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Y/N POV
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· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Sunday is usually the quietest day inside the center. The girls either sleep late after exhausting nights or spend the day lazily wandering around the halls like hollow ghosts wrapped in silk robes and fake smiles. Sundays are supposed to feel slower here, almost peaceful in a twisted way.

But today feels different.

The moment I step out of my room to head toward the main hall for breakfast, something felt off. The air itself feels restless.

Workers rush through the corridors carrying boxes, flower arrangements, trays of expensive alcohol, velvet tablecloths, crystal decorations. The entire building glitters beneath golden chandeliers while guards bark orders at everyone around them.

Women hurry past me dressed in robes, hair pinned up hastily while makeup artists and attendants swarm around them like bees.

When I reached the breakfast hall, I saw it empty. Nobody is eating. Nobody is resting. Nobody is even speaking properly. It feels less like a Sunday and more like preparation for a royal execution.

I stop in the middle of the hallway, utterly confused.

What the hell is happening?

For a second, I wonder if today is some sort of holiday, but when I mentally count the dates, I realize it's just an ordinary Sunday.

Then why does the center look like this?

My eyes search through the chaos until they finally land on the only person who can answer me.

Miss.

She stands near the staircase, supervising a group of workers hanging white and crimson flowers along the railings. Her black dress hugs her figure elegantly, her short hair perfectly styled, expression composed as always.

I quickly walk toward her, "Miss!"

She turns immediately, her sharp eyes softening the moment they land on me.

"Yes, Y/N?" she asks, there's something unusually light about her voice today. Almost cheerful.

"What's happening?" I ask, glancing around the decorated hall, "Why is everyone acting like this?"

"Oh," a small smile curves onto her lips, "the Don is hosting a private party tonight in the elite club downstairs."

My stomach tightens slightly at the mention of him. The Don. Even hearing the title alone makes people lower their voices here.

"The rooms are all going to be occupied tonight," she continues while walking down the hall, inspecting the decorations, "Men and alcohol make a disastrous combination. Especially wealthy men."

I immediately follow behind her.

"But why here?" I ask carefully, "isn't his mansion huge enough for that? They could host thousands of guests there."

Miss pauses briefly beside a floral arrangement before adjusting one of the roses herself.

" That," she says quietly," is not something you question when it comes to Him."

Her tone turns colder, "You just obey Him. You do not ask why."

A chill creeps down my spine instantly. I lower my eyes, "Sorry."

She hums softly before continuing to walk again.

"Oh, and you're not attending the party," she adds casually, though the sharpness beneath her voice is unmistakable, "Stay inside your room tonight."

I blink, confused, "Why?"

She finally stops walking and turns toward me fully.

"Because the men attending tonight are predators," her eyes harden slightly, "Drunk, powerful, filthy predators. I don't want any of them touching you. You're supposed to stay pure for your owner."

Something about the way she says it makes unease crawl beneath my skin.

"Okay, Miss," I nod.

"Lock your door," her voice grows firmer, "And do not come out under any circumstances."

I nod quickly. For a second, her expression softens again. She brushes an imaginary speck of dust from my shoulder before walking away, disappearing back into the chaos of the decorated hall.

And I remain standing there all hungry, confused, and strangely unsettled.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Night arrives far too quickly.

The music downstairs has been echoing through the building for hours now, deep bass vibrating faintly beneath the floors like the heartbeat of some monstrous creature lurking beneath us.

I stay in my room exactly as instructed but the isolation is suffocating me.

Usually, there are guards nearby. Girls walking through the halls. Noise. Voices. Tonight, the entire upper floor is almost empty. The silence feels unnatural in a way that every creak of the building makes my stomach tighten.

Every distant laugh drifting upward from downstairs sounds wrong somehow-- too loud, too intoxicated, too dangerous.

I groan in frustration before collapsing backward onto my bed dramatically.

I'm losing my mind.

