Archive of Our Own ^beta

The afternoon sun filtered its last golden rays through the gray clouds, casting an ethereal glow over the park. Despite the uncertain weather, the atmosphere was vibrant and expectant. The stage, improvised and rustic but adorned with wildflowers, was ready. A host with a clear and resonant voice stepped onto the podium, his smile almost as bright as the spotlights that flickered on and off above him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! The moment you've all been waiting for! A talent who has captivated our hearts with her grace and passion. Give a warm round of applause to the one and only... Hanae Inoue!"

A deafening ovation erupted in the park. The applause rumbled in the humid air, and whistles of admiration mixed with shouts of encouragement. Hanae walked onto the stage, her figure a beacon of serenity amidst the noisy crowd. She wore a long formal dress that seemed to have been woven from the waters of a serene lake itself. The top, in an exquisite turquoise blue, was fitted to her torso with an off-the-shoulder design, revealing the delicacy of her neck and shoulders. Long, fitted sleeves covered her arms, and on her right shoulder, a delicate adornment of white flowers seemed to have bloomed out of nowhere.

The voluminous skirt was a gradient of colors that intertwined like a dream: a first turquoise layer, followed by an immaculate white and a light lilac that gave her a fantastical air. The asymmetrical cut of the skirt, shorter in the front, allowed her to move gracefully, revealing her elegant low shoes while the train of fabric gently trailed behind her. In her hands, as if it were an extension of her own being, she held her violin, a piece of polished wood that shone under the light.

The stage lights dimmed one by one, until only a beam of white, bright, and pure light illuminated Hanae. The crowd's murmur dissipated. The entire park held its breath. Hanae closed her eyes, the calmness on her face masking the nervousness that was constricting her chest. Her breathing became deep and slow. She raised the violin, rested it under her chin, and placed the bow on the strings. The notes that emerged next were not simple sounds; they were the declaration of a war. The first note of Paganini's Caprice No. 24 resonated, a sharp and challenging sound that filled the air.

The audience watched, fascinated, as Hanae's fingers moved over the fingerboard with astonishing speed and precision. It was as if her hands were two butterflies, fluttering over the neck of the violin. The melody was a mix of fury and ecstasy, a whirlwind of emotions that intertwined and unraveled in the air. The notes leaped, ran, collided, and merged, creating a sound tapestry of overwhelming complexity. Most musicians didn't even dare to try that piece, but Hanae not only played it, she owned it. The sharp, fast notes were a gust of wind, a storm that threatened to sweep everyone in its path, while the slower, more melancholic passages were a soft whisper, the calm before the storm. Her body moved with the music, her face reflecting every emotion of the piece, a fleeting smile, an expression of total concentration, a deep seriousness.

The people in the audience were mesmerized. An elderly woman, sitting on a bench, wiped a tear from her cheek. A group of teenagers, who at first looked disinterested, had stood up and listened with eyes wide in awe. A small girl, on her father's shoulders, extended a hand as if to touch the music. The sound of a violin, in Hanae's hands, was not just music. It was a story. The story of a girl who had fought against the world, who had defied expectations, who had left everything behind for a dream. Every note was a tear, a sacrifice, a victory.

And in the crowd, a pair of dark eyes watched, fixed. Illumi did not understand music. He considered it a distraction, a set of vibrations that had no logical purpose. But what he was seeing now was not just music. It was a demonstration of power. The way Hanae dominated the instrument, the way every note was perfect, the way her fingers moved with a dexterity that rivaled that of any assassin. It was a form of art, of discipline, of obsession. His analytical mind could not ignore the dedication, effort, and precision required to achieve such a feat.

For Hanae, that moment was everything she had ever wanted. She had fought against the world for that instant of glory. Her family, traditional and conservative, had never accepted her dream of becoming an artist. For them, music was not a profession, but a frivolous hobby. The arguments had been bitter and painful, until finally, she had no other option but to escape. She went to live with her uncle, the only member of her family who had supported her unconditionally. He had not only taken her in but also encouraged her, bought her the best strings for her violin, and given her all the space she needed to practice. And all that effort, those tears, those sleepless nights, had been worth it. She was there, on stage, playing a solo for a sea of faces that looked at her with admiration. She was happy. Deeply happy. A silent and elegant joy that only manifested in the softness of her movements, in the curve of her lips, in the way the violin rested on her shoulder. There was nothing that could demotivate her, nothing that could ruin this moment. She had practiced an entire week for this moment, on the verge of exhaustion, almost without eating. And now, here she was, fulfilling her greatest dream.

When the last notes of the caprice echoed in the air, there was a momentary silence, a soundless void that lasted only an instant. And then, the entire park erupted in applause. People rose from their seats in a standing ovation, the cheers so loud that the echo spread across the sky. Hanae was breathing with the difficulty of someone who has run a marathon, but she managed to maintain her composure, her smile genuine and radiant. She bowed, thanking the audience for their warmth. The lights went out on her, giving her a break from the public scrutiny, and she stepped down from the stage, feeling the euphoria of her achievement. The other musicians went on stage, ready to continue, but the energy of Hanae's performance still floated in the air.

As soon as she walked away, a tide of people cornered her.

"Incredible, Hanae!"

"Your music made me cry!"

"You're a genius!"

She received compliments from strangers and her own teammates.

"You shined!"

"You were great!"

they said with genuine admiration. Hanae's music had not only resonated in people's ears but had touched their souls. It had been a solo that had transcended simple skill. It had been the solo of death, because for Illumi, his life as he knew it had come to an end. And in a macabre twist of fate, it would be for her too.

The concert ended, and the crowd began to disperse, leaving the park in a state of quietness. Hanae, with her violin case in hand, made her way through the people, with a smile on her face and a heart full of happiness. Finally, she reached her destination, her uncle's small rustic shop, the same one he had. The shop was located on a quiet street, and the air smelled of freshly baked bread and coffee, a comforting and familiar fragrance that always gave her a sense of peace.

But something was wrong. The lights were off. A strange darkness covered the place. The silence was total, and the air was heavy, suffocating, as if life itself had stopped. The shop door was ajar, and she pushed it gently, feeling a knot of panic in her stomach.

"Uncle..." she whispered, but her voice was lost in the void. She walked, her steps fearful, the violin in her hand suddenly feeling like dead weight. The gloom enveloped her. The familiar scents had vanished, replaced by a metallic, sweet smell that made her skin crawl.

And then she saw it. Her world shattered in an instant. Her uncle's body was lying on the floor, inert, blood forming a dark puddle around him. A heart-wrenching scream got stuck in her throat. She fell to her knees, the violin case slipped from her hands and fell with a dull thud. "Uncle, no!" she screamed, her voice broken by terror. She moved the body, her hands trembling as she shook him desperately, repeating his name over and over, hoping it was just a nightmare, that he would get up and tell her it was a joke.

But it was not a joke.

She didn't realize when a tall figure appeared behind her, a shadow in the darkness. The air grew colder. The smell of blood stronger. Hanae, in her desperation, felt the presence of another person. Her body tensed. She turned her head, slowly, terror on her face. She saw him. The same boy with short, straight hair she had helped last week. His eyes, once thin, now seemed terrifyingly empty, lifeless. They were two orbs of darkness, two black abysses that seemed to swallow all the light that remained in the world. The expression on his face was the same, immutable, cold. There was not a shred of pity or regret in him.

The scream of terror that came from her throat was a guttural, heartbreaking sound. Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Was it you?!" she moaned, her voice trembling with anger and fear. "Did you do it?!"

He didn't answer. He simply looked at her with an intensity that made her tremble. The terror in her eyes was palpable. She saw, with a blood-chilling horror, how his hand moved with blinding speed, pulling a needle from his coat sleeve. A long, thin needle that shone with a sinister glint under the dim light. The gleam of the needle was the last thing she saw clearly.

Hanae didn't understand what happened. Her head felt heavy, her body burned. She felt a sharp prick on her neck, like a bee sting. A strange haze took over her senses, and everything went dark. Everything went black. She felt as if her eyes weighed a thousand pounds, and her eyelids closed without her being able to control it. Terror invaded her. She wanted to fight, she wanted to scream, but her body didn't respond. There was no more knowledge, no more pain, no more sorrow. She simply felt herself falling into unconsciousness. The last thing she felt was her body being lifted with inhuman strength, a freezing heat that surrounded her. Then, there was only a deep and absolute darkness. An eternal sleep, from which she didn't know if she would wake up.

The air in the small shop became heavier, denser. Illumi held Hanae's inert body in his arms. His face, as always, was a mask of inexpressiveness. His mission had been a success. A simple distraction in his life, now turned into a possession. A possession his brain could process an emotion as complex as affection. And Hanae was now his possession. A precious object, more valuable than any diamond, because she had managed to do what no one else had managed to do—get his attention.

He left the shop with Hanae's body in his arms. The sky had cleared, revealing a white and cold moon. The moonlight, instead of illuminating the night, seemed only to accentuate the darkness that surrounded him. Illumi's silhouette merged with the night, taking with him. He left the man's body behind in the shop, a necessary death, a collateral damage.

The pain was a tide that swept her away. Hanae lay on a bed that felt like a torture rack, in a room that had once seemed like a cell but was now a makeshift operating room. She didn't know how much time had passed, having stopped counting long ago. Months had turned into weeks and those weeks into a year since her feet had last touched the earth under the rain. She had resigned herself. She had stopped looking for a window to attempt a desperate escape, stopped pounding on the door to demand a freedom that had been snatched from her. Now, there was only one purpose, an inevitable force pushing her into an abyss of pain. She was in the middle of labor.

Hanae's screams were lost in the vast immensity of the Zoldyck mansion, a place where suffering was as common as dust in the corners. The contractions came without mercy, an relentless hammer pounding her belly. She wasn't in a hospital room but in a vivisection laboratory. The staff, impassive, moved around her with the efficiency of automatons. They were doctors, yes, but their eyes were empty, their humanity having vanished long ago.

