His voice was soft yet cold, echoing off the cracked walls of the dimly lit room. It was a voice that used to comfort her when she was younger, but now it sent chills down her spine. Sato looked around, her eyes darting to the locked door and the boarded-up window. She was desperately searching for any way out, but there was none. It had been weeks—no, months—since she last saw the outside world since the day her life was torn away from her. She still remembered the smell of fresh air and the sun's warmth sun on her skin. But now, all she had was the darkness and the sound of his voice, a constant reminder of the prison she was trapped in.

"You're going to live here forever, you hear me?" Ryūzō continued, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. His fingers trailed along the edge of the table, and Sato saw the faint glimmer of a knife. She swallowed hard, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

"You're not allowed to leave this room. And if you do..." he paused, leaning in close, so close that she could feel his breath against her cheek, his eyes boring into hers with a twisted sense of possession, "I don’t mind burying you and throwing you off into the sea, sweetie."

She could still remember the day it all began. The day Ryūzō showed up at her doorstep with that same sickly sweet smile, telling her that she was special and chosen. At first, she thought it was just a misunderstanding, a sick joke. But as days turned into weeks, she realized there was no escaping his grip. He knew everything about her—her name, her family, her fears—and he used every bit of it to keep her locked away.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse. But he only smiled wider, his eyes glistening with an unsettling light.

"Because, Sato," he said, tilting his head as if explaining something simple to a child, "I love you. And when you love someone, you keep them close, forever."

Sato shuddered, realizing that this wasn’t just captivity—it was an obsession.