[idkletmesleep]

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Restore Valko as a Love Interest in Love and Deepspace

Fans urge Infold and PaperGames to restore Valko as a love interest in Love and Deepspace to honor the original vision for the game. Add you

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[qintten]

valko nuzzles ━ ✧ ₊˚ 🐺

f!mc and m!mc versions f2u gifs/stickers with or without cred! #bringbackvalko (╥ᆺ╥;) 🐺🍫

[avananabread]

Tail Blanket

Because wdym valko has this line??? Wdymmm?? I need answers, infold! Bring him back now!

Valko x reader, bit of a hurt/comfort, established relationship… ~wc 540

“When I was little and wandering in the wild, I didn’t have a blanket, so I used my tail to cover myself.”

Valko meant it as a passing comment, really. A fun trivia about his tail. A tidbit of memory that surfaced while helping you fold the big fuzzy blanket you had just shared for movie night.

But you paused mid-fold, and turned to look at him with a frown.

Wandering in the wild? When he was little? Without anything…? How could that happen?

You thought of a much younger Valko, all alone in a dangerous forest at night.

Probably muddy, hungry, and shivering from the harsh wind.

Exhausted and leaning against a tree, curling around himself before hugging his tail.

“Babe?” He tentatively called, observing you.

Your lips quivered. Gaze looking elsewhere as you tried to dodge his inquisitive eyes.

“Hey now, are you—” concerned, he sets the throw blanket away and comes closer to gently cup your face, guiding you to turn back to him. “Are you feeling sad for me?”

Your eyes finally meet his, and he sees the sheen of tears that has started to gather in them.

He presses his forehead to yours. He understands your sincerity. You’re always so sweet to him. He vows to keep your tender heart safe.

“There is no need,” he says in a low voice, thumbs caressing your cheeks as he coaxes you. “That was a long time ago. I’m fine. Didn’t mean to make you sad.”

You huff, burying your face into his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso. “You must have felt frightened.”

He says nothing, just slowly runs his hand over your hair.

“I’m going to build a time machine.” You mumble into his chest.

You feel the vibration on his chest as he chuckles. “And come find me?”

“Yes. I’ll be younger too. I’ll bring a blanket. And a flashlight. And a tent. And some food.”

He hums. “And a gallon of my favorite chocolate milk?”

That gets you to smile. “Silly.” You squeeze around his waist. “We’ll make it a fun camping night. Play games, count the stars. And when daylight comes, I’ll bring you to your family.”

He kisses your forehead, then nuzzles into your hair. “Thank you, my love. I would have been thrilled to meet you back then.”

He sits down on the couch, leading you to sit sideways on top of him, then lets out his tail to drape over your legs. You giggle, leaning on his chest as you gently brush your hand over his fur.

He regales you with other tales of his childhood, making sure to mention happy memories and exaggerate his mischievous moments. Until he feels your breathing start to even out.

Valko carefully lifts you up and carries you to bed, sliding under the covers with you. He turns to look at your face for a while, before finally settling in to hold you close for the night.

He dreams of that forest again, and sees his younger self. But this time, the small werewolf is happily following a little firefly that chose to stay and light his way. “We’ll be just fine, bud.” He says behind them, the weight of this memory feeling much lighter.

Dividers by @/diviniyae

I’m rattling my cage demanding answers!

[sleepygirlstorytelling]

Lohen loves a shy girl who at the slightest crumb of attention becomes so flustered she turns into a stuttering, mumbling mess. That is why he was speechless when his shy little rabbit asked not only to accompany him on a mission to extract information on a robbery in Springvale, but to participle in the interrogation. He swears that he felt cupid's arrow strike his cold little heart when you offered and the growing tent in his pants is a clear sign of the effect you have on him.

"Reader! You can't say such things!"

"B-B-but why? am I not allowed to go with you? Omg of course I'm not, I'm just a knight not the captain; I probably don't have clearance for that huh? O-Omg...hah I'm so dumb I'm sorry for ask-"

Lohen abruptly grabbed your hand and started walking toward a small patch of trees. Once you were hidden from view of the other knights, he spun you around, pinned you against a tree, and leaned in. He noticed that you were already slightly shaking and avoiding eye contact in that super cute way he likes, and he decided to tease you some more.

"My pretty doll, that's not the reason why" he said while grabbing your hand, placing it on his heart, and slowly dragging it down. "It's because saying things like that drives me crazy." Then he started leaning in to kiss your lips and cheeks, taking small little bite of your soft flesh in between kisses. Eventually he pushes your hair back to expose your ear and started heavily breathing, causing you to shake more and start attempting to get loose from his grasp out of embarrassment. He whispered into your ear:

"Bunny I would be honored to have you accompany me in my duties, but... I am not responsible for my behavior once we are done because I am ravenous for you."

might make this into a miniseries and write the interrogation + smut afterwards. lmk if y'all would like that. also, sorry if this feel ooc for him i'm new to his character and just found him interesting. also sorry for any grammar and spelling errors, its 3 am while i'm writing this so (╥﹏╥).

[starmocha]

Bride of the Dragon King

[Sylus/Reader ★ 17.3k words ★ Masterlist ★ BOTDK Masterlist ★ AO3] "My beloved, do you still love me?" INDEX — Prelude A/N: 👉👈 Did I write like 80% of this in 2024? Yes. Was I supposed to have been editing it in 2025? Also yes. 🙂

(I am waiting to meet you again, my beloved.)

The morning light streamed into the room, passing the narrow cracks of the wooden blinds. You slowly opened your eyes, hearing birds chirping outside and people bustling around the courtyard. It felt like you had been asleep for a very long time, lost in a dream you didn’t want to leave from.

The dream…

There was a man—or, at least he appeared to be a man. That much you knew. He didn’t seem to be completely human. There was an ethereal beauty about him, a certain grace that you did not see around here—not even from nobility.

His eyes were as red as ruby, his stare so piercing and cold, but the moment they rested on you, his gaze softened, filling you with such warmth and peace. You turned in bed, eyes closed again as you moaned softly in frustration. You couldn’t remember much else from the dream other than the feeling that you may have had similar dreams before. It seemed lately you had been having such dreams and waking up only retaining fragments.

You sighed as you heard your name being called by your handmaiden, Tara. Silently, you sat up just as she entered your bedchamber with a familiar look of frustration etched across her youthful feature.

“Are you still lounging, Miss?” There was a hint of exasperation in her tone, even though she herself should be used to your languidness by now. After all, Tara had been assigned as your handmaiden and companion since you two were just mere children. In all honesty, you viewed Tara as more like a close friend—perhaps, even as sisters—than a servant. She had been by your side for so long, your only companion growing up, and you and she have shared so many secrets throughout the years, it went beyond a relationship between master and servant.

“I’m up, I’m up,” you said, your own vexation heard loud and clear.

“If it were up to me, I would not care if you waste the day away in bed, Miss,” Tara said, tsking, as she rummaged through your wardrobe for fresh clothes, “But Madam has been questioning your whereabouts all morning. I can only fib for so long before she gets wise.”

“Yes, yes,” you said unenthusiastically. You looked at Tara, curiosity brimming in your eyes. “Wait, Grandma has returned from her trip already?”

“She has,” Tara answered, smiling as she pulled out a delicate pink hanfu. “She is running some errands in town for a bit, but she said she will be back this afternoon.”

You frowned. “She’s just got back and she is already busy running around town?”

“She said something about needing some last-minute ingredients,” Tara mumbled offhandedly. “Now, now, Miss, hurry up. I have your morning tea prepared in the garden.”

“Yes, yes,” you answered back half-heartedly as Tara helped you changed.

It was a lovely early summer morning, the weather still in between slowly transitioning from the brisk spring air to that warm summer breeze. You had been idly describing bits and pieces of the dreams you had been having lately to Tara, though the scattered fragments left both of you confused by the meaning or overall picture.

“So, what happened next, my lady?”

You looked to your handmaiden as she set a tray of mid-morning snacks on the round stone table in the garden. You stared into your teacup; the warm floral scent of lotus wafted in the air. You tried to recall more of the dream you were telling her, but it was all just mismatched puzzle pieces. You sighed helplessly.

“I woke up.”

“And you say there is always the same man in your dream?”

You nodded. “I believe so,” you said, “He was… tall, has long white hair… really piercing red eyes… and… and…”

“And?”

“He was so…”

“So what?”

“Ethereal.”

Tara laughed. “Miss, you are blushing.”

“Ah—am I?” You covered your face in embarrassment. You sulked. “I am not. The sun is just a little warmer today.”

“Uh huh,” Tara answered with a disbelieving smile.

Before you could respond, you heard light chirpings in the air. You smiled as you saw two little identical gray sparrows landing on the table. They hopped around, observing the array of snacks with gluttonous interest.

“Oh, shoo—”

You quickly stopped Tara. “Wait. Don’t. It’s alright,” you said, smiling. “They can have a little snack.”

Tara looked puzzled as you broke off small pieces of the osmanthus cake and scattered it on the table. The two birds happily pecked at the crumbs. You laughed.

“I was wondering when you two would show up today,” you teased, reaching out to lightly stroke the top of one bird’s head. It chirped happily.

Tara looked at you curiously. “Miss, have you been feeding these birds lately?”

You nodded. “They have started showing up… I think three weeks ago? Almost always around this time,” you explained. You held out two fingers and the second bird flew up to perch. You gingerly caressed its head with one finger, smiling as the bird seemed to enjoy your gentle ministration. “They don’t appear to be scared of me, or maybe the cakes I have to offer is too enticing to ignore.”

You laughed when the two birds seemed to chirp loudly in indignation at your implied accusation.

“Alright, alright,” you said, smiling, “You two are not little gluttons. Oh—”

You looked up in surprise when the two sparrows took off, flying away from the garden. You smiled resignedly. “I think they’re peeved at me now.”

Tara hummed thoughtfully as she cleaned up the leftover crumbs. “Speaking of sudden arrival… Did you hear that someone has moved into the manor on the lake?”

You looked at Tara with interest. The manor in question, for as long as you could remember, had always been vacant, but peculiarly even without anyone living there for decades, it remained in a pristine state, as if it was resistant to the corrosion of time. Located on the outskirt of town, surrounded by a lake filled with lotus, you rarely ever saw anyone venturing near it. You wondered who the new master of the manor could be.

“Do you know who it could be, Tara?”

“Hmm,” she pondered as she sat down next to you. “I believe Madam Josephine said the young master’s name is Shin.”

“Shin?”

She nodded. “I believe the manor has been in his family’s ownership for generations.”

You picked up your teacup and swirled it around thoughtfully before you took a sip, the warmth and soothing fragrance calmed your nerves. You eyed Tara suspiciously. “Grandma is not planning something, is she?”

“About that…”

You slammed the half-empty cup down on the table and droplets of tea splattered on the surface. “No, I am not going to be part of another matchmaking scheme of hers!”

You stood up and Tara looked panicked. “Oh, Miss, wait—”

“What do you mean ‘Miss’?” you looked at her, tone changing. You feigned confusion, the sudden behavior change making Tara squirmed uncomfortably in place. You continued speaking with a suggestive undertone in your voice, “Miss Tara, are you perhaps, confused? Maybe you should… go inside… and rest.”

Tara frowned at you helplessly. “Miss, I cannot masquerade as you again! Last time, Madam nearly had me beaten!”

“Grandma would never,” you said, scolding her. “Don’t get caught this time then.”

“Wait, wait, Miss!”

Tara followed helplessly after you as you raced for the garden wall. You climbed a plum tree and then over to the stone wall that fenced the property. You sat atop and looked down at your anxious maid with sympathy.

“I’m sorry, Tara,” you said sincerely, “It’s not that I want to put you into this position…”

“Then why are you?!” she demanded, losing her polite demeanor momentarily.

You smiled. “I know Grandma is trying to find me a good husband, but…” You grimaced as you recalled all of the men who had shown up to your home in the last year alone. “I want to be like those two sparrows… and fly away from this place.”

“Miss…”

“I won’t let Grandma beat you,” you promised, adding, “I’ll be back this evening. I promise. Just stay in my room for a few hours.”

“Miss—"

As you started to jump off the wall, you noticed belatedly another figure standing beneath. At this point, you were already falling, and in a panicked voice, you cried out to the person below:

“W-watch out!”

Your eyes squeezed shut, bracing yourself for the inevitable hard ground.

It never came.

Instead, you found yourself landing into a pair of strong arms. You looked up cautiously, gasping when you saw ruby red eyes. You blinked once and looked again.

They were brown.

For a moment, you were confused before you realized what had happened. A blush crept across your cheeks, and your nervous stammer only heightened your embarrassment by the current situation. “I-I’m so sorry! I did not mean to land on you like that—”

You winced when you heard your grandmother yelling your name in frustration as she and a group of house servants raced out the gate to you and this sudden visitor.

The man chuckled and you looked up sheepishly.

“I… can you… let me down?”

He raised a brow at you.

“Please?”

He shook his head in amusement, his chuckles barely restrained. He spoke cordially; his voice deeper than you expected. “Well, since you asked so nicely, my lady.”

As you were lowered to your feet, your grandmother’s approaching footsteps forced you to redirect your attention from the man himself to the current awkward situation. She quickly scolded you before turning to the stranger, bowing and apologizing profusely, “I am so sorry, Master Shin! I had no idea my troublesome granddaughter would do that.”

You blinked.

Master Shin?

You looked at the man in question. Long, dark hair that went down to his waist. He dressed in an all-black hanfu, his appearance and demeanor exuding the grace of nobility.

“Come, come,” Josephine ushered you both into the manor, and as you followed in after Shin, you yelped when your grandmother swatted your bottom. As you rubbed your sore buttocks, she whispered to you harshly, “Do not mess this one up, darling.”

You grumbled in the back of your mind, but outwardly, you gave your grandmother an obedient smile.

As your grandmother and Shin chatted, you sat between them at the low square table, serving tea. You poured a cup and politely offered it to Shin. He smiled as he took it from you, seemingly unable to take his eyes off of you. The complete attention from this stranger made you squirm, but a barely subtle warning cough from your grandmother had you straightening your posture again.

“I am still unfamiliar with the town,” Shin said suddenly, his eyes still hovering on you, “Would the young Miss be so kind as to be my guide and escort and help me familiarize with the place?”

You wanted to protest, but one sharp glare from Josephine had you smiling stiffly and agreeing reluctantly. “I would be… pleased to accompany you, Master Shin,” you said through half-gritted teeth and a forced smile. You noticed out of the corner of your eye your grandmother trying to maintain her composure with even breathing. She gave you another glare and you instinctively straightened your posture once more.

“Splendid. Let’s schedule for the day after tomorrow,” Shin said, apparently not noticing the silent exchange between you and your grandmother. “There are still some businesses I have to take care of around the manor.”

You nodded in understanding. The time passed as Shin and your grandmother made small talks. You took this time to observe him, your head tilting a little in curiosity, feeling a peculiar familiarity about him. Although the hair and eye colors were different, everything else about him seemed to almost remind you of—

“Do I have something on my face, Miss?”

You startled, broken out of your daze. You flustered in embarrassment, realizing you had been staring at him for far longer than you had intended. You heard your grandmother coughing again and clearing her throat. She gave you another barely discreet warning look.

“I apologize, Master Shin—”

“No need for formalities,” he interrupted, smirking, “Shin would be fine.”

“I—I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be proper—”

Your words were cut short as Shin smiled at you. “I think if we are to be wedded, we should familiarize ourselves better, wouldn’t you agree, Madam Josephine?”

Your grandmother immediately perked at his inquiry. To your chagrin, she immediately sided with Shin.

The hours passed with various small talks, though you remained mostly silent, opting out of the conversations almost entirely. It didn’t really seem like Shin or your grandmother even noticed your lack of contribution, their talks continuing merrily despite your glum mood.

When Shin left later in the afternoon, your grandmother pulled you aside. With her arm looped through yours, you walked together through the garden making idle talks.

“Young Master Shin is a good man,” your grandmother commented.

“What do you know about him?” you inquired, unpleased, “We have only just met today. He seems… odd.”

“Darling, do not resist this match,” your grandmother continued, “I will not be around forever to take care of you. I wish to see you married off to a good man. I will not be able to rest easy until I know you will be taken care of.”

You felt an uncomfortable knot in the pit of your stomach. You reached up with your free hand to pat your grandmother’s. You forced a smile on your face. “What are you talking about, Grandma? You are going to live to be a hundred. You’ll probably even live longer than me—”

“Hush,” she chided you, “Do not say such ill words.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, feeling a tightness in your chest. Quietly, you leaned your head lightly against hers, and in that moment, she stroked your hair in comfort, an act reminiscent to many other moments during your childhood under her care.

“I’m sorry, Grandma.”

“Hush,” she said again, “Everything will be alright, darling. Grandma will take care of you.”

You hummed softly, your shoulders relaxing, and the walk continued in peaceful silence.

