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caramelt4me · 3 days ago

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𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥. | 비밀 - Ch "XXI - 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬"

(Yandere Idol X Kidnapped Reader)

Trigger warning: mentions of voyeur*sm, substance ab*se, corruption, mental decline, strong sexual themes, light sm*t, blood, gore, gaslighting, body dysm*rphia, identity erosion and crisis, psychopathy, heavy angst and manipulation

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

ℝagged breaths intertwined in the hush of the bedroom. The air turned thick, drenched in heat and pulsing with passion. Each gasp, muffled or not—sparked the rising warmth to cling to the skin like a second, fevered layer.

The coy moonlight, soft and dusky—spilled through the wide glass windows of the Cabin, casting silver shadows across tangled sheets.

While the large mirror, once veiled behind heavy velvet curtains—likely to be mistaken for a wall otherwise, now stood fully exposed, stretching across like a silent voyeur.

Drinking in every movement—

Every moan. Every tremble in its wake.

Because caught in its gaze were you and—

Your blue-eyed lover,

Asher.

Your spent body curved against his, cocooned in his hold from behind—his embrace both sheltering and hungry.

The silken fabric of your nightgown was barely a hindrance as his hands effortlessly slipped beneath, slithering across bare skin with a touch that trembled between reverence and ruin.

His slender fingers mapped every inch of you—inside and out—with the determination of rediscovering paradise. As though he were exploring the temple of his goddess anew, again and again.

His soft lips met yours—slow and steady—not in haste, but with aching intent.

Each kiss tasted like a question your aroused tongue couldn’t fully answer without his help.

Your vision, hazed with tears of pleasure, locked with his sultry azures—speaking a language only lovers whispered in the dark, where words became breath and desire.

Yet, the unspoken can’t fully compensate for the words lost.

The language of touch and sensual pleasure having their own limits to resolve the unaddressed.

As misunderstandings—both, convenient or not, were allowed to fester and thrive in the shadows of the lull before the storm.

But to be fair,

This wasn’t a scene born of the dubious present.

It was a memory—etched in the embers of countless nights before.

Nights that still lingered in the dark like a secret.

Nights where it was you who took the first step.

Lost yet curious about the one who claimed to be yours truly, it would start with the smallest gesture—a soft, unexpected kiss on his cheek after a moment’s tension, or a gaze that lingered too long to be innocent—

And that would be all it took to invite him in.

To give him permission.

Even when you hadn’t fully understood the need, stirring within until he began to unravel you, slow and knowing.

Perhaps you were too embarrassed to voice it aloud.

Perhaps it was easier to let him do the heavy-lifting—while you played the tentative Captain, pretending to steer the ship while surrendering to the wind.

Whatever the case, you let Asher have his way—let him guide your amnesiac self back into the arms of the lovers you once were.

Or so you thought.

Not realizing just how differently those nights played out for him—

Your blue-eyed ‘lover’ who’d hold you close,

Not with an intent to reminiscence but to learn hands-on—make a mental note of every move you made and what it meant.

To fully claim the role of the one who knew you best—even more than what he allowed yourself.

After all, you were special.

One of a kind.

Mistakes were made along the way for him to realize so…

…but who cares?

In the end, he had you.

As his lover.

In his embrace—night after night.

Even if it meant erasing your past to rewrite it in his image.

After all, memories—

── They’re just fleeting, fickle things, baby.

His icy blues had flickered to your reflection in the mirror just before he reached out, tugging your tangled hair back behind your ear with a tenderness that contrasted the deep craving in his eyes.

── Trust me. I have firsthand experience, love.

Uh huh.

── You can’t rely on them to guide you to the right people.

Was it another manipulative half lie of his or was it a disillusioned truth he truly believed?

Perhaps, it could be both for once.

But somewhere during those few wild, leisure nights, he had watched the way your half-lidded gaze fluttered slightly, how your throat moved with an unconscious gulp—a view he couldn’t have caught from his position, if not for the ginormous mirror in front of you both.

