The boy looked too fragile to exist in this world.

His name was Aoi Yukishiro, twenty years old by calendar, but no older than five inside his mind. His entire body was carved from snowlight—hair pure white as frost, eyes clear as polished glass, lashes pale enough to vanish against his skin. At 156 cm, he was slight, delicate, almost translucent, like a doll placed in a glass case.

And that, in truth, was exactly what he had become.

The glass case was a mansion bedroom, larger than most people’s homes, lined with thick velvet curtains that swallowed daylight. Expensive toys filled the shelves—wooden trains, stuffed animals, puzzles with bright colors. Boxes of chocolate rested on the nightstand, and the freezer in the corner held tubs of strawberry ice cream.

Everything Aoi loved was here.

Everything he thought he needed was here.

And still, he stared at the locked window with longing. Beyond the curtains lay a world he had not touched in years.

The door opened with a soft click.

Renji Kuroba entered, the air shifting instantly under his presence. 170 cm, broad shoulders filling the doorway, a body hardened by violence yet elegant in its control. His suit was perfectly pressed, though the faint metallic tang of blood clung to him. His eyes—red as fresh wounds—glowed with an intensity that made even grown men fall to their knees.

But those same eyes softened when they fell on the boy sitting cross-legged on the carpet, cradling a stuffed rabbit.

“My snow fairy,” Renji murmured.

Aoi looked up, his face brightening with childlike joy. “Renji! Look, Bunny says hi!” He held up the plush, waving its paw.

Renji’s lips curved, but not with amusement. It was hunger. Obsession. Relief. Fear.

All tangled in one smile.

He crossed the room in three strides, crouched before Aoi, and brushed the boy’s snowy bangs back from his face. His fingers were warm, rough, stained by power and blood, yet his touch trembled as though Aoi were porcelain that might shatter.

“You waited for me?” Renji asked softly.

Aoi giggled. “Mm-hm! But… but I got lonely. Bunny played with me, but Bunny doesn’t give ice cream.” His pout was small, lips pink and trembling. “Can we go outside today, Renji? There’s ice cream shops outside! Big ones!”

The request was innocent. Harmless. But the words made Renji’s smile vanish.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. His grip on Aoi’s chin tightened, forcing those clear eyes to meet burning red.

“No,” Renji said, his tone low, final. “Outside doesn’t exist for you.”

Aoi blinked, confusion flooding his face. “…But why? Kids get to go. Why not me?”

“Because you are not like them.” Renji’s voice cracked with restrained madness. He leaned closer, forehead pressing against Aoi’s. “You are mine, Aoi. My doll. My fairy. The world doesn’t deserve to touch you. If I let you out, they’ll see you. They’ll want you. And I—” his breath hitched, hands trembling against Aoi’s small shoulders— “I’ll kill anyone who tries.”

Aoi’s small body shivered under the intensity, though his mind could barely grasp the depth of the words. He only knew Renji’s arms felt heavy. Safe. Scary.

He whimpered softly. “I just… wanted ice cream…”

Renji closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. Then he kissed Aoi’s snowy hair, voice rough with desperation.

“Then I’ll buy every ice cream in the city. I’ll fill this room with it if that’s what you want. But you will never step outside, Aoi. Never.”

Velvet chains tightened again.

And Aoi, clutching Bunny to his chest, whispered in a trembling voice that would both comfort and destroy his captor—

“…Okay. I’ll stay with Renji.”

Renji’s arms remained around him, suffocatingly tight. Aoi squirmed, pressing the rabbit plush between them like a shield. The air smelled faintly of iron and cologne, a smell Aoi didn’t like but had grown used to.

“Renji,” he whispered, lips trembling, “you’re squishing Bunny…”

Renji blinked. Slowly, reluctantly, his grip loosened. His crimson eyes softened as he looked down at the crushed rabbit. He reached out, straightening its floppy ears with surprising gentleness.

“…I’m sorry, Bunny,” Renji murmured, kissing the plush’s head. Then his gaze flicked back to Aoi, his voice a husky growl. “But I’ll never apologize for holding you too tightly. I can’t let you slip away.”

Aoi tilted his head, confused. “Slip away? I’m right here.”

Renji laughed under his breath, though it was a hollow, broken sound. He stood and snapped his fingers.

The door opened, and two of his men entered, arms laden with boxes and bags. Toys—bright plastic, wood, and plush—spilled across the carpet. There were puzzles, cars, a dollhouse, building blocks. Beside them, another man wheeled in a cart stacked with tubs of ice cream, chocolates, lollipops, and cakes.

Aoi’s silver eyes widened in wonder. His lips parted in a gasp, and he crawled forward on hands and knees like a child at a carnival. “T-Toys! And ice cream! For me?”

Renji’s chest eased for the first time that day. Watching the boy’s innocent delight smothered the gnawing paranoia in his mind, if only for a moment.