On the outskirt of town, a large manor stretched far and wide. Its large stone walls fenced the property, keeping trespassers out. Inside the walls, magnolia trees surrounded the property, and only recently did they started transitioning from their pink blossoms to green leaves. In the center of the courtyard, a large pond was situated, and a lone magnolia tree bearing red flowers, stood grander than the others, overlooking the body of water filled with koi fish of various colors and unique patterns. Around the courtyard were different buildings and housing—all vacant.

The manor had long been abandoned with no master in sight and no servants to serve. Decades after decades, the manor stood in silence, appearing just as new as the day it was erected. Not a crack in the buildings, nor corrosion in the stone pathways, the manor remained pristine, as if it was in its own realm.

Today, however, a new master had come to stake claim on this forgotten manor, seizing back what was always his.

“Master Sylus!”

Sylus looked up from viewing the koi pond, seeing two little sparrows descending, engulfed for a brief moment in a black mist. When the mist dissipated, two identical men dressed in all black were knelt on the ground, bowing respectfully to their master.

“Luke, Kieran,” Sylus spoke up, acknowledging the two men, “And where have you two been?”

“We were just returning from the young Miss’ manor,” Kieran answered, standing up alongside his twin.

“Funny,” Sylus quipped, unamused, “I was just there myself and did not see you two anywhere on the property.”

Luke and Kieran froze. Luke cleared his throat and stuttered, “Well, you see—”

Sylus sighed. “I have asked you two to monitor her, and instead, you have been indulging in little cakes these past few weeks.”

“It’s not our fault the young Miss likes to feed us,” Luke protested.

“I mean, I suppose we could visit her when it’s not teatime…”

“Quiet—”

“Never mind,” Sylus interrupted. “In any case, our introduction was made today.”

Luke and Kieran looked at Sylus curiously.

“So soon?” Kieran questioned.

“Not soon enough,” Sylus responded, “I will not let her slip away this time.”

(When this is all over…

Your heart pounded in your chest as you took in the wasteland before you. Your body felt weighed down by the heavy armor you wore and in your hand was a hefty sword, stained with the fresh blood of so many men. All around you was the dying groans and warring cries of soldiers on both sides.

Crimson blood flowed like a river to your feet, the stench of death hung heavy in the air. If there was a Hell on earth, you were sure this was it. You breathed in sharply and then cried out, “Raise the shields!”

Soldiers echoed your cry and in quick successions, iron shields were raised to block the oncoming volley of arrows from the opposite side. You held out under the protective barrier, gritting your teeth as you listened to the successive barrages of arrows hitting metal.

“Move forward!” you ordered, and immediately your comrades followed the command and barreled down the enemies with the shields, crushing them under the weight of heavy boots. As soldiers fell from exhaustion and enemy attacks, you moved forward, your hands gripping your sword and slashing down enemies one after another with quick reflexes.

You panted, feeling your muscles burned and ached, but rest was the furthest thing from your mind in this moment. Your eyes focused on the citadel you needed to seize for your kingdom. You raced forward and struck down many more oncoming enemy soldiers.

“Raise the shields!” You cried once more, and as one by one, soldiers obeyed your command, you leapt atop and ran nimbly across the shields, deflecting the oncoming arrows with your blade. As you closed in on the wall, soldiers beneath you propelled you upward with their shields and you leapt over the wall, determined eyes zeroed in on the opposing commander, his shocked expression reflected in your eyes.

Immediately, you ruthlessly brought your sword down, the sharp blade meeting flesh and a sharp cry ripped from the man’s throat. You inhaled quickly and pulled your sword back out, dodging his retaliation before his own weapon could slice your side. You quickly countered the oncoming attacks, the din of metal against metal reverberated in the air. With each step back, you found yourself stumbling, falling down the wall to the sea of raging soldiers beneath.

“Catch her!” Soldiers below you cried out and you felt your fall broken by your loyal men catching you. You were lifted and you bounced back to your feet, your determination unwavering.

When it is all over… When there is peace again in our kingdom… We will be together again… In this life… We will be together…

The promise you had made to him rang in your mind. His look of resignation was still etched in your memory, as was his voice, so firm and unyielding:

Commander… I will follow you straight to Hell.

You rushed forward, yelling until your throat was raw. Adrenaline masked your exhaustion as you struck down men after men, the number of lives you had taken rapidly climbing higher. Closer and closer, you could feel victory within your reach. You would bring honor to your men, to your emperor, your kingdom—your family. The future you yearned for, the peace you wished for the children you would have, the life with him—everything you had ever desired would be yours after this day. Almost… Almost—

You staggered, choking.

“Commander!”

“She’s been struck!”

“Commander, watch out!”

You looked at the arrow that pierced through your deteriorated armor and into your chest, and before you could even register what had happened, you felt a deep, sharp pain, feeling a sword plunging straight through your stomach. You gagged and then choked out some blood. Your scream resounded in the barren land as the sword was pulled out without mercy.

As you fell, you heard your name screamed out. You lay on the ground, bleeding out and panting, your vision growing weaker. Through your blurred vision, you could see the enemy sword about to be swung down again. You closed your eyes, and waited.

You heard another scream, and then a dull thud and the clatter of a sword hitting the ground.

You slowly opened your eyes, your heart pounding as you saw a head laying opposite of you, the man’s eyes still wide open in horror. It was an enemy soldier. It was… your attacker.

“Stay with me. You will be alright.”

You felt your body lifted, pressed closer to another’s. You looked up and you whimpered, scared. You didn’t think you had ever felt fear before in your life. You were always so reckless, so headstrong, so bold, but now… you felt fear. Felt remorse. Felt… ashamed.

“Sylus…”

He stared back, his breathing heavy. “You will be alright,” he repeated, almost sounding more like he was speaking to himself.

You shakily reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

He looked shocked. “What?”

“My… promise…”

He shook his head. “This time it will come true… This time—”

Your breathing was ragged and you felt trickles of tears flowed down your marred cheeks. “…I… you…”

“Stay with me, stay with me—” he said vehemently.

“I’m… I’m… sor…”

As your eyes closed, your breathing slowing and consciousness fading away, you heard a deafening inhuman roar and the terrified screams of men on both sides.

Long after the battle ended, silence followed the annihilation.

Within the wasteland, the wind whistled, and one lone man sobbed as he cradled his fallen lover—his screaming curse ignored by the heavens.)

You woke up screaming, your face covered in cold sweats. You felt your body shaking, your heart pounding against your chest. Fresh hot tears ran down your face as your mind was still reeling from what you had just dreamt. This was the most lucid dream you have had yet, and for once, you wished you could forget this vision.

Shaking and gasping, you could hear that damning whistle of the wind piercing through a silenced battleground. Eyes closed, you heaved, trembling almost as if you could feel that sole surviving soldier’s arms around you.

You had not expected Shin to arrive at the house so early in the morning. After the dream—nightmare?—you had, you could barely fall back to sleep. Or rather, you were afraid to fall back to sleep, too scared that you could revisit that same dream all over again. Even now you could still hear the deafening groans and cries of dying men.

You could even… see him.

Sylus? You repeated the name experimentally in your mind. It seemed so foreign, and yet, very familiar, as if you had said his name so many times before in your life. How peculiar.

“Miss, Miss, please wake up! Master Shin has arrived and is awaiting you.”

“I don’t care,” you mumbled back sleepily, still caught somewhere between dream and reality. Your mind continued to wander back to that soldier. That man who cradled you in his arms, his face etched with utter despair and… anger.

Barely conscious, you were dragged out of bed by Tara, who fussed and chided you nonstop as you continued to sleep. You allowed her full control over your morning grooming, her personal compliant doll to dress and style as she saw fit.

“Honestly, Miss, will you continue to laze like this after becoming Master Shin’s wife?” Tara sighed as she brushed your hair.

Eyes still closed, you mumbled sleepily, mildly irritated, “Who said I was marrying him…”

“Madam Josephine,” Tara answered, not missing a beat. She rolled her eyes and intentionally brushed your hair harder, stirring you awake when she yanked out strands of your long hair.

“Ow!” You looked behind you, glaring. “Whose side are you on?”

“The one that feeds and houses me,” she continued with a smug smile.

“Hmph, some friend.”

“I am merely concerned about your future, Miss,” she said, brushing your hair more gently again. “Miss…”

“What is it?”

“Will…”

You looked behind you expectantly, sensing Tara’s hesitancy. “Go on,” you urged with a gentler smile.

“Will you allow me to continue serving you after you become the young master’s wife?”

You were shocked by Tara’s words, taking a few seconds longer to process them. Slowly, you smiled, your hands gripping hers. “Is that even a concern?”

She smiled. “You best hurry along, Miss. The young master is waiting.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then let him wait—”

Your grandmother’s voice rang from across the manor, and you winced at the sound of your name. You looked up just in time to catch Tara stifling her snickers. “Yes, yes, Madam Josephine,” you half-muttered as you stood up, straightening your clothes. You didn’t get far from your room when you heard Tara’s cheerful voice behind you:

“Miss, have fun with your future groom!” Tara teased with a wave, and you turned around, shooting her the dirtiest look you could mustered.

It was nearing midmorning when you and Shin walked through town together. You showed him the local businesses and eyed the many stands and stalls that lined the streets. The current situation had you feeling a little unnerved, unused to being alone in a man’s presence for this long. You could feel your throat drying, sure that your voice was trembling and cracking as you spoke. It didn’t help that you kept catching him staring at you with such keen interest, and instead of looking away in embarrassment at being caught, he smirked.

This bastard…

You wondered if all men were as shameless as him. To freely gaze upon a maiden, and in public no less.

“What’s going on over there?”

“Huh?” You looked in the direction Shin was gesturing and noticed a large crowd had formed. You perked up. “Oh, there is a performance happening. Let’s go watch.”

You and he walked over, joining the excited crowd. Shin stood a head taller than everyone, easily seeing the performance from his vantage point while you yourself was struggling to glimpse in between shoulders of the people in front of you. You gasped suddenly when you felt a hand on your arm, grabbing and pulling you to the side. You looked up in annoyance, freezing when you realized it was Shin. He motioned back to the play with a tilt of his head, and you realized he had found you a spot to comfortably watch. You smiled sheepishly, but nodded in gratitude.

The performers were acting out a story: Long ago, the mortal realm was ravaged by a monster—a dragon, to be precise. He ruled without remorse, demanding fair maidens to be his brides. Villages in the surrounding areas offered their most beautiful maidens in order to appease this beast. Once spirited away to be brides to the Dragon King, the young maidens were never heard from again.

One day, a young warrior decried the atrocities, unwilling to see the maiden he loved betrothed to a monster. He traversed alone up the mountains to where the Dragon King lived and with his wit and bravery, he plunged his sword into the dragon’s chest, carving out the heart to bring back to his village as proof of his heroics.

The crowd watched with rapt attention, gasping as they watched the hero slay the dragon and witnessing the beast succumbing to death. Loud cheers erupted and applauses sounded as the hero was praised by the onlookers.

You yourself cheered with glee, clapping and laughing in joy at witnessing such a moving and heroic act. Expecting the haughty young master to be impressed with the play, you wanted to catch Shin in a moment of defenselessness, so you stole a glance. You paused mid-clap, startled to see his expression blank, almost icy even. He wasn’t moved by the storyline of the hero wanting to save his lover. He didn’t seem impressed by the hero’s act of bravery. There was no emotion on his face, and yet, you wondered if you were misreading him, but you were almost certain, you could discern a gleam of complete contempt in his eyes.

You barely knew Shin, but in the hours that you had spent listening to him conversed with your grandmother so politely and jovially, and the entire morning spent making idle talks, you had only seen this carefree and affable side of him. This sudden demeanor change was unexpected. You wondered what could be going on in his head—wondered why this mere performance could evoke such a feeling of disdain from the young man in your company.

From the corner of your eye, you could see staff members from the acting troupe walking around holding out a woven basket to receive money for their performance. Coins jingled as people deposited their money into the basket, praises for the play heard all around. Children were already laughing and reenacting the scene of the hero slaying the dragon.

As you were reaching for your own coin purse, Shin immediately grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from the crowd. You gasped from the feeling of his large hand wrapped so tightly around your wrist. “Do not waste your money on such lies, Miss,” he said calmly, but the edge in his voice was palpable. He dragged you away, not looking back, and you struggled with his quick pace. You stumbled along, your eyes staring at his tensed, broad back. His grip tightened even further.

“Sh-Shin! You’re hurting me!”

He stopped suddenly and you nearly collided into his back. Slowly, he turned around, offering you an apologetic look.

“My apologies, Miss,” he said, letting go immediately.

You rubbed your sore wrist, unsure if you should question his sudden demeanor change. He appeared distracted, his body still tensed, almost as if he was trying to stay in control of his emotions. You wondered why he was so provoked by such a harmless play, but you decided it didn’t seem appropriate to question someone you barely knew with such curiosity.

In that moment, you caught sight of a vendor selling confections on the side of the road. Delectable little treats lined his quaint stall as he tried to entice passersby.

“Let’s… let’s eat some mung bean cakes,” you said instead, hoping to return to the earlier light atmosphere you had shared with Shin that morning before the play.

“Mung bean cakes?” He looked down at you, his head tilting in confusion. It seemed this worked, you thought with relief, sensing his mood was already more relaxed than it was seconds ago.

You smiled and nodded. You dragged him over to the vendor and ordered several. You paid and thanked the seller as you receive your paper bag of sweets.

As you walked down the busy street with Shin, you reached into the bag and pulled out one little round cake that was formed in an intricate mold. Some had delicate filigrees impressed atop as a pattern while others formed a fully blossomed flower.

You handed one to Shin, smiling. “Look. This one is so pretty. It looks like a flower.”

He took the offered confection. He held the little cake in his hand, confused. You frowned.

“If you don’t want it, then I’ll eat it—” As you attempted to swipe back the cake, Shin easily held it above you out of your reach. You cursed his astounding height. A futile attempt, but you still tried to jump and grab it back.

“I never said I didn’t want it,” he argued, poking you in the forehead.

“Ah—what was that for?!” You placed a hand over your forehead, glaring at him.

“How dare this greedy young miss tried to take back what she had given away,” he said teasingly. He leaned his face in closer to yours, his smirk returning, his voice carrying heavy shades of mischievousness. “Once you give someone something, there are no takebacks.”

You huffed, and he laughed, taking a bite. “Delicious,” he said, his deep voice making your heart quickened and your belly flipped and flopped. You could almost feel your cheeks warming up at the sound of his laughter. He held the half-eaten confection toward you. “You should try some, Miss.”

“This isn’t proper,” you scolded him, reaching into the paper bag for a new cake as he finished the one he held. You continued, “There are many more in the bag. We do not need to share—”

You gasped when his large hand wrapped around your wrist again, and with one firm tug, you were pulled to him. Before you could react, Shin took a bite from the mung bean cake you held in your hand. Your face really did burn up this time as you looked at him, shocked. Meanwhile, Shin responded with a playful grin, licking his lips. “Just as I had thought. This tastes even more delicious from your hand, Miss.”

“Young Master!”

“Shin,” he corrected you, “I want you to use my name, Miss.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring at his face still so close to yours. You could almost sense the scandalized eyes on you both and it just made your face burned hotter. “Shin,” you said slowly, annoyed, “This isn’t proper behavior for a young man and woman to display in public.”

“Why not?” he challenged you with a smirk, “We are to be wedded, are we not?”

Not! you held the word back, almost certain that the moment you spat that in his irritating face, your dear grandmother would appear out of thin air to make you grovel for her mercy before she sent you to meet your maker.

“Nothing has been determined,” you said as evenly as you could.

“Yet,” he said, adding haughtily, “Miss, I always get what I want.”

You gasped as he held your chin, pulling you closer to his face. His voice grew softer, more alluring, “And what I want is you.”

You weren’t sure why, but you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, nervous and scared. A moment passed, and nothing happened. You slowly opened your eyes, your cheeks now red with mortification, as Shin laughed and reached into your paper bag to retrieve another mung bean cake. He took a bite, smirking in amusement at the rather pathetic sight of you.

“Y-You…!” You unconsciously raised your fist at him. Politeness be damned, you thought in that moment, not caring if Grandma Josephine did appear from around the corner to hurl a sandal at your head. You were going to give this man a piece of your mind!

“Ah—Shin!”

You fumbled, not expecting him to suddenly grab your face in his large hand. Shin held your face, squeezing tightly. He laughed. “It is like two little baos,” he teased, gesturing to your round cheeks.

You gripped at his arm, whining, “Shin, it hurts! Stop it!”

He gave you another squeeze before letting go, amused by the glare you directed at him. He dragged you into his arms, his cheek nuzzling against yours. “You are so cute,” he murmured, his breathy voice making you shiver. “I feel like I just want to eat you up.”

You felt your stomach doing flips again, his tone while still playful had heavy seductive undertones. You inhaled sharply. “Don’t tease me like that,” you said, pulling away, embarrassed by his behavior and mortified that passerby kept whispering and eyeing the two of you in disapproval.

