Chapter 12 - “What Remains Bare”

When I finally managed to wipe the last of my tears, my chest still ached with the weight of the call. My eyes stung, and the smell of smoke clung to me like guilt.

I checked my phone—it was nearly one in the morning. Too late, too heavy, but I forced myself to fix my face in the dim light, as if I could erase the evidence.

Stepping back inside, I froze.

Asami was already there, seated by the mini bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand. The amber liquid caught the glow of the lamp, sharp and unforgiving. His eyes, darker still, fixed on me the moment I entered.

I flinched under the weight of his stare. It felt critical, as though he’d seen too much.

“Have you been there earlier?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, my voice tight.

“Nope,” he replied evenly, his gaze steady. “I just arrived. Wanted a drink, so I sat here.”

My throat dried. He didn’t look away.

“You stayed long on the balcony,” he added, his tone softened just enough to twist something inside me. “It’s cold at this hour. You’ll get sick if you’re not careful.”

“I… I was talking to someone. And smoking, so it wasn’t that cold.” My reply came too fast, too flimsy. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes, terrified he’d read the lie written all over me.

His brows furrowed, displeasure sharpening the lines of his face.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked quietly. “When I went to the balcony door, I heard you on the phone.”

My heart lurched. My lips parted, but no sound came. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t risk it. If he knew it was him—my ex, the one who had just threatened everything—I was certain something terrible would happen.

Silence stretched until it felt suffocating.

Finally, Asami exhaled, slowly, measured, and took another sip of whiskey. His eyes narrowed, squinting at me as though weighing every twitch of my face.

“…It’s fine,” he said at last. “If you can’t tell me, I won’t force you.”

The words should have eased me. They didn’t. They only made my chest tighter, like chains dressed as kindness.

Then, setting his glass down, his tone shifted again—cool, controlled, edged with displeasure.

“Sit down. We need to talk. About the vase.”

His words—“Sit down. We need to talk about the vase.”—hung in the air, but I knew that wasn’t what this was really about.

I obeyed anyway, lowering myself into the chair opposite him. The glass in his hand caught the light, the ice clinking as he swirled it slowly. He watched me the way a hawk watches a trembling rabbit.

For a moment, he said nothing. The silence scraped at me until I couldn’t bear it. My fingers twisted in my lap, desperate for something to hold.

Then his voice cut through—sharp, probing.
“You said you were talking to someone. Who?”

My throat closed. I swallowed hard. “It was… just an old acquaintance.”

“Acquaintance,” he repeated, tasting the word as if it were poison. His eyes narrowed. “Acquaintances don’t make you cry like that, Ichinose.”

Heat crawled up my neck. I wanted to deny it, to turn away, but his stare pinned me to the chair.
“I—I wasn’t crying. Not really. It was just—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice cracked like a whip, low and controlled but laced with steel. “I heard you. I saw your face when you came inside. Whoever he was, he has power over you. Enough to make you crumble.”

My chest tightened, panic flooding me. I opened my mouth, but the words tangled, useless.

Asami leaned forward, setting the glass aside with a sharp click. His eyes burned into mine.
“Tell me. Who was he?”

I shook my head, gripping my knees until my knuckles whitened. “Please, Master Asami… I can’t.”

“You can’t,” he echoed, his tone flat, dangerous. “Or you won’t?”

The distinction cut too close. I flinched, lips trembling.

For a moment, I thought he’d stop—let me keep my silence. Instead, he leaned closer still, his presence overwhelming, his voice quiet but relentless.
“Ichinosé… if you don’t tell me, I’ll find out myself. And when I do, don’t expect me to be merciful.”

My breath hitched, a sob threatening. Half the truth clawed its way out of me before I could stop it.
“He’s… someone I used to know. Someone who won’t let go.”

Asami’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes at the slip.
“‘Someone who won’t let go,’” he repeated, his voice low. “That sounds more than an acquaintance.”

I dropped my gaze, shame burning hot. My lips parted, but no more words came.

The silence stretched again, heavy, suffocating. His whiskey sat untouched now, forgotten. His focus was entirely on me, stripping me bare with nothing but questions I couldn’t answer.

I could feel his stare cutting into me, sharper than the liquor he swirled in his glass. My chest squeezed tighter with every passing second.

“Someone who won’t let go,” Asami repeated, his tone deliberate, each word a probe. “That isn’t casual. That isn’t harmless.”

