[Yandere]

He stood motionless, the weight of his next move pressing against his chest like a loaded blade.

He had begged Yue to search beneath the estate—for the Divine General.

Alive, if possible.

Now, as she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

But the urgency bled through every word.

"Tonight is the only chance we'll get."

He turned toward her slowly.

"So… he's alive?"

Yue nodded—slow, reluctant.

Her spectral form trembled faintly in the lanternlight.

"Yes. But barely.

Your father… he doesn't want him dead.

He wants something from him. His torture…" Her voice faltered.

"Even I couldn't bear to watch."

Kael's jaw tightened.

He swallowed the chill clawing up his throat and forced himself still.

Then—

Selene stepped into the doorway.

Calm, but her voice was clipped with urgency.

"Kael. Your father arrives in one hour."

Something shifted behind Kael's eyes.

A click.

A plan forming.

He nodded once.

Quietly.

Yue stepped closer, her tone sharpening.

"When he arrives, every layer of security will collapse inward—focused entirely on protecting his broken body."

She paused.

Let the silence weigh heavy.

"That's our window. We move during the welcome procession—while their eyes are elsewhere."

Kael's gaze narrowed.

"Where is he being held?"

Yue's voice dropped to a hush.

"Beneath the west wing.

The old tunnels.

The only things that reach him are air… and rations carried by your father's most trusted men."

She turned to glance at Selene, her meaning clear.

"Or slaves."

Selene watched him closely.

She felt it—the current in the room.

The way the storm shifted behind his eyes.

Yue continued,

"We'll need the mana passkey to access the tunnel doors.

And those are kept in the inner servant quarters.

Well-guarded. Tricky to steal."

The tension in the room thickened—tight, electric.

Selene noticed.

Her brow furrowed, her voice quieter now.

"Kael. What is it? What's wrong?"

Kael didn't answer at first.

The silence dragged.

Then—

Selene stepped closer, her voice softer.

"Kael. You can trust me.

If there's something you're planning—I want to be part of it.

I want to help"

He glanced at Yue.

She gave the slightest nod.

So be it.

Kael's voice was low.

Measured. Final.

"Then listen carefully…"

###

Selene slipped from the room like a shadow.

The manor's corridors stretched ahead—dim, silent, suffocating.

Stone walls pressed in like a tomb, the only sound the faint echo of her careful steps.

Every breath was controlled.

Every movement precise.

The servant quarters weren't guarded by soldiers—but by silence, suspicion, and eyes that never looked directly at you… but always saw.

The mana passkey was kept in a locked chamber off the east wing.

Just as Kael said.

She pressed herself against the cold stone, waiting as a pair of attendants drifted past, their voices hushed.

The moment they vanished around the bend, she moved—swift, sure, spectral.

Her hand found the latch.

Inside, the room was small and cold.

A heavy vault stood at the back, humming with arcane wards.

Selene knelt, whispering the code Kael had given her.

It clicked open.

For a second, she hesitated.

How did he know this code?

But doubt was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Inside, glowing softly, lay a row of passkeys—each tagged, each pulsing with quiet magic.

Her fingers hovered… then closed on the red one.

Exactly as he'd said.

She pocketed it, snapped the vault shut, and turned to leave.

She was almost out—almost free—when—

"Stop."

The word cracked through the silence.

Selene froze.

In the hall ahead stood three older maids.

Their eyes glinted with venom, their mouths already curled in cruelty.

One stepped forward, arms crossed, voice thick with disdain.

"Well, well… look who thinks she belongs here."

Another sneered, "A traitor's daughter sneaking into places above her station."

Selene said nothing.

Her breath remained calm, even as her heart hammered.

Then the third spoke.

Her voice was soft.

Sweet.

Poisoned.

"I hear the young master keeps you close.

Don't dream too high, girl.

He's not marrying a slave."

The words landed like glass shards.

They were meant to.

The women laughed—low, cruel, circling her like scavengers.

Selene's gaze dropped for a moment.

Not in shame.

In calculation.

Then she lifted her head.

Her eyes were cold.

Steady. Unblinking.

"Move," she said quietly.

Then, sharper:

"Now."

The laughter faltered.

"What did you—"

A flick of her hand.

A pulse of chilling light.

Three shards of frost magic erupted from her palm—deadly, precise.

Each struck true.

The maids froze mid-step, their mocking expressions still etched on their faces as the cold surged through their bodies.

Frost bloomed instantly—racing across skin, cloth, and bone.

In seconds, they were statues of ice—horribly lifelike.

Silent.

Still.

Selene stepped forward, her eyes devoid of mercy.

She raised her hand again.

This time, the spell was quiet.

A whisper of motion.

A twisting flick of her wrist.

The ice cracked—then shattered.

All three collapsed into jagged shards on the cold stone floor, their fragments scattering like broken glass.

Selene stood there a moment, breath steady.

No panic.

No regret.

Just cold silence.

Selene didn't wait.

She turned and ran, boots slapping the stone, shadows tearing past her like wind.

Behind her, panic erupted—shouts, footsteps, cursing.

But it was all background noise now.

Her mind throbbed with the echo of those words:

He will not marry you…

He will not marry you…

Again and again.

Louder.

Deeper.

Until something inside her cracked.

Not in despair.

In clarity.

Her jaw clenched.

Her breath steadied.

And slowly… her lips curled.

Not in warmth.

But in something sharper.

Colder.

If Kael were here, he would've recognized it instantly—the look of someone past the edge.

Someone who'd chosen obsession over doubt.

Fire over silence.

The look of a girl who would burn the world to carve her place beside him.

The smile of a ...yandere.

I will not be just a slave, she thought.

I will be his.

His only one.

And nothing—no title, no noble, no fate—would stand in her way!

###

Achoo.

The soft sneeze broke the silence like a pin in velvet.

Kael stood on the manor's rooftop, arms folded, eyes scanning the grounds below.

The cold bit through his sleeves.

He shivered.

"Why do I feel… chills?"