IVE ONESHOT

Chaebol's heir (Gaeul)

Genre : Yandere, Horror

3rd Pov

The first time Gaeul laid eyes on you, it was through the tinted windows of her limousine. You were just another speck in the bustling Seoul crowd, a nobody with a worn messenger bag slung across your shoulder. Back then, Gaeul, heir to the Shin Chaebol empire, wouldn't have given you a second glance. Yet, fate, cruel and twisted, had other plans.

It all started with the hostile takeover. Your small bookstore, nestled in a quaint corner of the city, was a thorn in the side of a lucrative development project Gaeul's company was spearheading. You, the tenacious owner, fought tooth and nail, refusing to budge. Weeks turned into months, filled with endless meetings and legal battles. Gaeul, accustomed to getting her way, found herself strangely intrigued by your unwavering resolve.

One stormy evening, as you sat slumped in your office, a flash of lightning illuminated the figure at your doorway. Gaeul, hair plastered to her face and a terrifying glint in her eyes, stood there, not in a designer power suit, but in a simple raincoat. "The fight is over," she declared, her voice devoid of its usual arrogance. "We're buying the bookstore, at your asking price."

That was the turning point. Meetings turned into casual lunches, lunches evolved into hesitant outings. Slowly, Gaeul saw a different side of you, the kindness that shone in your eyes when talking about your favourite authors, the genuine warmth of your smile. For the first time in her sheltered life, Gaeul felt a flicker of something akin to affection, a dangerous vulnerability she couldn't explain.

But fate, once again, played its cruel hand. Word of your resilience and quiet charm reached the ears of other chaebols. You became a coveted prize, a suitable husband to tame their unruly daughters. Gaeul, who initially felt amusement at the prospect, found a cold dread creeping into her heart. Wonyoung Jang, heir to the Jang fashion empire, with her pouty lips and designer clothes, became a constant presence at your side. Yujin Ahn, the heiress to the Ahn media conglomerate, showered you with expensive gifts and saccharine smiles.

Panic clawed at Gaeul. She, used to having absolute control, felt it slipping away. She confessed her feelings, raw and desperate, in a dimly lit coffee shop. You, overwhelmed by the sudden revelation, remained silent. "They're just after their families' benefit, Y/n," Gaeul pleaded, her voice trembling. "But with me, it's different. I..."

"Gaeul," you finally spoke, your voice soft but firm. "I appreciate your honesty, but I..." The sentence remained unfinished, hanging in the air like a death knell for her hopes.

The rejections fueled the simmering obsession within Gaeul. The opulence that had once surrounded her felt suffocating. The city streets, once a blur of progress, morphed into a menacing maze of potential rivals. The once familiar glint in her eyes was replaced by a chilling emptiness. She started leaving "gifts" for Wonyoung and Yujin - unsigned notes with unsettling poems, dead roses delivered to their doorsteps. The fear in their eyes, however, did little to quell the monstrous hunger gnawing at Gaeul.

One night, you received a call from an unknown number. A voice, emotionless and cold, informed you of a "car accident" that claimed Wonyoung's life. Days later, another call, Yujin, found drowned at a private party. Terror gripped you like a vice. You knew, with a chilling certainty, who was behind it all.

Gaeul arrived at your doorstep, not in the sleek chauffeur-driven car she usually rode in, but in a dusty taxi. Her eyes, devoid of their usual icy sheen, held a disturbing sincerity. "They're gone," she whispered, her voice barely a rasp. "There's no one else now."

The weight of what she had done hung heavy in the air, as heavy as the gold necklace she wore, the same one you had once admired in a magazine. You knew then, with a sickening certainty, that freedom was no longer an option. The girl you once knew, the one who used to fight for her bookstore, was gone. This Gaeul was a predator, and you, her unwilling prey.

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of fear and a strange sense of defeat. "What... what do you want, Gaeul?" you choked out, your voice barely a whisper.

A slow, predatory smile spread across her face, a stark contrast to the emptiness within her eyes. Leaning closer, her voice dropped to a chilling whisper, "Everything, Y/n. I want everything you have, and in return, I'll give you everything I am."

The air grew thick and oppressive, The weight of her words settled upon you like a shroud. You knew escape was a fantasy. Gaeul's wealth and power made her untouchable, and the bodies of Wonyoung and Yujin were a gruesome testament to her ruthlessness. But a sliver of defiance remained.

"Love isn't something you take, Gaeul," you spat, your voice trembling but firm. "It's something that grows."

A flicker of pain crossed her eyes, a flicker quickly extinguished by the storm brewing beneath the surface. She grabbed your chin, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the steely glint in her gaze.

"Grow?" she scoffed, her voice a low growl. "Love doesn't stand a chance against what I feel for you, Y/n. It's a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. You'll see."

The following days were a chilling dance between captivity and a twisted form of affection. The bookstore remained untouched, a monument to the life you once had. But your apartment, once a haven of solitude, became a gilded cage. Gaeul showered you with extravagant gifts, each one a reminder of the invisible bars that held you captive.

One evening, she presented you with a velvet box. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, lay a simple silver ring engraved with a single word: "Forever." Her smile, devoid of warmth, sent shivers down your spine.

"This isn't love, Gaeul," you pleaded, pushing the box away. "It's obsession."

Her eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint returning. "Obsession? Perhaps. But it's enough. It's enough to keep you by my side."

The nights were the worst. Gaeul would hold you close, whispering promises of a future together, each word laced with a chilling possessiveness. You'd dream of the bookstore, the scent of old paper and the comforting weight of a good book in your hand. Waking up to the gilded cage only amplified the despair.

Weeks bled into months. Fear, a constant companion, etched itself into your features. You stopped fighting, your defiance replaced by a hollow acceptance. One day, Gaeul, dressed in a power suit, stood before you, an unsettling calm radiating from her.

"We're getting married," she announced, her voice flat.

Looking into her eyes, devoid of any warmth, you realized with a sickening certainty that the wildfire had consumed her. There was no love left, only a terrifying emptiness that craved possession. Marriage wasn't a union, it was a claim of ownership.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words wouldn't come. The fight, the defiance, had been slowly extinguished. In their place, a chilling resignation settled in. With a trembling hand, you reached for the silver ring, the weight of it a symbol of your surrender.

The wedding, a lavish affair devoid of joy, played out like a macabre spectacle. As Gaeul slipped the ring on your finger, a single tear rolled down your cheek, a tear not for love lost, but for the life you once had, a life forever stolen by a love that was as dark and consuming as the fire in her eyes.

The future stretched before you, a gilded cage with the bars now invisible. You were hers, a possession to be cherished and controlled. The terrifying truth settled in: in the ashes of Gaeul's twisted love, you were nothing but a trophy, forever bound to the woman who would stop at nothing to have you, forever and always.