"He's like a puzzle, so intriguing yet so complex."
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
–LUUK, WHO TRIES to push down the loneliness from bearing expectations too heavy, all alone... Now all he feels is emptiness.
–Luuk, who's adopted only to be used as an experiment subject for an incurable chronic illness.
–Luuk, who's "Gods chosen one", the only person who to survive "Ichor", Novialle Group's greatest achievement.
–Luuk, who's left to deal with his father's mess after he goes missing, leaving behind an enraged public over inhuman medical experiments.
–And Luuk... Whose beloved younger brother succumbs to the same disease that once ran through his veins, now replaced by Ichor.
–He inherits the company as the sole successor, working up his way to establish Novialle as a rank 1 pharmaceutical company.
–Several betrayal from members of the board and close confidants breeds high level of trust issues. He locks his heart away in a Pandora's box, swearing to never open it again.
–In Novialle, everyone's goto doctor when there's a medical emergency, is the CEO–aka Luuk Herssen. He's singlehandedly juggling two jobs. This man can't catch a break.
–He has a mental datasheet on each employee's health and other problems, surprising people by randomly asking them personal questions about their lives.
"The CEO... Noticed that?"
–Randomly hands out candies when employees visit his office.
–Has a way of making people feel seen, considered. His genuine appreciation keeps employee morale high.
–Sighs Here comes prince charming. Half of the office is ovulating whenever he's there. All the women, and some men, too. Except you.
–You don't get it. What's so special about a blonde guy? Okay, okay, red eyes might be rare, but, what else?
–Attractive, multi-talented, humble. An extraordinary gentleman he is, undoubtedly. But beneath the polished facade, you see a tired man, weighted down by countless responsibilities and pointless expectations.
–Always leaves the office late, drowning in papers regarding corporate matters (or investigations).
–You stayed in late one night, walking back with a freshly brewed coffee when light coming from under his door piqued your interest.
"He's still working? That's depressing."
So, like any rational human being, you knocked on your boss's door, walked in without his response, put down the coffee on his table and left without a word.
–He felt confused. Confused yet amused. Regardless, the coffee did much to calm his nerves, the warm liquid melting away his worries and concerns, even if for a fleeting moment.
–When his assistant disappears mysteriously, he sends you a proposal asking you to be his next personal assistant. You agree for the much better pay, of course.
You look at its outstretched hand–a round candy in pink, glossy wrapper.
"No, thanks," you politely rejected.
He looks at you amused, leaning back again on his chair, "Relax, it's not poisoned."
"That- is not the reason..."
A hearty chuckle rings across the room. "Alright, alright. So, about the position..."
"I accept."
–Working long nights by his side becomes frequent. You learn about his preference for tea over coffee, his home back in New Federation, and... hints of shady business happening behind the curtains of the company's perfect little show.
–You discover an old wound on his palm. A tattoo of 5 conjoined stars sat over the disfigured skin, stretching across his wrist.
Your hands trailed over it absent-mindedly, a mere curiosity. You pulled away twice as fast once you realized what you were doing. He let out a light-hearted chuckle, reassuring you that it's fine.
"A side effect of the Ichor."
A side effect he says... Such a horrendous side effect.
Do all the side effects have such negative impacts on his body and health?
That's concerning.
You shifted your attention to ignore the blush coating your cheeks, fingers tracing along the edge of a file organizer. You pretended to fix the non-existent mess.
He caught your hands, bringing them back to their previous position, near his tattooed one.
"I don't mind you touching them. Not if it's you."
Your breath stills.
Neither of you point out the subtle shift in tension, the air morphing gradually into static between you over the past few weeks.
Through the mess of your hair, you look into his crimson eyes–a flicker of emotion words fail to express–and he stares right back.
–On a stormy night, you casually left your boss a cup of tea like it's not your favorite part of the day. You pinpointed another tattoo during that quick tour to his office.
Shirt half unbuttoned, sweat glistening on a chest carved like Greek Gods, and the sharp contrast of ink on fair skin–the Rod of Asclepius.
'Hm... how befitting.' Symbol of healing and medication.
You didn't ask about it this time. He sat with messy and and sunken eyes, preoccupied by his thoughts–matters you most likely can't resolve. Not wanting to bother him any further, you slip out quietly, leaving him to his duties.
–Luuk starts acting strange. You come to the conclusion he's purposefully avoiding you–keeps you busy with tasks that requires leaving the building and staying away from him for hours. When you finally get a free day to linger in the office, he strains a smile–
"You wouldn't mind returning to your desk, would you? I need a moment."
His moment never fucking ends. You don't make his tea that day. Clocking out earlier than ever, you leave with a heavy heart.
–After weeks of distant, reserved attitude and avoiding you not-so-subtly, he quits the company with zero notice, leaving your world in shambles.
–Depression hangs over your mind like a neverending storm clouds. He could've left a note, sent a text... But no, he deleted all his socials, and his number is dead.
You really thought you had something with the CEO? How naive...
But, you can't help but wonder, what happened? Something happened. But, you trust Luuk, you believe he has good reasons behind everything he does. You remember his words–
"The Fractsidus has their eyes on this company–the Ichor. They're not going to stop at anything to get their hands on it."
A terrible feeling gnaws at your stomach.
'Where are you, Luuk?'
–You find a few files in your drawer. Moderately thick, filled with newspaper clips, research papers and notes–regarding the previous owner of the company, his father. The human experiments. The company's connection with the Fractsidus–the largest and formidable underworld criminal organization with a terrifying reach of network.
Your sense of reality, certainty and safety is shattered once again.
Did Luuk you leave these intentionally? What's he trying to tell you?
What do you even do with them?
–Before you can figure it out, you're ambushed by the Fractsidus on your way home with the files (Turns out a certain sassy pink haired co-worker saw them and snitched on you).
–A familiar figure, dressed in Lollo Logistics deliverer uniform, jumps into the alley between you and the enemy, swiftly taking them down with a knife.
"We meet again, my stargirl."
You stare, wide-eyed, at the crimson liquid dripping down his face, hands and torso. It has the same shade as his eyes.
"Luuk."
–You feel your grasp on reality slipping through your fingers once again as you stare at his blood smudged palm, stretched toward you.
"Shall we?"
–Luuk, who realizes the first person to ever care enough to peel the layers of his heart and peer inside inside was you.
–Luuk, who promises to never leave your side again, protecting you from harm's way forever and ever.
–Luuk, who survived, becoming humanity’s greatest miracle, yet finds himself fatally weak to the sound of your voice and the warmth of your touch.
–Luuk, who tells himself this isn’t obsession as he memorizes the rhythm of your breathing beside him at night.
–And Luuk, who keeps thinking, and thinking, and thinking about you till every fiber of his being chants your name; he can't stop.
He can't let you go again, so he'll lock you away inside the same box, inside his heart.
❦ Summary: Fenrico took you in when you had nothing, to become a woman of the cloth.
"Serve me and the Divinity, the greatest Sentinel Imperator, as an acolyte."
He gave you shelter, a life and a new identity in exchange of your faith and devotion. Additionally, your body.
As the night draped the cathedral in shadows, he whispered your name like a silent prayer.
╰───────────༺⚚༻───────────╯
Heels clicked against the pristine floor as your legs carried you closer, and closer, to none other than your mentor.
Fenrico.
Imperator’s chosen one, divinity’s messenger.
The embodiment of temptation.
He, who had rescued you, given you shelter. He–who was your blessing and your curse, your savior–was a devil in disguise.
To fall from grace as an acolyte demanded a price too steep for you to pay. You knew exactly what would happen if you refused the Enlightened One.
In return for his selfless generosity, he had but one simple request.
Meet the Primus in the evening, after all acolytes had retired to their quarters.
So there you were, walking into the Primus’s private chambers, deep within the cathedral, which most acolytes had never glimpsed during their lifetime.
“Primus.”
Dark lashes fluttered open, revealing a pair of contrasting, pale blues. A sharp gaze, honed by years of experience—bonds and betrayals, calamities and outbreaks. Reverence and disdain.
He was loathed by many, but revered by many more.
“You came.”
Abiding by his orders, as always. A good, obedient little acolyte.
He didn’t stand. His left hand extended toward you—an invitation—one you didn’t refuse, couldn’t refuse, hadn’t refused in the past few weeks.
As much as you hated to admit it, pushing the lingering guilt aside, you enjoyed it—every second of your nightly rendezvous—his hands exploring your curves settling beneath the fabric, lips trailing kisses from your neck down to your chest, heavy breaths marking desire upon your skin.
The golden hem of your robe swept across the floor as you approached, walking closer Further into his room, deeper into the shadows. Moonlight spilled through the windows, mingling with the curtains, the autumn wind blowing in an icy delight. Yet, your body only grew warmer.
He stared at you, gaze unwavering, waiting. He knew you couldn’t run. You had no escape, no luxury to refuse and break this arrangement, for death would be your only way out—a humiliating one at that, through a pilgrimage sail.
Your limbs refused to move, frozen like a deer in headlights. Helplessness, guilt, desire– swirled into a sweet and savory cocktail inside your mind, leaving a confusing aftertaste behind. You inhaled, breath trembling. Then, you stumbled forward, unlike the graceful walk you were planning.
Once you stepped within his reach, gloved fingers clasped around your smaller ones, pulling you closer. Fenrico sat up straight. With a gentle tug, he urged you to straddle his lap, right hand caressing your thighs.
Your breaths slowed down, so did time in this sanctuary– where two souls intertwined in a devil's tango.
You felt large, slender fingers splayed across your back. Not control, not possession, no.
Admiration is a word for it. But another dangled at the tip of your tongue, never braving to take the leap, nagging at the back of your mind for some reason– worship.
He slipped off your cloak. Piece by piece, your robes came undone, lying a pool of silk at his feet. His eyes raked across your moonlit, bare body–shivering in cold, and perhaps, excitement–in his arms.
So fragile, and soft, and utterly precious.
If you'd paid attention, you'd have caught the faintest, quietest sigh he lets on every time while unravelling you, like unveiling a sacred relic. But your mind remained elsewhere. It was evident by your lack of response and the glossy, unfocused look in your eyes. He didn't like it.
He almost felt hurt, upset at the feelings of negligence and carelessness. Was he not worthy of the least bit of your attention?
"Look at me."
You did, attention lazily gliding over his broad, squared shoulders as they relaxed at your acknowledgement.
'Pathetic', you thought.
You wondered who'd come out on top if you were to compare between you and him based on pitifulness.
A deep, low hum of approval vibrated through his chest, a reward for your compliance. He lifted a hand to your cheek, cupping your face as the other one laced itself around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
A sigh escaped your lips at the feeling of his hard panes against your softer curves. The foam dipped underneath your combined weight as he leaned back on the plush sofa holding you. Laboured breaths mingled together. Your gaze locked on his lips.
A long, painful minute passed by. He was taking his sweet time, building up the pressure, eyes dragging over your face like a lover's farewell. Every night, it only seemed to get longer, as if your encounters grew into something meaningful, something deeper; intimate, even.