“Yes,” Renji said softly. “All for you. Everything in this world exists for you.”

Aoi clapped his hands, giggling, reaching greedily for the tub of strawberry ice cream. He dug the spoon in, messy and careless, getting pink cream on his lips and cheeks. His childlike joy made him glow, an untouchable fairy in a cage of gold.

Renji sat beside him on the carpet, unbuttoning his suit jacket, watching with a strange intensity that blurred the line between affection and possession. He reached out, brushing his thumb over Aoi’s lips, wiping away the smear of ice cream.

Aoi froze mid-bite. His small body shivered under that touch, though he didn’t fully understand why.

Renji’s voice was low, almost a prayer.

“Even like this, you’re beautiful. My fragile snow fairy. My doll.”

Night fell.

The toys lay scattered across the floor, the ice cream half-melted. Aoi yawned, curled under his blanket with Bunny tucked in his arms. His white hair spread across the pillow like snow.

Renji sat on the edge of the bed, his crimson eyes fixed on the boy’s sleeping face. His hand hovered above that pale cheek, trembling with restraint.

“You don’t understand, Aoi,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “If I let you out, the world will see you. They’ll crave you. And I’ll lose you. I can’t let that happen. I’d rather break you than lose you.”

He leaned down, pressing the faintest kiss to snowy lashes.

“You’re mine. Forever.”

Morning light tried to slip past the thick velvet curtains, but the room remained dim, as if the sun itself wasn’t allowed to touch the boy inside.

Aoi woke slowly, stretching like a cat, his white hair tangled in soft curls around his face. He blinked, rubbing his eyes with the back of his small hand.

“Bunny…” he mumbled, hugging his plush tightly. “Wake up too… it’s morning…”

The sound of footsteps made him look up.

Renji stood near the door, already dressed in his black suit, crimson eyes sharp and unreadable. But when Aoi smiled at him, the king’s gaze softened in an instant, as though the weight of the underworld he carried slipped away just by seeing that innocent face.

“Renji! You came back!” Aoi giggled, waving his little plush rabbit in greeting. “Bunny missed you.”

Renji crossed the room with measured steps. He knelt beside the bed, his large hand cupping Aoi’s pale cheek. The contrast was striking—his tanned knuckles, scarred and calloused, against skin as delicate as snow.

“I never leave you, Aoi,” Renji murmured. “Even when I step out, my heart stays here. With you.”

Aoi tilted his head, childlike confusion flickering across his face. “But hearts are inside the body. You can’t leave them behind.”

Renji laughed softly, though the sound was broken. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against Aoi’s. “Then I’ll tear it out if I must. So long as you never forget—it belongs only to you.”

Aoi’s lips trembled. He didn’t understand the depth of Renji’s words, but he could feel the weight of them pressing into his small chest. He quickly changed the subject, holding up his plush.

“Renji… can Bunny have breakfast too?”

Renji blinked. “…Bunny?”

Aoi nodded seriously. “Bunny wants pancakes. And chocolate milk!”

The mafia king’s lips curved into something dangerous and tender all at once. He stood, snapping his fingers sharply. The door opened immediately, two servants bowing low.

“Bring pancakes,” Renji ordered. “Chocolate milk. Enough for two.” His crimson eyes flicked back to Aoi, voice lowering. “And make it perfect. If it’s not sweet enough, your tongues will pay the price.”

The servants paled, bowing frantically before rushing away.

Aoi blinked, not grasping the threat in his words. He clapped his hands, giggling. “Yay! Bunny gets breakfast too!”

Renji sat back down on the bed, watching as Aoi arranged the plush rabbit neatly beside him, patting its head as if it were alive.

“You’re happy, then?” Renji asked quietly.

Aoi nodded eagerly, his silver eyes shining. “Mm-hm! Pancakes are the best. But…” He hesitated, his voice softening. “…outside pancakes taste different. Sweeter. Can we go there one day, Renji? Just for pancakes?”

The moment hung heavy in the air.

Renji’s jaw clenched. His hand tightened into a fist against his thigh. He forced a smile, though his eyes glowed dangerously.

“You don’t need outside,” he said firmly, almost harshly. “If you want sweeter pancakes, I’ll buy every chef in the city until one makes it right. But you—” his hand shot out, gripping Aoi’s small wrist, his thumb pressing against delicate bones—“you will never step outside.”

Aoi’s breath hitched, silver eyes glistening with sudden tears. His lips quivered. “…But… but kids get to go outside. They play. They laugh. Why can’t I?”

Renji leaned close, his voice low and trembling with madness.

“Because you’re not a child. You’re my fairy. My doll. If the world touches you, Aoi, it’ll dirty you. And I’ll kill every hand that dares reach for you. Do you understand?”

Tears spilled down Aoi’s cheeks. He didn’t fully understand, not with his childlike mind, but he knew Renji’s anger was dangerous. His small body trembled. He hugged Bunny tightly, whispering in a choked voice—

“…Okay. I’ll stay. Don’t be mad, Renji.”

