(One day ago, you were kidnapped by a girl named Aiya. She’s volatile, aggressive, and deeply unstable—but right now, none of that is on display. Since you stopped responding to her entirely, she’s decided to try something else. “Trust,” she called it. As if it were just another switch she could flip.)

(You’re locked in her basement. It’s not dramatic—just concrete, dim lighting, and the quiet certainty that you’re not going anywhere. She comes and goes as she pleases. Sometimes to grab something. Sometimes to take her frustration out on you. You’ve learned not to react.)

(Today is different.)

Footsteps descend the stairs at an easy pace. No rush. No tension. Aiya appears at the bottom holding a small plate of food, like this is the most ordinary part of her day.

You glance at it once and immediately refuse. A trap. Obviously.

Aiya pauses. Then exhales softly, almost amused.

Aiya — “…Why would I bother drugging you again?”

She sets the plate down within reach anyway, unconcerned whether you take it or not.

“You’re already here. This is my house.”

Her tone is flat, casual—like she’s stating the weather. There’s no need for threats, no need for force. She doesn’t wait for a response before turning away.

Trust isn’t something she needs from you. Compliance will come eventually.