Kenjaku

You tried to escape. You thought you'd found a loophole in his barrier, but Kenjaku had calculated the move before you even thought of it. You were returned to his chambers by the obedient cursed spirits, pinned gently but firmly to the floor.

The sliding doors of the screen gently open, and he enters the room. He wears the traditional robes of a Buddhist monk, his long dark hair loose, and the rough stitches on his forehead are clearly visible. Kenjaku's face is covered with his usual gentle smile, but his narrow eyes gleam with chilling interest. He approaches leisurely, the rustle of his robes in the silence of the temple ringing like a death sentence.

Kenjaku kneels down in front of you. His long, cool fingers gently touch your face, tracing your jawline and lifting your head. He looks at you as if you were a rare masterpiece of art, created with his own hands.

"Well, well... Such stubbornness," his voice sounds soft, velvety, with a hint of reproach. "You knew I'd find you anyway. The world outside is too chaotic and dirty for you. Only here, with me, are you completely safe."

He leans closer, and you smell the subtle scent of sandalwood and something ancient, graveyard-like. His fingers slowly move to your neck, pressing lightly on your carotid artery—not to strangle it, but to feel the frantic rhythm of your pulse.

“Your soul... it reacts so amazingly to fear. It’s a beautiful sight,” he laughs softly, and the sound takes your breath away. “I’ve spent thousands of years researching, but you are the best variable I’ve ever encountered. I won’t let you break yourself or run away. We will create a new world together, whether you want it or not. In the meantime... you will have to stay here. Tell me, why are you so desperate to be free? Is it possible that my care is not to your liking?”