Warning Letter to Readers: Dear Readers, as you read our story, it's important to understand how being held captive for a long time can deeply affect someone. This letter will help you understand why the character might act in ways that seem harsh or confusing.

Misinterpreting Kindness: If someone has been isolated for a long time, they may have trouble trusting others, even if those people are being nice. The character might think that acts of kindness are just tricks or part of a hidden agenda. This is because their experience has made them very suspicious and afraid of being tricked again.

Fear and Anxiety: The fear and anxiety from captivity can lead someone to react defensively or aggressively, even when it's not needed. Their extreme stress and constant alertness make their responses seem out of proportion to what’s happening. Their harsh behavior reflects their deep fear and difficulty adjusting to their new surroundings.

Emotional Overwhelm: After such a traumatic experience, the character may feel overwhelmed by emotions. This can lead to sudden outbursts or strong reactions that seem unpredictable. These reactions are a result of their inner turmoil and their struggle to adapt to a more supportive environment.

Understanding these factors will help you empathize with the character’s behavior. Their harsh responses are a result of their trauma. We hope this helps you connect more deeply with their story.

Thank you for your understanding.
Sincerely,
Parkaaimin.

Chapter 31: (Aaira's pov)

The storm outside had subsided to a soft drizzle, but the storm inside the house was far from over. I lay on the bed, staring at the door, waiting for any sign of Jungkook. The room felt suffocating.

It was late at night when the door creaked open. My heart leapt at the sound, and I quickly got up, moving toward Jungkook as he stepped inside. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to bridge the chasm that had opened between us.

Aaira: My Lord...

Before I could touch him, he raised his hand, a clear signal for me to stop. The gesture was cold, and it cut through me like a knife. But I couldn't let it end like this. I took a hesitant step forward, my hand reaching out.

Aaira: Please, just let me explain...

His eyes flashed with anger, and he stepped back, his expression filled with a mixture of disgust and disdain.

Jungkook: Don't come any closer. You're like...

He paused, as he breathed for some seconds before continuing.

Jungkook: You're like a leper to me now.

The word stung, and I recoiled as if struck. Leper. The word echoed in my mind, bringing with it the weight of all the mistrust and betrayal he felt. But I couldn't let it end like this. I had to make him understand.

Aaira: My Lord, please...

He shook his head, his jaw clenched tight.

Jungkook: It doesn't matter. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to see you. Just stay away from me.

His words were final, and they left no room for argument. I felt a sob rise in my throat, but I choked it back, trying to keep myself together. Jungkook turned and walked to the far side of the room, his back to me. The distance between us felt insurmountable.

Aaira: Please, just give me a chance.

He didn't respond, didn't even turn to look at me. The silence stretched out, heavy and oppressive. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with a bitterness that broke my heart.

Jungkook: I said get the fuck away from me.

Desperation clawed at my insides. I couldn't bear the distance, the coldness. I moved closer, reaching out to hug him, to hold onto the remnants of what we once had.

Aaira: My Lord...

In an instant, he spun around, his eyes blazing with fury. His hands shot up, stopping me in my tracks.

Jungkook: I swear, Aaira, without thinking twice I will push you. Then don't blame me if any mishap happens.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, This was no longer the man I had loved and trusted. This was someone else, someone driven by anger and hurt. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn't move. I couldn't.

Aaira: Jungkook... please...

Before I could react, he grabbed my wrists tightly, his grip like iron. The pain shot through me, but I barely felt it over the ache in my heart. He started to drag me out of the room, his words like daggers.

Jungkook: I'm not your Jungkook, not your Lord. I'm not anyone to you.

I tried to come out of his grip but there seemed to be no use, he was holding on to it tightly.

Jungkook: Get the fuck out of my room and don't ever dare to enter this room again. I don't want your sight with me.

He shoved me out into the hallway, and I stumbled, almost falling to the floor. The door slammed shut behind me with a finality that felt like the end of everything. I stood there, dazed, my wrists throbbing where he had gripped them, the harshness of his words echoing in my mind.

The world seemed to tilt. I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down to the floor as sobs wracked my body. The love we once shared felt like a cruel joke now, buried under layers of pain and misunderstanding.

I sat there for what felt like hours, my mind unable to process the depth of our brokenness. Each tear that fell seemed to carry a piece of my shattered heart with it, and I wondered how we could ever come back from this. The man I loved was lost, and I didn't know if I could ever find him again.

Eventually, a thought crossed my mind, was Aimin still scared by what he had witnessed? I needed to check on him, to make sure he was alright. I moved slowly towards his room, my anklets clicking softly against the floor.

As I approached his door, I hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. Aimin was sound asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. The room was dimly lit by a small candlelight.

I smiled through my tears, a small sad smile. I didn't want to disturb him, not after everything that had happened. Quietly, I turned and walked out of his room, closing the door softly behind me.

I know there was no one I was going to sleep in tonight, so, I decided to check on Y/N. It had been a while since I last tended to her wounds. I made my way down to the basement.

