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‘SUNOO━━ WHERE THE SNOW BLEEDS

𓍼 i think im gonna die in this house…in every room i hear silence.

— ( ᛝ ) your mother had always warned you to stay clear of the red snow, not to follow the crimson trail that bled into the white ice. but never did she warn you that dismissing her words would bring about whispers and creaks in the night. that even if you tried to leave them behind eventually they’d find you again. because cumberland was the one place where remnants of the dead lie planted in the soil like spoiled seeds. she also didn’t warn you that you could meet and fall in love with a stranger— a stranger that held so many secrets at his discretion. a stranger that would leave your life intertwined with the fate of three ghosts. in this tale there is no happy ending, nothing but a story of love, murder, and revenge written in the crimson snow.

kim sunoo x f!reader w.c 35k nais library

(dddne) angst, suggestive, gothic romance. mentions of blood, graphic deaths, murder, suicide, paranormal activity, profanity, sex, spit play, fingering, body worship, cunnilingus, raw sex, biting, scratching, dacryphilia, oral fixation, cherry popping. the portrayal of sunoo is in no way shape or form a reflection of his true self it’s strictly for the purpose of the fic. songs to listen to while reading (only if you want) strangers, house, golden brown, Inbred, sour switchblade , ptolemaea , in ur head , revenge

nais calling ᭪ this fic took so long to write and it feels like I’m giving a part of me away with this omg. I’m so nervous to finally drop this with so many people waiting to read and this being my first Sunoo fic. That aside the movie crimsons peak inspired this one and it’s such a beautiful movie with an amazing concept that i needed to write something inspired by it for Sunoo. its the first time I’ve crept into dark territory in this way and to those that enjoy the more dark or lore heavy works I hope you enjoy this one.

Any normal kids' parents would have usually warned them to steer clear of yellow snow— “Don’t eat the yellow snow” “Stay away from the yellow snow.” But your mother? No she had far worse things to worry about other than a little bit of piss and ice. “Don’t eat the crimson snow that's where the snow bleeds,” she would tell you. You never truly understood, even now at the ripe age of twenty one you don't entirely get it. But you could always recall that one winter you found yourself correcting her, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as you told her, “The other kids said it's yellow snow. That there's no such thing as red snow Mama, because snow can't bleed.”

The next morning against your mother's advice, you followed a trail of the crimson droplets seeping into the snow beneath your feet, only to find your dog dead at the end of it. You cried yourself to sleep for days, until your lips tasted of only tear drops and snot. It took you a week of grieving to finally muster up the energy to bury him. Of course back then you knew no better. You didn't heed the warning she had given you and in the end you were met with trauma and your family dog buried beneath the soil.

Not even three months later you'd make the same mistake, only this time the blood seeped deeper and puddled at your feet as you trudged through the snow. At the end of it there was no animal to be found, not this time— it was your mother. You couldn't remember anything beyond finding her. But your father remembered it all. His own daughter only ten, clothes stained with blood as she held his wife's lifeless body in her arms. Like her mother had been a doll gifted to her on Christmas day. He cried for days, not only for the grief of his wife, but you his only child— only daughter. You barely spoke since that day, no matter how many psychiatrists or therapists he had introduced you to, you remained silent. Like you were void of any thoughts or emotions,it seemed as if you were stuck in a permanent a state of shock.

He thought that maybe it was just the shock of finding your mother dead. Maybe you were afraid, grieving— but what he hadn't known was that while he was the one grieving, your mother had visited you every night.

Almost each night since her death among his cries you could hear the creaking of floorboards as feet dragged against the hardwood. For a moment it would stop and you could hear the twist of a knob and the crackle of wood as your door cracked open. Then the footsteps returned again and they only stopped when the foot of your bed creaked and dipped with the presence of another person. You would shiver under the covers, eyes screwed shut as you whispered silent prayers for whatever it was to go away. And eventually it would, only after whispering that same warning that she had bestowed you with every oncoming winter "stay away from the crimson snow.''

Eventually, you had become so scared of your own home that you started begging your father to let you stay in his sleeping quarters. And for a while it worked. When the snow seeped into the green of the grass and winter turned to spring, she didn't show up again. But then winter would roll back around and you would hear that familiar creak once more. Your father's only solution was to move the two of you as far away from England as possible, and eventually you both found new endeavors in New York City. You thought that once you moved you would be free of it all, free from the nightmares and nightly visits. But of course, you couldn’t have known the secrets your mother held. Nor could you figure why she had kept them from you up until the day you buried her. But god were you wrong about being free, so so wrong.

You were now twenty one, well past the age where you were frightened awake by nightmares or things going bump in the night. Old enough to swallow pills and guzzle down meds that kept away the thoughts you didn't want from creeping in. But that didn't mean you couldn't be startled awake whenever your father sent one of the house caregivers to come knocking on your door.

You spring up in bed, hair pointing every direction it possibly could, drool dried in the corners of your lips— evidence of good sleep.

"Give me a minute Elisse,'' you grumble, eyes half lidded as you only slip back into the covers.

But Elisse knew better—if she gave you one minute it would turn into another hour, and she couldn't have that, not today.

"Madame, your father needs you up now. You do remember what today is?''

Your words freeze on the tip of your tongue, every complaint you were prepared to spew had melted in your mouth and left a foul taste. November eighteenth the day of first frost, and also the official mark of eight days before your mothers death anniversary.

Your father had this big idea to go back home now that you were old enough. To visit your mother at her grave and throw a party in her honor— a celebration of the life she'd once lived. You yourself weren't sure why he felt the need, and you wondered if anyone would even attend— but it turns out when you have money, you could get anyone to attend even the most solemn of celebrations.

Finally, you throw the covers off of you, now fully awake and fully aware of the sunlight creeping in through your curtains. Worry flashes on Elisse's face as she watches you peel open your eyes and slip out of bed without a word.

Elisse was the type to always worry, like a second mother that had found you and your father when you both needed it most. She was a tall Romani woman in her late thirties, golden skin, long black curls that she always kept tidy. Elisse was the kind of woman that knew what was wrong with you before you even spoke it, the kind of woman that knew how to fix everything with a warm cup of tea or hot meal. And when that didn't work she had other ways, Other ways you never understood but they always seemed to work. Sometimes you caught her walking around jangling amulets or more so often she'd nail horseshoes over the doorways that would creak when no one had entered them.

There were often times where you and your father found her stepping over brooms or whispering to herself at odd times of the night. Your father didn't think much of it, he never questioned things like that, but sometimes you got curious. You had ample opportunity to ask her about it but somehow deep down you were afraid of the answers she would give. You were too scared that you already knew why. That if she voiced the words, it would make every fear and traumatic event you had kept buried within your thoughts come flooding back.

Eventually, you did pull yourself out of bed to shower and freshen up for your long journey back to Cumberland, and Elisse slipped from the room to make tea— no breakfast though, you had no time for that.

The sleeves of your dress drape past the stair railings as your fingers trace the freshly clean wood. The smell of newly grown lavender and lemon tickling your nose with each stride— Elisse always made sure there were hints of lavender, lemon and sometimes cinnamon in every room you entered.

You enter the kitchen where she stood on the other side of an island, already slipping over a cup of her infamous tea— the china she served it in so crisp you could see the reflection of the room behind you.

"How do you always know what I need before I even know?'' You ask her, bringing the cup to your nose and inhaling the scent before taking a sip.

She simply laughs, sliding over a half full cup of black coffee and one singular doughnut; not to you, but the empty seat beside you.

"Morning Elisse would you mind-" your father enters the kitchen straightening his vest, his sentence trails off as he finds that she's already made his coffee and his usual doughnut on the side.

"Ah thank you. You always know what I need.'' He flashes her a smile as he takes the mug and the doughnut into his hands, he doesn't even look at you as he turns and heads towards the doorway.

"Three minutes to finish tea, then we have a ship to board.'' He doesn't say it to any specific person but you already know it's meant for you. It was always meant for you.

You didn't know what had become of him lately. These days he spoke less, yet expected more. He always expected you to be on your P's and Q's but barely spared a moment of his time, and he didn't say it but you knew why. You reminded him too much of her—intelligent, independent, curious an extremely self sufficient, and worst of all, you had her face.

He couldn't look at you without seeing a woman that was no longer his to hold, a woman he no longer mourned but somehow her memory still haunted him.

"Everything is packed and at the staircase Madame— extra tea, your medication. All there if you need it. You write to me when the two of you arrive sweetheart.'' She holds your face and you flash her a reassuring smile.

—

Seven days. Seven agonizing days of sea sickness, vertigo and nausea. A boat ride from New York and back to the home you once knew that felt almost torturous. If you hadn't been a proper lady, you'd have kissed the ground beneath you the moment your feet landed on English Soil.

The place was just as you had left it ten years ago, like it had frozen itself in time the moment you had gone. The only differing factor was how lifeless it seemed now that you had been older. The trees lost their leaves, sky stained a dull gray rather than a vibrant blue. When you're younger you see everything in color— the world was at your disposal. But now, at a more mature age in life, those moments felt light years away. You no longer saw the color or warmth in the world as you did then.

"It feels weird being back here.'' you tell your father as you stared out the window of the carriage. He doesn't respond at first, just a simple hum before he finally decides you're worth using his words on.

"You'll get used to it again, I'm sure preparations will keep you busy,'' he reassures— more like advises— you. He says nothing more, just eyes the pocket watch at his waist before returning his attention to the newspaper that sat in his lap.

A sigh spills from your lips but you don't try to talk any further. You don't know why you had expected actual conversation from him, you were slowly starting to get disappointed in yourself for wanting more out of him. It felt like he was keeping you at a distance and you absolutely hated it. Sure, you had Elisse as well, but it didn't make things any less lonesome.

When you were younger it was quite easy to talk to him, you could go to him for anything and he would scare away every monster, kiss away every tear— but since losing your mother, he had only been an empty shell of the man you once knew. There was no love, no tenderness behind his eyes, just an aching for the woman he was once able to hold close and hold like nothing else in the world mattered.

The entire ride back to the manor was silent from then on out, other than the soft swish of pages turning and the clopping of hooves on asphalt. The only entertainment you had was watching the snow fall and melt onto the dewy grass beneath it— just an endless stretch of white that almost looked like a sea of clouds if you squinted hard enough. From the town to the manor it was a two hour travel journey, by the time the two of you had arrived, midday had come.

Along with the snow, mist fell over the entire manor like a dark cloud, making what was meant to be a sunny day appear more gloomy and grayer than anything. The old place was just as you and your father had left it, not a tile or brick out of place. It was almost like it had been sitting there, breathing, living, waiting for you to return one day. Back then, it would have stricken fear into you. Ten-year-old-you would have gathered all of your blankets and slept out in the field if it meant not having to be here. You would have sworn the house itself was alive, watching you, haunting you. But now, as you stepped from the carriage and took it in for the first time in years, it was just a house.

You'd thought that after all this time when you returned you'd find the place tattered and crumbling at every step, but it looked as if it remained frozen in time. A beautiful gothic estate, perpetually cold and ominous, but your mother once said that that was it's charm. The inside matched the exterior quite well, a mix of colors— green walls lined with old family photos, brown marble flooring, a fireplace on the far wall just beneath staircase. The staircase stretched from the entryway to the wall and swirled above the fireplace, and right above it sat a balcony. A balcony that gave you a perfect view of the third level, and a glimpse into the hallway leading to the attic.

Your arrival seemed to give the place an entire new life, floorboards creaking and padded steps echoing in the foyer the moment you enter. The mansion wasn't just settling; it was memorizing your footsteps, timing your breaths, observing the way your eyes scanned each corner of the room to see if you remembered the feelings it invoked. Like a living breathing entity.

What exactly did you feel? Grief, fear, inquisitiveness? You weren't entirely sure what this place made you feel now. Maybe it was because for so long you had forced yourself to suppress the memories, to tell yourself that it all was nothing more than a bad dream. And for a long time, it worked— you'd imagine locking every traumatic part of your life away in an empty box and forget there ever was a key.

Your father stood before you, taking in the place like it were more then just a spirit of the 'past', like it still haunted him now. You reach out to give his shoulder a reassuring pat, but he moves on like he sensed your movement— sensed your sentiment.

"I'll let you get settled, I need to look for the caretaker.'' He tells you, the foyer amplifies his voice before swallowing the sound. You have no time to answer before he is already heading further into the house.

Pulling your hand back you clear your throat and dust off your dress before slipping into the kitchen. The kitchen was a very expansive area, white tiled walls and cold marble floors, almost asylum like. Most of the space being taken up by an old wooden dining table in the middle of the floor. A table meant to seat ten, which you never understood because back then there were only three of you. Pots and pans aligned the wall nearest the window, all tattered and dented—stained by time. Everything had been put away nicely, and the place had been oddly clean. Work of the caretaker you presumed, whoever that was.

Eventually you stroll out of the kitchen, your feet moving you to various places in the house, the great hall, the library, a conglomerate of rooms all at your disposal. Many rooms remained locked and or empty but you glide in and out of every one like they were your right passage, and when boredom crept in, you slipped from the study and back down the empty hallway.

When you were younger these hallways felt like they stretched on for miles. Tight half lit corridors, with matte wood frames and old butterfly wallpaper that was slightly peeling on the walls. They used to feel so menacing at night, like they would close in and swallow you whole at any moment, but they were the only thing that connected your room to your fathers. A smile curls onto your lips at the memory of all those nights you'd run through them as if your life depended on it— all so you could run and cry to your father about 'monsters' under your bed.

You pass through the foyer again, a lighthearted laugh spilling from your lips at your own naivety. Into the old lift you go. It creaks with the wake of disturbed rust as you pull it open and slam it shut. It hums to life and trembles as it takes you up— like bones rattling and joints cracking as you stretch out your limbs for the first time.

It stops at the second floor with a loud clank and you shove the door open again, this time stepping out. The floorboards groan beneath your feet and there's something oddly erotic about it— like it was claiming you all over again but this time in ways you wouldn't forget. The second floor was unlike the first, it felt eerier. It was no longer the kind of quiet that gave you serenity. This felt melancholic, bitter, charged with an energy you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Nonetheless, you move forward, the fabric of your dress flowing behind you as your steps became more hurried. You pause as you reach a tall double door-ed room, letting out a big exhale as you shove the doors open.

Your eyes conveyed so many different emotions in that moment, none of which you could explain with words alone. This room once held so many memories, most of them good but many you wanted to ignore as well. It was a spacious room, way too much room for a child your age back then. Mostly empty now other than a few chairs and the large bed that sat in the middle. It was beautifully exquisite. So why was it that the moment you stepped inside you felt like the walls would all close in on you? But it didn't. The walls held their breath and waited.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?,'' A voice lite and sweet, calls out from behind you, startling you and making you knock over an empty vase.

"For heavens sake!'' you scream, covering your mouth after your own outburst.

"Shit, my apologies,'' he apologizes, quickly rushing over to your side to assist you in collecting the shards, But of course he had reacted only a few seconds late and you were alarmingly clumsy. You immediately jerk back with a hiss, dropping all the shards you had collected when you cut your finger.

"I'll take care out it, you should run some cold water on that in the bathroom,'' he suggests, leaning down to take the shards into a handkerchief he pulls from his vest. You don't move immediately, you're too busy adorning him. The way his blonde locks fell in front of his face, how his eyebrows furrowed as he searched the floor to make sure he got every piece.

He spots you staring but he just assumes that it was because you hadn't known where the bathroom was. "It's right through there.'' He points to the open doorway behind you and you finally realize you hadn't yet moved.

"I know, this was my room,'' you tell him, finally turning towards the bathroom and heading straight for the sink.

There was a moment of recognition in his gaze before he flashes you a smile, it was mesmerizing.

You had never been the type to fawn over a man— in fact you were the type that would rather die lonely than ever rely solely on men— but he was absolutely breathtaking. He gave you the kind of smile that made butterflies swarm the pits of your stomach and make it home.

"You must be be with Mr. Sharpe, you're here for Mrs. Sharpe celebratory ball?'' He places the shards onto a small reading table, making sure to wrap them nicely to avoid losing any pieces.

"My mother's.'' you correct him.

For a moment his expression changes as if it had only clicked to him then that you were the daughter of the Sharpe's and owner of this house.

"Yn..right?'' Your name fell from his lips like silk, like he had said it a thousand times before but only now had been the first."Mr. Sharpe's daughter, I'm sorry he didn't tell me that you would be joining. If I had known then I would have tended to your room more diligently.''

"It is alright, I'm not sure what more you could have done to the place. It's already neat and perfectly refined so...'' Your voice trails off, the only sound that fills the room is the soft swish of water running on the fresh cut. Neither of you said a word, you were more focused on cleaning your wound while he stared at you as if you were a spectacle for the eyes to behold.

"I'm sorry I haven't yet introduced myself.'' He finally seems to come to his senses, flashing you a sweet smile."Kim Sunoo, the caretaker of Sharpe manor."

"Caretaker? You stay in this place alone?'' He watches the way your eyes widen in disbelief, like you couldn't fathom anyone wanting to stay in this place alone with the quiet.

He chuckles as he takes the fabric clasped shards into his hand. "It's not bad you know, the house itself is huge to live in for just one person but manageable.''

Of course that wasn't what you meant, you knew very well that the house could be managed alone— you'd watched your father do it for two years before you moved away. You couldn't grasp the idea of living here alone with the creaks in the night, soft whispers that slip into your ears like ghosts haunting your very thoughts. Maybe your father and psychiatrist had been right? maybe it had been all in your head and there truly was nothing wrong with this place. Maybe every ghostly visit that you had back then was just the affect of losing your mother.

"If it isn't too impolite, might I ask when did you start working here for my father?''

He chuckles nodding towards the door as if he was asking you to join him for a walk. For a moment you were hesitant but curiosity always trumped caution.

"I moved here nine years ago, during late winter three months after you and your father left.''

"Three- correct me if I'm wrong but by then that would have made you thirteen or twelve, you don't look any older than twenty three.''

"I was thirteen.'' He confirms, and for a second you could have sworn you saw his gaze flicker to a memory painful and long gone but it was only a mere second of change. A look that could have been imagined just from a blink.

