vacoomer

[vacoomer]

The Bindings 2

Part 1

The man’s footsteps echoed as he walked down the creaking hallway, leaving behind the heavy silence that now clung to the apartment like a suffocating blanket. [Name] remained frozen in place, her gaze fixed on the card that had slipped from his fingers, resting on the floor in front of her like a reminder of everything she had tried to bury.

The offer still stands.

The words lingered in the air long after he had left, gnawing at her. She didn’t want to pick up the card, didn’t want to acknowledge the twisted comfort it promised. Yet, as the faint glow of the neon sign outside flickered and the first rays of dawn began to pierce the darkness, a strange tug pulled at her chest. It was a pull she couldn't quite explain—an internal conflict between rejecting the past and confronting it.

She stepped forward slowly, the weight of the room’s stillness making her movements feel like an intrusion in her own life. Her hand hovered over the card, the sleek business card lying innocently on the floor, its edges crisp, its surface clean. Almost too clean. The number scrawled on the back seemed to mock her, daring her to pick it up and take the step she had been avoiding for five years.

Her fingers brushed against it, cold and fragile in her grasp, as though it might crumble under the weight of her hesitation. She turned it over. The digits were clear, stark against the black ink.

45 billion won. A life rebuilt or shattered. Her choice.

The irony of it stung. All this time, she had convinced herself that the price she had paid was too high, that her peace could only be found in isolation. But now, standing at the precipice of it all, she wasn’t so sure. The weight of the choice felt almost unbearable. She had buried the pain, shut out the memories of the people she had watched die, and locked away the anguish of having survived. But was this truly living? Was this the life she had imagined when she had walked away from the games, with her fortune and her soul hanging in the balance?

As the sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room, she realized that she was still running. Running from the past, running from herself. The recruiter had been right in some ways—she had molded herself into something she thought was safer, a shadow of the woman she used to be, but had it really made her stronger? Or just more fragile?

A sudden surge of anger flared within her, directed at him, at the games, at the world that had twisted her into something she didn’t even recognize. But it wasn’t just him she was angry with. It was the system, the life that had been forced upon her, the endless suffering that had come with winning something that was supposed to be a blessing.

She closed her hand around the card, the edges pressing into her palm like a warning. Her heart raced, uncertainty flooding her veins, but beneath the uncertainty, there was something else—a glimmer of hope, the smallest flicker that maybe, just maybe, this was her chance to reclaim control.

Her thoughts collided, the anger, the guilt, the shame—all intertwined in a web that felt impossible to unravel. But the one thing that remained clear in the center of it all was the truth she had buried deep: she couldn’t continue living like this.

She had a choice. It wasn’t about redemption or forgiveness. It was about her. The woman she had been and the woman she could still be.

With a shaky breath, she dialed the number.

The phone rang twice before a voice answered—cool, detached, and all too familiar. "Yes?" The recruiter’s voice was a velvet rasp, as though he had been expecting this moment all along.

“I’m listening.” Her voice was steady, but beneath the calm, a storm brewed.

The silence on the other end was long, deliberate. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

Her hand clenched tighter around the phone, but she didn’t waver. “I’ll need more than a promise of power,” she replied, her voice hardening with resolve. "I need you to explain exactly what you want from me."

His chuckle was low, almost predatory, yet there was something else there—something acknowledging in his tone, as if he had been waiting for her to reach this point all along. "You’ll see soon enough, [Name]."

And for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t afraid.

She didn’t know what was coming next, but for once, she was ready to face it.

The days that followed were a blur of restless anticipation and cold, sleepless nights. Each hour stretched like an eternity, filled with thoughts of what lay ahead. The recruiter’s words echoed in her mind, haunting yet oddly comforting. You’ll see soon enough, [Name].

She had made the decision—there was no turning back now. As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the city, she prepared herself for what was to come. The apartment had grown too small, too confining. The walls, once a barrier, now felt like they were closing in on her, pushing her toward a new path she hadn’t quite mapped out yet.

The phone call had been short, a date and a mere exchange of coordinates. A secluded part of the city. Abandoned, quiet. No one would be watching. No one would care. It was a place where the past could be forgotten, buried under layers of concrete and steel.

The thought of facing him again stirred something deep within her—something primal, something she couldn’t quite understand. She had chosen this. Chosen to let him show her what it meant to become like him, to embrace whatever it was that had turned him into the monster he was. She wasn’t ready to admit it, but a small, dangerous part of her longed for it. She longed for control, for mastery over her own life, even if that meant wielding power like a blade, cutting through everything that stood in her way.

Her footsteps were deliberate as she left her apartment, each one a reminder that she was stepping into a world she had once feared. A world where survival wasn’t just about living—it was about becoming something else entirely.

The city was quiet, unnervingly so, as she navigated through the labyrinth of streets. It was late, the kind of late where only shadows remained. The neon lights from the bars and shops had dimmed, leaving the streets bathed in the ghostly glow of streetlights. She didn’t know why, but she felt the weight of the city pressing in on her—its pulse beating in sync with her own.

She reached the location just as the clock struck midnight. An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the district, tucked away behind a row of dilapidated buildings. The place looked as though it had been forgotten, its metal walls rusting, the windows boarded up with rotting wood. Yet it felt alive. Alive with the echoes of memories she didn’t want to remember, memories she couldn’t escape.

The door creaked open at her touch, the sound a harsh contrast to the quiet night. She stepped inside, her breath hitching as the door clicked shut behind her, plunging her into darkness.

"Welcome," a voice said from the shadows. Deep. Unwavering. Familiar.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look for him. She knew he was there, watching her, waiting for her to make the first move. She was the one who had come to him. She had made the choice. He would let her take the lead, for now.

She stepped forward, her footsteps echoing off the concrete floor. She couldn’t see him yet, but she felt his presence like a weight on her chest. The recruiter’s figure materialized out of the shadows, emerging with smooth, calculated movements. He was wearing the same black suit, his expression unreadable beneath the cold glow of the single overhead light.

"Do you understand what you’ve come here for?" he asked, his voice low and deliberate, carrying the weight of a thousand secrets.

[Name] didn’t answer immediately. She was still processing, still trying to put the pieces together in her mind. She had made a choice, but what exactly did that mean? What did she expect from this meeting?

Finally, she nodded. "I understand. You’re going to teach me how to become like you."

A flicker of something—satisfaction, perhaps—passed across his face, but it was gone before she could fully register it. He stepped closer to her, his presence overwhelming, like a force of nature pressing in on her.

"You want power," he said, his voice a smooth, almost hypnotic drawl. "You want to be able to take control of your life. To stop running, to stop hiding. But you must understand that with power comes cost."

She squared her shoulders, feeling her heart race. "I’m ready for the cost."

He chuckled darkly. "Are you? I think you’re still naïve. You believe you can control this. But in reality, control is an illusion. It’s only about who you are willing to destroy to get what you want. You want to be like me, but are you prepared to pay the price?"

The words cut through her like a blade, but she held her ground. She was tired of pretending she wasn’t capable of darkness. She had been through hell and back. She had survived. And now, it was time to finally learn how to live—truly live.

"I’m ready," she said again, this time with more conviction. "Teach me."

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes piercing, as if he was looking straight through her. Then, finally, he nodded, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Very well," he said, his voice low and full of purpose. "Let’s begin."

The training was grueling. The recruiter taught her not just how to think like him, but how to be him—how to shed every ounce of weakness, every emotion that might cloud her judgment. How to view the world as a game, and how to play it better than anyone else.

They began with strategy. Every decision, every move in life was a calculated risk. She learned to watch people, to read them as if they were open books, their weaknesses etched into their faces, their gestures, their eyes. She learned to make deals, to barter with more than just money. Power was currency, and she was going to become an expert in trade.

Next, he taught her the art of manipulation. How to make people do what she wanted without them even realizing it. It was subtle, a gentle nudge, a whisper in the right ear. It was about controlling the narrative, bending others to your will without them ever questioning it. She was good at it. Too good.

But the hardest lesson of all came when he forced her to confront her own demons. To face the trauma, the fear, the guilt that had driven her for so long. She thought she had buried those feelings, but he made her dig them up, piece by piece. He pushed her to examine everything she had done, everyone she had hurt, and use that pain as fuel, not as a weight.

