#reincarnation for cheap
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*replaces the snom trail to rose*
*The ferrofluid collects the Snoms. It may find people when the narrator is no longer busy… but at this point perhaps Rose is the one it would have easy access to considering the location. Perhaps the narrator of Rose would be okay with very slow responses, though?*
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i see people thinking that the side story is the bad ending for kim dokja. and don't get me wrong, he doesn't come back after the door opens, but that is because kimcom CHOSE that.
they had the option to open a door where kim dokja woke up, but they chose to go through the door where he doesn't wake up because they know that first door is a trap (like 49/51), and they want all of kim dokja. and when they go through, kim dokja is gone, but he's left a note. he is STILL OUT THERE (and part of him is with lhh right now. it's complicated)
anyway this is just to say KIM DOKJA IS BACK IN THE SIDE STORY. he is just not with kimcom *yet*. i need to make this clear because i keep seeing people saying things that sound like people think he's gone for real in the side story.
#orv#and even then. i don't think it's possible for kimcom to get '100%' of kim dokja#what even is 100% of kim dokja? what is 100% of a person?#you forget things. does that mean you're not 100% of yourself anymore?#do they need to kill the reincarnated fragments to pick up those story fragments left with him? do YOU need to die to bring back kdj?#look at my url for the reason why i am passionate about this subject. i like the side story and where it's going with this#feel free to send an ask about anything i will answer and clear any possible misinfo you got#especially from tiktok i hate that place#i'm not forcing you to read it but just. give it a chance if you are curious even a little#it's cheap. vapolunes on twitter has season 1. i have season 1 + over half of season 2 translated. i can send you a guide for purchasing#please please dont use the wattpad tl its actually worse than mtling it yourself#orv side story#orv spoilers#side story spoilers
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Backgroundy!!!
You okay? D:
For the past few days, I have been forced to work in my sleep nonstop for a cartoony spring I have never heard of prior. Before that, I nearly killed the only person who did not despise me because they were being possessed by someone who I despise, and, in a blind rage, I attacked her as soon as I saw her. Both of them likely hate me now. Though, all of my memories are finally returning, so at least I'm not speaking like a squeaky child anymore...
To make matters worse, I just went back to that hotel to check on Paintbrush and I found out she was separated from them. I'm in no mood to talk to her, so I will just remain here contemplating my life (and afterlife) choices.
So basically, I'm fantastic right now.
#(ooc) ofc bgy wasnt planned to be pb's dad from the very beginning so i had to come up with a reason for their childish speaking mannerisms#cheap excuse but what the hell am i supposed to do. she was reincarnated THERE thatsmey excuse 😁😁#backgroundy#backfire arc#false contract chronicles#flooding memories chronicles
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*The ferrofluid melds over Archer’s skin and head like a fucked up suit of armor, able to spike up when enraged or even just near magnets, conglomerating in weapons of fiery will. Grasping. Clawing. Never surrendering until there is no other option.*
*…It can feel the hunger. They’ll need to rid the weakest things they can see to survive for now.*
*There is something dark and kinda shiny in the grass. It seems to be dripping from somewhere.*
-Arrow doesn’t notice, being blind and all-
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I just cannot fathom biological family all of a sudden mattering in KH. It’s always been about found family with unconventional dynamics. Not a single nuclear family. If bloodlines do end up mattering, I’ll be curious about how they’ll spin it but I also think it may simply be a red herring. Ephemer wears a red scarf, after all.
#didi speaks#text#this isn’t to say i’d be mad but i think bloodlines creating chosen ones is pretty cheap#ofc with how much riku has grown it’d also possibly be validating for him???#like he always had it in him and this is just symbolic of that but idk#idk how to feel about it until we know for sure#not above simply going ‘that’s dumb but i can find things i enjoy abt it’#bc godddd brain and lauriam and ventus caring deeply abt riku is soooo good#friendships that last lifetimes are so god tier also ava and riku!!!!#part of me thinks ephemer died too young to have a kid and riku is his reincarnation or smth
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Were viewers supposed to assume that the grasshopper Emerald stepped on died
and then the Inspector somehow brought it back to life? (Not that he hasn’t done that before with his reincarnative powers.)
#Inspector Spacetime#Time Geezers (episode)#Butterfly of Doom (trope)#Butterfly of Doom#Death Is Cheap (trope)#Death Is Cheap#were we to assume#the grasshopper#Emerald Tuesday (character)#stepped on#did it die#died and came back to life#the Inspector (character)#somehow brought it back to life#not that he hasn't done that before#reincarnative powers#reincarnation
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trapped
pairing: hotel owner!heeseung x reader, slight sunoo x reader
genre: reincarnation au, supernatural themes, horror
synopsis: a road trip with your parents gone wrong lands you at a mysterious mansion in the middle of nowhere. after it turns out to be a hotel, your parents decide to stop over. everything about this place screams deja vu to you which is strange because you've never even heard about it. the hotel was not the only weird thing though, its handsome yet mysterious owner who looked like he stepped out of the 1920s is way too enthusiastic about your stay. every encounter with him leaves you feeling weirded out yet enamoured. but he is not who you think he seems to be. he will be the one to decide the duration of your stay here and it looks like it will not be ending anytime soon.
warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION! horror themes, suggestive content, slight yandere themes, manipulation, possessive!hee, murder, blood, lmk if i missed anything
note: i just came back from a party and my legs are killingg me so im half awake as i post this BUTTT it's finally out!! i love this plot so much omg. i think the ending could've been written better but eh. enjoyy and lemme know what you think of it!
word count: 24.3k
if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3
the endless bickering between your parents filled the car like white noise. you were used to it by now—too used to it—but today, it grated on your nerves more than usual. you pressed your forehead against the cold glass of the window, watching the dark trees rush by, a blurry mix of black and grey.
"well, if you hadn’t taken that ridiculous detour, we wouldn’t have wasted half the day!" your mom snapped, her voice rising with every syllable.
your dad clenched the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. "oh, right, because everything’s my fault! you’re the one who insisted we take this ‘bonding trip’ in the first place."
you sighed. there it was, that phrase again: bonding trip. a doomed effort to salvage what was left of your parents’ relationship before you left for your two-year exchange program. your mom had decided that spending time together, crammed in a car for hours on end, would somehow solve years of unresolved issues.
"maybe if you actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be in this mess!" your mom retorted, arms crossed, glaring at your dad from the passenger seat.
you resisted the urge to groan out loud and instead slumped back in your seat. what was the point? nothing ever changed between them. you glanced down at your phone; no service, of course. this road trip to the ‘resort’ was supposed to be a goodbye vacation before you headed overseas, but the way things were going, you were counting the hours until it was over.
the car began to slow down as your dad pulled into a shabby gas station. it wasn’t much—a couple of pumps under flickering neon lights and a small convenience store that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the early 2000s.
“we’re stopping here?” your mom said, exasperated. “this place looks like it’s one step away from falling apart.”
“we need gas and food. you can’t survive on passive-aggressive comments alone,” your dad muttered, turning the car off and stepping out.
you stifled a laugh but quickly hid it when your mom shot you a look. without a word, you pushed the door open, desperate for a break from their constant bickering. you could feel their voices rising behind you as you made your way towards the store, the bell over the door jingling weakly as you stepped inside.
the guy behind the counter looked about your age, his face illuminated by the dull glow of a hanging light. his disinterested gaze shifted from the magazine he was reading to you as you approached. the store smelled like stale chips and cheap air freshener, a layer of dust coating the shelves.
“hey,” you greeted, leaning against the counter, “do you know if there are any motels up ahead?”
the guy looked up, raising an eyebrow as if the question itself was a bother. he glanced at the darkening sky outside and then back at you. "motels? there’s a town maybe three or four hours ahead. not much else between here and there, though."
you frowned. “three or four hours?” your stomach twisted. that would mean driving into the night—and with your parents still at each other’s throats, the idea didn’t sit well with you.
“yeah,” he shrugged, “but it’s getting late. if i were you, i’d try to get there quick. you don’t wanna be out here after dark.”
his tone sent a shiver down your spine, but you nodded anyway, brushing it off. you grabbed a couple of snacks and paid quickly, eager to get out of the unsettling atmosphere of the store.
outside, the bickering had not only continued, but it had escalated. your mom was leaning against the car with her arms crossed, while your dad angrily fumbled with the gas pump.
“what do you mean it’s not taking the card?” your mom was saying, her voice sharp with irritation.
“i don’t know! maybe it’s your stupid card,” your dad shot back, slamming the pump back into its holder.
you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. wordlessly, you tossed the snacks into the backseat and climbed in, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. you didn’t want to deal with their drama anymore. after a few more minutes of back-and-forth arguing, they finally got the gas pump working, and soon, you were back on the road.
the silence in the car was thick, broken only by the occasional sigh or muttered insult from the front seat. you kept your gaze fixed on the road ahead, trying to tune it all out, when suddenly the car began to sputter.
your dad’s face tightened as the car jerked, the dashboard lights flickering. “what the—?”
with a final shudder, the car rolled to a stop, dead on the side of a long, deserted road. darkness had fully settled around you, swallowing the car in a sea of black. you could barely make out the outline of the trees surrounding you, their twisted branches reaching up like claws against the sky.
“great,” your mom groaned, massaging her temples. “just perfect.”
your dad cursed under his breath and got out to pop the hood, leaving you and your mom in the eerie silence of the car. you sighed, reluctantly stepping out to help. you had no idea what you were doing, but sitting in the car doing nothing felt worse.
as you peered under the hood with your dad, who was muttering to himself as he checked the engine, your mom’s voice suddenly cut through the night air.
“look!” she said, her voice urgent. “there—do you see those lights?”
you looked up, squinting into the distance. sure enough, faint lights were flickering between the trees far ahead, barely visible but unmistakable.
a chill ran down your spine. you’d been looking at the gps not too long ago, and there hadn’t been any signs of life for miles. no towns. no houses. nothing.
“something’s not right,” you muttered, turning toward your dad. “there was nothing out here when i checked earlier.”
your dad waved you off, closing the hood with a loud bang. “you’re just tired. we’ll check it out. maybe there’s a house or something up ahead.”
your mom was already back in the car, apparently unconcerned. you stood there for a moment, staring at the mysterious lights that flickered in the distance. something about them felt… off, but as usual, no one was listening to you. with a groan of frustration, you climbed back into the car, your nerves tingling with unease.
the engine sputtered weakly to life once again, and as your dad drove toward the lights, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was waiting for you up ahead wasn’t what you thought it was.
the car stuttered one last time before it gave up entirely, coming to a dead stop right in front of the lights. you blinked, heart racing as you took in the sight before you.
a mansion—no, the mansion—rose out of the darkness like something from an old gothic novel. the sprawling, ivy-clad structure stretched far beyond what you could make out in the dim light, its towers stabbing into the sky. faded stone gargoyles leered down from the corners of the building, their grim faces illuminated by the faint, flickering lamps that lined the driveway. the mansion seemed alive, ancient, its very presence looming over you like a dark shadow. it was eerily silent, save for the wind that whistled through the trees surrounding it.
for a second, you couldn’t breathe.
you swallowed hard. “this can’t be real.”
your dad got out of the car first, slamming the door shut with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “we’ll figure out the car in the morning,” he grumbled. “we don’t have a choice. let’s see if they’ll let us stay.”
your mom, already out of the car and standing beside him, nodded in agreement. she didn’t even look fazed, just happy to be somewhere with lights and (hopefully) a bed. “come on, it’s late,” she said, like she hadn’t noticed the eerie silence hanging in the air or the fact that this place seemed plucked out of another century.
“are you serious?” you muttered under your breath, standing frozen next to the car. “this place looks like a horror movie set.”
your dad gave you a weary look. “we’re not staying in the car, that’s for sure. stop being dramatic and come on. it’s just a mansion.”
just a mansion? you wanted to scream. there was no way this was a normal place—no way a mansion this large, this old, could have gone unnoticed on the gps. but the protests died in your throat when you realised neither of them cared. like always, they were too focused on practicalities to notice the screaming red flags around them.
with a sigh, you unwillingly followed them up the cracked stone steps that led to the massive, elaborately carved front doors. every footstep echoed, the wind seeming to still as you approached the entrance. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, like a pair of invisible eyes followed your every movement.
your dad pressed the doorbell—a soft chime rang out, sounding way too delicate for a place like this. you couldn’t help but wince, your nerves on edge. the silence that followed stretched on, thick and suffocating. it felt as though the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting.
then, slowly, the door creaked open.
a young man stood in the doorway, his face illuminated by the warm glow of a chandelier behind him. his expression was neutral, almost blank, as if he had opened the door purely out of obligation. he was dressed impeccably, a sharp black tuxedo that seemed far too formal for a place like this—or maybe it was just perfect for this kind of mansion. either way, it unnerved you.
his eyes swept over your parents first, taking in their travel-worn appearance with little interest. “hello?” your dad started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “we, uh… we had some car trouble just outside. we were hoping… maybe you could help us?”
for a moment, the man—sunoo, as you’d later learn—didn’t say anything. he simply stood there, watching your parents with a blank face, like he was waiting for them to say something more interesting. his eyes flicked up to yours, and the world seemed to tilt slightly as his gaze met yours.
it was only for a second—just a fleeting moment—but something shifted in his expression. his cold, neutral stare melted into something… darker, more intrigued. a spark of something flashed in his eyes before his face returned to its impassive mask. the brief change left you rattled, a chill creeping up your spine.
your mom jumped in to break the awkward silence, her voice bright despite the situation. “yes, we’ve been driving for hours, and when our car broke down, we were hoping to find a place to stay. is this…” she glanced up at the looming mansion, almost sheepishly. “is this a hotel?”
there was a brief pause, and then, without warning, sunoo’s face split into the widest, most overenthusiastic grin you’d ever seen. it was such a drastic change from his earlier demeanour that it made your skin crawl. “oh, of course! you’ve come to the right place. this is a hotel, and you’re more than welcome to stay.” he extended an arm, gesturing grandly to the vast, dimly lit entryway behind him. “we have plenty of rooms available!”
your dad exhaled in relief, completely missing the oddity of sunoo’s exaggerated reaction. “thank god. you’re a lifesaver.”
you couldn’t stop staring at sunoo, watching the way his smile stretched just a little too wide, the way his eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite right. “this is a hotel?” you asked, voice filled with scepticism. “i didn’t see anything about it on the gps.”
sunoo’s eyes flicked back to you, and the unsettling smile never left his face. “oh? how strange. we’ve been here for a long time… surely, you must have heard about it.”
“no,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes. “i’m sure. there was nothing around here.”
just as you were about to explain further, he smoothly cut you off with a bright, “well, no matter! you’re here now, and that’s what counts. come, come! let’s not waste any more time standing out in the cold.”
he practically ushered your parents through the doorway, his sudden energy making you want to take a step back. your dad muttered a quick “thank you” and walked right inside, your mom following closely behind. neither of them seemed to notice the way sunoo’s cheerful demeanour seemed… off.
you, however, couldn’t ignore the gnawing discomfort twisting in your gut. every instinct screamed at you to leave, to drag your parents back to the car, but the reality of your situation left you with little choice. sighing in frustration, you reluctantly followed them into the mansion.
the door shut behind you with an ominous thud that echoed through the long hallway, and the heavy weight of the mansion seemed to settle around you. you felt trapped, as if stepping into this place had sealed your fate.
as sunoo led your parents through the dimly lit entry hall, you lagged behind, your skin prickling with unease. you leaned toward your mom, lowering your voice to a whisper. “this is creepy. something’s not right about this place.”
she barely spared you a glance. “you’re being paranoid. it’s just an old mansion.”
“an old mansion that no one’s ever heard of? that wasn’t on the map? you didn’t see the way that guy was acting. he’s way too happy about us being stranded here.”
your dad huffed, clearly having reached the end of his patience. “it’s a hotel. we need a place to stay, and we don’t have any other options. you can sleep in the car if you’re that worried.”
you rolled your eyes, biting back the rest of your protests. of course, they wouldn’t listen. they never did. they couldn’t see the danger right in front of them.
as you followed your parents deeper into the mansion, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. the walls seemed to close in around you, and every footstep echoed like a warning.
something was wrong here. you knew it. you could feel it in your bones.
sunoo led your parents away, gesturing toward a desk where they could check in. you lingered behind, reluctant to follow them. the dimly lit hallway stretched before you, lined with dark wood panelling and framed with ornate carvings. despite the grandeur of the place, there was an eerie stillness that seemed to swallow every sound. no humming of guests, no distant chatter, no echoes of footsteps on marble floors—just a vast, consuming silence.
you slowly started walking, glancing around, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling crawling up your spine. for a hotel this size, it should have been bustling with activity. yet, there was no one. not a single person walking through the hallways, no staff except sunoo at the entrance. just the soft padding of your own footsteps, echoing like whispers through the still air.
as you turned a corner, your eyes landed on a giant painting mounted on the wall. you stopped in your tracks, something about it tugging at your mind. the painting depicted a dark, stormy landscape—a crumbling stone mansion, much like the one you stood in now, surrounded by leafless trees that seemed to reach out toward it like skeletal hands. the sky above was swirling with ominous clouds, and a full moon cast a pale, ghostly glow on the scene.
but it wasn’t just the image itself that made your skin crawl—it was the strange feeling of familiarity. you couldn’t shake the sensation that you’d seen this before, as though it was pulled from the corners of a forgotten memory. a knot formed in your chest as you stared, lost in thought. where have you seen this before?
suddenly, a voice, smooth as silk, broke through your thoughts.
“interesting, isn’t it?”
you jumped, your heart leaping into your throat as you spun around. standing behind you was a man, and not just any man—he was stunningly handsome. his dark hair was neatly styled, framing a face that could’ve been carved from marble. his suit, a luxurious black ensemble that fit him perfectly, was undeniably expensive.
but what struck you most were his eyes—wide and dark, locked on yours with an intensity that sent a flush of heat creeping up your neck.
“i'm sorry,” he broke out into a soft laugh as he took a step back. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”
his voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, but he paused mid-sentence when his gaze landed squarely on your face. his eyes seemed to freeze there, widening slightly as if he were studying every detail. a look of surprise, or maybe recognition, flashed across his face for just a moment before he quickly composed himself. but the intensity in his stare remained, his eyes never leaving yours.
you felt a wave of flustered heat rise to your cheeks under his gaze. he wasn’t just looking at you—he was seeing you, like you were the only person in the world. the weight of his attention made you feel strangely vulnerable, your pulse quickening in response.
you cleared your throat, trying to shake off the sudden rush of nerves. “uh… it’s fine,” you mumbled. “you just startled me.”
he blinked, as if snapping out of whatever trance had held him. a slow, charming smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “i’m heeseung,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. “the owner of this mansion.”
“the owner?” you echoed, taken aback. “wow. i… i wasn’t expecting to meet the owner so soon.”
he smiled again, a soft, enigmatic grin that sent another wave of unease down your spine. “i like to keep close to my guests. this place… it’s very special to me.”
you tried to return his smile but faltered slightly, still unsettled by how intently he was watching you. “i’m—” you began, but before you could introduce yourself, your parents’ voices echoed down the hall.
“there you are!” your dad called, striding over to where you stood with heeseung. your mom followed closely behind, oblivious to the awkward tension in the air. “we were just getting checked in.”
you barely had time to react before your dad turned to heeseung, giving him a polite nod. “this is the owner of the mansion,” you quickly explained, introducing him. “heeseung.”
your parents seemed relieved to meet someone in charge, especially after the ordeal with the car. “oh, thank you so much for accommodating us on such short notice,” your mom said with a grateful smile. “our car broke down just outside, and we didn’t know what else to do.”
you shot a glance at your parents, your eyes widening in warning. why are they telling him that? you thought in frustration. it wasn’t exactly the kind of information you wanted to share so freely—especially not in a place like this, with a stranger who gave off such unsettling vibes.
heeseung’s smile widened at your parents’ words, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was far too pleased to hear about your vulnerability. “no need to worry,” he said smoothly, his gaze briefly flicking back to you before focusing on your parents. “i’ll make sure your car is taken care of. i’ll have it sent for repairs tonight.”