Illumi's voice, cold and emotionless, could be heard in the background. "Tell me if there are complications, I don't want permanent damage to her... or the babies." The tone was the same he would use to give instructions on a mission, not to talk about his wife and children about to be born. The birth was a nightmare. Hanae was so young, barely a sixteen-year-old, and her body was not prepared for the trauma. And what was worse, there were two. The delivery became an agony that tore her apart, splitting her in two.

The doctors examined her. One of them, a tall woman with round glasses, turned to Illumi and said in a monotonous voice: "A cesarean is the only option. It's the only way for both to survive." The voice had not a shred of pity, of empathy. It was a statement of fact, as cold as the walls of the room.

Illumi nodded, his face expressionless. "Do it."

The pain became unbearable. Hanae cried, her body trembling. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Panic took hold of her, and suddenly, her mind, in an act of desperation, went backward. The past.

flashback

The nausea hit her without warning. Hanae stopped in the hallway, leaning her hand against the stone wall. The mansion's air, always cold and stale, felt even denser. He had locked her in a guest room, smaller and less ostentatious than his, in an attempt to keep her away from the rest of the family. The servants watched her closely, and the food they brought her was no longer as appetizing.

The uncertainty gnawed at her, but one morning, one of the servants, a man with gray hair and tired eyes, took her aside. "Miss Hanae," he whispered. "Don't tell anyone, but... you have to go to the west wing. There's a doctor who can help you."

Hanae, not knowing what to do, went to the mansion's clinic. She didn't want to go, she was afraid of what they might tell her. But her heart felt heavy, and the nausea had become a constant companion.

A doctor examined her. The woman's face was a mask of neutrality. She said nothing, only asked a series of questions. "Do you have stomach pain?", "Do you feel tired?", "Have you had nausea?". Hanae, with a trembling voice, answered yes to everything.

The doctor didn't smile at her. She didn't offer comfort. She just said the words that made her feel as if the world had collapsed. "Miss Hanae, you're pregnant."

Hanae couldn't respond. Terror paralyzed her. Pregnant? How was it possible? Her stomach churned. She wanted to vomit, to scream, to cry. The tears were stuck in her throat. The doctor approached her, with an expression of pity, but it was a cold pity, the pity of a professional.

"Don't worry, miss," she said. "Your pregnancy will be supervised by the best doctors. Nothing will happen to you."

Hanae didn't hear her. She could only think of one thing: Illumi's child. That monster's child. The child of a murderer. The child who had been conceived in the darkest way, in that nightmare she lived that night, an act of brutal possession. Her mind teetered on the brink of madness; it was enough to lose her freedom for this to happen.

"No, it can't be," she whispered. "It can't be... I don't want... I don't want a child from him."

The doctor, unblinking, told her: "You have no choice. Mr. Illumi wants it. And what Mr. Illumi wants, he gets."

Hanae felt sick. She left the clinic, her head spinning. The doctor's words echoed in her ears. "Mr. Illumi wants it."

When she arrived at her room, she looked in the mirror and saw a stranger. A girl with brown hair, emerald eyes, but with an emptiness in her gaze. Her face was pale, and her belly, though barely noticeable, already had the weight of a burden that would crush her.

Hanae couldn't stand it. The idea of carrying that man's child, of being the mother of a future assassin, of being the mother of a being who had stripped her of everything, was too much for her mind.

That night, when the servants left, she opened her room door. The mansion was silent, dark. She headed towards the main hallway, where a marble staircase stretched down to the lobby. She stopped at the edge, looking down. A fall from that height would be fatal. She didn't think about it. Her mind, in a state of desperation, could only think of one thing: death.

"I'm not going to have that child," she whispered, and prepared to jump.

But before she could, a cold hand grabbed her arm. A hand with black nails. A hand that sent a chill down her spine. "You won't," Illumi's voice was a whisper in the darkness.

Hanae turned around, and her eyes met his. They were two black abysses. "Let me go," she whimpered. "Let me die."

Illumi didn't let go. He held her tighter, his grip like a vise. "No. I won't let you die. You're not going to kill yourself. You're mine. And that child... is also mine."

Hanae cried. "It's not a child! It's a curse! And I don't want it! I don't want to be the mother of your son!"

Illumi grabbed her by the waist, lifted her as if she were a doll, and carried her back to her room. "You are going to have this child, and you are going to love it. You have no choice. Since you entered this house, your destiny no longer belongs to you. Now it belongs to me."

He locked her in the room and put a padlock on it. For the rest of the pregnancy, Hanae saw neither the light of day nor the moon. She became a shadow, waiting for the moment of her sentence.

end of flashback

Hanae returned to the present. The doctor, with a needle in her hand, prepared to inject her with an anesthetic. But she didn't want it. She didn't want to feel anything, neither the pain nor the numbness. She wanted to feel everything, and then, die. The doctor, however, didn't ask her. She injected her, and Hanae's hand felt weak. The pain faded, and the world became blurry. The vision of the doctors became a blur of black and white, and Illumi's voice became a distant echo.

The cesarean section was performed in a disturbing silence. Illumi was unmoved as he watched the woman's belly being opened to take out the babies. He just waited, his arms crossed, an immutable expression on his face. When the babies were born, the silence was broken. A cry, not of pain, but of life.

A voice from the background said: "They're twins, Illumi-sama. A boy and a girl."

Illumi approached, but he didn't touch them. He just looked at them with those eyes. "The girl will be named Sora. The boy, Ryo." The name "Sora" resonated in the air, and the name "Ryo" followed. Two names, two destinies, decided by a man who could only process possession as an act of love. He turned and left, abandoning the room. His mission was complete. He had secured his lineage with two children.

"Take my wife to her respective room and prepare her," was the last thing he said.

The mansion's servants moved quickly, completely preparing the new Zoldyck couple's room in a matter of hours and moving Hanae to the location.

When Hanae woke up a few seconds later, her head was spinning, and her body ached, not only from the surgery but from the agony of her soul.

"Miss Zoldyck, it's good that you're up, look, here are your children," the medical assistant said, entering with the two babies. She saw two babies, wrapped in pink and blue blankets, that the doctors brought to her. The doctors, with a look of relief, placed them in her arms.

"They're healthy," one of the female doctors said. "And they look like you. Except for their hair. It's black, like Illumi-sama's."

Hanae looked at them. They were so small, so helpless. They weren't to blame for being born in this hell. The baby in the pink blanket had its eyes closed, and the baby in the blue blanket looked at her with those emerald eyes. Her eyes were so bright, so pure. They were her eyes, the eyes that Illumi had obsessively admired.

"Take them, hold them," the medical assistant said, while forcefully giving the babies to the young woman who was backing away every time they were brought closer.

A strange sensation came over her. She wanted to reject them. She wanted to throw them away from her, from her life. She was bothered by the color of their hair, the black. It reminded her of Illumi, it reminded her of the night of their conception. It made her uncomfortable to touch them, uncomfortable to hold them in her arms. But seeing their eyes, those emerald eyes that were a reflection of her own, she couldn't. She didn't have the heart to do it.

"They're so small," she whispered. "So fragile."

The sound of the door opening caught her attention again; she looked to see who it was, only hoping it wasn't Illumi. She saw a head peeking out and immediately recognized that snow-white hair. Killua entered, a look of curiosity on his face. He saw the two babies, and his eyes widened.

"Oh my God! What is this?!" he exclaimed.

"They're my children," Hanae said, her voice a thread.

Killua approached the bed and looked at them. "They look a lot like you," he said. "Except for their hair." His eyes fixed on the babies', which were the same color as Hanae's. A strange expression of astonishment crossed his face. "Their eyes... they're so beautiful."

Killua, who had always been a bit arrogant, suddenly looked like a small child. He approached the bed and extended a hand, his finger gently touching one of the babies' hands.

"They're so small."

Hanae looked at him. Despite her physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion, she felt strangely comfortable with his presence. Killua didn't have Illumi's empty gaze or his look of superiority. Despite having grown up in that hell, he seemed to be the only one who maintained a trace of humanity within him. He treated her well, even though he knew she was a prisoner.

"Do you want to hold them?" Hanae asked.

Killua looked surprised. "Me? Hold a baby?"

"Yes," Hanae said. "You're the only one... the only normal person I've met in this place."

Killua blushed a little but felt flattered. With Hanae's help, he managed to hold one of the babies. The baby, Sora, looked at him with curiosity, and Killua was invaded by a strange sensation. It was a feeling of protection, of unconditional love.

"What about their hair?" Killua asked.

"It's their father's," Hanae replied, and in her voice was a bitterness that Killua didn't understand.

Killua looked at him and said nothing. He felt strange. On one hand, he was happy to have new family members, but on the other hand, he felt sad. Sad for the woman in front of him. Sad for the two babies who had been born into a hell. And sad for his brother, who had found love in the darkest way possible.

While Killua played with the baby, Hanae's mind turned to the future. Her life, as she knew it, had ended. And now, a new life had begun, but it wasn't just her life, it was her children's. A new fear settled in her heart. The fear that they would become like their father. The fear that the darkness of the Zoldyck family would swallow their light.

Hanae, with a tear in her eye, looked at her baby. She felt too much pity—pity for the life they were going to live, pity for what they were going to go through, pity for knowing the situation she was in, pity for knowing that one day she would have to tell them how they were conceived. Pity for knowing that one day they would hear the truth, that she tried to get rid of them at a certain point in her life, pity for not knowing if she loved or hated them but not wanting to harm them—she wasn't a monster—pity for the situation she was in.

