Control You - ManjiroXReader (Bonten)

Chapter 4: Cold little heart

Confined like a delicate bird within a gilded cage, reduced to nothing more than a pet, the cruel twist of fate that led me here felt surreal. My gaze fixated on the dancing flames, a futile attempt to escape the reality that Sanzu, the enigmatic accomplice, had returned to the room.

"Let's go, poundcake. I'll take you to your room," he announced, his tone carrying an air of nonchalance. My silent defiance met his indifferent expression as his hand guided me through the lounge area. Ascending the stairs, raindrops raced down the glass panes, a persistent rhythm mirroring the tumult within.

We traversed the hallway and reached the room at the very end. It unfolded before me as a vast canvas – pristine white walls, modern furnishings, dim lights casting shadows, a bookcase filled with the echoes of stories, and a bed that seemed to hold the secrets of those who came before me. A disconcerting thought lingered – how many women had inhabited this space, unwittingly entangled in the web I now found myself ensnared?

Breaking the oppressive silence, Sanzu remarked, "Honestly, I don't get what he wants to accomplish with all of this... but this is going to be gold," his words dripping with a veiled sarcasm that hinted at obscured motives.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, seeking clarity in the midst of the unfolding chaos. "You'll see with time... anyways, this is your room. Feel free to decorate it to your liking. The closet is full of stuff, but we can buy you new clothes tomorrow if you don't like anything. Dinner will be served in an hour, so take a shower or something and get dressed. You literally look like a hot mess," he declared, his indifference casting a cold shadow over my predicament.

Outrage surged within me, and I declared, "I'm not having dinner with that animal," a vehement protest against the absurdity of their expectations. Sanzu chuckled in response. "If you don't go, he'll drag you out of the room, but whatever you want," he remarked before leaving me alone in the room.

Annoyance and frustration welled up, a turbulent sea of emotions. It felt as if no one in this house would acknowledge my autonomy – I had no voice, no right to choose. Was this to be my life, a disconcerting dance of subservience? This was my existence until the uncertain end, and the bitter reality set in that I had to navigate this precarious situation while maintaining an uneasy alliance with the enigmatic beast who orchestrated it all. Desperation clawed at my resolve, and in the solitude of that room, I yearned for the solace of a shower to wash away the torment of the day and the freedom to release the tears that threatened to spill.

The hot water cascaded over my body, a balm to the physical pain and a futile attempt to wash away the frustration that clung to me like a second skin. Tears mingled with the rivulets of water, a silent cascade of regret. Fortunately, the expansive bathroom provided a cloak for my vulnerability, its size ensuring my cries remained unheard.

What had I done? Why couldn't I resist the urge to intervene? The questions echoed in my mind like a relentless refrain. Why couldn't I just keep walking, mind my own business? Self-loathing wrapped around me like a suffocating shroud; this torment felt almost worse than death itself. Turning off the water, I reached for one of the exquisitely folded towels adorning the wall, its lavish texture a brief reprieve for my soaked skin.

Wrapping the towel around my body, I surveyed the well-appointed bathroom. Everything a woman could need was at my disposal. The intrusive thought seeped in – had there been another woman here before me? What had become of her? A wave of nausea swept over me at the realization that, of course, he had been with other women in the past decade. The mental image churned my stomach, but I pushed the unsettling thought aside.

Applying lotion to my body and a spritz of perfume, I combed my hair, preparing to face whatever awaited me beyond the bathroom's sanctuary. Stepping out, I traversed the path to the walk-in closet. Evidence of a predecessor lingered; the closet overflowed with dresses and stylish clothes. Some pieces sparked a flicker of recognition, a distant familiarity I couldn't quite place. Where had I seen them before?