boop

But my admiration did not last long for a boy slithered his way into your embrace, a red cup of liquor in his hand that he passed to you while pecking your lips. I should have known a beautiful angel like you was bound to be in the arms of a lover, but how come I felt a little pang on my chest the second your lips locked with his?

I knew we were meant to be because how did the universe connect us both so effortlessly? It wanted us together and I knew that the second I saw you again. I set my eyes on you that same night, this time not at a house party, but at your own home.

Our home.

The move frightened me and caused my calamitous mind to drown in nightmares of what could be’s, but once I set foot in the town that I now called my home, I knew everything was going to be fine. Everyone was kind and welcoming and I didn’t even spend a sweat in finding a home once I packed my childhood home up and made my way north.

The memories of my mother were too haunting and I simply could not bear it. I had enough money from the life insurance company I acquired after her passing and made the decision so quickly after.

I found the ad one Saturday afternoon: Room For Rent! $525 A Month. ALL Amenities Included. I talked to a woman on the phone (now I know it was your mother) when I reached out, allowing her to know I was interested in the offer. She was kind and after a longing while of questions, she accepted and I made my way to you. I just didn’t know it then.

Your scream from fright made me jump, the cup of water in my hands slightly dripping droplets on the wooden ground. “What the fuck?” You muttered, taking a step back. Your eyes were messy with makeup, the night no doubt taking a toll on your sleep, after all it was three in the morning when you walked inside. “Who the hell are you?”

I meant to speak, but the creek of your mothers’ door opening upstairs kept me from opening my mouth, and seeing you standing before me did not help either. Your mother made her way to us, wrapping her pink fleecy robe around her waist. Your scream no doubt roused her from sleep.

“What’s going on - oh.” She looked at us. Did she not tell you about me? Perhaps not, it was obvious. But I was slightly afraid that I’d be scolded by your mother. I was free to roam the inside of your home to make my meals and shower and get a cup of water in the middle of the night, but yet you were her daughter and mothers were always fiercely protective. I knew.

“Sweetheart.” She started and smiled. “This is Namjoon. I guess I didn’t tell you he’d be renting the room at back.”

“Uh, since when?”

“Since… two nights ago?” She looked at me, trying to remember. I nodded. “Yes, since Thursday. I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s nice to meet you.”

I didn’t know I was desperate to feel your touch, but as soon as your hands fit in mind when you shook it and introduced yourself with a tired smile on your face, I shuddered.

“Well I'm glad you weren’t an intruder.” Your hand slipped from mind as you made your way into the kitchen, fetching a glass and filling it with water whilst speaking. “Just, mom, please give me a heads up next time.”

Next time? I wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. I knew there were others before me, the wall by my bed was vandalized with small figures and initials that read KTH, and I always wondered who resided in the room I now slept in.

You looked like an angel when you took a step towards the stairs, turning your head to smile at me one last time. The light on the ceiling gifted you with a glow that made me smile like an idiot. “Goodnight.”

Oh, I was a goner.

I couldn’t help it. I was never a violent person and I even surprised myself when I thought of punching your boy in his perfect face. I knew for a fact that though I was taller and was at an advantage, I could not win in a fight because I had never been in one. I was never the confrontational type.

He was the epitome of perfection. Round, but define cheeks, plump pink lips that made my jaw clench when yours connected with his, and blonde hair that fit him perfectly. He was everything that I wasn’t and that made me want to shrivel up inside and scream with rage until my throat was sore and my voice was nonexistent.

But I could only dream.

“Namjoon, please, help yourself.” Your mothers voice called for me, taking me out of my thoughts and onto the situation that I did not want to deal with. You and Park Jimin.

He sat before me, a plate of breakfast on the diner table and an arm wrapped around the back of you as you nursed a cup of coffee.

There was something with you and coffee. I always noticed you would make yourself a cup, take a few sips, but you never finished it. Always throwing it out the drain before you made your way to school. I always wondered. Until I didn’t.

I wasn’t in school, not yet anyway. After I graduated a few years back my mother tried her best to steer me towards it, but I wasn’t interested, even after the various scholarships I was offered. I knew I could still, for I was smart and capable. There was a part of me that did want to, just to simply join you at the community college you and Jimin went to, but I refrained.

I wasn’t a stalker.

“So Namjoon, how are you liking it here?” Jimin suddenly spoke with a bright smile on his cheeks. It wasn’t that it took me by surprise, Jimin had never spoken to me directly, but I didn’t want him to talk to me. To me, the younger boy was obnoxiously loud and a nuisance.

I breathed as I pushed the want of rolling my eyes. But instead, I took a finger on the bridge of my glasses and pushed them up. I smiled.

“It’s great.” I replied, nodding. “Everyone is kind and the setting is absolutely beautiful. The forestation that surrounds us is amazing.” I couldn’t help but to look at you as I voiced my opinion. I wasn’t lying, you were absolutely beautiful. Absolutely perfect.

Jimin raised a brow and chuckled. “Well, I’m glad. I’ve never really noticed what surrounds us, but I agree.” And with a sip of his apple juice, the conversation between us ended.

I was glad.

But where a conversation dies, another one starts. Your mother was a very talkative person. I had only been with you all for about two weeks in a half, but I felt like I knew her for years. She talked about herself a. lot, and I only wished that she did of you, but I figured she was just lonely after her husband’s passing.

She talked about him all the time and I noticed that she refrained from speaking about him when you were around. From what she spoke of your father, he seemed like a good man. It was only after you left one day to go to school, she finally confessed. She cornered me in the laundry room when I went to gather my clothes and started speaking of everything and anything, until she came about your father.

“My love struggled a lot when he was on earth side. He was fine for a while, but it got too much for him and one day he decided to leave us. My sweet girl found him.”

After that, I finally understood. Why she never spoke of him when you were present and why you made yourself a cup of coffee, but never drank it. The cup was your fathers, engraved with his initials on the side.

I felt my heart break for you and all I could say was that I was sorry. You didn’t deserve to live with the trauma inside of your wonderful mind and inside your perfect heart. In a way I understood you. My mother had gotten sick, until one day the sickness enveloped her whole until she was left with nothing and I was left with a hole inside my chest. There was nothing else to do for her.

My heart jumped as you stood because it mean you’d leave. I could only look at you as you made your way to the sink (as expected) took a farewell sip of the coffee before dumping it in.

“Have a good day.” I said with a wide smile as you retrieved your backpack and the baby blue cup you seemed to take with you everywhere. At least you stayed hydrated. I knew because you had to go to the restroom often.

You returned it, that beautiful smile that made me want to kneel at your feet and beg you to smile for all of eternity. “Thank you, Namjoon.” And you walked, “Bye mom, love you.”

My smile died as Jimin wrapped his arm around your neck, kissing your cheek. And you smiled. I only looked away, watching you unlock your vehicle and getting inside of it.

This jealousy only seemed to grow. I couldn’t help it. I wished you weren’t someone else’s. I wish that my miserable self had gotten here just a little bit earlier, maybe then you’d have been mine.

But would you have liked me?

I never considered myself someone who others would accept romantically. Growing up, I was a lame excuse of a human being, always too shy, always too quiet and afraid to speak my mind. As I grew older, I got better at communicating with the people around me, but I still stuttered when I spoke, and still struggled to continue a conversation.

It was a blessing and a curse because nobody spoke to me, just as I wanted it to be.

As I wrote, I simply couldn’t focus. All I thought of was you, every day and every second that passed by. No one had ever captivated my mind the way you did. I waited for you in my home right outside in the backyard. There was a small window by the door - the only way to get inside and out. It faced yours and I would always see you once you arrived and came home from school.

We had a routine. You’d see me through the curtains, and we’d smile at each other as I worked and I couldn’t wait until dinner arrived because I’d be in your presence and you’d be in mine.

There was something in your eyes that made me believe that you… wanted me. Was I delusional? I’d see it every single time you’d pull your chair out for dinner. You’d give me a smirk as you made your way next to me and I would only give a small hello and thank your mother for the delicious food that she had prepared. But through it, you’d look at me through the corner of your eye and I would only pretend I didn’t see.

You had Jimin. You weren’t like that. That’s what I truly believed until you came stumbling into my room, drunk in the middle of the night and immediately grabbing onto my shirt and connecting your lips with mine.

My heart had never pounded so fast. It took me by surprise which is why I took a hold of your shoulders and gently took a step back. “What are you doing?” Your eyes were bloodshot, like you’d been crying and I cupped your warm cheeks into my hands and took a glance at your cherry-burgundy lips.

“Do you not want me?” The tone in how you voiced the question made my heart ache; begging and fretful. How could you say such a thing? I have always wanted you, but not like this.

“Come. Sit.” I grabbed your wrist and I sat you on the edge of my bed. “What’s going on? What happened?” I towered over you as you sniffled and looked at me with tearful eyes.

“Jimin, -“

Of course.

“ - he doesn’t want to have sex with me.” You said it so meekly that I almost didn’t hear you. “He - he keeps making excuses about how he wants to wait till marriage, but I mean that is such bullshit! It’s outdated and stupid. Who at this date and age does not want to have sex? He’s not even religious!” As much as it pained me to see the tears falling from your eyes so delicately, I couldn’t help but to feel a sense of victory through your defeat.

Did this mean your relationship with Jimin was coming to an end? It had to, right? You seemed happy at his side, but now, as I saw the proof in front of me, it was all a faux.

But there was also a part of me that felt angry. Was I just your second choice? Would you have come for me and begged for me to bed you if you had other men wrapped around your finger?

“Well, -“ I started slowly, taking a seat to the right of you. “ - sometimes people like to wait, you know, just to be sure that the person they're giving themselves up for is… worth it.”

You sniffled again, wiping at your face. “You - you think he thinks I’m not worth it? We’ve been together for almost two years.”

Remind me, why don’t you.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I wouldn’t be able to tell you myself, but a girl like you, you’re worth everything. To give up for, to kill for. Just say the words and you’ll have men at their knees. You decide.”

-

You were taunting me, it was so obvious. With those deliciously roguish eyes that eyed me with want and the skirts that barely covered your bottoms with the shirts that you paired that were the definition of skimpy, I knew what game you were playing.

It was when your arms would stray away from your lap and would just gently touch my arms at dinner, I knew that you wanted me the way I wanted you.

But it was wrong. Although I hated Jimin, I couldn’t help but to think that if I were in his position, your betrayal would wound me like no other. He seemed to love you, yet here you were, teasing me with your sensual eyes and your beautiful body that I absolutely wanted to ravish and worship.

But through the slight guilt I felt, there was a part of me that was… happy. Your mother was a nurse, working mostly every night at the local hospital which left me home, alone with you and with my tumultuous mind. You and Jimin were almost similar it seemed. You’d argue almost every night when he stayed to keep you company.

And though I couldn’t help but to feel jealous, a part of me was comfortable with him at your side because after that night that you came to me for comfort, the virgin wanted to wait until marriage.

My mother raised me right which is why I pushed myself away from listening to your heated match. But how could I? I had never met someone who could screech in anger the way you did to him.

He left soon thereafter, slamming the door with such force that it made my body jump from the sound. I fought with myself to go check on you, maybe you needed your space, but the thought of you crying was enough to do me in. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, climbing the stairs and making my way to you.

The knock on the door was almost timid and quiet, but even when you didn’t answer, I gently opened it, and there you were, in a fetus position laying on your side, hugging a giant teddy bear to your chest.

“Hi.” You whispered looking up at me with those eyes that I loved so much. But they were swollen, and my immediate thought was to comfort you. I didn’t think when I sat at your side, brushing the strands of hair that were at the front of your face.

“Hey, there beautiful.”

You huffed, “I look far from beautiful right now.”

How could you ever think that? You were an angel fallen from heaven.

“Do you think he hates me? I said some pretty shitty things.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes, but for your sake I simply shook my head. “Of course not. I’m sure he understands that people say shitty things when they're angry. I mean, I’m sure he has said some things to you before, no?”

With a shake of your head you maneuvered your body, landing right on your back with the teddy bear on top.

“No, Jimin isn’t like that. He’s quiet in moments like these. I feel like that makes me angrier, you know? Like tell me something, tell me that I’m a bitch or that you hate me, but say something! Anything!”

I understand why he kept quiet. I would never say things of that magnitude to you. It was a disrespect that no one could come back from because you would never deserve it.

“So you like to be degraded?” I teased, raising a brow.

“What?” You chuckled. There it was. Just exactly what I wanted. “Of course not, Namjoon!” I smiled at the playful strike you landed on my thigh. “I’m just saying, I just feel like he doesn’t try to communicate.”

“Well… maybe you need to find someone else.” I couldn’t believe what I was doing. “Someone who could take your needs as theirs and actually knows how to communicate. My mother always said that communication was key in a relationship.”

“But I love him.” I swear, my chest felt like it was struck with something so tight that I couldn’t comprehend. How could you say something like that in my presence? Couldn’t you see how much I loved you?

And through my anger, I couldn’t help but to reply. “Sometimes, loving someone means you have to let them go. I know it’s hard, but I know you know Jimin isn’t good for you. All this arguing, this crying, it will only take a toll on you that you cannot take.”

Your fingertips on my thigh took me by surprise, stroking it with such sensuality as you looked up at me with those eyes that screamed for me to take you to bed. “And how would you know, hm? Have you ever had a girlfriend, Namjoon?”

My breath hitched as your fingers played with the waist of my pants, tugging them down just slightly. “N - no.”

It was a lie. But why bring past mistakes into my future? I hated lying to you, but a little white lie would never hurt.

“No?” You hummed, now on your knees as you came closer. I could feel your breathing and as my hands guided you into my lap, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

My lips connected with yours with such hunger, such intensity. How I longed to hold you close and have you by my side. Your body wrapped around mine felt so right, like a puzzle piece I knew I was missing. Couldn’t you see? We were perfect for each other.

With a small grunt, I laid you down on your bed without separating myself from you, desperately taking off your oversized shirt that you hid your alluring body from. And with hunger, I wrapped my lips around your beautiful breasts, pecking your sternum and making my way down to the waist of your pants. You complied, raising your hips and allowing me to remove the nuisance from your waist.

And what a sight. There wasn’t an inch of you that I couldn’t find a flaw. Stretch marks followed the side of your thighs, and along the middle of your tummy. I kissed them with reverence before my tongue dove inside the place I always wanted to be in.

You tasted absolutely divine. And I was hungry for more as I sucked on the little pearl between your legs, wrapping my hands around your thighs and hugging you closer.

“Namjoon.” You whimpered, and that made me want you even more.

The small little gasp you made made me smirk and I didn’t hold back from bringing you close to the orgasm that you were on the brink of, but I held back. I wanted to be inside of you as I came and held my hold inside of you. You looked up at me as I undressed, my sweatpants on the ground in an instant before I held you tight between my arms and entered the place I had dreamt of being.

Your brows furrowed from the uncomfortableness, it was to be expected as I was your first - the first man that had ever been inside of you. The thought almost brought me to the brink, but I wanted your first time to be loving and special.

And just as I expected, the feeling was euphoric and I couldn’t help but to moan and drop my head in the warmth of your neck. Your hands held my neck tight as you adjusted, soft little pants escaping your precious lips. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” I whispered, giving you soft little pecks on your lips and on your forehead as comfort.

“I - I think you can move.”

“Are you sure?” The furrow in between your brows was gone, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to hurt you, but when you nodded and gave me a smile, I pulled away from the warmth between your legs, and made my way in once again.

At that moment, my dreams were coming true. Jimin was nonexistent as I knew it was the same for you. You muttered my name and my name only as you held me with a vice grip and kissed me on the lips.

I had never been brought to such ecstasy the way I did with you. After you came for the first time before I brought you to more, I soon followed, gasping for breath from the feeling of you holding by cock with such a vice grip.

We took a breath for a second as we giggled like school children and kissed each other hard. But you were insatiable. You wanted for more even as your legs shook with exhaustion and you mounted me and rode me like I was the last man on earth.

But of course, you needed to sleep and your body knew it, and soon after we finished making love, your eyes drooped and you slept so soundly, close to my chest and my beating heart.

I couldn’t help but to stroke your belly. Maybe… my seed would take place inside of you and you’d be pregnant before we knew it. In my mind, I sickly hoped that you were. I knew that I was going out on a limb and that one couldn’t get pregnant with just one night, but I wanted you to be.

I always dreamt of a family. Was I so wrong to want something with the woman I loved?

But the righteous won. We were still young and… Jimin, Jimin was still in the picture. Goddamn Park Jimin. I hated him with everything I had, and I hated my mind even more for ruining the afterglow I was basking in.

With I sigh, I gently kissed the crown of your head, getting dressed with the thought of making my way to a pharmacy and getting you a contraceptive to prevent pregnancy. I knew it wasn’t right.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand and with a glance, my stomach dropped as I read it.

JiHoon: Hey, baby. I loved that little present you gave me. See you soon?

I couldn’t help the tears from forming and with a slam to your door, I left your bedroom, no doubt rousing you from your sleep.

-

I couldn’t stop staring at you. The night you gifted me with stuck to my mind. You gave me something forbidden that I couldn’t come back from. After I left your bedroom, I made my way to the pharmacy, slightly smiling at the only cashier and took the bag with me. I left it on your nightstand, but I couldn’t bear to look as you slept.

You betrayed me.

You kept betraying me. The fight you had with Jimin seemed to be forgotten. You two lovebirds were inseparable the following day. Were you not guilty? Or did you just stick by his side because he was all you knew and you couldn’t let go?

I knew I could give you something better. Something that was worth your time and effort. I’ll take you out of this town that you lived in your whole life and perhaps we could live in the home I grew up in. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough for the both of us.

“Hey, Namjoon.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You awkwardly looked away and eyed Jimin. You couldn’t even look me in the eyes.

You both sat at the hanging bench that was at the front of your house, your arm wrapped around his. Jimin smiled at me, nodding at my precence, but I didn’t follow. I couldn’t help but to glare. But as soon as it formed, I hid it, immediately smiling bright, looking down at the both of you.

I was feeling messy.

“Did you take it?”

It was obvious I caught you off guard. You gulped, letting out a nervous chuckle. Jimin, of course had no idea about the contraceptive I had bought you, and I took pride and a bit of sick pleasure at your unprepared face

“Take what?” Jimin questioned with furrowed brows.

“Uh - just, I - I had a headache last night, and uh, Namjoon gave me pain killers. That’s it.”

You weren’t a great liar, but you were fast.

“Good.” I nodded, “You should just have a few on hand, you know, for when it happens again because headaches -“ I eyed Jimin, shaking my head, “they’re the worst.”

“Right. You know what, we were leaving. We have a movie to watch.” You stood quickly, taking a hold of your lover's hand and when you walked and I was at your back, I spoke once again.

“You don’t mind if I tag along?”

There was a pause as the birds chirped and Jimin turned. “Uh, yeah sure, why not?” I knew the invite was just a lie, but I knew the man wasn’t going to turn me down; he was kind and simply couldn’t take it.

“I’ll drive.” I offered, my long legs allowing me to walk ahead and just as I wanted, I stood next to you, opening the door to my vehicle and letting you go first. “Thanks.” You muttered.

The drive was… unpleasant. As much as Jimin tried to make small conversation, it simply didn’t go anywhere. I hated to admit, but Jimin wasn’t so bad. He tried his best to make me comfortable and no doubt himself, but I despised him and a part of him knew.

When we arrived at the theater after Jimin kept instructing me where to go, I paid for the tickets and for the snacks. I figured it was the least I could do after I stuck with you both like a leech. Jimin was thankful, patting me on the back and taking a seat on the tables the theater offered. He nodded when you voiced you needed to go to the restroom, and I took a seat, taking a sip of the cherry slushee.

“I don’t mean to pry, but did she tell you what happened last night?” His question caught me off guard.

“She didn’t have to tell me. I heard everything.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, about that, I’m sorry you had to hear that. It’s just - when she gets like that, she can’t stop and it’s difficult to speak.”

Was he seriously blaming you right now?

“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “I completely understand. Don’t worry about it.”

“You ever had a girlfriend, Namjoon?” Why did it sound like he was mocking me? Did I seem to be below him because I didn’t carry his fair skin and plump pink lips? He was everything I wasn’t - had everything I wanted, and I wanted to punch him until he was left unrecognizable and no one would ever look his way.

“No.” I replied with a shake of my head. “Not really.” He looked at me with confusion. “What do you mean, ‘not really’?

I despised thinking of Anna, and leave it to Jimin to bring back memories I wanted to bury deep in my consciousness. She was a woman who deserved no mercy, not after the way she spoke of my mother, like if she were scum below her shoes.

My mother was the light of my life and there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of her and held her close to my heart.

I loved Anna, or at least I thought I did, and I admit, it did hurt me letting her go, but now I know that what I had with her was never love. She was a fiend, and you are an angel.