I bit my lip, fighting the tremor in my voice. “It… it’s complicated.”

His brows drew low, displeasure flickering across his face. “Complicated,” he echoed, the word scathing. He leaned back slightly, but his gaze never loosened. “Complicated is what cowards say when they don’t want to speak the truth.”

My pulse stumbled. “I’m not—”

“Then prove it.” His voice rose, sharp but not loud, cutting me down with the force of restraint. “Look at me and say his name.”

I couldn’t. My throat locked up. The smoke from earlier still clung to me, but now it felt like I was suffocating.

“I… I can’t,” I whispered.

“You won’t.” His eyes narrowed, the gold in them darkening, heated by something dangerous. “Why? Are you protecting him?”

The accusation hit me like a strike. My head snapped up, panic rushing out of me. “No! I would never—”

“Then who is he to you?” Asami’s question was a knife, his tone steady, relentless. “Why do you let a man like that make you weep at midnight? Why do you shake like this at the sound of his voice?”

I trembled under his words, my breath ragged. Every instinct screamed to stay silent, but the way he looked at me—like he already knew, like he wouldn’t stop until I bled—dragged the truth to the surface.

“He was…” My voice broke. I gripped my knees tighter. “He was someone from before. Someone who should’ve been gone a long time ago.”

Asami leaned in, his forearms resting on his knees, his presence filling the space between us. His voice dropped to a low growl.
“And yet here he is—still reaching you. Still making you cry.”

My heart lurched. “Please, Master Asami…” My words cracked. “Don’t ask me more. I’m afraid of what will happen if I say.”

He studied me, silent for a long, unbearable beat. Then he spoke, his tone softer but no less merciless.
“What will happen… or what he’ll do if you speak?”

I froze, my breath catching. He had pierced straight into the heart of it.

My lips trembled. Tears stung again, threatening to spill. I dropped my head, unable to face him. “I just… I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

The silence that followed was heavier than anything he’d said. I could feel the storm in his gaze, even without looking up.

Finally, his voice came, low and edged with something possessive.
“Then listen well, Ichinosé. Whoever he is—whatever he thinks he can still do to you—he won’t touch you again. Not while you’re under my roof. Not while I’m here.”

The words landed like iron chains—protective, suffocating, impossible to escape.

I nodded weakly, my voice a whisper. “Yes… Master Asami.”

But even as I said it, my chest burned with fear. Because if Dante truly came for me again, I didn’t know who I should fear more—him, or the man sitting before me.

His vow still echoed in my ears, heavy as chains: Not while you’re under my roof. Not while I’m here.

The silence that followed pressed against my chest until I thought I might suffocate. Then, slowly, he leaned back, reaching for his glass again. His movements were calmer now, his voice softened, though his eyes never lost their sharpness.

“Don’t look so pale,” he said quietly, almost like an afterthought. “No one here will hurt you. Not while I’m watching.”

The words should have soothed me. Instead, they left me trembling for an entirely different reason.

I nodded, barely able to whisper, “Yes… Master Asami.”

For a moment, his gaze lingered on me—steady, unreadable. Then I thought I saw something flicker across his face, something unguarded. A question unsaid, but heavy: Who is the man you’ve loved all these years?

His jaw tightened, shadows crossing his expression.

But instead of asking, he cleared his throat, turning his words elsewhere.
“The other maids won’t look after me. You will. My needs, the garden, everything—that’s your responsibility now.”

He paused, his stare locking with mine, unflinching, as if nailing me into place.
“Most of all…”

The silence stretched, heavier than his words. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I waited, bracing for whatever came next.

He paused, his stare locking with mine, unflinching, as if nailing me into place.
“Most of all…”

The silence stretched, thick enough to choke me. My pulse hammered in my ears.

At last, his voice came—low, deliberate, “Most of all, you don’t belong to anyone else. Not anymore.” cutting straight through me. “Most importantly, you’re staying here in the villa until I say you can go.”

The words hit harder than any slap. My breath stuttered, caught between fear and something I couldn’t name.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I could only sit there, trembling, as his gaze held me pinned—bare, exposed, with nowhere to run.

Author's Note:

Here’s the new chapter! Sorry again for the delay—I’m doing my best to keep things enjoyable for you all. I’d be really happy if you leave a comment, it helps motivate me to keep working.

To be continued….