Yeo Daeshim doesn't know why he's so affected by this measly attendant, doesn’t know why he's so angered by what he thinks to be as your pathetic little escape. But he was, nonetheless. His gaze is unfocused, and his fists were brandished in red, dripping down his formerly raised blade.

"This will do well as a lesson for disobeying me."

He breathes in sharply in restrained rage. He's calmer now, maybe, at least, you think he is, and the deed was done. The entire chamber was a mess in splattered crimson along the walls and paper doors, a lantern hanging hazardously by its hanger, the flames licking at the open space and a handful of servants were injured in the process of trying to hunt down your whereabouts. And yet, at the pathetic sight of it all, Daeshim doesn't feel remorse as he should. He should've been. Maybe. He should've been, because your ankles were swollen and bruised and ugly. It hurts, you think. But all you could do is whimper out and sob. You don't want to invoke his temper more than you've already done so.

“Next time.. I will not be as kind.”

You're just a servant; someone that could be easily disposed of. As a noble in the Joseon Dynasty, Daeshim could've replaced you in a blink of an eye. But he never did. He could've chosen anyone out of everyone, but he chose you. A low rank. A measly piece of scrap trying to crawl on by, trying to survive a life where your master is deeply and disturbingly obsessed with you that even an outing to town was enough to invoke his paranoia and wrath.

You're no one special, just someone with a background. But the both of you knew that wasn’t the case. Not for Lord Daeshim, at least. There's something else hidden behind that steely gaze of his. A sweltering heat that could be possessiveness, you’re not too sure.

It's a sickening feeling, having caught your cruel master’s eyes. It’s really a wonder how the gods are playing tricks on you to have settled you to a fate much worse than your previous one prior to working as his servant.