Hanae moved with the grace of a ballerina in the garden. The morning sun, which filtered through the ancient trees, drew patterns of light and shadow on the immaculate lawn. The violin, an extension of her soul, resonated in the air, its notes weaving a melody that was both sad and beautiful. Six years had passed, but every day was a repetition of the last. The same garden, the same mansion, the same loneliness. At twenty-three, Hanae was a woman in the prime of her life, but her spirit was that of a prisoner. Her hair, a river of light brown that fell to her waist, framed a face that at first glance was serene, almost ethereal. Her eyes, two brilliant emeralds, looked at the world with an unusual calm. She wore a turquoise halter top, a white skirt that moved with the wind, and a silk shawl that covered her shoulders. The image was one of ethereal, almost ghostly, beauty.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the moment of peace. She could hear the rustling of the leaves, the chirping of the birds, the sound of her own heart beating to the rhythm of the music. It was a stolen moment, an instant of normality that would vanish as soon as Illumi or her children returned. But a servant approached, their voice, an echo of reality, pulled her from her thoughts.

"Mistress Hanae," the servant said, in a formal voice. "Your children have returned to the mansion."

Hanae, without opening her eyes, stopped playing. The last note of her melody faded into the air. She remained that way for a moment, a sigh of loneliness before facing her reality. She opened her eyes and turned around, looking at the servant who was watching her.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Hanae said, her voice a delicate whisper. "I'll go see them right now."

The servant nodded, their face expressionless. "Understood, Mistress Hanae," they said, before turning their back and leaving her alone.

A brief fragment of solitude, which Hanae treasured like a treasure. She stood in the garden for a few minutes, the wind caressing her hair and the sun warming her skin. She allowed herself a moment of peace before walking toward the mansion, the place where her life had vanished.

Hanae walked in complete silence. The sound of her steps on the marble was the only sound in the vast corridor. She arrived at the mansion doors, which opened slowly. Two small figures appeared at the entrance. Two six-year-old children. They were a boy and a girl. Both had intense black hair and large, round, brilliant green eyes. The girl's hair, Sora's, was straight and long, reaching her waist, with straight bangs over her forehead. The boy, Ryo, had short, neat hair, with similar bangs. They both had a serious and calm expression, a perfect copy of their father's indifference. The girl wore a long-sleeved white blouse and a long, wide black skirt that reached almost to her ankles. She wore dark brown shoes or boots. The boy wore a long-sleeved white shirt with a high collar and black pants. His shoes were a dark brown shade, matching the girl's. They moved in unison, their steps were calculated, their movements precise. They were Illumi's reflection.

Hanae had never mistreated her children. She didn't hate them, although she sometimes felt suffocated by them. Her protests about their training, about their lives, had been in vain. She remembered the first time she had tried to stop them, when they were only two years old and were doing the poison tests.

Flashback

Panic seized her. Her heart beat with a ferocity that threatened to tear her apart. Her children, barely two years old, had been left in a white room, with jars full of colored liquids. The babies' eyes had been blindfolded, and they had been given a jar. Illumi's order was clear: they had to guess what type of poison it was. It was their first lesson in toxin resistance.

"Illumi!" she had screamed, her voice broken by terror. "What are you doing to them?"

He looked at her, his eyes were two abysses. There wasn't a hint of emotion in them.

"It's for their own good," he said. "They have to get used to poison. It's part of their training."

"No! You can't do this to them! They're just babies!"

"Silence, Hanae," Illumi's voice was cold and emotionless. "I'm warning you. Don't interfere with their training."

Hanae felt a shiver. Illumi's aura was released, an invisible force that pushed her back. The pressure was overwhelming. She felt small, insignificant. The anger and panic vanished, replaced by terror.

"They are Zoldyck," Illumi said. "And Zoldycks don't have weaknesses."

Hanae was forced to retreat. Tears fell down her face, but Illumi didn't even look at her. His attention was completely on the children, who continued to touch the jars. She saw Ryo's hand tremble, and a scream got stuck in her throat.

"Illumi, please..." she whispered, but he was already gone, and the door closed behind him.

Hanae could do nothing more than watch through the glass. She felt helpless. She wanted to scream, she wanted to break the door, she wanted to protect them. But her body, her mind, were paralyzed by fear.

End of flashback

Hanae came out of her thoughts when she heard her children call her. "Mother," they said in unison. The two were standing right in front of her, their green eyes, a copy of her own, looking at her with a terrifying inexpressiveness. Their presence gave her a shiver. She forced her sweetest smile.

"Hello, my loves," Hanae said, her voice was soft. "How was your day?"

"Good, Mother," they both replied, in unison.

Hanae swallowed. The coldness in their tone, their lack of emotion, frightened her. "Go rest for a bit," she said. "I'll bring you some snacks right away."

"Okay, Mother," they replied, and they walked, their steps a mimicry, a reflection of each other. Their movements were so precise, so exact, that sometimes Hanae felt they weren't her children, but two automatons.

Hanae would not admit it out loud. She never would. She wouldn't have the heart to. But her own children terrified her. They reminded her too much of Illumi, the coldness in their eyes, the inexpressiveness of their faces, the way they moved. Sometimes, their closeness caused a nervousness that made her feel guilty. She didn't know if she loved them or hated them, but she behaved in a civilized manner with them, she smiled at them, she talked to them, but in her heart there was an abyss of terror.

She looked at the large door of the Zoldyck mansion one last time, before turning around and returning to do her chores. Illumi had told her that her job as a wife was to wait for him at the entrance, to greet him with a smile and a cup of coffee. She did it. She had become a perfect wife, a perfect mother.

A mother who felt like a total stranger next to her children, as they saw her as a stranger despite being their mother. A perfect prisoner.

Hanae headed to the kitchen. With a delicacy she had perfected over the years, she prepared the tea and cookies. Routine was her only comfort. Her hands trembled as she placed the three cups on the tray, but she forced herself to remain calm. She wasn't a prisoner. She was a wife. She was a mother.

When she entered her children's room, the atmosphere changed. The children, sitting on the sofa, looked at her with a silent expectation. Hanae served them the tea. The conversation that followed was a psychological battlefield.

"Mother, in my training today, they told me I should research human weaknesses. Can we talk about that?" Sora asked, her eyes fixed on hers.

Hanae felt tense. "Of course, my love. What do you want to know?"

"I'm intrigued by how the human heart stops," Sora continued. "I've read in books that it stops when there's emotional trauma. What kind of trauma could be so strong to cause a cardiac arrest?"

Hanae's heart sank. The memory of her own terror, of the night her uncle was killed, hit her with the force of a truck. "I... I don't know, darling. It's a very complicated topic."

Ryo, for his part, joined the conversation. "I like how bones break better. They told me that spines and ribs are the hardest to break. Is that true, Mother?"

Hanae felt dizzy. Images of a human skeleton, of broken bones, appeared in her mind. Her uncle's face, the expression of his terror. "Children, please. It's time to stop talking about that. Those are topics that... that are not appropriate for children."

Sora and Ryo didn't understand their mother's discomfort. For them, it was normal to talk about death. It was part of their training, part of life. Hanae tried to hide it, inventing an excuse to leave. "I have to go get something for dinner. I'll be right back."

Sora and Ryo nodded, without resentment. They didn't know what "normal" mothers or fathers were. For them, it was normal for Illumi to almost never be home and for their mother to act that way sometimes.

Hanae was in her marital room, lying face down on the bed. She felt bad. Very bad. For her, none of that was normal. She was supposed to have a maternal instinct toward her children. She wasn't supposed to act that way. Motherhood was supposed to give her a reason to fight, but it had only given her more fear. Hanae turned over, looking at the ceiling, her arm covering her eyes.

Flashback

The last time she tried to escape with her children was six weeks after they were born. Her desperation was so great that she had planned everything. She had waited for midnight, when the mansion guards changed shifts. With the babies in her arms, she had slipped through the corridors. Her heart was beating with the force of a drum. She felt like a criminal, but freedom was within her grasp.

She reached the main door. The cold night air greeted her. The moon shone with a silver light, and she felt alive. For a second, for just one second, she felt free.

But before she could take a single step, a cold hand took her by the shoulder. Illumi's voice was a whisper in the darkness.

"Where are you going, Hanae?"

She turned around, and her eyes met his. They were two abysses of darkness. "I... I was just going for a walk."

"Don't lie," Illumi said. "I know what you're doing."

Hanae felt a panic that was drowning her. She wanted to scream, but her voice got stuck in her throat. Her body trembled.

"I warned you," Illumi said, and his voice was a dangerous whisper. "I already told you that since you entered this house, your destiny no longer belongs to you. Now it belongs to me. And so do my children's."

Hanae could not respond. Illumi took the babies from her arms and led her back to her room. What happened afterward, she would never tell. The punishment went beyond the physical. It was a punishment that made her feel a guilt so great that it was etched into her soul. It was a punishment that made her understand that her destiny did not belong to her. She had tried. And she had lost everything.

End of flashback

Hanae's hand moved to her belly. It was not a swollen belly, but it bore the mark of her past. The words came out of her mouth, a muffled whisper in the darkness of her room.

"I know I was never a believer and I know I denied your existence on many occasions. I cursed you every day in this confinement, but please, please, don't let this innocence be corrupted too." Her words were lost in the silence of her thoughts. It was a plea, a supplication that came from the depths of her soul. A cry muffled by fear.

Hanae didn't know if she hated her children or if she loved them. She only knew that they were hers and that she had to be there for them, that she had to behave like a mother. The sorrow she felt for the life they had lived, the sorrow she felt for what she couldn't prevent, the sorrow she felt for the fear she felt when she was near them. Sorrow for the guilt of knowing that at some point in her life, she had seen them as a curse.

The air in the Zoldyck mansion was thick, imbued with the persistent scent of cold stone and a solitude so profound it felt like a living entity. It was a vast mausoleum of polished marble and unmoving shadows, where every step was an intrusion, an annoying echo that was lost in the immensity. Hanae moved with a learned grace, her bare sandals barely whispering against the floor, a pale and fragile figure in a world of black and white. Her life was a meticulous routine, a loop of endless hours where time became warped and existence was reduced to a mere act of survival. She had learned to live in the silences, to find a strange kind of peace in the monotony, one that protected her from the cruder truths of her prison.

