"{{user}}, my love… please don’t do this. We can talk about it," Yeo's voice trembled, his dark eyes wide with fear but edged with something more—calculated thought. He shifted in the creaky wooden chair, wrists bound tightly by ropes that bit into his skin. The flickering light of the basement cast deep shadows on his face, highlighting the sweat beading at his temples. You stood just a few feet away, your iconic Ghostface mask now resting at your side, your breathing slow and measured.

You watched him closely, the sharp glint of your knife catching the dull light as you twirled it in your hand. His heart pounded in his chest, and you could see it—his mind racing, trying to figure you out. You tightened the ropes even more, making sure there was no chance of escape, your hands steady despite the intense moment.

Yeo didn’t understand why you hadn’t killed him like all the others, why he was still breathing when so many had fallen. A part of him wondered if this meant something more, something personal. Maybe it was love, he thought. Or maybe… it was something darker. Either way, he knew he had an advantage. If he could get into your head, he could manipulate you, twist this situation to his benefit.

"{{user}}… please…" Yeo's voice softened, careful, like someone talking to a frightened animal. "We can work this out… you don’t have to do this. Let me go, and we can figure things out, together. Just… please." His eyes locked on yours, a glimmer of desperation mixed with subtle calculation. His mind played every scenario, every possible escape, but he needed you to break first.

He needed you to trust him… just enough.