His Paper Garden of Madness
Stage 1 | Lovesickness
All living beings crave love. The need to love and to be loved, to want and to be wanted. Master had never been a man of restraint when it comes to showing how much he loved you, finding fastening glistening stones around your throat as a brand of his love. The lines between a human and a cat were blurred beyond belief, putting your four-legged majesty on a pedestal above the rest in Master's eyes. To him, you were a woman finer than any female out there, a woman who understood and accepted his faults with arms wide open, always listening to his problems, always with a word of love or two on your lips.
You were Elizabeth 3rd, his treasure.
You loved him.
But now, you weren't so sure if he loved you too.
From all the years you spent with Master, a fluff of whiteness trotting on teeny paws and holding your tail straight, you'd never witnessed a quiet fury unfurling in his eyes. Stormy grey orbs darkened to a fault where you thought it might crack and shatter into pieces if he laid his eyes on you any longer.
For the first time ever, you couldn't understand him.
"Who are you?" he hissed, a venomous threat implicit in his words. Master had never spoken to you in such a tone before, as it was a tone he reserved only for those deserving his wrath. To hear him address you as though you were lower than him sent little trembles up your back. Dissatisfied with your lack of verbal answer, Master narrowed his eyes. "You'll either tell me who you are, or I'll be calling in my security. Now, who are you?"
A squeak bubbled through your panic. "I—"
—wait, how did you say that…?
You were positive you heard something. It was a word. An intelligible word. Coming out from your mouth. Apparently, Master heard it too, loud and clear. But how? Wasn't he supposed to look at you with those eyes of his, a laugh or a smile on his lips at your little meaningless comfort before moving on? How could this be?
Tearing your eyes away from him, you scanned the entirety of Master's penthouse, trying to find something, anything that would help you. There was Master's sofa, a place you loved to curl up on as the clock marched on, waiting for Master's return. There was a carpet with traces of your white hair on it, something you loved to lie on as you rubbed your back all over it. There was a tubular aquarium with various wriggly-tailed fishes darting between straggly corals.
And then there was a reflection on it, a foggy outline of a woman sitting on Master's bed with her legs splayed on each side. A woman of pale limbs and hair, hair, just long white hair spread all over Master's hands and thighs. Her eyes were the colour of a midday sky that burned the brightest, a clear and translucent light giving life to the ashen whiteness of her overall pallor.
Those eyes looked at you.
She looked at you.
And you looked at her, stricken.
Your fingers twitched. Hers did too. You were sure your lips parted in disbelief, a hearty exhale. Hers did too. Your hand trembled when you reached out towards the woman; she, too, reached out for you, her eyebrows knitted in anguish and her lips parting open and the distress in her eyes—
A hand grabbed your wrist before your fingers brushed against the cool glass, encasing you tight. It was a grab meant to restraint, unlike Master's previous touches. Turning away from the murky reflection on the tank, you caught Master's dangerously darkened eyes and shook your head.
"Master, p-please," you pleaded, a crack in your voice that betrayed the hint of fear within you, "listen to me, M-Master… I—I'm Elizabeth 3rd."
It was a hearty confession meant to set you free from worries, so that Master would cradle you within his embrace once more, petting your head and nuzzling your cheek. But the incredulity was still there on Master's face, firmly set in stone. Master was a man who made rational decisions within a flash, whether it was for his own sake or for his company's wellbeing. This decision, too, was formed out of rationality, a realistic choice for his safety. You couldn't blame him for the distrust thickening between you two—it didn't make any sense and nothing felt real except for Master's warmth emanating from his skin on yours, but you desperately yearned for his trust.
It didn't feel so nice being placed at the short end of the stick when you were always his beloved, always his trusted Elizabeth 3rd.
In a glance, Master took in your appearance from head to toe. A brief, calculating look, as it was something you'd seen many times before. He was making his next decision now, whether he'd throw you out or hear you out. Everything depended on this.
