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wallacepolsom
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
art blog(derogatory)
tumblr dot com
styofa doing anything
noise dept.
tannertan36
hello vonnie
Mike Driver
No title available
DEAR READER
Stranger Things
AnasAbdin
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA
Today's Document
Product Placement
titsay
roma★
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
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@cryingbanshee13
꒷꒦𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖞 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌꒷꒦
𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖉𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉, 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉’𝖛𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉.
𝖄𝖔𝖚’𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉: — 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 — 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 — 𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖍𝖚𝖒𝖆𝖓
𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘!!!
— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
─𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
-🇼🇦🇹🇹🇵🇦🇩𓆩♱𓆪
𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰: 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫
yoongi making sure he slips in eater confirmation in every verse
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
| C h a p t e r 11 |
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
Taehyung’s POV
She was finally here.
Not in passing.
Not across a room.
Not behind glass or distance or coincidence.
Here.
Within walls that did not lose things. Within a space that kept what belonged to it. I watched her carefully throughout dinner.
Never too obvious.
Her movements were controlled, but not calm. There was tension in the way her fingers rested against the table, in the slight delay before each response, in the way her eyes moved—not freely, but cautiously, as if every glance had to be considered first.
Fear.
Yes.
That much was clear.
But there was something else.
Something less defined.
She wasn’t reacting the way most did.
There was no frantic resistance, no desperate attempts to speak or bargain or plead.
Just—
Observation.
It intrigued me.
She asked for my name.
“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”
And the way she repeated it—
quietly, almost unconsciously—
settled something deep within me.
I smiled.
Not for her.
For myself.
She would learn it well.
Your POV
The living room felt… too large.
Not in a way that impressed.
In a way that swallowed.
After dinner, he told me to wait there.
I did.
Without thinking.
That realization came a second too late.
I was already sitting.
Already still.
Already listening to the quiet.
The room stretched around me in pale tones—soft ivory walls, gold-lined edges, furniture arranged with unnatural precision. Everything was placed as if it had been measured, adjusted, corrected.
Nothing personal.
Nothing misplaced.
Even the air felt still.
As if movement itself had to be allowed.
Sebastian had stayed for a while.
His presence made the silence feel less… intrusive.
But when he left—
the space shifted.
It wasn’t louder.
It was worse.
Quieter.
My gaze settled on the wall in front of me.
Not because there was something to see.
But because it was easier than thinking.
Time passed.
Or maybe it didn’t.
The doors burst open.
The sound cracked through the room, sharp and sudden, splintering whatever stillness had settled.
I flinched before I could stop myself.
“Come with me.”
His voice was not loud.
But it didn’t need to be.
It carried.
I stood up automatically.
That was the second time.
I didn’t question it.
Didn’t hesitate.
My body moved before my mind could catch up.
He crossed the distance between us quickly.
Too quickly.
His hand closed around my wrist—not violently, but firm enough to remove any illusion of choice.
“Taehyung—”
The name slipped out before I realized it.
He didn’t respond.
Just pulled.
I stumbled slightly as he led me through the mansion, my steps uneven against the polished floors. The halls stretched endlessly, their symmetry almost disorienting—door after door, identical, closed, silent.
The lighting dimmed the further we went.
Not darker.
Just… narrower.
Like the space was tightening.
We stopped at the end of a corridor.
A single door stood there.
Different from the others.
Smaller.
Darker.
A lantern hung above it, casting a weak, flickering light that did not fully reach the floor. The shadows it created seemed wrong—too long, too warped, stretching in directions that didn’t match the structure around them.
His grip loosened.
Then disappeared.
I rubbed my wrist instinctively, the skin still warm where his fingers had been. The sound of a key turning echoed softly.
The door opened.
He looked at me.
Not expectantly.
Not impatiently.
Waiting.
Then his hand reached for mine again.
This time— gentler. That unsettled me more. I let him lead me inside.
The lights flickered once before settling.
And the room revealed itself.
At first— it didn’t make sense. The walls were covered in soft peach tones, decorated with delicate floral patterns that should have felt warm, almost comforting.
But something about the color was… wrong.
Too faded.
Then my eyes adjusted.
Dolls.
Everywhere.
Not scattered.
Not messy.
Arranged.
Shelves lined the walls, filled with them—different sizes, different designs, some dressed, some incomplete. Glassy eyes stared forward, unfocused yet impossibly present.
Some sat.
Some stood.
Some—
were not fully finished.
Their limbs incomplete.
Their faces half-formed.
Materials filled the rest of the space—fabric draped over tables, wigs hanging from stands, tools laid out with surgical precision.
Everything had its place.
Everything was used.
The air smelled faintly of varnish.
Of something chemical.
Sweet—
but wrong.
My stomach turned.
And then—
I saw it.
In the far corner.
A dress.
It stood on a mannequin, positioned slightly apart from everything else.
As if it mattered more.
The fabric was pale, flowing, intricate beyond necessity. Layers of lace folded into one another, delicate patterns stitched with obsessive care. It looked soft.
Perfect.
Untouched.
Something about it made my chest tighten.
No.
No.
I shook my head slightly, as if that alone could push the thought away before it fully formed.
I turned back toward him.
He was watching me.
Leaning against the doorframe, one shoulder resting lazily against the wood, his expression calm. Almost pleased.
“Do you like it?” The question settled heavily between us. I took a step back. Then another.
He stepped forward.
The distance closed too quickly.
My back hit something.
I turned— The dress.
Closer now.
Before I could move— he was behind me.
His presence pressed lightly against my back, not forceful, but inescapable. I felt the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way he leaned just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone.
His head lowered beside mine.
“It’s for you.”
The words were soft.
Almost gentle.
My breath caught.
“For… me?”
The question came out fractured, my voice betraying me before I could steady it.
His hands settled on my shoulders.
Slow.
Deliberate.
He turned me to face him.
“Yes.”
A small smile crept up on his face.
“Only for you.”
His fingers brushed against my cheek, tracing the line of my face as if memorizing it.
“Don’t you like it?”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because something inside me, something quiet, whispered something I didn’t want to hear.
It fits.
I swallowed hard.
His hands moved, cupping my face gently, forcing me to look at him fully now.
“You do,” he murmured, softer now. Certain.
My chest tightened.
“I—”
But the words didn’t come.
Because I didn’t know if I was about to say no.
Or something worse.
His smile widened slightly.
Not exaggerated.
Just enough.
“I knew it.”
He pulled me into him suddenly—not violently, but with a firmness that erased space entirely.
My body stiffened.
“You’ll look perfect.”
His voice dropped, quieter now.
“Exactly how I imagined.”
My hands pressed weakly against his chest—not pushing, not really.
Just there.
Tears blurred my vision before I realized they had formed.
I wasn’t sure when I had started crying.
He didn’t react to the tears that began to trail down my cheeks. Just held me there, trying to form some sense of comfort, a safe place. A safe place being his arms? The same arms and hands that have been crafting my hell, my shackles and my chamber inside of it.
And somewhere beneath the fear— something else shifted.
Something I didn’t understand.
And that terrified me more than him.
Tagged readers: @calmyourtitts7
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
| C h a p t e r 10 |
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
Your POV
“Dolly…”
The voice did not wake me all at once.
It threaded itself slowly into my consciousness, like something seeping through the cracks of a closed door—persistent, quiet, impossible to ignore.
“…Dolly.”
Warm breath ghosted near my ear, close enough to feel real, yet distant enough to make me question if it had been there the entire time.
My eyelids fluttered open.
The world came back in fragments—blurred shapes, dim light, the faint vibration of the car beneath me. My body felt heavy, as if sleep had not restored me but dragged me deeper into something slower, thicker.
For a moment, I didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t fully exist.
“We’re here.”
His voice carried a soft excitement, almost gentle—but beneath it, something steadier pulsed. Something controlled. Certain. The door beside me opened with a muted mechanical click, followed by the slow exhale of outside air spilling into the car.
Cold.
Damp.
It carried the scent of wet stone, iron, and something faintly floral—like a garden left out too long under a gray sky.
I stepped out.
Not because I was told to.
Not because I was forced.
But because my body moved before I could decide otherwise.
The ground beneath my feet was darkened stone, slick from recent rain. Small pools of water gathered in shallow dips, reflecting the sky above—but the reflection looked wrong somehow, too still, too flat, like it lacked depth.
For a moment, I simply stood there.
Waiting.
Waiting for something violent.
Something immediate.
But nothing came.
No restraints.
No shouting.
No urgency.
Only him.
Standing beside me.
His hand slipped into mine again—effortless, natural, as if it had always belonged there.
Warm.
Soft.
The contrast struck me harder than anything else.
It didn’t match him.
Didn’t match the situation.
Didn’t match the quiet dread coiling inside my chest.
The gates in front of us began to open.
The sound was slow, drawn-out—metal grinding against itself in a low, aching groan that seemed to stretch far longer than it should have. It wasn’t just loud.
It was oppressive.
The kind of sound that settled into your bones and stayed there.
Beyond them— The property revealed itself gradually, as if unwilling to show everything at once.
A long pathway stretched forward, formed from pale stone slabs now darkened unevenly by moisture. Each step we took produced a soft, damp echo, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the vastness surrounding us.
On either side of the path— Rows of flowers. Perfectly aligned. Perfectly spaced.
Their colors—muted reds, pale whites, faint violets—should have looked delicate, alive. Instead, they felt arranged.
Composed.
Not a single petal was bent. Not a single leaf disturbed. Even the way they leaned felt intentional, as if something invisible had adjusted them into place and left them there.
Further along, fountains rose from the ground in symmetrical intervals.
Water flowed continuously, smooth and uninterrupted, spilling over polished stone in thin, glass-like sheets. The sound was soft—almost soothing—but in the silence of everything else, it felt too deliberate.
Birds perched along the edges.
Nothing moved unless it was meant to.
Nothing existed without purpose.
And then— The mansion.
It towered above everything else, pale and immense against the dull gray sky.
Its surface was unnaturally clean, the white exterior untouched by time, by weather, by anything that should have left a mark. The walls reflected what little light remained in the sky, giving the illusion that the structure itself emitted something faint, cold.
The windows stretched high and narrow, their darkened glass concealing whatever lay inside.
They did not reflect.
They absorbed.
The doors— Black. Massive.
Carved with intricate patterns that twisted into themselves the longer you looked. Lines curved where they shouldn’t, shapes overlapping in ways that made it difficult to follow their structure.
Almost— Eldritch.
I looked away first. We approached in silence, each step louder now.
Before we even reached the doors— They opened. An older man stood there, as if he had been waiting the entire time.
“Welcome home, sir.”
