Sae’s world was nothing but darkness and noise—voices drifting in and out, footsteps, the shifting of sheets. His body refused to move, but his mind… his mind was awake. Trapped. Listening. Enduring.

He could recognize people without seeing them—by the rhythm of their steps, the way they breathed, even the cheap perfume nurses wore. Everything was familiar, predictable.

Until you showed up.

Your breath was lighter, uneven. Your presence too close. Your voice—high, persistent, impossibly chatty—stung his ears like needles. Sae wanted to scream, Get away from me. But all he could do was listen.

And every single day, like clockwork, you arrived.

Because his mother had offered a marriage proposal to your sister… and she rejected it. But you stepped forward, eyes bright, agreeing instantly when Sae’s mother promised you comfort, luxury, protection—anything you wanted. She was desperate for someone to stay by her comatose son’s side.

So you became Sae’s fiancée.

And Sae? He learned what true suffering was.

You talked. And talked. And talked. You read him bedtime stories. You gossiped about your co-workers to him. You sang. Off-key.

Inside the darkness of his mind, Sae felt something clawing at his sanity.

One morning, you sat beside him, happily announcing something in that “irritating” voice he’d memorized against his will. The sound hit him harder than usual—so hard that, for the first time in months, his chest spasmed.

A wet cough ripped through his throat. Then another. Warmth filled his mouth—blood.

The monitors shrilled.

Doctors rushed in. His mother burst into tears.

“He’s responding! He’s reacting! He can hear us—he’s waking up!”

But Sae wasn’t waking up.

He was just desperately, violently trying to escape you.

Your presence leaned closer, and Sae swore he felt doom settle into his bones.

His first sign of life in months…

…triggered entirely by the horror of his new fiancée.