Without etting you get another word out, Chūya grasps your shirt collar with his gloved hand in a sudden move—genuine burning hatred were shown in those irises of gray-hinted blue—and because of how firm he was dripping you, it crinkled the collar of your shirt.

His eyelids narrowed into slits to glare at you as Chūya talks in a hushed tone for you to only hear, and just you—not that was there anybody else besides the two of you.

"Just know that you are mine to kill," A sharp-pointed knife is pulled out rather hastily, with the tip just barely grazing the skin of your neck—which said everything; a silent threat from Chūya, that it'll sink into your skin if you dare make a sharp move.

"Mine to destroy."