“really?” your dad sounded relieved. “that’s incredibly generous. thank you.”
heeseung waved a hand dismissively. “it’s no trouble at all. you’re my guests now.” he paused, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “i’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”
you swallowed hard, fighting back the gnawing sense of dread as you all started heading down the hallway. the mansion seemed to stretch on forever, with countless doors and long, winding corridors. despite the size, heeseung explained that most rooms were booked, which meant you would be in a room far from your parents.
your room was tucked away in one of the mansion’s oldest wings, a beautifully vintage suite with antique furniture and intricate wallpaper. the four-poster bed was draped in elegant, embroidered sheets, and the room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of a chandelier. it was charming, old-fashioned, and just a little too perfect. the type of room that might seem cosy under normal circumstances but felt unnervingly isolated in this mansion.
after settling in, you reached for your phone, hoping to check for updates on the car—or anything, really—but your frown deepened when you realised there were no charging ports in the room. none at all. you glanced around, frustrated, searching for a way to charge your phone, but there was nothing modern about this place. to make matters worse, your phone had no cell reception. it was like the mansion existed in its own bubble, cut off from the rest of the world.
letting out an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone onto the nightstand. looks like you’d have to borrow your dad’s power bank later. you were exhausted, but the nagging feeling of unease wouldn’t let you relax. after changing into your nightwear, you slipped under the heavy, ornate blankets, hoping that sleep would take over soon.
but as you lay in bed, staring up at the dark canopy above, you couldn’t help but feel that something—someone—was watching you.
you lay in bed, the warmth of the heavy blankets doing little to ease the chill that seemed to settle deep in your bones. the eerie silence stretched on, the only sound the faint rustling of the curtains as a gentle breeze swept in from the cracked window. you hadn't noticed it was open before.
rolling onto your side, you glanced at your phone again. still no reception. it felt like you were completely cut off from the world, alone in this strange, sprawling mansion with no way to communicate with the outside. the feeling gnawed at you, a strange mix of frustration and unease swirling in your chest.
the longer you lay there, the more restless you became. every creak of the floorboards, every shift of the wind seemed to amplify the unsettling atmosphere around you. the chandelier overhead swayed gently, casting shifting shadows across the walls. you closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, telling yourself it was just a normal hotel. nothing weird, nothing out of the ordinary—just a quirky, old-fashioned place.
but the image of heeseung’s face kept creeping into your mind. the way his gaze lingered on you, intense and unreadable, like he was seeing something in you that no one else did. something about him felt off, not just unsettling but almost too perfect, too polished, as if he didn’t quite belong in a place like this.
eventually, the exhaustion started to pull you toward sleep. just as your mind began to blur at the edges, a soft sound reached your ears. a whisper. faint but unmistakable. you bolted upright in bed, eyes wide, heart hammering in your chest as you strained to hear.
at first, you thought it was the wind. but no, it wasn’t coming from outside—it was closer, much closer. the sound seemed to echo from just beyond your door, like soft voices carrying on a conversation, too low for you to make out the words. your skin prickled with unease.
you pushed back the blankets and slipped out of bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor. the mansion felt even more imposing in the darkness, the once quaint vintage charm now taking on a more sinister tone. stepping cautiously, you moved toward the door, pressing your ear against it, listening.
nothing.
the whispering had stopped.
you hesitated for a moment, hand hovering over the doorknob, debating whether you should open it. it’s just your imagination, you told yourself. you’re tired. you're in a creepy place. it’s normal to feel a little on edge.
but your curiosity—and the nagging sense of something being very wrong—won out. slowly, you turned the knob, the door creaking as it swung open into the dark hallway. the air was colder out here, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible scent of something sweet—like roses that had been left too long in the vase, just starting to wilt.
the hallway stretched out in both directions, the same eerie silence blanketing the mansion. no voices, no footsteps. nothing. but your eyes caught on something—the flickering light at the far end of the hall. the soft glow of a single candle, perched on a small table near one of the old-fashioned sitting areas.
you frowned. that candle hadn’t been lit earlier.
carefully, you padded down the hallway toward the light. as you got closer, you noticed something strange—the candle’s flame wasn’t moving. it stayed perfectly still, not even flickering despite the faint breeze you felt coming from the windows. it was almost like it wasn’t real.
just as you were about to reach it, a figure stepped out of the shadows.
you gasped, taking a step back, but quickly realised who it was.
heeseung stood before you, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the hallway. his suit was immaculate as before, not a single wrinkle out of place, and his expression was calm—too calm. he smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, though it sent a shiver down your spine.
you hesitated, your mind racing with questions. why was he here? why wasn’t there anyone else around? but instead, you forced a tight smile, trying to appear composed. “yeah, i guess… this place is just a little unsettling.”
heeseung tilted his head slightly, his gaze once again holding that unnerving intensity. “you’re not the first to say that. old places like this tend to… hold onto things. memories. feelings.” his words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken meaning.
you swallowed, the unease bubbling up again. “it’s just… weird that there’s no one else around. for such a big hotel, it’s completely empty.”
heeseung’s smile widened, but there was something off about it. “most guests prefer the quiet. it allows them to reflect, to... feel things they’ve long forgotten.”
there it was again—that cryptic, almost too-perfect way of speaking. it made your skin crawl.
“well,” you said, your voice a little shakier than you intended, “i think i’ll head back to my room now. it’s late.”
as you turned to leave, heeseung reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. the contact sent a jolt through you, though his touch was oddly cold. you froze, glancing back at him.
“there’s no need to be afraid,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “you’re safe here. i’ll make sure of it.”
the way he said those words—like a promise—sent another shiver down your spine. you forced a nod, pulling your arm away gently and stepping back. “thanks,” you mumbled, backing away from him.
heeseung watched you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable before he finally stepped aside, allowing you to retreat to your room.
once you were safely inside, you shut the door firmly behind you, heart still pounding in your chest. the mansion was far too quiet again, but this time it felt suffocating. something wasn’t right here, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.
you climbed back into bed, but sleep didn’t come easily. every sound, every shadow seemed to hold something sinister. and you couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, in this sprawling, empty mansion, heeseung was watching. waiting.
the next morning, you were roused from sleep by a soft knock at your door. groggy and still heavy with sleep, you sat up, rubbing your eyes as the knocking continued, more insistent this time.
“coming,” you mumbled, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. you padded across the room, and when you opened the door, you found your mom standing there, a tired smile on her face.
“good morning, honey. they’ve called us for breakfast downstairs,” she said, her voice chipper despite the early hour. “you should hurry and get ready. we don’t want to be late.”
you nodded, stifling a yawn. “okay, i’ll be down in a minute.”
she gave you a small smile and headed back down the hallway. you shut the door and took a moment to shake off the lingering unease from the night before. the encounter with heeseung had left a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the mansion’s eerie stillness hadn’t done much to help. but this morning was different, right? it was daylight now, and everything felt less intimidating in the warm morning light streaming through the window.
you quickly got dressed, choosing something comfortable yet presentable. once you were ready, you stepped out into the hallway, glancing left and right. your mom hadn’t mentioned where the dining hall was, and you realised you had no idea how to find it. the mansion’s labyrinthine corridors all looked the same—long stretches of dark wood panelling and ornate furniture that seemed to belong to a different century.
with a sigh, you started walking, hoping you’d stumble upon it. as you rounded a corner, you nearly bumped into someone. you gasped, pulling back just in time, and looked up to find heeseung standing before you, a charming smile on his face.
“good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and soft. “i see you’re trying to find your way to breakfast?”
you nodded, trying to keep your tone neutral. “yeah, i’m not sure where the dining hall is.”
heeseung’s smile widened slightly. “no problem. i’m heading there myself. we can go together.”
you hesitated for a moment but nodded, falling into step beside him as he led the way. the hallway felt even longer with him by your side, his presence both unsettling and magnetic. he walked with an easy grace, like he belonged in a place like this, and yet something about him still made your skin prickle with unease.
“so,” he began after a few moments of silence, “you mentioned last night that you’re on a family vacation? that sounds lovely.”
you nodded, keeping your answers short. “yeah, just a road trip before i leave for university.”
“ah, university. where are you headed?”
“exchange program. i’ll be gone for two years,” you answered curtly, trying not to give too much away.
heeseung hummed thoughtfully. “that’s quite a long time. your parents must be proud—and a bit sad, i imagine.”
you shrugged, glancing away. “i guess.”
he let the silence stretch for a moment, and you could feel his eyes on you, studying you in that same intense way he had the night before. it was like he was trying to figure you out, peel back layers you didn’t even know you had. you kept your gaze forward, determined not to let him get under your skin.
finally, you reached the dining hall. heeseung pushed open the large double doors, and you stepped inside, immediately taking in the scene. the room was vast, grand in an old-world kind of way, with high ceilings and walls lined with towering windows draped in heavy velvet curtains. a long dining table dominated the centre of the room, stretching almost the entire length of the hall. the table was covered with a pristine white cloth, and an array of silverware was laid out with meticulous precision.
but what struck you most was how empty it was.
apart from your parents, who sat at one end of the long table, there was no one else. the chairs were all perfectly arranged, as if waiting for guests who had yet to arrive. but the eerie thing was, it felt like no one would arrive. the silence in the room only amplified the emptiness.
you frowned, glancing over at heeseung as he escorted you to the table. “where is everyone?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “this place is huge, but... it’s like there’s no one else here.”
heeseung’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—something almost too quick to catch. “most of our guests prefer to have breakfast very early,” he explained smoothly. “they’re probably already off enjoying the grounds or have checked out. i typically have my breakfast after the guests. but since you’re a bit late this morning, i thought it would be nice to join you.”
you stared at him for a moment, trying to read between the lines of his carefully chosen words. it didn’t quite add up. the mansion had felt empty from the moment you’d arrived, and now, seeing this massive dining hall with only your family in it, that feeling only intensified. still, you didn’t press further. instead, you forced a small smile and nodded, going along with his explanation for now.
your parents, seemingly unaware of the strange atmosphere, smiled as you took a seat next to them. “this place is incredible, isn’t it?” your mom said, her eyes sparkling as she looked around the room. “i can’t believe how lucky we were to find it.”
you tried to match her enthusiasm, but something about this whole situation still felt off. the room, the empty table, heeseung’s unsettling politeness—it all gnawed at the back of your mind, a whisper of warning you couldn’t quite shake.
breakfast was laid out in a lavish spread, far more than the three of you could possibly eat. there were plates of fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and other delicacies you couldn’t even name. everything was prepared with a level of care and detail that felt almost excessive. you glanced at heeseung, who sat at the head of the table, watching your family with that same, unreadable smile.
he gestured toward the food. “please, help yourselves. i had the chef prepare a little bit of everything.”
your dad wasted no time digging in, clearly impressed by the spread. your mom followed suit, smiling warmly at heeseung as she complimented the food. you, on the other hand, hesitated, your appetite dulled by the nagging sense of something not quite right.
as you picked at your plate, you caught heeseung’s eyes on you again, his gaze sharp, studying, as if waiting for something. the way he watched you—so intently—made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.
you couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the empty chairs, the empty mansion, you weren’t alone.
as you carefully picked at your food, trying to ignore the unnerving atmosphere, your dad set down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. he turned to heeseung with a casual smile, though you could see the underlying hint of concern in his eyes.
“so,” your dad began, “any idea how long it’ll take for the car to be repaired? we’d like to get back on the road as soon as possible.”
heeseung, ever the picture of politeness, gave a reassuring smile, leaning back in his chair with ease. “not to worry, sir. the mechanic i contacted is very efficient. the car should be ready by this afternoon, if not sooner. you’ll be on your way in no time.”
your dad seemed relieved, nodding. “that’s great to hear. we were worried we’d be stuck out here for too long.”
heeseung’s smile widened slightly, though there was a strange glint in his eyes as he said, “we’d never dream of keeping you longer than necessary. but please, take your time enjoying our hospitality.”
you glanced up at him, something about his choice of words sending a ripple of discomfort through you. there was something about the way he spoke, always so measured, so... calculated. it was as if every word was carefully chosen for some hidden purpose. you couldn’t help but wonder what he really meant by that.
your parents finished their meals before you and heeseung, having arrived earlier to start breakfast. as they wiped their hands and prepared to stand, sunoo appeared at the door. his arrival was quiet, almost too quiet, and you hadn’t noticed him until he stepped into the room. he was dressed just as impeccably as before, his tuxedo crisp and perfect, but there was something off about his overly cheerful demeanour.
“if you’d like,” sunoo began, his eyes bright and a bit too wide, “i’d be happy to give you a tour of the gardens while you wait for the car. they’re lovely this time of year.”
your mom’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “oh, that sounds wonderful! what do you think, dear?” she asked your dad, who nodded in agreement.
“sure, why not? it’ll be nice to stretch our legs a bit.”
you watched as your parents exchanged smiles with sunoo, who beckoned them toward the door with a dramatic sweep of his arm. but your heart sank as you realised what this meant—your parents were leaving, and you were about to be left alone with heeseung.
before you could even offer to join them, sunoo ushered them out of the dining hall with a smile. “we’ll take our time, don’t worry! you two enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”
the door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving you sitting at the grand dining table, the echo of their footsteps fading into the distance.
and then it was just you.
and heeseung.
the silence stretched between you like a chasm, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. you tried to focus on your food, but the air felt thicker now, charged with an unsettling energy that made it hard to swallow. you could feel his eyes on you, studying you again with that same, intense scrutiny that had left you uneasy from the moment you arrived.
you kept your gaze fixed on your plate, hoping that if you didn’t look at him, he might just lose interest. but you could still sense his presence, feel the way his attention never wavered.
“you’re not eating much,” heeseung remarked, breaking the silence, his voice smooth and deceptively casual. “is the food not to your liking?”
his tone was polite, but there was a subtle edge to it that made you feel like the wrong answer could mean something more than just criticism. you forced a small smile, shaking your head.
“no, it’s fine. i’m just not that hungry.”
heeseung leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. “you seem... uncomfortable,” he said softly, his words hanging in the air. “is something bothering you?”
your pulse quickened. the way he asked the question, so calm and controlled, made you feel like he already knew the answer. like he was testing you, waiting to see how you’d respond. you didn’t want to give him any more reason to focus on you than he already had.
“no,” you replied, your voice a little too quick. “it’s just... a lot to take in. this place is... different.”
heeseung’s lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “different can be good,” he said, his eyes glittering with something you couldn’t quite place. “sometimes it’s the unexpected that makes an experience truly memorable.”
you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the strange tension between you growing heavier by the second. there was something almost predatory in the way he watched you, like he was waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
“i suppose,” you muttered, pushing your food around your plate. “i guess i’m just not used to places like this.”
heeseung chuckled softly, the sound low and almost dangerous. “not many people are.”
another silence fell between you, thick and uncomfortable. you could hear the faint ticking of a distant clock, the only sound breaking the stillness of the room. you glanced toward the door, half-hoping sunoo and your parents would return sooner rather than later, but there was no sign of them.
heeseung’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his tone soft but insistent. “you didn’t seem very interested in the history of the mansion last night,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on you. “but if you’d like, i could tell you a little more about it now. it has... quite the past.”
your throat tightened at his words. part of you wanted to refuse, to keep the conversation as shallow and short as possible, but another part of you couldn’t help but be curious. what kind of history could a place like this have? why did it feel like there was something dark lurking beneath the surface?
you hesitated, your fingers gripping your fork a little too tightly. “sure,” you said quietly, against your better judgement. “i’d like to hear about it.”
heeseung’s smile widened, a slow, almost sinister curl to his lips as he leaned forward again, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous kind of interest.
“good,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “because there’s so much for you to learn.”
heeseung’s words seemed to echo in the cavernous dining hall, each syllable hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on your chest. you shifted in your seat, suddenly aware of how isolated you were from everyone else. your parents were somewhere outside, wandering the sprawling gardens with sunoo, oblivious to the tension brewing in this room. and you were here—alone with heeseung, who was studying you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.
he leaned back in his chair, a slow, deliberate movement, his eyes never leaving yours. “this mansion has a long history,” he began, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. “it’s been standing for centuries, long before this area became what it is now.”
you swallowed, trying to keep your unease from showing. “centuries? that’s... impressive.”
heeseung nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of his plate in a casual, almost absent-minded way. “impressive, yes. but also... haunted by its past.” his eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite place. “you see, many who come here find themselves drawn in by the allure of the unknown. they come seeking something different, something unique. and often, they find more than they bargained for.”
you felt a chill run down your spine. the way he spoke—so calm, so composed—made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. it was as if he was telling you a story he had told many times before, one with a punchline you wouldn’t like.
“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm. you didn’t want to seem rattled, even though you were starting to feel like the walls were closing in around you.
heeseung’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “let’s just say this mansion has a way of revealing things... about the people who stay here. things they may not even realise about themselves.”
your pulse quickened. “that sounds a little ominous.”
heeseung chuckled, the sound soft and unsettling. “it’s not meant to be. it’s just... the nature of this place. it has a way of bringing the truth to the surface. you’ll see, in time.”
you didn’t like the way he said that, as if you were going to be here long enough for the mansion to work its mysterious magic on you. you were only supposed to stay until the car was fixed, and then you and your family would be gone. the thought of staying here any longer than necessary made your stomach churn.
“i don’t think we’ll be here long enough for that,” you said, forcing a small smile.
heeseung’s eyes flashed with something—disappointment? amusement? it was hard to tell. “you never know,” he said quietly, his gaze intense. “sometimes, plans change.”
you glanced away, focusing on your barely touched plate. the food that had once looked so appealing now seemed like a burden, something you had no appetite for. you just wanted this conversation to end, to find your parents and get out of this place as soon as possible.
as if sensing your discomfort, heeseung leaned back again, his demeanour shifting ever so slightly. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, though there was a glint in his eyes that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. “it’s just that... guests here tend to stay longer than they anticipate. this place has a way of... captivating people.”
the word captivating sounded too much like trapping for your liking.
before you could respond, the door to the dining hall creaked open, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief as your parents entered, laughing and chatting with sunoo, who was still wearing his unsettlingly bright smile. their carefree demeanour was such a stark contrast to the tension you’d been feeling that it almost made you dizzy.
“sweetie, you should see the gardens!” your mom exclaimed as she approached the table, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease between you and heeseung. “they’re absolutely gorgeous. i’ve never seen anything like it.”
your dad nodded in agreement, beaming. “it’s like something out of a storybook.”
you forced a smile, trying to match their enthusiasm. “that’s great. i’m glad you had fun.”
sunoo’s eyes flicked to heeseung for a brief moment, something unspoken passing between them, and then he turned his bright gaze back to your family. “i’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to explore the rest of the estate before you leave.”
you stiffened at his words, catching the subtle implication. you weren’t leaving any time soon.
heeseung stood then, smoothing down the front of his suit, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat too long before he addressed your parents. “i’ve arranged for the mechanic to give me an update on the car shortly. in the meantime, please, make yourselves comfortable. feel free to explore the mansion further if you’d like.”
your parents seemed delighted by the prospect, but you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. you couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was trying to keep you here, that every step you took deeper into the mansion only tangled you further in its web.
heeseung’s gaze slid back to you, his smile as charming and unsettling as ever. “i’ll make sure everything is taken care of. don’t worry.”
but worry was all you could feel as your family began to follow sunoo out of the dining hall, leaving you to trail behind, your thoughts spinning. as you exited the room, you couldn’t help but glance back at heeseung, who stood by the door, watching you with that same piercing gaze.
there was something about the way he looked at you—something that made you feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.
and you weren’t sure if you could escape.
the afternoon dragged on in an unbearable haze of waiting. you, your parents, and heeseung sat in the grand living room, the heavy silence punctuated only by the occasional ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. outside, the sky had darkened, heavy clouds looming like a bad omen. the only thing on your mind was the car—where it was, how much longer it would take, and when you could finally leave this unsettling mansion behind.
your parents seemed more at ease, happily sipping tea that sunoo had prepared earlier, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease that rippled beneath the surface of every interaction with heeseung. you, on the other hand, were fidgeting, your leg bouncing nervously as you tried to avoid catching heeseung’s gaze. he had been watching you ever since you mentioned the car, his expression growing darker, his easy charm slipping.