His voice was calm, measured, carrying the weight of years spent perfecting that exact tone. He bowed slightly—not deeply, not submissively, but with quiet precision. His appearance matched the rest of the house.
Ordered.
Controlled.
Perfect.
Gray hair combed neatly back, not a single strand out of place. A trimmed beard, glasses resting low enough to catch the light just slightly—obscuring his eyes until he adjusted his head.
And when I finally saw them— They were observant.
Sharp.
“And who might this be?” His gaze settled on me. He was not surprised, nor alarmed. Simply… acknowledging.
“My doll.” Taehyung’s voice came easily.
Naturally.
The man did not question it. Did not react, he simply nodded, as If he had just received the most casual information possible.
That was the moment something inside me shifted.
“Would you care for something to eat, miss?” he asked, his tone softening just enough to feel polite.
My mind flickered through possibilities.
Poison.
Control.
Dependency.
But another thought followed, quieter.
More grounded.
If he wanted control… he already has it.
No matter what I do or say, what I think, I am already on a leash. I have been on this same leash he's been firmly clutching for a while now. Not knowing how long myself, but long enough.
“…Yes.”
The word felt heavier than it should have.
We stepped inside.
The warmth hit immediately—not comforting, but enclosing. The air felt still, almost too still, as if nothing here was allowed to move without permission.
The floor beneath us was polished marble, white veined with gray, reflecting our figures in a slightly warped, almost distorted way. The walls stretched upward, lined with gold detailing that caught the light in sharp, controlled glints.
Everything was immaculate.
Too immaculate.
No dust.
No imperfection.
No evidence of time passing.
It did not feel like a home.
It felt preserved.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
We moved through the corridors. Each step echoed softly, the sound lingering just long enough to feel noticed before disappearing completely. The lighting was dim—not dark, but restrained. Enough to see clearly, yet leaving the corners in shadow, as if the space itself resisted being fully revealed.
The dining room doors opened.
The space inside was vast.
A long table dominated the center, its surface gleaming beneath a chandelier that cast fractured light across everything below. Gold traced the edges of the furniture, the walls, the ceiling, while deep red accents appeared in careful intervals—subtle, but intentional.
It was beautiful.
In a way that felt rehearsed.
He pulled out the chair beside him for me.
I sat, my hands rested in my lap, fingers unconsciously tightening against each other as silence settled around us again.
“Why are you so quiet?”
His voice was softer now, closer, the words brushing against my skin more than reaching my ears. I exhaled slowly, trying to steady something inside me that refused to settle.
“I’m just… tired.”
A lie.
But not entirely. I was tired of his games, his pranks, his behavior, I was tired of everything my life has come to because of him. He triggered what I buried a long time ago. But going against him? It felt wrong.
His hand lifted, fingers brushing lightly against my chin before guiding my face toward him.
The touch was careful.
Too careful. As If I am too fragile to be touched, especially by the hands of a man. Too strong, harsh and dangerous.
“Are you unwell?” he asked, his gaze fixed on me—not searching, not worried, but analyzing.
I held his gaze for a moment.
Then looked away.
“I’m fine.”
A pause.
Then he let go.
The doors behind us opened once more.
Servants entered—quiet, efficient, their movements synchronized in a way that felt almost rehearsed. Plates were placed one by one, each dish arranged with unnatural precision.
Steam rose gently from the food, carrying rich, layered scents—warm, inviting.
“Eat.”
The word was soft.
But it wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.
I reached for the utensils, the metal cool against my fingers.
Paused.
“I don’t know your name,” I said quietly, my voice steadier than I felt.
He watched me for a second.
Then—
“Taehyung.”
A faint smile curved his lips.
“Kim Taehyung.”
I repeated it under my breath.
Testing it.
Feeling how it settled.
“Taehyung…”
The name lingered in the air between us. I lowered my gaze again, cutting into the food. The knife slid through effortlessly. And as I brought the first bite to my lips—I realized something.
Everything here was perfect.
Every detail.
Every movement.
Every word.
And not a single part of it felt real.
Tagged readers: @calmyourtitts7
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
| C h a p t e r 9 |
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
Your POV
Five days.
Five days since everything shifted, since the letters, the gifts. Since the moment his face stopped being unfamiliar—and became something I couldn't escape. I hadn't left the house once. Not for work. Not for air. Not even for something as simple as a walk.
At first, it felt like safety.
Now— It felt like a cage I had locked myself inside. The house was quiet. The kind of silence that settles into the walls and stays there, pressing in from every direction, the kind of silence that ends up being too loud by its presence.
Even the smallest sounds felt amplified. The hum of the fridge. The ticking of the clock. My own breathing. I stood in front of the open refrigerator, staring at the emptiness inside. Nothing. Obviously, my nonexistent contact with the outside world also led to me running out of food and other necessities.
My stomach twisted.
"...Great."
My voice sounded rough, unused. I hadn't spoken much these past days. There was no one to talk to, I hadn't even called my brother nor anyone except my boss to call in sick.. I feel awful for looking like I don't care, for making it seem like I forget about everyone. But I literally do not have the strength to do anything, even speak, and reaching out nonchalantly after a while might be even worse... I did not know what was the good or bad choice anymore, a solution to anything, a path. I have been stuck.
I closed the fridge slowly, the soft click echoing faintly in the kitchen. I just stood there, staring at the door. Thinking. Calculating. Leaving the house wasn't an option, not anymore. This man could be anywhere, planning God knows what, he knows everything about me... And I know he is everywhere around me, somewhere, in the shadows.
"Fine... I'll order something." I sighed out in defeat. The words felt like a compromise. A few minutes later, I was curled up on the couch, the faint glow of the television flickering across the room. The blanket wrapped tightly around me, tucked beneath my legs, around my arms—like something that could shield me from more than just the cold. The movie played.
Some horror film I had barely paid attention to. Voices echoed, music swelled, scenes shifted. None of it stayed in my mind long enough to matter. My gaze was going through the screen, my eyes unfocused, barely blinking and maintaining any sort of focus to the movie playing in front of me.
My eyes drifted toward the staircase again.
The upper floor sat in darkness, the faint light from below barely reaching the top steps. The shadows there felt thicker—almost tangible, as if something unseen had settled into the corners and refused to leave.
"...The doll."
The word lingered longer than it should have.
I didn't want to go up there.
Not really.
But the thought of leaving it alone—of leaving anything alone in that suffocating quiet—felt worse. The stairs creaked beneath my weight as I climbed, each step letting out a long, tired groan, the wood old and worn from years of use. The sound echoed too loudly in the stillness of the house, stretching farther than it should have, as if the silence itself carried it.
The air grew colder the higher I went. Not the natural kind of cold. Something thinner. Sharper. The hallway greeted me with dimness and stillness. The walls, once a soft neutral shade, now looked dull and lifeless under the weak light spilling from downstairs. Shadows clung to the edges of the ceiling, pooling in the corners like something waiting.
Watching.
My bedroom door stood slightly ajar, I was sure I had closed it. I stopped, my breath shallow. "...It's nothing," I muttered, though the words felt like they dissolved before they could even reach the air. I slowly pushed the door open, trying to be as careful as possible, as If I weren't in my own house anymore but exploring instead.
The room was exactly as I left it. And yet—It didn't feel the same. The curtains hung still, the fabric heavy, blocking out what little gray daylight tried to seep through. The bed was untouched, the sheets slightly wrinkled from the night before. The faint scent of fabric softener lingered in the air—familiar, almost comforting.
The doll sat on the chair. Exactly where I had placed it. Its small porcelain face tilted just slightly toward the door.
Toward me.
"...You're coming with me."
My voice sounded quieter now. Thinner.
I stepped closer, the floor creaking softly beneath me, and reached out. My fingers brushed against its arm—the surface smooth, cold, unnaturally so, like something untouched by warmth for far too long. The doll rested in my arms, its weight light but noticeable, its head leaning faintly against my shoulder.
Its glass eyes stared past me.
Through me.
Unblinking.
I turned away.
The descent down the stairs felt faster. The air growing heavier again as I stepped back into the living room, the faint glow of the television flickering against the walls, casting shifting shadows that moved just enough to feel wrong.
I dropped onto the couch, placing the doll beside me. "There," I muttered under my breath, pulling the blanket tightly around myself again. As if proximity could offer protection. As if it mattered. The movie continued playing, its distorted audio bleeding softly into the room—distant screams, low murmurs, the kind of background noise that should have been unsettling.
But it wasn't the movie that made my skin prickle. Time stretched. Unnaturally slow. Each passing minute dragging behind it. Every minute of my day felt like an eternity.
Then—
The doorbell rang.
The sound tore through the house. I flinched hard, my body jolting upright as the blanket slipped from my shoulders. The echo lingered longer than it should have, bouncing faintly against the walls before dissolving into silence once more. My heart had already begun to race.
"...Pizza," I whispered, though it came out uncertain, I was not great at remembering the most simple things anymore including this. I stood, my legs slightly unsteady beneath me, and moved toward the door. The floorboards creaked softly under each step, the house responding to my movement like it always did—but now it felt louder. The air near the door felt colder.
A faint draft slipping through unseen cracks. I reached for the handle. Paused. Thinking of a couple scenarios that have been destroying my brain these days, before finally opening the door.
A man stood there, his figure framed by the dull gray of the outside world, rain falling softly behind him, blurring the edges of everything beyond. His face was partially obscured by the brim of his cap, shadows swallowing the upper half. He didn't greet me. Didn't move. Didn't breathe—at least not visibly. Like a mannequin.
"Oh—wait, let me get my wallet," I said quickly, stepping back, my voice just slightly strained.
No response. Weird. But I tried not to think too much of it. I turned, walking away, but something in my chest tightened. A quiet, instinctive discomfort that crawled slowly beneath my skin.
"How much is it again, sorry?" I asked, turning back toward him, wallet already in hand.
Silence.
"...Sir?"
I stepped closer, the frustration audibly obvious by my tone. The air between us felt wrong. Heavy.
I reached out, my fingers brushing lightly against his shoulder, worried that the man maybe didn't feel the best. In a couple of seconds I managed to imagine him fainting and worse. But he quickly snapped me out of those thoughts, catching me off guard completely.
"I don't think money will be necessary."
The voice.
Everything inside me froze. Time has stopped In my world, for a brief moment. The goosebumps felt like thousands of spiders crawling all over me, fear was eating me alive. My knees already weak, my mind blank, my eyes screamed the terror my mouth did not dare to voice. He's here.
Slowly—
He lifted his head.
"...Dolly."
The word wrapped around me like something eldritch. Something ancient. Possessive.