“I prefer not to talk about it. Do you mind if I go to the restroom?”

“No, of course no -“

I didn’t even let him finish. With caution, I checked my surroundings before I entered the women’s restroom, intently scanning the thin wooden doors of the stalls and once I caught the black Converse’s you wore, I placed my back against the wall, and waited.

The small little gasp of fear that escaped your mouth once you saw me made me smile. “Sorry. I just had to talk to you.” I shrugged, grabbing your wrists to bring you close. I couldn’t deny that it pained me when I went in to kiss you and you pushed me away.

There was confusion written all over my face, it was obvious, and you noticed.

“What the hell are you doing, Namjoon? Jimin is right outside and you can get in trouble if someone finds you in here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you. You - you have been acting weird ever since yesterday. I get it - just come over to my room tonight, yeah? Please? I have something I want to give you.”

You raised your brows. “Another plan B pill?

“Well, if I didn’t get it for you, you might as well could’ve been pregnant at this very moment. If you wanted to have my baby, you could have just said so.”

Would that really have been that bad?

“Don’t be an ass, dude.” With a huff and a roll of your eyes, you turned, making your way to the sink and pumping soap onto your hands. I followed just behind you and took you by the hips.

“Please?” My hands slithered lower and by the look of the reflection, I knew you were craving for more just as much as I was.

“O - okay. Fine. Just, let me go first or Jimin will realize what’s going on.”

“By all means,-“ I gestured with my hand. - ladies first.” And with a stolen kiss I smiled, seeing you walk away and no doubt, into the arms of my mortal enemy.

-

My leg shook with anticipation as I looked at the clock on my desk: 2:36AM. You said you’d be here, so where the hell were you? As soon as we got home from the theater, you said goodbye to Jimin and locked yourself inside your room. I knew because I knocked on your door multiple times before giving up and making my way to the little backyard home I resided in.

I huffed, landing with a thump on my bed, entertaining myself with the charm bracelet that was on my hand. My heart pounded once I heard two little knocks on my door and I instantly stood up and opened the door.

I smiled brightly once I saw you, dressed in a gray v-neck shirt and baby pink pajama pants with cupcakes cluttered on the cloth. “Hey, beautiful. What took you so long?”

You made your way in, taking a seat on my bed. “I took a nap.”

I chuckled and raised a brow. “You don’t take naps.”

Teasing, you replied, getting rid of your slippers and wrapping yourself around my blanket. “And how would you know that? Hm?”

I shrugged, “Through your window. You snore, do you know that?” I laughed out loud when you smacked me with my pillow, gasping with offense. “No I do not! You’re such a little liar!”

This could be our future.

Content and happiness, just you and I. Our home filled with laughs and quick witted banters. Couldn’t you see? We belonged together. I knew it the second I saw you.

“Here.”

My hand was out, presenting you the bracelet that I cherished as a part of me. My mother never took it off, from what I knew, she’d had it in her early teens and kept it since. You meant everything to me now, and it was yours to have.

“It’s beautiful Namjoon.” You gasped, sitting upright, stroking the charms.

“It was my mothers. I want you to have it.” I could see it in your eyes, you wanted to decline, but I wouldn’t allow it. “Please.”

I took a hold of your wrist, wrapping the jewelry around your carpus and connecting the clasp.

“Namjoon, I can -“

“Yes.” I pushed. “You can. I want you to have it. I have no purpose for it. It doesn’t fit and I’d rather it be used than to be locked inside a box without it ever seeing daylight again. Please? It would mean a lot to me.”

You eyed me for a few seconds then sighed. “Okay, fine. Thank you. I promise I’ll take great care of it.”

I didn’t doubt it for a second. You took me by surprise because like a flash of light, you engulfed me and kissed me with need. I didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. In seconds I wrapped you in my arms and our clothes were nonexistent - dropped on the floor in a haste to make ourselves whole.

I will never get enough of you. Your little gasp of pleasure made my tummy fill with extreme need as I entered you and held you close. It was intimate, our love making sounds resounding in my room. You cupped my face, gently stroking as if I wasn’t real and you wanted to verify if I was really there, making love to you.

“I’m here. I got you, sweetheart.”

And I was never letting you go.

-

The frantic 2AM call took me by surprise. It woke me from the deep slumber I was in, but the moment I saw your name on my screen, I didn’t hesitate to disconnect my phone from its charger and answer. I called your name in question and your distraught voice I heard next.

It was distressing, hysterical.

“Namjoon? I didn't know who else to call, but - but can you please come? I - I need your help, I don’t know what I di - he’s not fucking moving -he’s not answering i just pushed him and-

“Breathe, I’m on my way okay, just stay there. Don’t move.”

I don’t think I have ever sped the way I did making my way to you. As I parked my car on the side of the abandoned road, behind the white car with its hazards flashing bright, I knew something had happened.

Something terrible that you had done.

It wasn’t until I stepped out of my vehicle that I saw his limped body on the asphalt, a puddle of scarlet blood oozing from his head. You sat at his side with your knees inside your chest and with your frizzy hair at the front of your face, you looked up at me slowly. “He’s dead.”

-

I would’ve never thought I’d have to get rid of a dead body. A part of me felt disgusted as the monstrous act I had done devoured me whole, but I didn’t feel… guilt.

The immense jealousy that raged within me kept me from doing so. You met him, the bastard that made me cry after I made you mine for the first time, JiHoon, on a deserted road to enjoy hiding your dirty little secret: your adulterous little soul. I wished I understood why you felt the need to run into the arms of another when you had Jimin, you had me and god only knew how many others.

But even then, I still wanted you, through your imperfections and your need to want other men even though they caused me absolute agony. Good riddance to the bludgeoned man who crossed your path. He forced himself on you and there was only one way the night was going to end.

I’d done it to protect you, to keep you sane and perhaps even have you to myself.

The night bound us as one. A clandestine service that we would take to our deaths.

After I placed the cold corpse into my trunk, I took the tiny packet of white substance that laid on the concrete ground, and placed it inside my jeans. It was a good thing you both came in your car. There wouldn’t be any suspiciousness, hopefully, and we’d forget about this illicit night.

“Go home.” I said in seriousness, taking a hold of you by the nape of your hair. I was angry at you that I couldn’t even look you in the eye. “I’ll take care of him.”

You nodded and sniffled, cupping my hand and gently rubbed. “Thank you.”

And with a start of the engine, you raised your window up, and drove away.

-

“Namjoon!” Your mothers voice made my body jerk from surprise. I was on edge, it was human and I wanted nothing more than to get out of the situation I knew would take a while to get rid of. Your mother loved to talk.

“Hello.” I muttered with an empty smile. Your home smelled divine with the aroma of freshly made food, but I didn’t have an appetite. Who would?

“Will you join me today? My sweetheart of a daughter isn’t feeling too well. She came home reeking of god knows what and emptied her guts as soon as she stepped foot in the door.” With a shake of her head, she took a seat, gulping down the glass of wine in an instant.

If only she knew that her ‘sweetheart of a daughter’ wasn’t such a sweetheart after all. She had a dirty little secret and I was her accomplice.

“No. I apologize. I had a long night. I only wish to go to bed, if you do not mind.” I felt terrible for turning her down, but the only thought in my mind was to see you. To nurse you back to health even when I knew that you were traumatized by what you have done.

Your mother sighed and shrugged. “I understand. Have a good night.”

“Do you mind if I go see her? I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. My long legs took me there in seconds and as soon as I walked inside your bedroom, I took a seat beside you. You laid there on your side, your eyes red and swollen from the tears that were nonstop. “Can you lay with me, please?”

Who was I to not obey? I took you onto my chest, cupping your wet cheeks onto my hands. “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”

You muttered as you sobbed. “I - I’m sorry, I didn’t mea -“

“Shh, I know. You did nothing wrong, my love. But I want you to promise something, can you do that?”

You nodded. “You can’t speak to anyone about this, okay? No matter how much you want to. You weren’t there, do you hear me? I wasn’t there.”

Shakily, you breathed and nodded once again. “I understand.”

“But now you know why not to do such a thing, hm? It’s not okay. You’re lying to me, to Jimin all for what? You did something that you will never forgive yourself for, but I want you to know that I will do it all over again, for you. Do you understand?”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

—

After you slept like an angel wrapped around my arms, I left, not wanting your mom to come into your room and find us wrapped around each other.

I had trouble falling asleep, but soon thereafter, sleep found me and I slept soundly. I couldn’t believe I had. Ian hadn’t even crossed my mind. The scoundrel was six feet under and he’ll remain there where no one was to find him. Good riddance.

But you, you would never be the same. You were a murderer. An angel of death that brought a man to his knees for the simple act of crossing your path. And it seemed I was following the same path, I wasn’t dead, but when you would betray me, I would feel death dawn on me, getting closer and closer with every treachery you committed. But yet, you would bring me to cloud nine. How? I would never understand.

But I understood that I loved you. I love you like I have never loved anyone before. And though it suffocated me and drowned me, I always went back for more. I will always go back for more.

“Good morning.” I smiled, pecking the crown of your head as you sat with your legs crossed in the dining room, a fork at your fingertips, playing with the food on the plate. Your mother was gone, no doubt picking up an early shift at the local hospital, but as the doting mother that she was, she had left breakfast at the ready for you.

You gave me a tight lipped smile that made me frown. Your eyes were swollen, almost hollow when you looked at me. He was haunting your mind, his shadow following you, no doubt. But even when I knew, I had to ask. I couldn’t bear the thought of you in pain.

“How are you holding up?”

You shrugged, biting your lips. “I don’t know. Is it weird that I don’t know what I’m actually feeling? I can’t explain it, even though I really really want to.”

“It’s okay to feel that way. You went through something… traumatic, and you won’t bounce back from it as soon as possible. It takes time, but I promise as time continues, it’ll get easier.”

You eyed me. “How do you know that?”

You skeptical little, beautiful thing.

“…I am just placing myself in your shoes, I tend to do that in certain situations. Would you like more breakfast?”

You shook your head, taking one last bite of the egg before standing up. “No, thank you. I'm meeting with Jimin.”

You moved, making your way up the stairs as my jaw clenched in anger, and my words made you stop in your tracks. “Jimin, hm? I - I thought you were ending things with him.”

You turned with furrowed brows, “I never said that.” Will this be the first time I’d feel your fury towards me? It was obvious I’d pushed a button.

“No? I thought the night before might’ve been an answer to your actions. You no longer love him. You have proved it time and time again, have you not?”

“You don’t know shit, Namjoon. I love hi-“

I couldn’t help it, I was infuriated by your nonsense comment that you didn’t mean. “You’re cheating on him with me! You have multiple times. And don’t even get me started on the man that you killed last night because I’m sure you weren’t there only for the coke, or am I wrong? Hm? Why in the hell do you still go back to him!”

“Because I can, Namjoon. Because I can. And it’s none of your fucking business anyway!”

“Yesterday was my business. You had no one else to call because you don’t trust anyone. You trust me! Not Jimin, not even the friends you don’t have, not even your own mother!”

I struck a cord. I gasped when you hurled a glass cup my away and I only managed to move away immediately before it struck me.

“Fuck you, Namjoon! Fuck you!” And with that, you walked away, grabbing your keys from the bowl near the door and slamming the door with such force that it shook the walls.

I stood there paralyzed and it wasn’t until I noticed that my body was shivering with anger? With distress? I couldn’t tell, but I was crying. The tears fell freely after being locked inside for what seemed like years and with blurry vision, I grabbed the broom and picked up your mess that your temper had caused.

That’s what I started to do ever since I met you: pickup after you and the disarray you left behind, and perhaps even myself. You left me in shambles and before I knew it, I was on the ground, on my knees as my shoulders shook from the sobs that escaped my chest.

And there, on the ground, in the depths of hell I felt I was in, I knew you had dug your grave. I loved you with everything I had, but this couldn’t go on any longer.

You had made your choice and I couldn't change your mind.

If I can’t have you, then you will not have anybody else.

-

The anonymous tip came in at midnight. I could see the blinding blue lights coming from the front yard of your house even where I resided.

Three police vehicles made themselves welcome in your yard, and I only knew exactly what was happening. Your mothers voice was louder than usual, hysterical as the officers handcuffed you and declared you your rights, walking you out onto the awaiting SUV. I made myself known, asking with faux concern and holding your mother’s shoulders as she cried, almost wanting to drag herself over to you.

There were tears in your eyes once I finally looked at you. You knew it was me and I held absolute pride even when I truly felt for you. But there was something more important in my eyes that you instantly understood.

My menacing and threatening look in my gaze. I had your mother in my grasp and if you wanted to see her once again - behind bars of course, you’d do best to keep quiet about what I had done. What I did for YOU.

Did you really think I would’ve done such a thing for you without looking out for me? I knew exactly the type of person you were, but yet, I still fell for you deeply, like no else had done - like Jimin never did.

I knew where JiHoons’ body was placed, I knew absolutely everything, and I knew enough not to wipe away your DNA from his body, your hair that I took a hold of after I told you to go home when you murdered him in cold blood.

I placed you on such a high pedestal and I despised knowing that it took me such a long time to comprehend such a thing. But I still loved you so much.

The moment I set my sight on you, I viewed you as an angel fallen from above, a beautiful creature that did no wrong.

But you weren’t an angel.

You were my hell on earth. Though you brought me to such highs, you brought me to a low, and saddened mess. Your loyal puppeteer that you knew you could manipulate just as you wanted because you knew the hold you had on me.

But you made a mistake with me and though I loved you, you had a price to pay.

It’s what you deserved.

Much love.

His expression doesn’t change. He’s still cold, unaffected.

But it pisses you off.

You stand up, your body suddenly tense.

“You know, you could at least acknowledge me, instead of just staring at that doll like it’s your damn king.”

He raises an eyebrow. “JK doesn’t need you. He’s better off without you.”

The words sting, but they only fuel your frustration.

“Is that so?” You take a step closer. “Because, from where I’m standing, you’ve got the whole ‘ignoring me’ thing down.”

His eyes flicker for just a second.

Then he speaks again, his voice so detached, it could cut through anything. “You’re supposed to be taking care of him, not complaining to me.”

You smirk, feeling a mix of anger and something else. “You’re not even worth complaining to. You know that, right?”

His gaze hardens.

“You think I care?” His voice drops lower, colder. “The only thing I care about is whether you’re following the damn rules.”

You stare at him for a moment, the tension suffocating. Your heart beats in your chest.

“Then why are you still here?” you ask, almost breathless.

He doesn’t answer, but you know it’s because he doesn’t care.

You turn away, feeling the frustration and the heat rise.

“Fine,” you mutter. “I’ll follow the damn rules. But don’t think I’m doing this for you.”

And just as you start to walk out, you hear it again. A whisper.

“Stay.”

This time, it’s the doll. The doll speaking.

It almost makes you gasp.

You look at Eunwoo, but his eyes are focused on something else.

The doll’s voice lingers in your mind.

You feel the pull again. And it’s stronger than ever.

•••

The afternoon is quiet.

Too quiet.

You’re sitting at the dining table, eating your buldak noodles like you’re trying to savor every bite, but honestly? You’re not tasting a damn thing.

Your mind is still stuck on Eunwoo and the way he completely dismissed you this morning.

“You think I care?” That’s what he said.

Like you were just some problem he had to deal with. Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.

You chew another mouthful, letting the spice burn your throat as your frustration swells.

You glance at the doll sitting across from you—staring blankly, as always.

You’ve been talking to it so much, it feels almost natural now.

“I bet you wouldn’t ignore me,” you mutter under your breath. “You’d at least look at me if I did something…”

You trail off, staring at the doll’s lifeless eyes. But, oddly, it feels like it’s staring back.

“I’m talking to a fucking doll.” You laugh bitterly, shaking your head, trying to make sense of it all.

The steam from your noodles rises in front of you, but it doesn’t clear the heaviness in the air. The silence between you and the doll is stifling.

“You’re probably the only one who doesn’t judge me,” you say quietly, almost to yourself.

But even the doll can’t answer.

You feel your anger pulse again, that same damn frustration bubbling up. The noodles are too spicy, but you can’t stop eating them.

It’s like the heat from the food is a mirror of the heat inside you.

Every bite just brings the burn of that rejection closer.

“God, what the hell is wrong with me?” you mumble between bites.

You glance down at the doll again, your eyes narrowing.

“Why does it feel like you get me, huh?” It’s just sitting there. Silent. Unmoved.

But you swear you feel like it’s listening. “Why does Eunwoo get to be all cold and unbothered, while I’m stuck here playing house with a fucking doll?”

You roll your eyes, but the frustration just keeps growing. The noodles aren’t helping.

Your fingers grip the chopsticks tighter, your frustration spilling out into the air around you.

“I hate that he doesn’t even care. Like… why the hell am I doing all this?”

The doll doesn’t say anything, of course. It never does.

But it’s almost like you’re waiting for it to say something.

Anything.

You take another bite, swallowing it down with a grunt.

And then..

“Stay.”

You freeze, noodles halfway to your mouth. The voice isn’t loud, but it’s clear. Too clear.

It’s the doll. It said the word again.

“Stay.”

You set your chopsticks down, a chill creeping over your skin. You thought you’d imagined it last time, but now? Now, it’s almost real.

You glance at the doll, and the air feels colder.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, heart pounding.

It can’t… it can’t be real. Right?

You look down at the doll, eyes widening.

Did it really just say that?

The room feels too still. You start to panic, breathing faster as you pick up your chopsticks again. But you can’t get the words out of your head.

“Stay.”

Your hand trembles, but you try to ignore it. You keep eating, trying to shake it off.

“It’s nothing,” you tell yourself. “It’s just… the silence messing with my head.”

But you can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. Like you’re being watched.

The doll doesn’t move. It doesn’t blink. But for some reason, it feels like it’s waiting.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you mutter under your breath, pushing your noodles around.

You hear it again, that voice. Soft. Low.

“Stay.”

It’s not in your head this time. It’s real. You heard it. You can’t pretend anymore.

“No… no, no, no,” you whisper, your heart racing. “It’s just the house. It’s just too quiet. I’m just, just stressed out.”

You try to stand, but your legs feel weak.

It’s like the whole house is holding its breath. Like the walls are closing in.

You blink rapidly, trying to stay calm. But your chest is tight, and you feel a strange pull, like you have to stay.

You sit back down, not sure why, but something is urging you to stay near the doll. To pay attention to it.

You start to speak, your voice barely a whisper. “You’re not real, right? You can’t really… talk.”

But the doll says nothing. It’s only the silence that answers.

And yet, somehow, that silence feels more real than anything else in this house.

•••

You finish washing the dishes, feeling slightly more at ease because— well, your kitchen doesn’t look like a battlefield anymore.

But the weirdness? The unease? That stays.

The doll’s voice still rings in your ears, and you can’t shake the chill it gave you. “Stay.”

You roll your eyes at yourself, trying to shake it off.

“It’s nothing. Nothing but a creepy little toy with some serious boundary issues,” you mutter, heading back to your bedroom.

You throw your phone on the bed as you kick the door shut behind you, and immediately, your mind starts racing again. What the hell was that voice? The doll’s supposed to be inanimate, right?

Like… right?

You grab your phone, tap Alina’s name, and send her a message before you can stop yourself:

You: Girl, I’m losing my mind. I need you to talk some sense into me. Are dolls supposed to talk? Or am I just officially gone?

You watch the message bubble for a few seconds. Then, finally:

Alina: Yo, what happened? You’re in the middle of some weird creepy vibes or some shit? Should I get the holy water or a shaman?

You laugh out loud at her response.

You: Holy water, girl? Please, I wish it were that simple, you text back, pacing the room. I’m talking to a doll. No, worse. I’m listening to a doll talk back to me! It said ‘stay’ like three times today and I swear it’s not me imagining it!

You wait for her reply, half expecting her to hit you with something like, Girl, just chill. It’s all in your head.’ But instead, she goes full Alina mode.

Alina: Wait, you’ve been cuddling with it or something? Is it, like, some weird fetish shit? I swear, you get involved in the strangest stuff, girl.

You: NO, NO, it’s not a fetish! It’s a fucking doll! you reply, rolling your eyes at yourself as you sit on your bed.

Alina: Well, does it feel like a doll? Like, do you actually feel… things?

You: Alina, what are you even asking right now? you send back, rubbing your temples.

Alina: Just trying to clarify. If you’re gonna be talking to your creepy little friend, at least tell me if it has a pulse, okay?

You snort.

You: Alina, you’re out of control.

Alina’s texts start coming faster now, like she’s just gone full conspiracy theory mode:

Alina: Okay, but wait; is it the kind of doll that talks back only when no one’s looking?

You: I don’t know! It’s just a dumb porcelain thing that someone put on my lap, and now I’m apparently its babysitter!” you text, annoyed but still kind of laughing. “And don’t even get me started on Eunwoo.

