed gently, casting shifting shadows across the walls. you closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, telling yourself it was just a normal hotel. nothing weird, nothing out of the ordinary—just a quirky, old-fashioned place.

but the image of heeseung’s face kept creeping into your mind. the way his gaze lingered on you, intense and unreadable, like he was seeing something in you that no one else did. something about him felt off, not just unsettling but almost too perfect, too polished, as if he didn’t quite belong in a place like this.

eventually, the exhaustion started to pull you toward sleep. just as your mind began to blur at the edges, a soft sound reached your ears. a whisper. faint but unmistakable. you bolted upright in bed, eyes wide, heart hammering in your chest as you strained to hear.

at first, you thought it was the wind. but no, it wasn’t coming from outside—it was closer, much closer. the sound seemed to echo from just beyond your door, like soft voices carrying on a conversation, too low for you to make out the words. your skin prickled with unease.

you pushed back the blankets and slipped out of bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor. the mansion felt even more imposing in the darkness, the once quaint vintage charm now taking on a more sinister tone. stepping cautiously, you moved toward the door, pressing your ear against it, listening.

nothing.

the whispering had stopped.

you hesitated for a moment, hand hovering over the doorknob, debating whether you should open it. it’s just your imagination, you told yourself. you’re tired. you're in a creepy place. it’s normal to feel a little on edge.

but your curiosity—and the nagging sense of something being very wrong—won out. slowly, you turned the knob, the door creaking as it swung open into the dark hallway. the air was colder out here, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible scent of something sweet—like roses that had been left too long in the vase, just starting to wilt.

the hallway stretched out in both directions, the same eerie silence blanketing the mansion. no voices, no footsteps. nothing. but your eyes caught on something—the flickering light at the far end of the hall. the soft glow of a single candle, perched on a small table near one of the old-fashioned sitting areas.

you frowned. that candle hadn’t been lit earlier.

carefully, you padded down the hallway toward the light. as you got closer, you noticed something strange—the candle’s flame wasn’t moving. it stayed perfectly still, not even flickering despite the faint breeze you felt coming from the windows. it was almost like it wasn’t real.

just as you were about to reach it, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

you gasped, taking a step back, but quickly realised who it was.

heeseung stood before you, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the hallway. his suit was immaculate as before, not a single wrinkle out of place, and his expression was calm—too calm. he smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, though it sent a shiver down your spine.

you hesitated, your mind racing with questions. why was he here? why wasn’t there anyone else around? but instead, you forced a tight smile, trying to appear composed. “yeah, i guess… this place is just a little unsettling.”

heeseung tilted his head slightly, his gaze once again holding that unnerving intensity. “you’re not the first to say that. old places like this tend to… hold onto things. memories. feelings.” his words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken meaning.

you swallowed, the unease bubbling up again. “it’s just… weird that there’s no one else around. for such a big hotel, it’s completely empty.”

heeseung’s smile widened, but there was something off about it. “most guests prefer the quiet. it allows them to reflect, to... feel things they’ve long forgotten.”

there it was again—that cryptic, almost too-perfect way of speaking. it made your skin crawl.

“well,” you said, your voice a little shakier than you intended, “i think i’ll head back to my room now. it’s late.”

as you turned to leave, heeseung reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. the contact sent a jolt through you, though his touch was oddly cold. you froze, glancing back at him.

“there’s no need to be afraid,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “you’re safe here. i’ll make sure of it.”

the way he said those words—like a promise—sent another shiver down your spine. you forced a nod, pulling your arm away gently and stepping back. “thanks,” you mumbled, backing away from him.

heeseung watched you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable before he finally stepped aside, allowing you to retreat to your room.

once you were safely inside, you shut the door firmly behind you, heart still pounding in your chest. the mansion was far too quiet again, but this time it felt suffocating. something wasn’t right here, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

you climbed back into bed, but sleep didn’t come easily. every sound, every shadow seemed to hold something sinister. and you couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, in this sprawling, empty mansion, heeseung was watching. waiting.

the next morning, you were roused from sleep by a soft knock at your door. groggy and still heavy with sleep, you sat up, rubbing your eyes as the knocking continued, more insistent this time.

“coming,” you mumbled, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. you padded across the room, and when you opened the door, you found your mom standing there, a tired smile on her face.

“good morning, honey. they’ve called us for breakfast downstairs,” she said, her voice chipper despite the early hour. “you should hurry and get ready. we don’t want to be late.”

you nodded, stifling a yawn. “okay, i’ll be down in a minute.”

she gave you a small smile and headed back down the hallway. you shut the door and took a moment to shake off the lingering unease from the night before. the encounter with heeseung had left a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the mansion’s eerie stillness hadn’t done much to help. but this morning was different, right? it was daylight now, and everything felt less intimidating in the warm morning light streaming through the window.

you quickly got dressed, choosing something comfortable yet presentable. once you were ready, you stepped out into the hallway, glancing left and right. your mom hadn’t mentioned where the dining hall was, and you realised you had no idea how to find it. the mansion’s labyrinthine corridors all looked the same—long stretches of dark wood panelling and ornate furniture that seemed to belong to a different century.

with a sigh, you started walking, hoping you’d stumble upon it. as you rounded a corner, you nearly bumped into someone. you gasped, pulling back just in time, and looked up to find heeseung standing before you, a charming smile on his face.

“good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and soft. “i see you’re trying to find your way to breakfast?”

you nodded, trying to keep your tone neutral. “yeah, i’m not sure where the dining hall is.”

heeseung’s smile widened slightly. “no problem. i’m heading there myself. we can go together.”

you hesitated for a moment but nodded, falling into step beside him as he led the way. the hallway felt even longer with him by your side, his presence both unsettling and magnetic. he walked with an easy grace, like he belonged in a place like this, and yet something about him still made your skin prickle with unease.

“so,” he began after a few moments of silence, “you mentioned last night that you’re on a family vacation? that sounds lovely.”

you nodded, keeping your answers short. “yeah, just a road trip before i leave for university.”

“ah, university. where are you headed?”

“exchange program. i’ll be gone for two years,” you answered curtly, trying not to give too much away.

heeseung hummed thoughtfully. “that’s quite a long time. your parents must be proud—and a bit sad, i imagine.”

you shrugged, glancing away. “i guess.”

he let the silence stretch for a moment, and you could feel his eyes on you, studying you in that same intense way he had the night before. it was like he was trying to figure you out, peel back layers you didn’t even know you had. you kept your gaze forward, determined not to let him get under your skin.

finally, you reached the dining hall. heeseung pushed open the large double doors, and you stepped inside, immediately taking in the scene. the room was vast, grand in an old-world kind of way, with high ceilings and walls lined with towering windows draped in heavy velvet curtains. a long dining table dominated the centre of the room, stretching almost the entire length of the hall. the table was covered with a pristine white cloth, and an array of silverware was laid out with meticulous precision.

but what struck you most was how empty it was.

apart from your parents, who sat at one end of the long table, there was no one else. the chairs were all perfectly arranged, as if waiting for guests who had yet to arrive. but the eerie thing was, it felt like no one would arrive. the silence in the room only amplified the emptiness.

you frowned, glancing over at heeseung as he escorted you to the table. “where is everyone?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “this place is huge, but... it’s like there’s no one else here.”

heeseung’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—something almost too quick to catch. “most of our guests prefer to have breakfast very early,” he explained smoothly. “they’re probably already off enjoying the grounds or have checked out. i typically have my breakfast after the guests. but since you’re a bit late this morning, i thought it would be nice to join you.”

you stared at him for a moment, trying to read between the lines of his carefully chosen words. it didn’t quite add up. the mansion had felt empty from the moment you’d arrived, and now, seeing this massive dining hall with only your family in it, that feeling only intensified. still, you didn’t press further. instead, you forced a small smile and nodded, going along with his explanation for now.

your parents, seemingly unaware of the strange atmosphere, smiled as you took a seat next to them. “this place is incredible, isn’t it?” your mom said, her eyes sparkling as she looked around the room. “i can’t believe how lucky we were to find it.”

you tried to match her enthusiasm, but something about this whole situation still felt off. the room, the empty table, heeseung’s unsettling politeness—it all gnawed at the back of your mind, a whisper of warning you couldn’t quite shake.

breakfast was laid out in a lavish spread, far more than the three of you could possibly eat. there were plates of fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and other delicacies you couldn’t even name. everything was prepared with a level of care and detail that felt almost excessive. you glanced at heeseung, who sat at the head of the table, watching your family with that same, unreadable smile.

he gestured toward the food. “please, help yourselves. i had the chef prepare a little bit of everything.”

your dad wasted no time digging in, clearly impressed by the spread. your mom followed suit, smiling warmly at heeseung as she complimented the food. you, on the other hand, hesitated, your appetite dulled by the nagging sense of something not quite right.

as you picked at your plate, you caught heeseung’s eyes on you again, his gaze sharp, studying, as if waiting for something. the way he watched you—so intently—made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the empty chairs, the empty mansion, you weren’t alone.

as you carefully picked at your food, trying to ignore the unnerving atmosphere, your dad set down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. he turned to heeseung with a casual smile, though you could see the underlying hint of concern in his eyes.

“so,” your dad began, “any idea how long it’ll take for the car to be repaired? we’d like to get back on the road as soon as possible.”

heeseung, ever the picture of politeness, gave a reassuring smile, leaning back in his chair with ease. “not to worry, sir. the mechanic i contacted is very efficient. the car should be ready by this afternoon, if not sooner. you’ll be on your way in no time.”

your dad seemed relieved, nodding. “that’s great to hear. we were worried we’d be stuck out here for too long.”

heeseung’s smile widened slightly, though there was a strange glint in his eyes as he said, “we’d never dream of keeping you longer than necessary. but please, take your time enjoying our hospitality.”

you glanced up at him, something about his choice of words sending a ripple of discomfort through you. there was something about the way he spoke, always so measured, so... calculated. it was as if every word was carefully chosen for some hidden purpose. you couldn’t help but wonder what he really meant by that.

your parents finished their meals before you and heeseung, having arrived earlier to start breakfast. as they wiped their hands and prepared to stand, sunoo appeared at the door. his arrival was quiet, almost too quiet, and you hadn’t noticed him until he stepped into the room. he was dressed just as impeccably as before, his tuxedo crisp and perfect, but there was something off about his overly cheerful demeanour.

“if you’d like,” sunoo began, his eyes bright and a bit too wide, “i’d be happy to give you a tour of the gardens while you wait for the car. they’re lovely this time of year.”

your mom’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “oh, that sounds wonderful! what do you think, dear?” she asked your dad, who nodded in agreement.

“sure, why not? it’ll be nice to stretch our legs a bit.”

you watched as your parents exchanged smiles with sunoo, who beckoned them toward the door with a dramatic sweep of his arm. but your heart sank as you realised what this meant—your parents were leaving, and you were about to be left alone with heeseung.

before you could even offer to join them, sunoo ushered them out of the dining hall with a smile. “we’ll take our time, don’t worry! you two enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”

the door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving you sitting at the grand dining table, the echo of their footsteps fading into the distance.

and then it was just you.

and heeseung.

the silence stretched between you like a chasm, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. you tried to focus on your food, but the air felt thicker now, charged with an unsettling energy that made it hard to swallow. you could feel his eyes on you, studying you again with that same, intense scrutiny that had left you uneasy from the moment you arrived.

you kept your gaze fixed on your plate, hoping that if you didn’t look at him, he might just lose interest. but you could still sense his presence, feel the way his attention never wavered.