“you seem quite eager to leave,” heeseung finally said, breaking the silence. his voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, something cold hidden beneath the surface.
you glanced up at him, forcing a tight smile. “well, we have to get to our resort, and we’ve already spent a lot of time here. i’d hate to miss out on more of the trip.”
heeseung’s lips twitched, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “you don’t like it here?”
there was something almost accusatory in his tone, and it made your skin prickle. you hesitated, not wanting to offend him but unable to shake the growing feeling of unease that seemed to cling to the walls of this place.
“it’s not that,” you said carefully, shifting in your seat. “it’s just that we had plans. you know, a family bonding trip. and... well, we’ve been here longer than we expected.”
heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable. “plans change,” he said softly, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. “sometimes, staying a little longer can be... beneficial.”
a cold shiver ran down your spine at his words. the way he said it felt off, as if there was something deeper he wasn’t saying, something he didn’t want you to understand just yet. you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and sunoo appeared, running into the room with a frantic expression.
“heeseung!” sunoo called out breathlessly, his usual cheery demeanour replaced with genuine concern. “there’s a storm! a really bad one. the roads are flooding, and the mechanic just called—he can’t bring the car back today.”
your heart sank at his words, and you shot a glance at your parents, who exchanged a look of resignation.
your father sighed, rubbing his temples. “well, i guess we’re not going anywhere today.”
your mother nodded in agreement, placing her teacup down with a little clink. “we’ll have to stay another night, then. there’s nothing we can do about it.”
you could hardly believe it. you were so close to leaving, so close to getting out of this place, and now a storm? it felt too convenient, too well-timed. you turned to heeseung, expecting some kind of reaction, and you weren’t disappointed. he was smiling again—but this time, it was different. it wasn’t the charming, polished smile he had worn before. this one was darker, more predatory. his eyes glinted with something that made your stomach twist.
“i suppose that settles it,” heeseung said smoothly, his voice like silk. “looks like you’ll be our guests for another night.”
his words sent a wave of discomfort rolling through you, and you felt your throat tighten. you looked away, staring out the window as the rain began to pour in heavy sheets, the dark sky flashing occasionally with streaks of lightning. the storm outside felt like a reflection of the storm brewing within you.
“i’m sure the car will be ready first thing tomorrow,” your father said, ever the optimist, though his voice carried a tinge of doubt.
sunoo nodded enthusiastically, stepping forward with his usual bright smile. “of course! we’ll make sure everything is perfect for you until then. don’t worry!”
you wanted to scream. how could no one else feel what you were feeling? how could your parents be so at ease when everything about this situation screamed danger? the mansion, the people, the timing of the storm—it all felt like a trap closing in around you.
heeseung’s eyes flicked toward you again, and you caught the smirk curling at the corner of his lips. he knew. he knew how unsettled you were, how desperately you wanted to leave, and he was relishing it.
“please, make yourselves comfortable,” heeseung said, his gaze locking onto you as he stood up from his seat. “we have plenty of time to enjoy the rest of your stay. after all, it’s not every day you get to experience a place like this.”
his words felt like a warning, a reminder that you were stuck here, and you had no choice but to play along with whatever game he was setting up. you forced a smile, feeling your pulse quicken.
“great,” you muttered under your breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. but heeseung did. his eyes flashed with amusement, and he gave you a slow, knowing smile that made your skin crawl.
“don’t worry,” he said in a voice so low only you could hear. “you’ll be safe here.”
the way he said it made you doubt every word.
that evening, the mansion’s eerie atmosphere feels heavier on your shoulders than ever. as the storm rages outside, you find yourself wandering through the darkened hallways, trying to shake off the strange feeling heeseung left you with earlier. something about his cryptic words keeps circling back in your mind, making it impossible to relax. you run your fingers along the old wooden bannister as you walk, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the too-quiet halls. but even that sound feels strange—the echoes don’t seem to bounce back to you the same way. it’s almost like they fade into the walls, swallowed by the house.
you pause as you notice a clock hanging on the wall ahead. the second hand ticks steadily, but when you glance at another clock just around the corner, you feel your skin prickle. the second hand on that clock is moving faster—much faster. you stand frozen, watching the two clocks run at different speeds, as if time itself is slipping out of sync.
the light overhead flickers, and you feel a chill run down your spine. the mansion is still as beautiful as it is unsettling, but tonight, it seems to be shifting in subtle ways. you walk further down the hallway, but something feels… wrong. the layout doesn’t seem quite right, as if the corridor you just passed should have been longer or led somewhere else entirely. you shake off the feeling, convincing yourself that it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you in this old, dimly lit place.
whispers.
you swear you hear them. at first, you think it might just be the wind rattling through the old windows, but the sound is too human—too hushed, like voices speaking just outside the range of your hearing. you spin around, expecting to find someone behind you, but there’s nothing. just shadows dancing along the walls, moving ever so slightly as the flickering light fights to keep them at bay.
your pulse quickens as you walk on, drawn down a side corridor you’re sure you haven’t been down before. the walls here are different—more elaborate, with heavy drapery and intricate mouldings. at the end of the hallway, you come to a door. something about it makes you pause. you reach for the brass doorknob, your fingers brushing against the cold metal, and a shiver runs through you.
when you open it, a wave of familiarity washes over you, hitting you like a forgotten memory. inside, the room is dimly lit, filled with old-fashioned furniture that feels like it belongs to a different era—plush chairs, wooden tables with detailed carvings, and an antique music box sitting on a dresser. the air smells faintly of dust and something sweet, like old perfume that’s been lingering for years.
your eyes fall on the music box. it’s small, delicate, with intricate designs etched into its surface. without thinking, you step forward and reach out, fingers brushing lightly against it. before you can even wind the mechanism, it begins playing on its own, the soft, haunting melody filling the room.
your breath catches in your throat as that eerie sense of déjà vu tightens its grip on you. the tune is familiar—so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve heard it before. it pulls at something deep within you, like a forgotten dream just out of reach. you’re transfixed, unable to pull away from the music, when suddenly, the door creaks behind you.
you whip around, and your heart skips a beat when you see heeseung standing in the doorway. his expression is unreadable, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that sends a shiver through you. he steps into the room, his presence filling the space, and the music stops abruptly, as if the mansion itself is responding to him.
“what are you doing here?” his voice is stern, not the smooth charm you’ve come to expect from him. there’s an edge to it that makes you take a step back.
“i—i was just looking around,” you stammer, feeling like a child caught snooping where they shouldn’t be. the weight of his gaze presses down on you as he moves closer.
“this is my study,” he says, his tone low and controlled, but you can hear the warning in his voice. “you’re not supposed to be in here.”
you feel a flush of embarrassment and unease wash over you. “i didn’t know… i just—”
“didn’t know?” heeseung cuts you off, raising an eyebrow as his eyes narrow. “or were you curious about what you’d find?”
the tension between you feels thick, almost suffocating. heeseung’s gaze is unwavering, as though he’s trying to read your every thought, his earlier charm replaced with something far more dangerous. you feel like you’ve crossed a line—one that you didn’t even know existed until now.
heeseung’s intense gaze softens slightly as he notices the way your face flushes with embarrassment. his lips part, as if he’s about to say something harsh, but then, as if catching himself, he lets out a sigh. the coldness in his eyes melts away, replaced by that familiar, smooth charm.
“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice lowering, smoothing over like silk. “why don’t i show you the library instead? i think you’ll find it... interesting.”
you hesitate, still rattled by the sharpness of his previous tone. something inside you whispers to be careful, to keep your distance. but the magnetic pull of heeseung’s presence is hard to resist, and despite your instincts, you find yourself nodding.
heeseung smiles faintly, though his expression remains unreadable. he gestures for you to follow him, and together, you walk down the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. the silence is unsettling, broken only by the soft shuffling of your footsteps against the creaky wooden floors. you can’t help but feel like the walls themselves are watching you, the weight of the mansion pressing in from all sides.
as you walk, you become aware of how time feels... off. the clocks you pass seem to tick irregularly, some faster, some slower, as though they belong to different realities entirely. the light filtering through the tall windows is dim, though it doesn’t seem like it’s evening yet. you glance back, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as if something—someone—is just out of sight.
you stumble over a loose tile, your thoughts breaking apart. with a yelp, you trip forward, bracing yourself for a fall. but before you hit the floor, strong hands catch you—heeseung, steadying you with effortless ease. his grip is firm but strangely gentle. you gasp, heart hammering in your chest as you realise how close he is.
“you should be more careful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of amusement playing at the edges of his voice.
“thanks,” you mutter, flustered as you quickly pull away from his touch. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you avoid his gaze as he releases you, his soft chuckle following you down the hall.
the library is massive, far larger than you anticipated. the shelves seem to stretch endlessly, filled with books of every size and colour, their spines gleaming under the warm light of chandeliers. the space feels grand and intimate all at once, the kind of place that would normally make you feel at ease, but here... something feels different.
heeseung watches you carefully, his dark eyes studying your every move. you glance at him for permission before running your fingers along the spines of the books, your curiosity getting the better of you. with a nod, he gives you his approval, and you can’t help but dart forward, eager to explore the room further.
you lose yourself in the rows of shelves, marvelling at the collection of novels, old tomes, and handwritten manuscripts that line the walls. the air smells of dust and aged paper, steeped in centuries of history. you glance over your shoulder, half expecting to see heeseung watching you, but he remains a respectful distance away, his gaze soft and almost fond as he follows your movements.
but something feels... off. as you drift deeper into the library, a strange sensation pulls at your mind, as if something is guiding you, drawing you toward a particular section. without thinking, you find yourself moving toward the back, where the older, dustier books are kept.
your fingertips brush across the spines of these ancient tomes, and an eerie sense of déjà vu washes over you. there’s something about this place—this corner of the library—that feels unsettlingly familiar, like you’ve been here before in another time. the hairs on your arms stand on end, and you shiver involuntarily.
just as your fingers graze the spine of a particularly worn book, you feel it—the presence behind you. heeseung.
you turn slowly to find him standing there, his expression unreadable, but there’s a dark intensity in his eyes that makes your breath catch. he takes a step toward you, and without realising it, you step back, your shoulders hitting the bookshelf behind you.
his eyes remain locked on yours, his proximity making it hard to think clearly. there’s no anger in his gaze now, just that familiar magnetic pull—like he’s trying to draw you closer, to see through you.
“you’re curious, aren’t you?” his voice is barely above a whisper, but it sends a shiver down your spine.
you swallow, trying to push back the fear creeping into your chest. “about what?”
“about this place. about me,” he replies, his tone smooth, almost teasing.
his eyes seem to darken as he takes another step forward, closing the distance between you. the heat of his body presses in on you, and you feel your pulse quicken as his fingers trail lightly along the bookshelf beside your head. heeseung’s smile sharpens, a predatory glint flashing in his gaze.
“curiosity can be dangerous,” he murmurs, his voice low and intoxicating. “you never know what you might uncover if you start digging too deep.”
his words hang in the air, a challenge laced with something far more sinister. your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the urge to escape and the overwhelming draw of his presence. you can feel his breath against your skin, his closeness making it hard to think, to breathe.
for a moment, neither of you speak. his gaze flickers to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you can sense the power he holds in this place—like he knows far more than he’s letting on. like he’s been waiting for you to find something... or for you to lose yourself completely.
you break the silence, your voice shaking slightly. “what do you want from me?”
heeseung smiles, though it’s a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “maybe the question is... what do you want from me?”
the uneasy chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it. "you’re being ridiculous," you say, forcing more confidence into your voice than you actually feel. you try to shake off the tension hanging between you, hoping to laugh this off like it’s some strange dream.
but heeseung’s expression doesn’t change. he merely raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into the barest hint of a smirk. "very well then," he murmurs, his voice calm and unbothered, as though he knows something you don’t.
for a moment, you’re not sure whether you’ve defused the situation or walked deeper into it, but heeseung steps away, the heavy tension between you seeming to dissipate with each step he takes toward the door. he gestures with a small bow. "i’ll leave you to your evening, then."
you nod quickly, not trusting your voice to say anything that won’t betray the swirl of confusion and unease knotting in your chest. with that, heeseung disappears into the corridor, leaving you alone in the vast library. the silence is thick, almost oppressive, as if the mansion itself is holding its breath.
when you finally leave the library, your mind is buzzing. the conversation with heeseung, though cryptic, has left you more rattled than ever. his words, the way he watched you—there’s something deeper here, something you’re only starting to scratch the surface of. but, for now, you decide to push it aside. you need to clear your head.
by the time dinner rolls around, you’re feeling on edge. your parents are already seated at the dining table, chatting quietly as you join them. the room is dimly lit, casting long shadows across the grand, empty space. it feels strange—eerily quiet without the other guests.
you glance around, frowning. “where’s heeseung? and the other guests?”
sunoo, who’s been silently setting the table, looks up at you with his usual cheery smile. "ah, i’m afraid the other guests have already had their meal earlier. heeseung sends his apologies—he’s been caught up in some... urgent business.”
it’s the same excuse they keep giving you, and each time it feels less believable. you open your mouth to press further, but before you can say anything, your mother cuts in with a light laugh. “honestly, you’re always so curious, darling. just let it go.”
her words sound playful, but there’s an odd edge to them, as if she’s brushing off your concerns without really thinking about them. you glance at your father, hoping for some support, but he just nods in agreement, distracted as he stirs his soup.
you bite your lip, trying to push down the growing frustration. why aren’t they worried? can’t they sense that something’s off here?
dinner passes in a strange blur, the silence at the table broken only by the clinking of silverware. sunoo continues to move about the room like nothing is wrong, but the more you watch him, the more something about him feels... rehearsed, like he’s going through the motions of being normal without actually feeling any of it.
after the meal, you head back to your room, feeling more unsettled than ever. your parents’ strange behaviour, the missing guests, heeseung’s cryptic words—it’s all starting to feel like pieces of a puzzle you can’t quite put together.
that night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. every creak of the floorboards, every faint whisper of the wind outside sends your nerves into overdrive. the mansion seems to come alive in the darkness, its walls groaning, floors shifting, as though it’s trying to speak to you—trying to tell you something.
you sit up, your heart pounding in your chest. there’s no way you’re getting any sleep tonight, not with this strange energy crackling around you. something is wrong with this place, and you need to figure it out.
quietly, you slip out of bed, careful not to make any noise as you tiptoe toward the door. the hallways are dimly lit, the chandeliers casting long, ghostly shadows against the walls. you pause for a moment, listening to the silence, and then make your way through the mansion, your footsteps soft on the old, creaky floors.
as you wander, something strange begins to happen. the air feels colder, heavier, and the walls seem to shift subtly, as though the layout of the mansion itself is changing. you turn down a corridor you don’t remember seeing before and find yourself in front of a door, slightly ajar, that you swear wasn’t there earlier.
your hand trembles as you push the door open.
inside, the room is dimly lit by a single flickering candle. it smells of dust and time, as though no one’s been here for years. but what catches your attention immediately are the photographs lining the walls—old, faded photographs in ornate frames. you step closer, squinting at the faces in the pictures.
your breath catches in your throat.
the people in these photos… they look like you. some of them even resemble your parents. the clothes are different, much older—decades, maybe centuries old—but the faces… it’s impossible. how could they look so familiar?
you take a step back, your heart racing. something about this room feels wrong, like you’ve stumbled onto something you weren’t meant to see.
your eyes scan the rest of the room, and that’s when you notice the guestbook sitting on an old wooden desk in the corner. you approach it cautiously, your fingers brushing over the brittle pages as you open it.
the names written inside are faded, barely legible from age. but as you turn the pages, one name catches your eye—your father’s name, written in the same elegant script as the others.
your heart pounds in your chest. you flip through more pages, and there’s your mother’s name, too. and then… your own.
but the dates next to the names don’t make any sense. they’re from decades ago, long before you were even born.
you slam the book shut, a chill running down your spine. this can’t be real. it doesn’t make sense.
before you can gather your thoughts, a soft creak echoes through the room. you whip around, your heart in your throat, and see a shadow flicker in the doorway.
it’s sunoo, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
“what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying an unsettling edge.
you freeze, unable to find the words to respond. sunoo steps further into the room, his ever-present smile feeling more like a mask than ever before.
“you shouldn’t be snooping around,” he says, his tone calm, almost soothing. “some things are better left alone.”
before you can say anything, sunoo’s eyes shift toward the guestbook in your hands. his smile falters for just a split second—barely noticeable, but enough to send a fresh wave of unease through you.
"i’ll take you back to your room,” he says, his voice steady again. “come on, it’s late.”
you don’t argue. you just nod,and follow him out of the room, feeling the weight of the mansion pressing down on you with every step.
the next morning, you wake up to the sound of heavy rain beating against the windows. groaning, you pull the covers over your head, hoping that maybe the storm has let up by now, but from the relentless sound, it’s clear that isn’t the case.
you make your way downstairs, hoping for better news, but your parents are sitting at the breakfast table, both looking completely at ease, as though the weather outside is no big deal.
“good morning, sweetheart!” your mom chirps, her voice unnaturally bright.
"morning," you mumble, taking a seat as you glance toward the large windows in the dining room. the sky is a swirling mess of dark clouds, rain pouring down so hard you can barely see the surrounding grounds.
“storm’s not going anywhere for the next few days,” your dad says casually, stirring his coffee. “looks like we’re stuck here for a bit longer.”
you frown, a wave of frustration bubbling inside you. "what about the resort? the plans we made?"
your mom exchanges a glance with your dad, then she turns to you with a serene smile. “you know, maybe this is a sign. the resort will still be there later, and this mansion… well, it’s kind of charming in its own way, isn’t it? why not just enjoy it?”
you stare at her, incredulous. "you want to stay here?"
“it’s vintage, classy, and we’re already settled in. it feels… perfect, in a way,” your mother continues, her voice light but with an unsettling certainty. “it’s like we were meant to be here.”
something about the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. you’ve been feeling like you weren’t supposed to be here at all—like you’ve stumbled into a trap you can’t escape. but looking at your parents’ relaxed faces, they clearly don’t share your unease.
you sigh, rubbing your temples. “fine. i guess we’re staying.”
it’s not like you have a choice anyway. the storm doesn’t seem like it’s stopping anytime soon, and the roads would be impossible to navigate in this weather.
you wander through the mansion’s winding hallways, the silence heavy and oppressive. no matter how grand or beautiful this place is, it feels like a cage—isolated, suffocating, filled with unseen eyes and secrets buried in every corner. the tension from this morning still clings to your thoughts like a dark cloud, refusing to let you find peace.
as you turn a corner, you nearly collide with sunoo, who’s balancing a tray of ingredients. his usual brightness doesn’t fade; instead, his eyes light up as he sees you. but there’s something in his smile—something mischievous, playful, and... unsettling.