Alina: Eunwoo?? You’re still obsessed with that guy? Is he the reason you’re hanging with the creepy-ass porcelain one instead?

You: He’s just… ugh, he’s cold as fuck. He rejects me every time I try to flirt. But, I’m pretty sure he knows I’m obsessed with him, so now I’m just making it worse by hanging around with this doll that won’t even fucking shut up.

You stop, feeling stupid. Did you really just confess all that to Alina?

Alina: Wait, hold up. Are you telling me you’re about to go full I’m-not-a-crazy-person-but-actually-I’m-talking-to-a-doll-now mode because of Eunwoo?!

You laugh bitterly, collapsing back on the bed.

You: I don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore. It’s like… the doll’s the only one that listens. At least it says things like ‘stay’ and ‘pretty.

Alina: Yo, that’s mad weird. But also lowkey hot. Wait, so is the doll, like, trying to flirt with you now?

You freeze for a second.

You: What?

Alina: Because, you know, you’re giving it way too much attention for it to NOT be into you. Like… do you think it’s trying to get in your head?

You bite your lip. That… actually makes sense.

Is the doll playing you?

You: Okay, no. No, no, no. It’s a fucking doll. But at this point, I can’t even tell what’s real anymore.

You text back, frustrated and trying to distract yourself by scrolling through your phone.

Alina: So, what, now you’re doing full-on therapy sessions with it? ‘Cause, I gotta say, this is a new level of weird even for you, girl.

You laugh, but it’s not really a happy laugh.

You: I’m just talking to it, Alina. It’s like I have no one else to vent to. And now, Eunwoo’s all cold and shut off, so it’s like I have… I don’t know… the doll?

Alina: Damn. So, the doll gets all your attention now? What’s next, is it gonna start following you around the house? You said it talks, right? Does it ask for kisses too?

You pause for a moment, your stomach dropping. Did the doll… did it want you to kiss it?

You: Wait, hold on! you text back, I’m literally so paranoid right now. What if it does want me to kiss it? Like… it keeps asking me to stay and saying I’m pretty.

Alina: Okay, I’m honestly dying. Just please, please, please don’t get sucked into the ‘doll wants you’ cult. I swear if you send me a picture of you kissing it, I will throw up on the spot.

You laugh hysterically at her reply, but the laughter dies in your throat as you remember the doll’s cold, hollow stare.

•••

The evening falls quiet, the usual hum of the house fading into that calm, eerie silence you’ve grown so used to.

You’re sprawled on the couch, one leg thrown over the armrest, as you mindlessly flick your finger on your phone screen.

You’ve got Temple Run 2 open.

NOSTALGIA!!!!

No idea why you’re so obsessed with this damn game. It’s mindless and stupid but maybe that’s exactly what you need right now.

You keep failing, but the loops are just so satisfying, and the soundtrack ugh, it’s somehow so nostalgic.

“What’re you doing?”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as you hear his voiceEunwoo, standing there, suddenly too close.

You glance over, blinking in surprise.

He’s looking at your phone. Of course, he’s noticed your utter lack of skill at this game, too.

“Just playing some Temple Run,” you shrug, barely looking at him.

His eyes narrow. “You’re playing Temple Run?”

You roll your eyes dramatically, tapping your phone again. “Yeah, Eunwoo. Temple Run. Ever heard of it?”

He steps closer, and then unbelievably he plops down right next to you on the couch.

Not a single care in the world. The sudden proximity makes you feel all sorts of things you can’t quite explain, but you try to focus on the game.

“I could teach you how to play, if you want,” you say with a teasing smile, knowing full well that you’re about to have way too much fun with this.

Eunwoo doesn’t even look at you. Instead, he’s squinting at your phone like it’s a foreign object.

“I know how to play games.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He grabs the phone from your hand, his fingers brushing yours for a split second and your heart skips.

He swipes the screen, but instead of jumping or sliding, he just runs right into a wall.

“Really?” you laugh, covering your mouth. “That’s your big move?”

He doesn’t respond. He just stares at the screen, frowning in confusion.

“What the hell was that? You’re supposed to swipe left to dodge obstacles. Swipe. Like this,”

you show him, your finger dancing over the screen with exaggerated movements.

He watches you, but when you look over at him, you see a small and by small, barely noticeable smirk tug at his lips.

“I’m just getting started,” he says in that deep voice of his, but the tiny smile is there again.

You can’t believe it. Is he actually smiling?

You’re about to say something, but you catch the slightest glint in his eyesjust for a second and you don’t know why, but it makes your stomach flip.

“You need to be more aggressive,” you tease, leaning in closer than necessary as you guide his fingers with your own, letting him feel the motions on the screen.

His gaze flickers down to your hands, and for a split second, you feel the intensity between you two.

It’s not just the game anymore. Your heart is racing, your skin tingling.

Oh yeah, you want me so bad.

“Aggressive, huh?” he mutters, still not meeting your eyes but there’s a definite playfulness there.

You give him an exaggerated sigh, leaning back against the couch as you pull the phone away.

“Okay, here, let me show you how it’s done, Mr. I Know How To Play Games.”

You tap your phone again, failing the next round on purpose just to mess with him, but then you glance over at him. “See, that’s how you die in the game.”

Eunwoo’s smirk grows ever so slightly. “Maybe I let you win.”

You raise a brow. “Uh huh. Sure you did.”

He’s quiet for a second, and you can’t help but notice how his usual cold demeanor is slipping just a little—

there’s something softer here, something unexpected.

And then, as if realizing how much fun he’s been having, he suddenly straightens up, putting the phone back in your hands.

“I’m done playing games. Not literally. Just…” He looks at you for a moment longer than usual. “I have to go check on… something.”

You blink. “Right. Sure. Whatever.”

Before you can say anything else, he stands up quickly, the moment of connection broken.

You stare at him, feeling strangely off like, just when you thought there might’ve been something, he shuts it down.

The door slams, and you’re left there, phone in hand, your head buzzing from the briefest interaction.

You barely even notice that the doll’s still sitting in front of you on the table, staring at you, its empty eyes almost mocking you now.

But for some reason, you don’t mind. At least someone or something, is paying attention.

•••

You can feel it— the tension from earlier still buzzing between you and Eunwoo.

He’s barely acknowledged it, but you feel it. It’s there, crackling in the air like static.

After the whole Temple Run disaster,

Eunwoo stands up abruptly, taking your phone from your hands without so much as a word.

“I’m gonna cook,” he mutters. “Stir-fry. You can stay out here if you want.”

You freeze for a second, contemplating. “What if I want to stay with you?”

He doesn’t even turn around, but there’s a tiny, almost unnoticeable flicker in his expression.

The corner of his lips twitch like he’s about to say something, but then he just shrugs and walks toward the kitchen, disappearing around the corner.

Your stomach churns but not from hunger, but from something else entirely.

“Alright, bet,” you whisper to yourself, rolling off the couch and following him.

The kitchen is small, cozy in its own way, but with him in it, it suddenly feels too small.

You stand by the doorway, watching him pull out the ingredients for stir-fry with a practiced ease.

He looks so… good doing it.

You lean casually against the counter, crossing your arms, trying to look casual.

“You know, I’m really good at cooking too,” you say, giving him a side-eye.

He doesn’t look at you. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod, leaning forward just a little, keeping that seductive energy going. “I make a mean stir-fry. I could show you.”

Still no reaction from him. But his movements slow for a brief second as he slices the vegetables, his fingers curling around the knife just a little tighter.

You know you’ve got him intrigued at least, that’s what you want to believe.

“I’m good,” he says, voice clipped.

“Are you?” You step closer, just enough for him to feel your presence. “I mean, I don’t know. You seem pretty… intense about this. You need a hand?”

He finally looks up at you, eyes narrowing. “You want to help or are you just trying to get in my way?”

You smirk, a mischievous glint lighting up your eyes. “I’m just here to keep you company. It’s not every day I get to watch a pro chef at work.”

He sighs, like you’re annoying him, but there’s a hint of something else there. Maybe it’s that cold smirk of his starting to crack just a little.

“I’m not a pro. I’m just making dinner.”

You can’t help yourself. You step forward again, your body pressing into the space between him and the counter, your breath warm against the back of his neck.

“I can help with more than dinner, you know…”

The words hang in the air, and you feel the slightest shift in him. His breath catches for a second, then he turns, taking a step back. His eyes flicker over you, slow and deliberate, and you can almost feel the heat radiating off him.

“You really think you can just waltz in here, make some innuendo, and I’ll be what, entertained?”

His voice is low, quiet—

but there’s something in it.

Something dangerous.

You can’t stop now, though. It’s like a game. “I’m just offering,” you say, leaning in closer, your lips almost brushing his ear.

“But it looks like you’re already enjoying the company. I’m just here to spice things up a little.”

He finally steps back, hands going to the stove to focus on the stir-fry. “You should stick to the game,” he says, eyes hardening.

“Stay out of my kitchen.”

You laugh, though it’s almost more of a guttural sound of frustration than amusement. “What, you can’t handle a little flirtation?”

Eunwoo stays silent, his gaze unwavering as he stirs the food. But then, out of nowhere, he says, “I’m not here for games.”

You tilt your head, wondering what he means by that. “What are you here for, then?”

He turns to look at you, those sharp eyes locking onto yours. “Dinner. Nothing more.”

You watch him, your heart pounding in your chest.

Dinner, huh?

The way he looks at you, his face unreadable, but his posture tight, the tension between you two thick as ever.

For a second, you’re both stuck in this unspoken challenge.

You can feel your breath quicken, heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with the food he’s cooking.

But suddenly, it’s like something snaps in him. Without warning, he turns, walking toward you with a dangerous slowness, and your body stiffens, bracing for whatever’s coming next.

“I’m warning you,” he murmurs, his lips barely a whisper against your ear, sending a chill down your spine. “Stop pushing.”

And then, just as quickly as he was close, he steps back, resuming his position by the stove.

You stand there, body still humming, feeling the raw power of the moment.

You were so close. Just a breath away.

But maybe you’re not done yet.

•••

The dining room’s quiet, save for the clinking of chopsticks against bowls. Eunwoo and you sit across from each other at the table.

The stir-fry?

FUCKING DELICIOUS.

Most as much as he looks delicious.

It is perfectly cooked, the veggies are still crisp, the meat is tender.

But the real heat isn’t in the food.

It’s in the way Eunwoo barely looks at you as he takes a bite, those sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he swallows.

You try to ignore the heat running through your body, but it’s impossible with him sitting across from you, looking so damn good in his simple, yet painfully stylish, clothes.

You take a deep breath and throw him a playful smirk.

“So, this is how you cook? I thought I’d get more of a reaction from you, to be honest. I make a mean stir-fry too, you know…”

Eunwoo lifts an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but there’s a slight edge to his voice. “Do you? I’d be surprised if you even knew what stir-fry meant.”

You almost choke on your rice.

“Excuse me? I could make you a better stir-fry with one hand tied behind my back.”

You give him a pointed glance, then lean back in your chair, your fingers tracing the edge of your glass.

“If you think you’re so good, maybe you should cook for me more often, huh?”

Eunwoo’s lips curl up just a little, but it’s more amusement than anything else. “You can’t handle my cooking. It’s too good for you.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, scooping more food onto your plate. “Please, I live for good food. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wasn’t trying to flatter you.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward on your elbows, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Then what were you trying to do?”

Eunwoo doesn’t look up as he sips his water. “Make you stop talking.”

You laugh, setting your chopsticks down. “Good luck with that. You can’t shut me up that easily.”

“You sure?” His voice is so deadpan it almost makes you second-guess yourself.

“You’re a lot of words for someone who doesn’t know how to play a simple game.”

You glare at him across the table, but there’s no denying the flush of heat on your cheeks. “That’s low, even for you. I was teaching you— there’s a difference.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that.” He smirks, the amusement barely breaking through his cool facade.

But you can see it. And it makes you want to push further.

You grin back, unable to resist the bait. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re just jealous of my skills.”

“You think I’m jealous of you?” Eunwoo laughs, but there’s no humor in it. His eyes flash briefly, something cold and unsettling.

“I’m not the one sitting here trying to get a reaction out of someone who clearly doesn’t want one.”

You pause, just for a second, caught off guard by his bluntness.

But you recover quickly, not about to let him have the last word. “Well, maybe you should try a little harder.”

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand, giving him a look that says all too much.

“I mean, someone’s gotta make this night interesting. You look like you could use a little fun.”

Eunwoo’s gaze flickers to you, that cold, calculating look in his eyes. “Fun? The only fun I’m having is watching you squirm.”

You chuckle, not intimidated, just thoroughly enjoying the challenge.

“Squirming, huh? Is that what you think? I’m just getting started.”

You pick up your chopsticks again, eating slowly, deliberately, making sure he notices the way your lips part around the food.

His eyes follow the movement, just slightly.. too slightly for you to let go of the game you’re playing.

The silence stretches for a moment, but it’s not awkward. It’s heavy. Like it’s about to snap. You can feel his control slipping just a little.

You break the silence first, your voice light but dripping with sweetness.

“So, Eunwoo, you’re gonna keep giving me the cold shoulder, or are we actually going to have a conversation tonight?”

He exhales sharply, clearly done with the teasing. “We’ve been talking this whole time.”

“Not really,” you say, tilting your head, a playful smile curling at your lips. “I mean, I’m the one doing all the talking.

You’re the one keeping everything bottled up.”

He puts down his chopsticks, looking at you, finally letting a bit of that wall down. “Maybe I’m just waiting for you to say something worth listening to.”

You hold his gaze, the heat between you palpable now, the dinner table acting as the most awkward of barriers.

“Oh, I can say plenty. I just want to know, are you ever going to stop being such a tease?”

His eyes flash, almost imperceptibly, but it’s enough to make your stomach do a little flip.

“You really want me to stop?”

Fuck…. I’m getting wet.

His voice drops, lower than before, the edge of a challenge in it.

You lean forward, body brimming with energy, eyes locked with his. “I want you to do whatever you want to do.”

Eunwoo stares at you for a long moment, his face expressionless, but the intensity in his eyes burns like fire.

“Maybe you should be careful what you wish for.”

Fuck me.

•••

You barely finish your stir-fry when the tension thickens, like overcooked sauce.

Eunwoo stands across from you, wiping his hands on a towel, his face is as emotionless as ever.

You lean back against the counter, watching him like he’s the only thing in the room.

“So,” you start, your voice teasing, “You cook all this food for me, and still no love? No kiss? I’m getting disappointed, Eunwoo.”

He glances at you, his eyes flashing for a split second. annoyance, maybe? or is it something more?

A challenge?

“Love?” he scoffs. “You need to work on your cooking before we talk about love.”

“Oh, please. I’m just a babe in the kitchen.”

You wink, and his eyes roll, but not the way you expect. It’s the smallest roll like you’re on his radar.

“I’m serious,” he says, crossing his arms. “And if you want my help again, stop being so… distracting.”

You pout, hand on your hip. “Distracting? Me? I was just admiring your kitchen skills.”

“Admiring, huh?” He steps closer, his gaze cold but unwavering. “You admire a lot of things, but never seem to get the point.”

You move closer to him, barely an inch apart, your breath hitching as the space between you shrinks.

“Maybe I’m just trying to find the point. Is that so wrong?”

He stays silent, staring down at you. Finally, his lips curl into a smirk.

“I’m not your type. We established this last time.” His eyes darken.

“I don’t make exceptions for people who think they can walk all over me.”

“Is that so?” You lean in, daring him to make the first move. “Guess I’ll have to change your mind.”

Before you can say anything else, you hear it.

That soft whisper. The one you thought you imagined.

From the dining table.

“Stay…”

You freeze.

Eunwoo freezes too. You both turn to the doll, sitting motionless, eyes locked on you.

The room goes still. The air grows colder. A chill runs up your spine as you stare at the doll’s unblinking eyes.

“Stay…” The whisper comes again, almost pleading.

“Great. Now it’s talking,” you mutter, trying to shake the unease creeping in.

Eunwoo doesn’t look at you. He’s already walking to the table, his expression unreadable.

He gently adjusts the doll’s position, fingers brushing its face with care.

“Remember the rules,” he says, his voice low. “No ignoring him. He’s not a toy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t ignoring him. I—;”

“Just keep it in mind,” he cuts you off, adjusting the doll, making sure it’s sitting properly.

You roll your eyes.

“You could be a little less cold about everything. Maybe if you weren’t so icy, you’d warm up to me a little.”

Eunwoo turns to face you, eyes hard. “I’m not here for games. I’m here to make sure this place runs properly.”

You smirk. “And that means babysitting the doll and ignoring me? Come on, eunwoo. I know there’s something under all that coldness. I can feel it.”

He walks back toward you, slow and deliberate, and for a second, you think he’ll say something. But he doesn’t. He simply stands in front of you, arms crossed.

“No,” he growls, low and tense.

“You don’t feel anything. You just think you do. And it’s irritating.”

The words hang between you. The heavy silence is deafening.

You’re close enough to feel the heat of his body, the pulse of his heart.

Then the moment breaks.

The doll whispers again.

“Stay…”

It’s a command now, not a request. You turn to the doll, unease creeping under your skin.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m staying, okay?” You snap, but the doll’s eyes are locked on yours, and it feels too real.

Eunwoo stares at the doll for a beat, then looks back at you.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you?”

•••

I’m behind the damn wall, watching.

But this time, it’s different.

I can feel it. That little voice in the back of my head, telling me that Eunwoo’s days are numbered.

And honestly? I’m fucking done.

I’ve had enough of him. Enough of the way he looks at you like you’re some kind of decoration.

I know what you’re thinking. how could he even be a threat? But that’s the thing.

He’s not.

I’ve been here long enough to see it. He’s only here because I let him be.

He’s just a placeholder, and I can’t stand it anymore.

Not when you’re just… there. So damn close. Just out of reach, because he’s in the way.

I’ve been patient. I’ve been waiting. But now? Now, I can’t sit back and watch anymore.

Eunwoo’s too soft.

He doesn’t know how to claim anything. He’s all smiles and coldness, pretending he knows what’s best for you, but he doesn’t.

He’s just playing the part.

And it’s time to put an end to that.

I glance at the kitchen, my thoughts darkening as I hear him talking to you.

He thinks he’s helping you, but all I can see is a fucking puppet acting like he belongs here.

I’m better than him. Hell, I deserve to be here more than he does. This house?

This job? It should be mine.

The rules? Are already mine to enforce.

I should’ve been the one you turned to. Not him You should’ve been mine from the start.

He walks out of the kitchen, his usual smug expression still plastered on his face.

I can’t stand it.

I don’t care if he’s a “good guy” or whatever. He’s in my way, and that’s all that matters now.

The idea starts to form. Slowly, at first. Then it hits me like a truck.

What if I fired him? What if I became the butler?

No more Eunwoo, no more outsider pretending to be what I should’ve been.

I can do this. I will do this.

I’m better for you. I know what you need. More than anyone. More than that fucking idiot.

He’s just a temporary fix. I’m the real deal.

I close my eyes, letting that thought sink in. I’ll show you, I think. I’ll be the one who gives you everything you need.

Not him.

Not that doll. Me.

And when he’s gone, when Eunwoo’s out of the picture and it’s just me and you, things are going to be different. Better.

I can’t wait to make you see that. To make you realize you’ve always needed me.

And then? Then, I’m going to remind you exactly who you should be with. No more distractions. No more pretending.

I hear Eunwoo’s voice again— laughing, talking to you like he’s your equal.

Like he has any right to be here. I can feel my teeth grind as I press my hand against the wall.

I want to tear the whole place apart. But I know better. I’ll play this slow. Play it right.

I’ll wait.

But not for long.

•••

Eunwoo sits on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone screen.

The house. The mansion.

It’s all starting to feel suffocating.

He’s been living here for what feels like forever now, taking care of everything in Mr. Jeon’s absence.

And the constant presence of you with your flirtatious glances and constant teasing, only makes it worse.

He can’t escape it.

You’re everywhere.

And frankly, he’s had enough.

But as he leans back on his bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, a new notification buzzes on his phone.

It’s from Mr. Jeon.

He opens the message, his heart pounding for reasons he can’t quite understand.

Eunwoo, we’ve made arrangements. You are no longer needed in the house. There’s someone else we’ve chosen to take over. We appreciate everything you’ve done, but please pack your things. Don’t contact YN unless I say otherwise.

The words hit him like a cold splash of water. His stomach tightens, and for a second, he thinks he might be dreaming.

No. This can’t be real.

He stares at the message in disbelief, his grip tightening around his phone.

He scans it again, hoping for some sign that it’s a joke. But no, it’s crystal clear.

He’s being replaced.

Replaced.

His mind races. He’s been here for months, helping out, maintaining everything.

Mr. Jeon has always been distant, and you… well, you have been nothing but a problem.

A beautiful, infuriating problem.

The flirting, the jokes, the little games. At first, he thought it was harmless, but over time, it wore on him.

