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Chapter Text

Sitting over the softly lighten stage, each key he presses speaks a gloomy melody correlates with the grief residing inside my heart, the piano is nothing but a palette, his fingers are a brush, the so called The Virtuoso is painting a picture of sorrow and despair.

And here I am, taking a refuge amid the dusk of the theatre, captured by the tenderness of the tunes. They resonate inside my chest, caressing the overwhelming sorrow dwelling inside me. The melodies are gentle and sweet, yet somehow depressing. That man is speaking to me through his music, he's giving me a message, a reassuring one. I can feel unspoked words floating from the keyboard. If only I could decipher them... No! I don't need to to decipher his message, I can sense them, and that's enough. His swift, compassionate movements lightens a spark inside me. I flip open my sketchbook onto a blank page, drawing a rough sketch of his silhouette with my pencil; I always carry them around, they come in handy, just like right now. I draw his outline while sitting. However, I can't catch the details of his mask, the material of the white cloak draping over his slender body and the attire he's wearing.

I sneak to the side of the theater, avoiding the aisles in the middle to not get the attention of the audience. Stealthily, I approach the stage, too close to the edge, hoping that my silhouette blends with the darkness of the place so I don't distract the staff scattered around the place. At the perfect distance, my eyes can trace his outline and the delicate details on his mask, I scribble down those details as fast as I can, my gaze is shifting between the white paper and him. Eventually, the performance comes to an end. The fallboard unhurriedly kisses the keyboard. The crowd breaks into applause as he stands up, advances towards the edge and elegantly bows down to his audience with a graceful pose. Such a majestic, noteworthy pose makes its way in my sketchbook, in rough lines as well. As my eyes look up to catch more details, I see his only visible eye is looking my way. The other eye socket of the mask is pitch black from my angle. I have this uneasy feeling in my abdomen because his eye is locked on me for a couple of seconds. It feels as if time stopped and there's no one in the theatre except the two on us. The curtains stride towards each other, the man takes a step backwards before the curtains hug each other. The theatre illuminates as the audience take their leave. I look at my sketch and it's just some vague lines that display nothing significant, I need to catch another glimpse of him to (at least) finish the outline.

Scanning the area around me, my eyes lay on 'only staff' door. Without thinking, I slide into door. On the other side, there are a few apparatuses in the hallway and some doors along the distance. It's quiet in here, except for a couple of staff members wandering here and there. I pace around, glancing at the signs attached over the doors: The director, customs, master electrician, sound engineer, stage manager, actors... It must be the latter. The knock on the door. No answer. I open it slowly and peak inside: Gloom is looming over the room, only lights emerge from around the mirrors. The cozy seats are empty, the dressing tables though are mostly empty as well except for one carrying a backpack, there's a soft violet glow coming out of it. The glimmer is hypnotizing, it pulls me across the room towards it.

There are some papers with musical notes written over them, on the top the name 'Khada Jhin' is jotted neatly with bold red ink. My hand roams the papers, noticing the remarks scribbled all over them. The soft glow captures my attention one more time. Since the bag is opened, I pull out the source of the glimmer: A lotus shaped apparatus, its inner petals start whirling as soon as it touches the surface of the table. Stunning. Magnificent. I can't comprehend how it's made or for what, but its soft warm light, unrushed twirling and the clanking from its rhythmic motion are alluring. My hand hovers above its center, feeling the warmth emitted from it. It's too tempting to touch. My hand lands over another hand before it got the chance to feel the apparatus.

"Some things should be left untouched."

I jump backwards. Jhin is standing tall in front of me, he takes back his hand to meet with the other behind his back.

"I'm sorry, it's just..." I can't find an excuse for snooping through his stuff "I'm sorry."

He doesn't reply, his only visible eye looks me up and down. My body shrinks, holding tighter on my sketchbook and squeezing my pencil, nothing is worse than being judged by someone you're interested in. He sticks out his hand close to my sketchbook. I hand it over to him. He flips through the sketchbook, silently examining my art. My hand hug my elbow, watching his eye inspect every line and color shade. I haven't felt such hatred before towards masks as this moment because I can't tell whether he likes my art or not. I gulp down the tension in my throat, praying that the mask is hiding satisfaction and the smile on the mask is mimicking the smile on his lips. He reaches the final page on which I have drawn his posture. He gazes at it. I try to peak at my drawing, it's embarrassingly chaotic. His hand stretches out again, this time his eye is glued to the paper. Since I have nothing except my pencil so I hand it to him. The pencil strokes with confidence against the paper with scratchy, swishy sound.

He looks back at me, takes a step forward "Do you mind?" his thumb approaches my face and makes its way towards my right eye which closes as a reflex. His thumb sweeps some of my dark eyeshadow and paints with it on the paper "Much better." He hands me back the sketchbook and the pencil. I silently gasped at the drawing: He has fixed my art and added more details, his thumb has smudged the incorrect lines, creating a lighter grey shade inside the borders of the outline, and with my eyeshadow, he dyed the aura around the two figures with a darker shade, making the drawings come alive.

"That's amazing!" I exclaim, holding up my sketchbook in front of my eyes.

"You need some improvement." He says.

The smile on my lips drops "I practice every day though..." I can't recall the last time I have felt inferior about my art skills like now.

"No," He shakes his head "I don't mean your art. You are indeed a talented artist, but you need to improve yourself as a person." His words are puzzling me, yet his tone is gentle, far away from criticism.

"Art is a mirror to our persona, it tells others who we are. Your art is a façade." He explains "I'd like to see your true colors."

I scratch the back of my head, I admit "I didn't think about that before." The idea of expressing who I am through art didn't pop in my head before, thinking about a different art approach fills me with excitement.

"I need your talent in my art gallery." The tone of his voice becomes softer and lower as if he's hissing "You're the missing piece of puzzle I have been looking for."

The butterflies in my stomach are going crazy "Thank you." a coy smile makes its way on my lips "I'm looking forward to work with you."

"Meet me at the mansion by the lake in the north." He shoves the violet lotus apparatus into his backpack "I will be waiting you." He takes the backpack walks towards the door.

"By the way," My shout halts his feet "My name is Hwei!" I beam at him when he looks over his shoulder.

He chuckles "I will be waiting you, Hwei."

Chapter Text

I couldn't sleep that night, I kept tossing in bed, and frequently stared at the blooming moon from my bedroom window; My excitement was overwhelming, yet anxiety was crippling, both held my sleep as a hostage. The way my hand landed over his, the passion in his eyes when he was looking at me... My head was about to explode from replaying the same scenes over and over again. I couldn't help but fantasize about our next encounter, I'm not certain how it will go, how he will react, how he will make those butterflies in my stomach go crazy again. However, there's one thing I'm certain of: Those feelings won't be locked up inside me for too long.

The road to the mansion he told me about wasn't hard to find, I have seen it a lot but I didn't know it was of any significance. It's an antique Victorian mansion with relatively low spires, the combination of its outer pale yellow walls, the dark green of the lake behind it and the blue sky are like what you will usually see in paintings— surreal. Green grass are separated by a pathway, getting closer to the mansion the pathway splits around a bustling fountain then meet again to lead the visitor to the door which was wide opened when I arrived this morning. Sunlight was seeping inside, dominating the soft artificial lights of the chandeliers. At that time, I found no one inside, only blank canvases and painting equipment with white cloths underneath. Those stuff are assembled in different places in the grand hall, above them signs with different names, which I guessed they are artists' names because I have found mine after venturing the area. I sat over a stool in front of my blank canvas (there are other lying down), with a pencil in my hand, I have been staring at the white paper for too long, only one question is in my head: What now?

The artists have arrived a couple of minutes ago and they have already starting painting, and here I am setting in my place and staring at the blank canvas . I haven't thought of what to draw yet. Guilt is weighing down my arms and shoulders; I should have thought of something to draw instead of thinking about him.

I don't want to disappoint him. I don't want him to regret having me here. My mind is as blank as the paper in front of me. I can't think of any idea, any reckless idea; My art is a façade, he said, he wants to see my true colors. I, myself, don't know my true colors. I sigh, my head drops and my gaze meets my knees.

"Fellow artists!"

His voice wakes up the butterflies inside my stomach. He's standing over the staircase, mid-distance between the first floor and the second. His head is held high, shoulders back and chest slightly forward, arms spread apart in a welcoming manner, his feet are shoulder-width apart. He's not wearing the large white cloak, so now I can glorify the finely polished attire over his sophisticated slim body. The light from the chandelier is resting over his mask. His figure is a piece of art, satisfying to look at and admire, my eyes can't help but savor him.

"Thank you for joining me, your contribution will be very appreciated" his voice echoes in the hall. I caught my lips stretching into a smile, I turn to face the canvas before he catches my stupid smile. "I need to remind you not to use red for coloring any element in your art. You can use it for shading or mix it with other colors, but I don't want it to be prominent." His deep voice gives me eccentric pleasure, and I love how my body reacts to it. "Using red will ruin my aesthetics and I was the grand display to be perfect."

His heels click against the porcelain floor, gently and unhurriedly, he's checking others' work. I don't know what excuse I should say for not touching the canvas with the pencil, not even a single line is drawn. I take a deep breath in. The clicking of his heels are coming my way. A gist of lavender scent caresses my nose.

"Hwei." His voice is as tender as his scent, He's too close, I can hear his rhythmic breathing.

"I'm sorry," My eyes can't meet his. Imagining how close he is, if I lay backwards my body may touch his, my heart picks up the pace, it's becoming harder to take a deep breath "I don't know what to draw."

"Is there something on your mind?" His voice is like a whisper. Would it be foolish of me to say that he's what on my mind?

I open my mouth to speak but no words come out, only a despairing sigh exits my lips. It's too hard to explain how I'm feeling right. Nevertheless, I'm not sure if he will understand how I feel.

"I see." He says "Just draw whatever on your mind. I'd like to see it " The clicking of his feet diminishes gradually until it can almost be heard. And again, it's me and the blank canvas staring at each other.

If he really wants to see what's on my mind, why not show him? A smile tucks on my lips as I scribble two straight lines outlining the staircase, an oval shape and another two straight lines representing the chandelier above, then I sketch a head connected to broad shoulders, arms stretching apart with a slight bend in the elbows, legs not too close and not too far apart— drawing Jhin.

I glance around, searching for him. He's standing next to a girl who has drawn a woman drowning in deep blue water, the skills displayed on the picture are impressive, the two of them are adding more interesting details together while chatting. My eyes roam the canvases around me and all of them are already painted. Looking back to the few pencil lines on my canvas, I feel embarrassed and disappointed in myself. I'm not on the same level as others. I don't deserve to be here. My throat burns, the stinging pain in my eyes makes it hard to see the thin lines on my paper. I hold in my breath. I don't want to be seen crying. I have to leave. I don't deserve to be here. The underdog of an artist I am should quit art.

The lavender scent dominates the atmosphere once again. Jhin's chest presses against my shoulder blades firmly that there's no space left, his hot breath tickles my neck. His hand wraps around mine, dragging it up along with the pencil to correct the outlines and add delicate details here and there. His other hand pushes against my chest, with the support of his body, he compels my upper body to stand upright, whispering into my ear "Your back should always be straight."

The moisture in my mouth suddenly vanishes, so dry that it's hard to swallow. My heart is kicking against my ribcages. I can't feel my limbs, his hand is holding mine tightly that I don't have to clench the pencil. He pulls my hand to draw; I no longer have control over my body, he's moving it to his will.

"You're tense." He comments "Try relaxing a bit." He frees my hand from his embrace and takes a step backwards, I can feel his heavy gaze lying on me, judging me. My hand is shaking and I can't stop it no matter how hard I grip the pencil. "Draw the ladder." He commands. The tip of the pencil touches the canvas, it slides across the paper but it makes shaky, wriggly lines. My hand sweats, the pencil is sliding out of my hand. I try one more time, and the new line is worse than the first one. If only my hands stop betraying me...

"Hwei"

I try again, another line across the canvas, and again it's shaky. My sweat blots the paper.

"Hwei..."

I won't disappoint him no matter how loose my muscles are or how shaky my limbs get. I strike one more line but the pencil slip of out of hand. "I'm sorry." I let go of the breath I have been holding "I'm not cut out to be a skilled artist like you." I turn to face him "I shouldn't have come here."

He gazes at me "Would you like to join me for some tea?" He asks quietly.

"I don't want to waste your time..." My voice comes out stifled. One more word and those tears I'm keeping at bay will leak.

"It would be a waste of talent if you left." He utters "Come with me."

I can't turn him down because grief is choking me, my throat barely passes air to my lungs, let alone words. And thus, I follow him as he walks upstairs, my eyes can only see the dark red carpet I'm walking on and his slow feet. He lets me into a room brimming with the smell of roses and lavender. My eyes meets with a maid clearing some dust off the nightstand next to a wide bed, she gives me a tiny bow with her head before exiting the room, leaving only the two of us now.

Jhin turns to an opened window above a workbench, facing the golden rays of the setting sun peeking from above the lake "There's always something that inspires you. It could be a scent, a scene, something or someone. I understand how you feel" The words came out gently and effortlessly, they melt the sorrow inside me. My heart slows down a little bit and I can finally take a normal breath.

"Some things can get you in the mood to create," he continues "For me it's the mask. I don't think I need it now." His hands rise to take off his mask, revealing his dark hair and fair face. His turns to me, looking down at the mask in his hands, his benevolent smile is curing, his relaxed face is warmer than the sun rays spreading inside the room. I can't help but smile back at him. I take a step closer to observe his attractive face. His eyes lock with mine, they are gentle, appealing to look into. "Whatever it is that inspires you, don't be ashamed of it"

My smile widens. I want to tell him that he inspires me, but I give him a nod. The maid comes back with a tray, she lays it over a coffee table behind me and shuts the door after leaving. The tray contains a glass tea pot filled with yellowish tea, an empty tea cup, grilled cheese sandwiches and a piece of red velvet cake.

"Go on" Jhin asks.

I sit over a black cozy couch behind the coffee table, he pours some tea in the cup and places it in front of me "Thank you." I take a sip of the warm tea, it has a mild flowery taste and the smell of herbal tea. I take a bigger sip but now the taste is even milder. He walks to stand in front the work bench, his hands shuffle some papers. I gaze at his back while eating, how generous of him to invite me to tea and sandwiches! I notice something purple popping from one of the drawers, something petal shaped.

"What's that purple thing?" I take a spoonful from the red velvet cake "Oh my, that's sweet."

"Red velvet is my favorite." He comments, still focused on the paper in his hands.

Finishing my treat, I take the cup and walk to stand next to him "Thank you for bringing me here." I look to the side of his face while holding my cup with both hands, It feels cozy to be this close to him. He chuckles, shoving the paper he's reading into a drawer. My gaze extends to the lake outside, the golden rays are reflecting over it. I sip on the tea. My muscles are relaxed, my body is unwinding in a way I haven't felt before. The scene outside is hypnotizing, I can't look anywhere else. Jhin stands behind me, and again, his body is supporting mine. He takes the cup from my hands and places it over the workbench. My head dangles to the right, swings to the front, too heavy to pull up. Jhin's hand coils around my neck and pushes it against his chest, forcing my head up. The golden rays over the lake is flashing into my eyes, too painful to look at. My eyelids are too heavy, I let them slide down. My body drops to the floor, my cheek slams against the porcelain tiles. Darkness fills my vision.

Chapter Text

A tinkling of metal screeching tickles my ears, screwing, clanging and creaking. I open my eyes with a grunt, meeting the hazy ceiling above me. The sounds stop. Instead, it's footsteps now. A blurry face hovers over mine, his gaze lingers as I wriggle around with my heavy limbs, silently.

I don't really remember what was going on. I was drinking herbal tea while looking out of the window and then nothing. I rub the blurriness out of my eyes. My eyes roam the area around me: I'm still in Jhin's room, over his bed. The sun is shinning bright outside the window, which means I slept the whole night in his bed. He's inspecting me with an impassive complexions. 

"I fainted?" I wonder. Since I didn't sleep well the past few days and I don't recall eating decent meals, that must be the only reasonable explanation to why I'm here. I drag my body upwards slowly to sit up but end up bending over to hold my heavy head with a hand, "I must have troubled you." I looked up to him, seeing only a part of his face because my fringe is falling all over my face "I'm sorry."

He muses with a smile "I loved having you here."

"Really?"

He brushes the fringe backwards, allowing me to see his full face "You inspired me, Hwei." 

My heart skips a beat, my lips stretch into a grin "I did?"

He takes his mask from over the dressing table, puts it on "Our final performance will be remarkable." I can sense a burning desire in his voice "I want to make you dance!" 

"I'm not a good dancer though." I fancy both of us dancing but I thought it would just be an art gallery, I didn't know we would perform something. "So, we will practice?" 

"You don't have to." 

I don't understand what he's implying but, his words have sparked my interest and made me look forward to the day he's referring to. Seeing him opening the door, I shout "Jhin" He looks my way "You inspire me as well." He chuckles and slips out of the door. 

The maids have been too generous towards me, they made made me a lavish breakfast and a nice cup of coffee, and in no time I became ready to take on the world. Sitting over the stool with a straight back, I start painting the portrait that I have finally finished sketching, applying the base colors with a broad brush: soft creamy white for the walls and burgundy red for the carpets. I suddenly remember the girl I saw yesterday and her magnificent portrait, the one who drew a woman sinking deep into dark blue waters, and the one who aroused Jhin enough to make him paint with her. I look over my shoulder at her place. She's not there. Nor is her drawing. Instead, there's a dull blank canvas standing by itself over its easel, waiting for someone to stroke it with their brush. Weird. Why would someone as talented as her suddenly leave and take their art with them? I take a smaller brush, dip it in yellow gold paint, then raise my hand slowly and carefully, approaching the outline of the chandelier. My sleeve glides down my forearm. A dry reddish brown cut, about 4 centimeters, extends down from my wrist. I put down the brush to inspect this mysterious wound; The skin around it is tight, rotating my wrist causes an uncomfortable sensation, yet not too painful, just a bit of discomfort. I run my left fingers down the cut. It's sticking out. Slightly pressing on it triggers pain. It looks like a fresh cut, although I don't recall getting hurt recently. 

The lavender scent embraces me, "I see you're doing well." Jhin says "Perhaps if you let me give you a hand you will finish faster."

I beam at him "Thank you for your help."

He picks up a brush from the tiny round wooden table next to me, mixes shades of purple on my palette and caresses the canvas with the brush. He's standing right next to me, too close that I can hear his breath colliding with the mask. A volcano of emotions has been being suppressed inside me since we met, its shaking is becoming more violent with each passing second. I place a hand over my chest, feeling the turmoil, the quivers of oppressed emotions. I can no longer keep them inside me. Those emotions are fighting their way out, I know they are about to burst at any moment, but I have made up my mind: That moment is now.

"Actually," I gulp down the tension rising in my throat "Thank you for everything." His painting hand slows down, gradually, until it hangs midair motionlessly. "Since we met two days ago, I feel different, I..." Words escape my mouth and I'm speechless now. My eyes are fixed on the canvas but I can feel his eyes lying on me. I don't have to glance at him to make sure. I can feel them staring at me, questioning the meaning behind what I uttered. My heart is racing. There are some words, three words to be precise, on my mind and at the tip of my tongue. I open my mouth but they don't come out and I end up gulping air instead.

"Is there something you want to say, Hwei?"

I sigh "I was just saying thank you." I can't say those words. They will be forever stuck inside me because I'm a coward. 

I watch his hand start painting one more time. Another deep breath, and another exhale. My tongue is tied and my body is stiff. 

"I told you I loved having you here." He speaks calmly in his deep voice "Do I have to say it again?" 

