Moksh's P.O.V
"Have your dinner first. It's already late," I suggest. She has been skipping her evening meals far too often lately.
"What? Are you worried about me?" she asks, a sharp edge in her voice. "Since when did you have a change of heart?"
She steps closer, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. "Tell me, why are you so fixated on making sure I eat?"
My silence seems to provoke her further. "Alright. Bring the tray to my room."
I walk anxiously down the corridor carrying the food platter. I knock lightly on the door, which is already unbolted.
"Come in," she calls out. Her tone is strangely calm today. What side of her is this?
She is resting on the couch. I carefully set the plate on the side table beside her.
"Sit down," she commands, pointing toward the chair opposite her. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Though her tone sounds soft, her eyes remain sharp and commanding. She smirks as she watches me comply.
I notice a neat stack of documents and a strict schedule laid out on the bed nearby. Is that what she was working on? A wave of anxiety washes over me. Is this why she seems so surprisingly composed today?
"Hands on your knees. Keep your head up. Show me you're listening," she orders, sending a chill down my spine as I adjust my posture immediately. "Now, tell me what you've done with your time today."
I stammer slightly under her intense gaze, feeling completely exposed and scrutinized under her watchful eye. She picks up her fork, taking a small bite of her food as she observes my trembling hands.
"B-but... I did everything Aunty asked of me," I protest softly, trying to defend myself.
"It's okay. I'm free tomorrow," she replies calmly. "You can take as much time as you need to explain yourself. I'll be right here."
There is no escaping her scrutiny.
Kira's P.O.V
He sits rigid and flustered, struggling to keep his composure as he tries to answer every question I throw at him. That must be exhausting for him.
I watch him while I eat, enjoying the sight of his visible nervousness as he tries to maintain proper posture on the edge of the chair. His cheeks flush red, his hair is slightly disheveled, and he looks like he can barely hold his ground under my gaze.
"It... it's really tough," he murmurs under his breath.
"Go on. Keep answering. You said you were being helpful. Let me see it," I reply, continuing with my food. This is a rare side of him I don't want to miss. He is flustered, tense, and completely obedient.
"Alright. Come here," I order, testing if he remembers how to conduct himself. Not surprisingly, he obeys.
He shifts off the chair and walks over quietly, standing respectfully near the couch. His eyes flicker with uncertainty as he looks down, completely subdued.
"Sit," I instruct, pointing to the rug near my feet. He lowers himself without a word.
His sudden obedience is intriguing. I pour a small amount of wine into my glass, watching as he waits silently for my next instruction.
"How does it feel to be given responsibilities here?" I ask, leaning back.
"It's... intimidating," he admits softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
What has gotten into him? Why is he so dutiful today? He usually tries to push back or question everything, but today, he is entirely quiet.
I lean forward, resting my elbow on my knee as I observe him closely. His shoulders are tense, and his breathing is uneven. I have rarely seen him this vulnerable and eager to avoid trouble.
"Breath in," I instruct gently, resting a hand on his head to keep him grounded. "And relax."
He exhales sharply, his shoulders dropping slightly as he leans closer into the space between us.
"Does it scare you?" I ask.
He nods hesitantly.
"Don't move. Just stay quiet and pay attention," I say, keeping my hand firm on his shoulder.
He stays frozen, his hands clenched tightly against his knees as he tries to keep his composure.
"You look so flustered. I didn't know you were capable of being this quiet, or I would have demanded it much sooner."
He shifts uncomfortably, staring down at the floor as I observe every subtle change in his expression.
"Are you understanding me now?" I ask softly.
"Y-yes. I understand."
I pull my hand back, standing up from the couch. "Good. But that's enough for tonight. Return to your room."
His eyes widen in surprise as I step away toward the window to light a cigarette. "Is... is that all?" he asks, his voice still trembling slightly.
"Yes. Go."
Moksh's P.O.V
Over the past two weeks, she has provided me with things I never thought I would get—fine clothes, a phone, and the freedom to walk around the property. Of course, guards still shadow my every move; she probably assumes I'll try to run away or speak to outsiders. She isn't entirely wrong—I might have considered it once.
Her attitude toward me has subtly shifted as well. She is slightly more attentive, though still maintaining her firm authority.
It is strange how quickly I have adapted to this structure. I never realized it before, but I suppose I have grown accustomed to following her rules to avoid her temper.
What surprises me most is the occasional care she shows. She tries to hide it under harsh words and reprimands, but it's there. I appreciate the change in her behavior, though I know it's dangerous to drop my guard. Playing with fire never ends well.
I still don't fully understand the dynamic between us, but she once mentioned that no one else around her obeys her commands as directly as I do. Even so, she is still someone I struggle to trust. She commands me whenever she sees fit and sends me away when she is done.
If this is how things are meant to be, then why am I dwelling on it? I knew what to expect from the very beginning.
Regardless, I have to prepare for tonight, or she will be furious. She explicitly instructed me over the phone to be ready when she returns.
Suddenly, the heavy footsteps of her guards resonate down the hallway much earlier than usual. Is she already home?
As I stride out of my room to check the main hall, I notice something entirely unusual.