欲望, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 六
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱: right?
˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆mᥱ t᥆ mᥡ story꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄
"Your life wasn't miserable?" Douma raised an eyebrow, his tone heavy with amused disbelief, as if the mere suggestion was absurd. His eyes gleamed with curiosity, "But it was... wasn't it? Isn't that why you're here, my dear?"
No, no, no. That wasn't right.
Her thoughts swirled, struggling to escape the fog Douma seemed to wrap around her. She wasn't here because her life had been miserable. That wasn't why.
She was here because she had been hurt. The pain in her leg was real. The rest? Nonsense.
Everything was fine. She was fine. Her life was fine. Her marriage was fine.
Wasn't it?
Her chest tightened at the thought. She could see it so clearly in her mind... her husband, maybe just returning from his business trip, confused and frantic. He would've seen the mess at the manor, and he would've been beside himself with worry.
Of course he would've. He loved her. He had to. Surely, he was already organizing search parties, shouting her name into the night air, desperate to find her.
Because that's what marriage was about, wasn't it? It was about protecting each other. Loving each other. Helping each other through the tough times. It wasn't about weeks apart, forgotten anniversaries, ignored birthdays.
No, those were just... little things. Trivial. They didn't matter. Not when they had a future together. Not when they had the bond of their vows to hold them strong.
Her head spun, the thoughts colliding with one another. She wasn't spiraling. She wasn't. She was fine.
Her hand went to her forehead, her fingers pressing against her temples as if she could physically force the thoughts to go away. She needed to stay grounded. She couldn't let him get to her.
But Douma noticed the shift in her demeanor before she could even think to mask it. His arms enveloped her in an instant, pulling her close against his chest, the coldness of his body pressing against hers.
The sharp breath that escaped her lips, caught between shock and something else, was met with the softest of hums from him, almost like he was pleased with her vulnerability.
"Poor thing," he murmured, his voice turning syrupy, seductive, "You came here because you wanted to escape that awful life with that useless husband of yours."
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "Stop," she said, almost pleading. "Stop saying that."
Douma's voice softened, "You don't have to keep pretending for me. I see it. You came here to escape it all. You're here because you're tired of fighting for something that was never there to begin with."
She recoiled, her body trembling at his words. "No... no, that's not true," she whispered, barely able to find the strength to resist. "I came here because I was hurt. Because I was..."
"Because you were hurt?" Douma interrupted, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Or maybe because you were tired of pretending everything was fine when deep down, you knew you were nothing more than a shadow in his life?"
She wanted to scream, to fight back. But his touch, his voice, it was like a drug.
His hand slid into her hair again, the slow strokes soothing her. It was wrong. It should feel wrong. But it didn't. There was something so intoxicating about it.
About him.
About how he seemed to understand her so completely, how he could see into her soul in ways she didn't want him to.
"You don't have to fight anymore," Douma murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead. "You can rest. I'll take care of you, sweet thing. You don't have to carry all this weight alone anymore."
Her heart lurched in her chest, her throat going dry. That wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Her marriage wasn't awful. Her husband wasn't useless. They were fine.
Weren't they?
She flinched as his fingers slid through her hair, the delicate, slow strokes like the gentle pull of a current, easing her further under his spell. She wasn't sure if the shiver that crawled down her spine was from discomfort or something else.
There was a warmth spreading in her stomach, a twisting sensation she didn't know how to name. It was the way he touched her, so sure, so gentle... that made her want to close her eyes and surrender.
And then, there was the scent of him - sweet, like some irresistible drug. The longer she breathed it in, the fuzzier her thoughts became, the harder it was to distinguish between reality and whatever he was doing to her.
Each step she took towards her room felt heavier than the last, her legs stiff, her mind clouded by his presence, by his smell, by his voice.
By the time they reached the room, everything seemed a blur. She barely registered Douma opening the door, barely felt his hands guiding her onto the futon. She hardly even noticed the soft smile that tugged at his lips as he lowered her head onto the pillow, his eyes never leaving hers.
Her eyelids fluttered, exhaustion seeping into her bones, and just before she allowed herself to fall asleep, she could have sworn she felt the ghost of his fingers still lingering in her hair. His breath was warm against her ear, the words almost a whisper.
"Sleep tight, sweetie," he whispered, brushing a lock of hair from her face.
Her eyelids fluttered, the exhaustion overwhelming her senses, and before she could even gather her thoughts, the world around her blurred into nothingness.
Douma's voice was the last thing she heard, a lullaby in her ears, pulling her under.
"You're safe here."
And then, silence.
.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
.
The next morning, [Name] awoke to the sight of Tsukino's blonde head inches from her face. She inhaled sharply, her heart leaping into her throat as she barely swallowed down a startled scream.
"You're awake!" Tsukino beamed, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement. "Are you alright? How's your leg? Did you sleep well?"
Still disoriented, [Name] blinked a few times before offering a small nod. She lifted a hand and gently pushed Tsukino back, needing space. The younger woman pouted slightly but relented, sitting back on her knees.