My body melts. I can't help it but chuckle at how subtle he is. Of course, he understands how I feel towards him, I don't have to say it. And I think he might be feeling the same towards me. My brush grazes the outline of the chandelier. Finishing the last stroke, my brush kisses the portrait goodbye. "Ugh..." The whole portrait is magnificent, showing Jhin standing over the staircase, everything looks realistic as if it's a picture taken by a camera. However, the golden shimmering chandelier looks unrealistically ugly "I don't think this is good." 

Jhin hums, gazing at the portrait "It's a crystal chandelier not golden."

"I missed up." terror takes over me "The whole thing is ruined because of me, because I didn't pay enough attention to what I'm painting." I can't believe the portrait I worked on for two days is going to end up in the trash because I missed up major details. My shoulders droop. I disappointed him one more time.  

Jhin glances at the actual chandelier then extends his hand in front of me "I need your brush for a moment." He brushes white over most of the chandelier's body, then black to add shadow under the teardrops and to color the candles. The contrast between the faint yellow of the background, white from the chandelier and the darkness of the shadow makes the chandelier come alive. He finishes the portrait by adding tiny drops of green, blue and purple over the teardrops, depicting them reflecting different colors "Much better." He puts down the brushes. 

My jaw is on the floor. I'm sure if I did the same, I'd have messed it up more. 

"Now, we let it dry in another room." He lifts the portrait off the easel "You can start drawing another one now."

I stand up and stretch my hand to him "I will take it myself." I utter a fake excuse "I want to take a break from sitting." In fact, I want to be by his side, even a few moments will be enough for me.

He hands me the portrait and I follow him across the grand hall. "You know," I break the silence between us, getting closer to him as we walk "No one taught me how to color a chandelier at art school. How did you learn that?" 

"Artistic talent is innate, not learned."

"Oh, I see." I didn't understand what he said but I think it has a deep meaning. 

We enter a vast room with no furniture, few portraits are placed here and there over the polished wooden floor, against the wall. The clicking of his boots echoes as we walk to the end of the room where the portrait of the drowning woman is placed. Strangely, it has uneven dark red dots all over it, a spray of red is concentrated at the tips of the woman's fingers. Leaning closer, I place my portrait next to it. There's a shade of black inside the red around the woman's finger. However, that shade can't be formed by mixing red and black. It's a unique one. Close to maroon, but I don't think it's maroon. 

"What shade of red is that?" I wonder, squinting at the portrait. 

"Blood red." His voice a bit of a whisper. 

I hum, observing that gorgeous shade. I admire how it doesn't clash with the darker tones of the portrait but complements them perfectly, but... Wasn't he suggesting we avoid using red prominently?

"I thought you said we shouldn't paint with red." I turn to him. 

He snickers from under the smiling mask "Did I?"

Chapter Text

Ten in the evening, the moon is hiding behind dark clouds, the area is dead quiet right now, the shuffling of the trees caressed by the gentle wind is louder than my feet feather-softly touching the gravel path as I sneak towards the mansion. The hooting of owls, the mischief of tiny animals nuzzling the tall grass and the whispering of the chilly breeze reign the north side of the town. And fortunately, tiptoeing is even quieter than nature. The front door is sealed, windows are shut, dark curtains are blocking my view. I tour around the mansion, seeking even a small hole to squeeze myself inside.

I spent most of the day drawing, my interactions with Jhin were little. I want to see him again. I couldn't sleep after dinner so I came here, willing to see him, to be close to him, it doesn't matter if he's awake or asleep; He won't notice me either way. I don't want him to notice me anyway. I can't stop fantasizing about him. My thoughts are constantly filled with images of us spending time together: hanging out in the backyard under the afternoon sun, painting together and doing everything as a pair. I'm not sure what will happen if one of the maids saw me, I'd rather not think about it, and just be careful. 

The lights of his room is on. I step towards the backdoor. I take out a spare card I found in my parents' room and slide it between the door and the door frame. My heart is rattling, heartbeats are so loud that I can hear them resonating inside my skull. I have never done this before. I'm scared. I heard that people turn the door knob while wriggling a card, and it magically opens. I turn the door knob slowly. The door opens —It turns out that it wasn't closed in the first place. Who lets their backdoor open at night? Maybe someone is awake? I walk into the darkness of some kind of a reception room, closing the door behind me soundlessly. I can hear nothing except my trembling breath. I see a faint light coming from far away, I suppose it's the grand hall. I tiptoe, my hands are brushing against the velvety fabric of furniture as I make my way towards the light. My toes come in contact with something tough, almost tripping over it, I slightly press against it with a foot; It's yielding, softer than I thought, yet too tough to crush. My curiosity pushed me to touch it; It feels soft, a little bit squishy, my fingers sink a little when I press down. I don't know what this is, I don't have enough time to inspect it. I step over it and continue my way towards the light.     

A few chandeliers are lit in the grand hall, yet their lights can't reach the corners, leaving dark spots here and there. All doors are closed. Everything is quiet. Everything is still. Each time the tips of my feet make contact with the floor, a faint thud can be heard. I scan the place with my eyes while making my way towards the stairs, and in no time I'm standing in front of the door of his room. The door creaks as I open it, peeking inside, no one is there. I pop my head in to see the entire room. Empty. I step in and close the door behind me.  

Standing in the middle of the room, I don't know what brought me here. I look around me. I know where I am but I feel lost. My feet saunter, the tips of my fingers stroke everything they come across: The clean bed sheets, the wooden nightstand, the polished dressing table, the cold mask sleeping over the dressing table. Both of my hands caress the cold ashen mask, running my fingers through the intricate lines carved over it, I wonder how it was made; The material I'm feeling right now is odd, yet satisfying to touch. I hold up the mask, just some inches above my height, and look straight into the eye sockets flaring with soft yellowish lights of the room. I wish if it was him standing right now in front of me. In fact, I can see his silhouette in front of me, I can feel him too close to me. The butterflies in my stomach wake up as I bring the mask lower towards my face, my breath rebounds over its surface. I gulp. I can feel him now standing in front of me, leaning down towards me, as if our faces are few inches apart. I tilt my face to the side, allowing the mask to get down even closer, the sturdy lips on the mask are getting in contact with mine. The door opens. The mask almost falls off my hands seeing Jhin standing at the door looking at me. I cling to the mask in my sweaty hands. My mouth opens to give a reasonable explanation to what's going on, but instead I stutter, my paralyzed tongue can't make out a distinctive word to pronounce —I'm caught red-handed in someone's house, messing their stuff.  

 Jhin closes the door behind him and steps towards me "I see you're fond of the mask." His face is relaxed, as if he hasn't caught an intruder in his bedroom.

I stutter on more vowels but manage to say "I'm sorry." I place the mask down on the table but he screams "No!" He takes another step closer "Kiss it." 

My thoughts are crashing with each other inside my foggy brain. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Moreover, Did I hear that right?

"Come on, kiss it." He insists.

I want to, but not with him watching me. "You..." I take a breath "Want me to kiss the mask?"

He nods. I lean face down towards the mask but he shouts "No. Do it just like how you were doing it." 

I'm embarrassed and wish I could vanish. He must think I'm a weirdo with unusual interests. "Come on," He urges me "Do it, Hwei."

I place the mask inches over my face, I look up to it. I gulp. I tilt my head, my lips touch the cold hard ones over the mask.

"Kiss it with passion." 

I press my lips into the mask. I wish if it was him not a mask. My lips departure with a smack, so loud than it made me cringe. I look over at him, I can trace satisfaction in his fair face. And yet, the weight of guilt is pressing against my lungs "Jhin, I'm sorry for break into your house. I—" I can't find a proper excuse for breaking into his house, I don't know why I'm here, I just felt like being close to him... Of course I can't say that. Even if he understands how I feel towards him... "I wanted to see you again, I couldn't wait until morning." I said it. Those words came so effortlessly out of my mouth, without thinking of the consequences.

He chuckles, takes the mask from my hands and puts it on "I see we have something in common, Hwei."

The weight of guilt lifts from my chest, and I feel lighter. Every time he approves of my affection towards him, the butterflies in my stomach go crazy. My excitement and anxiety are soaring, a roller coaster of emotions inside me. He extends a hand for me, opened and welcoming, waiting to take mine "I want us to have one more thing in common; A secret only both of us will share." Blood is pumping through every part of my body, adrenaline is aggressively rushing through my veins. I can't contain my emotions at this moment. My grin stretches from ear to ear. I place my hand over his. They are a bit cold and supple, yet I like how they feel in mine. Our hands intertwine with each other, sealing an invisible bond of desire and devotion that shall bind us from now on. 

He gently guides me downstairs, his hand is still embracing mine, as we navigate the darkness of the grand hall. He escorts me back to the room that served as my entry point into the mansion. The moment his hand breaks free from mine is when he turns on the light. My heart sinks inside my stomach. The thing that I almost tripped over when I first came in is the dead body of the girl who painted the drowning woman portrait, the one who randomly disappeared today. The girl's lips are bluish, her skin is alarmingly pale, there's a bloody scare around her neck. However, there's no blood coming out of it. 

"She was beautiful. She's even more beautiful now." Jhin opens the back door "We have to hurry before her blood dries up; I still haven't finished painting with it yet." 

I stare at the motionless corpse, puzzled. Why is she dead? What is he talking about? I don't understand anything anymore.  

"Drag her out." He orders. 

"Jhin, I don't understand what's going on. I thought you were saying that we..." 

"Come on." 

I follow his orders. I drag her outside. He signals for me to pull the dead body towards the maid who was waiting us next to a pit large enough to fit the corpse. I don't know what I'm doing but I have a bad feeling about it. 

Chapter Text

The morning breeze caresses The Casa Blanca Lilies planted over the naked rectangular pit among the grass; It's where the girl's corpse is sleeping eternally. The maid has decorated the grave with a dozen of Lilies. Each time they sway, their delicate sweet aroma wafts in the garden. I kneel down to feel the cool soft petals of the lilies, they are glistening softly under the warm sun rays. At least she didn't die in vain; Her art will be a great contribution to the art gallery. Apparently, those red sprinkles over her portrait were her blood. I don't have to ask him to make sure. The final touch of blood over art is the cherry on top —That's why he didn't want anyone to use red paint, because he will paint with blood. I roll up my right sleeve to eye that cut in my forearm. My lips can't help but smile. 

"Master Jhin wants to see you." The maid's voice comes from behind me. 

I can't wait to see all those paintings decorated with blood. Nevertheless, I want it to be my blood. 

I follow the maid inside the grand hall, artists are seated over their stools, their hands are busy working on their art. I wonder how he will add final touches to those portraits with blood. I wonder if my blood will be enough. 

The maid leads me to a room with tall, yellow, ornamented glass windows, dying the room a pastel buttercup yellowish color. Jhin is in the middle of the room, one hand is holding a color palette, the other is painting on a black canvas. Taking a few steps inside, the maid closes the door behind me. 

"Come here, Hwei." He says. 

I approach him "Yes?" White outlines stretch vertically over the black canvas. A few circles and some compact lines are centered between the lines, and since I have been drawing for years now I can tell those are the outlines of a human figure. The white lines surrounding the human figures are colored with pinkish hue. 

"Would you stand over there for me?" 

I take a few steps towards the windows "Here?" 

Jhin puts the brush he's holding and the palette on a table next to his canvas. His boots click on the marble floor as he comes my way. He places his hands on my arms, cupping me, and gently pushes me back, a step by step backwards, until my back presses against the wall behind me. He pressures my shoulders apart, flattening my back. That one brown eye glaring from the mask gazes into my eyes with tenderness. He holds my chin, two fingers slide down my jaw. I'm fighting those butterflies tickling my insides, I'm trying to ignore the jitters they cause. He whispers "Your jawline is perfect." I beam, it's the first time I have heard a compliment about my face. He turns my head to the left "Would you stay like that for a moment?" He walks back to the canvas. I can see him in the corner of my eyes painting. He's drawing a portrait of me, just like how I drew him. The tickling of those butterflies are intense, I can't help but release a chuckle.   

"Don't move." His voice echoes in the empty room.

I straighten my back again, going back to the pose he built. However, that thing from yesterday is still occupying my brain; Some kind of an emotion is burning my chest whenever I think of it. I clear my throat, "Did you kill that girl because you wanted her blood?" 

He doesn't reply. 

"I mean, if you want to paint with blood, you can take mine." I purr "I don't mind, in fact, I'd be glad if you did that." 

Again, he doesn't reply. 

I take a deep breath in, the excitement inside me is seeping out of my body "I know you cut my arm to get blood to paint with. I'm not mad about it, I—" I listen to my echoes fading gradually before the sound of silence looms over the room "I like your aesthetics." That came out with a faint shaky voice. It was almost a confession. I hope my face doesn't look like a beet right now.  

"That's why I knew you'd be perfect." He says "I knew we have things in common." 

My lips stretch into an ear-to-ear smile. The sudden warmth in the room caresses my body. And yet, my muscles tense a bit as silence prevails once again. I can't deny that my body is craving him, it urges me to get close to him, so close that there will be no distance between us. I'm overwhelmed with feelings I've never experienced.

"I'm done." He announces "You can go back to work on your art."

I head towards the door but stop at the entrance, I look back at him painting over the black canvas. I wish if I had the courage to run and hug him from the back. I wonder why I couldn't lean in and kiss him when he was not wearing his mask. What stopped me? And if I did show my affection for him, would he accept my feelings? I can feel his fondness behind the soft gazes he shoots and the gentle tone lingering in his voice. I'm sure he feels something towards me. I'm sure those feelings are mutual. And yet, I can't find words to voice them. I can't run at him right now and hold him in my arms. Fear of rejection is crippling me, it ties my tongue into a knot; I can't voice the words at the tip of my tongue no matter what I do. 

"What's wrong, Hwei? You've been standing there for quite some time." 

I take a deep breath in, gathering all the courage I have "I have something to say." My voice echoes a couple of time. 

"I'm all ears." 

I place a hand over my trembling heart "I can't say it now. Can we meet in the evening?" 

"I will be in my room in the evening, you can come whenever you want."

As I turn to leave he adds "You don't have to walk through the backdoor this time." 

I chuckle nervously and say "Sorry about that."

I close the door behind me as I walk into the corridor. Full of determination and confidence; Today, I'm going to confess to him and then I will have my first kiss... Or perhaps I will just confess... Who knows what will happen afterwards. I step towards the grand hall but my feet continue upstairs, I can't wait until the evening and I'm too shy to go interrupt him and confess my feelings now. I will wait him in his room and practice my confession. I look around for the maid and she's not there. Good. She can't see me slipping into his room. 

The window is wide opened and sunlight is pouring in. It's unusually —and pleasantly— warmer than ever. That scent of lavender engulfing the room embraces me. I can imagine us spending most of our time in this room, cuddling or chattering, or both at the same time. A blue butterfly soaring the sky flutters through the window, it hovers over the desk then lands slowly over it. I tip-toe towards the desk to adore those fine details over its delicate wings. I notice a sketch over a piece of paper glued to the desk next to the butterfly: It shows various sketches of that lotus shaped apparatus. I don't know what's the purpose of that thing and why he has it. I remember seeing one of those peeking from one of the drawers. Curiosity pushes me to search the first drawer. The butterfly flitters upwards. I find that lotus shaped apparatus lying inside it. I take it out to inspect it. It's heavier than I thought so I place it over the desk. Its metallic petals start swirling slowly. I take a step back out of surprise. It's center emits a faint purple light. It looks weird to me. The butterfly hovers over the apparatus and land in its center. The petals close over the butterflies and the whole apparatus bursts into glittery purple mist that fogs the room. I almost tripped over trying to avoid the sudden explosion.

What is that thing?!

Chapter Text

The purple powder is scattered all over the desk and floor. The metal petals are lying in different parts of the room. The butterfly's wings were torn into pieces and they rained down on the floor. I have a lot of questions concerning that apparatus, how he made it, what's the purpose behind making it. However, I can't ask questions right now; Jhin's gaze is too heavy to bear, whenever my eyes dart to meet his, the weight of guilt crushes my chest. He's standing tall, his posture suggesting authority, hands hugged behind his back, and his eyes looking down at me. His unspoken judgment is enough to make my blood run cold, his silence is more tormenting than any words he could say in this moment. I bring my arm closer to my body; I can't find a good answer to why I was in his room destroying his property. No answer can justify that. At last, My gaze find his. Annoyance is drawn all over his fair face, and his piercing stare is putting pressure on me, although he has just asked one question. 

"I'm sorry" is the only phrase I can utter, a mantra that's been on repeat for what seems like an eternity.

I didn't have a reason to roam inside his house and enter his room. I just felt like it so I did it. I tried to clean the dust and throw away the petals as if nothing happened. And yet, he came up to me while I was working on a new drawing, asked me to have a word, led me into his drawing room and took off his mask. He has only asked one question ever since then: "Why did I go into his room and destroy his work?" He has been silent since then, no matter how many times I have apologized. 

I take a shaky breath in "Can I help you make another one?" The annoyance drawn on his face grows into malevolence. His gaze is tearing me apart. I can't bear to see him look at me with such contempt. I don't want him to despise me.

His lips part to speak calmly with a steady pace "What was the thing you wanted to talk about, Hwei?" 

I can't confess my feelings right now, not with him giving me this look. I clear my throat "I just wanted your help with something." I'm aware that my lies are transparent to him since the humiliating look he's casting at me doesn't change. "Drawing something and... Painting... I can't figure out how to..." All those excuses won't do me any favor. Therefore, I seal my mouth shut. The silence is so intense and unsettling that my skin prickles, as if a swarm of ants were creeping all over my back; I can imagine him dismissing me, telling me to leave and never come back. But I won't. I'll keep returning, hiding in the shadows, watching him from afar, and be close to him. Yet, I dread the thought of him looking down on me as a worthless person. I don't believe in prayer, but if there's a higher power listening, I hope he doesn't hate me.

Jhin sighs, his eyelids slide down for a moment. When they rise, his gaze softens "I'd appreciate it if you don't mess up any of my stuff again." 

The weight over my chest lifts and I can breathe again "I won't!" I exclaim "Please let me help you make another one." A coy smile tugs on my lips.  

"You can't make one yourself." He says "But, you can help me with the material." 

My feet take a step towards him "I'll do anything." I don't know what kind of material he's talking about or what kind of task he will make me do, but I will do anything to stay by his side for as long as I can.

My face is so close to his to the point that I can see my enthusiastic reflection in his brown eyes. His complexion perks up, the corner of his mouth stretch into a relaxed smile "We can meet in the backyard at sunset to discuss how we are going to make more traps before the grand display. I want to make more than a dozen of them." 

"Traps?" I wonder "These purple things were traps?"

He hums with a nod, confirming that I didn't mishear any word.

"What are those traps for?" 

Passionate flames burn behind his eyes, a radiance of excitement glimmers all over his complexion. He leans in slightly, his voice softening to a sweet whisper "What do you think they are made for?"

With our lips so close, I can't think straight. All I can do is imagine closing the gap between us and having the moment I've been craving. I'm lost in the moment, torn between taking the lead or waiting for him to make his move. Looking deep inside his eyes, I can tell he's giving me a signal, so I gulp down my anxiety and take a step closer. The door flings open "Master Jhin, we got a problem." It's the first time I see fear drawn over the maid's face. She hurls towards us "There are flyers everywhere in town!" 

"What flyers, Elina?"  

"About the girl we buried outside." 

"Leave it to me." I scurry towards the door "I will take down all them today." 

"Hwei." 

I turn to Jhin, serenity is still looming over his face "I will be waiting you for dinner." 

"I will be quick." I beam at him. 