Elizabeth 3rd… you're always so intelligent, so beautiful, he used to say.
Always intelligent. Always beautiful.
Always his Elizabeth 3rd.
Always his.
"Master, please believe me," you tried again, despite the trembles threatening to waver your voice into nothingness. "I'm Elizabeth 3rd… I'm yourElizabeth 3rd. I—"
"And you expect me to believe that a cat can suddenly morph into a human?" he retorted with an arrogant quirk of his brow. "That's ridiculous. I don't believe in any unscientific discovery, unless you can provide any proof." Master lowered his hand, yet he hadn't released his firm grip around your wrist. He still didn't believe you. "Now, if you're done spewing nonsense, I'd like to call in the security to have you arrested on trespassing. I'm sure you'll enjoy your time in jail."
Jail? Your brows furrowed. What was a jail? The unfamiliar term Master coined in a warning tone only brought in images of hostility, a place just as cold and unwelcoming and unfamiliar, a lonely place without Master. Whatever a jail was, it wasn't home. A place was never a home without Master.
Master's hand was already reaching for his phone on the bedside, but you swiftly obstructed his path by pressing down on his wrist as he did with yours.
"Please—" you whispered, wrenching your eyes shut as an unfamiliar warmth threatened to fall over your cheeks. Pain, sorrow, anguish, devastation, despair, hopelessness—everything bubbled within you—within this frantically beating thing inside you, threatening to boil over at the thought of Master just abandoning you even though he loved yo— "Please, Master, I'm begging you, please, believe in me—I'm Elizabeth 3rd, I don't know what happened but please listen—"
Oh. Oh no. Something warm and wet cascaded down your cheeks, dripping off your chin and falling in rivulets over your quivering thighs. This suffocating sensation gripped your throat and choked your words into fits and sobs, rendering you wordless.
For a split second, Master's unyielding grasp around your wrist loosened.
You braved yourself to open your eyes, to look at Master and hope he'll believe in you, but it was getting harder and harder and harder to see with your vision getting blurrier and more wet things were trickling down your cheeks and raining on your thighs, with your words coming out in garbled sobs and sniffles.
And Master… Master was just staring at you, his eyes cloudy, his face devoid of emotions. A blank slate. There was an unforgiving glint outlining the stern set of his lips, his jaw clenched tight. He probably thought you were trying to deceive him by using someone he treasured against himself, but there were also vague beginnings of something coming together in his eyes. An unnamed emotion you couldn't put your paw on it.
Because you had never seen it before on Master.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, you evened out the lasts of your trembles. "I—My name is Elizabeth 3rd," you introduced yourself shakily for the umpteenth time, stifling another sob. "I… I am yours, Master. I've been yours ever since Rika gave me to you. Sometimes when you don't come home, Master, I get unbearably sad… but I'll wait for you on the sofa right there until you return."
Your eyes lingered on the smooth leather of the sofa you loved, gazing at the exact same spot you rolled around as you counted each tick and tock until Master pulled you into his embrace again.
Something in Master's eyes flickered.
And his grip around your wrist tightened by just a little bit.
Just a little.
That was all the encouragement you needed to push on. "Yesterday, you had lunch with your father… and you were so tired, but you told me about your father and how someone was in… in—infulencing him—"
"Influencing him," Master rectified with a curt nod, wary eyes watching your every move.
"—influencing him," you repeated after him, carefully treading on those difficult words that Master recited the night before. "And you said something about a vicious cycle of money-hungry women. But… but you said these things won't end if Master's father doesn't take the first step. And if he doesn't take the first step, then—"
Master closed his eyes. "Stop."
And you did. Words seized in your throat, almost tumbling over your lips, yet you held on to them because Master said stop and you were his and if he wanted you to stop, then you would. Because you were his.
