The King’s Forgiveness

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.

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