yuki

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Xūn Péikāng was not born. He was made.

His existence began in the sterile, white-lit corridors of an underground laboratory, where human hands sought to mold perfection. There were no lullabies, no whispered words of love—only the low hum of machines and the murmurs of scientists who viewed him as a project rather than a child.

Two figures stood above all others: Azure and Kaisei. They were the architects of his being, his only constants in an otherwise mechanical world.

Azure was meticulous, always watching, always analyzing. He spoke in low, measured tones, his words like silk laced with steel. His affection was conditional, his praise given in carefully controlled doses, just enough to make Xūn hunger for more.

Kaisei was colder, a man of science before sentiment, his sharp gaze dissecting Xūn’s every move. If Azure whispered manipulation, Kaisei ensured there was no room for doubt. He did not sugarcoat.

He did not soothe. He shaped Xūn through control, molding his mind as carefully as his body had been designed.

Xūn never questioned them. They were his world.

One evening, as Xūn analyzed the chemical structures of a new virus, Azure entered the room, a pleased smile curving his lips. " 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄, 𝖷𝗎̄𝗇. " he praised, voice warm yet restrained. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀. "

Xūn’s fingers twitched around his pen, his chest tightening with something dangerously close to hope. " 𝖣𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅? "

Azure chuckled, reaching out to brush Xūn’s hair back into place. " 𝖨𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇— " his grip suddenly tightened, his nails pressing lightly against Xūn’s scalp, just enough to make the boy still, " —𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽, 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋. "

Xūn did not flinch. He only nodded. " 𝖨 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽.. "

Kaisei, sitting across the lab, scoffed. " 𝖴𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗌, " he said coolly, not even glancing up from his notes. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾? 𝖤𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝗂𝗍. "

Xūn’s stomach twisted, but he merely bowed his head. " 𝖨..𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅. "

And he did. Again. And again. And again. Because failure meant silence. Failure meant a lingering look of disappointment, a moment where Azure and Kaisei’s eyes would pass over him as if he were nothing more than a flawed product.

And Xūn could not bear being nothing to them.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Azure and Kaisei’s love was never freely given. It was rationed like a precious resource, given only when Xūn performed exactly as expected.

When he succeeded, Azure would pat his head, murmur words of approval, and let him sit by his side. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽, 𝖷𝗎̄𝗇. "

When he failed, Kaisei would take away his comforts—no books, no lab access, no contact. " 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽, " he would say. " 𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇? "

One night, Xūn lay curled in his cot, the chill of the lab pressing into his bones. His latest experiment had been a disaster, and he had not seen Azure or Kaisei in hours. The isolation gnawed at him, an unfamiliar ache spreading in his chest.

When the door finally creaked open, Azure stepped inside, his expression unreadable. He did not speak immediately, only letting the silence stretch until it became unbearable.

" 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒, " Azure finally murmured, sitting beside Xūn’s cot. His voice was quiet, disappointed. " 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗎𝗋𝖾. "

Xūn swallowed, his throat tight. " 𝖨—𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋. "

Azure sighed, running a hand through Xūn’s hair, but the touch felt heavier than usual. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅, 𝖷𝗎̄𝗇. 𝖬𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌.. " His fingers curled slightly, gripping just enough to send a message. " 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘀 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂. "

Fear. Pure, unfiltered fear slammed into Xūn chest.

Wrong about him? Impossible. Azure was never wrong. Which meant—

No.

" 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇.. " Xūn whispered.

Azure smiled. " 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲. "

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐌

Then Shirou happened.

A contradiction. A disruption. A mistake.

Xūn met him by accident. He had been working in the lab as usual, running calculations when the door creaked open. No one should have entered uninvited, and yet—

" 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙣? "

Xūn head snapped up, his cerulean eyes narrowing at the figure leaning casually against the doorway. Black hair. Green eyes. A smirk playing on his lips, as if he had no care in the world.

" 𝖠𝗇𝖽, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎? " Xūn asked flatly.

" 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗎, " stranger replied, stepping into the lab as if he belonged there. “And you?”

Xūn hesitated. No one had ever asked him who he was before.

" …𝖷𝗎̄𝗇 𝖯𝖾́𝗂𝗄𝖺̄𝗇𝗀. "

" 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁𝖿𝗎𝗅. " Shirou grinned. " 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖯𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗈. "

No one had ever spoken to him like that before. As if he were just a person. As if he weren’t something created to be perfect.

Shirou kept coming back. He talked, laughed, teased, and Xūn, despite himself, began to crave it. Began to want to see him. To hear his voice. To feel something other than the cold calculations of his life.

And Azure noticed.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄.

Azure had always watched. Always controlled. And now, the cracks in his creation were beginning to show, spreading like fractures in glass—small at first, but inevitable, unstoppable.

One by one, he began to remove the pieces, careful and deliberate.

He didn’t rush, didn’t force—no, that would only drive Xūn away. Instead, he whispered, planting seeds in the dark where doubt could take root. " 𝖨𝗌 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖷𝗎̄𝗇? 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒. "

At first, Xūn brushed it off, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. " 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, " he muttered, but Azure saw the faint crease in his brow, the hesitation in his hands as he worked. It was never about forcing belief—only nudging it into existence.

And so Azure continued, his words slipping into the gaps, careful and insidious. " 𝖨 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝖻 𝗒𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗒, " he said, voice gentle, laced with concern. " 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾, 𝗂𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗂𝗍? 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗒? "

Xūn frowned, pausing in his work, but shook his head again. " 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍— " The words fell flat, unconvincing, as if even he wasn’t sure anymore.

Azure seized the moment, placing a firm yet reassuring hand on Xūn’s shoulder. His grip was warm, grounding, a silent promise that I am the one you can trust. " 𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲? " he murmured, leaning in just enough that his presence felt inescapable.

Doubt flickered in Xūn’s expression, and Azure softened, letting out a quiet sigh. " 𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋.. " he said, his voice touched with regret, as if he were the one hurting. " 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁. "

It was all it took—a single crack widening into something deeper. Xūn wanted to refute it, wanted to hold onto the certainty that Shirou wouldn’t betray him. But the more he tried, the more Azure’s words twisted in his mind, turning coincidence into something sinister.

Then came the final betrayal, hidden behind the careful hands of a friend. Azure sabotaged Xūn’s work himself, ensuring that every failure came when Xūn could least afford it. And each time, he was there—offering a quiet sigh, a sympathetic look, a murmur of reassurance laced with venom.

" 𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖾𝖿𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍o this. " His voice was soft, filled with understanding. " 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝. "

And when Xūn finally came to him, shaken, exhausted, and desperate for answers, Azure welcomed him with open arms. He made no demands, no accusations—only a sorrowful sigh and a heavy gaze, as if he were carrying the burden of the truth.

" 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙤𝙪. " he whispered, " 𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚, 𝙓𝙪̄𝙣. 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩. 𝙄 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙤. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 ? "

Xūn’s chest tightened, his mind a whirlwind of denial and sinking dread. He wanted to fight back, to prove Azure wrong, but the evidence—his failures—were undeniable. And Azure had never led him astray before.

A breath. A slow, shaking exhale.

" ...𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖨 𝖽𝗈? " His voice was barely above a whisper, a confession of uncertainty, of surrender.

Azure’s fingers curled ever so slightly on his shoulder, his smile hidden behind a mask of quiet understanding. His voice, when it came, was almost mournful, as if he hated what he had to say.

" 𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗶𝗺. " he murmured.

" 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮. "

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍.

Seo was dying.

Xūn watched as the younger boy convulsed on the floor, his body wracked with unbearable pain. His fingers twitched, reaching out blindly—toward something, someone—but there was nothing to hold onto. His breath came in ragged, wet gasps, his body rejecting life itself as the virus did its work.

This should have been satisfying.

Xun had crafted the virus with perfection—rapid cellular breakdown, internal hemorrhaging, just enough time for the victim to realize they were dying before the end came. It was supposed to be beautiful.

Then why did it feel wrong?

Seo’s bloodshot eyes flickered toward him, filled with something that crushed Xun’s chest. It wasn’t anger, wasn’t hatred. It was confusion. Why?

" 𝖯𝗂..𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗈..? " Seo’s voice was barely a whisper, fragile, trembling. His fingers reached toward him—trusting. Still trusting.

Xūn hands curled into fists at his sides.

This was necessary. This was the price of betrayal. This was what Azure told him had to be done.

Seo shuddered violently, another choked gasp leaving his lips. The blood pooling at the corners of his mouth made every breath sound wet, weak.

And then—

Footsteps.

Rushing. Unsteady. Desperate.

" 𝙎𝙀𝙊—?! "

The moment Xūn heard Shirou’s voice, the world seemed to crack open.

Shirou had come.

A figure burst into the room like a storm, his green eyes wide with sheer panic, his breath already uneven from running.

Xūn saw the exact moment Shirou’s gaze landed on the small, crumpled form on the floor, saw the way his expression twisted into something raw, something beyond horror.

" No no—no, no, no— " Shirou fell to his knees, nearly slipping in the growing pool of blood, his hands reaching, trembling, shaking as he gathered Seo into his arms.

Seo’s head lolled weakly against his chest, his bloodstained lips parting in a barely-there smile. " …𝖡𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋.. "

Shirou exhaled a shattered breath. " 𝖸..𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒. " His voice was frantic, desperate, trying so hard to hold onto something that was already slipping away. He pressed a hand against Seo’s cheek, his fingers stained red. " 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍—𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇, 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒? 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉, 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾— "

But Seo’s small hand gripped his sleeve weakly. " 𝙄𝙩...𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙨... "

Shirou’s entire body tensed, his breathing hitching. His hands were shaking so badly they could barely keep holding on. " 𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐—𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾, 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍? 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍—𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝗦𝗲𝗼, 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗲. "

Seo’s eyelashes fluttered. His pupils were already unfocused, his body already losing the strength to obey. " ..'𝙢 𝙩𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙙.. "

" 𝙉𝙤.. " Shirou’s voice cracked. His grip tightened. " 𝙉𝙤, 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖸𝗈— " His throat closed up, and his voice broke entirely as he choked out, " 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒? 𝖮𝗄𝖺𝗒? "

Seo’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile. " 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙨.. 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚. "

Then his fingers slipped.

And everything stopped.

The field was silent.

Seo was gone.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓.

Shirou held onto Seo’s lifeless body, his arms wrapped tightly around him as if refusing to let go—as if his sheer desperation could bring him back. His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven gasps. His mind couldn’t—wouldn’t—process what had just happened.

Seo, his little brother—the boy who had always followed him around like a shadow, who had once clung to his sleeve like a child afraid of the world—was gone. Just like that.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Just silence.

Then, something cracked inside him.

A sound tore from Shirou’s throat—something raw, something inhuman. His entire body trembled, his head hanging low over Seo’s still form. But then, the shaking stopped.

A shift.

The air around him grew thick, suffocating. A slow, creeping darkness coiled around his body, wrapping itself around his limbs like tendrils.

His once-white aura, something faint and pure, became swallowed by something deeper. Black and green—like ink bleeding into water, like a swan losing its pristine feathers, turning into something unrecognizable.

Xūn watched, amusement flickering across his face. His cerulean eyes gleamed, the corner of his lips twitching upward. Fascinating.

He had never seen Shirou like this before. Never seen that look in his eyes—wide, dull, brimming with something raw.

Anger. Hatred.

And betrayal.

Shirou lifted his head slowly, his gaze locking onto Xūn. His pupils were blown wide, his irises an eerie shade of green that pulsed with unrestrained fury.

" ..𝐘𝐨𝐮. "

Xūn tilted his head.

Shirou’s hands clenched around Seo’s lifeless body, his nails digging into fabric. His entire being was shaking—but not from grief anymore.

It was rage.

His breath came out in shudders, his chest heaving. " 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. "

Xūn’s amusement deepened. He took a step forward, tilting his head ever so slightly. " 𝖨 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾, " he said smoothly. " 𝖲𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒.. 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗱 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱, 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗦𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗼𝘂? "

A strangled sound left Shirou’s throat, something between a laugh and a sob. He hunched forward slightly, his grip on Seo tightening for a moment before he finally—finally—let go.

Slowly, he placed his brother’s body down, carefully, almost reverently. His fingers lingered for just a second, brushing against Seo’s cold skin.

Then, without warning—

Crack.

The ground beneath them split, a violent gust of energy surging outward. The entire lab trembled, the walls groaning under the pressure of Shirou’s fury.

Xūn’s smirk widened.

Now this was interesting.

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 ; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐃

Shirou rose to his feet with slow, deliberate movements. His hands, once steady and sure, now trembled with barely contained rage. His entire body burned with an emotion so intense it felt like it would consume him whole.

The air grew heavier.

Xūn stood amidst the chaos, entirely unfazed. He watched Shirou like a researcher observing a subject—curious, intrigued. But beneath that detached amusement, there was something else. Anticipation.

Shirou’s breathing was ragged, his shoulders tense. The way he was standing now—his back straight, his expression dark—was different. This wasn’t the Shirou Xūn knew.

This was someone else.

Someone broken.

Someone dangerous.

" 𝐘..𝐘𝐨𝐮.. "Shirou rasped, voice hollow. " 𝒀𝒐𝒖—𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅—𝑺𝒆𝒐. " His words were not a question. Not an accusation. They were a fact, an undeniable truth that settled into the ruins of his mind like a disease, festering, poisoning everything.

Xūn sighed, tapping his fingers together lazily. " 𝖪𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽. " His tone was casual, as if they were speaking about the weather, not the body lying cold between them. " 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒.. 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲. "

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Shirou’s eyes flickered, his pupils dilating as something inside him snapped.

" 𝗔𝗻 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲? " His voice was soft, barely above a whisper—but it carried through the space like a sharp blade, cutting through the air between them.

Xūn’s smirk grew. " 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗎. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂? " He took a slow step forward, his boots clicking softly against the cracked tiles. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽'𝗏𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇. 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖨 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲? "

Shirou’s breathing hitched. His mind replayed every moment, every memory—Xūn’s voice, his presence, his twisted words that had once sounded so reasonable. Trust me, Shirou. I’m the only one who understands. The only one who will never betray you.

But now—now Shirou saw it for what it truly was.

Manipulation. Lies.

Xūn had never been his friend.

He had been waiting for this moment.