"It’s not about forgetting," he told her during one of their late-night sessions, his voice soft yet chilling. "It’s about using it. Channeling it. You’ve been running from your past, but in reality, it’s the key to your power. Embrace it."

Each lesson, each day, twisted her further. She could feel herself changing, molding into something different, something darker. The woman who had entered that warehouse was no longer the same woman who walked out. The lines between right and wrong blurred. What once felt like betrayal now felt like survival. She had shed the skin of the naive girl who had been broken by the games.

She was learning to be something else. Something better. Something stronger.

And the recruiter? He was no longer just a man in a black suit. He had become something more. A mentor. A mirror. A person she now confided in.

She often wondered if she let her guard down too fast, too unprepared. Yet, after she started learning his arts, he never gave her a reason to mistrust him anymore. She thought as if he also confided in her like she did in him.

The building was always quiet, but tonight it felt heavier, more oppressive. The low hum of distant traffic, the faint echo of footsteps in the hallway—all of it seemed like a distant memory as [Name] stepped into the space where their meetings always took place. Her pulse quickened as she crossed the threshold, as if she could sense the weight of what was about to unfold.

She took notice of the shift in the atmosphere a long time ago. Innocent, almost too casual touches. She didn’t know what was the cause of this though.

He was already there, standing by the tall, dark windows that looked out over the city, the last of the daylight retreating, leaving a stretch of deep blue in its wake. He didn’t turn as she entered, but she knew he was aware of her presence, the way the room seemed to tense in anticipation.

"You're late," he said, the coolness of the words, almost dismissive, masking something deeper.

Her eyes narrowed as she walked toward him, taking in the slight, mocking tilt of his lips. He knew what he was doing—pushing her buttons, watching her, trying to provoke her reaction. It was a game, but one that was becoming harder and harder to play. She had learned to read him, his every shift in posture, his every calculated glance. But tonight, there was something different. Something underneath it all.

"I had things to do," she replied, her voice controlled but carrying the weight of a challenge. She could feel him watching her as she approached, sensing his eyes on her skin as if he were tracing every line, every subtle movement.

As she stood before him, just close enough to feel the heat of his body, she couldn’t ignore the tension that hung between them. It was something that had always existed, but now it was sharper, more electric. There was no denying it anymore—every time they met, it became harder to pretend that she wasn’t drawn to him in ways that made her uncomfortable. Ways that made her afraid.

But she couldn't back down now. Not after everything she had been through, not after everything she had learned. She had made a choice to come back, to step into his world again. And this time, she would control the narrative.

"You’ve been watching me," she said, her words quiet but firm, almost like an accusation.

He turned his head then, the sharpness of his gaze locking with hers. His eyes were dark, intense, like an abyss that threatened to swallow her whole. "What else would I do?" His voice was low, rough. "You think you can just slip away from this, from me?"

Her breath caught in her throat. He was closer now, his hand brushing the side of her arm as he took a step toward her. The contact was light, almost casual, but it sent a jolt through her body. A reminder of the power he had over her. A power that was becoming harder to ignore.

"You're becoming like me," he said softly, almost as if to himself, his eyes flicking down to her lips before meeting her gaze again. There was something almost pleased in his tone—he was watching her evolve, watching her give in, bit by bit.

She stood there, feeling the weight of his words like a heavy stone pressing against her chest. "I’m nothing like you," she retorted, her voice colder now, harder. But even as she said it, she felt the lie. There were moments when she found herself thinking like him, acting like him, taking pleasure in the things he had taught her—the darkness, the manipulation, the power.

He chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through the air. "You’re just lying to yourself, [Name]. You’re more like me than you realize." His gaze darkened, his smile tightening into something far less playful. "But I’m not here to push you. Not tonight. Tonight, I want to see if you’re ready for what comes next." The air between them was thick with heat now, the tension almost unbearable.

"I have to decline the offer, I wanted to do so from the start." she stated firmly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. The close proximity makes her head swirl.

The air between them crackled with tension, his face mere inches from hers, his breath a warm whisper against her skin. He leaned in slightly, as if inviting her to bridge the gap, but her instincts took over, igniting a fire within her that her mind struggled to comprehend. Her heart raced wildly, and her hands, resting on his chest, could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a reminder of the closeness they shared.