"I moved here with my parents, but they died a few years ago leaving me to look after the place alone. It was hard at first, but after I got past the initial grief it became easier to take care of the place.'' He continues on, even as the two of you step into the elevator and start your descent to the ground floor.

"I'm sorry for your loss,'' you apologize, a heavy feeling making your chest tighten and swell with something unspoken. A silent understanding of what it was like to lose a parent.

He didn't say a word, not even a nod in your direction as the two of you planted yourselves in the kitchen. The room itself felt heavy with unspoken words and heavy presences that didn't even feel like your own. The sound of broken glass sliding down a garbage shoot interrupts the cumbersome silence. Like enticing words from the walls themselves that watched quietly and held their breath.

"We should look at that cut.'' He finally speaks, interrupting the quiet as he grabs a bag from an overhead cabinet and entices you to sit at the dining table. A cut you had long forgotten about with the oncoming silence.

"Oh-" You finally look down at your palm as if remembering the searing pain that had pierced your skin only moments ago."I'm sure that it's fine-''

"I insist," he cuts you off, giving no chance to finish.His gaze holds yours as if he were pleading to take care of you with his eyes alone. You open your mouth to tell him that you're fine but the words won't come out- like his gaze held you captive forcing you to swallow them and agree.

The two of you don't exchange any words as you sit at the table and he tends to the cut. Soft dabs to make sure it's fully clean before he lines it with wet tea leaves. You weren't sure what the tea leaves did, but you didn't bother asking. You didn't want this moment t slip away from you. You watched him as he took care of you— the way his eyelashes fluttered as he focused, the soft breaths he exhaled, the way he pursed his lips or poked them out when he got too focused.

You open your mouth to say something but the moment is stolen away as your father enters the kitchen.

"Ah, there you are.'' You immediately jump from your seat at the sound of his voice, Sunoo on the other hand remains seated. He didn't flash a smile to your father like he had done with you. he just pushes up from the seat with a sound that was unmistakably a sigh.

"I feel like I searched the entire place looking for you.'' You were prepared to tell him that you had been in your room for most of the time, only he wasn't talking to you.

"I see you've met my daughter.'' He adds, making your mouth fall closed, your face heating up in slight embarrassment for thinking that he had been talking to you— of course he wasn't.

To your surprise, your father comes around to your side of the table and places a protective— more like possessive— arm around your shoulder. There's evident shock written on your face as you look up at him. He didn't spare you a glance nor did he even acknowledge you. It was like he was putting on a show— perfect father, perfect daughter.

Sunoo gives a slow nod, a smile slowly but surely curling onto his lips. "Right, it's nice to finally meet you in person Mr. Sharpe, you and your daughter. The letters do no justice to how breathtaking she is in person.''

Your head immediately snaps in his direction, his smile doesn't falter even as your father's smile twitches slightly.

"I'll leave you both to get settled, I know you must both be tired from your journey and you have a lot to do tomorrow.'' Sunoo gives a polite nod, his gaze lingering on you for a second before he excuses himself from the kitchen.

Your father's arm immediately slips from around your shoulder. "Get unpacked before tonight, there are seamstress on their way to get you fitted for tomorrows celebration. Your mother would want you to look your best.'' The words linger as you're left alone in the kitchen.

'Your mother would want you to look your best.' The words were almost comical to you. Your mother had never cared about public appearances or perfection, she cared only if her child was happy and smiling. Of course she had many moments of rambling, things even you couldn't understand, but she had never cared for images. Your father on the other hand, had always been obsessed with public opinion— perfect wife, perfect daughter, perfect home, perfect family. You thought that it had ended with the death of your mother, that he would change and realize his family was more valuable. But even now, even this gathering, had all been for the public.

You look down at your palm, the cut already having closed and starting to scar. You couldn't understand why a man you had met only now tended to you with more care than your father had, but you found yourself feeling comfort at the though of him being around.

You brush your thumb over the scar, the edges of your lips curling upward into a slight smile before you finally exit the kitchen.

The walk back to your room was silent but full of this swelling in your chest that you couldn't entirely pinpoint but you knew the feeling led back to him.

Time seemed to past by with an effortless quickness, and before you knew it you stood in front of a mirror— hands groping and probing your body with a polite professionalism. Usually you would enjoy something like this, a new dress to add to your collection, but for so many reasons this felt suffocating.

Corset pulled so tight you were sure it had cut off your air supply until you felt yourself breathing. Everything had been moving so fast since you arrived it felt like you had no chance to ground yourself.

"Madame, please suck in," the seamstress instructs.

"Ingrid, I'm sure if I suck in any more I just might pop.'' She laughs, and it sounds so contagious that you finally let your guard down enough to laugh with her.

Your laugh is cut short as you catch a glimpse of someone in the mirror behind you. Sunoo stood there drinking you in like you were fine wine meant to be savored, but the moment you turn around he no longer stands there. He had come and go just like the ghost of someone that you had wanted to be standing there. For a moment your eyes scan the doorway as if you had been expecting him to walk in any second, but he never did. Finally you turn back towards the mirror.

"Are you alright Miss?" Ingrid inquires, a look of worry flashes on her face.

"I'm alright. I thought I saw my father pass by.'' You lie, so quickly that even you were shocked with how swiftly you had told a fib. Why did you lie? It wasn't like they would stone you for looking at an unmarried man, especially when you yourself were unmarried. You shake it off, returning your attention back to the task at hand, but every now and then your gaze still lingered on the reflection behind you.

Later, that night when it was all done you sank into the bath tub- the warmth of the water completely engulfs you and you felt every stress and trouble slip away. The night was completely silent, other than the sloshing of water and leaves rustling with the wind outside of the window. It felt peaceful, still, like the house was fast asleep—no creaking or padded steps when no one was walking, just you and the silence.

After what felt like an hour of calm silence, you step from the tub and into your nightgown to turn in for the night. You were fully ready to slip into bed and get cozy, but the moment your eyes closed you heard the soft hum of music

You tried to ignore it and tell yourself that maybe you had imagined it, you hadn't even seen a piano here. But minutes slipped past with the sound of music and it became hard to ignore. With finality you slip out of bed, picking up the candelabra at your bed side and using it to light your way as you exit the room.

You quietly followed the sound, the floorboards shriek beneath your feet as you tried your best to tiptoe through the hallway. The sound heightened as you grew closer to the foyer and your eyes immediately fall upon the balcony above you— it was coming from the attic.

You enter the lift, it creaks and screeches as you close it shut, trying your best to be silent and time your movements with the sound of music. It takes you up, crackling with each turn of a gear, until finally you make it to the third floor. As you make your way down the hall the only light that shines is the candlelight from your candelabra. The piano crescendos the closer you inch towards the attic door and eventually, as you peek through the crack of the open door, it ceases.

You're looking at the back of a figure, sat slumped over with his head in his hands. He looks at the sheet sat in front of him before slamming his hands on the keys. He played with an unresolved anger and another emotion you couldn't quite put your finger on but it made everything about it mesmerizing. You held your breath as you watched him , like watching a prodigy at work. He plays until every note reaches it's peak and then the sound falls as he comes to a stop once again.

But this time, it isn't out of frustration. "I can feel you peeking, Miss,'' his song is hauntingly quiet as he speaks. You feel your heart leap out of your chest as he calls you out, because who else could he have possibly been talking to other than you. He doesn't say anything else but he does shift over on the bench, like he was leaving space for you to join him without asking.

The door creaks as you push it open and step inside, putting your candle light on a table full of other trinkets and old music sheets. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop...''

"It's alright.'' He chuckles as his fingers dance across the keys, playing a softer melody than he had before he realized you were standing there. "Did I wake you Miss?''

"I was only just slipping into bed when I heard the music,'' you respond, scanning the room and taking in all the clutter— things that felt more like placeholders and ancient artifacts than things once held dear by a loving family. "And you don't have to call me Miss. You can use my name Sunoo.''

For a moment he stopped playing, his fingers pausing on the keys as his name spilled past your lips like lyrics to a song, like a harmony to the melody he played on every key.

"Your father doesn't seem to see that appropriate,'' he responds, and your brows crease in confusion.

"My father? What does he have to do with anything?'' Silence, your question is met with his quiet, "did he say something to you?''

He doesn't answer, but his silence is an answer all on its own.

"Sunoo, my father himself doesn't even speak to me, I can't have you not speak to me too, it feels lonely enough.'' the words spilled from your mouth before you could even realize they had.

He stops playing, finally turning to look at you for the first time, but still he says nothing. he just looks at you as if he were searching for something— searching for answers. "What's your favorite song?'' He asks, your eyebrows crease in confusion but you answer nonetheless.

"A bird in a gilded cage, Steve-''

"Steve Porter,'' he finishes your sentence ahead of you before nodding to the space beside him. "Sit.''

You stare at him for a moment before finally joining him on the bench. No more words are spoken after that he simply plays like the keys alone were meant to say everything he didn't. You stayed up for hours just watching him play, until the moon slipped past the horizon and sunlight peaked through the attic curtains. When the two of you noticed it had gotten so late you eventually slipped out of the attic and took the lift back down to your floor. Despite knowing you would be tired for the oncoming events, you couldn't get yourself to regret staying up with him. For the first time in years you felt seen.

That was the first time in a long time that you had slept sound, without the help of tea or medication to ease your mind.

The next morning you woke to the manor bustling with busy people,chefs, caterers, event planners, and stylists— all to make sure that the manor was in top shape for tonight's ball. All you wanted was a normal morning and a cup of tea, but today was not like most mornings when you would wake and find Elisse already having it made for you.

With a sigh you slip under a long table being moved to god knows where by a group of movers, past a group of women looking at the color details of the foyer, and into the kitchen.

Now the kitchen was just chaotic, bodies moving frantically, scattered dinner plans all over the table— but unlike the foyer, this chaos was more organized. You quickly make your tea, ducking and dodging all of the movement in the kitchen and eventually slipping out all together.

With a relieved sigh, you find your peace as you finally step outside. The cold immediately tickles your nose and makes your breath visible, but it's better than being trapped in a home that felt suffocating.

You pay no mind as you hear the door open and click shut behind you—until you felt warmth envelope you as you're engulfed by someones coat. Moments after, you hear them speak.

"I saw you step out without one, I figured you would need it if you're going to be out here in this.'' He says, eyeing your nightgown with an amused grin on his lips.

You wanted to scoff, to say something back but you were far too engulfed in the smell of his coat. The smell of fresh powder with hints of citrus and iris— a combination you would find odd together but he somehow made it work. It wafts beneath your nose, drawing you in like a smell of freshly warmed cotton.

"Are you meant to be my knight in shining armor?'' You joke, a smile on your lips as you bring your mug to your lips.

"Not a knight, but if you're in need of one I see no trouble in playing such a role," he responds, as if it's the most natural thing. You weren't sure if it was his natural way of speaking or if it was some form of flirtation, but nonetheless it made your heart skip.

"Will you come to my aid when I'm in need of someone then, Sunoo?'' You ask him, there was a shimmer of something unsure in his gaze, like something troubled him, but he only flashes a smile.

"If that's your wish, Miss.'' You look at him, your eyes searching his own as he looked at you. The moment felt frozen with the cold, still with an unspoken yearning. You weren't sure if he felt it too, but to you it was unmistakable there.

"Ah, there you are.'' The sound of the door swinging open interrupts the moment. Your father's smile drops for a second as he looks between you and Sunoo, but seconds later he composes himself.

"I've been looking for you. Ingrid and the other ladies are waiting to get you into your dress. Come along, the guest will be arriving soon. And you need to be ready.'' You sigh, thanking Sunoo for the momentary escape. You strip yourself of his coat and put it in his hand. You're walking past your father and into the house in seconds, missing the exchanged glances between the two of them.

The moment the door closes something in Sunoo's demeanor shifts, his eyes turn cold as he looks down at the jacket in hand, still warm from the heat of your body.

"Why were you out there in your night gown? And alone with the caretaker?'' Your father questions, following you up the staircase.

"His name is Sunoo Father, and he was only keeping me company while I stepped out. This place just feels suffocating.'' You didn't know why you were explaining yourself, after all you were a grown woman. But you felt the need to correct your father's attitude towards him.

"Sunoo? You call him by name like the two of you have made friends?'' He responds, a hint of anger laced in his tone.

"Well he is my age, I see no reason why he and I cannot communicate— we're both adults and it isn't like anyone else is here to keep me company.''

"Do not get too close with that boy, he's not like us and I won't allow it to go any further. Do you understand Yn?''

You force yourself to choke back your words, the previous light from moments ago having died in your eyes as you give him a curt nod. "If that is what you want.'' You don't say another word after that, just slip into your bedroom where Ingrid and the others waited to get you stripped and changed into your dress.

After that you didn't see Sunoo, even as guests flooded in and each of them greeted you with a smile. You tried your best to smile and thank them each for coming but every now and then your eyes just drifted to the entryway of the ballroom, like you were waiting to see him.

"Yn you've been busy tonight, if I didn't know any better i would infer you were avoiding me.'' Your father approaches you where you stand, talking to a group of women who couldn't care less about your dead mother. They were here because they knew your father was wealthy and that if they got you to like them it would make it far easier to get him in their clutches.

Of course he doesn't approach you alone this time, at his side is a tall and slender man. His hair falls perfectly on his face, framing it just right in a way that left just enough mystery to draw you in. There was no ignoring the simple fact that he himself was absolutely breathtaking. The kind of man you would read about in old gothic romance novels, or dream about falling in love with.

"I'd like you to meet Mr. Nishimura. He and his family flew in from Japan this morning, they're new partners of the law firm." Riki gives you a curt nod, you see his eyes search yours for a moment, but the way his gaze lingers doesn't feel the same as a certain someones.

"Yn, it's nice to meet you.''

"Riki, just call me Riki.'' He finally speaks, his voice takes you by surprise and you'd admit that if you didn't have your eyes set on someone else it'd have made your heart flutter.

"I'll leave you two alone to get to know one another.'' You knew what he was doing, it was what he had always done when someone he wanted to partner up with had a son or even a daughter. He was using you as his trump card, his pawn.

"I'm sorry if he interrupted your evening and pulled you over here.'' You apologize, giving him a polite bow that makes a smile curl onto his lips.

"I take it he's done this before, that I'm not the only one?'' His tone is half jokingly, like it was meant to put you at ease and help you feel more comfortable around him.

"What gave it away?" You tilt your head, flashing him a smile that made him take in every feature on your face with a new resolve.

"When you grow up in a family like mine, it becomes easier to pick up on who only desire to use you. Unlike the other women my family has tried to make arrangements with, you don't seem too interested in me."

"I see, were you expecting me to swoon for you then, Mr. Nishimura?'' You respond, a hint of amusement in your tone. He chuckles and you can't help but laugh along with him

"It's refreshing," He nods, his gaze moving over to your father who had been eyeing the two of you from across the room with the biggest smile.

"Should we put on a show?'' You ask him, both your gazes still on your father who had slowly been making his way over to who you assumed to be Riki's parents. He turns to you brows curved out of interest and pure amusement for whatever plan it was that had the gears in your head turning.

"Bow.'' you whisper, just loud enough for knot him to hear.

"So you like princess treatment?'' He jokes, and you flash him a look that makes him smile at you. Seconds later he bows and you return his bow with one of your own.

"Now hold out your arm," you whisper as you come back up, and he immediately falls into the act, seeming to have picked up on the premise of the idea.

He holds out his arm and you place yours on top, you pass the chattering bodies and make your way to the dance floor where others had already been dancing.

"Try not to step on my toes,'' he teases.

"How about you try and keep up with me," you fire back, and he can't help but laugh.

The music starts as quickly as the last song ends and you're moving around the dance floor with quick and precise movements. You only catch a quick glimpse of him but you can see your father's proud smile as you and Riki make your rounds on around the marble floor. Every step is swift and efficient like he had done it time and time again. Like he knew every step before you made it.

Your dance lasted for what felt like hours— all to put on a show for your parents who couldn't care less if there was chemistry between the two of you or not. Nonetheless, this little performance of yours got a couple heads turning and both your parents seemed to be satisfied.

When the music stopped and you both pull away there was no shared glances or feelings there. Just an emptiness of two people alike wanting to do what they were so used to doing for the sake of their parents.

"Do you mind if I cut in?'' You weren't sure when he had entered, maybe you were too distracted with your little showcase to realize, but now he stood in front of you both, his hand held out like he wasn't just asking for your hand— he was demanding it.

"Sunoo?''

"Sorry to cut it short if the two of you were having a moment," he apologizes this time, his hand still held out like he was leaving no room for refusal.

Riki glances between the two of you as if he were sensing some sort of unspoken feelings there, then he leans in close to your ear."Good luck with your father.'' He pulls back with a smile and places your hand into Sunoos. "She's all yours.''

You catch a glimpse of your father's face as Sunoo takes your hand, silently disapproving . Sunoo seems to pay him no mind, just slips one hand around your waist and pulls you close to him, leaving no space between your heart and his.

"Sunoo, what are you doing?"

He interrupts your question with a soft whisper in your ear, his breath lingering on your neck like the ghost of a kiss. "You looked breathtaking dancing with him, but how about putting on a show with me?''

In that moment your breathe catches in your throat and you can't bring yourself to form any words.

"Just one nod sweetheart, you don't even have to use words. Say you'll waltz with me?''

And you oblige, driven only by the feeling of your chest against his, two heartbeats aligned— in sync, like they were one.

To your confusion he drops your hand, the moment feeling distant as he walks away and returns with a singular candle.

"A candle?" Your gaze lingers on the candle for a moment before they find his eyes that were already on you.

"Don't question it, just dance with me. If the fire dies then I'll take it as a promise that you'll waltz with me again." Again his closes the space between the two of you, one hand clasped around yours that now held the candle while the other rested on the small of your back. It was a touch that felt naturally intimate, left goosebumps in it's wake.

All eyes seemed to fall upon the two of you, the candle pulling all eyes in the direction of you and him. The music started but slowly began to fade in your ears as the two of you danced. Different to Riki this felt more personal, more natural. It felt like flying among the clouds— movements so swift that you felt weightless in his arms.

His gaze never broke away from yours, even with all the times the candle flickered as if it had died and sparked back to life. From an outside view you both looked mesmerizing. Moving around the dance floor as if you owned it without a care for anyone that stood there watching. Your father was the only one that stood there unimpressed.

Slowly the music died down and along with it the light of the candle as he spun you to a stop. For a moment neither of you shared any words, but that was that shared heaviness of everything that this dance symbolized.

"Looks like you owe me another dance, Miss Sharpe.'' For a brief second his gaze falls to your lips, but instead of molding them with his own he takes a step back and gives a polite bow— one that signified the end of this moment with him.

Even as he walked away and other couples began to flood the dance floor once more, your eyes followed him. The air around you held it's breath, only exhaling when a hand pressed against your shoulder. You were snapped back to reality when Riki finally spoke, and for a moment your gaze lingers on the doors that he had just left before falling on Riki.

The rest of the night seemed to pass by like a blur of memories all mushed together. Laughing and smiling with Riki for the most part, slow sips of wine and drinks that made the entire night feel like a dream. Even the speech that your father gave in honor of your mother had fallen on deaf ears at some point.

After that, he didn't talk to you. Even as everyone had gone and the house silenced and stilled, he didn't speak. like he had no words for his disobedient daughter that had gone against his word.

That night, you found it hard to sleep, you weren't sure if it was the moment shared with Sunoo or the alcohol that made the concept of sleep so hard to grasp, but it was agonizing. You told yourself to close your eyes and imagine leaves flowing down a river— a method your mother taught you when you were younger. You let out a deep breath as you lie down, flat on your back and tried your best to envision it.

For a short moment you were falling, your breathing slowed and you were lulling off until you heard the creak of a floorboard. You told yourself that it was probably your father or Sunoo going to the kitchen for a drink or something, but it slowly started to sound too close for comfort.

Your eyes immediately open at the sound of a knob jiggling, your body now on high alert as you saw it twist then cease the moment you set eyes on it. That old feeling was starting to creep in, that feeling of not being alone— of a presence that wasn't entire living nor dead.

The jiggling of the knob eventually stopped and the room was quiet. You felt your breath catch in your throat. It was like you were waiting for something you weren't even sure was entirely real. The jiggling started again, eventually ending with a click of the lock and a creak as it was pushed open.

You couldn't look, couldn't face whatever it was because then that made it all too real, that meant facing that the ghosts you saw weren't just manifestations of your grief.

You slip beneath the covers, engulfing yourself in the safety of the sheets, whispering silent prayers as you felt the bed dip and creak with the presence of someone— or something, else.

Then you heard it, the rasp of a voice, like someone speaking with something caught or lodged into their throat. The words first came out like a violent hiss. "the red sssnow, red sssnow.''

Your hands immediately shoot to your ears, you didn't care what was there, you didn't want to see it or hear it. Why tonight of all nights? On a day that was already painful enough to remember without ghosts of your pasts following you. No matter how hard you tried to drown it out, the voice just sounded louder and louder in your ears.

"Leave me alone...'' The words fell from your lips like a whisper, like you weren't even confident they would work. You repeated them over and over until you had convinced yourself that you were brave enough to face whatever it was.

"I said leave me alone!'' You yell, yanking the covers off of your head, but when you finally open your eyes there was nothing there.

Maybe you were just drunk— maybe even crazy or schizophrenic, you didn't know— but anything was better than admitting that the things you saw were truly real.

After that night, you started finding it harder to fall asleep. Two nights passed of staring at the door knob waiting for it to twist and open with the arrival of something else, but it never did.

Tonight had been no different, unable to sleep or convince yourself that what you saw was just a drunken hallucination, you find yourself wandering the halls until you make it to the Athenaeum.

You slip in with a sigh, your robe trailing across the floor behind you as it hangs loosely on your arms. You flip a switch and the room flickers to life with the light of the overhead lanterns. You look to the first row of books you find, eyes scanning each one, fingers dancing across each dusted spine until you pull one free.

The book is thick and dated, obviously stained by time with every rip or tear. Your fingers caress the cover 'Frankenstein'. A book about creation, abandonment and longing for companionship, revenge.

"Couldn't sleep?'' Sunoo's voice carries through the silence, startling you and making you drop the book at your feet.

"Jesus, you scared me half to death.'' You hold your chest, reaching down to pick up the book and he slips into the room, movements of a phantom as he's standing next to you, reaching for your hand.

"Why are you awake so late?'' He asks, taking the book into his own hand and placing it on the reading table.

"I can't sleep, not since…Not since the night of the party.'' You also had not seen him since that night, it was like he was a ghost in these halls. Like he had left you with the memory of the dance and only that.

"Something troubling you?'' He asks, his eyes focused solely on you, like you held answers to every question he needed answered.

"Just having a hard time sleeping t's all,'' you respond— not the entire truth, but not a lie either.

"You read when you can't sleep?'' He chuckles, stepping closer, leaving only a foot of space between the two of you.

"Where did you go? After that night? It's been two days Sunoo, and I haven't seen you since. My father hasn't spoken a word to me since that night and you- you make me feel like there could be something here, then you just-you leave.'' He doesn't say anything, just takes your hand into his own and places a kiss on it. Despite being angry with him it still makes your heart leap.

"I'm sorry. I was visiting my parents,'' he apologizes, yet his eyes don't meet yours.

"Your parents..? I don't understand. Sunoo, I thought…'' You pause, as if coming to the realization of something that felt painful even to you. "Your parents… Your parents died on the same day my mother did?''

"It's not for you to worry about. It was your mother's day.'' He brushes it off, slipping behind you he makes his way over to the bookshelf, fingers grazing over the old spines of each hardcover.

"Oddly enough, it was the first time in years that I've felt any peace going to their graves. After the dance we shared, it felt less lonesome.'' You suck in a breath, unsure of what to say in response to his confession. It felt comforting knowing that you weren't the only one thinking of the dance you shared with him. But it was also scary— scary how close he was starting to get to you in a matter of two days.

You could brush it off as simple attraction, eyes meeting for the first time and seeing something there even if your time was short. But what you couldn't brush off was how badly he made you want more time with him when he was around— inhaled breaths, accelerated heartbeats whenever you were in the same room. You had been close to many men before, but none had ever made you feel so drawn to them. Not until him.

"That day, why did you come? Why did you dance with me knowing that my father— Knowing he doesn't approve of the two of us getting to know one another in the slightest?"

"Because I can't keep myself away from you. it's only been a day but I feel like during your time here you will make things a lot less somber. And I do apologize if this is overstepping, but I would like to spend more time with you. I know it is against your father's wishes but I think that it would make both of us a hell of a lot less lonesome.''

You could feel his gaze on you from behind, sharp and unwavering. You'd already gone against your father's wishes by dancing with him, he couldn't possibly be upset with you forever could he?

Slowly but surely you turn to face him, your gaze finding his under the dim light of the lanterns. "I'd like that.''

He smiles, a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes entirely, but somehow it was enough to have you whipped.

The next few days seemed to fly by like a blur, a montage of memories spent only with him in secrecy. Late nights sat at his side, listening to him play sweet melodies that seemed more and more like a soundtrack of your heart, each day. Sometimes the two of you would even sneak in walks when your father wasn't present, or have early morning reading sessions in the Athenaeum. A weeks worth of time, but it felt like absolute bliss.

It was an early morning, you sat at your bedroom window, a cup of tea in one hand and a pen in the other. A letter to Elisse had been long overdue, so you now sat quietly writing your every thought to her of the things you felt over the course of that one week.

My Dear Elisse,

Things are starting to feel less lonely here as I write to you. Father is still stuck in his old ways of course, the only time he truly talks to me is to discuss upcoming events, lunches or dinners. Other than that it is like I'm nothing more than the ghost of a child that he used to love. It is very solemn, no longer feeling close to the man that I should feel protected and loved by above all, but what can I do? I know that when he looks at me he sees her, my mother, but what I do not understand is why he suddenly feels the need to impose on my life and those I tether myself to. I met a man, a wonderful man that stimulates every part of my brain and body with his intelligence, kindness, creativity and compassion for others. Upon first meeting him I thought nothing of it, I thought that my month spent here would be lonesome and miserable even with the addition of a new face, but he makes things feel less cumbersome. He reads like no man I've known, plays the sweetest melodies on piano, cooks, cleans, he keeps this place so full of life, even at times when it feels so dull. I find myself stealing glances when he does simple things, rolling up his sleeves to complete a task, the way he purses his lips when he's deep in thought, even his anger as he trashes yet another written song that feels empty to him. Why do you suppose I feel this way? I cannot call it love, this I know, but is it plausible and perhaps appropriate to say that I do find myself falling for him? This is all I can write to you now, but there are more letters to come.

Sincerely,

your darling fluturaș (little butterfly)

You let out a content sigh, pulling your glasses from your face and setting them aside along with the letter. Slipping from the comfort of your seat, you step out of your room with soft padded steps, heading off to the one place you knew you could always find Sunoo when you needed him. The ride up the lift felt slow as it took you to the third floor like it did time and time again. You found him this time standing behind a desk— a desk full of random clutter, old records and phonograph cylinders you assumed to be just music.

"I knew I could find you here.'' You slip into the room, your hands clasped behind your back as you approach the desk with a confident playfulness.

"I'm always here, sweetheart, you've spent enough time up her with me to know that.'' He chuckles, resting his hands against the desk. Your eyes immediately fall onto his arms, the way he gripped the table, the prominent veins coming into view with his sleeves rolled up.

Part of you felt perverted for all the things that seem to invade your thoughts at that moment,but the thoughts leave as quick as they come.

"You seem to be a little distracted, Miss," he points out, the corner of his lip curved slightly— not in a way that was cocky or overly confident, but amused. Intrigued maybe?

You clear your throat, turning away from him and forcing your attention to the random trinkets scattered on a nearby carving table. The smile that curls onto his lips goes amiss by you. "I was wondering if you would accompany me into the main town? I have letters to send out and I'd love to get a change of scenery. And I thought I told you to call me Yn. Miss is too formal. Too distant.''

"I was a little busy working on something sweetheart. And your father, well your father can be home at any moment?''

"Please Sunoo.''

At that his resolve immediately crumbles. He let's out a sigh, looking back out the window before giving you a nod. "Only for a few hours, then we come back.''

His words bring an instant smile to your face, and you rush out of the attic before he had any chances to change his mind.

The ride into town seemed to fly by, much different to all those times you had gone back and forth with your father. Sunoo made it easy to feel less bored. Each time he would hear you sigh or spot a frown on your face as you stare out the window, he found new topics to stimulate your brain all over again. It was refreshing, having someone pay attention and care about you enough to notice such small details.

When you finally arrive into town the carriage seems to stop directly in the heart of it. The town square is bustling with energy, men selling newspapers children playing, half full shops, carriages fill the road making it all come to life. Sunoo holds out his hand, helping you down with an attentiveness that made you feel like a princess.

"Thank you.'' He gives a nod, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand before finally letting it go, leaving your hand cold and empty.

"So, this letter? Meant for someone back home? Someone you've got your eye on?'' He asks so naturally that you weren't sure if he were asking out of pure interest or jealousy.

A laugh spills from your lips nonetheless, and you shake your head as the two of you went on your way.

"It is to Elisse, my caretaker back home."

"The two of you are close?''

"She knows everything about me— she's taken care of me since I was thirteen. My father pays neither of us much mind unless he needs anything, but she's still always been kind and attentive. She got me through a lot when father and I moved to America," you explain as the two of you enter the small post office. Your conversation is cut short as you exchange words with the postman behind the counter, handing off your letter and a penny with a smile.

"Sorry, where were we?'' You turn back towards him and he's already got the door open for you to step out.

"You were telling me about Elisse.''

"Right, Elisse was like the only thing close to a mother figure that I had after we moved there. She made sure I was fed, bathed, well informed, and always in good health. Even took great care of my father when he'd go all scatter brained sometimes.''

"I see," he nods, soaking up all the information as if it were just as important to him as it was you.

"Your mother... What was she like?''

You hadn't expected such a question to be asked. Truth be told no one had ever asked about her other than Elisse but even then your father had forbid you from talking about her.

"She was kind, loving, spontaneous. A lot more free than my father was.'' You smile as the memories from your childhood flash through your mind like a strip of film.

"She was the type to track mud in the house and play in the rain with me whenever I got scolded for doing so by my father. She didn't like extravagant parties, she didn't even much like people— all she really needed was me and my father to be happy. My father had been so focused on putting a show for the masses as I got older, believe it or not, he wasn't always that way. But somewhere along the line, things changed when he took over my grandfathers company. When my mother died he only got worse.'' Your voice slowly drifted off, painful and distant.

That entire time Sunoo hadn't said much. After the mention of your father, it seemed to throw him deep into thought.

"Your parents, what were they like?'' You ask, and he visibly stiffens at the mention of his own parents.

"There's somewhere I want to take you while we're here.'' He's quick to change the subject, placing your arm on top of his he leads you further into town.

"Sunoo, wait, where are we going?'' He didn't answer, just pulled you along as he sped through street vendors and marketers." Sunoo?''

Eventually you came to a quick stop, and you nearly bump into his side as he halts. "Sunoo, what is going on? Where are we?''

You follow his gaze, the two of you stood in front of an old run down music hall. Eight withered letters in bold engraved into the brick "The Grand".

"Wait- I know...I know this place… My father would take me here to watch the ballet. Sunoo, why are we here?''

"It was my parents'.'' That was all he said, he didn't try to explain nor tell you the significance of it all, just left you wondering from that moment forward to the entire ride back to the manor.

The ride back was silent, cold almost— like the revelation of his parents legacy long gone had closed him off to you completely. Even as he helped you from the carriage and guided you inside, he said nothing. You wanted to ask if you had done something wrong, if maybe you had overstepped and it was the reason for the sudden switch, but you couldn't bring ourself to bother him.

A day that was meant to be enjoyed by the two of you had now gone sour, and you spent the rest of it alone in your room until nightfall.

You sat in the tub, your mind on everything but bathing in that moment. All you could think about was how Sunoo had frozen in place when you asked about his mother. How he had suddenly gone cold and hadn't said a word to you the entire ride back. With A sigh, you take your wash cloth from the side of the tub and lather it in soap, the sloshing of water fills through the stillness of the room like a disturbance.

Then you hear it, a sound you hadn't heard in many nights, the creak of a door opening and shutting. Your head snaps towards the open entryway of your bathroom.

"Hello? Who's there? Sunoo…?'' Nothing.

"Father..?'' Again, you're met with a humming silence. You step from the tub, wrapping yourself in your robe before taking slow steps forward.

The floorboards groan beneath your feet with each step you take towards your bedroom. You held your breath, as if you were waiting to take in what was on the other side of the threshold with full confidence. You step into the room with a shiver as you exhale, finally feeling some sort of relief as you enter the room and see nothing.

"Just the house settling,'' you tell yourself, turning back to face the bathroom and resume your bath. But you freeze dead in your tracks.

Goosebumps creep up on your skin the moment your eyes fall upon it, pulling itself up from the floor— what looked like a heavy mist was a woman in black with a noose around her neck. Her bones crackled and popped under the pressure of her body as she rose up to her feet. You stood frozen in place, your body unable to move in that exact moment. She inched closer to you, but she spoke no words like the rope itself had stripped her of her vocal chords.

She had been only a grasp away when you finally convinced your body to move. You turned and ran, not even looking behind you as you sped down the corridor only stopping when you collided with something hard. Sunoo's chest. It would have sent you tumbling to the floor if he hadn't caught your hand. Your breathing was frantic and your eyes dart around the hallway as if you were looking for something that wasn't there.

"Hey, hey , calm down, I'm here. I got you.'' He rests his hands on both sides of your face, forcing you to look into his eyes, like he knew it was the only thing that could ground you.

"Tell me what's wrong? What happened?''

You don't say anything. The words get choked up in your throat— like barbed wire coiling and contracting around your throat preventing any words from coming out.

He doesn't force you, just strokes your hair as you shove your face into his chest and cry.

For the first time since you had arrived there, you're sat in his bedroom. It was much like your own in size but different in interior. A dark swirl of crimson reds, maple browns and matte blacks. His bed sat in the middle of the room, A desk at the window lined with old music sheets and trinkets, unlike the attic nothing was worn by cobwebs or sprinkled with dust. An old dresser sat against the wall opposite of the bed, along with a vanity that looked as if it hadn't been used in years.

You sat quietly, leg shaking as you took in the essence of his room, waiting for him to return with the tea he promised you. The click of the door had you on high alert, but you calmed the moment you saw him enter with a tray of fruit and two cups of freshly brewed tea. He sits it down on top of an old trunk that sits in front of the bed before kneeling in front of you. He doesn't ask any questions— not yet at least. Just brings the back of his hand to your forehead to check for a fever.

"I'm not sick.''

"I'm only making sure, just to be safe.''

"Sunoo, I'm not sick. I know what I saw. it's not a fever and it wasn't my brain playing tricks. I saw it tonight and I heard it that night after we danced!'' His expression remains neutral even as he goes to take one of the mugs and places it into your hand.

"Sunoo you have to believe me, what I saw was real, what I saw was—"

"A manifestation of your grief,'' he cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence."Look, you've been through a lot since coming here— your father is constantly showing you no attention, you've just dealt with the anniversary of your mother's death and you're back in the place where it all happened. It's natural that your grief and your trauma would manifest those kinds of visions.''

"But I— I know what I saw, it felt so- So real. I don't understand.''

He brings his hands up to your face, his thumbs caressing your cheeks brushing away dried tears."You're here, you're safe. It wasn't real sweetheart. If there were anything here in this house, I would know. I've been here for half my life. I need you to trust that you're safe.''

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes piercing through his own to find some sort of reassurance. The feeling of his fingers on your skin slowly bring you to a calm. "Okay...You're right. Maybe- Maybe I just need some sleep.''

"You can sleep here tonight, I'll take the floor and you can have the bed.''

"No!" Your voice is loud, nearly bouncing off the walls of the quiet room."I mean, no, please... Please don't sleep on the floor.''

A slight grin curls onto his lips, despite the obvious fear in your eyes and shake in your voice, he can't help but tease you.

"You'll have to be more specific on where exactly you want me to sleep, sweetheart.''