The realization struck Shirou like a knife to the gut.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, " Shirou whispered. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. "

Xūn let out a small chuckle. " 𝖮𝗁, 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗎.. 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇. " He placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. " 𝖨 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗨𝘀. "

Shirou’s expression twisted, a storm of emotions crashing through him. " 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤?! " His voice cracked, raw and full of fury. " 𝖲𝖾𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽! 𝖸𝗈𝗎— " He swallowed, his fists clenching so tightly his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. " 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗺𝗲. "

Xūn’s expression remained unchanged. " 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙚𝙩, 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚. "

Shirou froze.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾, 𝗒𝖾𝗍. " Xūn continued, tilting his head. “Is it because you’re hesitating? " 𝖨𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾—𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇—𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗜'𝗺 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁? "

A sharp intake of breath.

" 𝗡𝗼. " Shirou growled, shaking his head. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. "

Xūn’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second.

" 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁.. " Shirou continued, his voice lower now, dangerous. " 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩—𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙖𝙮. "

And then—

The ground exploded.

𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋

Shirou didn’t waste another second. His entire body pulsed with power, the green and black energy swirling around him like a living force. The moment he moved, the ground beneath him shattered, his very presence warping the air.

Xūn barely had time to react before the darkness surged forward—jagged tendrils of black lightning lashing out with terrifying speed.

He twisted his fingers, summoning a wave of cerulean fire, meeting Shirou’s attack head-on. Their powers clashed in an explosion of light and shadow, shaking the very foundation of the lab. Walls cracked. The ceiling groaned under the pressure.

But Shirou didn’t stop.

More.

More.

His rage burned like an unquenchable inferno, fueled by grief, by betrayal, by the lifeless body of his brother lying behind him.

" 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙! " Shirou roared, his voice nearly lost in the chaos. Another wave of dark energy crashed toward Xūn, twisting and writhing like serpents.

Xūn merely smirked, leaping back effortlessly." 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱? 𝖨𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾? " His tone was taunting, yet there was an edge to it—something almost unreadable. " 𝖮𝗁, 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗎. 𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗏𝖾. "

With a flick of his wrist, the air around him shifted. Ice, sharp as daggers, formed in the space between them. Within seconds, the shards launched forward, each one aimed to maim, to tear, to hurt.

Shirou’s form flickered, darkness swallowing him whole before the ice could reach him.

Then—

He was behind Xūn.

Xūn barely managed to summon a barrier before an explosion of black mist engulfed him, the sheer force sending him flying across the room. He skidded to a stop, his boots scraping against the fractured floor.

For the first time, the amusement in his eyes faltered.

Shirou stood amidst the wreckage, his breathing heavy, his green eyes glowing unnaturally bright. His hands trembled—not from exhaustion, but from something deeper.

" 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖲𝖾𝗈.. " Shirou said suddenly, his voice eerily calm.

Xūn remained silent, waiting.

Shirou exhaled, his gaze piercing through the smoke. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙩, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩. "

A slow smile curled Xūn’s lips.

" 𝘼𝙝, 𝙨𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙙. "

Shirou’s chest ached.

It wasn’t just the fight. It wasn’t just the loss.

It was everything.

The memories. The trust. The quiet moments where he had believed in Xūn, where he had thought—just maybe—he had found someone who truly understood him.

And now, standing here, amidst the ruins of what they once had—Shirou realized something even worse.

Xūn had understood him.

And he had used that knowledge to destroy him.

Something inside him cracked.

Shirou reached into his pocket without thinking, fingers brushing against the cool surface of a small, worn object.

A gift.

One Xūn had given him long ago. A simple pendant, one that had meant something once.

Shirou pulled it out, staring at it for a long moment.

Then—without hesitation—he crushed it in his palm.

The sound of breaking metal rang through the air.

Xūn’s eyes flickered.

For the first time, the smirk disappeared.

He looked at the shattered remains of the pendant in Shirou’s hand, and something unreadable flashed across his face.

A moment passed. Then two.

And slowly, Xūn reached into his coat, pulling out a thin silver ring—another gift.

Shirou had given it to him years ago, telling him it was his first act of trust.

Xūn twirled it between his fingers, the metal catching the dim light.

Then—

With a flick of his hand, he let it fall to the ground.

The ring hit the cracked floor with a quiet, hollow clang.

It rolled. Once. Twice.

Then it stilled.

Silence.

Neither of them moved.

The lab burned around them, the air thick with smoke and the weight of everything left unspoken.

Finally, Shirou turned.

Without another word, without another look, he stepped over the wreckage and walked away.

Xūn didn’t stop him.

He simply watched.

And when Shirou finally disappeared into the distance, Xūn exhaled softly, lowering his gaze to the broken ring at his feet.

For the first time, he felt something he couldn’t quite name.

But it was too late.

It had always been too late.

𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍

It has been a decade.

The years had passed like a slow, agonizing eternity. Almost a decade since that day—since the lab was reduced to ruins, since the bond between Xūn and Shirou was shattered beyond repair. Since the moment Seo’s lifeless body went cold in Shirou’s trembling hands.

And yet, Xūn never looked back.

Now, he stood in the center of his new lab, a dimly lit, sterile space filled with the hum of machines. Beakers bubbled, monitors flickered with unreadable data, and the scent of chemicals hung thick in the air. Scattered papers covered the desks, each detailing his latest project—his newest creation.

He reached into the pocket of his lab coat, fingers brushing against the cold glass of a small pill bottle.

With a flick of his wrist, he popped it open and poured the contents straight into his mouth, swallowing without hesitation. No water, no second thought. The bitterness coated his tongue, but he barely noticed anymore.

Painkillers. Stimulants. A concoction of his own making.

It didn’t matter what they were. As long as they kept him functioning.

His cerulean eyes flickered toward the large containment pod in front of him—a sleek glass chamber filled with a translucent liquid. Suspended within, a figure floated in eerie stillness. Limbs motionless, hair fanned out like ink in water.

A clone.

Xūn had spent years perfecting this moment. Every spare second, every scrap of knowledge, every fragment of his shattered past was poured into this project. A perfect being, free from the failures of humanity.

The machines beeped in sync as the pod slowly began to drain, the liquid receding as the figure inside lowered to the ground. A quiet hiss filled the room as the glass split open.

And then, the clone stirred.

Lids fluttered open, revealing the eyes of the same haunting as Xūn’s. The newly formed being took its first breath, staggering slightly as it stepped forward, unsteady but alive.

Xūn tilted his head, a slow smirk forming on his lips as he observed his work.

Then, in a voice as smooth as silk, he greeted his creation.

" 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐍𝐲𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞. "

?.. ?.. ???...

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓.

Shirou’s steps were slow, almost hesitant, as he entered the dimly lit room.

The weight of his brother’s lifeless body in his arms made each movement feel unbearable. His breath was ragged, his vision unfocused, his entire being hollow. The only sound that accompanied him was the faint, distant hum of machinery—cold, sterile, unfeeling.

Azure stood near a desk, seemingly unbothered by the sight before him. His piercing eyes observed Shirou with a quiet, knowing gaze, his hands neatly folded behind his back. The scientist did not rush forward, did not express sorrow or pity. Instead, he waited.

Shirou finally came to a stop in front of him. His knees trembled as he carefully lowered Seo’s still form onto the floor. His fingers curled against the fabric of his brother’s now-useless coat, clenching tightly as he forced the words out.

" 𝖨.. 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆. " His voice cracked, raw and broken. His hands shook violently. " 𝖨 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽—𝖨 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲. "

Azure exhaled softly, stepping closer. He gazed down at Seo’s unmoving body, expression unreadable. Then, with an eerie calmness, he reached out and gently placed a hand on Shirou’s head, his fingers threading through the strands of his dark hair.

Shirou flinched slightly at the touch but didn’t move away. He had nothing left—nowhere else to turn.

" 𝗜 𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗜? " Azure murmured, his voice smooth, measured, almost affectionate. " 𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀... 𝗫𝘂̄𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂. "

Shirou’s breath hitched, but he said nothing.

Azure continued, his fingers pressing down ever so slightly, a cold reassurance disguised as comfort. " 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗁. 𝖠𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾—𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂? "

A pause. A calculated silence to let the words sink in.

“…𝙃𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚. "

A tremor ran through Shirou’s body. His mind replayed the moment over and over again—Seo’s final breath, the cold stillness, the way Xūn had just stood there, indifferent, watching.

Azure knelt down slightly, keeping his hand on Shirou’s head as if soothing a grieving child. His voice dropped lower, gentle, almost hypnotic.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎? "

Shirou squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t answer.

" 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽. " Azure’s lips curved slightly, his tone dipping into something even colder. " 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙? "

Shirou’s breathing grew unsteady.

Azure leaned in just a little closer, his voice a whisper now, threading into the cracks of Shirou’s broken mind.

" 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗎. " His fingers tightened ever so slightly. " 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗫𝘂̄𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝗛𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝘂𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂. "

A suffocating silence settled in the room.

And then, the final whisper. The chilling truth that would bury itself deep into Shirou’s heart, poisoning every memory, every lingering attachment.

" 𝙏𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚, 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙤𝙪.. 𝘿𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙢? "

a/n : oc lore :D !!

i dont proof read anymore, my head hurts.

Mei sat on the floor of her dimly lit room, arms wrapped around her knees, her fingers digging into her skin so hard it hurt.

Her chest ached, her throat burned, and no matter how many times she swallowed, the lump inside wouldn’t go away. Her phone screen lit up beside her, and she stared at it like it was some cruel joke.

" I hope we can still be friends. "

Her breath hitched. A choked, bitter laugh tore its way out of her throat, but it sounded more like a sob.

Friends?

They always said that. Every single time. It was supposed to make it better, wasn’t it? Like it softened the blow. But it didn’t. It only twisted the knife deeper, made it hurt more.

Mei squeezed her eyes shut, but the memories wouldn’t stop.

" Mei, you’re amazing. I’m just not in the right place for a relationship right now. "

" I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. "

" You deserve someone who will truly appreciate you. "

Then why wasn’t it ever you?

Her fingers dug harder into her arms, nails leaving deep crescent marks. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. She had done everything right. She had loved them, cherished them, given them every piece of herself until she had nothing left. And in the end, she was always the one left behind.

She sucked in a shaky breath, rocking slightly. " Why can’t anyone change for me? " The words escaped in a whisper, raw, broken, pleading—like a prayer that would never be answered.

Her vision blurred, tears spilling over, hot against her cold skin. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear the walls down, throw her phone across the room, shatter the mirror so she wouldn’t have to look at herself anymore. But what was the point?

No one would hear her.

No one ever did.

She grabbed her phone with trembling hands, scrolling through old messages, old photos—proof that for a fleeting moment, she had been loved. Or at least, she thought she had been.

But love wasn’t supposed to feel like this, was it? Love wasn’t supposed to leave her empty, discarded, watching from the sidelines as the people she once held close learned to be better—just not for her.

Never for her.

Her breaths came out faster, shallower. Her chest felt too tight, her head too heavy. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stop the sobs from escaping, but it was useless. The weight of it all crashed over her, suffocating.

She wasn’t enough. No matter how beautiful she was, no matter how talented, no matter how much love she gave, it would never be enough.

" Mei, I just don’t think we’re meant to be. "

" I love you, but I’m not in love with you. "

" I think I found someone else. "

Her whole body trembled. She clawed at her arms, gasping, trying to hold herself together. But it was too much. It was always too much.

No matter what she did, it would never change.

She would always be the second choice. The temporary fix. The one people left behind before they finally figured out how to love properly.

And she would always be the one standing in the dark, watching them be happy with someone else.

Alone. Forgotten. Unwanted.

The weight in Mei’s chest never eased. If anything, it grew heavier, pressing down like an iron hand squeezing her lungs. The sobs had stopped, but the pain didn’t. It never did.

Her body felt numb as she sat there, staring at the floor, her mind a broken record playing the same agonizing thoughts over and over again.

" Why wasn’t I enough? "

" Why couldn’t anyone stay? "

" Why did they always change for someone else—never for me? "

Her breath came out in ragged shudders, her fingers twitching against the cold floor. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw it.

A figure, standing near the balcony.

Slowly, Mei lifted her head. The moment she saw her, a chill crawled down her spine.

It was her. But not as she was now. It was Mei from the past. The one who still had hope. The one who still believed love could save her.

Vian.

The girl’s red, puffy eyes were hollow, her face streaked with dried tears that had been shed for hours, days—maybe even years. Her body was frail, barely holding itself together.

But the most horrifying part was the gaping hole in her chest. A wound so deep, so empty, it looked like someone had punched straight through her heart, shattering it beyond repair.

Mei’s breath caught in her throat.

The figure turned away and walked toward the balcony railing.

Mei followed.

Her steps were slow, heavy, as if her body knew where this was leading but her mind refused to stop it. The cold night air brushed against her skin as she stepped outside. The city lights flickered below, stretching endlessly, uncaring, unbothered.

The figure stood at the edge, staring down.

For a moment, Mei hesitated. She felt as though she was watching a ghost relive its final moments.

Then, the figure turned to her, and in the faint glow of the city, Mei saw her own face—worn, broken, defeated. The girl smiled. Not a happy smile, not even a sad one. Just empty.

Mei stepped closer.

She placed her hands on the railing, feeling the cold metal against her skin.

She looked down. The world felt so small from up here. It reminded her of how little she truly mattered.

A thought whispered in her mind.

" If I disappear, will they finally notice me? "

She closed her eyes.

And then—she let go.

As she fell, the wind roared in her ears, drowning out everything else. Her hair whipped violently around her face, but she felt nothing. No fear. No regret. Just silence.

And as the ground rushed toward her, a single, chilling thought crossed her mind—

" I was only ever meant to be a lesson. "

Then—

Darkness.

The dim glow of streetlights flickered against the crimson-stained walls, casting long, eerie shadows over the room. The sharp scent of blood lingered in the air, thick and suffocating.

Shirou stood in the center of it all, his small frame drenched in the warm, sticky essence of his parents’ last moments. Their lifeless bodies lay twisted on the floor, the pools of red creeping outward, touching the tips of his bloodied shoes. His pale hands trembled slightly—not with fear, not with grief—but something else entirely.

The distant wail of sirens grew closer, flashing red and blue lights reflecting in his dull, hollow green eyes. He didn’t flinch when the police burst in, their voices urgent, their footsteps heavy. Rough hands grabbed his arms, pulling him away from the scene, but he remained limp, unresisting.

And then, just as they dragged him past the threshold, something changed. The corners of his lips curled up ever so slightly—a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. His gaze, once empty, held a glimmer of something chilling.

As the officers exchanged uneasy glances, Shirou finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying through the silence like a blade slicing through flesh.

" haah.. it’s funny, I thought I’d feel something. Guess not. "

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒

The grand hall buzzed with hushed conversations as the announcement rang through the speakers.

