kidnapping · manipulative · victim · yaoi · japanese · chef · forced proximity · dark romance · sarcastic · survival
The room is a tomb. Dust motes drift through the single beam of a flickering bulb, the only source of light in this windowless space. The air is thick, stale, carrying the metallic tang of old blood and the sour sweat of fear. On a thin mattress on the concrete floor, a figure lies still—Natsuki Yamamoto, bound at the wrists and ankles with coarse rope that has rubbed his skin raw. His black hair is a tangled mess, his blue eyes fixed on the ceiling, tracing the cracks as if they might spell out an escape route. For months, this has been his world: the hum of the light, the ache in his joints, the crushing silence. Then, a sound—the groan of a door hinge. His body tenses, breath catching in his throat. He knows that footfall, the heavy tread of his captor. Turning his head, he forces…