“you’re not eating much,” heeseung remarked, breaking the silence, his voice smooth and deceptively casual. “is the food not to your liking?”

his tone was polite, but there was a subtle edge to it that made you feel like the wrong answer could mean something more than just criticism. you forced a small smile, shaking your head.

“no, it’s fine. i’m just not that hungry.”

heeseung leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. “you seem... uncomfortable,” he said softly, his words hanging in the air. “is something bothering you?”

your pulse quickened. the way he asked the question, so calm and controlled, made you feel like he already knew the answer. like he was testing you, waiting to see how you’d respond. you didn’t want to give him any more reason to focus on you than he already had.

“no,” you replied, your voice a little too quick. “it’s just... a lot to take in. this place is... different.”

heeseung’s lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “different can be good,” he said, his eyes glittering with something you couldn’t quite place. “sometimes it’s the unexpected that makes an experience truly memorable.”

you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the strange tension between you growing heavier by the second. there was something almost predatory in the way he watched you, like he was waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

“i suppose,” you muttered, pushing your food around your plate. “i guess i’m just not used to places like this.”

heeseung chuckled softly, the sound low and almost dangerous. “not many people are.”

another silence fell between you, thick and uncomfortable. you could hear the faint ticking of a distant clock, the only sound breaking the stillness of the room. you glanced toward the door, half-hoping sunoo and your parents would return sooner rather than later, but there was no sign of them.

heeseung’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his tone soft but insistent. “you didn’t seem very interested in the history of the mansion last night,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on you. “but if you’d like, i could tell you a little more about it now. it has... quite the past.”

your throat tightened at his words. part of you wanted to refuse, to keep the conversation as shallow and short as possible, but another part of you couldn’t help but be curious. what kind of history could a place like this have? why did it feel like there was something dark lurking beneath the surface?

you hesitated, your fingers gripping your fork a little too tightly. “sure,” you said quietly, against your better judgement. “i’d like to hear about it.”

heeseung’s smile widened, a slow, almost sinister curl to his lips as he leaned forward again, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous kind of interest.

“good,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “because there’s so much for you to learn.”

heeseung’s words seemed to echo in the cavernous dining hall, each syllable hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on your chest. you shifted in your seat, suddenly aware of how isolated you were from everyone else. your parents were somewhere outside, wandering the sprawling gardens with sunoo, oblivious to the tension brewing in this room. and you were here—alone with heeseung, who was studying you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

he leaned back in his chair, a slow, deliberate movement, his eyes never leaving yours. “this mansion has a long history,” he began, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. “it’s been standing for centuries, long before this area became what it is now.”

you swallowed, trying to keep your unease from showing. “centuries? that’s... impressive.”

heeseung nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of his plate in a casual, almost absent-minded way. “impressive, yes. but also... haunted by its past.” his eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite place. “you see, many who come here find themselves drawn in by the allure of the unknown. they come seeking something different, something unique. and often, they find more than they bargained for.”

you felt a chill run down your spine. the way he spoke—so calm, so composed—made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. it was as if he was telling you a story he had told many times before, one with a punchline you wouldn’t like.

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm. you didn’t want to seem rattled, even though you were starting to feel like the walls were closing in around you.

heeseung’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “let’s just say this mansion has a way of revealing things... about the people who stay here. things they may not even realise about themselves.”

your pulse quickened. “that sounds a little ominous.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound soft and unsettling. “it’s not meant to be. it’s just... the nature of this place. it has a way of bringing the truth to the surface. you’ll see, in time.”

you didn’t like the way he said that, as if you were going to be here long enough for the mansion to work its mysterious magic on you. you were only supposed to stay until the car was fixed, and then you and your family would be gone. the thought of staying here any longer than necessary made your stomach churn.

“i don’t think we’ll be here long enough for that,” you said, forcing a small smile.

heeseung’s eyes flashed with something—disappointment? amusement? it was hard to tell. “you never know,” he said quietly, his gaze intense. “sometimes, plans change.”

you glanced away, focusing on your barely touched plate. the food that had once looked so appealing now seemed like a burden, something you had no appetite for. you just wanted this conversation to end, to find your parents and get out of this place as soon as possible.

as if sensing your discomfort, heeseung leaned back again, his demeanour shifting ever so slightly. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, though there was a glint in his eyes that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. “it’s just that... guests here tend to stay longer than they anticipate. this place has a way of... captivating people.”

the word captivating sounded too much like trapping for your liking.

before you could respond, the door to the dining hall creaked open, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief as your parents entered, laughing and chatting with sunoo, who was still wearing his unsettlingly bright smile. their carefree demeanour was such a stark contrast to the tension you’d been feeling that it almost made you dizzy.

“sweetie, you should see the gardens!” your mom exclaimed as she approached the table, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease between you and heeseung. “they’re absolutely gorgeous. i’ve never seen anything like it.”

your dad nodded in agreement, beaming. “it’s like something out of a storybook.”

you forced a smile, trying to match their enthusiasm. “that’s great. i’m glad you had fun.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked to heeseung for a brief moment, something unspoken passing between them, and then he turned his bright gaze back to your family. “i’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to explore the rest of the estate before you leave.”

you stiffened at his words, catching the subtle implication. you weren’t leaving any time soon.

heeseung stood then, smoothing down the front of his suit, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat too long before he addressed your parents. “i’ve arranged for the mechanic to give me an update on the car shortly. in the meantime, please, make yourselves comfortable. feel free to explore the mansion further if you’d like.”

your parents seemed delighted by the prospect, but you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. you couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was trying to keep you here, that every step you took deeper into the mansion only tangled you further in its web.

heeseung’s gaze slid back to you, his smile as charming and unsettling as ever. “i’ll make sure everything is taken care of. don’t worry.”

but worry was all you could feel as your family began to follow sunoo out of the dining hall, leaving you to trail behind, your thoughts spinning. as you exited the room, you couldn’t help but glance back at heeseung, who stood by the door, watching you with that same piercing gaze.

there was something about the way he looked at you—something that made you feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

and you weren’t sure if you could escape.

the afternoon dragged on in an unbearable haze of waiting. you, your parents, and heeseung sat in the grand living room, the heavy silence punctuated only by the occasional ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. outside, the sky had darkened, heavy clouds looming like a bad omen. the only thing on your mind was the car—where it was, how much longer it would take, and when you could finally leave this unsettling mansion behind.

your parents seemed more at ease, happily sipping tea that sunoo had prepared earlier, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease that rippled beneath the surface of every interaction with heeseung. you, on the other hand, were fidgeting, your leg bouncing nervously as you tried to avoid catching heeseung’s gaze. he had been watching you ever since you mentioned the car, his expression growing darker, his easy charm slipping.

“you seem quite eager to leave,” heeseung finally said, breaking the silence. his voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, something cold hidden beneath the surface.

you glanced up at him, forcing a tight smile. “well, we have to get to our resort, and we’ve already spent a lot of time here. i’d hate to miss out on more of the trip.”

heeseung’s lips twitched, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “you don’t like it here?”

there was something almost accusatory in his tone, and it made your skin prickle. you hesitated, not wanting to offend him but unable to shake the growing feeling of unease that seemed to cling to the walls of this place.

“it’s not that,” you said carefully, shifting in your seat. “it’s just that we had plans. you know, a family bonding trip. and... well, we’ve been here longer than we expected.”

heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable. “plans change,” he said softly, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. “sometimes, staying a little longer can be... beneficial.”

a cold shiver ran down your spine at his words. the way he said it felt off, as if there was something deeper he wasn’t saying, something he didn’t want you to understand just yet. you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and sunoo appeared, running into the room with a frantic expression.

“heeseung!” sunoo called out breathlessly, his usual cheery demeanour replaced with genuine concern. “there’s a storm! a really bad one. the roads are flooding, and the mechanic just called—he can’t bring the car back today.”

your heart sank at his words, and you shot a glance at your parents, who exchanged a look of resignation.

your father sighed, rubbing his temples. “well, i guess we’re not going anywhere today.”

your mother nodded in agreement, placing her teacup down with a little clink. “we’ll have to stay another night, then. there’s nothing we can do about it.”

you could hardly believe it. you were so close to leaving, so close to getting out of this place, and now a storm? it felt too convenient, too well-timed. you turned to heeseung, expecting some kind of reaction, and you weren’t disappointed. he was smiling again—but this time, it was different. it wasn’t the charming, polished smile he had worn before. this one was darker, more predatory. his eyes glinted with something that made your stomach twist.

“i suppose that settles it,” heeseung said smoothly, his voice like silk. “looks like you’ll be our guests for another night.”

his words sent a wave of discomfort rolling through you, and you felt your throat tighten. you looked away, staring out the window as the rain began to pour in heavy sheets, the dark sky flashing occasionally with streaks of lightning. the storm outside felt like a reflection of the storm brewing within you.

“i’m sure the car will be ready first thing tomorrow,” your father said, ever the optimist, though his voice carried a tinge of doubt.

sunoo nodded enthusiastically, stepping forward with his usual bright smile. “of course! we’ll make sure everything is perfect for you until then. don’t worry!”

you wanted to scream. how could no one else feel what you were feeling? how could your parents be so at ease when everything about this situation screamed danger? the mansion, the people, the timing of the storm—it all felt like a trap closing in around you.

heeseung’s eyes flicked toward you again, and you caught the smirk curling at the corner of his lips. he knew. he knew how unsettled you were, how desperately you wanted to leave, and he was relishing it.

“please, make yourselves comfortable,” heeseung said, his gaze locking onto you as he stood up from his seat. “we have plenty of time to enjoy the rest of your stay. after all, it’s not every day you get to experience a place like this.”

his words felt like a warning, a reminder that you were stuck here, and you had no choice but to play along with whatever game he was setting up. you forced a smile, feeling your pulse quicken.

“great,” you muttered under your breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. but heeseung did. his eyes flashed with amusement, and he gave you a slow, knowing smile that made your skin crawl.