── We can always make better memories to replace the old—just like now, darling.

He had reiterated but in head, before your eyes had shifted to the mirror, locking briefly with the blue obsession in his gaze—only to dart away in flustered embarrassment.

── Ah, are we feeling shy again?

His sultry azure had been amused, finding it cute yet he braced to overcome the little hiccup in the way.

A stir passed within as you felt him begin to smooch down your neck with soft fluttering kisses—that felt ravenous and unrelenting in their intent.

“N-No, s-stop—” you’d murmured, voice small, fragile, suddenly too self-conscious under the weight of your own reactions.

And yet, Asher hadn’t stopped.

His lips had continued their descent, peppering your collarbone with soft, claiming marks.

Not because he meant to disregard your little protest—oh no.

But because by then, he already knew the several shades of your ‘no’.

And that one in particular, wasn’t the kind to be taken at face value.

“Why deny your desires, when I can so easily fulfill them, dear?” he had murmured, finally giving voice to the thought that had hovered on his tongue for far too long.

── What’s even left to be kept hidden, baby?

── I’ve seen it all, my love.

“No need to feel embarrassed now…aren’t we lovers?” your blue-eyed lover had purred into your ear, a little breathless—his heart racing faster than he let on.

Couldn’t you see how much he had changed for you?

── Haven’t I been good so far?

How much longer was he supposed to wait—to ache—for those so-called three magical words from your lips, hm?

Blood had rushed to Asher’s head as he’d blurted the question aloud, unable to hold it back another second. “I love you, baby.—”

“—Don’t you love me too?”

Um.

That's not how—

── Just say the words, and I’ll show you a better time, love.

Ha, nevermind.

He had watched your shy lips like so often—even in the mirror—aching for the chance to hear it back.

But alas, the words never came.

Not even once.

Not even mumbled in your sleep.

He'd told himself they were meant to be understood in silence—that perhaps they lingered between your breaths, hidden beneath your quiet sighs and stolen glances as you seemed to blush each time.

Not then, not now.

It was maddening, really—this feeling of being deprived.

To be denied. Rejected.

Over and over again.

Insecurity had crept in—slow but sure—thawing the edges of his otherwise stone-cold heart in ways he hadn’t fully understood.

In those quiet, desperate moments, he felt weak.

Fallible.

Human.

A far cry from the cold-blooded figure the rest of the world knew him to be.

But still, Asher never held your silence against you.

He would never.

── My baby can do no wrong, that’s right.

According to him, you were simply… misled.

Misguided by those fragmented memories still lingering deep within, despite his careful efforts to gently wipe every trace from your unconscious mind.

None of it was your fault.

Not even when you freaked out after discovering the hidden cameras he had installed throughout the cabin—strictly for your safety and, well…

…to better understand every movement, every emotion you wore on your face like a whisper he longed to catch.

Of course, you didn’t need to know that part.

Nevertheless, he had honoured your protest—your firm, non-negotiable “No!”—and removed the cameras, just as you saw.

What you didn’t see however, was the quiet replacement with a far less conspicuous and non-invasive motion-sensor system.

── Oh well, couples can agree to disagree… can’t they?

Your blue-eyed lover had sighed, just before his lips—soft and sly—latched onto your unsuspecting earlobe to nibble gently, a distraction that drew a surprised yelp from your throat as you squirmed in his arms.

Instantly flustered, your hands had tried to lightly push him away, fumbling—futile—as the awkward tension dissolved into the warmth of that small moment lost to time.

In truth, however, the compromise had been more than a minor inconvenience to Asher.

He had lost the privilege of seeing you from every angle at all times—especially when he was away for work. The multichannel feed on his phone reduced to mere blips of data: subtle alerts tracking your movement from room to room, leaving far too much for the imagination to fill in.

Hm.

Then perhaps, a certain pink-haired maknae should end up thanking his stars for your past protest—your firm insistence on boundaries—that would spare him from being murdered in a heartbeat, at present.

Or maybe that wasn’t even needed.