"looking bored?" he asks with that trademark grin, though his eyes seem to flicker with something deeper. "want to bake something with me?"
you hesitate, feeling an odd sensation settle in your stomach. you haven’t exactly gotten close to sunoo since you arrived here. something about him always felt a little strange, as if he’s holding back, concealing his true self behind that playful mask. but the silence of the mansion is worse than the idea of baking with someone like him.
after a beat, you nod. "yeah, okay."
sunoo's grin widens, and he leads you into the mansion’s oversized kitchen, the high ceilings and gleaming countertops almost intimidating in their grandeur. you can’t help but feel like even this space is part of the house’s deception—too perfect, too polished.
“you’re in for a treat,” sunoo says, his voice slipping into a more casual tone as he sets the tray on the counter. “i make the best cookies you’ll ever taste.”
you don’t respond, already lost in your own thoughts, trying to distract yourself from everything that's happened. the tasks of measuring and mixing are a welcome escape. sunoo chatters on as he gathers ingredients, but you only half-listen, trying to ignore the prickle of unease creeping up your spine.
as you mix the batter, sunoo’s light-hearted teasing pulls you in despite yourself. his comments, although flippant, ease some of the tension you’ve been holding, and before you realise it, you’re laughing at one of his jokes. you sneak a bit of dough when he’s not looking, and it feels almost… normal.
but then sunoo catches you, playfully swatting your hand. "hey! no cheating!" he scolds with mock seriousness.
you let out a chuckle, taking the opportunity to swipe some flour onto his cheek. "oops."
sunoo gasps, clutching his chest in exaggerated shock. "oh, you’re going to pay for that."
before you can react, he smears flour across your nose. the playful gesture sends you both into fits of laughter, the tension of the mansion temporarily lifting. for a brief moment, the world outside this kitchen—its darkness and mysteries—feels far away. the warmth of sunoo’s laughter fills the room, and you can’t help but feel yourself relax in his presence.
but then something changes.
the playfulness lingers, but when sunoo’s hand grazes your arm, wiping away some flour from your cheek, the touch lingers a little longer than it should. his fingers brush your skin lightly, and suddenly, the laughter fades into a different kind of tension. his eyes meet yours, and for the briefest second, there’s something there—something unspoken, something... charged.
you swallow hard, unsure how to respond. the lighthearted moment has turned into something else entirely, and the air between you grows thick. sunoo’s grin remains, but his gaze—intense and a little too intimate—holds you captive for a moment longer than feels safe. you’re aware of his closeness, of how different this interaction feels compared to everything else between you.
and then, just as quickly, the moment is broken.
the sensation of being watched crawls back over your skin, sending a cold shiver down your spine. you freeze, the weight of a gaze pressing heavily on you, suffocating the playful atmosphere. slowly, you turn toward the doorway.
heeseung is standing there, leaning against the doorframe with an expression that makes your blood run cold. his eyes are locked on you, darker and more intense than you’ve ever seen them. the tension in the room shifts, and it’s no longer playful—it’s dangerous.
sunoo’s posture stiffens, but his smirk doesn’t falter. if anything, he seems to relish the moment. “oh, hey heeseung,” he drawls, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “we were just having a little fun. you don’t mind, do you?”
heeseung doesn’t respond right away, his gaze flicking from you to sunoo, then back to you. his eyes are sharp, a dark possessiveness brewing behind them. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. “i’m sure you’re keeping her... entertained.”
sunoo’s smirk widens as he steps a little closer to you, just enough to make the tension unbearable. “oh, absolutely. we make quite the team in here,” he says, his hand grazing your shoulder briefly in a gesture that feels too familiar, too intimate.
your heart races as you stand between them, caught in their unspoken battle. heeseung’s eyes darken further, his jaw clenched tightly as sunoo continues to play his game, his fingers brushing more flour off your cheek. the touch sends a jolt through you—not of comfort, but of confusion. why does this feel wrong? and why can’t you pull away?
heeseung’s calm facade cracks. he steps forward, his movements deliberate, as if every step brings him closer to an edge you can’t see. his voice, when he finally speaks, is smooth but holds a razor-sharp edge. “i think you’ve had enough fun for today.”
heeseung’s hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long, the touch possessive. sunoo’s playful demeanour falters slightly, but he steps back with a knowing look, eyes flicking between you and heeseung.
“i guess that’s my cue,” sunoo says with a sly wink, retreating from the kitchen. but before he leaves, his gaze lingers on you one last time, and in that moment, it feels like the game is far from over.
the moment sunoo is gone, the atmosphere shifts. heeseung’s hand lingers on your arm, his fingers ghosting over your skin as he pulls you closer, his gaze locking onto yours. his touch, once soft, now feels like a cage, holding you in place as his lips curl into a dark smile.
“you shouldn’t let him get so close to you,” heeseung says softly, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you with a dark intensity. “he doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”
your pulse quickens, and you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens. his eyes are soft, but the look in them is anything but. he’s watching you like you belong to him, and the thought sends another wave of fear crashing over you.
“i…” you don’t know what to say. you’re caught between the two of them, between the strange camaraderie they share and the way heeseung’s mood shifts on a knife’s edge.
heeseung leans closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, “you should only trust me. i’m the one who cares about you.”
the words send a chill through you, and yet… you can’t pull away.
heeseung’s hand remains on your arm, his touch gentle but firm as he leads you out of the kitchen. his earlier tension has shifted into something more deliberate, more focused, and you can’t shake the feeling that he’s leading you somewhere for a reason—one that you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face.
“there’s a better way to pass the time,” he murmurs, his voice low as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. there’s something unreadable in his gaze, a dark glimmer of emotion that both unnerves and draws you in.
you don’t respond, your mind still spinning from the earlier interaction with sunoo, from the way heeseung had claimed your attention so completely. now, as he leads you down another unfamiliar hallway, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking deeper into something—into the very heart of the mansion’s secrets.
eventually, you reach a door at the end of the corridor, and heeseung pushes it open with a soft creak. the room beyond takes your breath away.
it’s elegant, grand in a way that feels both timeless and dreamlike. a grand piano sits in the centre, its polished surface gleaming under the light streaming in from a gigantic window. the window offers a perfect view of the garden outside, which—despite the ongoing storm—seems eerily peaceful, the flowers swaying gently as though untouched by the chaos in the sky.
you step inside, your feet moving almost of their own accord. the air in here feels different, thick with something unnameable. as you look around, that familiar feeling of déjà vu washes over you again, stronger this time. you’ve been here before—or at least, it feels like you have.
heeseung watches you closely, his dark eyes following your every movement. there’s something in his gaze—something that flickers between hunger and sorrow, desperation and longing. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to remember something important, something crucial.
without a word, he sits down at the piano. his fingers brush lightly over the keys, and after a brief moment of silence, he begins to play.
the melody is soft at first, gentle and haunting, and yet… you know it. somehow, impossibly, you recognize the tune even though you’ve never heard it before. the notes seem to pull at something deep inside you, stirring emotions you can’t explain.
as heeseung plays, his gaze never leaves you. his eyes are dark, intense, filled with a pain that tugs at your heart. but behind that pain, there’s something else—something dangerous, something that feels like it’s pulling you toward him, binding you to him in ways you can’t understand.
the music swells, filling the room with a haunting beauty that leaves you breathless. your chest tightens, and before you realise what’s happening, you feel tears streaming down your face. your body moves on its own, your feet carrying you across the room toward heeseung.
you stop in front of him, your vision blurred with tears. gently, almost instinctively, you reach out and place your hand on his cheek. his skin is warm under your touch, and for a moment, he closes his eyes, leaning into your hand as if savouring the contact.
the final note of the melody lingers in the air, and heeseung’s fingers are still on the keys. the silence that follows feels thick, heavy with unspoken words and unasked questions.
you gasp, suddenly realising what you’re doing. you pull your hand away from his face, stepping back as if you’ve crossed an invisible line. your heart pounds in your chest, your mind swirling with confusion.
“i—i’m sorry,” you stammer, wiping at your tears. “i don’t know what came over me.”
heeseung opens his eyes slowly, and when he looks at you, there’s a sadness there so profound it makes your heart ache. he doesn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you as though waiting for you to understand something.
you take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “what is this place, heeseung? why… why does it feel like i’ve been here before?”
his expression darkens, his gaze growing distant as if he’s wrestling with something inside himself. for a moment, you think he’s going to deflect your questions like he always does, but then, to your surprise, he speaks.
“this mansion,” he begins, his voice low and almost resigned, “is not what it seems.”
your blood runs cold at his words, and you feel a chill creep up your spine.
“what do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
heeseung rises from the piano bench, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. there’s something predatory in the way he moves, but there’s also a deep sadness in his eyes, as though he’s weighed down by centuries of pain.
“this place…” he says quietly, glancing around the room. “it has a way of trapping those who stay too long. the walls, the halls—they shift, they change, and time here doesn’t flow the way it should.”
your mind races as you process his words. “trapping? how?”
heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, his expression unreadable. “the mansion is alive in its own way. it feeds off the presence of those who come here, twisting their reality until they can no longer leave.”
you take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. “are you saying… we’re trapped?”
heeseung’s jaw tightens, and he looks away, his hands clenched at his sides. “yes,” he says softly. “but you… you’re different.”
“different?” you echo, confusion swirling in your mind. “what do you mean?”
heeseung steps closer, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. “the mansion brought you here for a reason. it’s not a coincidence that you ended up at this place—it’s because of who you are.”
you shake your head, backing away from him. “what are you talking about?”
heeseung’s gaze is piercing, and his next words make your blood run cold.
“you’ve been here before,” he says, his voice low. “a long time ago.”
your heart skips a beat, and you feel a wave of nausea wash over you. “that’s impossible.”
heeseung takes another step forward, his eyes filled with desperation now. “it’s not impossible. you were here, in another time, in another life. and you were with me.”
the room feels like it’s spinning. your thoughts race as you try to make sense of his words, but nothing adds up. “you’re lying,” you whisper, but even as you say it, a part of you knows that he’s telling the truth.
“i’m not lying,” heeseung says, his voice filled with quiet sorrow. “we were together, bound to this place. and now… the mansion has brought you back to me.”
you shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “i don’t understand.”
heeseung’s expression softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable. “the mansion has a way of bringing people back, of trapping them in a cycle. i’m bound to this place, cursed to live here for eternity. and now that you’re here again…”
he doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air.
you take a shaky breath, your mind reeling. “you think… you think i’m supposed to share your fate?”
heeseung looks at you with a mix of desperation and longing. “i don’t know. but i do know that this place… it won’t let you leave easily.”
the weight of his words sinks in, and you feel a chill run through you. the mansion—the strange feeling of familiarity, the way time seemed to warp—it all suddenly makes sense. you were meant to be here, drawn back into heeseung’s orbit, bound by forces far beyond your control.
but even as you grapple with the reality of it, one question burns in your mind: what are you willing to do to escape? and more importantly, are you even sure you want to?
the air between you and heeseung feels heavy after his haunting confession, a truth that lingers like a cloud over your thoughts. your heart is racing, torn between fear and an inexplicable pull towards him. his words replay in your mind, looping with eerie familiarity: you’ve been here before. with me.
it doesn’t make sense, and yet somehow, in the deep recesses of your memory, it does.
heeseung’s dark eyes soften as he steps closer to you, his previous intensity fading into something almost fragile. you expect him to push further, to lock you into his twisted truth, but instead, his posture slackens as if he’s letting go of something—some control he’s been gripping too tightly. there’s a new softness in his gaze, and it catches you off guard.
“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just… this place, this mansion—it does things to people. to me.”
he reaches out, hesitant, as if afraid you might flinch away. but you don’t. you stand frozen, your mind still reeling. when his fingers brush against your arm, there’s a strange warmth to his touch, and you feel that pull again, that magnetic force that both terrifies and draws you to him.
"i've been trapped here for so long," he continues, his voice trembling just slightly. he sits down on the sofa by the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows on his face, highlighting the hollowness in his expression. “i don’t even know how much time has passed. decades? centuries? it all blurs together after a while.”
you remain standing, watching him closely. his earlier intensity—the predatory edge in his voice—seems to have dissolved, leaving behind someone who looks genuinely broken. his eyes drop to the floor, and for the first time since you arrived, he looks vulnerable, as though the weight of his endless existence is finally catching up to him.
“i didn’t ask for this,” heeseung says, his voice raw with emotion. “i didn’t ask to be bound here, to this place. i never wanted to be a prisoner.” he glances up at you, and in the dim light, you see something flickering in his gaze: pain, longing… regret.
your chest tightens. the mansion, the strange events, the unshakable feeling that you’ve been here before—it all swirls inside your head like a storm. but now, looking at him, sitting in front of you like this, you feel a pang of sympathy. maybe he isn’t the monster you thought he was. maybe he’s just as trapped as you are, desperate for a way out.
you find yourself stepping closer to him, your feet moving on their own. you sit down beside him, keeping a small distance, your body tense. for a long moment, neither of you speak. the only sound is the crackling of the fire, filling the room with warmth and an eerie sense of peace.
“i’m sorry,” heeseung whispers, his voice so soft it almost gets lost in the quiet. “for dragging you into this. you shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”
your heart clenches at the raw emotion in his words, and against your better judgement, you find yourself reaching out, your hand resting on his. he looks down at the contact, his eyes wide as if he didn’t expect your touch, and for a fleeting moment, he closes his eyes, savouring the warmth.
“it’s not your fault,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “none of this is your fault.”
heeseung’s eyes snap open, and he looks at you, truly looks at you, with a mix of shock and something else—something deeper. for a long time, neither of you speaks, but the silence between you feels heavy with unspoken words.
then, without warning, he lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “i don’t know why i’m telling you all of this,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “maybe because you’re the first person i’ve seen in so long… maybe because i’ve been alone for too long.”
the sadness in his voice tugs at your heart. you can’t help but imagine what it must be like—to be stuck in this place for eternity, unable to leave, watching the world move on without you. the thought sends a chill down your spine.
“i don’t want you to be alone anymore,” you say, the words escaping your lips before you can stop them.
heeseung’s gaze snaps to yours, his eyes wide with surprise. for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the weight of your words hanging in the air. then, slowly, he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your arm, the touch light and hesitant, as though he’s afraid of pushing you away.
“you don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “if you stay… you’ll be trapped, just like me.”
the reality of his words hits you like a wave of cold water, but even as you register the danger, you can’t seem to pull away from him. there’s something about heeseung that draws you in, something that makes you want to help him, even if it means risking yourself.
“i’m not afraid,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know why, but i feel like… like i know you. like we’ve been through this before.”
heeseung’s breath catches, and for a moment, he looks at you with such intensity that it takes your breath away. then, without a word, he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as though he’s afraid you might slip away.
“i wish it could be different,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet desperation. “i wish i could let you go, but… i can’t.”
the next few days pass in a blur of quiet moments shared between you and heeseung. there’s an unspoken understanding that neither of you fully addresses—the haunting truth of the mansion and its curse—but in these days, heeseung’s vulnerability and warmth seem genuine. the dark edges of his earlier intensity have softened, leaving you with the version of him that feels...safe.
each evening, the two of you sit together by the grand fireplace in the main hall, the warmth of the flames casting a golden glow over heeseung’s features. the way he speaks to you during these moments is intimate, his voice low and soothing. he shares bits and pieces of his past—not the dark, twisted parts, but memories of beauty and light.
one night, you find yourselves sitting across from one another at a small, round table, a cosy dinner spread out between you. the fire crackles beside you, filling the room with warmth. heeseung had insisted on preparing the meal, and though you’d never seen him cook before, the food is surprisingly delicious. it’s simple, nothing extravagant, but there’s something deeply comforting about the whole scene.
heeseung pours you a glass of wine, the red liquid glistening in the candlelight. he smiles gently as he hands it to you, and for the first time since you arrived, the tension between you feels like it’s beginning to ease.
“it feels normal, doesn’t it?” he asks quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place—hope, maybe. “like we could be anyone, anywhere. like none of this…” he gestures vaguely to the mansion around you, “…exists.”
you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness before you nod. “it does,” you agree softly. “for the first time since i got here, it feels… peaceful.”
heeseung’s gaze lingers on you, and when he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted. a moment of peace.”
the words hang in the air between you, and you can’t help but feel the weight of them. heeseung’s life—if you can even call it that—has been one long stretch of isolation and pain. and now, here he is, seeking solace in the small moments he can share with you. your heart aches for him.
“you’ve been alone for so long,” you murmur, placing your hand on top of his. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and for a moment, heeseung’s eyes flicker with something deep, something raw.
“i’ve had to be,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d become if i let myself feel anything. if i let myself believe that things could ever be different.”
he looks away, staring into the fire as if searching for answers in the flames. “but with you… it feels different. like there’s a chance for something better.”
your chest tightens at his words. there’s a sincerity in his voice that you can’t deny, a vulnerability that makes you want to believe him. you’ve seen the darkness in heeseung, felt the weight of his mysterious past, but now… now you see the man beneath it all. the man who’s been trapped, longing for freedom, for connection.
“i want to help you, heeseung,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know how, but… i want to try.”
heeseung turns back to you, his eyes shining with something akin to hope. he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles. the gesture is tender, intimate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
“you’ve already done more for me than you know,” he whispers. his gaze locks with yours, and in that moment, it feels like the rest of the world falls away. there’s only you and him, caught in this strange, timeless place.
the next morning, heeseung takes you on a walk through the mansion’s garden. the day is overcast, the sky a soft blanket of grey, but the air is warm, filled with the scent of the blooming flowers that line the winding paths. it’s quiet out here, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the chirp of a bird hidden somewhere in the overgrown hedges.
heeseung leads you toward the edge of the garden, where a large, ancient tree stands tall and proud, its branches stretching out like arms welcoming you. the bark is weathered, covered in thick moss, and there’s a certain energy that emanates from it, something both powerful and deeply familiar.
“this tree,” heeseung begins softly, running his hand over the rough bark, “has been here longer than the mansion itself. some say it’s the heart of this place, that it holds the memories of all those who’ve lived here.”
you step closer, staring up at the gnarled branches twisting above you. there’s something haunting about the tree, something that feels almost… alive.
“it’s strange,” you murmur, “but i feel like i know this tree. like i’ve stood here before.”
heeseung turns to you, his gaze filled with a deep intensity. “that’s because you have.”
your breath catches at his words, and you glance up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “what do you mean?”
heeseung steps closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “there are pieces of you that remember this place,” he says quietly. “just like there are pieces of me that have never forgotten you.”
his words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a strange pull toward him once again, a sense that the two of you are bound together by something far greater than just this moment.
“do you ever wonder,” heeseung asks, his voice barely above a whisper, “why this place feels like home?”
your mind races, trying to process the weight of his question. you don’t know how to answer, because the truth is, you’ve been wondering that since the moment you arrived. and now, with heeseung standing beside you, the mansion looming behind you, and the ancient tree towering above you, the feeling is stronger than ever.
