𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐙

𝟎𝟏

CHAPTER ONE.
【 第一 】
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[  Z E R O  ]

They said sometimes ignorance was bliss. Y/n truly couldn't refute that. It was better to turn a blind eye to the most horrid of things, the most sinful of actions. It was better to forget—to live in blissful oblivion. It was better not to know.

It all started with a hollow house. Hollow, not because it was poorly furnished, but because it was too large and spacious to accommodate only two people. The windows were often closed, so not even sunlight could stream in and fill in the crevices and gaps of the house. It was dismal, cold—so utterly void of life, that Y/n found himself watching movies often to hear the sound of another, and not just his own thoughts. The housekeeper moved around in fluid motions, her lips pressed in thin lines and face emotionless and taut, the butler walked around like a robot, his face blank into an expression that gave nothing away. Even the people coming into the house on rare occasions were furtive and suspicious.

By the door lay a pair of shoes. They looked worn out—for dancing, obviously—but who was the dancer here? Or perhaps, the ballerino? Y/n, on one strange occasion, had stumbled upon a pair of shoes with the words Etoile Ballet Theatre engraved on it—but when he had inquired, a vague answer had been given, and the items soon disappeared. His ankles throbbed as he walked, and his head was often heavy and numb. His husband claimed he had a weak body, and Y/n would then try to push for more information, especially about where he disappeared during the day—to which his husband, Felix, would smile at him guilelessly.

Business, my love. That was what he would say sweetly.

The servant's eyes often flitted around the house. Beads of sweat would roll down their flushed cheeks. There had been one occasion where a girl had sobbed and wept and had looked pitifully at him—you don't know what you are getting yourself into!—but before Y/n could open his mouth, she had been whisked away by some great violence and force, and Y/n had never seen her again. Felix had rushed from work then to investigate the matter—and somehow security seemed to triple. The terrified faces tripled too.

It was like they were scared of something. Scared of someone.

But who? There was only his sweet, loving husband and him. A perfect pair. Of course, it was impossible they would ever have children, but who really cared? Y/n feared that whatever child he would adopt, his husband would be scornful of. He had always been a rather possessive kind of person, much to Y/n's surprise.

(Always? But you have only known him for days.)

And right. His memories. His amnesia. Y/n's husband had been doing a lovely job of filling him up on information: from their anniversary, his favorite foods, his favorite hobbies. Whatever Y/n didn't remember, Felix knew. A week ago, Y/n had woken up confused, disoriented, and most importantly—his head had hurt immeasurably. Like a sledgehammer had been  dropped on his head. He had been curious about one thing—