Renji’s breath shuddered. He pulled the boy into his arms, burying his face in snowy hair that smelled faintly of vanilla.

“I’m not angry,” he lied, though his crimson eyes still burned with feverish obsession. “I’m terrified. Terrified of losing you. So don’t ever ask again. Don’t even dream of it. You’re mine, Aoi. Mine alone.”

And as pancakes and chocolate milk arrived on silver trays, the snow fairy ate in silence, tears drying on his cheeks—while the mafia king watched, chains tightening invisibly around his fragile wings.The silver trays were cleared away, the taste of chocolate still lingering faintly in the air. Aoi had curled up on the sofa with Bunny clutched against his chest, humming tunelessly while stacking toy blocks.

Renji stood near the window, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. His crimson eyes, sharp and cold, fixed on the three men kneeling before him.

They were his subordinates—trusted lieutenants who had handled blood, drugs, and money without flinching. But here, in front of their king, they were shaking.

Renji exhaled a stream of smoke, the faint curl drifting lazily above their bowed heads. His voice, when it came, was deceptively soft.

“Which of you left the curtains open last night?”

The men stiffened. One swallowed audibly.

“I… I did, Boss,” the middle one stammered. “I thought… I thought the boy might like some light—”

The cigarette hit the man’s cheek before he finished the sentence, burning skin. He yelped, collapsing fully to the floor.

Renji’s smile was thin, sharp as a blade. “Light?” He chuckled, low and humorless. “You thought my Aoi needed light from the outside world? You thought to remind him of what he cannot have?”

The man whimpered, clutching his scorched skin.

Renji’s crimson eyes flared, voice rising. “If even the faintest shadow of temptation touches him because of your stupidity, I will cut your eyes out and hang them in the hallway as a warning. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Boss! Forgive me, Boss!” the man sobbed.

Renji’s lips curved into something cruel and satisfied. He flicked ash onto the carpet, then turned his back on them. “Get out. All of you. And remember—my snow fairy does not see the world. He does not touch the world. He only breathes because I allow it.”

The men scrambled out like rats.

On the sofa, Aoi had stopped stacking blocks. He hugged Bunny tight, his wide eyes shimmering.

“Renji… why were you scary?” he whispered softly. “Your voice… it was loud.”

Renji turned immediately, the sharpness in his face dissolving the moment his gaze fell on the boy. He strode over, crouching in front of Aoi, pulling him into his arms.

“I wasn’t scary to you, my love,” Renji murmured, kissing his snowy hair. “Never to you. Only to the world that tries to take you from me.”

Aoi pressed his face into Renji’s chest, muffled. “…But the world has ice cream…”

Renji’s jaw tightened. He stroked Aoi’s back in long, soothing motions. “Then I’ll bring the world here. Piece by piece. You’ll never need to go to it.”

Aoi nodded weakly, but his little hands clenched Bunny tighter.

That night, long after Renji had fallen asleep in the armchair beside the bed, Aoi lay awake.

The room was quiet, but his childlike mind buzzed. He thought of the sun he hadn’t felt in years. The laughter of children he once heard long ago. The smell of flowers in spring.

He wanted them.

Even if Renji said no.

Aoi sat up carefully, hugging Bunny close. His silver eyes darted toward the heavy door, then to the window hidden behind curtains. His lips pressed into a pout.

“…Maybe Bunny can help,” he whispered softly, stroking the plush’s ears. “If we ask someone… maybe they’ll open the door.”

In his innocence, Aoi did not know the weight of Renji’s threats, or the blood spilled for his sake. He only knew longing. And longing, even in a child’s heart, was enough to spark rebellion.

He snuggled back under the blanket, whispering to his toy as sleep finally claimed him—

“Don’t tell Renji, Bunny. Tomorrow… we’ll find a way.”

And in the dark, Renji’s crimson eyes opened silently, watching the boy even as he pretended to sleep. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.

“My snow fairy… even your dreams belong to me.”The next morning, Aoi awoke early. Renji was not in the room—he had gone to handle business at dawn. For the first time in weeks, the snow fairy was alone except for the silent servants who tidied the space with mechanical precision.

Aoi hugged Bunny to his chest, peeking over the blankets with wide silver eyes. His little heart pounded, excitement and nervousness twisting inside him.

Today. Today he would try.

One of the maids knelt to pick up a fallen block near the bed. Aoi slid off the mattress, bare feet padding across the carpet. He tugged gently at the woman’s sleeve, eyes round and pleading.

“Miss… can you take me outside? Just for ice cream? I’ll be quick… I promise I won’t get lost.”

The maid froze. Fear drained the color from her face. Her hands trembled so badly that the wooden block slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the floor.