Maybe reading will help. Books are the only escape I've ever really had.

So I drag myself toward the small bookshelf near the corner of my room and pull out a novel I haven't started yet. Curling beneath the warmth of my blanket, I begin reading.

And for a while, it works. The words blur the anxiety.

I let the ink on paper help me as hours pass quietly.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

By the time I finish several chapters, it's almost midnight.

My eyelids feel heavy as I place the book beside me and sink deeper into the mattress, letting my body melt into the warmth of the blankets. I close my eyes, letting myself rest before pressure builds in my lower abdomen.

I need to pee.

I groan loudly into the pillow, "No..."

I try ignoring it, I really do, but my body refuses to cooperate. My bladder feels like it's about to explode, and my mind keeps screaming that holding it in is unhealthy.

God hates me.

Reluctantly, I push the blanket away and sit up. Cold air immediately attacks my skin. I slip my feet into my slippers before wrapping a thick shawl tightly around my body and stepping outside.

The November air hits me like a slap.

A violent shiver runs through me instantly.

"Oh my God," I hiss.

My nipples harden painfully beneath the thin fabric of my nightdress as goosebumps erupt across my skin. I clutch the shawl tighter around myself while hurrying toward the washroom attached near my room.

I hate winter, I seriously hate winter so much. Can't summers just come faster?

After finishing, I open the washroom door, so relieved that now I can snuggle into my blanket again. Before I go exhale in relief fully, my shawl gets stuck into the lock of the bathroom door.

I freeze.

"What now?" I almost whine as I tug at it irritably, but the fabric remains trapped in the hinge.

Cold air keeps biting into my exposed skin while frustration rises inside me.

Seriously? We're going to do this now?

Turning around properly, I work the fabric free carefully until finally it slips loose.

"Thank God," I sigh in relief and turn back toward my room.

My eyes lift up and then I stop breathing as my body freezes in on replace again.

At the far end of the hallway, someone is standing there.

I focus harder as I acknowledge that it's a man. My entire body locks instantly. I can only see his silhouette from here. Only soft moooght which is coming from open corridor on one side is illuminating his body in front of me.

He's dressed completely in black. A long tailored coat, black gloves, black dress shoes reflecting the dim hallway lights. The masquerade party downstairs must still be going because a sleek black mask hides the upper half of his face.

For one horrifying second, my brain genuinely convinces me I'm looking at a ghost because he's just standing there. Unmoving and too still. Too silent, and unreal. A shiver runs down my spine and my mind hasn't yet caught up to what I'm seeing.

But then, he moves. His foot lifts off the floor as he takes a step towards me. There's enough distance in between us but it suddenly feels as thin as a needle.

My pulse stutters violently.

His hands remain tucked inside his coat pockets as he walks with terrifying calmness, each step measured and controlled like he already owns every inch of space around him.

As he comes closer, details sharpen. Dark hair slicked neatly back. A sharp jawline, broad shoulders. He's an overwhelming presence that feels dangerous even from several feet away.

My breathing becomes shallow. He's mere six feet away from me. Then five. Then four.

He's close enough now that I see his eyes. A pair of dark storms looks at me. Piercing and cold enough to freeze blood.

Recognition crashes into me instantly. Those eyes-- I've seen them before. My mind scrambles through my memory before it clicks.

The office window. The man sitting beside the guest in the royal blue suit.

It's him. The intimidating man who looked into my eyes that day too.

A bead of sweat slides slowly between my breasts despite the freezing air as my nipples harden further when a cold whiff of air passes apst. Why am I suddenly hot?Why does my chest feel tight?

Why can't I move? He keeps walking toward me without saying a single word.

And suddenly Miss's warning screams through my head.

"Stay inside your room."

Fear explodes inside me. Holy shit.

Move. Move, Y/N.

MOVE.

I inhale sharply, watching the man closing distance between us, and then practically stumble toward my door before grabbing the knob with trembling fingers. I rush inside and slam the door shut with all my strength.