Because anyone but Nex would’ve been dead by now—

Since the blip alerts had informed the blue-eyed Boogeyman about your and the maknae's prolonged shared space in the living area—even before he’d set foot inside the Cabin.

Yeah.

That's right.

The current Asher already knew.

That you had been up to no good.

But why did he suspect you alone?

Well…because temporal shyness aside, you were the only one between the two of you bold and temperamental enough to pull a move this foul.

And why wouldn’t you?

He’d made sure not to repeat the same mistake twice.

There once existed things far too unsavoury to be seen or heard.

Yet it was those very things that had instilled a fear so profound in the grey-eyed child that the blue-eyed older boy hadn’t even realized when those blank, stormy greys had started meeting his own in the dead of night…

Eyes wide. Frozen.

Watching him indulge in his bloody addiction.

How long had it been since he’d first been watched?

Minutes?

Hours?

── …Days?

Asher didn’t know. He hadn’t cared then.

By the time he finally noticed the grey-eyed boy’s presence, his own icy blues had already been far too consumed by the bloodlust.

Little Nex had watched in silence.

Night after night.

For a week straight.

Transfixed. Hypnotized— Horrified by the sight of his hyung—the one meant to protect him—tearing into the flesh of a small bird or passing rodent.

Merciless. Predatory. Without a shred of pity in that cold, devouring gaze.

── Tsk. ── I should’ve been more careful.

A careless mistake.

Or so Asher would later rationalize—

An error born of reckless youth. Of childish inexperience.

Never quite realizing just how abnormal—how monstrous—his actions had truly been.

The blue-eyed Devil simply hadn’t grasped the harm of his sin.

Not until it was too late to reap what he had sown.

Nex, it seemed, had no memory of those cursed nights. No conscious recollection—at least, from what Asher believed of the maknae’s fragile psyche.

But the sleep mumbling and the nightmares… told a different story altogether.

Little Nex wasn’t the same anymore.

Damaged beyond repair.

── A mistake.

The grey-eyed boy had begun to fear his hyung to death. Feared him enough to hide—to lie.

And it had irritated Asher. Far more than he’d ever willingly admit.

── …my mistake. Mine.

Until the fearful lies bloomed into quiet betrayal. Not once, but twice.

As there came a moment he could no longer recognize the eyes of the boy he had once raised.

The disbelief.

The disappointment upon confronting the truth about the prolonged substance abuse that he had continued to engage in for years behind closed doors—behind his hyung’s back.

And of course, that soul-wrenching realization of not being wanted.

Of the festering hatred that had masqueraded as fear for years—unveiled disgracefully so.

In hindsight,

The loss had felt inevitable. Their fallout, fated.

As the blue-eyed Devil found himself, ironically, abandoned by the one who bore the disdainful eyes of their weak mother—

The woman he would come to hate as deeply as he once loved around the same time.

But then, she passed away.

Leaving him feeling conned, by them both.

And most importantly, by his own fragmented memories of them since before the age five—as he would blame them for luring him in by their familiar faces to chain him to his old world.

To be foolishly deceived by the warm, inviting glow of a “feeling” that he could never truly find in the end—a lie called “Love”.

Or so Asher had chosen to believe it all.

Connecting dots that were never meant to link—but somehow did.

Never realizing that the maknae’s trauma might’ve had nothing to do with their mother, and everything to do with him.

It had rooted itself deep, not just taking toil on the pitiful victim but the imperfect perpetrator alike— Sinking in silent, invisible claws, manifesting in ways more twisted than the blue-eyed Devil could ever fully comprehend as he spiralled.

But then, he met you at the hospital.

Or rather…his eyes began to see you as something more than you intended to be.

It was unlike Asher to notice others.

And yet, he noticed you.

You hadn’t been there during those nights; those early years soaked in unspoken horror.

But you had gotten more than a brutal glimpse of the same treatment, years later.

Because when he had unraveled—untamed, unhinged—turning the luscious green of the hospital garden a deep, sickening crimson…

…you didn’t run away like the rest.

You were strong. You could stomach it.