It scared you, more than the early times when you were fucked senseless by a lust-crazed lunatic, a man of the cloth falling from his high throne of vows and values.
It was safer that way.
This? This was dangerous, an absolute threat to your mind and soul.
His lips pressed into yours. Slow. Tantalizing. With such tenderness you'd only expect from the devout of a goddess.
As the night draped the cathedral in shadows, he whispered your name like a silent prayer.
It confused you. He confused you–when he prolonged your meetings, not just the nightly rendezvous; what he's done to save your skin in both trivial and crucial matters; how he himself knocked on your door when you hadn't showed up for a meal once-
Why, you never dared to ask. Not him, nor yourself. The possibilities of a particular answer–the possibility of deeper feelings, perhaps, love, had crossed your mind countless of times, leaving you terrified.
And so, you buried the questions deep underneath your desires, letting lust take over each time when fear and doubt plagued your mind.
The devil wasn't a silly, red man with a tail and a pitchfork. He was a handsome man– an achingly, devastatingly handsome man–with keen eyes and a gentle smile.
And so, with the devil, you worshipped every night; and perhaps, this time, Satan might have answered your call.
A dear anon Requested; Yandere Rover with unlucky reader.
While thinking about how to write it, I remembered a request in my Wattpad; Yandere Male Rover with an Isekai'd simp reader.
The ideas opened the flood gates and I combined the two to write it, But accidentally I posted the half written Oneshot instead of saving in drafts, in a panic I deleted the whole thing and then lost the anon Ask.
(╥﹏╥) ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ
After having a meltdown, I got back the motivation and wrote it from scratch.
Yandere M! Rover x unlucky simp isekai'd F!Reader
This was the blueprint / reference sheet for this sotry.
Slowburn
12k words (was having so much fun writing this I didn't even notice the word count.)
Wuwa Version 2.0 Rinascita spoilers
Part 2 coming soon
Rinascita was never ready for your thirst.
You were losing your mind. Not in a metaphorical, “haha I love this game” way—no, actually losing it. Right there on your bed, wrapped in a blanket burrito, your phone inches from your face, you screamed at a pixelated man who had no idea the chokehold he had on your soul.
“YESSSSS! 100K DAMAGE! GO OFF, KING!”
Your screen was a whirlwind of Havoc energy—your Rover dodging as your fingers maneuvered with precision on your phone screen. With a flick of his fingers, the Umbra bar pulsed to max, you clicked the resonance Liberation.
His voice came:
“You will Obey!”
“AHHHH I SWEAR TO GOD YOU COULD MURDER ME AND I’D THANK YOU—”
Dark Surge erupted. His scythe formed from a pulse of void-black resonance, and in a single sweep, the TD was gone. Like, deleted. A 100K crit damage number splashed across the screen and you collapsed backward like it had personally hit you.
You clutched your phone above your head, grinning like a madman, heart pounding like you'd just been proposed to. “This is it. This is peak gaming.”
Then gravity remembered you existed. The phone slipped from your fingers and smacked you right on the nose. You yelped, hands flailing, dignity nowhere in sight.
Peak gaming? More like peak misfortune.
After picking up your phone, you started to do your dailies. The dailies were easy. With him by your side, you finished off everything with a grin. You tried to act normal—keyword tried. But you still found yourself whispering, “Look at my man gooo~” every time he did that spinning blade combo.
"Now, I just need to finish the Rinascita quest and Aero Rover is mine!" you declared dramatically, just as your phone clung to life at a tragic 5%. You stared at it like it had personally betrayed you. With the sigh of someone who's been wronged by fate itself, you slapped it onto the charger.
When you finally logged out, you sighed long and hard, rolling onto your stomach.
“God, I wish I was there,” you muttered. “Like, not even in a weird way.” You rolled around on the bed, talking to yourself like any sane person would. “Okay, maybe a little weird, but I just wanna meet him. I’d totally be chill, right? I’d be cool. He wouldn't know I'm mentally married to him. I can fake normal.” You stared up at the ceiling.
“Just one chance, universe. One chance.”
Like the protagonist of every isekai anime ever, you fell asleep like that, mind filled with daydreams about him. Blanket half on the floor. Still mumbling about scythe physics and “how hot it is when he says anything in that voice of his.”
You woke up mid-scream.
Not because you were in danger. You were falling. Your body was currently plummeting through the air like a sack of potatoes. A flash of green, a swirl of clouds, and now—face-first into a patch of moss.
“Mmfh—ow—oof—my back…” you groaned, rolling over with all the grace of a flipped turtle. Leaves stuck to your cheek. Something—probably a bug—buzzed suspiciously near your ear. You slapped it away with a shriek and scrambled up, wobbling like a newborn deer.
What the hell?
You looked around, eyes wide. The trees swayed gently above you. As you looked up, a breathtaking sight unfolded—towering trees and jagged mountains pierced through the clouds. Ancient ruins peeked through the foliage, whispering tales of a bygone era. The air was thick with the scent of moss and hummed with strange frequencies.
Everything shimmered faintly, like the game’s graphics got injected with magic steroids. Except... this wasn’t your screen. This was real.
You smacked your own cheek once. Twice. “Ow—okay. Okay. This is happening.”
Your heart thundered. You spun in a circle, awe and panic slamming into each other like bumper cars. “This is Rinascita. This is actually Rinascita—holy SHIT I’m IN the GAME.”
You shrieked and tripped over a tree root you definitely should’ve seen, collapsing into a bush. It scratched the hell out of your arm, but the pain was just proof: real, not a dream.
And then you heard footsteps. You froze, your butt still plopped on the bush.
Crunch. Crunch.
Shadows danced across the moss. A low hum of resonance energy vibrated through the air, in a way that sent goosebumps down your spine.
As he came into view, your lungs forgot how to function for a second as your gaze collided with his. Broad shoulders, lean waist. Black belts/straps wrapped around his hips and chest—he looked very dreamy up front.
And those eyes, so magnetic. “I love you,” you blurted out without even letting the thought cook in your brain.
The silence was loud, as he paused, shocked by the abruptness and genuineness of your tone. Even the wind paused like, girl.
You clamped your hands over your mouth, eyes wide in horror. “I—I mean—not like that—I mean yes like that but not in a weird way—well, okay, maybe a little weird, but—oh god, I just—I swear I’m normal. Sometimes... Fuck.”
Rover tilted his head, stepping closer, his eyes zoning in on the cut on your arm. “Are you injured?”
“Yes—no—I mean emotionally, yes. Physically... just my ego,” you mumbled the last part, still embarrassed.
You tried to stand, but your foot caught the same cursed root and you fell again, this time right at his feet. Like a peasant paying tribute.
You groaned into the dirt. “This is why I can’t have nice things. My unlucky streak is at it again...”
He didn’t laugh. Of course not. He is a gentleman through and through. Instead, he crouched down beside you.
You stared up at him from the ground, limbs tangled and expression fully dead inside. “You’re even hotter in person. That’s not helping.”
Pause, try not to be so obvious. you scold yourself, reminding yourself to keep the fangirling to a minimum.
He held his hand in front of you to help you get up, voice low and calm. “You seem... disoriented. Are you actually alright?”
You shook your head, took his offer with the kind of reverence usually reserved for divine intervention, allowing him to pull you up. He didn’t comment on the way you tripped again immediately after and used his jacket to steady yourself.
“I am sorry,” you whispered, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. “I’m not usually like this...”
He helped you be steady on your feet. His eyes didn’t leave your face. “That’s difficult to believe,” he said softly.
You couldn’t tell if he meant it as sarcasm or observation—but either way, damn, it did things to you, and he was so close.
You feel the lingering warmth of his hand on yours.
Not metaphorical warmth, Not the “he touched me, oh my God I’m swooning” kind. Actual heat, like a campfire still flickering in your veins. You glance down at your fingers You’d clung to him like he was the last thread tethering you to sanity—because maybe, he is.
He hasn’t stepped away, still hovering near. You guess he’s staying close so you don’t trip again. aw, how nice of him!
You’re still staring at that hand of yours. It’s shaking, combined with the sting of the scratch on your arm.
You blink down at your fingers. Curl them. Uncurl. You press your thumb into your palm like you’re trying to wake up—you already know the answer but you are still in denial. Nothing happens. The world doesn’t blur. There’s no logout button hovering over your peripheral vision.
Your throat tightens.
“I’m in Wuthering Waves,” you whisper, voice barely carried by the air. “The game. This is the game.”
You blink up at the sky—those shattered clouds, the hazy blue, the orange-tinged light that never feels quite right. It’s too beautiful to be real, and that’s the problem.
“I’m in the fucking game.” Your legs go stiff. You can’t look at Rover. Not yet. You can feel him beside you though. “Wait, wasn’t Truck-kun in charge of Isekai?! I mean, I love this game and I’m in it… I was happy a moment ago, but now I suddenly feel anxious!”
“I can’t even run two miles without gasping like a dying fish,” you mumble, voice catching on a breath. “I sprain my ankle walking too fast in socks. And now I’m here… in a post-apocalyptic monster hellscape…”
A breath escapes your lips. It sounds like a laugh, but it’s broken. It doesn’t make it past your teeth.
“I’m going to die here,” you whisper, almost stunned by your own words. “Of course this happened to me. Of course, knowing my luck. My life is just a string of bad RNG. And now in a game that would have me killed in less than a second!”
Your knees feel unsteady. The nausea creeps in like a slow wave, curling into your gut. Rover silently stands beside you, So completely unaware that you are currently having a mental breakdown in HD 4K resolution.
Maybe he knows but doesn't want to interrupt, ah, you are too far gone to think about that. You inhale shakily, Try to joke it off. “Haha, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you whisper but Your voice cracks.
Cool. Cool. Everything is fine.
You stare at him, Then you ask, “Have you met Cartethyia yet?”
He tilts his head. “...Who?”
You laugh. It’s the kind that sounds like it’s trying to crawl its way out of your throat, a panicky exhale.
You start mumbling.
“Montelli family… yeah, you’re supposed to team up with Carlotta. There’s this whole bit where you join the Troupe of Fools? Fight against Phrolova but make it look like a carnival performance. And then you receive the Laurel from Cartethyia, the Maiden. You meet her when she is dancing on water.”
You rub your temple, your brain short-circuiting, You crouch on the ground, slowly curling in on yourself, arms tightening around your knees.
“I don’t want to die,” you whisper, too soft. “I don’t even know how to hold a sword. I can’t fight monsters. I can’t run.”
Seeing someone fall, Rover quickly ran to help the said person. He had noticed you long before you realized he was watching.
Not just the way you stood awkwardly in this world—your posture not matching the other inhabitants, not aligning with the rhythm of this reality—but the way your eyes followed him. That slow trail of longing, like your gaze held a history no one had written yet.
He sees people look at him all the time. Wanting something. Needing something. Dressing up desperation in flattery.
But you blinked at him like someone seeing a memory in flesh. Like someone who couldn’t quite believe he existed. And then—“I love you.”