I run outside, my eyes scanning the surroundings for any missing person flyers. I find them on the light posts, all on one side of the street. The flyers indicate that the girl has disappeared yesterday and that whoever finds her should contact the provided number. As I walk, I tear down every single flyer, wondering if the person who posted them intentionally used only one side of the street or was simply in a hurry. The flyers led me to an alley where more were clustered together. I stopped in the middle of the alley when I noticed something different: A drawing of Jhin's mask with the words "Wanted serial killer" written over it. At the bottom, a line says "If you see him, call the police." My heart throbs, chilliness climbs up my limbs to the point of freezing my hands. This is not the image I have of Jhin inside my mind. It can't be true. I will not make it true. I take the drawing and inspect it up close; The mask is skillfully portrayed, every line is accurately drawn— Whoever drew this must have been close to Jhin, spent a decent amount of time noticing all the details over his mask to be able to copy it on a sheet of paper. 

"What are you doing here, young man?" Two police officers approach from the end of the alley "Why are you taking down those flyers?" One of them snatches the sheet of paper I'm holding "What's that?" 

"I drew that." I reply "Someone else took it, wrote those words and left it here."

The two officers peek down at the art in question, and hum. "I think I have seen this somewhere before..." One of them whisper the other, his voice drops so low that I can't hear the rest. I hold my breath, watching the two have a discreet conversation, their eyes move —back and forth— from the the flyer in their hands to me then back to the flyer. "Okay, young man, we have some questions for you." One of them says.

No matter what happens, I can't let them suspect Jhin, even if it means going to jail for hiding the evidence of the dead girl or even murdering her. I'm willing to take the fall to protect him. None of them will know I'm lying if I said that I'm the one who killed her.

Chapter Text

The steak is warm and succulent, its juices and butter oozing out as I slice into it. The texture is chewy and the taste is savory. As for the creamy mashed potatoes, they melt inside my mouth. Although I'm not a big fan of asparagus, I find myself unable to resist munching on a bunch of them. I can't recall the last time I enjoyed a dinner like today's.

"You don't drink?" Jhin asks from across the table, candle light reflecting on his relaxed, fine complexion.

The shiny wine glass next to my plate is indeed alluring, and yet I don't take pleasure in sipping on such a tangy beverage. Even in the darkest days when I sink into my depression, I don't reach out for a drink to numb my pain, because it's useless. "I don't like its taste."   

"Try it. I made it myself." A warm smile makes its way on his lips. 

I take a sip. Mildly sweet, the fruity aftertaste tickles my taste buds. As I savor one more sip, the refreshing taste of strawberry dances in my mouth. The fruity finish is pleasant to my taste, it makes me eager to slurp it all, letting it flow over my tongue like a wave before gulping it all down. "It's good!" My gleeful face beams back at me through the reflection on the surface of the crimson red wine "How did you make it?" 

"I ferment fruits in the base of my house and let them age." He takes a sip from his glass "I brought some bottles when I rented this place."  

The maid refills my glass. I rest my cheek on the palm of my hand "I bet it feels good staying in your house." It sounds so relaxing to have the freedom to make your own drinks whenever you want. Being an artist, I bet he has a whole studio full of supplies and maybe even some instruments to play for fun.

"Well, it's more convenient for me than this one."

The maid turns around the table and leans to whisper something to him. The smile on his face dissolves and his complexion grows concerned. I still haven't told him about what I have seen earlier, I thought it would be better to wait after dinner. Jhin stands up "I will be back in a moment." The two of them exit the dinning room, leaving me wondering what they are going to discuss; Will they talk about my conversation with the policemen? Or about that odd flyer? Will she convince him that I'm siding up with the police? Thoughts are racing inside my mind, all those possibilities will make him doubt me, or worse, despise me. I sneak towards the door. I still haven't thought of how I'm going to explain myself and prove her accusations wrong (if she accused me of betraying him). Opening the door slowly and peeping outside, my eyes lay on him standing too close to his maid, her back is pinned to the wall and he's leaning down to her. Although their hands are by their sides and I can only see his back, I can clearly imagine what's going on. It feels as if some invisible hands rip my heart apart. I walk back to sit on my chair and swallow the whole glass of wine; What's the point of explaining myself if she's already got into his mind? 

What is the point of all of this if he just sees me as a friend?

My head sinks low, my gaze falls upon the wooden table and its linen cloth covering. My hand rubs against the back of my neck. All the effort I have done to get closer to him is in vain. Disappearing into thin air right now sounds appealing to me. I no longer want to exist. That time when I tried to stab myself but ended up surviving, I should have learnt my mistake and killed myself. 

"Are you okay?" 

I don't want to look at him. I don't want him to see tears flooding my eyes. 

"Hwei?"

I feel my sorrow inside my throat, burning it from the inside. A tear drops on the white tablecloth forming a grey spot. Another one follows. And before I know it, I'm sobbing already. I cover my head with my arms and my fingers dig into my scalp. I should not be seen in this state— miserable and lonely. 

"Hwei, are you drunk?" Jhin's hand lands on my back. My skin burns from his touch. "How about you stay the night here?" He pulls my arm but I draw it back in again. 

I take a deep breath, trying to vent any of those thoughts inside my head. "I'm not drunk," I finally managed to utter through a stifling voice, "You don't have to do this."

He sighs. With one hand on my waist, he forces me to stand to my feet, but they are too weak to support my weight. He pulls me into his body, my legs are wobbly so I lean against him. I didn't fight back when he wrapped my arm over his shoulders. I no longer have energy to move a muscle. Even when he looks to my face I no longer want to hide it. No energy. Drained. Empty. I let him drag me across the dinning room and into the hall. My legs are barely moving around but I can't feel my feet come in contact with the floor beneath. He drags my lifeless body to a room not too far away from the dinning room, or perhaps it's far away, I'm not sure. The room is dark and smells of fresh detergent. He sits me down on the cold bed sheets and turns on a lamp over a nightstand. My head is heavy, too heavy for my neck to carry, it swings around until it rests on Jhin's body. His hands hold my arms, not too loose and no too tight. 

"Don't go." Being this way is satisfying, it's warming me up, reviving my corpse "Don't go back to her."  

"Go back to whom?" 

"Her... She told you about the policemen, didn't she?" My tongue is getting numb and my lips become loose, too difficult to control "I'm sorry I didn't tell you first." 

He moves my head up to look at him "Tell me more." His hands are cupping my face and I'm resting my chin on his body.

I can't see him clearly, too dark and too foggy "You don't love me." And again, tears make their way to my eyes, blurring my vision.

He whispers "I've never said that."  

Chapter Text

A thunderous scream shook me up, forced me to jump out of bed. It's all dark around me and my head is throbbing with pain. My shaky hands search for the bedside light, fingers are pressing against anything they lay over. Even after I found the button of the small lamp and turning it on, its yellow hue is too weak to let me see clearly. No. It's my eyes that are too blurry. When I look down to my hands, they look smudged. I rub my eyes and take a look again around me. At least this time I can see the furniture more definite now. The scream rings again, leaving a trail of echoes behind to resonate in every corner of the house. My feet stagger, my arms float to find balance, as I make my way to the door. I turn the knob slowly, peeking from the tiny space between the door and the frame. A crimson river shines underneath the artificial lights of the hallway. I cautiously peer out. A trail of blood leads from a closed door, marked with bloody handprints, at the end of the hallway. The trail disappears around the corner. I tiptoe outside to see where it leads to, making sure to avoid touching it with my bare toes. The maid is swinging as she walks, her blood is raining down on the carpet. She's whimpering in pain, racing death towards the exit. She stumbles her feet and falls down, yet her survival instinct drives her to crawl towards her unknown destination.

My hand presses against that stabbing pain in my head, my other hand is pushing against the wall to find balance as I approach her "Are you okay?" 

She stops crawling. I stand at her side and she looks up to me. Blood is gushing from her mouth, her eyes are bloodshot, she has three holes on her dress: One on the arm, one on her side and one on the thigh. Each of them are darker than her blue dress, more blood is pouring out of them. She clutches to my clothes "Please," blood spews out of her lips "I don't want to die."

My limbs go cold, seeing her in that state begging me to save her. I don't know what I'm supposed to do; Her skin is getting paler as her blood is getting drained out of her body, she's breathing fast, or barely able to breathe with all that blood inside her mouth, yet her grip is tight and she's pulling me towards her; Her soul is slowly, and painfully, leaving her body, but she's still clinging to her dear life, hoping that I might do something to save her. Gravity weighs down my unstable head, lowering me to my knees. The cold, damp sensation of blood seeping through my pants sends a shiver of dread down my spine.

A door squeaks open, and closes shortly afterwards. The maid's hands are trembling "Please," she weeps and pulls me towards her "He's coming. Save me." 

Footsteps, soft and deliberate, creep down the hallway, a twisted, playful hum seems to dance through the air, growing louder with each passing moment. A chill runs down our spines as we slowly turn our heads towards the ominous shadow lurking at the beginning of the hallway. Blood is smeared over Jhin's white cloak, dripping down to stain his pants and boots. His mask, contorted into a grotesque caricature of a smile, hides the predatory gleam in his eyes as he closes in on us, twirling a gun around his index finger. With a swing of his hand, a bullet penetrates the maid's head. Her body lands down on the floor, her eyes are still wide opened, but lifeless. Blood pours out of the fourth bullet hole. I can see a fragment of flesh, assumingly her brain, glistening at the edge of the hole. 

"It's not perfect!" He shouts "It's ugly!"

Although the maid is already dead next to me, he shoves bullets inside his gun. He inhales deeply, his chest heaves with anticipation. A predatory gleam twinkles in his eyes "I," he exhales slowly, the gun barrel raises "Shall make it perfect," he hisses, pointing the gun at me.

I crawl away, terror coursing through my veins. He steps closer, his grip on the gun tightening, his eyes glinting with a cold determination. "You..." I stammer, my voice a desperate plea "Won't kill me." 

"I like your confidence." A bullet flies right next to my ear. "One..." 

My body jolts upwards, fighting my wobbling legs to sprint away from him. My hitched breath makes it difficult to pick up the pace, each time I take a breath that fills my lungs my chest aches and my feet slow down. A wave of dizziness rushes over me. I kneel down, my hand clutches to my trembling chest, gasping for air. 

"Two..." Another bullet whizzes above my head, burying itself into the carpet just inches away. The blackened mark it leaves taunts me with its proximity; If I hadn't lowered down in the right moment, it could have been inside my head.  

I scramble to my feet one and sprint into the darkness at the end of the hallway. Furniture crashes into me as I race through the gloom. Blindly, I push forward, hoping for a glimmer of light to guide my escape.

"Three..." One more bullet whooshes too close to me. Despite the darkness, he seems to know where I am. 

I crouch down and curl myself into a ball, my heart pounding in my chest. There's no way out. It's a matter of time until he finds me. The heavy thud of his footsteps draws closer, echoing in my mind like a death knell. The footsteps cease, and a chilling stillness descends— He's right behind me.

Chapter Text

My body aches, my limbs feel heavy as if there's an invisible weight pinning me to the bed. I grunt, opening my eyes to see the warm morning sunlight flashing over the walls of the room. 

"Hwei?" Jhin's soft voice drifts into my ears "Do you feel better now?" 

Seeing him sitting at the edge of the bed, I jump to stand to my feet "Stay away from me!" Black curtains fall over my eyes, my head is twirling, I fight against my unbalanced body to stand still. I struggle to stay upright, but he's there to catch me when I start to fall, holding me close and preventing me from hitting the ground.  

"Hwei, please, rest." 

I look up to his concerned face, my body is trembling in fear "You killed the maid and you're going to kill me." 

"That's not true." He says "You must have been having a nightmare." 

"No, you killed—" The door opens, the maid comes in holding a tray. She flashes me a look of uncertainty, places the the tray over a small round table near the door, and leaves silently. I take a shaky breath in to relax my racing heart. It indeed was a nightmare, a realistic one. My body suddenly becomes weaker, I can no longer feel my legs and it's hard for my neck to support the weight of my head so I lean it over Jhin's chest. 

"What a terrible nightmare you had!" His hand brushes gently against my cheek, tucking the strands of hair stuck to my forehead behind my earlobe. "You're sweating again," he murmurs in a gentle voice, "Let me wipe off your sweat." He leads me back to bed to sit down. My eyes come in contact with my bare thighs. I look down on my body and find that I'm not wearing neither my shirt or pants. "You puked all over your clothes so I took them off to clean them, also you were sweating so I wiped off your sweat." He takes a plate of water, with a small white cloth bobbing in it, from the nightstand and sits down next to me.

My body shudders when he touches me with the cold, wet cloth, he glides it around my neck and over my chest. The thought of him seeing my slender, almost naked body makes me feel ashamed. My tense shoulders square up and I look away to avoid his gaze "Sorry for troubling you." My face burns with embarrassment. 

"It's okay," he brushes my fringe back to wipe the sweat on my forehead, his voice a honeyed whisper "I was by your side all night and I didn't feel like I was troubled by you." The smell of fresh Jasmine on the wet cloth is fragrant and refreshing, white petals are floating over the surface of the water plate sitting in his lap. Only the silence that broke in after he spoke is what making me tense in this moment. He lowers his hand after finishing wiping my forehead and I can feel his soft gaze lying on me. Butterflies tickle my insides. He's so close to me that I can hear his deep breathes. I need to say something right now, perhaps thank him or apologize one more time, but words seem to evaporate from my dry mouth. He gets up and goes to a chair near the round table to grab a shirt. "Here's my shirt," he says, handing it to me. "You can wear it until your clothes dry." 

"Thank you." It's indeed a bit cold, especially after wiping my body with the wet cloth.

"I'll go see how your clothes are drying while you have breakfast." He slips out of the door, closing it gently.

I let out a sigh. He's so kind and considerate. I don't think I've ever seen this soft side of him before. In fact, this is the first time I've felt truly cared for. However, that thing about yesterday forms a sense of uneasiness in my stomach— I don't remember much about yesterday after getting drunk. I don't remember throwing up all over my clothes. That must have been troublesome (and disgusting) for him and his maid to clean. I'm worried that I might have said something embarrassing when I was wasted, or maybe even confessed my feelings to him. I assume I did say something about how I feel about him, which is why he's being so caring today. Or perhaps he's just trying to be nice and doesn't really care that much. I can't tell for sure.

I stand up slowly and wear his shirt. It smells like him. My lips can't help but smile at the sudden warmth inside my chest. 

"Please, I don't want to die." 

The maid's voice rings inside my head. The image of her bleeding, begging for her life, is haunting me. She came into my room a few minutes ago and looked fine, so this can't be real... Or can it?

Opening the door, I step outside. The hallway is clean. The door which had blood on it is clean as well. I take a turn around the corner, reaching the place where the maid was shot in the head. As expected, it's clean too, no sign of blood, moisture or a foul smell. However, my eyes catches a dark spot on the carpet, where Jhin's bullet landed when he tried to shoot me. I hurl towards it and inspect it with my hand. I'm not dreaming. It's indeed rough and dark. 

It was not a nightmare.

Chapter Text

Wearing my warm, sun-dried clothes, I thanked Jhin one more time for his concern. With now clothes on my body and I'm sober, we are standing in awkward silence. He glances at my now finished breakfast and says "You're looking mighty fine." 

Seeing his calm, delighted face, I smile "Yeah, feeling much better now." He looks like a completely different person, as if the one who kills is someone else, someone I don't know. 

"How about we escape to my drawing room?" He takes a step towards me, his voice drops low "Let's create something beautiful together."  

A blush creeps across my cheeks and my heart skips a beat. I know he means we paint together but the way he said it was suggestive. Either way, it's an offer I can't refuse "I'm ready."

The drawing room has its French windows slightly opened, pouring in some sunlight which makes the room more illuminated than yesterday. Jhin has already finished sketching and now he's layering the first layer of paint on his artwork. Meanwhile, I'm sitting over my stool (with a straight back as he taught me) with a pencil in my hand, once again, staring at a blank canvas. My anxiety is soaring. I know whatever I'm going to draw won't be as good as he wants it to be. And once again, I doubt my skills, I doubt if I have any skills. Many ideas are clashing inside my head, blood of different colors are shed inside me, they mingle, fuse, and eventually blend, staining my heart with a jet black color. Black— That's how I envision us, drowsed in the sin of murder, and madness. I helped him bury the woman he killed, I helped him by removing the 'wanted' posters, I lied to the police, I saw him killing his maid and I didn't mind it. Black —The outcome of mixing malice, evil and love. Affection, devotion and yearning are my weapons to commit such horrendous acts. Yet, I find myself willing to do more, until he likes me back, I'm unstoppable. Black —It's our color. 

Jhin puts down his brush "I see you still haven't decided what to draw yet." He stands next to me, hands clasped behind his back "What's on your mind?"

"You..." No need to hide the truth any longer "And me." My eyes are too shy to meet his, thus they lay only on the canvas. 

His voice drops to a whisper "I want to know more." 

My mouth is drying. I let my head hangs loose, looking down on my skinny thighs "Everything... I'm new to all those things we do." I lick my lips, "Killing, blood... It's my first time seeing people die." 

His chest presses against my back, my heart races as I feel his hands on my waist. His warm breath tickles my ear "And, did you like it?" He whispers.

I can't tell for sure if I liked seeing people having their souls leaving their bodies. Blood running like a river, deafening screams, a pale, sturdy corpse, shooting,... I can't tell if I did like that. Seeing these things did something inside me, something I can't name, but I'm not the same person anymore. A hand crawls over my abdomen and heads towards my chest, urging me to surrender to his desires. I welcome it, eager to embrace the darkness within. "I like it."  I whisper back, lost in the heat of the moment.

It's just now that I realize I have become a slave to his wickedness... And I love it...

"I knew it!" His voice holds a tinge of thrill and enthusiasm "I knew you are the perfect one! I saw it in your eyes," He takes an audible breath in, squeezing my body between his and his hands "You're the one I've been searching for all this time."

My heart is kicking my insides, kicking against the hand pressing against my chest. My breath hitches as I try to speak. "Do you...?" I trail off, my voice barely a whisper. "Do you like me?"

He chuckles, his breath makes the skin on my neck tingles "Destiny has brought us together. And now, we can begin."

A weight seems to vanish from my soul, replaced by a warmth I’ve never known. Is this what they call closure? Or perhaps it’s love, blooming within me like a delicate flower. Breathing deeply, I let these new sensations wash over me, a tidal wave of joy. No, it’s not closure or love—it’s pure, unadulterated bliss. I let my head fall onto his shoulder, basking in the moment and the closeness between us. He doesn't seem to mind it. In the corner of my eyes, I see his left hand sliding backwards and when it appears again, a small shiny knife hovers over my arm. It's pointy, the blade's edge looks viciously sharp and smooth to the point of reflecting sunlight as if it's a mirror. I gulp, watching him passing the knife to the other hand. I have a bad feeling about this. The hand that's holding the knife slides up my left arm to reveal the cut that has started to heal, his other hand grips my wrist. 

"Don't move." He orders. The pointy end of the knife stands over the head of the cut, it sinks inside my flesh. I whimper. The knife slides down and blood flows out, I moan, my arm flinches because of pain, he holds me tighter. My breath grows quicker. The knife slides down until the end of the fine line of the cut. He, eventually, releases me from his grip. The fresh cut burns, blood rushes to drip all over my clothes. He takes a clean brush, dips it in the cut, and paint over the white canvas, humming while doing so. 

The screaming pain doesn't go away, "It hurts." I groan.

"Take some deep breaths and enjoy the pain." He says, still drawing something with my blood "Your shade of red is captivating, more so than any other I've encountered."

I bite down on my lower lip, breathing deeper, in and out. After a couple of breaths, I feel as if I'm drowning in euphoria. This pain, so intoxicating and sweet, is addicting. 

"This feeling," I take a deep breath "I love it. I want more."