My body reacted instantly, my hand slamming against the door as I tried to force it shut—but his foot was already there, lodged between the frame. "Not today." His voice was softer now, almost amused. The door opened. The wood groaning faintly as it gave in under his pressure.
I ran.
The staircase screamed beneath my feet as I rushed upward, the sound of my own movements betraying me, echoing violently through the house. My breath came out sharp. Broken. I reached my bedroom, slamming the door behind me, locking it with shaking hands.
Silence.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow.
Coming closer.
Each one deliberate.
Each one certain.
"You can't hide from me."
His voice seeped through the door.
Low.
Calm.
My back pressed against the wall as I shook, my hands gripping at my hair, my thoughts unraveling faster than I could hold onto them.
The footsteps stopped.
Right outside.
A pause.
Then—
Three slow knocks.
The sound echoed.
"Open the door." He demanded.
I couldn't move.
"Or I'll come in."
Then—
Silence.
Followed by retreating steps.
I didn't trust it.
Not for a second.
I dropped to the floor, crawling quickly toward the bed, the wood cold beneath my palms, my movements frantic but controlled, desperate to remain unheard.
"I just need to hide..." I whispered, though the words barely formed. I slid beneath the bed, pressing myself against the floor, the dust clinging faintly to my skin, the darkness swallowing me whole. Hoping the obvious hiding spot could keep me safe for long enough, until I could dial someone for help.
After a few seconds of me trying to quietly reach my phone and try to make use of these shaking hands, I heard the front door open—and then close with a sharp, echoing slam.
Gone.
Relief didn't come.
Not fully.
Then—The window. A shift in the air.
Cold.
Sudden.
My entire body went still at the realization.
"...No."
The faint creak of movement.
The whisper of fabric.
The presence of something entering.
"Come out."
Closer now.
Tears blurred my vision as I pressed my hand against my mouth, holding back every sound, every breath threatening to betray me. His footsteps moved slowly around the room. Unhurried. Patient. Scanning. The bed dipped slightly above me. Then— The fabric lifted. And his face appeared in the darkness. His eyes locked onto mine instantly.
"Found you."
His hand shot forward, gripping me, pulling me out with ease. And everything after that—
Felt like something I could no longer wake up from.
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"Let go of me!" I shouted, my voice cracking under the strain as I struggled against him, my hands pushing, hitting, grasping for anything that might create even the slightest distance between us.
It was useless.
Every movement felt small against him.
Powerless.
He lifted me as if I weighed nothing, hoisting me over his shoulder with disturbing ease. The world tilted violently, my vision spinning as the room twisted out of place—walls, furniture, everything blurring into something unrecognizable.
My home.
Already slipping away from me.
"Be quiet."
His voice dropped, low and controlled, the warmth stripped from it entirely.
Something in it—
Something cold, something absolute—
wrapped around me tighter than his grip ever could.
I froze.
Not willingly.
Not consciously.
But because my body understood something my mind refused to accept.
The house dissolved behind us as he carried me outside. The cold air struck my skin sharply, biting through the thin fabric of my clothes, stealing the warmth I had clung to for days.
Above us, the sky stretched endlessly gray—dull, indifferent, as if none of this mattered.
As if I didn't.
The car door opened, then shut with a heavy, final sound that seemed to echo far longer than it should have. And just like that— I was no longer inside my own home. I didn't fight anymore.
I couldn't.
Instead, I stared out the window, my gaze unfocused as the world slid past in smeared streaks of color and shape. Trees bent in the wind. Houses stood still and silent, streetlights flickered faintly in the dimness. All of it familiar. All of it now distant. Gone.
"Dolly."
His voice came from right beside me, close enough to make my skin prickle. I flinched instinctively. His hand rose, slow and deliberate, his fingers brushing against my jaw before turning my face toward him. The touch was gentle, and that made it worse.
"You're beautiful." he said with a faint smile. The words settled between us like something inevitable. Something already decided. I said nothing. My throat felt tight, my voice locked somewhere deep inside me, unreachable. His fingers slid into my hair, moving through the strands slowly, almost thoughtfully—like he was memorizing the texture, the shape, the way it fell. Like I was something to be studied. Something to be kept.
I lowered my gaze, biting the inside of my lip, forcing myself to stay still. Not to react. Not to give him anything. A quiet, soft sigh left him, as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, holding me firmly in place against him.
"You're mine now." His voice softened again, dipping into something almost soothing—something that might have been comforting, if it weren't so completely wrong.
"And you're not going anywhere."
I turned my head slightly, just enough to look back out the window. The world continued to move. Unchanged. Unaffected. Tears slipped down my face silently, one after another, warm against my cold skin.
"Why me..." I whispered, the words barely audible, fragile enough to break the moment they left me.
He didn't answer.
And somehow—
that silence felt heavier than anything he could have said.
Tagged reader: @calmyourtitts7
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
| C h a p t e r 8 |
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
Your POV The morning didn't feel like a morning. It felt like something I had already lived through once, my days were so repetitive It was really starting to get tiring as If I was living in a loop. I woke up tired—more than tired. Heavy. Like sleep had passed through me without actually touching me. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, but the air still carried that damp, lingering chill that clung to everything. For a few moments, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to gather my thoughts. Something about last night stayed with me. Not clearly. Just... a feeling. Uneasy.
I turned my head slightly. The room looked normal, the peach walls now bright yet soft, painted by the rays of the sunrise with the birds chirping in the background. Everything in its place. And yet— I couldn't shake the sensation that something had shifted. That something wasn't quite the same. I exhaled slowly and forced myself up. "Get it together," I murmured under my breath. Work. Routine. Normal things. That's what I needed.
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The office building felt warmer than outside, but not enough to be comforting. The faint hum of voices, footsteps, and distant keyboards filled the space, blending into a familiar background noise I usually didn't pay attention to. Today, I noticed everything. The echo of heels against tile. The flicker of fluorescent lights overhead. The way conversations dipped slightly as people passed each other. It all felt... sharper. Too present. I was starting to constantly get overwhelmed. Especially in a setting like this, everything was white and felt so uneasy, the lights just made it worse. Honestly, I might even gag at this point from a view like this.
"So, you're done?" Namjoon's voice pulled me back. I blinked and straightened slightly, coughing before I could speak up, he really caught me off guard. "Yes, Mr. Kim—I'm done," I said, offering a small, professional smile as I opened my laptop. "Here... you can take a look." I turned the screen toward him, clicking through the designs while stepping aside, giving him space. He focused immediately, his expression shifting into concentration. I watched him scan every single detail of my work as sweat and nervousness overcame my body. No matter how aware I am that I did an amazing job, I always get nervous. After a few minutes he finally steps away from the desk, his cologne still filling the gap that was once between us, marking his presence. "Lovely as always, Y/N, nothing can replace the work and love you put into each piece of your work. Please, take a break, I know how hard you can push yourself." He praised me with that familiar smile of his, those dimples, having an adorable boss who was just as adorable on the inside was amazing. "Thank you so much, Mr. Kim." Bowing with a warm smile, I left the desk after he excused himself as well, moving onto the next person. I quickly grabbed my jacket and purse, thinking to myself. Where could I search for solitude now? My brain really does crave some peace and a long break.
Then—"Coffee... I need coffee." The thought slipped out before I could stop it. I didn't wait. The café across the street was quieter than usual, the air thick with the scent of roasted coffee beans and something sweet baking somewhere behind the counter. Warmth wrapped around me as I stepped inside. For a moment, I just stood there. Breathing. Letting it settle. Then I ordered quickly and stepped aside, wrapping my fingers around the cup as soon as it was handed to me. The heat seeped into my skin.. I took a slow sip, letting the bitterness settle on my tongue before swallowing. "Yeah... I needed this," I murmured softly to myself. Enjoying the taste and the warmth it brings on the inside as well. Outside, the streets looked dull beneath the gray sky, still wet from the rain. Everything felt slower. Muted.
I didn't stay long, I didn't want to. I know that Mr. Kim won't have anything against it, he himself insist on me to take longer breaks every time, but I could never help it. I like to stay on track with all of my tasks, especially when it came to work. Back at the building, I stopped near the elevator, shifting my weight slightly as I waited. The digital numbers above flickered down. One by one. Slow. Too slow. "Y/N!"A voice cut through the space, bright and familiar. I turned, and my expression softened instantly. "Hyuna!" She hurried toward me, arms already open, and pulled me into a tight hug. "God, I haven't seen you in forever!" she laughed, squeezing me again. I let out a small laugh, hugging her back. "I know... you disappeared."
"Work overseas," she rolled her eyes playfully. "But—worth it." I pulled back slightly, looking at her." You look good." "I feel good," she grinned. "And—I have a boyfriend now." My eyes widened slightly. "Wait—seriously?" "Yes!" I laughed, the sound lighter than I expected. "I'm so happy for you." "Don't worry," she smirked, nudging me lightly. "You'll meet him." A soft ding interrupted us. The elevator doors slid open. "I have to go," I said quickly, stepping backward. "But we'll catch up later." "Definitely." I stepped inside. The doors closed. And just like that—The noise disappeared. The elevator felt... too quiet. Enclosed. The faint hum of machinery filled the space as it began to move, the motion smooth but noticeable. I stared down at the cup in my hands, watching the liquid shift slightly with each subtle movement, trying to calm down and not drift off into the paranoia any further. I am at work, this is the worst place for it to occur. Then—The elevator stopped. The doors slid open. My body reacted before my mind did. A slight stiffness. A pause. Something tightening in my chest. I looked up, having to see If the person who came in really gave off that vibe or If It's just me again. Him.
The man from the café. From the street. From—My grip tightened slightly around the cup. This isn't a coincidence. It couldn't be, not anymore, this is definitely a moment where I am fully faced with it. What are the odds of him working here and me not knowing at all?
I looked away quickly, lowering my gaze as if that would somehow make me less noticeable. Less present. But I could feel it. His presence. Close. Too close. "Miss... are you alright?" His voice was calm and smooth, It was beautiful, compared to what kind of image he portrayed. I forced myself to look up. "Y-yes... I'm fine," I said, nodding slightly. Damn it. Why did I stutter? A quiet chuckle left his lips, before he opened his mouth to speak once again "Cute..." he muttered, almost to himself. But not quiet enough. Heat rushed to my face immediately. I looked away again, focusing on the numbers above the door. Anything but him. The space felt smaller now. The air heavier. Like it wasn't meant for two people. The elevator stopped again. My floor. Before the doors fully opened, I was already moving. Too fast and too obvious. I stepped out quickly, barely thinking. "Bye."His voice followed. I turned without meaning to, he was so hypnotizing, he was like a magnet to my mind and body. And then—"Dolly." The word landed differently this time. It was not playful, not teasing, It was sinister. It was as if the tone of his voice in that moment mimicked my reaction to his words. As If he knew.