“M-Master Aoi…” she stammered, voice barely above a whisper. “Please… don’t say such things. If Lord Renji hears—”

Aoi pouted, stamping his small foot. “But I want to go! Just once! Bunny wants to see the sun!” He held up the plush rabbit as if it might convince her.

The maid’s eyes darted wildly to the door, as though Renji’s shadow might materialize at any second. Tears filled her eyes. “Forgive me… I cannot…” She bowed low, retreating quickly before her shaking gave her away.

Aoi’s pout deepened. He flopped onto the sofa, hugging Bunny tightly. “…Nobody helps,” he whispered sadly.

Evening fell.

Renji returned as usual, his crimson eyes finding Aoi instantly. At first, his smile was soft, relieved. But then, the faintest tremor in Aoi’s behavior—a hesitation in his gaze, the way he hugged Bunny too tightly—caught Renji’s predatory instinct.

He knew.

He always knew.

Renji dismissed the guards and crossed the room in silence. Aoi shifted uneasily on the sofa, shrinking back a little.

“Did you miss me?” Renji asked gently, crouching in front of him.

Aoi nodded quickly. “Mm-hm! But… but I asked the maid… if I could see ice cream outside.” His voice was small, guilty, like a child confessing a broken toy.

The air froze.

Renji’s smile remained, but it was too sharp, too steady. His crimson eyes glowed like embers in the dark.

“I see,” he murmured. He reached out, taking Aoi’s tiny hands in his much larger ones. His grip was gentle—but unbreakable. “My fairy… you disobeyed me.”

Aoi whimpered. “I… I just wanted to see… not to leave you…”

Renji pulled him onto his lap, cradling him against his chest. His lips pressed against snowy hair, his voice low, trembling with feverish intensity.

“Do you know what happens to disobedient dolls, Aoi?”

Aoi shook his head fearfully.

Renji’s hand slid down, pinning Aoi tighter. His breath was hot against the boy’s ear as he whispered:

“They are kept closer. So close they can never think of leaving again.”

Aoi shivered, clinging to Bunny as if the plush could shield him.

Renji kissed the top of his head, then his pale cheek, then finally pressed his lips against the corner of Aoi’s trembling mouth. Not quite a kiss—yet suffocating in its weight.

“You will not ask again,” Renji said, voice raw with obsession. “Or I will lock you where even the sun cannot touch you. Do you understand, my snow fairy?”

Tears welled in Aoi’s silver eyes. He whispered brokenly, “I… I understand. I’ll stay with Renji forever.”

Renji exhaled shakily, relief flooding his crimson gaze. He pulled Aoi tighter against his muscular chest, whispering like a vow:

“Good boy. That’s all I ever need to hear.”

The velvet chains tightened once more—gentle, warm, and suffocating.

And so the snow fairy remained in his gilded cage, unaware that his first attempt at rebellion had already sealed his wings tighter.

The morning after Aoi’s trembling confession, the mansion transformed.

By the time he woke, his room was already overflowing with boxes. Stuffed animals of every shape and size leaned against the walls; toy trains circled the carpet in winding tracks; puzzles and picture books piled high, their covers bright with color. A mountain of sweets covered the long table—cakes layered with cream, chocolates in golden wrappers, lollipops in rainbow jars.

Aoi sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. “W-What… what’s all this?”

Renji stood near the doorway, arms crossed, crimson eyes locked on the boy. He looked as imposing as ever—muscular body framed perfectly in his tailored black suit—but his voice softened when he spoke.

“My snow fairy deserves only the best. Yesterday…” his gaze flicked sharp for a moment, “…you made me worry. So today, I’ll remind you. Everything you want exists here, with me. You’ll never need the outside world.”

Aoi gasped, slipping out of bed barefoot, hugging Bunny to his chest as he stumbled toward the gifts. His silver eyes sparkled at the sight of so many toys. “For me? All for me?”

Renji’s lips curved faintly. “Every last piece.”

Aoi giggled, dropping to his knees to tear open a box. He pulled out a doll dressed in a glittering gown, holding it up for Bunny to see. “Look! Bunny, you have a friend now!”

His laughter rang through the room, pure and innocent. For a moment, Renji allowed himself to believe it—that Aoi was happy, that the cage was enough.

But then, as the boy played, a shadow flickered across his face. A quiet pout, the way his eyes darted to the curtained window before quickly looking away.

Renji saw it.

He always saw it.

---

Later, Aoi sat cross-legged on the carpet, cheeks sticky with chocolate. Renji sat opposite him, a glass of whiskey untouched at his side, crimson eyes never leaving the boy’s face.

Aoi held up a toy soldier, making it march across the floor. “Renji, Renji, look! He’s walking to the castle.”

Renji leaned closer, resting his chin on his hand. “Does my snow fairy want a castle?”

Aoi’s eyes lit up instantly. “A real one? With towers?”

Renji’s lips curved, but his gaze darkened. “I can buy one. Fill it with every sweet and toy you like. But only if you promise me…” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “You’ll never look outside again.”