She wasn't used to being this close to someone who wasn't her husband.
...Right. Her husband.
A heavy weight settled in her chest as memories from the night before resurfaced. Douma's words, his voice like silk wrapping around her mind, unraveling truths she had spent so long ignoring.
Her marriage wasn't as perfect as she had always told herself. It wasn't grand or romantic or fulfilling. It was lonely.
But was that Douma's doing? Had he planted those thoughts inside her head, or had they always been there, buried beneath her devotion and denial?
It wasn't abuse. It couldn't have been. He never hit her, never called her names, never raised his voice. He was just... absent.
She rarely saw him. Rarely spoke to him. She spent nights alone in their grand manor, sitting at an empty table, staring at a seat that was never filled.
Somehow, that felt worse than abuse.
She had wanted a picture-perfect life with the man she loved. Instead, she had an aching silence.
Her temples throbbed, and she let out a quiet sigh, reaching for the cup of water by her bedside. The cool liquid soothed the dryness in her throat, but it did nothing to quiet the storm in her mind.
As she set the cup down, her gaze flickered across the room, and then she noticed the three empty futons.
They belonged to the women from the previous night; the ones who had that argument with Akane. A strange chill crawled up her spine.
"What happened to those three women?" She asked, her voice quieter than before.
"Hm?" Tsukino looked up from the book she had been flipping through, tilting her head. "Oh, I'm not sure. Usually, after Douma-sama calls for people, they leave. Maybe they've been set free from their troubles and no longer need to be here."
[Name's] brow furrowed. "They just... leave? What do you mean?"
Tsukino merely shrugged. "I don't know. But they're lucky to be set free by Douma-sama. He's amazing."
Something about the way she said it, with such admiration, made [Name] uneasy.
Set free? What did that even mean?
Were they truly gone? Had Douma helped them in some way? Or had she been so caught up in his presence, in his hypnotic charm, that she hadn't questioned any of it?
Her mind spun with questions, each one piling on top of the other until they blurred together into one thought: How does his miracle-working even work?
Before she could dwell on it further, Tsukino's warm fingers wrapped around her sleeve, tugging lightly. "(L/n)-san, let's go grab some breakfast!" she chirped, smiling at her.
The brightness in her tone was almost jarring. For a moment, [Name] hesitated. But then she exhaled, pushing the thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time to get lost in doubt.
With a small nod, she grabbed her cane and stood up, following Tsukino towards the door.
[Name] turned to Tsukino, parting her lips to ask a question, but before she could speak, a blur of movement cut between them. A woman shoved past, her breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps as she stumbled into the group room.
[Name] twisted around, startled by the sudden intrusion. Her eyes widened as recognition struck her. It was her. The lavender-eyed woman from yesterday.
"Aiko-san?" Tsukino's voice lilted with concern as she stepped forward. "What happened?"
Aiko barely acknowledged her, too busy with the frantic task of stuffing handfuls of belongings into a worn cloth bag. The wild energy in her movements made [Name] tense.
Then, as if suddenly realizing she was being watched, Aiko whipped around. Her pale face was sickly, her eyes wide with a terror so raw it sent a cold shiver creeping down [Name's] spine.
Her lips trembled. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat, strangled by something unseen. Finally, in a breathless whisper, she choked out, "D-Douma-sama... h-he..."
She stopped. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. She shook her head violently, as if trying to rid herself of whatever nightmare was clawing at her thoughts.
And then, her voice cracked. "I'm leaving this damned place!" she screamed. "Damn that demon!"
Tsukino flinched at the outburst before rushing forward, her hands raised as if to soothe a wild animal. "Aiko-san, please calm down! What are you talking about?"
But Aiko wasn't listening. She yanked the drawstrings on her bag tight and swung it over her shoulder, her breaths coming in short, shallow bursts.
[Name] remained frozen at the door. Her heart pounded as she watched the woman unravel before her. Demon? What did she mean?
A sick sense of dread pooled in [Name's] stomach, twisting into something unbearable.
"Aiko-san, let's talk about this," Tsukino pleaded, stepping closer. "What do you mean by 'demon'? What happened?"
Aiko smacked Tsukino's hand away with a force that made the blonde woman stumble. Her lavender eyes burned with desperation.
"Shut up!" she spat. "You don't know what I've seen! I don't need your pity, I just need to leave!"
Her voice cracked on the last word, but there was no mistaking the conviction behind it.
[Name] barely had time to react before Aiko barreled past her, shoving into the hallway with reckless urgency. The sound of her footsteps echoed against the wooden floors, fading as she disappeared around the corner.
And then a scream.
High-pitched and abrupt. It cut through the air like a blade, sharp enough to make [Name's] blood run cold.
Tsukino took a step back, her hands clasped against her chest as she stared toward the hallway. A nervous tremor laced her voice when she whispered, "I hope she'll be okay..."
After a moment, she glanced at [Name], her brows furrowing in thought. "I wonder what she saw... Maybe I should let Douma-sama know."