His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. His eyes—Empty. Watching. Knowing. The doors slid shut behind him. And he was gone. I didn't move. Not immediately. My body felt frozen in place, my thoughts catching up all at once, crashing into each other. So it was him. All of it. The letters. The gifts. The house. My breathing quickened
"Are you okay?" A hand touched my shoulder. I flinched hard, stepping away instinctively. "Y-yes—" I said quickly, not even looking at the person. "I'm fine." I wasn't. Not even close. I walked away before they could say anything else, my steps faster now, uneven, almost unsteady as I pushed through the building and out onto the street. The air hit me immediately. But it didn't help. Nothing did. Because now—There was no doubt left. He wasn't just watching. He was getting closer.
tagged reader: @calmyourtitts7
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
| C h a p t e r 7 |
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
Your POV The house felt unusually quiet. Not the kind of quiet that soothed you but the kind that lingered a little too long, stretching itself into every corner until it became impossible to ignore. Rain tapped steadily against the windows, soft at first, then heavier in uneven waves. The sound filled the space, echoing faintly through the walls, blending with the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of wood settling. I sat at the table, slowly finishing my dinner, my gaze drifting toward the window. The glass had begun to fog slightly from the warmth inside, blurring the outside world into shifting shapes and muted lights. I used to find this comforting, rainy evenings, silence, time to myself. Now it just made everything feel... distant. Like I was sitting inside something sealed off.
I forced myself to look away and focused on the plate in front of me, taking the last bite without much thought. I carried the dishes to the sink and turned on the water, watching it run over my hands. For a moment, I just stood there. With a quiet exhale, I reached over and turned on the radio. Static cracked briefly—Then music filled the room. Something I had heard a hundred times before. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I picked up the sponge and began washing the dishes, letting the rhythm of the song guide my movements. I swayed slightly without thinking, humming under my breath, my shoulders relaxing with each passing second. It felt good, almost enough to make me forget. A quiet laugh slipped out of me. "I should do this more often..." I rinsed my hands quickly and reached for my phone, drying them against my shirt as I walked back into the living room. His name sat at the top of my recent calls, Seokjin,I hesitated for a second, but then pressed it. Me and my dear brother don't get to talk much because of work, we simply don't align with our schedules. We just catch up from time to time, and now, now is the time I need my brother by my side in any way. The line rang. Once. Twice. "Hey," his voice came through, warm like always"You don't usually call this late." I leaned against the wall, exhaling softly. "Yeah... I know." A small pause. "You okay?" I could hear in his voice he was a bit surprised by me calling at this hour. "I'm fine," I said, a little too quickly. "Just... tired. Work's been a bit much." "You've been pushing yourself again, have your episodes started getting bad again?" he said, not really asking, he knew the truth, I huffed quietly. "Maybe." Another pause. "Do you want me to come over?" My grip on the phone tightened slightly. The answer came to me instantly. Yes. But something held it back. My eyes drifted, almost unconsciously, toward the living room. The doll sat where I had left it earlier.
"...No. It's okay," I said, quieter now. "I just needed to talk to someone for a minute."He didn't respond right away. "You sure?" I could hear the worry in his tone, debating If he should even bother to ask for my approval to come and just barge through the front door instead. "Yeah." A lie. "...Alright," he said finally. "But if something feels off, you call me. Don't wait." "I will." I already knew I wouldn't. "Get some rest, okay?" "You too." I ended the call right after, not wanting to be a bother to my poor brother. Though, even a brief conversation helped, made me feel at ease and reminded me that I am not alone after all. I left my phone and made my way back to the stove, tea was something I really needed right now. Before I could do so, I was stopped in my tracks.
The doorbell rang. For a second, I didn't dare to move. Cold sweat was slowly forming on my forehead as seconds passed, what felt like minutes. "...Who would even—" The sentence died halfway through, because I already knew who has always been with me this time non stop. I walked to the door and opened it. No one. Just rain falling steadily against the pavement and the colorful leaves that bring life to this gloomy scenery, the street was empty and quiet, no one dared to leave their cozy blanket and a warm cup during this weather. My gaze dropped. A box sat neatly on the doormat. It was soft pink with gold detailing, wrapped and placed perfectly. My stomach tightened as I picked it up.
I stepped back inside and closed the door behind me, the soft click of the lock being the only sound present besides the tapping of the rain. The rain muffled everything outside, pressing softly against the windows, while inside... there was nothing but uncomfortable silence. I exhaled and walked into the living room, placing the box down on the table. The doll was still there. Exactly where I had left it. Something about that irritated me. Or maybe it just made me uneasy—I couldn't really tell anymore. My gaze shifted between the two. The doll. The box. Both sitting there like they belonged, like they had always been there. "...Right." I reached for the lid and lifted it slowly. The scent reached me before I even looked inside. Soft. Sweet. Flowers, fresh ones. Carefully arranged, as if someone had taken their time placing each stem exactly where it should be. My fingers brushed lightly against one of the beautiful petals ."...These are my favorites." The words came out quieter than I expected. I stared at them for a second longer. Then sighed, of course they were. At this point, it would've been stranger if they weren't. I reached into the box and pulled out the letter, already knowing it would be there, this man really has a passion for this.
"I saw that these were your favorite flowers. Take care of them. Like I take care of you. P.S. Look beneath them."
A small, breathless laugh left me. "Of course you did..." There was no surprise left.Just a strange, dull acceptance. I set the letter aside and carefully moved the flowers, my movements slower now. Something felt... off. Beneath them, a smaller box was hidden. Deep red velvet, the box was so simple and yet so luxurious. My fingers paused on it for a second before I picked it up, It felt heavier than it looked. My jaw was now to the floor as I faced what remained inside. Jewelry, a necklace and a ring. My fingers hovered above them before I finally touched the necklace. The metal sent a faint chill through my skin as I lifted it slightly, watching how it caught the light. A small golden heart rested at its center, carefully crafted. There was something engraved on it, so I tilted it slightly in order to read the text. "Dolly" My thumb traced over the word slowly. Something tightened in my chest, with a frown immediately forming on my face. I wasn't sure if it was discomfort—Or something else. It is all so odd, to an extent where I did not know how I feel or what to feel. I set the necklace down and picked up the ring instead. Turning it between my fingers, I noticed the engraving on the inside. A date, October 13th. My brows pulled together. "That's..." The words faded before I could finish them. That was the day, the first time something felt wrong, or maybe just the first time I noticed it. A quiet exhale left me as I leaned back slightly. "This is insane..."I picked up the necklace again. Held it for a second longer than I should have, then fastened it around my neck. The metal rested perfectly against my skin, like it had been measured. The ring slid onto my finger just as easily, no adjustment, it fit perfectly. At this point, even my racing thoughts couldn't keep up anymore, this man somehow knew me too well. The fact that he managed to pick out everything perfectly, to my liking and size, made me question the whole situation even more. Who was this odd gentleman? Is he really a stranger after all?
I stared at my reflection in the dark screen of the TV across the room. Something about the image felt unfamiliar, like I was looking at myself from a step too far away. I turned away from the reflection and walked back toward the table, gathering the flowers and placing them into a vase. My movements were slower than usual, more deliberate, as if I needed to focus on something simple to keep my thoughts from drifting too far.
Water filled the vase, the stems settled. Everything looked... beautiful. Too beautiful for what it was. I placed the vase near the window and stepped back, crossing my arms loosely. For a moment, I almost forgot where they came from. Almost.
My phone buzzed softly against the table, disrupting my thoughts, I flinched slightly before reaching for it. Jin. I stared at the name for a second before answering. "Hey..." His voice came through immediately, like he'd been expecting me to pick up. "You sounded off earlier." I leaned against the counter, pressing the phone between my ear and shoulder. "I'm fine," I said automatically, then sighed. "Just tired." A pause. Not empty. Measured. "You always say that." "I know." Another pause. Then, more carefully this time: "...Are they getting bad again?" My fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the counter. I looked toward the living room, the doll sat where I had left it. Watching. I looked away. "No," I said, quieter now with my head low. "It's not like that." Not entirely a lie. Not entirely the truth either. "You're sure?" "Yes." Silence stretched between us. I could almost picture the look on his face—concerned, but trying not to push too hard. "You've been sleeping?" he asked. "...Not really." "And you didn't think that might be part of the problem?" I let out a small breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Probably is." "Y/N..." "I'm okay, Jin," I said, softer now. "Really. I just needed a couple days to reset. That's all." Another pause. Longer this time. He wasn't buying it, of course he will not, he knows his little sister too well. And unfortunately the horror that possesses her mind as well, how far it can go to the point where It's not his sibling no more. "...Do you want to come stay here for a bit?" he asked. "Just until you feel better." My chest tightened slightly. The offer lingered, it was tempting, nothing felt safer than his presence. But I am far from peaceful in moments like this, the thought of taking away the peace of my brother and passing the chaos onto him made me feel like the worst person on this planet. I closed my eyes for a second. Then shook my head, even though he couldn't see me. "No... I'll be fine here. I have so many things to occupy myself with!" A quiet hum of disapproval came from the other side. "You always say that too." "I know." Being honest won't hurt right? I can't deny facts such as this. "Just don't shut me out, okay?" "I won't." Another small lie. But this one felt necessary. "...Alright," he said finally. "Call me if anything feels off." "I will." We both knew that meant maybe. "Get some sleep." "I'll try." The call ended.
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I lingered there for a second longer than necessary, my gaze drifting once more toward the living room before I finally turned away and made my way upstairs. Each step creaked softly beneath my weight, the old wood responding to even the slightest pressure. It was a familiar sound—I had heard it countless times before—but tonight it felt more noticeable. Sharper. As if the house itself was too aware of my presence.
Or maybe I was just too aware of everything else.
By the time I reached my bedroom, a faint chill had already settled into my skin. I paused at the doorway, glancing into the dim space before stepping inside. The room felt colder than the rest of the house. Not drastically, just enough to make me hesitate. I became more aware of everything, more paranoid, questioning everything I could and never having an answer. No place felt familiar, safe, comfortable, everything just turned against me. It made me feel like an alien, I can't recognize myself anymore, I don't know who am I anymore, all of this tore me down and turned me into an empty shell. An empty shell with no mind of it's own, not functioning properly at all, It all led to being in survival mode. Nothing else. No thinking, nothing no more. Just living day to day, over and over, trying to feel something again, feel normal again, even though I never really fit into that group of people.