He looked amused, not caring about others’ reactions like you were. His eyes only saw you. “Why not?”

You blushed and looked away, feigning annoyance. “It is indecent.”

“Improper… impolite… indecent…” he said almost mockingly with a laugh, “My, my, Miss, you are much more of a prude than I would have expected.”

You glared again. “Or rather than me being a prude, you are too much of a scoundrel.”

“Is that so?”

You started to walk away with a huff. “I have never met a young master as ill-bred such as you, Shin.”

You paused, startled when he easily caught up to you. He stood before you, his smile unwavering. He leaned down and reached for your free hand. He held it to his lips and with a tilt of his head, he whispered, “Then I am honored to be seen as unique in your eyes, my bride.”

You could feel your cheeks turning pink. You tried to act indifferent, scoffing, “Delusional.”

He laughed, and you wondered why it warmed your heart so much to hear such carefree joy from him.

(Win the Emperor’s favor and you will know of riches beyond your wildest dreams.

At merely eighteen, those were the final words your mother had said to you before you departed for the Palace alongside many other maidens within the country who wished to be chosen as the Emperor’s concubines. Within your town, you were regaled as the fairest. Men sweettalked, unashamedly placing you within the same plane as celestial maidens and fairies. Women eyed you with envy, their compliments like acid, but you always smiled back, matching poisonous wits with even the greenest of them all.

You would have no problem surviving within the dark, manipulative royal court, and you would certainly have no issue stealing the Emperor’s heart.

Or so you thought.

The Emperor did not deign choosing concubines as worthy of his fleeting, precious time. Lined up outside the Royal Palace in the courtyard, young maidens from all regions stood tall, dressed in the finest of silk and groomed their absolute best, as they waited with bated breath as eunuchs walked down the line, surveying the young women, looking for ones to fit their unknown list of criteria.

You stood near the end, and you had seen many women—all graceful beauties—passed with a look of disdain. You held your breath, feeling doubts settling in, your confidence shaken for the first time in your young life. When the eunuchs stopped in front of you, their eyes traveling up and down in observation, you felt your heart stilling, waiting.

It could have been merely a few seconds, but to you, it felt like time had stopped. When one of the eunuchs nodded in approval, noting your name on the scroll he carried, you let out the breath you held. You bowed in respect.

“It will be my honor to serve my Emperor,” you said, keeping your voice steeled and steady, though inside you could feel your heart pounding.

Time passed since you were chosen. You received your own quarter in a forgotten area of the palace ground. For an inexperienced concubine, it was a comfortable living quarter with plenty of foliage to keep your mood uplifted as you waited for the Emperor to call upon you.

There were many maidens chosen that day to be part of his harem. It wasn’t unusual that he did not call you your first night.

Or the next.

Or even the following.

You had enough servants to tend to you. You were dressed exclusively in finery and served delicious food prepared by the royal cook. You told yourself that this was a good life. You knew no hardship and you were expected little. Your days were filled with idle entertainment as you waited.

You played the guzheng, or rather, you played one song on the guzheng, over and over again. A melody had come to you in your dreams. It was melancholic, bearing the heavy weight of loss, yearning, and desperation. You could never finish the song, having always woken up before you heard the ending, but you still played day after day, night after night. In a forgotten corner of the palace, beneath a magnolia tree outside the sleeping quarter, a guzheng could be heard, the song playing calling out, a plea to be seen and heard.

You waited.

Some days you would pick up a brush, your graceful inked strokes always creating the same image, or to be precise, the same person. You didn’t know why, but your chest tightened with pain as you stared at the man on paper. You didn’t know him. He was merely someone from your dreams, but oh how you yearned to stay in the land of unconsciousness, where this silvery-white haired man embraced you like a lover, showered you with kisses, and lavished you with sweet murmurs of affections.

Next to his portrait, you carefully wrote out the characters, My beloved.

You stared at the delicate characters, chest throbbing, your breathing coming out in short gasps. Droplets of tears fell on the paper. You could hear his voice, so rich and passionate. Your name always sounded so heavenly when he said it, always spoken with such revere and devotion.

You yearned for him. For a man who didn’t exist.

You crumbled the paper, like you always did. The Emperor could come at any moment. It would be indecent and punishable to find another man’s portrait in your room. You crumbled the paper even further, and threw it into the hearth, watching with pain as it burned and turned to ashes.

You waited.

You had your maids bring you books, anything to fill your endless time. Your eyes skimmed over the characters one word at a time, reading of handsome heroes who saved fair maidens from demon kings or of star-crossed lovers who only have one night together before they were to be separated by the heavens, completely at the mercy and manipulation of the cruel hands of fate.

As you lounged beneath the magnolia tree, your mind wandered. You always pictured the man from your dreams. It was never intentional, and the first time it had happened, you had felt embarrassed by your foolish behavior. When it happened again, you allowed yourself this little indulgence. You let him filled your fantasies as you read your books, let him become the dashing hero who would whisk you away from this isolating life of monotony.

Sylus.

The name had first come to you in a recent dream, and from that moment on, you let it consumed you. You tested the syllables on your tongue, felt your heart skipped and your cheeks pinked as you heard his name spoken by your voice. You felt happy.

And then you remembered. The Emperor could seek you out at any moment. Any day now. It would be indecent and punishable to have a concubine call out the name of another man.

So, you closed your books, and you buried his name deep in your heart.

And you waited.

You waited.

And you waited.

And you waited.

It would be a year since you arrived at the Palace before you stole a glimpse of the Emperor on a morning walk. Your maids had always made sure you were presentable. Dressed in the finest silk and hair brushed and styled with beautiful ornate decorations and flowers, you were like the celestial maidens and fairies men from your town would often say.

You bowed respectfully, your head remaining lowered as the Emperor paused in front of you in question.

Your heartbeat skipped. You had powdered your face, painted your cheeks rosy and your lips scarlet. You were so sure your beauty would ensnare the Emperor now that he had laid his eyes on you.

He acknowledged your presence, a courteous nod and a polite expression.

And he moved on.

In the distant, you heard the callous giggles of the other concubines who had witnessed your shameful encounter. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but you steeled yourself as you straightened your posture. You maintained your grace, your expression unreadable, and you continued your walk with your faithful maids trailing behind.

You heard their comforting words, listened to their reassurances, but they mattered little to you.

Perhaps you had always known, always suspected, but this humbling experience forced you to face reality: you were just one pretty flower among a meadow of others.

You returned to your quarter, to your secluded little haven within the palace ground.

Your days returned to lazing under the magnolia tree. You would play your guzheng, always chasing after the ending that would never come. You would paint the same portrait again and again, and you would burn it again and again. You read books after books, fantasizing the same man who would spirit you away, to free you from the confines of this lonesome palace life, but you would always cry when you reached the last page.

Sometimes the lovers would be together, and you envied them, wishing for this fantastical romance you could only dream of. Other times, the lovers were separated, and you empathized, feeling a hollowness inside you, wishing for the tender touch of someone who didn’t exist.

You dried your tears, and chided yourself once. You were still the Emperor’s concubine. He could still call for you whenever he desired. It wouldn’t do to have a pitiful maiden longing for another man.

So, you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

You watched the seasons passed, stealing your youth first, and then before you knew it, your beauty.

One day, many, many hollow seasons later, the Palace fell into mourning. The Emperor had passed in his sleep. He was seventy-four.

You sat under your magnolia tree and you cried. You didn’t cry for the Emperor. You mourned him as was expected, as was the custom, but you grieved for your lost life. You had witnessed over half a century of the magnolia tree blossoming, always hopeful, always loyal. You had waited, as patiently as you could, and now that he was gone, now that you were grayed and wrinkled, you realized everything was for naught.

You never learned of the riches your mother had so long ago described. You never even learned the touch of a man—of a lover. You did everything you had thought was right, practiced patience and grace rivaling monks, and you were rewarded with nothing.

A life unlived, you stayed in your corner long after the Emperor had passed and his successor had risen. You would always have a place within the Palace, but few would even remember you.

The seasons passed. You watched the magnolia tree blossomed in spring, the delicate pink flowers promising youth and innocence. When summer arrived, the green leaves offered shelter from the hot sun. Autumn ushered in a feeling of nostalgia and melancholy, and winter stripped the tree bare.

You watched this cycle happened year after year until your mind was no longer quick. You were forgetting things more often now. You made many mistakes. Sometimes, you couldn’t even discern reality from the dreams you longed for.

One late night, the moon was bright and full, looming high in the dark sky.

You opened your eyes when you felt an extra weight on your bed.

A young man sat near you, his long hair as silvery-white as the moon in the sky cascaded down his back. He looked so regal and elegant, more ethereal than the Emperor ever was, and more divine than any of the royalty that had visited the Palace over the years. The young man cupped your cheek, his smooth, youthful skin a stark contrast to your wrinkled, leathery flesh.

“I am sorry, my beloved,” he whispered, his deep voice so familiar. As they should be, you thought, having heard it in your dreams every night for the last decades.

“You are late,” you said. You didn’t even know if you were dreaming at this point, or perhaps your mind was wandering again. You had loved this man from your fantasy for all of your life. You had painted his portraits so many times, memorized his features by heart. His very being, his entire essence, was engraved into your soul.

This was him.

“Sylus.” You hadn’t said his name in decades. Your voice no longer carried that youthful lilt. You were too old now. It seemed so shameful to even speak his name. You cried.

He wiped your tears away, his apologies filled the silence, but it did not ease your heartache.

“Stay with me,” you pleaded, voice weak and gravelly, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he said, brushing the gray strands out of your face. “It will be over soon.”

You believed him. He held your hand in his, the soft, sweet murmurs you had always longed to hear lulled you back to sleep.

You knew when you closed your eyes tonight, they would never open again in the morning, but you were no longer scared. You let go of the regrets that weighed you down. Nothing else seemed to matter in this moment.

Only him.

As you closed your eyes again, your breathing steadying, the warmth of life slipping away, you heard a cry from a beast. It was low and sorrowful, carrying a heavy weight of remorse and despair and anger.

Just as you had lived, even in death, no one remembered the elderly virgin concubine. After that night, the kingdom fell to ruins. The ground shook with an unearthly force and houses tumbled, crushing and claiming thousands of lives. Lanterns had fallen, flames erupting, setting the once peaceful capital ablaze and lighting the night sky in a crimson glow. Entire family lines were wiped out, new brides were widowed, children orphaned, and parents grieving for surviving as they cradled their dead child—young and old.

No one left unscathed. Fate could not discern from hungry beggars or the gluttonous wealthy upper echelons. The capital burned, lives ruined and taken freely, the screaming cries unheard by the heavens.

The ones who had managed to survive spoke of seeing a white serpent-like creature moving in the night sky, its scales glimmering in the moonlight before it disappeared within the clouds. Many believed it was a dragon, but rather than bringing fortune to the mortal realm, they wondered if their empire had incurred his wrath.)

You sat in bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you heaved and sobbed. You felt like your heart was ripping, unable to stop shaking as the fragments of your dreams lingered, forming this heartbreaking image of loss.

It was the same man from your previous dream. It was the same look of despair.

“…Sylus, Sylus…” you sobbed his name over and over again, wondering why the dreams all ended the same way: you forsaking him.

“…I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

In the middle of the night, in the dark silence of your room, you continued crying out his name, every utter tearing you apart inside.

In the following days, extravagant gifts were sent to your manor. Luxurious jade, aged liquor, finely crafted porcelain potteries, and the finest fabrics in all of the lands were brought in one by one to awed delight.

“It seems Master Shin is smitten with you, Miss,” Tara teased as she held out the beautiful crimson fabric with golden embroidery of cranes and magnolia flowers. She sighed blissfully as she felt the beautiful silk. “None of the previous suitors had ever sent gifts as fine as these.”

You tried to appear indifferent, but even you couldn’t help but felt flattered by such attention. “Well, now, perhaps I could entertain the thought of being the young master’s wife if this is how I will be treated.”

“Oh?” Tara eyed you with suspicion. “You are suddenly compliant. Are you feeling unwell, Miss?”

“How rude,” you quipped. “Grandmother had just… asked me to consider this match, so I am.”

Truth be told, you haven’t been able to shake Shin’s expressions from the other day out of your mind. He was attentive one moment, listening intently to your explanations as you guided him through town. After watching the play, he seemed to have shut down completely, his expression cold and full of contempt. You had thought it was a sweet storyline—feeling admiration for the hero’s bravery—but Shin seemed irked by it all.

You had managed to turn his foul mood around. Just as quickly as he had changed, he had returned to his earlier soft demeanor, and it was puzzling how you had witnessed the two sides of the same man in such a short amount of time.

Shin was such an enigma. The man left you with more questions than answers, and you wondered what his intentions could be. He seemed particularly keen of you, his eyes seeing only you, his attention devoted to you. Just you.

You knew nothing of him, and he of you, but the way he behaved would have one thinking he had fallen in love with you so many lifetimes ago.

You blushed, and chided yourself. Enough silly thoughts, you silently reprimanded yourself again.

“Oh, Miss, we have guests!”

You looked up in surprise when Tara called out to you from the courtyard. Curious, you walked outside, surprised to see two young identical men dressed in black, waiting with even more gifts. You greeted them politely.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young Miss. My name is Kieran,” the man greeted you with a bow and then gestured to his companion, who responded in the same way, “And this is my twin brother, Luke. Our master has asked us to make sure his gifts have arrived safely to you.”

“Master?” you questioned with confusion.

“Master Sy—Master Shin,” Luke clarified. He quickly added, “As you will be our master’s wife, we are to serve you as well, Miss.”

“Please use us as needed,” Kieran added.

You smiled uncomfortably. “Thank you, but that will not be necessary.”

Luke and Kieran exchanged looks, appearing startled and confused. Luke smiled at you, his expression coming across as roguish. “Miss, the Master insists. We are under orders to serve and protect you.”

“Protect me? From what?”

“Just in general,” Kieran explained vaguely. “Master Shin values your safety. You do not even have to consider us bodyguards.”

“Whatever you need, we will serve you, Miss.”

“But—”

“Oh, Miss, quit acting so modest,” Tara cut in with a grin, “You need to get used to this kind of treatment since you will be Master Shin’s wife!”

You glared at Tara.

“Weren’t you the one who said earlier how you could get used to the Master’s attention and care?”

Luke and Kieran seemed to exchange another look, grinning in amusement, while you flustered and stammered, “N-not in those particular words…”

“Besides, it would be nice to have you boss someone other than me around,” Tara added with a feigned pitiful look.

“Hush,” you scolded her with a light glare. You sighed, and turned back to Luke and Kieran, conceding, “Very well. Send your master my thanks. These are lovely gifts.”

“And, Miss…” Kieran approached you with a small lacquered wooden black box that had magnolia flowers painted in gold on the exterior. You eyed the box with curiosity, watching as Luke approached and helped his brother open the top. Nestled on a plush brilliantly red cushion was a round gold pendant with an outer border made of jade. The characters for ‘beloved’ was carved in the center, and when you picked it up, you realized on the back was an engraving of an ascending dragon with wisps of cloud beneath him.

“How… exquisite,” you gasped, mesmerized. You were almost afraid of holding it, for fear that you could damage this beautifully crafted piece of jewelry. There was a peculiar familiarity as you caressed the pendant, your expression thoughtful as you admired the beauty in your hand. It was almost akin to a feeling of déjà vu, as if you had seen this pendant somewhere before.

“Miss, that will look lovely on you,” Tara said with admiration, unknowingly breaking you out of your spell. You smiled back.

“There is more jewelry in these boxes,” Luke explained, gesturing to the array of unopened gifts in the courtyard, much to both yours and Tara’s shock. “But it is the Master’s wish that this particular one reaches you personally.”

“Do not feel pressured to wear it, Miss,” Kieran added, “The Master simply wants you to hold onto this.”

“I…” You looked down at the pendant in your hand, your finger tracing the characters thoughtfully. You smiled serenely. “Please let Master Shin know… I will cherish this gift from him with all of my heart.”

(Deep in the mountains, away from the lively towns, there was a quaint village. Once able to boast of a small but respectable, population, its now lone occupant was a little girl, no more than seven. Silently, a deadly plague had snuck in, taking down one villager at a time. It had started with a cough. Very innocuous, very deceiving. Within a few days, a fever would break out. Burning flesh and violent chills would take over, and by this point, it was too late. The one physician in town had already worked himself to death trying to save everyone.

There was no medicine. There was no cure. The only relief from this unknown illness was death’s cold embrace. One by one, men, women, and children succumbed to this plague until there was only one person left waiting.

“Sylus, I’m cold,” you told him, shivering. You looked at the man in front of you, face feverish.

He placed a cooling hand over your forehead, his lips hardened into a straight line. He retrieved a wooden cup and knelt next to your bedside. “Little one, drink some water.”

He helped guide the cup to your mouth, and as you drank, water dribbled down your chin. You started coughing, choking on the liquid. He immediately patted your back gently before helping you lay back down in bed, the cover pulled up to your chin.