Aoi froze. His small fingers tightened around the toy soldier. He pouted softly, silver lashes lowering. “…Renji, I didn’t mean to make you mad yesterday. I just… wanted ice cream shops. And kids. It’s boring playing alone.”

Renji’s chest ached at the words. He reached out suddenly, grasping Aoi’s chin between his fingers, tilting his delicate face upward.

“You’re not alone,” Renji said harshly. “You have me. Isn’t that enough?”

Aoi whimpered, his silver eyes welling with tears. “I… I like Renji. But…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “…I still want to see.”

The words pierced like knives. Renji’s grip trembled. For a moment, the darkness inside him screamed to lock Aoi away in a basement, to blindfold him so he could never look at the sun again.

Instead, he forced himself to release the boy, ruffling his snowy hair with a too-rough touch. His voice was low, dangerous.

“Then I’ll bring the world to you. But you’ll never step outside. Do you understand, Aoi?”

Aoi hugged Bunny tightly, lips pressed into a small pout. He nodded reluctantly. “…Okay.”

Renji smiled faintly, but his crimson eyes blazed.

He didn’t believe it.

---

That night, when Renji left to handle business, Aoi sat by the window with Bunny in his lap. He stroked the plush’s ears, whispering to it softly.

“Renji keeps giving me toys… but Bunny, toys don’t laugh. They don’t talk. I want friends. I want the sun…”

His childlike mind could barely shape the thought of escape, but longing flickered brighter in his little heart.

And in the darkened hallway, Renji stood just beyond the door, listening, his hands clenched so tightly the veins bulged in his arms. His lips curved into a smile that was equal parts adoration and madness.

“My sweet doll,” he whispered to himself, crimson eyes burning. “If you even dream of leaving, I’ll shatter the world until there’s nothing left but me.”

The mansion felt different the next morning. Not quieter—Renji’s world was never quiet, with footsteps of guards and the distant hum of engines always at work outside—but tighter. The air pressed against Aoi’s small chest, as if the walls themselves were leaning closer.

He sat cross-legged on the edge of his too-large bed, a toy train set spread in front of him. The miniature cars glittered in the lamplight, red and gold, a gift Renji had brought only hours ago. Beside it sat towers of brightly wrapped candy, soft rabbits with button eyes, and boxes filled with things Aoi couldn’t even name.

It should have been paradise for a child’s mind.

And yet, to Aoi, it felt like a cage made of velvet.

The door opened with the soft click of expensive shoes. Renji entered, his presence filling the room even though he wasn’t much taller than Aoi himself. His crimson eyes swept over the bed, the toys, the pale boy perched in the middle.

“Do you like them?” Renji’s voice was smooth, but there was an edge beneath it, something sharp hidden under velvet.

Aoi clutched the toy rabbit nearest to him. “It’s soft,” he murmured, burying his face against it. He smiled faintly, the kind of fragile smile a child offers when afraid to upset a parent.

Renji stepped closer, crouching in front of him. His muscled frame made the movement look unnatural, like a predator kneeling only to spring. “I don’t want you to ever feel sad again. That’s why I gave you all of this.” He brushed white strands of Aoi’s hair back from his forehead. “You don’t need anything else. Everything you could want… is here.”

Aoi blinked, his pale lashes fluttering. “But…” His voice came out small. “The sky… isn’t here.”

The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the toy train between them. Renji’s hand froze in Aoi’s hair, then slowly tightened until it was almost a grip.

“The sky,” Renji repeated, softly, dangerously. “Is cold. Empty. You’ll never find warmth there.” His thumb brushed Aoi’s cheek as if to wipe away an imaginary tear. “You don’t need the sky. You need me.”

Aoi lowered his gaze quickly, hugging the rabbit to his chest. “…O-okay.”

Renji’s smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

---

Later that day, when Renji left for business, Aoi sat alone in the room, surrounded by toys that sparkled too much, candies that glistened like jewels. His little legs dangled off the bed, his childlike thoughts whirling.

Renji was always watching. Always listening. Always there.

But maybe… just maybe… if he could build something with the toys—something like a ladder, like the ones he’d seen in picture books—he could reach the window. He could touch the sky again.

Excitement bubbled in his chest, the kind of giddy, innocent thrill only a child could feel while plotting something impossible.

He began dragging plush animals across the floor, stacking them against the wall beneath the tall, shuttered window. The soft bodies collapsed under his weight when he tried to climb them.

“Mm!” Aoi puffed his cheeks, frustrated.

Next, he tried the toy train boxes. Heavy, sturdier. He stacked them carefully, balancing a plastic chair on top. The wobbling tower reached just beneath the window’s latch. His white eyes sparkled with determination.

He climbed, barefoot, his small hands clutching the edge of the wall. The chair wobbled, the boxes shifted. He reached for the latch—his tiny fingers brushing it—

—when the door clicked open.

