Chapter 2: Burgundy, he calls you savior
I've come back to uncover the next chapter in your story. I saw you tonight, wearing a maroon turtleneck. Your hair was styled in a ponytail, and you were busy cooking in the kitchen. It seems you're preparing multiple dishes, indicating a grand feast at your residence.
I returned to this monochromatic place, where despite the glowing post lights, darkness still envelops the surroundings. Yet, I'm unfazed by the shadows. Before observing your movements, I first identified the locations of the surveillance cameras nearby to ensure caution.
When I entered this house, it appeared the owner was on vacation. Upon surveying the living room with my flashlight, I identified high-end furnishings indicative of substantial wealth. Exercise caution, I opted not to disturb the items, suspecting possible booby traps. My vigilance paid off when I spotted you through the partially opened curtain.
You're currently cooking in your kitchen, following a katsu curry video tutorial on your phone. I assume cooking isn't your forte, but tonight you're making an effort. The dishes on the table appear to be Japanese cuisine, including sashimi, miso soup and mochi. It seems you've prepared Badboy's favorites.
You appear stressed about what you're doing. You're sweating, and it's clear you're uncertain if your dish will turn out well. You've finished cooking and proceeded to set the table, complete with vintage champagne, coupe glasses and a stunning flower vase filled with red roses on the silver tablecloth. Upon seeing Badboy's vehicle arrive, you seemed restless.
You hastily approached the door, opened it, and then adjusted the interior lighting to create a cozy ambiance. You lit the candles on the table, composed yourself and stood upright, seemingly forgetting to remove your apron.
Sadboy approached the door and, upon grasping the doorknob, realized it was already open, prompting him to enter immediately. Badboy saw you standing beside the table, and although his expression wasn't visible, yours suggested he wasn't impressed. Badboy dropped his briefcase onto the sofa and, with his back turned, loosened his necktie, indicating dissatisfaction.
"You've prepared quite a feast. Whose birthday is it tonight?" Your head bowed at his remark.
"There's no special occasion. I simply wanted to cook for a change, since you usually do it for us."
"I wish you had informed me if I'd be dining here. Thank you, but I'm already full."
While Badboy unbuttoned his walnut brown long-sleeved shirt, your raised eyebrows conveyed disapproval. You watched as he walked into his room. With clenched fists, you watched Badboy's every move, suppressing the urge to scream in frustration. Despite the hurt, you calmly decided to sit and eat alone.
While eating with chopsticks, Sadboy emerged from his room, looking refreshed. He sat on the sofa, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, ignoring you. You continued eating, unaffected. You took small bites, seemingly unenthusiastic about your own cooking. Occasionally, you felt nauseous but forced yourself to swallow.
Badboy stood up, and you assumed he'd join you for dinner. Instead, he grabbed a glass for water. You opened the champagne bottle, pouring generously, and drank heavily. After finishing, you cleared the table and stored leftovers in the refrigerator. Meanwhile, Badboy remained seated, engrossed in watching motocross.
While washing dishes, you sensed Badboy watching you. He feigned interest in the TV but actually wanted to approach you. After finishing, you headed upstairs, and Badboy later opened the refrigerator, retrieving and eating the leftover sashimi in the living room. Your dish apparently pleased his palate.
However, you made a discreet escape, Burgundy. Utilizing tied-together bedsheets, you descended from the second floor undetected. Wearing a bomber jacket and hat, you slipped away unnoticed by Badboy. Peeking through the window, you saw him asleep on his chair with the TV still on. With cautious beginnings, you swiftly transitioned into a full-fledged run.
I've been surveilling you. Rest assured, my intentions are protective. I'll safeguard you from potential threats while maintaining operational secrecy. Wearing a jacket and hat, coupled with your assertive demeanor, makes you easily mistaken for a man. You navigated through winding paths until we reached the riverbank, where crystal-clear waters reflected the moon's image.
This serene setting, adorned with vibrant daisies, feels like your personal sanctuary. Whenever overwhelmed, you seem to find solace here. You lie down amidst the lush grass. As you lay on the grass, I heard you speaking. You expressed frustration with Badboy for not even tasting the food you prepared, which was also your attempt to apologize.
Badboy's disregard for your effort deepened your frustration, leading you to consider abandoning the toxic bond and reverting to your previous life. The timely arrival of men in bunny masks startled you, but the grass's height offered sufficient camouflage. The masked duo's muscular build and suspicious behavior drew your focus to the cloth sack, whose contents appeared to be a person desperately trying to escape.
"The Boss ordered us to bury him underground," one of the masked men said. "Should we really disobey him?"
"Digging isn't easy; it's exhausting. You do it then!" one complained.
"Absolutely not! It's unfair that I'm doing all the digging while you're idle, considering we receive the same compensation."