"I was aware of that from the beginning," he replied, his gaze intense and unwavering. "But honestly, I no longer wish for you to accept it. I would much prefer to keep you close, just for myself." As he spoke, his hand found its way to her lower back, drawing her in even tighter, as if he wanted to shield her from the world around them.

"You don’t have to fight this anymore," he whispered. "You know that, right?" His fingers brushed the curve of her neck, tracing the delicate line of her jaw as though mapping out the places he had touched her before. "You can let go now. Let me in."

The words were soft, coaxing. But they were also an order. A command. He wasn’t asking for permission. He never had. And as much as she wanted to resist, wanted to shove him away and scream at him for trying to break her, she couldn’t.

Because every word he spoke, every touch, every glance, dug deeper into the part of her that had long been dormant. The part of her that needed him, even though she hated it. Even though it terrified her.

His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke again, his voice low and almost seductive. "You feel it, don’t you? The need. The hunger for more. You crave it just as much as I do."

The truth of his words rattled her. It was the lie she had been telling herself—this wasn’t just power. This wasn’t just control. It was something else. Something darker. Something she couldn’t escape.

A gasp escaped her lips, a sudden intake of air that seemed to freeze time as his mouth met hers at last. The kiss ignited a spark that coursed through her veins, wild and untamed, as if he were consuming her essence in a single, fervent sweep. She surrendered to the intensity of the moment, allowing herself to be swept away by the tempest of desire and shadow he had woven around her, feeling as though she had finally discovered her rightful place in the chaos.

The world around them faded into a blur, the noise and distractions dissolving into nothingness as their lips connected. It was a kiss that transcended mere physicality, charged with an energy that felt almost primal, as if he were claiming her in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. She embraced the whirlwind of emotions that surged within her, letting go of all reservations and diving headfirst into the depths of the passion he stirred in her soul, a place where she felt both vulnerable and invincible.

Just moments before, his hand had gently cradled her cheek, a tender gesture that spoke volumes of affection. Now, that same hand has shifted, encircling her neck with a possessive yet intimate grip. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down her spine, igniting a spark of electricity between them that is impossible to ignore.

Meanwhile, his other hand roams freely across her lower back, tracing delicate patterns that seem to dance across her skin. Each movement is deliberate, a silent invitation that draws her nearer to him, as if the very air around them is charged with an unspoken desire. The world around them fades into a blur, leaving only the two of them in this moment of shared intimacy.

As he pulls her closer, the space between them evaporates, and she can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her own.

(Next Part 18+ —> Part 3)

[vacoomer]

type shi 😣

[vacoomer]

The Bindings

Setting: Two old acquaintances - the winner of the games from 2019 and the man who all started it - meet again after five years. They both know their potential connection is an explosive mix of danger, tension and possibly passion. They meet again, one fateful day, when the recruiter reminded her of another possible life changing offer.

Characters: The salesman/The recruiter (squid game); [Name] (your inserted character)

Warnings: Manipulation, Tension, small descriptions of death/blood

The flickering neon sign of a ramen shop cast a sickly yellow glow on the rain-slicked streets of Seoul’s Itaewon district. Inside a cramped, dilapidated apartment, [Name] stared blankly at the peeling, dark wallpaper.

Forty-five billion won. A sum that should have bought her paradise, instead it had bought her a cage of crippling anxiety and loneliness. Five years ago, she’d won the brutal games, a twisted lottery where the poor risked their lives for unimaginable wealth. She’d won, but at what cost?

The memories clawed at her, cold and sharp. The screams, the blood, the hollow eyes of those who hadn’t survived. Six days filled with hollow prays, begging the higher being of the world to let this all just be a bad trip, caused by the illegal substances and sick thoughts manifested through the things some had to endure.

The last game had decided her future. She had to defend herself against the other remaining competitor. So who is to say she is at fault? At fault for his tearing scream, the sound of his ribs breaking, his last gasps for air as his lungs filled themselves with blood.

Self defense, the man clothed in black called it, yet she named it inhumanity.

The apartment stood as a testament to her deliberate seclusion, a physical embodiment of her choice to retreat from the world. Discarded ramen bowls were stacked haphazardly, their remnants a stark reminder of her solitary meals, while ashtrays brimmed with the remnants of countless cigarettes, each one a silent witness to her unraveling. The atmosphere was thick with the oppressive odor of old smoke, mingling with an undercurrent of hopelessness that seemed to seep into the very walls, creating a suffocating cocoon around her.

