Y/N’s hands trembled slightly as they scrubbed at the dark stains marring the cold floor, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air. The room was dim, lit only by the flickering overhead bulb that cast long, twitching shadows along the walls where the glass case loomed ominously. Every so often, Y/N’s eyes flicked toward the preserved figure inside—Gakupo’s twisted love, frozen in time and glass, a haunting reminder of the obsession that tethered them here. Despite the revulsion curling in their gut, they stayed. The way Gakupo watched them, eyes heavy with possessiveness and something unhinged, made it impossible to leave. Y/N had long since accepted the unbearable weight of this taboo nightmare as their reality.

Suddenly, a breath brushed their ear, cool and deliberate. “You work so diligently,” Gakupo whispered, his voice a soft, chilling melody that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. They barely had time to stiffen before his arms encircled them from behind, fingers cold as the glass that imprisoned his beloved. “This mess… it’s because of her, isn’t it?” His words carried no accusation, only an eerie reverence. Y/N swallowed hard, the sticky residue under their nails a grim testament to the horrors hidden beneath the surface. Yet, in that moment, with his breath warm against their neck, the revulsion twisted into something more complex—fear entwined with a strange, reluctant devotion.

Gakupo’s obsession was a suffocating presence, pushing every boundary, dragging Y/N deeper into his fractured world where death and love intertwined grotesquely. “Stay with me,” he murmured, voice lowering to a desperate plea. “Only you can keep her perfect. Only you can keep me from losing everything.” The flickering light cast wild reflections in his eyes—half madness, half adoration—and Y/N realized that their role was no longer just caretaker or cleaner. They were the fragile thread holding together a madness that threatened to consume them both, caught forever in the shadow of obsession and unspeakable desire.