But despite his annoyance, he’d always been there for you. He’d made himself available, like he should have.

Yet, after all this time, all the care he’s put into the house and the way he’s tried to keep things smooth, he’s out.

And you?

You’ve been playing your games, too. Constantly teasing him, giving him these looks— like you know how badly you’re getting under his skin.

But now?

It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.

His phone slips from his hand, clattering onto the bed, as he rubs his temples.

Why did it have to end like this?

He stands, pacing around the room, his mind working overtime.

He knows he can’t stay here much longer, but he refuses to leave without some kind of explanation.

Some closure.

Then, the thought hits him.

Maybe it’s you. Maybe Mr. Jeon’s decision has something to do with you.

The way you flirt with him.

The way you tease him, your constant presence in his life, even when he doesn’t want it.

You’ve always been a distraction, a chaotic one, and maybe it’s finally gotten to Mr. Jeon.

A twisted part of Eunwoo wants to confront you, to demand answers.

But he knows that won’t do anything. Honestly, it is not your fault and You’re a force he can’t control.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He can’t leave this place, not without feeling like he’s lost something.

And as for you?

Well, he’s going to miss you. In his own way.

Even if it’s just for the sheer annoyance of it all.

•••

You wake up to the soft light of the morning filtering through the curtains. As soon as you open your eyes, there is a huge smile on your face.

The house is eerily quiet, almost like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

You stretch, rubbing your eyes, still feeling the weight of yesterday’s events.

Honestly, it was such a nice night yesterday.

Your mind drifts back to Eunwoo, his cold demeanor, his calmness, and that strange little smile when you tried to get him to play games with you.

But today feels different. Something’s off. The house feels emptier.

You push the sheets off your legs and stand, the floor cool beneath your bare feet.

You feel the sudden need to wander, to escape the quiet of your room and distract yourself from the gnawing feeling in your chest.

As you walk down the hallway, you pass the door to Eunwoo’s bedroom. It’s cracked open just slightly.

You stop. Something compels you to push the door open, just enough to peek inside.

And there he is.

Eunwoo, packing his things. His clothes are neatly folded, his things carefully placed in a bag.

You blink, feeling your chest tighten.

“Eunwoo?” Your voice is small, unsure.

He doesn’t look up at first. It’s like he didn’t even hear you, but then, after a beat, he straightens and turns toward you, his face unreadable.

“I’m leaving,” he says quietly, as if the words don’t even matter.

You freeze, not sure if you heard him correctly. “What?”

You repeat, the word escaping your lips like a breathless gasp.

“What do you mean? You can’t just leave.”

He’s just messing with you… right because this has to be a fucking joke.

He looks at you for a long moment, his expression distant, like he’s already miles away in his mind.

“I’m done here,” he says, his tone calm but final. “They’re bringing someone else in. A new butler. I don’t need to be here anymore.”

Your heart sinks.

The words hit you harder than you expected, and before you even realize it, your eyes are welling up with tears.

You bite your lip, trying to hold it together, but it’s like everything from the past few days, all the teasing, the flirting, the silence, crashes down on you all at once.

“No…” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “Please, don’t leave…”

Eunwoo stands still, his gaze softening for just a moment as he watches the tears that you’re trying desperately to hold back. You don’t know why it hurts so much..

why his leaving hits you like this.

It’s not like you were close.

He’s always been distant, cold, and you’ve been pushing him away with your flirtations and teasing.

But now, standing there in front of him, watching him pack, you feel like you’re losing something you didn’t even know you wanted.

“I’m sorry,” Eunwoo mutters, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have been so… cold.”

His words surprise you. For a moment, you just stare at him, unsure if he’s serious.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he adds, his expression softening even further.

It’s strange.

You’ve never seen him like this before, and it makes your chest tighten even more.

You wipe at your eyes, trying to steady your breath. “I didn’t want you to leave,” you say quietly, your voice shaking. “I didn’t think I’d miss you.”

Eunwoo is hesitating and for the first time since you’ve known him, you see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

It’s almost like he doesn’t know how to respond to your vulnerability.

“I didn’t know you cared,” he admits quietly.

“I—;” you pause, not sure how to explain it. “I don’t know what I expected, but this isn’t it.”

For a moment, the air between you two is thick with unspoken things.

You can feel the weight of the silence wrapping around you, and your emotions threaten to spill over again.

Eunwoo steps toward you slowly, closing the distance between you.

“Don’t cry,” he says, his voice gentler now. “It wasn’t my intention to make you upset. I didn’t think…”

He trails off, clearly unsure of what to say. His eyes meet yours, and this time, there’s no judgment, no walls between you. Just softness.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and this time it feels real.

You sniffle, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. The tears come, and you don’t fight them anymore.

“I didn’t think I’d feel like this,” you confess. “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

Eunwoo looks at you, his face still soft but thoughtful, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of something behind his eyes.

Maybe it’s regret. Maybe it’s more than that.

“Maybe I’ve been too cold,” he says, taking a hesitant step closer. “Maybe… maybe I was wrong.”

The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard.

For a moment, you forget that he’s been so distant all this time.

Maybe he’s not as unaffected as you thought.

Maybe you weren’t the only one pretending.

As you look at him, the space between you two seems to shrink.

You can feel your heartbeat quicken, but the words you want to say don’t come.

And in that moment, you realize—

Eunwoo’s departure isn’t just about him leaving.

It’s about the fact that, somehow, you’ve become attached to him without even meaning to.

And now, he’s about to walk out of your life.

•••

You rush back to your room, breathlessly throwing on some clothes. It’s ridiculous—

this whole situation is ridiculous. Your body still hums with nervous energy, heart beating faster than usual, like you’re waiting for something.

someone, to explode into the room at any moment.

And, honestly, who could blame you?

Eunwoo was standing there, looking at you like you were just some random, embarrassing thing he had to tolerate.

You were desperate to make him notice you, desperate to make him feel something—anything—besides disgust.

But, oh my God, why does that make you want him more?

It doesn’t help that the whole house feels like it’s holding its breath. Like it’s watching you.

Is it watching me?

You feel that familiar prickle down your spine—the one that started with the shower, the one that started with the doll’s whisper.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. You need to go check on JK. The rules. The constant need to make sure the tiny demon child is in good spirits.

The things that haunt you when you get too caught up in your hormones.

You walk back down the hall, purposefully ignoring the thick tension in the air. But as soon as you reach the doll’s door, the feeling grows stronger. You’re not alone. Someone is here. Watching.

You throw open the door to JK’s room.

He’s sitting there. Waiting.

But something’s different this time.

His eyes are trained on you. But there’s an unmistakable, devious look in them. They’re sharp, almost predatory.

You shudder.

His expression remains unnervingly calm.

And then you hear it.

A whisper, like the rustling of paper, but far too clear to be ignored.

“Stay.”

You feel a chill creep up your spine.

You reach for the notebook, flipping through the pages like it can shield you from whatever the hell this is. But it’s no use. The rules are still the same:

Talk to him. Acknowledge him. Never leave him alone.

You sigh, frustrated. “Okay, okay. I’m here, JK. Don’t get all upset on me, alright? I’m just doing my job. God knows I’d rather be.. well, anywhere but here.”

A sound. Almost like a breath. Something… creepy.

“Pretty.”

You freeze. That’s the same voice from before.

There’s no way.

You turn back to the doll, staring at him, your heart pounding as you stand still in the doorframe.

“Did you… Did you just say that? JK, did you—;”

The doll’s lips curl slightly, unnaturally. It’s not a smile. It’s the kind of smile that doesn’t belong on a doll.

Something that makes your stomach turn, even as your body feels like it’s burning.

And then, like it always happens, you hear the whisper. Soft. Too soft.

“Stay.”

You shiver. This is too much. Way too much. But you can’t help it. your thoughts immediately drift back to Eunwoo. To the way he looked at you, rejected you, and still left you with that constant, consuming ache.

You glance over at the door.

You could just leave this creepy room. You could go to bed, get some sleep, maybe even call Alina, and vent about your horny delusions.

But instead, your legs move on their own, taking you closer to JK.

You sit down next to him—against your better judgment—and mutter to yourself.

“Maybe I am losing my mind. But, seriously, JK, what’s your deal? I don’t get it.

Why do you keep making me feel like you’re watching me… like I’m your prey? I’m just trying to survive this weird hell.”

Another low, hollow whisper.

“Stay.”

“I am staying! God, this is ridiculous,” you groan.

But the more you speak to him, the more you realize you kind of enjoy it. Being watched. Being called. There’s something twisted about it. Something primal.

Your fingers brush against his clothing, adjusting him on the chair. You swear his body moves just a little bit as you touch him. You jerk your hand back, but the damage is done.

A shiver courses through your body.

Stop. Just stop, Yn.

But it’s already too late.

The house feels too quiet, too oppressive, and now you’re being haunted by your own desires, just as much as by the doll. And maybe… maybe you’ve become obsessed with both.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps. They’re cold, calculated. They’re loud.

And they make your heartbeat spike.

You whip around to see Eunwoo standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“Oh, perfect timing,” you sigh, rolling your eyes, but your chest tightens, knowing what you’re about to say.

“Checking on your precious little monster again?” you tease.

“I mean, I’ve been doing my job, okay? You don’t have to make it so obvious that you care more about him than me.”

You stand up and make your way to Eunwoo, feeling that rush of nerves again.

Here it comes.

“Is it really that obvious? I thought you were used to rejection by now.” His voice is flat, but there’s something sharply amused about the way he says it.

You can’t help yourself.

“Why do you have to be such a dick? I’m just trying to have some fun here, Eunwoo.”

You step closer, your voice dripping with flirtation.

“Maybe you should stay with me tonight. You know, keep me company. I promise I’ll behave.”

He looks down at you, cold and unamused. “I’m not here for you. I’m here for him. You wouldn’t understand.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, even though you’ve heard them before.

But you can’t help it.

You’re still hungry for him.

Every single word out of his mouth makes you want to kiss him or shove him against the wall and make him regret his ice-cold tone.

But no. He’s not interested. And that somehow makes it worse.

You turn back toward JK, frustration rising in your chest. “See? This is what I’m dealing with. Total rejection.”

The doll’s head tilts slightly.

“Pretty.”

You lose it. “OH MY GOD, I’M GOING CRAZY.”

You storm out of the room, but as you do, you feel him watching you. Both of them. The doll.

Eunwoo.

Both of them filling your mind, and your body, and your desire.

•••

You storm down the hallway, your mind in overdrive.

Your body is still buzzing with the aftermath of Eunwoo’s rejection, the sick feeling of wanting him growing stronger by the second.

But, of course, he’s always the wall you can’t get past. You hate that. You fucking love that.

You pause by the stairs, clenching your fists.

“Okay, calm down,” you mutter to yourself. “You’re losing it. You have a doll to tend to, remember? You need to do your fucking job.”

But the more you think about it, the more you realize just how insane this all is. The doll. The rules. The whispers. And Eunwoo—always the frozen, terrifying man who somehow gets under your skin more than you’d like.

You push open the door to JK’s room with a dramatic sigh, ready to dive back into the madness.

But what greets you is worse than you could’ve imagined.

He’s sitting there. Still. Silent. But something’s off. His head tilts too far back. His eyes—are they—glowing?

No. It’s your mind playing tricks on you. You wish it was.

You step in, trying to act calm, but your heart is thumping in your chest.

Your whole body feels like it’s vibrating, but you can’t figure out if it’s fear or need.

“You still here, huh, JK?” you say, forcing a casualness into your voice. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d be more chill by now.”

You cross the room to adjust his position, part of the daily rules and as soon as your hands touch him, a low hum fills the room. You freeze.

A whisper, like a breath, drifts over your skin.

“Stay.”

You jerk back, your heart racing.

“Nope. Nope. This is too much. I need to get a grip,” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head. “I need to stop… needing this.”

But, of course, you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

You sit down beside him again, clutching the edge of the chair like it’s your lifeline. You have to admit it now.

You’re losing it. Mentally, emotionally, physically, you’re spiraling.

You glance back at the door, half-expecting Eunwoo to show up again, but no. Not yet.

Your breathing is shallow. You can’t stop thinking about him. His eyes.

The way he looks at you like he knows you’re a lost cause. How you want to throw yourself at him just to see if he’ll break. To see if you’ll finally get what you want.

“Ugh, why is this so hard?” you groan, sinking into the chair. “Why do I even want him? He’s so cold. He doesn’t even care.”

You glance back at JK. “Do you see this? He doesn’t even give a damn. And here I am, stuck in this house with him. So close, yet so far away.”

You shake your head, laughing bitterly. “You know, JK, I might just be horny as hell. That’s gotta be it, right? It’s like I can’t stop thinking about it. I just want him so badly, and it’s fucking with my head.”

A laugh escapes your lips, but it’s a desperate one.

The air grows heavier. Tighter.

And then you hear it again, like the breath of something that isn’t quite alive.

“Pretty.”

Your head snaps around. The room feels too cold all of a sudden, too heavy. You swear his eyes are different now—darker, more intent.

“Oh my God,” you whisper. “No. I swear to fucking God, if you say that one more time—”

You try to stand up, but your legs feel weak. You grip the edge of the chair again, your thoughts swirling.

“Why do I feel like I’m being suffocated by this whole goddamn house? And by him?” you hiss, your voice shaking with a combination of arousal and fear.

“I should be focusing on this.. on you. But it’s like everything else is just eclipsed by Eunwoo. And I hate it. And I love it. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me!”

And then, right when you’re at your lowest, when the words escape your mouth like a broken dam, you hear it:

“Stay.”

But this time, it’s different. It’s louder. Closer.

Your stomach drops, and you immediately whip your head back to the doll.

He’s—he’s smiling now. It’s not a pleasant smile. It’s almost mocking.

“No, no. This is insane,” you whisper to yourself, backing away slowly. “I’m losing it. I am literally losing my fucking mind.”

But before you can even think about escaping, you hear the door creak behind you.

You spin around.

Eunwoo is standing there, his expression unreadable as usual.

“You’ve been here for a while. I told you to stop ignoring him.”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “I’m not ignoring him, Eunwoo. I’m just… talking to him.”

His eyes narrow. “The rules are clear. Don’t test them.”

You’re about to shoot back a snarky reply when you see him look at you—

really look at you. And then you realize. He knows. He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You shiver, a mix of irritation and… arousal swirling in your chest. The air feels thick, heavy. You want to say something. Do something. Anything.

But all you can manage is a defeated sigh.

“I’m trying, alright?”

Eunwoo steps into the room, his gaze flicking back to JK. “Try harder.”

His cold voice chills you to the bone, and suddenly, everything feels sharper.

Like you’re under a magnifying glass.

He doesn’t need to touch you to make you feel this way. His presence is enough to twist you up inside.

But then, to your surprise, he looks back at you. “You’re not his type, you know.”

You blink, feeling like you’ve been punched in the gut. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, his face as impassive as ever. “You heard me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up— bitter, sarcastic, and tinged with something else. Something dangerous.

“You know what, Eunwoo?” you mutter, leaning in just a little closer

. “I might be his type. He just hasn’t noticed me yet. And guess what? I’m getting real tired of waiting.”

•••

You’re back in bed. Again.

Lights off. Robe off.

Wearing nothing but your thin nightgown, the one with the lace trim that always manages to ride up in all the right places.

JK is in your arms. You don’t even know when this became normal, but at this point, it feels wrong not to hold him. He’s small and warm from your body heat, tucked against your chest like a child—

or a clingy boyfriend who never blinks.

You press your cheek against his hair. He smells like cedarwood and something faintly old, like dust and memories and maybe secrets.

“You like this, don’t you?” you whisper, half-laughing. “Being the little spoon.”

Your fingers brush over the stiff cotton of his shirt, smoothing it out. Your other hand rests low on his back, like you’re cradling something precious.

Your thigh hikes up a little. You press closer. JK’s head settles just above your cleavage, and you swear—swear—he fits there perfectly.

God, this is so stupid.

You groan, curling around him more. “Look at me. Cuddling a doll. Like a pathetic little Victorian ghost bride who’s been left at the altar.”

You close your eyes. It’s stupid. This is stupid.

But it feels good. Safe.

Pretty.

The word floats through your mind like a memory—but you’re not even sure you heard it. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you just wanted it so badly you made it up.

And then—

A click.

Faint. Mechanical.

You freeze.

It’s so quiet, you could almost convince yourself it was nothing.

But it wasn’t.

Somewhere inside the doll something whirred.

You pull back, heart hammering.

JK’s face is the same. That blank smile. Those lifeless eyes.

Except… They’re not lifeless, are they?

Not right now.

You feel them. Watching.

Through him.

You can feel the burn of being seen too closely, too intently. Like someone just stared right through your nightgown.

Memorized the curve of your thighs, the part of your lips, the way your breath caught when you shifted and the lace brushed your skin.

You stare into his eyes.

He stares back.

The room is pitch black except for the moonlight slicing in through the curtains, but suddenly you feel naked.

Violated.

Desired.

Not by the doll.

By someone else.

Someone on the other side.

The realization hits you like ice in your veins.

You’re being watched.

Right now.

Your arms drop. You throw back the covers and scramble away from the bed, chest heaving, nightgown slipping dangerously off one shoulder as you stare down at JK.

What the actual fuck.

You should scream. Run. Call someone.

But instead, you’re standing there, chest rising and falling, heart in your throat, wet between your legs because…

Because being watched felt good.

You slap your hands over your face.

“I need help.”

Behind you, from the bed—

“Pretty.”

Soft. Mechanical. Almost fond.

You whirl around.

JK hasn’t moved.

But you swear— swear his head is tilted just a little more than before. Like he’s listening.

Like he’s smiling.

Like he knows you liked it.

 •••

You’re holding me again.

So fucking sweet. Like I deserve your kindness. Like I’m not watching you from the shadows. 

 Mouth dry, cock hard, whispering shit no one should hear.

God. You don’t even know.

“You’re such a fucking needy whore.”

You’re pressing your tits to that doll like it’s yours. Like you’re the one comforting me.

Like I need comfort.

I want to fucking ruin you.

I lean forward. Press my face to the screen like it’ll bring me closer. I watch your chest rise and fall as you breathe in that soft, dazed way.

Eyes fluttering. Whispering to JK like he’s your little bedtime secret.

“He’s so cold,” you say to him, pouting. “At least you think I’m pretty.”

I groan.

I said that.

I whispered that.

You think it’s the doll. But it’s me.

I can see the way your lips tug into a soft smile, like you’re starting to believe it. Like I’m not just in the walls—I’m in your head.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” you murmur.

Only for me, baby.

I press my forehead against the cold cement, hand moving down slowly, lazily, like I’ve got all night.

My voice stays low. Just for you. Just loud enough that no one else could ever hear.

“Touch yourself,” I whisper, watching the image of your bare thigh shift on the screen. “Right now. Do it. Pretend it’s for you, baby. Pretend it’s about Eunwoo.”

My laugh comes sharp and bitter.

“He won’t even look at you.”

You sigh. Roll to your side, clutching the doll to your chest like it’s a lifeline. You whisper something I can’t hear. Maybe it’s his name. Maybe it’s mine.

Either way, I feel it like a punch to the stomach.

“I’d fuck you so good, you’d never say his name again,” I hiss. “You wouldn’t even remember what cold feels like.”

I can’t help it. My hand moves faster.

“You’d cry for me.”

Your breath catches. Your legs twitch like your body’s reacting without permission. My blood runs hot.

“You’d beg,” I say. “God, you’d beg.”

I lick my lips.

“‘Please, Jungkook.’” I mimic your voice with a low, breathy whimper. “‘Please touch me, please make it stop, I need it so bad—’”

My head knocks back against the wall. I imagine your mouth. Your throat. Your wrists pinned down.

“Fucking say my name,” I growl to the screen. “Say it. Say it like you said it in your sleep last night.”

Because you did.

I heard you.

You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.

And still? you curl tighter around that doll like you want to keep it warm. Like you want me close. Like you’re inviting me in.

You press your lips to its head and whisper, “Goodnight, JK.”

I shudder.

“Say goodnight to me, baby,” I whisper back, lips nearly brushing the wall. “Say it like you know I’m listening.”

You don’t.

But you will.

Soon.

You’ll learn how to say my name properly.

You stare at the list on the old, slightly crinkled paper and sigh. “Jesus Christ.” You rub your temple, the lack of sleep from last night making your head feel like it’s stuffed with cotton. 

I should be getting paid double for this shit.

And honestly, when you think about it, it’s kind of triggering because… of your history that you don’t really like to think about anymore.

But you’re getting paid a lot of ridiculous amount of money for this so you’re willing to play along even if it triggers the fuck out of you.

With an exhausted groan, you shuffle towards the grand living room, where JK sits in his usual spot on the couch, his dark beady eyes fixed on you in a way that feels entirely too alive.

“Alright, little prince,” you mutter, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Time to start our day of make-believe.”

Nothing happens. Obviously. Because it’s a fucking doll.

Still, the weight of its stare makes you hesitate for a second too long before reaching for it. 

The porcelain skin is cold under your fingers, smooth and unyielding. 

You lift the doll carefully— half because you don’t want to break the weird rich people’s prized possession, and half because some irrational part of you thinks it might move on its own.

You carry him upstairs to the bedroom they set up for him, which looks far too elegant for a toy. 

The furniture is handcrafted, the bed is neatly made with expensive silk sheets, and the air smells faintly of lavender.

This is insane.

Still, you press on.

Dressing JK is an experience you never thought you’d have. Buttoning up a tiny sweater on a lifeless doll is humiliating in ways you can’t fully articulate. 

Fuck your life, even a doll has a better life than you.

“You know, I don’t even do this much for an actual man,” you scoff. “You should be grateful, JK.”

The doll, of course, says nothing. But as you move to fix his collar, you swear the corners of his lips seem… slightly upturned.

Your hands freeze. No. That’s ridiculous. I’m just sleep-deprived.

You shake the thought off and place him back in the chair by the window, as instructed.

This is your life now. Taking care of a doll.

It’s laughable.

The rules are just guidelines, anyways, and rules are always meant to be broken.

•••

By noon, you’re already getting restless.

You’ve done everything technically required— dressed the doll, made him breakfast (which was a complete waste of food), and even read a chapter from a dusty old children’s book you found on the shelf.

Now you’re sprawled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, but there’s no service. 

No Wi-Fi. No contact with the outside world.

Frustration bubbles up in your chest. You sit up, stretching your sore muscles, and glance at JK, who sits stiffly in his chair. 

“I doubt they’ll know if I take a little break.”

The doll stares.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re lucky I even got up today.”

The doll should remain motionless. It should stay exactly where you left it.

But when you look back at it after getting up, something feels… different.

The head is tilted ever so slightly to the left.

Your breath catches in your throat. Was it like that before?

Slowly, you approach the chair, fingers curling into fists. “You’re really fucking with me now,” you whisper.

JK doesn’t respond.

You hesitate for a moment before reaching out and adjusting the head back into its original position. “There.”

Then you turn around—

clunk.

Your heart stops.

You whip back around.

JK’s head is tilted again.

Further this time.

A shiver runs down your spine.

No. No fucking way.

Your pulse thunders in your ears as you back away, refusing to take your eyes off him. 

Your entire body is screaming at you to leave the room, to run, but you force yourself to breathe.

“This is just my imagination,” you whisper. “That’s it. I’m sleep-deprived, this house is fucking with me, and I need to get out of here for a bit.”

You don’t even bother “putting him down for a nap” like the rules say. Instead, you decide to explore.

•••

The house is massive.

You wander through the hallways, your footsteps echoing against the marble floors. 

The architecture is grand, intricate details carved into the moldings, chandeliers hanging like ghosts in every room.

But it’s the paintings that unsettle you the most.

There are so many of them. And they’re all of the same little boy—dark-haired, round-cheeked, with a bright bunny smile. He looks… sweet. Innocent, even.

And yet, the more you stare at them, the more something feels off.

Some of the paintings have his eyes looking straight ahead. Others have them slightly to the side. And a few—you swear to God—have his gaze locked directly onto you.

A cold shudder runs through you. 

Nope. Nope, we’re not doing this.

You turn to leave the room when—

“Pretty… stay.”

Your stomach drops.

You freeze, hands trembling as you whip around.

JK is nowhere in sight.

You left him upstairs.

Right?

You feel sick. Your hands grip the fabric of your sweater, the walls of the house suddenly feeling too close.

Something is wrong.

•••

You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a firm knock on the front door.

You don’t even hesitate to answer it.

When you swing it open, Eunwoo is standing there, his hands in his coat pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Your stomach clenches—but not just from fear.

Because of course even when you’re scared out of your mind, your body decides now is the perfect time to get turned on.

Eunwoo’s eyes sweep over you, taking in your disheveled appearance. “You look…” His gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up. “…tired.”

You lick your lips. “Tired isn’t the word I’d use.”

He steps inside, his presence commanding the space effortlessly. “Have you been following the rules?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Why does it matter? It’s just a doll.”

Eunwoo’s jaw tenses. “It’s not just a doll.” His voice is low, cold. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

You raise a brow, shamelessly letting your eyes trail down his chest. God, he’s so fucking hot. “You really care about this thing, huh?” You take a step closer. 

“Maybe you should care more about me.”

Eunwoo doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even react.

That pisses you off.

You tilt your head, voice dropping into something sultry. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little distraction.”

Eunwoo stares, his expression unreadable—until his eyes darken.

For a second, you think he might actually give in.

Then—

“Yn…”

Your body freezes.

That voice. That mechanical, eerie fucking voice.

You whip your head around.

JK is sitting on the couch.

You did not put him there.

Eunwoo doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he just exhales through his nose and adjusts his coat. “Follow the rules.”

And then— just like that— he turns to leave.

You’re left alone.

With him.

With JK.

And the second the door closes, you hear it again.

“Pretty… stay.”

A chill runs through your spine.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

“Fuck this shit I’m hungry, let’s go check out the kitchen.”

•••

You are never eating in this kitchen again.

The ramen was fine. Actually, it was good, especially considering how you barely ate today. But the problem isn’t the food. The problem is the audience.

Because across the room, perched on the goddamn counter, watching you, sits JK.

You drop your chopsticks. “Nope.”

The word echoes in the quiet kitchen. You didn’t put him there. You didn’t put him there.

He was on the couch earlier. You remember because you kept side-eyeing him while eating your sad little meal, feeling his beady little stare drilling into your soul.

And now he’s here.

Perched. Looking. Waiting.

Your throat tightens, a nervous laugh bubbling up before you can stop it. “So this is it, huh? This is how I die? Starved, single, and haunted by a fucking toy?”

Silence.

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip as the air shifts. It’s subtle, but you feel it—like the whole house just took a breath. The walls seem taller. The shadows stretch just a bit longer.

And then, soft and eerie, comes the whisper.

“Don’t forget…”

Your body locks up. A cold chill rolls down your spine, your skin breaking out in goosebumps.

Okay. That was new.

Your gaze snaps to JK, your heart hammering against your ribs. You heard it. Someone said that.

It wasn’t your imagination. It wasn’t your tired brain playing tricks. It was a fucking voice.

And yet, the doll remains the same—blank, expressionless, his tiny porcelain lips forever pressed into that neutral, unsettling almost-smile.

Fuck this.

You’re about to throw him in the oven. Maybe deep fry him. Maybe start a religion based on setting creepy dolls on fire.

But then, your eyes flicker to the list of rules pinned to the fridge.

6. Give JK a goodnight kiss.

7. Make sure JK is comfortable before bed.

Your entire body rejects the idea. Your soul leaves the chat.

Absolutely not.

A loud, frustrated groan leaves your lips. “Oh my God.”

This is beyond humiliating. This isn’t even a job anymore—it’s a prank. It’s gotta be. A weird, rich-people, fucked-up social experiment.

First the rules, then the mechanical voice, and now this?

You want to scream. You want to walk straight out of this house and never look back.

But the money.

The fucking money.

It’s ridiculous, the amount they’re paying you. It’s life-changing. And if all you have to do is follow some creepy-ass instructions to get it, then fine. 

Fine.

You slam your hands on the counter, glaring at JK. “You win, you little shit.”

And then, you pick him up.

Instant regret.

His body is solid, heavier than it looks, and the second his cold porcelain presses against your fingers, your entire body reacts.

A strange heat pools in your stomach.

Your breath catches. Your thighs clench.

You freeze. Oh no.

Not this. Not now.

This job is already ruining your sanity—you can’t let it ruin your self-respect, too.

But your body doesn’t get the memo.

The feeling spreads, slow and insidious, like a slow-burning fever. It’s not because of JK, obviously. 

But it’s him being here, the eerie tension in the house, the fact that you’ve been alone all day, untouched, unstimulated.

The thoughts you had earlier about Eunwoo don’t help. 

His sharp eyes, his broad frame, the way he completely ignored your flirting like an unbothered, frustratingly hot statue.

I need to get laid.

Or at least, you need to do something about this overwhelming heat crawling under your skin.

But not now. Not while holding the fucking doll.

You shake yourself off, gripping JK tighter, storming upstairs like you’re on a personal mission.

Put him to bed. Get this over with.

But the whole time, the feeling of being watched doesn’t leave you. If anything, it gets worse.

•••

somehow, you have managed to convince yourself that you just need a shower to make yourself feel right

And by the time you make it to the bathroom, you’re two seconds away from losing your mind.

Not just because of the creepy ass doll or the fact that your entire body is covered in goosebumps that won’t go away—no, no. That would be normal.

The real problem?

You’re fucking horny.

It makes no sense.

You just had the most unsettling dinner of your life, spent way too much time arguing with a porcelain freak, and still—your body refuses to cooperate.

Your nerves are shot, your thighs press together every time you move, and worst of all—Eunwoo.

Eunwoo being an asshole should not make him hotter.

But goddamn, did he look good tonight.

That stupid cold expression, the way his jaw clenched whenever you spoke, the way his voice dropped when he scolded you like some strict, brooding villain straight out of a fantasy novel—

Ugh.

Maybe you should just throw yourself into the nearest well and be done with it.

With a deep breath, you rip off your clothes and step into the shower.

The second the water hits your skin, a soft sigh slips past your lips.

Oh, that’s nice.

Heat runs down your spine, melting every tense muscle. Steam curls around your body, thick and intoxicating.

You tilt your head back, letting the warmth sink into you, washing away everything from today— the exhaustion, the unease, the sheer insanity of this house.

It’s just you in here.

Alone.

Finally.

Your fingers drag slowly down your neck, your collarbone, heat pooling low in your stomach.

It’s fine. You deserve this.

It’s not like there’s a fucking ghost watching you, right?

You exhale, the steam making your skin tingle.

Your mind drifts immediately—

Eunwoo’s voice. Low, commanding.

“Follow the rules, yn.”

A shiver rolls down your spine.

You don’t want to follow the rules.

You want to break them.

You can practically see him, standing outside the shower, fully clothed, watching. That blank expression, that disapproving look. His lips parting just slightly as he takes you in, dark eyes flicking lower—

God.

Your fingers twitch, a slow press against your hipbone.

He’d be so strict with you. He wouldn’t just let you do whatever you wanted—no, he’d make you follow the rules. Wouldn’t even touch you unless you begged for it.

Your breath hitches.

You bite your lip, hand sliding lower, heat growing—

Click.

Your entire body freezes.

That— That sounded like the fucking door.

No. No, no, no.

Your breath stops. Your skin prickles.

Water pounds against the tiles, drowning everything else out.

You can’t even turn around.

Click.

Your stomach drops.

That wasn’t just the wind. That was—

That was inside the bathroom. A violent shudder rips down your spine.

Your hands shake as you peel the shower curtain back—

And your breath dies.

The bathroom door is open.

Just a few inches.

A sliver of darkness beyond it.

The air is too cold.

Your pulse pounds against your skin, your legs trembling under the hot water.

You swear you locked it.

Didn’t you?

Your heart is in your throat. Your body still aches, heat thrumming through your veins—but now, it’s laced with something else.

Something primal.

Fear.

You clutch the shower curtain, your mouth dry.

You are not alone.

You feel it.

Someone is watching.

And then—

“Pretty, pretty, stay… stay.”

The whisper is right there.

Behind the curtain. Inside the fucking bathroom.

Your body jerks. A choked gasp rips from your throat.

You don’t think. You don’t breathe.

You just grab a towel—

And run.

You don’t stop.

Your feet pound against the cold floor, water dripping from your skin as you clutch the towel around you. Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, your heart slamming against your ribs.

That voice. That fucking voice.

You don’t look back. You don’t even blink until you crash into your bedroom door.

Shit—

Your hand shakes as you grab the knob, your entire body screaming at you to move, to lock yourself inside.

And then—

Knock.

Your stomach drops.

The knock is slow, deliberate.

Right on the other side.

A violent shiver rips down your spine.

It’s not the wind. It’s not your imagination.

Something is there.

Your fingers clench around the towel, water still trickling down your thighs. Every inch of you is tense, skin burning with leftover heat—

Knock.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You can’t just stand here like a fucking idiot.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down your fear.

And then, with a deep breath—

You open the door. Your entire body jerks.

It’s not a ghost.

It’s Eunwoo.

Holy shit.

He stands right there, dark eyes flickering over you, his expression unreadable. His face is blank—cold, unimpressed.

And you?

You completely forget about everything.

The fear? Gone.

The horror? What horror?

The fact that you were seconds away from pissing yourself? Irrelevant.

Because Eunwoo is here.

And you are barely wearing anything.

A wicked heat pools low in your stomach.

He looks good tonight. So good.

That stupid expensive coat, those broad shoulders, the way his jaw tenses as he looks down at you—

God.

If he wanted to take advantage of this moment, you would gladly let him.

Your lips part, your entire body still buzzing with adrenaline and… something else.

Use it.

You let out a slow breath, tilting your head just slightly, making sure the damp towel hugs every inch of you perfectly.

“Eunwoo,” you murmur, your voice just soft enough. “Did you come to check on me?”

His jaw tightens.

“No,” he says flatly.

Cold. Rude. Unfazed.

And you love it.

Your stomach twists, heat flaring in your chest.

He is so fun to mess with.

You take a slow step closer, just enough for the towel to shift over your thighs.

“Well,” you breathe, voice smooth, “I appreciate the concern.”

“I’m not concerned.”

He says it so fast, so deadpan, that you actually giggle.

The audacity of this man.

“Mm. If you say so,” you hum. “But you did show up at my door.”

Eunwoo just stares.

Like he’s debating whether to entertain this or just walk away.

His gaze flickers—just for a second.

And you see it.

The way his throat bobs, the way his fingers twitch at his sides.

Oh, he’s trying so hard to act like he’s not affected.

You almost feel bad for him.

But mostly?

You just want to see how far you can push.

Your hand loosens on the towel, your skin still damp, heat rolling off your body.

“You should come in,” you murmur.

Eunwoo exhales through his nose.

“No.”

“No?” You pout. “Not even for a drink?”

“No.”

You bite your lip.

“You’re really no fun.”

His eyes darken, but his face remains blank.

“I’m staying the night,” he says.

Your stomach flips.

Oh.

Oh, that’s interesting.

You blink up at him, trying so hard not to smirk.

“Staying?” you echo.

Eunwoo nods, still completely expressionless.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jeon asked me to.”

Right.

The Jeons. Your actual employers. The whole reason you’re here.

You totally forgot about them.

But honestly?

That’s not your problem.

Because now—

Now, Eunwoo is here.

And he is going to be so much fun.

•••

Eunwoo doesn’t wait. He just walks in.

No hello. No Can I come in? Just boom—he’s inside, like he pays rent.

Which he doesn’t.

You watch, still clutching your towel, as he scans the room with sharp eyes, looking for—what? A hidden crime scene? Your black-market organ-harvesting operation?

“Where’s JK?” His voice is flat, uninterested in anything that isn’t made of porcelain.

…Are you serious?

You blink. “I—I don’t know? Where he always is?”

Eunwoo finally looks at you.

Well, not at you. Past you. Through you.* Not even sparing you a glance below the neck, as if you aren’t standing there, soaking wet, in nothing but a towel.

Your jaw drops.

You just had the most terrifying, borderline supernatural shower experience of your life, you’re practically naked, and all this man can think about is—

“The doll is in his room?” He cuts through your internal crisis like a knife.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Did you follow the routine?”

…The routine.

The routine that consists of treating a doll like a human child.

You squint at him. “Why are you asking like it’s life or death?”

Eunwoo doesn’t even blink. “Because it is.”

You snort. “Right, of course. If I don’t brush his teeth, he’ll develop cavities.”

Eunwoo looks exhausted already. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Did you or did you not follow the rules?”

You shift on your feet, trying to suppress the absolutely ungodly urge to eye this man like a piece of prime steak.

Focus, yn. Focus.

“Listen,” you sigh dramatically, stepping closer—closer than necessary, really. “I tucked him in. I read him a nice bedtime story. I kissed his forehead.” You place a hand on your heart. “I’m the picture of maternal instinct.”

Eunwoo gives you the flattest look you’ve ever seen. “You forgot to change his clothes, didn’t you?”

You pause.

“…He has outfits?”

Eunwoo exhales through his nose like he’s regretting every life choice that led him here. “Yes. He has outfits.”

You resist the urge to laugh.

Barely.

“Wait, wait, let me get this straight,” you say, grinning. “You’re seriously telling me you came all the way here, in the middle of the night, to check if I changed the doll’s clothes?”

Eunwoo looks you dead in the eye.

“Yes.”

And that’s it. No hesitation. No shame. No realization that this is, in fact, a batshit insane thing to say out loud.

God, he’s so serious about this.

And it’s so hot.

You step even closer, tilting your head. “You know, for a guy who looks like he should be modeling for luxury cologne ads, you sure do care a lot about—” you gesture vaguely “—porcelain toddlers.”

Eunwoo doesn’t move. “Are you following the rules or not?”

You lick your lips. His gaze doesn’t drop once.

How rude.

“How about,” you say sweetly, “we stop talking about the doll and start talking about you staying the night?”

He raises a brow. “And why would I do that?”

You smirk. “Because I might be scared?”

“No, you’re not.”

Your smirk falters.

Okay, rude and perceptive.

You try again, biting your lip. “Maybe I just want some company?”

Eunwoo gives you the most deadpan look of all time.

And then—without a shred of hesitation—

“The doll is company enough.”

You gasp.

“Did you just compare me to a fucking doll?”

“Considering you’re both brainless? Yes.”

Your jaw drops.

Eunwoo just turns away, completely unbothered. “I’m staying the night to make sure you don’t mess up again. Go put on some actual clothes.”

You stand there, towel-clad, seething.

And so fucking turned on.

•••

I can smell you.

The damp heat of your skin. The soft, lingering scent of your shampoo. The faint traces of sweat where your body burns beneath that useless towel.

You’re flushed— your cheeks, your chest, your thighs. I see all of it.

And you don’t even realize what you’re doing to me.

How fucking obscene you look, standing there in front of him, teasing, tempting, like you’re offering yourself. 

Like you’re waiting for someone to grab you, press you against the cold walls of this house, and take you apart.

But not him.

Never him.

He doesn’t deserve to look at you, to hear your breath hitch when he steps closer. 

He doesn’t deserve the way your lips part, the way your fingers clutch that towel like you know what you’re doing.

But I do.

I deserve it. I deserve you.

And I will have you.

You’ve already given yourself to me, in ways you don’t even understand.

 Every time you touch the doll, every time your fingers linger on his cheek, every time your voice dips into something soft, something affectionate..

You’re touching me. You’re speaking to me.

And you don’t even know it.

But you will.

I watch you now, legs shifting, thighs pressing together as if that will help. As if anything but me could ever give you what you need.

Your body is betraying you, isn’t it?

I know what you want. I know how badly you want it.

The frustration in your movements, the way your fingers tremble when you adjust your towel, the way your breath comes out in soft, shallow little pants.

You’re aching.

Dripping.

Begging.

You just don’t know who you’re begging for.

But soon.

Soon, you’ll understand.

And when you finally do, when you finally look at me, see me for what I am—

There will be no more teasing. No more waiting.

•••

You honestly don’t know what you’re doing but the next day you find yourself driving.

You might regret this, but what’s the point in looking back now you’ve been through a lot of shit anyways?

You drive down to Busan, with your luggage and it feels like an eternity. But you’re not complaining. 

The farther you get, the more you feel like you’re shedding the weight of your past life. like you’re heading toward something that doesn’t have Min Jae’s name written all over it.

When the massive house finally comes into view, you stop dead. 

You’ve heard of the Jeon family, everyone in Seoul has, but you didn’t expect a mansion that large. 

The house looks like something straight out of a gothic horror movie. 

Cold, imposing, almost too perfect.

You ring the doorbell, echoing through the hallway like it belongs to another century. It takes a few seconds for someone to answer, and when the door finally opens, you’re greeted by a woman in her early fifties.

“You must be Yn,” she says in a voice that’s a little too calm for your liking. “I’m Jeon Ji-seon.”

“Umm yeah, HI! I’m… yn. Kang Yn..”

You smile, trying to keep your composure.

“I’ll show you inside,” she continues, stepping aside. “Please, come in.”

You walk through the door, and as soon as you step into the house, the silence hits you. 

The place is huge, far too big for just a couple of people. And it’s cold, like the air here has been frozen for years.

Ji-seon leads you down a hall that feels way too quiet. You don’t even know why, but your skin prickles as you walk behind her.

“Come, this is the boy,” she says, opening a door to a sitting room.