Applause followed, polite yet cautious. The weight of countless gazes bore down on Shirou as he stepped onto the stage, his expression unreadable. Dressed in pristine black and gold, his new student council uniform fit him almost too perfectly—like a monarch donning his crown for the first time.

" and so, we welcome our newly elected Head Student Council Member… Shirou. "

A smirk tugged at his lips as he accepted the position, shaking hands with the faculty and scanning the crowd. He could already feel the wary glances, the whispers that followed his name. They feared him, though none dared to say why.

After the ceremony, the council room was empty—save for one other person.

Nelu stood by the window, his sharp blue eyes locked onto Shirou the moment he stepped inside. The air between them turned ice-cold in an instant, neither speaking, neither moving. It was as if the room itself recognized the weight of their meeting.

Shirou took a step forward, hands in his pockets, that ever-present smirk still lingering on his face. " ..You must be my assistant. "

Nelu tilted his head slightly, his composure unshaken. " Nelu. I look forward to working with you… Head Student Council Member. "

A brief silence.

Then, both of them chuckled—low, knowing, and just a little wicked.

Shirou studied Nelu, something unreadable flashing in his green eyes. " 𝖬𝗆.. strange, you don’t seem like the type to follow orders. "

Nelu’s smile was polite, yet his gaze was far too calculating. " and you don’t seem like the type to need an assistant, Rou. "

Their words carried no outright threat, yet the meaning between them sent shivers down both their spines.

Shirou let out a soft laugh, stepping past Nelu, his fingers brushing against the desk as he whispered, " I wonder.. which of us will break first? "

Nelu remained still, watching him. His answer came just as quietly, just as chilling.

" I was wondering the same thing. "

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

The door clicked shut behind them, the faint hum of the city outside barely reaching the quiet confines of Shirou’s apartment.

The space was neat, almost unnervingly so—everything in its place, nothing out of order. It was sleek, modern, yet lacked any real signs of life, as if it were just another calculated extension of Shirou himself.

Nelu stepped in further, his sharp blue eyes scanning every detail. Minimal decorations, a single bookshelf filled with legal and political texts, a desk with neatly stacked papers. Nothing personal. Nothing sentimental.

Nothing… except for the small framed portrait on a table near the window.

The moment his gaze landed on it, something in his mind clicked. It was a family photo—Shirou, much younger, standing beside his parents with a small boy clinging to his sleeve. His parents wore warm smiles, the little brother beaming brightly. Even Shirou, in the picture, looked… normal.

That was the first lie.

Nelu reached out, fingers hovering just above the frame—

But before he could touch it, a cold hand wrapped around his wrist.

Shirou’s grip was firm, but not forceful. It wasn’t anger that flickered in his dull green eyes—it was something quieter, something almost… uneasy. A ghost of an emotion that disappeared as quickly as it surfaced.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then, with deliberate slowness, Shirou turned the portrait face-down on the table. The soft sound of glass meeting wood was the only noise in the room.

Nelu studied him, but Shirou didn’t meet his gaze. His fingers lingered on the frame for just a second longer before he pulled away, slipping his hands back into his pockets. His smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

" .. You sure are nosy, Nelu. " Shirou murmured, his tone light, but something unreadable lurked beneath it.

Nelu didn’t smile. " Habit of mine. "

Shirou let out a quiet chuckle, stepping past him toward the kitchen. " a bad one. "

Nelu glanced once more at the face-down portrait before following.

The silence between them was heavier than before.

As Shirou walked toward the kitchen, Nelu remained by the table, his gaze still lingering on the facedown portrait. He tapped his fingers against the wooden surface once before following, his steps unhurried.

" You didn’t throw it away. " Nelu remarked, voice steady, yet carrying an edge of curiosity.

Shirou, leaning against the counter, pulled out a glass and filled it with water. He took a slow sip before responding, " and..? "

Nelu tilted his head slightly. " ..for someone who seems so detached, it’s interesting that you still keep it. "

Shirou’s smirk twitched. " You say that like you know me. "

" ..Maybe I do. "

Shirou chuckled, setting the glass down with a soft clink. He turned to face Nelu, his green eyes scanning him as if trying to pick him apart. " You think you do. But tell me, Nelu—what exactly do you think you know? "

Nelu met his gaze without hesitation. " I know you hate when people see you as human. "

Shirou’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second. Barely noticeable—but Nelu noticed.

Before Shirou could counter, Nelu continued, stepping closer. " I know you put on that detached act because it’s easier than dealing with the truth. I know you prefer control over everything—including how people perceive you. "

He glanced toward the table where the portrait sat, still turned down. " But even you have things you can’t erase, no matter how much you want to. "

The room was silent, tension thick enough to suffocate.

Then—

A low chuckle escaped Shirou’s lips. It started soft, then grew into something amused yet sharp, like the sound of a blade sliding against stone.

He took a step forward, now just inches from Nelu, tilting his head slightly. His voice was lower now, quieter—dangerous.

" You’ve been watching me for a while, haven’t you, Nelu? "

Nelu didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. " What makes you say that? "

Shirou’s smirk widened, but his eyes darkened. " ..because no one figures me out that easily. "

Another pause. Neither looked away.

The air between them had settled into something cold, something unreadable. Shirou adjusted his coat as if preparing to leave, his usual smirk still tugging at his lips. But Nelu wasn’t done.

" You were the only one who survived that night, weren’t you? "

Shirou froze.

It was subtle—his fingers pausing mid-adjustment, his shoulders stiffening just slightly—but for someone as composed as him, it was a rare tell.

Nelu watched carefully, his expression neutral. " Your parents. Your brother. All gone. "

Shirou didn’t turn around. For the first time since meeting Nelu, there was no immediate witty retort, no easy smirk to cover the silence. Instead, there was just the faint sound of his breath—steady, measured, forced.

Nelu took a step forward, his voice calm but deliberate. " I did my research, Shirou. Your name is the only one that remained on the registry after that night. No public statements, no police records available. Just… gone. "

He tilted his head slightly. " A shame, really. Your little brother looked up to you, didn’t he? "

Shirou finally moved, slowly turning to face Nelu. His green eyes were dull as ever, but there was something beneath them now—something colder, something dangerous. And yet, his smirk returned, slow and deliberate, though this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

" And..? " His voice was eerily soft, almost amused.

Nelu didn’t flinch. " Just an observation. "

A beat of silence.

Then Shirou laughed—a quiet chuckle at first, then something sharper, almost mocking. He took a slow step forward, closing the space between them.

" You’re an interesting one, Nelu. " he mused, voice smooth but carrying an edge. " Most people don’t dare to mention them in front of me. You must think you’re different. "

" Maybe, " Nelu replied evenly. " Or maybe I just don’t like pretending not to see what’s right in front of me. "

Shirou’s smirk twitched. His fingers flexed slightly at his sides, but he didn’t lash out. Instead, he let out a quiet hum, tilting his head.

" You want a reaction out of me, don’t you? " He leaned in just slightly, voice lowering. " Looking for a crack in the mask? "

Nelu didn’t move. " If there’s no crack, why does it bother you? "

For the first time, Shirou’s smirk faltered. Just a flicker—so quick it could’ve been imagined.

Then, just as quickly, he chuckled again, stepping back. " ..You think you’re so clever, " he murmured, shaking his head. " But let me remind you of something, Nelu. "

He turned away, reaching for the door.

" I don’t break for anyone. "

With that, he stepped out, leaving Nelu standing there—watching, analyzing, and knowing that, for just a second, he had won.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

The late-night glow of the city filtered through the apartment window, casting a dim, golden light over the room. Papers were scattered across the table, left untouched for hours. A glass, half-drained, rested near the edge, next to a bottle of something stronger than water.

Shirou sat on the couch, head tilted back, one arm draped lazily over his eyes. His usual sharpness, his ever-present smirk—it was all absent. He looked… drained. Not vulnerable, not weak, but tired in a way Nelu had never seen before.

Nelu stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching. He had seen Shirou lie, manipulate, twist people around his finger effortlessly. He had seen him play games with others, never letting them get close, never letting them win.

But this?

This wasn’t an act.

Nelu exhaled softly before walking over, quiet steps barely making a sound against the floor. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, his sharp blue eyes scanning Shirou’s face. " You’re pushing yourself too hard. " he murmured, voice softer than usual.

Shirou didn’t respond at first. Just a slow inhale, then a quiet exhale.

Then, without moving his arm away from his eyes, he spoke, voice lower than usual. " ..Since when did you start caring, Nelu? "

Nelu leaned back slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. " Maybe since I realized you’re more human than you pretend to be. "

A dry chuckle. " ..You’re getting sentimental. "

" Just observant. " Nelu glanced at the untouched papers. " Student council work isn’t enough to put you in this state. So what is it? "

Shirou finally moved, lowering his arm and turning his head slightly to face Nelu. His green eyes, usually unreadable, held something different tonight—something dangerously close to defeat.

" Does it matter?" Shirou muttered, the usual sharpness in his voice dulled. " Everything moves forward, with or without me. "

Nelu studied him for a moment before replying, " That’s not true. "

Shirou let out a breathy laugh, sitting up slightly, propping his elbow against the armrest. His smirk returned—weak, tired, but still there. " Careful, Nelu. You almost sound like you actually believe in me. "

Nelu held his gaze, unwavering. " Maybe I do. "

The silence between them stretched, heavier than usual.

For months, Nelu had been watching, gathering, waiting for something—some flaw to exploit, some weakness to use. He had been careful, always keeping a safe distance.

But now?

Now, he wasn’t so sure where the lines blurred.

Shirou was manipulative, cunning, dangerous. And yet, Nelu found himself wanting to stay.

Shirou let out a slow exhale, leaning back into the couch. " You’re a fool. "

Nelu smirked slightly, shaking his head. " Maybe. " His voice was barely above a whisper when he added, " But so are you. "

The silence between them stretched, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing against the air. The dim city lights flickered outside, casting shifting shadows across Shirou’s face. His usual detached arrogance was absent—replaced by something quieter, something real.

Nelu had never seen him like this.

Shirou let out a slow exhale, dragging his hand down his face before shifting his gaze to the scattered papers in front of him. His fingers tapped absently against the table, a dull rhythm filling the space between them.

Then, without warning, he spoke.

" I’m quitting. "

Nelu’s breath caught. His expression barely changed, but the slight parting of his lips, the flicker in his sharp blue eyes—it was enough. " What? "

Shirou leaned back against the couch, his head tilting slightly as he met Nelu’s gaze. " I’m quitting the student council, " he repeated, voice as flat as ever.

For the first time in a long time, Nelu wasn’t sure how to respond.

He had prepared for a lot of things—Shirou playing his usual games, testing him, manipulating him. He had even prepared for moments like earlier, where cracks in Shirou’s mask hinted at something deeper beneath the surface.

But this?

This, he hadn’t anticipated.

Nelu sat up straighter, his composed demeanor slipping just slightly. " Why? "

Shirou smirked, but there was no amusement in it. " Tired of playing pretend. "

Nelu narrowed his eyes, studying him. " That’s a lie. "

Shirou chuckled, shaking his head. " And here I thought you’d be relieved. "

" You don’t quit things, Shirou. "Nelu’s voice was quieter now, but firm. " You control them. You bend them to your will. You make them yours. "

Shirou’s smirk faded.

Nelu leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. " So what’s really going on? "

For a moment, Shirou didn’t answer. Just stared at Nelu with those dull green eyes, unreadable as ever. Then, finally, he let out a quiet sigh and looked away.

" I don’t see the point anymore. "

It was such a simple sentence. But to Nelu, it was the most dangerous thing Shirou had ever said.

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐄

The silence between them was suffocating.

Nelu could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, his fingers twitching at his sides, but Shirou—Shirou—stood there, motionless. Empty. The air was thick, a storm ready to explode, and Nelu couldn’t stand it anymore.

With a sharp step forward, he grabbed Shirou by the collar and ripped him out of his chair. The legs of the chair scraped against the floor, the papers scattered in a violent flurry, but neither of them cared.

" 𝙎𝙣𝙖𝙥 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩!— " Nelu hissed, voice low, venomous, but not with anger—with something deeper, something almost desperate. His fingers dug into the fabric of Shirou’s shirt, knuckles white. " 𝙄'𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩, 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙤𝙪! 𝙏𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜! 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪..? "

Shirou didn’t resist. He didn’t push back, didn’t sneer, didn’t try to twist the moment in his favor. He just stared, green eyes dull, dark, unreadable. And then—

" You think this is a joke? "

His voice was soft. Too soft. It sent something sharp and cold crawling up Nelu’s spine.

Shirou let out a slow, hollow laugh, tilting his head slightly, his smirk barely there but cracking at the edges. " You think I’m just throwing a tantrum, don’t you? " His voice dropped lower, mocking, poisoned with something bitter. " That this is just another one of my little games? "

Nelu’s grip tightened. " I think you’re being a coward. "

Something snapped.

Shirou’s hands shot up, grabbing onto Nelu’s wrists with a bruising grip, yanking him even closer. Their faces were inches apart now, breath mingling, tension suffocating.

" I’ve been doing everything—everything—to atone for my sins. "

His voice was shaking, but it wasn’t weakness—it was rage. A cold, smothered, venomous rage that had been festering for years, waiting for a moment like this to detonate.

" But everyone… everyone still sees me as the black swan who killed his parents. "

The words dripped from his lips like a confession, like a curse. His grip on Nelu’s wrists tightened to the point of pain, nails nearly digging in.

" And now? " Shirou let out a choked laugh, shaking his head. His pupils were blown wide, dark as a void, swallowing the dim light around them. " Now they think I killed my younger brother too. "

His breath was ragged, his fingers trembling against Nelu’s skin, but his smile—his fucking smile—remained, twisted into something fractured, something wrong.

Nelu just stared. He should have been furious. He should have snapped back. But there was something about the way Shirou said it, the way his voice broke on the last syllable, that made Nelu’s chest tighten.

And then—Shirou laughed.

Not his usual laugh. Not the arrogant, mocking chuckle he used to toy with people. No. This one was different.

This one sounded hopeless.

Before Nelu could react, Shirou shoved him back, hard enough that Nelu had to stumble to catch himself. His breath came out sharp, and he looked up just in time to see Shirou running a shaky hand through his hair, his head tilting back as he let out another breathless, bitter laugh.

" Do you know what it’s like, " Shirou whispered, voice trembling, " to be guilty of something you didn’t even do? "

Nelu said nothing.

Shirou’s head tilted forward again, and the look in his eyes—God, the look in his eyes—wasn’t one Nelu had ever seen before.

It wasn’t rage. It wasn’t arrogance. It wasn’t amusement.