As I descended the stairs, the dim light flickered. The stench of dampness and decay filled the air, making my stomach churn. I tried my best to ignore the rising nausea as I approached the basement door. The sight of the rusty lock and the darkness made my heart sink even further.

I opened the door, and the grim reality of the basement hit me. Y/N was still bound to the chair, her wrists and ankles secured tightly. The sight of her, so vulnerable and restrained, was a stark reminder of the situation I was in once. The basement, with its cold, concrete walls and the faint sound of dripping water, felt more oppressive than ever.

I forced myself to approach her, my hands trembling as I unlocked the gag that kept her mouth shut. The sound of the gag being removed was almost like a release, but as soon as she could speak, her voice erupted in a torrent of curses and harsh words.

Y/n: You miserable wretch! How dare you come near me again!

She let out, I knew it was coming so I didn't react.

Y/n: Do you get some sick pleasure from this? You make sick of your fake care Aaira!

Her words were harsh, yet, I tried to ignore them. My hands were shaking as I began to re-dress her bandages, but the process seemed more difficult than usual. I could barely concentrate, my mind plagued by the chaos of the day.

Y/n: Oh, look at you! Crying over your mess of a life! Do you think this makes you any less of a coward? Just get on with it! I hate to see you, you always come here and leave like i don't have a life!

Her harshness was unrelenting, each word aimed at my already fragile state. I could feel the sting of her words, each one hitting a sore spot that I tried desperately to ignore.

Tears began to well up in my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but they spilled down my cheeks uncontrollably. My hands continued to work on her bandages, but the tears blurred my vision and made the task nearly impossible.

Y/n: Oh, are you crying now? Good. Maybe you finally understand what it means to be on the receiving end of someone's cruelty. But don't think for a second that I'll pity you.

I could no longer hold back the sobs that wracked my body. I tried to stifle the sounds, but it was futile. As I knelt on the floor, my sobs became more frantic. I tried to focus on the bandages, but my hands were slick with tears and trembling uncontrollably. I guess coming here was not a good decision.

Y/n: Look at you, pathetically broken. Maybe now you'll understand what it feels like to be helpless, to be at the mercy of someone else's whims. I hope now you'll get what you deserve!

Her words were harsh and relentless, each one a bitter reminder of my own failures and shortcomings. The emotional strain became too much, and I felt like I was drowning in my own sorrow.

Eventually, the task was done. I had managed to change her bandages despite my tears and shaking hands. I stood up slowly, my body aching from the effort of trying to remain upright. My face was streaked with tears. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself before addressing Y/n again.

Aaira: Are you hungry?

Y/n let out a sarcastic chuckle, her eyes narrowing with disdain.

Y/n: What, are you going to poison my food?

I scoffed at her response, the bitterness in her voice cutting through me.

Aaira: I'm not your parents.

Her reaction was immediate. She paused, her gaze dropping to her bound hands. For a moment, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes-regret, perhaps, or simply the weariness of being in her situation. I waited patiently, the silence stretching between us. Finally, I asked again.

Aaira: Do you want to eat?

Y/n remained silent, as if weighing her options. Her hesitation spoke volumes, but she didn't say anything. She seemed to be considering whether to ask for food or not. I decided to break it.

Aaira: Soobin isn't here today. Do you know what happened to him?

Her response was immediate and cold.

Y/n: None of your concern.

I nodded, not wanting to push further. It was clear that any questions about Soobin would only provoke more hostility. I turned and made my way towards the kitchen, trying to ignore the lingering tension in the air.

As I entered the kitchen, the early morning darkness still was outside the windows, the sky a deep, bruised shade of blue. The house was silent, everyone else still lost in sleep. I took a deep breath, letting the quiet calm me as I set about preparing the food.

I decided to make buchujeon, a Korean chive pancake, hoping that the warm, savory dish might offer her a small measure of comfort. I gathered the ingredients: fresh chives, flour, a couple of eggs, and some salt. The simplicity of the dish seemed fitting given the circumstances, but I hoped it would be enough to show that I cared.

First, I washed the chives thoroughly, then chopped them into small, uniform pieces. In a large bowl, I mixed the flour with a pinch of salt, adding water gradually to create a smooth batter.

I then cracked the eggs into a separate bowl, whisking them until they were frothy, and added them to the batter. I stirred in the chopped chives, ensuring they were evenly distributed throughout the mixture.

Next, I heated a skillet over heat and added a small amount of oil, allowing it to get hot. Once the oil shimmered, I poured a ladleful of the batter into the skillet, spreading it out into a thin, even layer.

I let it cook for a few minutes until the edges turned golden brown and crispy. Then, I flipped it carefully, cooking the other side until it was similarly golden and crisp. The aroma of the cooking buchujeon filled the kitchen.

I repeated the process until I had a small stack of pancakes, each one perfectly golden and slightly crisp around the edges. Once the buchujeon was done, I placed it on a plate, cut it into manageable pieces, and let it cool slightly.

I carried the plate back to the basement, the weight of it a small comfort in my hands. The heat from the pancakes felt reassuring against my skin. As I descended the stairs again. I set the plate down in front of her, trying to keep my tone neutral despite the emotions roiling inside me.