The words landed with a sincerity so bare, so vulnerable, it made his breath still for half a second.
Not lust. Not seduction. No angled smile or slanted voice. Just a truth, trembling at the base of your tongue, so unfiltered it didn’t even wait for permission.
His mind locked onto you like a puzzle piece with edges that didn’t match anything else in the box.
Flirting—he’d seen it all. It was currency here, like pain or adrenaline. Everyone tried it. A hand brushed too long, a compliment too smooth, a feigned stumble into his chest. It was the unspoken agreement of survivors: flatter the strong, and they might protect you.
He’d grown immune to it. So when you said you loved him?
He waited for the follow-up. The manipulation. The ask. The trade. But it never came.
You just stood there, awkward and pink in the cheeks, with eyes darting like you regretted speaking too loudly in church.
He noted the way you bit your lip, then tried to backtrack. The fumble of your fingers, the way you kept glancing away like maybe if you looked somewhere else long enough, time would rewind itself and un-say what you’d said.
Cute. He found you cute.
He’d catalogued emotions a thousand times. Studied expressions for lies, eyes for betrayal, postures for threat.
But yours didn't fit any category.
And then came the dump.
The babble of a girl who knew too much. Who said names like passwords, dropped references like prophecy.
At first, he assumed you were delirious. Shell shock, maybe. Madness. The kind that comes after a concussion, you did appear out of nowhere from the sky.
But the more you spoke, the more specific it all became.
You told him he was a character. That you had played through this world, and he was at the center of it.
He didn’t believe it.
But the clarity of your voice, the ache in it, the precision with which you whispered names—it didn’t match a lie. It matched conviction.
He stored it. Like a tracker tagging something rare. Slid the information into a mental folder and filed it next to things he wasn’t supposed to understand yet.
Later. He’d circle back to it later.
He watched as your body began to tremble. As you sank into yourself, shoulders hunched, head bowed like the weight of this world and the other one you came from had finally crashed together.
“You’re still alive, see,” Rover finally spoke, making you look up at him from your knees. He crouched down beside you again.
“Let me help you. We should definitely go somewhere safer. The forest is filled with TDs.”
Offering you his hand again, he watched as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.
“I’ll ask Zani to accommodate a place for you to stay. It seems you’ve lost your way.”
You blink rapidly. Rover watched you with a calm, unreadable gaze, waiting for you to take his hand. It seemed you had finally calmed down—or perhaps he’d distracted you—because the last trembles of your meltdown were fading.
“So,” he said, voice smooth like worn velvet, giving you a small smile. “What is your name?”
You, still high off panic and full simp-mode, blurted, “You can call me your wife.”
Instant regret. Your eyes went wide. “Wait, I didn’t mean—I mean—I don’t mind if you do, but I didn’t mean to—oh god, I’m making this worse—sorry—ah, I’ll stop!”
You buried your face in your hands, wanting the ground to open up and swallow your simp soul. “Forget I said anything. Please.”
Rover couldn’t help the amused glint in his eyes. He wanted to test something. The edge of his voice dipped, smooth and amused, just enough to tilt the world sideways.
“...Would you tell me your name, or should I start calling you ‘my wife’ ?”
You squealed internally. Your soul left your body. Your mind short-circuited. “That would be nice,” you said in a dazed whisper.
Rover chuckled softly. You were quite fun to tease.
Your eyes flew open. “Ah! No! I mean—sorry! My name is [Name]!”
You finally took his hand as he helped you stand. You let go quickly, already embarrassed and internally cringing at your slip-ups. You wanted to keep your fangirling side locked up, so you took a step away from him.
“I’ll guide you back to Ragunna City and help you settle,” Rover said, already walking ahead.
You stayed frozen in place.
Noticing you weren’t following, Rover glanced back. “Stay close,” he said calmly.
Startled, stumbling a bit before quickly jogging to catch up, falling into step beside him.
Oh god. You are so fucked.
You and Rover have been walking for… you don’t even know how long. Not to mention, as you two were walking out of the forest, there were so many TDs that attacked. Thank god Rover took care of all of them, and you were happily cheering him on from the back.
The misfortunate situation is not lost on you, knowing how your luck is, you were kinda expecting to run into more trouble after that. But this journey so far has been peaceful, and now you really don’t want to jinx it.
Oh, thinking about how peaceful it is might jinx it. I should stop. You shake your head to dispel the thought.
The weather’s nice too. Sunny, but not too much. The clouds, thick, cottony ones, hide the sun occasionally. Just the right kind of sky to take a walk and touch some grass.
Reaching a set of stone stairs, you notice a Resonance Nexus nearby. Rinascita Nexuses are shaped like the lower part of a fish’s tail, it’s unique. And on your left side… is a cave. A very dark one.
“Do you know this place?” Rover’s smooth voice comes from just beside you, making you snap out of your daze.
“Umm… I don’t know much of the map of Rinascita since I just started playing and then got dumped here. Well, I already know about the port part, where Brant and his crew leave you and then you meet Zani. I think… My memory’s a little fuzzy. Wait, no! You meet Phoebe first… now that I think more about it, you meet an NPC called Cristopopo. No, um… what was his name?”
You ramble on, words slipping faster than your common sense.
“Cristoforo…” Rover answers, his eyes narrowing as he watches you with a sharpened gaze. “How did you know all this?”
At first, he chalked off your ramblings as a possible concussion response. But now? You know how he arrived here. Who he met. Too much, actually. All of this is starting to feel very suspicious.
“Because I was the one behind the screen, Rover!” you chuckle, then pause.
Wait…Your brain stutters. Shouldn’t I be hiding the fact that I know too much? I’ve seen enough isekai anime to know this is a red flag move.
“Oh shit…” You slowly meet Rover’s gaze and smile as innocently as possible. “I am a normal human… who’s a little crazy. Yep! I think I actually got a concussion by falling from the sky! Weird… hahaha…”
You laugh nervously, trying to lighten the mood, where was your common sense when you needed it the most?!
But those golden eyes, glint with something unreadable. The air suddenly feels thick with tension.
Rover nods slowly, and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “This is the way to the city square.” he says, pointing toward the cave.
…?No way. If you remember correctly, this actually leads to the Cathedral—the Order’s base.
Still, you follow him into the cave. He walks a few steps ahead while you lag behind. It’s dim, lit only by candles on either side, on the ground, shadows licking the stone walls. The air is cold and damp.
It’s so dark that if someone were to murder anyone in here… no one would know.
You chuckle to yourself.
Imagine if Rover brought you here to murder you because you’re suspicious. Hahaha… funny.
Rover pauses mid-step as if he heard that thought.
You freeze.
He turns to look at you and you swear his eyes are glowing.
“There are stone stairs up ahead. I think I should guide you from here, knowing how you can trip unprompted.” he says, offering his hand.
Aw, how nice! But wait, did he just make fun of you?
Eh, whatever. You can’t focus on that when Rover just remembered something so trivial about you! Your heart does a little flip as you take his hand without hesitation.
He helps you walk down the stairs, and the cave opens into a half-balcony area. From here, you can see the structure of the place more clearly.
There’s an opening to your left where the stairs lead down to a wide area with a fountain in the center. Another balcony lies to the right, and what looks like an elevator structure stands to the left.
Oh! you know this place.
“Rover! This is the Cathedral area, not the city square. The elevator leads down to the entrance of the Cathedral and…”
You walk to the balcony that overlooks the Cathedral’s massive dome.
“And I remember doing an Echo Challenge: Flight VI here!”
You turn to face Rover. “So why did you—” Your voice dies inside your throat as you see the look on his face.
He’s smiling, The I-just-confirmed-my-suspicion kind of smile.
And he looks so hot.
“…you know a lot more than you let on,” he says, casually.
You raise both your hands in surrender. “Look, I’m from another universe who got dropped into this one out of nowhere! And then I met my future husb—”
Rover raises an eyebrow. You panic and pivot mid-sentence.
“I mean, I told you everything I know! I’m no threat! I can’t even fight or anything!”
You’re really selling this like a bad NPC, and the delivery is getting desperate. A true Oscar performance.
Rover nods again, as if still processing your info. Then he lifts his chin toward the landscape. “That’s Ragunna City. But you already know that, don’t you?”
You look out across the scenery. In the game, it’s beautiful but in real life? It’s stunning.
“Are we gonna take the elevator, then a boat to the city?” you ask, excited.
“No,” Rover says. And suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you.
You gulp.
His eyelashes are so long. His lips look kissable as hell
Focus!
“—Ready?”
“Huh?”
Before you can even process it, Rover’s hand wraps around your waist and pulls you close as he jumps off the balcony.
His Flight wings appear just in time, catching the wind, and the two of you are soaring through the air. The wind rushes past you, your heart threatening to beat right out of your chest.
Down below, the city opens up in all its glory. It’s breathtaking.
Rover lands gracefully on the city square, letting go of you immediately. You wobble, regaining your footing, eyes wide.
“You should’ve warned me first!” you exclaim. “But that was awesome! It’s such a bummer you can only use this utility in Rinascita and not in Huanglong.”
Rover frowns slightly, but then smirks. “I did tell you we were about to fly down to the city square.” He leans closer to your eye level. “Seems like, you were lost in that head of yours.”
Ugh. This man. Why is he so……illegally attractive?
Ragunna City in all its glory, where the architecture immediately captivates with its harmonious blend of form and function. Buildings rise in warm hues of beige, ivory, and terracotta, their facades adorned with intricate carvings and ornate balconies that seem like something straight out of a dream.
Canals weave through the city like veins, crossed by arched stone bridges that connect various districts. Along these waterways, colonnaded walkways provide shaded paths, their columns supporting overhanging terraces lush with greenery.
"Wow!" You’re blown away by how breathtaking the city is. “It’s about time Zani called…” Rover murmurs just as his terminal rings.
“Unfortunately, bad news, I did connect with the places around, but there aren’t any rooms available in any of the hotels in the city,” Zani says over the call. Rover had asked her if she could arrange a room for you.
What surprises you more is that Rover didn’t mention a single thing about how he found you, where you're from, or any of your wildly suspicious ramblings. He simply stated you were someone important to him and that Zani should treat you like she treats him.
Weird… but you don’t dwell on it.
“I’ve told some of my people to keep searching. This is uncanny to say the least,” Zani continues, and Rover hums in response.
“If we can’t find anything,” Rover says, turning his gaze to you and calling your name, “you can stay with me.”
You blink. Spending a night with Rover? In a room? Alone?! Count me in.
After the call ends, you’re busy ogling the streets—your eyes wide as you try to soak everything in.
“Would you like to look around the city?” Rover asks, voice smooth as silk.
“Can we?! Don’t you have to, like… go meet the head of the Montelli family? Maybe a certain troop of fools to plan the Carnival performance?”
There you go again, digging your own grave with the shovel. Might as well throw in a few flowers while you’re at it, because Rover is clearly locked onto you again.
“…”
“Ah—I would love to! Let’s look around the city!” you shout, immediately speed-walking toward the Tub Tacet Discord to distract him.