A sudden, forceful knock on her door broke the stillness that enveloped her home. [Name] recoiled slightly, her heart racing as if it were trying to escape the confines of her chest. Visitors had become a rarity in her life, a distant memory of a time long past. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, she slowly pulled the door open just enough to peer outside. There, in the dim light of the hallway, stood a man she had not laid eyes on in five long years.

The sight of him sent a jolt through her, a rush of emotions flooding her mind. This was the same man who had approached her in the park on that unforgettable day, a moment etched in her memory like a photograph. His presence was both familiar and foreign, stirring up a whirlwind of feelings she thought she had buried. She could hardly believe he was standing there, as if time had folded in on itself, bringing the past crashing back into her present.

Back then, he had inquired about her well-being, his voice laced with concern. She had kept her head bowed, the weight of her sorrow evident in the way her shoulders slumped. Tears had already pooled in her eyes, a silent testament to the turmoil she felt long before he arrived. With a heavy sigh, she responded, the sound escaping her lips like a whisper of her pain. Time seemed to stretch as she remained lost in her thoughts, unaware of his lingering presence until curiosity nudged her to lift her gaze finally.

When she finally looked up, she was met with a warm, inviting smile radiating kindness. It was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within her. She attempted to brush off her tear-streaked face with a feeble laugh, a gesture that felt both awkward and desperate. The vulnerability of the moment hung in the air, yet his demeanour remained unfazed as if he understood the depths of her struggle. With a playful glint in his eyes, he proposed a game, a simple yet profound invitation that hinted at a distraction from her heartache.

That was what she believed at first.

Back then, she did not know that by accepting the card he offered her, her life would never be the same as it once was. She had only been twenty-three.

A steady knock pulls her out of her thoughts.

The man still stood in the dark hallway, waiting.

He was older now, [Name] noticed. The lines etched deeper into his face, but his eyes held the same chilling intensity.

“[Name],” he said, his voice a low rumble. “It’s been a while. ” His eyes flicked around the apartment, assessing the decay as if it was a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside without invitation, his movements fluid and deliberate. The air seemed to thicken with an unspoken menace. [Name] felt a cold dread wash over her, the memories of the games flooding back in a horrifying wave. She knew that he couldn't be here just to reminisce. This clandestine visit was a warning, a threat; or perhaps both?

“What do you want? ” The woman managed; Her voice barely a whisper.

"Such an ungracious reception," the man remarked, his eyes fixed intently on her. "Five years ago, you were given an opportunity that few are lucky enough to encounter." His fingers traced the contours of a timeworn oil painting, each stroke a reminder of the past. "Yet here we are, five years later, and you still refuse to accept it."

He offered no further explanation; it was unnecessary. The weight of his unspoken words lingered in the atmosphere, wrapping around her like a constricting serpent, instilling a deep-seated dread. The staggering sum of forty-five billion won was powerless to shield her from the clutches of an organization that wielded such formidable influence and control.

Her mind wandered to the players, the faces of those who had sacrificed everything. She recalled the man who had lost an eye yet possessed a heart so immense that it seemed to radiate warmth, a beacon of kindness in a world often shrouded in darkness. Then there was the woman, her tears a constant stream, her prayers rising to the heavens as she implored the deities for deliverance from her suffering. And the little boy, with his wide, innocent eyes filled with dreams and aspirations, who had looked up at her with unwavering hope, only to have that light extinguished in an instant by a single, devastating bullet.

Each memory struck her like a thunderclap, echoing the harsh reality of their fates. The vivid images of their struggles and aspirations haunted her, a poignant reminder of the fragility of life. The man’s resilience, the woman’s despair, and the boy’s fleeting joy painted a haunting tableau of loss and longing.

She could not shake those memories from her thoughts.

Suddenly, a loud rumbling jolted her out of her trance.