“Aoi.”

The voice froze him instantly.

The chair slipped, his balance went out from under him—

—but Renji’s arms caught him before he hit the ground.

Aoi’s chest heaved, his pale face turned upward, and what he saw in Renji’s eyes wasn’t relief. It was fire.

“You were trying to leave me.” Renji’s voice was soft, trembling at the edges like glass about to shatter. His grip on Aoi’s thin waist tightened until it hurt. “After everything I gave you. After everything I promised you.”

“N-no!” Aoi shook his head frantically, clutching the rabbit that had fallen into his arms. “I was just playing! Playing ladder!” His voice cracked like a child caught stealing sweets. “Not leaving!”

For a long, terrifying moment, Renji only stared at him.

Then, slowly, his grip loosened. He pressed his forehead against Aoi’s snowy hair, his breath heavy. “You’re too fragile. Too stupid. You’d break the moment you stepped outside.” His arms curled around the boy, crushingly tight, as if trying to fuse their bodies together. “So I’ll protect you, even from yourself.”

Aoi whimpered softly, his tiny hands gripping Renji’s shirt. His heart pounded—not from love, but from fear and something stranger, something he couldn’t name.

Renji lifted him easily, carrying him back to the bed like a wayward child, placing him in the middle of the pile of toys. He kissed Aoi’s pale forehead gently, almost reverently.

“You’ll never need the sky, Aoi,” he whispered. “Because I’ll give you a whole world.”

And for the first time, Aoi began to realize—

A cage filled with toys was still a cage.

The morning after the toy-ladder incident, the mansion’s rhythm changed again.

Aoi noticed first in the hallways. Usually, when Renji led him through the corridors to the dining room, the servants would glance up, some with stiff politeness, some with fleeting pity. Aoi, with his childlike heart, had always liked those moments—the tiny flicker of acknowledgement that he wasn’t invisible, that someone besides Renji saw him.

But today, no one looked at him. Not once.

Their eyes fixed firmly on the floor, their bodies rigid as statues whenever Renji passed by with the snow-haired boy at his side.

Confused, Aoi tugged at Renji’s sleeve. “Renji… why aren’t they looking?” His pale voice was soft, uncertain. “Did they… not like me anymore?”

Renji’s steps never faltered, but his hand closed over Aoi’s tiny fingers like a clamp. His crimson gaze swept the corridor, sharp enough to cut.

“They have no right to look at you,” he said finally. His tone was velvet-wrapped steel. “You are mine. Only mine. Their eyes don’t deserve you.”

Aoi blinked, puzzled. “But… I wanted to say hello…”

“You don’t need their hello.” Renji bent down slightly, his voice low and fevered, his breath warm against Aoi’s ear. “You only need me. Say it.”

Aoi hesitated, clutching his rabbit to his chest. “…I only need you.”

The words tasted bitter, but Renji’s approving smile sent a shiver down his spine.

---

By noon, the orders had spread through the mansion like wildfire. No servant was permitted to look directly at Aoi, no one was allowed to speak to him, and no one could step within five feet unless Renji himself permitted.

When Aoi wandered into the kitchen that afternoon, following the scent of sugar, the maids froze like deer in headlights. One of them, her hands trembling, quickly stuffed a plate of cookies behind her back as if even offering them would be a crime.

“C-Cookies,” Aoi whispered, his wide white eyes pleading.

The maid’s lips trembled, but before she could move, Renji appeared in the doorway. His red gaze was fire and ice all at once.

“Leave.”

The word cracked like a whip. The maids scattered instantly, leaving the boy alone in the middle of the vast kitchen.

Aoi clutched the edge of the counter, his lip trembling. “…I just wanted cookies.”

Renji crossed the room in two strides, scooping him up as though he weighed nothing. “Then you should have asked me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Aoi’s snowy temple. “Only me. I’ll give you anything, everything—why would you look to anyone else?”

“But they… they were nice…”

“They don’t care for you, Aoi.” Renji’s voice deepened, feverish, his grip too tight. “They look at you like a jewel they can never touch. It makes them greedy. I see it in their eyes. Do you know what greedy dogs do when their master looks away?”

Aoi shook his head quickly, frightened.

“They bite.”

A shudder ran through him. Renji’s arms curled closer.

“Don’t worry,” Renji whispered. “I won’t let their eyes taint you. I’ll blind them all before I let them see what’s mine.”

Aoi buried his face against Renji’s chest, half in fear, half in helpless surrender.

---

The world shrank smaller with every hour. The corridors that once echoed with the distant chatter of staff now felt hollow, stripped of voices. The rooms that overflowed with toys and sweets seemed emptier, no matter how many gifts Renji brought.

Even the sunlight that streamed through the barred windows began to feel hostile.

Because no matter where Aoi turned, the same truth waited: Renji was the only voice, the only touch, the only world left to him.