Your face immediately goes flush and you feel heat rush to your ears. "Sleep. With me..please.'' He chuckles, brushing the hair from your face to get a better view of your expression— flustered, embarrassed almost.n"I got you. I'll keep you safe.''

That night was the closest the two of you had ever been since meeting one another. Your sleeping frame wrapped in his arms finally seeming to sleep peacefully, while he lie awake staring out the window. His gaze flickers from your sleeping face to his bedroom door as he heard a creak outside. He doesn't need to open it to know what's on the other side— it was the same something that had always been there for the past nine years, or more like the same someone.

Night bled into dawn and he had eventually fallen asleep. Unable to resist his exhaustion anymore, he finally let it take over him. Each of your breathing synced as you slept in his arms, and although you couldn't feel it in that moment, so did the beat of both your hearts.

When morning rose and the sun peaked through the curtains, you woke to find the bed empty beside you. While part of you had been disappointed to find his half of the bed empty, the other part of you felt relieved after your embarrassing freak out last night. Rubbing the last of sleep from your eyes, you slip out of bed, your body feeling as light as ever after all of the crying you had done the night before.

As you make your way down the hall and take the lift downstairs, the smell of freshly toasted bread, bacon, and a scent that hadn't graced your senses in years. You had fully expected to enter the kitchen and find Sunoo there like always, but instead you found your father. His back had been turned to you, he stood at the stove cracking eggs into a skillet, topping them off with mushrooms, tomato and scallions, just how your mother had always made them when you were younger.

Something about the familiarity of it felt odd, your father had never been this cheerful and he hadn't cooked you breakfast since you were thirteen. You watch as he salts them lightly, plates them and turns to bring the plate to the table. As he turns he finds you standing there and he gives you a cheerful smile, As if the last few weeks he hadn't drowned himself in his work— All to avoid talking to you.

"You're finally awake, I was on my way to gather you for breakfast.'' He gestures towards a seat at the table, and you hesitate before going to take a seat.

"Good morning ,Father. Is there a special occasion of some sort?'' Your eyebrows crease in confusion as you look at the full spread on the table."Is Sunoo not here?''

For a moment, the smile on your father's face falters, but he's quick to fix it as he places a fresh cup of tea in front of you."Sunoo has gone into town, he will be out today," he answers coldly, before changing the subject.

"That aside, the deal with the Nishimura's has finally been closed. We will have dinner with them tomorrow to celebrate.''

"Father, that's amazing!'' Although you didn't usually concern yourself with your father's work, you knew that this was a deal he had been trying to close for quite some time.

"What is it that you're working on anyways?''

"Well, after tomorrow, we will be the proud owners of a new theater. That old music hall from all those years ago is now ours.''

Your fork immediately falls from between your fingers at his words. Surely not 'That' music hall, right? "Music hall?''

"The Nishimura's were partial owners of that old theatrics center from long ago. Surely you remember all the times we've gone there?''

"The Grand? But I thought… I thought that place belonged to-" He immediately cuts you off.

"It does not matter who it once belonged to, we are now it's owners, and we will be celebrating tomorrow. Please do not make a show of this dinner as you did with your mother's ball.'' He responds with finality, like there was nothing more to be discussed.

The rest of breakfast was quiet, the previous giddiness from your father had slipped away and turned to something more cold and distant. Like this was territory you weren't meant to be dipping your nose in.

After breakfast, your father left you alone in the kitchen. You ate in silence before putting away leftovers and washing the leftover dishes. You couldn't help but think about Sunoo. He had just trusted you enough to tell you about his parents and your father now had ownership of the one place that still tied him and them together. Do you tell him? Or was this something you kept to yourself?

The rest of the day you found ways to busy yourself— making the bed and tidying his room, rearranging the nick-knacks in the attic and dusting them all, tidying his music sheets and throwing out the ones you knew he hated.

When there was nothing left to clean, you escape into the Athenaeum for your usual nightly read. You'd just be reading alone for the night since Sunoo hadn't yet returned.

You sat near the fireplace for hours, your legs tangled in your dress as you lie there, deeply enthralled by the book in your hands. Frankenstein was a very complex book within itself, fully thwarting yourself into a world of yearning for companionship, grasping not being fully connected with humanity— about the relationships of something man-made and his creator along with him. It fully intrigued you— something so cruel and teetering on the mark of absurdity.

"You seem to be deep in thought.'' Your breath catches in your throat at the sound of his voice from the doorway, you move to put your book aside but he holds out a hand to stop you.

"I'm not here to interrupt your reading, just here to sit in silence for a while." He stood there for a moment, hair tousled, sleeves rolled up, his eyes red and worn as if he had been crying or on the verge of it.

"Where were you today?'' You ask him as he enters the room with slow strides.

"I had things to take care of.''

"Things like what?'' You ask him, finally setting the book aside having lost interest.

He does a quick sweep of you, from the way your legs lie exposed beneath the sheer of your nightgown, how the neckline of your dress falls just above your breasts, then his eyes find yours. Something in him softens for a moment as he senses the worry in your gaze.

"You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I just went in to town for something I needed, that's all,'' he reassures you. His eyes look so sure and comforting that you force ourself to let it go. It wasn't like you needed to know where he was at all times.

He slips your dress to the side, his fingers trace gentle lines up your leg before pausing at your hip and hovering there. "You're so worried about me when there's much I have yet to tell you. You're too pure to be his.'' He spoke softly, like he was simply voicing his inner thoughts— not for anyone to hear, just because they needed to be said.

You just sat there, unable to move under his gaze and the heat of his fingertips. His words were like ghosts to your ears, spoken and dying in the air like you hadn't even heard them to begin with. You didn't question what they meant, you didn't so much care what they meant. All that mattered was this moment— his touch that was so soft and delicate on you as if you'd break when he pulled away.

"Sunoo… I have something to tell you..." You spoke softly, trying not to interrupt the intimacy of the moment that would soon slip away with the words you spoke. He gives a simple hum in response, his eyes finally funding yours, making you suck in a breath.

"My- My father… Your parents' show house…He owns the rights to it." After your confession silence hang in the air. The subtle crackling of the fire made things feel less heavy. You watched his face, waited for any sign of anger, pain, anything— He showed neither.

Just brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles like none of it mattered.

"Sunoo?"

"I know." He finally speaks, his thumbs traced circles on your knuckles as if it were unimportant.

"You know? Sunoo we can't... I can't let him do this. That place is all you have left of them."

"It's alright sweetheart, it was taken from me long ago when I couldn't keep up with payments, someone was bound to own it eventually. There's nothing more I can do."

"But I can't-"

"It's okay," he says again, his words more definitive this time, and it made you fall silent immediately.

"Just read to me, I don't want tonight to be any different than any other." He kisses your wrists, light and delicate, before taking the book and placing it back into your hands. "Be my distraction."

You look at him, unable to fully shake the worry you felt for him, but his gaze was so confident— so sure. With a sigh, you open the book again, making room for him on the loveseat before picking up on the book where you'd left off.

You couldn't help but feel distracted as you read, feeling the way his fingers traces your skin, how he'd see your hair fall in front of your face and brush it back so it wasn't in your way. The fact that you were completely undeniably falling for him was starting to become unavoidable. He was getting close in all the ways you'd never allowed another man to do.

The scariest thing about this was not knowing how he felt. Even with the stolen glances, delicate kisses and light touches, you weren't sure if he felt the same. Sunoo was hard to read, in a way you could never tell when he was being serious or simply playful in nature. It's like he used his touch to speak for him, but when it came to words there was no sign of the man that kissed you like you were his flame.

It was the one thing that kept you in distance, when all you wanted to do was pull him closer and kiss him.

—

Morning came, and even as the kitchen bustled with chefs and maids on hire you found yourself distracted. Your skin burned where he had touched it the previous night and only god knew the things you did after he had walked you to your room.

Your fingers curled beneath your dress, face shoved into your pillow to quiet down your moans. It felt filthy, sinful, to think of a man that wasn't yours and do such things, but he'd invaded the most sensible parts of you.

"Miss Sharpe??" Your brief flashback to last night is cut short as Ingrid calls out your name.

"Yes… Yes, I'm sorry Ingrid."

"Your bath is ready and we've chosen a few dresses, your father's choice. We also picked a few we thought would look perfect on you tonight."

"I'll be right up." You give her a nod and bring your cup to your lips. Making no plans to rush yourself, you take your time, finishing your tea before going to join her upstairs.

The bath seemed to be the only time you got some sort of relief from today's events. The moment you stepped out it was immediate hair styling, makeup and dress fittings.

Every dress your father picked out felt dull, lifeless, way too calculated. Luckily, you had known Ingrid enough that she knew the things that would flatter you and accentuate your assets the way you liked.

"What do we think of this one, Miss?'' She asks as she fluffs out the edges on what was now your fourth dress.

"Are there any more?" You ask, taking in the fit and ruffle of the dress in the mirror.

"There is one more, I think it would be the perfect fit for tonight, but your father may not approve Miss.''

"Let's try it.'' She doesn't oppose, just gives you a look, questioning if you were sure about it. "It will be fine Ingrid, let's just try it.''

You strip down to only your corset and undergarments and she helps you slip into the new dress— a beautiful champagne colored dress, made entirely of rich satin silk. Nothing too over the top, just a simple off the shoulder dress, with a slightly ruched train. Not too many ruffles, or jewels or sparkle. Your beauty alone made up for the lack in extravagancy.

"This one, this one is beautiful Miss.'' A large smile curls onto Ingrid's lips as she straightens out the bottom of your dress. As you take in your reflection in the mirror, you catch him standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest like he were viewing something familiar— something that was his.

Ingrid seems to catch sight of him as well. Sensing the way you held your breath upon seeing him, she gathers all the others and exits the room with the excuse of getting more accessories.

"Do you think it is the right choice? All of father's dresses are so over the top that they feel less and less like me every time he picks them out,'' you start, all while he takes you in from head to toe.

"No, this one. This one is perfect.'' He steps behind you, so close that you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat against your back. He stares at you through the mirror as his fingers dance across your skin from your fingers up to your exposed shoulders. That touch alone made the air in the space feel charged with something that was way too intimate too ignore.

"You look beautiful." His breath ghosts on your neck, a little too close for comfort. You finally let out a shaky breathe when you hear Ingrid's voice down the hall. Sunoo takes a step back just in time as the girls all enter the room again. Sunoo slips from the room like a ghost, leaving you with a now lonely feeling that felt more like yearning.

By the time you had finished getting ready, dinner preparations had already been complete and your guests had finally arrived. You could hear their cheerful voices in the foyer as you take the lift down to the second floor. They had already started of the evening with their wine and bread. The moment you descend down the staircase, all eyes fall upon you. While Riki's family had much to say about how beautiful and breathtaking you looked, you could tell by the look on your father's face, he did not approve.

"A little late to the party." Riki approaches with ease, oozing a confidence you hadn't gotten to see on your first meet.

"We can't all wake up looking like Nishimura Riki," you respond, earning a laugh from him. He takes your hand and guides you down the rest of the way.

"This is the first time I'm seeing your entire family," you tell him, your eyes falling on his parents that had been happily chatting with your father. All while both of who you assumed were his sisters, sat comfortable at the fireplace chatting.

"Your father insisted we all be here to celebrate, said you could use the company?"

"Of course he did." You roll your eyes, finally letting go of his hand as the two of you join the rest of them.

"Finally, we can start our evening," your father says cheerfully, a hidden malice in his undertone as if he was upset for you having come down so late. Nonetheless, he holds out his arm, leading everyone down into the dining hall that was only used for special occasions.

Most of the dinner had gone by smoothly, though it had been mostly conversations of business and your father flaunting all the different places he'd been to. From what you gathered from Riki's family, they seemed far less strict and controlling compared to your father. It made you wonder how they had even made such good friends with him.

The conversation had now taken a turn for the best, with the attention now on you and Riki. Your father was more than thrilled to have you discuss your current interest in literature.

"So Yn, your father tells us you're interested in becoming a writer," his mother comments, wanting the two of you to feel included in the conversation.

"Well yes, I work at a publishing company back in New York, but for obvious reasons I've had to take a few days off."

"Right, America. Our Ki loves it there, he studied the arts there for, what was it? Five years darling?" She looks her husband before taking a bite of her food.

"Six," he corrects before returning his interest to his food.

"Oh I didn't know you were the artistic type?" You tease, more so for him to hear than anyone else.

"After one dance you think you've got me all figured out?" He responds, fully amused at your attempt to tease him.

"You two look brilliant together.'' Your father comments, suddenly shifting the energy in the room from one of fun and comfort to a subtle awkwardness.

"I don't know, from what I've heard Yn seems to be more interested in books than men," Riki responds jokingly, sensing the awkwardness of your father's words. You give him a thankful look and a smile curls onto your lips.

"I think books can treat me a lot better," you respond, making him chuckle. Your father takes it as something endearing. Seeing the way the two of you interact in such a manner only further fuels his delusions that you'd be together.

The rest of the night seemed to flow smoother from there, most of the diner being spent with the two of you laughing and discussing the most minuscule of topics. Meanwhile a lonely figure stands observant in the archway of dining room, having seen every interaction between the two of you.

The dinner eventually came to an end and your father stood outside discussing further business plans with Riki's parents while his sisters entered the carriage. The two of you weren't too far behind, walking side by side with slow strides.

"Interesting little relationship we have here," Riki comments, making you laugh.

"I think we both know it'll be easier for us to stay friends, despite my fathers obvious delusion for something more between us."

"And here I was thinking we'd end up together,'' he jokes. You shoot him and amused look, a smile curling onto the corners of your lips.

"Guess you're just not my type, I'm a little bit more into my books.''

He laughs, nodding his head in surrender.

The two of you finally make it to the doorway and he bids you goodnight before going to join his family. You watch them all climb into the carriage, your head resting on the doorframe.

Your father joins you at your side with a smile on his face as he waves them off. "Riki seems like a fine gentleman,'' he comments, more like a statement than a simple observation.

You sigh when he finally leaves you alone, the weight of the night and your father's expectations finally lifted off your shoulders. You slowly stride up the stairs, taking the lift up to the third floor instead of turning in for the night. Padded footsteps and the creak of floorboards above you tell you that Sunoo is still awake.

You hear him shuffling around as you approach the door and push it open. Just as you suspected, he's sat at the piano, crumbled music sheets and freshly used ones sit scattered on top.

"I didn't think you would still be awake so late.'' You step inside, but he doesn't turn to look at you like any other time. "Have you written something new?''

He doesn't answer, even as you make your way over to him and place yourself on the other side of the piano. Your eyebrows crease in confusion as he sat there, still writing as if you weren't even here.

"Sunoo?'' Still, he says nothing.

"Did I do something wrong?'' His silence remains, even as he pushes himself up from the work bench and moves over to the desk for more paper.

"Will you really ignore me after this morning ? After everything? After staring at me in that mirror and touching me like it was natural to you? After holding me in your arms in your own bed? You're going to remain silent?'' Your words are met with the light rustling paper.

"Fucking talk to me!''

"I can't!'' You're startled by his fist slamming against the desk.

"You can't? You can touch me like I'm yours, dance with me as if it were just the two of us existing alone. Y-You can hold me like you want me to feel safe in only your arms,but you cannot talk to me? You stare at me with eyes that tell me you desire me, as I do you, and yet you cannot open your mouth to speak simple words?''

"It is complicated. This is complicated. Does not matter what it is you see between you and I, it will not go beyond touches in secrecy.

"So I am your secret?''

"No, I am yours!'' The harshness in his voice makes you scoff, you don't say anything more you just stare at him. He who stood there different from the man that usually showed you tenderness and compassion. His hair disheveled like he had been tugging at it, the veins in his arms on full display as he gripped the table beneath his palms.

"Do you know how it feels to burn for a woman so desperately? After years of isolation and keeping my distance. You come here and you make me rethink every moral, every value! This can have no happy ending. Your father despises me and it is why you will only be mine in secret, I cannot fully have you when I know there will be others.''

"My father? I have completely gone against everything I've known. Everything my father wishes. To stay with you and be with you!"

"I did not ask you to!''

You take in a sharp breath, a quick inhale that feels like a sharp knife to your chest with the words he spoke. He seems to realize he's made a mistake and it's only confirmed as you turn your back to him and walk away.

Within a matter of seconds you feel a hand clasp around your wrist. Your hand is only inches away from the doorknob but even as you don't turn to meet his gaze he does not let go.

"I yearn for you. Are those the words you long to hear? Against all that I know, against everything that I have intended to happen here. I yearn for the one woman that complicates everything that I know.''

"What is it that I complicate?'' You ask, finally turning to look at him.

But he does not answer, he takes your face into his hands and he kisses you. Every ounce of burning passion that the two of you had held back comes out in this kiss alone. Your fingers slip away from the door knob and you reach for his hair. His kiss is not hungry nor insatiable, it is tender, passionate, like he had waited to do it since the moment you'd met him.

His right hand is still clasped around your wrist as the other falls down to your waist.

He doesn't beg or plead to touch you, it's like he already knows that even without your approval you'd say yes to him.

His hands are hot as they touch every part of your body, like he were mapping a holy relic.

Despite how he normally held himself together, his fingers trembled as his hand slipped beneath your dress, pushing it up slowly. His eyes drink in the sight with awe before his lips find your neck and you tangle your fingers in his hair with a shaky breath.

"Beautiful. Every inch of you is beautiful,'' he whispers in between kisses. "It makes me insane.''

Finally, his hand slips to the small of your back and he holds his breath as he feels you arch. "Tell me to stop, tell me now that we should take this no further,'' his voice is soft as he pleas for you to end the moment there. But you don't.

"Please.''

He seems to understand everything that you're pleading for in that moment. It breaks every bit of restraint that he had left in him.

He unties the dress before watching as it falls at your feet, he wastes no time removing everything else beneath it with frustrated huffs like it was keeping him from you.

When he finally strips you down his eyes are yearning, adorning like he were seeing a goddess right before his eyes.

He captures your mouth again, this kiss losing all the vestiges of his restraint. It's deep and consuming, with his tongue exploring yours that gave way to desperation. His hand cups your thigh, bringing it to rest around his waist as he frees himself of all restraints.