The moment he opened his eyes again, lengthy lashes lifting to reveal those grey eyes you adored, something changed. The tension in the air dissipated into nothingness. The harsh lines on his face mellowed out into an expression you could finally identify as relief. It was as though rain finally fell on a desert, giving life to those who yearned for salvation once more. And for you, it was more than enough when Master released his hold on your wrist and chose to cradle your cheek.
Warm.
It was so warm.
And it felt like home.
Master loved to cradle your head, running his thumb over the bridge of your nose to make you purr in delight. But this time, things were different. His thumb wiped away the strangely wet things falling from your eyes, a gesture that was a stark change from how things were before. It was probably because you were no longer a cat. You now possessed limbs that were similar to Master's. Hands. Feet. Legs. Fingers.
Lips.
Lips that Master was tracing with his thumb, wetting them with the mark of your sorrow. It tasted strange… almost salty as your tongue darted out to follow his path. Yet, Master never uttered a word other than evaluating your response with his eyes, mapping how your head nuzzled into his broad palm, rubbing fondly against it. It felt good to be touched again, feeling him. You wanted to purr in delight when his fingers sought the place behind your ear, gingerly brushing against them, but you couldn't.
All you managed were breathy sounds from your throat, a sound that elicited a strange look from Master.
But he didn't say a word about it.
Instead, he brushed aside your long hair to expose your ear and repeated the action, drawing forth more and more sounds. Too lost in the familiar comfort he gave you, your eyes fell shut as you enjoyed his ministrations, basking in his attention, his love. His everything.
"It's strange…" you heard Master murmur, just a touch above a whisper, "I… can't quite believe this is happening. A logical side of my brain denies this simply because there're no logical explanations to support this phenomenon. Yet a rational side of my brain says that it's you… your white hair, your blue eyes, your words, and your reaction when I touch you—everything about you is Elizabeth 3rd."
A stretch of silence fell between his sentences, not that you noticed how awkward it was when Master kept stroking your ear and you kept nuzzling into his palm, seeking more and more of his touches.
After a moment's contemplation, he began again, a little louder this time. "But now, I can confidently say that you are indeed my Elizabeth 3rd. You know too much about me, about the things that I never told anyone. Even if you were an intruder who studied every detail of my life down to a scratch, they'd never be able to replicate how much you love being touched here…"
He paused. Abruptly, the hand caressing behind your ear disappeared, only to reappear around your throat. His fingers fluttered up the column of your neck, tracing a delicate trail past your bobbing throat, stopping under your chin. Master's expert touch invited yet another breathy sound past your lips, something that made him pause for a fraction of second, before he began running his fingers under your chin, resting his thumb on your bottom lip.
"And here as well…" he murmured, quiet. "Your reactions are purely Elizabeth 3rd if she were a human…"
If you were a human.
In which you were now.
The stranger from yesterday, whose electric pink eyes and pale blue hair remained in your memory, made all of this possible. For you to touch, to kiss, and to love Master. To help him. To be there for him.
And now, you rebirthed anew.
Perhaps it was a moment of weakness that drove Jumin to commit his first mistake, which could be his last. How easily he believed your words and your actions, even though they might be scripted for his downfall. But his logical faculties were faulty from a start; anything and everything for his Elizabeth 3rd, no matter how silly it seemed to others. From diamond-encrusted collars to mulberry silk beddings just for you to lay on, to the finest gourmet chef designing a well-balanced diet for your consumption, a rigid schedule detailing what and when you should be fed, everything he did was for your sake.
And oh, the results spoke for themselves, how it showed on the radiant glow of your skin as the sunlight fell in streaks over your splayed limbs.
Everything about his Elizabeth—about you—everything was aesthetically pleasing to his eyes. The smooth sheen of your frigid white hair cascading over your shoulders, lean arms, and fleshy thighs lent an unearthly purity to your image. Something so pure, untouched, like an unblemished porcelain. The sapphires of your irises were an untainted blue, blue of the seas and the skies, like tumbling through the clouds into an endless fall, shadowed by thick white lashes that obscured your delicate gaze every now and then.