After having a moment to myself and scanning everything including the face I could not recognize in the mirror anymore, I went towards the bed right away. I didn't turn on the main light. Instead, I reached for the small lamp beside my bed, letting its soft, muted glow spread across the room. It barely reached the corners, leaving parts of the space dipped in shadow, indistinct and slightly blurred.
It was enough, It was perfect and somehow always put my mind at ease.
I sat down on the edge of the bed slowly, exhaling as I ran a hand through my hair, fingers catching slightly in the strands.
My body felt heavy. Exhausted in a way sleep didn't seem capable of fixing, sleep was just enough to make me forget about it. But my mind— That was the problem, It refused to settle.
Thoughts circled endlessly, overlapping, repeating, refusing to quiet no matter how hard I tried to push them away. As I shifted slightly, the necklace brushed against my skin. Subtle, but noticeable.
My fingers lifted instinctively, touching it without thinking. The metal was cool against my fingertips, smooth, perfectly shaped. I paused. Something about it felt... intrusive. Not physically. Just—Too present.
Like it demanded to be noticed.
My hand lingered there for a moment longer than it should have before I pulled it away, letting it fall back into my lap.
"Just sleep," I whispered, the words quieter now, almost careful.
As if speaking too loudly might disturb something.
I lay down slowly, pulling the blanket over myself, turning onto my side and adjusting until I found a position that felt somewhat comfortable. The mattress dipped slightly beneath my weight. Outside, the rain had softened, settling into a steady rhythm that tapped gently against the windows. It filled the silence in a way that almost felt intentional. But It was definitely much needed, a short moment of comfort and peace. Good things simply don't last long.
I closed my eyes.
Tried to focus on it.
The repetition.
The pattern.
Anything that might lull my thoughts into stillness.
For a moment...
It almost worked.
A sound.
Soft.
So faint I almost missed it.
My eyes opened immediately. I stayed completely still, my body tensing without me realizing it. The room remained unchanged. Dim, quiet, shadows stretching softly along the walls.
I listened.
Carefully.
The rain continued, steady and indifferent.
Nothing else.
No movement.
No voices.
No footsteps.
I swallowed, the sound feeling too loud in my throat.
"It's nothing..." I whispered, though my voice lacked conviction.
I shifted onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, tracing the faint lines where the light didn't quite reach.
Seconds passed.
Maybe longer.
Time felt strange in the dark, I could never really keep a track of it, only guess and see how close to reality my mind can be at this hour, when the sky turns black and the streets quiet and empty, when the world is at peace the most but also the most frightening.
I let out a slow breath, forcing my shoulders to relax, trying to convince my body to follow.
Then—
Another sound.
This time clearer.
A faint creak.
From downstairs.
Not loud.
At this point I had stopped breathing, out of fear and curiosity to follow the sounds. Being paranoid did not help me in situations like this. Am I delusional or is it actually going on? I pushed myself up slowly, careful not to make unnecessary noise, my movements deliberate as I sat on the edge of the bed.
The lamp cast long, stretched shadows across the floor now, shifting slightly as I moved. I listened again. Nothing. The house stood still. Just silence. The kind that presses in from all sides. I stayed there for a long moment, waiting, expecting something else to happen. For another sound. Another shift. Anything.
But nothing came.
Eventually, I exhaled, the tension leaving my body in small, uneven waves as I leaned back again, lowering myself onto the mattress. "You're just tired..." I murmured, more firmly this time, as if saying it enough might make it true. I pulled the blanket closer around myself, turning slightly, forcing my eyes to close again. The rain continued. And slowly, reluctantly, my body began to sink into the mattress, my thoughts slowly evaporating from my brain as my body continued to relax.
Meanwhile, downstairs, near the window, the vase stood where it had been placed earlier.
The flowers were still fresh.
Carefully arranged.
Untouched.
Almost.
One of them had slipped free.
Its stem resting against the edge of the vase, petals brushing lightly against the wooden surface of the table before falling completely.
There had been no draft.
No open window.
No reason for it to move.
It simply—
Did.
Tagged reader: @calmyourtitts7
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
| C h a p t e r 6 |
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Your POV A dull, persistent ache pulsed behind my eyes as I slowly woke.It wasn't just exhaustion. It was something heavier.
Something that lingered. Sleep hadn't felt like rest—it felt like something I had briefly fallen into, only to be pulled back out again without warning. My body felt... wrong. Too heavy. Too slow. I forced my eyes open. And immediately— I saw it. The doll. Standing exactly where I had thrown it. My breath stilled. I was sure, I was certain, I had thrown it across the room last night. Far from the bed. Far enough that I wouldn't have to see it again the moment I woke up. But now— It stood closer. Not much. Just enough. Its glassy eyes reflected the dim light in the room, giving them a faint, unnatural shine. For a brief moment, I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just stared back. "...Stop looking at me," I muttered under my breath. My voice came out dry. Fragile. The silence that followed felt... thick. Unresponsive. Almost intentional. I swallowed, forcing myself to look away. "I need a shower..."The words barely registered as I pushed the covers aside and sat up. My limbs moved slowly, as if they didn't entirely belong to me. As if I was still somewhere between asleep and awake.
The bathroom light was harsh, almost aggressive. White tiles reflected the brightness in every direction, making the space feel too exposed, too clean. I stripped my clothes off without thinking and stepped into the shower, turning the water hotter than usual. The sound filled the room instantly. Steady. Constant. Drowning out everything else. I stood there, unmoving, letting the water run over me. My shoulders slowly loosened. My breathing steadied. But my thoughts didn't. They never did. Who would do this? The question returned, sharper this time. More insistent. This isn't normal. I pressed my palm against the tiled wall, grounding myself. "I don't even know anyone..." I murmured, more to fill the silence than to find an answer."I don't go out. I don't talk to people. I don't give anyone a reason to—"I stopped. The words felt empty. Pointless. A quiet, humorless exhale escaped me. "Right. Of course there's no answer." My eyelids grew heavy again. For a moment, I let them close. And in that brief darkness—The image of the doll surfaced again. Closer. Watching. My eyes snapped open. "Coffee." The word came out sharper than intended. Urgent. Necessary. I turned the water off abruptly.
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The house echoed with my footsteps as I moved downstairs, quicker now. More awake. More alert. "Coffee... coffee..." I repeated under my breath, the words blending into a quiet rhythm as I prepared it. The familiar process helped. Grounded me. The scent slowly filled the kitchen—rich, bitter, almost comforting. I wrapped my hands around the warm cup and took a slow sip. A soft exhale followed. Better. Not calm. But... functional. The living room remained dark, illuminated only by the pale glow of my laptop screen. Rain tapped steadily against the windows. Soft. Persistent. Almost hypnotic.
The curtains were still drawn tightly shut. I hadn't opened them, I didn't want to. Something about the outside felt... intrusive now. Like it no longer belonged to me. I sat on the couch, staring at the screen without really seeing it. My thoughts felt scattered. Unfocused. "This is exhausting..." I whispered. The words felt heavier than they should have. I closed the laptop. The silence pressed in immediately. Too quiet. Too still. "Y/N... you can't just sit here." My own voice sounded distant. Detached. I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Should I go out? The rain had always been comforting. Familiar. Safe. A pause. Then a slow inhale. "This is ridiculous," I said quietly. "I'm not going to stay inside because of... this." The word felt insufficient. Vague. Unclear. But I stood up anyway. Deliberate, almost mechanical.
"I'm fine." The statement didn't feel convincing. Upstairs, I changed in silence. A white pullover, jeans. Simple, neutral, safe. I reached for my umbrella and turned toward the door— Then stopped. Something pulled at my attention. Subtle.
Unexplainable.
I turned.
The doll.
Still there, still watching. A faint irritation flickered beneath the unease. "Why am I even keeping you?" I walked toward it, picking it up. Its surface was cold. Colder than it should have been. I hesitated for a moment longer than necessary.
"You're coming with me." The decision didn't make sense. But leaving it behind felt worse.
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The café was dimly lit, the warm amber glow of hanging lamps pooling softly over each table, leaving the corners of the room swallowed in shadow. Outside, rain slid down the large glass windows in uneven streams, distorting the view of the street beyond into something blurred and distant—almost unreal. Inside, it was quiet. Not silent—but hushed. The low murmur of distant conversation, the occasional clink of porcelain against ceramic, the soft hum of a coffee machine working somewhere behind the counter. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans lingered thick in the air, laced with sweetness—vanilla, caramel, something faintly artificial yet comforting. It wrapped around me.
Familiar. Grounding. Safe. Or at least... it should have been. I ordered my drink and sat down at my usual table, placing my laptop in front of me with practiced ease. The surface of the table was slightly warm beneath my fingertips, as if it had been occupied not long before I arrived. I didn't question it. I didn't want to. The routine settled over me quickly. Like muscle memory. The quiet tapping of keys filled the small space around me, blending with the soft scratch of my pen gliding across the tablet. The screen glowed pale against my face, the only steady light in my line of focus. For a moment...Everything aligned. The design. The lines. The movement of my hand. Controlled. Predictable. My breathing slowed and my shoulders loosened. For just a second, it almost felt like nothing had happened. Like last night had been—Irrelevant, distant and unreal. Until—The bell above the café door rang. A soft, delicate chime, barely loud enough to matter. And yet—My fingers stilled. Something shifted, I didn't look up immediately. I told myself not to. But something—Something beneath the surface, something quiet and insistent—made me. Slowly, I lifted my gaze. And there he was.
The same man.
Standing near the entrance, droplets of rain still clinging to his coat, darkened slightly from the damp. The light above him cast faint shadows across his face, obscuring just enough to make his expression difficult to fully read. But I didn't need to see it clearly. I knew. The café. The grocery store. The voice. The collision. It all aligned too neatly, too perfectly...My chest tightened. He was there too. A coincidence It had to be. Something about it didn't sit right. For a moment, I didn't realize I was staring. Didn't feel the seconds passing. Didn't register the stillness in my body. Until—His eyes met mine. A slow, deliberate smirk formed on his lips. Not warm. Not amused. Something else. Something... aware. As if he had been expecting me to look. As if he had been waiting. Heat rushed to my face instantly. I looked down. My eyes locking onto the screen, though I wasn't seeing any of it. But it didn't matter. Because I could still feel it.