Chapter Text

Jhin holds my wrist, stretching my arm out, and places it over his thighs. His fingers gently trace the line of my wound, a soft touch that sends shivers down my spine. With a clean piece of cotton, he cleans the crimson stain with a tender touch, his eyes fixed on my injury, a silent promise of care. He's taking care of me like no one has ever done. I feel a warmth radiating from him, like a comforting embrace that soothes my soul. He wraps my forearm in gauze and secures it with tape. He pulls down my sleeve, "It will heal in no time." His eyes slowly climb up to meet with mine. His gaze lingers on my face, a silent acknowledgment of the vulnerability I've exposed. In this particular moment, I feel a connection deeper than any word could express.

Tilting my head, I offer him a soft smile. "Thank you," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

A smirk twitches at the corners of his lips, "Let's go." He abandons me on the bed and strides towards his wardrobe. I watch, transfixed, as he dons his cloak, then tucks two lethal weapons into his belt – a hulking firearm and the smaller one he used to end the maid's life. If I recall correctly, when he found me still unable to draw, he'd offered to 'inspire' me with a walk outside. But why the need for such weapons for a simple stroll? As he adjusts his two masks, a sinister familiarity washes over me. They are the same masks he wore during his stage performance and the night he silenced the maid once and for all. A sense of dread creeps in as I realize the true nature of our 'walk.'

He glances over his shoulder, "Are you ready?" he says with a malevolent tone. 

We venture into the secluded forest, a haven hidden behind his grand mansion. The lake, a tranquil mirror, reflects the wispy clouds and the verdant canopy that embraces its shores. As I draw near, my image dances upon the water's surface, a fleeting moment of beauty. A smile graces my lips, captivated by the serene reflection. My foot slides towards the lake but Jhin catches me by the waist, he pulls me to walk next to him. 

"The lake looks beautiful, why don't we sit down for a moment?" 

"We are about to reach our destination."

"Where are we going?" 

"You'll know soon."

If it weren't for the two guns he's carrying, I could have guessed we are going on a date, something like sitting somewhere over a bench deep inside the forest, surrounded by towering trees casting their cool shade on us, a quiet distant place where only birds' chirping could be heard. Yet, the fact that he's not carrying one gun but two... My feet slow down as I realize what is about to happen soon. We are killing someone. Somehow the thought of blood pours ice water down my limbs although I'm starting to enjoy it. A moment later, a subtle distance grows between us. My feet quicken as I close the gap, my hand reaches out, hesitant yet hopeful, to hold his. His fingers, warm and inviting, welcome mine. As our hands intertwine, a surge of warmth spreads through me, a comforting sensation that makes me smile. My heart flutters, a sweet secret shared, a bond forged between us.

"So, we can't stop for a while?" 

He chuckles "You're so persistent, Hwei." He pauses "I know a place where we can stop for a moment."

We venture deeper into the forest, sunlight filtering through the emerald canopy, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. A symphony of nature fills the air—the distant melody of birdsong, the soft hum of insects, all harmonizing with the gentle breeze. My hand brushes against his thigh, then his gun, a stark contrast to the idyllic setting. I tug it gently, a nervous gesture, hoping he doesn't perceive me as touchy person.

We turn onto a hidden path, a secret passageway veiled by leafy bushes. As we emerge, a breathtaking vista unfolds before us. A winding path leads up a gentle slope, flanked by vibrant wildflowers and berry-laden bushes. Butterflies flit and dance, their colorful wings a kaleidoscope of beauty. It's as if we've stumbled upon a secret garden, a hidden realm of enchantment.

The path leads us to a towering tree, a sentinel guarding a breathtaking panorama. As we circle the ancient oak, the landscape opens up, revealing a rolling meadow that stretches towards a distant river. A sense of peace washes over me, a tranquil moment in this hidden paradise.

His hand slips away, breaking the silent connection between us. He settles against the ancient tree trunk. "This is my sanctuary," he murmurs, "a place where inspiration blooms."

I sit beside him, drawing my knees to my chest, a comfortable posture that mirrors his own.

"I've always kept this place to myself," he confesses, a hint of solitude in his voice. "I have never shared this secret place with anyone."

I gaze out at the swaying grass, a serene smile playing on my lips. "It's truly breathtaking," I murmur.

"It is."

I watch the tranquil river and the playful birds, a picture or peace. However, the turmoil within me doesn't fade away. "I can't believe you have two identical maids," I murmur, my voice barely audible. "I thought the one you killed yesterday was the one who served me breakfast this morning." He turns his head slowly, his gaze piercing through my façade. "You didn't need to lie to me, I knew it wasn't a dream."

"Tell me, Jhin, how does it feel to kill someone?" I lean back against the tree, my gaze drawn to the single, menacing eye visible through his mask. The sinister smile plays on his mask is a silent threat.

"Fascinating," he drawls, his voice laced with a hint of derision. "A pity you'll never truly comprehend."

"Will you make me understand?" 

He hums questionably.

I smile "I want you to explain to me how you feel when you kill someone in details." 

He inhales deeply, his voice a low, sinister growl. "I feel... alive. A thrill, a rush, a masterpiece painted in crimson and agony. The weak, the innocent, they offer little satisfaction, merely a fleeting sensation. No, I prefer the wicked, the defiant, those who escape justice's grasp. To punish them, to see their strength crumble, their pleas for mercy... that is true art. But there are other delights, darker pleasures... shall I share them with you?" His hand snakes out, grasping your chin, his grip tight.

With our faces inches apart, his grip on my chin a hypnotic hold, I whisper, "Tell me."

"The weak, their pathetic cries, a symphony to my ears. I relish the dance of blood, their lifeblood painting a canvas of despair. It's a different kind of excitement, a twisted pleasure I sometimes crave."

"Am I weak?" 

"More than that," he replies, his eye glinting with a sinister light.

"How do I make you feel?" I press, my heart pounding in my chest.

"You awaken something within me, a hunger, a desire long dormant," he confesses, his voice a low growl.

Chapter Text

My trembling hands clutch the gun, its weight a cruel anchor. Jhin's body presses into mine, a suffocating weight. His breath, a harsh whisper, tickles my ear. I can feel his rigid body through my thin clothes, a thrilling reminder of his dominance. "Straighten your back, Hwei" his voice, a dangerous caress. His cold fingers snake down my arms, molding my grip around his gun. His strong arms pull mine upward, forcing my trembling hands to aim at an invisible foe "Four bullets, four targets. Don't waste a shot."

"I can't do this," I whimper, my arms heavy and useless. Without his firm grip, the gun would surely slip from my grasp. "I can't kill anyone," I plead, my body shakes uncontrollably. "Can't we just turn back?"

"You will do as I say," he growls, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

I gulp, fear seeps into my bones. I pray he won't reveal the monster lurking beneath his charming façade, at least not on me. I don't want to provoke his wrath. I nod, a silent pledge of obedience, a silent promise of compliance.

We trek deeper into the dense, emerald forest. A small, weathered wooden cabin emerges from the foliage, a solitary beacon in the verdant wilderness. Abruptly, he halts. "You'll go alone," he commands, extracting the big, formidable firearm from its holster, its cold metal glinting in the dappled sunlight. With practiced efficiency, he loads it with four ominous cartridges.

"Please," I whisper, my voice barely a tremor, "I can't do this alone."

"I'll be watching," he assures me, "If anything goes wrong, I'll be there to... protect you."

The quaint wooden cottage, nestled amidst the emerald canopy, seems frozen in a timeless tranquility. A man, a silhouette of domestic bliss, sits on the porch with a loyal canine companion. Through the window, I catch a fleeting glimpse of a woman, her form obscured by the soft glow of sunlight. Little do they know, their idyllic existence is about to be shattered. I'm the harbinger of their doom, the reaper of their souls. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, a chilling reminder of the darkness I'm about to unleash. "I can't do this alone," I whisper, my voice barely audible above the rustling leaves.

"His reckoning has arrived," Jhin hisses, a lurking wrath in his voice. "Tell him that his sins will not go unpunished. What he has done is neither forgiven nor forgotten." His eye, cold and unforgiving, is locked on the man. I can only nod, a silent prisoner of his vengeance. With a heavy heart and a trembling hand, I draw in a deep breath and I step towards the inevitable.

Gun in hand, I draw closer to the cabin. The dog lunges forward, barking wildly. The old man's face, twisted with malice, peers at me. "Who are you, and what do you want?" he snarls, missing teeth adding to his menacing appearance.

I repeat Jhin's words "Your sins will not go unpunished."

The man's eyes widen in shock, his face turning pale. The dog's barking intensifies, growing more frenzied. The woman's voice, trembling with fright, calls out from the cabin, "What is going on?"

My trembling hands rises to point the gun at the man, just like a puppet with no soul, I deliver the message "What you have done is neither forgiven nor forgotten." And just as a loyal dog —more loyal than the one barking at me— I pull the trigger and plant a hole inside the man's head "One."

The dog lunges, its bark a desperate cry. I fire, silencing it "Two." 

Both the man and his dog lay down next to each other, blood surges out of their bodies. The man and his loyal companion are sleeping for eternity, their lives extinguished in an instant. A bitter taste fills my mouth as I witness the tragedy I've caused. I swallow the lump in my throat, refusing to succumb to despair. There are two targets left. I glance at the masked figure, his gun aimed at me, a twisted smile playing on the lips of the mask. Is he proud of me now?

The woman bursts out of the cabin, her scream piercing the air as she sees the carnage. She retreats inside, but a bullet from Jhin shatters her leg, forcing her to crawl away. Numbness creeps over me, yet my body moves on autopilot. I can no longer control it. My legs follow her inside, my heavy hand finally lifting the gun. A shot rings out to pierce her guts, and she slumps to the ground. "Three," I whisper, the weight of my actions bearing down on me.

She screams in pain, her body twists and wriggles in agony, blood pooling around her. Tears stream down my face as I'm forced to watch her torment. I can't endure her cries any longer. I exert all the effort I have to steady my cold, trembling hand, my aiming sways in all directions and I can't point at the head. Finally, I pull the trigger "Four." The silence that follows is deafening. 

My limbs are all numb, I can't feel anything. The gun drops to the floor. I collapse to my knees, my hands sinking into the blood. My tears rain down on the pool underneath me. What have I done? Did I really do that? No. Perhaps it's a dream.

Nothing happened. Maybe I will wake up now.

Wake up.

Come on, wake up!

Why am I still sleeping?

Each time I close my eyes, the blood stains my vision. I'm trapped in this nightmare. Consumed by guilt, I weep uncontrollably.

"You've failed me," Jhin sneers, entering the cabin and holstering his gun.

I sit up, gasping. "I only found three. The fourth... I couldn't find them."

"She was pregnant. That's four," he states coldly, pulling me to my feet. "You're weaker than I expected, Hwei."

"I know."

Chapter Text

Jhin's cold hand claws at mine, not a gentle caress but a desperate grasp. He's dragging me towards the looming mansion, a monstrous silhouette against the harsh midday sun. A numbness, a void, has consumed my body and mind. No sensation, no control. I'm a puppet on invisible strings, manipulated by an unseen hand. The fog in my head thickens, obscuring thoughts and desires. I'm a spectator in my own life, a silent witness to the horror I've committed.

This can't be real. This can't be happening. I didn't kill anyone. It was not me. 

Their faces... everywhere. Gazing from the mud, leering from the leaves, condemning me from the sky. They're in my head, aren't they? Screaming, crying, begging. "Why, why, why?" they shriek. It wasn't me! I didn't do it! I plead for forgiveness, a desperate plea that gets lost in the void. But, they don't listen. They don't care. They're dead, gone, and it's all my fault. I killed them. I extinguished their light. I close my eyes, succumbing to the darkness within. They are behind my eyelids, frowning at me, judging me. They are in the back of my head. A happy family. No. All I can see is blood, blood everywhere. Oh god, I'm losing it. They no longer exits. 

"Hwei? Can you hear me?" A pair of soft hands frame my face, thumbs tracing soothing circles on my cheeks.

My heavy lids flutter open, his soft gaze meets mine. With tender care, he brushes away each tear that escape my eyes. "They won't forgive me," I sob, my voice barely audible. "They're everywhere."

"Shhh, it's okay," he whispers, "They can't hurt you now. You're safe here with me."

"But they're still here," I whimper, my voice trembling. "I can feel them, see them. They're everywhere, judging me, hating me."

"It's okay," he whispers, stroking my hair gently. "The past is behind us. You're safe now, and that's all that matters."

My trembling breath slows. He's right. There's nothing to fear now. My hands, shyly, reach to feel his. I lean into his gentle touch, a sense of peace washing over me. My lips can't help but smile at him "Thank you."

A wave of relief washes over me as he gently takes my arms. "Now, shower," he instructs. "I'll bring you something to wear. Don't take too long, or lunch will get cold." With that, he leaves, the door clicking shut.

Only then do I realize that I'm in a bathroom. I stare at my reflection in the mirror; a grotesque masterpiece of blood and despair. My hair, a tangled mess, is stained crimson. My face, a mask of horror, is streaked with dark blood. As I trace a fingertip across my forehead, I'm struck by the darkness of the blood. I didn't know that blood is this dark. I glance again at the mirror. My eyes, lifeless and hollow, stare back at me, mimicking the emptiness within. At least the person in the mirror is not judging me.

I'm stripping, each garment a layer of a self I no longer recognize, throwing them over the blue tiles. The warm water of the shower promises solace, but my mind is a battlefield. A fog of confusion envelopes me: Who am I? What have I become? A puppet, dancing to a tune I didn't write. That man, with his ethereal piano performance, has cast a sinister spell, a love that twists and torments. His every note, every chord, pierced my heart, igniting a fire within me.

I curl into a ball in the bathtub, my arms wrapped tightly around my legs. This must be a love spell, a wicked, potent magic that has me yearning for him. My mind races, consumed by thoughts of him. I can't escape this love, this hopeless entanglement. But the question lingers: Does he feel the same way about me?

I let my head sink, tears streaming down my face. Does he truly love me, or am I just a pawn in his game? He claims we're special, but his actions tell a different story. I feel used, manipulated, a mere puppet dancing to his tune.

I do hope he feels the same towards me, I do hope I'm more than a puppet to him.

A knock interrupts my somber thoughts. "May I come in?" Jhin's voice echoes through the bathroom. "I brought you some new clothes."

"Jhin," I say abruptly "There's something I need to say."

He sounds so certain, as if he can read my mind. "I know," he says, "I know you have questions."

He approaches the bathtub. "We can talk after lunch."

"I can't wait that long," I insist.

He pauses, considering. "I'll be on the patio. Ask away."

Relief washes over me, calming my troubled heart. I hear his footsteps fade, then stop. "Hwei," he says, his voice soft, "you mean a lot to me."

My mind goes blank. Time seems to stand still.

"If you won't take care of yourself..." His voice darkens, a menacing hiss, "...I will." The door slams shut.

Was that a declaration of love, or a veiled threat?

Chapter Text

The sun dapples through the canopy of leaves, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow upon the tranquil lake. A gentle breeze carries the sweet scent of blooming flowers, as we sat in companionable silence.

My heart pounds in my chest, a tempest of emotions swirling within. I'm longing to break the stillness, to spill forth the secret yearning that had taken root within me. Yet, my tongue is heavy, bound by a silent vow. How can I possibly put into words the complex emotions that have taken hold of my heart?

His figure, bathed in the golden rays of the sun, is a study in serene contemplation. His gaze, lost in the mesmerizing sway of the trees, mirrors the depth of our unspoken desires. As my eyes rest upon him, a fleeting spark ignites, only to be extinguished as quickly as it had appeared.

I put down my cup and clear my throat, preparing to dance around the subject. After all, I can't directly inquire about his feelings for me. Yet, I struggle to find the right words.

"How are you feeling right now?" He glances at me sideways.

"Fine," I reply, my voice barely a whisper.

"What do you think of my clothes?" He asks.

I bite my lip, the soft fabric of the lavender-scented shorts and t-shirt brushing against my skin. The gentle fragrance envelops me, a comforting reminder of his presence. "They smell like you," I confess, my voice barely audible.

He turns to face me, our eyes lock, a relaxed smile playing on his lips. "I know they're a bit oversized, but I hope they'll do until your clothes dry."

I clutch my teacup, studying my anxious reflection in the dark liquid. "I know I'm troubling you by overstaying in your place and borrowing your clothes," I murmur.

"Don't say that," he reassures me, his voice warm and inviting. "It's my pleasure to have you here."

A shy smile spreads across my lips. "Thank you," I whisper, lowering my head to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, his chin resting on his palm. His warm brown eyes bore into mine. "You wanted to talk about something. What's on your mind?"

I rub the back of my neck nervously. How do I begin? How do I ask him how he sees me?

"Come on, Hwei, I'm listening." He urges.

I bite my lip nervously, my face flushing with heat. My mouth feels dry.

"I know what you want to say," he states, "But I want to hear it from you."

I look up at his relaxed face, his smile widening as our eyes meet. I take a deep breath. "What are we?" I ask, gathering all my courage. "What am I to you?"

"I knew you'd ask," he replies, setting down his cup. "You and I, Hwei, are like two brushstrokes on a canvas. Separate, yet together, creating something... Exquisite."
His words puzzle me. He hasn't answered my question directly, leaving me to ponder his meaning. Does he like me, or is he simply using my emotions to fuel his creative pursuits?

Gazing at me, as if reading my mind, he silences my doubts, dispelling the fear of being unwanted and worthless. "You've always exceeded my expectations. Your loyalty, your precision... It's truly remarkable." His voice was a velvet caress that sparks something within me.

My heart skips a beat, a shy smile playing on my lips. "Thank you," I murmur.

"You're more than just a brushstroke to me," he confesses, his eyes filled with a warmth that surprises me. "You're my soulmate, a companion I never knew I needed." He stretches his hand across the table, offering it to me, inviting me to take it in mine.

My heart pounds in my chest, a nervous chuckle escaping my lips. "I-I didn't know you feel that way," I stammer, struggling to find the right words. The affection in his eyes seems to confirm my unspoken feelings. His outstretched hand, a silent invitation, pulls me into a moment of hopeful anticipation.

"How could I not? You're flawless, perfect in every way. Every decision, every action... It's all been extraordinary. You're simply... perfect."

I lower my head shyly. My hand, hesitant at first, reaches out to meet his. Our palms kiss, a warm connection forming between us. "I just wanted to do my best. For you," I murmur.

"And you have. More than I ever imagined." he folds his hand on mine, embracing it gently.

The weight of his words settles on me. He expects much of me, and I must live up to his expectations. Sometimes, his demands are challenging, but I am determined to fulfill them. His warmth spreads through me, drawing me closer, and I yearn for nothing more than to be by his side.

"I will do my best to live up to your expectations," I vow, lifting my head to meet his gaze. Hesitating for a moment, I finally muster the courage to say, "I will do anything to stay by your side."

He reassures "That's where you belong, Hwei. There's no other place fitting but my side."

My heart flutters, a surge of emotion washing over me. The world fades into the background, leaving only the two of us bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. The rustling leaves hush, the playful animals pause, as if nature itself holds its breath. Time seems to stand still.

"That's where I want to stay, forever," I confess, my voice barely a whisper.

His face lights up with joy. "And I will make sure you do," he promises.

I lower my head, my reflection in the tea mirroring my wide smile. I never knew I could smile like this.

His other hand rubs over mine, a gentle warmth spreading through my palm. "You're a masterpiece, a canvas of endless possibilities. In the grand display, you'll paint the hall with vibrant hues, dance to the rhythm of your own soul. I'll be your devoted audience, captivated by every note of your symphony." My gaze meets his. "I'll be your choreographer too, your guiding star. I'll inspire your every move, every graceful step. Together, we'll create a breathtaking performance, a dance of love that will mesmerize the world."

