He terrified you.
Quiet, careful, deadly, why wouldn't you fear him?
Powerful, tactile, cruel, why would he waste his time on some girl, on you?
Things like this just don't add up. He wasn't the romantic type at all. He also wasn't physically abusive.
Unless he felt like he had to be.
The room in which you and the seemingly silent, Chinese man was dimly lit. An inexpensive coffee table divided him from you as you both sat on couches facing opposite to each other. A pin hitting the floor could have been heard, it was that quiet.
Eerie silence always unnerved you, and he was well aware of this.
Hands folded on your lap, you refrained from trembling in his presence, as he was sitting directly across from you.
Wang Yao, China, whatever you referred to him as, he didn't care. He laid out an assortment of vials, and poisons. Items that shouldn't end up in the wrong hands. Speaking of hands, two black gloves prevented any toxins he handled from making contact with his skin.
His hat sat beside him, and he kept his custom scimitar attached to the belt on his waist.
He was currently mixing certain liquid poisons together, most more than likely to be used for something later. Poisoning an enemy, persuasion methods, something that wasn't going to benefit the target he would decide to use it on.
So what were you doing here?
Well, you were a pretty face and could be useful for certain tasks he put you to.
You didn't understand how it came to this. You had met this man, unaware of who he truly is. A manipulative thug, in your eyes at least.
He was a busy man, well country technically, and had his own secrets not even you knew.
Though at this point, with everything he was already capable of, it was questionable as to why he would need someone like you to "help" him with tasks. Maybe to have someone to put the blame on in case anything went wrong. Maybe for control; to be dominating over someone after having been pushed around by others for far too long.
Others whom he would much rather do without ever seeing again.
He could be a hostile one, if provoked.
You didn't dare to look up at him, at his face, into his dark eyes that were rimmed with dark circles. His short bangs covered his face anyways, as his head was slightly bowed, looking down at the table.
You concentrated on his busy hands and fingers, carefully taking his time to create the suitable concoction.
You were not allowed to leave. You always needed permission, but even then there were still limits on what you could and couldn't do.
He always seemed to come up with excuses for it too. Most of the time, it was that he didn't want you wandering too far from him, lest an important task came up.
Controlling bastard.
He was expecting you be paying attention t all times; making sure to learn how to behave and understand how to handle poisons.
He was your boyfriend, at least that's what your mind told you. A fantasy at the very least that a part of you that was apparently not done living in.
Sometimes, he would only seem lost and confused, making you want to reach out to him; help him. But he didn't want help, what was there to help, he would question. And then promptly tell you to shut up.
Uncaring. Inconsiderate. But why would he have to be that way? Why was a part of you expecting even the slightest bit of tenderness from this man?
Maybe there were those times that gave you hope. While still maintain some focus on the mixing of poisons, your mind replayed a recent event.
"You are not to stray from my side, girl. Don't even think about it," a monotonous command spoken by Yao.
You knew better than to not disobey him. You were smart, after all.
You both made your way through the busy streets, blending in with the crowd.
Drawing attention to yourselves would be the last thing Yao was going to deal with. He wanted to reach his destination as soon as possible.
To make a long story short, Yao had caught a few questionable men checking you out, and heard some things he rather not have heard. Well, he wouldn't be having any of that nonsense, now would he?
He placed one hand on his sword, the other snaking its way around your back and to your upper arm. He roughly pulled you towards him, his grip keeping you safe from a few sleazy pigs. They should be expecting a poisoned loaf of bread or a bowl of rice sometime soon.
No one was going to talk about his possession like that. Not even he himself would speak of you that way.
Of course at the time, you mistook his possessiveness as a gesture of affection.
But you soon found out that moments like those do not happen as often as you would like.
Suddenly, he was at your side. You failed at not flinching from his sudden presence, and he took you by and your chin, forcing you to look up him.
"You didn't hear a word of what I just said, did you, girl?" his tone was stern.
Your name is not 'girl'. It's [Name]. Though, correcting him would do nothing for you.
You shifted your eyes and moved your head from side to side. As awkward as your situation was, you couldn't help lean in his touch slightly, as he had removed his gloves. It was the most contact he was made with you in a while. If only…Your mind could only think, wishing that his actions would be less harsh.
Rolling his eyes, he proceeded to lecture you, spouting out things along the lines of "What good is a subordinate if they don't listen to you."
Not that you really cared anymore. He wasn't going to change. No matter how much you wanted to reach out to him, tell him how he was making you feel, no matter what you would say to him, he wasn't going to change.
Why didn't he just get rid of you, if you were so useless according to him?
Not knowing where your sudden audacity came from, you placed a hand on his face.
You wanted more contact. You wanted him to praise you for once. You had done things that were worthy of praise before, but he didn't.
You wanted him to look at you, really look at you.
Why were you here again? None of this was making sense.
He had stopped talking, waiting to see what you would do next. You were expecting him to slap your hand away, scold you more for doing some so out of turn, and in the middle of being lectured no less.
You cupped the other side of his callous face and said but one thing.
"Contact."
Your eyes finally met his. You were pleading for him to accept you as you were. To not look at you with such a dark stare. You wanted him to look at you with love, look at you like you were a human and not his tool.
Releasing his face, you extracted a small vile from your coat pocket and presented the small container filled with a red-colored poison to the silent man.
You waited. You had been practicing with your poison making, at any time you could when he was not looking. You wanted to surprise, be useful. You craved for his praise.
Taking the vile from your steady palm, he set it on the table, knowing what he would use it for.
Turning to you once more, he simply ruffled your hair a bit.
"Good work, [Name]."
Nothing more was said that night.