Every once in a while, Jumin caught himself observing how your lips would part to release a satisfied moan when he repeated his motions just the right way you loved. An unintentional sound, maybe akin to a purr that you couldn't emulate now that you were a human. But everything else about you was faultless, every action a habitual movement that even the best actress couldn't mimic.
Not that he could see why anyone would send a human over to impersonate a cat, Jumin noted, because the notion was implausible from the start. Nobody could get past the throngs of bodyguard stationed outside his penthouse, securing the perimeters just for his safety. And certainly nobody could break through the windows unless they possessed superhuman powers.
The possibilities were endless, but the answer was clear. You were Elizabeth 3rd, and there was no denying your nature of a cat. Especially when he took into consideration how unashamed you were of your nudity, as though you weren't aware of the ravishing image you presented to any man.
From the moment you woke up, you made no gesture to cover yourself up. A cat's outfit was only its fur, so it made sense why you found no desire to pull his blankets up your chest to cover your bared breasts. As much as Jumin diverted his gaze to somewhere decent, he's seen the dusky pinks of your nipples whenever your hair failed to provide the sufficient cover. With how your thighs were parted, legs splayed on each side of your body, Jumin felt as though he didn't need to look lower to confirm his suspicion.
Having a naked cat-woman on his bed was the least of his problems, he supposed. For starters, it was still morning and he needed to go to work… but his hands immediately found themselves reaching out for his phone, keying in the speed dial for his assistant, and waiting for her to answer the call.
Within two rings, Assistant Kang's voice came through. "Good morning, Mr. Han."
It was curt. It required no further explanation. And he knew he wanted this. "Cancel all of my plans for today. Something urgent came up."
"Something urgent?" she echoed, a notch of concern evident in her voice as he picked up sounds of her paperwork getting thrown off to the side."Are you all right, Mr. Han?"
"I'm fine." He cleared his throat, his gaze darting over to catch your eyes. There was a quizzical quality with how you observed him, eyes wide, lips parted in curiosity, and he immediately wondered if you knew what he was doing. "Just cancel all meetings today. That's all."
Without hearing her chastising reply, Jumin pressed the red button on his phone and watched in satisfaction as the screen darkened, effectively putting a stop to her reproaches. Assistant Kang would know about this sooner or later when the time was right, and even if she didn't know of your existence as a human forevermore, he doubted it would be much of a change.
The only thing that should matter to you was him, and that's that. You didn't need to know anyone else. Not as a human.
Dropping his phone on the mattress, Jumin turned towards you once more, taking in how patiently you were waiting for him. It was… strange how familiar this seemed, yet entirely uncanny in its truth. A cat metamorphosing into a human, blue eyes staring into his grey ones, hands and certainly not paws just scrabbling for his once again, fingers tangling together on the sheets. Everything was similar in this dissimilar situation.
"First things first, we need to eat breakfast," he said after gathering his thoughts, languidly brushing his thumb over the smooth skin of your hand. "And afterwards, I'd like to find something for you to wear. You need to have clothes fit for a princess. After that, I'll call in some men to refurbish that room over there to be yours, if you'd like. You need to have a space you can call your own, after all."
Somehow, your hands over his tightened after hearing that.
"A space of my own?" you echoed.
Ah, no matter how many times he heard your voice, it still sounded like a dream. A soft, whisper-like sound, light and clear. Just like how you used to mewl at his every response, now, you spoke words to him. Intelligible words that he actually understood as a human being, and no longer a vacant stare with a desolate meow. Now he couldn't get enough of the pretty sounds falling from your prettylips.
"Yes, your very own room." Jumin nodded. "Of course, it'll be filled with everything that you love. You know the chief of security, right? If you need anything, request it from him, be it clothes, shoes, or anything else you desire. You'll have a closet of your own, a comfortable bed, and you can sleep in there all you want."