My heart flutters with anticipation "Teach me, guide me, and make me dance to your rhythm."

"You will."

Chapter Text

Crimson hues painted by my blood, like the setting sun bleeding across the horizon, bloom across the canvas, forming a network of delicate, interconnected circles. I meticulously blend cobalt blue, verdant green, and pristine white, coaxing forth a luminous teal, a shade as ethereal as the summer sky. With this ethereal hue, I begin to shape a spectral figure, a barely discernible human silhouette, reaching out with an elongated hand. And then, with the delicate touch of a graphite pencil, I etch a symbol of love – a heart – nestled gently within the outstretched palm, a poignant testament to hope and yearning.

The door creaks open, and my heart flutters within my chest. The air, heavy with the intoxicating scent of lavender, fills the room, and a smile blooms on my lips. As I hold the pencil poised in my lap, a pair of strong arms encircle my waist, Jhin's warm chest pressing against my back. A breath, hot and humid, grazes the sensitive skin of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "Inspiration seems to have struck," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.

A soft chuckle escapes me. "Yes"

"So, what's the story behind this?" His voice, a silken caress, washes over me. "I see a man, his figure almost ethereal, holding something precious within his grasp."

"It's a heart." 

He leans down, his arms tightening around my waist, his breath fanning my cheek. "So, a man holding his own heart?"

"No," I whisper, my voice catching. "It's someone else's."

"So, a man holding another person's heart. A symbol of love, perhaps?"

I take a deep breath, the scent of his cologne intoxicating. Looking at him through the corner of my eye, I let the words hang in the air. "More like... captivating it. Holding it captive."

He hums thoughtfully, "Interesting." He steps back abruptly, the warmth of his body receding as quickly as it arrives. "Turn around, Hwei." My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs. His hand, surprisingly gentle, cups my cheek, guiding my head back so I gaze up at him. "I have a task for you," he says, his voice is low and menacing.

"What is it?" I ask, my voice strained. The air thickens with anticipation, and I brace myself for the inevitable.

"There's an individual, a man known only by the initials S.J. You'll find a clue, a platter bearing those initials, in the hall. You will then present yourself to the authorities, the police, and inform them of this man's heinous crimes. He is a murderer, responsible for the tragic deaths of several innocent souls, including one of my household staff and a young girl who once graced my mansion with her artistic presence."

"We will... we will sacrifice an innocent person?" I gasp, my voice trembling. The ease with which he proposes this hideous act, the chilling indifference in his eyes, chills me to the bone. "I can't do that. No, I just... can't do that. I can't!" 

He abruptly withdraws his hand from my face, the charming smile solidifying into a mask of icy indifference. "You'll find your clothes in the room you slept in. You can go now." He turns and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with the eerie silence.

Did I… upset him? The question hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating weight in my chest. His earlier warmth has vanished, replaced by an unsettling coldness. I cannot shake the feeling that I have crossed an invisible line, that my refusal has somehow angered him.

I hope he didn't, because I can't stand seeing an innocent person spending their lives behind bars for the crimes committed by another person. The thought of an innocent person languishing in prison for crimes they didn't commit gnaws at me. That's pure evil, and I can't take part in it.

I retrace my steps, returning to the room where I spent the previous night. A strange familiarity has settled over me, as if I have always resided within these hallowed halls. I navigate the labyrinthine corridors with newfound ease, each turn and twist now etched into my memory.

Finally, I slip into my room – yes, "my room" – a term that now feels strangely fitting. An unexpected warmth emanates from the space, a comforting embrace that settles over me. My clothes lie neatly folded upon the pristine bed, a testament to the meticulous care taken by the unseen hands of the household staff. I quickly change, the familiar feel of my own garments a welcome relief. His clothes, discarded, now drape over the back of a nearby chair.

I return to the drawing-room, a knot of apprehension tightening in my stomach. My easel, my canvas – vanished. Only his remains.

Panic claws at my throat. Could it be…? I hurry down the grand hall, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. And there it is – my easel, my canvas, unceremoniously returned to its designated space beneath the platter bearing my name. A silent, chilling message. He has exiled me, banished me from his presence with a single, unspoken command.

Jhin moves through the throng of artists, a silent observer, scrutinizing their work. Their canvases, vibrant with color and brimming with life, stand in stark contrast to the barren expanse of my easel. He's wearing his mask, an impenetrable barrier concealing his emotions, but I can almost sense the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

I remain rooted to the spot, a solitary figure in the cold hall, watching him move from one artist to the next. Finally, he steps back, his gaze sweeping across the room until it lands on me.

"Hey, I see that my canvas..." He continues walking past me, his stride unwavering, as if he didn't hear me. I turn, a desperate plea forming on my lips, "Jhin?"

He doesn't acknowledge me, doesn't even glance in my direction. He walks away, towards another artist, leaving me standing alone, adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

I stand frozen in the center of the hall, a silent observer amidst a sea of focused artists. Jhin moves among them, his gaze sweeping over their canvases. I am invisible, a ghost haunting the edges of his perception. The silence is deafening, each brushstroke, each breath amplified in the stillness, highlighting my own awkward presence. A shiver, cold and insidious, snakes down my spine. No, this cannot be. He cannot be ignoring me. Perhaps my voice was swallowed by the oppressive silence, lost in the vacuum of his focused attention.

I take a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs, each beat a thunderclap in the oppressive silence. With trembling hands, I reach out and grasp his arm, my fingers clutching his warm skin. Unsure of the right words to break the suffocating stillness, I can only stare at him, searching for some sign of recognition in his cruel eyes.

He looks down at me, his gaze penetrating through the eerie mask, a chilling intensity in his eyes. "Go back to your work," he commands, his voice a low, silken growl. "Unless, of course, you wish to leave."

My heart sinks inside my stomach. What does he mean by wish to leave?

"Are you... angry with me?" I ask, the question trembling on my lips, more of a plea for reassurance than a genuine inquiry.

His words strike me like a physical blow. "Your progress is disappointingly slow compared to the others. You're not contributing to my gallery. What is the purpose of your presence here if you cannot contribute?" Each syllable is a venomous dart, piercing me deeply. A storm of emotions – heartache, shame, despair – erupts within me, a raging tornado threatening to consume me whole. My limbs grow weak, icy cold, as if life is draining from them. My hands, moments ago grasping his arm, slip limply to my sides. He eyes me, his gaze cold and assessing, before turning away, resuming his inspection of the other artists.

My gaze falls to the cold, unforgiving porcelain floor. I had clung to the illusion, the foolish hope that we were something more than just artist and patron. That there was a connection, a deeper understanding between us. I was wrong. I am nothing to him. A disappointment. A failure. A waste of his time.

 I can barely breathe, the air thick with the suffocating weight of his disdain. Other artists' vibrant canvases are a mocking testament to my own pathetic failures. How worthless can I be? 

Dragging my weary limbs towards my corner, I confront my canvas. This is my last chance to prove myself, to demonstrate that I am not, as he implied, worthless. Perhaps, if I had not so stubbornly refused his request, he would not be so…angry. I had acted impulsively, without considering the consequences, my fear overriding reason.

I begin to paint, applying a delicate wash of crimson to the canvas, the heart taking shape. Deeper shades of red are layered on, veins and arteries emerging from its core, a symbol of life, of pain, of betrayal, and of course, of love. I focus on the figure of the man, his silhouette a haunting presence on the canvas. Who is this S.J., this phantom of guilt? The man with initials that echoed chillingly close to my own seating arrangement.

The thought of an innocent person languishing in prison, their life stolen by the whims of another, fills me with a profound sense of dread. I can vividly imagine the despair, the crushing weight of injustice. What if I were in their shoes, falsely accused, my life shattered by the lies of another?

And then there is the terrifying prospect of facing the jury, of presenting my evidence under the scrutiny of their judgmental eyes. I am a poor liar, my emotions laid bare on my face. What if they saw through my deception, if they sensed the tremor of fear and uncertainty in my voice?

A shadow falls across the canvas, the familiar, intoxicating scent of lavender swirling around me. I know he is there, watching, assessing. A desperate longing washes over me, the urge to turn and seek his comfort is overwhelming. To melt into his embrace, to pretend that the icy words, the chilling silence, never existed.

A dangerous thought takes root. If I comply, if I surrender to his wishes, perhaps I can reclaim the warmth of his gaze, the intoxicating magic of his presence, the feeling of being cherished, of being truly seen.

I turn, a hopeful smile gracing my lips, ready to acquiesce. Yet, he is already walking away. Despair washes over me, colder and more bitter than any winter's chill.  

All I wanted to say was that I yield to his desires. I will frame an innocent man for our crimes, if it means I can regain his favor, to earn back the warmth of his gaze, and to feel his touch again.

Chapter Text

The insistent hammering of my knuckles against the heavy oak door echoes through the hushed gallery, a desperate rhythm against the silence that has descended with the fading light. Eight o'clock. The artists, and their boisterous chatter, have long since vanished, the doors sealed against the encroaching night. But I care not for rules, for curfews, for the sanctity of this hallowed space. I have returned, a whirlwind of frantic energy, a desperate plea etched on my face. To reclaim what I have lost. His love.

The door creaks open, revealing the indifferent visage of the maid. Her expression, a mask of impassivity, betrays no surprise at my unexpected return, as if she has been anticipating this moment, this desperate resurgence of my obsession.

"I did it," I breathe, a manic grin splitting my lips. "I confessed. Told them the police about that man!"

The maid, a silent sentinel, swings the heavy door open, revealing the inky blackness of the grand hall. I burst through, a whirlwind of desperate energy, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs. My destination: Jhin's drawing room, a beacon of light in the encroaching gloom. I don't knock, impatience overriding all etiquette.

Jhin, startled, nearly spills his vibrant palette. He whirls around, his face a mask of surprise, but the moment his gaze locks with mine, the harsh lines soften, replaced by a triumphant glint in his eyes.

"I expected you," he breathes, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

I close the distance between us, a breathless animal drawn to its mate. "I… I did it," I whisper, my voice trembling with a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion.

He sets down his brush and palette, a gesture both dismissive and possessive, claiming this moment, this space, as our own. We move towards each other with the inevitability of a celestial dance, our bodies brushing, a spark igniting between us.

My gaze is drawn to his, a deep, captivating brown, reflecting the flickering flames ignited inside me. In those depths, I see my reflection, distorted and magnified, enchanted and utterly consumed. His hand, warm and strong, cups my cheek, and I lean into the touch, burying my face against his palm, seeking solace in its warmth. "You don't look well, Hwei," he murmurs, his voice a silken caress. "How about you stay over?"

"This is all I've ever wanted. To be here, with you."

"The grand display will be in four days. I want you to look your best for our performance."

"What? Four days!" I panic, a wave of anxiety washing over me. "I haven't done much!"

"It's okay," he reassures me, his other hand joins the first, now cupping my face entirely, his touch a balm to my frayed nerves. "You can stay until the grand display. You'll paint as many as you can, and I will take care of you."

It isn't a request, nor a proposal, but a declaration, a promise that leaves me breathless, speechless with gratitude, and something akin to awe. In this moment, time seems to cease to exist. We are suspended, two souls drawn together, our faces inches apart, the warmth of his breath fanning across my skin. I can feel his heartbeat, a steady rhythm contrasting the pounding of my own. My hands instinctively reach for his, intertwining our fingers, and I close my eyes, melting into the warmth of his embrace. "Can you promise me something?" I whisper, my voice trembling.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.

I open my eyes, my gaze searching his, pleading. "Our final performance… Our dance…" His eyes widen, a spark of enthusiasm igniting within them. "Promise me that the grand display won't be our final performance."

His expression shifts, the warmth in his eyes dims, replaced by a flicker of hesitation. A shadow, fleeting but profound, crosses his features, a frown creasing his brow.

"I remember every word you've spoken," I plead, searching his eyes for a sliver of sympathy, but finding only a chilling reluctance. "I don't want our performance to be our swan song. Can you promise me that?"

His lips part, a silent gasp escaping his throat. Words, poised on the tip of his tongue, seem to evaporate into thin air.

"Please," I beg, my voice trembling. "I can't bear the thought of us drifting apart after the grand display, after the exhibition is over. I know you'll leave this town, go back to your house. But I can't face the prospect of being left alone."

"Why?" he asks, the word a mere whisper, laced with a pity that cuts deeper than any rejection.

I laugh, a bitter, mirthless sound. "Is it really that hard to understand?"

He remains silent, his gaze unwavering, a chillingly accurate reflection of his thoughts. The denial, the unspoken farewell, hangs heavy in the air. I don't need words to decipher the message etched in his eyes. It's a slow, agonizing death, this silent confirmation of my fears.

A fresh wave of tears stings my eyes. "I knew this would happen," I confess, my voice cracking. "This fear has been a constant shadow, lurking at the edges of my happiness. I tried to ignore it, to believe in our future, but now… now I can't."

"Hwei…" he begins, his voice thick with concern, but I cut him off.

"You're not even denying it," I whisper, the pain in my chest a suffocating weight. "You're leaving."

"You're tired, Hwei. Let's talk about this tomorrow."

"There's no point," I whisper, tears finally spilling over, blurring my vision. I see the flicker of pity in his eyes, a cold, unwelcome sensation.

"You mean a lot to me," he says, his voice a gentle balm. "I've been… delighted by your presence." His words, though kind, are like a distant echo, unable to penetrate the icy despair that has settled over me.

"Promise me then," I insist, my voice rising, "without beating around the bush. Promise me you will never leave me."

His smile widens, a dazzling display that almost convinces me. "I promise I will never leave you."

The tension that had been gripping my chest finally releases, a rush of air filling my lungs. But the relief is fleeting, replaced by a dizzying sensation, my ears ringing with the sudden silence. I bury my face in his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart a fragile anchor in the swirling chaos within me. His arms tighten around me, a comforting embrace that soothes the tremors running through my body.

"You should rest now," he murmurs, his voice a silken caress. "You'll find something to wear and dinner in the room you slept in."

"It's my room now, isn't it?" I tease, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips.

"It is," he confirms, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back, sending shivers down my spine. "I need you to be in your best shape for the next few days."

My gaze drifts upwards, meeting his, a playful glint in my eyes. "And after those days? Can I go back to my miserable self?" I joke, though the lightness in my voice is a fragile facade.

He leans down, his breath warm against my skin. "You won't go back," he whispers, his voice a low rumble, a promise and a warning, all at once.

My gaze is drawn to his lips, full and inviting, a tempting promise. I've never been this close before, the scent of his cologne intoxicating. The urge to tiptoe, to brush my lips against his, is almost overwhelming. I gulp, the thought both thrilling and terrifying. Now is not the time, I remind myself, though the image of his lips lingers, a tantalizing mirage.

"Make sure to rest well tonight," he says, stepping back, his body reluctantly withdrawing from mine. The distance between us suddenly feels vast, a chasm I long to bridge.

"Will you sleep now?" I ask, the words barely a whisper, desperate to prolong this moment, this intoxicating closeness.

"Yes," he replies, his gaze drawn to the unfinished canvas. "I'm almost finished here, then I will retire for the night."

I nod, a lingering smile playing on my lips. "Goodnight, Jhin."

He returns the smile, his eyes lingering on mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Goodnight, Hwei."

I linger, my gaze drawn to his face, a contented smile gracing his lips. Love, a warm, radiant glow, emanates from his eyes, washing over me. Turning away, I head towards the door, a pang of reluctance tugging at my heart. The maid stands guard, silently, her proximity a subtle reminder of the ever-present scrutiny, as if she has been listening to our conversation. As I step outside, she recoils slightly, a fleeting bow of her head acknowledging my presence. She disappears down the hall, leaving me with a unsettling sense of unease.

Returning to my room, I open the small wardrobe, the scent of freshly laundered linen, faintly sweet with daisy detergent, filling the air. A comfy pajama awaits me. I quickly change, the events of the evening swirling through my mind. The maid soon arrives, bearing a tray laden with delicacies. She sets it down on the round table with a silent efficiency and withdraws, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My mind races, a whirlwind of emotions and anxieties. How do I confess my feelings? The grand display presents the perfect opportunity, a stage upon which to unveil my heart. I envision a dramatic gesture, a declaration of love to match the grandeur of the occasion. But words alone feel inadequate. A gift, a tangible expression of my affection, seems necessary.

His penchant for white lilies, evident in the numerous paintings adorning the walls, provides a clue. Perhaps a bouquet of freshly picked lilies from the woods… But what if he has other preferences? What if his heart desires something more than a simple floral offering?

Before I realize it, the meal is finished, the flavors a distant memory, overshadowed by the turbulent tide of my emotions. I can only recall the taste of chicken, a bland aftertaste in the face of the overwhelming emotions that consume me.

I walk slowly towards his room, the porcelain floor is cold under my bare feet. The door stands slightly ajar, an invitation to witness a private moment. Peeking through the crack, I find him standing before his workbench, the delicate lotus-shaped apparatus revolving in the palm of one hand, the other wielding a tiny screwdriver. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he examines the intricate mechanism, his gaze intense, almost hypnotic. He possesses an undeniable magnetism, a captivating aura that draws me in. He is utterly absorbed, a sculptor lost in his masterpiece, and I find myself mesmerized by the spectacle.

A sudden chill, a premonition of unease, washes over me. I whirl around, my heart leaping into my throat. The maid stands behind me, her presence as unexpected as it is unsettling. Her eyes, usually vacant and lifeless, now hold a disconcerting intensity, a knowing glint that sends shivers down my spine.

She extends a hand, offering me a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. Then, with a fluidity that belies her usual stoicism, she glides into his room, her gaze lingering on mine for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. "Goodnight, sir," she murmurs, her voice a chilling whisper, before the door swings shut, leaving me alone with the unsettling echoes of her gaze and the lingering scent of something… unfamiliar.

Chapter Text

"No, no, no! This can't be happening!" Jhin screams, his tormented voice echoing from the sliver of an opening in his drawing room door. Hesitancy clings to me like a shroud; should I intrude upon this private torment? For what feels like an eternity, he rails against an unseen presence, his accusations of 'imperfection' and 'ugliness' hanging heavy in the air. In the periphery, the maid stands frozen, a delicate web of worry etched onto her features as she steals glances at his ravaged figure.

The drawing room is a landscape of his inner turmoil made manifest. Canvases lie ripped and bleeding on the floor, chairs sprawl like fallen soldiers, and shattered easels bear witness to a violent struggle. Even the portraits that once grace the walls now lie face down, their protective glass reduced to glittering shards.

"Silence! Please, just stop!" he bellows, as if locked in a desperate battle with a phantom. "I can't... I simply can't!" His chest heaves with frantic breaths, a desperate bellows against the invisible weight crushing him. Finally, his body surrenders, folding in on itself as he leans heavily on his knees, the storm within him slowly subsiding into ragged gasps. With a quiet grace, the maid rights a fallen chair, placing it gently beside him. He sinks onto it, his head bowed in defeated silence, lost in the labyrinth of his own despair. She retreats, her footsteps barely disturbing the debris, leaving him to the whispers of his demons.

Then, her gaze flickers to mine, and a sudden frost settles upon her features. She is leaving him to drown in his solitude, a chilling echo of how I, too, have been abandoned to the shadows within my own mind. I know the bitter taste of such isolation— the gnawing cold, the suffocating loneliness, the crushing misery. I can't bear to let him navigate this desolate landscape alone.

Without a second thought, I push the door open and step into the wreckage, placing myself directly in his line of sight. Gently, I frame his face with my hands, tilting his head upwards until our eyes finally meet. The wild, frantic intensity that consumes him begins to soften, a flicker of recognition dawning in their depths.

"Don't listen to those voices in your head," I whisper, my voice a soft anchor in his storm. "You're not alone in this, you've got me."