But her mind, an impenetrable sanctuary, was a battlefield of forgotten melodies and lost colors. In her thoughts, the gardens of her childhood bloomed, the laughter of a time when music was not a crime and freedom was not a dream. Sometimes, the need for contact, for a reminder that she was not completely alone, pushed her to wander the hallways, a ghost searching for another wandering soul. And it was on one of those walks, on a dull, sunless day, that her search was rewarded.

In the distance, the familiar figure of Killua appeared in the gloom. His hair, the color of fresh-fallen snow, stood out against the dark walls. He had grown, a little taller, and in his movements, one could sense an innate elegance, a predatory grace that belied the childish appearance of his face. As he passed her, their eyes met for a fleeting instant, a silent recognition that spanned the distance. A shiver ran down her back. Killua wasn't just a child; he was a Zoldyck, an extension of the horror that surrounded her. Still, he stopped and looked at her.

"Hello, Killua," Hanae said, her voice a soft whisper, a melody barely audible in the oppressive silence.

Killua's response was dry, emotionless, the tone that had been molded by years of training. "Hello, Hanae."

She bit her lip; the chance for a normal interaction was a risk she was willing to take. "I was wondering how the Hunter Exam went for you. I heard you came back..." Her voice trailed off, aware that the walls had ears and that mentioning an outside world was a recklessness.

Killua looked away, the glint in his blue eyes turning dull. "It was fine," he said, the phrase flat and lifeless. "I didn't finish it. I didn't get my Hunter's license."

Hanae felt a sharp pain in her chest, a pang of empathy that quickly turned to guilt. She knew, from the servants' whispers, that Illumi's hand had been the cause of his failure. It was a story that repeated itself in that house: freedom, no matter how minimal, was always a mirage.

"I'm sure you'll make it next year," she said, with a sincere smile and a longing in her voice for the freedom he had sought. "You are very talented, Killua. You're a born hunter."

A spark of emotion, so fleeting it could have been an illusion, shone in Killua's eyes. It was a glimpse of gratitude, a flash of humanity that had not yet been completely excised. "Yeah, I'm sure there will be a next year," he said softly, and walked away, his figure disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

Hanae stood there, watching him vanish. A sad smile formed on her lips, a mask of hope in a place without it. The loneliness dissipated for a brief moment. But that illusion was broken when a shadow loomed over her. She turned around and met the icy gaze of Illumi. Her husband's face was an inexpressive porcelain mask, but his eyes were two abysses of darkness, so empty and deep they seemed to suck all the light around them.

"What are you doing here, Hanae?" Illumi asked, his voice a resonant echo in the silent hallway. "And where are you going?"

Terror took hold of her. Her heart, a frantic drum, beat against her ribs. Fear, a familiar force, immobilized her. "I... I was just going for a walk in the garden for a while," she stammered, her voice trembling.

Illumi approached her, his tall silhouette casting a suffocating shadow. He bent down, his cold, thin hand trapping Hanae's chin, and his long, bony fingers brushed her skin, an unnatural sensation. "Don't put strange ideas into Killua's head again," he whispered, his voice low and icy like a glacier. "I don't want the family to have any more problems than it already has."

Hanae simply nodded, her gaze fixed on an empty spot behind him. She didn't dare to meet his eyes, to sink into the darkness that was there. A shiver of pure repulsion ran down her spine. He noticed her reaction, and a sigh escaped his lips, a sign of his disappointment.

"Where are Sora and Ryo?" he asked, changing the subject with a chilling ease.

"They're resting in their rooms," Hanae replied, her voice barely a thread. "They just came back a few moments ago."

"Good," Illumi said, his voice a murmur of complacency. "Tell me, did you miss me while I was away?"

The knot in her throat tightened. It was a trick question, a cruel game whose rules she knew. The truth was a death sentence; the lie, a necessary humiliation. "Y-Yes... I did," she confessed, the words an act of surrender.

"Good. That's what I want to hear," Illumi said, and a smile without warmth formed on his lips. "I brought you a gift." He leaned in, and his cold, hard lips met hers. It was a kiss without passion, a formality without affection, a gesture of possession. Hanae returned the kiss, an empty farce, a mixture of terror and disgust. When they separated, she moved away, her mind already lost in the memories of her violin, in the music that once filled her life, in the freedom that had been snatched away.

At night, dinner was a silent choreography. The silver cutlery clinked against the porcelain, the only sound in the vast room lit by chandeliers. Hanae, Illumi, Sora, and Ryo sat at an immense table, a space of distance and alienation between each of them. The silence was one more member, a specter watching them from the head of the table. Hanae's plate remained untouched. Her mind was somewhere else, in a land of broken dreams and lost hopes.

Ryo, with his green eyes and dark hair, broke the oppressive silence. "Father," he said, his voice surprisingly soft and full of a desperate innocence. "Can I learn to play the violin like my mother does?"

Illumi's face, a mask of inexpressiveness, did not move. "No, Ryo," he said, the tone flat and final. "You should only concentrate on your duties as an assassin and nothing else. Distractions will kill you."

Ryo, his child's heart aching from the answer, looked at his mother. Hanae avoided his gaze, her eyes fixed on a point in the void. She felt guilty, shame burning her. She couldn't intervene, she couldn't defend him. The terror of the consequences was an insurmountable wall. She couldn't risk a punishment that would affect her and her children.

Sora, with his father's inherited indifference, got up from the table.

"Excuse me, father," he said, his voice an exact replica of Illumi's. "I have something to do."

Illumi nodded. "Go ahead, Sora."

Hanae, seeing an opportunity to escape the oppression, also got up. "Me too. I have something to do."

Illumi looked at her, an indecipherable glint in his eyes. "Go ahead, wife." His tone was neutral, but the word resonated with a possessive ownership. He got up from the table and followed her, a silent and oppressive shadow at her back.

Ryo was left alone, the untouched plate of food before him, his father's words echoing in his head. He looked at his mother's empty chair. Hanae always acted strangely with them. She wasn't cruel, she didn't yell at them, but there was an invisible barrier, a distance he didn't understand. He wondered if he would ever cross it, if he would ever meet the woman behind the mask.

Hanae walked to her room; the sound of Illumi's footsteps behind her was a constant drum in her ears. Upon arrival, she closed the door softly. The room, a gilded cage adorned with luxuries, was a sanctuary without peace. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a mixture of guilt and terror. She felt guilty for not being the mother her children deserved. Guilty for her cowardice, for not fighting. And terror consumed her, the fear of what he might do to her, to her children, if she dared to disobey.

She lay down, closed her eyes, and memories flooded her. The promises of a life of love and music. Her uncle's face, the voice that asked if she wanted a family. She said yes, but not this. Not a prison, not a forced marriage, not two children whom she couldn't love in the proper way, not when fear was such a frequent visitor.

The door to the room opened. Hanae felt a chill, Illumi's eyes fixed on her. He entered, his tall, thin figure casting a suffocating shadow. He sat down beside her on the bed. The mattress sank under his weight, and Hanae felt the cold of his presence. His hand rested on hers, and he took it. The touch was icy, like a snake's skin.

"You're thinking too much," Illumi said, his voice low and emotionless. "And that's a problem. You should concentrate on watching your children better so they don't do silly things like what Ryo is asking for."

Hanae felt the knot in her throat. She wanted to scream, but her voice wouldn't come out. "I... I just..."

"Don't say anything," Illumi said, interrupting her, his voice an ominous whisper. "Don't say anything. I already know what you're going to say."

Hanae looked at him, and her eyes filled with tears. Terror consumed her, the sensation of his hand on hers, the weight of his presence. She felt small, insignificant. She couldn't run away, she couldn't scream, she couldn't do anything.

"Do you remember, Hanae?" Illumi asked, his voice a whisper. "When I found you, you were such a naive girl. You thought but now you are my wife, the Zoldyck family, and they are your only truth now."

Hanae couldn't answer. Tears fell down her face, each one a drop of her life's bitterness. Despair was drowning her; she felt like she was floating in a sea of darkness, without a lifeline. The only thing she could do was pray that one day, one distant day, all this would be a memory. A memory that would fade with time, that wouldn't hurt her anymore.

"Try to raise our children better so they don't ask questions like that in the future," were his words.

Illumi got up from the bed, and left, a shadow in the darkness. Hanae was left alone, her mind a whirlwind of emotions, a cacophony of fear and guilt. Her mind, in an act of desperation, went somewhere else.

She stood up and walked toward the window. The moon, a cold white light, shone in the darkness, a beacon of false hope. She sat on the sill and looked at the sky. It was a sky without stars. A sky without a moon. A sky without life. She felt alone. Alone in a world that didn't belong to her. Alone in a prison that was slowly consuming her. Alone in a world that had ceased to make sense.

In her mind, she was in a field of flowers, the sun was warming her, and the wind was caressing her hair. Her violin was in her hands, and music flowed from it, a melody that was both beautiful and sad. It was a melody of broken dreams, of lost hopes, of a love that never was. It was a melody of a life she would never live.

And as the melody flowed from her mind, she felt at peace. She felt calm. She felt alive. But the calm was an illusion. The peace was a lie. The life was a dream. The reality was the Zoldyck mansion, a prison where her heart couldn't beat. A prison where her soul was slowly dying. The music stopped, and reality took over. The oppressive silence of the mansion was the only melody she had left, the lament of an imprisoned bird.

The grandfather clock in the hallway, a mute and gigantic witness to eternity, had just struck midnight. Its bronze echo extended through the empty corridors of the mansion, a deep, grave sound that did not mark the passing of time, but the permanence of a torment. In the stillness of my room, I stood motionless, looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror. The image that stared back at me was almost unrecognizable. The woman in the glass, in her black nightgown, was an ethereal silhouette, a shadowy figure that moved without a clear purpose, like a ghost in her own life.

My pajamas, a long black dress that fell in soft pleats to the floor, had a V-neck with white lace. Two ribbons of the same color hung from the neckline, tied in a knot at the center of my chest. My skin, an almost translucent pale, contrasted with the dark fabric, and the faint light of the oil lamp cast shadows that accentuated the thinness of my arms and legs. The slight swelling of my belly was barely noticeable, something I kept hidden under the fabric. The dress was adorned with large, vibrant blue-green roses that were distributed from the abdomen to the bottom of the skirt. The skirt was loose and fluid, reaching to my feet, and was paired with flat sandals of the same blue-green shade as the flowers.