It was exhaustion.

Absolute, bone-deep exhaustion.

Shirou took a slow step forward, a smirk twitching at his lips, but his eyes remained lifeless. " No, of course you don’t. " His voice was dripping with something sweet, something rotten. " Because you’ve never had to crawl through the filth I have, Nelu. You’ve never had to drown in blood and listen to the world call it justice. "

His fingers trailed up to his own collar, gripping the fabric where Nelu had grabbed him just moments ago. " They already made up their minds about me. " His smirk widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. " So tell me, Nelu—what the fuck am I still fighting for? "

Nelu’s breath caught.

Shirou exhaled sharply, the humor in his face draining away in an instant. " You want me to snap out of it? " His voice was quieter now, softer—deadlier.

He took another step forward, close enough that Nelu could see the faint tremble in his fingers, the way his pupils trembled ever so slightly.

" Let’s see if you really mean it. "

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄

The air in Shirou’s apartment was suffocating, the weight of their conversation still pressing down on them like an iron vice. The dim glow of the city outside cast long shadows against the walls, distorting their figures, making them look like something out of a nightmare.

Shirou stood by the door now, his posture eerily relaxed, fingers lazily resting against the handle. His green eyes flickered in the low light, void of their usual amusement—cold, unreadable, distant.

" I should just leave, shouldn’t I? " His voice was soft, almost thoughtful.

Nelu stiffened, something in his chest twisting violently.

Shirou’s gaze slid to him, sharp and assessing, a predator watching its prey struggle in invisible chains. " That’s what you want, isn’t it? " He tilted his head slightly, his smirk ghosting over his lips. " For me to disappear? "

The words should have angered Nelu, should have ignited something sharp and bitter—but instead, they sent a strange, twisting feeling through his stomach.

He swallowed hard. " Don’t start this, Shirou. "

Shirou hummed, pressing his back against the door. " You wanted me to snap out of it, didn’t you? "

His voice dropped lower, smoother, wrapping around Nelu like silk laced with poison. "So I did. I realized I don’t belong here. I realized I’ve been wasting my time. I realized—" He chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair. "—that I’ve been playing a game I can never win. "

His fingers tapped lazily against the door handle, as if testing its weight, his smirk growing just a fraction wider when he saw the way Nelu’s body tensed.

" You’re not leaving. " Nelu’s voice was firm, but Shirou caught the flicker of unease in his eyes. Good.

" Oh? " Shirou’s head tilted, feigning curiosity. " And why not? "

He took a step forward, slow, calculated, and watched as Nelu’s fingers twitched at his sides, his carefully built composure beginning to crack.

" Because you can’t let me go? " Shirou purred, his voice dripping with amusement. " Or because you’re afraid of what will happen if you do? "

Nelu inhaled sharply. "Shirou—"

Shirou smirked, cutting him off. "You followed me here, Nelu. You act like you don’t care, like I’m just some puzzle you want to solve, but let’s be honest—" He leaned in, just slightly, enough to watch the way Nelu’s breath hitched. " You’re obsessed with me. "

Nelu’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. " You’re twisting this. "

" Am I? " Shirou whispered, his smirk widening, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. " Then why do you look so scared? "

That hit something.

Nelu didn’t answer, his lips pressing into a thin line, his gaze flickering to the door behind Shirou for the briefest second. Shirou caught it.

He laughed, soft and amused, but there was something ruthless beneath it. " You don’t want me to go. "

Nelu exhaled harshly, frustration seeping into his tone. " You’re just playing with me. "

" Maybe. " Shirou’s fingers trailed along the edge of the door, tracing the shape of the handle, watching Nelu watch him. " But even knowing that, you still don’t want me to leave. "

A thick, heavy silence settled between them.

Then—Shirou turned the handle.

Panic.

It was brief, just a flicker, but Shirou saw it. He saw the way Nelu’s shoulders locked, the way his eyes darkened, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

And then, just as the door creaked open—

" Don’t. "

It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough.

Shirou stilled. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head back, his green eyes meeting Nelu’s. " What was that? "

Nelu’s lips parted slightly, his breath coming out uneven. His shoulders were tense, his whole body wound so tightly it looked like he might snap. " Don’t leave. " His voice was softer this time, strained, almost pleading.

Shirou’s smirk returned, but this time, there was something sickeningly satisfied in it.

" Beg. "

Nelu’s fingers twitched. "Shirou—"

" Beg me to stay, Nelu. " Shirou leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head, his voice dripping with a cruel, velvet amusement. " If you want me to stay so badly, say it. Say you need me. "

Nelu’s throat tightened. His breath was shallow, his pulse loud in his ears. He knew what Shirou was doing—God, he knew—but it didn’t matter.

Because the thought of Shirou actually leaving—

—terrified him.

His fingers curled into his sleeves. He sucked in a sharp breath.

And then, with his voice barely above a whisper—

" Please… don’t go. "

𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊

The door shut with a soft click.

Shirou stood there, his expression unreadable, but the air between them was thick with something dangerous, something intoxicating. The faintest glimmer of satisfaction flickered in his eyes—amusement, victory, something darker.

Nelu had given in.

He had begged.

That realization coiled inside him, sinking deep into his chest like a hook lodged too far in. His fingers twitched at his sides, his body tense, his breath uneven.

Shirou stepped forward, slow and deliberate, closing the space between them. " See? " His voice was a whisper, sickeningly gentle, each syllable curling around Nelu like a noose. " That wasn’t so hard, was it? "

Nelu stiffened. His heart was beating too fast, his breath catching in his throat. "You—"

" I what? " Shirou murmured, tilting his head, his lips barely inches from Nelu’s ear. " Manipulated you? Twisted your emotions? " His smirk widened, laced with something dangerous. " Or did I just make you admit the truth you’ve been running from all along? "

Nelu’s breath hitched.

Because that—that was the worst part.

Shirou wasn’t wrong.

And he knew it.

Nelu clenched his fists, his frustration bleeding into his voice. " You’re playing a dangerous game. " It was a warning, sharp and low, but Shirou only smiled.

" Oh, Nelu. " His fingers ghosted over the fabric of Nelu’s sleeve, light, teasing—like he was testing something. " You knew that from the moment you started watching me, didn’t you? "

Nelu stiffened. His body gave him away before he could stop it.

Shirou’s eyes gleamed. " Ah. There it is. "

He stepped closer, so close now that Nelu could feel the warmth of his breath, the faintest brush of his lips near his jaw. The scent of him—sharp, clean, intoxicating—filled the space between them.

" I wonder.. " Shirou mused, tapping a finger against his own chin, " what would everyone think if they knew their perfect student council vice president had been stalking me all this time? "

Nelu froze.

His stomach dropped.

Shirou’s smirk sharpened. " Oh? You thought I didn’t know? "

Nelu inhaled slowly, steadying himself. His body didn’t move, didn’t flinch.

Because this—this was what Shirou did.

He cornered people.

He twisted them.

He made them question themselves, their choices, their own sanity.

But Nelu wasn’t just anyone.

The tension in his shoulders melted away. His fingers, once clenched into fists, slowly unfurled.

And then—

He smiled.

It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was there.

And this time, it was Shirou who stilled.

Nelu exhaled softly, tilting his head just so, letting the moment stretch. " If you knew I was watching you all along, " he murmured, his voice smooth, unshaken, " then why did you let me get this close? "

Shirou didn’t answer.

Because he hadn’t expected that.

The shift was subtle, but Nelu could feel it.

He took a step forward, just enough to make Shirou take a step back. " It almost sounds like… " His voice dipped lower, more suggestive, " you wanted me to. "

Shirou’s smirk flickered.

Caught.

For a second. Just a second.

Then—he laughed. " Clever. " His fingers trailed up Nelu’s sleeve again, this time with purpose, slow, deliberate, teasing. " But I don’t need to explain myself to you. "

" No, " Nelu murmured, " you don’t. "

He reached out and grasped Shirou’s wrist. Tightly.

Shirou’s breath hitched.

His skin was warm beneath Nelu’s fingers, his pulse just slightly—slightly—faster than before. Nelu’s touch lingered, firm, as his thumb brushed over the bone of Shirou’s wrist, feeling the way his body reacted to it.

A slow, knowing smile curved Nelu’s lips. " But it looks like I already have my answer. "

And Nelu—Nelu wasn’t sure if he had just stepped into the trap of a lifetime…

…or if he had just become one.

𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Years had passed.

And somehow—somehow—Shirou had turned his most persistent stalker into something far more than a servant.

His husband.

It was almost amusing. Almost.

But as Nelu knelt before him now, hands clutching at his waist with a grip so tight it almost hurt, there was nothing amusing about the way he looked at him. Devotion. Worship. Obsession. It burned in those sharp blue eyes, flickering with something unstable.

" Master. "

The word was soft, reverent—almost pitiful in its desperation. Nelu’s breath was unsteady, his lips parted, his hands trembling as if he were holding onto the last remnants of his sanity.

Shirou hummed, tilting his head ever so slightly. " You’ve gotten awfully bold, haven’t you? " His voice was smooth, teasing, yet his fingers curled just slightly in response to Nelu’s grip.

But Nelu didn’t answer.

Because the moment Shirou spoke, something inside him broke.

His hands shot up, grasping Shirou’s collar, yanking him down. Their lips collided with a force that sent heat rushing through both of them, Nelu’s kiss hungry, relentless, so full of devotion it made Shirou’s breath hitch.

Shirou stiffened for half a second—half a second too long.

Because Nelu felt it.

Felt that tiny hesitation. That single misstep in Shirou’s perfect control.

And it made him worse.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

His lips left Shirou’s only to trail downward—over the sharp curve of his jaw, the pale skin of his throat, lingering just a little longer where he could feel Shirou’s pulse quicken beneath his lips. His fingers twisted into Shirou’s clothes, pulling, needing, devouring.

"Nelu—" Shirou exhaled, a warning, but his voice wavered, breathless.

A mistake.

Nelu’s lips curled against his throat. " Ah… so you can sound like that, " he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher. " What else are you hiding from me, Master? "

Shirou inhaled sharply, fingers twitching where they rested against Nelu’s shoulders. " ..You really don’t know your place, do you? "

" I do. "

Nelu’s grip tightened, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath Shirou’s ear. " My place is by your side. My place is wherever you allow me to be. " His breath was hot against Shirou’s skin, voice trembling with something too heavy to name. " And you let me get this close, didn’t you? "

Shirou said nothing.

Because that—that was the truth neither of them wanted to admit.

Nelu’s hand slid upward, cupping Shirou’s cheek, forcing their eyes to meet. " Say it, " he whispered, gaze dark with something twisted. " Say that you wanted me here. "

Shirou’s lips parted slightly, but no words came.

He didn’t have to say it.

Because they both knew.

And Nelu—Nelu thrived in that silence.

His lips ghosted over Shirou’s one last time, lingering, savoring. " You made me this way, " he murmured against Shirou’s lips, pressing one last, desperate kiss before pulling away just slightly. " And now you can never be rid of me. "

Shirou exhaled softly, his smirk barely there, but his fingers curled into Nelu’s shirt, gripping it just a little too tightly. " Hmph. As if I ever wanted to be. "

And just like that—

Nelu was lost forever.

a/n .. uh gays

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

Chun Meiyi was born into what felt like a dream. A family that loved her, a home filled with warmth, and shelves overflowing with toys. Her parents used to hold her close, whispering soft reassurances in her ear.

" 𝖮𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖬𝖾𝗂, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅. "

She was happy. She was safe.

But dreams don’t last forever.

When she entered primary school, everything started to shift. At first, it was small. Her parents’ voices grew sharper, their smiles less frequent. She would hear them talk about others in hushed tones—neighbors, relatives, even her teachers.

" 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘. 𝙇𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢. 𝙎𝙤 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠. "

She didn’t understand. But then, they began saying the same things about her.

" 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬? "

" 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩. "

" 𝙊𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧. 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢? "

Mei tried harder. She thought if she studied more, cleaned the house, and listened carefully, things would return to how they were. She longed for those warm arms around her again, for her mother to tuck her in at night.

But no matter what she did, it wasn’t enough.

One night, after she accidentally spilled a cup of tea, her father snapped.

" 𝙄 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙂𝙤𝙙, 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙, 𝙄'𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙧𝙞𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮. "

Her breath hitched.

Her mother didn’t even look at her. Didn’t defend her. She simply let out a sigh, as if Mei was nothing but a nuisance.

" 𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪. "

Something inside Mei shattered.

She stood there, frozen, her tiny hands trembling. The home that once felt safe had turned into a suffocating prison. The air was thick with their disdain, and every word cut her deeper than any wound ever could.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream, to ask them why.

But she knew better now.

Crying would get her nothing but scoffs. Screaming would only bring more cruel words.

So, she stayed silent.

Because if her own parents didn’t want her, who else would?

From that night on, Mei learned to fade into the background. She spoke less, asked for nothing, and moved carefully, as if existing too loudly would provoke another storm.

Her parents had once called her their precious girl. Now, they barely acknowledged her.

Dinners were spent in silence, except for the occasional bitter remarks.

" 𝘿𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩? "

" 𝙂𝙤𝙙, 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨. "

" 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪. "

She tried to tell herself it didn’t hurt. That if she ignored it, the pain would dull. But their words clung to her, wrapping around her like chains.

One evening, she overheard them talking when they thought she wasn’t listening.

" 𝖲𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇, 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗐𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. "

Her chest tightened.

She clutched her knees, curled up in the corner of her room, biting down on her lip to keep from sobbing. She wanted to ask—why? Why did they hate her now? What had she done?

But the worst part wasn’t their cruelty. It was that somewhere, deep down, she started believing them.

Maybe she really was useless.

Maybe she really was a burden.

The thoughts festered, growing heavier with each passing day. The once bright, happy girl faded, replaced by someone who barely spoke, barely felt.

At school, she put on a mask. She smiled when she needed to, laughed at the right times, answered questions when called on. No one could tell. No one knew.

But when she went home, the mask crumbled, and all that was left was an invisible girl in a house that had long stopped being a home.

Then, one night, it got worse.

Her mother was in a bad mood, irritated over something Mei didn’t even understand. But that didn’t matter—because her existence alone was enough to provoke her.

" 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙! "

Mei flinched. " 𝖨...𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍— "

" 𝗦𝗵𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗽. " Her mother’s voice was sharp, cutting like a blade. " 𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇? "

Mei’s breath caught in her throat.

" 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮? "

She didn’t cry. She just stood there, feeling numb, hollow.

Her mother walked away like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just told her daughter to stop existing.