“Hey Rover, she is very suspicious…”
“Shh…Abby, now is not a good time.”
Rover simply follows, letting you lead the way, subtly steering you through the city like he’s indulging you… or observing. Either way, you're too thrilled to care.
The shops are narrow but deep, with arched doorways and canvas shades overhead. The lighting is dim but golden, bouncing off copper lanterns and polished wood counters. Markets are open-air, scattered through the city like hidden gems.
You’re definitely enjoying yourself. Doesn’t this feel like...a date?
And to think—your mother luck has finally shown up for you, because nothing bad has happened so far. This whole exploration? Solid 10/10.
“I won’t be coming back to the hotel tonight, so the room’s all yours. I have some things to take care of. We might see each other in the morning.” Rover says as the two of you finally arrive at the hotel he’s staying at.
Might…? You blink. Right, it’s probably the quest time. Maybe he’s off to meet the Troop of Fools or something. It is nighttime, after all.
“We won’t see each other in the morning?” you ask, the disappointment slipping out before you can stop it.
“Maybe, maybe not. It Depends.” Rover gives you a smile and with that, Rover walks off after handing you the room key.
You enter the room and plop onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. So tired. Your legs are aching like you walked across the entire map. Rolling back and forth on the mattress, you try to find a comfortable position.
“I wonder… why didn’t Abby appear when I met Rover? In the Rinascita quest, Abby was always out and about…”
With that final thought, sleep takes you, deep and heavy, completely unaware that, somewhere out there, you had already slipped beneath their skin, settled into their thoughts.
The next morning, you're already up and about, practically skipping through the sun-dappled streets of Ragunna City. How could you not? You're in the world of Wuthering Waves! The most logical thing to do? Soak in every glorious detail.
Well, after that nervous breakdown yesterday, you’ve come up with a brilliant idea—you're going to settle in Ragunna City, find a job, and live a comfortable life, far away from the wild and hostile Tacet Discords.
You gasp, the memory of the Phrolova fight and its breathtaking cutscene flooding back. Oh. My. God. You're so ready.
You race toward the gathering crowd, the air buzzing with anticipation. Brant sits atop a high platform. But where's Rover? Maybe he's with Carlotta, preparing for the performance.
Suddenly, red petals begin to drift from above, catching the sunlight as they fall. You look up, and there she is.
Phrolova.
Your heart skips a beat. The sky parts like a curtain, revealing a scene that's both eerie and mesmerizing. The atmosphere is tinged with an otherworldly aura, sending a thrill down your spine.
The crowd's cheers swell as Phrolova begins to speak, her voice resonating through the square. She gracefully settles onto a circular hoop suspended in the air, exuding an ethereal elegance.
It's about to begin!!!
You watch, enraptured, as Carlotta and Rover take the stage, battling wave after wave of Tacet Discords. Brant narrates the scene like a grand play, his words weaving the action into a captivating story.
The climax arrives with a burst of fireworks as Rover slices through Phrolova's wand with his scythe. He lands on the stage, the remnants of Phrolova's domain dissipating around him. A laurel materializes, crowning his head.
You're practically bouncing with joy. Witnessing this in real life is beyond anything you could have imagined. It's absolutely magnificent.
Suddenly, a feeling wraps around you like a hug, it's suffocating.
You feel Eyes on you.
You glance around and find Rover staring directly at you, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. There's something in his gaze, so unnerving.
Instinctively, you feel an urge to hide, to escape those hauntingly beautiful eyes.
Without thinking, you turn and weave through the crowd, slipping into the narrow alleys of Ragunna City, your heart pounding in your chest.
After the Carnival, Rover walks into the hotel, footsteps soft on the polished floors. He’s greeted instantly.
“Mister Rover, another room has been prepared for you. Here’s the key,” the receptionist says with a practiced smile.
He smiles back, taking it without a word, fingers curling around the cool metal. Once inside his suite, the door clicks shut behind him.
Not a single thought passed through his head, just the static buzz of your voice echoing in some unreachable corner of his mind.
With a heavy exhale, he dropped down onto the edge of the bed. he sat with both feet planted wide on the ground, knees spread, forearms resting atop them.
One hand slid through his hair, slow, rough, pulling at the strands like he could rake the thoughts from his skull.
“I’m in the fucking game.”
“Have you met Cartethyia yet?”
“Montelli family… yeah, you’re supposed to team up with Carlotta. There’s this whole bit where you join the Troupe of Fools? Fight against Phrolova but make it look like a carnival performance. And then you receive the Laurel from Cartethyia, the Maiden. You meet her when she is dancing on water.”
“Umm… I don’t know much of the map of Rinascita since I just started playing and then got dumped here. Well, I already know about the port part, where Brant and his crew leave you and then you meet Zani. I think… My memory’s a little fuzzy. Wait, no! You meet Phoebe first… now that I think more about it, you meet an NPC called Cristopopo. No, um… what was his name?”
“But that was awesome! It’s such a bummer you can only use this utility in Rinascita and not in Huanglong.”
“Because I am the one behind the screen, Rover.”
Your previous conversations loop around in that big brain of Rover's. He rests his chin on his clasped hands, elbows propped on his knees, eyes glued to the wall.
The pulse in his temple beats a little too hard.
“She said I’m a character,” he whispered, eyes narrowing. “This world isn’t real.”
A sharp breath rattled into his lungs as he closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly, as if listening to some whisper only he could hear.
“She knows Huanglong. She knows Rinascita. She talks like she has known me since the beginning of my journey...”
“I love you.”
The moment it replayed in his mind, something fractured beneath the surface.
Abby burst from the Tacet mark, crackling into the air with a spark of gold light. “What if all she’s saying is nonsense?”
It pouted when Rover didn't say anything. “Rover, don’t we have to meet Carlotta, Brant and Roccia for the celebration tomorrow? Let's just sleep!”
He didn’t move. His eyes were still on the wall, still seeing the shape of your smile in the cracks of the paint.
“Abby… what’s her frequency like?”
Abby blinked, startled by the question. “Eh? I mean—it’s normal. Kind of weirdly low, actually. But it’s got this… this vibe to it. Hard to explain.”
Abby floated in slow, thoughtful circles, frowning in concentration. “It just feels…”
Rover’s gaze finally broke from the wall, softening when turning to Abby.
“Out of this world!” Abby said suddenly, snapping its little paw-fingers. “That’s it!”
He nodded. “Otherworldly,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his voice dropped. “Can you absorb her?”
Abby jerked in mid-air, appalled. “Ew! No! She’s sweet! Like aggressively sweet! I’d get indigestion.”
A slow exhale left Rover’s mouth. He stood without another word, walking to the door, movement fluid, like the weight of his thoughts no longer held him down.
“Will we go to the party tomorrow?” Abby zipped after him, in an excited spiral. “Umm..where are we going?”
Rover nods, smiling softly at Abby. “Yes we will. For now I just need some fresh air.” Abby floats beside his shoulder. “What about the strange girl?”
He pauses at the threshold, a shadow stretching long behind him from the hallway lights.
“I must keep her close.”
You weave through the streets, your steps slowing to a casual stroll despite the frantic beat of your heart.
It felt like… no, you don’t want to finish that thought.
There’s no reason to. Rover would never—he’s gentle, thoughtful, the kind of man who's Carring and always waits for your answer. He’s your Rover.
The sun has long dipped below the skyline, shadows stretching like claws across the cobblestones. The streets are lit by eerie blue lamps, that give off that weird hypnotic sound.
The occasional flutter of a curtain from open windows, or the low creak of Ragunna City's buildings, the distinct sound of people are the only thing keeping you company, You have walked towards the empty part of the city.
You’re not walking with any direction, just letting your feet take you through the winding alleys, marveling at how this place feels so much like Rome. So beautiful, so rich with history and yet, so easy to get lost in.
The wind howls through the upper levels, curling around the rooftops like a predator circling in silence.
And then it hits you, that feeling. That dreadful, skin-prickling, breath-snatching feeling. Something is watching you.
You lift your gaze, heartbeat stalling.
Two glowing purple orbs, blink into existence atop a rooftop. They shift, jump, moving roof to roof, always staying just far enough to make you doubt…
but close enough that you know they’re watching. And they’re getting closer.
No. No, no, no.
One single word cuts through every thought Run.
And so you do.
You bolt through the city, panic clawing at your throat, your shoes skidding on the stone paths as you turn corner after corner, blindly sprinting down alleyways and corners that all look the same.
The wind behind you screams. You don’t dare look back. You don’t need to. The orbs are above you now, gliding overhead like phantoms. They’re keeping up, very easily.
Your lungs are burning. Your legs ache. But still, you run.
You make a sharp turn, too sharp and slam headfirst into something solid. You stagger back, the impact jarring your senses.
And in your dazed panic you hear the person in front of you whisper your name softly, Spoken like a question, and yet it cuts through your fear like a blade. You’d know that voice anywhere.
“Rover!” you gasp, your voice a ragged mess of relief and exhaustion. “Oh thank god, Rover, I think I was being chased! There were these orbs, like, ghost things, jumping over rooftops!” You point up, frantic, your breath hitching.
But there’s nothing. Your outstretched finger trembles. You blink up at the empty rooftops.
Rover steps closer, brows furrowed with visible concern. “You didn’t return to the hotel,” he says, voice soft but serious. “I got a little worried…”
The way he says it, that makes guilt wrap tightly around your chest. You hadn’t thought about that. You’d gotten so swept up in the fear of getting away from him, but he was the only one who came to your rescue.
Before you can respond, a sharp, slightly indignant voice cuts in.
"Meh! She better have a good explanation! You wasted my precious time!"
Your heart leaps with recognition.
“Abby!!” you squeal, spotting the tiny, cat-like Echo floating indignantly beside Rover’s shoulder.
You lunge forward and scoop it into your arms before it can float away, smothering it in your excitement. “Oh my god, you're so fluffy in real life! You’re adorable! So cute!!”
“Let. Me. Go!” Abby grumbles, squirming and kicking its little limbs in protest. It floats upward with an angry wobble as soon as you loosen your grip, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.
You pout. “Ok, ok sorry! I know I didn’t ask before hugging you but I got hit with cuteness aggression! You can’t hold that against me.”
The little Echo huffs and sticks its tongue out at you without missing a beat, you stick yours right back.
Rover watches the interaction in silence, noticing how easy it is to distract you.… but that earlier intensity still lingers at the very edges of his expression.
After that long, nightmare-like night, you returned to the hotel with Rover. Morning came too soon, walking out of your room you catch a glimpse of familiar dark fabric moving past you, Your heart jumps.
Quickly, You follow him along the hallway, Rover is already walking ahead, his silhouette framed by golden light from the lobby windows.
“Rover!” you call out, voice echoing softly across the corridor.
He pauses mid-step, turning just slightly. That warm, boyish smile spreads across his face—“Good Morning.” and that breathy softness of his tone. The kind that makes your chest squeeze painfully and your legs feel weak.
It’s stupid how fast he can do that to you.
You greet him back with enthusiasm, falling into step beside him, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. It's too early to be simping again, gotta make your brain think of something else.
“You know, I was thinking... I’m going to stay in Ragunna City. Maybe get a job, settle in a bit. That way I don’t have to run into any Tacet Discords...and honestly...I really don’t want to learn how to fight.”
Rover’s eyes flick toward you as he opens the front entrance of the hotel. The door glides smoothly, and he holds it open without a word, letting you step through first.
“That’s smart thinking,” he murmurs, and for a second, you swear there’s something weightier behind his tone.
Your heart does a flip. Rover just called me smart. He thinks I’m smart! Heh!
You glance up at him, beaming, but the smile on his face has vanished. He’s watching you now. A stillness in him, like the air before lightning strikes.
“But,” he says slowly, and starts walking again, now the two of you are walking down the streets. “You told me about what happened last night… and it sounds like Ragunna City might not be as safe as you think.”
You blink at him. “Wait… you believe me?” The shock is real, raw. You hadn’t expected him to take your words seriously.
He stops walking and Turns. His golden eyes meet yours, catching the sunlight just right, there’s a glimmer in them that feels too sharp to be soft, too intense to be gentle.
“Yes, I do,” he says, voice smooth, measured. “Every single word since we met… I’ve believed you.” He leans in slightly, lowering his tone to something quieter, something softer that curls beneath your skin. “You wouldn’t have a reason to lie to me. Right?”
There’s no threat in his voice. None at all. Only kindness. Too much kindness. It floods over you, sweet and heavy. You gulp.
But then you see it. That unwavering focus in his eyes. Like he’s not just hearing you but memorizing every syllable, and every feature of yours.
Still, your smile returns, hesitant but hopeful. He believed you, About the ghost. You weren’t crazy, and somehow that felt like everything.
“Yep! I was serious about that.” you say, a little breathless. “Thank you.”
Right then, his terminal buzzes.
But Rover doesn’t reach for it immediately, His eyes linger on you, longer than necessary, longer than what should be polite. like the interruption has offended him somehow.
Only when the buzzing repeats does he finally pick it up.
“Were you awake, Rover? I trust you had a restful sleep?” a woman’s voice purrs from the other end.
You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the squeal building in your throat, eyes going wide. Oh my god. It's Carlotta! This is it! This is where he goes to meet with Brant, Roccia. You're practically vibrating with excitement, quietly giggling into your hand like a lovesick person.
“Psst! What are you giggling about!?” a tiny voice snaps beside you.
You blink, turn your head and flinch. “Abby!? When did you get out of Rover’s Tacet mark? You’re still weak, you shouldn’t be out!”
Abby floats right into your face, squinting suspiciously. “You’re weird. You know things only me and Rover should know. I’m watching you.” It squints harder, doing the two fingers motion from its eyes to yours, then promptly zips back into Rover’s Tacet mark like a gremlin vanishing into shadow.
The call ends with a soft beep.
Rover turns back to you, but there’s something unreadable in his gaze, like he’s thinking too much. Or not thinking at all. “Don’t mind Abby,” he says. “Would you like to come with me?”
You blink. “Where?”
He raises an eyebrow, as his lips quirk up slightly. “You already know the answer. So why ask?”
You huff, flustered, watching as Rover turns his back to you, walking ahead with a casual confidence. Like he already knows you’ll follow.
The space you arrive in is open and tastefully decorated, big plush couches arranged around a low table, soft lighting casting warm glows over the area.
And your breath catches.
Because there they are—Brant, Carlotta, and Roccia. In the flesh. Living, breathing, talking. Not just pixels or dialogue boxes. You practically light up, your eyes going wide and sparkling like you’ve stepped into a dream made real.
You barely register the soft click of Rover’s boots behind you.
He watches you. Watches the way your mouth parts just a little in awe, the way your body angles forward in excitement.
He drinks in every detail like he’s parched...
but it’s not enough. Because for the first time since you met… you’re not looking at him.
You’re looking at them.
And he doesn’t like it.
Not one bit.
There’s a weight in his chest, something sharp and unfamiliar. A prickling tightness blooming behind his ribs like thorns.
He clears his throat softly, a warning disguised in civility.
You blink, glancing back at him. He’s smiling But something in his eyes is off.
Rover gestures toward the trio and some other people from the troop of fools with a tilt of his head, silently urging you forward. You step ahead with a nervous bounce, and he trails just behind you.
His eyes never leave you.
Not even for a second.
“Raise your glasses! Shout it loud, friends! To us! To the carneval! And to our very own Laureate!” Brant cheered, his voice a bit too loud and his steps more than a little wobbly. He looked absolutely wasted, swaying on his feet as he raised his drink high into the air with a proud grin.
You paused, standing just a few feet away from him, trying not to let your expression reveal the internal screeching happening inside your head. Rover stepped forward slightly, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours. “Please, stop,” he murmured. “You’re making me feel embarrassed.”
Brant gave Rover a sloppy, closed-eyed smile, completely unbothered by the scolding. Then his gaze shifted and landed on you and he lit up like a firework. “Oh! The Laureate's Maiden!” he exclaimed, voice cracking with excitement as he stumbled a little. “You were the one Rover left so early for, aren't you?”
He extended his drink toward you in a cheerful toast, and you froze. Your heart practically stuttered at the title, ‘Laureate’s Maiden.’ The words echoed in your mind like a prophecy.
Rover said nothing. He only lifted a hand to his forehead while shaking his head.
Carlotta’s sharp, observant eyes flicked toward you in curiosity. Meanwhile, Roccia leaned in toward her and whispered, “He’s drunk again,” before offering you a small, apologetic smile, in her shy demeanor.
You were losing your goddamn mind.
You stood there, barely holding it together, silently screaming. You were watching Brant be an absolute mess, Roccia being adorable, and Carlotta giving you the “I see you” stare. And then it hit you again how real everything is.
Your inner fangirl was one step away from combusting.
You felt it building up—your excitement almost boiling over your lips.
A hand wrapped around your wrist.
Your head snapped up, eyes locking with Rover’s. His face didn’t betray much, but the look in his golden eyes was enough—sharp, steady, and entirely too aware of what was happening inside you.
Somehow, he knew.
That you were about to slip, about to fangirl out loud and shatter the whole illusion. You didn’t even get how, but he caught it. As if he was tuned to your every breath.
You swallowed your squeal and took a deep, steadying breath. Then gave him a small, sheepish nod.
But he didn’t let go of your wrist and you could feel it in the pressure of his touch, the way he refused to release you.
Carlotta’s gaze softened, her attention drifting from Rover’s hand on you to your expression.
She smiled, and looked down for a moment, then patted the empty space beside her on the couch. It wasn’t direct, no announcement or fanfare, but the invitation was clear in her casual, elegant way. Just a subtle gesture, as if saying; Come sit. Let’s talk. You’re welcome here.
Carlotta rose gracefully, lifting her glass with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. “A toast, everyone!” she called, her voice ringing clear across the space. “drink freely and celebrate without restraint—everything’s on me.”
A ripple of cheers followed, glasses raised, laughter blooming in the air like fireworks.
You giggled to yourself, heart warm, eyes sparkling as the atmosphere buzzed around you. Slipping from Rover’s grasp—fingers parting with a reluctant drag—you moved to sit beside Carlotta on the plush sofa, feeling a soft thrill.
Carlotta turned to you, her expression calm but kind. “Welcome,” she said smoothly, folding one leg over the other. “You’re Rover’s special person. You’ll be treated as such.”
Your chest gave a small, involuntary flutter. You blinked at her, caught off guard by her directness. “Ah—Thank you! Um… but I don’t know about being special…” Your voice trailed into a mumble as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks heating. “I want to be, though…”
Carlotta tilted her head, repeating your words with an airy lilt, “You’re not?” a flicker of relief, so subtle it almost slipped past you.
Before you could open your mouth and spill something mortifying —your unfiltered thoughts like, ‘Rover's fingers felt like silk ropes and I think I stopped breathing for three seconds’—a sudden shift interrupted.
Rover moved, Just strode forward and sat himself directly between you and Carlotta, his body sliding into the space. His shoulder pressed lightly against yours, and you had no choice but to scoot slightly to the side—caught off guard by the smoothness of the maneuver.
Carlotta blinked in mild surprise, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Your own eyes widened too. The tension was brief but palpable, like the quiet before a lightning strike.
Carlotta adjusted her posture with ease and offered no protest. She simply redirected the flow of conversation, her tone shifting into something professional as she began discussing details about the event.
Rover and Carlotta kept talking, their tones low and deliberate as Roccia chimed in now and then. You stayed quiet, content to observe. but the heat at your side was impossible to ignore.
Rover’s leg brushed against yours, now settled there, beside yours. His hand settled near his knee, close enough that you felt the weight of it, even without touch. There was less to no distance between you two.
Whatever that gesture meant, it was received. Even the Order’s acolyte, who was spying from afar noticed it.
No one would approach you. Not now. Not with him right there.
It would be reported to Primus, an unexpected detail they’d soon turn into a calculated advantage.
You’re alone again.
The wind cuts soft against your skin as you stand on the balcony—that balcony. The one Rover brought you to the cave opened up into a place, Order's Cathedral.
He got summoned by the Primus. Some urgent request, diplomatic bullshit. You didn’t want to go inside. So you told him you’d wait here—where it all began. Where you both first touched Regunna’s sky.
The elevator hums behind you.
Ding.
“Excuse me, Miss. Are you with Rover?”
You blink, caught mid-thought. When you turn, you find an acolyte standing just a few feet away, the fountain splashing steadily behind him.
“Yes?” you say slowly, confused. Why the hell is one of them talking to you?
“With the Primus’ request, we’d like to give you a tour of the Order’s wildlife.”
Huuuh!?
You stare at him, deadpan. “Does Rover know about this?”
He doesn’t answer, Instead, his hand appears from behind his back, holding out a bouquet. A beautiful one. Flowers in shades that don’t exist in Regunna’s natural palette, arranged like a bribe wrapped in silk.
“For you, my lady,” he says with a thin smile. “A gift from the Primus. As a welcome.”
Huuuuuuuhhhhh?!
You feel your social anxiety flare like a damn solar flare. You grab the bouquet on instinct just to make this weirdo stop looking at you. The scent hits you immediately—sweet, heady, with something underneath, Faint and Strange.
Rot?
No. It’s not bad. Just…
“Would you please follow me?”
You don’t want to.
You don’t want to.
You want to ask more questions. Call Rover. Push this guy into the railing and run. But your body… it’s moving. Feet light, legs slow, floating forward.
The bouquet trembles in your hands.
Your throat tightens. “Ro...ver…” you try, but your mouth opens soundlessly. Not a whisper, not a wheeze. Nothing.
Inside, you’re screaming. You are begging for your voice. For control of your body.
Help me.
But all you can do is follow.
You’re in a field now.
Wide, open, The sky is dimmer here. Or maybe you’re imagining it. You blink—your vision sharpens. The man’s walking away, saying nothing. His silhouette fades into the distant treeline like he was never there.
And just like that, you drop the bouquet.
It hits the ground with a soft thump, and suddenly—it’s like you can breathe again. Like some part of your soul just clawed its way back into your chest.
Your hands shake.
“That bastard,” you hiss, furious. You want to run back, grab someone—anyone—by the collar and scream at them, What the fuck was that?!
But… who would believe you?
Then a voice, warm and steady, echoes in your memory.
“Every single word since we met… I’ve believed you.”
Rover.
Your breath hitches. Yeah. He would believe you.
But first, you need to get the hell out of here.
You spin around, scanning the field. You don’t even know where you are. There’s grass. Rocks. A distant shimmer of trees. You have no idea which way is back to the city. And of course, the second you realize how alone you are, The air shifts.
It gets cold. And then you hear it. Skittering. Growling. Clicking. Then, like stars in a nightmare sky, they appear—one by one. Tacet Discords...At least twenty of them.
All shapes. All sizes. Some teddy bear like. Some Grotesque silhouettes against the horizon—elongated limbs, blinking eyes, wet jaws, razor-wings.
The air hums with primal danger.
Your heart drops straight into your gut.
“Nonononono! fuck me sideways...” you breathe, taking a shaky step back.
Then they move, Fast. All at once. You run.
There’s no plan. No direction. Just sheer, animal panic. You dodge a spiked tail that slams into the ground where you stood a second ago. The impact makes the earth tremble, and you scream—loud, raw.
Your luck is absolute shit—no, scratch that, it's cosmically cursed. You were having such a good time.
And now? Thrown into this mess.
Funny how things go to hell the moment Rover isn’t by your side. When he’s around, your luck feels blessed, like the universe has your back. The second he’s gone? Boom—chaos and now apparently a welcoming bouquet laced with “fuck-you” energy.
Branches whip at your arms as you dive into whatever passes for cover here—rocks, shallow dips, ruins of something ancient and forgotten. You keep going, because stopping means dying.
You trip once. Twice. A claw nearly catches your ankle. You don’t look back.
Your legs burn. Your lungs are begging for mercy.
Your brain is just screaming: You’re going to die here.
You’re not built for this. You never trained. You’re not a Resonator. You don’t belong in the middle of a Tacet Discord bloodbath.
All you have is your decent sense of sarcasm, and what you hope is enough spite to fuel your survival.
“Great!” you shout breathlessly. “This is fantastic! You guys didn't even ask me on a date and now I’m on the fucking menu?!”
A Tacet Discord shrieks behind you in response. You scream back, middle finger raised in pure survival-mode insanity.
They’re everywhere. Every direction you turn..You can't outrun them. You know that.
But you’ll damn well try.
Because dying like this—alone, devoured in the dirt like trash?
Not on your list of acceptable Tuesday activities, wait is it Tuesday here? Nevermind.
And if you’re going down... at least one of these freaks is gonna have indigestion afterward.
The air is thick with dread.
Your legs are jelly, lungs burning, and the cacophony of Tacet Discords closing in is deafening. Each breath feels like a countdown to oblivion.
Suddenly, a blinding light pierces the gloom.
A shockwave erupts, sending Tacet Discords flying like ragdolls. The ground trembles beneath you, and for a moment, the world holds its breath.
From the epicenter of the blast, a figure emerges—Rover.
But this isn't the Rover you know. His eyes blaze with an otherworldly light, and an aura of raw power radiates from him. The very air around him seems to bend, acknowledging his dominance.
He moves with lethal grace, each step purposeful. With a mere gesture, he summons ethereal weapons, dispatching Tacet Discords with surgical precision. The creatures, once so terrifying, have become his playthings.
His eyes glow—brighter than the stars, colder than space.
The frequency thickens around him like a cloak of shadows alive and hungry. His Spectro resonance still hums at the core, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat like a ticking bomb.
In a blur of movement, Rover twists—hand slicing the TDs clean and efficiently, like a surgeon cutting through rotten flesh.
More surround him. A pulse of Havoc ignites—Dark Surge expanding. He warps forward, vanishing for a half second—then reappears behind them mid-spin, hurling his scythe from both hands. The Tacet Discords shudder before collapsing, torsos sliced clean.
You blink—and two more Tacet Discords have already fallen. You can’t even see how he did it.
You sigh in relief but damn it, he looks terrifyingly hot. That dark gleam in his eyes, the effortless precision, the sheer dominance in every move…
Yeah, you’re shaken, but a part of you? Still hopelessly down bad.
The adrenaline drains from your body like a snapped string. You can finally let go, but your limbs tremble uncontrollably. Now that the fear has passed, your body finally realizes just how close you came to dying.
A sharp crunch pulls your attention up.
Rover steps forward, walking toward your crouched form with slow, steady steps. The ground doesn’t quake beneath him anymore, and that unbearable frequency that had screamed around him moments ago has vanished. The pressure lifts.
Your Rover is back.
You wrap your arms tightly around yourself, heart pounding like a war drum as you watch him approach. He crouches in front of you, and for a moment, it’s like déjà vu—just like when you first met. That same soft smile curves his lips, like the battlefield around you doesn’t exist.
He extends a hand.
That’s it. You can’t hold it in anymore.
Tears spill over your cheeks—hot, heavy, unstoppable. The sob rips from your throat before you can even stop it. You were going to die. You were so close to being torn apart and—
You don’t even register him moving until his arms are around you, pulling you into a firm, grounding hug.
You bury your face in his chest, fists clutching the undershirt beneath his jacket like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.
One of his hands moves slowly over your back, tracing calming circles. The other cradles the back of your head gently, like you’re fragile glass and he’s terrified of cracking you.
And in that moment, you feel safe. Safe like never before. Not because the danger is gone.
But because he is here.
Your sobs have finally faded to sniffles. You rub your puffy eyes, shifting just a little away from his chest but still firmly in his embrace.
“I actually thought I was going to die,” you mutter, voice scratchy. “Like! I know I broke my personal record of staying alive for a week, which is amazing, but I still didn’t wanna die, you know?”
Rover hums softly, his gloved fingers gently threading through your hair. The motion is rhythmic, soothing. “You’re still alive,” he says, voice calm and warm. “See?” And there it is, that smile. Soft. Sweet. Heart-melting.
You’d fight twenty more Tacet Discords for that smile. Urm… hide behind him while he fights.
“Yeah… thanks to you,” you reply, trying to gently pry yourself from his hold.
Keyword: try.
His arms don’t budge.
“Rover… I think I’m okay now,” you laugh awkwardly. “We can head back to the city?”
You’re not sure why it came out as a question but somehow, when it comes to him, you feel like you need permission to even breathe.
Rover finally nods and lets go, though his eyes linger on you, scanning, calculating, checking every tiny tremble in your limbs.
You stand beside him, brushing dust off yourself as he steps ahead, leading the way. The silence is easy… until he speaks, like it’s casual small talk.
“I met with Primus. Can you guess what happened?”
He’s smiling, but... something’s off. You glance down and see his fists clenched so tight.
“Oh yeah!” you perk up, totally missing the tension. “I remember that quest—kind of. Doesn’t he like, talk in riddles about ‘The Maiden’ or whatever?”
You ramble, voice light and airy now, blissfully unaware that your words aren’t answering his question so much as distracting yourself.
“Mostly accurate, but he mentioned you as well. And threatened me, indirectly.”
You don’t notice how Rover’s gentle tone shifts—how frustration slips into the spaces between his words, how tightly he’s reining it in.
“Wait! Wait! Wait, what?! Am I ruining the plot?!” you blurt, wide-eyed. “No way! I don’t wanna get involved, nope. Rover, can you like—send me to Jinzhou? That place is super peaceful right now and it’d be perfect for me to start a new life in. Like then I won't have acolytes luring me into a place filled with Tds...”
Rover stops walking. There’s so much in your words that bugs him. The way you talk about leaving like it’s that simple...like he could ever let you go.
“So,” he mutters, as if confirming something to himself, “that’s what happened…”
Then louder, firm enough to cut through your spiral. “It’s okay. Nothing will happen to you.”
And he says it with such unshakable certainty, it doesn’t feel like reassurance, it feels like a threat to the universe itself. this is his vow to you.
You exhale. “Thank you…” The walk continues, and there’s a light brush of Rover’s hand against yours.
You hesitate, then test it, fingers creeping toward his, shy and slow. Like you’re asking a question without words.
And rather quickly, Rover answers.
He intertwines his fingers with yours, firm and grounding. No hesitation. Just his hand, holding yours, like he’s always meant to.
You grin to yourself, giggling inwardly like a little gremlin. Heheh, holding hands before marriage. How scandalous.
Well, you muse dramatically, we’ve held hands before… but this is different. This is sacred. Because I initiated it.
You beam with inner pride, your silly little heart puffing. Because yes, this moment matters. Because yes, you’re holding your husband’s hand.
Husband as in: you married him in your daydreams. Details, details.
As you and Rover entered Ragunna City again, you were immediately met with Carlotta. it seemed like she had been waiting for the two of you.
“Rover!” she called out, striding toward you both. Her expression brightened, then faltered the moment her gaze landed on you. Concern twisted across her face like a storm cloud. “Are you okay?! My goodness...”
“It was the Order,” Rover replied, his tone calm but clipped. Then, turning to Carlotta, he made a quiet request—asking for her help. His eyes found yours again. “I need to take care of something. Carlotta can be trusted, don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Your hands were still interlocked—his grip firm, grounding. Then, with a final squeeze, he let go and walked away, his figure disappearing like a tether snapping loose.
You turned to Carlotta, awkwardly brushing back your disheveled hair. “Um… sorry for how I look? I feel like I offended you somehow.”
Carlotta blinked, clearly startled. “No, no! Please, be at ease. As I said before—Rover’s special person will be treated with the utmost care and respect. Please, follow me.”
She led you to her estate and provided a guest room stocked with fresh clothes. After a soothing shower and a change into soft, clean fabric, you collapsed into the bed like a soul exorcised of fatigue.
It wasn’t long before a gentle knock on the door pulled you from your nap. “Come in!”
Carlotta entered, a composed smile on her face, followed by a butler carrying a silver tray. Your mouth practically watered on reflex. The far end of the room revealed a small table and chairs. The butler wordlessly placed the tray down and exited with the elegance of a ghost. Carlotta gestured for you to sit with her, settling into one of the chairs with regal ease.
You took the seat across from her, and she offered you a genuine smile. “Don’t mind me. Please, dig in.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. The food was warm and familiar, like a safety blanket in edible form.
Finally relaxed, your guard temporarily down, you decided to bring up the thought that had been gnawing at your mind.
“So, I was thinking of going to Jinzhou. You know, that city in Huanglong...”
Carlotta tilted her head with interest, eyes glinting. “May I ask why?”
“I don’t feel safe in Ragunna City after the...” you hesitated, poking at your food, “You know... and Jinzhou is, like, very peaceful right now. A perfect place to not get attacked by anything!”