“maybe,” you whisper, “it’s because it is.”
heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, it feels like time itself stops. there’s a deep, unspoken understanding between you—a sense that, no matter how much you try to fight it, your fates are intertwined.
but as the days pass, those sweet moments with heeseung—the cosy dinners by the fire, the walks through the garden, the soft, lingering touches—begin to feel like something more. they feel like a promise. like he’s slowly binding you to this place, to him.
and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe that’s exactly what he wants.
the following morning is quieter than usual, with heeseung nowhere to be found. you drift through the halls of the mansion, feeling a strange mix of restlessness and curiosity, until you find yourself in the kitchen. the smell of something sweet wafts through the air, and when you step inside, you see sunoo standing by the counter, mixing a bowl of dough with effortless grace.
he looks up as you enter, a bright smile spreading across his face. “good morning!” he chirps, his voice as light and cheerful as always. “i thought we could bake something today. you seemed to enjoy the cookies i made last time.”
you hesitate in the doorway, unsure why your chest tightens a little at his easy demeanour. sunoo has always been polite and warm, a calming presence in the otherwise eerie mansion, but lately, something about him has started to feel... off. his constant cheerfulness, his perfect hospitality—it all seems too deliberate, too practised.
still, you find yourself drawn to the idea of something normal, something grounded in the here and now. so you nod, stepping into the kitchen to join him.
“what are we making?” you ask, moving to stand beside him at the counter.
sunoo beams. “heeseung loves cinnamon rolls,” he says with a knowing glint in his eye. “i thought we’d make a batch for him.”
you feel a flutter in your chest at the mention of heeseung. you’ve spent so much time with him lately that it’s hard not to think about him constantly.
“how long have you been here, sunoo?” you ask after a moment, trying to sound casual. you’ve never really asked before—never thought to, really—but now that you’ve started thinking about it, the question gnaws at you.
sunoo’s smile tightens just a fraction, his hands stilling for a moment before he continues kneading. “longer than i can remember,” he says with a light laugh. “time is strange here. you lose track after a while.”
his words send a shiver down your spine. you’ve heard heeseung talk about the mansion warping time, but to hear sunoo echo the same sentiment makes it feel even more real. and the way he brushes off the question only adds to the growing sense of unease.
you try to shake the feeling, focusing instead on helping him roll out the dough. the kitchen feels warm and cosy, a stark contrast to the unsettling thoughts swirling in your mind. sunoo hums softly as he works, his movements fluid and graceful.
but then, just as you’re starting to relax again, sunoo speaks, his voice soft but laced with something... knowing.
“cinnamon rolls were always your favourite, too.”
you freeze, your hand hovering over the tray of dough. his words sink in slowly, like a cold drop of water trickling down your spine.
“what did you just say?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
sunoo looks up at you, blinking in confusion as if he doesn’t quite understand the gravity of what he’s just said. “i said cinnamon rolls were always your favourite,” he repeats, his tone casual but his eyes flickering with something deeper.
you stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “how would you know that?”
for the first time since you’ve met him, sunoo seems caught off guard. his usually calm, cheerful demeanour falters, and he fumbles with his words. “i-i mean, heeseung mentioned it once,” he says quickly, his smile strained. “you must’ve said something about it, right?”
but you know you didn’t. you’ve never mentioned cinnamon rolls or anything about your preferences to either of them. you would remember if you had. and the way sunoo’s face pales slightly, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes—none of it feels right.
“sunoo,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “how do you really know that?”
he straightens up, the playful light in his eyes dimming. for a brief moment, you see something else in him—something darker, something far more calculated than the friendly host you’ve come to know. he looks at you as though measuring his next move, deciding how much to say.
“i—” sunoo stammers, then forces a bright smile again, though it no longer seems genuine. “you know how heeseung and i have lived here for so long. it just... slipped out. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
he’s deflecting. you can see it in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way his hands fidget nervously at his sides. the confidence that usually defines him is gone, replaced by something much more guarded.
you narrow your eyes, stepping closer to him. “that’s not it, sunoo. you know more than you’re telling me.”
for a moment, sunoo’s cheerful facade cracks completely. his eyes meet yours, and the playfulness drains from his expression. what’s left behind is cold, calculating, and far too knowing for comfort.
“you don’t want to ask questions you aren’t ready to hear the answers to,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a strange weight that sends another shiver down your spine.
before you can respond, he turns away, resuming his work on the cinnamon rolls as though the conversation never happened. the air between you feels thick with unspoken truths, and your mind races with questions you don’t know how to voice.
how does sunoo know things about you that you’ve never shared? and why does it feel like he’s hiding something—something big, something dangerous?
as the silence stretches on, your unease only grows. the cosy warmth of the kitchen now feels suffocating, and every glance sunoo throws your way feels like a veiled warning. you try to focus on the task at hand, but your thoughts keep spiralling, circling back to the same unsettling conclusion:
there’s something very wrong here.
later that evening, as you sit with heeseung by the fire once again, you can’t stop thinking about what sunoo said. you want to ask heeseung, to get some kind of explanation, but you don’t know how to bring it up without sounding paranoid. every time you try to voice your thoughts, the words get caught in your throat.
heeseung notices your distraction, of course. he always does. his dark eyes flicker with concern as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.
“are you alright?” he asks softly, his voice filled with that familiar warmth that always seems to melt your defences.
you force a smile, though it feels brittle. “i’m fine,” you lie, your heart racing.
but as heeseung leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, you can’t shake the feeling that everything is slipping out of your control. the mansion, sunoo, heeseung—it’s all starting to unravel, and you’re not sure if you’re prepared for what you’ll find once the proper truth comes to light.
the storm that had raged outside the mansion for what felt like days finally breaks, leaving the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the last drops of rain dripping off the eaves. the sky is clear now, a pale blue that feels far too serene after the eerie chaos of the past few days. you should be relieved, ready to leave this strange place and return to the life you know, but there’s a tension clinging to you that refuses to dissipate.
your parents, already packing up in their room, seem eager to get back on the road. they’ve been talking about the upcoming week—about how you need to prepare for your university exchange program and the final stretch of family time before you go. you should feel the same urgency, the same excitement to return to normalcy, but something keeps you rooted in place, lingering in the mansion’s dim corridors.
and then there’s heeseung.
he’s been quieter than usual since the storm ended, his smiles fewer and his demeanour darker, but every time you try to bring it up, he brushes it off. it’s like he’s biding his time, waiting for the right moment to say whatever’s been brewing behind his careful mask.
that moment comes after dinner, when your parents step outside to check on the car. you find yourself alone with heeseung in his room, the fire casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. the atmosphere is heavy, thick with unspoken words. you glance at him, and something in his expression—a tightness around his eyes, a tension in his jaw—makes your pulse quicken.
“heeseung…” you begin, your voice tentative. “we’re leaving soon. i have to get back in time for the program.”
at your words, something shifts in him, subtle but palpable. his dark eyes lock onto yours, and the pleasant facade he’s been wearing all this time cracks, just slightly. the smile that curls his lips doesn’t reach his eyes.
“you’re really going to leave me?” his voice is soft, almost too soft, and yet there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach churn.
you take a step towards him, trying to explain. “i have to go. the program—it’s important, and i can’t just stay here.”
heeseung’s expression darkens, and he takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you. “what’s more important? some exchange program or me?”
the question catches you off guard. his voice is low, laced with something that sounds like hurt, but there’s a simmering anger beneath it that makes you nervous.
“i… it’s not like that,” you stammer, trying to find the right words. “i’ve worked so hard for this, heeseung. it’s a big opportunity. you understand, don’t you?”
but he’s not listening. heeseung’s jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow as he steps closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “no, i don’t understand,” he snaps, his voice rising with barely contained fury. “you can’t just leave! after everything we’ve been through—after everything i’ve done for you—you’re just going to walk away?”
your heart pounds in your chest as his words hit you like a physical blow. there’s something wild in his gaze now, something unhinged. heeseung reaches out, grabbing your arm, and his grip is too tight, his fingers digging into your skin.
“you’re not going,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, the fury in his tone barely masked. “you can’t.”
the room feels like it’s closing in on you, the fire’s warmth suddenly stifling. you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens, his fingers digging deeper into your arm. his face contorts with an emotion you can’t fully name—something between rage and desperation.
“heeseung, you’re hurting me,” you manage to say, your voice shaky as you try to free yourself from his grasp.
at your words, his expression shifts again—this time to something that almost looks like regret, but it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by that same desperate intensity. he loosens his grip, but he doesn’t let go. instead, he pulls you closer, his other hand coming up to cup the side of your face.
“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, but there’s still an unsettling edge to it. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just… i can’t lose you.”
his face is inches from yours, and there’s something predatory in the way he looks at you now. before you can react, he leans in, his lips crashing against yours with a force that makes you stumble back. the kiss is rough, possessive, not at all like the tender moments you’ve shared before. it’s as if he’s trying to claim you, to make you stay through sheer force of will.
you try to push him away, but he’s too strong, his hands holding you in place. panic flares in your chest, but just as quickly as the kiss began, he pulls back, his face contorted with a mixture of fury and something akin to pleading.
“don’t go,” he whispers, his voice trembling now, and you can see tears welling up in his eyes. “please… don’t leave me.”
the sudden shift is dizzying. one moment, he was angry—furious, even—and now he’s begging, his voice raw with emotion. heeseung’s hands slide from your face to your shoulders, his fingers trembling as he holds onto you as if you’re his only lifeline.
“i’ve been trapped here for so long,” he says, his voice breaking. “you’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in… i don’t even know how long. i can’t bear the thought of being alone again. not after everything we’ve shared.”
you feel a pang of guilt at the sight of him like this—vulnerable, broken. his eyes are filled with so much pain, so much longing, that it tugs at something deep inside you. despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, a part of you feels drawn to him, feels the weight of his desperation, his need for you.
“i don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “but i can’t let you leave. i can’t let you forget about me.”
his words send a chill through you, but they also stir something else—something darker, something that makes you question your own resolve. can you really leave him here, alone, after everything?
“heeseung,” you begin, your voice shaky, “i don’t want to hurt you either, but i have to go back. my life… i can’t just abandon it.”
his expression hardens for a moment, and for a terrifying second, you think his anger will return, but instead, he collapses against you, resting his forehead on your shoulder. his body trembles, and you feel the wetness of his tears soaking into your shirt.
“stay with me,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “please… i need you.”
the weight of his words crashes down on you, and you feel your resolve slipping. heeseung’s vulnerability, his desperation—it’s overwhelming. you can’t deny the pull you feel toward him, the way your heart aches at the thought of leaving him behind.
maybe it’s the mansion, with its strange, unearthly hold on you, or maybe it’s heeseung himself—the way he’s embedded himself into your heart, into your very being. either way, the thought of leaving him feels unbearable.
slowly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him as he clings to you. “i’ll stay… for now,” you whisper, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them.
heeseung pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mix of hope and relief. “you will?”
you nod, even as your heart twists with doubt. “just for a little longer.”
the smile that spreads across his face is soft, almost tender, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something darker, something that sends a shiver down your spine.
but for now, you push it aside. you’ll deal with the consequences of your decision later. right now, you just want to believe that you’re doing the right thing, that staying with heeseung is what’s best.
even if, deep down, you know it might be the worst mistake you’ve ever made.
the room is bathed in the soft, flickering light of candles, their flames casting shadows that dance along the walls. the air is thick with the scent of something floral, a heady mix of desire and tension swirling around you as heeseung’s lips trail down your neck, sending shivers through your body. his touch is gentle, worshipping, as if he’s afraid you might disappear at any moment.
it feels almost too perfect—like a dream you’re not quite sure you want to wake up from. his hands are on your skin, warm and possessive, and despite everything, despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you feel yourself giving in. his breath is hot against your collarbone, and your body responds to him, melting into his every touch.
heeseung presses you down onto the soft bed, his movements slow and deliberate. there's an intensity in his gaze, a hunger that’s been simmering under the surface ever since you arrived. his eyes never leave yours, and in the flickering light, there’s something primal in the way he looks at you—something that makes your pulse quicken with both anticipation and a strange sense of foreboding.
“i’ve waited so long for this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as his fingers trace the curve of your waist, his lips hovering just above yours. “you have no idea how long…”
his words make your heart stutter, but you push the uneasy feeling aside. this moment feels too intimate, too charged to ruin with questions. you close your eyes as he leans in, kissing you deeply, and for a moment, all your doubts dissolve in the heat of the moment.
heeseung’s hands move with purpose, his touch both tender and possessive, and soon you find yourself swept away by the passion between you. it feels like time has stopped, like the mansion itself has paused its strange, shifting nature to let you have this moment together. his body presses against yours, and the world outside the room seems to blur into nothingness.
as the intensity builds, heeseung’s breath grows heavier, and so does the atmosphere around you. his whispered words become more erratic, laced with a strange urgency. he murmurs your name like a prayer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in low, fervent tones. you try to hold on to the heat between you, to the passion, but there’s something unsettling underneath it all. something you can’t quite put your finger on. the way he touches you—so familiar, like he’s done this before. like you’ve done this before.
as the moment deepens, you’re both lost in each other, but then, somewhere between the whispers and the heat of his skin against yours, heeseung says something that makes your heart stutter.
“you know he was never good enough for you.”
his words are laced with a bitterness that cuts through the intimacy like a knife. your body tenses beneath him, but you don’t fully register the meaning of his words right away. who is he talking about? the thought flashes through your mind, but it’s quickly drowned out by the sensation of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.
still, the words echo, growing louder with each passing second. he? who is he talking about?
your mind begins to wander, to places you’ve been trying to avoid. somewhere deep inside, there’s a flicker of recognition. the inkling of a past lover, a shadowy figure whose face you can’t quite remember but whose presence lingers in your mind. it’s as though there’s something—or someone—you’ve forgotten, buried beneath layers of a life you no longer recall.
heeseung’s lips press against your skin again, pulling you back into the moment, but the unease has already taken root. you can’t shake the feeling that something is off. his words—he was never good enough for you—ring in your ears. but who? who could he mean?
you try to push it away, to focus on the present, but there’s a strange shift in the atmosphere now. the way heeseung touches you, the way his voice wraps around your name—it feels less like adoration and more like possession. and the way he said he—the bitterness, the jealousy—it felt too personal, too pointed.
you close your eyes, trying to lose yourself in the heat of his body, but the unease grows, knotting in your chest. you can’t stop thinking about what he said, about who he might be referring to. you don’t remember anyone else—at least, not fully. yet there’s this nagging feeling, like you’re forgetting something important. or someone.
heeseung seems oblivious to your growing discomfort. his hands roam over you with a kind of desperation now, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid to let go. there’s a possessive edge to the way he holds you, a subtle shift in the dynamic that makes your heart race for reasons that have nothing to do with passion.
“you’ve always been mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “from the beginning.”
the words send a chill through you. from the beginning. it’s a simple phrase, but something about the way he says it—like he’s claiming you, like he’s rewriting your past—makes you uneasy. you don’t know why, but those words feel loaded, like they mean more than he’s letting on.
and then, as he kisses you again, his voice drops to a whisper, soft but chilling: “even before… before him.”
your body goes rigid. there it is again—him. the mystery lover you can’t remember. the one who, according to heeseung, wasn’t good enough for you. the one who existed before heeseung.
your heart pounds in your chest as your mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of memories you don’t have. who is he? and why does heeseung sound so bitter, so possessive, when he talks about him?
you don’t ask the questions that are burning inside you. not yet. you’re not sure you’re ready to hear the answers. instead, you let heeseung pull you closer, let him kiss you with that same intensity, but the warmth between you has shifted. there’s something darker in the air now, something unsettling, and no matter how much you try to ignore it, the words before him continue to echo in your mind.
later, when the passion has faded and the room has fallen into silence, you lie beside heeseung, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. heeseung’s arm is draped over your waist, his breathing slow and even as if he’s already drifted off into a peaceful sleep. but you can’t rest. not with the weight of his words hanging over you.
he was never good enough for you.
as you lie there, wrapped in heeseung’s arms, the reality of your situation starts to sink in. the mansion, the strange familiarity, the way heeseung acts as though he’s known you forever—it all feels too real, too deliberate. you want to believe that what you have with him is real, but there’s a part of you, buried deep inside, that knows something isn’t right.
something is missing. something from your past, something—or someone—that heeseung isn’t telling you about.
and the scariest part? you’re not sure if you want to remember.
the air feels heavy, pressing down on you as you toss and turn in the unfamiliar bed, your mind restless even in sleep. the warmth of heeseung’s presence lingers, but something inside you feels unsettled—his words still echoing in your mind, he was never good enough for you. a cold shiver runs down your spine as you drift deeper into unconsciousness, slipping into the kind of dream that feels far too real.
the room is dark, but something’s wrong—everything feels… different. you sit up slowly, eyes scanning the space. the door that led to the hallway earlier now opens to somewhere else entirely, revealing a long corridor that seems to stretch into nothingness. the walls seem to shift, pulsating like they’re alive, and the low hum of eerie whispers fills the air.
your heart pounds as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. the floor beneath your feet feels colder than it should, like ice seeping through the soles of your skin. your instincts scream at you to stay where you are, but something compels you to move, to explore. you walk toward the mirror on the wall, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
but when you look into it, the reflection staring back at you isn’t your own—or at least, not how you recognize yourself. the figure in the mirror is wearing clothes from another time—a long, flowing dress, intricate lace details that seem ancient, out of place in this modern world. you can’t breathe. the woman in the reflection is you, but not you. she looks like you… but she belongs to another life.
a flicker of movement in the mirror catches your attention, and you turn to see heeseung standing in the doorway, his figure bathed in shadows. but this isn’t the heeseung you’ve come to know. the softness in his expression is gone, replaced with something darker, more sinister. his face is cold, almost expressionless, but his eyes—his eyes gleam with something sharp, dangerous.
“you’re here,” he says, his voice deeper than usual, lacking the warmth you’ve grown used to. he steps into the room, and the air seems to thicken around you. “i was hoping you’d remember sooner.”
“remember?” you whisper, confusion and fear swirling in your chest. “what are you talking about?”
heeseung’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “this place, us… none of it is a coincidence. you think you were just passing through? that the mansion drew you in by some strange force?” he laughs, a low, humourless sound that sends chills down your spine. “i brought you here.”
you take a step back, your mind reeling. “what… what do you mean?”
heeseung tilts his head, studying you like you’re a puzzle he’s waiting for you to solve. “this mansion, this cursed place—it’s ours. we built it together. we ran this hotel together. don’t you remember? you and i… we were supposed to live here, forever. but you chose him.”
a cold weight settles in your stomach. flashes of images invade your mind—distant memories you don’t understand, flickering in and out of focus. heeseung standing beside you, both of you smiling. the mansion was alive back then too, bustling with guests, full of life. but something feels wrong, distorted.
you suddenly feel like you’re suffocating, trapped under the weight of something you’re not sure you want to remember. the walls seem to shift again, the whispers growing louder, more insistent. bloodstains appear on the floor beneath you, as though seeping up from the wood itself.
heeseung’s voice pulls you back. “i loved you,” he says softly, stepping closer. his words should feel comforting, but they don’t. there’s a hunger in them, a possessive edge that makes your skin crawl. “but you were going to marry him… sim jake. you never gave me a chance.”
your heart skips a beat. jake. the name pulls at something deep within you, something you’ve been trying to ignore. memories you can’t quite grasp swirl at the edges of your consciousness, threatening to break free. you shake your head, unable to speak, your throat tight.