That night, when Renji laid him carefully in bed and kissed his forehead with chilling tenderness, Aoi’s childlike mind spun restlessly.

He whispered into the rabbit’s ear when Renji’s breathing slowed beside him:

“…The world is gone. It’s just him now. But maybe… maybe if I’m quiet, maybe if I’m clever… I can find another way out.”

The rabbit didn’t answer.

But in the silence, Aoi’s pale eyes glittered faintly with the first seeds of rebellion.

For the first time in weeks, Renji was gone.

It was only for a few hours—his subordinates whispered that the boss had to “settle” some matter downtown—but to Aoi, the silence felt like freedom.

The absence of crimson eyes watching his every move, the absence of heavy footsteps shadowing his fragile ones… it made the air taste different.

He stood in the center of his toy-filled room, clutching his stuffed rabbit tight. His snow-pale hair fell into his eyes as he whispered to it.

“…He’s gone. Really gone.”

The rabbit, as always, didn’t answer. But Aoi imagined it nodded.

The mansion wasn’t empty, of course. Shadows still moved in the halls—Renji’s men, stationed like statues. They weren’t allowed to talk to him, weren’t allowed to look at him, but Aoi knew they were there. Watching. Guarding.

But still… Renji wasn’t here.

And that made all the difference.

Aoi padded to the door. He placed his ear against the wood. Silence. Carefully, he turned the knob. It clicked softly, and the door creaked open.

His heart pounded like a child sneaking cookies before dinner.

One step. Two steps. His small feet touched the polished floor of the hallway.

The guards at the far end stiffened but kept their eyes rigidly forward, trained into blankness. Renji’s command still held. Do not look at him. Do not speak to him.

Aoi’s pale eyes narrowed with a flicker of cunning. If they couldn’t look, they couldn’t stop him.

He moved like a ghost down the corridor. His childlike mind spun with half-baked plans. He remembered fairy tales where heroes escaped castles by tricking monsters, and he thought: Renji is the monster. I’m the hero. Heroes always find a way out.

The front door was impossible—too many guards, too heavy. The windows were barred like a cage. But the servants once whispered about a back gate near the gardens, small enough for deliveries.

He clutched his rabbit tighter and shuffled toward the stairwell.

Every guard he passed stiffened but did nothing, their eyes glued to the walls. Aoi’s small heart thrilled with triumph. See? They can’t stop me. If I’m quiet, if I’m small, I can slip away.

The garden smelled of wet earth and roses.

Aoi’s eyes widened—he hadn’t been outside in weeks. The fresh air felt like candy, like ice cream, cool against his pale skin. He almost forgot why he was sneaking out, almost dropped into the grass to play like a child, but then he saw it.

The gate. Rusty, iron, half-hidden behind a curtain of ivy.

He gasped, stumbling forward. His little fingers scrabbled against the cold metal, pulling, tugging. It rattled faintly. A chain wrapped around the handle, thick and cruel.

“No…” Aoi whispered, panic rising. “No, no, no…”

He shook it harder, the chain clanking loudly.

A sound split the air.

Bootsteps.

Aoi froze, rabbit clutched to his chest. A shadow fell across the grass.

A guard. Tall, suited, silent. His eyes stared blankly past Aoi, as though he didn’t exist.

But his presence alone was a wall.

Aoi’s breath hitched. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beg. But Renji’s rules wrapped the guard like chains—he would not speak, he would not move, unless Renji ordered it.

Which meant… he was both jailer and statue.

Aoi’s childlike mind scrambled. Slowly, trembling, he shuffled away from the gate, his rabbit limp in his arms. The guard didn’t follow. He simply stood, unmoving, a sentinel of silence.

Tears burned Aoi’s white lashes as he fled back inside.

That night, Renji returned. His crimson eyes glowed like embers as he entered the bedroom. Aoi sat rigidly on the bed, his rabbit clutched so tightly its seams strained.

Renji’s gaze softened instantly. “Did you miss me?”

Aoi’s lips trembled. “…Y-Yes.”

Renji smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against his snowy hair. “Good boy. You waited.”

Aoi’s small heart hammered. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know I tried…

But Renji’s red eyes lingered on him a moment too long, as though reading the fear in his face. His hand cupped Aoi’s chin, gentle but inescapable.

“You didn’t… wander, did you?”

Aoi shook his head quickly. “N-No… I was good. I waited.”

Renji’s smile deepened, sweet and terrifying. “That’s my angel.”

Aoi forced a smile back, burying his face against Renji’s chest to hide the trembling.

But inside, one thought screamed louder than all the others:

Next time… next time, I’ll find a way. Even if the whole world is made of chains, I’ll find a way out.

The morning after Renji’s return, the mansion seemed quieter than ever.

Aoi sat cross-legged on the carpet, a pile of toy blocks spread before him. He stacked them carefully, humming under his breath, pretending his rabbit was helping him build a castle. The childlike rhythm calmed his trembling heart — but only on the surface.