Loyal to your role of a good nurse you once were.

It had intrigued Asher then, just a little. But not nearly enough to make him obsessed.

There was still so much of you left for him to discover then.

The turning point had yet to arrive—the moment that would push him to take drastic measures to bind you irrevocably to him.

Which, even without knowing the depth of fate you both were hurtling toward—

Asher had liked.

Liked that you didn’t flinch from him the way Nex did.

── My baby fears nothing but the unknown.

…Or at least, that’s what he would come to believe—

By the time you unintentionally made him aware of love’s existence in places he’d never thought to look.

As his gaze—once scattered between ghosts and grudges— Shifted solely to focus onto you.

Clinging to the hope that your strength stemmed not from old memories, but your very nature.

Because how could something as unreliable as memory—mere warped reflections of what might have been—dare to dictate who you were?

He simply refused to believe they could define your morals, your personhood, your essence—

The very essence he longed to hold and keep for himself.

And yet,

The blue-eyed Devil had performed all sorts of mental gymnastics to keep over two-decades worth of your past in a sealed vault.

Your name left unspoken by his tongue, for fear that uttering it might shatter the fragile lover’s spell he’d cast over the last half-year.

Ah, the hypocrisy.

The double standards.

The paradox of memories—how it both seduced and repelled him—

Frustratingly elusive,

Even to himself.

Nevertheless, your captor-lover had seen it before—

That brazenness of your essence. He’d tried not to stifle it too much along the way.

And so, it wasn’t meant to be a surprise…

And yet—somehow—it was.

For reasons you couldn’t have possibly foreseen.

Because you didn’t know their shared past like he knew yours.

Didn’t know what the boy currently asleep with his head in your lap—

Had once meant to Asher.

The half of his old world he had walked away from— Out of rage. Out of grief. Out of spite.

The painful void left behind—

A distorted version of empty nest syndrome* the blue-eyed Devil never imagined himself capable of feeling.

And yet… he did.

Even if he denied it.

Even if he denied everything—

In every waking moment since.

However, denial wasn’t even on his mind on those nights.

Nights when Asher’s icy blues were fixed solely on yours.

The one he’d deliberately chosen to anchor his entire world to. The one who deserved all of his focus, wholly and without question—just as much as he ached for yours in return.

And so, the greatest dilemma troubling your blue-eyed lover in those heated moments was a rather simple one: How to gently coax you into not looking away from your own reflection.

Because those fleeting mirrored glimpses were all he had left to truly see you in ways he could no longer without the little assistance of his hidden cameras.

That allowed him to drink you in. To memorize you like scripture.

To learn how to read you like a story told only once— A personal journal he once could only imagine holding close, Now fluttering open before him, page by page, unguarded.

And to possess—if only fleetingly— The parts of you that weren’t yet his to touch,

But oh, how he longed to. Whenever he pleased.

If he could, he would’ve turned the entire cabin into a House of Mirrors. A shrine of your reflection from every possible angle.

But even he knew, Somewhere deep inside that obsessive, lovesick mind of his— You wouldn’t entirely be on board with the idea.

After all, that maddening stubbornness of yours—disguised as shyness—was a riddle even he struggled to solve. It softened in fleeting moments, yes. But it never waned.

Not even during times when he’d assumed you’d finally give in—

Only for him to sigh in soft-hearted defeat when you didn’t.

He had gently nudged you further into his lap then, resting his chin on your shoulder with a quiet huff—seeking solace after yet another failed attempt to make you meet his eyes through the mirror.

── Ha... not again.

He had puffed out a breath, pouted like a kicked puppy—adorably miserable, trying to look cute and wounded.

Feigning innocence like a boy denied candy, As though his eyes weren’t practically engineered to seduce.

That intoxicating shade of azure, dripping with the kind of allure that had no business being worn so unashamedly—

And yet, all his charms were for nothing.

In those moments when you’d be too shy.

Too damn stubborn.

Your hands slipping away each time, just as he was about to catch them—always managing to dart up and cover your face, burning with misplaced shame and discomfort.