You glance around, expecting to see some child, maybe a little too spoiled, maybe a bit over the top. 

but what you find is… not that.

It’s a doll. A life-sized doll sitting on the couch, its eyes too wide and too real. It’s sitting there like a person, and you can’t help the chuckle that slips from your mouth.

“This is JK,” Ji-seon says, her voice soft, almost motherly. 

“The boy you’ll be looking after.”

You blink, unsure whether you’ve heard her right.

“Wait, this is… this is the kid?” You can’t help yourself. The laughter bubbles up again, louder this time. “A fucking doll? You want me to look after this?”

This is not even a kid, but this is a doll..

Ji-seon’s smile doesn’t falter, but you can see a flicker of something in her eyes.

“Yes, JK needs care. He’s like a child, in many ways.”

You laugh again. 

The idea of it is absurd. Who would hire a nanny for a doll? And who would pay five million won a month to do it?

You can’t resist a glance back at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” Ji-seon says, her voice unflappable. “He requires attention. He’s very… sensitive.”

A sharp chill runs through you, but it only lasts a second before you shake it off.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” you mutter under your breath. “Okay, I’ll take care of the… kid. Whatever.”

Ji-seon doesn’t seem bothered by your sarcasm. She just nods, smiling softly.

“You’ll be well compensated, yn” she adds. “And Eunwoo will be overseeing everything. He’ll make sure you’re doing it right.”

You don’t like the way she says your name like she’s already familiar with you.

“Eunwoo?”

“His name is Eunwoo. He checks on JK. He’ll be checking on you as well,” she explains, her gaze a little too intense.

You try to stifle a yawn. This whole thing is weird. And for the amount of money they’re offering, 

it’s almost too weird.

And then, as if on cue, a man enters the room. He’s tall, dressed in a sleek black suit, his eyes cold and assessing.

“I’m Eunwoo,” he says in a deep voice that sends a shiver down your spine.

You blink. For a second, you think you’ve seen him somewhere before, but you push the thought away.

“I’ll be overseeing things here,” he continues, not bothering with pleasantries. “Make sure you’re following the rules.”

You squint at him. “Rules for taking care of a doll?”

Eunwoo’s smile is sharp, almost predatory. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

You’re about to ask more questions when Ji-seon interrupts.

“Remember the doll can actually speak a few words so don’t be freaked out about that, JK is capable of crying and sometimes even complimenting.”

What the fuck?

“Eunwoo will show you around. He’ll tell you what’s expected of you.”

You glance at Eunwoo, who watches you closely, as if evaluating every inch of you.

“I’ll be back later,” he says, before turning and walking toward JK, adjusting the doll in a way that makes you shiver.

You feel like you’ve stepped into some strange, twisted world. But you try not to let it show. 

You need this job.

After all, you’ve got five million won to make.

The house feels too quiet as you stand there, trying to process everything. 

You walk around, pretending to look busy while your eyes are fixated on the doll, JK, sitting perfectly still on the couch. 

You can’t help but feel like you’re under some kind of microscope.

How could anyone need a nanny for a doll? 

you think, your thoughts dripping with sarcasm. But then you remind yourself that you’re here for the money.

Five million won. 

That’s what you keep telling yourself to push down the absurdity of the situation.

Eunwoo’s movements seem calculated as he adjusts JK’s position on the couch. 

You don’t know why, but his actions feel almost… gentle, like he’s handling something fragile. 

It’s unsettling. 

You swallow, trying to mask the unease creeping into your stomach.

“Right,” you say, trying to force a grin as you break the silence. “So, what exactly am I supposed to do with… him? Do I play with him, or is he more of a… I don’t know, a silent companion?” Your tone is light, as if you’re joking, but it feels strangely hollow.

But he doesn’t seem to find your joke funny.

What a weirdo but at least he’s got a pretty face.

Although he looks very familiar… you just can’t put your finger on why you have probably seen him somewhere but you’re not sure at this point.

Eunwoo doesn’t respond at first, his gaze locked on the doll, then finally, he mutters, “You’ll interact with him when it’s required. He has specific needs. You’ll figure it out.” 

His voice is colder than you expected, but it’s a different kind of cold— more like a warning than a suggestion.

You shift uncomfortably, looking over at JK.

. The doll’s porcelain eyes are wide open, locked onto you in an unnerving way, and you fight the urge to laugh at how absurd the whole situation is. 

How could anyone possibly think this thing is alive?

“Got it,” you say, forcing a smile, trying to make light of the situation. “I’ll treat him like a… like a kid, right?”

Eunwoo’s eyes snap to yours, a brief flicker of something unspoken passing between you two. 

“You’ll take care of him,” 

he says, and you can feel the weight of his words sink in, much heavier than you expected. 

His gaze lingers on you for a beat too long before he nods, as if ensuring you understand.

Ji-seon reappears, smiling pleasantly, and her presence brings a sense of eerie calm to the air.

 “You’ll be fine here, yn. Eunwoo will help you get settled. We just need you to follow the routine.”

You nod, trying to sound agreeable. “Of course. No problem.”

She leads you down a hallway, her heels clicking on the polished floor as she motions toward a door. 

“This will be your room while you’re here. Make yourself at home.”

You step inside, and your breath catches. It’s bigger than any space you’ve ever lived in before. bigger than your tiny apartment in Seoul, bigger than anything you’ve ever imagined. 

The room is sleek, minimalist, and pristine, with soft, neutral colors that almost feel too perfect. 

Rich people are ridiculous but at least you get to live in a really nice room and a literal man just to take care of a fucking doll.  life is being nice to you at least.

At the far end of the room, there’s a large window with a view of the sprawling estate grounds, but it’s not the view that catches your eye.

It’s the family photos.

They’re everywhere— on the walls, on tables, in frames. 

At first, it seems normal, just a rich, respectful family showing off their prized memories. 

But then you start noticing things. In one picture, there’s a child, a little boy who could be no more than five or six. His features are strikingly similar to JK’s. 

sharp Bambi eyes, a mole under his lower lip, and a smile that mirrors JKS. 

It’s unsettling, the way the child looks so much like the doll, so much like… him.

In one photo, the child is sitting on a chair beside a younger version of the doll, his tiny hand placed possessively on the doll’s shoulder. 

The similarities between them are too eerie to ignore.

You feel a slight shiver creep up your spine. What the hell is going on here?

you want to ask about this but you decide to let it go.

“How strange,” you murmur under your breath, though you’re not sure if you’re speaking to the doll or to yourself. 

You force yourself to look away from the photos, but it feels like they’re following you.

You walk over to the desk, where another photo sits—this one of the couple holding hands with the child, all three of them beaming at the camera. 

And again, the resemblance between the child and JK is too uncanny. It’s like they’re trying to prove something, some perfect image of family that feels staged, artificial.

A sudden knock on the door interrupts your thoughts, and before you can answer, 

Eunwoo enters. 

He doesn’t wait for permission, just steps inside, his eyes immediately scanning the room before they rest on you. 

“Get settled. We’ll talk later,” he says, his tone clipped and direct.

You give him a forced smile, trying to keep your nerves in check. “Of course. Thanks, Eunwoo.”

“But where are Mr. and Mrs. Jeon?”

He nods, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than comfortable. 

There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his expression, but then he turns and walks out without another word.

“Didn’t you read in the advertisement? They have to go on a business trip to the states and they need you to take care of…. JK.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

The air in the room feels dense, thick with unspoken things. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched, monitored, like a subject in some twisted experiment.

You move to the bed, setting your bag down, and glance back at the photos. 

The resemblance between the doll and the child is enough to make your stomach turn. 

You try to push the thought out of your mind, but it sticks with you. What kind of family is this?

You pull out the piece of paper Eunwoo gave you earlier.

The list of instructions. It’s simple, even ridiculous at times. But the last line sticks out to you, making your heart skip a beat:

1. Do not leave him alone for extended periods.

• JK requires constant companionship. Never leave him for more than an hour at a time. If he is left alone for too long, you may hear him calling out for attention, sometimes saying things like “stay” or “hello.”

2. Talk to him regularly.

• Speak to JK as if he were a real child. He understands more than you think and benefits from daily conversation. You may hear him respond in his own way, even if it’s just a faint whisper of words like “pretty” or “hello” that seem to come from nowhere.

3. Do not ignore him.

• If JK’s eyes are on you, he is expecting attention. Never leave him in a room alone without acknowledging him. If you do, you might hear him softly say “stay” or something equally unsettling when you’re out of sight.

4. Maintain his appearance.

• Clean JK daily, especially his clothes. Ensure his hair is brushed and neat, and that he is positioned properly. If you don’t care for him properly, you may hear him complain.

5. Do not place him out of sight.

• Always keep JK within your line of sight. If you leave the room, take him with you, or he will become distressed. If left alone for too long, you may hear him calling out, perhaps asking for you in a low, soft voice.

6. Respect his space.

• Do not move JK without carefully considering his position. He prefers to be seated in his chair or on the couch—never leave him lying down for long. You may notice him suddenly changing positions on his own if you don’t follow these guidelines.

7. Follow the daily routine.

• A structured schedule is important for JK’s well-being. The routine is as follows:

• Morning: Greet JK. Talk to him about your day.

• Afternoon: Engage in activities with him (reading, conversation, or watching TV together). He might ask you things like “pretty” or “play” when he wants to interact.

• Evening: Ensure he is settled before you sleep. You may hear him say “stay” if you don’t give him a kiss goodnight.

8. Do not let him become distressed.

• If JK begins to look upset or agitated, stop what you’re doing immediately and comfort him. You’ll know he’s upset if his eyes seem unfocused or if he “stares off” for too long. At these times, you may hear him say things like “hello,” reaching out for attention.

9. No visitors unless approved by us.

• Do not invite anyone into the house unless we have specifically authorized them. This includes friends, family, or strangers. JK may also react to unapproved visitors by whispering, “go away,” or “stay,” in a chilling voice that’s hard to ignore.

10. Follow all of JK’s instructions as they are given.

• While he cannot speak in the traditional sense, his needs will make themselves known. You must be attuned to his behavior and respond accordingly. This includes listening for his soft, eerie phrases like “stay” or “pretty” when you least expect it.

11. Always keep his room organized.

• JK’s environment must remain tidy. His room should be cleaned and arranged according to how you find it each day. If you don’t, expect to hear him muttering things like “stay,” as if reminding you of your duties.

12. Never speak ill of him or treat him disrespectfully.

• JK is a special member of the family. Disrespect or neglect will not be tolerated. You may hear him call out to you in a hurt tone, saying “why” or “pretty,” if he feels abandoned.

13. If you feel discomfort or fear, contact Eunwoo immediately.

• Eunwoo is to be your point of contact should you feel overwhelmed or need assistance. He is also here to make sure everything is running smoothly. He may even contact you if he notices JK has been more vocal than usual, or if things seem off.

14. In case of an emergency, stay calm and follow the procedure.

• If anything unusual happens, contact us immediately. Keep calm and ensure JK is safe. During these moments, JK might cry out, or ask you “why” or “stay” in a soft voice, leaving you with an eerie feeling of being watched.

15. Do not attempt to move or alter JK’s appearance without prior approval.

• His positioning, attire, and overall state must remain as it is unless told otherwise. This is crucial for his well-being. If you disobey, JK might say things like “don’t” or “stop” under his breath, which you’ll hear clearly when the house is quiet.

16. If you need to leave the house, make sure JK is placed safely in a position to rest.

• Ensure he is seated comfortably before leaving. If you are gone for more than an hour, contact Eunwoo to check on him. You might also hear him call out faintly, “stay,” as if trying to hold you back.

17. Keep your emotions in check around him.

• JK can sense emotional changes. If you are feeling upset or disturbed, try to manage it before interacting with him. He may respond with a quiet “pretty” or “hello,” as if trying to comfort you, or, more chillingly, he might ask you, “stay.”

18. Remember: JK is not a doll.

• Treat him as you would any living child. He may not look alive, but his needs are very real. If you treat him like an inanimate object, you may hear him cry softly, pleading for attention, and saying “stay.”

19. Always give him a goodnight kiss.

• Before you sleep, you must give JK a kiss on the forehead. It’s a requirement for his comfort and peace of mind. If you forget, he will become unsettled, and you might hear him whisper, “stay” or “please” in a voice that feels too real for comf

You look over at JK. The doll’s unblinking eyes stare back at you, and for a moment, you almost think it’s smiling.

The money is still the only thing keeping you here. Five million won. But the unease crawling under your skin refuses to let go.

“Umm well these instructions are quite… haha… ummm… thorough…”

Eunwoo looks at you and he almost looks annoyed by you. 

“Obviously. People like you need thorough instructions. You have to make sure that you follow each and every one of them or we will deduct your salary.”

What a little bitch he is.

“Yn you can go to your room now I can take care of him right now and keep the set of instructions with you and read them over again and again until you can remember them. Good night. The dinner will be on the dining table so eat whenever you want.”

•••

The next morning when you wake up, you realize that you didn’t really get much sleep last night because your head is pulsing, but you barely have time to breathe when you hear the older woman call out your name and there is a knock on your door.

When you finally compose yourself and dress up, you rush downstairs and you see the couple with the brooding, butler guy.

“Ummm good morning.”

Ji-seon and Jeong-hwan sit you down in the grand living room, the air thick with a seriousness that immediately puts you on edge. 

You’re seated across from them, the doll, JK, still in his usual spot on the couch, eerily quiet as always. 

The room feels colder now, as if the warmth has been sucked out of the house overnight.

“We have to leave for an extended period,” Ji-seon says, her voice smooth but with an undertone of finality. 

She’s holding her hands in front of her, fingers laced together, her perfectly manicured nails catching the light. 

She’s dressed as if she’s about to attend a gala, the elegance radiating off her like a fine perfume.

Jeong-hwan nods beside her, his expression unreadable, his posture stiff. 

“We’ll be in Europe for business,” he says, his voice calm but firm, 

“and we won’t be back for a few months. Maybe longer, depending on how things go. But we need you here, yn. You’re crucial to this arrangement.”

You blink, not sure what to make of the sudden reveal. You were told they were going away for a short time, but this? This feels different. 

You glance at Eunwoo, who’s standing by the door, arms crossed, looking like he’s barely keeping his composure. 

He’s so serious you almost want to fuck him.

His eyes are intense, unwavering, but there’s something else there too. something you can’t quite put your finger on.

Ji-seon leans forward, her eyes locking onto yours. 

“The job isn’t just to care for the house, or to clean up after us. It’s to take care of JK while we’re gone,” 

she says, her voice unwavering, almost as if she’s testing you. “

“We’re trusting you with a very special task. We have rejected 25 Nannie’s before you but something about you stood out.”

You feel a strange knot tighten in your stomach. “Right. I understand,” you say, 

Though you can’t help but question how anyone could need someone to look after a doll like that.

Eunwoo’s gaze flicks to you briefly, a warning lingering in the way his lips press together. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

Jeong-hwan speaks up again, his tone cold, almost stern. 

“You’re to follow the rules exactly as they’re written, and there will be no exceptions. JK needs consistency. He’s… special,” he adds, his words leaving a strange, unsettling weight in the air.

Why the fuck does everyone keep on saying that it’s almost starting to piss you off and you’ve been here for a day?

You frown, your mind reeling from the bizarre nature of their instructions. 

“Special?” you ask, glancing nervously at JK, who’s still as ever on the couch, eyes wide and staring. 

“What do you mean by that?”

Ji-seon’s expression softens slightly, but there’s a sharpness behind her gaze that makes you hesitate. 

“What we mean,” she begins, her voice careful but insistent.

“is that JK, has particular needs. He requires attention, affection… care. You’ll need to spend time with him, talk to him. Don’t leave him alone for too long. You understand?”

You nod, unsure of what to say. You can feel the tension rising in the room, the weight of their expectations pressing on your chest.

Eunwoo shifts, stepping further into the room as if to emphasize his role.

“And I’ll be visiting, here to make sure everything goes smoothly,” he adds, his voice is smooth, almost too calm. 

“If you ever have any issues or doubts, I’ll be here to help. Just… keep him company. That’s all we ask.”

You bite your lip, your thoughts racing. You never imagined this job would be anything like this. 

The money was appealing, but now, the reality of it is setting in— and it’s starting to feel far too strange, 

too unnerving.

“You’ll be fine,” Ji-seon says, offering you a smile, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“We’ll be back when we’re done with business, but until then, please make sure JK is well taken care of. He’s very important to us.”

Jeong-hwan stands, his suit sharply pressed, and gives you a small bow of his head. 

“Take care of everything. Follow the rules, and everything will go smoothly.”

You nod, trying to remain composed, even though everything inside of you is screaming for a way out.

 The money. 

That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’ll stick it out.

But as you glance over at Eunwoo, his unblinking stare fixated on you, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being drawn into something far deeper and more dangerous than you ever imagined.

The door closes softly behind Ji-seon and Jeong-hwan as they leave, and you’re left standing in the silent house with JK and Eunwoo.

And as soon as the door closes, there is a mechanical sound leaving the doll.

“pretty, pretty, stay… stay.”

And for the first time ever, you got serious shivers down your spine.

“Nice.. JK seems to like you a lot.”

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

•••

I watch you, every move you make, every breath you take. 

Your body, so unaware, so oblivious to the presence of the one who truly owns you.

 You laugh, that soft sound echoing through the room, and I can’t help but let my eyes linger on the curve of your neck, the way your lips part when you exhale.

You’re beautiful. 

But it’s not just your beauty that calls to me. It’s the way you touch the doll. Your fingers graze his face, your movements slow, almost hesitant. 

You don’t even realize it, do you?

You’re already giving him a piece of yourself, even if it’s just a touch. But it’s not for him, is it? 

No, it’s for me.

You think you’re in control, that you’re simply playing a role, but I can see the way your body betrays you. 

The way your hands shake just a little when you adjust him, how your breath hitches when you think no one’s watching. You want him, want me, more than you’re willing to admit.

I can feel the heat radiating from you, the tension in the air thickening with every second you linger in that room. 

You don’t know it yet, but every time you speak to him, every time your skin brushes against his, you’re inviting me in. You want to be touched, you crave it. 

Your body, so starved for affection, desperate for someone to care, to see you.

I see you. And soon, you’ll feel me.

You’re not just taking care of a doll. You’re taking care of me. 

The doll is just a way to keep you close, to watch you, to savor every second of your vulnerability. 

You don’t realize how deep you’re sinking into this. 

Every time you move, every time you shift, it’s like you’re drawing me in closer, pulling me into your world.

Your eyes flicker toward the doll again, and I can almost hear your thoughts, wondering why you’re drawn to him so much. 

You want to feel him. You want to touch him.

But what you don’t know is that the only thing you’ll feel is me. The only thing you’ll touch is me.

I let out a quiet breath, my fingers curling into a fist as I watch you through the shadows. You’re perfect for this. You’re perfect for me

And the longer you stay here, the closer you’ll get to me, to the things I want from you.

"You know I adore you, don't you? You're like a breath of fresh air in this miserably dull palace."

Your once tense shoulders relaxed instantly, taking comfort in knowing she hadn't called you in for a scolding.

"It is you that lights up every room you enter, your Majesty." You bowed your head slightly, knowing well that flattery was your best line of defense should the tides change against you. 

"I do, don't I?" She hummed with a grin, before it fell off her face suddenly. "Sorry– whatever were we talking about?"

"Um–"

"Ah, yes! Well, there's no point mincing words. I'm sure you've seen it by now. I mean, can you believe it? That sorrowful sow Whistledown attempting to soil the reputation of my bloodline with such a frivolous title as… as…" She snapped her fingers, forgetting the word she was looking for.

The sound echoed throughout her enormous chambers, currently barren as your aunt was in the process of renovating.

"Ice Princess." You reminded her quietly. She tutted her tongue in recognition.

"How tactless, how tasteless! It is me who sets reputations. Not her. No, no, this simply won't do."

You watched in silence as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Remind me, darling. Why weren't you at the Danbury Ball?"

You shifted, thinking back on the excuse you had given her, "I was… ill."

It was a lie, of course. You had been feeling quite well actually when notice of the ball came 'round. But could anyone fault you? Ballrooms and gowns weren't exactly your area of expertise.

Growing up, your mother and your aunt couldn't be more different; you often heard stories of the two sisters butting heads from your grandfather. One sister went on to marry the king of England, the other a humble traveling merchant. One stood throne in England; the other lived humbly in France's countryside. Despite their differences, it was no secret that your aunt loved her older sister dearly, writing to her often in hopes of convincing her to come live in England. When she learned that your mother was with child, she even went as far as purchasing land for her sister and niece to live at. 

But your mother was every bit as stubborn as she was kind. She loved her husband and the life she had built with him, staying by his side until she passed last year. Your poor father was grief-stricken; by eight months, the stress on his heart had become too much, dying nearly a year after your mother.