“Sylus… am I going to die?”

He inhaled sharply, and paused, unable to answer your question.

“I’m not scared…” you told him. “Mama and Papa are waiting for me, right?”

He was silent, unable to fathom the brave smile on your face.

“Mama… and Papa… sent you to find me, right?” you asked him with a trickle of hope in your young voice, “So I wouldn’t be alone…”

He lowered his head, a soft chuckle escaped, but there was no joy in his laughter. He nodded once, and whispered softly, “Yes, little one, I am here so you would not be scared and lonely…”

You started coughing again before you looked back at this man next to you. “Will you tell me a story?”

He smiled helplessly. “I don’t know any stories.”

“Not one?”

He shook his head. “What if I am bad at telling stories?”

“I won’t mind… I think you would be good at telling stories…”

“You have such confidence in me, little one.”

“Please?”

He relented, unable to deny you this simple request. Not when he knew you did not have long left in this world.

“There once was a dragon,” Sylus began hesitantly, “He fell in love with a beautiful mortal maiden.”

You smiled, and that seemed to have given Sylus the confidence to continue.

“They were deeply in love… until one day the woman stopped loving him.”

You frowned, your voice soft with worry. “Why?”

Sylus smiled sadly, and brushed his hand over your hair in slow strokes. “Because she had forgotten about him,” he said, “It wasn’t her fault, but it happened anyway. And then one day, she was gone from this world, and the dragon grieved deeply.”

Tears started falling down your eyes. Sylus immediately brushed them away with his thumb, shushing you gently.

“He would find her again when she is reborn, but it would never be like before.”

“Sylus…” Your breathing started to get shallower, your body weakening with each passing second. “…Sy…lus…”

He held your hand in his, his caresses tender. As he spoke, his deep voice held a tinge of nostalgia, a glimmer of a memory seemed to reflect in his eyes, “Sometimes he would find her too late…”

You closed your eyes, your breathing gradually slowing, your hand in his growing limp. Sylus watched, seeing you take your final breath. Resigned, his own scarlet eyes closed, his heart dropping, and he continued, hushed, to the silent room:

“…and sometimes he would be too early.”)

“Miss? Are you alright?”

Your head snapped up when you heard Shin’s voice calling for you. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, realizing you had fallen behind him as you two were walking through town together again.

Shin walked back to where you stood. He looked at you with concern before responding, “It’s quite alright. Is there something on your mind? You seemed distracted since we departed earlier.”

You shook your head.

“Liar,” he said, pinching your cheek.

“Ah—don’t!” You whined, swatting at his hand, annoyed.

He smiled, amused by the glare you directed at him.

“You are such a… a…”

“A…?” he prodded you with another insufferable smile.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then you saw Grandma Josephine’s glare in your head, hearing also her firm scolding echoing. You clamped your mouth shut, swallowing the particular words you wanted to call him.

“What’s this? The young miss is silent again.” He lightly tilted your chin up, making you meet his gaze. His thumb barely brushed against your lips, his eyes lingering where he had caressed before he looked up. “Speak. Why are you so despondent today?”

You pulled back. “It’s nothing,” you said, “I’ve just been… having some bad dreams.”

“Care to talk about it?” Shin walked over closer to you, but he did not touch you this time. “It might help to relieve your burden.”

“I don’t know…”

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“Not one bit,” you answered, not missing a beat. He laughed.

“Fair,” Shin conceded. “What can I do to make the young miss more trusting of me?”

You crossed your arms, seemingly in deep contemplation as you pondered his inquiry. His eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement as he watched you.

“Maybe I could entice her to like me more if…” His eyes wandered to a nearby vendor on the street. “Perhaps some warm roasted chestnuts… there’s also some roasted yams…”

You smelled the roasted treats from the seller, your interest piqued, but you shook your head firmly. You tried to ignore the slight grumbling in your belly.

“Maybe some steamed dumplings?”

You frowned. “Am I a glutton to you or something?”

He grabbed your hand, already leading you away to a nearby tea house. “It is almost lunchtime,” he quipped, “A good meal should put you into a better mood.”

“Ah—” You stumbled along, barely able to keep up with his easy long strides as you protested, “but what about—oh!—your calligraphy brushes you wanted to find?”

He paused and you fell into his embrace, blushing crimson as you looked up, meeting his fond smile.

“I lied,” he said, leaning down, his face closer to yours, “I just wanted an excuse to be with you today, Miss.”

You frowned, face still red.

“As red as a tomato,” he teased.

“As vexing as a fly,” you bit back.

“A fly, am I?” he questioned, amused. His eyes drifted lower, and you gasped when his finger trailed along your neck, gently hooking under the chain you wore. He raised the necklace, his eyes resting on the jade pendant. He smirked as he tilted his head, his eyes focused in on your rapidly reddening cheeks. “This vexing fly’s gift looks lovely on you.”

You couldn’t seem to stop blushing now. The effect he was having on you was unlike any other man you had met in the past. He seemed to be the only one capable of making you flustered.

“I—that is…”

“Have you accepted my engagement then?”

You sulked at him. “Grandma has a say in this. Not me.”

“I suppose,” he answered noncommittally, “However, I will not force you into marriage, Miss, and also… I seem to recall specifying to Luke and Kieran to make it clear that you are not required to wear this necklace if you do not desire.”

You looked embarrassed.

“I ask again,” he said patiently, letting the necklace fall. He tipped your chin up with one finger, his face close to yours.

“Have you accepted my engagement then?”

You thought of your grandmother once more, remembering your previous conversation with her. You didn’t realize your face had dropped as you remembered the worried creases on the elderly woman’s face. You quietly answered him, “…Yes…”

You had expected Shin to look pleased, but there seemed to be a flicker of dissatisfaction in his eyes. You looked at him questionably.

“I said yes…”

“I heard,” he answered. He cradled your cheek with one hand, but it was only for a brief moment before he pulled his hand back to his side, and you felt oddly saddened by the sudden loss of warmth. He just nodded once and turned away, resuming the walk through town. “Come then… Those calligraphy brushes…”

You looked at his back confused, recalling his earlier words that this was just a ploy he had come up with to invite you to town. His mood seemed to have changed again, but rather than anger or disdain like before during your first visit to town, he seemed dejected.

Shin turned around, looking at you pointedly as you remained in your spot. You fumbled, embarrassed that you had gotten distracted by your own thoughts. You quickly walked forward to his side. As you continued through town, the once amicable, joking atmosphere disappeared, being replaced by an uncomfortable silence.

You guided Shin to a vendor specializing in the art of calligraphy. An array of brushes from cheaply-made to the most prestigious lined his shop, along with ink bottles and papers readily available for sell. You stood quietly near the entrance, watching as Shin conversed with the seller. As expected, Shin sought only the highest quality of tools and materials. You watched as he tested out a brush, his profile startling you briefly as you noted a sudden familiarity that you hadn’t paid heed to before.

You fingered the pendant around your neck, your mind drifting back to earlier.

I said yes…

He had looked sad when you had said it. You looked down at the pendant, and caressed the characters with your thumb.

Beloved.

You had agreed to marry Shin for your grandmother’s sake. To most, it was astounding you even had a voice in the matter, but Josephine, as scheming as she was when it came to her granddaughter’s future marriage, was also empathetic. To be shackled to a man who would only beat and berate you was a fate she did not want to inflict on her one and only granddaughter.

So, she had allowed you the freedom to reject any suitor you found unfit.

With Shin, however, Josephine seemed keen, patiently but also strongly encouraging you to ponder more deeply before you rejected him. So, you had.

He was charismatic, able to charm your grandmother during that first meeting. The way he had conversed with her was lax but also respectful, his quick wit a refreshing change from past suitors whose arrogance or passiveness made the conversations felt like torture.

He was attentive, you recalled. When he was alone with you, you were the only being in his eyes, almost as if you were the only person in his world. You had never been treated with such regard. Other suitors viewed you as more of a decoration, something to have as an accessory to show off to other affluent men, hoping to fill their hearts with envy.

You exhaled slowly.

I said yes…

“Miss?”

You looked up, surprised to see Shin staring down at you confused.

“I had called you four times,” he said, brows furrowing, “Are you alright?”

I should be asking you the same thing, you thought. You forced a smile and nodded. “Sorry, I was… remembering something.”

“I am finished here,” he said, “Let us leave.”

You departed the shop with Shin, and that earlier stifling silence returned, but this time it was only brief. You tried speaking with him again, making small talk.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” you asked, though again, you couldn’t help but silently quipped to yourself about how he had mentioned he was lying earlier about needing new calligraphy brushes—only to then lie about… not lying? You mentally groaned, confused by Shin’s behavior.

“I did,” he answered, seemingly unaware of your internal struggle.

You swallowed, bracing yourself before you blurted out, “Did I offend you somehow?”

You both stopped in the middle of the street. He turned and looked down at you, puzzled.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you, but there was no retreating now. You continued in spite of the growing warmth in your cheeks. “I… I thought you would be happy if I had said yes, but… Shin, I don’t understand you.”

“I am happy,” he answered calmly, “I am very, very, very happy.”

You hesitantly looked up, meeting his gaze. Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, “You are not acting like it…”

“Because I had wondered if maybe you would be unhappy with me?”

You stilled. You felt like you needed to look away, but your eyes remained locked on his, peering deeply into those earnest orbs, seeing yourself reflected back, face shocked and confused. “Shin…”

Before you could even speak further, there was an eruption of applauses nearby. You both turned in the direction of the explosive noises, hearing cheers and praises resounding in the square.

Shin tsked, annoyed.

It was the same performers from your previous visit to town, and just as before, they were finishing that very same play from that day. The same old story about a tyrannical oppressive dragon stealing away young girls to be his bride, only to die in the end, slain by the heroic man who wanted to save his lover from her fate.

It was a timeless tale among the villagers. A fiendish dragon slayed by a hero. The hero worshipped for his valiancy, and in the end, peace was restored to the land.

How tiring.

Shin’s eyes followed a group of children who mimicked the performers, reenacting the climatic scene of the sword plunging into the dragon’s chest, its beating heart carved out as proof of the killing.

“Where I am from,” Shin murmured quietly to you, his tone neutral, “dragons are revered.”

You both continued to walk through town. There were many shops and vendors hawking their wares, but you both continued to pass on by, unswayed by the attractive items displayed. You observed Shin’s demeanor, noting he wasn’t as impish as before, but he also didn’t seem to be in a foul mood either. It was almost as if he was apathetic, a bit condescending even toward this town.

You frowned.

“Where is that?” you asked as you both passed by a vendor selling wall scrolls depicting dragons as ominous demons. You were used to such imagery, but that didn’t mean you held the same belief as your fellow townspeople. Shin’s words had piqued your interest.

“A land far from this place,” he answered vaguely, making your frown deepened, more annoyed this time. Shin huffed in amusement at your vexed expression. He continued, unperturbed, “You would love it, Miss.”

There was a curved bridge looming over a tranquil river that separated the town with the nearby forest. You and Shin paused at the center, the two of you leaning over the railing and staring at the water below. Occasionally a fish would bob its head up in an attempt to catch passing insects.

“The flowers are always in bloom,” Shin continued, clarifying, “My hometown.”

“Surely you jest,” you responded, doubtful, “How can flowers always bloom? Do you not have autumn or winter?”

He smiled, shaking his head. His expression and words were cryptic. “They always bloom,” he insisted, adding softly, “Especially for their queen.”

Your face softened. You smiled at his wistful expression. “How poetic,” you murmured, “Does this kingdom of yours revere their queen deeply?”

It wasn’t long, but there was a noticeable pause before Shin spoke again. “She has been gone for a long time,” he answered, his smile looking bitter. “The kingdom mourns her absence, as does its king.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Shin shook his head, interrupting you, “You didn’t know.”

He looked down at the river below, both of your reflection rippled in the water as a family of ducks swam through down the center between you both. He huffed in amusement when a lone duckling straggled.

“The queen will return,” he said, hushed, “Her king will bring her home.”

You were confused now, not understanding Shin’s words anymore. You wondered if the two of you were even having the same conversation anymore. Although there were people bustling and passing by behind you both, heading to and from town, it didn’t do anything to ease the persistent stifling silence that returned once again.

“Tanghulu,” you said suddenly, surprising Shin. When he looked down at you, confused, you quickly clarified, pointing down the road to near the entrance into town. “There’s a vendor who sells tanghulu over there. They’re quite good. You’ll enjoy them.”

“Doubtful,” he responded with a soft snort. His lips quirked in amusement. “I don’t particularly care for sweets.”

“You’ll like this one,” you insisted, beaming brightly at him. “If you have a little something sweet, your mood will be uplifted.”

“Is that so?” he laughed. “Then I must follow the young miss’ words of wisdom, shouldn’t I?”

He let you guide him, your small hand barely wrapped around his much larger one, but it was only for a few steps from the bridge before he paused, making you stopped as well. Confused, you were about to look behind you when he tugged gently, easily pulling you back up against him. Your back rested against his chest. Shin leaned down, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispered:

“Maybe there is some truth in your words, Miss, because this sweet young miss does lift my mood tremendously.”

You blushed, reaching down to touch his arm as you stammered, “Shi-Shin…! I had meant…”

He laughed and kissed your cheek. “I know what you had meant,” he interrupted with a roguish grin, “but I think I would find you more delectable than these confections.”

“Always teasing me…” you murmured, sulking.

He laughed again, delighted. “Do I displease you?”

You remained silent.

“If you do not answer me,” he continued, his tone light and flirtatious, “I might accidentally believe you have grown fond of me.”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You moped.

He turned you to face him, peering down at the sweet pout in front of him.

“Sincerity is hard to come by,” he murmured, letting his hand gently cradled your chin. His thumb glided over your bottom lip, the faint tingle lingered, extending to your cheeks. Unwittingly, the softest of gasps managed to slip through, your heart beating faster.

“You must know, Miss, I adore you,” he said, “There is no love purer than mine.”

“How can you love someone you’ve only just met?”

His head tilted a little in amusement at your inquiry. His eyes drifted down to the pendant around your neck.

“Only just met,” he repeated your words thoughtfully, “It seems like it’s been several lifetimes.”

Baffled, you didn’t even get a chance to respond when Shin continued almost immediately: “Tanghulu.”

“Tanghulu,” you repeated after he had let you go and started to walk back to town. You stared after him, watching his figure grow smaller the further he walked away from you. You peered down at the necklace you wore. You touched it, tracing the characters, a habit that had formed when you least expected.

Several… lifetimes…?

Weeks passed and it seemed every other day you were accompanying Shin either on walks or through town for errands, though you wondered if these supposed ‘errands’ were just little ploys he used as an excuse to see you. You had questioned what he did for a living to maintain the luxurious lifestyle he seemed to have, but all you received were cryptic words and vague smiles.

As it were, you also learned that Shin was fond of gifting you presents for no apparent reason. It had started out small with a flower here and a poem there, but in time, it was common to receive jewelry and other luxuries from your betrothed. You suspected that if you asked him for the world, he would give you the universe instead.

You couldn’t help but felt flattered by such attention, but more than that, you also couldn’t help but noticed how Shin often looked at you with such devotion, his attention completely yours. You found yourself growing curious of him, perhaps even fond of his presence, as he seemed to see you as a person rather than an accessory to be had.

Without realizing it, you had begun to look forward to the days when you would see him. You hid your growing fondness for him behind a mask, allowing the familiar banters to cloak your feelings.

It had started as another normal stroll through town, passing the same merchants hawking their wares as before, but on this day, you couldn’t help but picked up an unusual energy in the air. It made you uneasy, though you could not pinpoint the exact reasoning or cause. Instead, you found yourself gravitating to Shin’s side, his presence calming your nerves.

“That’s strange,” you said softly, eyeing the woman who had just glared at you. “She’s normally very sweet to me. Maybe she’s having a bad day—Shin?”

You were surprised when you noticed his glare. He seemed to be scrutinizing something. He pulled you by the waist closer to him, murmuring softly, “Stay close to me.”

“Is something the matter?” you looked at him worriedly.

He inhaled sharply, seemingly hesitating about how he should answer you. At the sound of your voice again, he sighed. “It is nothing,” he said finally, though you couldn’t help but felt that he was withholding certain details. “I just had an uneasy feeling.”

“Uneasy?” you wondered aloud, looking at his profile. Like you, he seemed troubled, but almost as quickly that instance of anxiety disappeared, his features returning to normal.

“Come,” he said calmly, his hand held out for yours, waiting. “We still have to pick up a few items for your trip in three days, correct?”

The inquiry startled you. You wondered if this was his attempt to distract you from the seemingly ominous aura looming over the town, but rather than addressing his deflection, you looked at his hand, unsure at first, before you took it willingly. You smiled and chatted with him again, the moment calm and peaceful just as before, though Shin’s earlier words remained lingering in your mind.

A distant relative was to be wedded within a week. Alongside your grandmother and faithful handmaiden, Tara, you had departed town early in the morning to start the lengthy four-day trip via a horse-drawn carriage.

