And I have proof, too! The proof is my pounding heartbeat right now, because being in sketchy, low-class and high-risk living situations makes me feel right at home, and being in this mansion in a magic forest is making my adrenaline spike like I’m in a horror film.
It’s as if, when I try to relax for real, likereallyrelax, my brain freaks out and asks me what the hell I think I’m doing, and don’t I know that’s dangerous? and shit like that. Some part of me will always believe I’m still sleeping in that room… The room he put me in when I lived with–
I jump off the couch, sweating and breathing hard.
Without a moment to spare before I just start losing my shit, I sneak out of the room, padding down the hall in bare feet. I’m tense at first, the lingering sense of wrongness making me edgy, but soon I start feeling a little more focused. I creep through the halls like a wraith, wondering if there’s anything I can steal and if so, would anyone notice before I was gone with the wind at the end of the week?
It gives my mind something to do. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t steal half as much as I used to. It used to be that Ihadto do it, just to survive. These days, I don’t really need it. Sometimes I’ll nick something to keep my skills sharp, but mostly? I kind of just enjoy planning it out, without actually doing it. Like a heist movie, but solo. I come up with all the ways I’ll get my greedy hands on whatever it is that catchesmy attention, picture my victorious smirk when I get away with it, walking free and clear from the scene of the crime with something extra in my pocket, but I don’t usually follow through. It feels good to imagine it. Like I’m winning something. Positive affirmations, or manifesting good things for myself, or some shit like that, right?
I’d gotten a tour of the whole house only that morning, but there was so much information and so many hallways and rooms that I already forgot almost all of it. Without a staff member to guide me, I slink through the darkened corridors at random, drifting from shadow to shadow, looking out of windows to the moonlit lawn and peering into open doorways.
Somewhere on the first floor, not far from the big-ass staircase, I stumble across a set of open double doors, and stop dead in the hallway.
I’ve been in a public library before, so I know what they look like, but I had no idea a person could own a whole private one. I stare open-mouthed as I walk inside. It looks like all the walls are covered in books, and shelves run the length of the room. I can’t imagine why Young-gi would want this many books. He couldn’t possibly have read them all.
Creeping deeper into the room, I realize most of the shelves are behind a cover of glass, and the books are strange and old-timey. Looking around, I think that at least half of this collection must be for display only: valuable first editions, and things like that.
Somehow, that’s both moreandless boring. More boring because I don’t want to read any fancy books like that, and I can’t even if I wanted to because they’re locked behind glass. But also less because I’ve never seen books like this before, and the cracked spines with their shiny lettering are kind of…pretty?
A hissing, angry whisper shatters the silence and I instinctively duck. My heart, which was pounding withadrenaline in the safe, quiet bedroom, actually settles at the indication of possible violence, which just goes to show how fucked up I am. The safer I am, the faster my heart pounds, I guess?
Crouching low, I half-crawl toward the voices, and the closer I get, the more I can pick out the sound of an argument.
A masculine voice, petulant and angry. A feminine response, curt and high-strung. I turn a corner and see that there is a light on behind the next shelf–luckily not one covered with glass. I get low to the ground and slowly pull a book out so I can see what’s going on through the gap.
Brian and Janessa are facing off in the back corner of this massive library, a bottle of wine and two half-empty glasses on a round table nearby. The warm, orange tone of the lamp should paint the scene in intimate hues, but instead it feels fiery and uncomfortable, and it’s easy to see why.
Janessa’s body language is defensive. Her narrow shoulders are tense, and her hands hover anxiously at her stomach, caught between her hips and her chest, as if she’s subconsciously ready to throw her arms up to block an attack. She steps back, trying to keep a chair between them.
Brian, meanwhile, is all aggression. His chest puffs out, he glares down at her, and he closes the distance in an attempt to loom over her.
His voice is shaking with the force of his rage. “You think this is funny? Screwing with me like this? God, you’re such a damn tease, Janessa. All those texts, all those nights talking like something was gonna happen, all the hot and cold these past three months–what was all that for? Your entertainment? I’m nobody’s fool, and I sure as hell won’t be fooled by some slut like you.”
Janessa sets her chin stubbornly, but her breathing is shallow and fearful. “I never promised you anything. I said from thebeginning that I wasn’t sure about sex, and I’m still not sure. That’s not a crime. I never once promised anything, despite how you made it sound to Kira when you broke up–”
Brian interrupts by grabbing at her shoulder and shaking her to shut her up. “You never promised me anything?! Then what the hell was all that buildup for? Attention? If you want my attention so bad, you’ve got it!Thisis my attention. You sat in my lap all day today, whispered in my ear, you were all over me at the poker table, and now you’re backing off again? I’m sick of this shit.”
“Flirting isn’t consent.” Janessa yanks herself away from him, stumbling into the chair, pushing it quickly out of her way, and backing up again until she’s almost out of my line of sight in the narrow window I made on the bookshelf.
“You practically begged me to drop Kira for you. You all but promised me you’d spread your legs–”
“I didn’t beg you for anything, and I didn’t ask you for anything. You’ve made all your own choices–”
“You stupid bitch, you’re not making any fucking sense!” His cheeks flush a ruddy red and he sways on his feet, and I realize that he might be more than a little tipsy. His aggression and anger make more sense, now, and I narrow my eyes at the couple as their argument continues. “Why did you make me do all of this if you weren’t serious? If I wanted some bitch to turn up her nose and be a prude, I would’ve stayed with Kira! What is with you fucking women and not putting out?”
“I didn’tmakeyou do anything, Brian.”
“You’re a fucking tease. You wanted me to ditch Kira for you, admit it! You dangled yourself in front of me, made all kinds of promises, and now that I’m trying to collect, you’re all excuses.”
“I’m done with this conversation. We can talk when you’re sober.”
Brian growls and steps forward, stopping her from leaving. “Do you know what I noticed, Janessa? You’ve only ever kissed me on camera to post on your socials. What am I to you? A prop? I’m not going to be used by you without getting anything in return. You want the perfect life? To be with a hot, rich guy and use him for his money and his status? Fine, I don’t give a shit. But I sure as hell will be getting something out of you for the trouble.”
“Brian, you’re scaring me–”
“Shut the fuck up, slut.” He lunges forward, and I dart around the shelves in time to watch him push her back against the table hard enough to make her cry out in pain. The table rattles and the glasses of wine tip over, sending glass and dark red alcohol flying.
“What’s going on here?” I demand. Janessa whirls to look at me through her wild hair, her eyes wide with panic. I see the emotions warring on her face as she realizes who came to her rescue.