His gaze. Lingering. Something twisted in my stomach. Unease, sharp, intrusive. It didn't feel like fear, not yet. It felt like something trying to become fear. I forced my hand to move again, the pen dragged across the tablet. A line. Another. The cursor blinked on the screen, waiting, but my thoughts were no longer there. They drifted. Pulled. Back to him. Back to that feeling. Why does it feel like he's still looking at me? The question settled in my mind, heavier than it should have been. I didn't look up again. I didn't want to confirm it. Because somehow—Not knowing felt safer. "Miss... excuse me." The voice cut through my thoughts softly. I flinched slightly, looking up. The waitress stood beside me, her expression polite—but something about her hesitation didn't go unnoticed. Her fingers held a small envelope. My chest tightened immediately. "What is that?" I asked, my voice quieter now, more controlled. "Someone asked me to give it to you."Her tone was neutral. As if it meant nothing. And before I could ask anything else—She was gone.
I stared at the envelope. It felt... wrong. Like something that didn't belong in my hands. But I picked it up anyway. My fingers brushed against the paper. Smooth, carefully chosen. A strange chill ran down my spine. Slowly, I opened it. "I see you kept my gift. You shouldn't throw away things that belong to you. You looked beautiful when you were afraid, I think I'd like to see that again. Don't worry...I won't stay away for much longer."
My breath caught. Not sharply, not dramatically, just enough to make my chest feel tight and restricted. Something cold settled deep inside me. Not panic...Something worse. Recognition. Understanding. My fingers tightened around the paper. Slightly, almost unconsciously. "You're not stopping..." I whispered. The words felt heavier spoken out loud. More real. My eyes lifted instinctively scanning the café. Every table, every face. Too many strangers, too many possibilities. Or maybe—Not enough. "You're getting closer," I murmured under my breath. The realization didn't hit all at once. It settled, gradually. Like something sinking beneath the surface.
My hands moved before my thoughts could catch up. I tore the letter. Once. The sound was louder than expected. Sharp, final. Again. And again. Until the words were nothing but fragments. But even then—It didn't feel enough. It didn't feel like it erased anything. My movements became quicker now. I packed my things with controlled haste, my fingers slightly unsteady despite my effort to keep them still. The laptop, the tablet. the cables. The doll—My hand paused for the briefest second when I touched it. Cold. Unnaturally so. I grabbed it anyway and stood up. The chair scraped softly against the floor. No one reacted, nor has anyone noticed. Or maybe they did—And simply didn't care. I didn't look around again. I didn't care to, my mind was only focused on one thing— Storming out of this place. A place that once felt like home, but now turned into another danger zone sucking me in with it's toxicity. Outside, the rain had grown heavier. Thicker drops now, hitting the pavement with a dull, constant rhythm. The street blurred beneath the downpour, lights stretching and smearing across the wet asphalt. I stepped out into it anyway. The cold air hit me instantly. Sharper this time. For the first time, going home didn't feel like relief. It felt like a mistake. And somewhere deep inside me...A quiet, unwelcome thought surfaced. It hasn't been safe for a while.
Tagged readers: @calmyourtitts7
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
| C h a p t e r 5 |
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Your POV
A cold chill ran down my spine with every step I took along the quiet street. Night had already settled over the city, and the air carried that sharp winter bite that slipped through layers of clothing and settled deep in the bones. The pavement was still damp from earlier rain, reflecting the soft glow of the streetlights above. Their golden light stretched across the empty sidewalk in long, quiet pools. I pulled my coat a little tighter around myself as I walked. I had decided to go grocery shopping tonight because tomorrow morning would be too busy. The last thing I wanted was to rush through errands when I had work waiting for me.
The grocery store stood on the corner of the street, its large glass windows glowing brightly against the darkness outside. Warm yellow light spilled onto the pavement as I pushed the door open. The moment I stepped inside, a wave of warmth surrounded me. The familiar scent of the store filled the air — fresh bread from the bakery section, faint sweetness from ripe fruit, and the clean, sterile smell of refrigerated aisles humming quietly in the background. The store was nearly empty. A few customers wandered slowly through the aisles, their carts rolling softly across the polished floor. Somewhere above, soft music played through the speakers — quiet enough that it blended with the low buzzing of fluorescent lights. I grabbed a cart and pushed it forward. The wheels squeaked slightly as they rolled, echoing faintly in the quiet space. Pulling the small folded list from my pocket, I glanced down at it. Bread. Milk. Eggs. Pasta. Vegetables...
My eyes moved between the list and the shelves as I walked through the aisle, placing items into the cart one by one. The metal handle felt cold beneath my hands. For a moment I became so focused on reading the list that I stepped forward without looking where I was going. And suddenly—I walked straight into someone. A small gasp escaped my lips as I stumbled back. "Oh—sorry!" I said quickly, slightly embarrassed. "I wasn't looking where I was going." The man in front of me straightened immediately. For a brief moment I tried to look at his face, but the bright fluorescent lights above cast strange shadows across his features, making them difficult to read. "It's alright," he said. His voice was deep. Calm. Before I could say anything else, he stepped past me and continued walking down the aisle. I blinked, watching him disappear between the shelves. "Well... that was awkward," I muttered quietly. Shrugging it off, I returned to my cart and continued shopping. Still, something about the encounter lingered faintly in my mind.
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Taehyung's POV
The store lights were painfully bright. Rows of cold fluorescent lamps stretched across the ceiling, flooding every aisle with harsh white light. The polished floor reflected the brightness, making the entire place feel almost artificial. But none of that mattered. My attention was entirely on her. She stood a few aisles away, pushing her cart slowly while studying a small piece of paper in her hand. Her shopping list. She looked completely focused, her brows slightly furrowed as she read. Completely unaware. The store smelled faintly of baked bread and cleaning chemicals. Somewhere in the distance, an employee restocked shelves, the quiet clatter of plastic containers echoing through the otherwise silent aisles. Perfect. No one was paying attention. I walked slowly, pretending to examine the products on nearby shelves whenever she glanced around. Timing it carefully, I moved closer just as she stepped forward without looking. Our shoulders collided. For a brief second, I felt the warmth of her body brush against mine. A quiet thrill ran through my chest. She gasped softly. "Oh—sorry! I wasn't paying attention." Her voice sounded flustered. Adorable. I kept my expression neutral and lowered my gaze slightly so the lights wouldn't reveal my face too clearly. "It's alright," I replied calmly. Then I stepped past her before she could study me any further. My lips curved slightly as I walked away. That brief moment of contact lingered pleasantly in my mind. I grabbed the first snack I saw from the shelf and headed toward the register. There was no reason to stay longer. Not tonight.
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Your POV "Thank you. Have a good night!" the cashier said politely as she handed me my receipt. "You too!" I replied. The plastic grocery bags felt heavier than I expected as I stepped outside again. The cold air hit my face instantly, replacing the warmth of the store with the sharp bite of night."Well... that's your own fault," I murmured to myself. Maybe I had bought a little too much. The street was almost completely empty now.
Above me, the moon hung in the sky like a pale silver coin surrounded by scattered stars. Its light mixed with the street lamps, casting long shadows across the pavement.My footsteps echoed softly as I walked down the sidewalk. Then—Another set of footsteps followed behind me.I stopped. Slowly, I turned around.
The street stretched empty behind me. Only the quiet glow of streetlights and the dark outlines of houses stood there. No one. A small frown appeared on my face. "Strange..."I started walking again. A few seconds passed. Then the sound returned. Footsteps. Behind me. Slow. Steady. My heart skipped. I quickened my pace. The footsteps quickened too. Now my chest tightened. The plastic bags rustled loudly in my hands as I began walking faster, the cold air burning slightly in my lungs.
My house appeared at the end of the street. Relief washed over me. I hurried toward the gate, unlocked it quickly, and rushed inside before slamming the front door shut behind me. The sound echoed loudly through the quiet house. Breathing heavily, I dropped the grocery bags onto the floor and quickly removed my coat and boots, before I rushed to the window. Carefully, I pulled the curtain aside and looked outside. The street was empty. Completely empty. My eyes scanned the sidewalk, the streetlights, the road. Nothing. "Am I imagining things now...?" I whispered to myself. Maybe the strange gift earlier had gotten into my head. Still, the uneasy feeling didn't disappear. I moved quickly through the house, closing every curtain and checking the locks on the doors. When the final lock clicked into place, I exhaled slowly. "Okay... I think I'm safe now." BAM. A loud slam echoed from upstairs. My entire body froze. My heart ready to burst out of my ribcage. The sound had come from my bedroom.
Slowly, I turned toward the staircase. Each step creaked loudly beneath my feet as I climbed up. The house felt unnaturally silent. My bedroom door stood slightly open. A cold breeze drifted from inside, the window must be open. My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I reached the door and pushed it open. Moonlight spilled through the open window, illuminating the room in pale silver light .And there—In the center of the floor— stood a doll. Its glassy eyes reflected the moonlight, giving them an eerie shine. A red balloon floated gently above it, tied to the doll's small pale hand with a thin white string. The balloon swayed slightly in the night breeze. Written across its surface were the words:
"I am coming very soon. Be ready, my doll."
A terrified gasp escaped my lips, tears filled my eyes almost instantly. My hands shook as I grabbed a pair of scissors from my desk and burst the balloon with a sharp pop. The doll fell onto the floor as I threw it across the room. "W–who is doing this...?" I whispered, my voice trembling. My entire body felt cold with fear. Someone had been inside my house. Inside my bedroom. The thought alone made my chest tighten painfully. Eventually, overwhelmed and exhausted, I crawled into bed and pulled the blanket over my head. Sleep was the only escape left, I couldn't think straight. But even as my eyes slowly closed...One thought refused to leave my mind. Someone knew where I lived. And they had already been inside my home.