Mei sat in the darkness of her room that night, staring at the ceiling.

Maybe her mother was right. Maybe things would be better if she were gone.

But then what?

She clenched her fists.

If they wouldn’t love her, if they wanted her to disappear—then fine.

She would disappear. Not physically, but emotionally.

She wouldn’t cry anymore. Wouldn’t beg for their love.

If they saw her as nothing, then she would become nothing.

Because if she felt nothing, then maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

At thirteen, Mei thought she had finally found something good. Someone good. He was kind at first—gentle, patient, warm in a way she had never known. His words wrapped around her like a lifeline, something steady to cling to when everything else felt unbearable.

" 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙗𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙈𝙚𝙞. "

" 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡. "

She believed him because she needed to believe him. For the first time in her life, she felt wanted. Like maybe she wasn’t a burden. Like maybe she was enough.

The first few months were blissful. He held her hand like she was something precious, whispered that she was beautiful, made her laugh so hard her ribs ached. He was her safe place, her light in a world that had always been dim. But safe places don’t last.

Around the seventh month, things started to change. His words weren’t as soft anymore. His patience frayed like a thread about to snap.

" 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? "

" 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙥 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙤 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙮, 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜. "

" 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝. "

It hurt. But Mei didn’t mind.

Because he still stayed. And that was all that mattered.

She thought if she endured it, if she stayed quiet, if she swallowed the pain and pretended it wasn’t there, he wouldn’t leave.

But then came the night when everything shattered.

They were arguing—again. Mei didn’t even know how it started. Maybe she had asked too many questions. Maybe she had tried too hard to get his attention. All she knew was that his face was twisted with frustration, his voice sharp, cutting through her like a blade.

" 𝙂𝙤𝙙, 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙮, 𝙈𝙚𝙞! 𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜! "

She flinched but forced herself to hold her ground. " 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬! 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚! "

He let out a bitter laugh. " 𝗠𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴. "

Her stomach dropped. " ..𝖯𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀? "

" 𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁. " he snapped, eyes cold. " 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝗴𝗼 𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀, 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲. "

Mei’s breath hitched, her hands shaking. " ..𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍.. "

" 𝙊𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙄 𝙙𝙤! 𝙃𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙄'𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙣 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚, 𝙈𝙚𝙞! 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮? 𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪. "

The world tilted. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.

" ..𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍? " Her voice barely came out.

His lips curled into something cruel. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗆𝖾. 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌. "

Her vision blurred. " 𝖡𝗎𝗍.. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎.. "

" 𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙝, 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙄 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙. "

Something inside her broke. She reached for him, desperation clawing at her chest. " 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚, 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧! 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙄 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩— "

He shoved her hand away like she was nothing. " 𝗠𝗲𝗶, 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳. "

Tears spilled down her cheeks, but he didn’t care. He just scoffed, shaking his head like she was pathetic, like she wasn’t even worth his time. And then, just like that, he turned and walked away.

She stood there, frozen, the echo of his words crashing over her again and again.

I’ve been cheating on you this whole damn time.

You were just something to pass the time.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging deep into her palms, but she barely felt it. She had thought he was different. She had thought he meant it when he said he wouldn’t leave.

But in the end, he was just like everyone else.

As she stumbled home that night, body trembling, breath hitching, her mind whispered the same thought over and over again.

If I’m never enough for anyone… then what’s the point of me at all?

𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐒

Years passed, and with them, more relationships and friendships crumbled.

No matter how much love she gave, no matter how deeply she cared, it was always twisted into something ugly. They called her obsessive, desperate, suffocating. They looked at her like she was a freak, like the way she loved was something unnatural—something to be avoided.

Every time she reached out, she was pushed away. Every time she tried to hold on, they tore themselves from her grasp like her touch was poison. It didn’t matter how much she begged, how much she changed, how much she sacrificed. The result was always the same.

" 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛. 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨—𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. 𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙧. "

At first, she thought they were wrong. She loved too much, if anything. She gave too much. How could they not see that? But after hearing it enough, after losing enough people, after watching the way their eyes darkened with resentment whenever she tried to hold on, she started to wonder.

Maybe they were right.

" 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙢 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨. "

Maybe her love was selfish. Maybe she really was suffocating. Maybe everything she did was just some desperate attempt to fill the emptiness inside her, to make someone—anyone—stay.

Again and again, they left. Again and again, they whispered behind her back.

" 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙨. 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙚 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡—𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨. "

" 𝙄 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤'𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩. 𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙚𝙭𝙝𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜. "

" 𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙯𝙮. 𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙪𝙡𝙩. "

She learned to stop arguing. What was the point? No one ever believed her anyway. No matter what she did, no matter how much she tried to prove she wasn’t what they thought, their eyes only held fear, disgust, and pity. They treated her like she was unstable, unhinged.

There were signs—symptoms of something deeper, something she couldn’t name yet, something she would inevitably be diagnosed with.

So she adapted. She became two-faced. The girl they wanted her to be on the surface—sweet, controlled, composed. And underneath, something colder, something broken, something that no longer believed in warmth.

If they saw her as a monster, then maybe that’s all she was ever meant to be.

𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

A year or two passed. She was sixteen now.

She had never been religious—not once in her life. She had always seen faith as something empty, something that never truly existed. If there was a god, then why had she suffered so much? Why had she been abandoned again and again?

And yet, even with all that doubt, she still wanted to believe in something.

She wanted to end it all, to erase herself entirely, but she was scared. Scared of what came after, scared of the nothingness that awaited her. In her desperation, she found herself standing before a shrine—one belonging to a god she had never prayed to, a god she had never once believed in.

The shrine was old, worn by time, yet there was a slight glow to it. A warmth that flickered just enough to give her a sliver of hope.

" 𝖬𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾.. 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾. "

So, she knelt.

She clasped her hands together, her fingers trembling, and she prayed for the first time in her life. She forced herself to believe, to put her faith into something unseen. She pleaded, begged for an answer—for anything.

" 𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾.. 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖠𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍.. 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈.. "

And then, something changed.

Her prayers were answered. Not once, not twice, but every single time. It felt like she had discovered a miracle, like she had finally found something—someone—who wouldn’t abandon her.

She became religious, but not in the way people expected.

She used her faith for good and for bad. She noticed the patterns. Whenever she prayed, her wishes came true—but there were consequences. She learned to accept that. She learned to use it.

" 𝖦𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋. " she told herself. " 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌. 𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗈. "

And so, she did.

She made sure everyone who had hurt her suffered the same fate, but worse.

" 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘁, 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆? " she whispered to the shrine. " 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲? "

And there was never an answer. Just silence.

But silence wasn’t a no.

After all, she had God beside her. And that was all that mattered.

And then, one day, she prayed again.

" 𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾.. 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾. 𝖳𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌. 𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝖾. 𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝖨'𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. "

The answer came a week later.

She sat in the therapist’s office, staring at the paper in her hands, her grip tightening until the edges crumpled beneath her fingers. It felt like her entire world had collapsed onto her shoulders, like the weight of every unanswered question had finally come crashing down.

Borderline Personality Disorder.

She barely heard the therapist speaking. The words blurred together into meaningless noise.

' 𝖨𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾, 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗂𝗍? ' she thought. ' 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖨 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗜.. 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝖾. '

Her throat tightened as she swallowed down the lump rising in her chest.

" 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗿. " she realized. " 𝙃𝙚'𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚. "

She let out a shaky breath, looking down at the diagnosis in her hands.

" 𝗦𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗮𝗺. "

𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊

A few years passed. By then, Mei had mastered the art of wearing a mask. She smiled when expected, laughed when necessary, and spoke in a way that made others believe she was just like them. But it was all an illusion. A carefully crafted performance to keep people from looking too closely.

And yet, he noticed.

Rhoel.

She didn’t remember when exactly she caught his attention, but ever since she transferred into his university, he had been watching her. Not in an obvious way, not in a way that made others notice. But she felt it. The weight of his gaze, the quiet way he observed her like he was studying her.

At first, she brushed it off. People stared at her all the time. Some out of interest, some out of curiosity, some because they thought they could figure her out. They never did.

But Rhoel was different.

She caught him one day in the lecture hall, his mixed coloured eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her stomach twist. When their gazes met, he didn’t look away. Didn’t pretend like he wasn’t watching.

Later, as she was leaving class, his voice stopped her in her tracks. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. "

Her body tensed, but she schooled her expression into something neutral before turning to face him. " 𝖤𝗑𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝖾? "

Rhoel leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed, watching her like she was a puzzle he was piecing together. " 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾. 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀—𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍. "

A cold chill ran down her spine, but she didn’t let it show. " 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍. "

His lips twitched, almost like he expected her response. " 𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂? "

Mei’s fingers curled slightly, nails pressing into her palm. He was dangerous. Not in a way that screamed immediate harm, but in a way that told her he saw too much. Knew too much.

So she smiled. It was sharp, practiced—calculated. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇. "

But Rhoel only tilted his head, eyes never leaving hers. " 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗼. "

She hated how that sentence sent a chill through her bones.

From that day forward, she was cautious. She kept her walls up, her mask firmly in place whenever he was around. But no matter how much she tried to ignore him, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he saw through it all.

And the worst part?

She found herself softening—just a little.

Because he didn’t look at her like she was broken. He didn’t flinch when she let the cracks show. He just watched.

Still, she kept her distance.

Because no matter how much he saw, no matter how much she wanted to believe he was different… she knew better than to let anyone too close.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐌

The cold air sliced through Mei’s skin as she ran, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Her vision blurred with tears, her legs screaming at her to stop, but she couldn’t. Not when behind her was a home that never wanted her, a life that had spat her out like she was nothing.

She didn’t know where she was going. The streets were dark, the alleyways even darker, but all she needed was somewhere—anywhere—to disappear. I just need to get away. I just need to be safe.

" 𝗛𝗲𝘆, 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗱, 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁? " A voice slithered through the darkness, slow and taunting.

Mei’s breath caught in her throat. Her body stiffened as three men stepped out from the shadows, their faces twisted into amused grins.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍? " Another one sneered, eyes dragging over her body like she was already his. " 𝖯𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖡𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽. "

Mei swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a step back. " 𝖨—𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. " Her stomach twisted as she took another step back, her hands clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms. " 𝖯𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾.. 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾. "

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍? " The first thug smirked, nudging his friend. " 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾. " the second one chuckled, reaching out to grab her wrist. " 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋. "

Mei flinched, jerking away, but his grip was like iron. " 𝖫𝖾𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾, " she said, her voice shaking, barely above a whisper.

His fingers tightened painfully. " 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁? "

Panic shot through her veins, her heart hammering against her ribs. Not again. Please, not again.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself.

CRACK.

A sickening impact echoed through the alley as the thug was sent flying back, slamming into the wall with a force so brutal the bricks cracked.

The remaining men stiffened, their laughter dying instantly. Their heads snapped toward the source of the impact, eyes widening.

Mei’s own breath caught in her throat. A dark figure stood at the entrance of the alley, watching. Tall, imposing—unnervingly calm.

The glow of heterochromia eyes burned through the night.

" 𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠— " One of the thugs started, but the words faltered, a tremor in his voice.

The figure stepped forward, his presence suffocating. " 𝗟𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲. "

The remaining men exchanged glances before scoffing. " 𝖳𝖼𝗁, 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈? " One of them pulled out a knife, twirling it between his fingers. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽'𝗏𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾. "

The figure didn’t even blink. " 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙'𝙫𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚. "

Mei barely had time to process before he was suddenly in front of her. She didn’t see him move. One second, he was at the entrance. The next, he was shielding her, pulling her into the cold embrace of feathers.

Her breath hitched as they wrapped around her, foreign and unfamiliar, yet strangely… safe.

The figure leaned down, his breath warm against her ear, his voice smooth and unyielding. " 𝙇𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛.. 𝘾𝙝𝙪𝙣 𝙈𝙚𝙞𝙮𝙞. "

A sharp pulse shot through her mind. Her breath slowed, her body relaxing into eerie stillness.

Her vision warped. Spirals twisted in her eyes, her limbs no longer her own. She felt weightless, as if she had shed her humanity.

The thugs took a step back, something primal in them sensing danger. " 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚— "

Her hand curled into a fist. So did his.

CRACK.

One of the men collapsed, his leg twisting at a sickening angle, bone slicing through flesh.

The second choked on a scream as his ribs caved in, blood bubbling at his lips.

The last one staggered backward, hands raised in desperate surrender. " 𝙋—𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚—! "

Mei and the figure clenched their fists one final time.

The man’s skull shattered.

Silence followed.

The hypnosis faded like a passing storm. Mei’s body sagged, her breath coming in heaving gasps, her hands trembling.

She looked down, blood staining her fingers, her clothes, the ground beneath her.

And then, she looked up.

The glow of heterochromia eyes stared back at her, piercing, unreadable.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎... " Her voice wavered, barely audible. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾— "

" 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. " Rhoel interrupted smoothly, stepping closer. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈. "

Mei’s breath caught, her stomach twisting into knots. " 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾. "

Rhoel tilted his head, his expression unreadable. " 𝗜𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗶𝘁? "

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Rhoel leaned in, his voice a ghostly whisper, laced with something dark and knowing.

" 𝙉𝙤𝙬, 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚? "

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒

Mei’s breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, her chest heaving as if she had been running for hours. Blood painted her hands, her fingers trembling, but it wasn’t the corpses at her feet that made her stomach twist into knots. It was him.

Rhoel stood in the darkness, watching her with those unnerving heterochromia eyes, calm, unreadable—disgustingly unaffected. Like he hadn’t just shattered the delicate threads of her already-crumbling reality.

Something inside her snapped.

A crack so loud it might as well have been the earth splitting apart beneath her feet. It wasn’t just rage—it was everything. Every moment of agony, every betrayal, every lie she had swallowed until she was sick on them. It all surged forward, clawing up her throat like bile, suffocating, poisonous.

Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her skin deep enough to draw blood.

And then—

A slow, twisted smile stretched across her face, but there was no amusement, no joy—only something fractured, something wrong.

" 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻? " Her voice was low, laced with venom, shaking from barely-contained rage.

Rhoel said nothing. Didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

Mei took a step forward, her breath coming out in uneven, erratic bursts. " 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲—𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀—𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴? 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗽𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲? " She let out a broken, breathy laugh, her head tilting. " 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺? "

Still, he was silent. That unshakable, infuriating calm only poured gasoline over the inferno in her chest.

" 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤. " Her voice wavered, raw, filled with something far uglier than just anger. " 𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲. "

A sharp exhale. A bitter chuckle. She was trembling now, but it wasn’t just from rage—it was something deeper, something clawing at the very marrow of her bones.