"Since you're unwilling, just follow my lead."
"Do you think the river is truly deep? Won't he just float?"
"Plunge into the unknown depths, if you dare. Our duty calls, and I must hurry, as I've got a date to catch."
The pair reached consensus. With synchronized motion, they hurled the struggling sack into the depths. Weighted, it plunged beneath the surface. Triumphant, they exchanged celebratory gestures before departing. Certain of their permanent departure, you stepped out of concealment, approaching the scene of their clandestine act.
You were restless, anxious about your next move. Further delay would only worsen your situation. You quickly removed your clothes and dove into the water, wearing only your undergarments. As minutes passed without you resurfacing, I grew concerned you'd run out of air. But you emerged. After placing the sack on the grass, you quickly untied the rope.
Through my binoculars, I observed a man, unconscious, with duct tape covering his mouth. His hands were tied behind his back, and his knees and feet were bound with rope. His face was severely bruised. You removed the duct tape from his mouth and administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. You also performed CPR, and as water droplets fell from your hair, your determination never wavered.
"I don't know, but something compelled me - a voice urging me to save you. You must live. Your time hasn't come yet." Those were your words to him.
Your unwavering determination revived his fading pulse. Exhausted and soaked in sweat, you witnessed his fleeting moment of consciousness. His grateful eyes met yours, seeking solace, before succumbing to darkness once more.
Softly, you tapped his cheeks, attempting to rouse him. Yet, even as his arms trembled, slumber's grasp remained unbroken. Exhausted, you caught your breath, dressed, and lifted him with Herculean effort, undeterred by his formidable size and weight. You brought him to a secret shack, ingeniously crafted from bamboo.
Upon flipping the light switch, you discovered it wasn't functioning. Relying on moonlight and starlight, you sought alternative illumination. Finding a lantern, you lit it with matches. You then laid out a bedsheet, added a pillow, and gently placed the man upon it. With compassionate care, you fetched a basin of soothing water and a gentle cloth, tenderly cleansing his battered body.
Despite the chilly breeze and your growing fatigue, you persisted in caring for him, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. He shifted his fingers, stopping your gentle ministrations. Opening his eyes, his gaze first met the ceiling. With labored breaths, he willed himself upright, eyes scanning until they locked onto yours.
"Where am I?" He asked calmly.
"Don't worry, you're safe here," you reassured him. His gaze roamed, drinking in the unfamiliar surroundings, his eyes reflecting bewilderment.
"Do you live here?" A soft chuckle escaped, accompanied by a dismissive wave, conveying this wasn't your home.
"No, I don't live here. Actually, this shack and the land belong to my brother-in-law." A fleeting moment of astonishment crossed his face.
"I need to leave," he said, struggling to stand, but clearly still weakened, prompting you to restrain him.
"Don't exert yourself. You're not fully recovered yet. Allow your body to rest," you explained authoritatively.
"But I need to find those responsible for this," he justified.
"Consider your condition. You can barely walk. Please be reasonable," you reprimanded. He laughed at your expression, but soon turned serious, his eyes revealing genuine gratitude.
"You've given me another chance at life; I owe you my existence," he said, leaving you speechless.
"It was nothing. Anyone witnessing your situation would've done the same." Gently, he grasped your hands, his intense eyes holding yours captive.
"Why do you see yourself as ordinary? To me, you're exceptional. Unique. And you're willing to sacrifice your life for me." Time stood still as your eyes intertwined. The spell was broken when you withdrew, and you rose, releasing the silence.
"I'll heat some water. I saw ramen noodles in the drawer earlier. I'll cook them to fill your stomach," you said before excusing yourself. You're in the kitchenette. I saw you grab a pot, turn on the faucet, fill it with water, and place it on the adorable gas stove.
"May I know the name of my rescuer?" he inquired, watching you rinse your hands.
"You don't need to know my name." You dried your wet hands with a dry towel.
"If your name is lovely, why hide it?" He didn't expect you to be so secretive.
"My identity remains veiled by choice."
"What would you like me to call you?"
"It's entirely up to you what you call me."
"I'll address you as 'Savior' then."
Your conversation was interrupted when you noticed the water in the pot was boiling and the noodles seemed overcooked. His lips curled into a gentle smile as he beheld your charming discomposure.
You approached him with steaming ramen and, despite his proficiency with chopsticks, fed him noodles, ensuring they weren't too hot. His eyes held yours, spellbound. You tenderly cleaned the smudge from his lips using your thumb.
Burgundy, do you trust people easily? Take a closer look at the man before you. Don't you recognize him? He's Warchaic Famalgam, leader of the StreetVikings, covered in tattoos.
He gives you a distinct gaze and smile, yet he's not just anyone you care for.