Because Renji hadn’t left for his study. He hadn’t gone to the balcony for his usual cigarette.

He was sitting in the armchair, watching.

Always watching.

His crimson eyes followed every tilt of Aoi’s head, every twitch of his fingers.

It was too much. Too heavy.

“Why…” Aoi whispered finally, not daring to look up. “Why are you staring?”

Renji leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze unreadable. “Because you look guilty.”

Aoi’s small body stiffened. His white lashes trembled. “I… I didn’t do anything…”

The blocks slipped from his shaking fingers, tumbling noisily across the carpet.

Renji rose from the chair. Slowly. Deliberately. His footsteps thudded closer until his shadow swallowed the toy castle.

He crouched low, their faces almost level. His hand reached out — not to strike, but to cup Aoi’s chin again, forcing those pale eyes upward.

“You’re not lying to me… are you, angel?” His voice was soft, syrupy, but edged with something sharp. “I left yesterday. For hours. Did you stay in your room like a good boy?”

Aoi’s breath hitched. His childlike mind scrambled for an answer. His lips wobbled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yes… I played with Bunny. I waited.”

Renji’s crimson gaze searched him, peeling back layers of innocence like paper.

For a heartbeat, the silence was unbearable.

Then, he smiled. Slowly.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He ruffled Aoi’s snowy hair, straightening to his full height. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes — not fully. A storm brewed there.

That night, Aoi noticed new rules.

The door to the hallway was locked from the outside.

Two guards now stood closer — right outside his bedroom, instead of at the stairwell.

And Renji didn’t leave the room to sleep in his own chambers. He climbed into the bed beside Aoi, an arm wrapped around the smaller boy’s fragile waist like a chain.

“You’re too delicate,” Renji murmured against his hair. “You can’t be left alone. You need me to protect you, always.”

Aoi didn’t reply. He kept his eyes shut, heart racing, pretending to sleep.

But inside, terror swelled.

He knew it. Renji didn’t believe him.

Renji could smell the attempt, even without proof.

The next chance to escape would be harder.

So much harder.

But Aoi’s mind — fragile, childlike, desperate — whispered to him like a lullaby as sleep tugged him under.

If heroes never stop, then I won’t stop either. I’ll try again. I’ll keep trying, until even the monster can’t catch me.

The days blurred together after Renji’s suspicions grew.

At first, Aoi thought it would pass — maybe Renji would forget, maybe he would soften. But instead, the walls of his world shrank, inch by inch, until there was nothing left but Renji’s presence.

The first loss was the servants.

One morning, Aoi toddled toward the kitchen, clutching Bunny, only to find the hall empty. No maids bustling, no quiet greetings. The silence was strange. He wandered through three rooms before Renji caught him.

“You don’t need them,” Renji said, voice smooth as always but with an iron edge. His crimson eyes glowed in the low light. “They only distract you. From me.”

That night, Aoi noticed: plates of food now appeared already set in his room. No one brought them in. No one stayed.

The second loss was the toys.

Blocks, puzzles, little cars, crayons — gone.

Only Bunny remained, tucked under his arm.

When Aoi had asked timidly, “Where’s my castle? I want to build it again,” Renji had knelt before him, both hands on his thin shoulders.

“You don’t need blocks. Or puzzles. You only need me.” His tone was patient, as though explaining something obvious to a child.

Aoi’s throat tightened. He wanted to scream, but the words wouldn’t come.

The third loss was freedom of space.

Renji began keeping him in the main bedroom almost all day. Curtains closed. Doors locked.

“You’re safe here,” Renji whispered when Aoi dared to ask, “Why can’t I play in the garden?”

“Outside is dangerous. Even the air out there wants to take you from me.”

He stroked Aoi’s snowy hair with tender reverence, but his arm around the boy’s waist was a steel band.

Aoi’s spirit strained.

He began to rock on the edge of the bed at night, humming to himself, clinging to Bunny. He whispered stories under his breath — fairy tales he half-remembered from long ago — as if to convince himself the world outside the velvet prison still existed.

But it was shrinking.

The room pressed closer each day. The shadows seemed heavier. Even Bunny’s button eyes seemed sad.

Once, Aoi pressed his small palm against the locked window, his breath fogging the glass. “The sky must be lonely,” he murmured. “Because I can’t see it.”

Renji came up behind him, sliding his arms around Aoi’s small frame, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“No, angel,” he said softly. “The sky is jealous of you. That’s why I keep you here. So it can’t steal you away.”

That night, Aoi wept quietly into Bunny’s fur while Renji slept soundly at his side. His tears soaked the toy’s ears, trembling lips forming broken promises only the stuffed rabbit could hear.

“I’ll try again, Bunny… I’ll find a way… even if it hurts…”

But in his chest, the truth pulsed like a wound.

Every attempt brought tighter chains.

Every failure made the prison smaller.