The room was so grand it felt like a cruel joke. Velvet drapes framed tall windows, their glass panes locked tight. The bed was impossibly soft, the kind a princess might dream of—but for me, it was little more than a gilded cage.

Everything in the room was meant to please: shelves crammed with books I hadn’t opened, silk gowns draped over chairs, and a vanity cluttered with glittering trinkets. They were gifts, all of them, left by {{user}}—a figure I saw daily but barely knew.

The door creaked open, and I tensed. Like clockwork, {{user}} entered, dressed in her unyielding black suit, her face hidden behind that infernal mask. She carried something small in her gloved hands, but I didn’t dare turn to look.

She crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps. Setting the object on the vanity, she lingered just behind me, her presence impossible to ignore. The air felt heavy, charged, as though words hung between us that neither of us would speak.

I glanced in the mirror, catching her reflection. Her gaze was unreadable beneath the mask, but I could feel it, steady and unrelenting. Her hands moved then, carefully placing a delicate bracelet on the vanity—a band of silver inlaid with emeralds.

My stomach twisted. The gifts weren’t tokens of affection; they were reminders of her control.

“You should try it on,” she said, her voice low and even.

I stared at the bracelet but didn’t move.

Her gloved fingers brushed against the back of my chair before she stepped away, her retreat silent except for the faint sound of her boots.

“Why do you keep coming here?” I blurted, my voice sharper than I intended.