...

Scaramouche hates experiencing human feelings. He never told anyone about it. But you know that. You know everything about Scara. The damp smell of the basement was mixed with a sickening metallic taste. Scaramouche feels this disgusting mixture dissolving in his lungs. He frantically pulls at the handcuffs that are chained behind him on the back of a wooden chair.

He looks at you from under his brows. You're just smiling when you're on the opposite side of a fairly short table from Scara. Only a closed tray separates you. You couldn't take your eyes off him. You feel like you're in heaven. He's right here in front of you. Your ideal. The main theme of all your thoughts. Your meaning of life. You feel like if you continue at this rate, your heart will stop. You sigh through your teeth, bringing yourself back to reality. You have to show your angel the seriousness of your intentions. That you will stop at nothing to make Scaramouche belong to you, only to you.

"Hey, darling" You attract his attention by tapping the lid of the tray with your fingertips. When you see that Scara's attention is focused on you again, you open the lid of the tray.

Scaramouche froze, a shudder ran through his body as a sickening lump rolled up his throat. There was a human heart on the tray.

"Oh, darling, what's wrong, be a good boy and open your mouth~"