It was your aunt who had reached out first, offering her deepest condolences and, far more noticeably, all the money you could ever need and your very own suite in the palace.

You weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to such a lucrative proposal. You, much like your mother, adored the countryside and the small town you grew up in. And perhaps that was why you agreed, not to move in, but instead to visit. She was family, after all, something you didn't have very much of left, though you have since come to know of a cousin Friedrich, recently married to an Edwina Sharma, that your aunt raved on and on about.

In the one week you had been here, you had come to know far more than British aristocracy than you wished, utterly out of your element amidst the corsets and personal maids. You had only managed to lower your number of attending maids to two, a far cry from the original seven you were greeted with.

You did your best to fit in, but you were no fool. You knew nothing of soireés– or how to dance for that matter, so the moment your aunt spoke of a ball, you knew you had to conjure up some excuse as to why you woefully must decline.

"Exactly! For heaven's sake, you were ill. How dare Whistledown suggest otherwise." She gestured at the staff in the room as though they were her audience.

The sound of the Queen's chamber doors being thrown stole the attention of everyone in the room. Unsurprising to you, two young maids barreling in, tripping on each other.

"S-Sorry, Your Majesty!" The blonde stuttered out.

The brunette nodded in agreement, "Our apologies, Your Majesty. We didn't know where her highness had gone–"

"–We came running as soon as we realized she had snuck off."

Isabella and Roselia. Of course. Your two personal maids. You had only just managed to shake them from your trail when you heard the news that the Queen had sent for you. You should have figured they imagined they'd catch up with you inevitably.

They were pleasant enough company, the duo was quite funny, actually, but the constant shadowing was something you rather detested. You understood they were under strict orders by the Queen to ensure your every need was attended to. Still, surely even nobility understood the concept of wanting to have a moment alone?

"Oh— Are we interrupting something?" Roselia's cheeks went pink, eyes running over the room as she took note of the Queen's pursed mouth. "We'll just… we can wait outside, actually."

"Outside, right! We'll be just outside." Isabella chimed in, heading bowing as the brunette maid yanked her back and out of the room.

"Sorry for the intrusion!"

You stifled a snicker, watching as the young maids slipped back out of the Queen's chambers, shutting the grand doors as they went. Your aunt merely rolled her eyes at the bumbling maids.

Suddenly, her Majesty sniffed, and it was as if a switch had been flipped. All her maids ran towards her, offering handkerchiefs as if their life depended on it. You nearly laughed at such a ridiculous display of servitude, but seeing as you had spent well over a week in the palace, you had become accustomed to such theatrics.

"Whistledown is right about one thing, you know." Queen Charlotte said as her nose was blotted at. "Everyone needs to meet you. And meet you they shall."

In surprise, you pulled your eyes from the doting maids, "They shall?"

"Certainly. We shall have a ball. Here in the palace, of course."

You felt your stomach plummet into your leather-bound boots, your aunt's words echoing.

"All of London's marriage-minded ladies and lords are to be invited. We'll show Whistledown just how splendid you are. Oh! How glorious if you were to find a suitor! That certainly would put to rest that frozen title once and for all."

Just faintly, you could make out the sound of white noise buzzing, mixing with the words the Queen spoke. Anxiety flooded you, deafening your brain's attempts to self-soothe and rationalize that this wasn't the catastrophe you felt it was.

"Aunt Charlotte," you tried to swallow, but your mouth felt stripped of all moisture, "I… I'm not sure if that is wise–"

But it was as if she hadn't heard you, rambling on as if you hadn't objected, "I'll be arranging for etiquette and dance lessons since my beloved sister undoubtedly failed to do the same for you. Are you free this afternoon, darling?"

You stood for a moment, no doubt looking foolish as you struggled to get your words out, "I… I suppose I am…"

"Darling, you look like just seen a ghost. Are you feeling well?" The Queen cocked her head at you, eyes rolling over you with concern.

"I… I am not feeling my best." You admitted.

"That's the second time now. Growing up in the countryside— all that sun and dirt— it's made you weak of constitution. Hm. Very well. We'll wait until you're feeling better. In the meantime, I will begin planning!"

You averted your eyes politely as she bent over suddenly, inhaling a white powder off her tea tray through a nostril. She sat up with an exhale, eyes fluttering open with a smile.

"Oh, how I love having you come to stay in the palace for a change. I'm terribly bored these days, you know." She sighed. "Did you want to assist me with planning?"

Despite how you felt seconds from unearthing your already digested lunch, you managed an apologetic smile, "I'm not sure I'd be of much help. I'm afraid I've never hosted a party before."

"Yes, my dearly departed sister never cared much for such things, did she? Such a shame she raised you out of the aristocracy." She said.

A furrow found your brow.

"You're wrong, you know." You disagreed before you could think to hold your tongue. And suddenly, it was as if you had become a magnet, all eyes in the room snapping towards your frame.

"Oh? About?" The Queen offered you a brow.

"About the way I was raised. I wouldn't change a thing about it. My mother didn't fail me… she loved me. I had a mother and father who loved me. That was worth more to me than any new dress could ever." You said, gesturing to the gifted garment you adorned today, with perhaps a touch more spite than you should've.

Of two things those in the palace knew to be true. One— Her Majesty was not wrong. Ever. Her opinion was the first to seek and the only to matter. Anyone was someone because she said so, whether explicitly or subtly.

And two— her love for her niece ran deeper than even she anticipated, as watching you stand before her defiantly didn't fill her with rage as the staff in the room assumed, but rather with melancholy. 

How you looked like your mother just then. It seemed you reminded her of her sister more and more as the days rolled by.

"Your mother would be pleased to hear that." She merely replied, wondering if her sister might be looking down on you both at this moment. At her words, your entire demeanor softened.

"Very well. Off you go." Your Queen sniffed, a handkerchief at her nose within seconds.

Bowing, you moved to exit the room.

"And niece," she called one last time, causing you to turn around, "must you wear such unsightly footwear under your dress?"

You felt your face grow hot, muttering a quiet apology before exiting the room altogether.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Chin up, darling." Your aunt reminded you.

You followed her instructions coolly, hoping you didn't look nearly as nervous as you felt.

It was undoubtedly a soirée for the books; every square inch of the ballroom was gilded in gold, the chandeliers' gleam diffusing luxuriously as it bounced around the room.

Eligible men and women of all shapes and sizes were donned in their absolute best, every possible hue of pink, blue and purple on display for Her Majesty. The ballroom looked akin to the royal grounds; the cool-toned dresses reminded you of upside-down bellflowers, floating across the marble floor in a synchronized dance.

Flocks of the most noticeable families and town figures had swarmed their way to the royal estate, drowning themselves in champagne as corseted woman fluttered their eyes at the Ton's lords.

But despite their poised smiles, neither woman nor man had spared you more than a cautious glance and courteous bow. As the hours ticked by, you couldn't help but feel increasingly anxious. Was it fear of Her Majesty sitting beside you that kept them away from you? Or was it the less than auspicious picture a certain faceless author had painted for them about you?

"It's rather hot in here, wouldn't you say?" The Queen spoke to you suddenly, looking larger than life from her throne.

"I suppose." You agreed absentmindedly, far too occupied with how a group of ladies' eyes flickered your way.

She continued, "Perhaps some champagne will cool you down. Why don't you fetch yourself a glass, dear?"

The meaning behind her words was clear. Go. Socialize.

"A splendid idea." You concurred.

Granting one final shaky breath, you straightened yourself, moving towards the table where drinks were being freshly poured.

"What shall it be, my lady?" A servant greeted you politely as you reached it.

"A glass of champagne, please." You smiled, grateful for a friendly face, perhaps the first of the night.

The servant nodded, moving to open a new bottle.

"She doesn't even hold a title, you know. That Ice Princess."

You blinked, growing still as your ears caught wind of a conversation between party goers not far from you.

"But she's the Queen's niece?"

A sinking feeling washed over you, the kind that made all the other noise in the room disappear. You flirted briefly with abandoning your spot in the room altogether, but the bubbling pour of golden liquid into a glass kept you still. You thanked the servant with a halfhearted smile.

Bringing the glass to your mouth, you turned an ear to the three gossiping ladies, careful to avoid their gaze.

"Word has it her mother married out of the aristocracy." One of them babbled, pulling noises of disbelief from the others.

"Pity. Though, I suppose that explains the appalling way she walks in heels. You'd think she grew hooves from all the time in the countryside." Another prattled. Stifled giggles rang around the group like they were all in some sort of secret, one that wasn't theirs to know. "Can you believe she thinks herself better than us?"

"One more glass, if you please." You asked the same servant, quickly making your way back to the Queen, now with a glass in either hand.

You approached her wordlessly, merely offering her a glass.

"Ah." She accepted the drink eagerly, and for a moment, there was silence, the two family members enjoying the cool velvety acidity of what was no doubt costly champagne.

"The Ton seems to think poorly of me." You blurted out.

You felt rather foolish telling this to your aunt. It wasn't as if you really cared what three cankerous aristocrats thoughts of you. But who else were you to tell? You knew no one.

Your Aunt Charlotte furrowed her delicately painted brow, "Darling, it'll do you well to realize that this Ton doesn't think. They merely reiterate what they've been told. They don't know you. Never mind what they think they know."

But her words went in one ear and out the other, merely background noise to the way you suddenly felt all eyes on you.

And suddenly, your dress was too tight, the ballroom too small. You felt your breath grow shallow, a sure sign of panic. How may others deemed you the subject of gossip tonight? What else were they saying about you?

"I think I should step out for a moment." You muttered.

"Take your maids with you!"

You were halfway across the room before you could even think to register your aunt's reply. Blinking away your tears, you pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering absentminded apologies as partygoers scoffed in protest.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

How small you felt sitting alone in the palace's rose gardens. You wept on a stone bench, wishing ever so badly that your mother was here, looking back with sorrow at how she used to pull you into her lap whenever you were upset. How she used to wrap her arms around you, and everything seemed better, if even for a moment.

How you missed her. How you missed your father. How you missed your life away from this shining, hollow palace.

But they were gone, and the simple life that awaited you back home was gone. Aunt Charlotte was all the family you had left. Without your parents, your home was gone.

"Oh! My lady… forgive me!"

A soft voice caused you to gasp, turning to face the man that had walked in on your self wallowing.

You were up on your feet in seconds, wiping away at your face. 

"No… no, it is I who should apologize! I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Your cheeks burned.

"See you like what?" The mysterious raven-haired stranger pressed, a note of cheekiness to his tone. "Human? Heaven forbid."

You laughed gently, sniffling away your shame. You knew at once he was no threat to you.

The young lord wasn't exactly sure what had led him to the palace gardens; most of the event seemed to be taking place indoors, as the night nipped and chilled unforgivingly. Still, a few stray bodies mingled underneath the string of lights that the palace servants had strung up. He had briefly greeted them, passing through the clouds of cigar smoke and small talk before bounding down limestone stairs.

He had tucked his hands into his pants pockets, sighing as the night's festivities grew quieter the further he slipped away, the crunch of wet grass kissing the underneath of his dress shoes. His mind was heavy with thoughts, hardly noticing where his legs had taken him.

The sound of your sob pulled him from his thoughts and jerked him back to his senses.

It was the Queen's rose garden; he immediately recognized the vibrant flowers and tall bushes. What he failed to recognize, however, was the weeping girl sitting on a stone bench, a look of embarrassment written plainly on her pretty face as she realized she was not alone.

He was quite handsome, you noticed despite your humiliation. He was younger than most of the lords inside, his face still featuring a certain softness despite his sharp features. His gaze was inherently kind, his warm brown eyes beckoning you to lower your guards.

"Lord Jeon," He introduced himself with a bow, eyes never leaving yours. "Forgive me if I frightened you, my lady. I shall return at once and grant you your privacy."

You hummed, pulling the shawl wrapped around your shoulders closer. Your dress was beautiful— you were beautiful, with puffy eyes, smeared makeup and all. He couldn't imagine why a lady like yourself would be weeping in the rose gardens unattended.

"It's alright. I supposed I'm not the only introvert at this party tonight. The garden is big enough for the two of us."

Lord Jeon shrugged, "A bit of fresh air never hurt."

You watched cautiously as he walked closer, sitting beside you on the opposite side of the bench. 

"You know… I've been told I'm a decent listener." He said suddenly, brown eyes admiring the roses in the distance.

You blinked, "Is that so?"

"Well… not explicitly. But I've got two ears, so I'd say I do alright." He teased.

You smiled half-heartedly, contemplating how much to reveal to this stranger.

"It's… I suppose I'm just a bit out of my element here." 

"You?" He seemed surprised, a slight chuckle of disbelief accompanying his question.

"You laughed." You raised a brow.

He bit down on his lower lip as if contemplating his following words.

"Well, it's just… I can't imagine someone like you having trouble at these events." He confessed.

For a moment, you wondered what he could mean. Looking down at your lap, you realized he must be referring to your extraordinarily fanciful garments.

"Ah. These clothes were a gift, and this hair— well, none of this is me. Not really. Truly, I don't know why I came." You sighed. 

He nodded, "Beginning to feel that way myself, actually. Most lose interest when they hear my name. I'm a bit of a nobody, it seems."

"It would appear you, and I have the opposite problem." You nearly laughed.

"Uptown girl, are you?"

"I'm afraid I've got a bit of a reputation. And no one cares to know whether it's true or not." You said.

He let out a sigh.

"Terrible soirée full of terrible people. I can't say that doesn't happen here often."

You let his words hang in the night's cold air, your fingers intertwining themselves across your lap.

"Is that all?"

Your head turned to face him, growing warm to find him already looking at you.

"Forgive me, it's just," he continued, "your sadness… it feels heavier than you're letting on."

He watched as your body language changed, suddenly tense as if you had built your walls back up.

He was back up on his feet within seconds, his shoes coming into view by the bottom of your dress as he stood in front of you.

Swallowing down a sob, you allowed yourself to look up at him.

"May I?" He asked, extending a hand out as if wanting yours.

Hesitantly, you gave it to him, assuming you would be ushered back onto your feet. To your surprise, however, he merely flipped your hand over, your palm now facing the night sky.

Your eyes widened as he took a finger and traced a line onto your palm. 

No. Not A line. A letter.

L-O-V-E-R-? 

He wrote into your palm. You stared at your hand, skin still buzzing faintly from where his finger had run across.

His mother used to do such a thing when he was younger and much angrier, often struggling to say the words when something troubled him.

Frowning, you shook your head. He wrote once again.

F-A-M-I-L-Y-?

A tear fell from you as if instinctively. You nodded your head, confirming his suspicions. Spurred on by his touch, you moved to grab his hand, flipping it upside down as he had done to yours.

L-O-N-E-L-Y.

"… I just wish I had a little bit longer with them." You found yourself saying once you had finished.

"No time is enough when it comes to the people you love." He spoke with heart as if referring to his own personal melancholy.

Another tear fell from your eyes as his thumb ran over your palm, not to spell anything but to offer his condolences.

"No. I suppose not." You sniffed, a shiver running past you as a crisp breeze passed the two of you.

He wrote into your palm again.

C-O-L-D-?

You let out a laugh, shrugging dismissively.

"Here." Lord Jeon suddenly peeled his suit jacket off his shoulders. You froze, stunned silent as he gently draped it over your shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.

Your chest tightened, moved by the gesture of kindness. But before you could think to thank him, his warm fingers were at your palm once more.

F-R-I-E-N-D-?

His smile tugged at your heartstrings. You wonder how anyone inside could possibly look down on him. You didn't need to know his name to see that he was kind, a worthy suitor for any marriage-minded aristocrat.

F-R-I-E-N-D. You wrote back.

Happy was the girl who sat on the cement bench of the palace's rose garden, wrapped up warm under the jacket of the first person to show you genuine, unconditional kindness since arriving weeks ago.

The two strangers sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet of company. Neither of you knew the other, but there was comfort in the silhouettes of the adjacent shadows at your feet, knowing that neither had ill intent towards the other.

"Do you ever wonder what it might be like to live in a palace?"

You fell stiff, mute as you turned towards him, watching how he looked over at the illuminated estate. 

"Lonely."

"You think?" He pondered.

"I'm not fond of big empty rooms. They tend to make me feel small." You explained quietly.

"Well, should I ever have a palace, there would be no empty rooms. Every room with music and the sound of children's laughter. I would decree it so."

"Children? And where do you figure you might obtain those?" You smirked.

"Well, they'd be mine, of course." He grinned lopsidedly.

You grinned back at him. "Then the happiest of children they would be."

You suppose the young lord reminded you somewhat of a child. He was a man by every definition of the word, standing tall and proud, but there was something about the way his large eyes took in the palace that was decidedly childlike. Eyes wide and glimmering with awe.

You watched contently as he suddenly noticed the silver plated container that sat by the leg of the bench; an unopened bottle of champagne sat neatly in a bed of ice, several glasses accompanying it.

Your dear aunt thought of everything when it came to party planning, you were coming to find out.

"Shall we?" He smirked suggestively.

"I don't see why not." You laughed.

The two of you giggled as he attempted to open the bottle, champagne spilling everywhere. He tried to pour you a glass neatly, but your new friend had no future in bartending, champagne spilling over the glass' edge and onto your fingers.

Sticky but smiling, you brought your glass up, mirroring him.

"A toast." He decided, his own glass now only half full from his carelessness.

"To?" You questioned.

He contemplated for a moment, meeting your inquisitive eyes innocently. A boyish smile broke out across his face.

"To us, of course. Tonight's most undesirables." He declared, making you chuckle.

But before you could touch glasses…

"Your highness!"

Your eyes went wide, your stomach plummeting as a certain blond maid came scrambling into the garden.

"Isabella! Please! Just 'my lady' will do." Heat rocketed up your neck, ears no doubt hot to the touch. 

Her hands fell to her knees, clearly out of breath from running around the palace grounds, undoubtedly in search of you.

"My lady, I should advise you to return to the party. Her Majesty the Queen has someone she wants you to meet." She cautioned.

You cursed internally.

"Of course, she does. Give me just a moment then. I'll be over shortly."

The young maid's eyes flickered over to Lord Jeon, cheeks rosy.

"But your highness—"

"Thank you, Isabella." You cut her off curtly. 

The young maid gave you two one more final look over before nodded, pardoning herself with a curtesy.

Hesitantly, you turned back towards Lord Jeon, unsure what to make of the look of disbelief clearly written across his face.

Awkwardly, you brought your glass to your mouth, taking a cautious sip.

"Your highness? You're a princess?" He gawked, eyes still wide. 

"No!" You quipped. "Not… technically?"

The young lord merely blinked at you, his doe eyes telling you everything his mouth wasn't.

You were rambling before you could help yourself.

"M-My mother is the Queen's sister. Technically speaking, she held the title of 'Princess.' Though, I suppose if my mother were born a man then, yes, that would make me a princess— titles are patriarchal in nature, it's all… very complicated, really…" 

You felt like you couldn't take in a deep enough breath, the chilly air now burning your lungs.

"So… not a princess. Just… daughter of a princess." He reiterated, clearly stunned.

You felt a frown form on your face, all your etiquette instructor's reminders of poise and manners slipping from your mind.

"I am the Queen's niece. We shall leave it at that."

The handsome lord had the most fascinated look on his face, eyes locked on the way your jaw twitched, mouth shut rigidly to hold back the slew of word vomit you instinctively felt compelled to let out.

The way he held your eyes – the intensity behind his dark orbs – made you uneasy yet engrossed you all the same.

You bit down on the side of your cheek, "Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"

He shook his head suddenly as if trying to shake off his shock.

"No. I'm not."

"Are you… disappointed?" You grimaced.

You hadn't the faintest clue as to what was running around in his handsome head.

"Disappointed?" He cocked his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell you're thinking right now, and it's frankly unnerving." You frowned.

The raven-haired man let out a noise that toed the line between amusement and disbelief. 

"I think you owe me a toast… your highness." He teased.

"You know I adore you, don't you? You're like a breath of fresh air in this miserably dull palace."

Your once tense shoulders relaxed instantly, taking comfort in knowing she hadn't called you in for a scolding.

"It is you that lights up every room you enter, your Majesty." You bowed your head slightly, knowing well that flattery was your best line of defense should the tides change against you. 

"I do, don't I?" She hummed with a grin, before it fell off her face suddenly. "Sorry– whatever were we talking about?"

"Um–"

"Ah, yes! Well, there's no point mincing words. I'm sure you've seen it by now. I mean, can you believe it? That sorrowful sow Whistledown attempting to soil the reputation of my bloodline with such a frivolous title as… as…" She snapped her fingers, forgetting the word she was looking for.

The sound echoed throughout her enormous chambers, currently barren as your aunt was in the process of renovating.

"Ice Princess." You reminded her quietly. She tutted her tongue in recognition.

"How tactless, how tasteless! It is me who sets reputations. Not her. No, no, this simply won't do."

