The Art of Being Your Perfection

by aleksvns

Summary:

His life changed on August 30, 1974. He became the jewel in the collection of an impeccable aesthete. His life is a ritual, his body art and commodity, and his silence the loudest form of protest. In a world where everything is subordinated to beauty, he learns the most dangerous form of art. Survive.

Notes:

English isn't my first language. I used a translator to finish and finally post this here. I hope you'll like it.
This story contains quite a few unpleasant moments. So please read the tags carefully before you begin.

Chapter 1

1

 

The wind from the sea smelled of salt and loneliness. Sae stood barefoot on the cool sand. His reddish-brown hair ruffled in the wind, strands brushing across his forehead. He watched a flock of seagulls disappear into the grey haze of the horizon. Their restless cries echoed within him as a vague melancholy, a feeling he couldn't put into words.

"It's as if the whole world has become lonely," flashed through his mind.

He didn't notice the stranger at first. The man stood apart, at the water's edge, and was the embodiment of dissonance. A perfectly fitted Western suit, dark and severe, spoke of money, power, and being out of place here. And he wasn't looking at the sea. His gaze, heavy and intent, was fixed directly on Sae.

And when Sae, feeling the weight of that look, turned, their eyes met. In the young man's turquoise eyes, there was only pure, defenseless bewilderment. In the stranger's dark, reddish eyes, there was a cold, unmistakable interest.

He turned leisurely and walked away, without approaching or saying a single word. Sae stood there, and suddenly the warm sea air felt icy to him.

---

 

"...a better life, Sae. Opportunities we could never give you. You have to understand."

His mother's voice came from the kitchen, muffled and strangely flat. Sae froze in the hallway, listening. His heart suddenly began to beat faster.

"What do you mean?" his own voice came out louder than he intended.

He walked into the room. His mother wasn't looking at him; her fingers nervously twisted the edge of her apron. His father stood by the window, turned away.

"They're already waiting for you," his father said without turning around.

"Who? Where?" Sae felt the floor give way beneath him. "I want to see Rin. Where is he?"

The radio on the kitchen table murmured the morning news quietly: "September first, the year '74. Today, partly cloudy. The country continues its recovery from the oil crisis..." Sae wasn't listening. He looked at his mother, who averted her eyes.

"Rin... he's not home," his mother replied, and genuine pain sounded in her voice. "And that's for the best. Don't make this harder, son. Just go."

His plea hung in the air and dissolved, meeting no resistance, but finding no response either. He stood there, feeling lost in his own home.

---

 

The man stood by the vast window of his office, looking out at the inner garden. His world was impeccable. Precise lines, pruned pines, the quiet rustle of leaves. Perfect, frozen tranquility.

His gaze shifted to a group of servants by the far pavilion. The preparations were nearing completion.

He turned to his desk, where a folder of documents lay. Just words on paper that changed a person's fate with the same ease one might reposition a vase in the tokonoma.

The corner of his mouth twitched in something resembling a smile. He felt a deep, icy satisfaction that another element of the complex puzzle had finally fallen into place. A living, breathing artifact, soon to occupy its designated pedestal.

---

 

The ride in the black car with tinted windows passed like a dream. Sae sat, pressing his forehead against the cold glass, not seeing the streets. He only saw the reflection of his own eyes.

He was brought to a house where the silence immediately began to press down on him. Women in identical kimonos led him through a labyrinth of corridors into a room bathed in soft light. There, a white ceremonial kimono was already waiting for him, laid out on a stand like an empty shell.

"Please change," one of the women said, her voice offering no alternatives.

Sae silently looked at the white silk. Just a couple of days ago, he had stood on the shore and been free. Now, they were preparing him for something whose meaning he didn't understand. He reached out and touched the fabric. The silk was expensive. It rustled at the bends of his elbows as the maids, their faces impassive, wrapped him in the layers of the white kimono. Sae stood, clenching his jaw, feeling himself being wrapped up like a mummy, buried alive.

"What is going on?" his voice came out sharply, breaking the room's silence. "Why do I have to do this?"

The fingers tying the obi didn't falter. The senior maid adjusted a fold on his shoulder.

"You must undergo the ceremony," her voice was unwaveringly calm. "Nothing else matters. Please be obedient."

These words carried neither threat nor comfort. And it sent a chill down Sae's spine. It was as if he weren't a person, but an object that needed to be properly prepared.

They led him down a long corridor to a sanctuary set up in the eastern wing of this large house. The air smelled of cedar and wax. Everything was flawless. Polished wooden floors, a scroll depicting cranes in the tokonoma, the stern gaze of a Shinto priest. And the man, with the scar on his cheek. He was waiting for him at the altar, dressed in black montsuki-hakama with the family crest. His gaze swept over Sae. A quick, professional assessment, like before a purchase. Satisfaction. That was all. Sae recognized the look. He had already seen those eyes.

---

 

The ceremony became a blurred sequence of bows and unintelligible words. Sae moved like a puppet whose strings were held by invisible hands. The priest chanted prayers, his voice a low hum in which only occasionally familiar but bleached words surfaced: "...hearts... united... path... long..." They stirred nothing in Sae's soul but bitter irony.

Then cups were presented. Three sips from three cups. The "san-san-kudo" ritual. The sake was cold and tasteless, only a slight burn in his throat reminding him of reality.

Then the man took his hand. His fingers were dry and cool. He slipped a ring onto Sae's ring finger. A heavy, cold band set with a turquoise whose color was painfully reminiscent of his own eyes.

The culmination was the vows. A piece of paper was handed to him. Sae's voice, flat and lifeless, read words that seemed the height of absurdity:

"I vow from this day to be your husband, to follow you and serve you with a submissive heart."

He looked at the man with a strange expression. The words were empty shells, a ritual meant to clothe a sordid transaction in the garments of sanctity. One more impeccable, formal bow. And it was all over.

As they left the sanctuary, the last rays of sun fell upon the garden. Sae found his voice again.

"Can I see my parents now?" he asked, and in his voice was a final, desperate attempt to find some connection with his former world.

The man finally turned to him. His expression was calm, almost condescending.

"Your parents have fulfilled their part of the agreement," he said softly, as if explaining something to a child. "Your place is here now."

Sae fell silent and allowed the maids to lead him back into the house. Along the way, the white kimono suddenly felt like a shroud. He had just spoken vows, exchanged cups of sake, undergone one of life's most significant rituals. But inside, there was nothing but a heavy, echoing emptiness and absolute incomprehension.

---

 

The room was filled with steam rising from the wooden bathtub. The maids moved in ritual silence. Their fingers untied the obi with impassive efficiency. Sae's gaze was fixed on the faint gleam of the lacquered wood in the dimness of the room. He saw nothing, trying to retreat deep within himself.

"Please, remain calm," one of them whispered, her voice like the rustle of silk. "Be obedient. It will be better for everyone."

Her words brought no comfort; they simply stated the inevitable. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, still avoiding raising his eyes.

Sae sat with his back straight, allowing them to guide him. His mind was empty, disconnected from what was happening. He watched as the folds of expensive fabric fell to the floor, forming a pool. He felt the coolness of the air on his bare skin and understood that this was a foretaste of vulnerability. He understood everything, but kept telling himself that this was all just a stupid dream.

The door slid open. In the doorway stood him. The man silently nodded to the maids, and they dissolved noiselessly, leaving them alone.

He wasn't looking at Sae's body. He was looking into his eyes. His gaze was appraising, like that of a collector seeing the core of his new acquisition for the first time in bright light. It held cold curiosity and expectation.

Sae froze. His own gaze, wide open, betrayed shock and complete incomprehension. He didn't know where to put his hands, how to breathe, where to look. Instinct told him to cover himself, but he dared not move.

The man approached slowly. Silently, he took a sponge, dipped it in the warm water, and ran it down Sae's back.

It was the first blow. The first crude intrusion into the personal space that even his parents hadn't violated since his childhood. The touch wasn't rough, but it was relentlessly intimate. The man washed him with the same attention he might use to clean a rare statue. Methodically, thoroughly, admiring the form, but not considering the soul within.

"Breathe," he said quietly, almost indifferently, when he noticed Sae had frozen with his chest tight. "It only makes it worse."

Sae drew in a ragged breath, and the man nodded in satisfaction, continuing. His fingers slid over his shoulders, along his spine, lower, and every muscle in Sae's body tensed under that damp, commanding touch. He froze, unable to breathe steadily, feeling his boundaries dissolving in the steam along with his will.

"What does all this mean?" Sae finally dared to speak, and his voice came out thinner than he intended. Almost childlike.

The question was ignored.

The man led him into the bedroom. His hand rested on Sae's lower back, guiding and supporting. On the floor lay a thick, soft futon, covered with impeccably white silk.

He laid him on his back with almost reverent care. His touch changed again. Now it was infinitely slow, exploring. He leisurely kissed Sae's skin. First his eyelids, closing them, then the corners of his lips, his temples, the base of his throat. His lips were warm and soft, and his hands glided over his sides and thighs, as if memorizing every curve.

Sae squeezed his eyes shut tighter. In the darkness behind his lids, he desperately tried to be anywhere but here. He saw the sea. The grey haze of the horizon. He heard the cries of seagulls. Rin was laughing somewhere nearby, tugging at his sleeve...

"Open your eyes."

The voice came directly above his ear, quiet but with unquestionable authority. Sae flinched but didn't obey. His eyelids squeezed even tighter.

Fingers grasped his chin, turning his face. A thumb traced his lower lip and pressed insistently.

"I said open them."

This time, Sae obeyed. His eyelashes fluttered, and he met the gaze of the dark reddish eyes that were so close they filled his entire field of vision. In them was a calm, methodical focus.

"That's it," the man said, almost tenderly, and this false tenderness made Sae even more frightened. "Don't hide. You are here."

For Sae, it was deafeningly contradictory. His mind screamed of violation, of fear, of incomprehension. But his body, deceived by this feigned tenderness, began to react strangely. Blood rushed to his skin under the man's lips, goosebumps ran down his spine. He flinched when a kiss was too unexpected or when a tongue slid across his collarbone.

And then the man slowed down. His hands became franker, his touches more precise, more calculated. He knew exactly where to touch, exactly how to run his fingers so that the inexperienced body would respond against its will. And when it responded predictably, physiologically, the man paused for a moment, looking into Sae's turquoise eyes.

"See?" he whispered, and triumph sounded in his voice. "Your body understands."

Sae bit his lip until it bled. It was a lie, a cruel and devastating lie, but spoken at the very moment when his own physiology was betraying him. Shame washed over him in a wave, hot and suffocating, sharper than any pain.

When the man felt that resistance was finally broken not by force, but by shame and confusion, his approach changed. He stopped pretending. Gentleness gave way to purposefulness. His kisses deepened; his hands held tighter. He held Sae's hips, spreading them, and when he began to enter slowly but inexorably, his gaze didn't leave the face beneath him.

At that moment, Sae froze. His eyes, previously darting, flew wide open and stopped, staring into the darkness of the ceiling. There was a sharp, splitting pain. His body wasn't ready for this, didn't understand this, and he tried convulsively to pull away.

"Easy," the man held his hips more firmly, stopping the attempt to escape. "Don't fight it. It only hurts more."

Another instruction. Again, a voice devoid of malice, but also of any trace of sympathy. Sae swallowed, his breath breaking into ragged, short gasps. The pain dulled, replaced by a pressing, alien sensation of fullness, and this was worse, because pain at least could be hated. But this... this was something else. A new dimension of existence into which he had been forcibly moved.

The man, seeing that the initial shock had passed, that the body was beginning to adapt, stopped restraining himself. His slow, rhythmic movements became faster, more confident, more commanding. He held Sae by the hips, controlling every breath, every thrust, and leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss, swallowing his short, broken exhales.

Sae desperately tried to stay silent. He bit his lip harder, tasted the coppery tang of blood, squeezed his eyes shut until white sparks flashed behind his lids. He wouldn't make a sound. He wouldn't give him that. It was the last thing he had left.

But the man seemed to read him. His hand slid between their bodies, the touch precise and merciless, and Sae's inexperienced body, unable to defend itself against such things, arched on its own, against his will.

And then it escaped. A quiet, stifled moan, followed by another, and then another. Sae hated that sound, hated himself for it, but his body, deceived by skilled hands and physiology, responded on its own. He tried to choke off these sounds, but they forced their way through his clenched teeth, and each one was a capitulation.

For the man, it was triumph. He had achieved not just a physical act. He had made Sae's body, this beautiful, cold instrument, sound under his hands. And in that sound, in those quiet, involuntary moans, he felt his final, total appropriation.

When it was over, the man lowered his head for a moment, his breath hot on Sae's neck, his light purple hair tickling his face. Then he slowly withdrew, and Sae flinched involuntarily at the emptiness that followed. Physical, and some other, deeper kind.

The man rose, looked at him sprawled on the white silk, with traces of blood on his lip and tears in the corners of his closed eyes, and something in his gaze softened. He leaned down, carefully covered Sae with the edge of the blanket, ran a hand through his disheveled auburn hair.

"You did well," he whispered, almost tenderly, and kissed him on the temple.

These words, this false care after what had just happened, were the last straw. Sae didn't open his eyes. He lay motionless, feeling tears run down his temples into his hair, and couldn't understand what had just been done to him. Words lost their meaning, boundaries blurred.

The man sat beside him for a while longer, looking at him with quiet satisfaction, then rose and silently left.

Sae was left alone in the darkness of the room. His body ached and burned, his skin held the imprint of another's hands, and one thought circled in his mind, deafening and all-consuming:

"I no longer belong to myself."

 ---

 

The first ray of sunlight, piercing through the shoji, fell on Sae's face. He woke to an unfamiliar silence. There was no sound of his mother's voice in the kitchen, no footsteps of his younger brother. There was only an oppressive, perfect silence.

For a few seconds, he lay on the futon, his empty gaze fixed on the ceiling beams, unable to grasp where he was. Consciousness returned with a painful spasm, a wave of nauseating clarity. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if physically trying to push the feeling away.

He tried to turn onto his side and froze. His body responded with a dull, aching pain in places he would rather not think about. Every movement reminded him of yesterday. Carefully, slowly, he sat up, clenching his teeth, feeling his muscles protest. His skin burned where the stranger's hands had been. He looked at his wrists. No marks, but the sensation of those fingers was still so vivid, as if they hadn't let him go even now.

Sae wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stop the trembling that ran through his body. He wanted to wash it all away. The touch, the smell, the very memory, but he didn't know how.

"It really happened."

The thought was deafening in its simplicity.

He looked around. The room was impeccable. Not a speck of dust, not a single stray particle. The white kimono he had worn yesterday was gone. Someone had taken it while he slept. Every object, the vase, the calligraphy scrolls, even the folds of the screen, seemed frozen in its strictly designated place. This wasn't life, but an installation. And he was now part of it.

The door slid open silently. Two maids in grey kimonos entered. Sae instinctively pulled the blanket higher, covering his bare chest. The women didn't even blink. Their faces remained impassive masks. In the hands of one was a folded kimono the color of the morning sky, embroidered with silver waves. They bowed silently.

"The master awaits you on the veranda for morning tea," the elder one said.

Sae looked at them, feeling his cheeks flush with heat. "They know. They know everything." What happened here, in this room. They had seen the linens, they had cleared away the traces.

He waited for them to leave so he could dress. But they stood there, waiting. Understanding, he reluctantly, slowly rose from the bed, each movement echoing with discomfort. He tried to ignore their gazes, but it was impossible.

When he reached for the kimono, the younger maid, with a quick, practiced movement, anticipated him and took the clothing. Sae frowned, his fingers clenching into a fist.

"I can do it myself," he said quietly, but firmly.

His fingers met hers on the silk. The girl didn't pull her hand away, but simply froze, her gaze lowered. The elder maid stepped forward.

"Disobedience is a flaw that mars the soul," she said without a single note of reproach, as if quoting an ancient text. "Allow us to fulfill our duty. It is the proper way."

The phrase was so absurd, spoken with such chilling certainty, that Sae, startled, released his grip. Disobedience. As if he were a child needing to be disciplined. He felt his will, his small "I can do it myself," shatter against the stone wall of their indifferent submission.

With clenched teeth and cheeks burning with shame, he allowed them to dress him in the silk garments. Their hands were professional, quick, impersonal. They touched him as if he were a mannequin. An object to be prepared.

"Yesterday, they touched me too. But differently."

The thought pierced him, and he barely suppressed an involuntary shudder. The maids didn't notice. Or pretended not to.

---

 

He was led to the veranda overlooking the garden. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of damp earth and fading leaves. The autumn chill seeped under the thin silk of his kimono, and Sae shivered.

The man sat at a low table on a thin cushion. Before him, a cup of tea steamed, and on plates lay exquisitely arranged desserts.

When Sae appeared in the doorway, the man lifted his gaze to him. His face lit up with a soft, almost friendly smile. So natural, as if they were old acquaintances meeting for morning tea.

"Good morning, Sae," his voice was warm, velvety. He gestured to the cushion beside him. "Sit down. I hope you slept well?"

The question was uttered in an ordinary, caring tone. As if nothing had happened yesterday.

Sae froze on the threshold. His gaze swept over the perfect garden, the impeccable table setting, the face of this man who had made him his property yesterday. Inside, everything coiled into a knot of protest.

Silently, demonstratively, he walked over and sat not on the indicated cushion beside him, but on the next one, at a respectful distance. He winced for a second from a sharp pain in his groin, but quickly composed himself.

The man didn't stop smiling. His eyes flickered for a moment to the empty cushion, then returned to Sae. Understanding flickered in them, and something else. Curiosity? Or satisfaction from a small act of resistance he had already anticipated?

He nodded, as if accepting Sae's decision as a matter of course, and leisurely raised his cup. He took a sip, his movements slow and full of dignity. Placed it back on the table. The porcelain made a soft, clear sound. The pause stretched on. He looked at the garden, giving Sae time to acclimate.

Then he turned to him, an expression of mild thoughtfulness on his face.

"We weren't properly introduced," he began softly. "Yesterday was... full of formalities." He paused, and something akin to regret sounded in his intonation. "Allow me to rectify that."

Sae was silent, his turquoise eyes watchful, appraising. He tried to see the scar on the man's cheek but didn't want to hold his gaze on it for too long.

"My name is Bunny Iglesias," the man continued, his voice becoming slightly more personal, confidential. "I am originally from Spain. Although, I confess, my heart has belonged to this country for many years." He swept his gaze over the garden, and genuine tenderness flickered in his eyes. "To its beauty. Its... refinement."

He paused again, waiting for a response. But Sae just sat there, staring at him with that piercing look, which held a complex mixture of distrust and analytical observation.

Bunny didn't rush him. He poured tea into the empty cup before Sae. Slowly, deliberately, and slid it closer.

"I am a collector," he said finally, and now a light, almost shy pride sounded in his voice. "Of art objects. Rarities. Things that deserve... protection." He raised his gaze to Sae, and his eyes held such warm, almost paternal concern that for a second, it was unsettling. "I gave my word to your parents to take care of you. And I intend to keep it."

"Parents?"

The word struck Sae in the chest. He spoke for the first time that morning, his voice hoarse:

"They... they knew? That this would... happen?"

Bunny didn't answer immediately. He slowly traced the rim of his cup with his finger, as if considering his words.

"They knew you would be safe," he said finally, carefully. "That you would never want for anything. That I would give you the life they..." He paused, and delicate sympathy sounded in his pause, "...were unable to give."

Sae was silent. Thoughts warred in his head, each one unbearable.

"They gave me away. No. They couldn't. Father always... mother said... But they signed. He said they signed. They trusted him. For my own good?"

He wanted to believe his parents hadn't betrayed him. Because if they had betrayed him, then nothing reliable was left in the world. But if they trusted Bunny, if they really thought this was for the best... then maybe, just maybe, he was the one who didn't understand something?

Bunny seemed to sense his confusion. He leaned slightly closer, his voice becoming even softer, almost soothing:

"You know, Sae..." He spoke the name slowly, as if tasting it, "...sometimes what we need is different from what we want." He took a small plate of mochi from the table and placed it before Sae. "Your parents understood that. They wanted the best for you. And they chose me."

There was no threat in his words. Only calm, persuasive logic. Logic that enveloped like a warm blanket and slowly suffocated.

Sae looked at the mochi. White, perfect balls dusted with powdered sugar. His stomach clenched with nausea.

"Why?" he breathed out, and in his voice, a raw, unpolished directness finally broke through. "Why did you take me like this? What was all that... ceremony for?"

Bunny leaned back, his gaze becoming distant, as if he were looking through Sae at something beautiful and far away.

"When I saw you on the shore..." he began quietly, and such sincerity sounded in his voice that for a moment, it seemed he was speaking of something sacred, "...I realized I had found something unique."

He looked at Sae again, and now undisguised tenderness was in his gaze.

"Perfect beauty. The kind that cannot be left in a world where it might be... unappreciated. Or worse," his voice dropped slightly, "...damaged."

A chill ran down Sae's spine. "Beauty?"

"The ceremony was necessary," Bunny continued, his tone becoming businesslike, practical again. "It secured my patronage for you." He paused. "No one can ever now dispute your place. Here with me."

"I don't need your patronage," Sae cut him off, and for the first time that morning, anger sounded in his tone. "And I didn't ask to be taken."

The smile on Bunny's face became a little sad, almost sympathetic. He sighed wearily.

"Of course, you didn't ask," he agreed softly. "You are still very young." He paused, letting the words settle. "But one day, you will understand. And perhaps, you will even thank me."

Sae was silent. Words stuck in his throat. He sat, paralyzed by the absurdity of the situation and a terrible, oppressive thought: "What if he's right?"

Bunny, seeing his confusion, gently changed the subject. His voice became light, congenial again:

"In this house, harmony prevails," he gestured around at the veranda and the garden beyond. "I greatly value order. And the loyalty of those who serve me." He smiled, as if sharing a pleasant secret. "You will notice, everything here is thought out. Every detail. It is... my philosophy."

He paused, poured himself more tea.

"You may wander freely here. The house, the garden—everything is at your disposal. The library, the tea room..." He listed them slowly, as if offering gifts. "I ask only one thing of you." His tone became slightly more serious. "Do not go beyond the gate."

Sae looked up at him.

"Why?"

Bunny sighed, and something akin to worry flickered in his eyes.

"The outside world is coarse, Sae. Dangerous. For such..." He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right word, "...fragile beauty as yours, it can be destructive." He leaned closer, his gaze becoming intent. "I want to protect you. Will you allow me to do that?"

The question sounded almost pleading.

"And also," he added softly, leaning back, "please do not disturb me in my study. It is my personal space. The place where I work." He smiled an apologetic smile. "I am sure you understand—everyone needs their own sanctuary."

"The servants will take care of your clothing, of everything you need." His gaze swept over Sae's kimono, and quiet pride flickered in his eyes. "Allow them to do so. Seeing you surrounded by beauty is my modest pleasure."

Sae listened, his skepticism warring with the artfully created illusion. It sounded like care. Strange, suffocating, but still care. Maybe this man really was just obsessed with him? In a sick, wrong way, but... maybe this was all there was?

"Maybe my parents really thought..."

He cut off the thought. He didn't want to think about it.

Bunny finished his tea and rose with graceful ease, smoothing the folds of his hakama.

"I must go to work," he said, and a slight regret sounded in his voice, as if he were sorry to leave Sae. "Please, feel free. Look around. The house is now yours."

With a slight nod, he signaled to the elder maid standing in the shadow of the veranda, and she, with a silent bow, took over.

Sae silently followed the woman, his gaze gliding over the interiors, absorbing the details.

---

 

The house was the embodiment of wabi-sabi, yet in its scale, one felt a colossal, overwhelming hand. They walked through endless, quiet corridors with polished wooden floors. The sliding shoji doors filtered the sunlight, filling the rooms with a soft, diffused glow. The air was saturated with the scent of cedar and a faint dust that smelled of age. In each room, a laconic tokonoma with a scroll or ikebana; every detail was part of an impeccable, yet lifeless composition.

Then they entered the library. And here, for the first time that day, Sae felt something distantly resembling interest.

Shelves of dark wood rose to the ceiling, lined with books in neat rows. Both Japanese scrolls and European volumes in leather bindings. But it wasn't these that captured his gaze.

By the window, on a low lacquered table, lay calligraphy implements. Next to the inkstone stood a heavy, perfectly polished brush rest, upon which lay several brushes of varying thicknesses, their bristles impeccably shaped. Beside them lay a sheet of expensive, textured paper.

Sae froze, forgetting the maid for a moment. He stepped closer, his fingers instinctively reaching for the handle of the thinnest brush, but stopping a centimeter short, not daring to disturb this order.

"Rin loved watching me write."

The memory came sharply, painfully. His younger brother, sitting nearby with wide eyes, following every movement of the brush. "Teach me too, Sae!" — his voice rang in his memory.

Sae swallowed the lump in his throat. He stood for a long time, studying the refined line of the bamboo brush handle, feeling a strange calm emanating from this set. It was the first familiar, "right" object in this alien world.

The maid waited patiently, not hurrying him.

Then they moved on, passing a spacious tea room with a hearth, briefly glancing into the kitchen, which was astonishing in its sterile cleanliness and size, and finally stepped out into the garden.

And here, Sae's breath caught for a moment.

This was not just a garden, but an idealized landscape, ripped from reality. The autumn chill no longer refreshed but crept under the thin silk of his kimono, reminding him that beyond the walls, its own, fading life existed. Skillfully pruned pines cast shade, a winding path of river stones led through thickets of ferns and azaleas to the mirror-like surface of a pond where brightly colored koi swam. In the distance, under the shade of a maple, a small meditation gazebo was visible, and a stone pagoda in the corner of the garden added a sense of timeless peace.

Everything was flawless. Too flawless. Not a single leaf lay askew, not a single branch grew in the wrong direction. It was the same beauty as in the house. Frozen, controlled, devoid of the chaos and freedom of the wild.

Sae stood on the veranda, looking at this picture. The books and brushes beckoned him, promising a refuge for his mind. But the garden, for all its beauty, was merely another, larger room. With very high walls that he hadn't yet seen, but could already feel against his skin.

---

 

After the silent tour through endless corridors and impeccable rooms, Sae stopped in the middle of the living room. The silence pressed on his ears. He turned to the maid, the same one who had accompanied him. Her face was a calm mask of expectation.

"So... what do I do now?" he asked, and his direct, unadorned question sounded rough against all this refinement.

The maid bowed, the corners of her lips twitching for a moment in a polite, impersonal smile.

"You may do whatever you wish, young master. The house is at your disposal."

"Whatever you wish."

The phrase was simultaneously generous and utterly empty. What could one "wish" for, when one's desires had no form or boundaries? His gaze darted around and once again found refuge in the doorway of the library.

Without a word, he turned and went back. The semi-darkness of the cool room, smelling of paper and wood, greeted him like an old acquaintance. He approached the shelves, ran his finger along the spines until he found a collection of classical poetry. Without any particular purpose, just to occupy his hands and eyes.

He sank into a deep leather armchair by the window. The only distinctly European object in the room, strange and unexpectedly comfortable. He tried to immerse himself in reading, but the letters danced before his eyes. He felt her presence. The maid stood a few steps away, hands folded over her stomach, her silent figure a living reproach to his supposed "freedom."

It was unbearable. He looked up and met her waiting gaze.

"Could I... be alone for a while?" he breathed out, choosing the politest words he could find.

Not a shadow of surprise or offense crossed the woman's face. She inclined her head.

"As you wish. If you need anything, I will be nearby." She paused. "My name is Yuki."

With these words, she silently exited, leaving the door slightly ajar, just enough to hear without being seen.

Sae froze for a second, listening to her receding footsteps. Then he leaned back in the chair, and his shoulders finally relaxed.

For the first time since arriving here, he was truly alone.

He opened the book, and this time the lines made sense. For only half an hour, but he had found his first, fragile fortress in this beautiful, suffocating castle.

---

 

The silence of the study, broken only by the ticking of the floor clock, was interrupted by a restrained knock at the door.

"Come in," Bunny responded, not lifting his gaze from the business correspondence spread out on his desk.

The door slid open silently, and Yuki appeared in the doorway. She took a few silent steps and stopped at a respectful distance; her gaze lowered.

"The young master has familiarized himself with the house," her voice was even, devoid of any emotional note, a perfect instrument for conveying information. "He is currently in the library, reading a collection of poetry."

Bunny set down his pen. His gaze was fixed on the window, towards the garden, but all his attention was now focused on the information received. He nodded silently, taking it in.

"Poetry. Predictable. And elegant."

"Anything else?" he asked softly, his fingers beginning to tap slowly on the tabletop.

"He lingered for a long time at the table with the calligraphy implements," Yuki reported. "Examined them with visible interest."

This time, Bunny's nod was slightly more expressive. A spark of deep, silent satisfaction flashed in his eyes.

"Not just a pretty face. Intelligence. An inclination towards art. Caution."

This was not just an observation, but the first valuable detail, the first trait in the psychological portrait of his new "acquisition."

"What do you think of him?" he asked, shifting his gaze to her.

Yuki hesitated for a moment, blinking her dark eyes. A rare reaction for her.

"He is... very young, master," she chose her words carefully.

Bunny chuckled softly, almost to himself.

"Precisely," he agreed. "Young enough to be taught." He paused. "And intelligent enough to make it interesting."

He turned to her, his face once again impeccably polite.

"Good. You may go."

Yuki responded with a bow and retreated just as silently, leaving Bunny alone with his thoughts.

The corners of his lips twitched in a barely perceptible smile. He picked up his pen again, but his thoughts were now far from contracts. He was contemplating which specific calligraphy brush he should order as a gift.

---

 

The midday light streamed into the room through the shoji, coloring everything a milky white. Sae sat on the tatami mat before a low table, his legs folded beneath him. Every muscle protested. His back ached. His thighs burned with a dull, throbbing pain at any movement. Inside, there was a feeling of being shattered.

Yuki entered silently, carrying a tray. She knelt opposite him and began to carefully arrange the dishes. A bowl of rice. Miso soup, from which a light steam rose. Pickled vegetables in a small dish. And in the center, a piece of grilled mackerel on a plate, the skin crispy, golden, smelling of salt and the sea.

Sae stared at the tray. His stomach clenched into a tight, nauseating knot. The smell of fish, sharp and oily, hit his nose, and he instinctively recoiled, grimacing.

Yuki straightened up, folded her hands on her knees, and waited, her face calm, professionally impassive.

"Enjoy your meal, young master."

Sae didn't move. He looked at the food as if he saw something repulsive.

"I don't want fish," he finally forced out, his voice hollow, almost offended.

Yuki blinked, momentarily at a loss.

"But this is fresh mackerel, young master. It was brought just this morning. Prepared especially for you."

"I don't want it," he repeated stubbornly, not looking at her. "Fish stinks."

He pushed the plate with the fish to the very edge of the table, almost demonstratively. The movement was sharp, and it echoed with a new wave of pain somewhere in his lower abdomen. Sae winced, pressing his lips together, and again tried to find a comfortable position, but there was none.

Yuki followed his movement. How he sat slightly askew, how his face tightened with pain, how his shoulders tensed. Something flickered in her eyes. Understanding, or a guess, but she didn't show it.

"Very well," she said evenly, removing the fish plate. "I will bring something else."

She rose and silently left. Sae was alone. He stared at the remaining food and felt his throat constrict. He had no appetite at all.

He picked up the chopsticks and scooped up some rice. Brought it to his mouth. Chewed. The tasteless, sticky mass. Swallowed with effort, and the lump stuck somewhere halfway to his stomach.

He couldn't manage a second mouthful. He put down the chopsticks and sat there, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

The door opened again. Yuki returned, holding a small plate of tamagoyaki.

"Here," she placed the plate before him. "This isn't fish. Try it."

Sae glanced at the omelet. Then at Yuki. Her face was still as even and patient, but something like quiet concern showed in her eyes.

He slowly picked up a piece with his chopsticks, brought it to his mouth. Took a bite. The sweetness hit his tongue. Cloying, almost nauseating. He chewed and swallowed, feeling his insides turn.

"I..." he faltered, lowering the chopsticks to the edge of the table. "I don't want any more."

Yuki tilted her head, studying his face. Ignoring table etiquette, Sae lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"You've barely eaten anything, young master. You need to regain your strength."

"I don't want to," he repeated stubbornly. "I can't. Nothing... stays down."

Yuki said nothing for a few seconds. She just looked at him, and in her gaze was a hidden sadness.

"Very well," she finally said quietly. "If you get hungry later, tell me. I'll bring something light."

She began to clear the dishes. The almost untouched rice. The cold soup. The two bitten pieces of omelet. Sae watched her carefully place everything on the tray and suddenly felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I really can't."

Yuki paused for a moment, holding the tray. Then her lips curved into something resembling a sad smile.

"Don't apologize, young master. It's not your fault."

She bowed and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Sae remained lying in the empty room. He turned on his side, pulling his knees to his chest. The only position that hurt a little less. He watched the square of light on the floor, which slowly shifted as the sun moved.

---

 

Sae sat in the bedroom by the slightly open shoji door leading to the garden, looking at the night sky strewn with cold, diamond-like stars. Moonlight silvered the outlines of the pines and the surface of the pond, transforming the perfect garden into a ghostly, unreal landscape. He didn't hear the footsteps, only a light breath betrayed the presence of another person.

Sae didn't turn around, but a slight tremor ran down his spine.

Bunny approached from behind. His hands, warm and heavy, came to rest on Sae's shoulders. His fingers began kneading the tense muscles with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Sae became one solid knot of tension, his posture a silent protest.

"Well?" Bunny's quiet, tired voice sounded right by his ear, and Sae involuntarily flinched at the closeness. "Do you like it here?"

"It's... too perfect here," Sae replied quietly and honestly, gazing into the night. "Too quiet. Too much... order."

Bunny hummed something indistinct, as if pondering the remark. Then his left hand slid from Sae's shoulder, his fingers catching the edge of the kimono, gently shifting the fabric and baring the skin of his shoulder. His lips, warm and moist, touched the exposed skin.

Sae jerked as if shocked and recoiled sharply. He pulled away, straightened his disheveled kimono, and stared at Bunny, his usually impassive eyes burning with a cold fire.

"Don't do that," his voice came out sharp and clear.

Bunny froze. The slight, almost ghostly smile faded from his lips, replaced by a calm but undeniable seriousness.

"I am your husband, Sae," he said weightily, but without raising his voice. "And I have certain... rights. You will get used to it."

Sae looked at him, and his mind, usually so quick, was empty in that moment. What could one say to such an indisputable declaration of ownership, wrapped in polite form? Finding no words, he turned sharply, lay down on the futon, and turned his back to Bunny.

Bunny chuckled softly, almost inaudibly. The sound was gentle, condescending, the kind of smile one gives to a child's caprices. A moment later, Sae felt a strong arm wrap around his waist and pull him back, pressing his back against Bunny's chest.

Sae froze in mute, petrified protest. His entire body tensed, becoming one solid muscle of resistance. He lay there, listening to the steady breathing behind him, feeling the warmth of another body that was so alien to him. The minutes dragged on like hours. And gradually, muscle by muscle, his body, betrayed by its own exhaustion, began to surrender. The tension drained away, replaced by a heavy, listless fatigue. Just before sinking into a restless sleep, one last clear thought flickered through his mind. "In this house, everything will be much more complicated than I could have imagined."

 

 

2

 

A week passed. The feeling of an alien, precisely calibrated world became Sae's new normal. He learned to hide his bewilderment behind a mask of detachment, and the servants learned to understand his silent gestures. He was like a ghost, silently gliding through the polished corridors.

The evening air on the veranda was cool and fresh. Sae sat opposite Bunny, watching him carefully dissect a fish with his chopsticks. The silence between them was familiar, almost comfortable, if the absence of open hostility could be called comfort.

Bunny took a sip of his drink and set the cup down with a soft clink.

"I've been thinking about how you spend your time," he began, his voice even and businesslike. "And I've decided you should develop your talents."

Sae didn't react, continuing to look at him.

"I've hired a teacher for you," Bunny continued. "A master of calligraphy. Very old and respected. They say he has a light hand and a patient soul."

Something stirred inside Sae. The memory of that table in the library, of the heavy, polished bamboo brushes, flared up like a bright, warm spark. Interest, genuine and deep, moved within him, breaking through the icy crust of apathy. He didn't smile, but his gaze, usually directed into emptiness, focused on Bunny's face for a second with lively curiosity.

"Thank you," he said quietly and politely, lowering his eyes. It was enough.

The corners of Bunny's lips twitched in barely perceptible satisfaction. He had caught that momentary flicker.

"And one more thing," he added, and new, firmer notes appeared in his voice. "Starting next week, a Spanish teacher will come to you. Three times a week."