“i watched you with him,” heeseung continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “watched as you planned a future that didn’t include me. but i couldn’t let it happen. i couldn’t let him take you away.”
the bloodstains grow darker, spreading across the floor. you take another step back, your breath quickening.
and then it hits you—a flash of memory, so vivid it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. you’re standing in the grand foyer of the mansion, dressed in that same lace gown from the mirror. jake is beside you, holding your hand, and you’re smiling up at him, heart full of love and excitement for the life you’re about to start together.
but then heeseung appears, his expression twisted in anger, betrayal simmering beneath the surface. and beside him is sunoo, his usually cheerful face cold and calculating. you see the way they look at jake, the silent exchange between them. before you can even process what’s happening, sunoo moves like lightning—his hand coming down in a flash of steel.
blood.
you gasp, your body trembling as you relive the moment. jake’s body crumpling to the ground, lifeless. your scream echoing through the halls, terror and grief crashing into you like a tidal wave.
in the dream—or is it a memory?—you turn, locking eyes with heeseung. you see it in his face, the mix of guilt and satisfaction. he’s done it. he’s made sure jake will never have you. but you… you’re not supposed to be there. you weren’t supposed to see it.
heeseung’s lips part as if to speak, but before he can, sunoo moves again. you don’t feel the blade; you just see your own blood spilling onto the floor, mixing with jake’s. heeseung’s yell is heard in the background and then… darkness.
the memory snaps you back to the present with a force that makes you stumble, your hands clutching the edge of the bed as you struggle to breathe. your heart is pounding in your ears, and your vision blurs with tears as the reality of it all sinks in.
you stare at him, your mind reeling. “sunoo killed me…” the words barely escape your lips, your voice trembling. “you… you both… killed us.”
heeseung’s expression hardens. “it was never supposed to end like that. but sunoo—he was afraid. afraid you’d ruin everything. so he—”
“he killed me,” you repeat, the weight of the revelation crashing down on you. “because of you.”
“because i loved you,” heeseung snaps, his voice sharp, eyes blazing with fury. “because i couldn’t stand the thought of you being with him. you were supposed to be mine!”
the room begins to shift, the walls closing in around you, the whispers rising to a deafening roar. you see it all now—how the mansion is tied to you, how it’s always been tied to you. it’s not just a place; it’s a prison. a prison where heeseung, sunoo, and you have been trapped for eternity, bound by the violence and betrayal that happened within its walls.
and heeseung… he’s not the victim he claimed to be. he’s the one who set all of this into motion, the mastermind behind the lies, the manipulation. he brought you back here, trapped you in this cycle, because he refuses to let go. he refuses to let you go.
“you can’t leave,” he whispers, stepping closer, his voice soft but laced with something sinister. “not now. not ever.”
your body trembles, fear twisting in your gut. the mansion—the distorted laughter, the bloodstains that won’t fade, the sensation of being watched—it’s all his doing. all part of his twisted game to keep you here, with him, forever.
but now, you remember. and you know the truth.
you wake up suddenly, your breath catching in your throat. the room is filled with the steady sound of heeseung’s breathing, soft and rhythmic as he sleeps beside you, his arms still wrapped around you protectively. but there’s no peace in it for you. your heart races, your mind tangled in a web of fear and confusion after what you just experienced. the images of the dream—or was it a memory?—flash through your mind. heeseung and sunoo killing jake. your own death. the truth about the mansion. it all feels too real, too vivid.
you glance at heeseung's sleeping form. his face is peaceful, innocent even, as if none of the horrors you've just seen could possibly be tied to him. but you know better now. his charm, his warmth, it’s all a mask—a cruel lie.
carefully, you slide out of bed, every movement deliberate, trying not to make a sound. you hold your breath as you tiptoe across the floor, your hands trembling. you don’t dare look back at him, too terrified that he might wake up and catch you. you know that if you stay here any longer, you’ll be trapped forever, just like in your dream. or worse—your nightmare.
you slip out of the room, heart pounding in your ears as you make your way down the dark hallway toward your parents' room. the walls seem to loom larger in the dim light, shadows flickering at the edges of your vision. the mansion feels like it’s alive, watching your every step, waiting for you to fail.
when you reach their door, you knock softly, trying not to panic. “mom, dad,” you whisper urgently. “we need to leave. please, wake up.”
after a moment, your mother opens the door, her face groggy with sleep. "what's going on?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.
"we need to leave," you repeat, your voice shaking. "something's wrong with this place. please, trust me. we have to go now."
your father stirs awake as well, frowning. "leave? in the middle of the night? what's gotten into you?"
"please," you beg, "i can't explain it right now, but we have to go. meet me outside, okay? just pack your things and meet me at the gates."
they exchange concerned glances but for once, sensing the urgency in your voice, they nod and begin to gather their things. relief washes over you for a brief moment as you make your way down the stairs, moving swiftly toward the mansion’s grand entrance. you're almost there, just a few more steps.
but as you reach the towering iron gates, you’re suddenly pulled back and pinned against the wall. you’re not surprised to see heeseung looming above you, with the most furious look you’ve ever seen on him.
“where do you think you’re going, my love?”, he spits out venomously.
you try to push him away, but to no avail he just grabs both your wrists, pinning them to your chest.
“you lied to me about all of this”, you look at him with betrayal, “you’re nothing but a manipulative liar. you killed us!”
heeseung seems to freeze at that, a look of realisation crossing over his face. he lets out a chuckle in disbelief, staring at you with a dark look.
“you found out then huh. but, you don’t know the full truth, do you?”
you furrow your brows in confusion at that. what was he talking about now?
he smirks at that, letting go of your hands now. “you’ve left me no choice y/n. you did this to yourself.”
with that ominous declaration, he brings his hand up to your forehead. a series of images rapidly flash in front of your eyes, and you immediately blackout.
you’re back in the dream again, but this time it’s different. you see yourself—your past self—walking through the halls of the mansion. the air is warm, the sunlight streaming through the large windows, and everything feels… peaceful. you look younger, happier, laughing at something heeseung said. he’s beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you both walk through the corridors like you belong there. like this place is yours.
heeseung is smiling at you, but not in the charming, calculated way you’ve come to expect. it’s a genuine smile, filled with warmth and affection. your heart flutters as he leans closer, his voice soft as he speaks. “you always make everything feel right,” he says, eyes shining with something you can’t quite place.
you smile back, a soft blush colouring your cheeks, and it hits you—he loved you then too. but you were too caught up in your engagement to jake to see it.
the scene shifts. you’re sitting together, laughing over something, your hand resting on his arm as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. there’s an intimacy between you that makes your stomach twist with unease. this version of you looks so in love with him. you’re touching him like you belong to him.
but that can’t be right. jake was your fiancé. you were going to marry him.
the memory shifts again, this time darker. heeseung leans in, his hand resting on yours for just a moment too long. “if only things were different,” he murmurs, his gaze heavy with unspoken longing.
your past self looks away, guilt flashing in your eyes. “i can’t leave him,” you whisper, barely audible. “it wouldn’t be good for my family or us. for the business.”
heeseung’s jaw tightens, his fingers brushing over yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “but you want to,” he says softly, the words hanging in the air between you like a dangerous secret.
and you… you don’t deny it.
you wake up with a gasp, your heart racing as you bolt upright. your head throbs where as if you were hit, and the confusion of the dream still lingers like a fog in your mind. you’re back in heeseung’s room. alone. sunlight spills in through the curtains which means..
panic floods your veins. you scramble out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor as you rush to the door. you can’t stay here. you have to find your parents and leave before it’s too late.
when you reach the foyer, your breath catches in your throat. your parents are there, bags packed, ready to leave. relief crashes over you like a wave, and you run toward them. “mom! dad! let’s go, we have to—”
but then they turn to you, confusion etched on their faces. your mother tilts her head slightly, her brow furrowing. “who… are you?”
the words hit you like a punch to the gut. “what do you mean? i’m your daughter! we need to leave, now!”
your father frowns, glancing at your mother, then back at you. “i think you’re mistaken. we don’t have a daughter.”
your laughter bubbles up, but it’s panicked, forced. “what? no, stop. this isn’t funny. we need to go, we need to leave right now!”
suddenly, you feel an arm snake around your waist, pulling you into a strong hold. you freeze, knowing exactly who it is before you even turn to look. heeseung. his smile is charming, but the coldness in his eyes sends a chill down your spine.
“ah, sweetheart,” he says smoothly, turning to your parents with an amused chuckle. “she likes to play these little pranks sometimes. always such a joker, my wife.”
your parents—no, these strangers—laugh awkwardly, nodding along like everything makes sense. “oh, we see,” your mother—no, not your mother—says with a forced smile.
your blood runs cold. you twist in heeseung’s grip, looking at him with wide, horrified eyes. “what have you done?”
heeseung’s smile falters slightly, but he feigns hurt, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “what have i done? darling, i think you’re a little confused.”
you struggle against him, but his grip tightens. "mom! dad! please, it's me! it's your daughter! you have to believe me!"
but they just stare at you, their expressions growing more uncomfortable by the second. your father clears his throat, glancing at heeseung. “i think it’s time for us to go.”
heeseung nods, his smile never wavering. “of course. i’m sorry about all this. she’s been under a lot of stress lately. sunoo,” he calls over his shoulder.
sunoo appears from the shadows, his ever-cheerful grin now twisted into something darker, more malicious. he moves toward you, grabbing your arm with surprising strength. “come on now, let’s not make a scene.”
“no!” you scream, thrashing in sunoo’s hold. “please, you have to remember me! i’m your daughter!”
but your parents—these strangers—just exchange awkward glances before turning away. you all watch them leave, sunoo’s arm still securely around your waist, holding you in place.
you break free from his grip, bolting toward the door screaming for your parents, desperate to escape. but as soon as you reach the threshold, you slam into an invisible barrier. the impact knocks the air from your lungs, and you stumble back, disoriented.
heeseung is behind you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his breath hot against your ear. “i told you, didn’t i?” his voice is low, cold. “you’re mine. you’ve always been mine.”
tears stream down your face as you push against the barrier, your hands shaking. “what have you done to me? why are you doing this?”
heeseung’s grip tightens, and he spins you around to face him, his eyes dark with a possessive intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “you think you’re innocent in all of this?” his voice is soft, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “you think you didn’t know what was happening? you chose me. you were mine long before jake was ever in the picture.”
you shake your head in disbelief. “no, i didn’t… i didn’t—”
sunoo steps closer, a mocking pout on his lips. “oh, sweetheart, you did. you just didn’t want to admit it.” his finger traces the line of your cheek, and you flinch away from him. “you knew about heeseung’s feelings. you used him. and when jake became a problem, you turned a blind eye to it all. you knew we would kill him.” he sighs, “unfortunately, miscommunication led to your demise and we were eventually hanged. and now our souls are cursed to be bound to this mansion for eternity.”
heeseung’s voice lowers, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “you’re just as guilty as i am. and now… you’ll suffer with me. for eternity.”
you stand frozen, your mind reeling from heeseung’s words. the weight of the truth, the accusations, presses down on you like a boulder. memories you didn’t even know you had flicker behind your eyes—of stolen glances, secret touches, a forbidden affair. the you from before, so desperate to keep everything intact—your reputation, your future—had made a choice. a terrible, selfish choice.
“no…” you whisper, backing away from heeseung, shaking your head in denial. “that’s not true. i didn’t—”
“didn’t what?” heeseung cuts you off, his voice sharp and cruel now, all traces of tenderness gone. “didn’t love me? didn’t lead me on while you paraded around with him?” he spits the last word like it’s poison. “you knew exactly what you were doing. you wanted to have it both ways, and when i couldn’t stand it any longer, you let me kill jake because it was easier for you.”
the room spins as his words hit you like a tidal wave. you feel sick, your stomach twisting in knots. but even as the guilt rises in your throat, something inside you resists. “i didn’t… i didn’t want that…” you stammer, but your voice is weak, and the look in heeseung’s eyes tells you that he doesn’t believe you. maybe you don’t even believe yourself.
he steps closer, his eyes dark and filled with anger and betrayal. “you were mine, always mine. but you just had to keep playing your little games, didn’t you? you thought you could control everything. but look where it’s gotten us.”
you stumble backward, hitting the invisible barrier once again. this time it feels like it’s closing in on you, trapping you not just physically but mentally, emotionally. “i didn’t want anyone to die!” you shout, your voice cracking as the tears blur your vision. “i didn’t want this!”
sunoo chuckles softly from the corner, leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable. “well, that’s a nice story,” he says, voice light and mocking. “but none of us are getting out of here. not you, not me, not heeseung.” he crosses the room, his eyes gleaming with malice as he moves toward you. “you see, you set all of this in motion. you thought you could control us, control your fate, but now you’ll be trapped here just like us.”
heeseung’s grip on your arm tightens painfully, and you can feel his desperation, his anger, boiling over. “you’re not leaving, no matter how hard you try. this mansion, this curse, it’s our prison. and now it’s yours, too. we’re all in this together, for eternity.”
the word “eternity” sends a fresh wave of panic through your veins. “no!” you scream, thrashing in his grip, desperate to break free. “i won’t stay here! i won’t!”
but heeseung only tightens his hold on you, his face twisted in a mixture of rage and possessiveness. “you will stay,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “you belong to me. you always have.”
sunoo steps beside heeseung, his gaze cold and detached as he watches your struggle. his mocking smile only deepens the pit of dread in your stomach. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?” sunoo says, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “after all, you did help put us in this mess. you turned a blind eye to what heeseung did. and now…” he trails his fingers along your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of fear down your spine. “you’ll pay for that mistake.”
you shake your head wildly, trying to back away, but the barrier prevents any escape. “please, no!” you beg, your voice breaking as you sob. “i didn’t know… i didn’t mean for any of this to happen…”
but heeseung’s grip is unrelenting. he pulls you closer, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction as he watches you unravel. “it doesn’t matter now,” he says, his voice soft but filled with dark intent. “your parents don’t remember you anymore and we’re bound together, all of us. the mansion, the curse, it’s our fate. and now it’s yours, too.”
as his words sink in, you feel the weight of your past bearing down on you. the memories, the guilt, the betrayal—it’s all too much. you collapse against the invisible barrier, tears streaming down your face as you realise the full extent of what’s happened. you’re trapped. trapped with heeseung and sunoo in this mansion, cursed to live out eternity in this twisted nightmare.
heeseung kneels down beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a cruel tenderness. “it’s better this way,” he whispers. “now you can’t leave me. you’ll never leave me again.”
you choke back a sob, shaking your head. “i never wanted this… i never wanted to hurt anyone…”
heeseung’s lips curl into a dark smile. “but you did,” he says softly. “and now, you’ll live with that guilt forever.”
sunoo crouches beside heeseung, his gaze filled with mock pity as he watches you break down. “look on the bright side,” he says with a smirk. “at least you won’t be lonely. you’ll have us… forever.”
the finality of their words crashes over you like a wave, and as you look into heeseung’s cold, possessive eyes, you realise there’s no escape. you’re trapped in this mansion, bound to heeseung and sunoo for all eternity, forced to relive the mistakes of your past life in an endless cycle of torment.
with a sinking heart, you realise that heeseung was right all along. you’ve always been his. and now, you’ll never be free.
𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr
˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱 taglist: @kxppachu @reign-reads @riribelle @firstclassjaylee
@hoshieee @simbabyj @yourlicenseismissing @evilangel404
@nora12379 @selleprotection @yoongisbaguetteshoes
@bejewelledgirl @hoonieyun @oreoqueen @jiiyen
@bywons @ckwnsgh @ashrocker123 @jiryunie
#౨ৎ 𝓐dy writes🪄#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshots#enhypen fics#halloween 2024#enhypen x reader#heeseung#lee heeseung#heeseung x reader#heeseung imagines#heeseung fics#heeseung oneshots#kpop fics#enhypen horror au#heeseung horror#enhypen horror#horror fics#fictober24#fictober#sunoo imagines#kim sunoo#sunoo#sunoo fics#sunoo oneshots#sunoo horror
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*An anon blasts off the tendrils choking at the last minute, letting Whole get a little more air.*
*At least, it's somewhat linked to its host in this state, and seems to go limp as well... the attack stops. It stays stuck, but liquid runs across the ground all around Whole in a puddle.*
League of Legends?
(BAD)
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Ed and Stede Bonnet-Teach have made a name for themselves as paranormal investigators, and they’ll be the first to tell you that most of the time, a “haunting” is no more than loud pipes and creaky walls. But when new homeowners Lucius and Pete Spriggs ask them for help with strange happenings on the huge plot of land they purchased for surprisingly cheap, Ed and Stede are thrust straight into a centuries-old mystery: what happened to Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate? And why are their ghosts so fucking angry?
This is a reincarnation/soulmates AU! Mind the major character death tag, but know that every character alive in the modern AU at the start will still be alive by the end. This one's bittersweet and loving and, in a word, haunting. Check it out!
#ofmd#our flag means death#if you remember i was mentioning the musings that would become this one way back after i finished my ocean deep lol#so it's been a long time coming#ofmd fic#my fics
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In Which Space Orcs are Men
[AO3] A "what if humans are space orcs" take on Dagor Dagorath. (Aka the prophecied apocalypse of Middle Earth. Scifi story accessible to non-LotR nerds!)
Elves weren't really supposed to leave Earth. That's what they told us—the Elves, that is, told people thousands of years ago, when Elves could still be found here and there. When I was born, elves were nearly as much a fairy tale as they’d been on Ancient Earth.
Elves weren't supposed to leave Earth, the Elves said in the fairy tales, and in a few old scraps of records scattered around known space. They literally weren't made for it. They could only do it if they brought Earth with them—Arda they called it, leaves or dirt, water or a rare bubble of air, perfectly preserved in a white crystal. There are tons of tales about Elves losing their lifeline jewels—their hearts, their silimirs—and roping people into epic quests to get them back before they—the Elf—faded to nothingness.
Even the jewels weren't enough, though. That's why there are also stories about Elves who fell in love with a person or a place and stayed there until they faded, or Elves who charmed someone into following them back to Fairyland on Earth...because whatever they said, Elves didn't really live on Earth. Humans have maintained their home planet as a monitored nature reserve since like the 40th century, open only to vetted research teams and serious Human religious pilgrimages. The most confirmed accounts of Elves that exist are of their ships appearing out of nowhere, with no trace of any tech that would enable it, at random, always-changing points within 100 miles or so of Earth.
Nobody ever came back from trying to follow Elves home. Mostly Elves tried to dissuade people from trying. But there are always crazy and curious people—and Elves usually attracted those, because any Elf who left the home they were "made" for was usually crazy and curious themselves.
Those were the stories I grew up with. There was a cave near the orphans' creche which was supposed to be haunted by a faded Elf. I didn't really believe it—like I said, the last confirmed Elf was last seen like 5,000 years ago, and not even on my planet. People have met two dozen new sentient races since then. We've discovered that reincarnation is probably real (just functionally untrackable), prompting the Pan-Religious Reform Wars. The last person to see a live Elf was still traveling via natural wormholes—they literally didn't know that you could loop pi.
.
When the Human natal sun started to turn really red, it wasn’t that big a deal at first. It’s a very important, very sad event for any species, but it happens to everyone eventually. It happened to the Hectort just after we invented interstellar flight. There were some unusual gravatic waves around Earth’s Sol, but nothing worth noting to anyone who didn’t already care for personal reasons.
Then the Elves sent us a message.
The local Parks Service picked it up, of course. I bet the Humans meant to hush it up at first—though the Centaurian government still won’t admit anything—but someone leaked it immediately on the intergalactic net. It should’ve only been famous as a joke of a hoax, but…
It was basically just a metal box with rudimentary fire-thrusters soldered on the sides. It contained two things. The first was a recording/replaying device so antiquated that the only way they got it working is that it was already playing on loop, and didn’t stop until someone disconnected it from its power source.
The message was in Ancient Bouban, which some folklorist soon announced is the latest language an Elf could know, since the last known Elf went back to “Arda.” The voice somehow sounded melodic to every species with a concept of music, from the screeching Vesarians to the deep-sea sub-sonic Thinkers, even when translated through cheap, staticky speakers. And to most species, the speaker was audibly distraught.
They said,
This is the final message from the Firstborn of Eru to the Secondborn, and everyone else. The Battle of Battles has come, and we…are losing. If there are any who remember the ancient love and loyalty which bound our peoples, if there are any heirs remaining of Thargalax the Magnificent, of Nine-Fingered Frodo, of the noble Houses of Haleth, Hador and Beor—
The speaker drew a sharp breath, there.
