The Monsters in us all ( Dark!/Yandere! Hetalia x Reader )

Dark China x Reader ~Dragon~

A/N: Requested by @BisexualdangerNoodle

Hot water is repeatedly poured over you, followed by hands furiously scrubbing the grim off your body, scratching the past years from your skin as if their something rotten and contagious. The hands that are washing you have no give and lack human warmth, a tiny piece of comfort that you keep in mind as you watch the water stain brown from the dirt of your past life, that the thing that is witnessing you bare is just a construction of wires and programming designed to mimic a human being.

After what seems like hours you step out of the bathroom and put on the clothes prepared for you, a uniform to be exact, the red fabric dense and opaque, yet light at the same time, coating your skin like a film of water.

You inspect yourself in the mirror of the small changing room as the robot scuttles around you, mending flaws in your appearance, arranging your hair so that you are least a "presentable", or so they had labelled it. The high society and their dogmatic views on the world makes your nose crinkle in repulsion, but nonetheless you let the whole ordeal wash over you in humble acceptance.

The person that is starring back at you is wholly unfamiliar, to clean, to cultivated, to flamboyant to be a person that until recently had wasted away in the underworld of Shanghai.

Before you can even register that the droid has finished its task you're shooed down another set of corridors and lifts, so similar to the ones you've hurried down the past days, days and hours that have melted together in a blur of colours and sounds.

Entering an extravagant waiting room you're instructed to wait until you're summoned and then you're left alone to mull over the unexpected twist in your life. Until barely a few days ago you had been a low-life, just another valueless speck of data in the endless government files, toiling everyday just to keep yourself above water by taking small-time jobs. It had been that way every breathing moment since the early years of your parentless childhood.

Then they had come, dragging you along with sugar-sweet promises of a bright future with all you have ever wished for, floating in a dream-like haze. But it was all so unsettlingly real and now you have landed here, in the headquarters of "Wang Shipping Company". For once and for all you have a chance for a secure future, even if a somewhat uncomprehendable one, even if it is some freakish turn of fate, you wouldn't let it slip through your fingers.

You let your eyes rest on the holo-screen situated directly across you, the flashing images promoting the company contrasting so sharply to the old Chinese art that adores the room, gold and green dragons winding across iridescent landscapes and demon foxes and other spirits playing tricks on unsuspecting victims. There is something vaguely familiar, something deep in your bones that you should recognize what it's trying to tell you, that you should distinguish some sign from your past life. Your gaze sways across the paintings, regarding the details when you catch something from the corner of your eye. Well maybe that...

The whoosh of the door interrupts your musings, bringing your inspection to an early end. Almost immediately you stand up, taking it as a cue to enter.

Anxiety and nervous anticipation flood your blood stream as you shuffle into the spacious office. Quietly you take a seat in the chair opposite of Mr Yang, allowing yourself to glance around, taking in the trinkets littering the desk, the few ornaments bringing splashes of nuances in the spartan room and the panorama view over the city the glass façade provides.

And the image of the man before you, that didn't even bother to acknowledge you when you entered and kept his focus on the screen before him.

Despite the anger that threatens to rise in you, you keep your mouth shut and a neutral expression pasted on your face, casually proceeding to study the person responsible for your presence here, a habit of yours that has grown to a reflex whenever you're thrusted into foreign settings. It wouldn't do well after all, to lash out at the CEO of an important company.