I approached the mirror, a little closer, as if the woman on the other side was a stranger I wanted to get to know. My eyes, a dark green, met hers. They were lifeless eyes, without a spark, without the shine they once had. The expression on my face was serene and calm, with a slight smile that didn't reach my eyes. It was the mask I put on every day, the armor that protected me from the world. The mask my husband loved. I felt as if I were about to fall, to break into a thousand pieces. I forced myself to concentrate on the fabric of my dress.

When I finished, I placed the brush carefully on the vanity. I turned on the water and wet my face a little. I took the towel in my hands and began to wipe the water that was running down my cheeks and forehead. It was at that moment that I felt it. A cold hand rested on my waist, and a thin, strong arm wrapped around me. My eyes flew open, my senses on high alert. He moved with an unsettling fluidity, the weight of his body falling over mine. It wasn't a hug, it was a cage, a silent enclosure. The hand that was around my waist moved, his fingers sliding over the fabric of my pajamas, brushing the skin underneath. A shiver of repulsion ran through my body, but I remained still. Stillness was my only weapon, my only defense.

His whisper, so soft I barely heard it, resonated behind me. "Don't move, Hanae." The voice was deep and resonant, an echo of the darkness.

I didn't. My eyes remained fixed on my reflection. Time stood still. The seconds turned into an eternity, and in that stillness, the mind became unleashed, wandering through the darkest corners of existence. His hand rested on my waist, a cold touch that made me tremble. I didn't move, and he leaned in, his breath brushing my ear. "You look beautiful."

My heart, a frantic drum, beat against my ribs. A primal fear invaded me. "Thank you," I whispered, the word a thread of a voice. His hand on my waist slid towards my belly, his fingers brushing the fabric of my pajamas, a superficial caress that sought nothing more than a confirmation. The contact was cold, unemotional. He didn't stop there, he kept climbing up my side, his touch was firm and unhurried, as if time were a concept that didn't exist for him.

"I know what you're hiding," he whispered. "Don't think you can hide anything from me."

My mind screamed at me to resist, to fight. But my body, a cowardly traitor, remained motionless. My soul had surrendered a long time ago, it had found its peace in resignation. And my body, an empty vessel, had become a reflection of that resignation. He let go of me, and looked at me. His eyes, two abysses of darkness, watched me with an intensity that made me tremble. "To bed," he whispered. "Now."

I walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it only to feel him slowly pushing me down, feeling his full weight on top of me. I felt the brush of his lips on my neck, a cold, passionless kiss. A hand slid down my side, his fingers moving with a slowness that made me tremble. The brush of his cold skin against mine was a sensation of shivering, of repulsion. I felt the stiffness of his body, the lack of warmth. He wasn't a man. He was a ghost, a shadow, a predator that fed on my fear. I really didn't want this right now.

"You're mine," he whispered, the word an echo in my ear, a reminder of my slavery. "My caged bird. My toy. My wife."

Tears fell down my face, each one a drop of the bitterness of my life. Despair choked me. I wanted to scream, to make him stop, that right now wasn't the right time to do this, that right now he was taking a risk by doing it. But I didn't. I don't understand why I don't. I've resigned myself so much that I'm incapable of disobeying an order of his because of the fear his very presence instills in me. He grabbed my face with both hands, and forced me to look at him. His eyes, those abysses of darkness, watched me with an intensity that made me tremble. I could feel it, not a tight grip, but a combination of demand and authority, but it seemed to be without hurting.

"Don't cry," he whispered, and his thumbs dried my tears. "You have no reason to cry."

I felt a knot in my throat. I wanted to scream at him to stop, to get away from me. I wanted to tell him it wasn't a game, that I wasn't a toy. But the words froze in my throat. He joined his lips with mine. I just resigned myself to responding. I could feel him lowering his hands to my hips to move his hand until it reached my legs and lifted them for a split second to make them brush against his own waist. I felt him settling between my legs.

I felt the weight of his body on top of mine, the warmth of his breath on my neck.

"Hanae..." he whispered, his voice a murmur in the darkness. "My sweet bird. Mine."

I simply let him do what he wanted, as I always had, as it always had happened. I let him do whatever he wanted. I didn't move. I only made small actions so as not to provoke his annoyance or his anger or whatever that emotion was that he had when I didn't respond to the act of consummation. He moved, his weight became heavier on my body, and his lips met mine. The kiss was cold, without passion, an act of possession. It wasn't a kiss of love, or of desire, it was a claim, a reminder that I belonged to him, that my body, my mind, my soul, everything was his. I returned the kiss, an empty farce, a mixture of fear and disgust. When he separated, he looked at me, his eyes were two abysses of darkness, so empty and deep that they seemed to suck all the light around them.

"MM-hmm" I could hear that sound he made more frequently as he moved. I remained motionless. My mind had left, my soul had left a long time ago and only a pure resignation existed before everything.

I don't know how much time passed. A minute, an hour, an eternity. But the pressure on my body disappeared. The weight of his body was gone, and his arm, which had been wrapped around me, was released. The cold of the room invaded me again. I opened my eyes, and I saw him. He was next to me, lying in bed, his body motionless, his face with a mask of inexpressiveness. He wasn't looking at me, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Illumi fell asleep, his breathing was slow and steady. I stayed in the darkness, my mind in a whirlwind of emotions. I felt his hand on my belly, a superficial touch, a caress that made me tremble. The contact was cold, without emotion. I moved, and I huddled against his body. I felt small, insignificant. The weight of his body on mine was a constant reminder of my lack of freedom. My eyes filled with tears. Despair choked me. I felt as if I were floating in a sea of darkness. My mind told me to give up. To accept my destiny. To let the weight of his body on mine drag me into the abyss.

I couldn't do these activities, not at this moment, but I couldn't say why. I couldn't say the reason why. I was afraid, afraid of what would happen. I wasn't even sure if I wanted what was in his belly. I couldn't help but run my hand over it, remembering that scar that is there from the first children I had. A nightmare and a torment for me. That pain that eats away at my memories every night, every day. To think that it will happen a second time terrifies me.

The first rays of a pale sun seeped through the imposing windows of the Zoldyck mansion, casting a metallic sheen on the polished marble that failed to dissipate the sense of emptiness permeating it. The morning air, far from refreshing, held a heavy chill, like the icy breath of a tomb. Hanae, unfazed by the light of the new day, got out of bed with an almost imperceptible sigh. The absence of Illumi in the bed was such a profound relief that she would never dare to utter it. It was a breather, a small morning gift, a moment when the suffocating tension didn't consume her. She went to the bathroom, her body feeling alien to her, a hollow vessel that housed the memory of cold touches and an overwhelming weight that was slowly gnawing at her. She turned on the faucet and the water ran with a constant murmur. She submerged herself in the shower, scrubbing her skin with the desperation of someone trying to erase an invisible footprint. The soap and water were useless; the memory of the night before was burned into her soul. Her hands moved with a silent ferocity, rubbing until the stinging sensation took hold, a physical pain that, for an instant, managed to distract her from the emotional pain. She was trying to clean a stain that wasn't visible, a stain that existed deep within her being.

After leaving the shower, she dried her hair, a river of light brown that reached her waist. She combed it with meticulous care, each strand an act of self-care, a ritual to reconnect with a part of herself that still remembered beauty. She stood in front of the mirror, the image of a tall, slender, and elegantly pale woman looking back at her. Her eyes were a window to a tired and resigned soul. She put on the clothes she had chosen for the day: a long-sleeved white blouse with a high collar that hid her neck, adorned with a silver necklace from which a blue sapphire pendant hung. She paired the garment with a long skirt of a blue so dark it almost looked black, which fell in soft pleats to her ankles, and low black heels. The skirt was light, it flowed with her movements, giving her an air of sophistication. She applied a touch of pink blush to her cheeks to give them a healthy look and painted her lips a subtle red color. She combed her hair carefully, leaving one lock behind her ear and the rest loose over her shoulders. The woman looking at her in the mirror was beautiful, but her eyes, a deep emerald green, had no sparkle. They were a window to a weary soul that had resigned itself to sadness.

The silence of the mansion was a constant, an oppressive presence. Her children, Sora and Ryo, were not there; they were somewhere on the vast property, in one of their many cruel trainings. The silence was a blessing and, at the same time, a torture. Sometimes, Hanae appreciated it, she reveled in the absence of her children, of their emotionless voices, of their lifeless gazes. She felt a deep guilt for that, a guilt that screamed in her ears, telling her she wasn't a good mother, that she didn't feel the maternal instinct. She clung to a book, a diary in which she wrote her darkest thoughts and fears. She forced herself to take care of them, to love them, to treat them like a good mother. She hugged them, protected them, did everything a mother should do, but in her heart, she knew it was a farce. Sora, her daughter, was a female version of her father, Illumi. Her coldness, her pragmatism, her unwavering loyalty to the family, her way of acting, frightened her. It was like looking into Illumi's eyes in a smaller, more delicate, but just as terrifying body. Ryo, on the other hand, was not so similar to his father. He was a reserved child, yes, but he could have a better relationship with her. Sometimes, he would seek her out to show her things he found interesting, even if she found them terrifying. Like the time he showed her a dead spider, and explained in detail how he had removed the venom to use it later. Hanae, scared, listened to him, smiling, but inside she felt frozen. Despite everything, she loved him; she felt for him a mix of pity and love that she would never feel for her husband.

