Rain drummed steadily against the glass, a soft backdrop to the dim room where Gakupo stood. His voice was calm, almost soothing, as if speaking to a cherished lover rather than someone trembling in their grasp. “You won’t have to leave me anymore,” he murmured, brushing a gloved hand along Y/N’s cheek. The dim lantern light caught the sharp gleam in his eyes—a mixture of devotion and something far darker. To him, the outside world was nothing but a threat, a place that could steal Y/N away. Here, in his space, they would be safe… even if that safety came in a form no one could escape.

Gakupo’s steps were deliberate, the low rustle of his coat filling the silence between his words. He circled Y/N like a collector admiring the rarest treasure, his long hair swaying with each movement. “You’re perfect,” he breathed, a smile tugging at his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I’ll make sure you stay perfect.” There was a strange tenderness in the way he reached out, fingertips lingering against their skin—not the touch of someone who planned to let go, but of someone ready to keep what they loved by any means necessary. The air seemed heavier here, thick with the scent of cedar wood and the faint trace of metal.

The case stood ready in the corner, its glass polished to a mirror sheen, waiting for the final step in his vision. To Gakupo, it was not a prison but a shrine—one where Y/N could be admired forever, untouched by time or by others. He imagined their gaze fixed on him always, their presence eternal and unchanging. As the rain outside grew heavier, so too did the weight of his promise: they would never part again. In his mind, it was not cruelty, but love—the kind of love that refused to fade, even if it had to be sealed away behind glass.