He cannot hold himself back, this feeling that explodes from him for the first time is to much to bear and he needs to pour it all into you.

He presses against you, his tip swollen and angry nudges against your clit like a question and a promise. Your nod is all the reassurance he needs before he pushes in with a shiver. You can feel him shudder against you the moment you cry out and clench around him. In a matter of seconds, his lips are on you, leaving a trail of passionate kisses as if he were worshiping a temple.

He waits until you let him know it's okay before pushing forward. A groan spills from his lips, one desperate and yearning that comes from the deepest depths of his soul. He pulls out then sinks into you slow with one single deliberate motion that has you gasping for air. The feeling of your warmth draws slow moans from his lips

His lips find your breast where he leaves hot kisses before taking your nipple in between his lips. "You feel like home…'' He let's out in between breaths. "So warm and snug around me… Like you were made in heaven and sent for me to worship.''

You let out a choked moan as you feel him completely bottom out. The duality of his words so sweet and, his lips that worshiped every part of you, and the harshness of his thrusts were ruining you in the best way possible.

Slow and deep thrusts that were less about friction and more about the connection of your bodies. Each thrust was like a prayer to whatever god that made you, withdrawing sweet moans from the both of you.

"So beautiful, even like this.'' His voice breaks with every word, thick with emotions that he would never convey outside of that moment. You don't speak— just pull him closer to you, like he would slip away if he weren't close

It draws a sharp, shuttering gasp from his lips. the intimacy of your body pressed against his, completely bare, sends a jolt through him. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, marking you as if you were completely and utterly his.

His thrusts deepen with each mark he leaves behind, becoming more urgent and needy. Each movement shows a desperation to escape any physical or mental distance between the two of you. His hands slide down to grip your waist, and his nails press into the soft flesh beneath his fingers making you his. He loved it, loved knowing that he was the one tainting your beautiful skin. Even if he wasn't the first, but god he hoped that he was.

"Sunoo...'' His named spilled from your lips like a prayer, a match to gasoline, setting him ablaze, and you were the only thing that could put out the fire.

His hips snap forward, a sharp, desperate thrust that steals the breath from both of you. The slow worship is gone and replaced by raw consuming need. He captures your mouth in one last searing kiss. His tongue tangles with yours, messy and needy.

The close proximity is the only thing on his mind. The sound of your bodies becoming one is the only sound that fills the room—a wet, rhythmic slap that underscores his every plea to have you as his, even if he couldn't say the words.

"Shit...'' His eyes land on you who were so beautiful in his arms. Mouth slacked open, eyes screwed shut as if it were all too much for you to take. His hand finds your cheek and he strokes your cheek with his thumb. Your eyes open to find his. They were blazing, full of a terrifying yet beautiful devotion.

The rhythm of his hips become erratic and frantic. Each one is a final pleading prayer. His body tenses and coils like a spring on the verge of bouncing. His fingers dig into your hips that signed away his body to you.

The release crashes over him with a heavy violence that made him shiver, and you came moments later with a shudder. he held you as you trembled in his arms, riding out the last of your orgasms with cries of pleasure that insisted it was winding down. He held himself there against you even after, buried to the hilt, his body pulsing against yours, buzzing from the high of the moment.

You woke up this time to the sunlight shining in your eyes through the frosted windows, only this time it wasn't you alone. Sunoo's arms wrap around you, your bare chest pressed against his and legs tangled within his. You were the first to wake while he slept soundly beneath you, soft breaths spilling from his lips with the rise and fall of his chest. You sat admiring him, his naturally tan skin and rosy cheeks that made him seem so delicate despite all the ways you knew he could destroy you. The way his golden hair fell onto his face covering his forehead and sleeping eyes, as if they were a secret.

You reach up to brush it all from his face and his hand immediately catches your wrist. Though he doesn't open his eyes, he brings it to his lips immediately and places a kiss there.

"You were awake?''

"I thought it would be rude to interrupt you while you were staring so intently,'' he responds, his thumb brushes over the pulse point of you wrist and he places one more kiss before his eyes finally flutter open.

"Good morning.'' His hand drops from your wrist to your hair, giving it loving twists around his finger before tucking it behind your ear.

"You look breathtaking,'' he whispers softly, making your cheeks flush.

"What now… After this… What happens with us?'' You ask him, resting your head against his chest you can almost hear his faint heartbeat. He tangles your fingers together, gone completely silent as if he was taking a moment to think.

"I have to go back to New York soon...'' His response was simple strokes to your hair, as if he were trying to lull you back to sleep with that motion. Though it didn't make you sleep, it did ease your mind for the moment. The two of you lie there for just a bit longer, bodies intertwined with one another like branches of a tree interlocked.

Sunoo found himself thinking about last night over and over, like it was the last drop of sand in an hour glass telling him that his time was up. You had made him start to question his every being, every reason for him being here that led up to this moment. He had his reasons for having been so loyal to this place, to your father, but would you accept him if you knew the truth? Would you accept him for everything that he was?

He had been putting on his coat for his visit into town when he heard footsteps approaching, originally he thought that they belonged to you, but to his surprise, it was your father.

"Ah Sunoo, just the gentleman that I was looking for.''

"Mr Sharpe? Is something the matter?'' He asks as he slips on his coat, his eyebrows crease with worry, had something happened to you?

"I'd like to have a talk with you, just us men?''

Sunoo had been quite skeptical at first, your father usually didn't communicate with him unless he needed events planned or something around the manor taken care of. Nonetheless, he follows your father's trail— down the hall and into his office.

He doesn't flinch even as your father slams the door shut and the latch on the door locks with a soft click. He eyes him as he moves around him and to the half empty desk in front of him. The room, although tidied and clean, looked as if it hadn't been used up until this point. There's a cold silence that settles between the two of them, as if the house itself could sense unmarked tension. Sunoo's eyes follow your father as he reaches a hand behind his desk and pulls out a single sheet of paper, a check.

"I figured that when I told you I didn't like you with her, you'd heed my warning the first time. But clearly, I was mistaken of your persistence.''

"I'm not sure what you mean, Mr. Sharpe,'' he immediately cuts Sunoo off, holding out a hand as if to silence him.

"I know very well the things you've done with my daughter. I've seen the way she looks at you, as if she would go against everything that I have built for her to be with you, and I will not have it.'' He stands from his seat, his footsteps loud and taunting as he moves towards Sunoo with authoritative strides.

"You will take this check and you will leave the manor immediately, you will break my daughters heart and give her no explanation. No reason to look for you beyond today."

Sunoo's eyes fall to the check he held out before him, sharp and void of any emotion other than annoyance. "And why would I do that?'' His tone goes flat as he meets your father's gaze. He stood there as calm as ever, even as your father's jaw visibly clenches, as if Sunoo's gaze was some sort of challenge. Like he was overstepping into territory he had no business being in.

Stepping back, your father chuckles— a breathy laugh, not out of amusement but rather disbelief that Sunoo hadn't chosen to take the offer here and there.

"Persistent. Your persistence can be your undoing, just like your parents.'' Sunoo visibly stiffens, going completely flush at the mention of his own parents.

"At first I thought it were mere coincidence. A Kim, of all people, being my home's caretaker while I were away. 'No Thomas it is by mere coincident that he is here.' Then you tell my daughter that your parents died a few years ago.'' He chuckles as he throws the now void check onto the desk.

"And I thought, well that just can't be… Your parents. Well your parents died eleven years ago.'' The look in your father's eyes were that of a man that showed no regret nor remorse for the things that he had done.

"You thought I did not know? You think i do not check the backgrounds of those that I hire? Kim Sunoo, an orphan at the age of thirteen, moved into the manor as a caretaker when you were only sixteen, and until then you've been snooping around so desperately."

Sunoo's fist clench at his side, even until now he had been trying to keep his composure, to hold on to the last of his restraint.

"If only you had been in The Grand that day, to die along with your parents.''

The last of his restraint had snapped. You, who had previously held him back, were no longer a thought in his mind. The stable side of him had completely gone cold and his next act was something that he knew he could not take back.

You found yourself cheerful today, your previous night with Sunoo making you feel warmth and fuzziness inside despite the cold and frostiness outside. Though you were now alone, and Sunoo had gone off into town for the day you felt a slight giddiness knowing that he would return to you. You find yourself humming a soft tune as you take slow strides down the staircase and towards the kitchen. The soft hum of the stove top fades into your ears as you look out the window. watching as snow fell lightly and dusted the windows— painting everything in white. You found yourself smiling at the faint memories of playing in the snow and making snow angels. the days of enjoying the snow— of enjoying winter — felt far behind you.

The chirping of a kettle alarms you that your water is perfectly heated. You remove it from the stove long enough to pour yourself a glass and slip in a fresh tea pouch. For a while longer you sat in silence, peaking out the window and just taking in the view of the outside world. This was the first time you had found beauty and peace in a day such as this, when the snow was heavy and inches deep.

Setting aside your empty tea mug, you make your way out into the foyer, slipping on your coat before stepping out into the heart of it all. The cold air immediately kissed your skin, making you shiver and hug your coat tighter to keep in the warmth.

There was a subtle nostalgia in this moment, one that felt much like de ja vu. You could feel all your childlike innocence seeping back into you with the cold of the snow. You walked only a few feet away from the door before dropping to your knees and laying flat, sweeping both your legs and your arms around like you hadn't a care in the world.

The clouds stretched over the blue of the sky making everything look white and misty, you could see your breath with each exhale and it all felt so exhilarating. If your father were to come out right now and catch you this way you knew that he would scold you for looking so ridiculous. In his eyes, women should mature by the age of twenty one and leave such childish things behind.

A light hearted chuckle spills from your lips as you roll around, taking fistfuls of snow and throwing it in the air just to watch it all fall. You couldn't care less about the frost nipping at your hands or face, because in that moment, you felt free. Like you could be yourself with no judgment or outside factors controlling how you had fun.

Rolling onto your back, you let out a content sigh, your eyelashes and lips are almost immediately dusted with the falling snow, but you don't mind it. The burn of the cold feels oddly comforting in that moment.

Finally, as if you'd had enough of it for the day, you push yourself up and dust off your coat. You're ready to head back inside and cozy up at the fire, but the moment you get up on your feet your eyes catch a slight hint of red in the snow. You freeze on the spot, sucking in a breath that burned with the cold. You should have ignored it, should have just stepped away as if you hadn't seen it, but you never learned your lesson, even all these years later.

You followed the skater, soft hints of red that almost disappeared beneath the snow, but it hadn't fully disappeared just yet. You held your breath as it pulled you further from the mansion and deeper towards wooded territory. You tried to convince yourself that it had possibly just been an animal, wounded or dead— fallen pray to something much bigger. But everything in you was screaming that this was not a good idea— that you should just turn around and head back inside without letting your curiosity get the best of you.

The crunch of snow and softened leaves beneath your feet felt like a warning almost, something you should have heath and listened to immediately. Eventually, the small drops of crimson had turned to something scarier, more sinister— you were now following a trail. Leading you deeper and deeper into the woods, like following the map until you stumbled upon treasure. Soon enough your strides slowed until they came to a full halt.

"Oh- oh god.'' the words spilled from your lips with soft gags, followed by soft heaves and shortened gasps.

A body, the head smashed in, like it had taken multiple physical blows. Blood spills onto the snow along with shattered fragments of bone and flesh. Even without seeing his face you were well aware of who it was, your chest tightens as a cry rips from the deepest depths of your throat. Your hands tremble as you reach out to his own, brushing over his now blue knuckles with your fingertips. Your breaths became shaky and unstable, and suddenly, you were no longer a twenty one year old woman, happy and finding her way— you were that same ten year old girl that found her mothers dead and lifeless body.

The cold was no longer nipping at your skin, as it seeped deeper and deeper into your clothes it had started to bite, but you just couldn't get yourself to move. You knew that you and him hadn't had the best relationship, but you would never wish him death. No matter how terrible the relationship had been between the two of you ,you'd have never wanted to see him dead.

You felt an arm wrap around you, followed by the crackling sound of hollow bones and faint whispers. You swallow hard, the previous sadness you felt turns into something fearful. You visibly stiffen, the tears that had been falling from your face have long stopped and seeped into your skin with the cold. With a shaky breath, you turn your head, praying to yourself that Sunoo had returned and somehow found you out here in the cold. But it was not Sunoo— a hand, jet black and bony, much like that of the woman you saw in the bathroom, rests on your shoulder. You choke back a sob, turning fully to meet whatever it was face to face. It towers above you, slender and skinny like it's flesh had faded away with time, but it has no face. As if some sort of mist or fog were concealing it's identity.

A scream rips from your chest and you push yourself up, almost stumbling as you head straight for the manor. Twigs snap and crackle beneath your feet with each step you take— each step felt agonizingly longer.

As you finally reached the clearing that brought you back to the front of the house, you turn around, wondering if whatever it was had followed you beyond the woods. It stood staring back at you, one finger pointed towards you, or the house even— it was hard to tell. Then it faded along with the wind, disappearing like mist among the falling snow.

You were startled back to reality when you felt Sunoo's hands latch onto your arms and shake you back. The moment your eyes found his, the tears started falling again. He held you tight against his chest, even as you broke down and your legs could no longer hold you. He just stood stroking your hair, his eyes trained onto the wooded area he had seen you slip out of only moments ago.

That night, he watched you sleep— he had insisted on leaving you alone to let you rest but you refused to allow him to leave your side. You didn't want to be alone, you couldn't, not after everything that you had just witnessed. When you finally woke, he didn't push you to speak, he just watched you as you sat curled up near the window, broken and frightened of being alone.

No matter how many times he had offered to leave the room, to make you tea or porridge, anything to provide you nutrients, you would grab his arm and beg him to stay.

He had to watch you go on that way for two days, you were silent and broken and the sad part was, he couldn't bring himself to feel any remorse. He found himself thinking back to the morning it all occurred, the way he hovered over your father after the first blow. How even after, your father remained just as prideful, not a cry or a plea when he hit him the second or third time. The way he helplessly inched towards the door, desperate crawls as if Sunoo would ever let him slip away.

Even as he carried his lifeless body into the woods and dumped him there, he felt no remorse, nothing for the man that had admitted to killing his parents as if it were an achievement.

He knew very well that it was wrong, the way he held you close, bathed you, clothed you, kissed you to sleep— like every kiss and touch wasn't laced with that secret he kept. What reason did he have to tell you? After all loving you was a factor that had been unaccounted for.

The first time he set eyes on you, you breathed life into every plan he had made before your father's arrival. He wanted to strip your father of everything he had, to make him hurt after all those years he had gone without his father, without his mother. Originally, he hadn't foreseen your father's death, a death was never planned. Not until your father admitted to killing them with his own hands.

For years he had been under the impression that his father and mother had killed themselves— an eleven year old boy coming back to the place his parents loved so much to find them dead.

His mother was strung up above the stage with a rope around her neck. His father however was found propped up backstage with a knife in his hand and blood on his neck as if he had slit his throat— broken down by grief after finding his dead wife.

When the police had arrived on the scene and found documents of failed payments and overdue bills, they just assumed the two killed themselves out of stress and the weight of their dreams failing. There was no further investigating or suspecting of fowl play and he was simply disregarded— Sent off to the first orphanage that they could think of, as if he were a problem for someone else to solve.

He was the ripe age of sixteen when the rights to his parents theater had been fully passed down to him. That was when these weird men had started to pay visits to the orphanage— he assumed they were here for the reason all the other adults had come there; to adopt. But they had a different agenda. They never wanted to see any of the other children, it was always him— and each time they all had one simple request. They claimed to work for some wealthy property owner in New York City that had been interested in the theater. But Sunoo would only turn them away. It was all he had left of his parents and their legacy, it was bad enough that their parents had already given 25% ownership to some family in Japan— he couldn't think of giving it away entirely.

As he grew older, they had become more persistent, always offering up large sums of money as if that would sway him. It made him curious to know who the man was, so eventually he had started to ask around. That was exactly the moment he had come to realize it all and put things into place. The letters piling up in his family's office, the mysterious man that would always show up at the theater to talk 'business' with his parents.

He started to think that maybe, all this time, your father had been one of the cause of his parents' downward spiral. That he had something to do with the business failing and your parents signing it away with their lives. The more digging he had done the more his suspicions of your father increased. The death of his parents, your mother having died on that same day, it all became a driving force. So he made a vow to himself that your— Thomas Sharpe— would lose everything that he cared about, that he would expose his true nature, even if it meant giving up his life to ensure it.

A month, a month had long passed since your fathers passing, and the light in your eyes would have slipped away entirely, if it wasn't for Sunoo remaining at your side. He tended to you as if you were a delicate rose that he planted himself— one in need of watering and sunlight to flourish. He never allowed you to wallow in misery— he'd often take you on walks, hold you when you slept, cooked for you, he even accompany you when you stayed up reading late nights. All because he knew even through sadness you needed to love.

There had been many moments you found yourself slipping away— the shell of a woman who's heart was buried with the last of her living family. But he had always been there to lift you up again with a smile, he was kind and tender and understanding, no matter how many times you'd try to push him away. And maybe it had to do with the fact that he understood the way you grieved, or perhaps it was the hidden guilt bubbling beneath his surface. Do understand he felt no remorse nor guilt for killing the man, the man that had stripped him of his parents— only hatred that he so felt so passionately for something of his creation, the daughter of a man he truly loathe.

He started to realize early on that you were no longer just a pawn to get to Thomas. You were something he had never planned— an anomaly unaccounted for that had invaded the darkest parts of him and made roses bloom. A beautiful woman; kind, intelligent, radiant— a truly complex woman that he had started to find too much comfort in. From the moment you danced, the moment he held you close and inhaled your scent, you had started to consume him. He'd search for you in every room, yearn to see your face, hear your voice, to come home late nights and find you reading.

You had wormed your way into his thoughts, slithered between the darkest and lightest parts of his mind, and what made him ache was that he wanted you to stay there. So he lied to himself, told himself that everything that he had done wasn't selfish— that having you, the daughter of the man he killed, all to himself wasn't so absurd.

