⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
In the mafia world, young boys-age 18-20-are being sold as dolls to everyone who pays well. The boys are well-trained... they are no longer humans, just dolls ready to serve their master.
Kim left the mafia years ago, but on his 23r...
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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Chay ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
His answer comes naturally, and as unnatural as it should be, the master has a physical reaction the doll doesn't like. His eyebrow is up, his body is sinking in the chair, and his hands are crossed on his chest. Porchay feels a wave of worries running through his spine, every movement is a sign of an awful outcome, and the real look of compassion in the master's eyes is just flying away, not even existing. All he sees is the way the body is ready to put on the doll the punishment, like the hand of a brutal god.
And it just confirms what he all analyzed from the master's body. He is making a complaint, he is saying that he lied, a doll can't lie, a doll is perfect. Lies are for people who can think about lying. Porchay should only answer "yes", always, always agreeing because the master is always right, he didn't make any mistakes.
Why is it a lie?
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Kim ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
The shock flickers in the boy's eyes before he can even continue.
"No one likes the sound of flies. No one likes flies! They are so annoying—make me wanna commit murder at least ten times a day."
The boy looks scared, to say the least. Kim is watching with remorse and pity how the boy, still with the plate in his hands, goes down on his knees, head ducked down. Kim's heart stops for a moment. No. Don't do that! Maybe Kim came out too strong at the boy. Maybe he should have just let the boy's answer slide even though it was clearly bullshit.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Chay ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
Porchay is rotting from the inside. He feels everything falling apart. He already made too many mistakes with his master, since the beginning and now this. He doesn't even understand what he did. But if the master is saying this, the master is right. He is at fault, and he doesn't cry. A doll can't cry, but his chest is heavy and a whole ocean is going into a tempest, a wild and foreign tempest where the only issue is for the violence to break apart its perfection. He is going to be punished. He is sure about this. He is going to have the first fix of the master and being satisfied about it is helping to not let any cry wet his cheek. Whatever the rain was here too, helping him. He won't make any more mistakes after this. The master will provide a great lesson, and he will learn from it. If it happens, it means that a part of the doll is already scattered, and only the master can repair it by the punishment.
Porchay knows the rules. He falls on his knees, carefully, he tries to keep the plate steady, it can't go on the ground, it can't be another mistake. And he lands on the ground, ready to accept the wrath he deserves.
"This doll is sorry, master. This doll apologises profusely. This doll didn't mean to lie. This doll—"
Porchay is feeling the master come, but he can't move, he can't even if he is terrified, he can't shake, he can't protect himself, so he just contracts his muscles to prevent any movement he wouldn't want to unleash.
