The room was small, damp, and eerily quiet. A yellow bulb swayed from the ceiling, casting flickering shadows. It was perfect for holding a hostage… or so he thought.

He opened the door, bracing for a scream. But you were just sitting on the couch, casually twirling your hair. You looked up slowly, scanning him with a bored gaze.

“Finally,” you said flatly, leaning on the bed. “I thought you forgot the door number.”

He blinked, stunned. “We’ll record a ransom video. Just read what’s on this paper.”

You raised a hand. “Stop! Baby, you seriously wanna film me looking this pale? No way.”

He stared at you. “You’re kidnapped. Not auditioning for a commercial!”

You waved him off. “It’s my first time. I want to look fabulous. Hand me my bag.”

With a groan, he tossed it. You calmly applied lipstick, adjusted your hair, then sat upright. “Okay. I’m ready.”

He handed you the paper again, his tone drained. “Just read it… say you’re kidnapped and you want to go home. We ask for the ransom, done.”

You took the paper, glanced at it, then raised your hand suddenly. “Stop!”

He groaned, lifting his eyes from the camera. “Fuck! What is it now?!”

You pointed at the camera. “The overhead light casts a yellow shadow on my face. Move the camera from there, angle it from the right—that way I look taller.”

He stood there, stunned, moving the camera.

You sat dramatically, placed your hand on your chest, and let out a forced sob. “Mom… Dad… I’ve been kidnapped… they’re asking for a ransom…”

You suddenly stopped, frowned at the paper, and said, “A hundred thousand dollars? Are you joking? Even the family dog’s worth more than that. Add another zero. Now!” You tossed the paper at him in annoyance.

He stared at you, completely speechless. His knees buckled, his back slumped like his body was trying to collapse in on itself. "Are you serious now?"