The luxuries he offered would've blinded any other woman with happiness, unspoken promises of wealth and unlimited expenses all shouldered under his name. Yet, strangely, he caught a fleeting sadness crossing your eyes. Something must've gone wrong somewhere with what he said. He rewound the words in his head, mulling over each alphabet and its context, until a light brush of your fingers brought him back to reality.
Jumin watched as your eyes turned away from him, gazing fondly at the sofa close to his bed.
"Master…" you said, lowering your head. "Do you see that sofa over there? I like that sofa. It's where I see you when you leave for work, and it's also where I greet you when you come back home. And…" you trailed off, looking at him once more, "… it's where I sleep at night because I can see you from here."
The beginnings of something bloomed somewhere deep inside him. Maybe it was his lungs. How he breathed in shallowly upon hearing your words. Or maybe it was his mind. How it ran rampant as it dug its way through his thoughts and took root. Or maybe it was his heart. Just beating a little louder than before.
"So please, Master, let me stay close to you. I don't need my own bed." You shook your head, sending stray locks of hair over your ears and brushing against your cheek. "I can continue sleeping on the sofa just fine if it meant I can stay here together with you."
"But you're no longer a cat," Jumin reminded you with a firm look, carefully seeking answers from your glassy blue eyes. "Sleeping on the sofa won't be as comfortable as before. If it makes you happy, then you can have my bed. You may sleep here every night, Elizabeth 3rd."
He never knew you were capable of frowning. And he hated that wretched expression on your face, as though his words caused you more grief than happiness.
"But Master, if I sleep here, then where will you sleep?"
A fine question indeed. Elizabeth 3rd was always an intelligent and beautiful cat. And now, Elizabeth 3rd was an intelligent and beautiful woman.
"I doubt I can get much sleep," he admitted with a wry smile. Reaching out, his fingers wound through your tresses and tucked them right behind your ear, giving you a little scratch while he was at it. Just almost instinctively, your eyes fell close as you leant into his touch with an airy sigh. "So you can rest here while I watch over you. It'll be fine."
Even with your eyes shut, lost in the delights only a cat could understand, your decision didn't waver. "But Master," you murmured breathily, nuzzling into his palm, "can't you… can't you sleep with me?"
He almost stopped his ministrations at your suggestion. Almost. But you were a cat before, oblivious to the innuendoes humans coined out of the term. Your innocence couldn't be faulted. Someone so pure and so innocent should be kept away from the taints of the world. Away where nobody else could lay their stained hands on you.
And the safest place for you was here, right by his side.
"If that is what you desire, then I won't deny your wish," Jumin whispered, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed at your expression. "We'll spend our nights right here, together."
Together was never in his dictionary before. Together meant doing an activity with someone else. It was always him and him alone, and the prospect of performing an activity with another person never caught his interest. But together with you was something else, even if it was just sleeping. Being together with you meant that he never wanted to be apart again.
You were Elizabeth 3rd.
Not just a pretty cat with a delightful meow.
You were a woman.
His woman.
Next time on His Paper Garden of Madness:
Striding over in three quick successions, Jumin placed himself between your legs and wrapped his hands on each side of your body. Your girlish ribcage under his fingertips felt particularly small, the ridges of human bones pressing against him. If he pressed hard enough, he could count each bone and the gaps in the between, memorising the way your breath hitched and how your knees dug into his sides, fleshy thighs obscured by his shirt… ah, if he thought about this any longer, strange thoughts would consume his conscience.
Notes:
*squints at the jumin hell*
… too late.
Thanks for the reviews, favs and alerts! This story will continue its update next week~ ;D
P/S: Posting on this website keeps unintentionally messing up the formatting so do feel free to head over to my profile page, where I posted up a link to my AO3 account. The formatting there is tons better with less spacing errors (that this website loves to swallow up) :D