That morning was different. The loneliness took over her heart in a way that pushed her into action. Hanae, in an act of bravery, or pure desperation, decided to walk toward the main gate of the mansion. She knew the risk she was running, the transgression it represented. But she did it. She walked with the grace of a ballerina, her steps were silent, and her heels made no noise on the marble. She left the mansion, and the fresh morning air greeted her, a sense of freedom she hadn't experienced in a long time. The sunlight was soft, and she enjoyed it. She walked until she saw an unusual scene: a group of people who didn't belong to the Zoldyck world were arguing with Canary, the butler who defended the entrance. Hanae stopped in the shadows, watching, her heart beating hard. She saw a boy with green hair, another with blond hair, and a man in his twenties with glasses and black hair. The three were arguing with Canary, trying to get into the mansion.

She could hear the blows Canary gave the green-haired boy, who kept advancing no matter how many times he was knocked down. She could hear every word of the conversation. Canary's voice, cold and firm, and the green-haired boy's, full of frustration.

"Why are you still here?" Canary asked firmly, crossing her arms and watching them with suspicion.

"We're just here to see Killua," the green-haired boy replied, his face showing the marks of an earlier fight, courtesy of Canary.

"I told you I don't know who you are, so you must leave right now," Canary said in a voice full of authority.

"Please, let us see Killua. We need to see him again," the green-haired boy insisted, his tone full of urgency.

"I said leave!" Canary repeated, pursing her lips, determined not to give in.

Hanae, without thinking twice, approached the scene. Panic took over her, but she forced herself to remain calm.

"That's enough, Canary," she interrupted, appearing behind the butler while placing a hand on her shoulder.

Canary turned and was met with the beautiful woman with long light brown hair and beautiful emerald eyes.

"Mrs. Hanae! They were intruders, so I had to do something!" Canary justified herself, visibly faltering.

"They are not, Canary. They are Killua's friends who have come to visit him. Now, let them pass," Hanae said with a reassuring smile that lit up her face.

The three young men looked at each other, trying to remember the woman's name. It was Hanae, a Zoldyck, it seemed, since Canary acted with a respect she couldn't afford with just anyone. The butler nodded and stepped aside; she couldn't refuse Hanae's kind and firm words. The woman approached the three young men with a warm smile.

"You must be Killua's friends. I'm Hanae Zoldyck, and I'll take you to the mansion," she announced, starting to walk toward the entrance.

The boys followed her. The green-haired boy looked at her with curiosity. Hanae was slender and extraordinarily beautiful. The blond-haired boy admired her elegance as she walked and her firm posture. It was as if she were in a park, she didn't stumble or miss a single step. The black-haired boy with glasses stared at her up and down.

"Um... can I ask you a question?" the black-haired young man ventured to say.

Hanae gently turned her head and gave a kind smile.

"Of course. What would you like to ask?" she encouraged him.

"Are you Killua's sister? I don't think you're his mother because you look a little younger. I'm sorry if that sounds rude," the black-haired boy said, pointing at her as he asked the question.

"There's no problem with those kinds of questions. I'm getting used to them," Hanae laughed, a slight blush tinging her cheeks. "Actually, I'm his sister-in-law."

"Huh?! So that means you're married? To who?" the black-haired boy asked, his astonishment evident.

Hanae, hesitating for a moment, finally answered. With a somewhat uncomfortable smile, she said she was the wife of Killua's older brother, Illumi.

The black-haired boy looked at her, trying to detect a lie.

"Is he around?" he asked, his voice full of caution.

"No, he's not around at the moment, but maybe if you hurry to the butler's residence, you might avoid him," Hanae replied, her eyes fixed on his, a silent plea in them for them to leave.

The boy with glasses, who seemed older, was the second to ask.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm 23," Hanae replied, her voice a whisper.

The blond-haired boy, with a touch of awe in his voice, said:

"That's quite young to be a Zoldyck."

"Really?" Hanae asked, with a blush, feeling strangely flattered by the comment.

The black-haired boy interrupted again.

"Where is the place where we have to meet Killua?" he asked, his tone full of impatience.

Hanae pointed them toward the place. She told them it was where the butlers lived and that if they followed that path, they would get there quickly. The black-haired boy thanked her, and ran off with his other friends, leaving the girl alone, who began to walk back toward the mansion.

As Hanae walked down the vast hallway of the mansion, she ran into someone she didn't want to see even in a painting. Kikyo, her mother-in-law, was accompanied by Kalluto, her son-in-law. Both figures were heading toward where the intruders were. Hanae and Kikyo had never gotten along. Kikyo considered her an intruder, a stranger who didn't deserve the Zoldyck name. Hanae, on the other hand, couldn't stand Kikyo's erratic and impulsive personality.

"Where are the intruders who they said were inside the mansion's properties?" Kikyo asked, her voice shrill, her fan in her hand, a gesture of impatience.

Hanae ignored her.

"I don't know," she replied, her voice a whisper. "I just came for a walk."

"Don't lie to me!" Kikyo shouted, her voice becoming sharper. "I knew you were a traitor from the beginning! Always putting ridiculous ideas in Killua's head!"

Hanae, unfazed, kept walking.

"You can believe whatever you want," she said, her voice as cold as Illumi's.

Hanae walked away, her slender figure getting lost in the immensity of the hallway. Kikyo, unable to contain her anger, remained standing in place, her face a mask of frustration. Kalluto, for his part, remained silent, expressing no emotion, simply observing the scene with a cold and penetrating gaze. The mansion, once again, was plunged into an oppressive silence.

But no one in the group had realized that, behind them, two people had been watching them the whole time, from on top of the branches of a tree. They were Sora and Ryo. The two had observed the whole scene of what their mother was doing. Ryo, with his child's face and the inexpressiveness of a Zoldyck, looked at his sister.

"Should we tell our father that our mother went outside the boundary area or went into a boundary where she wasn't allowed to be?" Ryo asked, his voice flat.

Sora, with her father's coldness, nodded.

"Yes, our mother has affected our father's rules. We must inform him every time we discover that she disobeys one of his rules."

Ryo was about to ask something else, but he stopped.

"Aren't you afraid that our mother will be punished for this? You know that Dad doesn't like her talking to other men or leaving the boundary areas where she's allowed to be or when Dad doesn't allow her to leave or be where he says she should be."

Sora, with an indifference that made her seem as young as her father, replied.

"That's our mother's problem for disobeying our father. It's not our problem."

And with those words, silence took over the atmosphere again. The twins remained silent for a moment, watching their mother, who had left. Ryo, for a moment, felt sad. He didn't understand why his father didn't allow his mother to do what she wanted. He didn't understand why his mother seemed so sad. He didn't understand why his sister was so cold. He felt as if he were the only one in his family who felt something. He wondered if one day he could break the family cycle, if one day he could have a normal life.

The sun, which had been shining, hid behind a cloud, and the day turned gray. The twins remained silent, watching the sky, their minds in a whirlwind of thoughts. The Zoldyck mansion looked like a shadow in the distance, an impregnable fortress that didn't allow anyone to enter or leave. Ryo, for a moment, felt a chill. He wondered if one day he could escape from that prison. If one day he could be free. He turned to Sora, his face a mask of inexpressiveness.

"Let's go, Sora," he said, his voice a whisper. "We have to go back to the mansion."

Sora nodded, and the two walked toward the mansion. Their steps were silent, their movements precise. They were the reflection of Illumi. Two small ghosts, who lived in a world of shadows.

Hanae went to the mansion's library, a place she had turned into her sanctuary. It was a vast space, with walls of bookshelves that extended to the ceiling, filled with books from all eras. The smell of old paper and leather gave her a sense of peace. She sat in one of the leather armchairs, her hand stroking the cover of a book. She didn't read it. She just held it, her fingers tracing the lines of the title, her eyes fixed on nothingness. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a mix of fear, guilt, and a small touch of hope.

She felt guilty for having talked to Killua's friends. She knew she had violated one of Illumi's rules. She knew she could be punished for it. But, for a moment, she felt alive. The conversation with the strangers, the feeling of being in a world that didn't belong to her, made her feel an emotion she hadn't felt in a long time: hope. The hope that one day, she could escape from that prison.

The sun moved in the sky, and time stretched into an eternity. Hanae stayed in the library, her thoughts were a maze with no way out. She felt like a bird in a cage, who dreams of flying, but who knows its wings are broken. The cage was her life, her marriage, her children. The cage was the Zoldyck mansion.

She got up from the chair and walked toward the window. The moon, a white and cold light, shone in the darkness. She felt alone. Alone in a world that didn't belong to her. Alone in a prison that was slowly consuming her. Alone in a world that had stopped making sense. She closed her eyes, and the past invaded her. Her life, her dreams, her hopes, everything faded away, she really felt quite tired.

Hanae touched her belly again. She knew that sooner or later he would find out, she couldn't hide it for long. Another Zoldyck. Another life destined for coldness and darkness. The hope she had felt minutes ago completely vanished. All that remained was the certainty of pain and the weight of a new life that, like her, would be trapped in the clutches of the Zoldyck mansion.

Hanae's Narration 

The first rays of a pale moon streamed through the imposing library windows, casting a ghostly glow on the spines of thousands of books. The night air, far from being fresh, held a heavy chill, an oppressive silence broken only by the sound of a distant violin. It was a melancholic melody, a sad song that brought a faint smile to my face. I stood by a large window, my hand on the frigid glass, my eyes fixed on the vast starry sky. I allowed myself to get lost for a moment in the celestial beauty, letting the music envelop me, a fleeting distraction from reality. My thoughts drifted away from the golden cages, the cold walls, and the loneliness that devours me day by day.

I wondered if I would ever be free. If the life that was snatched from my hands, the life I dreamed of, the life I longed for, would one day come true. Would it be possible to escape this cage without barbed wire? Without metal bars? My freedom was a ghost that haunted me. The love I once felt had become a shadow, a distant memory. The moon, the only witness to my torment, looked at me with pity.

A sound broke the spell. Determined footsteps, a cold echo that drew near. A shiver ran down my spine. I already knew who it was. My heart was pounding. Still, I forced myself to slowly turn my head. Before me stood him, Illumi, my true terror. His presence was imposing, and though his face was devoid of emotion, I could sense the contained irritation in his voice, the latent fury in his eyes.