He thought that he could just move on and be happy with you— that everything would pass and the manor would be at peace. But, Sharpe manor never kept secrets, not the place that swallowed lives and replayed their whispers through empty halls, like some mystery for you to solve.

You stood above your fathers grave, your eyes half lidded and red from crying. Sunoo stood at your side, your hand clasped in his own as his other caressed your back. He stared at the empty hole that would soon host your fathers body with an empty look in his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to understand how you could feel so lost and distraught over a man that had caused you to feel so lonesome while living. That you could grieve a man and not know the secrets that he kept— the skeletons that he ounce hid in his closet that now roamed the halls of your home, the he you lay your head at night.

The ceremony passed by like a strip of film burned at the edges— a mirage of empty scrambled faces and voices long lost in your ears, all while you exchanged casualties with everyone that had come to honor your father. Many of them were people you'd never seen before and if you had memories of them were long gone— buried with your father. Your father had kept most of his life separate from you anyways.

You had been sat at the kitchen dinner table, watching as guest chattered and passed by as if it were some sort of simple gathering. All smiles and laughter— because of course they didn't really grieve your lose. They were here to make partnerships and gather information. To see what you knew of your fathers business and how they could stake their claim. Sunoo stood silently behind you, a fresh kettle of tea now bubbling on the stove.

"Yn." A woman's' voice pulls you out of your momentary dissociation. Your eyes— tired and drained of light— drift to the doorway. Riki stood there with the rest of his family, each of them giving you a solemn look— possibly the most genuine you'd seen all day.

His mother is the first to make a move, walking over to your side of the table and engulfing you in a hug as if you were her own kin. It was the first time you had felt some sort of motherly warmth since leaving New York behind.

The rest of his family followed, all wrapping you in their arms and hugging you like it was an unspoken remedy. They each exchanged their condolences— reassuring you that you could reach out to them if ever needed, then you were left with only Riki to accompany you, while Sunoo silently made tea.

"How are you holding up?" Riki asks, pulling the empty seat beside you at his feet and taking a sit.

"It… It's been hard but I've been managing. I thought that I had grieved enough but this is just extra consuming. I'm forced to face the reality that he is truly gone." you respond.

"Is there anything that we can do? That I can do?"

"You being here is enough, out of everyone that has held my hand and whispered condolences your family has felt the most genuine. That's all that I can ask for."

Sunoo remained quiet the entire time you and Riki spoke, but he listened to every word. Unlike the first time where he watched the two of you speak and Jealousy coursed through his veins, he understood now that Riki was nothing more than a concerned friend. His confidence flowed in your blood, in the way your body trembled and burned for him just months ago.

Soon enough the manor was cleared of its guest and Riki and his family are the last to leave. He hugs you tightly, as if he were releasing all his worries about you with that one hug alone.

"Remember if you need anything, just reach out." He tells you one last time, nodding to Sunoo that stood behind you, before going to join the rest of his family.

A sigh spills from your lips as you shut the door with the exit of the last guest—and along with them goes the last of your resolve.

From behind Sunoos arm wraps around your waist and he holds you close to his chest. An action he had become accustom to within your month of being alone together. He allows his actions to speak for him as he takes your hand into his and places a kiss on each finger. He had somehow become your strength, the one factor in your life that made things feel normal and less gray.

"What do I do now?" an empty question you simply toss in the air, not expecting an answer.

"Let me take care of you." He responds softly, leaving a trail of kisses up your arm as if they were the answer to every question you had.

Truth be told you were afraid now, afraid of this place, of truly falling for him, when it seemed like everything you loved was lost to these walls. Like your family was cursed— Like you were cursed.

But, Sunoo didn't let that stop him from caring for you, from waking you in the morning with soft kisses or light touches, all things that left you desperate for more of him, but he knew it wasn't the time. He needed time to prove to you that he deserved you, or maybe he was just trying to prove it to himself.

November had long gone and when December rolled around it felt like years had passed since the moment you and Sunoo met— Since the day he held your waist like he knew that you would be his, and the two of you shared that dance.

You had slowly found yourself slipping back into your old routine— reading, having tea, and journaling your thoughts as days passed, the only differing factor was that now Sunoo had made himself part of that routine. He would encourage you to take walks in town, or to spend late nights with him wrapped by the fire, no words had to be spoken though, most times you just sat in silence and consumed one another.

Tonight the two of you lie upstairs in what had become both of your safe space, Moonlight shined through the attic window as he sat at the piano, his fingers danced aimlessly across the keys, all while you sat with your eyes closed and head resting in the curve of his back.

"Sunoo can I ask something of you?'' Your voice cuts through the silence, like waves crashing on a silent beach. He doesn't stop his playing, just responds with a soft hum.

"This, whatever this is between us, what do we call it?" Finally his playing ceases and takes your hand in his, caressing your knuckles beneath his thumb.

"It has been two months since we have met one another and I would like to think of this as you courting me, but since that night where I gave you all of me I have not heard your true feelings.'' There's a charged silence as you held your breath, like you were anticipating the words that would leave his lips.

"I've been taking my time. Getting to know you and everything that comes with it, learning to love you and tend to the parts of you that may be broken or have not been nurtured because of all of the loneliness that your father made you feel. I also needed to know that I could give myself to you with out worry or fault.'' You listened intently with every word, like his love confession was something you needed to breathe.

"While allowing you to heal and helping you do such. I was answering the one question that I myself have been unsure of since the moment I laid eyes on you. I needed to know that I was ever capable of ever loving a woman, of loving you. I can now admit to myself that I Kim Sunoo have fallen completely in love with you Yn Sharpe. In a way that feels maddening.''

"You're… In love with, me?'' the question rolled off your tongue before you could even fully grasp his words. Part of you longed to hear those words from him, but the moment he spoke them you couldn't fathom it. This unfamiliar feeling of falling in love with and wanting a man, and having him be in love with you.

He turns to you. "So much that I question myself, I question everything that I know and believe, everything that I am when it has nothing to do with loving you,'' he pauses and takes your face into his hands. "Every part of you has consumed me, even if you do not speak the words that you share the feelings that I do-''

"I'm in love with you Sunoo. So much so that it eats me alive knowing that I have gone against everything I've ever known to love you. I ache knowing that I could not please my father in the end, that he died disapproving us, but I cannot sacrifice my feelings. I think part of me will always mourn my father because I could not be his perfect daughter until the end, but You will not be a secret. I want you as mine in the open.''

He doesn't say a word, just stares at you with raw unfiltered awe.

"Then you will be mine,'' he pauses to kiss your hand, "You will be mine, and I will take my time loving every inch of you, every curve, every perfection and imperfection. I will love you inside out until I memorize what it is like to drive through the forests of your mind."

With every word and every kiss a shiver crawls up your spine. You stare at him, as if this moment would slip away if you took your eyes off him for even a second. He didn't let go of your hand this time, just kept your fingers locked with his while he used the other to go back to playing his tune. Every now and then, he would bring your hand up to his lips and kiss it, it had become his thing.

The rest of the night slipped away with time, and eventually the sound of the piano melted into silence, and you both turned in for the night.

With the confessions of the previous day came silence and distance from Sunoo. You woke the next morning to find the bed empty beside you, but unlike usual there was no note. You had expected to stroll into the kitchen and find him there as you occasionally would, making breakfast or having tea— but you were met with a quiet emptiness. An emptiness that continues throughout the entire manor— the study, the office, bedrooms, the attic, the athenaeum; he was nowhere to be found. And that made you scared.

Your stomach began to turn at the thoughts that began to creep in within his absence. Thoughts that the curse could have claimed yet another victim, that you could have lost him just as you lost everyone else in your life. You clutch your chest, whispering silent prayers that he was safe, that it was only your superstition, and you turn back down the hallway.

You're halfway back to the staircase when you hear the floorboards creak above you and you immediately perk up. "Sunoo?'' you call out, looking up as you make your way to the lift, taking it to the second floor.

The screech of the lift taking you up is the only sound you're met with, but it eventually comes to a stop, letting you off into the empty hall. You follow the direction from which you heard the footsteps with no caution, and maybe that was your first mistake. Instead of listening to that nagging feeling in your stomach that had been telling you something was wrong, you stroll further down the hall.

"Sunoo are you here?'' Still no answer, but you do hear the sound of a door creaking open further down the hallway.

You should have turned around, went downstairs and waited for him to come back home, but you didn't. You shove the door open, realizing that it had been one of the rooms that had been locked during your stay here. As you step inside, a chill crawls up your spine. The room itself was old and frozen in time. Just a bunch of furniture draped over with old sheets, covered with cobwebs and dust. Remnants of it's age and not having been cleaned for a long time. The room itself smelled stale and rotten like something had died there and the smell just soaked into the floorboards.

You sigh, wondering why you even though he could possibly be in here. You're just about to turn and leave when a faint clicking sound draws your attention to a sheet in the corner of the room. The room falls silent again, and for a moment you just stood there waiting to hear it again, but you don't.

It was like the house was toying with you, sending you on wild goose chases for its own entertainment. Letting out a frustrated huff you turn on your heels and head straight for the door, only to hear the faint sound of a sheet drop behind you. It makes you freeze on the spot, but you don't turn around— you don't need to. Whatever it is you can sense it's presence, even without turning to face it.

You start off with slow strides, inching towards the door until you're fully in the hallway and even then you don't turn around. You tell yourself not to panic and remind yourself of the words Sunoo once told you, it was just your grief— just your mind playing tricks on you after everything that you had been through in this place.

Whatever it is follows you out of the room, you can't see but you know it's there. The closer you get to the lift the closer it feels— like it was only a breathe away from you. You choke back a whimper, your eyes full to the brim with tears but not yet spilling over.

"What… What do you want?" You call out, knowing you'd get no answer, you never did get one but you couldn't run. Every time you ran, they always came back— but you'd never truly had the courage to face them, whoever they were.

A grumbling followed your question, like someone snipped of their vocal chords that could only communicate through groans and clicks of their tongue. You swallow and let out a shaky breath— lips trembling with choked back cries as you slowly turn your head. Your breath catches in your throat what you finally meet it face to face, not a woman or faceless figure like the times before but a man. A man, completely crimson much like the woman you'd seen all those nights ago. He looked to be in his late forties, hair slicked back, his suit neat and pristine. His lips part as if he wants to speak but no words follow, your eyes fall upon his neck and you catch a glimpse of a straight slit, blood pours from it and swirls around him as if defying gravity.

"Miss?!" Ingrid's voice is loud and clear startling and making your head jerk in the direction of the lift. When you turn back the man is gone.

"Miss I have been calling you all this time, ever are you doing wandering the halls?" She asks, giving you a worried look.

"Did you see him?" You ask her, her eyebrows furrow in confusion, but straighten as she seems to think she's caught on to who you meant.

"Sunoo? Did he talk to you already? He told me this would be a surprise?"

"Sunoo? No Ingrid I was talking about the man, the red man." A look of concern flashes on her face and she brings a hand up to your head.

"Are you alright Miss? Are you sure you got enough sleep?"

"Never mind," you tell her, waving away her hand with a sigh, "I'm fine Ingrid, what brings you by? It's not like you to show up uninvited."

"Sunoo asked me to come, he said to help you pick out a dress and make sure you were ready for tonight?"

"Ready for tonight? Ingrid what's going on?" She doesn't say, just flashes you a smile.

"Let's just get you ready Miss, I'm sure all of your questions will be answered tonight."

With one last look behind you, you allow her to take your hand and guide you. The hallway remains empty and the door you once entered, was now closed as if you had never entered it in the first place. Despite your confusion you allowed Ingrid to lead you into your bedroom. No matter how much you pestered her or how many questions you through her way, they remained unanswered.

It was odd, so add how your emotions could have within a matter for seconds here. How you could go from sadness to anger, fear to comfort in a matter of seconds, and not even question it. Perhaps it was the effect of the house and the spirits it kept, but up until now, you had never found yourself questioning if it was really you that was the problem.

"Ingrid can I ask you something?" Ingrid responds with a soft hum as she continues to tighten the ribbons of your corset.

"As long as it does not pertain to Mr. Sunoos plans, I was asked to keep quiet."

"I've already accepted that you are indeed tight lipped when you want to be. It isn't Sunoo I inquire about but this place, the manor."

"Oh? What of it Miss?"

"You've worked here for quite some time? Have you ever noticed anything strange?" her eyebrows furrow at the question.

"I haven't seen anything of the sort no, if there's anyone you would want to ask such a question it would be Sunoo, he's worked here longer."

"Right, sorry. Perhaps I'm just stressed." You sigh, placing your hands in front of you as you take in your appearance in the mirror.

"Are you sure you're alright Miss? Even when I found you in the hall you seemed to be a little frazzled." You don't miss the look of concern she gives you as she lets the ribbon fall against your back.

"I'm alright, Perhaps I'm just still taking in how fast this all has transpired, my father, getting close to Sunoo. This all doesn't seemed to rushed does it?"

"We all move at our own pace Miss. Time is abstract, it may not move when we want it to but it moves at the pace we need."

Her words stuck with you even as you made your way down the staircase— she walked only a few paces behind you, holding the train of your dress as she guides you into the Athenaeum.

"Mr. Sunoo will be here shortly, he told me to bring you here and to give you this." She leaves no time for questions, just place a book in your hand and flashes you a knowing smile before exiting the room.

"Ingrid what am I to do-" you call out a little too late, by then she's already out of the room. With a sigh you flip the book in your hand, to your surprise you see the cover of a book you had already read a hundred times. A book you were sure you could recite forwards and backwards if you needed— Frankenstein.

"He brought me here and had me get dressed to read?" You sigh, pulling open the first page and out slips a lonely slip of paper. You set the book aside as your curiosity gets the best of you and you crouch to pick it up.

"Time to test the flame again, I believe you owe me a dance Sweetheart"

Sunoo

You scoff, the ghost of smile on your lips as you read it. It was something so unexpected from him yet it was perfectly Sunoo. Leaving everything to mystery, and making you wonder rather than just being straightforward. The note remains in your hand as you hoist up your dress and slip out into the hallway.

You cannot hide your anticipation as you grow closer to the dance hall— your heart rate is proof of that.

"Sunoo?" As you slip inside the place is half lit by a trail of candles lighting your way, at the end of it are dahlias— your favorite flowers. Your heart seems to beat faster as you follow the trail to the center of the room. Sunoo is still nowhere to be found but lie too enthralled by the attention to detail in the room to realize.

Tables aligned with candles and dahlias, books scattered across them— all seemingly strategically picked from your collection; Phantom of the Opera, Dracula, Nosferatu, The Fall of The House of Usher, and— once again — Frankenstein.

Frankenstein of course sticks out to you because you had held the book in your hands only moments ago. To your knowledge there had only been one copy in the Athenaeum.

Dropping the skirt of your dress you take it into your hands, expecting to find yet another slip of paper inside. Unlike the first time you open this one carefully, flipping it open to see that it was not a note inside, but something far more complex, emotionally taxing.

Your breath catches in your throat as you reach your hands inside and pull a ring from between the pages.

"You look breathtaking sweetheart." You hear him say behind you as he traps you against his chest- his hands resting on your waist.

"Sunoo is this.."

"I've thought long and hard on if this was the right time, but time doesn't wait and I needed to ask before you slip away. Before time slips away, and decides I'm not worthy of staying at your side. Before you think about returning to be New York, I know that if I let you slip out of my grasp I will regret it."

His fingers trace your skin, from your shoulders and down your arm until your hand is in his own. He doesn't bring it to his lips, not this time. He pulls you closer to his chest, stealing the ring from between your fingertips he plays with it between his thumb and index finger, before slipping it onto yours.

"Your dance will be all the answer that I need, if I feel your fingers intertwine with mine and your arm around my neck, there is no need for words. I'll accept you as mine, I'll accept that I am yours. That moment you yelled at me to reveal my true feelings, I became yours." He pulls you out top the middle of the floor, and then you feel the warmth of his body leave you.

The moment you turn around he's already standing there, candle in hand like he is ready to claim the dance you rightfully owed him. You stare at the flame that flickers as if it's already on it's last life, then you smile at him. A smile that makes all of his worries and doubts slip away.

Your hand easily fits into his, and your other hand rests on his neck. He doesn't hesitate to pull you closer, allowing there to be no more space between the two of you.

This dance feels much different from the first— there are no judgmental gazes or worries of disappointing a man that was now, long gone.

This dance felt charged with unspoken words and revelations, a waltz that made you feel weightless.

With every twirl and glide across the floor your dress followed with a soft swish, but it weighted that of a cloud.

Both your bodies moving at the will of the music, not of your own will, but to a tune that solidified everything that this was. This was not just a waltz, it was confirmation of two hearts that longed for one another. Two hearts that no longer belonged to the bodies that housed them- but the person that each of them held.

With the end of your waltz came smoke, as the candle blew out once more- but this time neither of you paid it much mine. You were too enthralled by each other— too entranced by the fact that you now had nothing holding you back from loving one another. Your fathers last name no longer held you back— and a new name would once again breathe life into you.

You sat at his bedroom window with a smile on your lips, your robe having fallen off your shoulder as you sat writing the first letter you had in months.

My Dearest Elisse,

I'm sorry that it's been so long that I have reached out to you, but I'm sure you know things have not been easy. I do wish you could have been here for fathers funeral, but I understand that you must have other priorities. This letter is to not frighten you or worry you, but to let you know that I'm doing well now. I still grieve my father, those feelings have not left, but I do seem to be finding my spark again within his absence. I know you must find what I'm about to say absurd, but for once it feels like I'm allowed to make my own decisions with no one to tell me they're wrong. I write to you with news that I am

soon to be wedded, I am not a Misses. It sounds crazy to say, me the woman that would have rather died a widow months ago, now married to a man I've only known for months. But I think that when you meet him you will understand.

Sincerely,

your darling fluturaș (little butterfly)

As you set the paper aside Sunoo enters the room with a tray of tea and fresh fruit. He sets the tray down before making his way over to you, placing kisses on your shoulder, down to your hand.

"Writing a letter?" He asks, placing one final kiss on your finger where the ring rests. A beautiful ruby colored jewel clasped by a black band.

"To Elisse, I'm sure she's worried since I haven't written to her since finding father, but I'd like her to know I'm well again."

