Chapter Three.... Manipulation?

Ydoc’s hand trembled slightly as he set his fork down. Something about this conversation was turning sour, its edges curling into something dark, something he didn’t want to touch.

But Edwards wasn’t done.

“Oh, don’t look so confused, dearest,” Edwards said smoothly, swirling the last of his tea in his cup. “You and Lucy had this planned for weeks. A romantic night at the Festival of the Stars.”

Ydoc stiffened. “W-When was this?”

Edwards sighed, shaking his head as if dealing with a stubborn child. “Last month, of course. Before the accident.”

The word slammed into Ydoc’s skull like a hammer. The accident.

He hated when Edwards said it like that, like it was some tangible thing he could grasp, something that had a shape, a form. But no matter how hard he searched his fractured mind, there was nothing.

No Lucy. No festival plans.

And yet—

Why do I feel like I’m the one who’s wrong?

Edwards, as if sensing his wavering resistance, reached into his coat and pulled out something else.

Two slips of paper.

Two tickets.

Ydoc’s breath caught.

There it was—his name, printed so neatly alongside someone else’s. Lucy.

His mouth went dry. He stared at them, his vision swimming.

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

“See?” Edwards said, his voice a purr of satisfaction. “You even bought the tickets yourself. Very sweet of you.”

Ydoc’s chest tightened, his breathing turning uneven. “I—” He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching against his lap. “I don’t remember—”

Edwards’ smile twitched. “Of course you don’t,” he said, voice still sweet, but there was a sharpness to it now. “You never remember anything, do you?”

Ydoc flinched, the words cutting deeper than they should have.

Edwards tilted his head, his golden eyes narrowing. “You’re going, Ydoc.”

A demand, not a suggestion.

But Ydoc’s body rejected it. His entire being screamed at him, something in his gut twisting violently.

“No.”

The refusal was weak, breathless. But it was enough.

Edwards stilled.

And then, in an instant, the entire atmosphere of the room snapped.

The playful, charming rogue was gone.

Edwards slammed his palm against the table, the sound thunderous in the small space. Ydoc jolted so hard he nearly knocked over his plate.

“NO?” Edwards barked, his voice a violent crack through the air. “After everything, after she waited for you, after I went out of my way to make sure you wouldn’t disappoint her, you’re saying NO?”

Ydoc shrank back, his breaths coming in rapid gasps. “P-Please, I—”

“Pathetic.” The word dripped with venom. Edwards’ hands curled into fists, his claws digging into the wooden table. “You are so weak, aren’t you? You can’t even do this one thing. Is it really so much to ask? You promised her, and now what? You’ll just let her sit there alone because you’re too much of a coward to face the world?”

Ydoc’s vision blurred. He could barely breathe, his hands gripping his knees as he tried to think, tried to fight against the words, but it was too much.

“I-I didn’t—I don’t—” His voice was barely a whisper, his lips trembling.

Edwards loomed over him now, seething. “Stop crying.”

The demand was sharp, biting, laced with pure disgust.

Ydoc squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders trembling as his breath hitched.

“S-Sir,” he whimpered. “Please.”

Silence.

A long, suffocating silence.

Edwards stepped back.

Ydoc still couldn’t look at him. His head was bowed, his body curled in on itself, his hands clenching his sleeves to stop them from shaking.

Finally, Edwards exhaled, long and slow, as if forcing the anger out of himself. When he spoke again, his voice had returned to its usual, easy smoothness.

“Fine.”

Ydoc flinched at the word.

“You don’t have to go,” Edwards said simply, stepping away from the table. “If you really want to be a shut-in forever, then by all means.”

Ydoc didn’t move, didn’t respond.

Edwards sighed dramatically, stretching his arms. “I suppose I’ll just have to explain it to Cathy myself. Tell her you forgot her.” He grinned, his voice teasing, but it was laced with something cruel. “How tragic.”

Ydoc’s stomach twisted.

But he said nothing.

And in that silence, something inside him—something small—withered.
----

The silence in the cabin stretched on, thick and unmoving. Ydoc sat frozen in his chair, his hands limp in his lap, his body still curled inward as if making himself small would somehow make this moment disappear.

Edwards sighed, long and tired, rubbing his temple as if he was the one suffering. Then, with that same practiced calm, he spoke.

“You’re done eating,” he said simply. “Go to your room.”

A quiet, measured command. No anger. No yelling.

Just cold disappointment.

Ydoc’s breath stuttered.

He glanced at his plate—half-full, barely touched. His only meal. His only meal for the day. But the second he hesitated, Edwards’ gaze flickered toward him, unreadable, unyielding.

And Ydoc understood.

It wasn’t a request.

Moving on instinct, like a marionette whose strings had been pulled, Ydoc pushed his chair back and stood. His limbs felt too heavy, his stomach aching—not just with hunger, but with something deeper, something colder. His vision blurred at the edges, silent tears slipping down his cheeks, warm against his cold skin.

He didn’t sniffle. Didn’t sob.

Just let them fall.

He picked up his plate, his fingers tightening around the ceramic. The meal he had cooked, the meal he had earned.

And with quiet resignation, he scraped it into the trash.

The soft sound of food hitting the bottom of the bin echoed through the quiet room.

Edwards watched, silent, unmoved.

Ydoc placed the empty plate in the sink and turned away, his head down, his shoulders drawn tight. He didn’t bother wiping his tears. Didn’t bother fighting it.

His feet carried him to the stairs, slow, deliberate steps up to the small, cramped room they shared. It wasn’t his room. He had no room of his own.

The room was barely furnished, just a modest bed tucked against the far wall, too small for two.

But there had never been two.

Because Edwards had his place. And Ydoc—

He belonged on the floor.

The second his foot hit the top step, Edwards called after him. “Don’t forget, Ydoc.”

Ydoc’s fingers curled against his sleeves. He already knew what was coming.

“You sleep on the floor.”

Another punishment. One that didn’t need to be yelled, didn’t need to be forced. Because Ydoc would do it.

Because Ydoc always did it.

“…Yes, sir.”

The words fell from his lips automatically, a hollow whisper.

Edwards said nothing more.

And so Ydoc, with his empty stomach and his tear-streaked face, stepped into the darkened room, lowered himself to the cold wooden floor, and curled up.

No blankets. No pillow.

Just the aching weight of knowing this was what he deserved.

For saying no.

Once.