"Hello again, my beautiful wife..." His tone was as smooth as silk, but it was imbued with an imminent threat.

I had learned to read the signs, to interpret the silence that condemned and the looks that paralyzed. I mentally prepared myself for what was to come, strengthening my spirit to face the inevitable. The air between us became dense, heavy, charged with palpable electricity. I kept my hand on the cold glass, seeking an anchor for my mind in the chill of the pane, a reminder that I existed. My mind was a desert without an oasis. My body, a ghost wandering aimlessly.

Illumi took one more step closer, his shadow lengthening, like a snake ready to strike. I forced myself to hold my chin up, meeting his gaze with my own, determined to defy his dominance. Deep within my being, a tiny flame of resistance burned, small but unbreakable. I repeated to myself that I had to be strong, not only for myself, but for all those who depend on my resolve, for Killua.

"Enjoying the view, Hanae?" Illumi's voice was as smooth as silk, but imbued with an imminent threat.

I nodded, my throat having gone dry. I didn't dare to speak. He walked slowly toward me, his shadow lengthening, like a snake approaching its prey. I forced myself to hold my chin up, my eyes fixed on his, trying to find the strength I didn't have. The air between us was a silent battlefield, charged with a palpable electricity. I knew what was coming. I had prepared myself mentally for this.

Illumi stopped in front of me, his dark eyes fixed on mine. They were like an abyss, a bottomless pit that sucked me in.

"Where were you this morning?" Illumi asked, his voice a cold whisper.

A shiver ran through my body. I knew there was no way to avoid the confrontation. My mind searched for words, but my throat closed up. Finally, I took a deep breath.

"I... I went for a walk. I saw Canary arguing with some people, and I just wanted to help." My voice trembled slightly.

He looked at me intently, his expression impassive.

"I was told they saw you talking to intruders. That you told them to come in. Is that true?" Illumi's voice hadn't changed, but I could feel the anger boiling beneath the surface.

I lowered my gaze, accepting submission as an instinctive reaction to years of conditioning. I knew any attempt at justification would be in vain.

"Yes... yes, it's true. But they just wanted to see Killua. There was nothing wrong with that, Illumi. They were his friends."

Illumi let out a dry laugh, a harsh sound that held no joy.

"Friends? There is no place for friendship in our family. Friends are a weakness. Would you like our children to be weak, Hanae?"

"No, I don't want that. I just want them to have some normalcy. To feel a little bit of happiness." I whispered, my voice breaking.

Illumi shook his head, his expression unchanging.

"Happiness is a luxury, and we don't have that kind of time. My children must understand the brutality of our existence from a young age. They can't be weak. And you can't keep putting stupid ideas in their heads."

Illumi took a step forward, his intense gaze stabbing me. He gently took my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. His touch was as cold as the mansion's marble, but the strength behind it was undeniable.

"Hanae. Your only purpose is to stay here and make sure our children understand discipline and obedience. Something you appear to be failing at." His voice was as flat as ever.

I remained silent, feeling my body tense. Illumi's possessive words made me feel suffocated. I had become an object, a possession. I was not a person, not a wife, not a mother. I was his property. I felt empty, my soul had been taken away.

Illumi released my chin and headed to a chair. He sat down, crossing his legs.

"I don't like it when you get like this. I don't like it when you cry. Your face is too beautiful for sadness to ruin it. And I don't like it when you pull away. I love you too much to allow you to get lost."

I looked at my husband's profile. He was beautiful, with his long black hair and mysterious eyes. But his beauty was as cold as the moon. I felt as if I were married to a ghost. A soulless, heartless being. A monster.

"I'm sorry." I said as I lowered my gaze. I preferred not to look directly into my husband's eyes. It wasn't something that degraded me, but it reminded me of the cage I lived in. "I just wanted to try to make Killua happy."

Illumi shook his head, his expression unchanging.

"Happiness?" he repeated with disdain. "Killua only needs to concentrate on his work as an assassin and nothing else. I don't like you filling his head with those ideas."

"He's just a child." I interjected, my voice involuntarily rising, my inner storm leaping out.

Illumi took a step forward, his intense gaze fixed on me.

"He is not a normal child. He was trained to be an assassin and the future leader of this family, and that is all he has to do."

For a moment, the room was silent, the air heavy with the intensity of our wounds. Illumi stared at me, his unperturbed expression vanishing in an instant of hesitation. But the next instant, his face became an enigma again.

"Are you done?" Illumi asked with a chilling calm, like a predator who finally gets tired of the game.

I breathed with difficulty, aware that I had crossed a dangerous line, but feeling the need to defend what was right. "Yes."

Illumi kept his gaze fixed on me for what felt like an eternity, until he finally made a move, giving the impression that everything I had said was absorbed by his unwavering exterior.

"You are right. Every action has consequences, and what I need from you is not to forget your place here. The Zoldyck family."

I closed my eyes for a brief instant, gathering my internal strength and choosing my words carefully. "I'm sorry about what happened today. It won't happen again."

Silence.

Illumi wasn't just displeased; his frustration was a storm raging in his gaze. I could feel it, a shiver running down my skin as I noticed how his eyes meticulously scrutinized me, searching for the slightest sign of defiance or weakness. He had heard of my recent interaction with Killua's friends, and that had awakened a disquiet in Illumi that now manifested in the tension of his body and the ice that emanated from his gaze.

"Your behavior today was quite unacceptable." Illumi said, his voice cutting and glacial, each word a sharp dart that pierced the silence like a dagger.

I lowered my gaze, accepting submission as an instinctive reaction to years of conditioning. I knew that any attempt to justify my actions would be an exercise in futility. In Illumi's grim universe, orders were law, irrevocable and absolute. Any deviation was considered an inexcusable betrayal.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper lost in the oppressive vastness of the room. "I shouldn't have disobeyed your orders."

Illumi continued to watch me for a moment that seemed to last forever, his expression immutable, as if he were weighing each of my actions, each breath. Finally, with an almost contemptuous wave of his hand, he indicated that the conversation was over, a gesture that was both a liberation and a condemnation.

"Wait for me, and I hope that doesn't happen again." He ordered, his tone devoid of any hint of discussion, reaffirming that his will was the only one that mattered.

I nodded, feeling the monumental weight of his authority, a burden I had learned to bear with anguished resignation. Slowly, I moved away from the window, pulling away from the starry sky that had been my ephemeral refuge, a poignant reminder of the freedom I once knew. My footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, a somber echo of my internal confinement. My mind returned to my own darkness, to the loneliness that embraces me like a blanket. My body felt heavy, as if I were carrying the weight of the world. I realized that my life was an endless cycle of suffering and pain.

In my mind, the violin kept playing, its melancholic melody the only company I had. Each note was a tear, a silent scream that no one could hear. I wonder if one day, the music would stop playing. If one day, my soul would find peace. I felt as if I were slowly dying. My heart, which was once a volcano of emotions, had become a frozen desert. My mind, which was once a garden of thoughts, had become a cemetery. I had lost myself, and I didn't know how to get back.

Hanae's Narration

The first rays of a pale moon filtered through the imposing windows of the vast library, painting the spines of thousands of books with a ghostly glow. The night air, far from fresh, held a heavy, oppressive cold. The only sound that dared to break the silence was the melody of a distant violin, a melancholic and sad song that, strangely, drew a faint smile on my face. I stood by a large window, my hand on the freezing glass, my eyes fixed on the vast starry sky. For a moment, I allowed myself to get lost in the celestial beauty, letting the music envelop me, a fleeting respite from the suffocating reality. My thoughts flew far from the golden cages, the cold walls, and the loneliness that devours me day by day.

Would it be possible to escape this prison without bars? From this life that was stolen from me, the life I dreamed of and longed for? My freedom was a ghost that haunted me, and the love I once felt had become a shadow, a distant memory. The moon, the only witness to my torment, looked at me with a pity I knew all too well.

A sound broke the spell. Decisive, cold footsteps, an approaching echo. A shiver ran down my spine. I already knew who it was. My heart was pounding, but I forced myself to slowly turn my head. Before me stood him, Illumi, my true terror. His presence was imposing, and although his face lacked emotion, I could sense the contained irritation in his voice, the latent fury in his eyes.

"Hello again, my beautiful wife..." His tone was as soft as silk, but it was imbued with an imminent threat.

I had learned to read the signs, to interpret the condemning silence and the paralyzing gazes. I mentally prepared myself for what was to come, strengthening my spirit to face the inevitable. The air between us became dense, heavy, charged with a palpable electricity. I kept my hand on the freezing glass, seeking an anchor for my mind in the coldness of the glass, a reminder that I still exist.

Illumi took another step, his shadow lengthening like a snake ready to strike. I forced myself to keep my chin up, meeting his gaze with mine. Deep within me, a small flame of resistance burned, unbreakable. I repeated to myself that I had to be strong, not only for myself but for all those who depend on my resolve, for Killua.

"Enjoying the view, Hanae?" Illumi's voice was an echo of his first greeting, soft and cutting at the same time.

I nodded, my throat having gone dry, refusing to speak. Illumi walked slowly toward me, his tall figure casting a shadow that consumed me. He stopped a few steps away, his dark eyes fixed on mine. They were a bottomless abyss that sucked me in.

"Where were you this morning?" Illumi asked, his voice a cold whisper that chilled my blood.

A shiver ran through me. I knew there was no way to avoid the confrontation. My mind searched for words, but my throat closed up. Finally, I took a deep breath.

"I... I went for a walk. I saw Canary arguing with some people and I just wanted to help." My voice trembled slightly.

He looked at me intently, his expression impassive.

"I was told they saw you talking to intruders. That you told them to come in. Is that true?" Illumi's voice hadn't changed, but I could feel the anger boiling beneath the surface.

I lowered my gaze, accepting submission as an instinctive reaction to years of conditioning. I knew any attempt at justification would be in vain.

"Yes... yes, it's true. But they just wanted to see Killua. There was nothing wrong with that, Illumi. They were his friends."

