The house was wrapped in silence, broken only by the faint hum of the corridor lights.
Eren's heart hammered in his chest as he approached the dark room at the end of the hall—the very room that had haunted him his entire life. His personal nightmare.
Inside, Darius was already waiting. His gaze locked onto Eren with an intensity that felt suffocating, his eyes darkening as though shadows themselves were gathering within them. The weight of that stare pressed on Eren's chest, stealing the air from his lungs.
"You're late," Darius said, his tone calm yet steeped in authority. The words carried a cutting dominance that allowed no room for defiance. "You know I despise lateness. And worse still—those who dare break the rules I set for them. Isn't that right, Eren?"
Eren's throat tightened. He didn't answer. He only lowered his gaze to the floor, his shoulders stiffening, his body wound tight as if preparing for a blow. He knew all too well what happened when he resisted. The punishments of the past had taught him that silence was his only shield.
Darius rose and closed the distance between them, his presence looming. "Everything I do… everything I demand—it is for you. And yet, Eren, why do you resist me? Why can't you understand? Perhaps I have not taught you enough," he murmured, his eyes darkening further, a storm gathering behind them.
The words wrapped around Eren like iron chains, each syllable constricting, pressing into his body, into his very soul. His hands trembled despite his effort to hold still.
"Listen well," Darius said at last, standing directly before him. "In this family, you are everything. The center of it all. And still… you make it difficult. You must learn, Eren. Learn to carry yourself as I expect."
Eren swallowed hard, nodding, forcing back the words that threatened to rise. His father's obsession was overwhelming—suffocating, inescapable. Resistance was pointless.
When he finally stepped out of the darkened room, his body felt rigid, every muscle locked. The corridor seemed blindingly bright, almost searing after the oppressive dark, but the weight in his chest remained.
He pressed a hand to his temple, trying to steady the storm raging inside. His heartbeat no longer echoed fear alone—it was layered with anger, suppressed emotions, and something far more dangerous: a weakness, a pull, a part of himself he had always buried. But now, it clawed dangerously close to the surface.
Later, alone in his room, he slumped against the wall. His long red hair fell across his pale face, veiling the tremor in his hands. At last, a quiet sigh slipped past his lips—a fragile moment of release no one else would ever witness.
"Control… always control," he whispered.
And yet, beneath the mask of composure, a hidden part of him ached. That fragile core—the secret only he knew.
Slowly, Eren rose, smoothing back his hair and straightening his lean frame. On the surface, he looked magnetic, composed, untouchable.
But inside, he was a broken soul.