"Will you invite her to the wedding?"

"Of course, she's the last I have that feels like family, I will send off the letter along with an invitation." You respond, standing up from your seat and going to take a strawberry from the display of fruit.

Sunoos swiftly take your hand into his, pulling you against his chest with a smile. A laugh spills from your lips as he pulls you close to his own chest, brushing the messy strands of hair behind your ear.

"Do you really want a wedding? I know that you were never fond of big displays." He asks, his thumb rubbing circles in your waist.

"I'd love something small at least, a small ceremony with Elisse, The Nishimuras, Ingrid and the others as well." Part of you feels slightly saddened as you go down the list of possible guests. You can't help, but since if Sunoo aches— knowing that the last of his family died with his youth.

But of course he shows no signs of sadness, he just flashes you a smile and places a kiss on both corners of your lips. "If that is what you want then it 's what we will do. I'll have Ingrid come in the morning to help you with a dress and the rest of the details we will handle together."

Together— a word you weren't used to hearing. For so long your father had so much control over everything that you had almost forgotten what it was like to decide for yourself

The week seemed to fly by as you busied yourself with ceremony plans, and wedding invitations. Something that should have been simple with such a minuscule list of guests, yet it was still very-much time consuming. But it was all worth it because it all came down to his very moment

You stood, taking yourself in in the mirror like you were some sort of princess. Nothing too much just a simple white raven dress, and lace veil that fell a little ways past your hair.

This moment felt surreal, knowing that you were about to marry— about to give yourself away to be kept and loved by someone.

"You know when I last saw you I wasn't expecting you'd run off and get yourself married." You heard a voice speak from the doorway, a smile curls onto your lips as you turn to find Riki standing there.

"You came." You rush over to him with a smile, and the hug he pulls you in feels safe and familiar.

"You did ask me to walk you, I'll admit I was surprised by your request, but as your friend I feel like it's my job to be the one to give you away." He responds.

"I know that it's a big request when we've only known one another two months now, but you're the only one I feel secure enough to walk me down."

"It's okay, no need to explain." He nods, reassuring you that you didn't have to say more, he understood very well what you meant and how you felt — even if you didn't say it.

Ingrid appears in the doorway seconds later, giving Riki a brief nod before looking at you.

"Miss the guests are all here and Sunoo is waiting in his place."

"Thank you Ingrid, we'll be on our way." She nods and exits the room, you hear her heels click against the floor before eventually silencing the further away she becomes.

"You look beautiful, he's a lucky man Yn." He holds out his arm, and you take a deep breath before placing yours on top. The walk from your bedroom and down the stairs felt agonizingly long. The moment you step outside the cold kisses your skin making you shiver, but it doesn't seem to bother Riki.

He leads you away from the door and down to the lines of chairs that sit scattered in the front of the manor. The setup is simple, but intimate— not too extravagant like all of those events your father once forced you to attend.

The snow slowly starts to fall as you walk down the pathway leading to him, all eyes immediately fall on you and your eyes find Elisse— sat with the look of a proud mother on her face.

When your eyes find Sunoo he looks at you as if you were the most precious Jewel, like art meant to be on display of a museum. He stands there as handsome his ever, his locks that were the color of sunlight, now paralleled a dark night sky.

If you weren't walking and breathing right now you'd have thought your heart stopped in your chest. He looked breath taking, you'd never known a man to be so handsome, that it made you question if this was your true reality— up until now.

As you finally stand in front of you Riki places your hand into Sunoos with a nod, and it gives you the sweetest de-ja vu as he smiles and says to Sunoo, "she's all yours."

The moment the Veil is removed from your face Sunoo the biggest smile spreads across his face. He brings your hand to his lips and he kisses, not your fingers, but your ring. And the ceremony begins.

With every word spoken throughout he stares at you like he was finding his life in you. Like every secret he kept, every word he didn't speak, they were all slipping away with your vows.

Your voice was laced with silk, melting against his ears with every word you spoke, pouring out your heart to him until there were no words left to be said.

But with his own vows, he wasn't just seeking love in you, seeking freedom from pain and suffering, caused by his inability to let go of the past. With his vows he was sealing away the secrets that he kept from you with silent prayers that they would never be revealed. He knew that if you found out the truth, then you could never love him the same. That if you found out the man you loved— killed the last of the blood related family, he would lose you.

Your vows are sealed away with a kiss. He pulls you close by your hips, and his breath tickles your nose as his face inches closer.

"Until death do us part." He whispers to you, pulling the veil over both your heads as if it gave you some sort of privacy, like it was a blanket separating you from the rest of the world. Then he kisses you, the first kiss that solidifies your lives now belonged to one another.

The rest of the ceremony felt intimate, like yours. Like you were finally able to enjoy something that wasn't just for business or making deals. As you found yourself smiling and laughing with the people you are sure you could now call friends, family even, everything felt like it wild be okay.

Once everyone had gone home and it were only the two of you Sunoo couldn't seem to wait to have you alone. Soft giggles spill from your lips as he carries you up the stairs and into the lift. He hadn't taken his eyes off of you for even a second— he couldn't.

You were radiant, breathtaking, and most important of all his. Once you enter the room the silence swallows you both whole- bit it goes interrupted by the sound of his breath, heavy and impatient.

He sets you down in his lap so that your facing him, his hand resting on your cheeks as he takes a moment to just admire your beauty. His voice is a ragged whisper as he leans forward, his lips only in hes from your neck when he whispers, " mine, beautifully, undeniably mine, from the moment I saw you. The moment you held my hand. The moment I first heard you moan my name."

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, his breath warm against your neck. He can feel you shiver at his touch, the warmth of your body alerts him of your anticipation

"Every inch of you— mine to hold, to kiss, to care for, to savor." With a groan of surrender, he closes the distance, his mouth meeting your skin earning a soft moan from you. Every kiss is desperate, hungry— like he wanted to brand your skin with his lips, leave evidence that you belonged to only him. As he removes your dress you can feel the anxiousness coursing through his fingertips, years of longing and fear of loving someone, slowly slipping away with each touch.

"You're so beautiful." As he finally frees you from your dress, his hands slide from your waist to your back, pulling you tighter against him.

"Sunoo." His name falls from your lips like a prayer to god, making all of his patience slip away. You were his damnation, the forbidden fruit that would make him sin time and time again.

He can no longer wait, releasing himself from the prison of his restraints, he lets out a shaky breath. The moment he slips inside of you its all the relief that he needs. His eyes roll back slightly, a choked, guttural sound escaping him the moment he feels you clench around him. His hands tremble where they grip your hips, guiding you further onto him until you're completely full of him.

"Shit." He lets out a sharp, strangled gasp as you take him fully, his body shuddering against yours. His eyes are wide, locked onto your face and the way your mouth falls open as you take all of him.

His hips buck against yours, his control shattering the moment he feels you bounce once, like telling him to move. His hands clutch your hips, his eyes squeezed shut, and a low moan tears from his throat. "God, if you keep clenching like that I'll cum faster than you want me to sweetheart." He vocalizes, pushing your hair aside and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck as he thrusts into you.

"So pretty, my pretty girl, my wife. I will make every part of you mine. Until you only know my name and the walls whisper your moans back to you." His fingers graze your neck as he holds you in place, his lips coaxing you to take every inch of him.

He drives into you with a desperate, and punishing rhythm, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. "let me hear you sweetheart, I want to hear all the sounds you made when you thought I wasn't around, thought I didn't hear you. My precious girl." His fingers dance across your skin, burning any place it touches.

His touch is a fire that can't seem to be extinguished in that moment, grazing your neck down to your chest where he takes your nipples between his fingertips. "You're so sensitive, so easy for me, it's cute. Makes me want to destroy you in every way I can."

You suck in a breath as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and index finger, his thrusts abusive like he wanted to to fall apart around him.

A whine falls from your lips, the only words you can seem to let out are his name among incoherent babbles. He chuckles, a breathy sound that makes you completely lose it with everything he was making you feel in that moment.

"That's it sweetheart, you have a voice, need you to use it for me." Every part of your body became his canvas, and every mark he left on your skin was his art.

"Sunoo I- I can't."

"You can baby, fall apart for me, so that I can do it all over again." He pulls your body flush against his, his fingers press into your hips as he guides them against his own. He can tell you're getting closer, the way you clench and suck him in like his cock was your lifeline. "You're almost there baby, go a little longer for me."

A curse spills from his lips as you shudder in his arms, the sound of skin to skin and the slick between your thighs was slowly turning him mad. His thrusts became harsh, less loving and more abusive like he wanted the inside of you to remember every inch of him.

"My pretty girl." A broken, surrendering sound escapes him. His hips stutter, and his grip on you tightens as he spills deep inside you with a shuddering gasp. He continues to drive into you until you're finishing on his lap with a violent shiver. He lets you use him to ride out your orgasm until you fully collapse against his chest.

You're both completely spent, your body both sticky and sweaty messes from what was only the first round of what he would put you through tonight.

He lifts you up from his lap, carrying you over to the bed as if you weighed nothing— like he wasn't even tired in the slightest.

He lays you down on the bed, his hands are frantic but soft against your skin. His thumbs rub loving circles on your thighs before he pushes them back against your chest. "Going to take good care of you."

He doesn't give you a moment to think, your breath is immediately stolen away from you as his lips meet your clit. Hungry and eager- like your taste was the only thing that could satiate him. It pulls a cry from your lips, having cum only moments ago you were still sensitive and you hadn't come down from the high of your first orgasm just yet. But he didn't care, he needed to feel you in every aspect, to taste you until he could memorize the flavor.

"S- Sunoo." You choke out, he glances up at you momentarily and it makes you flinch. His eyes are completely glossed over, his lips shiny with your arousal. He was completely lost.

He hums against you, his tongue coaxing the filthiest of moans from your lips with every lick, every suck of your clit. Everything about him drove him mad— your scent, your moans, your taste.

"I think I'll lose my mind. He stares up at you, his eyes searching yours. I want to try something sweetheart, i need you to breathe for me. Open your pretty mouth for me." The words make your face heat up and you feel yourself clench around nothing. He was so shameless, he could ask you such things so easily and it sent your head spinning.

Your heart thumps against your chest as you part your lips, he brushes over your lips with his thumb, whispering soft praises and 'good girl's to you as he parts them further.

"Going to taste you while you're tasting me," He kisses you softly before pulling back. Using his thumb to part your lips further he spits into your mouth without asking, it melts onto your tongue like candy. "I want to feel you come apart with my cock in your pretty mouth."

He lies back on the bed, and pulls you gently to straddle his face, his hands guiding your hips. "Be a good girl and sit for me."

You breath catches in your throat as you hover over his face. His hands are firm on your hips, guiding you onto his face until his breath ghosts against your clit. His eyes are locked on yours, dark and full of worship. "That's it. Slowly. Just like that pretty."

The moment you settle over his mouth, he lets out a muffled groan of pure pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut. His tongue is immediately eager, lapping at you with a focused, reverent intensity.

He coaxes you to lean forward, his own hips shifting so his erection is right there, nudging against your lips. The scent of your arousal and the taste of you on his tongue is dizzying.

His hands slide down to grip your thighs, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he devours you. The vibrations of his appreciative hums travel through you. "So good. You taste so good sweetheart."

A sharp, guttural cry escapes him the moment your lips touch him, his entire body arching off the bed and into your mouth. His hands tighten on your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin leaving his mark. The dual sensation is overwhelming. His tongue works you with a frantic, worshipful rhythm, while the heat and weight of him fills your mouth. The room is filled with the wet, desperate sounds of mutual pleasure. You're both entangled with one another in the most intimate way possible, like your bodies were becoming one, like you were no longer just Sunoo and Yn, you were one person.

He seems to loses himself in the act, his focus splitting between the heaven of your body above him and the exquisite torture of your mouth on him. His breathing is ragged, his movements becoming less controlled and more desperate. He was falling apart, you were making him fall apart. Everything about you was toxic and dizzying.

His moans became choked out cries each time he felt your throat contract around him, when he felt your tongue graze his skin. It started to feel like you wanted to swallow him— to completely milk him for everything he had and he was feeling it.

A ragged, choked sound rips from his throat at the sensation, his hips bucking uncontrollably. His hands fly from your thighs to your hips, gripping you like a lifeline. His tongue lashes against you with frantic, desperate strokes, matching the rhythm of your mouth on him. And slowly but surely the tension in the room coils to a breaking point.

His whole body tenses, a guttural, drawn-out groan tearing from his chest as he spills deep into your throat, his release hot and pulsing. "Fucking, hell."he breathes out, before diving back in to your pussy. He can't stop, not until you cum, not until you fall apart and completely shatter around him. Your orgasm comes with a violent shudder as he cleans you up— like waves crashing to shore with a violent urgency.

You're both a complete mess by the time he's finished. His hands trace your thighs, rubbing loving and gentle circles until finally he sits up and pulls you up into his lap.

"Are you alright my love? Was it too much?" He asks softly as he pulls you flush against his chest, gently massaging you shoulders, your hips and your inner thighs. You shake your head letting him know you were okay, you just needed a moment to catch your breath.

He leaves soft kisses on every inch of your skin, dismissing the saltiness of your sweat on his lips, as he shatters you one last time with his kisses alone. When he finally felt you relax into his chest he pulls you down onto the bed with him, keeping you snug against him as he pulls the duvet over the rest of you. He didn't let go of you even for a second, it was like he needed to be holding you at all times.

Even as your exhaust took over and you fell asleep in his arms— your legs tangled with his, he held you close. Like if he let you go he would lose you, like you would slip away just like everything else slipped from his fingertips.

You woke the next morning to sunlight peaking through the curtains, his arms wrapped around you as if you'd disappear if he let go. A smile curls onto your lips at the memory of the previous day, you had really done it— really got married. You brush the soft strands of hair from his face, taking this moment of quiet to admire him.

He seems to be deep in thought even in sleep, his eyebrows furrowed, and lips poked out, but it makes him look all the more cute. Sighing you finally press a kiss to his lips before pushing yourself up out of bed, he had done enough lately, maybe it was time you took care of him in the morning.

Pulling on your morning gown you take one last look at him before exiting the room. Your steps feel soft and light as you stroll down the hallway, humming sweet melodies alone while making your way down into the foyer.

The first thing you do when you step into the kitchen is put the kettle on, you sit and admire the scenery from the window as the water Simmers.

"You're up earlier than usual fluturaș." Your head immediately snaps towards the entryway.

"Elisse?!" As shocked as you are to see her still here you rush over to her and she engulfs you into a hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you went back home to New York?"

She chuckles and gives your back a loving rub before leading you to sit. "Your fiance asked me to stay a while longer, said you could some family around. Don't worry I won't interrupt your honeymoon phase, I made sure he put me in the furthest away from both of you." She winks, moving over to the counter to grab three glasses.

"So you're staying?" Your eyes light up with the news of her staying a little longer.

"I'll be here a week longer then I'll be out of your hair, but until then you sit, you and Sunoo should be able to relax and enjoy your time together. I'll take care of everything else."

"You came all the way here to work?" You pout, feeling sad that she felt the need to work even now.

"I came all the way here to take care of the sweet girl I care for as if she were my own daughter." The words make your heart swell in your chest, you had always thought of her as your motherly figure, but you had never known that she felt the same.

"Good morning." A tired voice greets the both of you from the doorway, your eyes find a sleepy Sunoo, half clothed in pajama pants and a nearly unbuttoned white button up.

"Well good morning, have a seat. Coffee's in the pot, tea is in the kettle." Elisse greets, a slight smile could only her lips as she looks between the two of you. Her eyes follow him as he enters, as if analyzing which he would pick.

"Do you two have any plans this morning?" She asks as she sets down three plates of food— fresh fruit, eggs, bacon and scones with jelly.

"I was thinking of taking a trip into town, they're having a small winter festival." Sunoo mentions, taking a seat at the table. He grabs a strawberry first, even that doesn't go without being analyzed by Elisse.

"Ah the parade yes I did hear about it, I hope you two enjoy yourselves." She smiles as she joins you both at the table.

"Are you not going to join us?" You question, brows creasing in confusion.

"My dear you're a newlywed, your time away will give me more time to explore the place, enjoy your day as a wife."

The rest of the morning went on quite different from usual, you weren't met with silence or loneliness, because you now had two of the most important people in your life, here with you.

Elisse seemed to be getting along with Sunoo just fine, or at least that was what you had concluded. The chatter seemed to flow pretty easily between the three of you, but what seemed to go amiss by you was the way Elisse analyzed his every move.

Elisse was a sharp woman, she had felt a very intense shift the moment she entered the manor. The home itself felt angry, alive, like every window had been watching her, like the doorways spoke secrets, and the walls breathed with the air of those once living. She had known you nearly all your life, known the nightmares that came along with you from this once. But who she didn't know was Sunoo, nor did she understand why he would choose to stay in a place like this— if ask the things you said were true.

So she watches as the two of you leave, as Sunoo takes your hands and guides you into the carriage before the two of you were out of sight. The moment she closes the door the silence on the inside becomes deafening.

The moment she turns her eyes scan the foyer, the floorboards groan beneath her feet, every step feels heavier the further in the house she seems to step. The chains on her waist dangle as she saunters down each hallway, her eyes darting to each door as if she could see straight through them— see the secrets they held behind them.

She finds half stopping at a double door-ed room, one that had been off limits since your father had died, in all honesty it had been off limits before then. She could feel the energy beaming from behind the door, her suspicions are only confirmed as she places far hand on the door job and she feels it rattle. She shoves the door open and steps inside, revealing a neatly put together room, the only light shining in was from a window with the curtain half pulled back.

As she ever it was clear who's room it was, it was neatly done to your fathers taste. Old dresses aligned the closet and jewelry lay scattered on a fine crafted vanity. He assumed it was all your mothers, a ghost of the woman she once was, still lingering and long forgotten wanted the two of you left.

"You're still here, aren't you...?" She whispers aloud as her fingers graze the diamonds and pearls she left behind. She may not be able to see her here but she could feel it, sense it.

"And you aren't alone." Her eyes shift to the hallway outside the door where she hears the floorboards creak with the presence of something or someone, else. She follows the faint sounds of the home— light creaks, soft tapping on the walls, the groan of floorboards as if someone had been leading her around.