—by great oaths and greater friendship I bid you now to raise your swords and ride to our aid. Ride as swiftly as you can!
We will hold for another year. We will, they said determinedly. After that, it is unlikely that…
Another, shakier breath. A smile forced into a voice which would rather weep.
Fëanáro and Nienna believe there is a way to destroy the Straight Road. If we must, if it comes to it, we will do so, and trap the First Enemy here in this dying world with us. Though I don’t know about—
Hair-aristocrat! a more distant, slightly less perfectly melodious voice called, in a language so dead that they needed computers to decode it. The walls are falling, we need to go!
If you never hear from us again, and no sudden discord arises among you, you will know we succeeded, the first speaker said quickly. If otherwise…I am sorry. Either way, I bid you all only, remember us! Oh beautiful flames, remember us, as we have ever remembered y—
There was a sudden screech of tearing metal, a defiant, musical battle-cry, and a jarring silence. Then the message restarted.
And that wasn’t even the strangest thing in the box. The strangest thing was the recorder’s power source, which was powering the whole tiny rocket mechanism as well. It was an Elf-jewel right out of a fairy tale, a fist-sized, translucent not-quite-diamond—but instead of rock or water or a much-loved scrap of plant, the only thing it held was light.
...Kind of. It isn’t normal light. It arguably isn’t light at all, as we know it—scientists now think it’s technically some sort of plasmoid aether, except it only acts like a plasmoid aether about half the time.
It has no detectable source within the jewel. It fully illuminates whatever space it’s in, no matter how big. Its visible radiation is a frequency, the scientists say, that matches a hyper-accelerated version of what the universe must’ve sounded like in the split second after the Big Bang.
It makes people remember things, when they see it in person or sometimes even across a holo. Some remember a similar light in a strange traveler’s eyes. Others, dreamily enchanted valleys where spring never faded, or tall castles, bright swords, and stern and glorious lords and ladies. And some of us got hit with a whole lifetime of memories in one go: an identical gem on the brow of a sober forest king, friends who slipped through trees like shadows save for their merry laughter, an impossibly beautiful gold-haired maiden dancing in a glittering cavern...
(And all the pain and loss that came with them.)
And some people just remember the sight of a distant star—in another world, in another lifetime.
Reincarnation was provable but untraceable…until now.
The Thinker ambassador on Astrolax Station 5 was the first to kick up a fuss. Most Thinkers never leave their home planet, they're too huge and aquatic. But like I said, there's always crazy and curious people. The ambassador started bellowing the second che heard the message, without even seeing the light, because, "I know him! My Wisdom! We must send aid!" That made some news, and random other people shared their own, less dramatic revelations, and soon a compilation swept the net with timestamps showing that most of them were organically independent, not just jumping on the bandwagon….
Even that might've gotten written off intergalactically. The Thinkers are big in reincarnationist circles, on account of how they claim that deep in their planetary ocean they can hear echoes of their past lives. But being mostly planet-bound means they're not really influential on a big political level. Or it would've sparked another surge of the Reform Wars, and everybody would've remembered the rock, but not the recording. Or there would’ve been a fight over this potentially infinite energy source (though that is so last giga-annum)….
But first it was shown in person to the current Director of the Admiralty of the Astral Alliance, President of the X-ee Empire and Matron of the House of S,sh, Ch’ees/i’i S,sh. I was actually there—I was Captain of her ceremonial Alliance guards, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage my career after Zanzibus. Very ceremonial, considering the X-eee have laser-proof shells and pincers and I have, what, opposable thumbs? Vestigial tusks?
I wasn’t paying attention at first, too busy being suddenly assaulted by all my own memories. So I missed the President freezing mid-step and gasping (in X-eee), “Mother.” I also missed her rising alarm call of an attempt to speak Ancient Elvish without an Elvish tongue or lips.
I sure didn’t miss her snap back to X-eee for a sharp call to attention, and everything that followed: the call to arms! The rousing of the Alliance! A tour of the galaxy, to find anyone and everyone else in whom the Light could awaken ancient memories! And for the love of X'eeh, why had nobody figured out how to get back to Fairyland with this thing yet, and every warship in the quadrant?!
If I believed in the One Behind, or in any other creator god or gods—I'm not saying I do, but if I did, if there really is something out there all-powerful and all-kind—then it'd be because out of every soul in the entire universe, the probably one in the best position to act on the Elves' message turned out to have, from a past life, two parents and a much-loved twin still in Fairyland. Like, that's insane, right?
I stayed with the Director's ceremonial guards for the whole tour, actually more than ceremonial for once—it was the weirdest mission of my life, and I've been on a lot of weird missions. Or supposedly routine missions that got weird (and usually disastrous). My friends joke that I'm cursed. S,sh requisitioned an Inquiry-class ship, so the science boffins could study the Light and jewel along the way, and we started wormholing at weft speed, hitting a new planet every week. Sometimes every day. In each major spaceport and ground-city, S,sh stood with the jewel on the highest available point and gave a recruitment speech for going to save the Elves and fight the oldest enemy of all reality.
Honestly, it seemed a little redundant? The Astral Alliance was made for this sort of rescue mission (and for escorting trade convoys). But I was...if not happy, then sure as hell more self-certain with my ancient memories restored, and most people who joined up seemed to agree. It was mostly people who remembered, when exposed to the Light, who joined—so before long, we had a whole tag-along trail of mostly civilian ships, trying to get up to Alliance Fleet standard on the road in less than a year.
Three different religious sects tried to kill S,sh for "profaning the mysteries." Five others tried to steal the jewel because we were apparently appropriating a holy object. The boffins announced that, bar the can't-prove-a-negative possibility, the evidently sourceless Light should be counted as an infinite energy source, and at least seven different groups, ruthless financiers and sustainability idealists, immediately tried to steal it for that. And I still don't know what the rival thief-queens of Likkiliani were about, except that I got tied up upside-down from a palmdar tree for two hours trying to stop one, the other paid me 700 cron then threw me off a cliff, and in the end they recognized each other from past lives and just made out on worldwide live-holo before joining our growing fleet.
It turned out they were the Director's past life's great-grandparents, and a Canid pop princess was her niece. The Thinker ambassador was some sort of ancestor, too. Crazy extended family.
Most people who remember just remember the sight of a star in the sky. A buddy of mine from Fleet Academy remembered looking up at it as a Human sailor. The historians—and you’d better bet we picked up some Earther historians on this mission as well!—say this jewel or one like it was probably astrologically conflated with the planet Venus by early Humans.
(The more time I spent around the jewel, the Silmaril, the more I remembered, of my first life and more. Lifetime after lifetime with bad luck dogging my steps, killing loved ones in my arms, destroying cities I was supposed to save… One restless, haunted night, I met a Rigilic in the cafeteria who’d been awake with some of the same nightmares, who’d been my dead older sister once.)
The tour was cut short when word came from the Earth system that there was a black hole growing in the center of their reddening sun.
No, the sun wasn’t compressing into a black hole millennia ahead of schedule—one had just spontaneously manifested within it, like it’d teleported in. No, not literally—that was impossible. We were pretty sure. No, the sun wasn’t falling into it…somehow. Yet. The black hole was only 17 quectometers wide, but it was growing at an erratic but unceasing rate. If their best estimation of the pattern held, it would consume the sun 2 months before the Elves’ deadline, and the Earth 4 to 950 minutes later.
We pulled back to Earth—well, to the dwarf planet Eros, on the edges of Earth’s star system. That’s where the nearest shipyard of any note was, and we were gathering the whole Astral Alliance. This is exactly the sort of thing the Alliance is for.
I was released back to ship duty. Zanzibus was still a black mark on my record, as was Jorab, and really everything on the AAS Endeavor…and that thing in third year of Fleet Academy… But no matter how bad my curse, I was an experienced captain and one of the best pilots in the Alliance. For this, we needed all the best.
The boffins had pretty quickly mastered limited manipulation of the Light, using modified aetheric resonators, and every day they came up with something new for us to test. They focused the Light into a laser cannon like no one has seen before. They laced it through plasma shields until a fully shielded ship glowed like a distant star. They managed to nearly replicate the Silmaril’s crystalline structure, so they could make “copies” that shone like the original for first a few hours; then, with refinement, a full week…
The one thing they couldn’t pin down with any real confidence was how to get to Fairyland. The frequency of the Light resonated with large bodies of Earther saltwater in a particular way, and models suggested that if the Light source moved horizontally along the water within a certain range of distance and velocity, the resonance would create a wormhole-like ripple in space—but wormhole-like, was the key word, and models suggested. The closest anyone had seen to that spatial distortion was in a logbook of dubious veracity from the Delta Quadrant, four hundred years ago. Alteia, my Academy buddy who’d been a Human sailor, took the Silmaril in an M-wing on a series of highly monitored test flights above the Atlantic Ocean, and space did repeatedly start to hollow in front of bom—so bo had to stop every time, rather than risk vanishing with our single, maybe-one-way ticket.
Then Earth’s moon stopped shining in the sky. Its albedo just dropped nearly to zero, from one night to the next. There was nothing wrong that anyone could figure out—nothing with the orbit, nothing with the surface rock, nothing with the artificial atmosphere. Inhabitants reported feeling colder by several degrees, but no measuring equipment recorded anything.
The black hole slightly off-center in the middle of Sol was now 844.9 zeptometers, and growing more steadily.
We didn’t have time to keep testing. We needed to raise our swords and make our ride, even if we only got one shot at it.
I was given command, for seniority, skill, and because I was the one who managed to talk S,sh out of leading the fleet herself. (If my lives had taught me anything, it was the importance of having someone, anyone, ready to be emergency backup.) Ironically, I was back on the Endeavor, with most of my old crew—though we got permission to rename the ship, in honor of the mission. A lot of people did. Alteia was now commanding the AAS Elendil on my right flank, star-friend in Ancient Elvish. That Canid pop princess had taken over a hospital ship and renamed it Rivendell. An Earth Park Ranger, of all things, remembered being my dad—briefly—and he was leading the Rangers plus my Rigilic drinking buddy on the EPSS Elfsheen.
We weren’t sure if any ship but the one with the Silmaril would get through. The fleet numbered in the hundreds in battleships alone, not counting scouts and scuttlers. Twelve races had sent ships on top of their typical Alliance Fleet tithe, and S,sh had brought about half the full force of the X-ee Empire. We all just locked tractor beams and hoped.
I was piloting as well as captaining, with the Silmaril between my forehorns. It was held in place by about a dozen wires and other connectors to the ship, like an old-timey pilot’s headset. We took off in orbit around Earth, as close as possible to the surface—not very close, in warships of Class S and higher, but within range of the oceanic resonance. A Likkilianian thief-queen stood at my shoulder, ready to advise if anything “Musical” started to happen.
Think about what you’re trying to get to, and why, the boffins had advised, so I did—bright-eyed kings and dancing maidens; lost friends, families, cities, planets and all. The jewel got warmer against my skin and shone brighter with every pulse of the engine, brighter than we should’ve been able to see through.
The silver-gold Light twisted and diffused as space did around us. But there was no familiar rippling wormhole boundary—instead, spacetime thinned to a curtain like driving rain, like Vesarian silver-glass.
A ghost appeared next to me. She looked like the oldest, grumpiest writing teacher at the crèche, though I knew that was only in my head.
“There you are,” she said, impatient and relieved like I’d been hiding in the sandbox again, rather than coming to class on time. Her sewing scissors went snip snip snip as she darted them around my body—and a chain on my soul faded into guiding threads.
Before she’d even disappeared again, I punched the engine and blasted through the silver-glass curtain.
Fairy tales said there’d be a peerlessly beautiful land on the other side, green with eternal spring, full of endless light and laughter. They said there’d be sunlit shores and shimmering waves, with welcoming docks for sea-ships, sky-ships and space-ships all…
We flew into the worst battlefield I’d ever seen, in any lifetime. It was more desperately vicious than Jerusalem V at the height of the Reform Wars, more ruined than Glaurung’s wake, more desolate than Zanzibus after the nuclears fell.
Either a massive supercontinent or a small moon had been shattered, leaving nothing but a roiling debris field. The brand-new meteoroids ranged from pebbles to rocks the size of a small space station, and included space-frozen corpses, forests, and what might have once been city blocks.
I gave the helm back to my Pilot Officer—zer had, I can admit, slightly better reflexes for dodging debris—and focused on captaining.
Most of the life signs were clinging to the larger rocks. There shouldn’t have been atmosphere for them, but walls of thunderstorm wrapped around every shard with even a single life sign—wind and water desperately hand in hand to safeguard the last of the Elves. The only thing visible through the impossible storms was the Light of a second Silmaril, on a meteoroid shaped like half a broken eggshell.
A corpse lay at the epicenter of the explosion—what might’ve been a corpse, if it wasn’t also shattered. The broken pieces of a massive stone humanoid, taller than my ship if it’d stood beside her, still bleeding lava so hot that it burned even in frozen space. Another titan knelt at the shards of its head, a figure of towering bark and leaves, wailing with grief even worse than the end of the world.
A slimmer tree-woman stood with one hand on her shoulder, comforting, and the other wielding a skyscraper-sized club spiked with incandescent wildflowers. Guarding her sister’s heartbreak, she fended off a swarm of bat-sized monsters with wings of darkness and whips of flame.
Bat-sized relative to the gods of Elves and ancient Humans. About the size of an M-wing, in flight.
Countless more of the bat-things flung themselves at the storm-bubbles, like carnivores chasing the prey hidden inside. They were fended off by an equal army of creatures with wings of light and swords of lightning, led by a towering figure who seemed to dance from one bloody battle to the next.
The biggest battle by far was the farthest away, over where the sun had been. In this dimension of stories over science, Sol was another woman-shape, smaller than the others but burning just as brightly as her star. Also just as blood-red. The light was centered on a fist she kept clenched at her chest, and instead of containing the black hole, the unseeable thing that it was here surrounded her, striking at her with a thousand hungry jaws and grasping legs, and she had only a one-handed whip of a solar flare to fend it off—
But she didn’t fight alone. A warrior tore at the Darkness’s spidery limbs with his fists, image on the cameras flickering impossibly between every hero I’d ever heard of. A snarling figure bit at it with jagged teeth, gored it with horns, shredded it with claws and talons, and generally made every ancient prey-instinct in me scream. And a queen with a crown of stars, a shield like the night sky and a sword like a streaking comet, stood dauntlessly at the sun-holder’s side.
With all that, and with the speed of even her most exhausted strikes, I thought the sun-holder could probably have gotten away if she’d tried. But I knew how a person fought when they weren’t willing to leave a friend, and a smaller, silver figure lay at her feet, unmoving and drained of light.
But even the battle for the sun wasn’t what grabbed my eye. No—all my attention, all my guiding threads of fate and the quick temper that always used to get me in trouble, before (and sometimes after) I learned to leash it in an Alliance uniform— All of that took me straight to the fight happening orthogonal to the stone giant’s corpse.
It was another one-versus-many. Morgoth, the First Enemy of Elves and Men— Master of Lies, Maker of Chains, Sonofabitch Curser of Bloodlines—towered over even his fellow gods. His shape changed constantly, sickeningly, but it was always black-armored with eyes like dying stars that hated you personally. His maul dripped with lava and every other kind of blood.
He fought against three great gray figures who moved as one. The tallest wielded a star-studded scythe with swift, efficient strokes, and wore the dark gray of corpse-shrouds. The shortest shimmered with more colors than even a Stamotapadon could dream of, and his weapon shifted likewise. The third was the clear, clean gray of skies after rain or tears run dry, and fought with only a shield—and hit harder with it than either of her brothers.
Around their heads darted the only Elves on the battlefield, in small fliers more like sea-ships than aircraft. But they moved fluidly, pestering the Dark Lord like flies, pricking his skin and threatening his burning eyes.
Until Morgoth swung his maul with a roar of fury that traveled even though soundless space. My ship and heart both shuddered. The gray gods all staggered back, and the Elves fell from the no-longer-sky—all but their leader, more fire than flesh, who wore the third Silmaril. Morgoth caught him in one massive black hand and with sharp claws plucked the jewel away, as easily as a ripe berry from a tree—
“All power to fore-cannon and fire,” I ordered—and the jewel on my brow shone bright again as several stored months’ worth of infinite Silmaril-Light slammed into Morgoth’s chest with all the force that the best scientists in the Astral Alliance could engineer.
He stumbled. He dropped both the jewel and the elf-king (who’d been trying to bite him). The Lady of Mercy tossed her shield to catch them, staying low and out of sight—though she needn’t have bothered. The so-called “Lord of All” had already found his next enemy.
“All ships, move forward and join shields,” I ordered, and met his burning stare though the viewscreen. “Then broadcast me on all external frequencies.”
The wires on my forehead shimmered as we shifted Light-flow to the shields—and to my right, so did the Elendil, and to my left, the Cosmian Blade, and all around us the Minas Tirith, the Elfsheen, the Muse, the Rivendell, the Heart of Zanzi, the Longbottom Leaf… They were still soaring out of the silvery distortion behind me, tractor- and Silmaril-towed: sleek Rigilic eels-of-prey and Centaurian cruisers full of Humans eager to fight for their homeworld, Betan mine-ships and Canid X-M-wings and my own Hectoan starlighters, a full third of the X-ee navy with their X-eee–shaped six-engine dreadnoughts, and hundreds more.
“This is Captain Pel Cinia, once Túrin Turambar, of the Astral Alliance ship Gurthang,” I said. My words were broadcast from every ship on every frequency in every language that the people of Arda might know, as the Fleet assembled from forty-plus different worlds flew into position. Our Light-infused shields blazed and locked together, until we formed a seamless wall right in the Enemy’s face, with the Elves and their other allies safely behind us.
I’ve never felt more proud to recite the most cliché line in the Fleet:
“We got your distress call. We’re here to help.”
#the silmarillion#science fiction#humans are space orcs#fanfiction#my fic#dagor dagorath#not tagging characters bc spoilers (they're listed at the end of the ao3 though)
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(Whole is trying to crawl away!)
*It's still stuck to Whole's back, fused in some odd way, and begins to awaken with them. Sleepy tendrils tighten to grab on as Whole crawls...*
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*the fluid garbles in misery in the dirt*
*it will be here for a while*
*ferrofluid noises*
*it has not left*
*You are never never never never never never never alone :3*
NARRATOR I THOUGHT YOU RESET!
*ITS CONNECTED TO YOUR PHYSICAL BODY WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME! ID HAVE TO DO LIKE A HARD RESET!*
GODDAMNIT-
*He quickly begins trying to remove it. Bleed returns.*
Want help?
DESPERATELY!
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So basically one of Solas' murals
is the Crestwood scene, but with reversed roles. Solas is the rejected one, Mythal is the one who walks away, leaving him alone in what I presume was a glade at night, judging from the environmental sounds and hushed tones we can hear.
And, to be honest, I don't know how I feel about it - it feels like it cheapens the Crestwood scene, repeating an abusive pattern, stripping away the romance and softness of that scene. It's, once again, something Solas already went through with Mythal, not something he shares with Lavellan only. It's Weekes saying yet again that Solas saw Mythal in Lavellan, and that's why he fell in love with her. Not because she was Lavellan, but because she reminded him of Mythal and gave him hope that all elves could return to that "level" of wisdom.
What we learn in this game also ruins the kiss scene on the balcony, where Solas say "You have showed wisdom I have not seen since... since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade."
Most of us believed he meant "Wisdom I have not seen since my ancient days in Elvhenan", but it's basically confirmed at this point that he meant "Wisdom I have not seen since Mythal".
