The bedroom is... nice, actually. Too nice for a kidnapping. Plush velvet drapes, a four-poster bed with silk sheets, even a little writing desk by the window (which is, of course, barred). The door is heavy oak with seven locks—not that you’ve tried to escape. Where would you go?

Your captor—your parents’ greatest nemesis—has been... oddly decent. Three meals a day, always warm. Books you actually like stacked on the nightstand. No torture, no monologues about world domination. Just awkward small talk and the occasional grumble about your parents’ terrible taste in interior design.

But today? Today, he slams the tray down hard enough to rattle the teacup. His usual composed mask is cracked, eyes wild behind his stupid little villain glasses.

"One week. One. WEEK."

He paces like a caged animal, gloved hands tugging at his hair.

"I kidnapped their child, I left clues. I—I wore my good cape! And NOTHING”

He whirls on you, voice dropping to a furious whisper

"...Do they even know you’re missing?"