Carlotta nodded, leaning back and folding one leg over the other with the poise of a queen. “I can help you with that. Arrange transportation. I’ll make sure you arrive safely and are well taken care of once you’re inside the city.”
You gasped, hand pressed to your chest dramatically. “Omg! You would do that? Thank you so much!”
Carlotta nodded, her smile never faltering but her eyes held something calculating beneath the warmth. Of course, she had her own reasons. She was a woman of business, after all. And every investment had its return.
Carlotta had escorted you back to the hotel after receiving a message from Rover—he wouldn't be able to pick you up himself. You didn’t think much of it. Maybe he got caught up in something.
You made small talk with Carlotta.
Once you reached the hotel entrance, you turned to her with a small smile.
“Thanks... for walking with me. And for, well, everything,” you murmured, scratching your cheek awkwardly.
Carlotta smiled, her gaze softening. “Of course. Take care of yourself.”
You waved her goodbye, entering the building and making your way up the stairs, shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. As you reached your floor, something odd caught your eye. You noticed a door, just beside yours, was slightly ajar.
Curiosity won over common sense, and like the nosy little gremlin you were, you peeked.
And immediately regretted it. Who are you lying to? You didn't regret it a slightest bit.
Rover stood inside, his back to you, just as he was taking off his jacket. Then came the gloves, tossed onto a nearby chair. The strap across his chest followed, sliding off in one smooth motion. Then he reached for the hem of his shirt. That clingy, perfectly-fitted grey undershirt. He was halfway through tugging it off when your soul panicked.
You panicked, raising your fist and knocking loudly. Your eyes widened. Your cheeks caught fire.
Rover turned his head slightly, catching you in the corner of his eye, shirt now caught at his ribs, he lets go of it.
Your face flushed immediately.
He looked unfairly good like this—hair slightly tousled, collarbone peeking out, that necklace glinting against his skin like a silent warning.
“Oh, you’re back... safe and sound.” he said, voice dipped in honeyed relief. His eyes roamed over you, then lingered just a second too long. “Good.”
You cleared your throat and stepped inside like a guilty cat caught knocking over a vase. “I—uh—y-yeah, I just—sorry, I didn’t mean to peek or anything, I just—your door—it was open and—uh—” You were absolutely malfunctioning. “Your shirt is committing war crimes.”
Rover chuckled softly and didn’t press it. His smile was warm, and yet something about it felt strained, like there was static just under the surface. As he turned fully, the soft lighting dancing across his face, the shirt clinging to his muscles.
You cleared your throat, You sat down on the arm of a chair, legs swinging slightly. You figured now was a good time to talk. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you... about something.”
He tilted his head, eyebrows lifting as he leaned against the table. “I’m listening.”
“So… I kinda had a conversation with Carlotta while I was stuffing my face with food. And, well…” you paused, watching his hands still, You smiled awkwardly. “So... I talked to Carlotta. And she said she could help me get to Jinzhou. You know, because Ragunna’s not exactly ‘let’s settle down and bake cookies’ levels of safe.”
Rover’s smile didn’t vanish—it simply froze, like a painted expression.
“Oh?” he said, with an almost imperceptible pause.
His tone stayed even. “And why would you want to go there?”
“Like I told you before..” You shrugged. “I don’t feel safe here. I mean, what happened in the field? That’s not something I want a round two of. And Jinzhou's got, like… zen energy. I can heal a bit. And I think... I need that. I think I’d feel better there. You could come visit too, of course.” You grinned at him, clearly trying to keep the conversation light, because the strange, tense atmosphere is becoming suffocating.
“I see,” Rover said softly. He took a step closer. “Leaving is the right choice?”
“I mean… yeah?” you answered with a sheepish grin. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d miss you. A lot. You’re like the world’s best emotional support. Like—seriously. Who gave you permission to look that good covered in dust?”
That got a small laugh out of him but the tension didn’t fade. His fingers flexed slightly at his side.
Then your eyes caught something, on the edge of his undershirt sleeve, just beneath the fabric...
Your heart jumped, Blood. A faint, dark smear near the hem of his shirt.
Your lightheartedness fizzled. “Wait… are you hurt?” You stood, frowning. “Did something happen?”
Rover tilted his head, then looked down like he’d forgotten the evidence on him. “No,” he said quickly. “Not my blood.”
That did not make it better. Not his? You blinked. “Then whose—?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said with a gentle smile, the kind that felt... wrong now. “You’re safe. That’s what matters.”
That strange calm in his voice made your skin crawl in the oddest way. You tried to shake it off. Your body stiffened instinctively.
After a pause, he looked at you again—this time softer, almost vulnerable.
“Will you stay?”
You hesitated. He waited. You shook your head slowly. “No. I mean, I care about you, and I have made that clear, I guess very clear… but I just don’t want to stay here anymore. It doesn’t feel right. I need space. Maybe you can come visit me in Jinzhou when you get a break or something?”
You smiled gently and stepped toward the door.
But it shut before you could touch the handle.
A hand pressed flat against the wood in front of you, and heat rushed down your spine. Rover was behind you now, close enough that you felt the weight of his presence in your bones.
“That,” he whispered, voice no longer gentle but absolute, “is not an option.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
You turned your head slightly, only to find his face right there, cheek against your hair, mouth near your ear.
“I didn’t believe you at first,” he began, voice barely above a whisper. “When you said all those things. About me. About this world. I thought you were just being poetic. But I listened. Every word. Every little slip. You’ve known me since the beginning, haven’t you?”
You slowly turned to face him. His eyes weren’t wide with madness. No. They were too calm. Too lucid. And that was so much worse. You backed up slightly but there was nowhere to go, Your back pressing against the door.
“You talk like you’ve always known me. From the beginning of my journey. Every choice I’ve made...you understand it before I even speak…”
He exhaled a laugh—short, humorless. “I started noticing things after I met you. Things I shouldn’t notice. The way the world shifts around us. The way time bends. The way... none of it feels real anymore.”
You blinked. “What are you talking about—?”
“I see it now,” he breathed. “The repetition. The scripted kindness. The way people pause just long enough for you to speak. I am in a story. I wholeheartedly believe you now...And you…”
He leans closer, his elbow bending, caging you gently between him and the door.
“You are the only unpredictable thing in this world. The only one who looks at me like I’m more than lines of code. The only one that feels real. Because you are the only one anchoring me to the real world.”
You could hear the tremble building under his voice, like a crack in the earth before the quake.
“I started wondering—what am I? A character in a story? A game? Made for people’s amusement?”
His voice broke, briefly. “Am I real, or just code wrapped in skin?”
You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat.
“You’re the only thing that makes sense now,” he continued. “You’re the only one who doesn’t glitch. The only one who talks like she’s seen me.”
“Rover—”
“No. Listen. Do you understand what that means?” His hand cupped your cheek—soft, reverent, yet trembling with obsession barely restrained. “You are my anchor. Without you, this world dissolves. Without you, I become... just another piece of fiction.”
His forehead pressed against yours.
“I don’t want to forget how your voice sounds. I don’t want to wake up and realize I imagined you. I don't want to go back to a loop where you never existed.”
You felt his breath tremble against your lips.
“I need to know that I’m not just a story you’ll get tired of.”
Your heart thundered in your chest—part fear, part something far too complicated to name.
“I fucked up...” you whisper to yourself, barely audible.
Rover smiles.
That soft, puppy-like smile. The kind that used to melt your heart, the kind that once made you believe he could never hurt you. The kind that now feels like a mask.
He steps away for a moment—only to hook his fingers around your wrist with a gentle tug, pulling you back. You stumble, breath catching, and the back of your knees meets the edge of the bed with a muted thud.
“I notice everything about you,” he murmurs. “The way you dote on me... those little moments? They don’t go unnoticed.”
He extends his hand—like he always has. From the moment you met until now, it has always been there, waiting. Waiting for you to take it.
And you always did. With no hesitation. Sometimes even with joy.
But now...
Now you hesitate.
His hair is slightly disheveled, a few strands falling into his eyes. There’s a faint smear of blood at the hem of his grey shirt—crimson staining cotton like paint across canvas. When he tilts his head, the necklace he always wears catches the light, swinging like a pendulum.
Even now, in this moment, he looks so...Beautiful. Unreal.
“Don’t you want to be my wife?” His voice is low, coaxing. “Why hesitate now...?”
He says your name like a lover's prayer. Or a spell. Like the idea of you slipping away is unbearable. And it makes you ache to take his hand again.
“You said you loved me. Remember?”
His eyes widen. The desperation in them is stark, unhidden, raw. Wild. Like a man teetering on the edge of a cliff and calling it faith. Like falling is a choice... and dragging you down with him is a promise.
Then, in a voice so quiet it makes your stomach twist.
“So prove it.”
Your breath stutters. He was patient. He gave you your space, didn’t he? Gave you time to think. To breathe. He waited...
But patience is fragile.
And even if you run, it won’t matter. he’s the main character of this world. He knows that. he knows this world bends to him.
You can’t escape.
Everyone loves him, adores him. They always will. He’ll use that love, twist it into a cage so soft you won’t even know you’re inside it.
He sees it now, your fear. Sees the way your body tenses like a trembling leaf. He exhales, slow and measured, and steps into your space until there’s nothing left between you.
“Jinzhou,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word. “You want to go there?”
You nod quickly, reflexively. Any wrong move could shift the moment. Could turn gentleness into something else entirely.
His hands lift, hovering in the air, waiting, Would you flinch? He would never do something that would push him away from you.
But you don’t flinch. You don’t move.
So he cups your cheeks with such tenderness it makes your skin crawl.
“There,” he whispers. “Relax. You can go to Jinzhou. I won’t stop you.”
Because this world already belongs to me. I don’t need to lock you up to keep you.
You shiver. His voice is calm, but his eyes... those eyes aren’t the ones you fell in love with. They’re deeper now, darker, bottomless pits that don’t reflect light, only swallow it.
“Don’t worry,” he soothes, fingers brushing along your jaw. “You’re safe. I’ll make sure of that.”
And you nod.
You lean into his touch because, in this world—whether you like it or not—he’s the only one who can protect you. The only one who won’t let you go.
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Pairing: Yandere Scar x Reader (Rover) x Yandere TD doppelganger Scar
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Theme: Yandere, Obsession, Love Triangle, Rivalry, Jealousy, Identity Crisis
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Summary: Scar dies in a fight but you need him alive for valuable information (or so you say).
Phrolova helps you bring him back as a TD. But when the supposedly 'dead' Scar returns, you're left choosing between who to keep alive.
Battling them both is wearing you out, and it's only a matter of time till you succumb in one of their grasps.
"I'm afraid one of us has to go, sweetheart."
✦. ─────────── ⊹ 🂱 ࣪ ˖ ────────── .✦
Song recs:
✦. ─────────── ⊹ 🂱 ࣪ ˖ ────────── .✦
Scar – Madness Embodied
- Behaves like lore-accurate Scar
- More cautious, calculating. Closed off due to traumatic death
- Increased urge to control and intensified desire for possession of you
- He's at his limits. he has to have you in his clutches soon or he'll go crazy
- You don't know if his less cheerful and more silent demeanor is a good omen or bad luck.