His gaze clings to mine, a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. Slowly, the frantic energy in his eyes begins to recede, replaced by a fragile warmth that seems to emanate from my touch. His eyelids drift closed, a shuddering breath escapes his lips, and then, with a slow exhale, his eyes open once more. "Thank you," he murmurs, the word thick with a gratitude that pierces through my own turmoil, igniting a tender warmth within my chest. My lips curve into an involuntary smile, a small beacon in the surrounding darkness.

"I know how it feels when the voices in your head are loud," I say gently, my own battles echoing in my words. "But you shouldn't let them win you over."

He sighs, the sound heavy with unspoken burdens, and ducks his head, breaking the fragile connection between us. "Leave me for now, Hwei. I need a moment for myself."

"Huh?" The unexpected dismissal stings. What misstep had I made? Was my offered comfort so inadequate? A knot of confusion tightens in my stomach.

"Go draw in the grand hall and leave me for now." His hands, still trembling slightly, grasp mine, and with a slow, deliberate movement, he lowers them, releasing me.

A cold dread washes over me. When did the fragile bridge between us crumble? Was my solace not enough? Or was I merely a fleeting comfort in the face of his deeper anguish? A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I turn and walk out of the ravaged room. The maid follows silently, her presence a stark reminder of the distance that now stretches between Jhin and me. My familiar corner in the grand hall remains untouched, a silent testament to my interrupted work.

I turn to the maid, a desperate plea for understanding in my voice. "Will he be alright?"

She nods once, her expression unreadable.

"What happened to him?" I press, needing to understand the darkness that consumes him.

"I have some affairs to attend to. If you'll excuse me," she replies, her tone clipped and distant, before turning and leaving me alone with my growing unease. Her abrupt departure leaves a chilling void, amplifying the questions that swirl within me. Was Jhin's torment a recurring nightmare? And what secrets did the maid guard behind her cold facade? A sense of foreboding settles in the grand hall, heavy and suffocating. 

That woman... Something is off about her; There's an unsettling familiarity in the way she moves around Jhin, a silent understanding that feels like an unwelcome intimacy. It's as if she occupies a space in his world that I can only glimpse from the outside, a closeness forged in moments I haven't shared. The thought gnaws at me— what is their connection, and why does her presence feel like a subtle barrier between Jhin and me?

I sink onto my chair, the worn velvet a cold comfort beneath me. The space a few seats down remains conspicuously empty, a stark reminder of the artist whose talent I so easily extinguished with my fabricated accusations. The local police, astonishingly gullible, had taken my word as gospel, no proof required. The ease of it still sends a shiver down my spine. And across the room, the chair that once cradled the girl who drew the drowning woman is also vacant, an echoing void in the already diminished hall. Ten artists remain. Ten where there were once a dozen. Despite their presence, a profound loneliness hollows me out, a dull ache where my heart used to be.

Restless, I abandon my solitary spot and seek the false solace of the outside air. The sun, a bruised and sullen eye in the grey sky, casts a pallid light that only seems to constrict my chest further. My gaze drifts, inevitably, to the Casa Blanca flowerbed— the girl's grave. My feet carry me there, unbidden. Standing over the soft earth, I lean down, my shadow stretching across the mournful lilies, a dark imitation of myself. For a moment, it feels as though I am the one buried beneath, a vacant specter gazing down at my own lifeless form.

That maid… a venomous tendril of hatred coils within me. I want to see her extinguished, her lifeblood staining this very soil where I'm standing. It’s her. It has to be her. She has poisoned his mind against me, weaving some dark enchantment that has stolen him away. Yes, that’s it. That’s why his eyes no longer seek mine, why his attention is always just beyond my reach. A violent image flashes in my mind: the sharp crack of a gunshot, her surprised gasp, the crimson bloom against the pristine white of the lilies. I would capture that moment, paint her portrait in the vibrant hues of her own departing life, and hang it in the grand hall— a testament to my triumph over an enemy.

The lilies sway gently in the breeze, mirroring the growing tempest in my soul. My hair whips around my face, a tangible manifestation of the rage that now consumes me. How could I have been so blind? She is the obstacle, the serpent in my paradise. The desire intensifies, a brutal hunger: the cold steel against her temple, the sickening thud as she falls, the slow, deliberate draining of her life force, her body buried beneath a fresh mound of earth, crowned with the pure white of Casa Blanca lilies. A fittingly beautiful end for such a vile creature. I can almost taste the victory, the sweet anticipation of her absence, of finally reclaiming my rightful place at Jhin’s side, his devoted confidante.

And then… silence. The wind stills, my hair settles, the dancing lilies become frozen in time. A chilling question pierces through the red haze of my fury: Since when do I revel in such darkness? Is this the true face of love? Ah… jealousy. A raw, agonizing claw tearing at my insides. But intertwined with the pain is a perverse thrill, a dangerous whisper suggesting that the only way to silence this torment is to silence her forever.

I return to my chair in the grand hall, the seed of a dark masterpiece now firmly rooted in my mind. The image burns vivid and clear: the maid, lifeless, sprawled in a shallow grave of churned earth. Her hands are folded neatly across her chest, her eyes shut in eternal slumber, a grotesque parody of peace. Yet, even in death, her clothes remain inexplicably pristine, a jarring contrast to her unfortunate death. Pure white lilies, symbols of mourning and twisted triumph, are scattered across her still form.

Time ceases to exist as my brush dances across the canvas, translating the macabre vision into reality. Stroke by stroke, I capture her vacant eyes, her pale, lifeless skin, the stark white of the lilies against the dark earth. It's a perfect image, a chillingly beautiful representation of my desired "happily ever after." But... it's not quite complete. It lacks a certain vitality, a missing element that will elevate it from mere depiction to true art. It needs... blood. A splash of crimson here, a delicate trail there, to accentuate the finality of her demise and the exquisite beauty of my vengeance. But those final, crucial touches will have to wait. They will be added on the day of the grand display, the day I unveil my masterpiece to the world, a testament to my love, my jealousy, and my unwavering devotion to Jhin.  

The emptiness in my chest only seems to deepen with the passing time, a hollow echo where Jhin's presence should reside. I try to banish his image, to focus on the grotesque beauty I captured on canvas, but he lingers at the edges of my thoughts, a persistent shadow. With a heavy sigh, I return to his drawing room, drawn by an invisible thread. The door is closed, a silent barrier. I press my ear against the cool wood, straining for any sound, but there's only an unnerving stillness. Hesitantly, I push the door inward, just a crack, and peek inside. The chaos of the morning has vanished, the room restored to an unsettling order. I step fully inside, my gaze sweeping over the quiet space. Jhin sits on the floor, his back against the wall, his focus fixed on the distant French windows. His mask, the ever-present shield, lies discarded beside him, a rare vulnerability exposed. He notices my intrusion.

"May I come in?" I ask softly, my voice barely a whisper.

He breaks our brief connection almost immediately, a small, reluctant hum and a nod his only acknowledgment.

I close the door gently behind me and walk slowly towards him, my footsteps silent on the polished floor. His gaze remains fixed on the window, distant and unfocused. His eyes, usually so intense, now appear drained, shadowed with a profound sadness that refuses to meet mine. I sink down onto my knees beside him, the silence stretching between us, thick with unspoken emotions. My hand trembles slightly as it reaches for his clasped hands resting on his knees. They feel cold, unresponsive, a stark contrast to the warmth I long to offer.

"Are you okay?" I whisper, the question laced with a fragile hope.

"I'm trying to be," he replies, his voice a low, melancholic murmur.

"What's going on?" I press gently, my heart aching with his unspoken pain.

He remains silent, drawing his limbs closer, burying his face in his forearms, a posture of utter defeat.

I shift, moving to sit directly in front of him, my hands tentatively reaching up his arms. The unspoken anxiety within me spills out in a rush. "Why are you avoiding me?" My tone rises slightly, a tremor of impatience betraying my carefully constructed composure.

He murmurs, his voice muffled, "I'm indeed trying to avoid you." The words strike me like a physical blow, a confirmation of the fear that has been gnawing at me. My impulsive question has unearthed a painful truth.

"Why?" My voice wavers, a fragile thread about to snap. My mind races, each silent second amplifying my dread.

He finally lifts his head, and our eyes meet. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of softness touches his gaze, a gentle acknowledgment of my presence. "I want you to leave."

My hands fall away as if burned. A raw ache constricts my throat, preventing the words I want to say. "You want me to leave?" The question is barely audible, a wounded whisper.

"I don't know what I want," he confesses, his gaze falling back to the floor, lost in his internal struggle.

Silence descends once more, heavy and suffocating. A thick fog of confusion and hurt clouds my mind, leaving me numb, unable to think, unable to speak. His words echo the chilling fear that has taken root within me— that he no longer desires my presence. I stand up, a silent farewell forming in my heart, but his hand shoots out and grasps mine, a desperate anchor.

"I take it back, don't leave me," he says, his voice still low, his eyes still avoiding mine. Yet, his touch sends a fragile tendril of hope through the despair that threatens to engulf me.

I sink back down, my voice a soft confession. "I was never going to leave you. I was just going to… hide somewhere, watching you from afar, like I always have."

A faint chuckle escapes his lips, a flicker of the Jhin I know. This time, his eyes meet mine, a ghost of a smile touching their corners. "I got a big fan."

"More than a fan, I—" My heart aches to confess the love that consumes me, a devotion far deeper than mere admiration. But the weight of his sorrow hangs heavy in the air, a fragile barrier I dare not shatter with the intensity of my feelings. The words remain unspoken, a tender secret held close, waiting for a moment when his heart might be ready to hear them.

He laughs softly, a fleeting melody in the quiet room, then rests his head back on his forearms, retreating once more into himself. "I need some time alone to think about something. I'd appreciate it if you left me for now."

A familiar ache of longing washes over me. I have no choice but to grant him this space, even though every fiber of my being wants to stay. "I will be waiting for you," I whisper, my voice filled with a bittersweet devotion, "until you're done thinking."

Chapter Text

The night stretched long and desolate. In the echoing grand hall, I lost myself in the delicate strokes of another canvas: a tranquil bed of lilies, a contrast to the turmoil within. I knew Jhin was in his sanctuary, the art room, yet an ache of longing pulsed through me, a desperate yearning to breach the invisible walls that stood between us. Each moment felt like an eternity as I lingered, casting furtive glances towards the passage that led to him, but he remained absent. Finally, a weary resignation led me to my own room. Dinner awaited, a cold and untouched offering, just like the chill that had settled in my heart. Sleep offered no escape, the sorrow in my chest a persistent throb. My mind replayed the day's events, the most painful being the image of the maid, a constant presence by his side, while I was kept at arm's length. I imagined the warmth of that closeness, the unique intimacy she must feel, a sharp contrast to my own yearning. It was in that bittersweet fantasy, of finally being the one he turned to, that sleep finally claimed me. The gentle caress of sunlight on my eyelids brought with it the fragile whisper of hope— perhaps today, it would be me by his side.

The morning offered a cruel reality. The maid's movements as she served breakfast were curt, her demeanor icy. Behind eyes that deliberately avoided mine, I sensed a flicker of challenge, a silent gauntlet thrown down. The breakfast itself was as cold and unyielding as her gaze, the food tasteless, the tea bland. A disquieting thought crept in: did she somehow perceive the intensity of my feelings, the dangerous trajectory of my desires?

Now, back in my familiar corner of the grand hall, I meticulously apply the final touches to the lilies of the night before. A sigh escapes my lips, the brief focus of my art now fading, leaving my mind a blank canvas once more, uncertain of what to create next.

The sharp click of Jhin's heels against the porcelain floor echoes through the grand hall as he descends the stairs, positioning himself beneath the opulent chandelier. In this particular moment, he is a vision of theatrical elegance, masked and cloaked in flowing white, a tableau that stirs a poignant memory within me— the very first day I stepped into this world, the genesis of everything.

His voice, imbued with a confident enthusiasm that resonates through the space, cuts through the quiet anticipation. "Attention, gentlemen," he announces, his gaze sweeping over the assembled artists. "Today, we embark on a collaborative endeavor. Together, we shall breathe life onto a single canvas."

At that moment, the maid enters, silently maneuvering a massive canvas mounted on a wheeled stand. It glides across the floor, a blank stage awaiting our collective creativity.

Jhin steps forward, his presence commanding as he stands before the untouched expanse. "Yesterday, I laid down the initial sketches," he explains, gesturing to the faint lines visible on the canvas. "Now, it is your turn. Each of you will interpret this foundation in your own unique way. Unleash the wildest landscapes of your imagination upon this surface. But," his tone shifts, a subtle emphasis in his voice, "remember this one constraint: no red."

My feet, as if guided by an invisible force, carry me forward until I stand breathless before him. He turns, and our gazes meet through the single visible eye of his mask, yet a sudden shyness steals my voice. I can only imagine the curve of his lips beneath the enigmatic mask, a silent echo of the hopeful flutter in my own chest.

His voice, a warm honeyed melody, breaks the spell. "I'm thrilled to work with you today, Hwei." He extends a hand, the one adorned with the familiar drawing glove, an invitation that sends a shiver of anticipation through me. "I have no doubt that together, we will create something magnificent."

A torrent of emotions, of unspoken words — my burgeoning love, the darkness of my jealousy — clogs my throat. Instead of a confession, a soft exhale escapes my lips as I place my hand in his. A silent hum is my only reply, a poor substitute for the symphony of feelings within me. He takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, a spark igniting where our skin meets. He leads me through the assembled artists, a sea of faces fading into a blur, until we stand before a pristine section of the vast canvas, towards the far right.

"What do you see here?" he murmurs, his fingers tightening around mine, his palm radiating an incredible warmth that chases away the sudden chill in my limbs.

My heart stutters. My eyes dart across the rough lines sketched onto the canvas, but my mind, still reeling from his touch, struggles to decipher them.

"Use your imagination," he prompts softly, his gaze lingering on me, an intimate invitation.

A nervous flutter rises within me. Yet, as I look again, the lines begin to coalesce, to intertwine in a delicate embrace. Two figures emerge from the chaos, impossibly close, their limbs entwined in a silent dance of affection. Are they embracing, or perhaps lost in the rapture of a dance? Or maybe simply yearning, souls reaching for one another across an unseen divide. To me, they radiate a profound happiness, an unbreakable bond of love.

"What do you see?" he asks again, his voice a gentle caress.

My heart races, a frantic drum against my ribs. Should I speak the truth that blossoms in my soul? His unwavering gaze intensifies the intimacy of this moment, as if the bustling grand hall has faded away, leaving only us in a world suspended in time. The chatter of the other artists becomes a distant hum, drowned out by the frantic rhythm of my own heart. In this sudden, beautiful isolation, I turn to him, my gaze drawn to the single visible eye behind the mask. The moment feels ripe for confession, yet the perfect words remain elusive.

"Us," I whisper shyly, a coy smile playing on my lips. "I can only see us."

A soft chuckle rumbles from behind the mask, a sound that sends a delicious tremor through me. "That's precisely what I was sketching. I knew you would see it too."

My breath catches. An irresistible urge pulls me closer. "Really? You drew us?"

"You are the most magnificent art project to me, Hwei." His voice drops, a low, tender murmur that brushes against my senses like a caress.

A blush floods my cheeks, a warmth spreading through me like wildfire. The carefully constructed words in my mind stumble and collide, emerging as a jumbled, incoherent murmur. He laughs, a light, enchanting sound, and I can't help but join in, my embarrassment melting away in the sheer joy of this moment.

"So," he says, his hand still clasped tightly in mine, his gaze holding mine captive, "how about we paint it together?"

We collect our palettes, and side-by-side, breathe life into our painted reflections with a symphony of hues. He is a breath too close, and without even a glance, I feel the subtle flex of his muscles, the quiet rhythm of his being. His unique scent, a captivating blend, wraps around me like an invisible embrace. Each accidental brush of our hands, our arms, sends a delicate tremor through my veins, and his nearness casts a warm, intoxicating spell.

On the canvas, we emerge in a dance of our own making. My figure is a whirlwind of motion, caught in a perpetual twirl, my painted hair swirling around me like a halo. His, in contrast, is a study in steadfast grace, arms outstretched in a silent, welcoming invitation. My gaze drifts to the faint outline of the drawing room door in the distance, a subtle detail that reveals his vision: we are dancing not in the intimate confines of that room, but here, in the grand hall. Yet, a curious detail catches my eye— a chandelier hangs suspended above our painted forms.

"Shouldn't the chandelier be on the left?" I murmur, a gentle curiosity in my voice. "If we are positioned here, at the far right of the grand hall, the chandelier should be on the opposite side."

"There's another one," he replies, his voice a low murmur close to my ear, sending a fresh wave of warmth through me.

"Oh..." I tilt my head back, and indeed, a second chandelier, its intricate details softened by the distance of the high ceiling, shimmers above us, unnoticed before.

His hand finds mine once more, his touch sending a familiar thrill through me. His voice drops, a velvet invitation that makes my heart flutter. "How about we have lunch in the patio? Consider it a date."

A silent agreement hangs in the air, a promise of intimacy I cannot deny. I nod, a smile blooming on my lips, and allow him to lead me towards the sun-drenched patio. Awaiting us is a table set for two, a still life of delicate china and gleaming silverware and some delicacies. As we approach, the maid, a fleeting shadow in the periphery, retreats with a swiftness that speaks volumes.

We settle into our chairs, and Jhin, in this rare moment of vulnerability, removes his masks, revealing the captivating contours of his face. We share our meal in a comfortable quietude, punctuated by stolen glances and the soft curve of shared smiles. The elegant silverware catches the gentle caress of the sunlight, each glint a tiny spark in the burgeoning intimacy between us. My hands, however, feel a tremor of unease, a subtle rebellion against the idyllic scene. My chewing slows, my gaze drawn, as if by an invisible thread, to the butter knife resting beside my plate.

For a fleeting, dangerous moment, a dark star ignites in my mind. The slender blade gleams, a silent promise of swift finality. One precise movement, I imagine, would be enough to extinguish a life. My fingers tighten around the smooth, cool handle. It feels surprisingly natural in my grasp, light and balanced, a potential instrument of my shadowed desires. A morbid curiosity flickers: would it sink or float if cast into the still waters of the lake? Perhaps the earth's embrace, buried deep within the silent woods, would be a more fitting final resting place.

"Something on your mind?" Jhin's voice, a gentle interruption, draws me back from the precipice of my thoughts. He leans forward, resting on his elbows, his head tilted, a hint of a knowing smile playing on his lips.

I release the knife, a reluctant parting, and murmur, "Nothing."

He drops a sugar cube into his tea, the delicate clinking sound echoing in the quiet air. "I saw your portrait last night. You drew my maid in a grave, surrounded by Casa Blanca lilies."

A nervous anticipation tightens my chest. "Did you like it?" I ask, my voice betraying a flicker of dark curiosity.

His gaze lifts to mine, his smile radiant in the noon sunlight. "I did. It was perfect. I especially loved the Casa Blanca lilies."

"I thought they were your favorite," I reply softly, a subtle probe.

"Indeed, they are." He takes a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, his eyes holding mine.

"Is it because they symbolize beauty and innocence?" I venture, watching his reaction.

He sets down his cup with a quiet grace, his face alight with an inner spark. His eyes gleam with a captivating intensity. "They resemble rebirth, new beginnings, and in other contexts, the poignant beauty of life. I personally believe that new beginnings are the true beauty of life. To be granted choices, fresh opportunities… that, in itself, is exquisitely beautiful."

My smile widens, a genuine warmth spreading through me, a shared appreciation for the aesthetic that binds us, even as a darker current swirls beneath the surface of my affection.

His gaze intensifies, a new, unsettling light flickering behind his eyes. "Do you know what else holds a certain… allure?" A subtle shift in his tone sends a shiver down my spine.