You watched in silence as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Remind me, darling. Why weren't you at the Danbury Ball?"

You shifted, thinking back on the excuse you had given her, "I was… ill."

It was a lie, of course. You had been feeling quite well actually when notice of the ball came 'round. But could anyone fault you? Ballrooms and gowns weren't exactly your area of expertise.

Growing up, your mother and your aunt couldn't be more different; you often heard stories of the two sisters butting heads from your grandfather. One sister went on to marry the king of England, the other a humble traveling merchant. One stood throne in England; the other lived humbly in France's countryside. Despite their differences, it was no secret that your aunt loved her older sister dearly, writing to her often in hopes of convincing her to come live in England. When she learned that your mother was with child, she even went as far as purchasing land for her sister and niece to live at. 

But your mother was every bit as stubborn as she was kind. She loved her husband and the life she had built with him, staying by his side until she passed last year. Your poor father was grief-stricken; by eight months, the stress on his heart had become too much, dying nearly a year after your mother.

It was your aunt who had reached out first, offering her deepest condolences and, far more noticeably, all the money you could ever need and your very own suite in the palace.

You weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to such a lucrative proposal. You, much like your mother, adored the countryside and the small town you grew up in. And perhaps that was why you agreed, not to move in, but instead to visit. She was family, after all, something you didn't have very much of left, though you have since come to know of a cousin Friedrich, recently married to an Edwina Sharma, that your aunt raved on and on about.

In the one week you had been here, you had come to know far more than British aristocracy than you wished, utterly out of your element amidst the corsets and personal maids. You had only managed to lower your number of attending maids to two, a far cry from the original seven you were greeted with.

You did your best to fit in, but you were no fool. You knew nothing of soireés– or how to dance for that matter, so the moment your aunt spoke of a ball, you knew you had to conjure up some excuse as to why you woefully must decline.

"Exactly! For heaven's sake, you were ill. How dare Whistledown suggest otherwise." She gestured at the staff in the room as though they were her audience.

The sound of the Queen's chamber doors being thrown stole the attention of everyone in the room. Unsurprising to you, two young maids barreling in, tripping on each other.

"S-Sorry, Your Majesty!" The blonde stuttered out.

The brunette nodded in agreement, "Our apologies, Your Majesty. We didn't know where her highness had gone–"

"–We came running as soon as we realized she had snuck off."

Isabella and Roselia. Of course. Your two personal maids. You had only just managed to shake them from your trail when you heard the news that the Queen had sent for you. You should have figured they imagined they'd catch up with you inevitably.

They were pleasant enough company, the duo was quite funny, actually, but the constant shadowing was something you rather detested. You understood they were under strict orders by the Queen to ensure your every need was attended to. Still, surely even nobility understood the concept of wanting to have a moment alone?

"Oh— Are we interrupting something?" Roselia's cheeks went pink, eyes running over the room as she took note of the Queen's pursed mouth. "We'll just… we can wait outside, actually."

"Outside, right! We'll be just outside." Isabella chimed in, heading bowing as the brunette maid yanked her back and out of the room.

"Sorry for the intrusion!"

You stifled a snicker, watching as the young maids slipped back out of the Queen's chambers, shutting the grand doors as they went. Your aunt merely rolled her eyes at the bumbling maids.

Suddenly, her Majesty sniffed, and it was as if a switch had been flipped. All her maids ran towards her, offering handkerchiefs as if their life depended on it. You nearly laughed at such a ridiculous display of servitude, but seeing as you had spent well over a week in the palace, you had become accustomed to such theatrics.

"Whistledown is right about one thing, you know." Queen Charlotte said as her nose was blotted at. "Everyone needs to meet you. And meet you they shall."

In surprise, you pulled your eyes from the doting maids, "They shall?"

"Certainly. We shall have a ball. Here in the palace, of course."

You felt your stomach plummet into your leather-bound boots, your aunt's words echoing.

"All of London's marriage-minded ladies and lords are to be invited. We'll show Whistledown just how splendid you are. Oh! How glorious if you were to find a suitor! That certainly would put to rest that frozen title once and for all."

Just faintly, you could make out the sound of white noise buzzing, mixing with the words the Queen spoke. Anxiety flooded you, deafening your brain's attempts to self-soothe and rationalize that this wasn't the catastrophe you felt it was.

"Aunt Charlotte," you tried to swallow, but your mouth felt stripped of all moisture, "I… I'm not sure if that is wise–"

But it was as if she hadn't heard you, rambling on as if you hadn't objected, "I'll be arranging for etiquette and dance lessons since my beloved sister undoubtedly failed to do the same for you. Are you free this afternoon, darling?"

You stood for a moment, no doubt looking foolish as you struggled to get your words out, "I… I suppose I am…"

"Darling, you look like just seen a ghost. Are you feeling well?" The Queen cocked her head at you, eyes rolling over you with concern.

"I… I am not feeling my best." You admitted.

"That's the second time now. Growing up in the countryside— all that sun and dirt— it's made you weak of constitution. Hm. Very well. We'll wait until you're feeling better. In the meantime, I will begin planning!"

You averted your eyes politely as she bent over suddenly, inhaling a white powder off her tea tray through a nostril. She sat up with an exhale, eyes fluttering open with a smile.

"Oh, how I love having you come to stay in the palace for a change. I'm terribly bored these days, you know." She sighed. "Did you want to assist me with planning?"

Despite how you felt seconds from unearthing your already digested lunch, you managed an apologetic smile, "I'm not sure I'd be of much help. I'm afraid I've never hosted a party before."

"Yes, my dearly departed sister never cared much for such things, did she? Such a shame she raised you out of the aristocracy." She said.

A furrow found your brow.

"You're wrong, you know." You disagreed before you could think to hold your tongue. And suddenly, it was as if you had become a magnet, all eyes in the room snapping towards your frame.

"Oh? About?" The Queen offered you a brow.

"About the way I was raised. I wouldn't change a thing about it. My mother didn't fail me… she loved me. I had a mother and father who loved me. That was worth more to me than any new dress could ever." You said, gesturing to the gifted garment you adorned today, with perhaps a touch more spite than you should've.

Of two things those in the palace knew to be true. One— Her Majesty was not wrong. Ever. Her opinion was the first to seek and the only to matter. Anyone was someone because she said so, whether explicitly or subtly.

And two— her love for her niece ran deeper than even she anticipated, as watching you stand before her defiantly didn't fill her with rage as the staff in the room assumed, but rather with melancholy. 

How you looked like your mother just then. It seemed you reminded her of her sister more and more as the days rolled by.

"Your mother would be pleased to hear that." She merely replied, wondering if her sister might be looking down on you both at this moment. At her words, your entire demeanor softened.

"Very well. Off you go." Your Queen sniffed, a handkerchief at her nose within seconds.

Bowing, you moved to exit the room.

"And niece," she called one last time, causing you to turn around, "must you wear such unsightly footwear under your dress?"

You felt your face grow hot, muttering a quiet apology before exiting the room altogether.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Chin up, darling." Your aunt reminded you.

You followed her instructions coolly, hoping you didn't look nearly as nervous as you felt.

It was undoubtedly a soirée for the books; every square inch of the ballroom was gilded in gold, the chandeliers' gleam diffusing luxuriously as it bounced around the room.

Eligible men and women of all shapes and sizes were donned in their absolute best, every possible hue of pink, blue and purple on display for Her Majesty. The ballroom looked akin to the royal grounds; the cool-toned dresses reminded you of upside-down bellflowers, floating across the marble floor in a synchronized dance.

Flocks of the most noticeable families and town figures had swarmed their way to the royal estate, drowning themselves in champagne as corseted woman fluttered their eyes at the Ton's lords.

But despite their poised smiles, neither woman nor man had spared you more than a cautious glance and courteous bow. As the hours ticked by, you couldn't help but feel increasingly anxious. Was it fear of Her Majesty sitting beside you that kept them away from you? Or was it the less than auspicious picture a certain faceless author had painted for them about you?

"It's rather hot in here, wouldn't you say?" The Queen spoke to you suddenly, looking larger than life from her throne.

"I suppose." You agreed absentmindedly, far too occupied with how a group of ladies' eyes flickered your way.

She continued, "Perhaps some champagne will cool you down. Why don't you fetch yourself a glass, dear?"

The meaning behind her words was clear. Go. Socialize.

"A splendid idea." You concurred.

Granting one final shaky breath, you straightened yourself, moving towards the table where drinks were being freshly poured.

"What shall it be, my lady?" A servant greeted you politely as you reached it.

"A glass of champagne, please." You smiled, grateful for a friendly face, perhaps the first of the night.

The servant nodded, moving to open a new bottle.

"She doesn't even hold a title, you know. That Ice Princess."

You blinked, growing still as your ears caught wind of a conversation between party goers not far from you.

"But she's the Queen's niece?"

A sinking feeling washed over you, the kind that made all the other noise in the room disappear. You flirted briefly with abandoning your spot in the room altogether, but the bubbling pour of golden liquid into a glass kept you still. You thanked the servant with a halfhearted smile.

Bringing the glass to your mouth, you turned an ear to the three gossiping ladies, careful to avoid their gaze.

"Word has it her mother married out of the aristocracy." One of them babbled, pulling noises of disbelief from the others.

"Pity. Though, I suppose that explains the appalling way she walks in heels. You'd think she grew hooves from all the time in the countryside." Another prattled. Stifled giggles rang around the group like they were all in some sort of secret, one that wasn't theirs to know. "Can you believe she thinks herself better than us?"

"One more glass, if you please." You asked the same servant, quickly making your way back to the Queen, now with a glass in either hand.

You approached her wordlessly, merely offering her a glass.

"Ah." She accepted the drink eagerly, and for a moment, there was silence, the two family members enjoying the cool velvety acidity of what was no doubt costly champagne.

"The Ton seems to think poorly of me." You blurted out.

You felt rather foolish telling this to your aunt. It wasn't as if you really cared what three cankerous aristocrats thoughts of you. But who else were you to tell? You knew no one.

Your Aunt Charlotte furrowed her delicately painted brow, "Darling, it'll do you well to realize that this Ton doesn't think. They merely reiterate what they've been told. They don't know you. Never mind what they think they know."

But her words went in one ear and out the other, merely background noise to the way you suddenly felt all eyes on you.

And suddenly, your dress was too tight, the ballroom too small. You felt your breath grow shallow, a sure sign of panic. How may others deemed you the subject of gossip tonight? What else were they saying about you?

"I think I should step out for a moment." You muttered.

"Take your maids with you!"

You were halfway across the room before you could even think to register your aunt's reply. Blinking away your tears, you pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering absentminded apologies as partygoers scoffed in protest.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

How small you felt sitting alone in the palace's rose gardens. You wept on a stone bench, wishing ever so badly that your mother was here, looking back with sorrow at how she used to pull you into her lap whenever you were upset. How she used to wrap her arms around you, and everything seemed better, if even for a moment.

How you missed her. How you missed your father. How you missed your life away from this shining, hollow palace.

But they were gone, and the simple life that awaited you back home was gone. Aunt Charlotte was all the family you had left. Without your parents, your home was gone.

"Oh! My lady… forgive me!"

A soft voice caused you to gasp, turning to face the man that had walked in on your self wallowing.

You were up on your feet in seconds, wiping away at your face. 

"No… no, it is I who should apologize! I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Your cheeks burned.

"See you like what?" The mysterious raven-haired stranger pressed, a note of cheekiness to his tone. "Human? Heaven forbid."

You laughed gently, sniffling away your shame. You knew at once he was no threat to you.

The young lord wasn't exactly sure what had led him to the palace gardens; most of the event seemed to be taking place indoors, as the night nipped and chilled unforgivingly. Still, a few stray bodies mingled underneath the string of lights that the palace servants had strung up. He had briefly greeted them, passing through the clouds of cigar smoke and small talk before bounding down limestone stairs.

He had tucked his hands into his pants pockets, sighing as the night's festivities grew quieter the further he slipped away, the crunch of wet grass kissing the underneath of his dress shoes. His mind was heavy with thoughts, hardly noticing where his legs had taken him.

The sound of your sob pulled him from his thoughts and jerked him back to his senses.

It was the Queen's rose garden; he immediately recognized the vibrant flowers and tall bushes. What he failed to recognize, however, was the weeping girl sitting on a stone bench, a look of embarrassment written plainly on her pretty face as she realized she was not alone.

He was quite handsome, you noticed despite your humiliation. He was younger than most of the lords inside, his face still featuring a certain softness despite his sharp features. His gaze was inherently kind, his warm brown eyes beckoning you to lower your guards.

"Lord Jeon," He introduced himself with a bow, eyes never leaving yours. "Forgive me if I frightened you, my lady. I shall return at once and grant you your privacy."

You hummed, pulling the shawl wrapped around your shoulders closer. Your dress was beautiful— you were beautiful, with puffy eyes, smeared makeup and all. He couldn't imagine why a lady like yourself would be weeping in the rose gardens unattended.

"It's alright. I supposed I'm not the only introvert at this party tonight. The garden is big enough for the two of us."

Lord Jeon shrugged, "A bit of fresh air never hurt."

You watched cautiously as he walked closer, sitting beside you on the opposite side of the bench. 

"You know… I've been told I'm a decent listener." He said suddenly, brown eyes admiring the roses in the distance.

You blinked, "Is that so?"

"Well… not explicitly. But I've got two ears, so I'd say I do alright." He teased.

You smiled half-heartedly, contemplating how much to reveal to this stranger.

"It's… I suppose I'm just a bit out of my element here." 

"You?" He seemed surprised, a slight chuckle of disbelief accompanying his question.

"You laughed." You raised a brow.

He bit down on his lower lip as if contemplating his following words.

"Well, it's just… I can't imagine someone like you having trouble at these events." He confessed.

For a moment, you wondered what he could mean. Looking down at your lap, you realized he must be referring to your extraordinarily fanciful garments.

"Ah. These clothes were a gift, and this hair— well, none of this is me. Not really. Truly, I don't know why I came." You sighed. 

He nodded, "Beginning to feel that way myself, actually. Most lose interest when they hear my name. I'm a bit of a nobody, it seems."

"It would appear you, and I have the opposite problem." You nearly laughed.

"Uptown girl, are you?"

"I'm afraid I've got a bit of a reputation. And no one cares to know whether it's true or not." You said.

He let out a sigh.

"Terrible soirée full of terrible people. I can't say that doesn't happen here often."

You let his words hang in the night's cold air, your fingers intertwining themselves across your lap.

"Is that all?"

Your head turned to face him, growing warm to find him already looking at you.

"Forgive me, it's just," he continued, "your sadness… it feels heavier than you're letting on."

He watched as your body language changed, suddenly tense as if you had built your walls back up.

He was back up on his feet within seconds, his shoes coming into view by the bottom of your dress as he stood in front of you.

Swallowing down a sob, you allowed yourself to look up at him.

"May I?" He asked, extending a hand out as if wanting yours.

Hesitantly, you gave it to him, assuming you would be ushered back onto your feet. To your surprise, however, he merely flipped your hand over, your palm now facing the night sky.

Your eyes widened as he took a finger and traced a line onto your palm. 

No. Not A line. A letter.

L-O-V-E-R-? 

He wrote into your palm. You stared at your hand, skin still buzzing faintly from where his finger had run across.

His mother used to do such a thing when he was younger and much angrier, often struggling to say the words when something troubled him.

Frowning, you shook your head. He wrote once again.

F-A-M-I-L-Y-?

A tear fell from you as if instinctively. You nodded your head, confirming his suspicions. Spurred on by his touch, you moved to grab his hand, flipping it upside down as he had done to yours.

L-O-N-E-L-Y.

"… I just wish I had a little bit longer with them." You found yourself saying once you had finished.

"No time is enough when it comes to the people you love." He spoke with heart as if referring to his own personal melancholy.

Another tear fell from your eyes as his thumb ran over your palm, not to spell anything but to offer his condolences.

"No. I suppose not." You sniffed, a shiver running past you as a crisp breeze passed the two of you.

He wrote into your palm again.

C-O-L-D-?

You let out a laugh, shrugging dismissively.

"Here." Lord Jeon suddenly peeled his suit jacket off his shoulders. You froze, stunned silent as he gently draped it over your shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.

Your chest tightened, moved by the gesture of kindness. But before you could think to thank him, his warm fingers were at your palm once more.

F-R-I-E-N-D-?

His smile tugged at your heartstrings. You wonder how anyone inside could possibly look down on him. You didn't need to know his name to see that he was kind, a worthy suitor for any marriage-minded aristocrat.

F-R-I-E-N-D. You wrote back.

Happy was the girl who sat on the cement bench of the palace's rose garden, wrapped up warm under the jacket of the first person to show you genuine, unconditional kindness since arriving weeks ago.

The two strangers sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet of company. Neither of you knew the other, but there was comfort in the silhouettes of the adjacent shadows at your feet, knowing that neither had ill intent towards the other.

"Do you ever wonder what it might be like to live in a palace?"

You fell stiff, mute as you turned towards him, watching how he looked over at the illuminated estate. 

"Lonely."

"You think?" He pondered.

"I'm not fond of big empty rooms. They tend to make me feel small." You explained quietly.

"Well, should I ever have a palace, there would be no empty rooms. Every room with music and the sound of children's laughter. I would decree it so."

"Children? And where do you figure you might obtain those?" You smirked.

"Well, they'd be mine, of course." He grinned lopsidedly.

You grinned back at him. "Then the happiest of children they would be."

You suppose the young lord reminded you somewhat of a child. He was a man by every definition of the word, standing tall and proud, but there was something about the way his large eyes took in the palace that was decidedly childlike. Eyes wide and glimmering with awe.

You watched contently as he suddenly noticed the silver plated container that sat by the leg of the bench; an unopened bottle of champagne sat neatly in a bed of ice, several glasses accompanying it.

Your dear aunt thought of everything when it came to party planning, you were coming to find out.

"Shall we?" He smirked suggestively.

"I don't see why not." You laughed.

The two of you giggled as he attempted to open the bottle, champagne spilling everywhere. He tried to pour you a glass neatly, but your new friend had no future in bartending, champagne spilling over the glass' edge and onto your fingers.

Sticky but smiling, you brought your glass up, mirroring him.

"A toast." He decided, his own glass now only half full from his carelessness.

"To?" You questioned.

He contemplated for a moment, meeting your inquisitive eyes innocently. A boyish smile broke out across his face.

"To us, of course. Tonight's most undesirables." He declared, making you chuckle.

But before you could touch glasses…

"Your highness!"

Your eyes went wide, your stomach plummeting as a certain blond maid came scrambling into the garden.

"Isabella! Please! Just 'my lady' will do." Heat rocketed up your neck, ears no doubt hot to the touch. 

Her hands fell to her knees, clearly out of breath from running around the palace grounds, undoubtedly in search of you.

"My lady, I should advise you to return to the party. Her Majesty the Queen has someone she wants you to meet." She cautioned.

You cursed internally.

"Of course, she does. Give me just a moment then. I'll be over shortly."

The young maid's eyes flickered over to Lord Jeon, cheeks rosy.

"But your highness—"

"Thank you, Isabella." You cut her off curtly. 

The young maid gave you two one more final look over before nodded, pardoning herself with a curtesy.

Hesitantly, you turned back towards Lord Jeon, unsure what to make of the look of disbelief clearly written across his face.

Awkwardly, you brought your glass to your mouth, taking a cautious sip.

"Your highness? You're a princess?" He gawked, eyes still wide. 

"No!" You quipped. "Not… technically?"

The young lord merely blinked at you, his doe eyes telling you everything his mouth wasn't.

You were rambling before you could help yourself.

"M-My mother is the Queen's sister. Technically speaking, she held the title of 'Princess.' Though, I suppose if my mother were born a man then, yes, that would make me a princess— titles are patriarchal in nature, it's all… very complicated, really…" 

You felt like you couldn't take in a deep enough breath, the chilly air now burning your lungs.

"So… not a princess. Just… daughter of a princess." He reiterated, clearly stunned.

You felt a frown form on your face, all your etiquette instructor's reminders of poise and manners slipping from your mind.

"I am the Queen's niece. We shall leave it at that."

The handsome lord had the most fascinated look on his face, eyes locked on the way your jaw twitched, mouth shut rigidly to hold back the slew of word vomit you instinctively felt compelled to let out.

The way he held your eyes – the intensity behind his dark orbs – made you uneasy yet engrossed you all the same.

You bit down on the side of your cheek, "Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"

He shook his head suddenly as if trying to shake off his shock.

"No. I'm not."

"Are you… disappointed?" You grimaced.

You hadn't the faintest clue as to what was running around in his handsome head.

"Disappointed?" He cocked his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell you're thinking right now, and it's frankly unnerving." You frowned.

The raven-haired man let out a noise that toed the line between amusement and disbelief. 

"I think you owe me a toast… your highness." He teased.