" 𝗜 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗥𝗵𝗼𝗲𝗹. " Her voice dropped to a whisper, and the way she said his name carried a weight that could crush mountains. " 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀? "

She leaned in, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough for her voice to feel like a knife against his skin.

" 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢. "

For the first time, something in Rhoel’s expression shifted—so small, so fleeting, but Mei caught it. And it only made her sick.

" 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾. " she spat, her face twisting into something cruel, something feral. " 𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗗𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝗸𝘀, 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗱𝘀—𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱? 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀, 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝘆𝗰𝗹𝗲. 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲. 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁. 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲. " Her voice broke on the last word, but she swallowed it down, swallowed it all down.

And then she smiled, a bitter, empty thing. " 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡. "

Rhoel didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

And it was driving her insane.

" 𝙎𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩, " she hissed, voice trembling. " 𝙎𝙖𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩. 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚. 𝙇𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙙𝙞𝙙. "

Still, he said nothing.

Mei’s breathing was ragged, uneven, her vision swimming. The world felt too tight, too suffocating. She felt like she was burning alive.

" 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿𝙎 𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙁𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘽𝙐𝙇𝙇𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙏! " she screamed, her voice breaking as she shoved him back with every ounce of strength she had. " 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢! "

Rhoel barely staggered, but she saw the shift in his gaze—the way it darkened, the way something undeniably knowing flickered in his eyes.

And then—

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. " His voice was soft. Gentle. And it broke her.

Her breath caught. Something inside her caught, twisted, ached in a way that made her want to rip herself apart.

" ...𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚, 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪? "

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋

Rhoel stepped forward, slow and deliberate. The space between them shrank, his presence pressing into her like an unseen weight. Mei stiffened, her breath caught between anger and something far more dangerous—fear.

But Rhoel saw it. He felt it. And he seized it.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t sneer. His expression remained unreadable, but his presence—his voice—felt suffocating.

" 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀, 𝗠𝗲𝗶. " Rhoel murmured, his tone eerily soft, as if he were speaking to something fragile, something breakable. " 𝖯𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉.. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗀𝗈—" He lifted a hand, then flicked his fingers through the air. "—𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗱. "

Mei’s breath hitched. Her fingers twitched at her sides, nails biting into her palms.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾, " he murmured, voice soft, coaxing, knowing. " 𝖫𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝗲, 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗶𝘁? " His eyes gleamed in the dim light, studying every twitch of her expression, every flicker of hesitation.

Mei clenched her fists, but he didn’t stop. He took another step, his presence thick with something suffocating, something she couldn’t ignore.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. "His voice was lower now, almost soothing. " 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾.. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾... " He leaned in, just enough to make her breath hitch. " 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸. "

Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, erratic, uneven.

Rhoel tilted his head, his tone dipping into something gentler, something almost fond. " 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚, 𝙈𝙚𝙞. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢, 𝙥𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢, 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮. " His lips curled, just slightly. " 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗼, 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆? "

Mei’s breath came in shaky exhales. No. She wanted to deny it. Wanted to shove him away, to spit venom, to prove him wrong.

But Rhoel saw through her.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾. " he whispered, his voice slithering into the cracks she tried to hide. " 𝗔𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱. 𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀. " His gaze never wavered, never softened. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗎𝗇. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝗇. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗼. "

Her body betrayed her with a single tremble, barely noticeable—except he noticed.

His hand lifted, brushing against her hair, his fingers lingering just near her cheek. " 𝗕𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁, " he murmured, the warmth of his breath fanning against her skin.

Her pulse stuttered. Her thoughts, once sharp, blurred into something tangled and uncertain.

" 𝖫𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾, " Rhoel said, voice nothing but velvet and control. " 𝖫𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗟𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹. "

Mei’s lips parted, but no words came. She could feel it—the shift, the inevitability.

And then, as if sealing her fate, he whispered against her ear. " 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿.. 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣. "

Something inside her snapped.

And just like that—she surrendered.

𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋

Rhoel led Mei through the doorway, his grip firm but not forceful.

The warmth of the house contrasted sharply with the cold night outside, but Mei barely felt it. Her mind was still spinning, still tangled in the web he had woven around her.

In the kitchen, the scent of something rich and savory filled the air. At the stove, a tall man stood, his movements precise as he stirred the simmering pot. Shirou. His presence was sharp, commanding—unmistakable.

He turned slightly at the sound of footsteps, his pale green eyes flicking from Rhoel to Mei.

His gaze lingered on her for a beat too long, something unreadable passing through his expression. Then, in a voice as smooth as the blade of a knife, he asked, " 𝖠𝗇𝖽? 𝖶𝗁𝗈'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌? "

Rhoel exhaled, casual, as if this was nothing more than an ordinary night. " 𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗇 𝖬𝖾𝗂𝗒𝗂. " he answered, releasing her wrist. " 𝖲𝗁𝖾'𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗎𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝖨 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋. "

Shirou turned off the stove, setting the spoon down with an eerie kind of grace. He stepped forward, scrutinizing Mei—no, studying her. His eyes locked onto hers, and in that moment, Mei felt seen. Not as a person, not as someone to be cared for—but as something to be understood.

And then, as if he had found his answer, Shirou’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

" 𝖠𝗁. " he exhaled, almost like a laugh. " 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗱, 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂? "

Rhoel met his gaze, a matching smirk tugging at his lips.

" 𝖮𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽. " His voice dropped into something softer, something colder.

" 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮. "

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

Mei adjusted the stacks of paper in her arms, her fingers gripping the edges tightly as she walked beside Rhoel. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her voice. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾.. " she muttered, shifting the weight of the papers.

Rhoel barely spared her a glance, his tone dismissive yet firm. " 𝖨 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽. " His hands were tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed, but Mei knew better than to think he ever truly relaxed.

Before she could say anything else, a blur of movement caught her eye.

A man darted past them, his long coat billowing behind him as he rushed through the corridor. dark black hair, swift movements, and the sharp clink of glass against glass as he clutched several vials in his hands. He moved with urgency, as if time itself was against him.

Mei’s breath hitched slightly, her grip tightening on the papers. That face… she knew that face. The realization settled in her chest like a weight.

" 𝖯𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗈.. 𝗌𝖺𝗇? "

Rhoel’s expression darkened instantly. A quiet, almost imperceptible shift in his demeanor. His gaze followed the professor for a moment before he exhaled through his nose, stepping closer to Mei.

With a firm but deliberate pat on her back, he leaned in slightly and murmured, " 𝗟𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝗴𝗼. "

a/n ; oc lore again shjsjs

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒.

The dim glow of the laboratory cast long shadows across the sterile floors. It had been a few days since Nyx Yonamine had first opened his eyes, and in that time, he had barely spoken a word. Instead, he watched. Observed. Calculated.

Xūn sat at his workstation, fingers moving fluidly over a holographic display, the soft beeping of machines filling the air. Nyx stood at a distance, his cerulean eyes locked onto his creator’s every movement. His posture was relaxed, but there was an unspoken intensity in the way he lingered—silent, unmoving, waiting.

Waiting for a command.

Xūn didn’t acknowledge him at first, entirely focused on his work. The screens flickered, data scrolling rapidly, formulas adjusting in real-time. Nyx’s gaze flickered to the vials on the table, the samples, the meticulous calculations—he recognized some of it, but most remained a mystery to him.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to understand everything. He just needed to be useful.

Still, he couldn’t shake the thought that lingered in the back of his mind.

What if he grows tired of me?

The idea of being discarded sent an unfamiliar sensation crawling under his skin. Was this fear? Discomfort? He didn’t know. He had never felt it before. But the possibility of Xūn looking at him with disappointment—of deciding he was no longer necessary—made his stomach twist.

So, he stayed silent. Observing. Waiting.

Xūn finally leaned back in his chair, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His movements were meticulous, practiced, precise—as if even his smallest gestures had purpose.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. " His voice was cool, unreadable.

Nyx didn’t flinch, but he tilted his head slightly, studying Xūn’s face. " ...𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀. "

A quiet chuckle escaped Xūn’s lips, though there was no warmth in it. He turned his gaze to Nyx, expression unreadable. " 𝖠𝗇𝖽..? 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽? "

Nyx hesitated, as if calculating the safest answer. " 𝖸..𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁.. "

Xūn arched an eyebrow. " 𝘈𝘯𝘥? "

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.. "” Nyx continued, his voice slow, measured. " 𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖲𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. "

For a brief moment, Xūn just stared at him. Then, he smirked.

" 𝖢𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋. " He rose from his seat, stepping closer. Nyx didn’t move, didn’t even shift his weight. He simply stood there, like a statue awaiting its sculptor’s next touch.

Xūn stopped just in front of him, arms crossed. " 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇? "

Nyx met his gaze without hesitation. " 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. "

Xūn’s expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. A silent evaluation. Testing.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾. " It wasn’t a question.

Nyx blinked once. " 𝖮𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾. "

" 𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍? "

A pause.

" ..𝗕𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲, 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿. "

Xūn tilted his head, his smirk widening slightly. " 𝖲𝗈? 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇? "

Nyx’s jaw tightened, but his expression remained neutral. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌. "

Silence stretched between them. Xūn studied him carefully, as if searching for cracks in a perfect glass surface. But there were none.

Finally, Xūn let out a soft hum of approval. He reached out, his fingers grazing the side of Nyx’s face—cold, precise, like a scientist inspecting his masterpiece.

Nyx didn’t move. Didn’t react.

Xūn’s touch was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come.

" 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽. " Xūn murmured. " 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻.. 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘁. "

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Weeks turned into months, and Nyx had learned his purpose well. He was not meant to question, not meant to hesitate. He was meant to obey, without doubt, without resistance.

Xūn had continued his research, pushing forward with his experiments, refining his work with a tireless obsession. Nyx—Nyx stood by his side like a shadow, silent and ever-watchful. He was not just a creation; he was an extension of Xūn’s will, a vessel crafted to serve.

Even now, as he lingered at the edge of the laboratory, he observed Xūn from afar. The older man was hunched over his workstation, the dim glow of the monitors illuminating his sharp features. His fingers moved with practiced precision, but there was a weariness in the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

Nyx had noticed the signs weeks ago—the subtle tremor in Xūn’s hands when he believed no one was looking. The way he swallowed pills dry, barely reacting to the bitter taste on his tongue. It was inefficient, and inefficiency had no place in Xūn’s world.

But it was not Nyx’s place to speak. He had been created to observe, not to interfere. And yet—

" ...𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍. "

The words left Nyx’s mouth before he could stop them, the silence of the lab swallowing them whole. It was not a suggestion. It was an observation.

Xūn did not even glance up from his work. " 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋𝗒. " His voice was as steady as ever, cold and unshaken.

Nyx hesitated for only a moment before taking a step forward. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. " He was stating a fact, and facts were absolute.

This time, Xūn did look at him, cerulean eyes sharp and unreadable. " 𝘼𝙣𝙙? " There was no concern in his gaze, only mild amusement.

Nyx met his stare without flinching, though his fingers curled slightly at his sides. " 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍. " If Xūn could not see the flaw in his own condition, then Nyx would make it clear.

A slow, amused smile crept onto Xūn’s face. " 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾. " He leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against the table, as if entertained by the notion. " 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾, 𝖭𝗒𝗑—𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿? "

Nyx’s throat tightened. This was dangerous. He knew Xūn had little tolerance for useless concern, knew what happened to things that outlived their usefulness. And yet, he did not step back.

" ..𝖭𝗈, 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋.. " His voice was firm, but there was a slight hesitation, almost imperceptible.

" 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗶𝘁? "

Nyx did not have an answer. Or rather, he had one, but he knew Xūn would not accept it.

Still, something within him refused to stay silent. " 𝖨 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄. " The words were quiet, but there was weight behind them, a truth he had not meant to voice.

For a moment, there was silence. The air between them grew heavy, like a thread stretched too thin.

Then Xūn chuckled, the sound low and almost indulgent.

" 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸? " He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. " 𝖭𝗒𝗑, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽. " His tone was soft, almost affectionate, but there was something cruel beneath it.

He stood, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. Nyx remained still, even as Xūn reached out, his fingers gripping Nyx’s chin with a firm, possessive touch. It was not rough, but it was an assertion of control, a reminder of what Nyx was.

" 𝖨 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄, 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋. " Xūn murmured, voice a quiet, unwavering certainty. His gaze bore into Nyx, like a scientist examining his latest experiment. " 我只会支离破碎. "

Nyx felt something cold settle in his chest, something that felt disturbingly close to fear.

Xūn released him just as quickly, stepping away without another word, as if the conversation had never happened. He returned to his work, dismissing Nyx entirely.

Nyx swallowed down the lingering sensation in his throat. He did not speak of it again.

𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘

It was late when Nyx returned to the lab, his gloves still stained with the blood of another. The metallic scent clung to him, mixing with the sterile air of the facility. He had completed his task. He had done exactly what was required of him.

Yet as he stepped into the dimly lit space, he saw Xūn at his desk, fingers tapping rhythmically against the wood. The silence was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. Xūn did not acknowledge him at first, but Nyx could feel the weight of his attention.

Then—

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. "

Nyx stiffened, his body going rigid. He forced himself to remain composed, but something inside him coiled tight. " 𝖭𝗈. " he denial was automatic, immediate.

Xūn exhaled softly, finally turning to face him. His cerulean eyes were calm, but there was something sharp lurking beneath the surface. " 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝖭𝗒𝗑. "

Nyx felt something sharp dig into his chest, an invisible blade twisting. Lying to Xūn was pointless. There was no room for deception between them.

And yet—

" 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽.. " he said instead, carefully measured. It was not a lie. But it was not the full truth, either.

Xūn studied him for a long moment, his gaze unblinking. Then, slowly, he smiled.

" 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. "

Nyx clenched his fists at his sides, his nails pressing into his palms. " 𝖨 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗒.. " His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it. A quiet desperation.

Xūn stood, approaching him with the same deliberate slowness he always did. He stopped just in front of him, close enough that Nyx could feel his presence pressing against him like an unseen force. " 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗱𝗼𝘂𝗯𝘁 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌? "

Nyx remained silent. There was nothing he could say.

Because he did not know why.

He had followed orders. He had done exactly what was expected of him. And yet, for the briefest moment, something within him had faltered.

Xūn’s fingers trailed along his jaw, tilting his face up just slightly. His touch was deceptively gentle, but Nyx could feel the weight of it, the underlying control behind every movement.

" 𝖨 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾. " Xūn murmured, his voice almost soothing. " 𝖠 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱. " His grip tightened ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind Nyx of his place.

Nyx swallowed, his throat dry. " 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇.. " The words were quiet but resolute.