I hum softly, a question hanging in the air.

"Vengeance." The word rolls off his tongue, the sweetness of the moment curdling into something sharp and dangerous. "A bloody carnage… now that can be a masterpiece in itself."

The casual cruelty in his voice leaves me momentarily speechless. I manage only a slow nod, a silent acknowledgment of the darkness that now taints the beauty of the afternoon.

He leans back slightly, his gaze piercing. "I came to this town seeking vengeance, and fate, in its peculiar way, led me to you. But I sense a conflict within you, a struggle born of the belief that another is encroaching upon what is rightfully yours." A predatory glint sharpens his eyes, making my unease deepen. His words are veiled, yet carry a chilling weight. "I yearn to witness your… artistry in action. To see you reclaim what you believe is yours."

"And that is…?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper, a knot of apprehension tightening in my stomach.

"You know, Hwei. We both do." He leans closer across the table, his eyes locking onto mine with an unnerving intensity. "I want you to yield to your instincts. Create something… exquisite for me." His hand, with a deliberate slowness, slides across the polished wood, pushing the butter knife until its sharp blade rests within my reach.

A chilling realization dawns. Does he see the shadows that dance within my own heart? Is this… an unspoken approval of my darkest desires? The beauty of the moment now feels like a fragile mask, barely concealing the dangerous undercurrents that bind us.

Chapter Text

A restless energy has hummed beneath my skin since yesterday, my thoughts a frenetic dance around the clean, cool weight of the butter knife nestled in my pocket. I've watched her — the maid — a hundred times: a fleeting glimpse as she dusts the grand hall, her precise movements in the dining room at dinner, the cool efficiency of her presence this morning at breakfast. Each time, my gaze locks onto her, my hand instinctively reaching for the knife, yet each time, my body freezes. She moves with such oblivious grace, utterly unaware of the dark currents of intent swirling around her.

Last night, during dinner, Jhin's eyes held a strange, knowing amusement. A dark pleasure flickered within their depths, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he observed my turbulent internal state, especially when my gaze snagged on the maid. We ate in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by stolen, affectionate glances between us. Yet, another thought relentlessly spun in my mind: in two days, I would confess everything to him. In two days, I would be the one by his side, my hand clasped in his, held securely in his arms. In two days, I pictured the maid gone, and myself firmly settled in the coveted space in his heart. The knife, a tangible manifestation of my dark resolve, felt too heavy in my pocket, its sharp edge a constant reminder, almost tearing through the fabric. I finally had to hide it, secreted away in the narrow space between my closet and the wall. My appetite for dinner vanished, consumed by the swirling fantasies of the maid's disappearance and the gnawing anxiety of whether he would truly accept my confession.

Perhaps his kindness was simply pity for my fragile state. Perhaps he never truly saw me as I fantasized, perhaps his intentions were... something else entirely.

"You're anxious, aren't you?" Jhin's voice, warm and amused, broke through my reverie. He rested his head against his hand, his smile unwavering. "Your mind is clearly elsewhere."

My gaze dropped to my plate. The food lay cold and half-finished; I couldn't recall how long I'd been lost in my own thoughts. Yet, I met his eyes, took a fortifying breath, and allowed a sliver of my internal turmoil to surface. "I'm thinking about a lot of things."

"Would you mind sharing them?" His smile deepened, a gentle invitation. "I'm here, listening."

My heart pounded, a frantic drum against my ribs. How could I articulate the fierce desire to claim him entirely for myself? How could I confess the dark paths I was willing to tread to bridge the distance between us? Silence became my only refuge. But my eyes, I hoped, spoke volumes, betraying the storm raging beneath my calm facade. And it seemed he could read them.

"It looks like there's a great deal on your mind." His voice softened, dropping to a suggestive whisper. "I have a lot on my mind too. Do you want to know what I'm thinking of?"

I leaned forward across the table, drawn by an irresistible curiosity. "What is it?"

"I'm thinking about you."

My heart seized in my chest, a sudden, breathless pause. My limbs froze. An unfamiliar warmth bloomed within me, a sensation far deeper than mere heat, filling my insides with an incandescent glow. I gasped for air, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.

He continued, his voice a silken thread weaving through the air. "I'm thinking about the grand display and how you will be the absolute focus of that day. I will make you feel something you have never felt before, and the thought... it excites me profoundly."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a fiery blush scorching my cheeks as I decoded the explicit meaning behind every carefully chosen word. My lips parted, desperate to form a reply, but the words tangled, lost in the overwhelming rush of emotion.

He chuckled, a rich, knowing sound at my choked silence. Finishing his meal, he rose. "Well, I will be waiting for you after the grand display for our special performance. Take your time to get ready for our private moment." And with that, he left me in the dining room, utterly consumed, spiraling with possibilities and a delicious array of questions. Was this a confession, exquisitely disguised as an intimate invitation? Or was he hinting at something far grander, a darker masterpiece yet to be unveiled? In any case, a burning desire ignited within me, a longing for that promised moment, a hunger for whatever exquisite experience awaited.

His words echoed in my mind, a symphony of anticipation for our "private moment." The thought of it, a secret warmth blossoming in my chest, made my fingers tremble as I reached for the delicate silk of my finest robe. Each movement was deliberate, imbued with a newfound grace. I imagined his gaze on me, tracing the lines of my body, sensing the subtle shift in my breath. Every brush of the fabric against my skin, every stray strand of hair I smoothed into place, was a ritual, a silent preparation for the intimacy I craved. My heart hammered with a desperate longing, a sweet ache that promised a night of profound connection, of being truly seen and cherished by him, in a way I had only ever dreamed.

Last night offered little respite. My mind raced, a tumultuous battleground where the chilling thought of ending the maid's life waged war against the intoxicating warmth of Jhin's closeness. I tossed and turned, caught in a cycle of exquisite suffering. But by morning, one decision, stark and painful, has solidified. Seeing the maid enter with breakfast, a silent, almost ethereal figure, the conviction hits me with the force of a blow: today. Today, she has to die.

She moves with an unnerving grace, placing the round table's offerings before me, her usual silent coldness radiating from her. My entire being urges me to rise, to seize the moment and the knife, to end this agonizing indecision once and for all. Yet, my limbs feel impossibly heavy, a leaden weight holding me captive, and my breath hitches in my throat. As she turns to leave, her eyes, for a fleeting instant, meet mine from the corner of her vision — a flicker of something unreadable before she is gone. I must be losing my mind. The breakfast is utterly tasteless, a bland assault on my senses; the tea, nothing more than hot water, offers no comfort. My appetite has vanished, lost in the swirling vortex of my own thoughts.

Driven by an inexplicable need, my feet carry me from the dining room, seeking refuge from the internal war. I find myself at Jhin's door, and without a thought for courtesy or propriety, I push it open. He stands at his workbench, the morning sunlight pouring in through the wide-open window, illuminating the array of purple lotus traps scattered across the surface. He turns, a slow, deliberate movement, his gaze meeting mine over his shoulder. He says nothing, yet his silence is a symphony of expectation, as if he has been waiting for me all along.

I draw a deep, shaky breath, but the words still refuse to form. My voice catches, emotions overwhelming me, leaving me suddenly cold despite the warmth of the room. He turns back to the workbench, his fingers delicately inspecting a purple lotus trap, its intricate design a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. "What is it, Hwei?" he asks, his voice a warm balm.

I step closer, closing the last sliver of space between us until my body presses gently against his back. My arms wrap around his waist, my head finding a resting place against his broad back. His body stiffens for a fleeting moment, then softens as I squeeze him gently, an embrace born of fear and longing. My lips part, and the whispered truth of my inner turmoil escapes. "I'm scared."

He exhales slowly, his own breath warming the air around me. His voice softens, a tender caress. "Of what, Hwei?"

"Of myself," I confess, my voice barely audible. "Of what I'm about to… commit."

He scoffs softly, a sound that sends a jolt through me. "You're in a rather pathetic state. I thought you'd be more resolute, especially for me."

My eyes close, tears pricking at the corners. "I don't know..." My voice is a fragile whisper. "I don't know anything anymore."

"Stop lying to yourself, Hwei. You know exactly what you want." The lotus trap clanks softly as he places it back on the table, the sound echoing the finality in his words.

I take a ragged breath, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "I can't kill your maid. It feels wrong, but my chest burns with jealousy every time I see her by your side." The admission hangs in the air, a raw, exposed confession.

The silence that follows is deafening, heavy and uncomfortable. Each fraction of a second stretches into an eternity, filled with the agonizing anticipation of rejection, the sharp sting of impending heartbreak.

After a long, breathless pause, his voice finally breaks the silence, a low, mesmerizing hum. "Tell me, Hwei, how does it feel to be jealous?" His hand reaches back, finding mine, his fingers interlacing with mine.

"Painful," I whisper, the single word encompassing the overwhelming ache within me. He hums in soft agreement, a chilling confirmation that he understands.

My eyes flutter open, my heart hammering against my ribs. The realization washes over me: I've confessed, not just my jealousy, but implicitly, my feelings for him. Yet, he remains calm, neither accepting nor rejecting. My arms, which had clung to him so desperately, loosen and fall away. I take a hesitant step back, studying the indifferent man facing the window, a pang of despair echoing in my chest.

Then, he turns, and my breath catches. His face is relaxed, a faint, satisfied smile playing on his lips, and his eyes, warm and lovely, lock onto mine. He takes a step closer, his palms cupping my cheeks, his touch radiating a familiar heat that melts away my apprehension. We are so close now that I feel the soft whisper of his breath against my skin.

"Tell me the truth," he murmurs, his voice a soft, intoxicating melody that pulls me into a trance. "Do you want to kill the maid?"

My hands instinctively rise, reaching to hold his, to ensure this intimate connection doesn't break. "Yes," I breathe, the word a raw admission.

"Do you want her to have a slow, painful death? Or a quick one?" His words, though chilling, are spoken with an unnerving gentleness.

I hesitate, my mind momentarily blank. "I don't know."

"Why didn't you kill her yesterday after taking the knife?" he presses, his thumbs stroking my cheeks.

My eyelids flutter closed for a moment, savoring the warmth of his hands. "I don't know."

"Then, you'll do it tonight." My eyes fly open, meeting the intense focus in his. "You'll kill her inside her room, leave her body there, and lock the door."

I cling to his hands, my fingers squeezing them, my mind conjuring the gruesome scene. "I don't think I can," I whisper, a tremor in my voice.

"You'll do it for me," he whispers, his voice weaving a spell, "for us. You'll kill her so there will be no one but us. I want to see you create something gruesome, one more time, for my eyes alone."

My heart melts at his words, a powerful surge of affection washing over me. I lose myself in the depths of his eyes, feeling utterly hypnotized. The thought of tomorrow, of my confession amidst a bouquet of flowers, of stealing a kiss, or even more, consumes me.

"You want to watch me kill her?" I ask, the words barely escaping my lips.

He nods, his gaze unwavering.

A profound silence settles between us, yet it pulses with a terrifying, exhilarating understanding. His words, a chilling command veiled in tenderness, resonate deep within me. My heart, still pounding from his touch, now surges with a dark, fervent devotion. The warmth of his hands lingers on my cheeks, a phantom caress urging me towards the precipice. I meet his intense gaze, no longer seeing a request, but a shared destiny. A strange calm descends, quieting the turmoil that has plagued me. The thought of the maid, once a source of agonizing indecision, now sharpens into a singular, undeniable purpose. For him. For us.

"Tonight," I whisper, the word barely audible, a solemn vow. "It will be done."

Chapter Text

The grand hall hums with a newfound majesty, transformed into an art gallery under the soft glow of the evening. All chairs and stands have been meticulously cleared, the air now open and expansive. Every portrait finds its rightful place, turning the vast space into a single, cohesive masterpiece, composed of countless smaller, personal truths. On one colossal wall, our collaborative canvas hangs, drying under the watchful eye of the fading light. I stand before it, lost in the vibrant spectacle of our creation: Jhin and I, forever entwined in a dance at the edge of the sprawling scene. Beside this shared vision, other fragments of our journey adorn the wall: my first portrait of Jhin, a testament to the day my heart first recognized him; his tender depiction of me, captured in a moment of vulnerability; and finally, her portrait — the maid, eternally still, nestled in her grave of Casa Blanca lilies. With the last of the other artists departed, the hall exhales into a profound quiet, magnificent in its silence.

I stand beside Jhin, his masks now discarded, his presence a comforting warmth against my side, as we survey our shared dominion. "It's so perfect," he murmurs, his voice a soft caress in the stillness. "I can't wait for tomorrow."

Then, the sharp click of the maid's footsteps shatters the serene intimacy, echoing through the vast space like a tolling bell. Each step sends a tremor of fear through my heart. "Your dinner is ready, sir. Everything is set."

I turn, my gaze landing on the maid. Her face is a mask of cold indifference, her eyes devoid of warmth, fixed solely on Jhin. For a fleeting moment, her glance flickers to me, a silent, almost challenging acknowledgment, before she turns and retreats into the shadows.

Jhin's voice, calm and even, slices through the lingering tension. "Did you bring the knife?"

My heart leaps, a wild bird trapped in my ribs, as I feel the cold, hard outline of the blade pressing against my thigh through my pocket. "Yes," I manage, the word barely a breath.

"Good. Do it now." His command is delivered without turning, his gaze still fixed on our dancing figures on the canvas. "She usually retreats to her room to rest after preparing dinner and comes out thirty minutes later. I'm sure you'll finish her in a second."

A chilling realization settles upon me: the brutal brevity of a human life. How cruel, how terribly exquisite, that a life that could stretch on indefinitely can be snuffed out in a mere fraction of a second. And it is I who will be the architect of this finality. The irony is a perverse thrill, an almost unbearable excitement. I feel a morbid curiosity, a ravenous hunger to witness the very essence of life draining away, to see the crimson bloom, the scattering of vital liquid, that raw, profound moment when the soul abandons its earthly vessel. Excitement... Why am I like this? Why does this dark fantasy ignite such a profound pleasure within me?

Sensing my hesitation, Jhin finally turns, his eyes, dark and alluring, seeking mine. His warm hands cup my face, his touch radiating a comforting heat that seeps into my very soul. "Tomorrow will be our day, Hwei," he murmurs, his voice a promise of untold delights. "We will have the best of time together. You don't want to feel any negative emotion, do you? Nothing will stand in your way to me." His words are a silken invitation, drawing me into a world of pure, unadulterated intimacy, a realm I've only dared to dream of. He knows. He understands my silent confession, my yearning to bridge every chasm between us. He's inviting me to tear down every obstacle, every lingering shadow, every trivial being that dares to impede our shared journey into a love so absolute, so consuming. For him, I would cross any boundary, descend into any darkness, if it meant being this close, irrevocably bound.

My hands rise, intertwining with his, my head tilting to press a soft, fervent kiss into the warm palm of his hand. "I will do it now," I whisper, my voice thick with a newfound, terrifying resolve. "For you. For us." Evil determination floods my soul, a palpable darkness consuming me from within. With her gone, I think, a triumphant certainty settling in my chest, his love, his absolute attention, will finally be mine. No one will ever share him with me again. And in his eyes, I see a reflection of my own dark excitement, a shared anticipation for the dawn of our unique devotion.

He releases my face, his touch lingering for a moment before withdrawing. "Then go," he instructs, his voice a thrilling command. "I will be watching you."

The cool, metallic weight of the butter knife feels foreign in my hand as I stalk down the hall, each determined step echoing the morbid resolve hardening within me. Jhin’s presence, a silent shadow, trails closely behind. The maid's door, a portal to the act I’m about to commit, stands closed. I push it open slowly, soundlessly, the hinge a sigh in the oppressive quiet.

The scene before me is a tableau of crimson despair. The maid lies sprawled, face down, in a glistening pool of her own blood. Inches from her outstretched hand, Jhin’s ornate gun gleams dully. She cheated me. She stole my gruesome victory.

A low, guttural sneer escapes Jhin’s lips, a sound that vibrates through the silent room. "I was on the brink of losing my mind when I couldn't find my gun this morning," he murmurs, his voice laced with a perverse delight. "I never imagined I'd walk into such a beautiful tragedy." He closes the gap between us, his arm coiling possessively around my waist, pulling me flush against his rigid body. His whispers, hot against my ear, send a delicious shiver down my spine. "Don't you think this is a masterpiece, Hwei? A final, exquisite curtain call."

A profound indifference settles over me, surprising in its depth. Though I wished her dead, her demise brings no surge of triumph, no cathartic release. Now that every obstacle is obliterated, every barrier removed, why does my stomach churn with nausea? Why is there a bitter, metallic taste coating my tongue? My limbs are cold, distant, disconnected from the storm within.

"I can't get my outfit dirty," Jhin states, his voice calm, almost regretful, as he steps away, breaking our intimate contact. "Go take my gun and wash it for me, my dear. I will be waiting for you in the dining room."

My appetite has vanished, replaced by a profound emptiness, yet the words refuse to form. I watch him walk away, his figure disappearing into the grand hall's encroaching shadows, around the distant corner. Slowly, reluctantly, I approach the maid's lifeless form. I nudge her with my foot, a flicker of suspicion lingering— perhaps some hidden life still clings to her. She remains inert. Her body is heavy, a dead weight. I grasp her head, pulling it gently upwards, and a fresh torrent of blood spills from a perfectly round hole in her forehead, painting the floor in a grotesque, vibrant sheen. Her eyes, wide and strangely relaxed, stare sightlessly upwards, a silent accusation. Her mouth hangs open, a crimson smear painting her teeth and lips.

I lean down, my voice a barely audible whisper, a grim, private triumph. "Thank you. I won this battle." My lips curve into a morbid smile. "He's all mine now, and you no longer have a place in his heart." I lower her head back to the floor, granting her eternal rest. My fingers close around the cold, smooth metal of the gun. As I leave the room, closing the door softly behind me, the last whisper of my conscience dies.

My feet halt for a moment, my breath hitches, a silent gasp of triumph. This is it. The path is clear, the final obstacle obliterated. A dizzying elation surges through me, knowing that the love I've yearned for, the absolute devotion I've craved, is finally within reach.

Tomorrow, my heart will lay bare, and his entire world will be mine, utterly and completely.

Chapter Text

The morning air hangs with a gentle quiet, a stark contrast to the restless thoughts that have filled my night. Last evening's dinner, too, was a hushed affair, yet marked by a surprising lightness. Jhin, I noticed, seemed to float through the kitchen, a low hum of contentment vibrating from him as he moved, even while doing the dishes— a domestic scene I never imagined. The image of the maid's self-inflicted end, while a relief from the crushing weight of impending guilt, still sends a cold shiver through my limbs. But the warmth, the profound warmth of knowing Jhin is truly mine, washes over me, leaving me suspended in a strange, exhilarating peace. He had bid me a sincere goodnight, a simple phrase that resonated with newfound meaning after our shared, dark understanding.

Now, the aroma of cooking pancakes fills the air, and Jhin's humming weaves through the quiet kitchen. He stands at the stove, back straight, head held high, his movements graceful as he prepares our breakfast. I can't tear my eyes away from him, utterly captivated by the simple domesticity of the scene. A sharp, acrid smell cuts through the sweetness, jolting me back to reality. Shit. Another two loaves of toast, utterly forgotten in the toaster, are now charred beyond recognition. I yank them out, their heat scalding my fingertips, sending them flying in an arc before they land with a soft thump on the floor.

Jhin chuckles, a low, melodic sound that wraps around me. "Something on your mind, my dear?"

"My dear." The endearment, a new addition since the maid's passing, washes over me like a tide. It’s an indescribable emotion, a warmth that blossoms in my chest, setting my heart a-fuzz with pure, unadulterated happiness.