It was supposed to be a normal trip—like many others you had taken in the past—passing through dense forests and unfamiliar towns, but some hiccups along the way interfered with the plan to make it to the closest town before nightfall, and now it was completely dark outside, the only lights were from the two lanterns on either side of the coachman.

Strange how this first day seemed counterproductive—as if you had been lost in a labyrinth making no progress on your trip.

The steady ride through the late night, and the rhythmic trotting of the horses had long lulled you to sleep, but it didn’t take much to stir you out of your light slumber. Disoriented, you yawned, your head raised from resting on Tara’s shoulder earlier. She, too, also perked up as did your grandmother on the opposite side.

The three of you heard unusual sounds from outside the carriage, and a feeling of dread reflected on all of your faces.

The carriage had suddenly stopped, and you heard the horses acting restless and uneased. The driver could be heard trying to calm the animals, but then you heard many other unfamiliar voices outside. Josephine had already peeked outside, her face paling.

“Whatever you do, do not come out,” Josephine ordered you before she exited the carriage. You started to protest, but Tara pulled you back in.

“Miss, we have to stay quiet!”

“But Grandma—”

Your eyes widened when you heard a scream, the voice you recognized instantly. “Grandma!”

You pushed Tara aside and rushed out of the carriage, covering your mouth in terror as you saw your grandmother laying on the ground bleeding out from her neck. You rushed to her, but was grabbed from behind by a man. Before you could react, you heard Tara screaming, seeing men dragging her out of the carriage.

“T-Tara!”

“Miss, Miss, help me!”

You struggled against your attackers.

“Feisty, pretty little thing, isn’t she?” one man sneered, grabbing your face. You spat at him and was immediately slapped across the face, the sting immediate.

“Mi—”

You screamed out Tara’s name, watching in horror as blood seeped through her clothes. She clutched her side, her eyes glazing over. “Miss… I… I don’t want to… die…”

You started screaming again, feeling a large hand covered your mouth. You immediately bit down, bracing yourself for the inevitable retaliation, but it never came.

Two little gray sparrows flew past your attacker, distracting him. As the birds turned around and began to descend, a black mist enveloped them, taking shape. When the mist cleared, the birds were gone and in their places were two identical men.

“Luke…? Kieran…”

Within a flash, Luke and Kieran silently dispatched all of the surrounding bandits, their movements faster than your eyes could follow. Your heart stilled as you heard another voice from behind, the growl unlike any beast you had ever heard.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Before you could look to the owner of the voice, Kieran intervened, prying you from your attacker. He turned you and pressed you to his chest. “Just close your eyes, Miss,” he said softly, “It will be over soon.”

Your breathing ragged, your heart pounding, you felt a chill ran down your spine as a blood-curdling scream was ripped from the man’s throat. You squeezed your eyes shut, hot tears streaking down your cheeks as you trembled in Kieran’s arms, a desperate prayer repeating over and over again in your mind.

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please—!

(A vicelike pain gripped your heavily rounded middle and you screamed into the folded cloth shoved in your mouth.

“Quiet, quiet, child,” you could hear a woman whispering to you frantically.

Sweats dripped alongside your face, and you sobbed, the hot tears rushing down your cheeks as you held onto the rope made of thick cloth suspended from the ceiling. You pulled harder when the pain returned tenfold.

“On the next pain, push, child,” the woman urged, “It will be over soon.”

Your heart pounded. You could feel something dropping lower in your pelvis. You screamed again and bore down.

“Almost, almost,” the woman whispered frantically.

You didn’t know for how long you were pushing, but eventually you felt relief, felt a heavy weight exiting your body. The cloth was taken out of your mouth, and you stared at the woman with more sweats running down your reddened face. You panted, your heart pounding.

“…The… baby?”

“It’s for the best,” the woman said solemnly, and you watched as she carried a wrapped bundle away. You had never heard a cry.

You let go of your hold on the rope and collapsed on the bed, exhausted and lightheaded. You felt so sore, too weak to even sit upright.

“…For… The best…” you repeated, shutting your eyes in pain. You could barely stay conscious.

That was right. It was for the best. You were never supposed to have fallen pregnant with this child, this unwanted babe.

You didn’t want this baby.

Neither did your master. Nor his wife.

“Child, let’s get you cleaned up—child? Dear god…!”

There were frantic voices. What were they saying? The voices slipped in and out of your consciousness, your breathing growing more ragged.

“She won’t stop bleeding! Call for a physician!”

“Just let her die then. It’s for the best.”

“Mistress, Mistress, please, she’s just a young girl!”

“She’s a harlot. This is her punishment for seducing my husband.”

“She was raped!”

There was a piercing slap, the sound echoed in the room, and mere seconds later, a shaky sob followed.

“She is just a servant girl. No one will miss her.”

“Mistress…”

You felt relief. Just let go. It would be over soon. You were safe now…

“Know your place, or do you wish to follow her in death as well?”

“…Yes, Mistress…”

A flash of lightning startled the two women.

“Now dispose of this wretched whore—”

Bloodcurdling screams traveled across the manor, sending chills down the two women’s spines. They looked at one another in shock, unsure and fearful.

“An intruder!” a man cried out.

“The master has been killed!” the words of another made the women paused, horrified.

Thunder rumbled in the sky, shaking the ground. Another flash of lightning made the women flinched. When they looked up, a man in black stood at the door, expressionless. He was covered in blood, but they quickly realized it wasn’t his.

“Who—who are you?!”

The man looked at the young girl bled out on the bed. His crimson eyes narrowed.

A gust of wind wiped out the lamps, extinguishing all of the flames in the manor. The ground continued to rumble, and when lightning struck again, the women screamed in terror, the shadow of a draconic beast was the last thing they witnessed before everything turned dark, their cries drowned out by thunders and a wrathful roar.)

You awoke, gasping and crying.

Another… dream?

“Easy, easy now,” you heard Shin’s voice and you realized he was sitting next to you.

You stared at him in shock, your mind clouded as you slowly took in your surroundings. You gradually realized you were in an unfamiliar room… in an unfamiliar bed… with… this man seated by your bedside. You looked at him again, eyebrows furrowing in complete confusion as you attempted to recall your last memory, but your mind was still clouded by the recent dream you just had.

The dream—

Your hands flew to your middle, feeling flatness. You started to calm down.

“Miss, are you alright?” Shin looked at you questionably, confused by your behavior just now.

You struggled to find your voice, hearing an unfamiliar hoarseness as you attempted to speak. “Why… Why are you here… Shin?”

“This is my home,” he explained, “You have been unconscious for four days, Miss.”

“F-four days?”

He nodded. “Merchants had found you in the forest and they had brought you to town,” he continued patiently, “I was in town when I saw you being carried to a physician, so I intervened and had you brought here instead.”

You took in his words, mulling over his explanation, but in your weakened, distorted state, you didn’t know whether to believe him or not. You looked at Shin again, meeting his patient gaze. “You… have been watching over me?”

“I have checked in on you from time to time,” he clarified, adding, “I was beginning to worry you would never wake.”

“Never… wake?” Your eyes widened as pieces of that night started to come back to you. “Grandma! And… and… Tara…”

You froze at Shin’s solemn expression. He apologized softly, “I am sorry, Miss. You were all attacked by bandits. You are the only survivor.”

You sat there in shock, your mind going over his words again. You suddenly laughed, the sound bearing more resemblance to crying. “That is a lie,” you said, “Shin, why are you lying to me? I… This is a joke. This is… This is…”

He stared back at you, his expression unwavering.

“…not true.”

“I am sorry, Miss,” he repeated. He handed you a handkerchief, but you swatted it out of his hand in anger. He remained unaffected by your hostile action. Instead, he spoke calmly, “I know this is a lot to take in. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

Your chest tightened and your head lowered as tears fell one by one onto the comforter. You were barely registering his words as pieces of that horrific night started to come back to you with disturbing clarity. You wondered if you had taken one single different action, would the course of that night had changed? Would Grandma be here right now scolding you for still lounging as lunchtime rolled around? Would Tara sneak you an extra tangerine and share secrets with you after dark?

“When can I go home?” you asked suddenly, not looking at him.

“This will be your home,” he answered. “It is best you stay here instead.”

“What?” You looked up shocked, not expecting his words. You shook your head. “N-No… I have to go home. Grandma’s manor will need to be taken care of… I have… my belongings… and… Grandma’s… and—”

“I will send for your things,” he said patiently, “But it is best you do not return to that place.”

You glared at him, angry by his callous words. “Who do you think you are telling me I can’t go back to my home? I am leaving now—”

Shin immediately pressed you back into bed, gently but still firm. He stared down at you, his expression hard but not heated. His voice was even, but there was an icy edge to it. “It is best you listen to me, Miss. I am merely looking out for your wellbeing.”

You glared up and shoved his arm away. “I didn’t ask you to!”

“Hn.” He looked at you unaffected, and then said calmly as he walked to the door, “Miss, I will have a servant bring you a meal.”

“I am not hungry!” You couldn’t stop yourself from lashing out at him. You felt so many tumultuous emotions raging inside you. Shin didn’t do anything to you, but right now in this moment, he was the only person available for you to direct your anger. Your anger at the bandits who murdered your family, your anger at the heavens for forsaking you, your anger… at yourself. For your incompetence… For… surviving.

“You have not eaten for four days,” Shin said calmly from the doorway, unaffected by your outburst. “It will be a light meal. Easy on your stomach. Try to eat a little.”

“Shin…” You felt angry… at yourself. He was still so calm, so patient with you, and you were behaving like a petulant child. Fresh tears fell, and in your heart, you knew Shin did not blame you for your hostile actions and words. Your whole world was stolen from you in one night, and now you were alone. You behaved in a way only to be expected.

“I will also send a servant girl to assist you,” he continued, “Her name is Simone. I will have her prepare you a bath and some fresh clothes as well.”

“Shin—”

He paused and looked at you patiently.

“Can I… bathe alone?”

He looked at you confused.

“It’s just… I have only ever been used to having Tara assist me…”

“I understand,” he said, nodding, “Simone will still be yours. Use her as needed.”

As the door closed, you lay back down in bed staring up at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. After a brief moment of reflection over that night and your conversation with Shin, you allowed yourself to cry and grieve freely.

For as long as you could remember, Tara was your only friend and companion since childhood. She didn’t deserve what had happened to her. She didn’t deserve to have her life taken like that.

I’m sorry… you thought, remembering all of the instances where your mischievousness had gotten her into trouble. You remembered all of the times you made her follow along to your shenanigans and foolishness. You mourned for the life she would have lived.

I’m sorry…

Simone was a nice girl, albeit, very chatty. You had mostly tuned her out, your thoughts still lingering on your slain family and the state of your home.

“Master Shin had explained what had happened, Miss,” Simone said, leading you to a bathhouse. “I am truly sorry for your loss.”

You followed behind her down the veranda, your eyes scanning the surroundings of the property. It was the first time you were able to lay sight on the interior of the mysterious manor, but your curiosity and excitement were long gone. You were only interested in finding a way to escape so you could return home.

“Miss, we are here.”

Your head snapped up, and you smiled politely at Simone. “Thank you,” you responded, “I can bathe myself. Do not trouble yourself further.”

“It will be no trouble to me, Miss,” Simone said, smiling, “Please do not hesitate to seek my assistance.”

You simply nodded and entered the bathhouse. There was a large wooden tub filled with warm water, the steam coming from it created such a humid atmosphere. You breathed in slowly and waited for the sound of Simone’s footsteps leaving.

When you were sure you were alone, you opened the door a crack, peeking out to glance around for signs of people. It was daylight, but the manor was quieter than you were used to from your own home. Perhaps it was because the manor was only recently occupied, there hadn’t been many people staffed other than the few you had met.

You exhaled again, calming your anxious heart. This worked out well for you then, you noted, as you left the bathhouse, feeling a little bolder now that you were certain there wouldn’t be many people around the place. You quietly retraced your steps from earlier, ducking and hiding in unoccupied rooms when you heard voices.

Eventually, you found yourself in a vast courtyard where there was a large magnolia tree looming over an equally impressive koi pond. You didn’t have time to admire the beautiful landscaping. Your only thought was on the large door that led to the outside world.

Before you could make a dash for the door, you heard voices, and you quickly backed up against the wall, hiding in the shadow. You saw Luke and Kieran walking across the courtyard conversing quietly. Their voices were low, but you heard a few words here and there:

“…tree…”

“…wine… almost ready…”

You didn’t pay heed to their conversation any further, waiting instead with bated breath as they disappeared into one of the buildings. You glanced around again, making sure there was not another person nearby before you made a run for it, your heart pounding with every footstep until you made it to the door. You panted softly, your hand holding onto the heavy iron door handle as you took one last glance at Shin’s manor.

You quietly apologized to him, feeling a brief moment of guilt for dismissing his generous hospitality. You made a decision to apologize again more formally once you had settled things at your home. For now, you quietly slipped out and made the trek back to your own manor.

As you made your way down the familiar road, passing through town, you couldn’t help but sensed eyes on you. You subtly glanced around, noticing townspeople were looking at you before turning away. You could hear hushed whispers all around.

That girl is still alive?

Why is she still here?

Don’t go near her. She’ll only bring misfortune to you.

Your steps slowed briefly, your brows furrowing in confusion. Were they talking about you? None of what you had heard made sense.

“Ah-!”

You cried out when someone bumped into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry—oh, it’s you. Watch it, wench.”

You stared in shock at the man who passed by, confused by the rude attitude. There were more mutterings here and there.

She should have been the one who died, not Josephine.

Your breath hitched. Grandmother…

Thunder rumbled in the distance. You looked up, seeing dark clouds passing by. You flinched when you felt the first droplet of rain. Getting to your feet, you winced at the sharp pain from your scraped palms and the dull throbs in her knees.

More droplets fell from the gray sky.

You quickened your pace, hurrying back to your home. You tried to tune out the callous words, tried to ignore the disdainful glares. Why was there so much animosity? You knew these people. These people knew you, so why did it seem like they now hated you so much? It was like something had changed in the last couple days while you were unconscious.

Rain poured down and you tried to shield yourself the best you could as you ran faster.

“H-hey! What are you doing?! Put those back!” You yelled out as you approached the entrance of your manor. You gasped as you watched unfamiliar men hauled out items from your home. Furniture, pottery, clothing, everything was being taken away before your very eyes.

“Hm? Oh, Josephine’s granddaughter, I presume?” A man appearing in his fifties approached you. He held up a scroll. “We are here to collect Josephine’s debts.”

“D-debts? What debts?” You took the scroll from the man, your eyes rapidly going over each word. “When did she… Why didn’t she… tell me…”

“Listen, girl,” The man started, taking the scroll back from you, “I’m truly sorry for your loss. We are just following orders.”

“But… this is my home,” you protested feebly. “The—the other servants—”

“They’ve all left. There are other homes willing to employ them.”

“N-No, you can’t take those! Put them back!”

You tried to push your way into the manor, but the man blocked you, his demeanor worsening.

“Girl, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he warned, but you stubbornly continued to fight back. Annoyed, he shoved you, showing no remorse when you landed in a puddle. He turned away, mumbling, “Tsk, that’s what I get for trying to be nice to a cretin like her…”

Grandmother was… She was trying to…

All of those men that came to the house. All of those prospective matches, Josephine had laid her hope on securing her granddaughter’s future. She had wanted to make sure her granddaughter would be taken care of, cared for when the old woman would pass and everything would be gone.

“But… This is… my home… Mine… Mine… Grandmother’s…”

You sat up, sobbing as you furiously wiped the mud off your face. Everything you knew—or thought you knew—came to a grinding halt. The people you loved—Grandma, Tara—were all slain in cold blood before your very eyes, and now, you had no one left in the world and no place to call home.

The world was cruel indeed.

The rain stopped, or so you thought. You opened your eyes and stared at the pair of men’s shoes before you, your eyes slowly lifting to meet the owner’s gaze.

Shin?

He stood there, holding an umbrella over you, shielding you from the cold rain. His other hand was held out to you, his expression sympathetic. He didn’t appear angry at you for running away. He had every right to be upset with you, after all, to be offended by your lack of respect for his gracious hospitality. He had sacrificed so much of his time and resources for you, and you had left without a word and now he had found you alone in the rain, muddied and disheveled. No longer a refined maiden of class, you looked like a pitiful homeless peasant, a sore sight to be seen.

You almost wanted to laugh in defeat at the cruel joke only you could understand. You didn’t look like a pitiful homeless peasant. You were one. Your home was taken, your wealth gone, your title meaningless. You wished Shin would avert his eyes, to turn away, like everyone else had.

The whole world was against you, and yet, he wasn’t.

“Let’s go home,” he said, voice low enough for your ears only.

“I don’t have a home,” you answered back, looking behind you at the closed door.

“My home,” he clarified with great patience.

