Y/N had long since lost track of time in Diasomnia's clutches. Days blurred into nights, and every waking moment felt like a new ordeal. The faint hope of escape that once burned in their heart was fading, extinguished slowly by the relentless cruelty of their captors.
Each of them had their own way of keeping Y/N in line. And each of them seemed to delight in dragging them closer to the edge, using pain, fear, and manipulation to strip away what remained of their spirit.
They no longer called it "protection".
Now it's "correction".
---
Malleus's patience, once vast as the sky, had withered to nothing. He had tried to reason with Y/N, to show them the "love" he felt was their destiny. But every time Y/N resisted, every time they pushed him away, a dark fury consumed him.
It was late one evening when Y/N dared to defy him again. Malleus had entered their room unannounced, as he often did, and tried to speak to them as though nothing was wrong.
"Why do you fight this, Child of Man?" he asked, his voice low and cold. "Why can't you see that you belong here—with me?"
"I don't belong here," Y/N spat, their voice trembling but defiant. "I don't belong to *you*. I'm not some treasure you can hoard!"
Malleus's eyes narrowed, his glowing emerald gaze turning sharp as blades. In an instant, he raised his hand, and a wave of dark magic surged through the room. The air became heavy, suffocating, as shadows coiled around Y/N like living chains.
They gasped as the magic tightened, binding their arms and legs and dragging them to their knees before him. "You don't understand what you're saying," Malleus said, his tone devoid of warmth. "But I will make you understand."
He raised his other hand, and the shadows constricted further, digging into Y/N's skin like claws. They cried out in pain, their vision swimming as the pressure became unbearable.
"This is mercy," Malleus growled, his voice echoing with an almost inhuman resonance. "Because if I truly unleashed my wrath, you would not survive it."
Tears streamed down Y/N's face as the magic squeezed tighter, and for a moment, they thought their body might break under the strain. But just as they thought they couldn't take any more, Malleus released them, and they collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
He knelt beside them, his voice soft but chilling. "You are mine," he whispered, brushing a trembling strand of hair from their face. "And I will never let you forget it."
---
Lilia's cruelty was like poison—slow, insidious, and inescapable. He delighted in picking apart Y/N's defenses, his sharp tongue finding every weakness and exploiting it until they were left raw and bleeding.
"You've grown so quiet," he remarked one day, his crimson eyes gleaming as he circled Y/N like a predator. "What's wrong, dear Prefect? Lost that fire of yours?"
Y/N glared at him, their lips pressed into a thin line. "I hate you," they said, their voice barely above a whisper.
Lilia's smile widened, but it was devoid of warmth. "Hate me? Oh, darling, that's adorable."
He leaned down until his face was inches from theirs, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Do you think your hatred matters? Do you think it will save you?"
Without warning, he grabbed their wrist, his grip like iron. "You're pathetic," he hissed. "Weak. Without us, you wouldn't last a day in this world."
Y/N tried to pull away, but Lilia tightened his grip, digging his nails into their skin. "Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position?" he sneered. "And here you are, throwing it all away like a spoiled child."