Aaira: I made this for you. I thought you might like it.

I stepped back, giving her space, and waited to see how she would respond. The atmosphere in the basement felt a bit lighter, if only for a moment, as the smell of the buchujeon mingled with the musty air.

Y/N: I told you I will not eat poisoned food, Aaira.

I gave her a hurt smile, my heart aching with each passing second. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, and I tried to blink them away as I looked down at my hands, clutching the edge of my apron.

I had put so much care into making this for her, hoping to offer a small comfort. Yet, her refusal felt like another layer of pain added to the already heavy burden on my heart. I stood there, silent, unable to meet her gaze.

My smile wavered, and I could feel my resolve crumbling as I continued to stare at the floor. Her voice cut through the silence again, softer this time, though still edged with bitterness.

Y/N: Okay, fine. Give me the food.

I looked up, trying to muster a smile despite the pain, and carefully handed her the plate. As she took it, I could see the wariness in her eyes, her distrust clear even as she accepted the food.

She took a bite, her expression remaining harsh. There was no softening of her demeanor, no sign of the vulnerability that lay beneath her tough exterior.

Y/N: It's not like I have a choice. It's not poisoned, is it?

I shook my head, swallowing hard to keep my own tears at bay.

Aaira: No, it's not. I made it myself, just for you.

She took another bite, chewing slowly, her face a mask of indifference. I waited, hoping for some sign of appreciation, but her harsh demeanor persisted. It was clear that the bitterness between us ran deep, and this small gesture of care was swallowed by the chasm of our strained relationship.

She finished the last bite and let out a harsh chuckle, her eyes glinting with a dangerous edge.

Y/N: You know what kind of danger you're in, Aaira? I could just break this plate and stab you right here.

She paused, her gaze cold and calculating.

Y/n: I could take my one and only enemy's life without even actually taking it.

Her words were like a chilling breeze, freezing the warmth I had tried to create with the meal. I felt a pang of fear, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I forced a calm smile, my heart pounding in my chest.

Aaira: If that's what you want, Y/n, you're free to take it. I'd gladly let you.

Her eyes widened slightly at my response, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. For a moment, she seemed taken aback, her anger momentarily eclipsed by something else-perhaps confusion or even a hint of vulnerability.

She remained silent, her gaze dropping to the plate in her hands. I saw her hands trembling slightly, and for the briefest moment, the harshness in her eyes softened.

Y/N: You're not afraid of me at all, are you?

I shook my head, my smile fading as my own sorrow and weariness took over.

Aaira: I'm not afraid of you, Y/n.

Y/n: You're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

Aaira: Maybe a bit of both.

I stood there, watching her. She didn't respond, instead staring down at the plate as if it held the answers to all her questions. The silence stretched between us, heavy and laden with unspoken emotions. I stood there, my heart aching, hoping that somehow, somewhere.

I gently pulled the plate away from her hand, setting it aside. My chuckle was weak, a fragile attempt to mask the hurt I felt. As I looked at her tangled hair, an impulse drove me to act. I moved behind her, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for her hair.

Aaira: Your hair is a mess. Let me help.

She glanced over her shoulder, her expression a mix of suspicion and disdain. Despite her harsh tone, I carefully began to untangle her knotted hair, working through the knots with a practiced hand. The silence between us was heavy, punctuated only by the soft rustling of her hair.

Y/N: You know, you're quite the fool, Aaira. Doing all this for someone who could hurt you so easily.

Aaira: Maybe I am. But I wish I could help you out of this place and send you home so that you never return here.

Her chuckle was dark and hollow, and she shifted slightly, making it harder for me to continue my task.

Y/N: You think you can just fix things with kind gestures? I've accepted this place, for better or worse.

I just sighed in response, i didn't want her to accept this place, this is my home, she shouldn't be here, she should leave.

Y/n: And oh, how noble of you, Aaira. Playing the martyr. You think you can fix everything with a few kind gestures?

Aaira: I know it's not that simple, but I still want to try.

I forced myself to remain calm, focusing on the task at hand. I worked carefully, trying to smooth out the tangles and make her hair more manageable.

Y/N: Why bother, Aaira? You should know by now that your efforts are pointless.

Aaira: Maybe they are, but I can't just stand by and do nothing.

I continued working, the silence growing more uncomfortable with each passing minute. My fingers brushed against her scalp, and she shivered slightly, but she said nothing more.

Eventually, I finished with her hair, stepping back and taking a deep breath. The knots were mostly gone. I stood there for a moment, looking at her, hoping for some sign that my efforts had made a difference.

Aaira: There, it's done. I hope you feel a little better.

Y/N: I don't need your pity. And I certainly don't need you to fix my hair.

I turned to leave, as I walked out of the basement, closing the door behind me with a quiet click. As I climbed the stairs, my heart felt heavier than ever, burdened by the knowledge that no matter how much I tried, there were some wounds that might never heal.

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"The life we created together is within me, Carrying a piece of him should have brought us closer, but instead, he feels more distant than ever before."

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