Through The Mouth (Yandere Mafiatale SansX Reader) SECOND ACT

Chapter 1: Who Lives, Who Dies

Stepping once again into the smoke stained room, I could already sense his presence without even seeing or hearing him. My clothes felt heavy, carrying the weight of the water I brought in with, not a single thing could stop my trembling figure from shaking so violently. It sounded as if a siren was blaring, a earthquake was erupting in my head, as if warning me about the wolf in front of me.

"Why exactly was my doll brought to me tattered?" He asks after taking a glance at myself, then towards one of his men. The guard avoids his cold eye contact before speaking up "Well ya see, some guard mistook her for a maid" he gestures to the damp and half-frozen maid's uniform that clung to me "And let her out unknowingly who she was......" He finishes, looking back down at the floor.

"And may I ask, who this guard was?" The dead toned monster asked, turning to the other side of his desk to put out his cigarette. The guard hesitates in his track "m-me.." He admits, afraid he might be shot on the spot for his crime.

"Well, you wouldn't mind having a small chat with me after this, would you?" He questions to the nervous man "No sir! Not at all!" He obliges, hoping to get less of a death sentence for being a kiss up to him. The monster lets him exit the room as only us two are left in eerie moments of silence.

"Care telling the rest of the story?" He asks towards me, as I try summarizing the events in my head "after escaping, someone caught onto my act so I had to flee. I eventually hid in a lake to not get caught, but someone dragged me out and took me back to this hellhole before I caught pneumonia. So if you don't mind, can I please get some warm clothes?" I explain, avoiding eye contact like how the guard did the entire time, while tugging at my soaked sleeves as a form of comfort in this cursed house.

"I actually prefer this outfit to the others" he jokes, while standing up from his chair to inspect my appearance "Now why don't you go and clean some bedrooms" he mocks sarcastically opening the door for me as if expecting me to waltz out and get to vacuuming. He chuckles to himself before prescribing me to get warm clothes on myself before I actually do catch pneumonia. As I wonder back down the echoey hall, I can hear the slamming of the doors shut from his office, and as I take a small glance back, no guard to be seen waiting by the door. I knew I wasn't off the hook
but was glad I was in the clear for now.

I kind of feel bad for the poor guy... But I guess there's nothing I can do about it anymore. If I go in there and defend him, there's only the slim chance that the madman will listen to me, thus fate will have to decide the sentence of who lives, who dies, and who tells the story.