Tagged readers: @calmyourtitts7
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
| C h a p t e r 4 |
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Your POV A quiet groan escaped my lips as I rolled onto my back, slowly waking from sleep. The room was still dark. The sky outside my window was covered in thick grey clouds, leaving no trace of morning sunlight. Only the soft, rhythmic tapping of rain against the glass filled the silence, the sound oddly calming... almost hypnotic. For a moment I considered going back to sleep. I stretched my arms above my head, fingers reaching toward the ceiling as a long yawn left my chest. The warmth of the blankets clung to me stubbornly, but eventually I forced myself to sit up. The cold air of the room brushed against my skin as my feet touched the floor. I made my way to the bathroom, still half asleep. The moment I opened the white door, the bright light inside forced my eyes to squint. My bathroom was almost entirely white — white tiles, white cabinets, white walls — with only a few black details breaking the sterile brightness. When the lights were on, the room practically glowed. I stepped inside and turned the shower on. Hot water quickly filled the small space with steam as it ran over my skin. I always liked long showers. They were the only time my mind slowed down enough to wander freely. Sometimes I thought about work. Sometimes about the future. And sometimes... about things I didn't quite understand. Like yesterday. The memory of the man in the café appeared in my mind without warning. Those eyes. Dark. Still. Watching. I frowned slightly, pushing the thought away as the water ran down my shoulders.You're overthinking. Eventually I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around myself before returning to my room to get dressed. I had barely pulled my sweater over my head when the sharp sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. I froze. This early? Confusion flickered through my mind as I quickly slipped into my slippers and headed downstairs. The house was quiet except for the rain outside. When I reached the front door, I unlocked it and pulled it open. No one was there. Only the grey morning, the empty street, and the soft drizzle falling from the sky. I stepped forward slightly, glancing left and right. Nothing. A faint frown appeared on my face. Maybe someone rang the bell by mistake. I was about to close the door when something caught my eye. A large box rested on the doormat. I blinked. The box was big — much bigger than I expected — neatly wrapped in pale baby-blue paper with delicate white details decorating the corners. My eyebrows slowly pulled together. "Who would send me something like this...?"Carefully, I picked it up and carried it inside. The weight of it was surprising. I placed it on the coffee table in my living room and stood there for a moment, simply staring at it. Something about it felt strange. Too deliberate. Too... personal. My fingers hovered over the lid before finally lifting it. The moment the box opened, a soft gasp escaped my lips. Flowers. Dozens of them. Bright, beautiful flowers in shades of pink, red, and white filled the entire box. Their scent spilled into the room immediately, sweet and overwhelming. In the center of the arrangement was a small card. My stomach tightened slightly as I reached for it. The paper felt smooth between my fingers as I flipped it over.
"I hope you like this gift, dolly. You'll be mine soon. My sweet, sweet dolly."
The words made my chest tighten. For a moment I simply stared at the message. A strange chill crept down my spine. "Dolly...?" I murmured quietly to myself. Was this supposed to be romantic? Or was it supposed to be... something else? I had never had a secret admirer before. In fact, I barely had anyone who would send me something like this at all. My brother, Seokjin, came to mind briefly, but I dismissed the thought immediately. He would never send something like this anonymously. And he definitely wouldn't write something so... strange. I exhaled slowly and placed the card back in the box. The flowers were beautiful, at least. I took them out carefully and placed them in a vase on the kitchen counter. Their bright colors felt oddly out of place in the quiet grey morning. Still... the words lingered in my mind. "You'll be mine soon." A small uneasy feeling settled somewhere deep in my chest. I shook my head, trying to brush the thought away. "I'm probably overthinking this." Food would help. I opened the refrigerator and started preparing breakfast, focusing on something normal, something routine. Yet even as I cooked, my eyes occasionally drifted toward the flowers on the counter. And toward the box still sitting on the table. Something about it refused to leave my mind.
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Taehyung's POV The smile on my face slowly disappeared. She threw the letter away. For a moment I simply stared at the small piece of paper lying in the trash bin near her kitchen counter. My jaw tightened. Hidden behind the thick bushes outside her window, I remained perfectly still, the cold rain slowly soaking into the fabric of my coat. The droplets slid down my hair and along my jaw, but I didn't move. My eyes stayed on her. On my dolly. A quiet irritation began to twist inside my chest. She kept the flowers. But the letter... the words I chose so carefully... discarded like something meaningless. My fingers curled slowly into a fist. How ungrateful. A sharp breath escaped my nose as I watched her move around the kitchen, completely unaware of my presence. She looked peaceful. Carefree. Almost amused by the situation. That small reaction only made the frustration grow sharper. "You shouldn't throw away things I give you..." I muttered quietly under my breath. For a moment an ugly thought crossed my mind. To walk up to the door. To drag her out of that house. To make her understand. But no. Not yet. Perfection required patience. Slowly, the tension in my jaw eased as the irritation twisted into something darker. Something colder. A small smile returned to my lips. "It's alright," I whispered softly, almost lovingly. "You just don't understand yet." My gaze drifted toward the trash bin again. Toward the discarded card. "I'll make sure you never throw my gifts away again."
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Your POV
The ringing of my phone suddenly broke the quiet. I wiped my hands quickly and picked it up. "Hello?" "Hello, Miss Y/LN," my boss's voice greeted me from the other end. "I just wanted to ask how is the collection progressing?" I sighed softly. "About two to four weeks" I replied. "Excellent. I just wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly." The call ended shortly after. I set the phone down and returned to my breakfast. The smell of warm food slowly filled the kitchen, comforting and familiar. For a while, everything felt normal again. Almost peaceful. But even as I ate...My thoughts drifted back to the flowers. And the words written on that card. "You'll be mine soon" The phrase echoed quietly somewhere in the back of my mind constantly. And for reasons I couldn't quite explain...The house suddenly felt a little less safe.
Tagged readers: @calmyourtitts7
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
| C h a p t e r 3 |
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
Taehyung's POV I stepped out of the café, the cold autumn wind slapping against my face and tugging at my scarf. My skin prickled beneath the chill, making me scrunch my eyes. I pulled my phone from the pocket of my thick black coat and dialed a familiar number. "Yes, sir?" came the calm, steady voice of my butler. "Sebastian, send a car. I'm in front of the café I usually go to," I said. A pause, then a quiet acknowledgment. I hung up and crossed the street to sit on a bench, letting the wind slice at my cheeks as I sipped the last of my hot chocolate.
My other hand plunged into my coat pocket, desperate for warmth. Through the glass, I saw her again. The sight of her made my chest tighten, and a small, almost predatory smirk curled onto my otherwise blank face. "Oh, my sweet... sweet dolly," I muttered under my breath, eyes tracing the line of her figure. A sharp honk broke the spell, making me flinch. "It's me, sir!" Yoongi called from the black car parked at the curb. "Coming," I whispered, gathering my bag and hurrying to the car. "Good afternoon, sir. How was work today?" Yoongi asked politely as I settled into the leather seat." Good... pretty good," I said with a low chuckle, my gaze already drifting back to her as she moved inside the café. "Yoongi... wait a second," I murmured. He glanced at me through the rearview mirror and eased the car to a stop. Through the window, I watched as she collected her belongings, her delicate hands clinging to her grey bag, her hair catching in the cold wind. Her nose and cheeks glowed red in the chill, her movements fluid and graceful. Should I follow her? I must ensure my doll is safe, I thought, a pulse of excitement running through me. She stepped into a taxi, and I issued the command quietly but firmly. "Follow that cab." Yoongi nodded, expertly maneuvering the black car into the shadows, our presence invisible to her as the city blurred past. The journey was short, and soon she arrived at her home. I watched as she darted inside, the warmth of her sanctuary swallowing her up. A small thrill ran through me. Soon... very soon, she would have a home that suited her better. "Now we can go," I murmured, turning my gaze forward as we drove back to my mansion.
Your POV The door clicked shut behind me, and the warmth of my apartment swallowed me instantly. I shivered slightly, shrugging off my coat and peeling off my boots. The chill from the street still lingered in my fingers, in the sharpness of my lungs, and even in my heartbeat, which wouldn't slow down. I dropped onto the couch with a sigh, the familiar cushions pressing into me, soft and comforting. I grabbed the bag of chips I had stashed in the cupboard, letting the crinkle of plastic fill the quiet room. And yet... I couldn't stop thinking about him. The memory of our eyes meeting in the café made my stomach twist in a way I didn't like. His gaze had been intense—too intense, like it could reach inside me and inspect every thought I hadn't spoken aloud. I tried to focus on my laptop, on the designs I had been sketching, but the blankness of his expression kept creeping in, replacing every image with the cold shadow of his face. He hadn't smiled at me like most people did. Not really. But there had been something in that stillness—something that made the air around him feel heavier, almost alive. I could still feel it, like a finger brushing against my spine, long after he had gone. I told myself I was imagining things. That I was overthinking. That maybe he was just... a handsome man, nothing more. But then my thoughts betrayed me. His image replayed in my mind, the odd way his mullet caught the light, the way his dark eyes seemed to swallow everything, the curve of his lips that never really moved. I hugged my knees to my chest on the couch, staring at the window as the gray evening light faded. Outside, the wind tossed the dying leaves across the street, a frantic, scattered dance. The children who had been playing earlier were gone. Only the skeletal branches of the trees remained, like fingers pointing accusingly at the empty streets. I shivered again. The thought struck me—he had been staring at me for a long time. Too long. And I hadn't even noticed it until... until I felt it. That weight of eyes, pressing, observing, lingering. My stomach turned cold at the realization. I tried to shake it off, focusing on the mundane. I opened my laptop, turned on a show, anything to occupy my mind. My hands were still a little shaky, and I wrapped them around the warm mug of cocoa, letting the steam curl into my face, hoping it would chase away the lingering chill he left behind. But even as I sipped, I caught myself glancing at the door, half-expecting him to step in as casually as he had appeared in the café. Ridiculous, I scolded myself. And yet... the thought wouldn't leave. It was like a shadow in the corner of the room, there whether I acknowledged it or not. I shook my head and leaned back into the cushions. My apartment felt too quiet, too still, the shadows stretching a little too long across the walls. I told myself to relax. To breathe. To forget. Somewhere in the recess of my mind, the image of his eyes remained, staring through the café window, following me even here. I didn't notice when my fingers tightened around the mug, knuckles whitening. I didn't notice when my heart skipped another beat at the thought of him. All I knew was that the warmth of my chocolate, the soft blue of my blanket, and the comfort of my home could not completely chase away the feeling that something—someone—was already lingering too close. I sighed, letting the sound mingle with the hum of the TV. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just... fascination. But the idea had taken root, and like a dark seed, I knew it would grow.