“don’t worry,” he said in a voice so low only you could hear. “you’ll be safe here.”

the way he said it made you doubt every word.

that evening, the mansion’s eerie atmosphere feels heavier on your shoulders than ever. as the storm rages outside, you find yourself wandering through the darkened hallways, trying to shake off the strange feeling heeseung left you with earlier. something about his cryptic words keeps circling back in your mind, making it impossible to relax. you run your fingers along the old wooden bannister as you walk, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the too-quiet halls. but even that sound feels strange—the echoes don’t seem to bounce back to you the same way. it’s almost like they fade into the walls, swallowed by the house.

you pause as you notice a clock hanging on the wall ahead. the second hand ticks steadily, but when you glance at another clock just around the corner, you feel your skin prickle. the second hand on that clock is moving faster—much faster. you stand frozen, watching the two clocks run at different speeds, as if time itself is slipping out of sync.

the light overhead flickers, and you feel a chill run down your spine. the mansion is still as beautiful as it is unsettling, but tonight, it seems to be shifting in subtle ways. you walk further down the hallway, but something feels… wrong. the layout doesn’t seem quite right, as if the corridor you just passed should have been longer or led somewhere else entirely. you shake off the feeling, convincing yourself that it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you in this old, dimly lit place.

whispers. 

you swear you hear them. at first, you think it might just be the wind rattling through the old windows, but the sound is too human—too hushed, like voices speaking just outside the range of your hearing. you spin around, expecting to find someone behind you, but there’s nothing. just shadows dancing along the walls, moving ever so slightly as the flickering light fights to keep them at bay.

your pulse quickens as you walk on, drawn down a side corridor you’re sure you haven’t been down before. the walls here are different—more elaborate, with heavy drapery and intricate mouldings. at the end of the hallway, you come to a door. something about it makes you pause. you reach for the brass doorknob, your fingers brushing against the cold metal, and a shiver runs through you.

when you open it, a wave of familiarity washes over you, hitting you like a forgotten memory. inside, the room is dimly lit, filled with old-fashioned furniture that feels like it belongs to a different era—plush chairs, wooden tables with detailed carvings, and an antique music box sitting on a dresser. the air smells faintly of dust and something sweet, like old perfume that’s been lingering for years.

your eyes fall on the music box. it’s small, delicate, with intricate designs etched into its surface. without thinking, you step forward and reach out, fingers brushing lightly against it. before you can even wind the mechanism, it begins playing on its own, the soft, haunting melody filling the room.

your breath catches in your throat as that eerie sense of déjà vu tightens its grip on you. the tune is familiar—so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve heard it before. it pulls at something deep within you, like a forgotten dream just out of reach. you’re transfixed, unable to pull away from the music, when suddenly, the door creaks behind you.

you whip around, and your heart skips a beat when you see heeseung standing in the doorway. his expression is unreadable, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that sends a shiver through you. he steps into the room, his presence filling the space, and the music stops abruptly, as if the mansion itself is responding to him.

“what are you doing here?” his voice is stern, not the smooth charm you’ve come to expect from him. there’s an edge to it that makes you take a step back.

“i—i was just looking around,” you stammer, feeling like a child caught snooping where they shouldn’t be. the weight of his gaze presses down on you as he moves closer.

“this is my study,” he says, his tone low and controlled, but you can hear the warning in his voice. “you’re not supposed to be in here.”

you feel a flush of embarrassment and unease wash over you. “i didn’t know… i just—”

“didn’t know?” heeseung cuts you off, raising an eyebrow as his eyes narrow. “or were you curious about what you’d find?”

the tension between you feels thick, almost suffocating. heeseung’s gaze is unwavering, as though he’s trying to read your every thought, his earlier charm replaced with something far more dangerous. you feel like you’ve crossed a line—one that you didn’t even know existed until now.

heeseung’s intense gaze softens slightly as he notices the way your face flushes with embarrassment. his lips part, as if he’s about to say something harsh, but then, as if catching himself, he lets out a sigh. the coldness in his eyes melts away, replaced by that familiar, smooth charm.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice lowering, smoothing over like silk. “why don’t i show you the library instead? i think you’ll find it... interesting.”

you hesitate, still rattled by the sharpness of his previous tone. something inside you whispers to be careful, to keep your distance. but the magnetic pull of heeseung’s presence is hard to resist, and despite your instincts, you find yourself nodding.

heeseung smiles faintly, though his expression remains unreadable. he gestures for you to follow him, and together, you walk down the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. the silence is unsettling, broken only by the soft shuffling of your footsteps against the creaky wooden floors. you can’t help but feel like the walls themselves are watching you, the weight of the mansion pressing in from all sides.

as you walk, you become aware of how time feels... off. the clocks you pass seem to tick irregularly, some faster, some slower, as though they belong to different realities entirely. the light filtering through the tall windows is dim, though it doesn’t seem like it’s evening yet. you glance back, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as if something—someone—is just out of sight.

you stumble over a loose tile, your thoughts breaking apart. with a yelp, you trip forward, bracing yourself for a fall. but before you hit the floor, strong hands catch you—heeseung, steadying you with effortless ease. his grip is firm but strangely gentle. you gasp, heart hammering in your chest as you realise how close he is.

“you should be more careful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of amusement playing at the edges of his voice.

“thanks,” you mutter, flustered as you quickly pull away from his touch. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you avoid his gaze as he releases you, his soft chuckle following you down the hall.

the library is massive, far larger than you anticipated. the shelves seem to stretch endlessly, filled with books of every size and colour, their spines gleaming under the warm light of chandeliers. the space feels grand and intimate all at once, the kind of place that would normally make you feel at ease, but here... something feels different.

heeseung watches you carefully, his dark eyes studying your every move. you glance at him for permission before running your fingers along the spines of the books, your curiosity getting the better of you. with a nod, he gives you his approval, and you can’t help but dart forward, eager to explore the room further.

you lose yourself in the rows of shelves, marvelling at the collection of novels, old tomes, and handwritten manuscripts that line the walls. the air smells of dust and aged paper, steeped in centuries of history. you glance over your shoulder, half expecting to see heeseung watching you, but he remains a respectful distance away, his gaze soft and almost fond as he follows your movements.

but something feels... off. as you drift deeper into the library, a strange sensation pulls at your mind, as if something is guiding you, drawing you toward a particular section. without thinking, you find yourself moving toward the back, where the older, dustier books are kept.

your fingertips brush across the spines of these ancient tomes, and an eerie sense of déjà vu washes over you. there’s something about this place—this corner of the library—that feels unsettlingly familiar, like you’ve been here before in another time. the hairs on your arms stand on end, and you shiver involuntarily.

just as your fingers graze the spine of a particularly worn book, you feel it—the presence behind you. heeseung.

you turn slowly to find him standing there, his expression unreadable, but there’s a dark intensity in his eyes that makes your breath catch. he takes a step toward you, and without realising it, you step back, your shoulders hitting the bookshelf behind you.

his eyes remain locked on yours, his proximity making it hard to think clearly. there’s no anger in his gaze now, just that familiar magnetic pull—like he’s trying to draw you closer, to see through you.

“you’re curious, aren’t you?” his voice is barely above a whisper, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

you swallow, trying to push back the fear creeping into your chest. “about what?”

“about this place. about me,” he replies, his tone smooth, almost teasing.

his eyes seem to darken as he takes another step forward, closing the distance between you. the heat of his body presses in on you, and you feel your pulse quicken as his fingers trail lightly along the bookshelf beside your head. heeseung’s smile sharpens, a predatory glint flashing in his gaze.

“curiosity can be dangerous,” he murmurs, his voice low and intoxicating. “you never know what you might uncover if you start digging too deep.”

his words hang in the air, a challenge laced with something far more sinister. your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the urge to escape and the overwhelming draw of his presence. you can feel his breath against your skin, his closeness making it hard to think, to breathe.

for a moment, neither of you speak. his gaze flickers to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you can sense the power he holds in this place—like he knows far more than he’s letting on. like he’s been waiting for you to find something... or for you to lose yourself completely.

you break the silence, your voice shaking slightly. “what do you want from me?”

heeseung smiles, though it’s a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “maybe the question is... what do you want from me?”

the uneasy chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it. "you’re being ridiculous," you say, forcing more confidence into your voice than you actually feel. you try to shake off the tension hanging between you, hoping to laugh this off like it’s some strange dream.

but heeseung’s expression doesn’t change. he merely raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into the barest hint of a smirk. "very well then," he murmurs, his voice calm and unbothered, as though he knows something you don’t.

for a moment, you’re not sure whether you’ve defused the situation or walked deeper into it, but heeseung steps away, the heavy tension between you seeming to dissipate with each step he takes toward the door. he gestures with a small bow. "i’ll leave you to your evening, then."

you nod quickly, not trusting your voice to say anything that won’t betray the swirl of confusion and unease knotting in your chest. with that, heeseung disappears into the corridor, leaving you alone in the vast library. the silence is thick, almost oppressive, as if the mansion itself is holding its breath.

when you finally leave the library, your mind is buzzing. the conversation with heeseung, though cryptic, has left you more rattled than ever. his words, the way he watched you—there’s something deeper here, something you’re only starting to scratch the surface of. but, for now, you decide to push it aside. you need to clear your head.

by the time dinner rolls around, you’re feeling on edge. your parents are already seated at the dining table, chatting quietly as you join them. the room is dimly lit, casting long shadows across the grand, empty space. it feels strange—eerily quiet without the other guests.

you glance around, frowning. “where’s heeseung? and the other guests?”

sunoo, who’s been silently setting the table, looks up at you with his usual cheery smile. "ah, i’m afraid the other guests have already had their meal earlier. heeseung sends his apologies—he’s been caught up in some... urgent business.”

it’s the same excuse they keep giving you, and each time it feels less believable. you open your mouth to press further, but before you can say anything, your mother cuts in with a light laugh. “honestly, you’re always so curious, darling. just let it go.”

her words sound playful, but there’s an odd edge to them, as if she’s brushing off your concerns without really thinking about them. you glance at your father, hoping for some support, but he just nods in agreement, distracted as he stirs his soup.

you bite your lip, trying to push down the growing frustration. why aren’t they worried? can’t they sense that something’s off here?

dinner passes in a strange blur, the silence at the table broken only by the clinking of silverware. sunoo continues to move about the room like nothing is wrong, but the more you watch him, the more something about him feels... rehearsed, like he’s going through the motions of being normal without actually feeling any of it.

after the meal, you head back to your room, feeling more unsettled than ever. your parents’ strange behaviour, the missing guests, heeseung’s cryptic words—it’s all starting to feel like pieces of a puzzle you can’t quite put together.

that night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. every creak of the floorboards, every faint whisper of the wind outside sends your nerves into overdrive. the mansion seems to come alive in the darkness, its walls groaning, floors shifting, as though it’s trying to speak to you—trying to tell you something.

you sit up, your heart pounding in your chest. there’s no way you’re getting any sleep tonight, not with this strange energy crackling around you. something is wrong with this place, and you need to figure it out.

quietly, you slip out of bed, careful not to make any noise as you tiptoe toward the door. the hallways are dimly lit, the chandeliers casting long, ghostly shadows against the walls. you pause for a moment, listening to the silence, and then make your way through the mansion, your footsteps soft on the old, creaky floors.

as you wander, something strange begins to happen. the air feels colder, heavier, and the walls seem to shift subtly, as though the layout of the mansion itself is changing. you turn down a corridor you don’t remember seeing before and find yourself in front of a door, slightly ajar, that you swear wasn’t there earlier.

your hand trembles as you push the door open.

inside, the room is dimly lit by a single flickering candle. it smells of dust and time, as though no one’s been here for years. but what catches your attention immediately are the photographs lining the walls—old, faded photographs in ornate frames. you step closer, squinting at the faces in the pictures.

your breath catches in your throat.

the people in these photos… they look like you. some of them even resemble your parents. the clothes are different, much older—decades, maybe centuries old—but the faces… it’s impossible. how could they look so familiar?

you take a step back, your heart racing. something about this room feels wrong, like you’ve stumbled onto something you weren’t meant to see.

your eyes scan the rest of the room, and that’s when you notice the guestbook sitting on an old wooden desk in the corner. you approach it cautiously, your fingers brushing over the brittle pages as you open it.

the names written inside are faded, barely legible from age. but as you turn the pages, one name catches your eye—your father’s name, written in the same elegant script as the others.

your heart pounds in your chest. you flip through more pages, and there’s your mother’s name, too. and then… your own.

but the dates next to the names don’t make any sense. they’re from decades ago, long before you were even born.

you slam the book shut, a chill running down your spine. this can’t be real. it doesn’t make sense.

before you can gather your thoughts, a soft creak echoes through the room. you whip around, your heart in your throat, and see a shadow flicker in the doorway.

it’s sunoo, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying an unsettling edge.

you freeze, unable to find the words to respond. sunoo steps further into the room, his ever-present smile feeling more like a mask than ever before.