They stop at the lift, and although the sound is faint she could hear the sound of something falling in a room above. She takes the lift up to the third floor, ignoring how it groans and creaks— evidence of the houses age.

The lift comes to a stop with a large clank, and she steps off onto the third floor that now feels colder, eerier. The noises of the house finally cease as she enters a room with a large piano— the piano that he always played for you.

Her eyes scan the place taking in the skeleton of the room, as if it would tell her everything she needed to know about the person it belonged to.

Meanwhile, you and Sunoo walked hand and hand through town square, without a care in the world. The entire evening consisted of him adoring you, as you ran to each marketplace or food stall with the cutest smile on your face.

This was the happiest he'd seen you in weeks. It made his chest tighten with feelings he couldn't explain. To see you smile was everything to him, it gave him a reason to live— A true reason.

"do you think we should bring something back for Elisse?" You ask him, as you swung your hands back and forth.

"You know her better than anyone, I'm sure whatever you bring back for her she'll love it." he responds, brushing the wild strands of hair behind your ear.

"We should all eat together tonight too! Just like this morning."

"Whatever you want sweetheart, as long as I get to see you smile like this I'll agree to anything." He brushes a thumb over your lips before kissing them. It makes your heart flutter, you should have been used to it by now, his kisses, but this was the first time he did it so openly.

You couldn't hide the smile on your lips as the two of you finally arrived at the main square, a large fountain sat in the middle of a few town hall buildings, shops and markets. The area was flooded with people— children running about with ribbons, some of them sat playing with spinners and bottle caps, families and couples scattered about— all gathered around just to enjoy today's festivities.

It felt so foreign, being here with him— no longer lonely, but someones wife. You didn't think that much would change when you finally decided to settle down and get married, you always thought that in the end your father would get what he wanted and you would marry someone of his choice, but you didn't. This was a choice you made for yourself, choosing your happiness instead of being the puppet for someone elses.

"Have you ever thought about children?" You ask him, the words falling from your lips before you could even realize you had thought them.

For a moment he remains quiet as if he were thinking it over. "For the longest time I wasn't even sure if I was ever capable of love, children were only yet another painful reminder of something I wouldn't have." He responds, it makes you hold his hand tighter.

The rest of the evening had gone by in a flash. You simply just enjoyed each others company, watching the children play, and watching clouds— simple things that felt like so much more all because you were doing it with him. It all felt so new to you, actually allowing yourself to love someone instead of pulling away or choosing to be alone. But it also felt so amazing to feel seen and cared for when you had gone all your life feeling like you could only rely on yourself and Elisse.

Back at the manor Elisse had nearly turned the attic upside down feeling like she was searching for something that would never show itself. Old photo books and music sheets sat scattered across the old wooden table as she searched around, knowing whatever it was that was in this house would not let her be until she had found it.

She sighs taking a seat at the piano and mindlessly pressing keys as if it would help her think. Her eyes trace over them, following her fingers until they land on the last one 'C'. Her eyebrows crease the moment she hears it, slightly pitchy and off key— she plays it again.

She pushes open the lid and peaks inside, each string seems to be in tact, but as she looks closer, her eyes find something shimmering beneath the exact key that has previously sounded pitchy.

She carefully reaches inside and pulls it out, twirling it in her hand as if she were inspecting it— a sound cylinder?

"What are you doing in there?" As she remembers vaguely seeing a phonograph in your fathers office, she slips out of the attic and takes it along with her.

The home feels like it's holding its breath as she makes her way downstairs, the sound of her footsteps are swallowed by the walls as she moves down the hallway like a woman on a mission. The moment she steps inside the room feels heavy with something nasty and unseen. She sets the cylinder on a desk as she searches around, looking through half empty drawers and shelves.

As she closes a drawer the force sends a cup with a single fountain pen falling into the trash. She leans down to pick it up, placing it all back onto the desk, along with a crumbled up slip of paper that she realizes may not have been on the desk at first. She goes to throw it away but curiosity gets the best of her and she smoothens it out of the desk. She feels unease creep in the moment she realizes what it is— A lonely check written to none other than Kim Sunoo, from your father.

The door creaks open, and her gaze immediately shoots up to find Sunoo stood in the doorway.

"Oh Sunoo I didn't hear you come in." She slowly adjusts her hand so that it sits just above the evidence, but it was far too late, he had already seen it. "Wheres Yn?"

"Taking a bath." He answers coldly, his gaze shifting from her hand to the candelabra he had previously used on your father.

"I should check on her, see how your day has gone." She excuses herself, slipping the check off the desk, entirely forgetting about the actual reason she had come in.

Sunoo doesn't say a word. He just lets her slip past him and out of the room. She let's out a relieved breath, her feet moving quick as she exits the room, but she could hear his footsteps not too far behind her. The quicker her steps echo his are only seconds behind. Finally she breaks out into a sprint, heading straight for the stairs to warn you, she's quick but he's quicker.

He immediately stops her at the first two stairs, grabbing her and dragging her down by her feet. He raises his hand to take the first blow but he can hear your voice from the hallway upstairs. Elisse turns to push herself up but he grabs her again silencing her with a hand over her mouth.

She thrashes around, using all her strength to fight against him but he eventually drags her out of the house. He didn't want to do this, the last thing he wanted to do was take the last loving family member that you had away from you but he couldn't have you know the truth. He couldn't have the one thing he had left stolen away from him.

"Sunoo..?" You call out to him, your night gown hugging you nice and snug as you make your way down the hallway. "Elisse?" But still, you receive no response.

You make your way down to the first floor and into the kitchen, thinking that maybe they had gone to start on dinner, but no one is there. Soft creaks down the hall draw your attention to your fathers study, a place that no one was supposed to be— but it didn't mean it should go unchecked.

You step inside, your eyes scanning the room, but they had been nowhere to be found here either. Your gaze lands on the long forgotten cylinder, something that hadn't never there any other time you'd come in here.

Taking it into your hands you take a moment to inspect it before taking it with you to the Athenaeum where a phonograph sat long forgotten— collecting dust. You aren't expecting much from it, you thought maybe it was just some old song or dialogue your father had kept to keep himself entertained. but the moment it began to crackle with the sound of static and only seconds later you hear your moms voice— you realized it was something far more important.

“If you’re listening to this it is the twenty sixth of November eighteen ninety. Please know that if you've found this then you are the only one that knows this secret that I hold. My husband has done a terrible thing. That family and their child, all dead by his hands…he says he has nothing to do with it but I found him cleaning blood in one of the rooms. I'm afraid that if i do not leave soon then my daughter and I will suffer his karma. I’ve seen their spirits walk these halls, i know it is not just illusion. Soon enough if i do not leave this place my daughter will see them too-"

it ends with the sound of a door being forced open.

Tears well in your eyes with the information you had just been given by your own mother. You tremble as you let out shaky breaths, that make your chest feel heavy every time you breath in. Your father— a killer.

Your legs can barely hold your weight as you stand, the heaviness of something cruel and disgusting now weighing you down.

The world around you seems to spin as you make your way down the hall, the whispers and faint footsteps you ounce heard as a child all seem to come flooding. Your ears ring with many theories and what ifs but only one you knew had to be true.

"Oh god." you didn't want to admit it to yourself, that your father a man you thought to be madly in love, would be responsible for killing the women he actively grieved for, but it was the only thing that made sense.

You stumble down the staircase and into the foyer only to see Sunoo enter seconds later, he freezes in the doorway the moment he sees you. You can't tell what's real from what's fake as you see him standing there, blood staining his clothes, seeping into the white of his shirt. With your eyes full of tears you stare up at his face, the face of a man that knew it was all over.

"Yn.."

"What..what did you do?" the tears don't stop falling, even as you back away from him.

"She was going to.. She was going to take you away I didn't have a choice…"

No coherent words would leave your mouth as you stumble back and turn to go back up the stairs. It all had to be some sort of sick joke. He follows suit as you rush back up the stairs, leaving him behind as you slam the lift door shut.

"Yn." His voice falls deaf upon your ears as the lift takes you up to the second floor with a loud clank. You stumble down the hallway, ignoring the way he calls out for you.

As you get further and further does the hallway it started to feel like the walls were closing in on you. Like an endless stretching corridor that wouldn't stop until you turned and faced the truth. You stop when you hear the floorboards creak in front of you, as if you hadn't already had enough the spirits from your previous encounters finally make themselves known.

Sunoo is only a few places behind you, he freezes the moment he sees you standing in the hallway. His eyes land on the woman standing before you, fully red, draped in lace, her hand resting on her stomach. The woman he had seen time and time again before you and your father had ever returned here. She never spoke to him though, she only ever appeared when he felt like he was closer to a truth.

"You..you can see her?" He speaks up, making you jump and turn to face him.

"You can see her too the woman? The woman in lace?"

"You- you told me that you couldn't see them? You lied to me." You shout back at him, tears falling down your face, making your lips taste of salt.

"Them..?" He inches closer, holding out his hand as if he wanted to reassure you, but you back away. "Yn what do you mean them..its only..its only her she's the only one here."

"No- you're lying.. you're lying to me again Sunoo! Again you won't tell me the truth!"

"I just wanted to protect you- I don't want to lose you-"

"Did you kill him?"

"What?" He knows very well what you meant, but he knows that if he answers there's no going back, he will need to spill every truth.

"Did you kill my father?" You ask, your words shaky, like even though you know the truth you can't bring yourself to believe it.

"It was never my plan to hurt anyone."

"Plan…Plan? Sunoo you lied to me, you used me. I thought you loved me!?"

"I do love you!" The words hit you hard, how could he love you and take away the only things that you had that felt like family.

"He killed them, he killed them and he laughed in my face like it was an accomplishment, like their lives were trophy's. I got angry… I didn't mean to kill him but then I remembered finding them. My mother strung up over the stage..my father with his throat slit. They ruled it a suicide."

"What…what did you just say?" Your blood ran cold, your eyes widening the moment he mentioned the way his parents had died. The woman in red with the rope around her neck, the man with the slit in his throat. It was all starting to make sense, you weren't crazy and neither was your mother— she had seen them and you started to see them too.

"You… you've seen them…" you don't face to say the words for him to know, the look in your eyes says everything that he needed to know.

"Yn… have you seen them." He inches closer to you but again you step back.

"You… my mother…oh god." The realization had finally dawned on you, your father had not only killed Sunoos parents, but he killed your mother because she was going to take you away. Those same spirits that your father had bound to this home had haunted you since you were young.

Every ghostly visit, it wasn't to torment you or scare you, they were to warn you that you had lived in the home with a murderer, all this time thinking that you were safe.

"Sweetheart just talk to me, I didn't mean to lie- i never even meant to hurt anyone…" the pain in his voice almost makes you step toward him. Only last night he had made you fall apart, you had only just become his— just found happiness with him for it all to fall apart.

"When i found him in the woods, when I saw him you- you knew." You clutch your chest, feeling like your heart would burst at any moment from everything that you were feeling.

"I loved you I gave myself to you."

"Yn please." He steps toward you and you immediately back away, running past him and back to the lift. You don't wait to listen, you take the lift back down to the first floor and rush out the door, not even bothering to grab a coat. The wind and the snow is harsh, it seeps through your clothes and taints your skin the moment you step out the door.

Each step feels heavy as you trudged through the snow moving further and further away from the house, he appears in the doorway moments later. He sounds desperate and almost fearful as he runs behind you. You just needed to be away, away from this house, away from this place— it was a curse, everything and everyone you loved died here. This land devoured happiness and swallowed it whole.

"Yn I love you, I love you so much that it pains me when I am not near you." His words no longer make you feel warmth, they feel cold ans nagging—They ate away at you. Even after all of this you still felt love for him, he still owned your heart and that was the worst part of all. It felt like you were battling with every emotion that you ever knew.

Ignoring his words you try to move on, you try to keep going, not the moment you look ahead you see her again, for the first time in years. She stood, draped in red lace just as Sunoo described, one hand on her stomach and the other on her side where she was wounded. Your tears felt heavier the moment they began to fall, seeping into your skin and freezing on your cheeks from the cold.

"M-mom." She didn't say a word, she just stood looking back at the manor as if she had been waiting for it all to fall apart. You finally turn, your eyes landing on Sunoo who finally stops a few feet away the moment he realizes you've stopped walking. When your eyes finally land on him he takes it as the opportunity to speak, slowly moving forward and closing the distance between the two of you.

"Yn." He reaches out to you, the space between you slowly closing in until he stops. You don't realize it at first until the red seeps through his clothes. Up until now you hadn't even realized, Elisse standing behind him clutching her side before she collapses. Sunoo stumbles back, the blood pooling in and spilling from his wound is already too much to be saved. He turns and looks back at the manor, all while you stood looking at the last of your family bleed out on the ground— painting the snow crimson.

"Elisse!" Your emotions fully take over and you no longer care about leaving, all you care about is getting her somewhere safe, making sure she's okay, but its too late and she knows it. The moment you rush over to her, and fall to your knees beside her she just smiles.

"Your mother, she was beautiful." She tells you, bringing her hand up to your face. "You look just like her."

"We- we can get you help, I can go to town I can find someone.."

she shakes her head. "Town is two hours away, no one could here in time."

"No i could-" she stops you, before you could say another word, before you could come up with some kind of way to convince yourself that you could fix all of this.

"Go home…live the life your father never allowed…my beautiful girl, don't come back here." you watch as the light dies from her eyes, and the final breath that leaves her. A loud cry spills from your lips, it felt like the worst case of deja vu. Holding her in your arms the way you did your mother. The cold air, feels like fire in your lungs as you sat there holding her.

Then you remember, Sunoo, the reason she was gone. Your eyes follow the trail of red snow leading back to the house and you push yourself up. Blood now stains your night gown, it seeps into your clothes and dries on your skin like it was part of you. Ignoring the cold that eats away at you, you trudge back towards the house.

"Kim Sunoo!" His name rips from your throat, harsh and pained. Like it no longer just made you feel butterflies to say it, it came with pain and loss.

You follow the trail, a dark red that stains the floor as if it were part of the house. It leads down the hallway and into the dance hall and you follow it inside, it ends in the middle of the floor. He stands clutching his stomach as if it would stop the life from slowly slipping away from him.

"I watched her die, I watched… I watched the life drain from her eyes. All over again I had to relive that I had to be that same ten year old goth that found her mother dead in the snow Sunoo. I have to lose you, i have to lose the only man I ever loved." You step closer, but he doesn't speak. He just looks at you as if words weren't enough to express the things he felt.

"Say something!"

He steps closer to you, and as he moves to wipe the tears from your eyes you don't even flinch.

"I never wanted to hurt you, I didn't want to hurt her… but you… you became something that I don't want to lose." He brings his hand to your cheek, his blood taints your skin almost immediately.

"I love you, so much that it pained me to think you could find out the truth and you would be taken away." The tears seem endless as he speaks, you should have walked away, should have left him to die— but you couldn't, not when part of your heart would die with him.

"I will spend a thousand years, scorched by hell for hurting you and bringing you pain. But one last time, for my sake… for my sanity. Waltz with me."

You stare at him, the man before you completely broken and vulnerable, for the first time. You turn to walk away from him, and his fingers twitch where he once held your face. You should have walked out the door, but instead you return to him with a candle in hand. His eyes widen, like he had expected you to leave him here, even if he had he wouldn't have stopped you— he deserved to rot for ruining the one thing he ever truly loved.

His hand molds into yours one last time, like it was the perfect piece of a puzzle— but that no longer mattered did it?

This time as his other hand rests on the small of your back it feels painful, you do not feel the butterflies you once felt with him. As you take the floor, his eyes bore into your own with failed promises, and secrets now fully revealed.

This waltz feels like the end to a tale as old as time, yet at the same time it feels like the end of a story that hadn't even begun. Your life with him, all gone in the blink of an eye. Every memory with him seemed to flash in your mind as the two of you glide around the dance floor with practiced grace and efficiency— with a delicateness that hadn't been present the first two times you'd waltzed with him.

You could feel him grow weaker with every step— feel his hold on your waist loosen, his steps slowly turn into staggers, but he kept going. He danced with you until the silence rang in your ears like bells telling him that his time was now up. By the time he spun you to a stop, the candle had still been lit.

It was a painfully funny sight, the dichotomy of the candle light remaining lit while Sunoos light was slowly dying out— your love along with it.

A faint smile curls onto his lips as he stares into the light, bringing your hand to his lips one last time for one final kiss. "You were beautiful, loving you was beautiful."

He brushes the tears from your face one last time, and when you reach up to touch his face he presses slow kisses to your wrists, he spent every last second of his life kissing the parts of you he would no longer begin to kiss.

"Sunoo." He responds with a soft hum, his legs slowly giving out beneath him, you catch him in your arms but his weight brings both of you to the floor.

"Sunoo please, you're all that… you're all that I have left." Your words, are swallowed by silence, and his fingers fall stiff in your hand. You watch as his chest rises and falls one last time before he falls stiff.

He was gone— everything you'd once loved had died in the walls of this house. Sunoo, your parents, Elisse, All gone. The silence of the halls felt deafening and mocking— the spirits that once roamed, warning you and leading you were nowhere to be found.

You felt empty as you walked down the hallways that no longer scared you but invoked something far worse and painful. The floorboards no longer creaked or groaned with the presence of someone else, but the lift creaked as it took you down to the first floor— like old bones cracking and shattering with age.

Your steps felt heavy as you trudged down the stairs and past the kitchen that held many memories— memories of being sat in Sunoos lap as he read the paper, or having breakfast together before starting your day.

Even the cold no longer bothered you when you finally step outside, fully numb to the snow that fell against your skin. All you cared about was leaving this place behind and not coming back even if that meant you'd walk for miles.

So you kept walking, and not once did you look back, even as a white figure looms in the attic window, watching as you grew further and further away from the manor like it no longer mattered. This house that had haunted you for so long, the reason that you had been so afraid to go out on your own and live— it was nothing more than a curse broken.

The memories of your mother, of Sunoos' parents, of Elisse, it would all die with the manor. Even as it rot and fell apart, as its bones began to crumble and decay you would never return. For everything you loved had died along with it.

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