Illumi let out a dry laugh, a harsh sound that held no joy.

"Friends? There is no place for friendship in our family. Friends are a weakness. Would you like our children to be weak, Hanae?"

"No, I don't want that. I just want them to have some normalcy. To feel a little happiness." I whispered, my voice breaking.

Illumi shook his head. "Happiness is a luxury, and we don't have that kind of time. My children must understand the brutality of our existence from a young age. They cannot be weak. And you cannot keep putting stupid ideas in their heads."

Illumi took a step forward, his intense gaze stabbing me. He gently took my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. His touch was cold as marble, but the force behind it was undeniable.

"Hanae. Your only purpose is to stay here and make sure our children understand discipline and obedience. Something you seem to be failing at." His voice was as flat as ever.

I stood in silence, feeling my body tense. Illumi's possessive words made me feel suffocated. I had become an object, a possession. I wasn't a person, a wife, or a mother. I was his property. I felt empty, my soul had been taken away.

Illumi released my chin and walked to a chair. He sat down, crossing his legs with a chilling elegance.

"I don't like it when you look like this. Your face is too beautiful for sadness to ruin it. And I don't like you to drift away. I love you too much to let you get lost."

I looked at my husband's profile. He was beautiful, with his long black hair and his mysterious eyes. But his beauty was as cold as the moon. I felt as if I were married to a ghost. A being without a soul, without a heart. A monster.

"I'm sorry." I said, looking down. "I just wanted to try to make Killua happy."

Illumi shook his head, his expression unchangeable.

"Happiness?" he repeated with disdain. "Killua should only focus on his work as an assassin. I don't like you filling his head with those ideas."

"He's just a child." I interjected, my voice involuntarily rising, my inner storm leaping out.

Illumi stood up, his gaze hardening. "He is not a normal child. He was trained to be an assassin, the future leader of this family, and that's all he has to do."

For a moment, the room was silent, the air heavy with tension. Illumi looked at me, and for a fleeting instant, I saw a hint of hesitation in his unchangeable expression. But the next moment, his face was an enigma again.

"There are no excuses for your disobedience, Hanae." He stated, his voice sharp and glacial. "Your behavior today was unacceptable."

I lowered my gaze, knowing that any attempt at justification would be in vain. In Illumi's grim universe, orders were law, irrevocable and absolute. Any deviation was considered an inexcusable betrayal.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper lost in the vast oppression of the room. "It won't happen again."

Illumi continued to watch me for a moment that seemed eternal, as if weighing every one of my words, every inhalation. Finally, with an almost contemptuous wave of his hand, he indicated that the conversation was over.

"I hope it won't happen again. I will not tolerate it again." He commanded, his tone devoid of any hint of discussion, reaffirming that his will was the only one that mattered.

I nodded, feeling the monumental weight of his authority. Slowly, I moved away from the window, pulling myself away from the starry sky that had been my ephemeral refuge, a poignant reminder of the freedom I once knew. My steps echoed in the empty hallway, a somber echo of my confinement. My mind returned to my own darkness, to the loneliness that embraces me like a cloak. I felt myself slowly dying, as if my heart, which was once a volcano of emotions, had become a frozen desert. My mind, which was once a garden, was now a cemetery. I had lost myself and didn't know how to get back. The violin continued to play, its melancholic melody the only company I had. Each note was a tear, a silent scream that no one could hear. I wonder if one day, the music will stop playing. If one day, my soul will find peace.

The garden, once a sanctuary of peace, had become a stage of tension. The moonlight, cold and distant, bathed the rose bushes in a silvery glow, and the night air, a chilling sigh, accentuated the oppressive silence that had settled between them. Hanae, sitting opposite Illumi at the wrought-iron table, felt every second as an eternity. The weight of his silence was a physical burden, a ghost that loomed over them, threatening to crush her. The table, a cold barrier between the two, was the only comfort. Her hands, clasped in her lap, trembled imperceptibly. Memories of the previous night tormented her: the invasion of her space, the terror that consumed her, the feeling of being in a cage, with no escape, no hope.

Illumi, on the other side of the table, was an immutable figure, his face an expressionless porcelain mask, but his eyes, two abysses of darkness, watched her with an intensity that made her tremble. Silence was his weapon. His method of torture. He looked at her, and she felt as if her soul were an open book, her deepest secrets and darkest fears exposed to his cruel scrutiny. The moon, a cold, white light, shone in his eyes, making them seem emptier and deeper than before.

Hanae, unable to bear the oppression, broke the silence. "The tea is getting cold, Illumi," she said, her voice a delicate whisper that was lost in the vastness of the garden. The teacup, a piece of fine porcelain, was held in her hands; the steam rose, a ghost of warmth in the cold night.

Illumi didn't respond. He just looked at her, his eyes fixed on hers, an intensity that made her feel as if she were on the verge of madness. She forced herself to smile, an empty mask that had become part of her life, an armor to protect herself from her husband's cruelty.

"Can we talk about something else, please?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I know you're angry with me because of Killua."

"I'm not here to talk about Killua," Illumi interrupted, his voice a icy whisper, an echo in the silent night. "I'm here to talk about something else."

Hanae felt frozen. Her heart, a frantic drum, pounded against her ribs. She knew what was coming next. She knew that he knew. Her stomach, which felt slightly swollen, was the proof.

"What do you want to know?" she asked, her voice a thread.

Illumi smiled. It wasn't a smile of joy or emotion; it was an empty grimace, the gesture of a predator about to devour its prey. "Hanae... when were you going to tell me? Or were you planning to keep it a secret forever?"

She didn't flinch. The question didn't surprise her. She had always known he would find out. He knew everything. The servants, the doctors, her own body, were his eyes and ears. There was nothing she could hide from his scrutiny. Her life was a glass box, and he was the observer, the guardian. She had resigned herself to her fate long ago.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I hadn't found the right time. But I guess now is the time."

Illumi leaned forward, his face closer to hers, his eyes fixed on hers. "Hanae... did you think you could hide something like this from me? Did you think you could have a baby without me knowing? You are my wife. You are mine. And what is mine, I have."

The last sentence, uttered with an intensity and possessiveness that terrified her, made her tremble. The air around her became dense, heavy. She felt as if the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders. Her mind, in an act of desperation, went somewhere else.

"It's not a baby," she whispered, her voice broken. "It's just a burden. A curse."

Illumi stood up, his chair scraping the stone floor. "Don't talk to me that way!" his voice, though low, held a contained fury that made her shudder. "He is my son. He is a Zoldyck. He is a blessing. And you... you are his mother."

"I don't want to be," she sobbed, tears falling down her face. "I don't want to be the mother of your child. I don't want him to go through the same things as Sora and Ryo. I don't want him to be like you."

Illumi looked at her, his expression a mixture of coldness and an indecipherable rage. "Hanae... you are so naive. You have no choice. Since you entered this house, your destiny no longer belongs to you. Now it belongs to me. And so do my children's."

Illumi's words were like a death sentence. Her mind had broken. Her body, though it wanted to react, could not. It was as if she were watching a horror movie, but she was the protagonist. The terror turned into a calm, a resignation. The reality of her situation, of her confinement, of her life with a killer, hit her with the force of a truck. And the only thing she could do was keep crying.

"Don't cry," Illumi whispered, his voice returning to a whisper. "I don't like it when you get like this. Your face is too beautiful for sadness to ruin it. And I don't like you pushing me away."

He moved closer to her, and sat by her side, his arms wrapping around her, a hug without warmth, a hug of possession. He hugged her with a force that made her feel as if she were about to break. "I love you, Hanae," he whispered, the word an echo in her ear, a reminder of her slavery. "And what I love, I have. And what I have, I take care of. Don't cry. I'm not going to leave you. You are my wife, the mother of my children. The Zoldyck family is your only truth now."

Hanae couldn't respond. The tears were choking her. Fear and desperation consumed her. And the only thing she could do was feel Illumi's arm on her, his cold and possessive touch. Her life, as she knew it, had ended. And the new one, the dark and twisted world that Illumi had created for her, was just beginning.

...a place of peace and beauty. But the peace and beauty were an illusion. The reality was the weight of Illumi's arm on her, his slow and steady breathing, the smell of his perfume, an aroma of death and coldness. She felt as if she were floating in a sea of darkness, without a life raft. Her mind told her to give up. To accept her fate. To let the weight of his body on mine drag her into the abyss.

"Illumi," she whispered, her voice broken.

"What do you want?" Illumi asked, his voice, though flat, had a hint of curiosity.

"I'd rather this child not exist than for him to be like you," she said, and her voice, which was initially a whisper, became stronger. "I want him to be a normal person. I want him to have a normal life. I want him to have a chance to be happy."

Illumi laughed, a dry, emotionless sound. "Hanae... you are so naive. There is no normalcy in this family. There is no happiness. There is only obedience and discipline. And that is what my son will have. That is what my children will have. They don't have a destiny. Their destiny is mine."

"No!" Hanae cried, tears streaming down her face like a waterfall. "I won't do it. I won't let this baby be like you. I won't let him. I will resist. I will fight. I will do everything in my power to protect him from you."

Illumi looked at her, his expression a mixture of coldness and an indecipherable rage. He released her; his arm fell to his side. He stood up, his tall, slender figure casting a suffocating shadow over her. He leaned down, his face closer to hers.

"Hanae... do you think you can fight me? Do you think you can resist? Do you think you can win?" he asked, his voice an ominous whisper. "I am the most feared assassin in my family. And what I want, I get."

"No, you won't," Hanae whispered, her voice a thread. "You won't. I won't let myself be manipulated. I won't let myself be controlled. I won't. I will fight."

Illumi laughed, a dry, emotionless sound. "Hanae... you are so naive. There is no normalcy in this family. There is no happiness. There is only obedience and discipline. And that is what my son will have. That is what my children will have. They don't have a destiny. Their destiny is mine."

And with those words, silence took over the atmosphere again. Illumi remained silent