The rain pounded relentlessly against the windows of the ageing apartment. The impeccably dressed man remained still, his gaze fixed on her as she fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

In the dim light of the room, he meticulously studied her features, each line and curve illuminated by the flickering shadows. She stood just a few paces away, close enough for him to bridge the distance with a couple of quick strides. Her fingers drummed nervously against her thigh, betraying the tension that coiled within her. Her wide, apprehensive eyes reflected a deep-seated fear, one that had been nurtured over the years. He was acutely aware of the dread that enveloped her, for he was the architect of her unease—a man whose ominous reputation lingered in the air like a chilling breeze, a reminder of the power he wielded.

It was five years prior that he first laid eyes on her, a delicate silhouette perched on a park bench in his favourite spot. She seemed almost ethereal, her slight frame hunched over as if the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders. In mere moments, he scrutinized her, attempting to unravel the enigma that surrounded her. Unlike the countless individuals he had encountered and recruited over the past decade, she was a puzzle—immediately recognizable yet profoundly elusive. Despite the challenge she presented, he remained unfazed, his demeanour unwavering and calm as ever.

The memory of that day lingered vividly in his mind, a stark contrast to the bustling life around him. While others were easily categorized and understood, she defied all his expectations, leaving him with a sense of intrigue that was both unsettling and captivating. How was she able to win the games? Such a delicate individual experiencing death before her eyes, yet she did not cower from it.

He found himself drawn to her, yet, even as he observed her from a distance, he maintained his usual poise, a steady anchor amidst the swirling currents of curiosity and uncertainty that she inspired within him.

This evening, an unsettling change coursed through his determination, igniting a flicker of danger in his thoughts. Over the years, his intrigue had only intensified, drawing him deeper into the mystery that surrounded her. His thorough inquiries had unveiled a wealth of information about this captivating woman, yet she continued to elude his understanding. He learned that she spent her days in the local library, leading a life that was both serene and unremarkable. Her social circle was limited, each friend meticulously selected, as if she were guarding her heart against the world.

He ought to have respected her boundaries and refrained from delving into the intricacies of her personal life. His excessive curiosity about her was misplaced and intrusive. As a recruiter for the ruthless games, he was well aware that such involvement only invited peril, not just for her but for himself as well.

As he advanced deeper into the room, the sound of his footsteps made [Name] recoil slightly, a reflexive response to his presence. He raised a hand in a gesture intended to soothe, though it might have come across as intimidating in the dim light that surrounded them.

"[Name]," he murmured, his voice deep and resonant, reverberating in the stillness. The name felt foreign as it rolled off his lips, marking the first time he had spoken it aloud. She remained silent, her gaze locked onto him, wide with a blend of trepidation and something else—perhaps a hint of recognition or a distant memory stirring within her. The thought sent a thrill through him, igniting a spark of hope that there was more to their connection than mere chance.

“I… I remember you,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible. He saw a flash of something – confusion, perhaps? Or a hint of something else, something far more intriguing. He leaned in, his shadow falling over her, and the room grew even colder.

He saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes, a fleeting connection, yet it was quickly suppressed by her fear. He realized then that her fear was not entirely directed at him, it was a fear of everything she had to endure, just because she took the card he had offered her.

He walked past her, his presence radiating a chill that seeped into her very bones. He spoke in soft tones, words crafted to soothe, to disarm. He spoke of books, of poetry, of things he knew she loved. The man walked through the room, taking in her living condition all the while she began to tremble.

“You are the man from the park…”, she interrupted him. Her eyes searching for something to ground her, avoiding his form by any means.

“The man who gave me the card.”, she continued.

“The man who gave you a chance to live a better life.”, he abruptly turned around.

A grin spreads across his features, unmistakable and bold. It lacks the warmth of kindness or the softness of modesty; instead, it resembles the sly smirk of a trickster, hinting at mischief and hidden intentions. The corners of his mouth curl upward in a way that suggests he knows more than he lets on.

His gaze roams over her face once more, as if he is cataloguing every detail with a predatory focus. Each contour and shadow is scrutinized, revealing a fascination that borders on obsession. There’s an intensity in his stare, a mix of curiosity and something darker as if he is trying to decipher a puzzle that only he can see.

She hadn't changed much in those five years. Her jawline, her eye shape, her cheekbones and her lips looked like they did five years ago. Her eyes are different though. They are dull; one could describe them as lifeless, yet he liked seeing her that miserable.

Her eyes reminded him of his.