You were at your wit’s end that particular night. You simply couldn’t understand why the damn mirror had to remain uncovered.

It made no sense to you.

“Just for tonight, baby. Let me see you better.”

His voice had been soft—gentle and coaxing, almost pleading. The same words he’d whispered a few nights ago.

A sly half-truth, really.

Because it hadn’t ended with just one night. It had become a ritual.

A need. A nightly indulgence your blue-eyed lover had no intention of giving up for a while.

“No, that’s it—I’ve seen enough of myself. Cover it, please, Asher!”

You had snapped, more flustered than ever, your voice laced with embarrassment boiling over. An unbearable wave of self-consciousness clawing at your chest as you squeezed your eyes shut behind your palms;

Like a child believing that if they couldn’t see, maybe no one else could either.

You had tried to hide. Tried to breathe through the inferno blooming wild and relentless under your skin.

Even when you peeked through your fingers, mortified, your mind betrayed you— Hyperfixating on every imagined flaw, every detail only you seemed to see.

Which your blue-eyed lover couldn’t disagree more.

Why in the world would you want to hide that lovely face of yours—when he craved it like oxygen?

When he could recall each angle in his mind’s eye as if etched there by divine will—like a worshipper preserving the image of a goddess?

Didn’t you understand how your so-called flaws lit up like constellations in the dim moonlight?

Stars on a map only he could read— Sole cartographer of your body.

Mr. Sinner by choice—with no intent to repent.

So then, couldn’t you just give your selfish devotee this small mercy—

This one sacred indulgence,

To simply watch you unravel as his dutiful lips and hands remained busy tending to your every tremble and sigh?

Was that really too much to ask?

Especially when you were the one left fully clothed still, blushing, half-curled into yourself in shame— While his robe had been the first casualty in this little war, hanging loose, exposing skin of his chest and with it all the glorious evidence of your earlier handiwork. And his hair? A tousled wreck, artfully styled by your unshy fingers not long ago—his very own personal stylist of choice.

If anything, he should’ve been the one blushing.

And so, your blue-eyed lover had begun to lose hope— Feeling theatrically out of options, dramatically resigned to your resistance…

…until it struck him—an idea.

── While I look at you...

“…why don’t you try looking at me instead?”

Asher had whispered into your ear—his voice lowered into a velvet promise, dripping honey and mischief.

His eyes never wavered—locked on yours through the mirror— Even when your own face remained shielded by your trembling fingers, like he’d just asked you for the moon.

It shouldn’t have worked.

It was absurd.

A ridiculous suggestion.

Like slapping a band-aid on a migraine.

Too corny. Too soft.

But somehow… curiosity had gotten the better of you.

Because at some point, he’d gone still.

Dead still.

No teasing words.

No coaxing touches.

Just waiting—silent and patient—as if his entire world had paused for this moment, and he’d already made his choice.

So, you peeked.

Only a little, parting your fingers just enough.

Big mistake.

Because the second your eyes found his—through the glass—

It was like falling under a spell.

Those sultry azures locked onto you— Heavy-lidded, low and seductive, blinking with the slow grace of someone trying to strip your soul bare.

He matched your breath,

Matched his heartbeat with yours.

His lips had parted slightly, before he’d exhaled deep—

Like you’d taken the breath right out of him.

The eye contact alone to make him dizzy.

It was absurd, really.

And yet…

Mesmerizing.

Because no doubt, your blue-eyed lover was beautiful.

And ethereally so.

A man caught halfway between dream and sin.

Those icy blues shimmering like rare jewels as they followed your every twitch and flicker.

At some point, he’d stopped blinking altogether. Letting moisture build in his eyes just enough to catch the moonlight—

A soft sheen turning them liquid, glowing.

Like he was ready to cry for you and only you.

Your breath had hitched.

You hadn’t even realized that his hands had moved;

Not until you felt his fingers sliding between your own.

Quiet. Steady.

He’d pried your hands apart like he was unwrapping something sacred— Kissing each of your knuckles, slow and worshipful, until your tension gave way.