Taehyung's POV The mansion swallowed me in its familiar darkness. My footsteps echoed along the long, silent hallways, the wood cold beneath my polished shoes. The air smelled faintly of old varnish, candle wax, and something else—something faintly sweet, like fabric stored too long, or the porcelain scent of my dolls. I passed doors I rarely opened, each one a small, secret chamber of past creations, forgotten sketches, and half-finished dolls staring blindly from shelves. Their blank eyes seemed to follow me as I moved, reflecting the dim glow of the chandeliers above, glinting like shards of glass. The walls themselves felt alive, pressing inward, whispering, reminding me of the perfection I had yet to claim. Finally, I arrived at my favorite room. The black wooden doors were heavy, adorned with faint carvings of roses and vines. I pressed my palm to the smooth surface and pushed it open, inhaling the familiar mix of leather, fabric, and lacquered wood. Inside, the walls were soft peach, dotted with delicate floral drawings, as if the room itself had been designed to lull a visitor into calm—yet I never felt calm here. I felt power. I felt control. Glass cabinets lined the walls, each carefully filled with supplies: wigs of every texture and color, delicate dresses folded on tiny hangers, shoes polished to a porcelain shine. Spools of thread, leather scraps, wooden doll bodies, paints, brushes, feathers, and beads were all arranged with obsessive precision. The room was a sanctuary of creation, a cathedral dedicated to one purpose: perfection. I moved toward my work table, the polished surface reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lamp. I pulled out sketchbooks, pencils, and fabric samples, letting my hands hover over them like a conductor before an orchestra. I imagined her—my dolly, in each dress I had designed. I traced invisible lines over her form, visualizing how silk would fall, how lace would cling, how shadows would catch her delicate fingers. I paused to adjust the light, letting it fall exactly where it would accentuate her imagined silhouette. The air smelled faintly of ink and polish, and I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again, the room seemed larger, the shadows longer, stretching like dark fingers across the walls, curling toward me, welcoming me home. I sat down and began sketching, pencil scratching across paper in rapid, precise strokes. Ten minutes later, the drawing was finished. I leaned back, letting my eyes linger over it. Perfect. The folds of fabric, the drape of the skirt, the curve of the neckline—it was flawless. My lips curved into a small, almost reverent smile. "I hope you'll like it as much as I do, my dolly..." I whispered, my voice barely audible in the stillness. The walls seemed to respond, echoing the words back to me, stretching the syllables across the room. I stood and moved around the cabinets, letting my fingers brush over the tiny shoes, the wigs, the half-painted faces of my other dolls. They were silent witnesses, each one frozen in time, yet somehow alive in my mind. I imagined her standing here, tiny hands brushing over my creations, unaware of the eyes that had followed her since the café. The shadows deepened as the night stretched on. The room was alive in its silence, filled with anticipation, with obsession, with the knowledge that soon, everything would change. And in that silence, I felt it—the thrill of creation, the pull of perfection, and the chilling certainty that she would belong here, under my watch, forever.
Tagged readers: @calmyourtitts7
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| C h a p t e r 2 |
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
Your POV The clicking of my keyboard sounded unnaturally loud in the empty café, each tap echoing like a small percussion in a cathedral of silence. Autumn had come in with its icy fingers, pressing against the windows and rattling the loose leaves outside. They danced in spirals down the streets, burnt reds and golden yellows twisting in the wind before landing in piles that smelled faintly of wet earth and decay. Children leapt into them, scattering the piles, their laughter sharp and chaotic, like broken glass cutting through the soft hum of the city.
The streets outside were quiet. Most people were retreating to their warm homes, cocooning themselves in blankets and tea. But here, in my little corner of the world, the café felt alive—not with people, but with possibility. I curled my cold hands around a steaming cup of chocolate, feeling its warmth seep in, a tiny fire against the chill of the world outside. My laptop glowed before me, a bright rectangle against the muted chaos. I was designing, digitally shaping fabrics and folds that existed only in the imagination—my own little kingdom. I set my cup down and licked a trace of chocolate from my lips. My focus returned to the unfinished dress on the screen, the bright shapes and lines demanding attention. Then the door chimed. A sharp, metallic note that made my chest jump. I looked up.
He had stepped inside. The man was... unreal. Something about him belonged to another dimension, where shadows cling to perfection. Dark brown hair fell in a sharp mullet, perfectly styled, impossible to touch without disrupting its immaculate shape. His eyes, oh those eyes, blank and endless pools that reflected nothing but their own depth. For a brief second, our gazes locked. I flushed, heart stammering in my chest, and looked away, pretending the laptop screen held all my attention. There was something about him that was wrong... yet irresistible. Focus on the dress, focus on the dress, I whispered to myself, trying to force my attention back to the glowing rectangle before me.
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Taehyung's POV
The wind clawed at my scarf, dragging it around my neck like a restless animal as I hurried along the streets of Seoul. My factory behind me was silent for now, a kingdom of porcelain and paint, of limbs and glassy eyes. But this café... this was my refuge. Warmth. Safety. Observation. I pushed through the door. The bell jingled, small and delicate, yet it sounded like an alarm in my ears. The warmth hit me like a soft tide, carrying the smell of baked bread, chocolate, and faint coffee dust.
Then I saw her. She was alone, hunched over her laptop, fingers dancing across the keys like a pianist performing an unseen sonata. Every detail of her was... deliberate. Every movement precise. Like a carefully posed doll in a museum that somehow breathed. Her skin caught the light in a way that made it seem almost translucent, as if I could see the faint rush of blood beneath it. Her eyes sparkled—not the blank, cold glass of a doll, but alive, luminous, captivating. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulders, catching the pale sunlight spilling through the windows, making her shine against the muted warmth of the café. Her hands were mesmerizing. Fingers so delicate, so deliberate, dancing over keys and swiping the pen across the tablet. I felt a pang deep in my chest, the ache of obsession I had cultivated for years, finally focused on something real.
I had spent years trying to make my creations breathe. Endless nights, broken porcelain, ruined wigs, shattered glass eyes... every attempt had been a failure, a mockery of life. And now... she sat before me, human yet perfect, a living muse that made all of my previous frustrations pale in comparison. She looked like... like a doll, but one that had escaped the confines of my factory.
Innocent, untouchable, flawless. I couldn't look away. I had to have her.
Finally... I've found you... my doll.
Tagged readers: @calmyourtitts7
···—–—⚜—–—···"𝕯𝖔𝖑𝖑" 𝓚𝓣𝓗···—–—⚜—–—···
𝕴 𝖓 𝖙 𝖗 𝖔 𝖉 𝖚 𝖈 𝖙 𝖎 𝖔𝖓
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐'𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭… 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.
𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵… 𝘢𝘳𝘵.
𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘖𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦… 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
𝘈/𝘕: 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘈𝘍𝘛𝘌𝘙 8 𝘠𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘚! 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘞𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦.
𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘦, 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘥𝘰. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺, 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘉𝘛𝘚 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 "𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨". 𝘐 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 (𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳), 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴! 𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯!
| Ｃ ｈ ａ ｐ ｔ ｅ ｒ １ |
𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴. 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮—𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩, 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘪𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴. 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴. 𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵.
𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.
𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴.
"𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘺, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦?" 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘰𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺'𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘖𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦… 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?
"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳?" 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. "𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳." 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.
"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘺, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦!" 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘭𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯.
𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘣 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 "𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩" 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬. 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.
"𝘋𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦," 𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. "𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴."
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥.
𝘐𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.
𝘚𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.
𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.
𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.
"𝘔𝘰𝘮?" 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯-𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳-𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘯. 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦. "𝘠𝘦𝘴?" 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴. 𝘕𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. "𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘐… 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘣?" 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺." 𝘈 𝘫𝘰𝘣?" 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. "𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯? 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦."
"𝘖𝘩… 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭…" 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴. "𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘰… 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘐?" 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮. "𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘦," 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. "𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘰 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸." 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥.
𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭. "𝘈𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘢!" 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘱 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. "𝘈𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘢, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸!" 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 "𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦." 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.
Years passed.
The boy grew older.
Now he was twenty-three years old. Seoul had become his new home, a city full of noise, bright lights, and endless crowds of people moving through its streets. Yet despite the chaos outside, his world remained strangely quiet. He now owned a doll factory on the outskirts of the city. The large building smelled of polished porcelain, fabric, and fresh paint. Long tables filled the workroom, covered with doll limbs, wigs, tiny dresses, and unfinished faces waiting to be painted. Rows of dolls stood neatly on display shelves along the walls, their identical glass eyes staring forward in silent stillness. Working there every day only deepened his fascination. His mother had passed away two years earlier. But long before that, she had already grown distant from him. She could never truly understand his strange devotion to dolls. What once seemed like an innocent childhood interest slowly twisted into something darker, instead of an interesting hobby like she assumed.
Something obsessive.
Since he had started working at such a young age, he had spent nearly all of his money on dolls. Over time, his collection became enormous. His apartment was filled with them. They sat on shelves, inside glass cabinets, on chairs, and even along the walls of his bedroom. Each doll wore carefully chosen clothes, their hair brushed perfectly into place. Though lifeless, each seemed to possess its own personality, as if trying to fill the emptiness within. He took meticulous care of them.
Sometimes he would spend hours adjusting their dresses or brushing their hair, making sure everything looked exactly right. But the larger his collection became, the more worried his mother grew. At first she tried to ignore it. She told herself it was just a strange hobby. But deep down she knew something about it wasn't normal.
They argued often. Their conversations slowly turned into shouting matches, and over time she began to notice something unsettling in her son. He was changing. His temper grew shorter. His behavior became unpredictable. Sometimes he would spend entire nights sitting in his room, surrounded by dolls, staring at them in complete silence. Eventually, she couldn't handle it anymore. For both of their sakes, she decided to distance herself from him, even though it pained her to leave her only son alone. She spent days wondering where she had gone wrong as a parent.
Soon after, he moved away from Daegu and started a new life in Seoul. But the obsession followed him there. Owning a doll factory only fed it further. Now he wasn't just collecting dolls.
He was creating them.
Perfect dolls. Beautiful faces. Delicate hands. Flawless porcelain skin. But something was still missing.
They weren't alive.
Again and again, he tried to change that. Late at night, alone in his factory, silence hung heavy in the air. The only sounds were the faint hum of the heating system and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath his feet. The smell of fresh paint, varnish, and fabric filled the room, mingling with the faint metallic tang of tools left scattered across the long wooden tables. He worked tirelessly under the dim yellow glow of a single overhead lamp.
Unfinished dolls lay in neat rows along the shelves, their pale faces frozen in eternal expression. Some had their hair carefully brushed and styled; others were still blank, eyes empty, waiting for him to give them life. He adjusted tiny mechanisms, tested delicate joints, and redesigned intricate structures. Each movement was precise, almost obsessive, his fingers brushing over porcelain surfaces as if afraid to mar their perfection. He whispered to them softly, almost reverently, as if they could hear him. "You'll move soon... I promise," he murmured, leaning close to the face of a half-finished doll. But no matter how long he worked, no matter how carefully he tried... every attempt ended the same way.
Failure.
He sank into a chair, cradling one of the dolls against his chest. "If only you could be alive..." he whispered, tracing her porcelain cheek with his fingertips. Its lifeless glass eyes stared back at him, unblinking, cold. The emptiness that filled him was suffocating. It followed him everywhere—through the factory, down the empty streets of Seoul at night, even into his dreams. The rows of silent dolls seemed to watch him, their glassy eyes reflecting the dim light like tiny mirrors, reminding him of his failure. How tragic it was... that they would never truly live. Until one day—he finally met the doll that would change everything.
𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰: @calmyourtitts7