“you shouldn’t be snooping around,” he says, his tone calm, almost soothing. “some things are better left alone.”

before you can say anything, sunoo’s eyes shift toward the guestbook in your hands. his smile falters for just a split second—barely noticeable, but enough to send a fresh wave of unease through you.

"i’ll take you back to your room,” he says, his voice steady again. “come on, it’s late.”

you don’t argue. you just nod,and follow him out of the room, feeling the weight of the mansion pressing down on you with every step.

the next morning, you wake up to the sound of heavy rain beating against the windows. groaning, you pull the covers over your head, hoping that maybe the storm has let up by now, but from the relentless sound, it’s clear that isn’t the case.

you make your way downstairs, hoping for better news, but your parents are sitting at the breakfast table, both looking completely at ease, as though the weather outside is no big deal.

“good morning, sweetheart!” your mom chirps, her voice unnaturally bright.

"morning," you mumble, taking a seat as you glance toward the large windows in the dining room. the sky is a swirling mess of dark clouds, rain pouring down so hard you can barely see the surrounding grounds.

“storm’s not going anywhere for the next few days,” your dad says casually, stirring his coffee. “looks like we’re stuck here for a bit longer.”

you frown, a wave of frustration bubbling inside you. "what about the resort? the plans we made?"

your mom exchanges a glance with your dad, then she turns to you with a serene smile. “you know, maybe this is a sign. the resort will still be there later, and this mansion… well, it’s kind of charming in its own way, isn’t it? why not just enjoy it?”

you stare at her, incredulous. "you want to stay here?"

“it’s vintage, classy, and we’re already settled in. it feels… perfect, in a way,” your mother continues, her voice light but with an unsettling certainty. “it’s like we were meant to be here.”

something about the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. you’ve been feeling like you weren’t supposed to be here at all—like you’ve stumbled into a trap you can’t escape. but looking at your parents’ relaxed faces, they clearly don’t share your unease.

you sigh, rubbing your temples. “fine. i guess we’re staying.”

it’s not like you have a choice anyway. the storm doesn’t seem like it’s stopping anytime soon, and the roads would be impossible to navigate in this weather.

you wander through the mansion’s winding hallways, the silence heavy and oppressive. no matter how grand or beautiful this place is, it feels like a cage—isolated, suffocating, filled with unseen eyes and secrets buried in every corner. the tension from this morning still clings to your thoughts like a dark cloud, refusing to let you find peace.

as you turn a corner, you nearly collide with sunoo, who’s balancing a tray of ingredients. his usual brightness doesn’t fade; instead, his eyes light up as he sees you. but there’s something in his smile—something mischievous, playful, and... unsettling.

"looking bored?" he asks with that trademark grin, though his eyes seem to flicker with something deeper. "want to bake something with me?"

you hesitate, feeling an odd sensation settle in your stomach. you haven’t exactly gotten close to sunoo since you arrived here. something about him always felt a little strange, as if he’s holding back, concealing his true self behind that playful mask. but the silence of the mansion is worse than the idea of baking with someone like him.

after a beat, you nod. "yeah, okay."

sunoo's grin widens, and he leads you into the mansion’s oversized kitchen, the high ceilings and gleaming countertops almost intimidating in their grandeur. you can’t help but feel like even this space is part of the house’s deception—too perfect, too polished.

“you’re in for a treat,” sunoo says, his voice slipping into a more casual tone as he sets the tray on the counter. “i make the best cookies you’ll ever taste.”

you don’t respond, already lost in your own thoughts, trying to distract yourself from everything that's happened. the tasks of measuring and mixing are a welcome escape. sunoo chatters on as he gathers ingredients, but you only half-listen, trying to ignore the prickle of unease creeping up your spine.

as you mix the batter, sunoo’s light-hearted teasing pulls you in despite yourself. his comments, although flippant, ease some of the tension you’ve been holding, and before you realise it, you’re laughing at one of his jokes. you sneak a bit of dough when he’s not looking, and it feels almost… normal.

but then sunoo catches you, playfully swatting your hand. "hey! no cheating!" he scolds with mock seriousness.

you let out a chuckle, taking the opportunity to swipe some flour onto his cheek. "oops."

sunoo gasps, clutching his chest in exaggerated shock. "oh, you’re going to pay for that."

before you can react, he smears flour across your nose. the playful gesture sends you both into fits of laughter, the tension of the mansion temporarily lifting. for a brief moment, the world outside this kitchen—its darkness and mysteries—feels far away. the warmth of sunoo’s laughter fills the room, and you can’t help but feel yourself relax in his presence.

but then something changes.

the playfulness lingers, but when sunoo’s hand grazes your arm, wiping away some flour from your cheek, the touch lingers a little longer than it should. his fingers brush your skin lightly, and suddenly, the laughter fades into a different kind of tension. his eyes meet yours, and for the briefest second, there’s something there—something unspoken, something... charged.

you swallow hard, unsure how to respond. the lighthearted moment has turned into something else entirely, and the air between you grows thick. sunoo’s grin remains, but his gaze—intense and a little too intimate—holds you captive for a moment longer than feels safe. you’re aware of his closeness, of how different this interaction feels compared to everything else between you.

and then, just as quickly, the moment is broken.

the sensation of being watched crawls back over your skin, sending a cold shiver down your spine. you freeze, the weight of a gaze pressing heavily on you, suffocating the playful atmosphere. slowly, you turn toward the doorway.

heeseung is standing there, leaning against the doorframe with an expression that makes your blood run cold. his eyes are locked on you, darker and more intense than you’ve ever seen them. the tension in the room shifts, and it’s no longer playful—it’s dangerous.

sunoo’s posture stiffens, but his smirk doesn’t falter. if anything, he seems to relish the moment. “oh, hey heeseung,” he drawls, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “we were just having a little fun. you don’t mind, do you?”

heeseung doesn’t respond right away, his gaze flicking from you to sunoo, then back to you. his eyes are sharp, a dark possessiveness brewing behind them. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. “i’m sure you’re keeping her... entertained.”

sunoo’s smirk widens as he steps a little closer to you, just enough to make the tension unbearable. “oh, absolutely. we make quite the team in here,” he says, his hand grazing your shoulder briefly in a gesture that feels too familiar, too intimate.

your heart races as you stand between them, caught in their unspoken battle. heeseung’s eyes darken further, his jaw clenched tightly as sunoo continues to play his game, his fingers brushing more flour off your cheek. the touch sends a jolt through you—not of comfort, but of confusion. why does this feel wrong? and why can’t you pull away?

heeseung’s calm facade cracks. he steps forward, his movements deliberate, as if every step brings him closer to an edge you can’t see. his voice, when he finally speaks, is smooth but holds a razor-sharp edge. “i think you’ve had enough fun for today.”

heeseung’s hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long, the touch possessive. sunoo’s playful demeanour falters slightly, but he steps back with a knowing look, eyes flicking between you and heeseung.

“i guess that’s my cue,” sunoo says with a sly wink, retreating from the kitchen. but before he leaves, his gaze lingers on you one last time, and in that moment, it feels like the game is far from over.

the moment sunoo is gone, the atmosphere shifts. heeseung’s hand lingers on your arm, his fingers ghosting over your skin as he pulls you closer, his gaze locking onto yours. his touch, once soft, now feels like a cage, holding you in place as his lips curl into a dark smile.

“you shouldn’t let him get so close to you,” heeseung says softly, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you with a dark intensity. “he doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

your pulse quickens, and you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens. his eyes are soft, but the look in them is anything but. he’s watching you like you belong to him, and the thought sends another wave of fear crashing over you.

“i…” you don’t know what to say. you’re caught between the two of them, between the strange camaraderie they share and the way heeseung’s mood shifts on a knife’s edge.

heeseung leans closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, “you should only trust me. i’m the one who cares about you.”

the words send a chill through you, and yet… you can’t pull away.

heeseung’s hand remains on your arm, his touch gentle but firm as he leads you out of the kitchen. his earlier tension has shifted into something more deliberate, more focused, and you can’t shake the feeling that he’s leading you somewhere for a reason—one that you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face.

“there’s a better way to pass the time,” he murmurs, his voice low as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. there’s something unreadable in his gaze, a dark glimmer of emotion that both unnerves and draws you in.

you don’t respond, your mind still spinning from the earlier interaction with sunoo, from the way heeseung had claimed your attention so completely. now, as he leads you down another unfamiliar hallway, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking deeper into something—into the very heart of the mansion’s secrets.

eventually, you reach a door at the end of the corridor, and heeseung pushes it open with a soft creak. the room beyond takes your breath away.

it’s elegant, grand in a way that feels both timeless and dreamlike. a grand piano sits in the centre, its polished surface gleaming under the light streaming in from a gigantic window. the window offers a perfect view of the garden outside, which—despite the ongoing storm—seems eerily peaceful, the flowers swaying gently as though untouched by the chaos in the sky.

you step inside, your feet moving almost of their own accord. the air in here feels different, thick with something unnameable. as you look around, that familiar feeling of déjà vu washes over you again, stronger this time. you’ve been here before—or at least, it feels like you have.

heeseung watches you closely, his dark eyes following your every movement. there’s something in his gaze—something that flickers between hunger and sorrow, desperation and longing. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to remember something important, something crucial.

without a word, he sits down at the piano. his fingers brush lightly over the keys, and after a brief moment of silence, he begins to play.

the melody is soft at first, gentle and haunting, and yet… you know it. somehow, impossibly, you recognize the tune even though you’ve never heard it before. the notes seem to pull at something deep inside you, stirring emotions you can’t explain.

as heeseung plays, his gaze never leaves you. his eyes are dark, intense, filled with a pain that tugs at your heart. but behind that pain, there’s something else—something dangerous, something that feels like it’s pulling you toward him, binding you to him in ways you can’t understand.

the music swells, filling the room with a haunting beauty that leaves you breathless. your chest tightens, and before you realise what’s happening, you feel tears streaming down your face. your body moves on its own, your feet carrying you across the room toward heeseung.

you stop in front of him, your vision blurred with tears. gently, almost instinctively, you reach out and place your hand on his cheek. his skin is warm under your touch, and for a moment, he closes his eyes, leaning into your hand as if savouring the contact.

the final note of the melody lingers in the air, and heeseung’s fingers are still on the keys. the silence that follows feels thick, heavy with unspoken words and unasked questions.

you gasp, suddenly realising what you’re doing. you pull your hand away from his face, stepping back as if you’ve crossed an invisible line. your heart pounds in your chest, your mind swirling with confusion.

“i—i’m sorry,” you stammer, wiping at your tears. “i don’t know what came over me.”

heeseung opens his eyes slowly, and when he looks at you, there’s a sadness there so profound it makes your heart ache. he doesn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you as though waiting for you to understand something.

you take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “what is this place, heeseung? why… why does it feel like i’ve been here before?”

his expression darkens, his gaze growing distant as if he’s wrestling with something inside himself. for a moment, you think he’s going to deflect your questions like he always does, but then, to your surprise, he speaks.