“You have changed. ", he finally says. His smile fell and his eyebrows raised.

“We’ve all changed, but some changes are necessary. ”, her gaze hardened, her hands forming into fists.

He shifts in place, putting more distance between his feet and interlocking his hands. “Necessary?”

[Name] chuckles at his disbelief. “You made sure I stayed in the place where people like me belong. You label us as creatures who have no value. A waste you have to get rid of.”

The young woman shifts in place, her gaze never faltering.

“You’re a storm; You take pride in diminishing our light just because you deem it as irritating. You destroy anything in your path which had not yet taken roots into the ground. ”

“And you’re a shadow,” he shot back, unfazed by her words. “You mirror the movements of the person you admire, the person you aspire to be; Yet you remain distant, elusive. You hide your emotions, yet they hover just beneath the surface, ready to be seen when someone shows just a breeze of interest in you; But even then they retreat as quickly as they came because if the sun doesn’t continue to shine, shadows can not appear either.” He purses his lips, taking in her furrowed eyebrows and scrunched-up nose. Her fingers fiddle with her sleeves.

“You mimic the sun’s every step, every gesture, twisting your own identity to match the light that shines before you. You bend and stretch, always following, always aligning yourself with the sun’s every move, whether it is to fit in or to conceal your own insecurities behind its blinding glow.”

The recruiter slides his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes fixated on [Name]

“You blend into the background, slipping into the sun’s shape, as though your existence is nothing more than an extension of that light. Yet, when things go wrong, you deflect the blame into the sun, as if their missteps were only a reflection of the light you were so desperately trying to follow.”

He stepped into her personal space, challenging her. “You can't blame me for your own choices.“

[Name] froze at his remarks, her expression shifting between shock and deep thought. The atmosphere crackled with tension, like static electricity dancing between them, weaving their conflicting emotions into an invisible web.

She held his gaze with fierce determination, defiance blazing in her eyes. The world beyond them dissolved, leaving just two souls locked in their silent duel, each pulse of their hearts marking the wordless challenge between them.

"I placed my faith in you because you witnessed my darkest moments. You offered what seemed like salvation, a gift from heaven itself. I believed it was a reward for my suffering—not this twisted curse!" Her voice trembled with fury, each word cutting like a blade, her teeth clenched in raw resentment.

He arched an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "A shadow cannot break free from its master's chains. You'll always trail behind me, bound by gratitude for the life I granted you. Your debt to me is eternal."

"I'd choose the raw truth of my struggles over the facade of a fabricated joy any day," she declared with a fierce intensity that caught him off guard. The passion radiating from her gaze was a spark of vitality he hadn't encountered in ages, illuminating the shadows of his own existence.

"I'd rather embrace my own despair, burdened by debt, than wear a mask of happiness while envying those who seem to glide through life with laughter and no regrets," [Name] exclaimed, her finger jabbing assertively against the recruiter’s solid chest. "I owe you nothing—neither my joy nor my life!"

He knew he couldn’t possess her. Not in the way he craved. The darkness that resided in him would consume her. It was a predator’s instinct, a need to control and dominate, something that he desperately fought against. He watched her carefully, captivated by her resilience, her ability to survive despite the horrors she'd endured.

“You live with regrets, fear and guilt.”, his eyes soften.

“You have emerged from the depths of your struggles, a testament to your resilience and strength. You navigated those treacherous waters all on your own, without a single soul to guide you or lend a hand. It was a solitary journey, one filled with challenges that tested your very limits. Now, as I stand before you, I offer my assistance. You may insist that you don’t require it, and perhaps you believe that to be true. However, that doesn’t diminish the fact that everyone deserves support, especially when the weight of the world feels too heavy to bear alone.”

“You assert that you owe me nothing, and while that may hold some truth, it doesn’t change the reality of your situation. Here you are, caught in a façade, striving to maintain an image that doesn’t reflect your true self. It is - as I have said before - as if you are a shadow, forever trailing the light, unable to break free from the constraints of your own making. The struggle to uphold this pretence only adds to your burden, and I see the toll it takes on you. It’s time to embrace authenticity and allow yourself the grace of vulnerability.”, The recruiter’s eyes darken.