"Sorry, I can't seem to focus," I mumble, tossing yet another burnt offering into the bin. I slide two fresh slices into the toaster, eyes now glued to the slots with an almost aggressive intensity.

A warm hand settles gently on my shoulder, sending a delightful shiver down my spine. "You can go make us coffee," Jhin suggests, his voice laced with amusement.

Anxiety tightens my throat. "But... I don't know how to make coffee," I stammer, my gaze darting up to his contented face, a blush creeping up my neck.

He simply smiles, a soft, indulgent curve of his lips. "Can you prepare the table then?"

"How?" I ask, feeling utterly useless.

"Just put the plates on the table." His patience is boundless, and it melts away my embarrassment.

"Okay." I gather the plates, laden with fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon, and perfectly scrambled eggs, and carry them to the dining room. Moments later, Jhin enters, a tray bearing two steaming cups of coffee balanced in his hands. He stops short, a flicker of bewildered amusement crossing his face. I follow his gaze to the table, and a sigh escapes him before a soft chuckle takes its place. He sets down the tray, then, with an almost tender precision, rearranges the scattered plates, setting each of us a perfectly balanced portion of every dish. It dawns on me then: I had simply placed them wherever they fit, utterly oblivious to the unspoken rules of a shared meal. How had I never known this before?

"You're not accustomed to housework, Hwei, are you?" he teases, a playful glint in his eyes as he settles into his chair.

I laugh nervously, the sound a little too loud in the quiet room, as I sit opposite him. "I don't actually cook for myself, you know."

"Obviously," he chuckles, his eyes dancing with mirth. "And you don't even know how to set a table."

At this point, I can't discern if the soft smile on his face is gently ridiculing me or simply finding my domestic ineptitude endearing. I offer an apologetic laugh, a warm blush spreading across my cheeks. "Ugh... My bad..." The morning, despite my clumsy efforts, feels utterly perfect.

We proceed to eat our breakfast, a quiet affair that feels less like a meal and more like a tender, intimate date. His cooking is surprisingly good— the bacon perfectly crisp, the eggs just right, the toast golden, and the pancakes, drizzled with syrup, a delightful indulgence. The rich aroma of coffee fills the air, intoxicating my senses. For a fleeting moment, I imagine this exact scene replaying every morning, a shared ritual. Perhaps then, I'll learn to conjure such fluffy pancakes myself, or brew coffee as perfectly as he does. Maybe, just maybe, his compliments will turn into something more, a kiss that speaks louder than any words. The thought sends a rush of heat to my face, my mouth suddenly dry. I look up, and his lips curve into a warm, knowing smile.

"Something on your mind?" he asks, his gaze lingering on mine.

I can't help but return his coy smile. It feels like the right moment to let a sliver of my heart's burgeoning desires escape. I can't wait until this evening, when I'll present him with a bouquet of freshly picked Casa Blanca lilies and spill all my honest thoughts during the grand display. "I was just thinking," I begin, my voice soft, "that maybe you could teach me how to make pancakes. So I can make them for you every morning."

"Oh," a curious, soft laugh escapes his lips. "You want to make me pancakes every morning?"

I give him an eager nod, my heart fluttering.

"I'm looking forward to your pancakes then," he replies, a hint of something playful in his tone.

I chuckle shyly, a warmth spreading through my chest. A comfortable silence settles between us, yet the weight of unspoken thoughts, of anticipation, tickles my stomach. To break the comfortable quiet, I ask, "What are you planning to do until the grand display?"

"I will get ready. Today is our performance." The way he emphasizes "our performance" sends a flurry of butterflies through my stomach, fluttering timidly. A wild, almost hungry flame flickers in his brown eyes as he looks at me, a peculiar desire burning within them. "Today is our special day, Hwei."

"I know," I reply, a suggestive hint in my voice, meeting his gaze. "I can't wait until our performance."

"I'm equally excited to see you dance for me." The words, spoken with a soft intensity, make me ache for the moment after the grand display, when the mansion is empty save for us. To finally savor that long-desired intimacy, to truly earn his undivided attention, today.

"I'm going to take a walk in the woods to clear my mind for a bit after breakfast," I offer, suddenly remembering my plan. "Do you need any help before the grand display?"

His tone shifts, becoming suddenly serious. "Yes, I need your help with something during the grand display. There are some things I can't do on my own." I nod in response.

Soon after, breakfast is finished. I help Jhin with the dishes, carefully putting them away in their proper places this time, a small victory of domesticity.

"I'm going to retreat to my room for a while," he says, his words a polite but firm instruction not to disturb him until lunchtime. "I need to focus on some things. We will meet again during lunch."

"I will be in the woods until lunch time." I reply, my voice filled with a mixture of quiet anticipation and newfound resolve. The woods awaits, and with it, the beautiful, pure lilies for my confession. The night, and all its dark promises, lie just ahead.

And so we depart, each to our own preparations. I hurry towards the woods, the morning sun a benevolent crown above my head, the gentle breeze a playful whisper against my face. I navigate the winding path around the lake with meticulous care, recalling the dizzying moment Jhin caught me from a near fall last time. Tonight, no injury will mar our perfect shared performance. My feet, by some inherent guidance, lead me back to his whispered sanctuary, nestled behind the ancient oak. Here, in this quiet haven, I feel his presence, a comforting echo of his soul residing within my own. I breathe deeply, inhaling the crisp morning air, exhaling the last lingering remnants of my apprehension.

The scene before me is breathtakingly beautiful, a tableau of dappled sunlight and swaying leaves. I close my eyes, conjuring the image of our first kiss, a moment I envision as equally, exquisitely beautiful. What would it taste like? These thoughts ignite a warmth within me, a sweet, fluttering excitement. My mind races ahead, beyond tonight, to the boundless possibilities of our future together. Where will we go? To his house, his real house, not this grand mansion that serves as merely a stage. I picture it: a haven filled with his art, perhaps even shelves brimming with books, for he possesses the quiet intensity of one who delves into words. The thought of living with him, inseparable, forever woven into the fabric of his life, fills me with a pure, unadulterated delight.

But then, a cold whisper of doubt creeps in. What if he turns me down? What if the tenderness in his eyes is not love, but something else entirely? What if his feelings for me don't mirror the fierce devotion that consumes my very being? I shake my head, a desperate denial of these treacherous thoughts. No. These are merely anxieties, unwelcome intruders. Jhin loves me; I am sure of it. After all we've shared, after the depths we've plumbed together, he cannot possibly reject my confession.

I rise, my steps lighter now, as I begin my search for the Casa Blanca lilies. Jhin possesses so many in the mansion; they must bloom nearby. My eyes scan the dappled forest floor, and finally, nestled in a patch of moist earth, I find them: a small, vibrant bed of pure white blooms. I pluck a few, then a few more — four, perhaps five will do. No, seven or eight, to truly convey the depth of my feelings. As my fingers brush against the cool earth, something else catches my eye, peeking from between the lily stems: a small piece of paper. I retrieve it, and my heart skips. It's a rough sketch, undeniably of me, asleep in bed. A soft, knowing smile touches my lips. He must have checked on me during the night, ensuring my peace. How incredibly caring he is!

Clutching the lilies, I take a different route back to the mansion, concealing them behind my back, eager to preserve the surprise. The grand hall is quiet, bathed in the muted light that filters through the windows. I make my way to my room, approaching the window that faces the bright morning sun. Holding the lilies, I begin to practice my confession, the words "I love you" feeling strange and heavy on my tongue. Should I recount the exact moment, that first day, when he performed on stage, so breathtakingly gorgeous, and my feelings blossomed? Or should I try to offer reasons for my love? But the truth is, I don't have a reason; I simply do love him. I mouth the words, pretending he stands before me, his eyes warm, a smile on his face.

Yet, as I practice, disturbing images creep into my mind. What if his smile vanishes? What if he dismisses the lilies, calls my confession nonsense? What if he doesn't love me back? I exhale sharply, the anxieties gnawing at my brain. I place the lilies gently on the round table and collapse onto my bed, my arm thrown over my head to block the relentless sunlight. A sudden, profound exhaustion washes over me, born of overthinking. Part of me longs for the grand display to be over, for time to rush forward to the moment of my confession. Yet, another part desperately wishes for that moment to never come, my anxiety still a raw, trembling wound.

Hands reach for my arms, their touch grounding, and I feel a low breath ghosting over my face. "Are you okay, Hwei?"

I pull my arm away from my eyes to see Jhin leaning over me, his gaze laced with concern. Behind him, the setting sun bleeds across the sky, painting the windows in hues of twilight. A gasp escapes my lips, and I bolt upright, my heart hammering. "The grand display!"

Jhin takes a small step back, a soft smile gracing his features. "There are still a couple of hours left. I left your lunch in the kitchen. Go eat and get ready."

I hurry to the kitchen, my mind a whirl of anxious excitement. There, on the counter, rests a plate of perfectly cooked steak and creamy mashed potatoes, undoubtedly prepared just for me. I devour it, the rich flavors barely registering as I swallow mouthful after mouthful. Then, in the periphery of my vision, something catches my eye. On the kitchen counter, where nothing had stood this morning, a delicate vase now sits. Inside, a cluster of freshly picked Casa Blanca lilies radiates a luminous white, and etched onto the vase's surface is a small, tender heart. A wave of pure, unadulterated happiness surges through my chest. He accepted them. He understood. The crippling anxiety of rejection dissolves, replaced by a radiant, soaring excitement.

I rush to the bathroom, my attire clutched in my hand. The shower's warmth washes away the last vestiges of my morning's turmoil, leaving me refreshed and invigorated. I meticulously style my hair, each strand a testament to the importance of tonight. Stepping towards the mirror, I notice a selection of makeup laid out near the sink, alongside my favorite choker. A tender smile touches my lips—Jhin's thoughtful touch, ensuring I look my absolute best for the grand display. With careful precision, I apply dark green eyeshadow, deepening the emerald of my eyes, then sculpt my cheekbones with contour, transforming my reflection into a vision of subtle allure.

Ready, I step out of the bathroom and head towards the grand hall. Jhin stands by the colossal main door, pulling it wide open, a gesture of grand welcome. He is already in his full attire, yet without his mask, allowing me to fully appreciate the dramatic sweep of his dark kohl-lined eyes. I walk coyly towards him, a shy confidence blooming within me.

"The steak was divine," I tell him, my voice soft. "And thank you for leaving the makeup and choker. You're so thoughtful."

He turns to me fully, his gaze warm and admiring. His eyes, already magnificent, seem to deepen with the kohl, holding a captivating intensity. "I didn't realize you put on makeup."

He muses, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "I, too, must look my best tonight, Hwei. Can you help me with something?"

"Of course," I reply, my heart already eager to please.

"I'll play some music in ten minutes. When you hear it, I need you to lock this main door, and then ensure the backdoor is secured as well."

I puzzle, pointing to the grand main entrance he has just opened. "This door? And the one in the back?"

He nods, his expression serious.

An easy task, I think, shrugging playfully. "Okay."

His hand settles gently on my shoulder, a touch that sends a familiar current through me. "I'm counting on you." With that, he turns and ascends the grand staircase, his figure disappearing into the shadows above. I watch him go, a sigh escaping my lips, wondering, with a mix of anticipation and nerves, how I will finally voice the depths of my heart tonight.

The grand hall fills with a gentle murmur as guests begin to arrive, one by one, then in a flowing stream, their faces illuminated by the golden chandeliers, their eyes wide with awe. The internal lights cast a magnificent glow, transforming the mansion into an ethereal, otherworldly gallery. I step into the heart of it all, my own gaze sweeping over the artworks, a profound warmth spreading through me knowing that I, too, had a hand in these masterpieces adorning the walls. A low hum of curiosity ripples through the crowd as they notice the peculiar purple metallic lotus apparatuses scattered across the polished floor, each emitting a soft, alluring light.

Then, the first notes of a classical symphony begin to play, a grand, sweeping melody filling the air. This is my cue. My mission. I pace swiftly to the massive main door, the heavy latch clicking into place with a satisfying thud. Then, to the back door, securing it with the same decisive movement. In this uniquely intimate moment, surrounded by the hushed beauty of the gallery, my time to confess has come. But a sudden wave of nerves washes over me. Not like this. I need a touch of beauty, a silent offering. I walk to the kitchen, pluck a single lily, then two more, until three pristine blooms rest in my trembling hands. Now, I can—

A piercing, raw scream tears through the mansion, shredding the classical music, shaking the very foundations. My heart plummets, a stone in my stomach, as chaos erupts. The thunder of heavy feet echoes through the halls, a frantic, desperate scramble. Explosions erupt, sharp, percussive blasts that rip through the air, followed by the chilling crack-crack-crack of gunshots. I sprint towards the grand hall, my mind a blur of primal terror.

What greets me is not an art gallery, but a canvas of unspeakable horror, drenched in fresh, sickening life. It's a pool of blood. Guests, moments ago admiring art, now crumple to the ground, grotesque marionettes whose strings have been abruptly severed. Some writhe, caught in the lotus traps, their limbs contorting as their bodies erupt in clouds of shimmering purple dust, a macabre fireworks display blooming amidst their final agony. Others fall silently, shot by Jhin, who stands poised on the grand staircase, his figure a terrifying silhouette against the pandemonium, firing his gun with a horrifying, artistic precision. My body freezes, a horrified statue witnessing this masquerade of death. The screams of the dying bleed into the elegant classical music, a grotesque, deafening counterpoint. Bodies collide, pushing, shoving, a desperate, futile struggle for an escape that will never come. Blood, a vibrant, terrifying red, paints the polished floors, splattering across the pristine canvases, decorating the very artwork with the forbidden color of life and death.

The lilies, stark white against the growing crimson, slip from my numb fingers, falling silently to the blood-slicked floor. My gaze locks onto Jhin, his movements fluid, almost graceful, as he shoots frantically, his lips moving underneath the masks, counting from one to four with each perfectly aimed bullet. He never misses. I step into the grand hall, a ghost among the falling, people meeting their doom all around me. The blood, so forbidden, now adorns every piece, creating a new, terrifying layer of art.

"That's why we shouldn't use the color red," I whisper, the words a raw, chilling realization that barely escapes my lips. This is his true art. The masterpiece he spoke of. And I am not just a part of it; I am both the unwitting canvas and the horrified spectator, caught in his terrifying, beautiful, utterly insane design. The world tilts on its axis, and the beautiful façade of my love shatters, revealing the grotesque truth beneath.

The world bleeds around me. Warm, viscous blood splatters my clothes, my face, as bodies crumple with sickening thuds. The cacophony of screams, once so deafening, dwindles to a strangled gurgle, then dies out completely. Even the classical music, the elegant backdrop to this carnage, fades into a chilling silence. Only the ragged gasps of a dying few punctify the horror. I walk, a ghost among the fallen, to the foot of the grand staircase, my eyes locked on Jhin. He stands above the carnage, chest heaving, his masked gaze fixed on me, a predatory gleam in the single visible eye.

"This is the whole point of this art gallery?" My voice is a frail, trembling whisper, the words barely escaping my throat. "To kill everyone?"

"And here we are, Hwei. Our dance shall finally begin. Prepare for your finale." With a fluid, almost graceful movement, he sheathes the small, elegant gun he held moments ago, replacing it with a larger, more menacing firearm, its dark metal gleaming under the remaining lights.

The first shot cracks, a terrifying punctuation mark to his words. I flinch, my feet slipping on the slick, warm blood coating the porcelain floor. I fall, the world tilting, the bullet striking inches from my head, splintering the marble with a sharp Boom! No. No, he can't be trying to kill me.

"Two." His voice, a melodic pronouncement of doom, echoes through the silence. He fires again.

A raw scream tears from my throat as I scramble, dodging the bullet, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. I spring to my feet, a desperate, animalistic flight. "Stop!" I shriek, my voice raw with terror and betrayal.

"Dance for me, Hwei! Dance!" His command is a chilling crescendo. Another shot rings out, a searing pain blooming in my shoulder as the bullet grazes me.

My feet tangle over a lifeless body, sending me tumbling down, landing painfully atop cold, stiff flesh.

"Four!"

The fourth bullet whistles just above my head, its wind a terrifying whisper of death. Why did it miss? My vision blurs with tears as I look up at the cruel, unyielding mask that now defines his face. "Please, stop," I beg, the words dissolving into desperate sobs. The love I felt, the madness I embraced, now collide with a despair so profound it threatens to consume me whole.

He loads bullets into the larger gun, the metallic clink-clack echoing in the deathly quiet hall. A wicked delight plays across his tone, sharp and exhilarating. "You are truly entertaining, Hwei. I simply can't resist making you dance for me one more time."

I stand, my blood-soaked custom clinging to my skin. He raises the gun, pointing it directly at my chest, a menacing silhouette against the flickering lights of the grand hall. "Are you ready, my dear?" he murmurs, his voice a silken thread weaving through the air.

Tears, hot and relentless, stream down my face, mingling with the splattered blood. Yet, my feet carry me forward, one deliberate step after another, towards the menacing muzzle. "Will killing me finally satisfy you?" I whisper, the question raw and desperate.

He remains silent, that single visible eye in his mask piercing me with an unnerving, calculating cruelty.

I wipe the tears and grime from my face, my eyes never leaving his as I ascend the blood-slicked stairs, closing the distance between us. "I love you," the words spill from my lips, a desperate, defiant truth.

The gun in his hand trembles, a tremor that vibrates through the very air. He grips it tighter, his voice a low, fierce hiss. "Your death is inevitable, Hwei. You cannot escape it."

I draw a shaky breath, inhaling the metallic scent of death. "If my death brings you happiness," I begin, a fragile smile gracing my lips, "then I am happy to die." I stand directly before the shaking gun, pulling the nozzle against my chest, a strange calm settling over me. I close my eyes, bracing for the inevitable, holding my breath until my lungs ache. But nothing.

I open my eyes. I am still here. Alive.

He slowly lowers the gun, his gaze unwavering. "Why aren't you running away, screaming like the others?"

I take another step, then another, until our bodies are nearly touching, the warmth of his presence a stark contrast to the cold dread that still clings to me. A soft, knowing smile stretches my lips. "Because I love you," I whisper, the words a sacred vow.

I rise onto my tiptoes, my lips parting, reaching for the elusive lips hidden behind the mask. But he presses the smaller gun against my chest, the cold metal a stark barrier, pushing me gently but firmly away. "Love is nothing but a lie," he hisses, his voice devoid of warmth. "How utterly foolish you are."

My hands instinctively rise, wrapping around the gun pointed at my heart, warming its cold metal with my trembling touch. "I always believed that," I confess, my voice soft, "until I met you. I had never, truly, known what love was."

He is silent again, his visible eye scrutinizing me, a silent battle raging behind it. Then, his muscles relax, his hand dropping the gun completely, letting it clatter to the blood-stained step. Suddenly, my head spins, the world tilting precariously. My feet lose their precarious balance on the slick stairs, and I fall, tumbling down, down, until my body collides with the harsh, cold floor below.

My eyes flutter open, the opulent ceiling a blurry, distorted canvas above me. My vision swims, then clears, to find Jhin's masked face hovering above mine, his single visible eye gazing down with an unsettling intensity. My limbs feel impossibly heavy, a leaden weight holding me captive, unresponsive to my will. He reaches for me, his strong hands sliding beneath me, lifting me effortlessly from the cold, blood-soaked floor.

"Let's get out of here, Hwei. I won't leave you here." His voice, a low, intimate command, slices through the burgeoning chaos, yet it's the last anchor in a world spiraling out of control. My ears ring with a deafening silence, the screams and gunshots replaced by a hollow roar. Darkness, thick and consuming, begins to creep in from the edges of my vision. I feel his arms, strong and unwavering, closing around me. In that final, fading moment, I surrender. There is no fight left, only an overwhelming, absolute surrender to him, as he carries me towards our shared future.

THE END