His dark lashes had fluttered, gaze unwavering. As he’d let you know—wordlessly again—

That this wasn’t just about watching you. This was about you letting him in to have a piece of your soul.

Every. Single. Time.

Not realizing the price of intertwining souls that were never meant to be—

Was not something he could afford,

With kisses and smothering affection alone.

There goes a saying that “Couples that stay together, begin to resemble each other.” But perhaps in your case, the process had been… expedited, in a rather strange manner.

Although you would never come to appreciate the mirror the same way your blue-eyed lover once did— its presence no longer bothered you as it used to.

Whether it remained uncovered for a lifetime or not had stopped being a concern.

Even if, in time, it did end up draped and forgotten as the days would drag on in the Cabin without Asher.

Your blue-eyed lover was never gone for too long.

The gaps would be brief—but when he’d returned, there had been a feverish edge to him, jaded and restless to a varying degree each time.

He couldn’t bear to delay any further.

He needed to be near you—feel you— Not waste time gazing at you through the silent voyeur that once enchanted him.

Unwittingly, he had spared you from turning hostile. Spared you the absurd jealousy over a piece of glass—

Since your old aversion to it had receded like a passing fever.

Like an infection receding just beneath the skin.

Which, in hindsight…

Would’ve been rather ridiculous if it hadn’t, wouldn’t it?

And yet, you simply couldn’t help it.

Your fractured mind had been caught in a loop— Held under that spell far too long.

The mirror may have been draped, reduced to nothing more than a blank wall—

But its ghosts had already etched themselves into your bones.

As no amount of fabric could unteach what it had shown.

Whether you liked it or not.

The nights it stayed uncovered, you had seen Asher—just as much as he had seen you,

If not more.

The longer your gaze lingered on your blue-eyed lover—both real and unreal—

You too began to read him, though only between the lines.

As guarded as he was, you had witnessed him drunk on you more times than you could count—

Slurping messily between your thighs—like you were sweeter than honey,

Grinning like a fool lost to lust whenever you swayed above him,

As your fingers had curled into a fist around his dark hair, commanding.

In those moments his giddy smile had faltered a bit too wide—slightly crooked—

Only to settle back into perfection the next moment, that you could have swooned for—

If not for the lavender haze clouding your gaze.

And yet…

Sometimes when he would try to play innocent for too long, despite the scent of seduction on him so potent—

It would begin to gnaw at you.

── Does he think…

Boil beneath your skin.

── … I’m a fool?

You couldn’t quite see beneath the cracks, but you could feel something was off.

Still, it was of no use.

Behind the scenes, your two-faced lover had been working tirelessly to keep the illusion intact—

To ensure you always remained two steps behind.

Nevertheless…

The longer you had stared—mirror or not—

The lines had begun to blur.

Where did you end…

…and where did he begin?

You weren’t so sure anymore.

And perhaps, that was when she awoke.

The vengeful spirit of your past.

Long dormant, held at bay within your fractured mind— Scavenging through the mental fog as she watched and learnt the tricks quietly from enemy dearest.

The blue-eyed Devil who dared to call himself your lover.

After all, how did that infamous saying go again—the one that has made the eyes and ears of generations so far bleed?

── Everything is fair in love and war.

And this had been a guerilla war*.

Against not just him but “yourself” as well.

(Present Time—)

You didn’t need your eyes open to know when he had arrived.

You simply knew.

Felt it on your skin, the sudden shift in the air around;

That familiar scent of his closing in, sharp and intoxicating, As the dim, diffused light from the television screensaver was swallowed whole by his looming shadow—

Standing still, right in front of the “dozed-off” you and the fast-asleep maknae.

Oh, how torn you were in that moment.

Whether to move. Whether to breathe.

A part of you flinched with regret, too late—

Wanting to better shield Nex’s closed eyes, just in case he stirred, just in case he panicked.

He didn’t, thank goodness.

But then, there was another part of you—

The one infected by her. By her mocking whispers, laced with poison and pleasure.