“While you rot in this hole, I do know that you wish to forget all that has happened. Forget who you once were; disreputable, ignominious, cynical, embarrassing. I can assist you with that. I will help you become the person you always aspired to be; No longer a shadow in your own story.”

Those were his final words as he strode through the apartment towards the door.

Before he could walk out of the wooden door, he abruptly stood still, his head only tilting to the side for mere centimetres.

“The offer still stands.”

He watched as she processed his words, her eyes filled with a complex mixture of understanding and pity. He'd glimpsed something in her gaze, a recognition of the battle he fought within himself, a silent acknowledgement of his words.

As the rain finally subsided, and the first rays of dawn painted the sky, he left her standing in the cold apartment, a mere card slowly gliding to the floor.

Part 2

[vacoomer]

CRIMSON NEEDLE (sneak-peek wattpad story ;))

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ACT 1

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CHAPTER 2: THE BALL PT. 1

"[Name]! [Name]! It is already 7:46! Yet, you still haven't started sewing the dress back together! You will never make it in time!", the strawberry blonde woman barged through the office door, clearly out of breath.

When Abigail arrived at the shop, she already had suspicions about the job her boss still had to complete. Yet, seeing how her superior is just casually lounging around in her office, makes her head dizzy. As soon as Miss Moody saw [Name] stretched out on her table while consuming a drink from her porcelain cup, she realised that her boss didn't have any plans to start work soon.

This turned her mood sour, she immediately became agitated and began to whine about how 'we as adults should be responsible and manageable'. With multiple tasks for her to complete before they open the business for the day, the young tailor merely hushes her out of the office.

Now it is precisely 7:53 and the young blonde noble should be coming soon to get the fixed dress. The only problem is that [Name] just started fixing the hole in fabric, which usually takes a few hours, based on how big it is. Which means, [Name] won't be finished fixing the dress anytime soon.

So when a knock and bell came from the entrance door, Abigail flipped out. "Oh, my heavens! Whatever shall we do!? This is not good for business, not good at a -"

"Shut up and open the door, Abi."

Miss Moody looks slowly back towards the tailor and notices a heavy glare directed at her. She slowly gulps and heads towards the front door.

"O-Oh, Miss Midford! Please come in! I assume you are here for your dress?... Well, you see-"before the brown-eyed woman could continue, Lissie's eyes shimmered with delight and her loud voice echoed through the foyer.

"My dress! Is this my dress? It looks amazing!", her green eyes sparkle while looking at the garment the young tailor is holding. As soon as Abigail hears the young lady's words, she slowly turns around. In front of her stands [Lastname] holding a dress. The dress she hasn't even touched 2 minutes ago.

"H-How...", the strawberry-blonde woman mutters in shock, while the noble lady clasps her hands in admiration.

"I knew you could do it, Miss! There is no denying it, this dress is even better than it was before!" The basic light blue dress with a few scattered ruffles and bows was no longer there; instead, a light blue dress with off-the-shoulder juliet sleeves, white bows and ruffles, and a bustle skirt that gives the back fullness and the front flatness sways in front of them. The blond noble should look richer thanks to the silver embellishments that hang from the bows on the frock.

[Name] smiles lowly at the brown-haired maid, her noble lady and the perplexed assistant of the tailor. "I am delighted that you think so, my Lady."

Elizabeth grinned warmly as she gently took the dress from the tailor's hands. "I know this is a bit sudden, but because you mended my dress while you were already closed, I simply have to ask: Would you kindly come to the ball my parents are hosting this evening? Yes, I know this sounds abrupt, but if you were here to attend the event, I would cherish the garment more! Oh! Please do bring your assistant, naturally!"

The [eye-colour] eyed person only smiles in appreciation. "We would love to attend the ball! I appreciate your invitation and I hope we see each other there!"

Elizabeth Midford grins at her, hands her the money and practically dances out of the shop.

Silence engulfs the two women.

"I recall you saying, I would not make it in time. Could you repeat that for me, please?"

"No need to call me out like that."

"The extent of your disbelief in me is so profound that it astounds me, even though my abilities surpass yours by the brightness of the sun on a flickering candle. Yes, your confidence in my skills is as empty as a homeless person's pocket full of change-"

"Okay!! I got it!!"

(wattpad: vacoomer, story launching soon!)