This time, the reaction was different. Sae didn't raise his eyes, but his shoulders instinctively tensed. His fingers, resting on his knees, clenched in a slight, almost invisible spasm. "Spanish? Why?" This language was foreign, harsh, and unnecessary. It was part of Bunny's world, the world he had been forcibly dragged into and which he refused to accept.

He said nothing. But Bunny, with his meticulous observation, caught that too. A light shadow of disappointment flickered in his eyes.

"I hope you'll show a little understanding, Sae," he said, and for the first time that evening, a slight but perceptible reproach sounded in his tone. "It would be proper if my spouse understood me when I speak the language of my heart."

Sae nodded silently, again erecting a wall of silence. But inside him, a quiet protest raged. He would gladly accept the brush and ink. But every sound of that foreign language would echo within him with bitter resonance.

---

 

The first calligraphy lesson turned into a quiet disaster. The old master, white-haired as a mountain ghost, seemed to be the embodiment of harmony itself. His hand glided over the paper, giving birth to a perfect, living character. Sae's hand was wooden. The ink spread into blots, the lines trembled and broke, and the bamboo brush felt impossibly heavy. He felt Bunny's gaze on him, sitting in the corner of the room. That gaze wasn't judgmental, but appraising, as if he were observing a rare animal trying to perform an unnatural trick. Sae silently looked at his failed attempts, and inside him, rage stirred that even the thing he genuinely wanted was being taken from him by this oppressive atmosphere.

The Spanish lessons were even worse. The teacher, young and energetic, tried to teach him simple phrases in a playful way. "Hola," "Gracias," "Mi nombre es Sae." But the sounds seemed harsh and meaningless to Sae. They grated on his ears. He remained silent, stubbornly looking out the window, until the teacher, in desperation, would turn to Bunny for help. Bunny, without moving from his spot, would softly pronounce the required phrase, and his accent made it seem even more foreign.

After one such day, when the silence in the house became particularly ringing and the feeling of hopelessness unbearable, Sae, out of boredom and accumulated frustration, began to wander through the rooms. His gaze fell on a vase in the tokonoma alcove. Impeccable, solitary. Nearby, on a shelf, stood a small carved figurine of a fox. With a blank expression, he switched their places. The fox now sat in the sacred tokonoma, and the vase on the shelf. It was... wrong. Inharmonious. And there was a strange, quiet thrill in that.

He continued. He moved a candlestick three centimeters to the left. Turned a book on the shelf so its spine faced inward. His actions were a silent protest against the flawless order that was suffocating him.

The next day, walking down the corridor, Bunny slowed his step. His gaze, accustomed to perfect arrangement, immediately caught the dissonance. The vase was out of place. His eyebrows drew together slightly. He called for the head maid.

"Yuki," his voice was even, but a steely thread of inquiry hung in it. "Who disturbed the order in the western drawing-room?"

Yuki, without batting an eye, bowed.

"My apologies, master. The young master did so yesterday, during his walk."

Bunny froze. He had clearly expected to hear about a servant's negligence, not this. For a few seconds, he silently stared at the comical fox in the tokonoma, and a rare emotion played across his face—pure, genuine bewilderment. Without a word, he turned and left.

That night, when they were alone in the bedroom, Bunny, removing his watch, asked without looking at Sae:

"Was it you who moved the things in the drawing-room?"

Sae was just removing his kimono. He paused, his fingers freezing on the silk sash. Then he turned, and his face was absolutely clear, his eyes bright and calm.

"I don't know what you mean," he said in his even, slightly detached voice. "You must be mistaken."

It was a brazen, childish lie. And it was perfect.

Bunny froze again, looking at him. And then a slow, involuntary smile crept across his face. He chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"I see," he said, and a strange approval sounded in his voice. "So, I was mistaken."

He lay down to sleep, leaving Sae standing in the middle of the room. For the first time since his arrival, Sae felt a tiny, but real, power. He couldn't run away, couldn't protest openly. But he could discreetly move a vase. And he could lie with the face of an angel. In this perfect gilded cage, he had found his first, fragile loophole.

---

 

Another week flew by, marked by blots on rice paper and stubborn silence in the face of alien Spanish sounds. But a new, strangest, and most tiresome item had appeared in his schedule.

After breakfast, Yuki approached him with the same impassive expression.

"Young master, your education will now include lessons in etiquette. Please come with me."

He was led to a small room where an unfamiliar woman with a posture carved from wood was already waiting for him. Her name was Mrs. Fujioka.

The lessons were meaningless. He wasn't being taught how to use chopsticks or bow. He had learned that long ago. He was being taught things in which he saw no sense whatsoever.

"Hands on your knees. Palms facing down. Fingers together," Mrs. Fujioka's voice was as steady as the tick of a metronome. "Do not clench them. Do not intertwine them. Simply place them."

Sae sat, trying to breathe evenly. His fingers instinctively wanted to clasp together out of boredom, and he had to force them with sheer will to lie still.

"Your gaze should be directed slightly below the eye level of your interlocutor. At the level of their lips. Do not let it wander. Do not lower it too much."

It was exhausting. His gaze, always free, now had to be forcibly fixed on one point, causing a pressing tension in his temples.

"At the table, you may be asked something. Your answer should be no longer than three words. 'Yes, thank you.' 'It is lovely.' 'I am not sure.' After that, you smile softly and lower your gaze."

"Why?" The only thing that circled in his head. Why did he, who was almost always silent, need to learn to be silent "correctly"? Why learn to sit "correctly" when he could already sit motionless for hours?

Bunny sometimes dropped in on these lessons. He didn't interfere, standing by the door with a cup of tea. His presence was heavy. Sae felt his gaze on him, noting every movement. At such moments, his body became particularly wooden, and irritation at this meaningless, intrusive training accumulated inside.

One evening, after a lesson where he had spent an hour being taught a gliding, silent gait, he returned to his room and stared at the wall. He raised his hand and looked at his fingers. Just an hour ago, they had been forced to lie still.

He didn't understand the ultimate goal of these lessons. He only felt invisible, tight garments, tailored to someone else's measurements, being placed on him and pulled tighter and tighter, without any coherent explanation.

---

 

Sleep had overtaken Sae so quickly the previous night that he hadn't even heard Bunny enter the bedroom. The morning began not with his usual solitary breakfast, but with being led to a large, bright room where dozens of kimonos hung on stands and in the arms of maids. From dark, almost black ones, to dazzling white and vibrant ones embroidered with various patterns.

Bunny was already waiting for him, sitting in an armchair with the air of a connoisseur. He looked relaxed and pleased, like a collector at a private viewing of a lot.

"Let's start with the light gray one," he ordered, and the maids immediately surrounded Sae.

The first half hour passed in silence. Sae stood like a mannequin as one kimono was removed from him and he was dressed in another. He felt Bunny's heavy, appraising gaze on him.

"No, this blue is too loud. It drowns out the color of your eyes," Bunny commented. "But this silk one, the color of the morning sky... yes, it emphasizes the pallor of your skin. Excellent."

Sae silently frowned as they put a particularly ornate kimono with a large pattern on him. Finally, his patience snapped.

"What is this for?" his voice rang out sharply in the quiet room. "What am I being prepared for this time?"

Bunny took a sip from the cup Yuki had handed him.

"Everything in its time, Sae. You'll find out when the hour comes."

"Last time, you also kept your mouth shut," Sae retorted coldly, "and I ended up married to a stranger."

The air in the room froze. The maids halted, their eyes downcast. The smile on Bunny's face didn't disappear, but a quick, dagger-like spark of irritation flared in his eyes. He slowly set down his cup.

"Leave us," he commanded softly. The maids dissolved silently, leaving them alone.

"We are no longer strangers, Sae," Bunny said, his voice becoming quieter but acquiring a metallic edge. "We are bound. We share a home and... a bed. Is that not already something more than a chance encounter on the shore?"

Sae snorted and forcefully shook the sleeve of another kimono off his shoulder.

"I don't like any of this. It's stupid."

"You're being childish," Bunny remarked, and for the first time, a hint of mild mockery sounded in his tone.

Sae whirled around to face him, his turquoise eyes flashing with cold fire.

"And you're acting like a selfish jerk. You don't care what I think."

Bunny froze. He looked at Sae for a few seconds, and interested surprise showed on his face. He saw before him not a submissive doll, but a person with a sharp, prickly tongue.

"Let's continue," he finally said, his voice becoming even and impassive again. He beckoned to the maids waiting outside the door.

Sae sighed heavily, understanding that his rebellion for the day was exhausted. He allowed the women to resume their work, but in his eyes, fixed on the window, one could read a weary anticipation of the next moment he could insert his two cents into this endless, strained performance.

---

 

The evening was quiet. Sae, standing with his back to the room, was removing his daytime kimono, already mentally picturing sinking into mindless sleep. He was down to just a thin pajama set of white silk when Bunny's voice stopped him.

"Don't rush. Try something on."

Sae turned. Bunny was holding out a flowing robe of dark blue silk, embroidered with silver cranes. Sae's face remained impassive, but a flicker of confusion and slight curiosity showed in his eyes. He silently took the robe and draped it over his pajamas.

"No," Bunny corrected softly. "Take everything off. Then wear only that."

Sae froze. Silence hung in the air, tense as a drawn bowstring. He didn't show it, but every muscle in his back tensed.

"Why?" he asked shortly, without emotion.

"I want to admire you," Bunny replied, and in his voice was the cold, focused hunger of an aesthete.

Sae thought for a second, his gaze sliding over the robe, then over Bunny's face. Finally, he turned to the wall, demonstratively turning his back, and with quick, sharp movements removed the pajamas. The silk rustled to the floor. He immediately slipped on the robe and tied the sash tightly.

Bunny leisurely rose from his seat and approached. His gaze, heavy and methodical, began a slow journey from the damp strands of hair at the nape of his neck, down along the line of his shoulders, gliding over the folds of silk that outlined the contours of his shoulder blades, waist, and hips. Sae breathed too evenly, betraying the effort of will.

Then Bunny reached out. His fingers, delicate and precise as a restorer's, touched the fabric at his shoulder and gently shifted it, baring pale skin and a delicate collarbone. The touch was cold, appraising. A finger traced along his collarbone, slid to the base of his neck.

Bunny stepped back, his burning gaze gliding over Sae, wrapped in silk that now accentuated every line of his body.

"Don't move," his voice came out muffled but with an iron note. He reached for the bedside table and took out a compact black camera. "You are... incomparable right now."

Click. The sound of the shutter in the silence of the room rang out like a gunshot.

Sae flinched, instinctively crossing his arms over his chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Preserving beauty," Bunny answered evenly, approaching. "Relax. Hands down. Allow the silk to drape naturally." Click. "Yes, like that."

"Is this really necessary?" Sae's voice wavered.

"Quiet, you're distracting me." Bunny said, not looking up from his task.

He photographed him with cold, studying attention. A close-up of the set of his lips, where protest lingered. A full-length shot of his entire figure, tense and vulnerable in the dim room. He captured moments when Sae looked away, when his eyelashes fluttered with humiliation.

"Enough..." Sae tried to protest, feeling tears prick at his eyes.

"Not yet," Bunny countered, and for the first time, the sweetness of absolute power sounded in his voice. He knelt down to capture an angle from below. Click. "Perfection doesn't tolerate fuss. Now... untie the sash."

This was no longer a request. Sae froze, hoping Bunny would stop.

"Sae, untie the sash," he repeated firmly.

And Sae, his face burning with shame, his fingers trembling, obeyed, feeling yet another piece of his will die under the merciless gaze of the lens.

"Turn towards the light," Bunny's voice was as steady as a rock, brooking no objection. "Yes, like that... let the fabric slide."

Click.

Sae froze, feeling the silk of the robe slide from his shoulder with an unpleasant rustle. He tried to do what was asked of him, but his movements were wooden, unnatural. His arms hung limply at his sides, his fingers nervously twisting the sash.

"Don't press your lips together. Relax your face," came the next instruction. Bunny moved around him like a predator, seeking the best angle. Click.

Sae tried to relax, but the result was merely a mask of detached submission, behind which hid a storm of shame and humiliation. He felt naked not just physically, but to the very depths of his soul.

"Now lie on your side. Put your hand under your head."

Sae lowered himself onto the futon, repeating the movements like a puppet. He stared at the wall, trying to mentally escape as far as possible from this place, from this moment.

Click. Click.

"Good," Bunny finally said, and a hollow satisfaction sounded in his voice. He lowered the camera. "That's enough for now."

Sae rose from the futon.

"You're acting like a pervert," his voice was quiet but clear.

Bunny froze. He shifted his gaze from Sae's body to his face, and for the first time that evening, genuine, momentary surprise flared in his eyes, quickly replaced by a slight, frowning shadow.

"Don't say such things," steel rang in his voice.

"That doesn't change your strange actions," Sae countered, not looking away.

Bunny sighed heavily.

"I am admiring beauty, Sae. I am interested in pure aesthetics. Uniqueness. You don't understand that."

"I am not a thing," Sae cut him off, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"In this context, you are the embodiment of beauty," Bunny corrected him tactfully, almost paternally, again running his fingers through his hair, then placing his palm on his bare shoulder, stroking it.

Then he leaned in. His lips, hot and moist, touched the spot on his shoulder that his fingers had just been exploring. Then another kiss, lower, on his collarbone.

Sae tensed and pressed his palms against his chest, pushing him away.

"Don't do that."

"I can do whatever I want with you," Bunny whispered quietly but inexorably in his ear, his arms wrapping around his waist, preventing him from stepping back. "And you must accept that. It is your duty as a spouse."

Sae frowned even harder, tried to twist away, but the grip was like iron.

"Stop being capricious," Bunny's voice sounded right by his ear, and he pulled him close before Sae could do anything.

His lips found his skin again, and his hands slid towards his waist, and to his own horror and fury, Sae felt his own body, betrayed by physiology, beginning to respond to these insistent caresses. His breathing quickened, his skin flushed.

Bunny felt it instantly. He pulled back just a centimeter, and a triumphant, commanding smirk spread across his lips. He caught his gaze. Confused, full of shame and anger.

"There. Perfect. Don't lie to yourself."

---

 

The etiquette lesson room felt increasingly cramped to Sae. Mrs. Fujioka, as immovable as Mount Fuji, continued her monotonous monologue.

"And if you are addressed with an inappropriate compliment or question," her voice was steady, "you must not show any negative emotions. A slight, embarrassed glance to the side. A light, polite smile. And the phrase: 'You are too kind, but I cannot accept such words.' After which you turn away, indicating that the conversation is over."

Sae sat with his back perfectly straight, but inside, everything was boiling. His fingers clenched on his knees.

"Why do I need to know this?" his voice, sharp and direct, cut through the rehearsed silence. "What is the point of these... specific rules?"

Mrs. Fujioka paused for a moment. Her gaze, usually directed into space, focused on him with icy intensity.

"Young master, it is not his place to ask questions. His place is to learn. Please, do not exhibit excessive curiosity."

That was the last straw. Sae rose abruptly, pushing aside the cushion. Without another word, he turned and headed for the door.

"Young master! Leaving in the middle of a lesson is the height of impropriety!" Her voice followed him, sharp and harsh.

But Sae was no longer listening. He walked down the corridor, seeing nothing before him, driven by a single impulse, the need for a direct answer. He reached Bunny's study and, without slowing his pace, roughly slid the door open.

Bunny was sitting at his desk, going through documents. He raised his head sharply, and a rare, pure astonishment showed on his face. Behind Sae, hurried footsteps were heard. Two maids, breathless and pale, froze in the doorway with frightened expressions.

"Master, forgive us, we couldn't..."

"Never mind," Bunny interrupted them firmly, not taking his eyes off Sae. "Leave us."

The maids vanished instantly, sliding the door shut.

"What for?" Sae blurted out before Bunny could say anything. His chest was heaving. "What are these stupid lessons for? How to react to 'unwanted attention'?"

Bunny set down his papers. His astonishment gave way to a calm but relentless seriousness.

"Firstly," his voice was as quiet as the rustle of a snake, "I asked you not to enter my study. I will forgive this... once. Let it not happen again." He paused, letting the words sink in. "And secondly, you will need these lessons when I begin taking you with me to social events. To meetings with business partners."

Sae froze on the spot. His anger instantly evaporated, replaced by a flurry of conflicting thoughts. They were going to take him somewhere? Outside the walls of this house? He would see other people? A tiny, dangerous spark of hope for change flared inside him. But it was immediately overshadowed by anxiety. "What kind of people would they be? Like him? Or worse?"

"I don't want you embarrassing me in front of guests," Bunny's voice brought him back to reality. "And I would prefer not to be harsh with you. Return to your lesson. And, Sae..." his gaze became intent, "don't behave like a spoiled child again."

Sae swallowed silently, turned, and left. Returning to the lesson room was humiliating. Mrs. Fujioka waited for him with the same stony face. In her hand was a thin, flexible bamboo ruler.

"Disobedience must be punished," she stated without a single emotion. "Extend your hand."

Sae frowned but obeyed. A sharp, stinging blow landed on his palm. The pain was acute and humiliating.

"Now, let us sit and continue," said Mrs. Fujioka, as if nothing had happened. "We will cover how to behave if your appearance is commented upon in your presence, but not addressed directly to you."

He sat down, clutching his numb palm. Hope had given way to bitter realization. Going out into society was not freedom. It was merely a change of scenery in the same play, where he was assigned the role of a silent, perfect doll. And he had just been painfully struck for trying to disrupt the rehearsal.

---

 

Sae wandered aimlessly through the corridors, his bare feet making no sound on the smooth wooden planks. Boredom pressed from within like a physical weight. He had already circled the garden twice and flipped through books in the library without reading.

Passing by the living room, he heard the rustle of paper and stopped in the doorway.

Bunny was sitting on the wide sofa by the window, reclining against the armrest. On his lap lay a stack of documents, which he was methodically reviewing, making notes in the margins with a thin pencil. His face was focused, detached. He didn't even look up when Sae entered.

Sae stopped in the middle of the room, looking at this picture. Bunny, absorbed in work. Ignoring his existence. And this, strangely enough, sparked a mischievous urge.

He approached the sofa and sat down on the opposite end. Far enough not to touch, but close enough to be in his peripheral vision.

Bunny shot him a brief, glancing look and returned to his papers.

Irritation pricked at Sae. He moved closer. Now he sat almost right next to him, his shoulder just centimeters from Bunny's arm. He leaned over, trying to see what was written on the documents. Columns of numbers, foreign words, stamps.

Bunny continued reading, but his eyebrows drew together slightly. The notes became slower.

Sae took a lollipop from his kimono sleeve. One of those Yuki sometimes brought with tea, wrapped in crinkly paper. He unwrapped it with deliberate, loud rustling, popped it into his mouth, and began to smack loudly. He sucked the candy, moving it from side to side with his tongue, making wet, sucking sounds that seemed grotesquely loud in the silence of the room.

Bunny froze. His gaze stopped on a single line. His fingers gripped the pencil a little tighter. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned back against the sofa, settling more comfortably, freeing his lap from the stack of papers and moving it to the armrest.

Sae noticed. The corner of his lip twitched in a barely perceptible, gloating smirk.

He too leaned back, relaxing on his end of the sofa. Then, with lazy, almost theatrical nonchalance, he stretched out his legs. And placed them directly on Bunny's lap. His bare feet came to rest on the expensive fabric of his trousers, his toes wiggling slightly.

Bunny looked at the feet on his lap. Then at Sae's face. His eyes darkened, but his expression remained unreadable.

"Comfortable?" he asked evenly.

Sae shrugged, continuing to smack his lollipop, looking at the ceiling with feigned indifference.

And then Bunny's hand came to rest on his ankle.

Sae flinched in surprise, but Bunny simply continued. His palm was warm, heavy. His fingers wrapped around the thin bone, his thumb beginning to slowly, methodically stroke the skin up, down, tracing small circles.

"What are you..." Sae started, but his voice got stuck in his throat.

Bunny didn't answer. His hand slid higher, to his shin. The movements were unhurried, almost lazy, as if he were petting a cat. His palm moved upwards, under the hem of the kimono, pushing aside the light fabric, baring the skin.

Sae tried to pull his leg away, but Bunny's fingers tightened. The grip was gentle, but strong.

"Let go," Sae breathed out, panic creeping into his voice.

The hand continued to rise. Already to his knee. Fingers slid along the inner side, where the skin was thinner, more sensitive. Then higher. To his thigh.

"Stop it!" Sae's voice cracked, sharper.

Bunny finally looked at him. His gaze was calm, almost curious.

"You started it," he said quietly. "Provoking me."

He didn't remove his hand. He just left it there, on Sae's thigh, just above the knee, his palm lying flat, fingers pressing slightly. Not moving, but not letting go either.

Sae froze. His breath hitched. He was still smacking the lollipop, now automatically, not realizing how the wet sounds seemed indecently loud in the silence.

Bunny frowned. Barely perceptibly.

"Stop that," he said quietly.

Sae didn't stop. He looked him straight in the face with a kind of desperate stubbornness. Smacked even louder. Deliberately. Defiantly.

For a few seconds, they looked at each other. Then Bunny moved.

He shifted along the sofa closer with a smooth, unhurried motion, like a large predator closing the distance. His free hand rose and cupped Sae's chin, fingers pressing into his cheeks, forcing his mouth slightly open.

Sae tried to jerk away, but the other hand still held his leg, and his body was trapped between the sofa armrest and Bunny's body.

Bunny's thumb and forefinger slid into Sae's mouth, found the wet, slippery, half-melted lollipop, and carefully pulled it out.

Sae froze, eyes wide, feeling the foreign fingers glide over his tongue, across his palate, before withdrawing. His mouth was left with the sensation of intrusion, a sweet aftertaste, and revulsion.

Bunny brought the lollipop to his own lips. Looked at it for a second. Glistening with Sae's saliva, red, melting. Then he put it into his own mouth.

Their eyes met. Bunny, staring unwaveringly at Sae, slowly sucked the lollipop, swallowed the remnants, and licked his lips.

"Delicious," he said quietly.

A chill ran down Sae's spine.

The hand on his thigh finally unclenched.

Sae didn't wait. He yanked his leg free from the grip, leaped up from the sofa, nearly tripping on the edge of his kimono. His heart pounded somewhere in his throat. He looked at Bunny. At his calm, satisfied face, his relaxed posture, the hand that still rested on the spot on the sofa where his leg had been just a second ago.

Words wouldn't come. A sticky, sweet, disgusting lump lodged in his throat.

Sae turned and quickly left the room, almost running. His bare feet slapped against the floor, his kimono fluttering behind him.

Bunny remained sitting on the sofa. He watched him go, then returned to his documents, as if nothing had happened. Only the corner of his lip curled slightly in a barely perceptible, pleased smirk.

Sae didn't stop until he reached his room. He slid the door shut, leaned back against it, breathing heavily.

His mouth could still feel those fingers. The wet slide. The intrusion. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, trying to erase the sensation, but it remained, ingrained.

"You started it." The words echoed in his skull.

He had started it, indeed. Sat down next to him. Disturbed him. Put his feet on his lap. Thought it was just a game. A way to annoy. But Bunny had turned it into something else. Something sticky, unpleasant, something that made him want to peel off his skin.

Sae slowly slid down the door, sat on the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. The lesson had been learned. He sat on the floor in the empty room and stared at the wall, feeling a sticky, cold shame crawl down his spine.

---

 

The morning light seemed to ring with silence. Sae mechanically brought his chopsticks to his mouth, barely tasting the food. His thoughts drifted somewhere far away, into vague imaginings of the world beyond the high walls.

"I'll be taking you with me this evening," Bunny's voice sounded evenly, without any preliminary pause.

The chopsticks in Sae's hand froze. He looked up. Bunny was observing his reaction over the rim of his cup.

"To a social event," he continued. "I hope you remember Mrs. Fujioka's lessons. They will prove useful."

Inside Sae, everything first went still, then began to pound with frantic force. His mind, always so analytical, immediately began forming conjectures. He pictured a quiet dinner, a noisy party, rooms full of unfamiliar faces. Would he be able to see someone other than the servants and Bunny? Would he be able to feel, even for a second, like he was part of the ordinary world again?

His thoughts were interrupted by the same calm voice, which now carried steely undertones.

"The servants will prepare you for your outing." Bunny took his last sip and set down his cup with a quiet, decisive clink. "And I hope, Sae, that you won't do anything foolish."

He raised his gaze, and his eyes, dark and perceptive, pinned Sae in place.

"Remember, a great deal depends on your behavior tonight." He paused to let the words acquire the proper weight. "Behave appropriately. I expect you to make an impeccable first impression. I have no doubts about you."

With these words, which sounded simultaneously like encouragement and a threat, Bunny pushed back from the table. His movements were smooth and confident. He left the room without looking back, leaving Sae sitting with a chill inside and burning cheeks.

The euphoria of anticipating going out gave way to an icy fear. It was currency in their strange relationship, and Sae understood that his freedom of movement, perhaps even his rare moments of peace, were the stakes in this game.

He no longer saw the food before him. He only saw the evening ahead. A sea of unfamiliar faces, appraising him just as Bunny had once done on the shore. And his own reflection, which was supposed to be flawless, silent, and submissive.

---

 

The preparation for the evening was more like a ritual of dressing a victim for sacrifice at the altar. Everything was precise down to the smallest detail, devoid of fuss, and filled with silent solemnity.

First, he was led to the bathroom, where the air was thick with steam and fragrances. He was washed not with plain water, but with special oils smelling of sandalwood and a barely perceptible hint of Japanese plum. The maids' hands were mercilessly gentle, washing away the dust of the day from him. Then a cool, silky lotion was applied to his skin, leaving it perfectly smooth and emitting a subtle, lingering fragrance.

Then the dressing began. The kimono was not simply expensive. It was a work of art. Heavy silk the color of night sakura, almost black but with a pink undertone that emerged with movement. It was embroidered with silver arabesques, the finest, shimmering patterns like frost crystals on glass. The obi, the wide and stiff sash, was woven with silver threads. Every layer, every cord, every fold took its predetermined place. He felt the weight of the clothing pressing him down to the earth, like armor binding him to a role.

When it was all finished, he was led to a large mirror in a carved frame. Sae looked at his reflection and didn't recognize himself. Looking back from the mirror was not him, but a beautiful, fragile doll. Perfect garments, perfect hair, an impeccable face with turquoise eyes as cold as polished stones. Inside, there was only emptiness and anxiety. He didn't know what to expect from this evening. He saw in the mirror a shell prepared for the gazes of others, and he didn't know what lay hidden behind it now.

He was led to the main gate. Beyond it, by a dark, gleaming car, Bunny stood waiting. He was dressed in an impeccable dark suit, his image the embodiment of Western power and control.

In his hands, he again held the camera. He appraised Sae from head to toe, and that familiar, cold smile of satisfaction appeared on his lips.

"Don't move," Bunny said, raising the camera. His voice was even, devoid of questions. "You look... stunning."

Click. The sound was short, dry, like the snap of a lock. The flash momentarily blinded Sae, and he blinked involuntarily.

"Don't wince. Look straight into the lens," came the instruction as Bunny changed his angle. "Now turn your head. Yes, like that. Perfect."

Sae stood, complying, feeling not like a person, but a mannequin in a shop window. Each click of the shutter seemed to nail him in place.

And when they finally approached the car, Sae carried with him not only the weight of the silk on his shoulders, but the ghostly sensation that a part of his soul had just been trapped and taken away into the darkness of the camera, to belong to Bunny forever.

"Tonight, everyone will be looking only at you," Bunny broke the silence. His voice in the dimness of the car's interior sounded low and sincere.

Sae didn't answer. He sat, straight and motionless as taught, looking at the flickering city lights he didn't actually see. He only felt the heavy, oppressive anticipation constricting his throat. Bunny's compliment was not comfort, but a reminder that the show was beginning and he had no right to make a mistake.

---

 

The event took place in a private club overlooking nighttime Tokyo. The air was thick with a mixture of expensive perfumes, cigar smoke, and the smell of money. The dazzling glitter of crystal chandeliers, the hum of voices, and insistent music. All of this crashed down on Sae, deafening him, accustomed as he was to the silence of Bunny's house. He felt like a fish thrown onto the shore, where every sound was a blow, and every gaze a burn.

Bunny led him by the arm, his touch authoritative and guiding. He introduced him to his partners with a proud smile.

And the gazes did indeed stick to him. Men looked with open, unconcealed curiosity, their eyes gliding over his figure, lingering on his face, his hands, the line of his hips beneath the silk. Women, with cold assessment mixed with envy.

And then the waterfall of compliments began, showering down on him like confetti, but each was tinged with its own unpleasant hue.

"Iglesias-san, your treasure truly outshines everything around," said one, an elderly man, his gaze sticky. "Such eyes... Just like those cats that bring good luck. One wants to pet them."

"My God, such skin," admired another, his fingers seemingly itching to touch. "Like porcelain. A true work of art. One cannot help but admire it."

"One doesn't often see such an... exotic combination," threw in a third, with an innuendo that sent shivers down Sae's spine. "A true rarity. Such a treasure must require special care."

He remembered Mrs. Fujioka's lessons. "A slight, embarrassed glance to the side and a polite smile." He forced the corners of his lips to twitch into a semblance of a smile, lowered his gaze, feeling his cheeks burn with shame. He mumbled the memorized phrases: "You are too kind," "Thank you," but his voice sounded hollow and detached.

One of the men, smelling of alcohol and expensive cologne, stepped too close, violating his personal space.

"Truly, like a little doll," he whispered, his breath hot on Sae's cheek. "A real sight to behold."

Sae instinctively recoiled, but Bunny's hand on his elbow tightened, holding him in place.

He was put on display, like a painting at an auction. His beauty was a topic of discussion, and his body an object for assessment. The compliments, however pretty in words, felt in reality like tentacles trying to grope him without physically touching him.

He saw how Bunny reveled in this attention. Every admiring glance directed at Sae was confirmation of his taste and his power. Sae felt only one thing: a nauseating, all-consuming anxiety and a sharp desire to sink through the floor. He stood with impeccable posture, smiled with a perfect, strained smile, and inside, he was slowly dying from shame and the awareness of his position. He was not a person, but a valuable asset, and this evening was his first public valuation.

Then a man approached them, young and self-assured. His gaze was openly hungry.

"Iglesias-san, you have no idea how everyone envies you," he said, not taking his eyes off Sae.

And before anyone could react, his hand landed on Sae's waist, familiarly and firmly pulling him half a step closer. The touch was searing and utterly foreign. Sae froze, his breath caught. Everything inside him clenched into an icy ball of protest and disgust. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, staring into the space before him and feeling that heavy palm on his body.

Bunny noticed his stiffness. His smile didn't waver, but his eyes grew colder.

"Kato-san, you seem to be forgetting etiquette," he said softly, but his voice carried a steely firmness. With a light but inexorable movement, he placed his own hand over the intrusive guest's and removed it from Sae's waist. "Some flowers are only to be contemplated."

"A pity," the man sighed with exaggerated theatricality, but he stepped back.

Bunny, still smiling at those around them, leaned towards Sae as if to adjust a strand of his hair. His lips were a centimeter from his ear, and his whisper was icy and clear:

"Breathe and smile. You're ruining the whole picture standing there like a statue."

These words, spoken with outward tenderness, finished him more effectively than the stranger's rudeness. He was being forced to be complicit in his own humiliation.

He swept his gaze across the room again, forcing his lips into a tight smile. And at that moment, he caught another gaze. From the other end of the hall, a man was watching him. He stood alone, a glass in his hand. In his eyes was a particular interest.

Meeting his gaze, Sae felt not relief, but a new wave of shame. Someone had seen him in this state. Someone had seen him being humiliated.

He lowered his eyes, breaking that fleeting contact. All that remained for him was to endure this evening. To stand, smile, and bear it. But inside, beneath the layers of silk and the pretense of a smile, a new, cold feeling was growing. Hatred. Not only for Bunny, but for all these people, and perhaps, even for himself, for his own helplessness.

---

 

The drive back in the car passed in deathly silence. Sae pressed his forehead against the cold glass, watching the city lights blur into streaks. Inside him was the same emptiness. He couldn't even muster the strength for internal protest or sarcasm.

Bunny, in contrast, seemed relaxed and pleased. He didn't try to speak, but a light, self-satisfied smile never left his lips. The evening had been a success. His "exhibit" had produced the desired effect, and he himself had looked like a man capable of owning such a treasure.

In the bedroom, bathed in soft light, Bunny was the first to break the silence. He approached Sae from behind, and his hands, familiar and authoritative, came to rest on his shoulders. His fingers slid beneath the silk, again pushing it from his shoulders. Bunny's lips, hot and moist, touched the bare skin.

"You did reasonably well," he said, unconcealed satisfaction sounding in his voice. "But there are nuances. Your reaction to... intrusive attention still needs work. Don't doubt that Mrs. Fujioka will see to it."

Sae didn't answer. He simply stood there, feeling the touches that now seemed particularly repulsive after all the foreign hands and gazes. He felt not like a person, but like an object being tested for durability after its first use.

Finally, he turned away, slipping out of his embrace. His gaze was fixed on the darkness outside the window.

"Will there be... more meetings like this?" his voice sounded indifferent.

"Of course," Bunny replied, as if it were a matter of course. "And there will be even more... private ones. You need to be especially prepared for those." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Get used to it. And learn."

There were no more words, no more glances. Sae simply took hold of his kimono sash and with one sharp, indifferent movement, untied it. The expensive silk rustled to the floor, forming a dark pool at his feet. He didn't look at Bunny, didn't say a word. He simply stepped over the pile of fabric, walked to the futon, and lay down, turning to face the wall.

He closed his eyes and, by force of will, immersed himself in emptiness, disconnecting from the reality in which he had to exist. Sleep was an internal retreat. And behind his back in the room stood silence, broken only by Bunny's steady breathing, who was pleased with the progress, but perhaps, for the first time, felt the icy wall that his perfect exhibit had begun to erect between them.

---

 

The silence of the garden was deceptive. The air, saturated with the scent of damp earth, seemed to press down on Sae, reminding him of the endless rules and the landscape's lines measured down to the millimeter. He stood at the edge of the pond, watching the smooth, lazy movements of the koi carp. Their lives were just as predetermined as his, but at least they were unaware of it.

He dipped his fingertips into the cool water, feeling a slight resistance. And then something clicked inside him. A stupid, meaningless, but irresistible impulse.

Without thinking, he stepped into the pond. The icy water seared his skin; the heavy kimono instantly soaked through, pulling him down. He ignored the discomfort, making a few clumsy strokes to swim closer to the fish, which were darting away in fright.

"Young master!" A maid's alarmed, sharp cry came from the shore. "What are you doing? The master will not appreciate such behavior!"

Sae whirled around, and his eyes, usually empty, flashed with defiant fire.

"I don't care!" he shouted back and slapped the water with his palm, sending a spray directly at the frightened woman.

She recoiled with a tiny shriek. Her bewildered gaze met that of Yuki, who was already approaching with her usual stony expression.

"You should come out, young master," Yuki said, her voice even, but with a steely thread of command hanging in it. "Immediately."

Sae looked at her defiantly, but the euphoria of rebellion was already fading, replaced by an icy chill seeping into his bones. Reluctantly, forcing his numb muscles to obey, he climbed out onto the shore. Water streamed from him, forming a puddle on the perfectly laid stones. He stood there, shivering, in his soaked-through, shapeless kimono, feeling simultaneously defeated and as if he had reclaimed a tiny shred of his will.

"You need to change immediately, you might catch a cold," Yuki said, already turning towards the house.

Sae silently trudged after her. At the entrance to the house, Yuki stopped.

"Please wait here. I will bring towels. Do not go inside, so as not to wet the floor."

It was the last straw. Sae gave her a look full of cold stubbornness and, without a word, stepped over the threshold. The wet prints of his bare feet and the drops falling from the hem of his kimono immediately spread across the polished wood. He walked down the corridor, leaving behind a damp trail of his defiance.

At that very moment, the door to the study slid open, and Bunny appeared on the threshold, wanting a break from his papers. His gaze fell on Sae, and his face contorted with pure, speechless astonishment.

"What... is this?" he asked, bewildered. "What happened?"

The maid who had followed Sae rushed forward, bowing in fear.

"Forgive me, master! He... he went into the pond."

Sae looked at her sullenly, feeling a burning sense of betrayal.

Bunny stared at the scene for a few seconds in silence. Sae, soaked, shivering, but looking at him defiantly, and a puddle on his flawless floor. Various emotions warred on his face. In the end, he simply sighed heavily.

"Get him changed. And wipe the floor," he ordered curtly, turning and disappearing back into the study.

The door closed. Bunny sank into his chair, ran a hand over his temples. An elusive smirk flickered at the corner of his lips. "Stubborn pup," flashed through his mind. There was a hint of almost grudging admiration in it for such a primitive but effective stunt. But immediately, the smirk was replaced by a slight shadow of displeasure. This pup was starting to gnaw not just on the furniture, but on the very foundations of the perfect world Bunny had so meticulously built. And something had to be done about that.

---

 

The usually impeccable garden was shattered by a desperate squeak and a fussy rustling in the azalea bushes. Sae, strolling along the path, froze, then bent down. From under the leaves, a pair of tiny, frightened eyes stared back at him. A small, scrawny kitten, striped like a little wild boar, had clearly wandered in from the street through some gap in the mighty wall.

Something flickered in Sae's eyes. Without a second thought, with the same directness with which he had entered the pond the other day, he took off his haori, carefully draped it over the trembling little creature, and, pressing it to his chest, hurried with quick steps towards the house.

Perfect order was disrupted instantly. The frightened animal, finding itself in an unfamiliar environment, squirmed free from his arms and dashed down the polished corridor, brushing against low tables with its paw and leaving a trail of dirty footprints on the flawless wood. Sae dashed after it. For the first time in many days, his face came alive with genuine, unfeigned panic and excitement. He wasn't thinking about the consequences. He was only thinking about saving the stupid creature from the servants' wrath.

"Stop!" he whispered after it, trying to cut off its path. He tried to anticipate the runaway's route, gliding silently across the floor in his tabi.

The crash of a small vase filled with pebbles for the dry landscape, knocked over by the cat's tail, sounded like a gunshot. It drew attention. Maids appeared at the noise, their faces contorted with horror.

And at that moment, the door to the living room slid open. Bunny stood on the threshold, and a rare, genuine emotion was frozen on his face. Shock, mixed with a rising, seething rage. His gaze swept over the dirty footprints, the overturned vase, the maids scurrying in panic, and finally stopped on Sae, frozen in an awkward pose in the middle of the corridor.

"Sae!" His name, torn from Bunny's throat, did not sound in his usual cold tone, but loudly, sharply, with genuine anger. This was the first time he had truly raised his voice at him.

Sae flinched, but not from fear. He straightened up and met his gaze. In his turquoise eyes was a calm, expectant attention. He looked at Bunny like a storm that just had to be waited out.

Bunny forced himself to take a deep breath. He saw that look. Shouting wouldn't help here. His fingers clenched, but his voice, when he spoke again, was quiet, almost a whisper, and thus even more dangerous.

"Your behavior..." He paused, choosing his words. "Violates the rules of this house."

He fell silent, studying Sae. He saw no remorse, but a readiness to accept the consequences. And this changed his tactics. Punishment would only harden him. A different approach was needed.

"I propose a deal," Bunny said, his voice regaining its familiar, cold confidence. "If you behave appropriately, if I see no more... such incidents, your calligraphy lessons may take place outside the house. At the master's studio."

Sae froze. His indifferent mask flickered for an instant. In his eyes, a spark of genuine, living interest flared. To go beyond the gate. It wasn't freedom, but a crack in the wall. He slowly nodded.

The corners of Bunny's lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. He had achieved his goal. He had found a currency that held value for Sae and used it to purchase his compliance.

"Excellent," he nodded back, satisfied with the resolution of the situation. Then he turned to the terrified maid. "Catch that animal and remove it. And get this place cleaned up."

The deal was struck. Sae silently turned and headed for the library. He picked up the first book he saw, but he didn't read. He sat and looked out the window, feeling two forces warring within him. The bitterness of being caught on a hook, and the faint, but stubborn, flicker of hope for those few hours a week when the walls of his prison wouldn't seem quite so insurmountable.

---

 

The air beyond the gate smelled different. Of dust, damp earth after a recent rain, and a faint wisp of smoke from a distant chimney. The path to the master's studio now lay over a carpet of crunchy leaves. The space around Bunny's house was indeed something between city and countryside. A quiet, respectable suburb. Narrow, impeccably clean streets, low fences revealing traditional tiled-roof houses beyond, the occasional passerby leisurely going about their business.

The bodyguard, a massive and silent Spaniard, walked two steps behind. Leaves crunched under his heavy boots. The presence of footsteps behind him was heavy, but not oppressive. More like a reminder of the invisible line Sae could not cross. But for now, this line allowed him to walk forward.

He was in no hurry. These fifteen minutes on foot were his personal treasure. His gaze, accustomed to interiors and the enclosed garden, greedily absorbed the details. He studied a crack in the stone pavement, the lush green of a maple leaning over a fence, a cat lazily sunning itself on a porch. He listened to the distant bark of a dog, the creak of a bicycle from a neighboring street, the quiet conversation of two old women at a gate. Nothing grand. Nothing that could impress anyone. But for him, this was the music of life, a symphony of ordinariness he had been deprived of.

He breathed deeply, and a strange, forgotten feeling of calm slowly filled him from within. Bunny's oppressive perfection wasn't here. Here was the world, with its slight disorder, its quiet flow, and its indifferent freedom.

The master calligrapher's studio was in a small, old house. The air inside smelled of old paper, ink, and wood. The old master greeted him with the same serene, silent bow. But the atmosphere was different. There was no heavy gaze of Bunny in the corner of the room, evaluating his every breath.

Sae sat down on the tatami before the low table. He took up the brush. And for the first time, his hand didn't tremble. His fingers, usually wooden with tension, regained their flexibility. He heard only the old man's gentle instructions and the rustle of the brush on paper. The ink flowed more or less evenly, the lines emerged more confidently, more alive. It wasn't mastery yet, but it was no longer the clumsy, desperate ugliness that emerged under Bunny's gaze. Here, in the silence of a stranger's house, he had found a particle of himself. The part connected to pure, untainted creativity.

The walk back seemed shorter. He walked the same route, but now with a new feeling inside, a small but firm certainty. He knew the way. He knew that around this corner was the post office, and beyond that, a small vegetable shop. This little piece of the world had become familiar again, his own personal domain.

But the walls of Bunny's house, it turned out, had a way of absorbing any calm.

The next day, the etiquette lesson room and Mrs. Fujioka, motionless as a statue, awaited him again.

"Today we will cover how to properly receive compliments about your appearance from persons of higher status than yourself," she announced, her voice as even as a blade. "Especially if the compliment carries... a hint of possessiveness."

Sae sat with his back perfectly straight, but inside, everything clenched. Yesterday's tranquility was evaporating, replaced by that familiar, nauseating feeling.

"You must not look away immediately," Mrs. Fujioka continued. "That could be perceived as arrogance or timidity. Hold your gaze for a second. Your look should be soft, slightly unfocused, as if you are hearing something pleasant, but not personal to you. Then a slight nod and a smile, not showing your teeth. A smile not for him, but into space. As if you were smiling at a flower in the garden."

Sae listened, and he felt physically ill. He wasn't just being taught rules. He was being taught to compartmentalize himself. His body, his face, his reactions. Everything was to become a public instrument, devoid of personal emotion. The smile "into space" was the most revolting. He was being forced to make his emotions fake, decorative.

"After that," Fujioka's voice cut through his thoughts, "you must say one of two phrases. If the compliment is from a man: 'You flatter me with your attention.' If from a woman: 'Your words are too kind.' The intonation is even, polite, without a trace of personal interest."

She paused and stared at him with her stone-like eyes.

"Demonstrate. I am playing the role of the wife of your spouse's business partner. I say: 'Your spouse does not exaggerate. You truly could outshine any jewel in this room.'"

Sae froze. He looked at the woman's impassive face and imagined that event, those clinging gazes. He forced the corners of his lips to twitch into a strained, lifeless smile, looking somewhere into space over her shoulder.

"Your words... are too kind," he forced out. His voice sounded flat, alien.

"Not relaxed enough," Fujioka corrected immediately. "There must be no tension in your voice. This is merely a social ritual. Like offering a cup of tea. Repeat."

Sae repeated again and again. Each repetition made him feel dirtier. He wasn't learning etiquette. He was learning the profanation of himself. And compared to this cold, calculated violence against his person, even Bunny's frankly carnal advances seemed almost honest. At least there was no poisonous, hypocritical game in them.

When the lesson ended, he walked into the corridor feeling unclean. He went to the library and stared at the brushes and ink. Yesterday's lesson now seemed like a distant dream. Here, within these walls, even his sole comfort, calligraphy, was used as bait, as a hook to keep him tethered, to force him to learn this. The art of being a beautiful, silent, unfeeling object.

He picked up the brush, but his fingers were wooden again. The smell of ink now reminded him not of freedom, but of the sheet on which Mrs. Fujioka traced the characters of "correct" behavior.

He put the brush down and just sat, looking out the window at the perfect garden. The silence of the house was again ringing. But now it was of a different quality. It was heavy with unspoken words and fake smiles polished to automatic perfection.

 

 

3

 

For several days, a particular, prickly tension hung in Bunny's house. Its source was the master himself. Bunny was coiled like a spring, his movements sharper, his gaze keener. He hurried through the corridors, giving servants orders in clipped phrases, and spent hours in his study, from which came the muffled hum of business phone conversations. Even his suits underwent unprecedented scrutiny. He could stand before the mirror for ten minutes, adjusting fabric by a millimeter and letting it go again, his face contorted in a concentrated grimace.

Sae found this strange lull almost blessed. Bunny had no time for him. There were no evening "sessions" of gazing, no attempts at conversation or humiliating caresses and camera flashes. Sae could sit quietly in the library, read, or just look out the window, without feeling that heavy, appraising gaze upon him. But this respite, as he intuitively suspected, proved to be the ominous calm before the storm.

Bunny approached him as he was browsing books on a shelf. His appearance was sudden, and he radiated cold, businesslike energy.

"The etiquette lessons today will be special," he declared without preamble. His voice was devoid of his usual feigned tenderness; steel rang in it. "Be extremely attentive."

Sae, without turning around, rolled his eyes. Weary irritation rose in his throat.

"Those lessons piss me off," he cut in, finally turning around. "I already know what to do and how. Don't need you to teach me 'specially.'"

Bunny frowned. A light shadow of impatience flickered in his eyes.

"You do," he countered, his tone turning a degree more serious. "Because not only my image, but also business deals depend on your every action, your every glance, gesture, and even breath. Big and important deals."

Sae looked at him sullenly, almost defiantly, but didn't argue. Silently, with exaggerated reluctance, he turned and headed for the lesson room. He felt a heavy, disapproving gaze settle on his back.

---

 

Mrs. Fujioka awaited him with the same stony face. But today, a particular, ritualistic significance was evident in her posture.

"Today we will focus exclusively on interacting with your spouse in public," she announced. "You must become his perfect reflection."

And then began the most revolting part. He was taught how not to blink if Bunny publicly put his arm around his waist. How to maintain a languid, devoted smile if he kissed him on the cheek. How to gently incline his head towards his shoulder, demonstrating the full depth of "love" and "devotion."

Sae listened, and his face involuntarily twisted into a grimace of disgust. This theater was sickening to him.

Smack!

A sharp, stinging pain on his shoulder made him flinch. Mrs. Fujioka's bamboo ruler came down again.

"There must not be a single extraneous emotion on your face, except blissful submission," her voice was icy. "Again. Imagine your spouse is touching your hand."

Sae clenched his teeth. A deep breath. He mentally pictured a door and slammed it shut, locking all his true feelings deep inside. He exhaled and looked ahead with an empty, soft gaze, allowing his lips to relax into a neutral, almost-smile. Finish faster, get out faster.

Then came the most difficult part. The language of gestures and glances. He was taught to read the slightest signals. A slight nod from Bunny meaning "leave," a barely perceptible eyebrow movement meaning "approach," a certain look meaning "be silent" or, conversely, "speak."

"You must understand him after the first half-word, or better yet, without words," Fujioka droned monotonously. "Your reaction must be instantaneous and flawless."

By the end of the lesson, Sae felt as if his brain had been put through a meat grinder. It was more exhausting than all the previous lessons combined. But he managed. He had become like a well-tuned machine forced to learn a new, complex program.

---

 

That evening, Bunny found him in the bedroom. Sae sat on the edge of the futon, staring blankly at the wall, his mind still numbed from the cramming.

"Tomorrow is a very important meeting," Bunny's voice brought him back to reality. "At an exclusive tea house. Don't you dare forget everything you've been taught."

Sae listened to him, looking at the floor, letting the words wash over him. He was too tired and drained to truly react. When Bunny finished his exhortation, Sae flopped onto the pillow, exhausted, and let out a loud, almost demonstrative sigh.

Bunny frowned.

"And don't you dare ruin anything," his voice became quieter and therefore more dangerous. "Or you will have to deal with the consequences. Understood?"

Sae, without looking at him, pressed his face into the silk.

"I've got it already," he muttered dully, with irritation. "Glances, gestures, blah-blah-blah... Got it."

He turned to face the wall, making it clear the conversation was over. Bunny rolled his eyes. A short sound of irritation escaped his lips. But he saw that Sae was exhausted, and more importantly, he saw the results of today's lesson. Snorting, he turned and left.

---

 

The tea house was indeed beautiful. It was located in the very heart of the city, but within its walls reigned absolute silence, broken only by the whisper of water and the songs of birds in the garden. The architecture was a model of elegant simplicity. Dark wood, paper shoji screens, soft, diffused lighting. A man in an impeccable kimono silently led them through a labyrinth of corridors to a private room.

The room was spacious, with a low table made from a single piece of wood. Seated around it were six men. All in expensive but strict suits, their faces masks of polite composure. Bunny, without removing his hand from Sae's waist, greeted them easily and confidently. Sae, following him, executed an impeccable, respectful bow.

"Iglesias-san, your spouse, as always, outshines the very morning dawn," one of the businessmen, a man with graying temples and a sharp gaze, was the first to shower Sae with compliments.

Bunny smiled, his hand on Sae's waist tightening slightly in a signal of approval.

"You flatter us, Kawabata-san," he parried softly, as Sae responded to the compliment with a slight tilt of his head and his practiced, "pleased" smile.

They sat down, and a thick tea with a tart, complex aroma was served, which, as the ceremony master explained, was an exclusive offering of this establishment.

The business part began almost immediately. The discussion concerned an upcoming auction where a complete set of samurai armor from the Date clan of the Sengoku period was to go under the hammer.

"Authenticity has been confirmed by an expert examination from Tokyo University," one of the guests, Mr. Minoru, was saying. "But the key issue is provenance. Were the armor pieces kept in the family's possession all these years, or were they found in a burial? That affects the price twofold."

"My sources claim it's a family heirloom," Bunny interjected, his fingers drumming silently on the table. "But I would like to see the original documents before the bidding begins. Too many fakes have been appearing on the market lately."

Occasionally, one of the guests, a younger man with overly bright eyes, would steer the conversation towards Sae.

"And you, Itoshi-san, are you interested in the history of the bushi? Your refined beauty would have suited the Heian era perfectly."

Sae, catching Bunny's slightest nod, would reply with a practiced phrase, his voice even and polite, his gaze downcast. He was perfect.

And then, his eyes accidentally met the gaze of one of the guests. And Sae, though he immediately looked away, managed to notice the difference. This one wasn't looking at him with hungry curiosity or cold assessment. His gaze was... analytical. But Sae, tired from the constant tension, paid it no mind. Just another strange look.

An hour later, when the business discussion reached a pause, Bunny turned to Sae and gave an almost imperceptible nod towards the door leading to the garden. The signal was clear.

Silently, with the same impassive expression, Sae rose and left the room.

The tea house garden was different. Not oppressively perfect like Bunny's garden. There was harmony here too, but it was alive, breathing. Paths of uneven stones wound between lush ferns, maple branches bent under their own weight, and in the small koi pond, fallen leaves floated, allowed to remain on the water. There was no feeling here that every leaf was being closely watched and immediately corrected.

Sae inhaled the fresh, cool air, trying to wash away the sticky film of fake smiles and foreign gazes. He walked further into the garden, towards a quiet corner where a stone bench stood under the shade of a huge pine. He felt the muscles in his back slowly relaxing. Just a few minutes. Just a few minutes without the need to be someone else.

He looked at the reflection of the sky in the dark water, trying to silence the internal hum from the performance he had just endured. Suddenly, he heard quiet, almost silent footsteps on the gravel behind him. Startled, he turned around sharply.

Before him stood a tall man. This man was younger, his posture exuding an effortless elegance. Seeing Sae's frightened reaction, the man smiled softly and made a slight, apologetic gesture with his hand.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle such a serene picture," his voice was low and pleasant. "Sometimes the garden is so beautiful, one forgets it is meant to be shared. Especially on a day like this, when the very sky itself seems to have exhaled and fallen still in contemplation."

Sae's instinctively tensed shoulders relaxed a little. The compliment was directed not at him, but at the surrounding world, and it didn't demand an immediate, forced expression of gratitude. He nodded silently, acknowledging the apology, and turned his gaze back to the pond, hoping the stranger would leave.

But he didn't leave. Taking a couple of steps to stand nearby, while maintaining a respectful distance, he spoke again, looking at the water.

"There is a particular sadness in gardens, even the most beautiful ones. Everything within them is subject to the master's design. Every stone, every tree..." He paused artfully. "Sometimes it seems that even a bird that flies in here sings not its own song, but the one expected of it. A freedom-loving creature in a gilded cage, whose song becomes only more beautiful and... sadder for it."

Sae's heart stopped for a moment. He understood. Understood from the very first word. This man wasn't just philosophizing. He was seeing through him. But Sae remembered all the lessons. His face remained impassive. He turned his head and met the stranger's gaze.

"The master who created this garden undoubtedly poured his entire soul into it," Sae said in his even, polite voice. "Perhaps the bird appreciates the safety and beauty bestowed upon it. Even if its song sounds different, it still belongs to the garden."

His answer was perfect. Evasive, full of deference to the "master," yet containing a slight, almost imperceptible hint of acceptance of his fate.

The corners of the stranger's lips twitched in a barely noticeable, approving smile. He clearly appreciated this evasive, intelligent answer. He acknowledged the game.

For a few seconds, they looked at each other in silence, and the quiet between them was thick and meaningful. Then the stranger inclined his head softly.

"Allow me to introduce myself. Shidou Ryusei."

Sae responded with an impeccable, respectful bow, as taught for interacting with equals in status.

"Sae... Itoshi." He spoke his name quietly.

Shidou took a step closer. Now he was an arm's length away. His gaze, dark and perceptive, studied Sae's face intently, as if trying to read the text hidden behind it.

"Your eyes, Itoshi-san," he began, his voice becoming quieter, almost intimate. "A rarest shade. As if they held within them the brightest day by the sea and its deepest longing. Mesmerizing."

Sae froze, caught off guard by this direct, yet so poetically veiled attack. He opened his mouth to find another polite, meaningless phrase, but he was interrupted.

"Itoshi-san?" a servant's voice came from the path. "The master requests your return."

A moment of confusion. Then Sae bowed again to Shidou, this time in farewell. Not another word. He turned and followed the servant, feeling Shidou Ryusei's intent, burning gaze on his back.

---

 

The city air crashed over Sae like a deafening, intoxicating wave after the blessed silence of the tea house. It wasn't like the quiet suburb he visited for his calligraphy lessons. Here, life was teeming. Bright neon signs had lit up in the twilight, the streets filled with people. Office workers, students laughing loudly, women with shopping bags. The hum of voices, the screech of brakes, music drifting from a café. All of it merged into a single, powerful pulse.

Bunny, not letting go of his hand, led him along the sidewalk. His grip was no longer demonstratively authoritative, but rather... companionable.

"Well, impressive, isn't it?" Bunny asked, and for the first time in a long while, an unfeigned, almost light note sounded in his voice. He watched as Sae's eyes, wide open, darted from shop window to shop window, absorbing every detail.

"There are... so many people here," Sae managed, unable to find more precise words. His heart beat in time with this urban rhythm.

"Compared to our quiet corner... yes," Bunny chuckled. "But there's an energy to it. Its own beauty."

They passed by a small shrine, wedged between modern buildings, where a few people were ringing the bell and clapping their hands. The smoke of incense mixed with the smell of fried noodles from a nearby food stall.

"Do you miss Spain?" Sae asked unexpectedly, his gaze sliding over Bunny's face. The question escaped on its own, born of the contrast between the Japanese bustle and the man's origins.

Bunny thought for a second, looking ahead.

"Sometimes," he answered honestly. "Noisy gatherings that last until dawn. The passion that people here hide so carefully behind a mask of politeness. But..." he turned to Sae, "here I found something more valuable. Refinement. Depth. A silence in which you can hear the whispers of centuries. And a beauty that you have to learn to see." His gaze at Sae softened.

Sae felt a flush creep across his cheeks and looked away, staring again at the bright signs.

"Doesn't it ever seem to you that this... refinement," he chose his words carefully, "can sometimes be suffocating?"

Bunny raised an eyebrow, but didn't get angry. On the contrary, he seemed interested.

"It all depends on your perspective, Sae. Limitations are the frame for the picture. They don't constrain art, they accentuate it. Without a frame, it dissolves into chaos." He pointed to a perfect ikebana arrangement in a flower shop window. "See? Every stem, every curve is subject to a rule. And that's precisely what makes the composition perfect."

"But it's no longer a living flower," Sae objected quietly. "It's cut and placed in a vase. Its beauty is its death throes."

Bunny stopped and looked at him with genuine surprise, mixed with approval.

"Being philosophical?" a slight, but not unkind, mockery sounded in his voice. "Perhaps. But what throes! They make the heart stop. Could an ordinary flower, growing in a field, ever evoke such rapture?"

Sae didn't answer. His attention was caught by an old bookshop, in the window of which lay tattered volumes of haiku and ukiyo-e prints.

"Do you often visit shops like this?" he asked, not looking at Bunny.

"Sometimes," he replied. "Looking for rare editions. Collecting isn't just about ancient scrolls. Sometimes the soul craves something more... human. Do you like books?"

Sae froze for a moment. His gaze, gliding over the worn spines, became distant, as if he saw something else through them.

"Before... yes," he said quietly, and genuine, unprotected bitterness sounded in his voice. "In the library in Kamakura, I could forget everything."

He said this without thinking, and immediately fell silent, as if biting his tongue. Mentioning his past, free life was dangerous territory. But Bunny, it seemed, didn't notice, or pretended not to.

Bunny smiled softly, as if he hadn't noticed.

"In our library, you'll find far rarer editions. A whole world at your service. But if you like, next time we can stop in here. Choose something for you."

"A whole world in a prison," flashed through Sae's mind, but he only nodded silently.

They reached a small bridge over a canal. The water was dark, reflecting the lights. Bunny stopped, leaning on the railing, and suddenly turned to Sae.

"Stand here. Against the water. Don't look at me, look at the lights in the distance," he said quietly, taking out his camera.

Click.

"You were flawless today," he said, looking at the water. Satisfaction sounded in his voice.

Fortunately for Sae, one photo was enough for him. He put the camera away.

Sae was silent, remembering Shidou's piercing gaze and their conversation in the garden. He felt his face become a mask again.

"You know," Bunny broke the silence, his voice sounding unusually thoughtful. He was still holding Sae's hand, but now his fingers weren't gripping, but rather intertwined with his. "There's no need to be afraid of this life. You think it's bad? For many, it's an unattainable dream."

He turned to Sae, and in his red eyes in the twilight, the neon reflections danced.

"Luxury, safety, patronage..." Bunny smiled softly, trying to soften the sharpness of his words with a joking tone. "You have all of that. And it came to you just for your pretty eyes. Not a bad deal, wouldn't you agree?"

Sae looked at him, and everything inside him went still. What could he say? That his dream smelled of the sea and salty wind, not expensive perfumes and polished wood? That he was content with his simple room in Kamakura, his brother's noise, and the right to choose what to read and what to be silent about? Those words would be meaningless. They belonged to another world, the one left behind the high walls.

He forced the corners of his lips to twitch into a weak, uncertain smile. Not of agreement, but rather a tired attempt not to shatter the fragile peace of the evening.

"I... understand," he breathed out quietly, and it was the emptiest phrase he had uttered all day.

It was enough for Bunny. He perceived it as a tiny step towards acceptance. His face softened. He leaned in, and his lips touched Sae's.

This kiss was gentle, almost romantic, against the backdrop of the beautiful evening city. There was no demand in it, just a soft affirmation of the moment.

Sae didn't resist. He stood motionless, his eyes wide open, looking at the darkening sky behind Bunny's back. He felt the warmth of another's lips, saw the perfect picture of the moment, but his heart was silent, finding no resonance within it. This kiss was like a beautiful stamp on a document whose essence he had never accepted.

Bunny slowly pulled back, his gaze satisfied. He ran his thumb along Sae's cheek.

"Let's go home," he said softly.

And they walked towards the waiting car, leaving behind the lights and noise of the city. A bright, tempting world that would forever remain for Sae merely a beautiful backdrop, against which he was destined to live according to a script not written by him.

---

 

The library had sunk into an afternoon silence. A ray of sunlight stretched through, illuminating myriads of dust motes frozen in the still air.

Sae sat on the floor, his back against an armchair. He was surrounded by open books. Heavy folios in leather bindings, elegant volumes in vellum. They lay fanned out, pages up, like large, motionless birds with broken wings. He wasn't reading. The words danced before his eyes, refusing to form meaning.

His gaze fell on one volume with gilt on its edges. "History of Great Empires." The irony didn't reach him. He picked up the book. The leather of the binding was cold and smooth. Slowly, with unnatural concentration, he stood it on its edge. It balanced for a second, wobbled, and he froze, holding his breath. But it stayed upright.

Something inside him stirred. He added a second book, leaning it at an angle. The structure began to resemble a miniature doorway. Then a third. He was building something like a house of cards. Fragile, absurd, made of words and knowledge that now meant nothing to him.

The structure grew. Sae bit his lower lip, his entire will concentrated in his fingertips, which trembled with the strain. He was positioning the fourth volume when the door slid open silently.

Bunny froze on the threshold. His gaze, cold and appraising, swept over the scene of disorder. Sae, huddled on the floor, a shaky, clumsy pyramid of books worth a fortune, the sacred order of the library reduced to rubble. In the air hung not just surprise, but a quiet horror at this demonstrative, meaningless vandalism.

"What are you doing?"

Bunny's voice was quiet, but it struck like a whip. Sae flinched all over. His fingers twitched. The structure swayed, teetered on the edge, and collapsed with heavy, dull thuds. The volumes scattered across the carpet, one book sliding and hitting the leg of a table.

The silence that followed the crash was deafening.

Sae slowly raised his eyes to Bunny. His gaze was guilty, but stubborn.

"I'm bored," he said. His voice came out hoarse.

Bunny slowly entered the room, narrowing his eyes.

"Bored?" He swept his gaze over the shelves stretching to the ceiling. "You have an entire library at your disposal. World knowledge."

"I'm tired of reading," Sae shrugged defiantly, but the movement was unnatural, strained. He leaned down and began gathering the books, throwing them into a pile in front of him. Reluctantly, roughly, clearly not planning to put them back in their places.

Bunny stepped closer. His shadow fell over Sae. He bent down and picked up one of the books. A rarest 18th-century edition with engravings. His fingers carefully traced the spine, examined the corners.

Sae watched his face, the slightest play of muscles. He waited. But Bunny merely placed the book on the table with a quiet, final thud.

"Next time," his voice was even, polished like a blade, but beneath that smoothness was a dangerous, taut tension, "if you're bored, ask for something else. Chess. Paints. Anything."

He paused, and his gaze finally met Sae's. The look was heavy and impenetrable.

"Don't damage the books."

Without waiting for a response, Bunny turned and left, leaving the door open.

Sae remained sitting on the floor in the epicenter of the chaos he had created. He didn't move. His shoulders slowly sagged. The defiance had evaporated, leaving behind a bitter emptiness.

He was alone with his boredom, which was more like a numbed despair.

---

 

The auction they had discussed at the tea house wasn't long in coming. The familiar ritual of preparation repeated itself: the maids dressed Sae in another masterpiece of tailoring. A kimono of dark green silk with muted gold embroidery depicting flying cranes. Bunny, already ready in his impeccable suit, cast a brief, appraising glance at him and nodded his approval. No words. Just focused, businesslike composure.

In the auction hall, Bunny carried himself differently than at previous meetings. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he greeted a couple of colleagues lightly, nodding for Sae to follow him. But soon, his attention was completely absorbed by the lots displayed in glass cases. He released Sae, leaving him to explore the venue on his own.

Sae strolled around the perimeter of the hall, his gaze gliding over ancient scrolls and ceramics.

Left without his usual supervision, he initially felt a strange relief. But it was soon replaced by another, uneasy feeling. He saw with what cold intensity Bunny peered into the display cases, with what tension he watched his competitors. It became clear. This lot wasn't just another acquisition for him. Something depended on the outcome of these bids.

An anxious thought stirred within Sae: the result of this evening could directly affect Bunny's mood. And, consequently, his own life in the coming days. He wouldn't want that restrained fury he sensed in the Spaniard's posture to turn in his direction. Although, to be honest, Bunny had never yet taken out business failures on him. But something in the atmosphere of this evening, in this new, detached version of Bunny, portended a different outcome. And this vague, inexplicable premonition made his heart clench with an incomprehensible anxiety.

Suddenly, an elegant shadow materialized beside him. Mr. Shidou. He was dressed in a perfectly fitted modern suit, but his mannerisms bespoke the old Japanese school.

"Itoshi-san," his bow was impeccable. "Allow me to express my admiration. You are the embodiment of wabi-sabi in human form. Fleeting, elusive beauty, so rarely encountered."

"You are too kind, Shidou-san," Sae responded, inclining his head slightly. His voice was even, as taught.

"Not at all. Simply stating a fact," Shidou took a step closer, lowering his voice to a confidential, intimate tone. His gaze slid across the hall to where Bunny stood. "Your spouse... is a man of impeccable taste. But sometimes, impeccability can be as cold as the ice on Mount Fuji's peak. Don't you think?"

He didn't wait for an answer. His hand slipped into his pocket and just as discreetly produced a small package wrapped in dark blue velvet. With a movement shielded from onlookers by his body and the folds of his own jacket, he slipped the package into the loose sleeve of Sae's kimono.

 

"A trifle," he whispered, as Sae froze in shock. "Just to remind you that the color of your eyes is unique. And that unique things shouldn't gather dust on a shelf; they should be seen."

Before Sae could say anything or return the gift, Shidou gently but unequivocally pushed his hand away.

"Refusal would insult me, Itoshi-san. And you wouldn't want to insult anyone, would you?" Mockery flashed in his eyes. He knew he had put Sae in an impossible position. To accept meant taking a secret gift behind his spouse's back. To refuse meant creating an awkward situation and perhaps incurring Bunny's wrath.

Sae felt the velvet burn his skin through the thin silk. He faltered, allowing the package to remain in his sleeve. He silently promised himself to get rid of it at the first opportunity.

Shidou, satisfied, continued, his voice becoming light and casual again:

"You know, Iglesias-san often speaks of his business with such passion. Surely you, as his spouse, share his interest in... importing exclusive goods from South America? I hear the last shipment was particularly valuable."

Sae met his gaze. For the first time that evening, his perfect-spouse mask cracked. Something sharp and wary flickered in his eyes.

"I am not interested in my spouse's business, Shidou-san. My role is to create comfort for him, not to discuss contracts."

"Such devotion," Shidou sighed softly, and that poisonous pity sounded again in his tone. "To cut away part of yourself for another's convenience... That is very Japanese. And very sad."

"A gardener need not concern himself with the origin of the vase he places flowers in. His job is to ensure they don't wilt," Sae retorted calmly.

The corners of Shidou's lips twitched in a barely perceptible smile. This time, it held genuine, lively curiosity. He had clearly expected a different reaction. Not this cold, polished parry.

"Brilliant," he said quietly, and unfeigned admiration sounded in his voice. "You never cease to amaze, Itoshi-san. Your mind... is incredibly sharp and yet impeccably disciplined." He inclined his head again in a slight bow, this time a touch more respectful. "I shall, perhaps, not distract you further from contemplating the art. Good luck to your spouse at the auction. I hope he acquires a worthy... trophy."

With these words, Shidou silently melted into the crowd, leaving Sae alone with the weight of the velvet package in his sleeve.

The night after the auction was unnaturally quiet. Bunny didn't seek his company, didn't demand his presence. He shut himself in his study, and from within came the muffled hum of his voice, too indistinct to make out the words, but angry enough to sense the mood.

---

 

The next morning, a heavy, oppressive aura hung over the house, as if before a thunderstorm. The servants moved silently, like shadows, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Passing by the study in the corridor, Sae froze. The shoji was not completely closed, and from within came Bunny's furious, strained voice.

"...that smug bastard Shidou!" he hissed, apparently into the phone. "He knew I wanted that scroll. Knows my weaknesses and plays on them. Snatched it right from under my nose, just to spite me!"

Hearing Shidou's name, Sae felt a chill run down his spine. A name that now echoed in Sae's memory with the whisper in the garden and the burning velvet in his sleeve. He had been right to get rid of that package at the first opportunity.

He stood pressed against the wall, unable to move, when the study door slid open forcefully. Bunny appeared in the doorway. His face was contorted with cold fury, but upon seeing Sae frozen a few steps away, that fury momentarily gave way to pure astonishment.

He swept his gaze over him slowly, appraisingly, and a crooked, weary smirk appeared on his lips.

"Eavesdropping?" his voice was low and mocking. "Are my affairs so interesting to you, little bird?"

Sae, caught in the act, felt a rush of heat to his cheeks. But instead of making excuses or showing fear, he met his gaze, and his own voice sounded surprisingly even and cold, with a hint of irritation.

"I don't care about your strange affairs," he cut him off. "Just keep it down. You're the one who established the rules of silence in this house. It's not good to break them."

Bunny's eyebrows rose. He had clearly expected anything but this direct, almost cheeky rebuke, cloaked in concern for the "rules." He stared at Sae in silence for a few seconds, studying him, then gave a short, soundless nod and, without another word, walked past, leaving the study entrance slightly ajar. His footsteps faded at the end of the corridor.

Sae remained standing there, watching him go. Then his gaze, against his will, slid into the crack of the door. Inside, on the large desk, lay several unpacked boxes lined with soft wood shavings. New acquisitions.

His heart began to pound. The entrance was open. No one inside. He could go in. Just for a minute. Just to look. To satisfy that aching curiosity.

He took a hesitant step forward, then froze, clenching his fists. Was it a trap? A test?

Curiosity proved stronger than caution. Taking a quick, almost stealthy step, Sae crossed the threshold into the study.

He approached the desk, not touching anything, just carefully examining the treasures. A Muromachi-era vase with a crack emphasized by gold kintsugi. A heavy ceremonial sword, its blade cleaner than a mirror. That very suit of armor. It was impressive. And several scrolls in elegant cases. His fingers instinctively reached for one, but he restrained himself, simply standing and absorbing the atmosphere of this place of power and secrecy.

Suddenly, a shadow appeared in the doorway. Sae whirled around, his heart stopping for a moment. In the doorway stood Bunny, holding a small, elegant plate with a piece of airy Japanese confectionery. His face expressed pure, genuine astonishment.

"I believe I asked you not to come in here," he said, but there was no anger in his voice, only a poorly concealed bewilderment that his order had been so easily ignored.

Sae, however, didn't make excuses. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Bunny and asked a question that seemed to hang in the air between them like a heavy bell:

"How did the auction go?"

Bunny froze, the confectionery halfway to his mouth. He lowered his hand, his red eyes narrowing. Sae, interested in his affairs? This was as unexpected as it was suspicious.

"Successfully," he finally said curtly, looking away towards the desk. "Acquired everything I planned. Except for one scroll." He forcefully broke off a piece of the sweet. "Some bastard, Shidou Ryusei, got it."

"What's special about it?" Sae pressed, his voice even but insistent. "And why do you speak of him like that?"

Bunny snorted, turning back into a petulant child.

"The scroll? Rare calligraphy from the Sougen school. Priceless. And Shidou..." He waved his hand dismissively. "I don't like the way he does business. Dirty. Deliberately gets under my skin. He's just... strange. Insufferable."

He spoke with such childish, unfiltered malice, with such a sulky expression, that Sae couldn't help himself. A short, genuine laugh escaped his lips.

Bunny fell silent abruptly. He stared at Sae, his face frozen in a mask of complete, absolute shock. For the first time, he had heard Sae truly laugh. Not a sarcastic smirk, not a bitter exhale, but a real, light laugh. He even looked around bewilderedly for a second, as if searching for the source of this unfamiliar sound.

"What... what is it?" he finally managed, unable to hide his confusion.

Sae shook his head, still smiling, and rolled his eyes with an expression that held both weariness and amusement.

"It's just... funny. A grown, serious businessman, talking about a competitor like a kid in the schoolyard who didn't get the toy he wanted. It looks... ridiculous."

Bunny stood frozen in indecision. His eyebrows lowered, ready to frown at the insult, but his gaze was still fixed on Sae's smile, throwing him off balance. Finally, he simply shoveled the remaining sweet into his mouth and muttered, looking away:

"It doesn't matter how it looks. Our business is serious."

"Yes, of course," Sae snorted with undisguised sarcasm, turned, and without asking permission, walked out of the study, leaving Bunny alone with his expensive trinkets and a completely new, incomprehensible feeling.

---

 

A couple of days passed, surprisingly calm. Mrs. Fujioka didn't appear, and Sae spent his days in the library, immersed in reading. The silence was broken only by Bunny's footsteps. He stopped in the doorway, his gaze thoughtful rather than appraising.

"Would you like to try something new?" he asked without preamble. "Sea urchin with truffle and caviar. The taste... is unusual."

Sae looked up from his book in surprise. It was a strange, unfamiliar question. He nodded, unable to find words.

Bunny nodded back, more to himself.

"Good. Informal meeting tonight. Need to discuss recent acquisitions in a relaxed setting." He stated this as a given, but something else lurked in his tone, as if he were sharing plans and secretly hoping for approval. Sae simply nodded again, stunned by this change.

---

 

In the car, watching the passing lights, Sae gathered his courage.

"Do you really have to be at all these meetings?"

Bunny, looking out the window, sighed heavily.

"Unfortunately, yes." He turned to Sae for a moment, and for the first time, Sae saw genuine, weary irritation in his eyes. "Sometimes it's exhausting. Constantly having to keep up appearances, smile at people you can't stand... That's the price of our position."

"Such strange, fake pretense," Sae couldn't help but let the sarcasm break through his usual restraint.

Bunny turned to him sharply, his gaze hardening again.

"That's our work. And yours too. You have to live up to it." With that, the conversation was over.

The restaurant was exclusive but had an intimate atmosphere. When they were led to their table, Sae froze for a second. Among Bunny's colleagues sat Shidou Ryusei. Bunny, upon seeing him, only tightened his jaw for a fraction of a second, then bestowed upon everyone his most impeccable, icy smile. Greetings were exchanged, and Sae followed suit, executing a flawless bow.

Their eyes met. Turquoise and dark. Shidou looked at him not with challenge, but with deep, probing interest. Sae was the first to look away, feeling goosebumps run down his spine.

Food was already being arranged on the table. The dish Bunny had promised appeared before Sae. He ate slowly, with impeccable etiquette, not raising his eyes, as conversations about markets, auctions, and investors flowed around him. When he finished, he cautiously glanced at Bunny. The silent question in his eyes was clear. Bunny, without interrupting his conversation, gave a barely perceptible nod. Sae excused himself quietly and headed towards the direction indicated by the waiter: the restaurant's secluded inner courtyard.

The air in the courtyard was cool and fresh. Sae took a few deep breaths, trying to shake off the oppressive atmosphere of the gathering. He hadn't even enjoyed a minute of solitude when he heard soft, confident footsteps behind him.

In the doorway, illuminated by the golden light from the restaurant, stood Shidou. His hands were in his pockets, and on his face played that same evasive, all-knowing smile.

"Found a refuge, Itoshi-san?" his voice was soft, not disturbing the night's silence. "It's hard to maintain a flawless appearance when you're looked at like an exhibit in a museum. I understand."

Sae didn't answer. He just looked at him, feeling his pulse quicken. Shidou was without his jacket, in dark trousers and a shirt with an open collar, which made him less formal and more dangerous.

"I remembered you while sorting through my library," he approached, holding a small, old book in a worn binding. "And I thought this should be with you." He held it out to Sae. Acting almost on autopilot, Sae accepted the book. It was heavy for its size.

"I can't..." Sae began, but Shidou gently interrupted.

"You can. It is a gift from one admirer of beauty to another. Don't deny me this small joy." His fingers briefly touched the cover, which Sae now held. "Pay particular attention to the page marked with the silk bookmark. There's a poem there about a certain bird... I think you will understand it."

Sae silently looked at the book, then gave the man a slight nod.

"You know, I've always wondered how people find their path. Especially such... bright individuals. How did you meet Iglesias-san? Was it fate, chance?"

The question seemed to hang in the air, harmless and social. Sae looked away towards the restaurant windows.

"Our meeting was predetermined by circumstances," he answered evasively, using a learned, neutral phrase.

"Circumstances..." Shidou repeated softly, as if tasting the word. "Interesting. And your devotion to him... is that also born of these 'circumstances'? Or is there something more personal in it?"

He stepped closer, his voice becoming quieter, more intimate, but steel crept into it.

"It's just that you don't look like a man who gives up his will so easily to another. Unless, of course, he was forced to."

Sae felt a chill run down his spine. He was silent, gripping the edge of his kimono with fingers hidden in his sleeve.

Shidou let the pause hang, letting the pressure build. The moonlight picked out the pale features of Sae's face, his tense neck.

"I've heard rumors, of course," he made a slight, almost apologetic gesture with his hand. "But I'm not one to believe gossip. That's why I'm asking you directly..."

He took the final, decisive step, closing the distance to a minimum. His words were spoken with icy politeness:

"He bought you, didn't he?"

The air left Sae's lungs. He didn't make a sound, but his body answered for him. He froze, as if struck by lightning. His eyes, wide open, betrayed for an instant shock, shame, and fury, before he could pull his mask back on. His silence, that fraction of a second of pure, unprotected horror, was already an admission.

The corners of Shidou's lips twitched in an almost imperceptible, but unmistakable smirk of triumph. He had his answer. He knew.

And at that very moment, from behind a bamboo thicket, the massive shadow of the bodyguard emerged.

"Itoshi-san," his voice, rough and devoid of any nuance, cut through the night air like a knife. "Iglesias-san requests your company."

Sae flinched, recoiling from Shidou as if caught in the act of a crime. The book, which he had almost forgotten in his hand, burned in his fingers again.

Shidou, not at all fazed, stepped back, his face again a mask of courtesy.

"Of course, one mustn't keep your spouse waiting," he repeated his phrase, but now a barely perceptible mockery sounded in his tone. "Until soon, Itoshi-san. I hope you find time for some reading."

Sae, unable to utter a word, silently followed the bodyguard. He felt Shidou's gaze burning into his back. He took a few steps towards the illuminated entrance of the restaurant. But then he stopped, as if adjusting his kimono sleeve. A moment. Just one moment.

He turned, casting a quick glance towards the shadowy corner of the garden where Shidou remained. He had already turned away, his attention drawn to something else. Now.

Sae's fingers unclenched. A light rustle of paper against silk, and the small book slipped silently into the dense ferns at his feet. He didn't look down. He simply got rid of it, like dangerous evidence.

No traces. No proof. Only a slight tremor in his fingertips and a cold weight on his heart. He turned and, without looking back, stepped into the bright light and the hum of voices, leaving behind in the shadowy garden both the book and the fleeting illusion of choice.

---

 

The days after the restaurant slipped through his fingers like water. But within that viscous ordinariness, a virus had taken hold. One phrase.

It echoed in his head. It became a physical sensation. Every time Bunny looked at him, Sae felt not a gaze on his skin, but an appraising label. As if an invisible auction tag with numbers now burned on his forehead. Bunny's touches, which once caused revulsion or an icy numbness, now made him flinch internally.

One day, he stopped before a perfect bonsai in the living room. Before, he had seen in it a captured nature, a kindred spirit. Now, he saw only an object. A tree deliberately twisted, stunted in its growth, placed in a precious, cramped pot, and the whole world admired its "refined beauty." The beauty of unfreedom, which cost money.

That evening, Sae sank into a deep armchair, trying to dissolve into the lines of a borrowed novel. Footsteps, lazy and authoritative, cut through the silence like a knife through butter. He didn't look up until Bunny's shadow fell across the page, blocking the light from the lamp.

"What are you reading?" Bunny asked without particular interest.

Sae silently lifted the book, showing the cover. Bunny glanced at it and hummed quietly.

"I'm tired. Want to relax. Come with me."

Sae's eyes darted up, wary. But Bunny had already turned and was walking towards the exit, not looking back. After a couple of seconds, Sae, with a stifled sigh, rose and trudged after him.

They walked silently through the corridors to the bathing room. The air here was humid, heavy, filled with the scent of pine needles and yuzu peel, which hung in the air like fog. The large, rectangular o-furo of dark wood was filled almost to the brim. The water, infused with cedar, seemed almost black and opaque. The only light came from a low paper lantern, casting warm, dancing patches on the walls of polished wood.

Bunny, without a word, began to undress. He did so unhurriedly, hanging his robe on a wooden stand. Sae froze at the threshold, turning sharply to face the wall, staring at a knot in the paneling. He heard bare footsteps approach across the smooth floorboards.

Fingers touched the knot of his sash. Sae flinched and recoiled, finally looking at Bunny.

"Don't."

"It's just a relaxing bath, Sae," Bunny's voice was as calm as the water in the ofuro.

His hand gently wrapped around Sae's wrist and pulled him closer. With his other hand, he untied the sash. The fabric rustled to the floor at his feet. Sae stood, eyes squeezed shut, feeling the heat from the steam and shame rise to his face. He looked at the cracks between the floorboards, at the swirling steam. Anywhere but ahead.

Bunny took his hand and led him to the edge of the ofuro. The wood was warm and smooth under his feet.

"Get in."

Sae reluctantly, every movement an effort against the instinct to flee, climbed into the large tub. The hot water seared his skin, rising almost to his chest, forcing a restrained, hoarse exhale. He sat, drawing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, trying to take up as little space as possible in this too-large bath that suddenly felt too small.

Bunny lowered himself into the water after him. Sae felt the shift in water level, a wave pushing him closer. Strong hands came to rest on his shoulders and gently but insistently turned him so his back was facing Bunny. Then they pulled him, settling him between Bunny's widely spaced legs.

Sae tried to maintain some distance, tensing his back, holding himself straight as a drawn bowstring. But Bunny's arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer, closer, until his back was pressed firmly against the other's chest. The water, now reaching Sae's collarbones, made this contact enveloping, inevitable, impossible to ignore.

Every muscle in Sae's body turned to stone. He froze, barely breathing, trying to create an invisible barrier where there was none. To ignore the warmth of another body, the breath near his ear, the heavy hand on his stomach, the fingers resting on his chest, right over his wildly beating heart. And that other thing he felt against his lower back. Hard. Hot through the water. He desperately, with animal panic, tried not to think about it, not to name it, not to allow it to exist in his consciousness.

Bunny relaxed with a deep, satisfied exhale that Sae felt not only with his ears but with his entire back. The movement of his ribs, the vibration in his chest. His hands remained in place. One on Sae's stomach, thumb slowly, lazily stroking the skin just above his navel. The other on his chest, the palm feeling every too-frequent heartbeat, as if counting them.

Sae waited for the hand to slide lower, for the embrace to turn into a grip. But it didn't happen. Bunny simply held him. He stared at the opposite wall. At the play of shadows from the lantern. At the dark grain in the wood.

Time dragged thickly. Measured only by the quiet splashes of water when one of them moved. Bunny's thumb continued its slow, methodical work. Tracing his collarbone, sliding to his shoulder, returning. The movements were almost hypnotic in their insistent monotony.

Gradually, the heat of the water did its work. The iron line of Sae's shoulders began to tremble from the fatigue of holding the tension. Muscles ached. His neck hurt. He wanted to give up, to stop fighting, because it changed nothing.

Against his will, slowly, like ice melting, his body began to sag. The back he had held so straight finally gave in, yielding to gravity and exhaustion. His shoulders dropped. His head, heavy as a stone, sought support.

"There," Bunny whispered quietly, almost tenderly, near his ear. "Relax."

Sae didn't answer. He was still looking away, at the wall, at the shadows, at anything but back, but up, but into those eyes that he knew were watching him. But his neck gave in. With a quiet, almost inaudible exhale of defeat, the back of his head fell back and found a resting point on Bunny's shoulder.

The response was instantaneous. Lips touched his damp hair in a light, almost weightless kiss. Then a voice, pleased, soothing:

"You've seemed so tense lately. What's troubling you?"

Sae swallowed slowly. His throat was dry, despite the steam. He felt how each of Bunny's words vibrated against the back of his head.

"Nothing new," his voice came out muffled, almost unrecognizable. "I just... still find all of this unpleasant."

Bunny hummed softly.

"You just need to relax and accept things as they are, Sae. I do everything to make you comfortable."

Sae fell silent. Words got stuck somewhere between his throat and tongue, heavy, useless. He lowered his right hand into the dark water. His fingers, pale beneath the surface, began to move slowly, tracing lazy circles, creating eddies, dispersing air bubbles. He watched, mesmerized. It was the only thing he could control.

He focused on it. On how the water parted before his palm and closed behind it. How the bubbles clung to his wrist. How the lantern light refracted in the ripples, creating shimmering paths. He played with the water, as he once played at home, in the bath, when he was small, when the world was simpler and safer, and no one held him like this, and no one breathed down his neck, and no one watched.

Bunny didn't move. He just held him and watched. Sae felt that gaze on every inch of his skin. Heavy, unblinking, studying. He could see where the gaze traveled, even without turning his head. To the play of his fingers in the water. To the curve of his damp neck in the sparse light. To the droplets trailing down his collarbones.

Bunny's breathing became slightly deeper, slower. The fingers on Sae's stomach tightened a little, then relaxed. Behind Sae's back, that pressure didn't disappear. It became more noticeable. But Bunny didn't move. He just watched. Absorbed. Enjoyed the picture.

Nothing remained in the room but the steam, the scent of yuzu, the splash of water, and this all-consuming, clinging attention, from which he wanted to tear his skin off and turn himself inside out, just to stop feeling it.

Sae continued to move his hand through the water. Monotonously. Like a mantra that didn't protect, but at least gave the illusion that he was here, that he existed separately, that he wasn't just a part of this picture that Bunny was painting for himself.

---

 

By the evening of the third day, he stood before the mirror, preparing to go out. Yuki was adjusting the folds of his kimono. Their eyes met in the reflection. In her stony eyes, he suddenly, with horrific clarity, read not just indifference, but awareness. She knew. All the servants in this house knew the true price of his presence here. They were not witnessing to his shame, but part of the mechanism ensuring the safety of the invested capital.

He didn't feel a new wave of shame. Instead, deep down, beneath the layers of fear and despair, a firm and quiet resolve was born. If he was an object, then he could also be a defective object.

His face in the mirror was perfectly calm. But deep in his turquoise eyes, where before there had been only emptiness or longing, now lived a tiny, cold spark of new understanding. Shidou's question had ceased to be torture. It had become a diagnosis. And with a diagnosis, you could work.

---

 

Another event. This time in a modern art space, where guests moved between installations. Sae, following Bunny's invisible command, stayed half a step behind him, but his gaze would occasionally, unconsciously, linger on an abstract sculpture that reminded him of freedom of form.

It was in this moment of secluded contemplation that Shidou found him. He approached so quietly that Sae startled, feeling his presence.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you," Shidou smiled, his gaze warm and understanding. "I saw you looking at this work. It resonates with something inside, doesn't it? Almost like a longing for something unattainable."

Sae bowed silently, giving the standard polite response:

"It is very unusual."

"Unusual..." Shidou nodded, taking a step closer so they wouldn't be overheard. "As is your name. 'Sae.'"

He spoke his name without the surname, softly, almost with tenderness. Sae felt goosebumps run down his spine. It was improper, intimate, and intentional.

"It's a beautiful name. Full of meaning and poetry," Shidou continued, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "'Sae'... like a gentle breeze heralding change. Or a whisper heard only by the most sensitive." He looked intently at Sae. "Your parents must have been people with delicate souls to give you such a name. They saw in you something... light, free."

He paused, allowing the poison of doubt to seep into Sae's consciousness.

"Strange, isn't it?" Shidou sighed quietly. "To give a name meaning 'whisper of the wind' or 'little truth' to someone whose life is meant to be so... loud. So conspicuous. Or perhaps they foresaw your fate? That your essence would be hidden, and all that would remain of you is a quiet, barely audible whisper in the shadow of a great man."

It was a low blow. Shidou wasn't just complimenting him. He was linking his essence, his birth-given name, to his current situation.

Sae couldn't answer. Any answer would be an admission. He could only stand there, feeling his name, the most personal thing he had left, burn on his tongue, poisoned by Shidou's venomous logic.

At that moment, Bunny appeared from around a corner. His gaze instantly shifted from Sae to Shidou, and the air crackled with tension.

"Shidou-san," Bunny's voice was as smooth as a katana's blade. "I see you've taken on the role of guide to Japanese linguistics for my spouse. How very kind of you. But I'm afraid I must take my leave of him. He has other duties awaiting him."

He didn't look at Sae. His gaze was fixed on Shidou.

Shidou stepped back with the same graceful bow.

"Of course. Until next time... Sae-san."

He deliberately used his name again, throwing a challenge directly in Bunny's face before melting back into the crowd.

Bunny silently took Sae by the elbow, his fingers gripping with such force that they promised a bruise. He led him away without a word. But Sae no longer heard his anger. In his ears rang his own name, spoken with such mockery and pity that it now sounded to him like a sentence.

Bunny led Sae into an empty side hall set aside for coats. The door closed, cutting off the noise of the party. The air became thick and heavy.

"I do not wish to see that bastard crawling around you like a fly over honey. He tests my boundaries, and you... you stand there and allow it to happen," Bunny hissed quietly, not releasing Sae's elbow, trying to keep himself under control.

Sae met his gaze, feeling adrenaline course through his insides.

"I don't show him any obvious desire to interact. He approaches on his own. What am I supposed to do?" For the first time, sharp notes of despair sounded in his voice. "You yourself taught me that the main thing is to save face. I'm doing that."

Bunny studied him for a few seconds, his fingers finally unclenching. He took a step back, running a hand over his face. Anger gave way to cold, calculating thoughtfulness. Sae was right. Any crude reaction would be a loss.

"Fine," Bunny exhaled, his voice becoming even again. "Just... don't let him get what he wants. He's deliberately trying to provoke a reaction from me."

He didn't wait for an answer, turned, and walked back into the main hall, making it clear the conversation was over. Sae followed him, feeling the ground slip further from under his feet.

Returning to the main hall, Bunny was once again the impeccable host. He found Shidou in the center of a group of important partners discussing new import restrictions. The very gray area where Bunny operated.

Shidou, seeing them, met Bunny's gaze with a light, almost friendly smile. He wasn't stopping the game.

"Ah, Iglesias-san! Just in time," he gestured them into the circle. "We were just discussing how new bureaucratic hurdles might affect... delicate shipments. Your unique experience here is invaluable."

Bunny nodded, taking a position that physically blocked Sae from direct contact with Shidou.

"Bureaucracy is merely noise," Bunny countered. "Real deals are made between those who understand the language of silence."

"Wisely said," Shidou took a sip of wine, his eyes glinting. "But sometimes silence is best broken by one who sees the situation from a different, unclouded perspective." He smoothly shifted his gaze to Sae, standing just behind Bunny. "Itoshi-san, as someone who grew up in this culture, but has a... unique view of things due to your current position. What do you think, how applicable is our traditional Japanese concept of 'giri' to modern business relations? Doesn't it seem to you that some foreign partners abuse it, perceiving duty as weakness?"

The air froze. The question was mortally dangerous. It directly alluded to the relationship between Bunny and Sae, cloaking it in terms of business ethics. He was publicly asking Sae to condemn the very foundation of his existence here.

All eyes turned to Sae. He felt the back of Bunny in front of him become absolutely still, like a stone wall.

Bunny gently placed his hand on Sae's shoulder, his touch light but carrying the full weight of his will. He turned to him with a tender, almost fatherly smile that everyone could see.

"Darling, don't trouble your head with such complex matters," his voice was honeyed, but his eyes were ice. "Mr. Shidou is, of course, joking. My Sae has the soul of an artist, not a crude businessman. His duty is to be beautiful, not to understand debts. Forgive him, he is too modest for such discussions."

He didn't give Sae a chance to open his mouth. He masterfully transformed him from a potential participant in the discussion back into an ornament, an "artist's soul" whose opinion carried no weight.

Then Bunny turned back to Shidou, his smile becoming a snarl.

"As for 'giri,' Shidou-san, I, as a foreigner, perhaps understand it differently. For me, it is not a duty, but... an unbreakable guarantee. And those who try to play with my guarantees quickly learn that my patience also has its limits. Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to discuss important matters with the minister."

He nodded to those assembled and, still holding Sae by the shoulder, led him away, leaving Shidou with his poisonous smile and unspoken jab. Bunny won this round, but the price was high. He was forced to publicly remind Sae and everyone present of his true, humiliating status. And both Shidou and Sae understood this perfectly.

---

 

The air in the bedroom was thick and heavy as lead. Bunny tore off his clothes with uncharacteristic sharpness, throwing his expensive jacket onto a chair.

"That bastard... that smug puppy..." he hissed through his teeth, addressing himself more than Sae. "He tests my patience. Thinks he can cross boundaries with impunity."

Sae, meanwhile, silently and methodically removed his kimono, carefully folding it. He sat before the vanity and began to wipe off the light powder they had applied before the event. In the mirror, he saw Bunny's reflection. His tense back, his clenched fists. He listened to his tirade, occasionally casting an impassive glance at him.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped. Sae felt a shadow fall over him. Strong hands came to rest on his shoulders, gripping them. He tensed all over, froze.

Bunny leaned down, his lips right at Sae's ear. His voice was low, commanding, and scorchingly quiet.

"Listen to me carefully. You are not to allow him anything. No hints, no undue attention, no... 'philosophical' conversations." He venomously emphasized the last word. "If he dares approach you again, if he asks even one inappropriate question, you tell me immediately. Understood?"

Sae froze. The memories of the velvet case and the book, secretly thrown away in the garden, burned inside him. Undue attention had already occurred. And he had hidden it. To confess now would mean bringing down upon himself everything that would follow such a lie.

And then, from the depths of that fear and shame, a wave of anger rose. He was not going to endure these humiliating instructions.

He abruptly lifted his head, meeting Bunny's gaze in the mirror. His own face became hard, almost cruel.

"I'm not stupid," his voice rang out sharply, enunciating each word. "And I have no intention of interacting in any way with those... repulsive people. They're no better than you. You're all cut from the same cloth."

Bunny's fingers on his shoulders dug into his skin with such force that Sae gasped involuntarily in pain. The pain was sharp and humiliating.

"Don't you dare..." Bunny hissed, pulling him even closer, his face in the mirror contorted with pure rage, "...never dare compare me to them."

He spoke quietly, but every sound was like the crack of a whip.

"If you were in their hands, they wouldn't care for you. You would be a temporary toy to them. An amusing whore to be used until they got bored, then thrown away like used-up material. Do you understand?"

The words, crude and direct, crashed down on Sae with stunning force. They were not an empty threat. They carried the chilling certainty of a man who knew this world from the inside. All of Sae's rage instantly evaporated, replaced by a soul-freezing realization. He froze, unable to move, unable to find an answer. The possibility of such a fate... being used and discarded... proved more terrifying than his current gilded cage.

Bunny, seeing the shock in his eyes, finally released his grip. He silently turned, extinguished the light, and lay down on the futon, turning to face the wall.

Sae remained sitting there. He didn't move, staring at his pale reflection in the dark mirror. His shoulders burned with pain, and inside was only a heavy, motionless emptiness. Bunny hadn't just threatened him. He had painted a picture of the abyss into which Sae could fall, deprived of his "care." And that picture was horrifyingly convincing. Now, his silence, his secret, was no longer just an act of defiance, but playing with fire capable of burning him to ashes.

---

 

The morning was clear and quiet. Sunlight filtered through the garden foliage, casting lacy shadows on the veranda. The air smelled of damp earth and freshly brewed tea.

Sae stepped onto the veranda, his movements slow, as if bound by the invisible threads of yesterday's tension. Bunny was already sitting at the low table, finishing a portion of tamagoyaki. He didn't look up, but his posture betrayed an unnatural composure.

Sae silently lowered himself onto the cushion opposite and began to eat, staring at his plate as if examining a complex puzzle rather than plain boiled rice.

The silence stretched for several agonizing minutes. Bunny broke it, setting down his chopsticks.

"Last evening... was tense," he began, his voice deliberately even. He didn't look at Sae, but traced the rim of his cup with his finger. "Perhaps I allowed myself excessive... vehemence. I had no intention of upsetting you."

Instead of nodding silently, Sae set down his chopsticks. He looked carefully at Bunny, his turquoise eyes clear and calm.

"It wasn't the words that upset me," he began quietly, but clearly. "It's their cause that concerns me." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "What drives a man with such power and control to resort to such... crude methods? What frightens you so much about Shidou that you're willing to crush everything in your path, including..." He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear, ...including me.

Bunny froze, his cup stopping halfway to the table. He looked at Sae with undisguised astonishment.

"It's not fear," Bunny cut him off, but his voice had lost some of its certainty.

"Then what?" Sae insisted, his tone not challenging, but questioning, almost clinical. "If not fear, then what? An old grudge? Mistrust of everyone?" He tilted his head slightly. "Sometimes it seems your anger is just a shield. A very large and very heavy one. And I wonder what you're so desperately hiding behind it that you can't even lower it in your own home."

Bunny pushed his cup away. He stared at Sae in silence for several seconds, various emotions warring on his face. Shock, anger, and something akin to bewilderment. His own methods were being turned against him.

"You... are allowing yourself too much," he finally said, but his voice lacked its former power. It sounded like the last bastion of his defense.

"Perhaps," Sae agreed, returning to his breakfast. "But you yourself created the conditions where I have nothing left to lose. And where your behavior has ceased to be a mere given and has become... a subject for study."

He said nothing more. The tension in the air didn't disappear, but it had transformed. It was now a silence between two opponents, one of whom had suddenly begun to see the weak points in the other's armor.

---

 

The road to the master's house had become almost familiar. Sae walked the same route, but this time his steps were measured, and his gaze... not greedy, but attentive. He wasn't absorbing everything indiscriminately; he was noting details.

He noticed that new ceramics had appeared in the window of the small shop he always passed. Vases with a rough, uneven glaze, completely unlike the flawless pieces in Bunny's house. Their imperfection struck him as alive and honest.

In that very spot where the stray cat had been sunning itself last time, there was nothing today. Only the flattened grass indicated that someone had recently been lying there. The world around was the same, yet constantly changing, unlike the frozen beauty of his home.

He passed by an open window from which came the smell of fried onions and the sound of a television. Ordinary, everyday life, going on its own way, paying him no mind.

Nothing grandiose. No revelations. Just a road that had become a little bit his own. And in that, there was a quiet value. He walked, feeling the light breeze on his face, and understood that these fifteen minutes belonged only to him.

---

 

The air in the house, usually tense from Bunny's invisible presence, was light and empty today. Sae, returning from his lesson, didn't feel the familiar weight of a gaze. He found Yuki in the corridor.

"Where is he?" he asked, and there was no anxiety in his voice, just ordinary curiosity.

Yuki, as always, bowed, her face impassive.

"The master left for an important meeting. He will return late. He asked that you wash up and rest."

Inside Sae, something quietly and sweetly spread its wings. The entire day, since that very breakfast, had been building up. First a psychological victory, then a satisfying walk, and now a complete, unconditional respite. He nodded to Yuki and headed for the bathing room.

He didn't just wash. He created a ritual for himself. The hot water enveloped him, washing away not only the city dust but also the remnants of yesterday's tension. He carefully examined the bottles of oils and lotions on the shelf, chose one, and slowly worked it into his skin. His movements were slow, almost meditative.

Then, wrapped in a soft cotton yukata, he went into his room. The idea came to him on its own, sudden and bold. Why not?

When a maid silently entered the room to collect his clothes, he, looking out the window at the darkening garden, said in an even tone:

"I want a massage."

The maid bowed silently and returned a few minutes later with oil and a towel. Her fingers, strong and knowledgeable, began to knead the tight muscles of his shoulders and back. Sae closed his eyes, allowing his body to go limp. He felt the knots of stress, tied over weeks of living in constant readiness, slowly, one by one, release their dead grip.

The night was warm and serene. Sae, lulled by the rare feeling of peace, slept deeply, without stirring, his breathing even and quiet. He didn't hear the crunch of the approaching car, didn't hear the footsteps in the corridor.

Bunny returned after midnight. His shoulders bore not so much physical fatigue as the weight of business negotiations. The house greeted him with deathly silence. On his way to the bedroom, with a familiar gesture, he summoned Yuki, who materialized from the shadows as if by magic.

"Well?" he asked curtly, not stopping.

"The young master returned from his lesson in high spirits," Yuki reported quietly, following half a step behind. "He took a long bath. Used the skincare products. Afterwards... he requested a massage."

Bunny paused for a moment, his step faltering. A shadow of genuine astonishment flitted across his tired face. Requested a massage. Sae, who until recently flinched at any touch, now... was indulging himself. Allowing himself the luxury of care of his own volition.

He nodded to Yuki, signaling for her to leave, and silently slid open the door to the bedroom.

Moonlight streamed through the shoji, silvering the edge of the pillow and the light hair scattered upon it. Sae was sleeping on his side, his face turned towards the door. The expression on his face was calm, without the usual furrowed brow or trace of tears. He looked... peaceful.

Bunny watched him for several long seconds. A complex, unspoken thought lay in his tired eyes. He undressed in the darkness, not turning on the light, trying not to disturb the silence. His clothes settled silently onto a chair.

He lay down in his place, staring at the ceiling. The echo of Sae's words at breakfast — "What frightens you so much?" — mingled with the image of his sleeping face. Instead of the usual urge to wake him, to demand attention, Bunny felt only a heavy, leaden fatigue.

He turned onto his side, facing Sae, and closed his eyes. In the unfamiliar silence of the room, broken only by the young man's steady breathing, he himself quickly fell asleep. For the first time, their night passed without struggle, silent opposition, or painful intimacy.

 

 

4

 

"Please repeat: 'Buenos días,'" the teacher said, smiling.

"Buenos días," Sae repeated monotonously, looking out the window. His pronunciation was flat, without a single spark of interest.

"Almost! Try to emphasize the 'e': Bu-e-nos," the teacher gently corrected.

Sae silently shifted his gaze to Bunny, who was sitting motionless in an armchair in the corner of the room. He didn't interfere, but his presence was thick as smog, poisoning the air.

"Buenos días," Sae said again, with the same lifeless intonation.

"'Días,' Sae, 'días'" — unable to contain himself, Bunny interjected sharply. He put down the book he had only been pretending to read. "The 'd' sound is softer here. Do you hear the difference? Días."

Sae frowned, his fingers clenching on his knees. He tried again, but under Bunny's heavy gaze, his tongue became wooden once more.

"After so many lessons," Bunny's voice became quieter, "you should have absorbed at least basic phrases. The problem isn't ability, but lack of focus."

It was the last straw. Sae abruptly raised his gaze to him, and his eyes, usually empty, flashed.

"Maybe the problem is," his voice rang out sharply and clearly, "that I can't focus when you're hovering over me, trying to control every breath I take? That's not helping."

The teacher froze, trying to become invisible. The air crackled with tension.

Bunny rose. Cold, analytical irritation showed on his face.

"Fine," he said, approaching the door. "If my absence can somehow raise your level from its current deplorable state, I am willing to grant you that privilege." He stopped in the doorway and turned. "But if I don't see progress... I will attend every lesson."

He left, without slamming the door. The silence he left behind was deafening.

Sae exhaled heavily and rolled his eyes in irritation. The teacher coughed nervously.

"So..." he tried to return to the lesson. "'Buenos días.' Let's... try again."

Sae closed his eyes for a second, banishing the image of Bunny. He took a deep breath and focused on the teacher's lips.

"Buenos días," he said again. This time, an uncertain but noticeable attempt at correct intonation appeared in his voice. It was far from perfect, but it was no longer an indifferent mumble. It was an effort. The teacher smiled with relief.

"¡Muy bien! Very good!"

But Sae was no longer listening to the praise. He was looking at the door through which Bunny had disappeared. It was a small victory, a reclaimed territory. But he understood perfectly well that it was only a temporary respite.

They practiced a few more simple phrases. Sae made mistakes, again and again, but now he didn't tense up upon hearing his own error. He frowned, tried again. It was a difficult, unpleasant process, but it was his process. Each correctly spoken word was a small personal achievement.

When the lesson ended, the teacher gathered his materials with a slight sigh of relief.

"You made good progress today, Itoshi-san," he said sincerely. It was clear that the last fifteen minutes had been far more productive than all the previous time.

Sae nodded silently. He didn't feel triumph. Rather, a strange, fragile confidence. He watched the teacher leave and remained sitting alone in the quiet room.

Sae sat on the tatami, hugging his knees, listening to the echo of someone else's words fading in his head. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Entering silently, a maid knelt in a respectful bow.

"Young master, we must begin preparing for the outing. The master will be waiting by the car in an hour."

Sae didn't answer. He didn't move from his spot, but his shoulders slumped hopelessly. All that fragile confidence he had felt during the lesson instantly evaporated, replaced by the heavy, familiar routine of preparing for yet another performance.

He held his breath, then, with a quiet groan, flopped onto his back. He didn't just lie down. He fell, like a puppet with its strings cut, spreading his arms and legs out to the sides, as if drawing an invisible star on the floor. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, empty and detached.

He lay like that for a few seconds, feeling the weight of his body dissolve into the floor. Then, with another quiet sigh, he slowly rose, once again composed and impassive. The moment of weakness had passed. It was time to return to his role.

---

 

The auction house hall resembled an opera theater. Gilding, velvet, and the muted hum of voices. Sae stood on the deserted balcony, leaning against the marble railing, watching as evening Tokyo lit up its lights. He was a silent observer in the very center of the storm. Quiet footsteps behind him caught his attention. He turned and saw Shidou, holding two small sake cups.

"Found a refuge?" Shidou asked quietly, a slight smile touching his lips. "I don't blame you. Sometimes this hum of voices presses on the temples. Won't you keep me company?" He extended one of the cups to Sae.

Sae hesitated for a second, then silently accepted the cup. The sake was warm, with a soft, enveloping taste.

"Thank you," Sae said quietly.

"Don't mention it. Sometimes it's just pleasant to stand in silence with someone who... understands," Shidou took a small sip, looking at the city lights. "Understands what it's like... to constantly wear a mask that meets the expectations of this society."

Sae looked at him carefully. For the first time, someone had voiced his own feelings.

"And what... what do you know about behavioral control?" Sae asked, trying to make the question sound as neutral as possible.

Shidou chuckled, and a shadow of something real, unpolished, flickered in his eyes.

"Oh, I know. Ask me about behavioral control." He took a sip from his cup. "Did you know, Sae-san, that this hair," he ran his hand lightly over his immaculate hairstyle, "isn't actually black?"

Sae looked at him in bewilderment.

"What?"

"It's wash-out dye," Shidou confessed with a slight, almost mischievous smile. "My natural hair is in bad taste, according to my family. Bright, whitish blond. Like some Western rock musician." He shrugged. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg. I was taught how to walk, how to breathe, how to smile so that the corners of my lips rose exactly one centimeter. Everything you see before you are the product of long years of... training."

Sae listened, captivated. There was a bitter revelation in his words that resonated in his own soul.

"I... understand," he breathed out quietly, and in those two words lay a whole confession. For Shidou, it was all the confirmation he needed.

They were silent for a while, and then Sae, driven by a sudden impulse of curiosity, asked:

"And what are you... really like?"

Shidou turned to him, his eyes gleaming with excitement, as if he had been waiting for this question.

"Really?" He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. "I'm a rebel. I have a dragon tattoo on my lower back. I love playing the electric guitar when no one's watching, and I turn it up so loud my neighbors' ears ring. And I collect rock music CDs."

Sae couldn't help it. A short, genuine laugh escaped his lips. The very same one that had so astonished Bunny. He immediately became embarrassed and covered his mouth with his hand, coughing.

Shidou smiled, and this time his smile was warm and real.

"I'm pleased to see that," he said softly. "Your laugh. Real. It's much more beautiful than all those forced smiles I've seen today."

Sae felt a flush creep across his cheeks. At that moment, their eyes met, and the silence between them became truly tense, alive. Shidou, intoxicated by this closeness and frankness, committed the unforgivable. Almost weightlessly, he traced the tips of his fingers along Sae's cheek, from his cheekbone to his chin.

Sae recoiled sharply, as if scalded. The air on the balcony froze.

Shidou immediately withdrew his hand, his face contorting with genuine remorse.

"I apologize," his voice wavered. "That was unforgivable. Your... vulnerability in that moment was so striking, I forgot myself. That's no excuse, merely an explanation of my weakness." He stepped back, increasing the distance.

Sae, still feeling the burning touch on his cheek, didn't leave. His chest was heaving. Anger mingled with something else, a strange, forbidden excitement.

"You shouldn't have done that," he breathed out, and there was more reproach than anger in his voice.

"I know," Shidou agreed immediately. "And yet... I cannot say I completely regret it. Because even that moment of genuine fright in your eyes was... truth. And seeing your true essence, not the mask you wear for him, is a privilege."

Applause sounded from the hall. Sae set down his unfinished cup.

"I have to go."

"Of course," Shidou nodded, not turning around. "Thank you for... the conversation."

Sae left, leaving him on the balcony. His cheek still burned, and the words rang in his ears: "Seeing your true essence... is a privilege." He was returning to Bunny, but now he carried with him not just the memory of a conversation, but physical proof that someone had dared to break the rules of his gilded cage. To be honest, Sae still felt comfortable. Shidou didn't pressure, didn't demand. He was simply there. And in his presence, despite all his reputation and line of work, there was a crack, a sincerity, so lacking in Bunny's icy perfection. And that feeling was dangerously attractive.

---

 

No sooner had they crossed the threshold of their quarters than Bunny threw his jacket over the back of a chair. The sound was sharp, breaking the evening silence of the house.

"Well," his voice sounded even, without emotion, "did your admirer seek your company again?"

Sae, without turning around, removed his formal kimono.

"He came up to the balcony. Greeted me."

"'Greeted me,'" Bunny repeated slowly, as if parsing an unfamiliar word. "I see."

His sarcasm was as thin as a razor's edge. Sae felt his shoulders tense.

"We talked about art. About the lots at the auction. Nothing more."

"About art!" Bunny laughed, but there wasn't a drop of mirth in his laugh. "How sublime. And what, did he admire your refined taste? Say you're too pure a soul for this coarse world? Confess that only he is capable of discerning your hidden sparkle?"

He stepped close, his breath burning the back of Sae's neck.

"Tell me his words. Verbatim. I'm interested in this... poetry he whispers to you."

Sae was silent, looking at the floor. He couldn't repeat those words. They were his only secret.

"Did he ask you about me?" Bunny changed tactics. "Pry into my affairs? About contracts?"

"No," that was the truth, and Sae uttered it with a certain degree of relief. "He didn't speak your name. Not a word."

Bunny stepped back. His face became a mask of cold clarity. It was precisely this lack of interest in him on Shidou's part that was the most alarming sign. It meant that the real target wasn't business, but something else.

"You see," Bunny said quietly, and his quietness suddenly became more frightening than a scream, "I could forgive his business interest. Competition is a game I am stronger in. But this..." he gestured through the air, as if outlining Sae's invisible form, "this smells of something personal. And my personal property is only encroached upon once."

"Are you sure he didn't ask for anything? Didn't... do anything?" Bunny asked again, not looking at him.

The question hung in the air. Sae saw the back of Bunny's head and felt the weight of his suspicions. And at that moment, an icy ball of fear clenched his heart. He remembered in whose house he was. Whose rules were law here.

"No," Sae breathed out again, forcing his voice to sound even. "He just... talked. And then I left."

Bunny nodded.

"Good. I believe you."

Sae remained standing in the middle of the room, clutching the silk of his kimono, with a face that, he felt, still betrayed the secret of that touch. He had lied. Again. But... he no longer regretted it.

---

 

The air in the garden was humid, filled with the scent of damp earth. Sae knelt at the edge of the pond, tossing pellets of food into the water. The bright koi carp gathered into a colorful, writhing school, their mouths greedily snapping at the food. In this simple action, there was a certain meditative peace.

He didn't turn around when he heard footsteps behind him. He recognized their rhythm. Bunny stopped a step away, his shadow falling on the water's surface, causing the fish to dart away for a second.

"Mrs. Fujioka is waiting for you," Bunny said. His voice was even, businesslike.

Sae didn't react, continuing to throw the food. Another pinch of pellets blossomed on the water like orange spots.

"I remember there's no lesson scheduled today," Bunny finally said, not looking at him.

"It's a special occasion. You need to be prepared separately."

The fingers holding the food tightened slightly. The next portion he threw into the water sharply, almost forcefully, scattering the fish. His shoulders tensed, betraying a silent fury.

Bunny watched him for a few seconds, his own brows slightly furrowing. He saw this disobedience in the small things. In the set of his back, in the movement of his hand.

"Sae," his voice took on a slight, steely edge that brooked no ignoring. "Don't keep Mrs. Fujioka waiting."

Sae exhaled sharply. He unclenched his fingers, scattering the last crumbs of food onto the stones, and rose. Without a word, without looking at Bunny, he turned and walked past him towards the house.

Mrs. Fujioka, unwavering in her severity, conducted the lesson this time with particular, meticulous attention to details that increasingly confused and angered Sae.

"Young master," her voice was as steady as a rock, "imagine you are wearing only a thin silk robe. Your task is to sit with your back straight, without slouching or trying to hide your body with crossed arms or a nervous posture. Breathe evenly. Your confidence is your best defense against immodest glances."

Sae sat on the tatami, feeling goosebumps run over his skin. It was humiliating. He was being forced to be vulnerable while demonstrating absolute calm.

"Now," Fujioka continued, "imagine your spouse is embracing you around the waist. You should lean softly towards him, like a flower towards the sun. Your gaze should be languid, devoted. You are his ornament, his shadow, his extension. Show everyone that you belong to him and only him, and that this position is a source of your pride and strength."

Sae clenched his fists on his knees. He hated these words. But the experience of recent encounters had shown him how intrusive and sticky the attention of Bunny's "colleagues" could be. Gazes full of hunger, ambiguous compliments, casual but persistent touches... In this madness, some kind of instruction, however repulsive, was an island of predictability.

"And now," Fujioka was saying, "if one of the guests, despite your aloofness, allows himself to be overly persistent, you must not be rude. A sharp rebuff would insult your spouse's partner. Instead..." she made an elegant, evasive gesture with her hand, "...you gently disengage, lower your gaze, and say: 'Excuse me, my spouse is waiting for me.' After which you leave. Politely, but irrevocably."

Sae listened, and a frightening picture formed in his mind. He wasn't just being prepared for the role of an ornament. He was being prepared for the role of both bait and weapon simultaneously. He was to be desired, but remain untouchable. His closeness to Bunny was to be demonstrative, to ward off others, yet he had to be able to disengage from their attention without causing a scene.

He didn't understand the full depth of this game, but he felt its dirty rules on his skin. And so, clenching his teeth, he memorized. Every glance, every movement, every phrase. He learned not because he wanted to, but because in this absurd theater, this knowledge was his only shield.

That same evening, preparations began. Less luxurious, Sae noted. No ornate kimonos. Instead, Sae was dressed in a simple but expensive dark yukata of the softest cotton. Even Bunny was not in a suit, but in a light haori over his own yukata.

When Bunny approached to assess his appearance, his gaze was habitually appraising, but it also held a different, darker interest. Sae, catching that look, couldn't hold back.

"Where are we going?" he asked directly, without his usual detachment in such situations.

Bunny paused, his red eyes studying Sae's face without blinking. The corners of his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile.

"To an onsen," he replied evenly.

Sae's eyes widened involuntarily. An onsen! He had, of course, heard of hot springs, but had never been. His first thought was a flash of childish curiosity and anticipation. But it was immediately overshadowed by an icy wave of realization.

"Onsen?" he repeated, his voice wavering, betraying a mix of fear and disbelief.

"Yes," Bunny nodded, his gaze becoming intent, as if observing a reaction under a microscope. "Hot springs. A relaxed atmosphere, sake, informal conversation." He made a slight, almost imperceptible pause. "And yes, traditions imply... oneness with nature. Without unnecessary formalities."

In Sae's head, everything coalesced into one humiliating picture. Naked. Drunk. Men. Now he understood what the lessons during the day had been for. He was being prepared for this. Put on display, yet taught to remain unattainable. The thought that these same hungry gazes would be on him, but without any protective clothing, made his blood run cold.

"Do I... have to be there?" he breathed out quietly, almost childishly.

"Yes," Bunny answered without a shadow of doubt. His voice was soft, but steel rang in it, leaving no room for argument. "You are part of the picture. And the picture must be complete."

He turned and left, leaving Sae standing with a knot of anxiety in his throat. He truly had no choice.

The road to the onsen wound through picturesque mountain slopes, but Sae didn't see the beauty outside the window. Inside him, anxiety churned, tightening his throat with every turn of the road. The air in the car was thick with silence.

They were met at the entrance and led along winding wooden walkways to a private area. Before even arriving, Sae heard the hum of male voices, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The sounds of a relaxed company, warmed by alcohol.

As soon as they emerged into the stone courtyard, where dark spring water shimmered in clouds of steam under the open sky, a torrent of greetings descended upon them. Several men, already noticeably tipsy, raised their cups.

"Iglesias-san! Finally! You've hidden away a treasure!" one voice rang out.

And immediately, it began. Gazes, heavy and sticky as the damp steam, clung to him.

"God, look at that skin... like silk," someone cooed.

"And that figure... such elegant lines are rarely seen. It hurts to look at him, he's so beautiful!" added another, his eyes shamelessly sliding downwards.

Bunny accepted the compliments with a slight, satisfied smile, as if they were praise for his impeccable taste in art. This was precisely what he had been aiming for. Sae was his main exhibit at this show.

Inside, Sae's insides clenched with shame and anger, but his face remained calm, his posture precise and confident, as Mrs. Fujioka had taught. And then his gaze met Shidou's. He sat chest-deep in the water, apart from the general merriment, and his dark eyes weren't scanning Sae with hungry assessment. They were studying.

They entered the water. The warm water enveloped him, and instantly, the wet silk of the yukata clung to his skin, frankly outlining every curve, every line of his body. Sae felt fire spread across his cheeks. He saw how greedily these men stared at him, how their gazes crawled over his chest, his hips, how they lingered where the fabric clung tightly. It seemed they weren't just looking, but mentally undressing him.

And all the while, Bunny's hand lay on his waist under the water. Heavy, commanding, not letting go. He could be distracted by conversation, pretend to drink sake, but his fingers always dug into Sae, reminding him whose property he was.

Their chatter was suddenly cut by artificial laughter. From around the corner of the pavilion, women appeared in bright, patterned yukata, with perfect hairstyles and flawless makeup.

"And here's our evening's decoration!" one of the men shouted joyfully, and the company greeted them with the same torrent of compliments that had recently been showered on Sae. But now, in these voices, there was not just admiration, but a predatory excitement. The men immediately gravitated towards them; one roughly put his arm around a woman's waist, pulling her close.

"They've called in prostitutes," dawned on Sae with icy clarity. His gaze instinctively, as if seeking an anchor in this madness, darted to Shidou.

One of the oiran approached him too. Tall, with an elegant neck and a mysterious smile. She whispered something to him, offering a small cup of sake. Shidou smiled politely, accepted the cup, nodded in response to her words... but his dark eyes, it seemed, sought out Sae.

Sae, catching that piercing look, glanced away in embarrassment, staring at the water. Chaos reigned around him. Other men, with no ceremony, were untying the sashes on the women's yukata. Fabric fell open, baring breasts. And the most shocking thing for Sae was not this, but... their reaction. They were fine with it. They continued to smile, pour sake, their laughter sounded just as easy, as if their nudity before a crowd of drunk, spectacle-hungry men was the most natural thing in the world. "They've been trained too," Sae thought bitterly. They too had been taught not to show their true feelings.

"That's what truly interests them," Bunny's quiet, venomous whisper sounded right by his ear, making Sae flinch. "Temporary, dirty, paid entertainment."

Sae snapped out of his stupor. He didn't answer, only clenched his fists under the water. He continued to watch, hypnotized by this disgusting scene. Naked women, sitting on men's laps, allowing foreign hands to slide over their skin, while maintaining a mask of cheerful indifference.

And again, his gaze picked out Shidou and another elderly businessman from the crowd. They were islands of calm in this sea of lust. They talked to the oiran as ordinary conversational partners, not touching them, not trying to tear off their clothes. Shidou even leaned back, creating a polite distance, while his oiran seemed to try to lean into him.

This contrast was searing. On one side, open, animalistic vulgarity, which Bunny watched with cold approval. On the other, Shidou's restraint, which suddenly seemed not weakness, but strength. Sae only knew that this spectacle nauseated him, and that Bunny's hand on his waist suddenly felt like a brand, the mark of an owner in this brothel pretending to be a place of relaxation.

The conversation around gradually shifted to business, to dirty schemes and deceptions. Sae sat, staring at the water, trying to become invisible. And then, through the general hum, came Bunny's icy, sarcastic voice, directed straight at Shidou:

"Shidou-san, if you keep staring at my spouse with such a hungry look, I'll start to worry you've forgotten what food looks like. Shall we order you a bowl of udon?"

The snickers increased. All eyes turned to Shidou. He wasn't flustered. He shifted his burning gaze from Sae to Bunny, and an apologetic, almost sleepy smile spread across his face.

"Forgive me, Iglesias-san," he made a slight, respectful gesture. "Your spouse... he possesses a kind of hypnotic purity. My gaze, without meaning to, simply... got lost in that aesthetic harmony. Don't read anything into it."

Bunny snorted and waved it off like a bothersome fly, but his eyes held not irritation, but cold satisfaction. He had achieved his goal. Publicly put Shidou in his place and once again asserted his rights.

But for Sae, this scene was not a victory, but a new turn of the screw. He sat in the hot water, while icy cold crawled down his spine. He was a bargaining chip, an object of public auction, and the most dangerous of the bidders had just demonstrated that his desire had not weakened, but become more desperate and overt.

Sae felt Shidou's gaze as a physical pressure. Persistent, burning, full of a silent question. And Bunny, of course, felt it too.

The response wasn't long in coming.

Bunny's strong hand came to rest on Sae's wet shoulder, pulling him authoritatively close. Sae instinctively tensed, but immediately forced himself to relax, becoming a pliable statue. He knew the script by heart.

"Cold, cariño?" Bunny's lips touched his wet skin near his ear, the whisper audible only to him. But the gesture was intended for a single spectator. "Or maybe you don't like being stared at?"

His lips slid down Sae's neck to his collarbone, leaving not a kiss, but a mark. Then he moved to his shoulder, and every moment of this demonstrative caress was a lash of the whip aimed at Shidou and at Sae himself. This was not tenderness. It was a ritual of sacrifice in front of another predator.

Sae sat motionless, his face an impassive mask, perfected to an art. Inside him, everything screamed. He hated these touches, this performance, this feeling that his skin was being used as a canvas to send a message to another man. But his role was to feign, if not pleasure, then submissive acceptance. He let his head tilt slightly towards Bunny, in a humiliating parody of affection.

After some time, one of the men, a certain Mr. Luna, with visible reluctance, pushed away the oiran he had been familiarly fondling, openly groping the woman's breasts. He rose heavily, water noisily streaming from his body. Before stepping out onto dry land, his green eyes, clouded by sake, slowly and appraisingly crawled over Sae's figure.

"Iglesias," he addressed Bunny with feigned, hoarse courtesy. "Would you spare me the company of your beautiful spouse for a while? It's boring to walk alone."

Bunny, who had been relaxing in conversation with Kawabata, turned his head. His smile was cold and warning.

"I'm afraid my Sae isn't very sociable."

"Oh, but we're friends!" Luna laughed falsely, already losing patience. "Just a short walk through the garden. Surely you don't trust your old partner so little?"

Bunny froze for a second, his fingers involuntarily squeezing Sae's shoulder, then relaxing. He gave a short, reluctant nod.

"Of course, Luna, but please remember social norms."

"Bunny, I don't have Japanese restraint, but Spanish temperament. Don't worry. I'll be... decent."

Sae felt his heart sink into his heels. He silently rose and, trying not to look at anyone, left the water and followed Luna into the adjacent, darker and emptier courtyard.

As soon as they were out of sight, Luna dropped all pretense. His hand roughly wrapped around Sae's waist, pulling him against his wet, clammy body.

"Well, little bird, don't be shy," he crooned, his breath reeking of alcohol. "I can see you're not so innocent, if Iglesias keeps you. Relax."

Sae frowned, but remembering his lessons, forced his face into a stony mask. He gently but firmly freed himself from the grip, stepping back.

"Please don't."

"Ah, is that so?" Luna chuckled and took another step forward, his hand reaching for Sae again, this time grabbing lower. "Let's not play coy..."

The corner where Shidou was sitting offered a good view of Sae, and the scene he witnessed pierced his heart like a red-hot knife. Luna, leaning in, was saying something to Sae, pressing him close, his face dangerously near the young man's. Sae was pulling away, but it was a weak, useless motion, a fly in a web. This was no longer flirtation. This was harassment that Bunny was not noticing.

Shidou's patience ran out. He no longer thought about tactics or consequences. He was driven by a blind, instinctive rage. He swiftly crossed the garden and appeared before them like a shadow, his face pale, but his voice steely and polite.

"Luna-san," his words rang out clearly, cutting through the air. "Forgive the interruption, but it seems you've had a bit too much sake. It's not good to forget about subordination and show such... familiar feelings towards a married person."

Luna, surprised and annoyed, tore himself away from Sae.

"Ah, Shidou! Don't teach me how to behave!" he waved him off, but Shidou didn't back down.

"I'm merely reminding you of the importance of our meeting and the mutual respect that binds our circle," Shidou continued, his voice becoming quieter but acquiring a dangerous firmness. "Don't spoil such an idyll with unworthy behavior."

He didn't take his eyes off Luna until the man, muttering to himself, shuffled away discontentedly back towards the source.

The air around them suddenly became clear and quiet. Shidou turned to Sae. They were alone amidst the whisper of bamboo. For the first time all evening, they looked at each other without masks, without an audience.

"Thank you," Sae said quietly. His voice wavered. He was pale, but relief shone in his eyes. Then he added, and a barely perceptible, bitter irony sounded in his tone: "You are... very gallant. Reminded him that it's not nice to bother a married person."

Shidou blushed. His own tactic had turned against him. He was caught.

"I..." he faltered, his usual confidence evaporating. "That was different. I... I couldn't just watch."

Suddenly, seeing the confusion on Shidou's usually so confident face, Sae couldn't help himself. The corners of his lips twitched in the slightest, almost invisible smile. It lasted less than a second, but for Shidou, it flashed like the sun.

His heart skipped a beat. He had seen the real him. Seen his gratitude, his weary irony, and that tiny smile, given only to him.

At that moment, a voice calling Shidou came from beyond the trees. Reality rudely intruded into their fragile world. Shidou didn't want to leave. He looked at Sae, at his exhausted but beautiful face, and impulse proved stronger than reason.

Gently, almost reverently, he took Sae's hand. His fingers barely touched his skin, but the touch was full of meaning. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to his knuckles. The kiss was quick, warm, and incredibly tender, as if he was afraid of getting burned or breaking a fragile spell.

"Until soon," he whispered, releasing his hand.

Sae froze, feeling the heat from that kiss spread through his hand and rise to his cheeks, flooding them with a bright blush. He didn't say a word, watching Shidou's retreating back.

When he disappeared from sight, Sae took a deep breath and, choosing a different, longer path through the garden, slowly walked back. Upon returning, he found Bunny in the same posture.

"Where were you?" Bunny asked, his gaze heavy and probing.

"In the restroom," Sae answered quietly and evenly, lowering his eyes. He felt his cheek and the back of his hand burning.

Bunny looked at him in silence for a few seconds, and then, to Sae's surprise, simply nodded.

"Get in the water. You've gone pale."

He seemed to believe him. Sae simply lowered himself into the water, pressing against him.

---

 

The ride back and the entire evening passed in an unnatural, unsteady calm. Bunny was thoughtful and silent, but not menacing. It seemed the storm had passed. When they lay down in bed, he demanded nothing from Sae except his presence, turning to face him.

In the silence of the room, his voice sounded unexpectedly sharp, breaking the quiet:

"We need to tear out that damned Shidou's eyes. He looks at you as if he's already cataloging his next treasure."

Sae, who had almost drifted off, froze. Everything inside him clenched. But the response that came wasn't born of fear, but of sudden, sharp bitterness. His voice was quiet and even in the darkness:

"You're so fixated on Shidou-san that you've stopped noticing gazes that are far cruder and more brazen. At least he... looks in silence. Unlike those who think it's acceptable to touch."

He didn't name a name. He didn't need to.

"Did he overstep too much?" Bunny asked quietly.

"No, I politely disengaged as Mrs. Fujioka taught me," Sae replied calmly, concealing the details.

Bunny let out a quiet, almost inaudible hum. A single, considering sound. There was no anger in it, no agreement. Just a reassessment. Perhaps for the first time, Sae hadn't simply complained, but had landed a precise psychological blow, pointing out his blind spot. Perhaps Bunny was simply reordering threats in his mind by priority. But the fact remained. His jealousy had been redirected.

A few minutes later, Bunny's steady breathing indicated he was asleep.

Sae lay with his eyes open, feeling his heart pound wildly. He had been lucky. Monstrously lucky. The kiss on his hand still burned like a brand, but Bunny, it seemed, hadn't found out.

He turned on his side, clenching into a fist the very hand that Shidou had kissed. He understood that his luck was nothing more than a respite. He now carried on his skin not just a memory, but proof. And if Bunny ever found out, the consequences would be terrible.

From that moment, his life became the safekeeping of a time bomb disguised as an innocent kiss.

---

 

The air in the bedroom was thick and still. Sae woke up alone.

He rose from the futon, and his gaze fell on the morning kimono, flawlessly laid out on its stand. Silk the color of dawn, embroidered with dewdrops.

Sae ignored the clothes. He walked barefoot across the cool polished wood, slid open the shoji, and stepped onto the veranda. The morning air was fresh and damp, but it couldn't wash away the sticky film of yesterday's humiliation.

And then he saw him. Deep in the garden, under the shade of an old pine, sat Bunny. Bare-chested, in simple linen pants, his legs crossed in a meditation pose. His back was straight, his breathing even and nearly inaudible.

Sae froze. He had never seen Bunny like this. Stripped of the armor of his suit, his polished manners, his commanding smile. This was just a man. A very strong one, and... scarred.

The thought pierced him like an electric shock. Scars. He had thought that scar on his cheek was just an unfortunate feature, a detail. But now, in the bright morning light, he saw them all. Several thin lines on his forearm. A rougher, jagged mark over his ribs and on his chest.

"How?" flashed through Sae's mind. "He's been naked in front of me so many times. I saw his body, but I didn't see him."

Curiosity, sharp and almost animalistic, made him take a step off the veranda. The wet grass burned the soles of his feet with cold. He paid no attention. Slowly, silently, like a hunter, he approached the motionless figure, absorbing details. Each scar was a chapter from a book he would never be allowed to read.

"So curious?" Bunny's voice was low, calm, and sounded precisely when Sae froze two steps away from him. He didn't turn, didn't open his eyes.

Sae flinched, as if caught in the act. His own disheveled state, his tousled hair, simple cotton yukata, and bare feet suddenly seemed provocative.

Bunny turned his head and opened his eyes. His red gaze slid over Sae from head to toe, and it drew a light, weary smirk from him.

"Why do you look like that?" he asked in an even tone.

Sae felt a flush of irritation creep across his cheeks. The frankness of the previous evening gave him strength.

"I don't have to be dressed up in my own home," he answered, his voice sharper than he intended. "I want to be comfortable."

Bunny sighed, like a weary tutor explaining a lesson to a slow-witted child.

"So, you can't walk around like that all day. I'll call Yuki. She'll pick out something... comfortable for you. Made from suitable fabric."

"I don't need to be coddled!" burst out from Sae, and he himself was surprised at his vehemence.

"Servants aren't nannies, Sae," Bunny countered, his voice remaining treacherously calm. "They look after things. Order. Cleanliness. You. Just as they look after me."

He spoke with such icy, indisputable logic that all objections died in Sae's throat. He just stood there, clenching his fists, feeling his small rebellion shatter against a stone wall.

Silence hung between them, thick and ringing. Broken only by the whisper of wind in the pine branches. Sae didn't look away from the scars on Bunny's body. They drew him in, like a key to a locked door.

"Where... did you get so many scars?" Sae asked quietly, breaking the silence.

Bunny didn't change his posture, but the air around him grew denser.

"Not your concern to know details that no longer matter," his voice was still even.

But Sae had already crossed the line. Curiosity and a strange, almost clinical pity overrode caution.

"There are so many..." he repeated quietly, more to himself. "Were you beaten as a child?"

This time, Bunny couldn't hide a slight, momentary surprise. His eyebrows rose for a fraction of a second. He clearly hadn't expected such a direct attack.

"I said, you don't need to know the details."

"That would explain your actions, anyway," Sae wasn't listening. "Probably from trauma."

"Sae." His name, spoken by Bunny, sounded not like an affectionate whisper, but like the click of a safety being released. The look he gave the young man was sharp and cold. But there was still no rage in it. It was a warning.

Sae's stubbornness, fueled by yesterday's humiliation and today's revelation, was stronger.

"I'm curious what could lead to something like this," he didn't look away from the scars. "It's cruel. Even towards you."

This time, Bunny reacted differently. His brows drew together slightly, a spark of genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'even towards me'?"

Sae shrugged; the gesture was indecently casual for their interactions.

"Was it someone in your family who did this? Or..." he didn't get to finish.

"Sae." The second time, his name came with a growing metallic edge. Bunny, with a quiet crack as he rolled his neck, rose to his full height. His shadow fell over Sae. "Enough curiosity. Go inside and get yourself presentable."

His tone left no room for discussion. It was an order. The kind against which his directness and analytical skills were powerless.

Sae rolled his eyes, turned, and, slapping his bare feet on the wet grass, trudged back towards the house. He didn't look back, but felt a heavy, intent gaze on his back, seeming to burn through the fabric of his yukata.

He had lost this round. But in the process, he had gained something. He had seen not just scars. He had seen a crack. A moment of surprise. A question born of curiosity. Bunny was not an invulnerable monolith. He had a past in which he had been treated cruelly. And Sae had just poked a finger at the most painful point, hidden beneath layers of money, power, and aesthetics.

---

 

All day, Sae was haunted by the feeling that he had found a chink in the dragon's armor, and now he couldn't tear himself away from it. After the morning skirmish in the garden, he didn't feel broken, but charged with a strange, nervous energy.

The first opportunity presented itself in the library. Bunny stood by the tall shelves, his fingers gliding over the spines of ancient folios. He was absorbed in himself, and his posture momentarily lost its usual commanding bearing.

"Were you a problem child?" Sae's voice sounded quietly but distinctly in the deathly silence of the room.

Bunny flinched so visibly he almost dropped the book. He whirled around, and in his red eyes, for a second, flickered genuine, almost animal astonishment. His fortress had been attacked from the most unexpected flank. From the past.

"I was an ordinary child," he finally managed, his voice slightly hoarser than usual.

Sae simply nodded, like a scientist recording a first fact in a notebook, and just as silently melted into the semi-darkness of the corridor.

The next attack was more open. He went out onto the veranda, where Bunny was drinking his afternoon tea alone. Without an invitation, Sae sat down on the adjacent cushion.

"Where are your parents?" he asked, looking not at Bunny, but at the garden.

The man slowly set down his porcelain cup. His gaze was heavy and appraising.

"They're probably still in Spain. I have no contact with them."

"Did they abandon you? Throw you out?" Sae turned his head, and his turquoise eyes were clear of gloating; they held only bare, insatiable curiosity.

Bunny's eyebrows drew together slightly. He seemed to be starting to understand the game.

"No, Sae. I left of my own accord."

Sae nodded again, took a rice sweet from the table, brought it to his lips, but didn't bite; he simply stood up and left, leaving Bunny alone with his tea and growing irritation.

The third attempt was the boldest. A knock on the study door was short and decisive.

"Come in."

Sae entered and, wasting no time on preliminaries, blurted out:

"Did you love your family?"

Bunny froze, pen in hand. An ink drop fell onto a contract, spreading into a blot. He looked up at Sae, and there was no longer astonishment in his gaze, only weary incomprehension.

"Sae, why are you interrogating me all day?"

"Is that a 'no'?" Sae repeated, ignoring his question.

Bunny rolled his eyes in irritation and set down his pen.

"I have a normal relationship with my family," he answered, and for the first time, a sharp, metallic note sounded in his voice.

Sae was satisfied with that too. A nod. A turn. A departure. He was assembling a puzzle, and each detail, each micro-reaction from Bunny, was more valuable than any verbal confession.

The night became the final act of this strange play. Bunny entered the bedroom with the look of a man exhausted not physically, but mentally. His movements were slow, devoid of their usual polished grace. Sae sat on his futon and watched as Bunny, standing with his back to him, removed his kimono. And then, in the dim light of the night lamp, he saw them. Several paler, intertwining scars on his back, like marks from a whip.

"Were you tortured in a basement or something?" slipped from Sae's lips before he could think.

Bunny sighed heavily, wearily.

"I will not answer any more of your questions. Stop." His voice was flat, devoid of energy.

He dropped his linen pants and stood completely naked in the middle of the room, as if issuing a challenge. Sae instinctively tensed, expecting demands, expecting his body to once again become a field for asserting power. But Bunny simply collapsed face-down onto his futon and closed his eyes, as if passing out instantly.

The silence hung thick and ringing. Sae looked at his back, at these mute testimonies of another's cruelty. And an irresistible desire overcame him.

Deciding that Bunny was already asleep, he slowly, like a snake, reached out towards him. His fingers were a centimeter from the longest white line on his shoulder blade...

Suddenly, like a sprung trap, a strong hand seized his wrist. Sae gasped in surprise as Bunny, without a sound, yanked him, rolled him over himself, and loomed over him, pinning him to the mattress. Sae's heart hammered with animal fear, his whole-body rigid.

But there was no anger in Bunny's eyes. They were tired, dark, and incredibly focused.

"You've seen my body naked plenty of times," he said quietly, almost in a whisper. His breath was hot on Sae's face. "What makes you so curious now?"

"Before... I never noticed them," Sae breathed out honestly, frozen beneath him.

A shadow of genuine surprise flickered across Bunny's face, as if this simple thought had never occurred to him. He looked intently at Sae, then, without releasing his wrist, rolled onto his back, pulling Sae with him, and sat him astride his hips.

Sae flushed at this intimate, commanding gesture. He braced his palms against Bunny's solid chest, trying to push himself away, to rise, but the iron grip on his waist wouldn't let him move.

"What, not going to stare at me anymore?" Bunny's voice was low and challenging. "Study me. Like you wanted."

And Sae, caught off guard, stopped resisting. At first, he looked only into Bunny's eyes, searching for a trick, a mockery. But he saw only the same weary seriousness. Then his gaze slid downwards, over his neck, chest, forearm. He raised his hand. Bunny let Sae's fingers hover in the air.

And when his fingers were almost at their target, ready to touch, Bunny caught his hand again. But not to push it away. Slowly, without letting go, he guided his palm to his body and pressed it against the scar on his chest, just left of his heart.

Sae froze. Beneath his fingers was the uneven, rough texture of skin. But through it, he felt something else. A low, rapid, powerful heartbeat. "He's... nervous?" At this thought, Sae's own breath caught. He didn't realize he had frozen, becoming all hearing and touch.

He looked up, and their eyes met again. And at that moment, Bunny leaned towards him. His lips touched Sae's, gently, almost questioningly. The shock of the touch, of the whole strangeness of the moment, was so great that Sae didn't resist. His mind shut off, and for a fraction of a second, his own lips responded, softly, uncertainly, genuinely.

And then he came to. He tried to push Bunny away, but he, as if expecting this, with a soft growl flipped him onto his back and loomed over him again, pressing him to the mattress with his full weight.

"Damn," flashed through Sae's mind, "I should have known. This is a trap."

But it was too late. Bunny was no longer asking questions. His kiss became deeper, more insistent, more demanding. His fingers, skilled and quick, untied the sash of his yukata, removing the last barrier.

Sae lay on his back, his wrists gripped in the iron rings of Bunny's fingers. The night light cast giant, dancing shadows on the walls.

The pain was sharp and alien, as always. Sae squeezed his eyes shut, trying to retreat into himself, into that void where there were no feelings, no thoughts. But today, he couldn't escape.

Silence hung over him, broken only by ragged breathing. And through that noise, a voice broke through. Low, even, without a tremor, as if reading a report.

"These scars..." Bunny began. His lips almost touched Sae's ear, and the words pierced his consciousness sharper than the pain. "A gift from my father."

The thought, sharp and absurd, pierced his numbness. Sae involuntarily opened his eyes, meeting Bunny's gaze. In those dark eyes was a heavy, weary seriousness.

With relentless pressure, Bunny spread his thighs wider, making his joints ache unpleasantly.

"He was... a very religious man," he continued, and his hips pressed tighter against Sae, denying him even a hint of movement. His voice was monotonous, like a stuck record. "A fanatic. Saw the devil in every shadow."

Simultaneously with these words, he entered him. Slowly, almost ceremoniously. The pain, familiar and therefore no less intense, spread like fire. Sae gasped, trying to pull his hands free, but Bunny's fingers only dug into his skin harder, to the bone. He was nailed to the mattress.

"And in me..." Bunny's voice became quieter, more intimate, giving the words a monstrous, surreal weight, "He saw the greatest sin."

The words swirled in Sae's head, colliding with waves of physical humiliation. His mind, his last refuge, was betraying him, greedily latching onto the story, trying to form conjectures, to avoid feeling what was being done to his body.

"He believed..." Bunny made a deep, commanding thrust, tearing a stifled moan from Sae, "That the flesh must be punished for the sins of the spirit."

Sae squeezed his eyes shut again, but now before his eyes rose not abstract patterns, but images. A boy. A whip. Screams mingled with prayers. He didn't want to see this. He didn't want to know this.

"That pain..." another thrust, synchronized with the word, "Cleanses."

Tears welled in Sae's eyes and rolled down his temples, soaking into the pillow fabric. He felt the rough texture of the scars on Bunny's skin pressing against his thigh, and it seemed he could feel the heat of those ancient wounds.

He didn't know what to focus on. The soul-chilling story, or the living, searing humiliation of his own body. His consciousness was tearing apart, unable to find a foothold in this chaos.

When it was over, Bunny didn't pull away immediately. He paused for a moment, still holding him, his breath heavy in the complete silence of the room. Then he lifted his head and looked into Sae's eyes. There was no triumph in his gaze. Only the same weary, impenetrable darkness.

"You see," he whispered, and his voice cracked, for the first time that evening betraying some real, unfeigned emotion. "We all have our demons, Sae."

He released his wrists, on which crimson marks remained, and rolled onto his back.

Sae lay motionless, feeling drops of another's sweat trickle down his skin, feeling the stickiness and the pain inside. The physical sensations were terrible. But they were nothing compared to the block of ice that had seized him from within.

---

 

Sae's sleep was restless, torn by fragments of burning memories and cold horror. He was jolted from his stupor not by his own turmoil, but by a sound coming from beside him.

At first, it was a low, almost animalistic growling. Then a sharp, strangled exhale, as if someone were choking. Sae opened his eyes slightly. Moonlight filtering through the shoji picked out Bunny's figure from the darkness. He had seen Bunny angry, enraged, in a state of cold, calculated cruelty. But he had never seen him... frightened. It was as shocking as the recent confession.

Instinct worked faster than reason. He didn't think about the fact that this man had tormented him just hours ago. Carefully, barely breathing, he reached out and lightly touched his fingers to his shoulder.

"Hey..."

The reaction was instantaneous and blinding.

Bunny didn't wake gradually. His body exploded into motion. His hand, as if with a life of its own, shot forward and struck Sae's hand with a force that made his vision momentarily darken, knocking it away.

"Ah!" Sae recoiled, pressing his numbed hand to his chest. His eyes, wide with shock, were fixed on Bunny.

Bunny sat up, his chest heaving rapidly. In his eyes, wild and unseeing, the remnants of the nightmare still swam. He looked like a cornered wolf, ready to tear apart anyone who came near. His gaze darted around the room until it found Sae, curled into a ball a few feet away.

Their eyes met. Sae's gaze was pure shock.

And that sight, it seemed, brought Bunny back to reality. His breathing began to slow. The wildness in his eyes faded, replaced by his usual darkness, but now it held weariness and... annoyance? Shame? He looked at Sae in silence for a few seconds, at his hand pressed to his chest.

Then, without a single word, he reached out his own hand and, with a light but inexorable movement, wrapped his fingers around Sae's wrist and pulled him close.

Sae didn't resist. He was too stunned. He let Bunny pull him close, press him against his sweat-damp chest. His own body was wooden, unyielding. He simply froze in these unexpected arms, feeling the frantic beat of Bunny's heart still echoing against his own temple.

They sat like that for a few seconds. Then Bunny's lips moved almost soundlessly against his hair. The whisper was so quiet Sae might have taken it for noise in his own head, if not for the sensation of hot breath on his skin.

"Sorry..."

And just as suddenly as he had embraced him, Bunny let him go. He silently lay back down, turning his head the other way. His posture was again closed and unapproachable.

Sae remained sitting, feeling the damp patch from his sweat on his shoulder. He looked at Bunny's powerful back, at those very scars, and for the first time, his overwhelming curiosity was devoid of hatred. It was filled with a single, burning question:

"What could you have possibly dreamed?"

---

 

The light filtering through the shoji seemed dim and lifeless, as if it too bore the imprint of the previous night. Sae woke first. His body remembered the pain, the humiliation, and the strange, perverse intimacy with the one who had caused it. He lay motionless.

Bunny woke shortly after. They didn't look at each other. Rose in silence. Dressed in simple yukata brought by the maids, whose faces were, as always, impassive masks.

Breakfast passed in deathly silence. The sound of chopsticks touching porcelain was deafeningly loud. Sae picked at his rice, unable to swallow a single bite. He felt the weight of Bunny's gaze on him, but didn't raise his eyes. He was afraid of seeing mockery there, or, what would be worse, echoes of the same weary emptiness that was within himself.

"Tonight," Bunny's voice sounded hoarse, cutting through the silence like a knife. "An informal meeting. At the restaurant. Be ready by eight."

Sae simply nodded, staring at his plate. Not another word. They finished their tea in a silence thicker and heavier than any words.

---

 

Sae retreated to the library. He took the first book he saw from the shelf and sat with it for hours, not seeing a single line. His gaze was fixed on the characters, but his mind replayed only fragments of the previous day. He didn't see Bunny all day. And this uncertainty was torture.

When Sae, already dressed in a ceremonial kimono, emerged from his quarters, he froze in the doorway.

At the end of the corridor, illuminated by the soft light of paper lanterns, stood Bunny. He was already fully ready. An impeccable dark suit, perfectly fitted to his broad shoulders. His hair was swept back, revealing his high forehead and that scar on his cheek. Not a trace of morning fatigue or confusion. He was the embodiment of composure, power, and cold, detached elegance. He was speaking quietly to Yuki, who, head bowed, was receiving final instructions.

And at that moment, as if sensing the gaze on him, Bunny slowly turned his head. His red eyes met Sae's turquoise ones.

It lasted only a second. But in that second, there was neither yesterday's pain nor morning's shame.

Bunny gave a barely perceptible nod, not to Sae, but to the servants standing near him. They immediately approached Sae, ready to escort him to the exit.

 

 

5

 

The "Kagura" restaurant was the embodiment of hidden power. An unassuming sign, but private rooms with sliding walls opening onto a view of a night garden with an artificial waterfall. The air was a thick cocktail of aromas: spicy miso soup, grilled unagi eel, and the sweetish smoke of expensive cigars. The table, made from a single piece of dark wood, groaned under the weight of exquisite food. Delicate gyoza dumplings, crispy tempura, sashimi arranged like flower petals, and clay pots with steaming nabemono.

The hum of voices was muted but dense; laughter, fragments of business conversations, the clink of crystal sake cups and beer. This tight circle now included them once more.

And once again, a torrent of compliments rained down on Sae, this time even more elaborate.

"Iglesias-san, your spouse is like moonlight on a black lacquer tray. His beauty is only enhanced by the contrast with the surrounding darkness," said one of the partners.

"Such purity of line could only be born from a thousand-year tradition. You not only possess a treasure, you are its guardian," added another.

Sae, following the learned script, responded with slight inclinations of his head and practiced phrases. His face, thanks to Mrs. Fujioka's lessons, was relaxed, with a light, almost imperceptible smile. He raised his eyes to glance around the room and immediately met Shidou's gaze.

He sat slightly apart, not saying a word. He was just watching. His smile was polite, but not social. In his dark eyes was not general admiration, but recognition. As if he, alone in the room, saw not a doll, but a person forced to play a role.

Sae felt something lurch inside him. He looked away, but a few minutes later, his eyes again found Shidou on their own. And again, the same intent, calm gaze. And again, that same strange, warm, and disturbing flutter in his stomach.

He leaned towards Bunny, intending to whisper a request to step out, but before he could open his mouth, a strong, warm hand came to rest over his own, which lay on the table. Bunny wasn't looking at him, continuing his conversation with his neighbor, but his fingers closed around Sae's wrist, gently but unequivocally pinning him in place.

Sae understood and acquiesced. He picked up his chopsticks and resumed eating, feeling the heat from Bunny's touch mix with that strange thrill caused by Shidou's glances. His cheeks began to flush. He hated this treacherous body that reacted to everything at once.

Bunny, noticing his sudden blush, leaned towards him, feigning concern.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked quietly, his lips almost touching Sae's ear.

Seizing the moment, Sae breathed out:

"I need to use the restroom."

Bunny held his gaze on his flushed face for a second, then nodded and released his fingers.

In the restroom, finished in black marble, Sae leaned against the cool wall and closed his eyes. He took a deep, shaky breath. Everything inside was turned upside down. What was that? Fear? No, not quite. It was something sharp, ticklish, almost... pleasant. This excitement from the forbidden, secret exchange of glances under Bunny's watchful control. But the feeling was so alien, so tangled, that his mind refused to name it. He washed his face with ice-cold water, trying to wash away both the flush and this embarrassing sensation. With mechanical movements, he applied a light powder, as taught, returning his face to a mask of flawless pallor.

Taking another deep breath, he went back out. The atmosphere in the room had shifted slightly. A few guests had risen. Some were smoking on the terrace, others talking on the phone in the corridor. Approaching Bunny, who was already engrossed in a new conversation, he received only a short nod towards the exit, this time not restraining him.

Sae stepped onto the terrace. The night air was cool and fresh after the stuffy hall. The terrace was lush with greenery, but not the pruned pines he was used to. Here, in large stone planters, flowers flourished. Lush hydrangeas, delicate astilbes, climbing wisteria. Bright, alive, a little unkempt. After the measured strictness of Bunny's garden, this sight seemed dazzling to him.

He forgot everything for a moment and stepped closer to examine the velvety petals, reaching out a hand towards them.

"Found a refuge from the noise, Itoshi-san?"

Sae whirled around, his heart plummeting to his feet, then pounding wildly. Right behind him, leaning against the doorframe, stood Shidou. A shy, but no less dazzling smile played on his lips.

"I... was just looking at the flowers," Sae managed, feeling a treacherous blush spread across his cheeks.

Shidou's smile widened. He took a few steps forward, stopping at a respectful but sufficient distance for an intimate conversation.

"And here I was thinking you'd probably already driven Iglesias-san up the wall with some refined method, just to get him to leave you alone. Seems I was mistaken."

Sae froze, unsure how to respond to such a direct joke. Shidou immediately parried softly, tilting his head slightly:

"Forgive me. That was a poor joke. It's just... seeing you here, alone, has become almost a habit for me. A pleasant one, I must admit."

He stepped closer to also look at the hydrangeas. His shoulder almost touched Sae's.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Shidou said quietly, his gaze sliding from the flowers to Sae's profile. "Real. Without pretense. They have... freedom."

"Freedom that can be cut and placed in a vase," Sae parried, his own voice sounding foreign to him. Sharper than he intended. He was trying to hide his embarrassment behind a barb.

Shidou laughed softly.

"It's always pleasant when beauty also possesses a sharp mind. But you're unfair. These flowers live here, on the terrace. No one cut them. They just... exist. And they give their beauty to those capable of appreciating it." He turned to Sae, his gaze becoming intent, almost physically tangible. "Just like you, Sae-san. You exist. And that in itself is an act of the greatest beauty and strength."

These words stole Sae's breath. No one had ever spoken to him like this. A warm wave washed over him again, centering low in his stomach, making his heart pound against his ribs.

"You always speak in such... complex phrases, Shidou-san," Sae said, forcing himself to meet his gaze. "I wonder, do you think them up beforehand, or do they just come naturally?"

It was a challenge. A small one, but a challenge. He wasn't just going to blush and stammer.

Shidou pretended to think, a finger to his chin.

"Hmm... I think they come naturally. Apparently, there's something in your presence that awakens a hidden poet in me. Or perhaps it simply makes me forget all social conventions and say what I think." He looked directly at Sae again. "And that, believe me, is a rarity in our circle. Usually, I carefully filter every word. With you... somehow, I don't want to."

Sae felt goosebumps run down his spine. He swallowed.

"Maybe you just have nothing to lose by talking to me?" he asked, and in his voice was not childish resentment, but the same analytical interest. "After all, I'm just... inventory."

He quoted Bunny's morning words, and Shidou understood. His face became serious.

"Oh, no," he shook his head, his voice becoming quieter but firmer. "You are the most valuable thing in this room. And the most misunderstood. And I..." he made a tiny, almost imperceptible pause, "I think I'm beginning to understand that more and more with each meeting."

He didn't elaborate. He just stood and looked at Sae, and Sae felt the ground slip from under his feet.

---

 

The night's silence was torn by a strangled groan. Sae flinched before he was fully awake.

Bunny was thrashing in his sleep. Sae's hand instinctively jerked, wanting to wake him, to touch his shoulder... but stopped in mid-air. The memory of the previous night burned him. The iron grip on his wrist, the look in his unseeing eyes. The pain.

He lowered his hand. Instead, he simply lay and watched. Watched the powerful body beside him tense in battle with invisible demons.

And an unexpected understanding came over him. "He's suffering. So, what."

Sae felt no pity. Rather, a heavy, cold clarity. He simply lay motionless until the nightmare released Bunny, leaving only the thick, ringing silence in the room.

---

 

The morning found Bunny on the veranda. He sat, reclining against the cushions, dressed in a rumpled linen yukata that smelled of night sweat. The sash was tied carelessly over his bare body. His usually impeccably styled light purple hair fell in disheveled strands across his forehead. He stared into the garden with an empty, unseeing gaze, as if trying to read the answers to his thoughts in the perfect lines of the pines.

A rustling sound made him turn his head. Sae had propped himself up on his elbows, his hair and bangs tousled, his face a mixture of caution and that same probing curiosity.

"Sleep well?" Sae asked quietly.

Bunny let out a hoarse chuckle, the sound strained.

"Terribly."

Sae sat up, pulling the blanket up to his chin like a shield. He seemed smaller, more fragile.

"You... had another bad dream, it seems."

"Your interrogations made me remember some not-so-pleasant things," Bunny cut him off, his voice sharper than he intended. He saw Sae lower his gaze and felt a strange satisfaction, mixed with annoyance.

Silence hung between them, thick and viscous as molasses.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sae murmured, almost inaudibly, still looking at the blanket.

Bunny opened his mouth to unleash another dose of sarcasm, but Sae abruptly raised his gaze to him, and his words came with unexpected firmness:

"Properly. Without... coercion."

The air left Bunny's lungs as if from a blow. "Without coercion." The words hung in the air, mercilessly illuminating everything that had happened the night before. His own confession, woven into an act of violence. He fell silent abruptly, his jaw clenching. He looked at Sae, and for the first time in a long while, what showed on his face wasn't contempt, but something akin to... shame.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he finally said, the words sounding poor, clumsy, like an excuse he didn't even believe himself. "It just... happened."

Sae was silent. His silence was more eloquent than any accusation. He waited.

"I already shared with you what no one knows," Bunny's voice regained its firmness, steel ringing in it. "And I regret it. But it can't be changed. So, I'm asking you to stop prying. Stop asking questions."

"You know everything about me," Sae countered quietly. "Why don't you tell me anything?"

Bunny snorted, a strange, weary smirk in the sound.

"I don't know that much about you, Sae. Just the facts. You were born and raised in Kamakura. You like reading, you like calligraphy, and you hate Spanish. And that you're very stubborn."

Sae thought for a few seconds, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. Then he looked up, and a strange light flickered in his turquoise eyes. A mix of desperation and daring.

"Let's play a game."

Bunny's eyebrows shot up. This was the last thing he expected.

"And what kind of... game?" he drawled with feigned interest.

"We'll ask questions. If you don't want to answer... or lie," Sae paused slightly, "You have to eat something disgusting."

Bunny laughed for real. Briefly, loudly. The sound was unfamiliar and therefore startling.

"That's very stupid. And childish."

"If you have any better ideas, feel free to suggest," Sae shrugged, and his familiar directness slipped into his tone.

Bunny paused, his gaze becoming intent, appraising. He saw a chance in this. A chance not just to retreat, but to gain something. Control. Information. Or just... entertainment.

"Alcohol," he proposed. "Whoever doesn't want to answer drinks a shot. To the bottom."

He saw Sae's face darken. He hesitated, then honestly admitted:

"I... wouldn't want to lose control of my mind."

The corners of Bunny's lips twitched in a barely perceptible, cold smile.

"That's the whole point. You wanted to play."

He rose easily, almost cat-like, brushing off the folds of his rumpled yukata.

"Let's go."

And without looking back, he left the room to give orders to the servants.

Sae remained sitting on the futon, clutching the edge of the blanket. His heart was pounding wildly. "What have I done?"

But it was too late. The game was proposed. And the opponent had accepted the challenge.

---

 

The lounge was perhaps the coziest place in this flawless house. Unlike the strict minimalist aesthetics of the other quarters, a warm, almost European mood reigned here. Walls of dark polished wood absorbed sounds, creating a feeling of isolation from the rest of the world. The main focal point was a wide hearth-fireplace, built from natural stone. In it, thick logs crackled softly, casting lively, dancing shadows on the walls and the dense wool rug.

The air was thick and rich. It smelled of expensive woodsmoke, wax, and the barely perceptible notes of old leather from the massive armchairs flanking the fireplace. Soft, diffused light came from several spherical paper lamps, softening any angles and filling the space with a golden glow. This was a place created for conversations, for quiet rest, for the opening of souls. The irony of this thought hung in the air, almost tangible.

The door slid open silently, and they entered. Both in their rumpled home yukata, with disheveled hair, carrying the marks of a sleepless night and a heavy morning. Neither made an attempt to adopt a more ceremonial appearance. There was a strange, strained informality about it, as if they both, by silent agreement, had decided to drop their armor.

Bunny led Sae past the armchairs and soft sofas to a low blackwood table standing a little apart, in semi-darkness. Everything was already prepared by helpful, invisible hands. Two thick-walled crystal whiskey glasses, a decanter with amber liquid, a pitcher of ice water, and several small plates of neutral snacks. Nuts, slices of dried meat, olives. Everything was impeccable, and in this impeccability, one could see Bunny's hand. Even in a spontaneous game, he ensured his own comfort and aesthetic superiority.

They sat down on thick velvet cushions facing each other. The silence was broken only by the crackling fire. The liquid, thick and oily, filled the glasses with a soft clink, exactly halfway each. He placed one glass before Sae and the other before himself. The golden drink caught the fire's glow, and in its depths, tiny demons seemed to dance.

Bunny was the first to break the silence. His gaze was heavy and intent.

"Was there anyone before me? Any relationships?"

The question was posed evenly, but it carried the steely thread of an owner checking inventory.

"No," Sae replied just as evenly.

"No one at all?" Bunny tilted his head slightly, his interest now frankly clinical.

"Not your turn yet," Sae cut him off, and for the first time, there was not timidity in his voice, but a challenge.

The corners of Bunny's lips twitched in a smirk. He leaned back into the cushions, making a gesture of surrender. The rules were accepted.

Sae took a small sip of water, steadying his hands.

"How old were you when you got the scars?"

The air in the room froze. Bunny went still. His fingers closed around the stem of his glass. He stared somewhere over Sae's shoulder, weighing his options. Offer another piece of his past on the altar of this strange ritual? Or pay the penalty? After a couple of seconds, he decisively raised his glass and downed it in one motion. His throat constricted from the burn, but he didn't wince. He refilled his glass to the halfway point, set it down on the table with a soft thud, and turned his gaze back to Sae.

Sae's shoulders sagged hopelessly. He had hit another wall.

Now it was Bunny's turn. And he was determined to regain control.

"Do you have any feelings for Shidou?" his voice was quiet and sharp as a blade.

Sae froze. His heart began to pound wildly, treacherously betraying what he had felt on the terrace.

"No," he managed.

Bunny narrowed his red eyes.

"You're lying. Drink."

"It's not a lie," Sae tried to stand his ground, but his voice had already lost its former confidence. He couldn't admit it even to himself, how could he admit it to Bunny?

To deflect, he quickly, almost breathlessly, asked his own question:

"Do you have siblings?"

Bunny snorted, granting him this reprieve.

"No. I'm an only child."

Then, like a cobra, he returned to his prey.

"Has Shidou touched you?"

"I thought this game was... to get to know each other better," Sae tried to evade, feeling himself being cornered.

"No," Bunny countered, his smile turning predatory. "It's to uncover the truth that interests us. Answer."

Sae realized there was nowhere to retreat. A lie would be too obvious.

"No. Shidou has never touched me."

He breathed out almost with relief, but immediately steeled himself for a new attack. He looked at Bunny, at this man whose past was shrouded in mist.

"If your father was like that... what was your mother like?"

Bunny leaned back, his face turning to stone.

"I don't remember."

"That's a lie," Sae said quietly, but without a shadow of doubt. He had seen something flicker in Bunny's eyes when he asked the question.

A strange, almost respectful smirk appeared on Bunny's face. He had been caught. Without a word, he raised his glass again and drained it. The second dose of alcohol began to spread through his veins in a warm wave, dulling the sharpness of the memories.

He slowly set down the empty glass, his movements becoming slightly more fluid, his gaze darker and more focused. He looked at Sae, and a new, dangerous resolve showed in his eyes. He had lost two turns.

"Alright, Sae," his voice became quieter and more intimate. "Answer honestly. When he looks at you with those hungry eyes of his... do you like that feeling? That you can drive not only me crazy?"

The silence in the room became thick and viscous as soon as the question was asked. The dancing shadows from the fire made Bunny's face alternately blurred and sharp, emphasizing his tense cheekbones and burning gaze.

Sae felt the blood rush to his face. The question was too direct, too exposing. It forced him to remember that very look from Shidou. And that strange tremor that had run through his skin.

"I... don't know what you're talking about," he managed, averting his eyes to the fire. The voice sounded weak and unconvincing, even to himself.

"Lie," Bunny cut him off without a shadow of doubt. His lips stretched into a cold, triumphant smile. He gestured with his gaze towards the full glass before Sae. "Drink."

Sae hesitated for a second, inwardly resisting. But the rules were set by him. Clenching his fingers on the cool crystal, he brought the glass to his lips and downed its contents in one gulp.

It was terrible. Much worse than he could have imagined. The fiery liquid seared his throat, making him shudder and choke. His face contorted in a grimace of disgust, tears springing to his eyes. He coughed, trying to banish the acrid, bitter taste that filled his mouth.

And then laughter rang out. Bunny's real, genuine laughter. It sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet room, and for a moment, it held pure amusement at Sae's comical reaction.

"Your face..." Bunny shook his head, still smiling. "Like a kitten being offered a lemon for the first time."

Sae swallowed, feeling warmth spread through his veins and his head become slightly fuzzy. The alcohol hit him almost instantly. He set the glass down forcefully on the table, the crystal clinking.

"Why?" his voice came out hoarse, but that same challenge, that same directness that Bunny seemed to both hate and value, sounded in it again. "Why did you choose me... for all of this?"

Bunny stopped laughing. His smile gave way to a thoughtful, almost tender expression. He leaned back into the cushions, his fingers slowly tracing the rim of his glass.

"I already told you. When I saw you on the shore..." his voice became quieter, deeper. "You stood barefoot on the sand, the wind tousling your hair. And you looked at the sea as if you saw something others didn't. There was... a perfect, wild beauty in you. And I knew I had to make it mine. I simply... wanted it. And I got it."

Sae rolled his eyes with such expressive contempt that any actor would envy.

"Normal people," he said, enunciating each word clearly despite the beginning dizziness, "Have a certain order for that. First you get to know each other. Then, maybe, dinner. Not kidnap, force marriage, and then introduce yourself."

Bunny just smirked, a light, drunken amusement flickering again in his eyes. He shrugged with exaggerated innocence.

"Protocols and formalities are for boring people. I prefer direct action. And, as you can see, my method worked. You're here."

Bunny's question hung in the air, sharp and unexpected as a knife in the back.

"Have you ever thought about running away from this house? And if so, did it ever occur to you that you have nowhere to go?"

Sae froze. The alcoholic fog in his head momentarily cleared, replaced by an icy clarity. This question hit the mark, his most vulnerable point. That feeling of hopelessness that gnawed at him at night. Thoughts of escape had come. But the thought that his parents... had agreed, that he had literally been sold, knocked the ground from under his feet. Where to run, if your own home had rejected you?

He couldn't utter a word. Instead, his fingers closed around the glass again. He brought it to his lips, and this time the movement was sharper, almost desperate. He downed it in one gulp, grimacing again at the acrid taste, but this time swallowing not only the whiskey, but also the lump of humiliation in his throat.

Bunny sat, reclining against the cushions, with an expression of profound, feline satisfaction on his face. He watched as a blush spread across Sae's pale skin, as his eyes became moister and brighter. He had achieved his goal: he had drawn out his pain and made him pay for his silence.

And it infuriated Sae. Two shots of strong whiskey were beginning to take effect. His temples throbbed, the room acquired a slight, barely perceptible tilt, but inside, rage was boiling. Clarity gave way to drunken boldness. He felt in control, but that control was no longer so steady.

"You..." Sae's voice came out hoarser, but firmer. He looked directly at Bunny, not looking away. "Do you really think you can make me love you? Or do you just need an obedient doll you can dress up and put on display?"

The air in the room died. Even the crackling of the logs in the fireplace seemed to pause for a second. The smile froze on Bunny's face, then slowly faded, as if washed away by ice water. His red eyes widened in pure, mute shock.

He realized he had let the genie out of the bottle. He had wanted to see a spark, and he got a fire that could consume even himself.

Bunny's silence was more eloquent than any answer. Without taking his eyes off Sae, he raised his glass and drained it to the bottom. The decanter's stopper popped as he refilled his glass. Only then did he speak, his voice low, enveloping like black velvet.

"What do you think about," he made a tiny, poisonous pause, "During sex with me?"

It was a retaliatory blow below the belt. Dirty, humiliating, and mercilessly precise. But intoxication and rage are strange allies. Sae didn't lower his eyes. A cold, almost triumphant spark flashed in his turquoise eyes. He had caught Bunny at a weak point, and now he was going all in.

"For you to finish faster," his voice was as even and clear as the sound of glass hitting stone, "And to stop touching me."

The air crackled with ozone. It seemed the room itself held its breath. Bunny sat motionless, his fingers gripping the stem of his glass with such force it seemed the crystal might shatter.

And then Sae, not giving him time to recover, struck his blow. He caught his breath and asked his question, one that momentarily stole Bunny's breath for real:

"What's your happiest childhood memory?"

Bunny froze. All his thoughts of revenge, control, and power evaporated at once, leaving emptiness behind. His mouth fell slightly open in astonishment. He had expected anything. But not a question about something happy.

He leaned back, his gaze becoming absent, traveling somewhere far beyond the walls of this house, across the ocean, into another life. A strange, uncertain shadow flitted across his face. He thought for several seconds, searching the recesses of his memory for something not poisoned by pain.

"Orange trees," he finally said, his voice muffled, almost dreamy. "In the garden of our house. They bloomed so intensely the air became thick and sweet. Bees hummed like a distant orchestra. I used to climb the highest tree, where the branches were thin and bent under me. I'd sit there for hours. From up there, you could see our whole garden, the red tiles of the roofs, and... nothing else. No one. Just me, the sun, and that intoxicating scent. It felt like you could reach out and grab a cloud." His gaze refocused on Sae, returning to the present. In his eyes was a strange mix of nostalgia and bitterness. "That was before my father decided that tree-climbing was an activity unbecoming a gentleman. And... our garden became a different place."

Bunny's question came quieter than the previous ones, almost childishly curious:

"What's your happiest childhood memory?"

Sae squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pushing away the alcoholic fog. And in that fog, an image surfaced, bright and painfully tender.

"Rin and I..." he began, and his voice sounded warmer than ever before. "We found a huge jellyfish on the shore. Transparent as glass, with purple tentacles. It was still alive, and the waves slowly rolled it over the wet sand. Rin was scared, said it stung. But I... I squatted down and looked at it. It was breathing, all of it, pulsing in time with the waves. It was so fragile and so... strong at the same time. We sat by it almost until sunset, until a wave carried it back out to sea." He fell silent, staring into his empty glass. "Rin said I was strange then. But I felt like I understood it. That jellyfish. That it was just on the wrong side of the shore."

He fell silent, and the silence became heavy again. But now it was a different heaviness. A shared, mutual nostalgia for something irretrievably lost.

And then the alcohol, longing, and rage rose in Sae again in a wave. He looked at Bunny with a new, desperate challenge.

"What will you do with me when you get tired of me?" his voice wavered. "Sell me off like an unwanted trinket? Or just leave me to my fate, like that jellyfish?"

Bunny's expression didn't change. His gaze was calm and impenetrable.

"I won't get tired of you," he said simply, as if announcing the weather. In this simplicity, there was no tenderness, only the icy, indisputable certainty of an owner. Then he leaned slightly closer. "And which shames you more: what you do here with me... or that you're slowly getting used to it?"

It was a blow to the solar plexus. Precise, poisonous, tearing from within. Sae felt a burning blush of shame spread across his cheeks. Because there was a grain of truth in it. In the familiar routine, in the rare moments of calm, in this perverse game. He was indeed beginning... to get used to it.

In a rage, he grabbed his glass and drained it to the bottom, barely tasting it. The fire in his chest gave him a stupid, suicidal courage.

"You dominate and humiliate me," Sae's voice grew louder, cracking into a rasp, "Because you want to be unlike your father? Or because deep down you know you've become just like him?"

Bunny went still. As if struck on the head with a club. All his self-satisfaction evaporated, replaced by an instant, chilling shock. Alcohol hadn't just made Sae bold. It had made him insightful. He was staring straight into the heart of his demons.

"You've had enough games," Bunny's voice became quiet and dangerous. He frowned, his brows drawing into a sharp line. "Looks like you've had too much."

"You're pathetic," Sae hissed, no longer thinking about consequences. His tongue was slurring. "And... you let your trauma get the better of you."

Bunny stood up abruptly. His shadow engulfed Sae. He took two steps and, leaning down, dug his fingers into Sae's elbow with an iron grip, forcing a cry of unexpected pain from him.

"If I were you, I'd shut up by now," his voice was a low, sharp whisper, full of genuine threat.

"Let go! You're hurting me!" Sae tried to pull away, but his movements were weak and uncoordinated.

"I'm barely holding you," Bunny smirked, but there was no mirth in his eyes. "You're like a little child. Fragile."

And then, from the sudden movement and dizziness, Sae swayed and stumbled forward, straight into Bunny's chest. His forehead pressed against the soft fabric of the yukata. He didn't lift his head, his breathing ragged as he whispered into the fabric, as if into a last refuge:

"That's not true... I am strong. My mom always told me so..."

These words, childish and naive, hit Bunny like a bucket of ice water. All the rage suddenly drained from him, leaving behind a strange, heavy weariness. He unclenched his fingers, releasing Sae's elbow, and instead, his hand hesitantly came up to embrace Sae's shoulders as he still sat, forehead pressed against him.

He took a deep breath, feeling his own head spin. Yes, he was drunk, but not as drunk as Sae, for whom this strong whiskey was a first.

"Pathetic," echoed in his head. And the worst part was, it was true.

Without a word, he bent down and scooped Sae into his arms. He was light as a feather, and offered no resistance, unconsciously wrapping his arms around Bunny's neck, hiding his face against his neck. Bunny carried him through the quiet, dark corridors to the bedroom and gently laid him on the soft futon.

Standing over him, Bunny looked at his sleeping, flushed face. This evening had been more than a game. It was an earthquake. He had been so easily wounded, forced to defend himself, forced to bring his own carefully hidden childhood memories to light. No one. No one had ever gotten this far.

"I won't get tired of you," he repeated his own words to himself.

And for the first time, he understood that this wasn't just a phrase. It was a warning to himself. Because this fragile, stubborn, incredibly strong boy, who had dared to call him pathetic, was not just unique. He was dangerous. Dangerous to all the walls Bunny had built around himself for years.

And, damn it, it was the most exhilarating feeling he'd had in years. He took out his camera and captured the sleeping Sae, before he himself fell asleep.

---

 

Consciousness didn't return to Sae gradually; it crashed down on him with the full weight of the consequences. He didn't open his eyes, only squeezed them shut tighter, trying to shut out the world that was already beginning to feel hostile. The bright morning light, filtering through the shoji, cut even through his eyelids. With a groan, he pulled the blanket over his head, sinking into the saving, suffocating darkness where only his throbbing pain existed.

Movement stirred beside him. Bunny had woken a few minutes ago and lay motionless, observing. He saw the tension in Sae's back, how his fingers clutched the edge of the blanket. Slowly, unhurriedly, Bunny reached out and confidently pulled the blanket away from his head.

"Good morning," his voice was even, without traces of yesterday's rasp or rage. "Water and a headache remedy are on the bedside table."

Sae didn't react immediately. The room's air felt icy on his heated skin. Then, without opening his eyes, he propped himself up on an elbow and reached for the glass. His movements were unnaturally slow, as if each required an incredible effort. He took a few sips, swallowed the pill, and collapsed back onto the pillow without strength, pulling the blanket back over his face, trying to reclaim even a shred of his lost refuge.

Bunny watched this with detached curiosity, still lying with his hands clasped behind his head.

"Not as talkative as yesterday?" a light, poisonous mockery sounded in his voice.

"Head hurts," came a muffled, sleepy voice from under the blanket. "I don't have the energy for this."

"Do you remember what you said yesterday?" Bunny pressed.

Silence was the answer. Sae pretended not to hear, hoping to be left alone. But there was no peace in this house.

Bunny propped himself up on one elbow. His movement was smooth and full of latent strength. With his other hand, he again, more sharply this time, tore the blanket from Sae's head. The morning light hit Sae's eyes, and he involuntarily winced. Bunny's face loomed over him. His red eyes were clean and clear, without a hint of fatigue or hangover. His gaze was heavy, intent, probing.

"Do you remember?" Bunny repeated, not looking away.

Sae realized there was nowhere to retreat. He shifted his gaze to Bunny.

"A little," he breathed out quietly.

"Excellent," Bunny didn't change his posture. "Then let's clarify one point."

He made a tiny pause, ensuring every word would be heard.

"If I ever hear mention of my family or anything personal from the past again, I will tear out your tongue. Understood?"

He said this in an even, almost mundane tone. It was precisely this matter-of-fact intonation that made Sae shudder inside. At first, Sae looked him straight in the eye, trying to find even a hint of a bluff, but he found only steely certainty. He simply nodded. Once. Clearly.

"Good," a light, self-satisfied smile appeared on Bunny's lips. "Don't get insolent."

With these words, he rose lightly and silently from the futon and left the room.

Sae lay there, covered by the blanket, when he suddenly heard a voice from outside the door. Low, even.

"Yuki. Today is Sae's care day. Get him ready. Make sure everything is impeccable."

Sae sighed quietly, turning onto his back. Again. This ritual where he would be treated like expensive porcelain. On one hand, he hated this procedure. Those hours of complete passivity, where he was an object for polishing and anointing. On the other... his body, betrayed by boredom and tension, secretly craved the relaxation. The massage releasing the knots in his shoulders, the fragrant creams that made his skin like silk... there was a certain perverse sweetness in it.

The door slid open silently. Yuki entered, followed by two other maids carrying baskets full of bottles and soft towels. The air filled with the delicate, sweetish scent of plum blossoms.

"Young master," Yuki bowed softly. "Please come with us to the bathing room."

He rose reluctantly and followed them, feeling the anticipation of that hour when skilled hands would relieve him of the burden of constant tension. He hated that he might like it. But denying it was useless.

 

 

6

 

Sae sat at the low table, trying to channel all his suppressed will into the movement of the brush. But the line came out uncertain again, wavering at the most crucial point. At that moment, the door slid open silently.

In the doorway stood Shidou Ryusei. In his hands was a long, narrow case of dark wood. He paused on the threshold, as if giving Sae time to adjust to his presence, then silently glided inside.

"Oda-sensei," his bow was deep and filled with sincere respect. "Forgive the intrusion. I brought those brushes I promised."

The old master, whose wrinkled face resembled a dried riverbed, returned the bow, and a warm shadow flitted across his usually impassive face.

"Thank you, Ryusei-kun. You are always punctual." He accepted the case with almost reverent care.

Shidou's gaze slid to Sae, who sat frozen, brush in hand. He smiled at him.

"Oda-sensei, would you mind if I sat here for a while?" he asked in a soft, hesitant voice.

The master nodded easily, after which Shidou sat down comfortably a little further away, not taking his eyes off Sae.

His presence here, in this last refuge, felt like an intrusion from another, disturbing yet desired world. Sae tried to focus again, but he was painfully aware of every breath Shidou took behind him. His hand wavered again, the line went crooked, leaving an absurd blot on the perfectly white paper.

And then Shidou approached.

"Allow me," he said quietly.

He stood behind Sae, so close that Sae could feel the warmth of his body through the layers of silk. His right hand softly but inexorably came to rest over Sae's hand. His fingers wrapped around Sae's fingers, which were gripping the bamboo brush handle. Sae froze, feeling a hot wave spread across his cheeks. His breath caught. Shidou began to guide his hand, his movements firm and unerring, giving birth on the paper to a perfect, living line where, a moment ago, there had only been uncertain trembling.

"You see? Smoother. Without effort," his whisper was warm against Sae's ear.

When Shidou stepped back, a blush burned on Sae's face, but in his eyes was astonishment at what he was capable of.

It was then that Shidou asked his question, looking at the still-imperfect lines around the corrected one.

"Do such mistakes happen often?" he asked, addressing the master more.

Oda shook his head.

"He tries. A diligent student. But there are... difficulties."

"I find it difficult..." Sae admitted quietly, almost in a whisper, still looking at his hand that Shidou had just held.

"Is there a reason?" Shidou looked at him with gentle persistence.

In the atmosphere of the studio, filled with trust after that intimate gesture, Sae's defenses cracked.

"It's difficult for me... because I'm left-handed," he breathed out. "And I have to do everything with my right."

The confession, simple and raw, hung in the air. Even the imperturbable Oda raised his eyebrows. Shidou looked at Sae with new, sharp interest.

"Left-handed?" he said the word with respectful surprise. "But why force yourself to use your right, if you were born unique? Isn't your left hand your gift?"

A bitter, crooked smile touched Sae's lips.

"Since childhood, my parents thought such a thing didn't exist. They said it was... strange. Taught me to do everything with the 'right' hand. But I still can't get used to it."

Shidou nodded, and in his eyes was something more than just understanding.

"A strange coincidence," he said thoughtfully. "Iglesias... he's also left-handed."

Sae abruptly looked up at him, his eyes wide with astonishment.

"I... never noticed."

"He also forces himself to do everything with his right," Shidou continued, his voice becoming quieter, more intimate. "Why, I don't know. Perhaps for the same reason as you. Perhaps for his own."

Old Master Oda, whose eyes over the long years had seen more than his tongue ever uttered, watched them for a few minutes. He saw how the unnatural tension in the young man's shoulders began to melt under the guest's quiet words. Saw how his own instructions, which he had ignored for years, suddenly made sense, being translated into another language. He, observing this silent revelation, quietly left and returned a few minutes later, carrying a tray with two cups of thick green tea and simple but beautiful wagashi. He placed the tray between them, nodded, and retreated to the farthest corner of the room, immersing himself in the contemplation of a scroll, demonstratively shutting out the world.

The silence that hung between them was different now. Not tense, but warm, like the steam rising from the cups.

"Thank you for allowing me to intrude on your lesson," Shidou said, taking his cup.

"I rarely have the choice to allow or forbid anything," Sae replied quietly, pressing the warm ceramic to his palms. "But... today it wasn't an intrusion."

"I've always wondered... what you thought when all this began? About your family..." he asked the question carefully, as if stepping on thin ice.

Sae's face became thoughtful.

"I... didn't think anything. It was like an earthquake. You don't understand what's happening, you just try to stay on your feet while the world crumbles around you. They didn't explain anything. They just... sent me away. Like a package. Sometimes I still can't grasp that this is reality, not a bad dream."

This frankness was a new, unexplored level of their communication. He wasn't trying to seem strong or indifferent. He was simply sharing his truth.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to reopen wounds," Shidou said quietly, looking at the floor.

Sae shrugged casually.

"They don't heal anyway. It's just... strange to talk about them out loud."

"Why are you the way you are?" Sae spoke unexpectedly after a few seconds of silence. "Not like them. Not like all those people who look at me like a curiosity."

Shidou smiled, but there was sadness in the smile.

"My mother was a literature teacher. She taught me to see the soul in words and in people. And my father... my father was a businessman who taught me to see weaknesses in systems and in people. The result was... an awkward mix. I cannot see beauty without wanting to protect it. And I cannot see injustice without wanting to break it."

Sae froze. This easy frankness seemed very sincere to him.

"They... raised you well," Sae said a little uncertainly, avoiding his gaze.

Shidou felt a blush spread across his cheeks. He was embarrassed, like a youth.

They talked for almost another hour. About books, about music. Sae asked about Shidou's family, and he talked about the sister he adored, about the old house in Tokyo where he truly felt free. They laughed quietly, furtively, but it was real laughter. For the first time in long months, Sae wasn't playing a role. He was himself. And Shidou finally saw not a beautiful victim, but an intelligent, ironic, and deeply wounded young man whose sense of humor had survived against all odds.

When the lesson ended and Master Oda rose with a loud grunt, signaling that time was up, they both fell silent, realizing with regret that the spell was dissipating.

They bowed to each other silently, low, with the respect equals deserve.

But when Sae left the room, he carried with him something far more dangerous than passion. He carried the knowledge that somewhere out there existed a person with whom he could talk. A person who saw him as an individual. And this knowledge was simultaneously the greatest comfort and the most terrible curse. Because now he knew what he was losing. And Bunny, in his boundless instinct of ownership, might sense it.

---

 

Sae knelt at the edge of the cold stone and slowly, rhythmically, threw pellets of food into the pond. But today his movements were different. He was doing it with his left hand.

Something about this must be important, since Bunny himself hid his left-handedness. This made Sae think:

"If I poke him with a stick, how will he react? I need to know his weaknesses, if I ever..."

He felt the gaze on him even before he heard the footsteps. Bunny's shadow fell on the water's surface, causing the koi to dart away.

"Feeding the fish?" Bunny's voice was even, but an unspoken note hung in it.

He watched the movement of his left hand for a few seconds, his red eyes narrowed with cold analytical intensity.

Sae didn't turn around.

"They seem so free. Until they don't realize they live in a pond," he threw another pinch of food into the water. Left hand.

Bunny stepped closer.

"Interesting. I hadn't noticed such... left-handedness in you before."

Sae finally looked up at him, his turquoise eyes clear and calm.

"Because there wasn't any. Since childhood, I was taught to use the 'right' hand. They said it was strange and ugly otherwise."

"And rightly so. It's a sign of... imbalance."

"Perhaps. But it's uncomfortable for me," Sae shrugged openly. "And then I thought... I'm not with my parents anymore. Maybe I'm allowed to decide which hand I use to eat and throw crumbs to the fish?"

Bunny crouched down beside him, his powerful figure seeming even larger against Sae's fragility.

"I don't think so," his voice became quieter and more dangerous. "You think that because you're here, you can forget the rules. About order. You're wrong. Use your right."

Sae didn't look away.

"But why is it right? Who decided that? It's just a majority preference. Is uniqueness a flaw?" There was no challenge in his tone. Only pure, almost scientific curiosity, which infuriated Bunny more than open rebellion.

Bunny leaned a little closer.

"I see where you're going with this, Sae. And I don't like it. Enough with the parrying. Just... obey."

"But it really is uncomfortable for me," Sae repeated, and this time a slight, barely perceptible weariness sounded in his voice, which could be either truth or a magnificent game. "Why should my comfort be sacrificed to someone's... prejudices?"

"Because that 'prejudice' is called discipline!" Bunny's voice didn't rise, but steel rang in it. He grabbed Sae's left wrist. Not with enough force to leave a bruise, but with enough to make his fingers a cold, unyielding ring. "Discipline is what separates civilization from chaos. Order from filth. Me... from you. Your left hand, your 'discomfort' is chaos. And I will not tolerate chaos in my house. Understood?"

They froze. Bunny, gripping his wrist, and Sae, looking him straight in the eye, not trying to pull away.

"Understood?" Bunny repeated, his fingers tightening slightly.

Sae frowned and carefully pulled his hand free from his grip.

"You can repeat that over and over, but it won't make your words true. There's no civilization or discipline in this. Only your fear. And you're making it so obvious it's almost pathetic."

Bunny smirked, icy amusement flashing in his eyes.

"Pathetic?" he shook his head, looking at Sae with the air of a scientist observing an error in a simple experiment. "You confuse fear with strength. That's your main mistake. Order isn't a consequence of panic. It's its remedy. And your guesses... are just the babble of a child afraid of the dark, inventing monsters. Don't stoop to that. It's unbecoming."

Sae pretended to think, his voice becoming quieter, more thoughtful.

"A remedy... interesting. And have you ever tried your own remedy? They say the best doctor is one who knows the illness firsthand. Or are your rules only for others?"

Bunny smirked, prickly sparks of contempt dancing in his eyes.

"A delusion of self-importance. That's your diagnosis. You think that by guessing one of my traits, you've gotten the key to all doors." Bunny spoke more quietly. "And your sudden 'boldness' is just another little detail I'm studying, before I put it in its proper place. Don't imagine that by chirping, you've become a falcon. You're still the same little bird in the gilded cage, you're just chirping louder today."

Sae felt a lump in his throat. He felt rage building inside him at Bunny's evasive answers. He lowered his gaze. Suddenly, all the defiance drained from his posture, his shoulders slumping. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, without a single note of challenge. In it was a weary, almost childish curiosity.

"Fine. I'm just... a little bird. Whatever you say." He paused, as if choosing his words. "But then... just answer me this. You're also... left-handed, aren't you?"

He looked up.

"Why? Why is it so important for me to be 'right,' if you yourself... if you yourself never fully became it?"

Bunny's expression didn't change. Not a shadow of embarrassment, not a flash of anger. His red eyes narrowed, boring into Sae with chilling, analytical intensity. The silence stretched, becoming thick and heavy as lead.

"Where," his voice was quiet and perfectly even, but each word fell like honed steel, "Could you have learned about this?"

In this question was a cold, merciless itch of suspicion. He was no longer looking at Sae as an insolent pet or an opponent in a philosophical debate. He was looking at him as a threat to the security system. As a hole in his armor that needed to be immediately found and patched.

Sae looked away, his voice becoming slightly detached.

"How do I know a cloud will bring rain? I just... feel it. We've been under the same roof for too long. You started learning my habits. And I started noticing many things about you. It's not knowledge. It's... a guess. And right now, it tells me I'm right."

Bunny absently ran his hand through Sae's hair, a gesture full of ownership and contempt.

"Ah, my dear. You try so hard to find meaning in this." he shook his head with a slight mockery. "But there is none. There is only what I allow to be there. Our conversation is over."

He turned and left, leaving Sae sitting on the cold stone. He no longer fed the fish. He just looked at his left wrist.

---

 

A few hours after the conversation in the garden, Sae wandered aimlessly through the endless corridors. The silence pressed on his ears, and he instinctively gravitated towards where there was always some semblance of life. The kitchen. He was about to slide the door open when he heard muffled voices from within. He froze in the shadow of an arched doorway, becoming an invisible witness.

"...he's off again. Pacing in his study like a tiger in a cage." It was the voice of one of the younger maids.

"And did you notice when it started?" another asked. "In the garden. I saw them standing by the pond. The master grabbed his hand so hard the boy's face twisted. He practically bent him towards the ground."

Sae felt a chill run down his spine. He was an object of observation, part of the interior, whose humiliations became a topic for kitchen gossip.

"The young master... is the only one who dares to rebel so openly," Yuki said quietly, as if weighing each word. Her voice was even, but weary wisdom sounded in it. "It's... commendable, but I fear the master's patience isn't infinite. Everything has its limit."

"He's playing with fire," one retorted with slight irritation in her voice. "And he doesn't seem to care. He'll go too far. Get what's coming to him one day, and we'll be the ones left to clean up the mess."

"Chiyo!" Yuki's voice rang out sharply, like a snap. In the ensuing silence, only the crackle of wood in the hearth was audible. "Don't you dare say such things. His situation is hard enough."

"And ours is easy?" old bitterness broke through in Chiyo's voice. "Are we free to come and go? Aren't we punished for the slightest transgression?"

Yuki paused, and when she spoke again, for the first time, not feigned, but real, choked rage sounded in her voice.

"Do you hear him at night?" she hissed so quietly that Sae barely made out the words. "And in the mornings, when we bathe him, do you see the marks on his skin? And we... we aren't even allowed to speak to him, to offer even a glance of support. We have to be unfeeling shadows. So, don't tell me about how hard you have it."

He heard a quiet, stifled sigh.

"It's just... I feel sorry for him," the younger maid breathed out quietly, almost under her breath. "He's like that kitten he brought in back then. Wandered into the wrong place and doesn't know how to get out."

"You're too naive, Tokiko," Chiyo stated mercilessly. "He's clearly no helpless kitten. Anyway, it's none of our business. The milk's finished, Yuki-san."

The conversation abruptly ended, replaced by the familiar clatter of dishes and rustle of clothing. The window into their world had slammed shut.

Sae retreated deeper into the corridor, leaning his back against the wall. Everything inside him was turned upside down. He had always seen the servants as soulless shadows, part of the mechanism of Bunny's house. But it turned out... they were witnesses. They saw his humiliation, his pain. Yet, it was somehow comforting to know that Yuki wasn't as cold-blooded as she seemed.

---

 

The silence lasted a long time. For three whole days, Bunny hardly noticed Sae. This reprieve was a harbinger of the storm. In the evening, Yuki silently led him to the transformed tea room.

The moonlight filtering through the shoji was not silvery, but a bluish-steel, like ice. It picked out his body from the darkness, making his skin deathly pale, almost porcelain. At every movement, goosebumps ran across his skin. Not from passion, but from the cold seeping through the cracks in the old frames. The warm light of the paper lanterns picked out from the darkness a screen with cranes and the figure of Bunny with a vintage film camera.

"I've missed beauty that resists," he smiled, and a cold hunter's delight burned in his eyes. He held out a piece of crimson silk. "Wrap yourself in this. Only this."

"No," Sae said quietly, but clearly.

Bunny sighed, like an adult dealing with a child's whim.

"It doesn't matter. But I'll preserve your 'no' too." He approached and, with deft, mercilessly gentle movements, untied the sash of his kimono.

The fabric rustled to the floor. Bunny wrapped him in the crimson cloth, draping it so that one shoulder, his collarbone, and the line of his hip remained bare. His fingers slid over his skin, adjusting the folds, lingering on his ribs, his waist.

"You see? Isn't this more beautiful than crude nudity? This is... revelation."

Click. The first frame. Sae, frozen with downcast eyes, framed in crimson.

"Sit down. Relax."

Sae sat, but his body was a taut wire. Bunny knelt before him, not taking the camera from his face.

"Still shy?" his voice held a light mockery. "We've done far more intimate things so many times. Your tongue has learned to speak sharp words, but your body still behaves like a frightened fawn. An interesting dissonance." He leaned in and, with warm, moist lips, touched his bare shoulder. Click.

Sae flinched.

"Stop..."

"I can't. You look exquisite." Bunny's hand slid under the silk, coming to rest on his bare thigh, his fingers digging into the muscle, gently but inexorably. "You're trembling all over."

He pulled Sae closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. Their faces were centimeters apart. Bunny captured his lips in a kiss. Deep, commanding, breath-stealing. Click. He captured that too, pulling back only for a moment.

"Enough..." escaped Sae when he could break away.

"Not yet," Bunny tightened his grip on his waist slightly, making it clear resistance was futile. He pressed him to the floor, ending up on top. The silk slipped, tangling around them. "I want a new angle. A new... degree of intimacy." With one hand, he unfastened his own sash. His gaze was intent, studying Sae's reaction.

Bunny pulled back, his eyes gleaming in the half-light.

"Tonight, we'll try something new," his voice was low and velvety.

He traced his fingertips along the line of Sae's lips, his voice becoming quieter, almost conspiratorial.

"I want your lips to know the taste of my power. Allow me to enter you in a way no one ever has before."

Sae froze, his eyes widening in shock and disgust. "What? I don't... understand."

"You will," Bunny countered, cold, patient persistence in his tone. "I'll show you. First… open your mouth."

Sae pressed his lips together. Bunny sighed.

"Don't make me," he gently but firmly squeezed his jaw with his thumb and forefinger, forcing his mouth open slightly. "There. Don't be afraid."

And before Sae could do anything, Bunny slid two of his fingers into his mouth. Index and middle. They pressed against his tongue, exploring the moist warmth.

"You see? Nothing terrible," Bunny murmured, while his other hand raised the camera again. He deftly aimed, capturing in the frame his own wrist and Sae's face with his mouth half-open, trapped by foreign fingers. Click. The sound was muffled, intimate. "You look… stunning."

He withdrew his fingers. Sae tried to turn away, coughing, but Bunny held him by the chin.

"Now you know how it will be. Relax. It will be… easier," his voice sounded deceptively comforting. "And don't forget, I want to see your eyes."

He didn't wait for consent. His hand on the back of Sae's head was not rough, but inexorable, guiding. When Sae felt the foreign, alien touch at his lips, his body tensed in a single spasm of rejection. But Bunny was patient. He didn't rush, didn't force. He instructed quietly, his voice as steady as a surgeon's. "Not with your teeth. Deeper. Yes, like that."

And he photographed. Click. A close-up of Sae's squeezed-shut eyelids. Click. His own fingers, intertwined in the light hair. Click. A drop of saliva on his chin, glistening in the moonlight.

When it was over, Bunny leaned back, running a hand through Sae's disheveled hair. On his face was a strange mix of fatigue, deep satisfaction, and that same all-consuming obsession.

"Tonight... you were perfect," he breathed out, kissing his temple.

He rose, straightened his clothes, and left, leaving Sae lying on the cold floor in the tattered crimson silk, with the taste of salt and humiliation on his lips. Bunny had gotten his way again.

 

 

7

 

The last few days had hung over Sae like the heavy, still air before a storm that never broke.

He couldn't call it mere humiliation. Humiliation was at the auction, at the onsen, at every public touch from Bunny. This was different. This was defilement. Not violence of brute force, but the violence of cold, methodical curiosity, transforming the most intimate resistance into part of a collection.

After that night, Sae's body remembered everything with humiliating clarity. Not just the pain. There was almost none of that, that was the horror of it, but the sensations. The roughness of the crimson silk on his bare skin. The oppressive warmth of Bunny's hands adjusting his pose like a mannequin. The metallic taste and… the other texture, foreign and hostile, on his tongue, in his throat. A feeling that made his stomach clench even days later, if he accidentally remembered it. And the clicks. The quiet, dry, impassive clicks of the shutter, capturing every moment of his breaking, every suppressed spasm, every moment his will turned to dust.

He washed for a long time, standing under almost boiling water until his skin turned red and sore. But the feeling of being soiled wouldn't go away. It wasn't on his skin, but somewhere deeper. As if the camera lens had peered not just into his body, but into that hidden part of his soul where the last grain of privacy lay, and exposed it, brought it into the cold light.

In the house, he became a ghost. Not a quiet one, but absolutely silent. He didn't just avoid Bunny. He dissolved into space upon his approach. His gaze, if their eyes accidentally met, was empty. Like an expensive porcelain doll whose glass eyes have been removed, leaving only dark holes. He did everything. Came to breakfast, went to calligraphy lessons, walked in the garden. But he did it with the mechanical precision of an automaton.

Time stretched on, leaving nothing behind. One such morning, colorless and quiet, led Sae to the kitchen. He wasn't looking for food or company. He was just wandering, and the door happened to be in his path.

The air here smelled of warm steam from rice, sharp soy sauce, a simplicity that seemed banished from the other rooms. The servants froze for a second upon seeing him. The girls lowered their eyes, their movements becoming abrupt, uncertain. Only Yuki, stirring something in a bowl, nodded slightly in his direction without stopping her work. She was an island of familiar impassivity in this suddenly flustered world.

Sae leaned against the doorframe, watching as deft hands grated wasabi, cut fish into the thinnest, almost transparent slices. Knives flashed, porcelain clinked. His gaze slid over the shelves, over the shiny copper pots, and finally caught on the only bright spot in this monochrome bustle. A tear-off calendar on the wall with a reproduction of Mount Fuji and large, bold numbers.

October 10th.

He froze.

"Oh... my birthday is today?" flickered somewhere in the back of his mind, quietly and without emotion. He stared at the date for a long time, trying to summon something within himself. Anything. Inside was only the familiar, hollow emptiness.

"An important date, young master?" Yuki's calm voice pulled him from his stupor.

Sae shifted his gaze to her. There was expectant interest in her eyes. He shook his head. As if shaking off a delusion. Then, without another word, he turned and left, leaving behind a soft sigh of relief from one of the maids and the thud of a knife on a cutting board, resuming its usual rhythm.

---

 

Yuki placed the tea tray in the study. Bunny, buried in his papers, thanked her automatically.

"The young master was in the kitchen today," she said quietly. "He stared at the calendar for a long time. At today's date."

Bunny looked up from his documents.

"The date? Which one?"

"October tenth."

He leaned back in his chair, his face becoming momentarily vacant. He'd seen that somewhere... A click in his memory. He stood, went to the cabinet, and a minute later was holding a folder of documents. His finger ran down the line on the birth certificate.

Date of birth: October 10th.

The corner of his mouth twitched in a strange smile. So that's why the ghost had frozen by the calendar.

"I see," he said, closing the folder. "A birthday. Turning sixteen. Make him something... festive. A pastry, a cake, whatever he wants."

Yuki nodded and left.

---

 

That evening, Yuki silently led Sae to the tea room. On the low table stood a small, perfectly smooth European-style cake with a single thin candle.

By the slightly open shoji, his back to the room, stood Bunny. Hearing the footsteps, he turned. On his face was a light, strained smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Happy birthday, cariño," he said, insincere solemnity in his voice.

Sae shot Yuki a quick, sullen glance. A silent reproach for telling. She met his gaze with her usual impassivity, but something like an apology or weary understanding flickered deep in her eyes.

"Leave us," Bunny said quietly, not looking at the maid. She bowed and disappeared.

Bunny approached, placed his hands on Sae's shoulders, and gently but with unquestionable pressure led him to the table.

"Come on. Blow it out. And make a wish. The proper way."

Sae stood, looking at the flickering flame. What wish? That all this had never happened? That one was impossible. He leaned down and sharply, without effort, blew out the candle. A thin wisp of smoke curled upward. He didn't wish for anything.

"Good boy," Bunny said, leaving a light kiss on Sae's cheek. He took a small box from his kimono pocket and opened it. Inside, on black velvet, lay a gold hairpin with an emerald. Expensive, cold, utterly impersonal. An ornament for an ornament.

"This is for you."

Sae took the box. The metal was cold. He felt its weight, its cost, its complete uselessness.

"Thank you," he said dryly, without inflection, and set the box aside, not even properly looking at the gift.

An awkward pause hung in the air. Bunny seemed to expect something more. At least a drop of the old fire, protest, anything. But meeting that empty gaze, he merely pressed his lips together slightly.

"Well, enjoy the cake," he tossed out in a different, matter-of-fact tone.

And he left, leaving Sae alone in the sweet-smelling room with the half-eaten symbol of a celebration that wasn't a celebration, but another reminder. A reminder that even his own birth was now arranged, packaged, and presented to him as a favor from the master of the house.

He didn't touch the cake. He just sat, looking at the hairpin in its box. An expensive trinket for an expensive toy. A gift that wasn't for him, but to soothe the conscience of the one who gave it.

Inside, there was neither anger nor resentment. Only a heavy, nauseating feeling that his boundaries had blurred a little more. And that the next year, if it came, would be the same.

---

 

Bunny continued to observe this transformation with clinical interest. He tried to provoke a reaction with a gentle touch at dinner, a question about lessons, a sudden gift of a new brush. Sae reacted exactly as expected. He nodded, said "thank you," allowed himself to be touched without pulling away, but also without responding. There was no struggle in him. There was an abyss of polite detachment. And this, paradoxically, began to infuriate Bunny more than open rebellion. Breaking resistance was a triumph. Dealing with a living corpse was in bad taste. He retreated, leaving Sae in his new, icy shell.

And inside the shell, the days seeped through like water through sand, leaving no trace. Morning. A monotonous breakfast in silence. The library. Books, words merging into a gray mass without meaning. The garden. The perfect lines of the pines, the still surface of the pond, the koi swimming in endless circles. Lunch. Evening. Dinner. Silence. The room. Darkness.

And then, into this swamp of predictability, a stone fell. Bunny appeared in the doorway of the living room, already dressed. Not in a home haori, but in a strict suit the color of wet asphalt, beneath which the perfect cut of a vest was discernible. His hair was pulled back, exposing the scar and making his gaze even more ruthless. He was adjusting an expensive watch on his wrist.

Something inside Sae stirred, a barely perceptible spark, before his mind could extinguish it. An outing. He didn't even realize his feet were carrying him across the room until he stopped a few steps away.

"Going somewhere?" his voice came out quieter than he intended, betraying not idle curiosity, but that very hunger he was afraid to acknowledge in himself.

Bunny looked up at him. There was no surprise in his red eyes, only the usual, cold assessment.

"To an event. A meeting of antique importers. Tedious bureaucracy," he said evenly, as if doing Sae a favor by stating the obvious.

"Am I... going too?" the words escaped on their own, his voice sounding almost childishly naive. There was something in it of that Sae from the shore, who didn't know the rules of the game.

Bunny froze. He slowly lowered his hand. His gaze became intent, scanning, as if he were examining a rare, suddenly appeared flaw in a favorite vase.

"No," he answered simply, and the word fell between them like a heavy, polished stone. "You're staying home."

The blow was quiet and precise. Sae felt something cold and heavy settle in his chest. He hadn't realized how accustomed he had become to these outings, to this ghost of freedom and... to the possibility of stealing a glance at Shidou, until that possibility vanished.

Bunny noticed. He noticed the momentary dimming in his eyes, the slight droop of his shoulders. And that was enough.

"What is this?" his voice was quiet, but the room seemed to grow colder. He stepped closer. "You look disappointed. Is my company no longer enough for you? Or perhaps you miss someone else's?"

Sae was silent, shrinking inside.

"Tell me," Bunny leaned in, his face centimeters from Sae's. "Have you grown so fond of these parties? Or perhaps you've grown fond of the one who seeks your company there? Do you miss his sweet talk? His... compliments?"

"No!" burst from Sae, but even to himself, his own voice sounded false. He tried to find an excuse. "It's just... it's the only place you take me out. The only thing different from these four walls. I'm tired of being locked up here all the time!"

Bunny straightened up, his face expressing cold, indifferent understanding.

"Ah, I see. You're 'tired.' You want new experiences. Fine." His smile was icy. "Someday I'll take you somewhere else. A botanical garden, for instance. There are things to see there too. And no one will bother you with inappropriate attention there."

Not giving Sae a chance to respond, he turned and left. Sae heard the front door slam and remained sitting in the deathly silence of the house-museum, which had suddenly become a prison again. He stared out the window at the closed gate, and a quiet, humiliating disappointment gnawed at him.

---

 

Shidou moved among the guests, his gaze constantly sweeping the entrance, searching for a familiar silhouette in an exquisite kimono. He wasn't there. Tension grew with every minute.

When he finally saw Bunny, alone, approaching with a glass of wine, he couldn't help himself. With an ingratiating smile, he approached him.

"Iglesias-san, always a pleasure to see you. And where is your beautiful spouse? I hope he isn't ill?" his voice was full of feigned concern.

Bunny turned to him. His smile was wide, glittering, and utterly fake, like cheap jewelry.

"Shidou-san, what touching concern. Don't worry, he's perfectly fine. He's just... resting at home."

He paused, letting his next words carry the proper weight.

"And, to be honest, I would prefer it if you took less interest in the contents of my personal life. My spouse's head is my property, and his thoughts are too. I consider it bad form to try and peek into others' possessions. It could lead to... misunderstandings that would benefit no one. All the best."

With a nod of icy politeness, Bunny turned and walked away, leaving Shidou with his fake smile slowly fading from his face. The threat was delivered perfectly within the bounds of propriety, but left no doubt as to its seriousness.

Returning home late that evening, Bunny found Sae sitting in the darkness of their bedroom. He walked past without a word, but the triumph in his posture was more eloquent than any reproach. He had proven his point to both of them.

---

 

Bunny's misfortune, as he probably labeled it internally, had taken a new, irritating form. He had expected rage, a new wave of caustic sarcasm. Something alive. Instead, he got silence.

The silence that had reigned since that night was not peaceful. It was dense, cottony, absorbing any attempt at contact. Sae didn't ignore Bunny. He performed all the rituals with impeccable, cold precision. He came to breakfast, answered direct questions, allowed himself to be helped with his kimono. But in his answers, there was neither intonation nor subtext. Only words, stripped of everything but their literal meaning. His gaze, when he did raise it to Bunny, was like that of a person examining a pattern on wallpaper. Without interest, without judgment, without recognition of him as a person.

It was maddening.

Bunny tried being gentle. In the evening, he tried to embrace Sae as before, to place a hand on his cold, unyielding shoulder, but the body didn't tense and didn't pull away. It just... was. Like furniture. After a few minutes, Bunny would remove his hand himself, irritated, feeling foolish.

The servants, whose faces were more impassive than stone masks, noticed everything. A new tension hung in the air. Not fear of an explosion of the master's anger, but bewilderment at this icy, impenetrable wall. Yuki, watching Bunny after another failed attempt to strike up a conversation over tea, could have sworn she saw in his red eyes not anger, but a vexed, almost childish disappointment. His perfect mechanism had malfunctioned.

After another morning spent in deathly silence at breakfast, Bunny retreated to his study. The door closed with a quiet but firm click. The air here smelled of old paper and his own, carefully ordered world. But today, that order brought no peace.

He went to the window, looking at the perfect garden, but he didn't see it. Before his eyes was Sae's face. Pale, with downcast lashes, utterly empty. And his left hand. The very one that had held the chopsticks so naturally that morning. Held them, issuing a challenge. Held them as if it were his right.

A pulse began to throb in his temples. Somewhere deep in the cellar of his memory, a lock clicked, and a door he had buried under piles of money, power, and aesthetics burst open with a crash.

The memory didn't come as a picture, but as a sensation. First, the smell. Of wax and incense, thick, suffocating, soaking every stone of their old Spanish house. Then, the sound. The whistle of air cut by a thin, flexible ruler made of walnut wood.

His father's fingers, long and dry as tree roots, gripping his left wrist. Painfully. Very painfully. He was being yanked from the table.

"La mano izquierda es la mano del Diablo." (The left hand is the hand of the Devil.) His father said it with disgust, as if holding something slimy and unclean. "Es un defecto. Una vergüenza para esta familia." (It's a defect. A shame for this family.)

"Extiende la mano." (Extend your hand.)

He was crying, already understanding. He held out his right. His father forcefully shoved it away.

"¡La otra!" (The other!)

Trembling, he held out his left. Palm up. White, fragile.

The blow. Fiery pain pierced his palm, shooting up to his elbow, to his teeth. He cried out.

"¡Silencio!" (Quiet!) his father hissed. "Debes estar agradecido por la misericordia que Dios me otorgó para no ahogarte al nacer como a un gatito ciego." (You should be grateful for the mercy God gave me not to drown you at birth like a blind kitten.) The second blow. Across his knuckles. "Un hijo zurdo un castigo divino. Una mancha en el honor." (A left-handed son is divine punishment. A stain on the honor.) The third blow. On the base of his palm. "Pero yo te purificaré. Te haré correcto." (But I will purify you. I will make you correct.)

Each blow was accompanied by the monotonous, methodical muttering of a prayer. The pain mixed with shame, with fear, with a feeling of deep, innate wrongness. He was defective. Sinful. His very existence was an insult to God and family. Only pain, discipline, absolute submission to the right hand could atone for this sin.

"Nunca más. Nunca más usarás esa mano abominable. ¿Entendido?" (Never again. Never again will you use that abominable hand. Understood?)

He nodded, choking on tears and snot, holding his swollen, burning palm pressed to his chest.

"Ahora, escribe. Con la mano correcta." (Now, write. With the correct hand.)

He would take the pen in the clumsy, numb fingers of his right hand and begin to trace crooked, trembling letters, hating them, hating the pen, hating the hand, hating himself.

Bunny straightened abruptly. He took a deep breath, steadying his heavy breathing. His eyes were hard as granite again. The momentary weakness had passed. He had to do something.

And so, one morning, after a particularly excruciating breakfast where the silence rang like cracked crystal, Bunny gave in. He pushed his cup away, setting it on the saucer with a slightly louder than usual clink, and said evenly, looking out the window:

"Yuki. There's a reception this evening. Prepare the evening kimono for Sae."

Sae, hearing this, didn't react. He felt not relief, but a cold pang of suspicion. It felt like a trap, to lure him out of his shell and regain power over him through public humiliation.

He looked up and met Bunny's gaze. Bunny was already looking at him, and in his eyes was not concession, but the weary triumph of a strategist changing tactics, but not his goal.

However, Sae was not merely a ghost in the literal sense. Ghosts are aimless. He had become a shadow with intention. His silence and detachment were not an end, but a new, perfected mask, beneath which cold, analytical work was simmering.

While Bunny grew irritated by his icy politeness, Sae was conducting a quiet inventory of reality. He studied the house as a complex mechanism, searching for slack in its flawless gears.

The servants transformed for him not into people, but into elements of a schedule.

Yuki appeared at his quarters every morning with frightening punctuality. She had an afternoon break when she disappeared into her room in the western wing. In the evening, she always reported to Bunny, standing by the study door for exactly as long as a brief, dry report required.

The younger maids came for cleaning twice a day. One of them, Tokiko, was the weak link. She muttered under her breath about creaky floorboards and sometimes forgot to fully close the supply closet door.

The bodyguards were of particular interest.

The massive Spaniard who accompanied him outside was strong, but predictable. He checked his phone at regular intervals, stepped away to the same spot during Sae's lessons.

The Japanese night guard walked the garden on a clear, unchanging route. His patrol was cyclical, like the movement of a clock hand. There were moments when his gaze didn't cover the far corner by the back wall, hidden by an overgrown maple.

The house itself gradually revealed its secrets to him. Not all floorboards were silent. The third parquet by the library window creaked treacherously.

Keys. Yuki had a heavy keyring. She was almost never without it, except when she was bathing. Then the ring lay in the top drawer of her dresser in her room, the door to which, sometimes out of forgetfulness, wasn't fully locked.

Sae didn't write anything down. He built a map in his mind, day by day, observing from behind the cover of a book or gazing out the window with the air of a melancholic youth. His detachment was perfect camouflage. He felt that any information might someday be useful.

---

 

The air in the private club was thick with cigar smoke and the scent of aged whiskey. This wasn't an official party, but an informal gathering of a close circle, and the rules here were ghostly, blurred by alcohol and mutual indulgence. Bunny, slightly intoxicated and immersed in a heated argument about import quotas with a silver-haired industrialist, had finally loosened his iron grip.

Feeling a lightness, a dizziness from the third glass that Bunny had been refilling with methodical, inexorable generosity, Sae said quietly:

"I need to step out."

 

Bunny merely waved him off, not interrupting his argument.

Entering the cool restroom finished in black marble, he leaned against the wall for a second, closing his eyes. Solitude. Silence. He took a step towards the sink to splash water on his face, but the door opened again. His heart clenched, bracing for Bunny's icy voice. But it wasn't him.

In the doorway stood Shidou. His face, usually masked by courteous restraint, was lit up with such open, unguarded relief and joy that it took Sae's breath away. Shidou entered quickly, closing the door behind him, and positioned himself between Sae and the exit, as if simultaneously blocking the path and creating a barrier from the outside world.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you," his voice was quiet, but vibrated with restrained tension. "When I saw you tonight... it was as if the sea wind had finally burst into this stuffy room. Forgive the pathos, but these weeks of silence, this empty place at every reception... it was unbearable."

Sae was silent. The alcohol and surprise had made him vulnerable. He wasn't ready for such a direct attack.

"I began to think he had hidden you away forever. Made you his own private secret," Shidou took a step forward, closing the distance to a dangerous level. His eyes, dark and burning, scanned Sae's face. "I looked for you. Everywhere. And everywhere I saw only his smug smirk. You became... an obsession. The silence I seek in the loudest hall."

"Shidou-san..." Sae tried to stop him, but his voice wavered, betraying weakness.

"No, let me speak," Shidou interrupted softly but inexorably. "You're noticeably... not yourself tonight." His gaze became intent, analytical.

Sae looked away, feeling a wave of shame and dizziness. It was at that moment that his body treacherously swayed.

Shidou immediately, without a word, carefully but firmly took him by the elbow, supporting him.

"You need air. Now."

Sae pulled his arm away.

"I... can manage on my own," he mumbled.

Shidou stepped back guiltily, but still helped him out of the restroom. However, their path to the balcony led through the edge of the hall. And there they were intercepted by that same guest, Suzuki, with a sticky smile and eyes cloudy from cognac.

"Oh, and where are we off to?" he blocked their path, his gaze sliding over Sae's pale face and Shidou's steadying hand. "Is the young gentleman unwell? Allow me to help..."

His hand, heavy and damp, came to rest on Sae's back, beginning to slide towards his waist. Sae tried to pull away, but the world was swimming, and his movement was weak, helpless.

"Leave... me," he mumbled, but the words slurred.

Shidou stepped between them, his posture instantly changing. His back straightened, his voice becoming icy and cutting as steel.

"Suzuki-san, I believe you're being sought. We can manage on our own." It was not a request, but an order wrapped in impeccable politeness.

The man froze, grunting in displeasure, but under the pressure of Shidou's steely gaze, he retreated, reluctantly shuffling away.

Without wasting a second, Shidou, still holding Sae firmly by the arm, practically led him through a side door onto a shadowed balcony. The night winter air hit his face, sharp and cold. Sae swallowed, feeling the nausea recede, replaced by shivering.

Shidou led him to a massive stone parapet wall in the far, unlit corner, where they were hidden by the shadows of a large vase with rhododendrons.

"Lean on this. Breathe slowly."

Sae leaned his back against the cool stone, closing his eyes. Shidou didn't release his elbow; his presence was a solid anchor in the swaying world.

"Sorry... for the trouble," Sae breathed out, his voice hoarse.

"Don't apologize," Shidou replied, and his voice, close by, was quiet but held a new, unfamiliar intonation. Shedding his social veneer, he became direct, almost stern. "Did he deliberately get you drunk?"

Sae, eyes still closed, nodded weakly.

"He thinks... I don't understand. Wants me to make a mistake. For everyone to see..."

"He wants to break your spirit because he can't control your will," Shidou said quietly but clearly. "It's an old tactic. Bring someone down, so it's easier to lead them on a leash." He paused, and then, with a quick, decisive movement, his free hand rose. But instead of the back of his hand, his fingers softly, almost weightlessly, touched Sae's temple, brushing aside a stray strand of hair. The touch lasted a moment, but was incredibly intimate, burning warm on the cold skin. "But you won't break. I'm sure of it."

Sae opened his eyes. In the semi-darkness, his turquoise eyes, wide and moist from weakness and this sudden declaration, looked directly at Shidou. All barriers, all the icy defenses, were washed away by the alcohol and this moment of extreme vulnerability.

"I... noticed your absence too," he whispered, and in these words was all the longing for that one gaze that saw him as a person.

Shidou's eyes blazed with such intense fire that they seemed capable of illuminating the entire dark corner.

"Those sincere words alone made all these days of waiting worthwhile." His voice dropped to a low, choked whisper. He still held his elbow, his fingers tightening slightly. "I won't abandon you. Not with him, not here, not in any other hell he wants to put you in. Let me know if you need any further help."

He took a step back, forced to break contact, glancing back at the door to the hall.

"We need to return. Before he starts looking." His face was again a mask of social restraint, but embers of the just-spoken vow still smoldered in his eyes. "Can you walk?"

Sae, still leaning against the wall, nodded. The dizziness had receded, replaced by a strange, clear emptiness and the burning trace of that touch on his temple. They returned to the hall separately, a few minutes apart.

Bunny, noticing his return, cast a heavy, appraising glance at him. Sae met it, and in his own gaze there was no longer the former emptiness.

Bunny broke away from his conversation. His red eyes, gleaming with alcohol and the excitement of the argument, scanned Sae from head to toe. He caught the pallor, the unusual composure in his shoulders, the too-direct gaze. And most importantly, the absence of that drunken, pliable relaxation he had been counting on.

The corner of his lip twitched in a crooked, self-satisfied smirk. He took a step towards him and leaned in so his lips almost touched Sae's ear, his words, soaked in alcohol and contempt, dropping directly into his consciousness:

"Well, cariño? Head already spinning, legs unsteady? Seems my wine was stronger than your... endurance." He paused, savoring the moment. "I warned you. In your position, you need to know your limits. You don't look like an ornament now, but rather... a slightly rumpled dessert."

Inside Sae, everything boiled with pure, white-hot rage. Because this man thought he had won, simply by depriving him of his balance. The rage was so sharp that for a moment it sobered him more effectively than the icy air on the balcony. But he didn't betray it with a single muscle. His face remained a mask of polite detachment, only his eyelids fluttered, as if from fatigue.

Instead of responding to the barb, he turned his head towards Bunny. His turquoise eyes, still a little hazy, but no longer helpless, met the red ones. Sae's voice was quiet, even, and unexpectedly firm:

"I feel unwell. I want to go home. Now."

Bunny froze. His smirk slid from his face. He clearly hadn't expected this cold, direct ultimatum, delivered with a dignity that, seemingly, shouldn't have remained in an intoxicated youth. His gaze narrowed, scanning Sae, trying to find a bluff. But he saw only pallor, the fine trembling in the fingers clenched on his knees, and that impenetrable, icy resolve in his eyes.

"Of course. You're right, you look tired," his voice, surprisingly, became suddenly soft, caring, as it could be in public. He rose easily, placing a hand on Sae's shoulder in a demonstrative gesture of protection. "Forgive me, gentlemen, but my spouse needs rest. Until next time."

It was a perfect mimicry of an attentive husband. But beneath this mask, Sae felt a rapid, cold calculation. Bunny understood the situation was slipping out of control. A drunk, offended Sae in public was a risk.

Their departure was swift and silent. Bunny didn't say a word in the car. He sat, looking out the window, his profile sharp and thoughtful.

But as soon as the door to their quarters closed behind them, everything changed. In the entryway, before Sae could even remove his shoes, Bunny's iron fingers dug into his arm above the elbow, with such force that pain shot to the bone. He was dragged down the corridor, not like a person, but like a sack of bones.

"I see you're stupid enough," Bunny's voice was low, hoarse from whiskey and rage, hissing directly into his ear, his breath searing his skin. "Not even trying to hide that you couldn't go without your dear lover's attention. Did you think I wouldn't notice how your eyes searched the room for him? How you came alive when he approached?"

Sae froze, trying to pull free from the grip, but Bunny only pressed his fingers deeper into his muscle, forcing a gasp of pain.

"I... wasn't looking," Sae managed, but his voice sounded weak and unconvincing, even to himself.

"Liar!" Bunny yanked him sharply, shoving him into the bedroom. "Where were you? On the balcony? In the restroom? What did he whisper to you? What sweet promises did he paint in that empty head of yours?"

He didn't wait for answers. It was an interrogation that required no confession. Each accusation was a blow. With one hand he continued to hold Sae, with the other he began tearing off his clothes. The kimono sash came undone with a sharp, silk-rending sound. The movements were abrupt, rough, devoid of even a hint of that ritual tenderness Bunny sometimes feigned. This was undressing not for intimacy, but for humiliation, to demonstrate power over what was hidden.

Sae froze, overwhelmed by the onslaught. His body protested the pain in his arm, the sharp tugs, the chilling shame. He tried to look away, staring at the pattern on the tatami, but Bunny grabbed his chin, roughly turning his face towards him.

"Look at me!" he hissed. "See who you belong to! Do you think he'd want you like this? Torn, drunk, pathetic?"

He shoved Sae onto the futon. Sae fell awkwardly, hitting his shoulder on the floor. Before he could even begin to gather himself, Bunny was on top of him, his weight pinning Sae to the mattress, and the pain of the abrupt, violent penetration tore a stifled, animal sound from his throat, the kind he was so ashamed of.

"You'd rather it was that bastard on top of me, wouldn't you?" Bunny spoke through clenched teeth, his face contorted with jealousy and rage, more frightening than any mask. Each thrust synchronized with his words. "Would he caress you? Kiss you? Whisper sweet nothings while he uses you?"

The pain was fiery and all-consuming. Bunny's rough hands held his hips so tightly they promised bruises. His own body treacherously responded to the violence with a wild mixture of pain and physiological reaction, making Sae want to howl with shame. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to disconnect, but Bunny repeatedly and roughly repositioned his head, forcing him to look.

And then his mind, cornered by physical agony and emotional shock, found the only path to salvation. He escaped.

The scene around him blurred. The crushing weight, the rough hands, the distorted face above him. All of it became background noise. Instead, in his consciousness, vividly and clearly as a flash, another image arose.

Warm, gentle hands. They slid over his sides not to restrain, but to soothe. Lips touched not his mouth in a possessive kiss, but his temple, where that touch had been during the day. And everything happened differently. In his imagination, it wasn't passion. It was a refuge.

He sank deeper into this fantasy, clinging to it like a drowning man to a straw. Each of Bunny's rough thrusts in reality became a different movement in his head. Each searing word lost its meaning, turning into a distant hum, over which a quiet, imagined whisper sounded: "It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."

His quiet sighs and pliant body were, to Bunny, proof of victory, confirmation of his rights. He didn't know, couldn't even suspect, that this submission was the most sophisticated form of betrayal. That his beautiful possession lay with him, thinking of another man.

He didn't realize when it ended. His consciousness, torn between unbearable reality and a saving illusion, simply shut down. The last thing he vaguely felt was the sudden cessation of movement, the weight collapsing onto him, and then emptiness.

Bunny, exhausted by alcohol, his unleashed rage, and this strange, hollow victory that brought nothing but bitterness and fatigue, also couldn't hold on. His body, yielding to animal exhaustion, shut down almost immediately after he felt Sae go limp beneath him. He collapsed beside him, his breathing heavy and hoarse, and a second later plunged into a restless, drunken sleep, full of his own demons.

A heavy, oppressive silence fell over the room, broken only by the uneven breathing of two people lying side-by-side, yet separated by an abyss of violence and internal flight. Sae had found his salvation in mental betrayal, in an escape to a world where he wasn't broken. And Bunny, even having achieved a physical victory, had lost the battle for what he supposedly wanted most: control over the very soul of his beloved. That soul, wounded and frightened, had now found another, albeit imaginary, comfort.

---

 

The cold came first. Through the heavy drowsiness seeped the feeling of ice beneath his sides, ingrained into his bare skin. The air in the room was stagnant with damp chill. From the crack under the shoji, a frosty thread crept in, and that thread had wrapped itself entirely around him.

Then the pain arrived. Dull and diffuse. His head hummed with heavy lead, his temples constricted by a tight hoop. Every muscle ached individually, especially there, in his lower abdomen, where the echo of last night's violence remained. He tried to move, and his body responded with a weak, useless tremor. His skin burned from within, while on the surface it was coated with sticky, cold sweat. Fever.

He lay there, eyes closed, cheek pressed against the smooth tatami, listening to the rasp of his own breathing. Fragments floated in his head. Rough hands, Bunny's voice, his own escape into imaginary arms. And then silence. And this piercing cold.

The mattress beside him gave way. Someone moved, turned. The familiar heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder and paused. Fingers, warm and alive, touched the icy skin and didn't pull away, but seemed to stick, studying the heat radiating from within.

Bunny woke to a strange silence. First, he felt the cold, unusual for the bedroom. Then the ragged, rapid breathing beside him. He reached out a hand, found the bare shoulder. It was damp and burning hot.

His consciousness, clouded by yesterday's alcohol and fatigue, refused to understand for a second. Then it clicked. He propped himself up on an elbow, blinked, peering into the semi-darkness. Sae lay on the floor, without a blanket, without anything. Pale, almost blue in the light from the crack. Shivering.

Memories flooded back at once. His own drunken voice, the roughness he had shown. And this cold. He had left him here. Naked. On the floor.

A slight, almost imperceptible movement, and Bunny was already sitting, staring at Sae with wide eyes. Pure, animal bewilderment, quickly turning into panic.

"Sae?"

His voice cracked, hoarse. There was no answer.

Bunny tore off his robe, threw it over Sae, trying to wrap him tightly. His hands were shaking. He pressed his palm to his forehead. Dry, dangerous heat. Something clenched in his chest, tight and painful.

He didn't think. Bending down, he lifted Sae into his arms. Light, helpless, burning and icy at the same time, and carried him. Barefoot down the cold corridor, holding him close, muttering something incoherent, disjointed.

Embers still glowed in the room with the fireplace. He laid Sae on the rug before the hearth, and rushed himself to fan the flames, to add logs. The fire flared up, illuminating the pale face, the shadows under his eyes.

"Yuki!" his voice rang out sharply, almost breaking. She was instantly at the threshold. "Blankets. Warm clothes. Now."

While the maid disappeared, he filled a basin with warm water, found a towel. Returned to the fireplace. Opened the robe, saw the skin. Goosebumps from the cold, clammy sweat, marks. His fingers, usually steady and confident, trembled.

He began to wipe Sae down. Each movement was focused, almost ritualistic. He dabbed his forehead, neck, chest, carefully ran the cloth over his arms. Avoiding unnecessary touches, afraid of causing pain even with the fabric.

And then, looking at this fragile body, which he had so often used as proof of his power, he was struck by a simple and terrifying thought.

He had treated him like an object. Out of stupidity. Out of jealousy. From forgetting that he had a limit. And then there would only be emptiness. The very emptiness Bunny had been running from for years. He froze, clutching the wet towel. He realized that continuing like this meant losing everything. The little that had become more precious to him than control.

Bunny draped the warm kimono Yuki had brought over Sae, wrapped him in blankets. Then he lay down beside him. Not embracing. Just close, to surround him with his own warmth and the warmth of the fire. He looked at his profile in the firelight and quietly, almost soundlessly, breathed out:

"I’m sorry."

---

 

The warm twilight of the room was thick and smelled of medicinal bitterness mixed with the smoke of cedar from the fireplace. All day, Sae sank into heavy, unrestful dreams, where cold and heat mixed into an endless shiver. A doctor with an impassive face came to him. Rustled papers, listened to his heart, and left recommendations. Bunny sent the bodyguard into the city, and cancelled all meetings and phone calls himself.

He sat in the armchair against the wall, motionless, eyes half-closed. Only occasionally did he rise to adjust the blanket on Sae's shoulder, touch the back of his hand to his forehead, check the fever. The movements were careful, almost timid.

When Sae finally opened his eyes, evening shadows were already deepening in the room. The first realization was of his body, which still ached, but now the pain was dulled, diffuse. His head was heavy, and his throat was dry with a slight tickle. He turned his head and saw Bunny.

He sat in the same armchair. He was looking at Sae. His face was tired, and his gaze was strange. Almost bewildered. He noticed Sae was awake and leaned forward slightly.

"You... woke up," his voice was quiet, without his usual velvety confidence. He paused, as if choosing his words. "How do you feel?"

Sae didn't answer. He just looked at him, his eyes empty, expressionless.

Bunny moved his lips as if to add something, but stopped again. It was clear he was internally struggling with his habitual commanding tone, with the desire to take control. Instead, he asked even more quietly:

"Would you like something to drink? Or... eat? The doctor said you need to regain your strength."

Silence. Sae turned towards the wall, staring at the pattern on the wooden panel. His back, even under the blanket, was a straight, insurmountable barrier.

Bunny froze. A helpless sadness flickered across his face. He nodded slowly, as if talking to himself.

"I see," he said almost in a whisper.

He rose from the chair, his movements heavy, devoid of his usual grace. He stood for another moment, looking at the back of Sae's head, as if hoping he would still turn around. Receiving no response, he exhaled quietly.

"If you need anything, Yuki will be nearby. I'll... give you time."

He turned and left the room without looking back. Sae was left alone, and only then did his body relax a fraction of a millimeter from the simple absence of presence. The air in the room seemed to become slightly lighter, but the emptiness around still pressed down.

After a couple of minutes, the door slid open silently. In the doorway, holding a lacquered tray with a cup of steaming broth and crackers, stood Yuki. Her face, usually frozen in the impassive mask of a servant, seemed slightly less tense. She entered, placed the tray on the low table by the tatami.

"Young master, you must eat. The broth is light but nutritious. You need to regain your strength," she spoke in a homely tone.

Sae, leaning on his elbow, looked at her with undisguised astonishment. He was silent for a couple of seconds.

"It seems he's given you permission to speak," he said dryly, but without his usual sharpness. There was more surprised observation in his voice.

Yuki inclined her head slightly, not denying it.

"The master... blames himself greatly for what happened. He wishes only the best for you."

Sae snorted. Weakness made his sharpness less convincing.

"He should blame himself."

"He sat here all day. Didn't leave. Cancelled all his affairs," she added softly.

"To monitor the recovery process of his property?" Sae took the cup; his hands trembled, but he gripped it tightly. The broth smelled of dill and chicken, a surprisingly simple and lively scent.

"To be nearby, in case you got worse," Yuki corrected. There was no reproach in her tone. "He was afraid."

"Afraid he'd finally break the toy?" Sae took a sip. The warm liquid soothed his throat with pleasant heat.

Yuki thought for a moment, her fingers adjusting a fold on her kimono sleeve.

"Toys don't get sick, young master. They don't shiver in their sleep and don't call out... for someone else in their delirium."

Sae froze, the cup at his lips.

"I... called for someone?"

"No," Yuki quickly shook her head, and a shadow of something like pity flickered in her eyes. "You just... called out. Generally. The way you call out when you're very scared and very alone. The master heard it. He... didn't know what to do. That's why he sat here. He regrets it."

"Regrets it," Sae repeated. His hand trembled slightly. "Convenient position."

"He crossed a line he himself had drawn. And now he doesn't know how to go back," Yuki said calmly.

Sae took another sip.

"He always knows what to do."

"With scrolls and contracts, yes," Yuki agreed. "With a living person, whom he himself drove to fever... That's different."

Sae set down the cup. There was a lump in his throat. From the broth or from her words, he couldn't tell.

"And now what? He'll be suddenly caring until I 'get better'?"

"Now you need to regain your strength," Yuki became a servant again, stepping back. "So that you have a choice. Whatever choice you make."

Sae slowly set down the empty cup, his gaze becoming intent, analytical.

"Why are you defending him?" he asked quietly but clearly. "Did he ask you to tell me how he's suffering and regretting? So, I'd soften?"

Yuki didn't answer immediately. She picked up the empty cup, placed it on the tray. Her movements were methodical, giving time for thought.

"No," she finally said, not raising her eyes. "He didn't ask me to say anything. Except to keep you warm and do whatever you ask."

She straightened up, her dark, calm eyes meeting his gaze.

"Then why?" Sae pressed. "Why tell me how he sat by my bedside? How he regrets it? Isn't that a defense?"

Yuki thought for a moment, her usually impassive face becoming slightly more alive, open.

"Because you're both like wounded beasts in the same cage now," she said evenly. "Him, because he finally understood he could lose someone. You, because you're afraid even of the small warmth he tries to give, seeing it as a new trap. And as long as you both stay silent and stare at each other in the darkness, nothing will change."

She paused briefly, as if weighing whether to continue.

"I've served in this house for a long time. I've seen Master Iglesias bring in paintings, vases, statues. He always knew how to fix them if they cracked. He knows how to negotiate, how to close deals. But a person... he doesn't know how to fix a person. I'm not saying this so you'll pity him," her voice became firmer. "But so that you know. So that you see not only the jailer, but also someone who locked himself in his own prison of rules and control. Perhaps this knowledge, someday... will give you more power than you think."

Sae listened without interrupting. There was no flattery in her words. There was a sober, almost ruthless, even assertion.

"You think if I see his weakness, I'll stop being afraid?" he finally asked.

"No," Yuki shook her head. "But perhaps you'll stop seeing only strength in him. And where there's a weak spot, there's always... a possibility. For anything. For escape. For negotiation. Even for changing the rules of the game."

She picked up the tray, bowed.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. In Yuki's dark eyes, there was nothing but understanding. Understanding of the rules of the game.

"Thank you, Yuki," he said unexpectedly softly. "For the broth. And for... the conversation."

She responded with a respectful bow.

"Always at your service, young master. Call if you need anything else." She left, leaving the door slightly ajar, just enough to hear if he called.

Sae sat, looking at the fire in the hearth. Yuki's words hung in the air, like that steam—incorporeal but tangible.

---

 

Bunny slid the door open almost soundlessly and entered. His steps were silent. He paused at the threshold for a moment, his red gaze sliding over Sae's figure, wrapped in blankets before the fire, assessing, memorizing details. The pallor, the shadows under his eyes, but no longer that mortal chill.

He approached and sat down on the tatami opposite, maintaining distance but intruding on his solitude. At first, he just sat and looked in silence. His face was a mask of calm, but at the corners of his mouth and in the tension of his jaw, an internal struggle could be read.

"The fever's gone down, that's good…" his voice was quiet, even, almost mundane. He paused briefly, letting the words settle. "How do you feel?"

Sae didn't react immediately. He shifted his gaze to him. Dry, devoid of any expression, as if looking at a piece of furniture.

Bunny nodded, more to himself, acknowledging.

"Is there anything you'd like?" he asked, and in his tone sounded a cautious, uncertain attempt at care, so uncharacteristic of him.

Sae simply shook his head, lowering his gaze to the pattern on the blanket.

Bunny nodded again. Silence hung between them, thick and heavy, broken only by the crackling fire. He sat there, his fingers involuntarily fidgeting with a fold on his own kimono. He was clearly thinking something over, weighing it.

"We won't drink so much anymore…" he began again, and his voice acquired a slight, instructive tone, as if he were talking about an incorrectly drawn-up contract. "It's not very good for you."

A short, dry, almost soundless snort escaped Sae's lips. That was enough.

Bunny was silent, letting this jab pass him by, or pretending to. He straightened his back, and his voice took on that familiar, "businesslike" firmness with which he announced decisions.

"From now on," he said clearly, "No more excessive drinking. Also…" he made a microscopic pause, "You'll sleep here for now. Separately. In the warmth."

He fell silent, as if gathering courage for the hardest part, and added, already slightly stumbling, avoiding direct eye contact:

"And... physical contact will only be... with your consent."

The words came to him with visible difficulty, as if he were forcibly squeezing them out of himself. But then, as if catching himself showing weakness, he raised his gaze, and his voice again rang with steel, without a shadow of doubt:

"But I don't want to see you with that bastard. Or hear about him from you."

This was no longer a compromise, but an ultimatum. The old tactic.

Sae, who until this moment had remained almost motionless, raised his gaze to him. In his turquoise eyes, still tired but now clear, a cold, sharp spark flared.

"Is that all?" his voice was quiet but clear, cutting through the silence. "Finished dictating new rules?"

Bunny frowned slightly. This was not the expected reaction.

"They're not rules," he corrected, a slight irritation sounding in his tone. "They're just... warnings. To avoid similar situations in the future."

Sae rolled his eyes with such expressive, weary contempt that you could almost hear his eyeballs rotating.

"Warnings," he repeated, and a poisonous mockery sounded in his voice. "You're not very good at communication. At all."

Bunny inhaled sharply. His eyebrows drew down. This was too much. Direct defiance, and with mockery.

"I'm trying," his voice rose half a tone, the frustration he had been holding back until now breaking through, "To make sure it doesn't happen again! So, you don't feel bad, and so I..."

He fell silent abruptly, as if biting his tongue. His jaws clenched so tightly that bumps appeared on his cheekbones.

"So, you don't feel guilty?" Sae finished for him. His voice was even, cold, without a single emotional note.

He paused, letting those words sink in.

"And now, instead of just saying 'I'm sorry,'" he pronounced the word with chilling clarity, "or at least 'I was a bastard,' you give me... a set of rules. Point by point. As if I'm a mechanism that's been fixed, slightly oiled, and now switched to... a gentle mode."

Bunny froze. Completely. It seemed he even stopped breathing. All his confidence, all his velvety calm and ostentatious severity evaporated, leaving behind only emptiness and shock. His red eyes were wide open and fixed on Sae, but there was no rage in them. There was only pure, genuine, deafening astonishment. His strategy, his control, his attempt to translate everything into the familiar framework of orders and restrictions. All of it was shattered into fragments by one precise, merciless blow straight to the most vulnerable spot. His own, unspoken but obvious, guilt.

"I understand how it doesn't sound very good coming from me, but I just want to... somehow improve your well-being," Bunny says, taking a deep breath.

Sae first just stares at him. In his gaze was a mixture of disbelief and cold curiosity. He seemed to see before him not the powerful Bunny, but some other, unfamiliar person trying to put on a mask of care, but it was clearly too small for him and bursting at the seams.

"Improve my well-being... Interesting choice of words. My well-being won't improve from your set of rules. It would improve from not being an exhibit in your photo shoots or a bargaining chip in your business games. Can you 'improve' that? Or does your 'improvement' stop at warm broth and a promise not to touch me until I agree?" Sae said slowly, drawing out the words, with icy irony.

He pauses, his eyes becoming even sharper.

"Do you know what would really improve my well-being right now? If you left this room and left me alone. Not for an hour. Not until tomorrow. Just... stopped being the center of my universe that I'm forced to revolve around. With my consent... And if my consent is always 'no'? What then?" he added, quieter but even more piercingly.

He leans back into the pillows, wearily closing his eyes for a second, but then opens them again to finish his thought.

"You don't want to improve my well-being. You want to improve yours. You want to stop feeling this... inner revulsion after going too far. And you think that by following this monstrous, calculated logic of yours, you can fix it," he said calmly, almost disappointedly.

Sae's words hung in the room, sharp and irrefutable as a scalpel that had lanced an abscess. They hit the mark precisely, and Bunny felt the ground slipping from under his feet under that gaze, under that cold logic. But he wouldn't be who he is if he let this feeling completely overwhelm him.

At first, his face showed nothing. Just... emptiness. As if all internal processes had stopped for a second. Then, with almost mechanical precision, a wave of realization crawled across his features that the chosen tactic hadn't worked here.

And this understanding was replaced not by rage, but by an icy, quiet resolution.

Slowly, with exaggerated, almost theatrical grace, he rose. Every movement was measured, full of ostentatious dignity. He brushed a non-existent speck of dust from his kimono sleeve.

"As you wish," he said. His voice was even. "I see your well-being, despite the improvement in temperature, still leaves much to be desired. Your mind is clouded by resentment and... fatigue."

He paused, letting these words, this diagnosis, stand as a wall between them.

"I'll leave you to rest," he continued, already turning towards the door. His back was straight, his posture impeccable. "Yuki will be nearby if you need anything."

He took a few silent steps towards the exit. His shadow, cast by the fire, danced gigantic and ugly on the wall. At the very threshold, he paused, not turning around. His profile was sharp in the half-light.

"However," his voice took on that same steely note that brooked no objection, "My condition regarding Shidou Ryusei remains in effect. It is not up for discussion. Not now, not when your mind clears."

And without giving a second for a response, without looking back, he left silently, with a soft click of the wood.

Sae remained sitting in the silence, now broken only by the crackling fire. He had made Bunny retreat. But a strange, bitter emptiness filled him instead of the expected satisfaction. Because he understood that Bunny hadn't lost. He had simply changed the battlefield.

---

 

The silence in the house was not oppressive, but restorative. Sae slept alone, deeply and without nightmares, in the room with the fireplace. Yuki brought simple yet exquisite food. Clear broth with a couple of shrimps, tender steamed vegetables, sweet rice dumplings. Their conversations were brief, but a new note had appeared in them. Yuki, taking advantage of the rare lack of supervision, would sometimes say quietly as she handed him a cup, "You look well today," or "The air in the garden after the rain is especially fresh." She also, without being asked, brought books from the library.

For the first time in a long while, Sae allowed himself the luxury of care. He lay in the hot bath for a long time, until his skin wrinkled. He let the maids give him a thorough massage with fragrant oils, and this time his body didn't tense under their hands, but went limp, releasing the tension accumulated over months. He was physically recovering.

Bunny, like a shadow, was present in the house. He worked in his study, his low voice occasionally heard on the phone. He dined alone. Their paths did not cross. It wasn't war, but a truce by mutual silent agreement.

And then, one evening, the familiar sound. The screech of brakes, the slam of a car door. Bunny had left. A special, ringing emptiness settled over the house.

Sae didn't go out immediately. He sat for a few minutes, listening to the silence, making sure it wasn't a possible trap. Then, barefoot, on tiptoe, he slipped into the corridor. His first and only thought was the study.

The shoji was closed but not locked. He pushed it, and it slid open silently.

The study hadn't changed. The same smell of old paper, lacquered wood, and expensive leather. The same impeccable, millimeter-perfect disorder of a collector. His gaze, accustomed to noticing details, slid over familiar objects.

A slightly dusty crossbow hung on the wall. Bulky, with a dark polished stock. It looked like an expensive decorative accessory for a trophy hunter. Then his gaze fell on the katana in a separate alcove. The blade, clearer than a mirror, lay on a stand of black lacquered wood. An authenticity certificate hung beside it. Sae didn't linger long on these familiar things.

The main magnet was the desk. Sae's heart beat faster with the thrill of a hunter. He approached the desk.

At first, he just scanned the surface with his eyes, then began carefully opening drawers. His hands moved smoothly; he memorized the position of each item so he could return everything exactly to its place. He didn't know what exactly he was looking for. Something that might give him leverage.

His fingers slid over folders. He pulled out one of the lower drawers, which seemed to contain archives. Carefully, taking from the edge, he removed a few sheets and quickly ran his eyes over the text, absorbing fragments of meaning:

On the letterhead of a European auction house: "...lot #47, pair of Qing dynasty vases, deemed by experts to be later 19th-century fakes... investment not justified, recommend write-off..." In the margin, in Bunny's clear, sweeping handwriting: "Lesson. Trust only your own eyes."

A printout of an email correspondence: "...shipment via Yokohama port delayed. Customs requires additional certification for the batch of 'decorative stones.' Your local contact, Mr. Kawabata, advises patience and not attracting undue attention." Below, in the same handwriting: "Kawabata is losing his touch. Looking for a replacement. Expedite alternative route."

An estimate for renovation: "...complete replacement of security system in the eastern wing. Installation of motion sensors linked to central control panel, reinforcement of window frames..." A note in the corner: "Priority. No discussion of estimate."

And finally, a sheet without a header, with a few short, abrupt lines, like a memo to himself: "S.R. Too many questions. Too much interest in matters not his own. Check his sources of funding. Perhaps worth arranging an accident with his latest shipment of ceramics during transport. Losses would cool his ardor."

Sae froze, reading the last line. Cold sweat broke out on his back. Carefully, trying not to crease the paper, he put the sheets back, aligning the edges precisely. His mind was already analyzing: "decorative stones," "alternative route," "accident"... This was Bunny's world. Dirty, dangerous, built on money, smuggling, and cruelty.

The knowledge was fragmentary, but it was there. He had held in his hands pieces of the puzzle that formed the true essence of the man who held him.

Sae's heart was pounding when he heard a barely perceptible rustle behind him.

"Young master," Yuki whispered, appearing in the doorway like a shadow. Her eyes, usually calm, were wide with anxiety. "What are you doing? You're not supposed to be in here."

Sae whirled around, pressing a finger to his lips. His own whisper was sharp and insistent:

"I need information. Anything. I need to understand the reason. The root of all this. You've worked here a long time. Tell me something about him."

Yuki glanced around quickly, her gaze sliding over the crossbow on the wall, as if reminding him of invisible eyes.

"This isn't the best place for conversation," she breathed, and gestured for him to follow.

They retreated silently to the room with the fireplace. The door closed, cutting off the study's aura. He collapsed onto the cushions by the fire, mechanically wrapping himself in blankets. Yuki sat down opposite at a respectful distance, hands folded on her knees. The silence stretched, thick and awkward. She hesitated, mentally sorting through what could be said and what couldn't.

"His father... was very religious," she began at last, looking into the fire. Her voice was quiet, monotonous, as if she were reading an old, half-forgotten report. "Cruel. To his wife. And to him. He ran away from home. To his nanny. She... took pity on him. Sheltered him. Let him live with them. The nanny's husband... was involved in a certain kind of business. He taught him the basics. How to make money from air and fear. Then... he ended up here. In Japan. With money and no past. What else happened, I don't know."

She fell silent, letting him digest the sparse facts.

"I was hired long ago. At first... they kept me in line with mild threats. Then it became routine. And leaving..." she shrugged slightly, "could end badly. It became quiet. And safe. In its own way."

"How do you know all this?" Sae asked, his gaze boring into her.

Yuki looked away.

"Over time... our communication became calmer. He began to trust me. I... suggested a therapist to him. So, he could talk things out. Unburden his soul."

Sae snorted, imagining Bunny's reaction.

"He didn't react... very well," Yuki confirmed. "He started seeking solace elsewhere. In alcohol. In... women. He often brought them here."

"Women?" Sae repeated involuntarily, genuine astonishment in his voice.

Yuki nodded.

"Yes. For a long time. Until he realized it wasn't getting any easier. He was... much cruder back then. More aggressive. I suggested a specialist again. He... did eventually find one. The old man was good and experienced."

She paused, gathering her thoughts.

"At first, the master was skeptical. Avoided it. But the old man... knew how to listen. To draw things out bit by bit. The master became calmer. Started dealing with his aggression. But... when the old man tried to dig deeper, into the traumas themselves... he refused. Cancelled all the sessions."

"Well, of course," Sae hissed with a bitter smirk. "That's why he's still pathetic. Patched one hole so the rest could keep festering."

Yuki didn't argue. She simply continued, as if adding to the picture:

"After that... there were women again. But he got bored with it, apparently. Or wanted... variety. He brought a man here for the first time. It was... unusual for us." Her voice wavered for a moment, betraying that behind the impassive mask lay real shock. "But you get used to things over time."

She looked directly at Sae, and for the first time, something like genuine regret flickered in her eyes.

"I don't know what drove him to... buy a person for marriage. Maybe he wanted something new again. Maybe..." she searched for words, "He thought that if he kept someone by force, locked up, that person would... see the real him. And love him for it. I don't know. That's just my guess."

Sae sat motionless. A pile of fragmentary facts, hints, and half-confessions crashed down on him. Almost a year in this house, and only now, from the mouth of a servant, did he get any kind of coherent, albeit terrible, biography of his jailer. It didn't excuse him, but it explained his behavior.

He wanted to ask something else, to understand the connection, but at that moment, from outside, through the walls and the garden, came a muffled but unmistakable sound. The rustle of tires on gravel, the soft thud of a car door.

Yuki jumped up sharply. Panic, momentarily forgotten, flared in her eyes anew.

"Go to sleep. Now," she threw out, already flying towards the door, and dissolved silently into the darkness of the corridor.

Sae obediently collapsed onto the cushions, pulling the blanket up to his chin, feigning sleep. But behind his closed lids, his mind worked feverishly, grinding over what he had heard, connecting it with what he had seen in the study.

A cruel, religious father. Escape. The science of survival and dirty money. Failed therapy. A string of purchased bodies. Female, then male. And finally, a desperate, perverted attempt to buy not just a body, but... love? Devotion? Someone alive who was supposed to fill the inner void?

Footsteps sounded in the house. Heavy, confident, approaching the bedroom. Sae listened, trying to understand what he was doing, but then silence fell. It seemed he had gone to sleep. Sae finally exhaled and, relaxing, fell asleep.

---

 

The morning was grey and quiet. The light behind the shoji hadn't yet become truly daylight; it only cautiously seeped into the room, leaving soft, uncertain shadows.

Sae was sleeping lightly.

He felt the presence before he understood it. Warmth at his back. Another's breath. Even, calm, too close to be accidental. An arm lying across his chest, not restraining, just there.

Sae inhaled sharply and opened his eyes.

He jerked, almost instinctively, and immediately met the dark eyes of Bunny. He lay beside him, on his side, propping his head on his hand, as if this were the most natural place in the world. On his face was a brief, genuine surprise. As if he had been caught not violating boundaries, but doing something completely innocent.

Sae frowned.

"And what about no physical contact without consent?" his voice was still hoarse from sleep, but cold.

Bunny blinked once, calmly.

"I meant that regarding... intimate moments," he replied evenly. "In other respects, you are still my spouse. And I still expect you to fulfill your marital duties."

Sae's brows drew together further.

"And what other duties?"

"If I want to hold you, cuddle, or kiss you, I will do so."

The silence between them became dense, like fabric hard to tear.

Sae chuckled shortly, without joy.

"You're doing a great job of trying to atone for your guilt."

Bunny didn't change his posture. His voice remained calm, almost weary.

"You can't enjoy such privileges for long. I gave you time and space. You recovered, rested, took care of yourself. Even chatted with a servant. I think that's enough."

Sae exhaled slowly.

For a second, he almost found it funny. How naive to hope this silence would last longer. He said nothing, just turned away and lay back down, his back to Bunny, demonstratively ignoring his presence.

The blanket rustled softly.

A moment later, he felt Bunny move closer again. An arm came to rest on his waist, carefully but confidently. His head settled into the curve of his neck, where the skin was especially sensitive. Bunny's breath was calm, warm, almost soporific.

Sae froze. He didn't resist, but he didn't relax either.

"What would you like to do today?" Bunny asked quietly. "You need to get some air. You barely leave your room."

No answer.

"Do you remember the bookshop we saw in the city a couple of months ago?" he continued after a pause. "We could go there. Or just take a walk around town."

Sae was silent.

Then Bunny sighed and got up.

"I'll ask Yuki to pick out a warm kimono for you," he said from a distance. "We'll go into the city. Now go have breakfast."

The shoji door slid quietly and closed, filling the room with silence.

Sae lay motionless for a few more seconds, staring into the emptiness before him. Then he pulled the blanket higher and covered his head with it, as if trying to hide not from the light, but from the day itself.

The warmth beside him was gone. But the feeling of another's presence was not.

---

 

The city greeted them with a deafening, living symphony, so unlike the muffled silence of their suburban mansion. Compared to their suburb, the city seemed almost excessive. There, measured silence, neat paths, rare figures. Here, a dense flow of life. People went about their business, hurried, laughed, stopped at shop windows, pulled children by the hand, argued, talked on phones, ate on the go.

Sae seemed to inhale this bustle fully. His eyes, usually dimmed, burned with lively, insatiable curiosity. He looked. At an old man selling roasted chestnuts from a cart, whose smoke mingled with the steam of his breath. At a stationery shop window overflowing with beautiful notebooks and pens. At children kicking a ball in a small park, their cries echoing sharply in the frosty air.

When Bunny, following habit, headed towards the familiar facade of an expensive restaurant, Sae unexpectedly stopped.

"Can we... not go there?" he said, and nodded towards a small, steaming shop with sliding doors, from which came the appetizing smell of fried noodles and dark sauce. "There."

Bunny paused for a second, his eyebrows rising in surprise, but then a short, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his lips.

"As you wish."

They ate at a small table, their elbows almost touching the neighbors'. The food was simple, hot, and incredibly tasty after the sterile kitchen of the house. Sae ate with undisguised pleasure, and Bunny watched him, chopsticks set aside, with that same strange, analytical interest.

They walked on without hurry. Sometimes stopping just because Sae wanted to look. He lingered at a second-hand bookshop, studying the window, squinting slightly. Bunny noticed immediately.

"Want to go in?"

Sae nodded.

Inside, it was cramped and smelled of paper and dust. The shelves were crooked, books lay in stacks, the shopkeeper dozed behind the counter. Sae wandered between the rows, carefully running his fingers over the spines, as if checking if they were real.

"You read faster than you choose," Bunny observed, watching him.

"Choosing is more important," Sae replied without looking up. "If you make a mistake, you have to endure it to the end."

"Do you apply that to people too?"

Sae paused for a second, then shrugged.

"I usually don't get to choose people."

He found two books. Stopped, looking at them as if weighing something more than the price. Bunny was already holding out money, without asking.

They walked some more. Without aim. Sae sometimes stopped, watching other people's conversations, shop windows, street musicians. He looked different. More alive. His step became lighter, his shoulders straightened, and his gaze lost its wariness.

At one point, he laughed briefly, unexpectedly, when a passerby nearly walked into a lamppost while staring at his phone. Bunny paused for a second, as if memorizing the sound.

By evening, the city lit up with lights. The air became colder, but it was a pleasant cold, invigorating. They returned in high spirits, almost in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

And only when the house gates closed behind them did Sae feel it.

The abrupt, empty silence. An unexpected realization that everything had been a temporary pleasure washed over him.

The servants took their things, silently carrying away the purchases. The house was again what it had always been. Impeccable, quiet, too correct. Sae walked down the corridor more calmly now, but inside, something seemed to have snapped abruptly.

He headed towards his room.

"Sae." Bunny's voice stopped him. Quiet. Slightly awkward. A rarity.

He turned.

Bunny stood at the entrance to the corridor, not coming closer.

"I was thinking..." he hesitated for a second. "You could sleep with me again. It's warm in our bedroom too."

Sae looked at him in silence.

"I won't do anything," Bunny added hastily. "I just want you to... well. Be near."

At that moment, Sae suddenly saw not the master of the house, the man with power. But someone standing in the doorway at night, not knowing how to ask.

"Are the nightmares coming back?" Sae asked quietly.

"Sometimes." Bunny shrugged.

Sae lowered his gaze, then nodded.

They entered the bedroom without further words. Changed into night yukata, light, simple. Lay down side by side, not looking at each other. Bunny carefully pulled him close.

The warmth of his body quickly warmed Sae's skin, cold from the street. He involuntarily relaxed, allowing himself to lean, allowing Bunny's arm to rest on his back.

Only even, calm breathing. And warmth that this time didn't feel like a trap.

Notes:

This is actually supposed to be one full story, but ao3 have limits, so there's a two chapter.