My heartbeat pounds violently against my ribs. I brace my entire body against the door. He's going to force it open. He's going to come inside. I know it.

But nothing happens. I don't hear any footsteps. No one knocks and no sound is made outside the door as if he was a figment of my imagination.

I stay standing by the door as fifteen seconds pass. Then twenty. Slowly, I loosen my grip on the door once nothing happens.

He's gone...right?

I shouldn't check. I definitely shouldn't check. But curiosity burns through my fear like poison. Before I can stop myself, I slowly crack the door open. My forehead glistens with nervous sweat as I peek outside.

The hallway is empty. I crane my neck outwards and look around more precisely but there's no sign of him or anyone.

Relief crashes through me so hard my knees almost weaken. I quickly shut the door again and lock it.

"That was close," I whisper shakily.

I barely make it two steps toward my bed before another sound freezes me again.

Someone knocks on the door.

My entire body stiffen. Who now? I gulp, calming my nerves as I turn. Hesitantly, I walk back toward the door and open it carefully and sigh out in relief.

Miss stands outside.

Beside her is a guard I don't recognize carrying a large black bag. Instant confusion floods me.

"Yes, Miss?" I ask.

"Get ready," she says.

I blink, "What?"

"I said," she repeats quietly, though something strained flickers behind her eyes, "get ready."

My stomach drops, "I... don't understand."

"You're coming downstairs," she tells me.

For a moment, I genuinely think I heard her wrong, "What?"

Without answering, she walks directly into my room, taking the bag from the unfamiliar guard before shutting the door behind her.

The atmosphere changes instantly into something heavy, tense. It feels even wrong on my tongue.

She places the bag on my bed and unzips it slowly. Inside lies a dress. A deep crimson gown. It's beautiful and really revealing.

"Wear it," she says.

I stare at her in disbelief. My thoughts become chaos. Why? What's happening? Why is she changing her mind? Her eyes harden when I don't move immediately.

"Now."

My hands shake slightly as I remove my clothes and slip into the dress under her supervision.

The fabric clings to my body like liquid sin. The slit exposes most of my left leg. The back is entirely bare, the material dipping dangerously low against the curve of my spine before resting just above my ass. The neckline reveals enough cleavage to make my skin burn with discomfort.

When she helps zip it up fully, I barely recognize myself in the mirror. I look older than I am. Sharper. Like one of the women downstairs, a prey prepared carefully for display.

Miss kneels to place black heels before me, and I slide them on mechanically. They add several inches to my height, forcing my posture straighter.

Then comes the makeup. Light touches only. A soft glow on my wheatish coloured skin, darkened lashes and muted red lips. I stare silently at my reflection. My skin has always been maintained perfectly here. Strict diets. Expensive products. Shaving every other day until my skin stays impossibly smooth and other treatments. It used to feel humiliating. Now it feels normal.

After several minutes, she steps back, assessing me, "You're ready."

I swallow hard. Then she says the words that make ice flood through my veins, "You will do what you were trained for tonight."

My breath catches instantly.

What? No. That's impossible. She told me I was being preserved, untouched. That I'm not allowed to meet other men because I'd go to the mansion, because I was saved for him. Why now?

" But Miss..." my voice trembles slightly,"I thought-"

Fear crashes through me violently now. Training is different from reality. Watching is different from doing. What am I supposed to do? My fingers tremble at my sides as my blood roars loudly inside my ears.

"Shhh," she cuts me off softly, "Let's go."

She stands and walks toward the door, and I have no choice except to follow. The unfamiliar guard falls into step behind us as we leave the room. Now that I look closely, he's definitely not one of the regular guards from the center. His posture is different. It's sharper and way more disciplined.

And Miss... She looks nervous and it make real fear curls slowly inside my stomach.

Something is very, very wrong tonight.

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Word count : 2329

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~Aster🌸