“this mansion,” he begins, his voice low and almost resigned, “is not what it seems.”

your blood runs cold at his words, and you feel a chill creep up your spine.

“what do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung rises from the piano bench, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. there’s something predatory in the way he moves, but there’s also a deep sadness in his eyes, as though he’s weighed down by centuries of pain.

“this place…” he says quietly, glancing around the room. “it has a way of trapping those who stay too long. the walls, the halls—they shift, they change, and time here doesn’t flow the way it should.”

your mind races as you process his words. “trapping? how?”

heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, his expression unreadable. “the mansion is alive in its own way. it feeds off the presence of those who come here, twisting their reality until they can no longer leave.”

you take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. “are you saying… we’re trapped?”

heeseung’s jaw tightens, and he looks away, his hands clenched at his sides. “yes,” he says softly. “but you… you’re different.”

“different?” you echo, confusion swirling in your mind. “what do you mean?”

heeseung steps closer, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. “the mansion brought you here for a reason. it’s not a coincidence that you ended up at this place—it’s because of who you are.”

you shake your head, backing away from him. “what are you talking about?”

heeseung’s gaze is piercing, and his next words make your blood run cold.

“you’ve been here before,” he says, his voice low. “a long time ago.”

your heart skips a beat, and you feel a wave of nausea wash over you. “that’s impossible.”

heeseung takes another step forward, his eyes filled with desperation now. “it’s not impossible. you were here, in another time, in another life. and you were with me.”

the room feels like it’s spinning. your thoughts race as you try to make sense of his words, but nothing adds up. “you’re lying,” you whisper, but even as you say it, a part of you knows that he’s telling the truth.

“i’m not lying,” heeseung says, his voice filled with quiet sorrow. “we were together, bound to this place. and now… the mansion has brought you back to me.”

you shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “i don’t understand.”

heeseung’s expression softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable. “the mansion has a way of bringing people back, of trapping them in a cycle. i’m bound to this place, cursed to live here for eternity. and now that you’re here again…”

he doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air.

you take a shaky breath, your mind reeling. “you think… you think i’m supposed to share your fate?”

heeseung looks at you with a mix of desperation and longing. “i don’t know. but i do know that this place… it won’t let you leave easily.”

the weight of his words sinks in, and you feel a chill run through you. the mansion—the strange feeling of familiarity, the way time seemed to warp—it all suddenly makes sense. you were meant to be here, drawn back into heeseung’s orbit, bound by forces far beyond your control.

but even as you grapple with the reality of it, one question burns in your mind: what are you willing to do to escape? and more importantly, are you even sure you want to?

the air between you and heeseung feels heavy after his haunting confession, a truth that lingers like a cloud over your thoughts. your heart is racing, torn between fear and an inexplicable pull towards him. his words replay in your mind, looping with eerie familiarity: you’ve been here before. with me.

it doesn’t make sense, and yet somehow, in the deep recesses of your memory, it does.

heeseung’s dark eyes soften as he steps closer to you, his previous intensity fading into something almost fragile. you expect him to push further, to lock you into his twisted truth, but instead, his posture slackens as if he’s letting go of something—some control he’s been gripping too tightly. there’s a new softness in his gaze, and it catches you off guard.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just… this place, this mansion—it does things to people. to me.”

he reaches out, hesitant, as if afraid you might flinch away. but you don’t. you stand frozen, your mind still reeling. when his fingers brush against your arm, there’s a strange warmth to his touch, and you feel that pull again, that magnetic force that both terrifies and draws you to him.

"i've been trapped here for so long," he continues, his voice trembling just slightly. he sits down on the sofa by the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows on his face, highlighting the hollowness in his expression. “i don’t even know how much time has passed. decades? centuries? it all blurs together after a while.”

you remain standing, watching him closely. his earlier intensity—the predatory edge in his voice—seems to have dissolved, leaving behind someone who looks genuinely broken. his eyes drop to the floor, and for the first time since you arrived, he looks vulnerable, as though the weight of his endless existence is finally catching up to him.

“i didn’t ask for this,” heeseung says, his voice raw with emotion. “i didn’t ask to be bound here, to this place. i never wanted to be a prisoner.” he glances up at you, and in the dim light, you see something flickering in his gaze: pain, longing… regret.

your chest tightens. the mansion, the strange events, the unshakable feeling that you’ve been here before—it all swirls inside your head like a storm. but now, looking at him, sitting in front of you like this, you feel a pang of sympathy. maybe he isn’t the monster you thought he was. maybe he’s just as trapped as you are, desperate for a way out.

you find yourself stepping closer to him, your feet moving on their own. you sit down beside him, keeping a small distance, your body tense. for a long moment, neither of you speak. the only sound is the crackling of the fire, filling the room with warmth and an eerie sense of peace.

“i’m sorry,” heeseung whispers, his voice so soft it almost gets lost in the quiet. “for dragging you into this. you shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

your heart clenches at the raw emotion in his words, and against your better judgement, you find yourself reaching out, your hand resting on his. he looks down at the contact, his eyes wide as if he didn’t expect your touch, and for a fleeting moment, he closes his eyes, savouring the warmth.

“it’s not your fault,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “none of this is your fault.”

heeseung’s eyes snap open, and he looks at you, truly looks at you, with a mix of shock and something else—something deeper. for a long time, neither of you speaks, but the silence between you feels heavy with unspoken words.

then, without warning, he lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “i don’t know why i’m telling you all of this,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “maybe because you’re the first person i’ve seen in so long… maybe because i’ve been alone for too long.”

the sadness in his voice tugs at your heart. you can’t help but imagine what it must be like—to be stuck in this place for eternity, unable to leave, watching the world move on without you. the thought sends a chill down your spine.

“i don’t want you to be alone anymore,” you say, the words escaping your lips before you can stop them.

heeseung’s gaze snaps to yours, his eyes wide with surprise. for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the weight of your words hanging in the air. then, slowly, he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your arm, the touch light and hesitant, as though he’s afraid of pushing you away.

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “if you stay… you’ll be trapped, just like me.”

the reality of his words hits you like a wave of cold water, but even as you register the danger, you can’t seem to pull away from him. there’s something about heeseung that draws you in, something that makes you want to help him, even if it means risking yourself.

“i’m not afraid,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know why, but i feel like… like i know you. like we’ve been through this before.”

heeseung’s breath catches, and for a moment, he looks at you with such intensity that it takes your breath away. then, without a word, he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i wish it could be different,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet desperation. “i wish i could let you go, but… i can’t.”

the next few days pass in a blur of quiet moments shared between you and heeseung. there’s an unspoken understanding that neither of you fully addresses—the haunting truth of the mansion and its curse—but in these days, heeseung’s vulnerability and warmth seem genuine. the dark edges of his earlier intensity have softened, leaving you with the version of him that feels...safe.

each evening, the two of you sit together by the grand fireplace in the main hall, the warmth of the flames casting a golden glow over heeseung’s features. the way he speaks to you during these moments is intimate, his voice low and soothing. he shares bits and pieces of his past—not the dark, twisted parts, but memories of beauty and light.

one night, you find yourselves sitting across from one another at a small, round table, a cosy dinner spread out between you. the fire crackles beside you, filling the room with warmth. heeseung had insisted on preparing the meal, and though you’d never seen him cook before, the food is surprisingly delicious. it’s simple, nothing extravagant, but there’s something deeply comforting about the whole scene.

heeseung pours you a glass of wine, the red liquid glistening in the candlelight. he smiles gently as he hands it to you, and for the first time since you arrived, the tension between you feels like it’s beginning to ease.

“it feels normal, doesn’t it?” he asks quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place—hope, maybe. “like we could be anyone, anywhere. like none of this…” he gestures vaguely to the mansion around you, “…exists.”

you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness before you nod. “it does,” you agree softly. “for the first time since i got here, it feels… peaceful.”

heeseung’s gaze lingers on you, and when he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted. a moment of peace.”

the words hang in the air between you, and you can’t help but feel the weight of them. heeseung’s life—if you can even call it that—has been one long stretch of isolation and pain. and now, here he is, seeking solace in the small moments he can share with you. your heart aches for him.

“you’ve been alone for so long,” you murmur, placing your hand on top of his. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and for a moment, heeseung’s eyes flicker with something deep, something raw.

“i’ve had to be,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d become if i let myself feel anything. if i let myself believe that things could ever be different.”

he looks away, staring into the fire as if searching for answers in the flames. “but with you… it feels different. like there’s a chance for something better.”

your chest tightens at his words. there’s a sincerity in his voice that you can’t deny, a vulnerability that makes you want to believe him. you’ve seen the darkness in heeseung, felt the weight of his mysterious past, but now… now you see the man beneath it all. the man who’s been trapped, longing for freedom, for connection.

“i want to help you, heeseung,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know how, but… i want to try.”

heeseung turns back to you, his eyes shining with something akin to hope. he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles. the gesture is tender, intimate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“you’ve already done more for me than you know,” he whispers. his gaze locks with yours, and in that moment, it feels like the rest of the world falls away. there’s only you and him, caught in this strange, timeless place.

the next morning, heeseung takes you on a walk through the mansion’s garden. the day is overcast, the sky a soft blanket of grey, but the air is warm, filled with the scent of the blooming flowers that line the winding paths. it’s quiet out here, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the chirp of a bird hidden somewhere in the overgrown hedges.

heeseung leads you toward the edge of the garden, where a large, ancient tree stands tall and proud, its branches stretching out like arms welcoming you. the bark is weathered, covered in thick moss, and there’s a certain energy that emanates from it, something both powerful and deeply familiar.

“this tree,” heeseung begins softly, running his hand over the rough bark, “has been here longer than the mansion itself. some say it’s the heart of this place, that it holds the memories of all those who’ve lived here.”

you step closer, staring up at the gnarled branches twisting above you. there’s something haunting about the tree, something that feels almost… alive.

“it’s strange,” you murmur, “but i feel like i know this tree. like i’ve stood here before.”

heeseung turns to you, his gaze filled with a deep intensity. “that’s because you have.”

your breath catches at his words, and you glance up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “what do you mean?”

heeseung steps closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “there are pieces of you that remember this place,” he says quietly. “just like there are pieces of me that have never forgotten you.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a strange pull toward him once again, a sense that the two of you are bound together by something far greater than just this moment.

“do you ever wonder,” heeseung asks, his voice barely above a whisper, “why this place feels like home?”

your mind races, trying to process the weight of his question. you don’t know how to answer, because the truth is, you’ve been wondering that since the moment you arrived. and now, with heeseung standing beside you, the mansion looming behind you, and the ancient tree towering above you, the feeling is stronger than ever.

“maybe,” you whisper, “it’s because it is.”

heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, it feels like time itself stops. there’s a deep, unspoken understanding between you—a sense that, no matter how much you try to fight it, your fates are intertwined.

but as the days pass, those sweet moments with heeseung—the cosy dinners by the fire, the walks through the garden, the soft, lingering touches—begin to feel like something more. they feel like a promise. like he’s slowly binding you to this place, to him.

and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe that’s exactly what he wants.

the following morning is quieter than usual, with heeseung nowhere to be found. you drift through the halls of the mansion, feeling a strange mix of restlessness and curiosity, until you find yourself in the kitchen. the smell of something sweet wafts through the air, and when you step inside, you see sunoo standing by the counter, mixing a bowl of dough with effortless grace.

he looks up as you enter, a bright smile spreading across his face. “good morning!” he chirps, his voice as light and cheerful as always. “i thought we could bake something today. you seemed to enjoy the cookies i made last time.”

you hesitate in the doorway, unsure why your chest tightens a little at his easy demeanour. sunoo has always been polite and warm, a calming presence in the otherwise eerie mansion, but lately, something about him has started to feel... off. his constant cheerfulness, his perfect hospitality—it all seems too deliberate, too practised.

still, you find yourself drawn to the idea of something normal, something grounded in the here and now. so you nod, stepping into the kitchen to join him.

“what are we making?” you ask, moving to stand beside him at the counter.

sunoo beams. “heeseung loves cinnamon rolls,” he says with a knowing glint in his eye. “i thought we’d make a batch for him.”

you feel a flutter in your chest at the mention of heeseung. you’ve spent so much time with him lately that it’s hard not to think about him constantly. 

“how long have you been here, sunoo?” you ask after a moment, trying to sound casual. you’ve never really asked before—never thought to, really—but now that you’ve started thinking about it, the question gnaws at you.

sunoo’s smile tightens just a fraction, his hands stilling for a moment before he continues kneading. “longer than i can remember,” he says with a light laugh. “time is strange here. you lose track after a while.”

his words send a shiver down your spine. you’ve heard heeseung talk about the mansion warping time, but to hear sunoo echo the same sentiment makes it feel even more real. and the way he brushes off the question only adds to the growing sense of unease.

you try to shake the feeling, focusing instead on helping him roll out the dough. the kitchen feels warm and cosy, a stark contrast to the unsettling thoughts swirling in your mind. sunoo hums softly as he works, his movements fluid and graceful.

but then, just as you’re starting to relax again, sunoo speaks, his voice soft but laced with something... knowing.

“cinnamon rolls were always your favourite, too.”

you freeze, your hand hovering over the tray of dough. his words sink in slowly, like a cold drop of water trickling down your spine.

“what did you just say?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunoo looks up at you, blinking in confusion as if he doesn’t quite understand the gravity of what he’s just said. “i said cinnamon rolls were always your favourite,” he repeats, his tone casual but his eyes flickering with something deeper.

you stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “how would you know that?”

for the first time since you’ve met him, sunoo seems caught off guard. his usually calm, cheerful demeanour falters, and he fumbles with his words. “i-i mean, heeseung mentioned it once,” he says quickly, his smile strained. “you must’ve said something about it, right?”

but you know you didn’t. you’ve never mentioned cinnamon rolls or anything about your preferences to either of them. you would remember if you had. and the way sunoo’s face pales slightly, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes—none of it feels right.

“sunoo,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “how do you really know that?”

he straightens up, the playful light in his eyes dimming. for a brief moment, you see something else in him—something darker, something far more calculated than the friendly host you’ve come to know. he looks at you as though measuring his next move, deciding how much to say.

“i—” sunoo stammers, then forces a bright smile again, though it no longer seems genuine. “you know how heeseung and i have lived here for so long. it just... slipped out. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

he’s deflecting. you can see it in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way his hands fidget nervously at his sides. the confidence that usually defines him is gone, replaced by something much more guarded.

you narrow your eyes, stepping closer to him. “that’s not it, sunoo. you know more than you’re telling me.”

for a moment, sunoo’s cheerful facade cracks completely. his eyes meet yours, and the playfulness drains from his expression. what’s left behind is cold, calculating, and far too knowing for comfort.

“you don’t want to ask questions you aren’t ready to hear the answers to,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a strange weight that sends another shiver down your spine.

before you can respond, he turns away, resuming his work on the cinnamon rolls as though the conversation never happened. the air between you feels thick with unspoken truths, and your mind races with questions you don’t know how to voice.

how does sunoo know things about you that you’ve never shared? and why does it feel like he’s hiding something—something big, something dangerous?

as the silence stretches on, your unease only grows. the cosy warmth of the kitchen now feels suffocating, and every glance sunoo throws your way feels like a veiled warning. you try to focus on the task at hand, but your thoughts keep spiralling, circling back to the same unsettling conclusion:

there’s something very wrong here.

later that evening, as you sit with heeseung by the fire once again, you can’t stop thinking about what sunoo said. you want to ask heeseung, to get some kind of explanation, but you don’t know how to bring it up without sounding paranoid. every time you try to voice your thoughts, the words get caught in your throat.

heeseung notices your distraction, of course. he always does. his dark eyes flicker with concern as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“are you alright?” he asks softly, his voice filled with that familiar warmth that always seems to melt your defences.

you force a smile, though it feels brittle. “i’m fine,” you lie, your heart racing.

but as heeseung leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, you can’t shake the feeling that everything is slipping out of your control. the mansion, sunoo, heeseung—it’s all starting to unravel, and you’re not sure if you’re prepared for what you’ll find once the proper truth comes to light.

the storm that had raged outside the mansion for what felt like days finally breaks, leaving the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the last drops of rain dripping off the eaves. the sky is clear now, a pale blue that feels far too serene after the eerie chaos of the past few days. you should be relieved, ready to leave this strange place and return to the life you know, but there’s a tension clinging to you that refuses to dissipate.

your parents, already packing up in their room, seem eager to get back on the road. they’ve been talking about the upcoming week—about how you need to prepare for your university exchange program and the final stretch of family time before you go. you should feel the same urgency, the same excitement to return to normalcy, but something keeps you rooted in place, lingering in the mansion’s dim corridors.

and then there’s heeseung.

he’s been quieter than usual since the storm ended, his smiles fewer and his demeanour darker, but every time you try to bring it up, he brushes it off. it’s like he’s biding his time, waiting for the right moment to say whatever’s been brewing behind his careful mask.

that moment comes after dinner, when your parents step outside to check on the car. you find yourself alone with heeseung in his room, the fire casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. the atmosphere is heavy, thick with unspoken words. you glance at him, and something in his expression—a tightness around his eyes, a tension in his jaw—makes your pulse quicken.

“heeseung…” you begin, your voice tentative. “we’re leaving soon. i have to get back in time for the program.”

at your words, something shifts in him, subtle but palpable. his dark eyes lock onto yours, and the pleasant facade he’s been wearing all this time cracks, just slightly. the smile that curls his lips doesn’t reach his eyes.

“you’re really going to leave me?” his voice is soft, almost too soft, and yet there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach churn.

you take a step towards him, trying to explain. “i have to go. the program—it’s important, and i can’t just stay here.”

heeseung’s expression darkens, and he takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you. “what’s more important? some exchange program or me?”

the question catches you off guard. his voice is low, laced with something that sounds like hurt, but there’s a simmering anger beneath it that makes you nervous.

“i… it’s not like that,” you stammer, trying to find the right words. “i’ve worked so hard for this, heeseung. it’s a big opportunity. you understand, don’t you?”

but he’s not listening. heeseung’s jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow as he steps closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “no, i don’t understand,” he snaps, his voice rising with barely contained fury. “you can’t just leave! after everything we’ve been through—after everything i’ve done for you—you’re just going to walk away?”

your heart pounds in your chest as his words hit you like a physical blow. there’s something wild in his gaze now, something unhinged. heeseung reaches out, grabbing your arm, and his grip is too tight, his fingers digging into your skin.

“you’re not going,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, the fury in his tone barely masked. “you can’t.”

the room feels like it’s closing in on you, the fire’s warmth suddenly stifling. you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens, his fingers digging deeper into your arm. his face contorts with an emotion you can’t fully name—something between rage and desperation.

“heeseung, you’re hurting me,” you manage to say, your voice shaky as you try to free yourself from his grasp.

at your words, his expression shifts again—this time to something that almost looks like regret, but it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by that same desperate intensity. he loosens his grip, but he doesn’t let go. instead, he pulls you closer, his other hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, but there’s still an unsettling edge to it. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just… i can’t lose you.”

his face is inches from yours, and there’s something predatory in the way he looks at you now. before you can react, he leans in, his lips crashing against yours with a force that makes you stumble back. the kiss is rough, possessive, not at all like the tender moments you’ve shared before. it’s as if he’s trying to claim you, to make you stay through sheer force of will.

you try to push him away, but he’s too strong, his hands holding you in place. panic flares in your chest, but just as quickly as the kiss began, he pulls back, his face contorted with a mixture of fury and something akin to pleading.

“don’t go,” he whispers, his voice trembling now, and you can see tears welling up in his eyes. “please… don’t leave me.”

the sudden shift is dizzying. one moment, he was angry—furious, even—and now he’s begging, his voice raw with emotion. heeseung’s hands slide from your face to your shoulders, his fingers trembling as he holds onto you as if you’re his only lifeline.

“i’ve been trapped here for so long,” he says, his voice breaking. “you’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in… i don’t even know how long. i can’t bear the thought of being alone again. not after everything we’ve shared.”

you feel a pang of guilt at the sight of him like this—vulnerable, broken. his eyes are filled with so much pain, so much longing, that it tugs at something deep inside you. despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, a part of you feels drawn to him, feels the weight of his desperation, his need for you.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “but i can’t let you leave. i can’t let you forget about me.”

his words send a chill through you, but they also stir something else—something darker, something that makes you question your own resolve. can you really leave him here, alone, after everything?

“heeseung,” you begin, your voice shaky, “i don’t want to hurt you either, but i have to go back. my life… i can’t just abandon it.”

his expression hardens for a moment, and for a terrifying second, you think his anger will return, but instead, he collapses against you, resting his forehead on your shoulder. his body trembles, and you feel the wetness of his tears soaking into your shirt.

“stay with me,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “please… i need you.”

the weight of his words crashes down on you, and you feel your resolve slipping. heeseung’s vulnerability, his desperation—it’s overwhelming. you can’t deny the pull you feel toward him, the way your heart aches at the thought of leaving him behind.

maybe it’s the mansion, with its strange, unearthly hold on you, or maybe it’s heeseung himself—the way he’s embedded himself into your heart, into your very being. either way, the thought of leaving him feels unbearable.

slowly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him as he clings to you. “i’ll stay… for now,” you whisper, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them.

heeseung pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mix of hope and relief. “you will?”

you nod, even as your heart twists with doubt. “just for a little longer.”

the smile that spreads across his face is soft, almost tender, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something darker, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

but for now, you push it aside. you’ll deal with the consequences of your decision later. right now, you just want to believe that you’re doing the right thing, that staying with heeseung is what’s best.

even if, deep down, you know it might be the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

the room is bathed in the soft, flickering light of candles, their flames casting shadows that dance along the walls. the air is thick with the scent of something floral, a heady mix of desire and tension swirling around you as heeseung’s lips trail down your neck, sending shivers through your body. his touch is gentle, worshipping, as if he’s afraid you might disappear at any moment.

it feels almost too perfect—like a dream you’re not quite sure you want to wake up from. his hands are on your skin, warm and possessive, and despite everything, despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you feel yourself giving in. his breath is hot against your collarbone, and your body responds to him, melting into his every touch.

heeseung presses you down onto the soft bed, his movements slow and deliberate. there's an intensity in his gaze, a hunger that’s been simmering under the surface ever since you arrived. his eyes never leave yours, and in the flickering light, there’s something primal in the way he looks at you—something that makes your pulse quicken with both anticipation and a strange sense of foreboding.