You looked down, unsure. You wondered if you were embarrassed by your pitiful situation, or perhaps if you were in vain trying to hold onto the last shred of your pride, but you spoke feebly, “I… I’m not a charity case.”

“Good,” he replied evenly, “I am not offering charity either.”

He knelt down to your eye level. He used his sleeve to wipe your face clean as he spoke, his words careful and measured, “I am here to take my bride home with me.”

You stared into his eyes, confused. “I do not have a dowry to give you anymore.”

“I do not desire a dowry.”

“I… have no honor to my name.”

“I am not seeking honor.”

You teared up again. “I… will only be a burden.”

Shin shook his head, his smile gentle. “I do not view you as such.”

You looked around, seeing scornful eyes from passerby, all glaring at you, looking at you with utter contempt and disdain. Such hatred. Did these people always hate you? Did Grandma shield you from this cruelty, raised you in blissful ignorance so that you knew no pain or heartache?

You felt fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. You heard the similar hushed whispers as before.

Josephine was a fool. Look where it has gotten her.

She should have sold that girl to a whore house the first chance she got.

Is it any surprise? She was the reason her parents died.

That girl will only bring misfortune to our town.

She should have been the one killed.

Your breath hitched. Shin appeared to grasp the handle of the umbrella tighter, his breathing sounding stiff and forced.

“Let me take you away from this place,” he murmured, “My bride.”

Nothing left in this world, no one holding you back, you took his offered hand without another thought, gasping as he dragged you to your feet and straight into his arms. You stuttered, embarrassed, “My clothes are dirty—”

“I do not care,” he answered, his grip tightening around you. “Stay close to me.”

He led you into the waiting horse-drawn carriage, shielding you from the scornful stares. You closed your eyes once the carriage began to move. You didn’t even resist when Shin wrapped his arm around you, pulling you back into his embrace.

He feels familiar, you thought, the heat of his body warming you through your wet clothes. You unconsciously leaned closer, a heavy fatigue washing over you as you allowed yourself to lower your guard around him.

As you doze off, you thought you heard a pleased hum from him.

Tag list: @hesperisms @lavlynyan @mangooes @zhongtar @yourfavbabigirl @sylusfluffymeow @unheavenlypacked @luminaryorbit @sinister-044 @boinkboinkkitten @deathkat657 @trishiepo0 @nezuswritingdesk @lunar-alden @yourstrulysylus @xxfaithlynxx @failedaethercore @idkwhatimdoing27 @certainduckanchor @qyuin @alfredosaws @valkyyriia @callilypso @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @qyuin @lalaluch @littleapplle @animegamerfox @deepspacenova @starshinedusk @madamecorbie @lamogliedizayne @marinenox @himekino2000 @raendarkfaerie @zayniacforreal @kingraspberry12-blog @miahsmama

【 request to be added 】

[ Prelude ★ BOTDK Masterlist ★ AO3 ★ Part 2 ]

[nn-ee-zz]

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

[nn-ee-zz]

Hiii, I was just wandering if you wouldn’t mind blabbing about the symbolism and stuff behind some of your design choices with the horse men that you might not have mentioned. Like with pestilence and death specifically I feel like there’s a lot of symbolism I’m picking up on without fully understanding. Like with Death’s sickle, both a homage to the classic scythe and a nod to the “reaping/harvesting” of souls. And with pestilence I feel like there’s something that I’m skirting around without grasping. The multiple legs strike me as a deliberate similarity to insects, and if I’m right I think that the rider is bound in a body bag type deal, similar to how disease and pestilence is so often both spread through the improper disposal of body’s, and how wide spread pestilence leads to mass graves filled with disease and the horrible anonymity that comes with being just one face in a pit of hundreds etc? All of this is, ofc, to say that I’ve adored your series of the horsemen so far and would go absolutely rabid for some insight on some of your design choices<3

My horsemen of the apocalypse! I will add the original commentary and some extras, less about the symbolism and more about what brought me to design them the way I did.

The symbolism is for you to chose, there is no wrong answer.

WAR

I can't bring myself to represent war with a cool knight. It's horror. War is a bound child crowned with shrapnel, tied to a wounded horse that is being pulled forward by unseen people.

I've read a handful of books regarding war. A lost quote said that it should be shown as horror, it should make generals vomit, it should make you sick. I haven't seen war but my family has.

It was the first horseman I've designed, and it was in my sketchbook for months (maybe over a year, maybe even more) before I had the courage to draw it. I was really scared about how people would react to a mutilated child.

Recommended reading: The Red Crown - Mikhail Bulgakov, a short story about a man coping with the loss of his brother in the war

FAMINE

Someone who lived thro a famine shared that their head was only occupied with thoughts of food. Famine consumes your mind. All animals were eaten. Neighbors gave their pets away cuz they couldn't do it themselves. People walked around town as if in a dazed dream, slowly

Recommended reading: The Last Witnesses - Svetlana Alexievitch, a collection of testimonials of people who were children when WW2 began. Some quotes below;

'''A cat! A cat!' Other children saw it and started chasing it. The educators were local habitants, looked at us as if we were insane. In Leningrad there were no living cats left...A living cat was a dream. Food for one month...We talked about it, but they didn't believe us.''

''During the first year of evacuation, we didn't notice nature, everything that was nature provoked in us only one desire - taste to see if it's edible. Only a year later I noticed the beauty of the Urals''

''I dreamt of catching a sparrow and eating it...''

''A candle burns and the shopgirl cuts the bread pieces. People follow her with their gaze. Her every movement...with burning eyes...crazed...and all that in silence.''

''People walked slowly through the city like shadows. Like in a dream...a deep dream...As in, you see it, but you think you're seeing a dream. Those sluggish movements...floating...As if a person walked on water and not on land.''

''In Leningrad there are a lot of monuments, but one is missing that should exist. They forgot about it. The monument to the dogs of the seige. Dear doggy, forgive me...''

I don't like talking about it. It made no sense to draw Famine with a horse.

PESTILENCE

Based on the notes of a doctor who said the most frightening thing about viral disease was how it didn’t frighten. People didn’t know or didn't care. They lived and spread until it was too late and they became another name on the record

The clothing being made out of shredding plastic is no coincidence; pollution is a form of pestilence too

Recommended reading: Notes from a Countryside Doctor - Mikhail Bulgakov. Roughly translated quote below;

''Ah, I verified that here syphilis was frightening precisely because it did not frighten. That was why I evoked that woman.* I remembered her with a kind of affectionate respect: because she had been afraid. But she was the only one!''

*Early in the chapter, doctor mentions a woman that appeared in the clinic with a letter from her soldier husband, where he wrote that he had syphilis and told her she should go to the doctor too.

DEATH

Recommended reading: Voices of Chernobyl - Svetlana Alexievitch. The Death of Ivan Ilitch - Lev Tolstoi

“Death is the fairest thing in the world. No one's ever gotten out of it. The earth takes everyone - the kind, the cruel, the sinners. Aside from that, there's no fairness on earth.”

Death is the only horseman that doesn’t need to mount their horse; they will reach everyone eventually. Who is the saddle for then? Open ended question because this one you have to figure out personally

Many people pointed out how the horse is a Clydesdale. Good eyes! I purposefully asked a friend to guide me towards what type of horses are the sturdiest and most-friendly looking. I drew the horse grazing. It's not injured, it doesn't gallop. It's grazing peacefully because life moves on.

This is the only design that had a painting serve as a base - The Reaper, by Alexey Venetsianov. Not much or nothing at all is written about, I saw it in a book. It is a literal reaper but it haunted me, as if it's portraying more than a person.

The choice to make it a woman was due to a book about a crematory (Smoke Gets in Your Eyes - Caitlin Doughty) that connected women to death because everyone born is bound to die.

Ahhh, I don't want to give it all away. It's fun to figure things out. About them all. From the enviroment, to the movement, to the horses themselves. Many people even mentioned details that I did not notice and didn't add purposefully that were so inspired and amazing. I truly mean that the interpretations of the public enrich the works even more than my own words. And it's an honor to share that work with everyone.

Thank you anon!

[nagarnia]

Plushie GIVEAWAY 🤲✨️

I'm giving away 8 plushies to 8 winners 🏆

✨ Giveaway Rules ✨

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2️⃣ Like & Reblog this post

3️⃣ Comment which Chunker(s) you want to win! (You can list multiple!)

Ends on April 10th🌸

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➕ Enter on another platform! (Instagram, Twitter, Bluesky, or TikTok)

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Here are the plushies 👇

[meowdayly]

erm! baby’s first proper smau! this one is for the ppl out there that get that sinking feeling in their gut when they don’t use their own money ! but a bit more light hearted. flashlight part based on the fact my flashlight broke in the middle of my walk at like 6:30 (its winter so it was pitch black out)

sylus x gn!reader (or mc, probably)

ignore the last image being stretched strangely i had to edit it to fit in the image bcz i didnt want an image that was mostly blank space

[musedeluce]

Dire...Dog?

Brought to you because I have an extremely large dog XD

Important Note: I might not mention it explicitly but know that if they are outside, not in a yard or anything, the dog is on a leash. Dogs should always be leashed when not inside or in a fenced area, and you should always ask before approaching them. It’s safest for everyone and the dogs!

Tried to make it a combination of silly and sweet ^J^

Tags: Fluff, Humor

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Xavier

Xavier has a way with animals, as the birds perched on his window, serenading him can attest. The neighborhood wildlife loves him. Perhaps it’s his calm and gentle aura, or perhaps it’s simply his generosity with food. (What you don’t realize is that they love you as well!) But despite that, it was still a bit nerve-wracking to introduce your dog to him.

Your dog was your best friend and beloved comrade, who had been by your side a significant portion of your life. The both of you had been through a lot together. Lately, you and Xavier were growing closer, and you quite enjoyed his company.

Xavier was becoming a steadfast, reliable and intelligent friend, gentle and sweet, but funny and sharp as well. You liked hanging out with him even outside of work, and working together was as easy as breathing. So, you figured that it was time to take the next step, and introduce him to your dog, as long as Xavier was willing.

It was a sort of litmus test. Depending on how Xavier reacted to a dog the height of the kitchen counters, you’d adjust accordingly. Then, there was the matter of how your dog reacted. If it was positive or neutral, all would be well. If it was an immediate, extreme dislike, you’d take note, as that would be different then just having to warm up to someone.

“Xavier, would you like to meet my dog? I have to give you a fair warning though, as my dog is extremely large. You can say no, of course! I just thought it would be nice for you two to meet each other.”

Xavier had been quite curious about your dog, actually. He had definitely heard them, and seen them with you, going on neighborhood walks, though that was from a distance so he had no idea of their actual size. And, he would never admit it, but he was the tiniest bit jealous of them. By meeting your dog, Xavier could spend more time with you.

“I’d love to meet your dog, and I’m sure I can handle the experience given our line of work.” His slight, subtle smile is teasing. And so, it was decided. They would meet each other at a park (neutral territory) and Xavier would be armed with treats in a bid to win favor, if needed.

“That...is a stunningly large dog.” Xavier was definitely taken slightly of guard, he knew your dog was large, but the true scale had escaped him. The dog’s nose was level with his stomach. “Are you sure you don’t have a hellhound?” Xavier’s earnest tone made you giggle.

At Xavier’s approach, their ears pricked up, their 2 foot long tail slightly moving back and forth. When you greeted him eagerly though, the tail wagging became more vigorous, starting to prance and play. Delighted, you played around with your dog, petting them, dancing around and gushing about how cute and adorable they were.

He could have sworn his eyes flashed green with jealousy, but he knew it was silly to be jealous of your beloved pet. Instead, he focused on how happy you sounded, giggling and laughing as you romped around with your gigantic dog.

Xavier holds out a hand to sniff, and they do. It takes a second, but to your happiness both of them are getting along! Your dog leans into Xavier, their full body-weight resting against his legs, tail thwacking against them. Xavier reciprocated, gracing your dog with scritching all the best spots. It makes you genuinely happy to see them together. It was heartwarming, your two favorites bonding.

He looks at you, and seeing how joyous you are warms his heart even more. Experiences like these, with you, were all he really wanted.

Xavier wins your dog over, or rather it might be the other way around, the way Xavier is showering them with affection and attention. What can he say? Your dog is adorable, loving, playful and gentle. It’s understandable why you love them so much.

“Our Dog now.”

“What?”

“What?”

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Sylus

He knew you had a pretty large dog, of course, it was one of the many things he knew about you through Mephisto’s...occasional surveillance. The true size of the dog in question, however, was a different matter entirely. After all, there’s only so much you can tell from a distance, through video. Thus, he was not prepared when he showed up to your apartment and encountered your own personal hellhound of a dog, steadfastly guarding you against any perceived threat, including him.

Sylus approved. He quite liked dogs in general, but your dog was special because you loved them, and your dog loved you, kept you safe, and made you happy. How could he dislike them? Sylus petted their velvet ears and scratched under their chin, your dog groaning in contentment, their long tail making loud thwacking noises as it hit the wall from waving back and forth.

This only happened after your dog had been barking and snarling at him, but that was no problem. Besides, why begrudge a guard dog for guarding? All he had to do was let your dog determine for himself that he wasn’t a threat, at least, not to you. Never to you.

When your dog saw that you, yourself knew Sylus, and how he behaved towards you, their behavior changed. They walked over, investigating the man by snuffling around him. Apparently, his scent met the high approval standards, because your dog then proceeded to wag their tail, sit, and ask cutely for Sylus’s attention, which Sylus gladly gave.

Your heart melted at the interactions between the two. It was another facet to Sylus, the appreciation and respect he showed your valued friend interesting and revealing. The calm reaction to your dog’s staunch protectiveness was another mark in his favor. You were starting to realize that these mental marks of yours in his favor grew increasingly numerous.

Being somewhat calculating, it did occur to him that you might warm up to him faster if your dog liked him. It did not hurt, of course that your dog had a strong personality, much like you. Playing with them would only be a bonus.

His lips curl in amusement as a thought crosses his mind.

“What’s so funny, Sylus?” His name from your mouth thrilled him.

“You are, sweetie. An adorable kitten surrounding themselves with dangerous things, deceiving everyone who can’t tell that you’re the most ferocious of all.”

“Only if provoked. Anyway, why are you here? Just to play with my dog?”

“Not just that. I also want to play with you.” Your dog was now leaning fully against him, in that way large dogs do, and he found it cute.

“I suppose we can play.” The smirk that graces your face, coupled with your playful tone, fills him with satisfaction. “But you should be prepared to lose.”

“Always, sweetie. Losing to you is well worth my while.”

Before, the thought of being with you like this was a distant, well guarded hope. But here he was in your apartment, your dog cuddling up to him while you willingly gave him your time and attention. How fortunate for him to spend time with those he loved.

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Zayne

The first time he met your dog, it was while you were on a walk with them. It just so happened that your route went past a bakery he frequents. Zayne was purchasing his favorite sweets, and considering which one you might like when both you and your dog strode past the window, pausing briefly so they could sniff around the bakery door. Understandable as the scent of freshly baked goods was incredibly enticing.

Quickly, impulsively, he buys everything he was considering and leaves the shop, walking quickly to catch up with you, but he slows down as he gets closer. Of course you hear him approaching, and you command your dog to heel before you turn, right as he greets you. “Hello, unruly patient of mine.”

Laughing, you greet him in turn, your dog waiting patiently at your heel. “Greetings, strict doctor of mine.”

With your dog by your side, he’s struck by your powerful presence. Not that that is an abnormal occurrence, but the dog is entirely new. Zayne loves animals, and secretly the day the animals come to visit patients at the hospital is one of his favorites.

But, it is prudent to be cautious, having not met your dog yet, and especially because your dog is so large. In an effort to make you smile, he did try and crack a joke. “Taking the hellhound puppy for a jaunt?” Much to his delight, it worked.

“Indeed. It’ll be much harder when he’s the size of a building, so I should take the opportunity when I can. Would you like to join us?”

“I would love to.” Approaching slowly, he asks if he can pet your dog. It’s important to ask this question, even if the dog seems calm or friendly, and you appreciated the fact he asked because it showed respect for you and your dog. “You may.”

Gently, he rests his hand on your dogs head, not having to lower himself at all to do so, and starts scratching their ears. Your dog leans into his touch, tail wagging enthusiastically. He can only use one hand, as he’s holding baked goods in the other.

You walk together, talking and laughing. Zayne is acutely aware of you, how you move, your voice, the smell of your shampoo, and dozens of other small details.

Your dog catches the scent of the baked goods and starts sniffing the air. “Would you like to sniff it?” Zayne lowers the sealed bag closer to your dog’s adorable, wiggling nose. It was a heartwarming gesture, and you could feel the rush of affection for him. He didn’t give the dog any baked goods of course, but he figured the smells themselves were a fun treat. The action further endeared him to you, showing once again that Zayne’s personality really did match his tastes.

Your dog had handily wormed their way into his heart. They say dogs and their owners resemble each other, and he can see why. He can see echos of you in your dog, which only serves to strengthen his regard for you because he can see the strong bond between you. It was a bond of the same strength he hoped to have with you, someday, as his bond with you grew.