── Surely, he’s furious right now. Isn’t he?

── How does he look? I want to see.

She giggled inside your skull like it was a game.

The only regret she seemed to possess—

Was not making the act of infidelity seem more obscene.

More obvious.

Perhaps… if there had been a way to recreate that earlier scene—

Your body helplessly trapped under Nex’s for hours.

Skin flushed, breath shallow—

── He would totally lose his mind then, wouldn’t he?

She purred, as you felt high on vengeance.

The adrenaline, somewhat unwarranted—coursed through your veins like a drug.

Too potent to question. Too delicious to resist.

Because he was right there.

Your blue-eyed lover.

His trembling hand hovering mere inches away from your cheek.

As you resisted the urge to gulp.

To shiver. To react.

It was exhilarating.Too exciting to bear.

Was this how he had felt all along?

The power to keep you in the dark, While watching you unravel, unaware as he had read pages of “you” on whim, more often than the owner herself?

But knowing too much doesn’t always end well.

Like now—

Asher knew you weren’t asleep.

He knew you were faking it.

Because he knew every rise and fall of your breath to tell otherwise.

And still…

You deliberately chose to play the fool.

Ha.

You were just rubbing salt into his wound at this point, weren’t you?

Giving him a taste of his own medicine—

Bitter, undiluted, and perfectly timed.

It was meant to be a fatal end.

So then why—

Why did he recoil his hand just when it was about to touch your face? Why did you hear him suck in a breath—so sharp, yet faint—

A sound that trembled on the edge of pain, as though you had gone too far…

But not in the way you had once hoped to?

And…

Was that the sound of his heart breaking?

The real one—the one he had always kept buried, hidden so well?

── It…It must be it.

So then why—

Why did your heart suddenly plummet, deep and fast, When you heard the shuffle of his feet stumble back?

The brief misstep, the quiet gasp—

As he steadied himself with a shuddering sigh, Desperate to hold together whatever was left of his slipping composure.

A sound so human it cracked something inside you.

And before you could move, before you could make sense of any of it,

The looming shadow that had just moments ago eclipsed your already dark vision—pulled back. Shrinking in size as he retreated fast;

His footsteps muffled and vanishing like smoke down a lane you couldn’t follow.

── Wait—

By the time you snapped your eyes open—

Asher was gone.

The sound of the bedroom door closing upstairs,

Was the only trace left that he had even been there at all.

Did he…

──…just run away?

You blinked. Utterly baffled.

And so was she—the cruel whisperer within, stunned into silence by an outcome even she hadn’t predicted.

This wasn’t the ending she expected.

Not the retribution she craved.

But you didn’t have time to sit with the aftermath for too long—

Because something shifted.

A twitch beneath your touch, against the palm still shielding the pink-haired maknae’s eyes.

You lifted your hand—slow, hesitant—

Dread tightening like a vice at the base of your spine.

And met his stormy greys.

Wide-open. Terrified. Pale.

Paralyzed with something far more piercing than simple confusion—

A trace of hurt, An ocean of anxiety, The deep-rooted trauma cloaked beneath his unshed tears,

Just before his gaze trembled with pure, unfiltered fear.

Fear that had seen too much.

Fear that knew better than to ask questions in vain.

And suddenly,

You could no longer hear her voice in your head.

Because all you could think in that single, devastating moment was—

── No—

“…what have I done?”

Empty-nest syndrome: A feeling of sadness or grief experienced by parents when their children leave home. [ In the given context, Asher experiences a distorted form of this, feeling profound loss and abandonment when Nex, whom he practically raised, distances himself due to Asher's traumatic actions and Nex's own subsequent choices, a pain Asher deeply denies but which the MC's actions unknowingly bring to the surface.]1Guerilla war: A form of irregular warfare in which small groups use unconventional tactics, such as ambushes, sabotage, and deception, to fight a larger, more traditional force. [In the given context, it perfectly describes the way MC's mind is indirectly fighting against Asher's manipulation and drug-induced amnesia]2

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