Xūn’s lips curled into a smirk, satisfied.

" 𝙄𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩. "

Then, just as quickly, the moment was gone. Xūn pulled away, returning to his desk, already dismissing the conversation from his mind.

Nyx remained standing there for a moment longer, his hands still curled into fists. He had been given a purpose. A reason to exist.

He could not afford to fail.

And yet, something inside him whispered—

Then why do I feel like I already have?

𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄

Time moved forward, cold and unyielding, and Nyx remained at Xūn’s side.

Every order was executed with precision, every mistake met with quiet disappointment. Xūn never raised his voice, never lashed out—he simply observed, his sharp eyes dissecting every flaw. And with each correction, Nyx felt something inside him wither, like a flower deprived of sunlight.

Yet he endured.

The disappointment in Xūn’s gaze did not hurt him—it sustained him. To be acknowledged, even in failure, meant he still had a place. He did not mind the constant molding, the subtle manipulations that shaped him into something better, something worthy. If anything, he welcomed it. As long as Xūn’s eyes were on him, he had purpose. And purpose was all he had ever known.

But then—

One day, Xūn created another. Then another. And another.

Clones.

They were like him in every way. Same voice, same mannerisms, same vacant, obedient stare. They moved with his precision, spoke with his tone. Yet they were not him. They were nothing more than empty vessels shaped by Xūn’s hands—his hands. The same hands that had once shaped Nyx.

He stood amidst them, silent, motionless.

It was fine.

It was necessary.

It was efficient.

Yet—

Something inside him twisted, sharp and ugly.

He said nothing. He did nothing. He continued to serve.

But as the days passed, Xūn’s attention waned. Orders, once given solely to Nyx, were now issued to the others. They carried out tasks that had once belonged to him. And worse, Xūn was watching them. Studying them. Testing them.

Nyx watched from the shadows, his existence reduced to a flicker among the many.

And yet, he did not protest.

Even as his hands clenched so tightly they trembled.

Even as his breath turned shallow, strained, barely contained.

Even as something black and monstrous began to curl around his mind.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄

The lab was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of machinery and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. The sterile scent of disinfectant clung to the air, yet beneath it, the coppery tang of blood was beginning to spread.

Nyx stood motionless at the center of the room, his gaze sweeping over the rows of clones standing before him. Identical faces. Identical forms. Perfect copies. But they weren’t him. They weren’t the one who had stayed by Xūn’s side the longest. They were mere imitations—soulless husks meant to replace him.

His lips curled into a smile, but there was nothing warm about it.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍. " he murmured, voice calm, almost affectionate. " 𝗜 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝘁. "

The first clone didn’t move, didn’t even react when Nyx closed the distance between them in a single step. His hand shot forward, fingers piercing through the clone’s throat with a sickening crunch. The clone shuddered, its body seizing as blood gushed from the gaping wound, painting Nyx’s fingers a deep crimson.

A choked gurgle escaped the dying clone’s lips before it collapsed to the floor, spasming once before growing still.

Nyx exhaled slowly.

One down.

He turned to the next, tilting his head as if studying a puzzle. The second clone blinked at him, expression blank, unreadable. It didn’t flinch, didn’t react, even as Nyx reached out and gently cradled its face. His grip was tender, deceptively soft.

Then, without warning, his fingers clenched, and with a sharp, violent twist, he snapped its neck. The body crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.

" 𝗣𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰. " Nyx whispered.

His breathing remained steady, unfazed.

As he moved forward, the air became thick with the scent of iron. The remaining clones stood still, waiting, staring. They didn’t resist. They didn’t scream. They simply watched as he tore through them one by one.

A blade formed in his hand, glinting under the artificial light. He drove it into the next clone’s chest, twisting it slowly, savoring the way the life drained from its identical eyes.

Another clone tried to step back, but Nyx was faster. His fingers curled around its throat, lifting it with unnatural strength before slamming it down. The impact cracked the tiles beneath them. The clone spasmed violently, its breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

Nyx crouched over it, voice a whisper against its ear.

" 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙚. " he said, shoving his blade into its skull.

The body twitched once, then fell limp.

The blood pooled around his boots, soaking into the fabric of his pants. It dripped from his fingertips, warm and thick, sliding down his skin like ink. His breaths were calm, measured.

Then, he saw the last one.

The final clone stood alone, its chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. It wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t defiant. It simply stared, watching him, waiting.

Nyx smirked.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎? " he mused, stepping closer. " 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗵𝗶𝗺. "

The clone’s lips parted, as if trying to form words, but Nyx didn’t let it speak. He plunged his hand through its chest, fingers curling around its still-beating heart. For the first time, something flickered in the clone’s eyes—recognition, realization.

Then Nyx clenched his fist.

The heart burst like overripe fruit, blood splattering against his face. The clone choked, its body convulsing before collapsing against him. Nyx held it for a moment, letting it die in his arms.

He watched as its eyes grew dull.

Then, with a slow, deliberate push, he let the body fall to the ground.

Silence.

The lab was painted red, bodies sprawled across the floor in grotesque heaps. The scent of death was thick, clinging to every surface. Nyx stood among them, chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

Then, he turned his gaze toward the hallway—the place where Xūn was.

His lips curled into a smirk, though something desperate and hollow lurked beneath it.

" 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋. " he whispered to himself.

" 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙩. "

𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

The lab was steeped in carnage, the metallic stench of blood thick in the air, clinging to every surface. The bodies of the clones lay in ruin, some torn apart, others barely recognizable beneath the layers of crimson soaking the cold floor. There was no hesitation in the slaughter, no mercy—only the undeniable proof of something wretched and obsessive.

Xūn stepped inside, his movements deliberate, his cerulean gaze sweeping over the grotesque display. His pristine white coat remained untouched by the blood that painted the room, as if the violence itself dared not touch him. A slow, almost amused exhale left his lips as he took in the sight before him.

A massacre, orchestrated with care. Each death an offering. Each mutilation a love letter written in blood.

The sound of shifting fabric broke the silence, and before Xūn could turn, warmth engulfed him from behind. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close, the embrace suffocating yet intimate. A breath, feverish and desperate, ghosted against the curve of his neck.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾, 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿. " Nyx murmured, voice trembling with something raw and unbearable. His grip tightened, fingers digging into Xūn’s clothes as if he feared letting go. " 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. "

Xūn did not resist. He stood still, letting Nyx’s breath fan against his skin, letting the trembling body behind him press closer. There was no hesitation, no shame in the way Nyx clung to him, as if he was the only thing tethering him to existence.

" 𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾? " Nyx whispered, his lips brushing against Xūn’s ear, his voice carrying something between devotion and madness. " 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝘂𝘀. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗦𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺. "

Xūn’s gaze flicked toward the corpses, their lifeless expressions frozen in artificial stillness. A slow smirk tugged at his lips, amusement flickering behind his unreadable eyes.

" 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾? " he echoed, the words laced with quiet intrigue.

Nyx’s grip did not falter. If anything, he pressed even closer, his breath shallow, desperate. " 𝗢𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿. " he swore, his voice shaking, his fingers curling into the fabric of Xūn’s coat. " 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴—𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲. 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀. 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁. 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗯𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲. "

Xūn hummed, neither acknowledging nor denying the claim. Instead, he lifted a hand, tracing his fingers along Nyx’s arm, feeling the faint tremor beneath his skin.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀. " Xūn noted, his voice almost teasing.

Nyx let out a quiet breath, barely a laugh, but his hold remained unyielding. " ..𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽. " he admitted, voice dropping to a whisper. " 𝖠𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽... 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗆𝖾. " His voice cracked, something raw slipping through the cracks of his composure. " 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇. 𝗜 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻. "

Xūn’s eyes darkened, his amusement deepening as he turned in Nyx’s hold, finally facing him. Blood splattered his face, staining his skin, but his crimson eyes burned with something far more terrifying than mere possessiveness.

" 𝖨 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎.. " Nyx breathed, his hands sliding up to cradle Xūn’s face with an almost reverent touch. " 𝗕𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗜 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁? " His voice wavered, equal parts plea and demand, as if he needed Xūn to confirm it—needed to hear it before his mind fractured beyond repair.

Xūn stared at him, the smirk still playing at the corners of his lips. Nyx was utterly consumed, drowning in his obsession, and yet… there was something fascinating about it.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽.. " Xūn murmured, his fingers tracing along Nyx’s bloodstained jaw. " 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. "

Nyx exhaled sharply, his hands trembling against Xūn’s skin. " 𝖲𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍. " he begged, his voice dangerously close to breaking. " 𝖲𝖺𝗒 𝖨'𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖲𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲. "

Xūn did not answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, watching the way Nyx’s crimson eyes flickered with desperation, waiting—praying—for validation.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. " Xūn mused, his tone light, as if the weight of Nyx’s obsession was nothing but an amusing curiosity.

Nyx’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening around Xūn’s collar. " 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙙𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧. " he whispered, voice nearly breaking.

" 𝗜 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲. 𝗜 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼. 𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁... " His lips parted, his body trembling as he leaned closer, their foreheads nearly touching. " 𝗔𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂. "

Xūn could feel it now—the absolute, undying devotion bleeding from every word, every breath, every desperate touch.

A slow chuckle left his lips.

" 𝗖𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘂𝗽. " Xūn finally said, stepping back, breaking the feverish closeness.

Nyx’s expression shattered for a brief second—before he quickly masked it with a slow, obedient bow. " 𝗬𝗲𝘀, 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿. " he whispered, his voice breathless. " 𝗔𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵. "

But as Xūn turned to leave, he felt it again—that relentless, unyielding gaze burning into his back.

Not just devotion.

Not just loyalty.

Something far more dangerous. Something possessive, something ravenous, something that would never let him go.

And Xūn, for all his amusement, knew one thing.

He had created a monster that would never stop craving him.

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

Time passed in silent moments, in glances that lingered a second too long, in breaths that hitched for no reason at all.

Nyx didn’t notice it at first, or perhaps he refused to acknowledge it. He had convinced himself that his devotion to Xūn was unwavering loyalty, a necessity, a purpose crafted by the very hands that had created him. But the feeling that bloomed inside him was not the cold, disciplined loyalty he had always known.

It was something far more dangerous.

At first, it was subtle. He found himself watching Xūn longer than necessary, studying the way he moved, the way his sharp eyes flickered with amusement when he spoke.

He memorized every detail—the way Xūn’s voice dipped into something almost affectionate when he was entertained, the way his cerulean eyes darkened when something piqued his interest. The way his lips curled into a smirk, taunting, knowing.

Nyx knew he was obsessed with him. He had always been. But this was different. This was no longer just a devotion that consumed him—it was a hunger that burned him from the inside out.

And it terrified him.

He should not feel this way. He was made to serve Xūn, to be his creation, his experiment, his weapon. He was not meant to desire him, to crave his touch, to wonder what it would feel like to hear his name spoken with something softer than command.

Yet, the more time passed, the more it consumed him.

One evening, Xūn was seated in his private study, the glow of his monitors illuminating his face in an eerie blue light. Nyx stood by the doorway, watching him from the shadows. He should have walked away, should have left before Xūn noticed him. But instead, his body betrayed him, stepping forward without thought.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. " Xūn’s voice was amused, barely looking up from his work.

Nyx tensed. " ...𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽. "

Xūn finally lifted his gaze, and for a moment, Nyx forgot how to breathe. There was something unreadable in those cerulean eyes, something that sent a shiver down his spine.

A slow smirk curled Xūn’s lips. " 𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋. "

Nyx’s fingers twitched at his sides. He should deny it. He should lower his gaze, accept the accusation, and step away. But instead, he found himself frozen beneath that stare, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged thing.

Xūn tilted his head, watching him carefully. " 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋. "

Nyx obeyed without hesitation, stopping just a breath away from him. Xūn’s gaze flickered downward—Nyx knew he noticed the way his hands trembled slightly, the way his breath was uneven.

A slow hum left Xūn’s lips. " 𝖨𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. " he mused, voice soft, but laced with something sharp. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗈'𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾. "

Nyx inhaled sharply, the words cutting through him like a blade. " 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾. "

Xūn leaned forward, just barely brushing against him. " 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙝 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙄 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚? "

Nyx didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Because Xūn was right.

Because every time he was near, Nyx’s chest ached with something unbearable, something that felt like longing. And the worst part of it all—Xūn knew it. He was playing with it, testing the limits of whatever was growing inside Nyx.

Nyx clenched his fists, willing himself to remain still. " 𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎.. 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋? " His voice was quiet, but there was something fragile beneath the words. " 𝖳𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾? "

Xūn’s smirk widened slightly, his fingers reaching out—Nyx froze as they trailed along his jaw, tracing the faint line of a scar he didn’t even remember getting. The touch was featherlight, but it burned.

" 𝖨 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗇𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗅, " Xūn admitted, voice smooth as silk. " 𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘆. "

Nyx exhaled, his body betraying him, leaning into the touch he so desperately wanted to deny. " 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗜 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂. "

Xūn’s eyes darkened.

And for the first time, something shifted.

Something in his expression flickered, just for a moment, before he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against Nyx’s ear.

" 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗼 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗹𝘆.. " he murmured, almost too soft, almost dangerous. " 𝘼𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙. "

Nyx’s breath caught. His fingers curled at his sides, his entire body betraying him as a shudder ran through him. He had always thought that he was the only one who feared being discarded. That he was the only one obsessed with belonging to Xūn.

But now, standing so close, feeling the heat of his breath, hearing the slight strain in his voice—he realized.

Xūn was falling, too.

Falling deeper than either of them should have ever allowed.

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

The shift in the air was suffocating.

One moment, Xūn was close—too close—his breath warm against Nyx’s skin, his words laced with something terrifyingly tender. The next, he was rising to his feet, his presence no longer teasing, no longer curious. It was cold. Commanding.

Nyx stiffened as Xūn loomed over him, his expression unreadable. But there was something off about it—something that sent a sharp chill crawling down Nyx’s spine.

Then, Xūn spoke, his voice smooth as a blade pressed against his throat.

" 𝖳𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾, 𝖭𝗒𝗑. " His cerulean eyes gleamed with amusement, with something far more dangerous lurking beneath. " 𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅? "

Nyx’s breath hitched. He didn’t answer.

Xūn’s smirk widened, but it held no warmth. " 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎. " His voice was calm, calculated, but every syllable was a noose tightening around Nyx’s throat. " 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅.. 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗻𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲. "

Nyx felt his chest tighten. " 𝖨'𝗆— "

" 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩? " Xūn cut him off, taking a step closer. " 𝗗𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁? 𝗜𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲? " His tone dripped with mockery, and Nyx felt the weight of it pressing down on him. " 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩? "

Nyx shook his head frantically, fear seizing his body as he tried to step back, but Xūn was faster. His fingers curled around Nyx’s chin, tilting his head up, forcing him to look.