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Rafayel

“Well, you are very cute, I do agree. But unfortunately I know someone cuter.” [Picture Received] Rafayel’s joy at his cuteness being acknowledged was replace with mock outrage. How could anything be cuter than him? (Except you!) But he did have to admit, your dog was pretty dang adorable.

That was how he found out you had a dog.

You were opening up more, sharing things about yourself that you previously wouldn’t have. It didn’t matter how many times this happened, he loved learning about you, and there was always something new.

This discovery precipitated a flood of ideas in his mind, and he immediately fills pages of his current sketchbook. Later, when you were going to one of his exhibits together, he floated the idea of a series of animal themed paintings. Perhaps your dog could be a model?(In reality, it was themed around you and your dog in particular, and he was absolutely trying to spend more time with you under the guise of the painting sessions)

“Hmmm. Are you sure? I know you aren’t really comfortable around cats, so I thought that might be the case with dogs as well. Hence, why I don’t really talk about my dog with you or invite you to my place or anything. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, stressed out or scared. Doubly so because my dog is quite large.”

“Aww cutie, you’re so considerate! But don’t worry, I’m sure. Why don’t you bring your dog around tomorrow?” More time with you is always something he wants, whatever that entails. Rafayel is willing to face and overcome his fears for you, for nothing in return.

But the thing is, he’s not getting nothing. You’ve shown your care and compassion for him, actively spending time with him, helping him, and sharing your live with him. He truly believes that he’s the luckiest, when it comes to you.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” And so, tomorrow came and you arrived with your dog, who was prancing back and forth in excitement to be somewhere new. You were taking care so that the leash wouldn’t get tangled in his legs, and talking to him as you walked up to the studio.

“Aww are you excited? I’m excited too.” He watches as you do a playful little dance with your dog, finding it so endearing. “Now, just be chill. Rafayel could have chosen another dog but instead he asked for you! Isn’t that cool?”

He absolutely had no idea how big your dog actually was though, because photos are so bad at showing scale, unless there’s something for comparison. Realization hit him like a brick when you walked up with your dog and their shoulders were at your hip. To say he was flabbergasted would be an extremely accurate statement, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Especially armed with dog treats, your dog was absolutely gonna love him.

He comes out to greet the two of you, making sure his body language is relaxed and nonthreatening, encouraging your dog to come and investigate.

“Suddenly I have an idea for a painting where your dog models a hell-hound. You would be a perfect model for Persephone, what do you say?” Your dog approaches him calmly and happily, sniffing around until they catch the scent of the treats, hidden in Rafayel’s pocket and focus their attention on it, sniffing vigorously. Their tail whips around eagerly and they prance, hoping to get a treat.

“Hmmmm maybe.” A glowing smile and a playful shrug accompany your coy tone. “Though beware I will charge a modeling fee.” Rafayel rests his hands on your dog’s ears, petting them and flapping them back and forth. Your dog is enchanted, and leans into his touch, bracing their entire body against his legs.

“As you should! Gotta make sure you get your due.” Rafayel switches to rubbing your dog’s neck, and scratching under their chin. He grants your dog a treat, because it’s deserved for being so lovely.

It was fun and heartwarming to see them interact, and that feeling permeated the session. He liked your dog and treated them well and was calm even though he was clearly taken aback by how big they were. Your dog liked him, too!

It was supposed to be a modeling job for your dog, but honestly it devolved into the three of you spending time together and playing around. Not that any of you were complaining, of course.

Though it didn’t seem like a modeling session, Rafayel absolutely did sketch his favorite moments when you weren’t really paying attention. You hadn’t had such a fun time in a while, but it seemed you always did have fun with him.

Living life with you was what he wanted. He cherished the things he experienced with you and through you, he was able to make a new friend. What more could he ask for?

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

[sylusaddict]

LNDS FANS PLEASE BEWARE!

There is an account under this tag which I am assuming is a bot. Do not click the link, it is copying a large majority of posts just minutes after they're posted, alongside an IP grabber under the "learn more" link. They have seemingly hijacked alot of Sylus tags, as well as a few other fandoms. Please be careful guys! It posts multiple posts every minute or so... 😡

I accidentally clicked it because my brain sees a link and it's like a magpie seeing something shiny 🤦🏻‍♀️ so we will see how that goes for me lol...

This user posted this and just minutes after, the bot account has stolen it:

If you have recently posted on the Sylus tags it may have taken your posts, so definitely have a check just Incase, that way it can be reported and hopefully disappear soon..

Will delete this once the account has been reported enough to disappear.. just want to spread awareness, sorry for posting unrelated stuff on the tags, I just want y'all to be safe because certain IP grabbers can be very dangerous. 🩷🩷

[matcha-flavored-cake]

Head empty, only dragon!Sylus with a mating season omg

It's a good day for the monsterfuckers LaDs players and Sylus girlies

[oh-miniso]

Imagine this troupe with Academic Rival and Rich Boy! Gojo.

Or Childhood Friend! Sylus.

Feeling cutesy, might elaborate the troupe later!💝

[cno-inbminor]

praestigia (pt. 1)

four months into my hyperfixation on this man, i barely managed to get some of this off my chest lol. thx sylus for being my first lads fic!

plot: formally speaking, sylus is a...sponsor. more colloquially, he's your sugar daddy -- and you're starting to wonder if he might actually want more. (wc: ~5.1k)

cw: this is all AU and does not include, like, any game lore (aside from that it's happening in linkon city). reader is a phd student, suggestive content (this is buildup for the smut in part 2), angst, a few dashes of fluff, not fully edited. mdni!

[ao3 link]

-

The skyline of Linkon City never fails to captivate you, blinking lights of tall, corporate buildings, the specks of light dotted across the sky, the blur of beams weaving through the roads – no matter which angle you look at it from, the view will inevitably take reign over your focus. So much so, that you do not notice the imposing figure approaching you from behind. He can only draw your attention by placing both hands on your shoulders, jumping slightly as you blink and remember where you are. A wave of flashbacks crashes through your mind as you are gently turned towards him, your back facing the window now. 

“Perhaps I should find it somewhat offensive that the view never fails to take your attention away,” Sylus remarks, his tone unmasked in his teasing and playfulness. His scarlet eyes peer past your shoulder to see if there was anything interesting or out of the ordinary. “Do I need to start booking rooms without windows?” 

“Don’t be silly,” you gently admonish, moving past him to grab a drink of water. His eyes burn the skin on your back, though you are familiar with this gaze. “Thank you for letting me rest here.” 

“Do you really think that after all this time, I would leave you to pay for a hotel room yourself? Or to find your own transportation home?”

“It’d be understandable. I can see where you would be coming from if you made those requests.” 

“I must say, I am a little wounded, kitten,” he drawls in mock pain. Instead of waiting for you to return and remain close to him, he situates himself on the bed first and leaves ample room for you to lay next to him. 

The gesture invokes warmth, exudes comfort, and stands familiar as you climb onto the mattress with ease and memory. Sylus stretches out his arm next to you, and his pose quietly begs for you to cuddle into him. 

And so you do. Sylus’s stature and frame, of course, never fails to envelop you during these moments of tranquility. Your chest pressed against his side, a leg crossed over his, your nails drawing patterns over his bathrobe and exposed abdomen – security, strength, and affection, once again, never fails to help you relax. 

Because this is what happens after every gala, every fundraiser, every grand opening, every social event that you accompany Sylus to. This routine of being in hotel rooms so high above ground with breathtaking views, burrowing into him, oftentimes burying himself inside you, and separating the next morning with an implicit understanding of exactly where you stand, is what you two had agreed upon all those months ago. And in return, your financial stress disappears into thin air, leaving you to study and engage in hobbies without such a heavy burden on your shoulders. 

Despite his constant reassurances that he can clean up whatever mess you may end up making, they do not negate just how tiring and draining these events end up being. Constantly putting on airs, overexposing your practiced smiles, making sure that there is not a single hair out of place, switching to what you like to call “fancy people table etiquette” – Sylus sponsored and, in a way, hired you to be as close to perfect as possible, and so, you must do as such to uphold your end of this business relation. Tonight has been a little more taxing than usual, as somewhere along the way, he felt the need to buy you anything that captured your attention for more than a few seconds. He would bid a ridiculous price that would dissuade any other potential customers, their expressions of defeat when they pass by causing him to secretly gloat that everyone has learned at least one thing about him: he will get what he wants. 

You had caught onto this shenanigan after the third item, and you made sure to school your gaze away from the auctioned items. But because he always seems to know what plays in your mind, he complains, “You never let or ask me to buy you things anymore.” 

Your eyes had closed shut during your time of reflecting on tonight’s events, and they continue to remain as such. “I have very little closet space. At this point, I think I’ve probably swapped out 90% of my wardrobe because of you. People are starting to get suspicious.” 

“Then why not move out and find a bigger apartment? You know I can afford it.” 

“Sylus–” 

“I know, I know,” he interrupts. If he were anyone else, you would have scowled at him. “It would be too far from campus, become inconvenient, and you feel it is too much to ask for.” 

As the conversation suggests, this is not the first time Sylus has brought up this proposition. What remains unsaid is how you would be closer to his residence if you were to move to one of the many apartments he had in mind, all of which would reduce your commute to his place down to walking a block or two; not a twenty minute drive. 

“Just say the word, and it will be done,” Sylus murmurs into your hair. When he realizes he has received no response, your soft snoring greets him before he can inquire any further. With a heavy sigh, he reaches out and switches the nightstand light off, leaving the darkness to swallow you both. His eyes fall shut in tired ease, but his grip around your shoulders remains firm. 

-

It comes to no one’s surprise that you feel less than well-rested when your alarm starts blaring at 5:45AM. You had an early class today, so you had to give yourself ample time to make it home, change, wipe away any lingering smudges of last night’s makeup, and try to appear as…casual as possible. Not wanting to wake him up so much that he cannot fall back asleep, you reach out for your phone and click one of the volume buttons, rendering it silent. Sometime in the night, your position had changed to Sylus spooning you. His limb slung over your waist is heavy, making it all that more difficult to leave – not just physically, but mentally as well. 

Like ripping a bandaid off, you have every intention to quickly remove yourself from his embrace. But Sylus, being the infuriatingly light sleeper that he is, immediately tightens his hold around you as soon as you attempt your escape. 

“Sylus, I need to go,” you whisper. 

He presses you impossibly closer to him. “I will drive you to your apartment. Sleep.” 

“No, I’m taking the subway.” 

“Why take the subway when you have me?” 

“If anyone needs rest, it’s you,” you say pointedly, because it’s true. Being the CEO of a business that may or may not be totally legal (you never ask because honestly, the less you know, the better) is not exactly a 9AM-5PM job. There have been more times than you can count when he would be pounding into you and forced to take a phone call. Granted, that doesn’t stop him from grinding into you and grinning devilishly when you bury your face into the nearest pillow to muffle your moans and whines. 

“Speak for yourself,” he grumbles into your hair. “You haven’t gotten more than six hours of sleep every night for the last week.” 

“And how exactly do you know this?” As soon as you ask, you already know the answer. 

The app for– “Your smartwatch.”

“One of these days, I will disconnect my account from that app.”

“I would like to see you try.” 

And you will. Just, when you’re not trapped in his arms. 

“I’m still taking the subway,” you backtrack, though your voice is quieter than before. A tiny sense of relief fills you when his embrace loosens, and you can finally crawl out of bed. It’s harder than it seems to squash the distressed voice in your head complaining about how easy it was for him to let you go. As you pick up all your clothes and make your way towards the bathroom, you notice his phone sitting innocently by the room’s coffee machine. After looking over your shoulder, you swipe it off the counter and bring it with you. 

Guessing his passcode is harder than you thought – the man has an ego the size of the entire universe, so you figure it would be something personal: his inaugural date as CEO, his birth year, his birthday, or others. On your last, desperate attempt, you type in four digits and find yourself absolutely floored at the view of his, now, unlocked phone. 

Your birthday. 

There is no time to dwell on the implications of it all, and you chalk it up to the fact that no one really knows you outside of being his typical date or escort. Therefore, the passcode would be that much harder to guess than the route that you had originally gone for. Yes, that’s all it was: an extra layer of security. 

Sylus’s phone is surprisingly unorganized, random apps thrown into folders that they do not belong in, leaving you to search for the fitness app that your watch is not only connected to on your own phone, but somehow also on his. You press the buttons necessary to delete your watch data from his end. When you are ready to close the app, you cannot help but notice the preview of his messages app and the texts within. Your thumb swipes away the fitness app and shakily taps the messages window that stared hauntingly at you. It had been left open on a conversation with another woman, if you had to guess based on the name sitting at the top. 

My parents are getting antsy, and so is your grandfather. 

That is none of my concern. 

Unfortunately, it is. They’re not exactly happy about the woman you keep bringing as a partner. 

Our arranged marriage is not a publicly known detail. 

And I’d like to keep it that way. But Sylus…

What?

We can’t delay this much longer. You’re running out of time. 

The exchange tells you enough, just enough for you to realize the situation you find yourself in. You suddenly recall an incident in the beginning of this relationship with Sylus when he described this arrangement, him as your sugar daddy, as a means to an end, preferably the end of something that he clearly did not want out of desire for his own freedom. There was not enough detail for you to give it much thought after that night of discussion and negotiation, but now, it all makes sense. 

Your thumb takes it back to his home screen and presses the lock button. In a haze, you get ready and dressed before exiting the bathroom, completely unaware if you even have your clothes on right or your hair somewhat kempt. As quietly as possible, you place his phone back where you had found it. Though common practice at this point, it now feels far too intimate to plant a featherlight kiss on his cheek. It causes him to stir, but you’re halfway out the door before he can fully register your departure. 

Whoever passes by, whatever zooms past, however something tries to gain your attention, you have no recognition of your surroundings. A thick layer of tension settles itself into your brain, allowing you to think of nothing but the fact that this entire time, Sylus has been in an arranged marriage that you, apparently, were supposed to be instrumental in destroying. To find yourself back in your apartment maybe forty minutes later is a miracle in and of itself. You return to the plane of reality when you open your closet doors to toss your dirty clothes into the hamper and are greeted by the many items bought with his money. 

Contrary to popular belief, jealousy does not make itself known in your system. You’re not exuding shades of green or red like an angry Christmas tree. If anything, you come to a quiet acceptance that this…partnership with Sylus will come to an end, and soon. It would do no good for him to keep seeing or supporting you while formally married, which means you have to get your life in order. Sylus has given you more than enough money to put you through your last two years of your postgraduate career and maybe a year into your postdoc, but you should still remain frugal. If you’re lucky enough, the money you earn during postdoc would be enough to live relatively comfortably on. 

Alone. Without him.

It’s fine, you think to yourself as you turn on the shower. It’s totally and completely fine.

-

A couple hours later in class, your phone vibrates with a message that reads, “You actually managed to disconnect your watch from my phone.” 

The slight smirk tugging at your lips is inevitable as you type out a response: You told me to try, so I did. 

“I will be changing my passcode.” 

If you want. There’s nothing else on there that I need to delete, right? 

“Oh sweetie, wouldn’t you like to know?” 

The subtle, possessive curl of his message coils around you tenderly, making you temporarily forget that you are in class and should be exhibiting a poker face. But you still shift in your seat, a warm pool of heat forming in your core as you imagine his expression and his voice reading the message out loud. Forever a tease and a flirt, Sylus knows exactly what he is doing by sending you that message. 

Your best revenge in the moment is to leave him on read, on the edge of his metaphorical seat. It takes too much effort to bring your conscience back to your current lecture and actually take some notes. Your phone buzzes once, but you ignore it – and in hindsight, you’re glad you did. Sylus, in all his infinite wisdom and glory, took it upon himself to send you a picture of himself after a shower – the skin of his chest glistening under the fluorescent lights, grey towel hung low on his waist and barely holding on, veins on his arms frustratingly visible because he knows what they do to you, his biceps flexed just enough that you want to take a bite at them. The fucker full well knew you were in class and, you know, in relatively close proximity to other people who would have, no doubt, gotten an eyeful. 

As you walk towards the subway station to go back to your apartment, head down and focused on typing out a message, a giddy smile can’t help but break out across your face. Your thumbs tap, “Should you really be sending photos like this to someone who, in the public’s eye, is just a friendly escort?” 

After not even thirty seconds, your phone buzzes, the notification of his call sliding in from the top of your screen. You almost roll your eyes as you bring the device to your ear. “You have five minutes before I lose signal underground,” you warn, your tone still playful nevertheless. 

“‘A friendly escort’, you say? I suppose that’s what the young ones are calling intimacy these days.” 

“You knew I was in class. And stop it, I know you have some stupid smug look on your face right now,” you chastise. 

“You know me so well.”

“Actually, speaking of,” you say as your eyes flit down to your watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting right now?” 

“I stepped out.”