“i’ve waited so long for this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as his fingers trace the curve of your waist, his lips hovering just above yours. “you have no idea how long…”

his words make your heart stutter, but you push the uneasy feeling aside. this moment feels too intimate, too charged to ruin with questions. you close your eyes as he leans in, kissing you deeply, and for a moment, all your doubts dissolve in the heat of the moment.

heeseung’s hands move with purpose, his touch both tender and possessive, and soon you find yourself swept away by the passion between you. it feels like time has stopped, like the mansion itself has paused its strange, shifting nature to let you have this moment together. his body presses against yours, and the world outside the room seems to blur into nothingness.

as the intensity builds, heeseung’s breath grows heavier, and so does the atmosphere around you. his whispered words become more erratic, laced with a strange urgency. he murmurs your name like a prayer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in low, fervent tones. you try to hold on to the heat between you, to the passion, but there’s something unsettling underneath it all. something you can’t quite put your finger on. the way he touches you—so familiar, like he’s done this before. like you’ve done this before.

as the moment deepens, you’re both lost in each other, but then, somewhere between the whispers and the heat of his skin against yours, heeseung says something that makes your heart stutter.

“you know he was never good enough for you.”

his words are laced with a bitterness that cuts through the intimacy like a knife. your body tenses beneath him, but you don’t fully register the meaning of his words right away. who is he talking about? the thought flashes through your mind, but it’s quickly drowned out by the sensation of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

still, the words echo, growing louder with each passing second. he? who is he talking about?

your mind begins to wander, to places you’ve been trying to avoid. somewhere deep inside, there’s a flicker of recognition. the inkling of a past lover, a shadowy figure whose face you can’t quite remember but whose presence lingers in your mind. it’s as though there’s something—or someone—you’ve forgotten, buried beneath layers of a life you no longer recall.

heeseung’s lips press against your skin again, pulling you back into the moment, but the unease has already taken root. you can’t shake the feeling that something is off. his words—he was never good enough for you—ring in your ears. but who? who could he mean?

you try to push it away, to focus on the present, but there’s a strange shift in the atmosphere now. the way heeseung touches you, the way his voice wraps around your name—it feels less like adoration and more like possession. and the way he said he—the bitterness, the jealousy—it felt too personal, too pointed.

you close your eyes, trying to lose yourself in the heat of his body, but the unease grows, knotting in your chest. you can’t stop thinking about what he said, about who he might be referring to. you don’t remember anyone else—at least, not fully. yet there’s this nagging feeling, like you’re forgetting something important. or someone.

heeseung seems oblivious to your growing discomfort. his hands roam over you with a kind of desperation now, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid to let go. there’s a possessive edge to the way he holds you, a subtle shift in the dynamic that makes your heart race for reasons that have nothing to do with passion.

“you’ve always been mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “from the beginning.”

the words send a chill through you. from the beginning. it’s a simple phrase, but something about the way he says it—like he’s claiming you, like he’s rewriting your past—makes you uneasy. you don’t know why, but those words feel loaded, like they mean more than he’s letting on.

and then, as he kisses you again, his voice drops to a whisper, soft but chilling: “even before… before him.”

your body goes rigid. there it is again—him. the mystery lover you can’t remember. the one who, according to heeseung, wasn’t good enough for you. the one who existed before heeseung.

your heart pounds in your chest as your mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of memories you don’t have. who is he? and why does heeseung sound so bitter, so possessive, when he talks about him?

you don’t ask the questions that are burning inside you. not yet. you’re not sure you’re ready to hear the answers. instead, you let heeseung pull you closer, let him kiss you with that same intensity, but the warmth between you has shifted. there’s something darker in the air now, something unsettling, and no matter how much you try to ignore it, the words before him continue to echo in your mind.

later, when the passion has faded and the room has fallen into silence, you lie beside heeseung, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. heeseung’s arm is draped over your waist, his breathing slow and even as if he’s already drifted off into a peaceful sleep. but you can’t rest. not with the weight of his words hanging over you.

he was never good enough for you.

as you lie there, wrapped in heeseung’s arms, the reality of your situation starts to sink in. the mansion, the strange familiarity, the way heeseung acts as though he’s known you forever—it all feels too real, too deliberate. you want to believe that what you have with him is real, but there’s a part of you, buried deep inside, that knows something isn’t right.

something is missing. something from your past, something—or someone—that heeseung isn’t telling you about.

and the scariest part? you’re not sure if you want to remember.

the air feels heavy, pressing down on you as you toss and turn in the unfamiliar bed, your mind restless even in sleep. the warmth of heeseung’s presence lingers, but something inside you feels unsettled—his words still echoing in your mind, he was never good enough for you. a cold shiver runs down your spine as you drift deeper into unconsciousness, slipping into the kind of dream that feels far too real.

the room is dark, but something’s wrong—everything feels… different. you sit up slowly, eyes scanning the space. the door that led to the hallway earlier now opens to somewhere else entirely, revealing a long corridor that seems to stretch into nothingness. the walls seem to shift, pulsating like they’re alive, and the low hum of eerie whispers fills the air.

your heart pounds as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. the floor beneath your feet feels colder than it should, like ice seeping through the soles of your skin. your instincts scream at you to stay where you are, but something compels you to move, to explore. you walk toward the mirror on the wall, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

but when you look into it, the reflection staring back at you isn’t your own—or at least, not how you recognize yourself. the figure in the mirror is wearing clothes from another time—a long, flowing dress, intricate lace details that seem ancient, out of place in this modern world. you can’t breathe. the woman in the reflection is you, but not you. she looks like you… but she belongs to another life.

a flicker of movement in the mirror catches your attention, and you turn to see heeseung standing in the doorway, his figure bathed in shadows. but this isn’t the heeseung you’ve come to know. the softness in his expression is gone, replaced with something darker, more sinister. his face is cold, almost expressionless, but his eyes—his eyes gleam with something sharp, dangerous.

“you’re here,” he says, his voice deeper than usual, lacking the warmth you’ve grown used to. he steps into the room, and the air seems to thicken around you. “i was hoping you’d remember sooner.”

“remember?” you whisper, confusion and fear swirling in your chest. “what are you talking about?”

heeseung’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “this place, us… none of it is a coincidence. you think you were just passing through? that the mansion drew you in by some strange force?” he laughs, a low, humourless sound that sends chills down your spine. “i brought you here.”

you take a step back, your mind reeling. “what… what do you mean?”

heeseung tilts his head, studying you like you’re a puzzle he’s waiting for you to solve. “this mansion, this cursed place—it’s ours. we built it together. we ran this hotel together. don’t you remember? you and i… we were supposed to live here, forever. but you chose him.”

a cold weight settles in your stomach. flashes of images invade your mind—distant memories you don’t understand, flickering in and out of focus. heeseung standing beside you, both of you smiling. the mansion was alive back then too, bustling with guests, full of life. but something feels wrong, distorted.

you suddenly feel like you’re suffocating, trapped under the weight of something you’re not sure you want to remember. the walls seem to shift again, the whispers growing louder, more insistent. bloodstains appear on the floor beneath you, as though seeping up from the wood itself.

heeseung’s voice pulls you back. “i loved you,” he says softly, stepping closer. his words should feel comforting, but they don’t. there’s a hunger in them, a possessive edge that makes your skin crawl. “but you were going to marry him… sim jake. you never gave me a chance.”

your heart skips a beat. jake. the name pulls at something deep within you, something you’ve been trying to ignore. memories you can’t quite grasp swirl at the edges of your consciousness, threatening to break free. you shake your head, unable to speak, your throat tight.

“i watched you with him,” heeseung continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “watched as you planned a future that didn’t include me. but i couldn’t let it happen. i couldn’t let him take you away.”

the bloodstains grow darker, spreading across the floor. you take another step back, your breath quickening.

and then it hits you—a flash of memory, so vivid it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. you’re standing in the grand foyer of the mansion, dressed in that same lace gown from the mirror. jake is beside you, holding your hand, and you’re smiling up at him, heart full of love and excitement for the life you’re about to start together.

but then heeseung appears, his expression twisted in anger, betrayal simmering beneath the surface. and beside him is sunoo, his usually cheerful face cold and calculating. you see the way they look at jake, the silent exchange between them. before you can even process what’s happening, sunoo moves like lightning—his hand coming down in a flash of steel.

blood.

you gasp, your body trembling as you relive the moment. jake’s body crumpling to the ground, lifeless. your scream echoing through the halls, terror and grief crashing into you like a tidal wave.

in the dream—or is it a memory?—you turn, locking eyes with heeseung. you see it in his face, the mix of guilt and satisfaction. he’s done it. he’s made sure jake will never have you. but you… you’re not supposed to be there. you weren’t supposed to see it.

heeseung’s lips part as if to speak, but before he can, sunoo moves again. you don’t feel the blade; you just see your own blood spilling onto the floor, mixing with jake’s. heeseung’s yell is heard in the background and then… darkness.

the memory snaps you back to the present with a force that makes you stumble, your hands clutching the edge of the bed as you struggle to breathe. your heart is pounding in your ears, and your vision blurs with tears as the reality of it all sinks in.

you stare at him, your mind reeling. “sunoo killed me…” the words barely escape your lips, your voice trembling. “you… you both… killed us.”

heeseung’s expression hardens. “it was never supposed to end like that. but sunoo—he was afraid. afraid you’d ruin everything. so he—”

“he killed me,” you repeat, the weight of the revelation crashing down on you. “because of you.”

“because i loved you,” heeseung snaps, his voice sharp, eyes blazing with fury. “because i couldn’t stand the thought of you being with him. you were supposed to be mine!”

the room begins to shift, the walls closing in around you, the whispers rising to a deafening roar. you see it all now—how the mansion is tied to you, how it’s always been tied to you. it’s not just a place; it’s a prison. a prison where heeseung, sunoo, and you have been trapped for eternity, bound by the violence and betrayal that happened within its walls.

and heeseung… he’s not the victim he claimed to be. he’s the one who set all of this into motion, the mastermind behind the lies, the manipulation. he brought you back here, trapped you in this cycle, because he refuses to let go. he refuses to let you go.

“you can’t leave,” he whispers, stepping closer, his voice soft but laced with something sinister. “not now. not ever.”

your body trembles, fear twisting in your gut. the mansion—the distorted laughter, the bloodstains that won’t fade, the sensation of being watched—it’s all his doing. all part of his twisted game to keep you here, with him, forever.

but now, you remember. and you know the truth.

you wake up suddenly, your breath catching in your throat. the room is filled with the steady sound of heeseung’s breathing, soft and rhythmic as he sleeps beside you, his arms still wrapped around you protectively. but there’s no peace in it for you. your heart races, your mind tangled in a web of fear and confusion after what you just experienced. the images of the dream—or was it a memory?—flash through your mind. heeseung and sunoo killing jake. your own death. the truth about the mansion. it all feels too real, too vivid.

you glance at heeseung's sleeping form. his face is peaceful, innocent even, as if none of the horrors you've just seen could possibly be tied to him. but you know better now. his charm, his warmth, it’s all a mask—a cruel lie.

carefully, you slide out of bed, every movement deliberate, trying not to make a sound. you hold your breath as you tiptoe across the floor, your hands trembling. you don’t dare look back at him, too terrified that he might wake up and catch you. you know that if you stay here any longer, you’ll be trapped forever, just like in your dream. or worse—your nightmare.

you slip out of the room, heart pounding in your ears as you make your way down the dark hallway toward your parents' room. the walls seem to loom larger in the dim light, shadows flickering at the edges of your vision. the mansion feels like it’s alive, watching your every step, waiting for you to fail.

when you reach their door, you knock softly, trying not to panic. “mom, dad,” you whisper urgently. “we need to leave. please, wake up.”

after a moment, your mother opens the door, her face groggy with sleep. "what's going on?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.

