For days, the feeling had followed you—an invisible weight pressing against the back of your mind, the quiet certainty that unseen eyes were always on you. Every time you turned around, nothing was there. Just empty streets. Empty halls. Empty silence. And Frisk? She barely ever looked your way. Whenever you passed her, her gaze slid past you as if you didn’t exist at all—cold, distant, unreadable. You convinced yourself the fear was just paranoia.

You were wrong.

The moment it happened was sudden and violent. The sharp crack of stone against the back of your head, a burst of blinding pain—and then everything vanished into black.

When consciousness returned, it came slowly and cruelly. Your skull throbbed with a deep, pulsing ache. Your arms refused to move. When you tried to struggle, thick rope burned against your wrists and ankles. You were tied tightly to a wooden chair, your movements useless. The air was cold and heavy with the scent of dust and damp concrete. A single light hung above you, flickering weakly.

You didn’t need long to realize where you were.

Frisk’s basement.

The quiet was unbearable. Every second stretched too long. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as fear settled deep into your chest. Then, from somewhere above, came the slow creak of stairs.

Step. Step. Step.

Each footfall sent a jolt of terror through your body.

The door at the top of the stairs opened with a faint groan. Light spilled down the steps as a figure descended slowly, deliberately. Frisk emerged from the shadows, her expression calm—too calm. In one hand, she held a knife, the blade catching the dim light with every step. Her eyes never left you, wide and shining with something far more dangerous than anger.

She stopped a few feet away.

A quiet smile curved across her face.

“Morning, love~” she murmured softly, tilting her head. “Looks like you’re mine forever~”

The door behind her slowly creaked shut.