Your heart and feet skip a beat, almost causing you to fall flat on your face and absolutely eat shit in the middle of the sidewalk. It’s hard not to let your mind race at all the implications, that this tirelessly busy man decided in a heartbeat that he would step out with a desire to call you over something so minor; to simply tease you. In the grand scheme of his life, you have very little significance – your temporary companionship where you may see him four or five times a month, sometimes with weeks in between and other times mere days. Text messages were never a guaranteed daily activity, though as of recent, he has been texting you more often. But amidst his employees, his connections, his partnerships, his family, you’re just…you. 

You didn’t realize you had been stunned into silence long enough for him to ask, “Are you still there?”

“I am, sorry,” you apologize, scrambling to think of an excuse. “Uhh, an email came in and I was reading it. Didn’t hear you.” 

“I’ll get you some wireless earbuds.” 

“Please don’t.” Your rejection is immediate, firm. The lack of room left for argument stands apparent. “That’s not necessary.” 

“And what’s stopping me from just ordering you a pair regardless?”

“Me.”

Sylus responds with a contemplative pause, which is...unusual. He has always been so quick to reply with wit and banter, but there is a chance that maybe something distracted him, like what you had said as a poor attempt at a viable excuse. 

“I suppose the kitten is starting to make use of her claws now.” His voice rings softer, quieter, almost as if disheartened by his own statement. “First you disconnect your watch, and now you won’t even let me buy you earbuds.”

“I just don’t want you to buy anything that’s not necessary. Covering my tuition and all the dresses is one thing, but wireless earbuds, I can do without. My wired ones work just fine.” 

Your eyes catch the sign for the stairs leading down to the subway up ahead. “I’m about to go under and lose signal. Was there anything else?” 

“Come over tonight.” 

Your mouth works faster than your brain. “I can’t,” you lie, a pang of guilt creeping into your heart. “There’s a study group tonight for an exam.” Not a lie. “Besides, we just saw each other yesterday.” 

“Has that ever stopped us before?” 

“W-well, no,” you splutter because it’s true. There have been a handful of times when you spent two, sometimes three consecutive nights in the past – but things were more hot-and-heavy then, a time when you couldn’t get enough of him and vice versa. “I’m just saying.” 

“Then come after the study group.”

“It’s gonna run pretty late because we have an exam in a few days.” Again, not a lie. “Who knows if the subways would still be running by then?” 

“I’ll pick you up.”

“But you might be asleep.” 

“Highly unlikely, little one.”

Quickly looking around you, you quietly hiss, “Sylus, you should be asleep by the time the subways stop running. Why would you still be up at 2AM?” 

“In case I have to refresh your memory, you do remember that I am the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in Linkon, right? The work never ends.”

“You need time for sleep, you know, like everyone else??”

“I’m not like everyone else.”

Your eyes close in frustration as you groan. Your feet have reached the top of the stairs, and you couldn’t have asked for more perfect timing. “Okay, I’m at the station so I’m gonna hang up. I’ll come over another time, alright? Talk to you later.” 

“Sweetie–”

Moving forward to clamber down the stairs and smashing the hang up button is your way of desperately trying to not lose resolve. Any longer, you would have given in and rolled yourself straight back to square one with nothing but dread. You have never been more relieved to see the little “No Signal” sitting in the top left corner while you swipe through a gate and manage to get down another flight of stairs without tripping over your feet. 

Wired earbuds in, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie, letting the wind tunnel threaten you to topple over, you do everything in your ability to not think about him – to not think about the messages that may flood your phone once you get signal, to not think about the pushback you may receive because Sylus is someone who figures out to, somehow, always get his way, and to not think about the weight of his earlier words: “I stepped out.” You pretend that you know nothing about this arranged marriage, the curiosity having caused your thumbs to twitch in anticipation at maybe looking up who this woman is. You ignore the now glaringly close deadline that will terminate your relationship with Sylus forever, and most of all, you ignore any semblance of pain that knowledge makes you feel. 

Cup half-empty, spoons tossed the window, the subway window across from you is greeted with a blank stare. In a rare moment of mindfulness (or is it dissociation?), you think of nothing until you find yourself standing by the foot of your bed and ready to face plant into the middle of the duvet. With your last shred of working consciousness, you set an alarm for thirty minutes before the start of the study group and promptly fall asleep.

-

As you predicted, the study group runs late into the night. Despite the several digressions into conversations that were very much not academics-related, all of you feel relatively good about the subject matter for the exam on Friday. Everyone comes to a unanimous decision to reconvene in a couple of days. Given that it was Monday, one more study session Wednesday and some independent review Thursday night would be beneficial. 

For your own sanity, you had left your phone, stashed in the recesses of your backpack tossed into the corner of the study room, on do-not-disturb for the entirety of the night. You had it programmed to still chime and alert you if family contacted you, mainly because it doesn’t happen often, and if it does, that means something big happened. The device remained silent for the whole time, and part of you wants to avoid confronting what your notification screen might look like. But before you can muster up the courage to do so, one of your friends speaks up. 

“Hey, you took the subway here, right? I can drive you home,” Jiho, a doctoral student in the same year as you but doing research under a different professor, offers. A part of you is beyond relieved at the perfect example of an excuse to not check your phone because it would be so incredibly rude (not really) in a social context.

“You wouldn’t mind? If you have somewhere to be, I can just walk.” 

Jiho rolls his eyes in a playful manner. “Come on, before I change my mind.” 

He drops you off in front of your apartment complex about ten minutes later, and he shoos away your offer to buy him coffee as a token of gratitude. You wave goodbye as his car pulls out of a guest parking spot, and only then do you notice the conspicuously sleek, grey sports car sitting a few meters away. Your heart pounds, and your palms begin to sweat as you get closer and closer to your unit, afraid of who you might find once you get inside. You spot the fluorescent glow from underneath peering out from underneath your door, and it takes everything in you to not drop your keys as you unlock the deadbolt. 

“So the kitten has finally decided to come home.” 

“How–” 

Sylus, looking severely out of place in your humble abode, sets down the stack of papers in his hand on your coffee table. With his other hand, he points to the fixture on your wall by the door where your keys typically hang. His own set now occupies one of the hooks, and you spot the spare key you had given him a few months ago. To your knowledge, he has never used it before, and you can count the number of times he has stepped into this apartment on one hand. 

You quietly shut the door behind you, locking both deadbolts in place before setting your backpack down. “It’s so late,” and even you wince at the shakiness in your voice. “You should be asleep. At home.” 

“Perhaps I would be if someone had just checked their phone once in the last fifteen hours.” 

Well, you don’t have much of an excuse for that. 

Sylus sits on one end of your couch in loungewear, though somehow he still makes it seem like he’s in something formal enough for business casual. You cautiously sit on the other end away from him. 

“I passed out as soon as I got home, and then I was running late for the study group, so I just left my phone on do-not-disturb.” 

His silence speaks volumes. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

But maybe you did.

Maybe, subconsciously, you did. Maybe you wanted to test the limits of his affection. Maybe you wanted to see just how far he would go to make sure you were okay. 

Maybe you simply wanted to get a taste of when you least expect radio silence, an appetizer for how things may turn out when Sylus calls for the end of your arrangement. 

“Look at me.” 

Tension weighs you down as you slowly turn your body towards his, but you avoid his gaze and aim to study the logo on his shirt instead. 

“Sweetie, look at me.” 

The command snaps you into compliance, his tone firm and undeniable. You expect to see anger, frustration, disappointment. After all, it would make sense, for there is a set of expectations and rules put into place to ensure trust between both parties. Transactional, contractual, institutional obligations and conditions set by both the company matchmaker and individuals are put in place to conveniently manifest and quickly disintegrate these business relations, to avoid messes. 

But you realize all too quickly that the mess will be inevitable, in your case, because instead of tinges of red fury in his eyes, you find concern, worry, and confusion. Dread sinks into your stomach like an anchor in the middle of the ocean, dropping further and further into the dark unknown. 

“You’re hiding something from me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you immediately counter. Good job, you just made it more obvious. 

Sylus pins you down with a look that means nothing other than “you know better”, and your heart threatens to burst from your chest out of sheer anxiety. 

“Since you refuse to tell me otherwise, tell me how you got home,” he says, and though he may seem cool and nonchalant in the way he rests an arm against the back of the couch, you can see the irritation pulsing through the veins on his forearms. 

“A friend from the study group drove me home.” 

“And you were simply too busy to look at your phone during the drive?” 

“I had to give him directions.” 

Sylus cocks an eyebrow at the mention of this friend’s gender. “Him?”

“Jiho, sweet guy. Does research with another professor.” 

“I suppose I have him to thank for bringing you home safely. Regardless, you should have called me to pick you up.” 

You have one last card to play. “That’s not in the contract.” 

His eyes harden and narrow the slightest bit, the curve of his jaw tensing in building irritation. “How so?”

“There’s a line somewhere in there about making sure I would not contact you for personal favors that are outside the scope of our,” you hesitate to find the right words, “relationship.”  You can’t remember the last time your palms sweat so much. 

“I offered.” 

“And I am not obligated to take the offer. While kind, I did not see the need to bother you.”

“I clearly remember stating that it wouldn’t be an issue, especially considering I asked you to stay with me for the night.” 

“But I told you I couldn’t,” you retort. 

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” 

The bitter note in his voice on his last word matches his steely gaze that seems determined to pick you apart, to peel off each layer of whatever walls you may have put up. He’s not ignorant or oblivious by any means – something is going on, and you’re not telling him. You answer him with deafening silence, blaming your late night fatigue for it. 

Responding directly to his question would only make this worse, as you cannot see yourself getting out of the ensuing conversation unscathed and alive. Instead, the couch dips as you cross the distance between you two, hesitantly straddling his hips in case he doesn’t want you to. But he allows your move, his hands almost instinctively resting on your thighs as you settle yourself into his hold. His skin feels glassy smooth beneath your fingers as you caress his cheek, studying every detail of his face and avoiding his eyes. 

Perhaps there is a part of you that is trying to commit the minutiae to memory in preparation for the days when you will no longer see him so intimately. You should have never let yourself get so attached, no matter how much tenderness and adoration Sylus has been absolutely spoiling you with. The realization hits you in a bittersweet manner, and the featherlight kiss you place on his lips only makes it hurt more. 

Yet you move past the pain to accept the fall, the descent into oblivion as you feel Sylus respond to your kiss, deepening and increasing in fervor. The heat in your core is more than just lust as it sinks deeper and deeper into you, a testament to the depth of your affections. Somehow, his touch as his hands roam your figure burns hotter. It almost makes you want to shy away from his grasp, but part of you welcomes the trails of fire as your punishment for deceiving him. 

You gasp out his name as his lips leave your neck scorching, each nip of his teeth and lave of his tongue adding to the haze slowly overtaking your rationale. But beneath the man’s ardor, you manage to recognize his irritation and annoyance  –  the way his fingers grip your waist, his nails digging into your back – about how this whole night has progressed. 

Apologize, his eyes seem to scream. Seek forgiveness as I seek vengeance, his hands draw on your skin. 

Beg for me.

---

[tbc]

[daosies]

the only one

Sylus has a soft spot for you.

sylus ♡ gn!reader

warnings: reader is the protagonist but gender neutral, pre-established relationship, crude & violent descriptions, not proofread

notes: muehehe

You are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this. 

“[Name],” he calls for the nth time. “[Name].” 

Sylus observes the furrow of your brow, the wobbly line of your lips. He notices the way your entire expression scrunches up, the way you visibly gasp when your gaze drifts over the most audacious line of the book you’re reading. 

It’s endearing, really. The way your feelings dance across your face, oblivious to the crimson irises that do the same. Sylus notices all these things about you; he also notices how you don’t notice him, how your attention is fixated wholly on your book, how his adoring looks are bested by an inanimate object and how his terribly-obvious advances are shut down because of printed words on a paper.

Sylus hates losing. He hates being ignored. In fact, Sylus has never been ignored in his life—his sheer presence commands attention, his gaze alone being enough to silence a crowd. When it comes to you, however, his gaze is not enough.

Again, you are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this.

“[Name].” Sylus has had enough of losing. He reaches for the book and steals it from your hands. 

“Sylus?” you reply, as if he hadn’t been there the entire time. “Since when did you arrive?” 

Oh, he thinks. So, to you, he really hadn’t been there the entire time. 

“Ten minutes ago,” he states coolly. 

“Huh? Why didn’t you call me? Or tell me?”

“I did.”

“Really? Oh, sorry! That book was really getting crazy, I mean, like, the main character was—”

Sylus decides not to mention the part where he gave up. He had tried to get your attention, but somewhere along the way, he opted to sit in your presence instead, perceiving despite not being perceived. 

In the silence, Sylus’s gaze trailed over your features, from the bridge of your nose to the curl of your lips. His red eyes tied knots around your expression, burning the image into his retinas, weaving the strings towards himself, from the base of your pinky to his. Sylus hates being ignored. He hates losing and he hates the idea of not being acknowledged. 

When it comes to you, however, it’s different. 

Everything is different. 

“And then—oh, sorry. Am I boring you with the details?” you suddenly say, becoming bashful. Your pupils avert from his. Sylus is desperate to force them back on him, his brows furrowing ever-so slightly. 

Quicker than he can think, he replies, “Not at all.” 

You look at him. The tension laced into his expression eases. 

“I almost forgot to ask,” you say, switching topics abruptly, “why are you here, Sylus?” 

He chuckles at your bluntness. You are the only one in the world who can talk like that to him.

“I just wanted to see someone.” 

Your eyes widen. Sylus relishes in the sight, unblinking, desperate and wild and oh, utterly miserable. To rely only on sight is a terrible fate, but again, you are the only one in the world who Sylus cannot catch. Your image slips in between his mind, falling through the intangibility of memory and vision. You cannot be contained—your unabashed and radiant spirit, your breathtaking and limitless beauty. You torture him! With thoughts of your existence, with thoughts of your real and incomparable being! 

You—you exist! 

(Sometimes, Sylus can’t believe it. And then he looks at you, and then himself, and he realizes that you are damn near divine. You are damn near intangible, an entity he worships, a concept he follows and offers himself towards. If you were to tell him to dismember himself now, Sylus thinks he would. If you were to ask him for his eyes, he’d tell you to hand him a knife. If you were to ask him for his heart, he’d tell you to take all four chambers.)

“You… you wanted to see me?”

Sylus smirks a little. “Did I say that?” 

Your face erupts with embarrassment. “Hey! You… you!” 

“Me,” he affirms.

(Look at you.)

Mirth flickers across the carmine expanse of his irises, the scarlet of his lips and the crimson within his veins. His pupils catch your for a moment before you look away, covering your expression with the palm of your hand. Sylus is used to people avoiding his gaze, to shying away from his presence out of sheer terror. He prefers it that way, really. It makes his job easier. 

(Look at him.)

When it comes to you, however, it’s different. Sylus doesn’t want you avert your eyes from his—he wants to peer into your soul, to pick apart the temple with his own bloodied hands, to witness for himself the grandness of your presence, the impossibility of your existence. 

(How could he ever believe you exist? When he is terrible and haunted, while you—oh, you—are utterly divine?)

Sylus wants you to perceive him. He wants you to pick him apart, too. To dismember him! To peel apart his skin and come to realize that everything, everything within himself—from the branches of his veins to the curl of his ribs—have only ever flowed back to his heart. 

And you own that heart of his. That wretched, twisted little thing. You own it. And everything else that comes with it. 

“You’re so…!”

“So?” Sylus encourages you to continue, tilting his head slightly. A smirk twists at his lips. He’s enjoying this far too much. 

“Whatever!” You try to snatch the book back from his hands, your movements agile and befitting a hunter. Unfortunately for you, Sylus is used to playing things dirty, so he snaps the novel away with his Evol and calls it a day. 

“Let’s go,” he says, standing up. “You like the arcade, right?” 

You glare at him without saying a word.

You are the only one in the world who would ever make Sylus wait. Still, he obliges.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter.

He hums. “And?” 

“Disrespectful.” 

Sylus’s cool expression remains unfazed. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

You snort. “Who would ever call you that?” 

Only you, he thinks. For some reason, the thought doesn’t irritate him. 

After all, you are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this. 

(As a matter of fact, to Sylus, you are the only one in the world.) 

[twst-shenanigans]

twst Incorrect quote #334

*If Leona was a father*

Son: “Papa! Can I have chocolate cookies?”

Leona: “What’s the rule?”

Son: “No snacks before dinner…”

Leona: “Wrong.”

Leona: “That’s your mom’s rule. My rule is you have to bring me some too.”

[doomdaysdecays-deactivated20251]

if i had to explain what tumblr is like i’d only show this

[the-moonbug]

No one seems to be acknowledging the far funnier element of this, which is, that when you go to the commenter’s account, you find out they are actually fucking roleplaying as a sexually repressed skeleton and jjst really committed to the bit while everyone in the reblogs is talking about how much they hate minors or whatever. thank you kharak the skeleton servant of the almighty lich king