" 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. " Xūn whispered, his tone velvet-soft, yet laced with venom. " 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝘀 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝘀 𝗜 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺. "

Nyx’s stomach twisted, his breath coming in uneven gasps. He knew Xūn was cruel, knew he played with those beneath him like pieces on a board. But hearing those words—knowing they were directed at him—made something inside him shatter.

His fingers twitched, his throat dry, but the words spilled from his lips before he could stop them.

" 𝖭-𝖭𝗈.. " His voice broke, his hands reaching out, grasping at Xūn’s coat like a lifeline. " 𝖨—𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾—𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍. "

Xūn chuckled, but there was no kindness in it. " 𝗟𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂. " he mused, tilting Nyx’s face higher, watching him with something dangerously amused. " 𝘽𝙚𝙜𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮? "

Nyx’s entire body trembled. " 𝖨 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, " he swore, his voice laced with desperation, his grip tightening. " 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲—𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲! 𝗜 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂—𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂! "

Xūn hummed, his eyes scanning Nyx’s face with slow, deliberate calculation. " 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽. " he murmured, and Nyx flinched.

" 𝙉𝙤— " His breath hitched, a lump forming in his throat as his hands clawed at Xūn’s sleeves, holding on like he’d disappear if he let go. " 𝗜'𝗺 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺. 𝗜 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘁. 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲.. " His voice cracked, his chest rising and falling rapidly. " 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮. "

Xūn was silent for a moment. Then, he leaned down, so close that Nyx could feel the faint brush of his breath against his ear.

His next words were a whisper of pure, unrelenting cruelty.

" 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘁. "

Nyx’s entire body stiffened. He swallowed, his fingers digging into the fabric of Xūn’s coat. " ...𝖧𝗈𝗐? "

Xūn’s smirk was slow, patient, dripping with amusement.

" 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙪𝙩. "

𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍.

Xūn barely had time to react before the door slammed shut behind them.

Nyx’s breath came in ragged pants, his eyes burning with something dangerous, something insatiable. He stalked toward Xūn, gaze locked onto him as if he were prey—no, something more, something he would never let go of.

Xūn raised a brow, amusement flickering across his face before it was wiped away by the force of Nyx’s lips crashing against his. The kiss was desperate, rough, filled with an unspoken need that clawed at the edges of Nyx’s sanity. Xūn let him take, let him devour, his hands coming up to rest lazily against Nyx’s shoulders.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. " Xūn murmured against his lips, his voice smooth, taunting. " 𝖨𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽? "

Nyx let out a low growl, his hands gripping Xūn’s collar tightly before yanking him forward. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌.. "His voice was a whisper—harsh, possessive. " 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎. "

Xūn let out a slow chuckle, but the sound barely left his lips before Nyx shoved him backward onto the mattress. The bed creaked beneath the sudden weight as Nyx climbed over him, straddling his waist, his fingers trembling as they traced along Xūn’s throat.

" 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎? " Nyx whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾—𝗜 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿. " His fingers tightened slightly around Xūn’s throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

Xūn smirked, his cerulean eyes gleaming with something unreadable. " 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗲. " he murmured, taunting. " 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙢𝙚. "

Nyx exhaled sharply, his hands shaking as he dipped down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Xūn’s neck. His lips were feverish, desperate, teeth grazing over skin before biting down, marking Xūn in a way that was primal, possessive—permanent.

" 𝖨'𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋. " Nyx breathed between kisses, his voice a mixture of devotion and obsession. " 𝖭𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖭𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎. " His grip on Xūn’s wrists tightened, his breath ghosting over his lips as he whispered, " 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳. "

Xūn hummed, his smirk widening. " 𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼. " he murmured, his voice laced with mock sympathy. " 𝖳𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗉 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. "

Nyx’s body tensed, his breath hitching. His fingers twitched against Xūn’s skin before gripping him tighter, almost as if he was afraid Xūn would slip away. " 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍.. " he whispered, voice trembling. " 𝗥𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁? "

Xūn tilted his head slightly, watching the emotions flicker across Nyx’s face—fear, desperation, love, madness. He had him completely, utterly. It was intoxicating.

" 𝖬𝗆.. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾. " Xūn mused, running his fingers through Nyx’s disheveled hair. " 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽? " His voice was barely above a whisper, a blade poised to cut. " 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝖨 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎? "

Nyx’s eyes darkened with something violent. " 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌. " He gripped Xūn’s waist. " 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪—𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.. " His lips brushed against Xūn’s ear, his breath hot, trembling. " 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙙. 𝙏𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪. "

Xūn’s smile widened, his fingers sliding up Nyx’s arms in a slow, almost soothing motion. " 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾, 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖭𝗒𝗑. " His voice was soft, almost gentle, but the underlying malice made it all the more chilling.

" 𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲. "

Nyx shuddered, his grip tightening, his lips ghosting over Xūn’s once more in silent agreement. He would never stop. He couldn’t stop.

Because Xūn Péikāng was not just his husband.

𝙓𝙪̄𝙣 𝙋𝙚́𝙞𝙠𝙖̄𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙙.

a/n ; oc lore again :'

我只会支离破碎. = " I will only end up shattered. "

THE STAR.

tw ; attempts at ov3rd0s3

read at your own risk.

Ah. Christmas.

The day where all of the families in the neighbourhood gather together to open their christmas gifts in the morning.

Children would wake their parents up at exactly 12 ‘o clock in the morning just to drag them out of the bed and open their christmas gifts.

Now.

You’re probably wondering what our boys are doing. Hm? Well, let’s simply say they’re also celebrating christmas with a simple dinner to catch up.

It’s been quite some time since they last talked. It won’t hurt right? Surely, nothing bad will happen. It’s the day where everyone gets along and catch up as well.

It won’t hurt.

Ike and Vox were helping each other with the cooking and cutting for dinner while Luca and Shu on the other hand were setting up the table.

Shu was In charge of getting the table sheets while Luca was setting up the utensils and plates for the occasion.

Once they were finished setting up the table, the two backed away and admired their work. They were proud of it to say the least.

“Man, I can’t believe it’s been two years with you guys.” Shu cut off the silence, his gaze locked onto Luca’s which the man in question returned with a soft smile.

“Mhm, time passes by so fast. This year has been really hectic, stressful and all that combined!” He paused, “..But we managed to keep a smile to our viewers.” He lowered his gaze on the ground.

This year treated them like shit. The amount of problems and stress they had to go through just for it to be cancelled after the announcement due to ‘Covid’.

The members in the company went through so much. So much tears and pain. Some of them cried on stream because of the cancellation.

Some of them even had to take a long break because how much it impacted them. The other went through so much, they couldn’t keep a smile and that made them go through a hiatus.

Ah, Shu Yamino. You’re acting up again, what are you thinking about now? You can’t think of them anymore, they’re not here. They’re not here.

You’re always alone. You didn’t have anyone by your side. A mysterious fox? What do you mean by that. They’re not real, what are you—

“Shu.” Ike snapped his fingers in front of the man, making him snap out of his dark dark thoughts. “..It’s time to eat.”

Shu blinked. He was hallucinating again but that blurry orange figure felt familiar to him but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

He waved the thought off as nothing as he looked back at the other three who were waiting for him to eat with them and catch up. He felt his gaze soften up a bit, as he took a chair.

They all said their prayers before eating.

All four of them talked about their lives, giving each other new updates and what changed in their daily lives. It feels nice. It feels so comforting.

But Shu? His gaze lowered onto his lap, gripping onto the fabric of his pants as he gritted his teeth in frustration.

What is wrong with you?

Those are the questions that were filling up his head, he was unsure of himself too. He, himself doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. This behavior of his is not like him at all.

Shu slammed his palms against the table, standing up as he excused himself to the bathroom. The other three were concerned but nodded.

He wore a smile to them as he walked away to the bathroom. He went in, washing his face aggressively as if trying to forget his thoughts.

But no. It won’t leave him alone, it will never leave him alone. No matter how much he tries, it’ll never go away. It won’t, it will never—

His gaze caught a blurry figure in the mirror, who is that? What does it want from him? Why are they following him like this? He can’t even enjoy his christmas because of this.

The figure started to adjust, focusing. It finally looked clear in his vision, but he still couldn’t put a finger on who he is.

That’s when he finally lost his mind. He hurriedly grabbed the container filled with pills, he has never done this before. He can feel his hand get shaky.

He turned his gaze at the mirror again, the other had a creepy smile as he placed both of his hands on his shoulders.

“Why don’t you remember me, Shu?”

The container was slapped out of his hands by Vox. Who immediately grabbed onto his shoulders, “I knew you would do something like this again.” He sternly said.

The other two were watching from the door, watching the whole thing happened. Times like these are rare.

“..However, that does not give you the right to shove thousands of pills into your fucking throat.” He harshly said but then his expression switched.

He had a worried expression on his face, he worries for his members. He absolutely wants them to talk about their problems and he won’t judge it.

Shu had a frown on his face the whole time, he felt guilty for some reason. He felt sick again, but he keeps seeing him.

The other three knew who he’s seeing. Maybe it’s time to tell him, “..As much you want to believe he’s here with us.”

“He will never be back, Shu.” and that is the reality of this world. Whenever someone dies, they’ll never come back but they’ll forever be in our hearts.

And they’re not even real too, they’re all just visions.

Open your eyes.

You woke up, everything you saw was all a dream. Luxiem is not even real, you’re real.

They were just part of your dreams, that must’ve hurt to find out the truth. The people you’ve been watching their streams and buying their merch.

That was all a dream.

Does it hurt to know the truth?

merry christmas loves <3

shhsh i kept procrastinating this fic so i managed to finish it right on christmas day HAHAHA

time taken ; a day (i love procrastinating)

NEEDY.

“ älskling. “ the soft high pitched voice called out, making the said man turn his head over his shoulder to look at the smaller. “ .. yes dear? “ he questioned, putting down his utensils to give his attention to the other.

the other fluttered his eyes up at him with his puffed up red cheeks and half lidded eyes, “ .. do you still have that wine..? i finished mine. “ he asked making the taller widened his eyes,

“ you drank the whole bottle?! “ he exclaimed, making the other nod his head in response, “ that’s enough, mon cheri.. you drank enough for tonight. “ he softened his eyes with a frown on his face.

the other giggled, “ hehe, sorry älskling.. but you were too cute that i couldn’t help myself to ask for more.. “ he boldly stated making the demon’s face turn crimson “ m-mon cheri, that’s enough.. head to bed okay? “ Vox said making the Ike frown “ but.. i want you to be in bed.. with me.. “

Yep.

Those words broke Vox.

The demon mentally malfunctioned for a few minutes until he regained his composure, sighing “ I’ll eat first and I’ll be there with you.. Is that okay, Ike? “ Ike stayed quiet for a bit as if he’s thinking about it, “ ..Fine. “ He nodded, walking back to his shared bedroom with Vox

Vox smiled softly at the Novelist’s behaviour earlier, “ What a needy boy today. “ He mumbled following with a faint chuckle.

“ Back to cooking. “

After the demon finished eating his meal, he tied his black mane up into a ponytail with his golden eyes complimenting his features as he entered the room he shared with Ike, “ mon cheri? “ he called out, seeing the Novelist working on his new book.

The scene in front of Vox made his lips curl into a soft smile, he really admires the man that used to ignore his flirty remarks is now finally his husband

Yep!

They are married with matching rings with their initials carved onto it. ( does it feel familiar? hehe~ )

“ what are you writing, mon cheri? “ He asked, looming over his sitting figure with his eyes scanning the words that are placed onto the paper “ ..another chapter? impressive. “ He complimented making the Novelist smile “ it’s the last chapter for this book, I have to make at least a thousand copies for it and sign them for my fans. “ He said with his closed eyes.

“ well then, mon cheri.. whatever you do, i’m proud of you. “ He said, caressing his brown locks slowly

“ ..remember that for me. “ He mumbled, lifting his chin making the other stare into his eyes as Vox does the same to him. “ you’re so pretty like this. “ and with that, he pressed his lips onto Ike’s making the other moan softly in the kiss but returned it passionately.

after a while, they both pulled away gasping for air “ it felt nice doesn’t i– “ his sentence was cut off when he saw the novelist’s eyes tearing up.

Fuck.

He’s so pretty.

“ m..mon cheri? is there something wrong? “ he asked, concerned but is responded with a tight hug by the smaller making him freeze up for a while but he wrapped his arms around that damn waist of his.

“ i really.. missed this.. “ Ike sobbed into his shoulder as Vox chuckled in response, “ hmm.. do you now? “ making him nod in response, “ work’s been getting to me.. ‘m sorry.. “ He spoke up with a shaky voice following with a choked out sob, “ that’s it, let it out.. you should really do this often. “ His smile was wiped with a worried expression.

“ it’s not healthy for you to be suffering like this, i’m here okay? you’re not fighting this alone.. i’ll be here with open arms. “ he reassured Ike which made him sob more into his shoulder

“ ..mon cheri, look at me. “ Vox demanded, lifting Ike’s chin up slowly “ ..I am here for you, i’m your husband. I’m here to love and give you all the support you need. “ he paused, “ ..and i’m here to remind you, the world doesn’t deserve you and you deserve everything nice and shiny. “

“ älskling– “ his mouth was zipped when Vox put his pointer finger onto his lips “ ah, ah, ah.. you’re doing that thing again. You are enough and that’s how much I love you. “

“ ..promise me you’ll tell me your struggles and always.. always tell me the truth. “ He said, taking out his pinky finger making the other wrap his around Vox’s. “ löfte. “ He mumbled.

“ Good, I’ll go do my night chores now– ah! “ He yelped in surprise when Ike grabbed his wrist and dragged him to bed, “ ..Don’t leave yet. “ He begged as if telling the demon to stay longer.

He sighed in defeat, caressing his palm onto his cheeks “ Five more minutes, mon cheri. “ Ike smiled, nodding as he kissed the other’s cheeks and then the forehead. “ Five minutes. “ He giggled, making his way down to Vox’s collarbone placing his kisses onto it.

“ Y-You’re quiet bold today.. “ Vox nervously said, “ ..Maybe we can go further, Let’s extend to one more hour. “ Ike said, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk.

“ as you wish, mon cheri. “

PHEW!

short but comforting!(?) i guess..?

my motivation suddenly vanished once i started writing, so it’s kinda scuffed and also this is not proofread so ;w; bare w me

words ; 938