Loveless

Chapter 10

Changbin spends the night alone.

He gets no sleep; doesn't even try to.

From the moment the bedroom door locked at ten sharp, from the second it released with the fair morning light, Changbin found only restless unease. Trapped in the confines of a room he should be sharing with her; it was all he could do to maintain a shred of sanity by convincing himself that whatever was happening to her—whatever might have already happened—was fixable.

This morning, he feels distinctly different.

The heaviness settled in his gut alludes to a truth more terrible than he feels he can comprehend, and he knows, beyond any shred of doubt, that he's had a part to play in this. How big a part remains to be seen, but he supposes the scale of it hardly matters when, either way, she's suffered some form of consequence for the events of the last few days.

He showers quickly, barely feels the scalding water on his skin. Black turtleneck and fitted slacks thrown on, he leaves the bedroom with purpose in his step, determination centred around several things, though his first port of call is arguably the most urgent.

The old house is quiet; the others must have yet to rise. The kitchen is untouched, dining room reset for the breakfast that'll no doubt be laid in an hour or so. He briefly recalls that Chan and Eve are leaving this morning; he's glad to have met them, in the end.

Changbin's footsteps wrack the creaky boards beneath his feet, the usual warmth of the walls and décor seems foreign to him now, as he hurriedly descends the three floors down to the ground level.

Standing outside Matron's office, Changbin shakes off the nerves, takes a steadying breath. He's an Imperator, he reminds himself. He doesn't get nervous, doesn't get intimidated, is sure of himself at all times. No matter how frantic he feels inside, composure is the name of the game.

There's no point speculating as to what's happened; he'll only drive himself mad doing that. He needs solid facts.

Knocking on the door, Changbin doesn't wait to let himself in. Rude to enter uninvited, he knows, but he doesn't have the time to hang around.

He's surprised to find it unlocked. The door creaks open gently, there's no sound from inside. Peeking his head around the frame, the office is unlit, the large bay windows closed and latched, thick curtains drawn over the quaint garden scene that Changbin knows sits just beyond. Matron is nowhere to be seen.

He should probably come back later, he supposes, but how much later is later? In an hour? Two hours? Six?

No. Changbin can't afford to wait that long, or any longer than he already has.

He steps into the office proper, closes the door quietly behind him. Flicks on a nearby standing lamp, illuminates the space enough that he can see properly, shadows scarper from the corners of the musky room.

Matron's desk is neat, orderly, much more than Changbin's ever seen it, now that he thinks about it. A stack of papers is filed on the left, a crystal sphere paperweight balanced atop them. Black, brown and green binders are organised by colour in document holders across the right side, their labels read foreign to Changbin. He figures anything important wouldn't be stored in plain sight, and to that end, he goes for the desk drawers. Rounding the furniture, he pulls out the leather chair and is sufficiently baffled by what he sees.

Embedded into the floorboards, is a metal well. Changbin might think it was a foot spa if not for the green LED display and chrome lining, and it almost certainly isn't designed for human use. The bases of the foot-shaped divots are lined with sharp prongs, almost as though something is supposed to clip inside and stay secured for an extended period of time.