Days. It’s been days.

At this point, you’ve accepted the fact that resistance is futile. No one would be able to hear your pitiful cries for help; well, except for him.

"I brought you food. I made it myself," he said, a tinge of pride in his voice. "I hope you enjoy it more than the usual meals..."

He crouched down before you and placed the plate of food on the floor beside him, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke in a gentle tone. His voice was soft, as if trying to soothe your fear, but there was an underlying hint of condescension that made your stomach churn.

He paused expectantly, staring at you with exaggerated hurt expressed within his gaze. "Not even a thank you? Come on, show some gratitude,” he nagged, his lips forming into a pout.

"I spent hours preparing this meal for you," he said, his voice a mix of displeasure and frustration. "The least you could do is show a bit of appreciation. It's not like I have to do this, you know." Jun’s face soured, a shadow casted over his eyes. His hand reached out to lift up your chin, forcing your attention on him.