[Name] swallowed the lump in her throat, glancing once more toward the empty hallway where Aiko had vanished. The sheer terror on her face lingered in [Name's] mind, an imprint that wouldn't fade.
And the worst part? [Name] wasn't sure she wanted to find out what Aiko had seen.
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Tsukino exhaled and turned toward the hall, her voice quiet. "Let's go."
"(L/n)-san?"
The sound of her name pulled her from her thoughts. She turned her head and saw Mori and Ren approaching, their expressions warm.
"Ah, good morning, you two." She forced a faint smile, trying to shake off the lingering unease from earlier.
"We wanted to see if you'd like to head to breakfast with us," Mori explained, clasping her hands together.
Tsukino perked up beside her. "That sounds great! (L/n)-san and I were just heading that way."
And so, the four of them made their way down the dimly lit corridor toward the dining hall.
As they walked, [Name] observed how easily Tsukino slipped into conversation with Mori and Ren, her voice light and carefree like nothing had happened. As if Aiko hadn't just fled in terror. As if a bloodcurdling scream hadn't pierced the silence only moments ago.
How could she act so normal?
Was she not concerned about Aiko? Was she not curious about what had sent the woman into such a panic?
Or did this happen often?
[Name's] fingers tightened around her cane as a sick realization set in. Judging by how easily Tsukino carried on - how neither Mori nor Ren mentioned Aiko or the scream - the answer was obvious.
This was normal, [Name] had to assume.
They reached the dining hall, and Ren stepped ahead, pushing open the heavy wooden door. "Ladies first," he said with a polite smile.
[Name] stepped inside, and the moment she did, her stomach twisted into knots. At the front of the vast hall, reclined lazily on his oversized bean bag throne, sat Douma.
His rainbow eyes gleamed as he sipped from a glass, his lips curling into an ever-present smile. Two servants stood on either side of him, fanning him with large leaf fans, while another knelt beside him, carefully handing over the drink.
A dark red liquid swirled in the glass. Too dark to be wine.
[Name] forced herself to look away.
She wasn't going to think about it. Not when her hands were already trembling.
They found a table on the far end of the room, far enough from Douma that [Name] could breathe.
"I'll get food for you, (L/n)-san," Tsukino offered cheerfully, already rising from her seat.
"I'll help," Ren added, following her toward the serving tables.
That left [Name] alone with Mori.
The two sat in silence for a moment before Mori turned to her with an easy smile. "Did you sleep well, (L/n)-san?"
[Name] swallowed, nodding hesitantly. "I did... and you?"
"Fine. Ren and I work as servants for Douma-sama sometimes, so we woke up a little earlier." She reached for a piece of bread from the basket in the center of the table.
[Name] hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the rim of her water cup.
Then, before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Did you... hear anything last night? Or this morning?"
Mori blinked, her hand pausing mid-air. "Like what?"
[Name] lowered her voice. "Like... a scream."
She hadn't planned on asking. But the more she thought about Aiko, about the sheer terror in her eyes, the more she needed to know. She needed to make sure she wasn't crazy.
Mori's expression didn't change immediately. She simply tilted her head, as if in thought.
Then, slowly, her eyes flickered around the room -- checking, perhaps, to see if anyone else was listening. Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her sleeve.
And then, in a measured tone, she said, "I haven't heard any screams at night, (L/n)-san. I don't know what you're talking about." She placed her napkin in her lap, her movements painfully controlled.
[Name] frowned. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Mori said firmly.
[Name] wasn't convinced.
Her heartbeat quickened. She leaned forward slightly. "Not even about Aiko-san? You haven't heard anything?"
The moment she said Aiko's name, Mori stiffened. She went pale.
"No," she said again. But this time, her voice was too even.
[Name] clenched her fists. "Are you positive?!" she pressed, her voice rising.
Mori recoiled slightly, her eyes darting toward the front of the room before snapping back to [Name]. "I'm sure if something happened, then Douma-sama would have taken care of it! He vowed to protect us!"
[Name] sucked in a sharp breath. "What if this is about him?!"
Her voice came out louder than intended, borderline a shout. And suddenly, the entire dining hall fell silent. [Name] immediately froze.
The air felt thick, suffocating. She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to turn her head, but she couldn't help it. Her eyes flickered toward the throne.
And there he was.
Douma.
For the first time since she had met him... he wasn't smiling. Her stomach dropped.
She ripped her gaze away just as Tsukino and Ren returned, carefully setting down trays of food.
Tsukino's worried eyes flitted between them. "Is everything okay?"
Before [Name] could open her mouth, Mori let out a stiff, almost robotic laugh. "Yes, everything is alright," she answered quickly, plastering on a forced smile.
Ren raised a brow, glancing between them before handing Mori her tray. "Are you sure?"
Mori nodded, her jaw tightening. "Yes. Let's eat."
And just like that, the conversation was over.
(ㅅ' ˘ ')♡ ｡ ⊹˚.⋆
第6章終わり
chapter 6 end
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