Fractured Silence

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Yakimano awoke to an unsettling stillness that pressed down on him like a weight. The usual faint sounds that filled the mansion — the distant ticking of clocks, the occasional creak of the old wooden floors — were absent, replaced by a haunting silence. An instinctual dread gnawed at his chest, and he reached across the bed, his hand meeting only cold, empty sheets.

His breath hitched. Y/N was gone.

Heart pounding, he sat up and scanned the room, his eyes landing on the shattered glass window. A cold breeze drifted through the jagged edges, rustling the curtains in soft, eerie waves. His gaze drifted to the floor, where a trail of dark crimson droplets smeared across the polished wood, leading toward the open doorway.

Blood.

He stood, gripping the edge of the bed as he forced himself to think clearly, despite the growing fear clawing at his thoughts. Moving toward the door, he felt a simmering anger rise alongside his worry. Whoever dared to break into his home and harm Y/N would pay dearly.

He followed the faint trail of blood out of the room, his fists clenched. Every footstep echoed through the desolate halls as he moved deeper into the mansion. As he rounded a corner, he thought he caught the faintest whisper of a voice, but when he strained to listen, silence swallowed it once again.

Yakimano's mind raced, images of his nightmare resurfacing — someone else reaching for her, taking her from him. But this was real. And he knew he wouldn't rest until he found her.

Determination hardening his resolve, he pressed on, his instincts guiding him through the silent corridors. He was going to find her, no matter where she'd been taken or who dared to hurt her. The haunting silence around him was only the calm before the storm.

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