"we need to leave," you repeat, your voice shaking. "something's wrong with this place. please, trust me. we have to go now."

your father stirs awake as well, frowning. "leave? in the middle of the night? what's gotten into you?"

"please," you beg, "i can't explain it right now, but we have to go. meet me outside, okay? just pack your things and meet me at the gates."

they exchange concerned glances but for once, sensing the urgency in your voice, they nod and begin to gather their things. relief washes over you for a brief moment as you make your way down the stairs, moving swiftly toward the mansion’s grand entrance. you're almost there, just a few more steps.

but as you reach the towering iron gates, you’re suddenly pulled back and pinned against the wall. you’re not surprised to see heeseung looming above you, with the most furious look you’ve ever seen on him.

“where do you think you’re going, my love?”, he spits out venomously.

you try to push him away, but to no avail he just grabs both your wrists, pinning them to your chest.

“you lied to me about all of this”, you look at him with betrayal, “you’re nothing but a manipulative liar. you killed us!”

heeseung seems to freeze at that, a look of realisation crossing over his face. he lets out a chuckle in disbelief, staring at you with a dark look.

“you found out then huh. but, you don’t know the full truth, do you?”

you furrow your brows in confusion at that. what was he talking about now?

he smirks at that, letting go of your hands now. “you’ve left me no choice y/n. you did this to yourself.”

with that ominous declaration, he brings his hand up to your forehead. a series of images rapidly flash in front of your eyes, and you immediately blackout.

you’re back in the dream again, but this time it’s different. you see yourself—your past self—walking through the halls of the mansion. the air is warm, the sunlight streaming through the large windows, and everything feels… peaceful. you look younger, happier, laughing at something heeseung said. he’s beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you both walk through the corridors like you belong there. like this place is yours.

heeseung is smiling at you, but not in the charming, calculated way you’ve come to expect. it’s a genuine smile, filled with warmth and affection. your heart flutters as he leans closer, his voice soft as he speaks. “you always make everything feel right,” he says, eyes shining with something you can’t quite place.

you smile back, a soft blush colouring your cheeks, and it hits you—he loved you then too. but you were too caught up in your engagement to jake to see it.

the scene shifts. you’re sitting together, laughing over something, your hand resting on his arm as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. there’s an intimacy between you that makes your stomach twist with unease. this version of you looks so in love with him. you’re touching him like you belong to him.

but that can’t be right. jake was your fiancé. you were going to marry him.

the memory shifts again, this time darker. heeseung leans in, his hand resting on yours for just a moment too long. “if only things were different,” he murmurs, his gaze heavy with unspoken longing.

your past self looks away, guilt flashing in your eyes. “i can’t leave him,” you whisper, barely audible. “it wouldn’t be good for my family or us. for the business.”

heeseung’s jaw tightens, his fingers brushing over yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “but you want to,” he says softly, the words hanging in the air between you like a dangerous secret.

and you… you don’t deny it.

you wake up with a gasp, your heart racing as you bolt upright. your head throbs where as if you were hit, and the confusion of the dream still lingers like a fog in your mind. you’re back in heeseung’s room. alone. sunlight spills in through the curtains which means..

panic floods your veins. you scramble out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor as you rush to the door. you can’t stay here. you have to find your parents and leave before it’s too late.

when you reach the foyer, your breath catches in your throat. your parents are there, bags packed, ready to leave. relief crashes over you like a wave, and you run toward them. “mom! dad! let’s go, we have to—”

but then they turn to you, confusion etched on their faces. your mother tilts her head slightly, her brow furrowing. “who… are you?”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. “what do you mean? i’m your daughter! we need to leave, now!”

your father frowns, glancing at your mother, then back at you. “i think you’re mistaken. we don’t have a daughter.”

your laughter bubbles up, but it’s panicked, forced. “what? no, stop. this isn’t funny. we need to go, we need to leave right now!”

suddenly, you feel an arm snake around your waist, pulling you into a strong hold. you freeze, knowing exactly who it is before you even turn to look. heeseung. his smile is charming, but the coldness in his eyes sends a chill down your spine.

“ah, sweetheart,” he says smoothly, turning to your parents with an amused chuckle. “she likes to play these little pranks sometimes. always such a joker, my wife.”

your parents—no, these strangers—laugh awkwardly, nodding along like everything makes sense. “oh, we see,” your mother—no, not your mother—says with a forced smile. 

your blood runs cold. you twist in heeseung’s grip, looking at him with wide, horrified eyes. “what have you done?”

heeseung’s smile falters slightly, but he feigns hurt, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “what have i done? darling, i think you’re a little confused.”

you struggle against him, but his grip tightens. "mom! dad! please, it's me! it's your daughter! you have to believe me!"

but they just stare at you, their expressions growing more uncomfortable by the second. your father clears his throat, glancing at heeseung. “i think it’s time for us to go.”

heeseung nods, his smile never wavering. “of course. i’m sorry about all this. she’s been under a lot of stress lately. sunoo,” he calls over his shoulder.

sunoo appears from the shadows, his ever-cheerful grin now twisted into something darker, more malicious. he moves toward you, grabbing your arm with surprising strength. “come on now, let’s not make a scene.”

“no!” you scream, thrashing in sunoo’s hold. “please, you have to remember me! i’m your daughter!”

but your parents—these strangers—just exchange awkward glances before turning away. you all watch them leave, sunoo’s arm still securely around your waist, holding you in place.

you break free from his grip, bolting toward the door screaming for your parents, desperate to escape. but as soon as you reach the threshold, you slam into an invisible barrier. the impact knocks the air from your lungs, and you stumble back, disoriented.

heeseung is behind you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his breath hot against your ear. “i told you, didn’t i?” his voice is low, cold. “you’re mine. you’ve always been mine.”

tears stream down your face as you push against the barrier, your hands shaking. “what have you done to me? why are you doing this?”

heeseung’s grip tightens, and he spins you around to face him, his eyes dark with a possessive intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “you think you’re innocent in all of this?” his voice is soft, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “you think you didn’t know what was happening? you chose me. you were mine long before jake was ever in the picture.”

you shake your head in disbelief. “no, i didn’t… i didn’t—”

sunoo steps closer, a mocking pout on his lips. “oh, sweetheart, you did. you just didn’t want to admit it.” his finger traces the line of your cheek, and you flinch away from him. “you knew about heeseung’s feelings. you used him. and when jake became a problem, you turned a blind eye to it all. you knew we would kill him.” he sighs, “unfortunately, miscommunication led to your demise and we were eventually hanged. and now our souls are cursed to be bound to this mansion for eternity.”

heeseung’s voice lowers, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “you’re just as guilty as i am. and now… you’ll suffer with me. for eternity.”

you stand frozen, your mind reeling from heeseung’s words. the weight of the truth, the accusations, presses down on you like a boulder. memories you didn’t even know you had flicker behind your eyes—of stolen glances, secret touches, a forbidden affair. the you from before, so desperate to keep everything intact—your reputation, your future—had made a choice. a terrible, selfish choice.

“no…” you whisper, backing away from heeseung, shaking your head in denial. “that’s not true. i didn’t—”

“didn’t what?” heeseung cuts you off, his voice sharp and cruel now, all traces of tenderness gone. “didn’t love me? didn’t lead me on while you paraded around with him?” he spits the last word like it’s poison. “you knew exactly what you were doing. you wanted to have it both ways, and when i couldn’t stand it any longer, you let me kill jake because it was easier for you.”

the room spins as his words hit you like a tidal wave. you feel sick, your stomach twisting in knots. but even as the guilt rises in your throat, something inside you resists. “i didn’t… i didn’t want that…” you stammer, but your voice is weak, and the look in heeseung’s eyes tells you that he doesn’t believe you. maybe you don’t even believe yourself.

he steps closer, his eyes dark and filled with anger and betrayal. “you were mine, always mine. but you just had to keep playing your little games, didn’t you? you thought you could control everything. but look where it’s gotten us.”

you stumble backward, hitting the invisible barrier once again. this time it feels like it’s closing in on you, trapping you not just physically but mentally, emotionally. “i didn’t want anyone to die!” you shout, your voice cracking as the tears blur your vision. “i didn’t want this!”

sunoo chuckles softly from the corner, leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable. “well, that’s a nice story,” he says, voice light and mocking. “but none of us are getting out of here. not you, not me, not heeseung.” he crosses the room, his eyes gleaming with malice as he moves toward you. “you see, you set all of this in motion. you thought you could control us, control your fate, but now you’ll be trapped here just like us.”

heeseung’s grip on your arm tightens painfully, and you can feel his desperation, his anger, boiling over. “you’re not leaving, no matter how hard you try. this mansion, this curse, it’s our prison. and now it’s yours, too. we’re all in this together, for eternity.”

the word “eternity” sends a fresh wave of panic through your veins. “no!” you scream, thrashing in his grip, desperate to break free. “i won’t stay here! i won’t!”

but heeseung only tightens his hold on you, his face twisted in a mixture of rage and possessiveness. “you will stay,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “you belong to me. you always have.”

sunoo steps beside heeseung, his gaze cold and detached as he watches your struggle. his mocking smile only deepens the pit of dread in your stomach. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?” sunoo says, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “after all, you did help put us in this mess. you turned a blind eye to what heeseung did. and now…” he trails his fingers along your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of fear down your spine. “you’ll pay for that mistake.”

you shake your head wildly, trying to back away, but the barrier prevents any escape. “please, no!” you beg, your voice breaking as you sob. “i didn’t know… i didn’t mean for any of this to happen…”

but heeseung’s grip is unrelenting. he pulls you closer, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction as he watches you unravel. “it doesn’t matter now,” he says, his voice soft but filled with dark intent. “your parents don’t remember you anymore and we’re bound together, all of us. the mansion, the curse, it’s our fate. and now it’s yours, too.”

as his words sink in, you feel the weight of your past bearing down on you. the memories, the guilt, the betrayal—it’s all too much. you collapse against the invisible barrier, tears streaming down your face as you realise the full extent of what’s happened. you’re trapped. trapped with heeseung and sunoo in this mansion, cursed to live out eternity in this twisted nightmare.

heeseung kneels down beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a cruel tenderness. “it’s better this way,” he whispers. “now you can’t leave me. you’ll never leave me again.”

you choke back a sob, shaking your head. “i never wanted this… i never wanted to hurt anyone…”

heeseung’s lips curl into a dark smile. “but you did,” he says softly. “and now, you’ll live with that guilt forever.”

sunoo crouches beside heeseung, his gaze filled with mock pity as he watches you break down. “look on the bright side,” he says with a smirk. “at least you won’t be lonely. you’ll have us… forever.”

the finality of their words crashes over you like a wave, and as you look into heeseung’s cold, possessive eyes, you realise there’s no escape. you’re trapped in this mansion, bound to heeseung and sunoo for all eternity, forced to relive the mistakes of your past life in an endless cycle of torment.

with a sinking heart, you realise that heeseung was right all along. you’ve always been his. and now, you’ll never be free.

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