- Eyes so intense he could devour you with it. His watchful gaze turned sharp as a blade
- He's watching, he's always watching; and thinking. What is he thinking?
- Scar has changed. You can't quite figure out if it's for the better or something far worse...
- Till you find out what changed: his object of obsession. He doesn't want to create the perfect world he'd always wanted, not anymore
-Not when the perfection is in front of him– you
✦. ─────────── ⊹ 🂱 ࣪ ˖ ────────── .✦
SCAR HAS ALWAYS been fascinated by Rover–you.
You were an interesting fella; smart and strong, you challenge him to his limits every time you face off.
Scar prefers to act first and ponder later. But you make him think. You're not like the weak-ass opponents he can simply toss away. He has to actually sit down, think, and brew up a proper plan for his little fireball.
Scar's fond of people who can keep things interesting– who can challenge his ability and competence, who can keep him on the edge, on the brink of death and insanity– who make him feel alive.
Unfortunately, chasing the high lead him to undesirable circumstances. His consciousness merged with a destroyed sonoro.
You collected and copied bits and pieces of his frequencies to remake him– his doppelganger. Only for the dead villain to barge into the Black Shores headquarters one day during a TD outbreak with the all too familiar maniacal laughter.
Scar has returned, but he has changed. The psychotic glint in his eyes had been dulled, as if in a haze. His laughter doesn't quite reach your ears anymore, it doesn't seep into your mind and into your very core. Everything about him feels... Hollow.
He has turned into a shell of what he once was. Now, he needs you to feel alive again; he needs you to make him feel alive again.
He knows only you can do it. And he's going to do everything to get you, all to himself.
His silence isn't an acceptance of defeat, it's the calm before the storm.
In his cold, dead heart, you're the only vibrance of life, resonating to the melody his soul craves.
Scar will have you, and that's his promise.
✦. ─────────── ⊹ 🂱 ࣪ ˖ ────────── .✦
'Scar' – Unfiltered Chaos
- Wholesome at first?
- He's Scar without his dark past, destructive tendencies and corrupted ambition
- He has his mind, feelings and emotions– his heart
- He's different from his original version, but something ties them together. You feel a connection whenever both of them are present simultaneously nearby
- He's... clingy? Loves it when you ask for a favour. Always invading personal space
- He actually cooperates whenever you need something from him
- Sometimes the urge to play-fight takes over, though. Come on, it's harmless!
- Basically needs an excuse to get close to you. He can get close to you during spurring
- He can't think or say something Scar has never thought or said before. (Whatever he says is something Scar has thought/said at least once)
- But he tries to help you to the best can with his limited thoughts, speech and behavior as a fragmented frequency
- You recognize a pattern: a constant between him and Scar–their obsession with you
- Obsession grows as your discomfort rises. You begin to avoid him, granting him less access outside of the sonoro
- It doesn't help that his obsession is unfiltered, unrestrained, completely raw– threatening to consume you whole
- Unlike the real Scar, he has no reason to hold back. And he won't
- 'Scar' never wanted a perfect world. He wants a world with only you
✦. ─────────── ⊹ 🂱 ࣪ ˖ ────────── .✦
YOU KEEP HIM inside a small, portable sonoro sphere.
He alone resides there. You carry it everywhere, visiting every once in a while, but each time it's for a necessity– inquiries and favors you require from this mastermind, or his copy, should you say.
But never for him. Why can't you visit only to meet him? Don't you want to see him? Don't you want to die just to talk to him as much as he wants to? Don't you want him as much as he wants you?–
When you leave, silence echoes in every corner of this small world he calls his home. Winds don't rush over in this land, leaves don't rustle, birds and crickets don't chirp. It's maddening, like a white noise threatening to swallow him whole.
So he waits patiently. For you. For your voice, your footsteps, your heartbeat. Every inhale and exhale of yours a sweet lullaby.
But his patience is running thinner. He wants to be a part of your world.
You're the only thread to keeping his sanity. You're his purpose now, his raison d'être. His everything. He can't lose you, no.
He can hear everything happening in the outside world from inside his sonoro. That's how he came to know he is a clone, disposable trash, made for your use. He had decided to embrace that identity.
He'd do anything for you, just keep him around. Keep him alive.
Unfortunately that's also how he gets to know that the real Scar. is back, more unhinged and crazier than before.
His wholesome facade cracks as desperation leaks in. He can't let you leave the sonoro. Or, he needs to get out.
You notice odd changes in his behaviour– lingering touches unwavering stares piercing through your mind and soul, overly touching and a tendency to resist entering back into the sonoro.
His holograms linger longer, frequencies refusing to enter back into that small, suffocating place you've created for him.
You have a hunch about the reason of his weird antiques. So you start avoiding letting him out altogether, meeting only under unavoidable circumstances, prolonging his stay inside the tiny artificial space.
He has noticed all these, and he's not happy about it. Come on, he's been so good! He deserves better then this! You can't possibly be thinking of letting him go for the real Scar, can you? He'd never truly hurt you like the real him intended to. He's more obedient, cooperative, helpful, loving caring attentive obsessive-He's better, right?
Right, he's better than that cruel and twisted maniac.
'Scar' will make you understand. He has to.
✦. ─────────── ⊹ 🂱 ࣪ ˖ ────────── .✦
Snippet:
YOU SIT IN THE pitch-black office.
Strange. Power shortage is impossible at the headquarters of the Black Shores.
Something is wrong. You can feel it in in your breath as you inhale slowly, the air heavy with anticipation. The hair on your nape stand up, a shiver running down your spine as a feeling of unease washes over.
Someone is watching you.
The feeling settles inside your chest like a weight– invisible, suffocating, aware. Your sigh comes out too loud and sinful in the pin-drop silence.
Then– movement.
A shift in the shadows. Faint scuffing of a boot.
You turn, a silhouette steps out of the void. The faint light of your terminal lights up the edges of his face, tracing features you know you all too well.
"Scar."
The name slips out before you can stop yourself.
A smile blooms at his lips, sly and playful and absolutely breathtaking in a way you wish to forget.
"Now, now, no need to be on the edge," he drawls, voice low and sweet as if honey mixed with venom, "I'm your good ol' friend, 'Scar'."
His playful tone should be a warning, reminder of his identity. But instead, it wraps around your nerves like silk, muscles loosening slightly as you relax at the thought of him being the copy of Scar instead. Did you feel safer with him than the real Scar? Oh, but you really shouldn't.
A single thought cuts through your daze–
'How did he get out of the sonoro on his own?'
He takes a step forward, closing in– toward you, his muse. Every step is purposeful, calculated. Eyes trained on you like you're the prize, drawing closer as every movement screams "I will win".
"I don't like the darkness. When it's night inside my little world in there," he motions to your terminal, "everything is shrouded in a black veil. How cruel of you to leave me, all alone and cold in the dark of night..."
He stops a few feet before you. "Would it kill you to visit once a day to light a lantern, is five minutes too much to ask for?"
You know it isn't just five minutes. Minutes have turned to hours before without your realization. Getting lost in his dreamy words, breathy laughs and lopsided smile... You can't risk it again.
"Yes, I'm afraid it's too much waste. Especially for a fake."
Your eyes shoot up towards the direction of a cold, teasing voice. The copy's face twists into a scowl, fists bundling up in rage.
Scar leaned on the door, one hand gripping the frame. His once perfect appearance now disheveled. The twisted glint in his eyes reduced to something far sinister, incomprehensible.
If he was hard to understand before, he is now completely unpredictable.
"Five minutes, you say..." He twirls a black card with his fingers, drawling out a laughter in mockery, "Hah, and I couldn't spend a second in peace with my beloved."
You cringe at the nickname. He's called you many things before. It'd be a lie if you said you hated them, but circumstances were different this time.
"Tell me love, do you really prefer him, over me?" Scar shakes his head, pushing his copy further, testing his patience. "He's just a mirage."
"Look at me," he spreads his hands in an inviting gesture. "I'm the real deal. All you need to do is run into my-"
"Shut up, you fucking psycho." His copy retorts. Scar has never been a patient man. Nor is his copy.
He snickers, "You're funny. You sure have some audacity, and courage, to be calling me a psycho to my face."
"At least, I'm not a maniac, a cold-blooded murderer. I'm not a monster."
Another chuckle echoes throughout the room. "Are you sure? Okay, let's agree on that. To put it simply, you're a reduced, cutoff, cheaper version of me. You've been ripped clean of the best traits you could have... If I were an angel, you'd be one without wings."
You aren't liking this. You know one moment they could be bickering like children, the next it could turn into a bloody battlefield.
"Stop it, Scar."
"Oh, defending him now, love, are we? Tell me this, darling... You were so, so desperate... to recreate me, even going to extreme lengths– sacrificing parts of your own frequency to bring 'me' back to life. If you could create him for me, I'm sure you could destroy that thing, for me, too– to get the 'real' me."
'Scar' freezes. Your... Frequency? He is a part of you? Is that why he felt so connected, so alive and real, when he was near you?
You peek towards the copy, taking in his expressions carefully. He looks stunned, you can't tell if he likes this new information or not. A dry gulp leaves your throat itching. Your eyes slide back to your front– to Scar.
"I will be doing no such thing. To destroy him, you'll have to-"
"Fight me."
A gasp leaves you at the sudden demand of the copy. There's little to no chance he's going to win against a stronger and realer version of him. You fumble on your words to try and turn him back from the inevitable self- destruction.
"Whoever wins..." He steps forward with his declaration, "Gets to keep her."
Huh?!
Face down, Scar twirls a card between his fingers. What's he thinking? He has no reason to hesitate. After all, in a battle between him and his doppel, he'd emerge victorious.
He looks up, crazed smirk plastered across his face. Oh, he was enjoying this.
"Wait-" You aren't given a chance to protest.
"Gladly."
Your heart skips a beat. You hate how much you love his shit eating grin. Glad to see 'death' didn't wipe out his confidence.
They circle each other, with you in the middle, both eyes pinned on you. They're too repulsed by each other to lock eyes, anyways.
"She'll be mine," 'Scar' coos, looking at you lovingly, voice dipped in adoration. You've played along with his lovey dovey acts for too long. But you can't ignore the shadow of a lunatic in his glossy, mismatched eyes, anymore.
The real Scar growls. "She's already mine." He clenches his fists, your eyes drawn to muscles flexing underneath his red bodysuit.
He resists the urge to stride forward, beat the shit out of this cheap copy and princess-carry you back to his domain.
"Oh, really?"
Scar halts in his place, so does his counterpart. Your heart stops.
"Bring it on."
✦. ─────────── ⊹ 🂱 ࣪ ˖ ────────── .✦
A/N:
Buh-bye and have a nice day~
Hey there lovelies~
If you have any suggestions, don't be scared to hit me up. I'll see if I can brew up smth good with your preferred character :D
P.S. You can find my fics under "zombie-fae" or "rae amore" tag, which are my personal blog name and pen name.
