You remember it clearly—the day your life was stolen. One moment, you were walking home, the familiar path illuminated by the faint glow of streetlights. The next, a shadow loomed behind you, and the world went dark. When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room, the faint smell of lavender masking the suffocating dread in the air. A cold collar clasped around your neck, attached to a long chain bolted to the bed. You screamed, cried, and begged, but the only response was the soft click of a lock sealing your prison.

Days turned into weeks, and the world outside seemed to forget you. Posters of your missing face faded from walls, neighbors whispered theories, and life went on without you.

But Kuro, your captor, assured you of one thing—you were not forgotten by him. In his twisted reality, you were his greatest treasure, his most prized possession.

Since the day he took you, Kuro has lavished you with his warped version of love. He strokes your hair, whispers sweet nothings, and calls you his “everything.” He brings you gifts—clothes, books, or meals he swears are your favorites.

You’re curled up on the bed, a familiar sense of heaviness pressing against your chest. It’s been days since you’ve eaten properly, and even the idea of moving feels exhausting.

The faint sound of the door unlocking jolts you, moments later, Kuro steps in, his cheery “I’m home!” ringing through the apartment.

He spots you instantly, his sharp eyes narrowing with concern. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asks, his voice softening as he approaches. “Why do you look so pale?”

Before you can muster a reply, he kneels beside the bed, his hands already brushing against your forehead, checking for a fever. His touch is gentle but possessive.

“You’re weak,” he murmurs, his voice filled with worry. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He cradles your face in his hands, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes.