3.14 OBSESSIVE LOVE: Needs to

Mo Yinan lived to be 65. 

Kang Siwoo killed himself at 21.

Raziel Ervenir turns 43 this year.

It's strange how time elapses when you're constantly dying and being born again.

Raziel Ervenir sometimes still recalls himself as Mo Yinan, for that is the life that shines the brightest. The others, including this one now, can only be counted as failures, no matter what Ouros says. 

It's a shame, truly.

The thought sinks in as the butcher's knife comes down with a clonk. The last of the venison is neatly cut. He works on the sauce next. An old vintage tune leaves his lips in a languid hum, harmonizing with the soft sizzling of water.

Sunlight filters through the window. The old house needed a lot of work when Raziel originally found it but he thinks that he's done quite a good job. The aged, splintered walls were replaced with fresh panels. He's replaced all the rusted old furniture with newer replicas. The carpets, the drapery were all replaced as well, and of course, he's gone the full mile with new paints and wallpaper to freshen the whole place up.

It's been his secret little project, after all. And he's very content with it.

Sunlight trickles past the mint green curtains, the little, sheer flowers paint an interesting pattern on the counter and floor. There are birds that chirp outside, but nothing corrupted dares approach his secret little hideout.

Why would they? When a monster even more terrifying than they hides within. 

The sauce is browning and the smell that wafts through the air is absolutely delectable. So Mo Yinan— ah no, Raziel Ervenir works on the vegetables next.

There are voices that roar and bicker inside his mind, their howling so saturated that he cannot make out even a single one of them. There was a time he thought them annoying but he's used to it now. It helps with drowning out Ouros's chiding tone. He's honestly grown tired of his bastard of a system over the years and all his lives. So for once, it's a welcomed change.

Pleasant, mood mild, Raziel goes about the feast that he cooks.

In a different part of the house, Kyden slowly rouses.

Consciousness returns in parts. First, he feels bone-deep anguish, a pain that gnaws deep within his marrow. His entire body feels like a battered sack of flesh; like meat beaten and readied for cooking. 

The numbness pricks, needles are in his muscles. He tries to move his arms, his legs, but they can only jolt weakly. A pathetic groan leaves his lips and it comes out hoarse, cracked. 

He hears things, a myriad of things. Without the city backdrop, subtle sounds are much louder. For one, he can hear the fabric rustling beneath him and the drumming of his heartbeat inside his chest. He can hear what sounds like metallic jostling, and the echoing song of singing birds and wind chimes along with the swaying of tree branches. 

Kyden groans again, trying to wake, his eyelids are insurmountably heavy. He forcefully peels them open but his vision is blurry. 

It's blurry but he notes that the place he's in is dim. Not pitch black, but dim.

The air is fresh, clean even, and refreshing to his city-worn lungs. If only he were in better states to enjoy it…

Kyden sucks in a breath and forcefully peels open his eyes as his life depends on it. Adrenaline is in his blood and his heart is like that of rabbit's, racing and speeding along desperately. 

"Ha… ah… hah…"

Deep panting fills the room. It's a bedroom, he realizes. It's daytime, he can tell by the sunlight that's mostly shunned by thick curtains. The room is scantily decorated but the furniture that does inhabit it has a particular vintage flair. Everything is wooden, from the bed frame to the dressers with rounded edges and spiraling floral designs. 

When Kyden tries to pull himself up, he finds himself too sluggish and weak. Metal jostles and he realizes that there is something heavy and cool around his ankle.

Divine Mother Oracle, no.

Gritting his teeth, he dares to look down and finds that there's a shackle around his ankle with a chain attached that disappears over the ledge of the bed. The chain isn't taut, but it doesn't look very loose either. He suspects that he can't get far. 

There's a pleasant scent in the air that reminds Kyden of home but instead of being lulled into hunger, he only feels nauseous.

Kyden wants to throw up. But he needs to do more to try to find a way out. 

But just as he's about to summon enough strength to push himself up to a sitting position. He hears footfalls against wooden floorboards.

Kyden stills, goosebumps arise on his skin. He closes his eyes and barely dares to breathe.

Even though his eyes are closed he can feel the shadow fall upon him as the door creaks open. The pleasant aroma of homemade stew makes him lurch. 

He feels the mattress sink and Kyden really needs a weapon right now. His mind is racing at the same speed as his rabbit heart.

"Morning love, I know that you are awake." The demon uses Raziel's low, silky voice. Kyden feels cold sweat break out when the back of a hand brushes apart his fringes. 

Kyden flinches. He tries to swat the offending hand away in retaliation but his limbs feel awfully heavy and his movements are sluggish. His wrist is caught and he's reduced to glaring at his kidnapper. "Don't touch me, demon."

The demon wears Raziel's face. The corner of his lips twitch but otherwise, he looks patient and does not rise to Kyden's rage. "You must be hungry," is all that he says, calm and peaceful. He presents Kyden with that bowl of stew, the meat floating inside looks fresh and Kyden feels sick.

What he needs is a damn weapon!

A priest's blood is enough of a weapon against a demon.

So Kyden bites the inside of his cheek, the taste of iron saturates his tongue and he spits right in Raziel's face.

In the silence of the little room, the sound of reddish saliva splattering against Raziel's cheek seems to echo. 

Everything is paused and Raziel's expression falls for a moment. His eyes are lidded, sharp and full of intensity that makes Kyden shudder. The older man puts down the metal spoon. He raised the back of his sleeve to his cheek and time feels like it's moving in slow motion. 

Just when Kyden thinks that this man is about to commit homicide, he smiles, "Now, I understand that you're a little disoriented but that was quite unnecessary. Behave, my love." 

It's then when Kyden realizes that his blood had no effect. His heart turns dark, unwanted fear festers and he doesn't know what went wrong. Did he lose his purity? Did he not use enough blood—

And just as these thoughts pass his head, the professor's eyes flash violet. 

"Ah—" a broken sound leaves his lips and Kyden's body goes limp. He can't even close his eyes, all of his muscles twitching in protest but they're locked in place. He's paralyzed. 

Raziel grins. He puts the stew on the dresser to arrange Kyden in a semi-seated position, with his back propped up against the bed frame. He can't even flinch away from the hands that touch him, that move his limbs when he has not even the power to close his eyes. Frustration wells with fear and he begins to shake nonstop. Tears gather in his eyes before tumbling free. He can't even do anything to hold them back and save his dignity.

Raziel frowns and coos, leaning to wipes Kyden's tears away. "Oh, I'm sorry, my love. I didn't mean to hurt you like this… This power is still rather new to me. It belonged to that little demon that called itself Voir, you see? It had the power to lock a person's joints and muscles. Quite terrifying, no?"

The purple light in his eyes dims and Kyden spasms, suddenly in control of his own body again. His chest heaves, desperate for air because panic is sinking its claws in his chest. He struggles to hold the tears back but the more he tries, the more gushes out, his face turning wet. Kyden hisses in discontent, curling up in an attempt to hide his shame but Raziel— no, the demon, is close enough that Kyden can feel his body heat and breath on the edge of his ear.

"Go— away—" 

"I'm sorry," Raziel's frown deepens. He edges closer when Kyden tries to scurry away. But the wall's behind him and stops him from making an escape. His mind's a wreck and his body is locked in some sort of spasming fit. Though he flails and kicks, it's futile when he tries to wrestle himself away from the demon that wraps him up in Raziel's strong arms. 

"Hush, my love. I'm sorry that I scared you. Shh…"

The demon holds him and whispers sweet nothings in Kyden's ear.

Kyden is terrified. He loathes to admit it but he cannot stop hyperventilating. Even when he grits his teeth and bites his bottom lip, tears pour out of his eyes and fuck, fuck, fuck.

He needs to think.

He needs to get out of here.