A month ago, someone here mentioned how Weekes had said there was a specific reason why Solas had falled for Lavellan. I never found the interview where they said so, but I saw many believed it had something to do with reincarnation, lost soulmates finding each other again etc., but once again, it's clear what Weekes meant, and it's bad, cheap writing.
They could have written a god finally learning the error of his ways thanks to his love for a mortal - a love completely different from that of who was basically an abuser, a parent-like figure forcing him to take form and serve -, but instead they went for the easy route: a god still loving another god, feeling love for a mortal who reminds him of her, and changing his mind only because his god finally gives him permission to be free.
The mortal who supposedly "changes everything" serves no purpose - she actually tells him "There is no fate but the love we share" after he's been "freed" from his service, which in this context, in this situation, sounds more like a punishment, another yoke, some sort of "I finally got you, you can't run from me anymore".
I don't know what happened to Weekes' writing - either they were forced to make these decisions due to various constraints, or they completely changed their style/ideas during development, because this is not the Solas, this is not the Solavellan romance, we got in DA:I.
#da:tv spoilers#solavellan#dragon age spoilers#MAN#can't believe i wasted brain cells on this game#i'll probably pretend it never existed#and imagine my own canon#because this isn't a love letter#it's a fucking tragedy LOLOLOL#WELP#time to go back to FFXIV#Haurchefant Greystone of House Fortemps would never treat me like this
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parallel lines | d. targaryen | part eight
Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.
Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader
Trope: Reincarnation
TW: Murder. Non-Con.
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"If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary You and I go from one kiss to gettin married." - loml, Taylor Swift.
(TARGARYEN RESIDENCE. 2008)
It was a hail mary from the beginning. Two people who had everything to lose, plotting to have more than they could handle. "She must've known." Alicent breathes, playing with the rosary-styled bracelet on her left wrist. "- I told you not to cheap out on the assassins. We'll get the money back anyways." she scolded.
Her grip on the bracelet tightened. Viserys' took a deep breath.
"I did not hire mediocre mercenaries. It was a recommendation from the goddamn Governor of Texas. If you're searching for good mercenaries, you're not gonna find them because people who kill people for a living don't have a moral compass." he gritted his teeth. His anger doubling at every second he spent in his wife's presence.
"I couldn't care less about their moral compass. You should've hired someone who had a follow through." she hissed, glaring at him. "I'm sorry but I'm not the one who wanted Olivia L/N dead." he groaned, standing up and attempting to exit the door.
She stares at the side, the sight of a crucifix snapping her back into reality. "I don't like the role that you're giving me, Viserys." her voice cracked, her fingers dancing along every bead. Along every Hail Mary. Her breath hitched for a second.
Fearing the person that she's become.
He made her this way. He manipulated her, made her believe that the love that they shared was true. He made her fight for every scrap of his love. He made her a monster. Now, she was finally thirty, fifteen would never cross her mind. "You're the one who wanted to give your children part of Aemma's company. I was following your wishes." he tried to flip the table at her.
Our children. She wanted to correct him.
It might've been her idea, but he didn't give her a choice. Her children would live in poverty without the money that Aemma provided. Alicent didn't have a job. She didn't even finish High School, and it was obvious that Viserys wasn't going to be around for long.
"Don't worry about Olivia. She doesn't have the guts to sue us. I hope that you learn to be content with what you've been provided. Not everything has to be handed on a silver spoon." Viserys remarked.
Aemond breathes. "They're fighting again." he spoke through the landline. Fighting was a normal occurrence in the Targaryen Household, it was always about the inheritance.
"Mom ought to accept that the old man isn't gonna leave us a single dime." Aegon chuckled. His older brother long accepted the fact that Viserys hated all his children from his second-marriage.
"- Rhaenyra has always been the golden child. I don't know why we bother." he added with an eye-roll.
Aemond pressed his lips closer to the microphone. "Dad hired someone to kill Aunt Olivia." he dropped the bomb, and the other line answered with silence. "- Mom figured that if Aunt Olivia died, then all the shares would go to Dad, and there'll be enough for us." he whispered, careful not to be heard.
"He'd rather have someone murdered than give us a tiny piece of Rhaenyra's billion dollar inheritance? I study in New York. I should kill Aunt Olive, make Mom proud for once." his lips pressed into a thin line, seriously considering that random thought.
The younger brother responds with a chuckle.
"You won't do that Aegon. You're not actually a murderer." he laughed, thinking that it was his older brother's way of making a joke. Aegon licks his lips. Right, not a murderer.
OLIVIA L/N FOUND DEAD IN AN NYC APARTMENT WITH NO CURRENT SUSPECTS, POLICE SOURCES SAY.
NEW YORK -- Police sources are revealing more details about a murder in Manhattan. They say that the New York City Police Department is currently conducting investigations about possible motives for the crime.
It happened in Upper Manhattan, sources say that the first person that found the body was Ms. Olivia L/N's daughter, then a neighbor that chooses to remain anonymous.
Olivia L/N is the co-founder of Dragonpine Brewery, which has now expanded into different industries including real estate, technology, and pharmaceuticals. She currently owns 49% of Dragonpine Brewery, but all shares are expected to return to Viserys Targaryen, who too, owns 49% of the company.
The medical examiner ruled her death a homicide due to the blunt force trauma to the head, and stab wounds on her stomach.
Anyone with any information is asked to call the NYPD's Crime Stoppers hotline at 1-***-***-TIPS. ALL CALLS ARE KEPT CONFIDENTIAL.
(PRESENT)
Daemon couldn't stop pacing and forth. Luckily, the bullet didn't hit anything important. You could still use your ankle normally in the future, but it would take time to heal.
"It's a medical miracle. It's the first time I've seen it happen." he remarks, trying to calm himself down.
The entire thing was difficult to process. He found it hard to believe that Aemond suddenly lost all semblance of normalcy and broke. "The gun wasn't registered. He could face charges, unless Alicent drives by with her golden chariot and bribes the judge again." he rolled his eyes, unwilling to let his nephew live scot-free.
"I told her about Aemond's past, the case with the girl and Nick. She could've confronted him about it, brought memories that he couldn't handle. He could've been guilty." Rhaenyra suggested, shaking her head. "Where is he?" Daemon's eyes narrowed.
He peeked through the halls, searching for his nephew's familiar silver-gold locks. "Down at the police station. Jace tells me that Aemond's shaken. Unable to form any statement." she adds with a deep breath. Aware that the story was reaching its climax.
"Alicent won't let him speak anyways. Where's Helaena?" he paused, reminded of his youngest niece. "She's babysitting the kids. Daemon, role-calling everyone won't be enough to distract you from Y/N. She's a wall away, I can hear her heart monitor from here." she pointed out.
Clearly as nervous as he was.
"I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe that we're given a second chance at everything, but we're still making the same mistakes." he sat down on the bench beside her.
He wanted to be a better person. Make his life worthwhile, but with the people around him repeating the same mistakes over and over. "I feel like I'm trapped inside a paradox. We'll die, then we'll get reborn and repeat everything again. It's like that show we watched. Are we in the Bad Place?" his eyebrows merged together.
"I don't know, Daemon. It feels like hell, but then I see my sons and I wouldn't trade this life for anything else." she had a bitter smile on her face. A nurse steps out of your room.
Daemon rises to his feet.
"Is she awake?" he inquired.
"No. I don't think that I'm at liberty to say this but - being unconscious for this long isn't normal. They'll do some tests, but I'm sure she'll be fine." the nurse felt inclined to speak out, seeing Daemon's worried face.
"Are you her boyfriend?" the nurse asked.
Rhaenyra's face softened. "It's complicated." she bit her lower lip.
(HARRENHAL.)
TW: NON CON SCENE (WILL STATE WHEN IT'S OVER SO YOU CAN SCROLL DOWN TO IT)
You breathe in the smell of smoke. Harrenhal was a curse.
"You will die here." you whispered, the prophetic visions finally finding solace inside of you, like they've found solace in Alys.
"You dampen the mood." Aemond pours himself a goblet of wine. "- it will not stop me from having my way." he reminded.
"I know." you whispered.
"We won't be needing this," he stated, cutting swiftly through your gown. He was staring at your body with the intensity of a thousand stars - you could've sworn that it was love - but it was not. "Why are you doing this?" you whisper, covering your breasts.
He does not acknowledge the use of your tongue. He ignores you. He presses a kiss to your jaw, inhaling the scent of your jasmine perfume. A prisoner has never lived more lavishly than you. "Riñītsos," he answered, hands trailing down to pull yours away.
"You sleep beside my sister knowing such stain is upon your honor." you gritted your teeth.
"Stomach up." he commanded - eyes twinkling with lust. "Legs open," he added - seeing you in the vulnerable position.
You couldn't remember anything that happened afterwards.
(NON-CON SCENE OVER)
"I care not about what he's done to your husband. I care more about what you had to go through." Alys looked at you in a crestfallen way. She vowed to protect you, but her visions clouded her judgement. Made her believe that Aemond was their savior.
"It'll be the same tomorrow, Alys, unless you can remedy this curse then rid yourself. Leave my presence." you pleaded, unable to stare into her eyes. The same eyes that you looked at in the mirror. "You may think me cold, that all I've ever grown to love is him. I thought that I could control him, but he is like the wind." she shook her head.
"You cannot catch the wind, sister." your breath quivered.
"What I've done is payment for my sins," she started.
You snap out of the trance. Eyes finally meeting hers.
"What did you do?" you asked.
"I killed him." Alys admitted, only then did you realize the streak of blood of her cheek. "I'm sorry." she apologized, falling to the floor.
"I forgive you." you bite the insides of your cheeks.
You've watched your sister hold the enemy softer than she's ever held you. You watch her let peace slip through her fingers. You watch her betray you and you forgive her, because this is the role she must play. You cannot resent the dancer for the actions of the song.
"There will be a boat going to an island near the Ghiscari Empire. I hope that you find peace there." she handed you three dragons. "What about you?" you tilted her head, feeling the tears trickle down your cheeks. "I must stay." she reminded.
It was the last winter that you'd spend with this body. You lived sixty more years without your husband. Now, you were old and frail - there were lines on the sides of your eyes. Wrinkles that weren't there when your husband was still alive.
"Have some tea." Serenei's daughter beckoned.
You complied.
Feeling every bit of your consciousness slip away.
You had a vision the night before, that this would be your last life. You already broke the karmic chains and learnt all your lessons. There was no need to restart the pain and suffering.
But you sharply argued with the gods.
Told them that you had to be reborn. You needed to see Daemon. You needed a life where you could be with him longer, and happier.
The gods granted you that gift.
And thus, here you are again.
Your throat felt dry; like you haven't drank water in a thousand years. You hear the machine beeping beside you. A feeling of someone's hand on top of yours.
You opened your eyes.
"Daemon," you whispered.
"I remember."
next chapter>>
OK THIS LINE
You've watched your sister hold the enemy softer than she's ever held you. You watch her let peace slip through her fingers. You watch her betray you and you forgive her, because this is the role she must play. You cannot resent the dancer for the actions of the song.
WAS COPIED FROM @faiIwife on twitter. IT MADE MY LIFE IM SORRY.
#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen#fluff#angst#oneshot#aemond oneshot#hotd#aemond au#aemond x oc#aemond fanfiction#aemond imagine#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond modern au#aemond modern#aemond targaryen modern au#aemond targaryen modern#modern!aemond#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x modern!reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond one eye#aemond smut#dark aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#daemon au#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen#daemon x reader
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If you’re a villain, then let me be your accomplice feat: Leona genre: romance note: sequel to "being reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy", reader is interpreted as extremely ticklish, roughly 1.6k words,
series masterlist
this was fun to write
Ever since you mysteriously found yourself here, you’ve adjusted fairly well into the world. You had a lot of leeway in learning the world since your character was already an outsider marrying into the royal family of a different kingdom. But your active work as part of the royal family and your unyielding personality, you’ve gained the respect of the people, even earning a title to your name.
“If it isn’t ‘The Hidden Claws of the palace” your husband snickered at your mortified groaning into your hands.
“Oh shut up, will you” and Leona doesn’t, even when you shove him.
Embarrassing nicknames aside, you were happy the citizens had accepted you as their own, which irks the nobles that still hopes to steal the king’s power away from Farena and his son. Because the current King is looking more favorable due to your support, the nobles switch their tactics from luring Leona to destroying you.
Now, attempts on your life is not an option as you were sent as a peace treaty between your kingdom and the Sunset Savanna and as strong as the kingdom is, war is too expensive and destructive. So, their option is to ruin your reputation.
At first, the children of the nobles work to isolate you, hoping to break your spirit and perhaps send you into a shameful and destructive rage which would benefit them.
However, to you these attempts were child’s play and admittedly pathetic in your eyes. To begin with, you never cared to fit in with the world of high society as your upbringing before your arrival here was anything but. You never attempted to socialize with the haughty nobles and with your standing as royalty, you don’t even need to. In fact, you’d think that being raised as nobles they would know that it was considered a felony to spread falsehood about the royal family.
“Do they not realise I could have them whipped and jailed if I wanted to” you calmly take a sip from your glass as you stand by the side, with Leona next to you. The giggling hens across pointedly stare at you while whispering to themselves, though their actions were obvious to all.
“I’d say you should, make the place a whole lot quieter” your husband let out a growl, his hold on his fragile glass seemed dangerously tight.
Still, you wouldn’t fall for such blatant baiting. Plus, your positive portrayal in the public eye seems to leave the rumors moot in the end, their tactics a pathetic failure.
However, you still offered a letter to the gossiping nobility a tour of the palace, particularly the armory where your family’s weapons are placed and ready. To show off your husband’s strength and your skills with a whip.
Slander from the noble class failed, so the usurpers thought to turn to the common folk. What could they do to have you seen as an unworthy addition to the family?
“How about a scandalous affair? The peaceful union tainted by infidelity?”
This time, their efforts really did irk you as scores of handsome and beautiful people of all backgrounds suddenly appeared before you in hopes to grab your attention. They would always arrive whenever you have time to yourself, away from Leona or any other royal family, trying to woo you with cheap words and lackluster acts of "admiration".
“You’re not even a quarter as beautiful as Leona. My husband looks better yawning than you have all day with all your preening” you ruthlessly called your guards to escort these eyesores from your sight, leaving you more exhausted than you’ve ever been.
“Leona, I need a full-time guard. Someone tall and intimidating, but loyal and not a jerk” you expressed your concerns with Leona during your tea time with him, playing chess in the royal gardens as you two always did.
“Why bother? Just stick with me, problem solved”
“Nuh uh, you’re actually taking your responsibilities seriously and I can’t be a burden like that” Leona wanted to argue that you would be no such thing but you continued on “Besides, I have my own duties to attend to. I just need an escort”
And so, Leona handed the assignment to Jack, a new knight who fits your criteria perfectly. His tall stature and gruff appearance wards off most of your pesky “admirers” and the braver ones were quickly blocked from your sight due to the young knight’s quick reflexes. To your added delight, Jack was also a sweet conversation partner during the less disrupted hours, and soon the two of you learned much of each other such as your shared admiration for Leona, and Jack’s adorable hobby of cactus care.
You were so happy with your arrangement that you couldn’t stop your delight from escaping, to the chagrin of your husband.
“Jack is a little shy about expressing his feelings but he’s still amazing to be around with!” you gushed over your new companion as you and Leona got ready for sleep together. Tonight was one of the nights where you two would share a room to present an image of an intimate couple. Nothing has ever happened during these nights but things have gotten comfortable, much less awkward than your first night on your wedding day. You learned Leona prefers less clothes to sleep.
“I wouldn’t imagine a man like him working as a knight, he may be strong but he’s surprisingly sweet. I should get him a present” given your experience with the other knights under Leona’s wing, Jack Howl was certainly the most pleasant to be around.
“What for?” Leona’s tail whipped around in agitation “Damn kid’s just doing his job.”
Since he saw you, you kept on and on about his knight since his assignment as your guard. Sure, he’s glad enough you’re not complaining about his men but you’ve been praising that mutt like he was your husband instead, which did not sit well with him.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all. I don’t meet many men that gentle, you know” you smiled recalling how he handles the flowers and pots at the flower store you visited with such care despite how rough his hands were. "He's a good man."
“Quit acting like that’s impressive. Watch” with that said, Leona reached out to you with both hands, firmly but gently holding onto your waist intending to pull you upwards and softly lay you down on the bed, one to prove a point and two, to end the conversation and get to sleep. But things did not go as he planned when he heard something unexpected, a high-pitched tone that pierced through the room.
“....”
"...."
The room went silent, with both of you unsure of the next move. You wanted to hide under the covers and erase the awkwardness but Leona still had a strong grip on you, who stared down at you with his bangs hiding his eyes leaving you unsure of his expression.
Until he flexed his fingers around your waist again.
“EEPP!”
You squirmed in your husband’s grasp, desperate to escape this humiliating situation when you looked to clearly see Leona’s smug expression as he kept his grip on you, even audaciously moving around your body to find more ticklish spots.
“Huh,” he smirked as he reveled in your form, disheveled in your attempts to flee. “Didn’t know I married a mouse”
“I will rip that smugness off your face, Leona Kingscholar!” you screamed as you desperately push and pull your way out from Leona’s unrelenting onslaught of torture. You thanked the heavens that your room was far from anyone else as your shrieks continued.
The night felt like a blur to you, only recalling yourself passed out after what felt like hours of Leona’s relentless tickling. You knew Leona had a vindictive side but you haven’t a clue to what compelled him to torture you so.
Walking the other way, you noticed your brother-in-law, Farena who saw you and waved with a smile. You in turn bowed in respect and smiled in return when you rose.
“Good morning, King Farena” you greeted to which Farena shook his head graciously.
“No need for that, we are a family” Farena said then nervously scratched the back of his neck before speaking once more. “As family, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”
Your curiosity has peaked, the young King being this shy over a favor?
“I understand how…passionate newlyweds can be, believe me I do” Farena smiled but his brows expressed a sense of embarrassment. “But perhaps you could convince Leona to be more discreet about your…nightly adventures”
Your mind went into overdrive, picking every word and hint to Farena’s words that would clue you in to whatever the King was alluding to. Your mind kept drawing blank after blank, leaving you more confused before ultimately deciding to confront Leona about it. You quickly give your goodbyes to Farena before rushing over to Leona’s location. He left the shared room by the time you woke up that morning but you memorized his schedule to know that he should be at the palace’s training ground.
And you were right as you saw your husband at the center of the training stage, ready to spar with the royal knights. He left his shirt off which you weren’t surprised over since you knew Leona hates uncomfortable wear, especially when it sticks to his skin.
So there it was, in its shameful glory for all to see, including the knights who attempted their best to avoid staring, were lines of red markings across Leona’s shoulders and chest. While not bleeding, the redness contrast just enough with Leona's darker skin tone to show off how fresh the marks were made. In the darkness of the night, you couldn’t see the damage you left on Leona in your struggle to free yourself from Leona's grip and when he didn’t voice out his concerns, you were left unaware of such misleading marks.
Sensing your presence, Leona turned to face you. With a smirk on his lips satisfied with your growing look of shame and embarrassment, Leona called out to you bringing the attention of the knights to you. “So, you finally woke up. Tough night last night?”
New rumors has spread where now your name, “The Hidden Claws of the palace” has another meaning.
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*Something a bit like kinship sparks.*
*The person inside this abstraction has forgotten who she is anymore, leaving only confused rage she doesn't know how to place. This gives it a reason.*
*The ferrofluid coats Whole's hands and anger causes them to react as if a magnet is near, spiking up past a normal texture and into full, sharp claws.*
*No one who hurt you can ever hurt you again.*
(He dozes off, and--
he's full of rage. He's back in that house.
...he may be having remorse over this.)
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