CW: Explicit language, violence, gore, blood, physical/sexual assault.

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“What happened, Rin?”

Though the pond is in the distance, he can still see Uchida Ken's body splayed across the ice. A withered figure staring sightlessly at the leaden sky as his blood slowly freezes over.

Duri had long been taken inside by the guards, followed by the grey-faced Madame and the Minister, the latter screaming and shrieking with every staggered step. Of the party, the Minister’s sister is left behind at the scene, barking orders at the guards. The rest of the guests are either assisting the official or being ushered off the grounds.

“Rin?” A thick cloak is wrapped around his shoulders, but it does little to ease the trembling. Bucky sighs and follows the boy’s gaze, her complexion as pale as the other’s.

“Duri and Delilah. They’re betraying the Madame.” His voice is hoarse, a near croak. He licks his chapped lips and tears his eyes away from the grim scene. “I confronted him about it. Tried to...warn him. I guess. And he took it badly.”

Bucky stares at him, pupils ticking as she studies his face. “So he lashed out.”

“And that idiot tried to save me.” Rin smiles, a manic glint in his eyes. “Can you believe that? What is it with idiot lords and saving people? And look at him now. He’s fucking dead.”

She furrows her brow and grasps the raven by the arm, trying to steady him. “Why did you try to warn him, Rin?”

“...I...don’t know.” He mumbles, head dipping low. Half-frozen tresses fall into his eyes, obscuring his vision. “I knew it was wrong. I knew that he shouldn’t be betraying Her like that. But I also...I didn’t want to see anything happen to him. I had to say something.” He crouches with a huff and buries his head in his knees, blocking out the white desolation around him. “And then he had to say shit about my broken brain. He made me mad. And I just...made it worse.”

“It’s not your fault, Rin. What happened was an accident.” Bucky pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling a deep throb starting behind her eyes. “I spoke with Madame Kahin. She’s going to negotiate with the Minister and see if she can handle Duri’s punishment herself. It’s going to be difficult. Killing a Minister’s son is punishable by death. But…” She drops her hand and rests it upon Rin’s shoulder. “The Madame has her ways. You know this. Duri will be safe.”

“I trust Her,” Rin breathes, his words swirling in thin white tendrils. “Do you think they’ll be retrained?”

“Duri will, yes. Unless the Madame has plans to send him off with Father Blossom. As for Delilah, there’s no evidence that she feels the same for Duri as he does for her.”

“...will I be punished too?”

Bucky glances down at the boy, her expression unreadable. “No. You did the right thing, Rin.”

“What right thing?” Rin snorts, scrubbing his cheeks with numb hands.

“...the one you have in your heart. Who is he?”

He stiffens and shoots a glare at Bucky. “I don’t have anyone in my heart, save the Madame.”

The woman smiles, though it fails to reach her pebble-like eyes. “Little lord, you called him. Is he a noble?”

“Bucky. I’m not betraying Her. I’m not like Duri--”

“I know, Rin. I won’t say anything more.” She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Duri says that...everyone thinks I’m going to betray Her. Do you think so too?” Pink tipped fingers grip at his chest, vibrating with the violent pounding beneath. “Does the Madame want to discard me?”

“No, Rin,” Bucky says, impassively. “She’s pleased with your progress. In fact, you bring in more clients than Delilah does, and she’s been the second most requested for a number of years.”

“Who’s the most requested?”

The woman gives him a thin smile. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

When they pass by the pond, Rin can see only a dark film remaining on the surface. Uchida Ken, his saviour, having been taken to his final resting place.

***

Madame Kahin gazes at him with hooded eyes, not a hint of true emotion eking through her beautiful façade. She steeples her hands and presses them to her chin, thoughtful, or perhaps simply idle.

“You are here about Bucky,” She says, her smile as brittle as her words.

Rin grips the sides of his pine green robes. The fire crackles and pops loudly behind him, and he flinches. “I heard that...that she’s in the Training Room.”

“That she is.” Kahin’s smile hardens and cracks. The faintest quiver in her cheek as she fights to control her emotions. “Despite everything I have done for her, she has chosen to betray me once again. I have no use for traitorous Roses.”

“But surely it’s just a misunderstanding,” Rin says, stepping closer to the desk. He swallows under her blood-chilling glare. “M-maybe Delilah forced her to free Duri? She’s always had it out for Bucky. Why would she help them? It’s obvious that she was being threatened.”

“Why do you defend her?” Kahin tilts her head to the side, gaze turned scrutinising. “Do you not see how she has betrayed me? Her devotion has proven to be flawed. Nothing but a thin veneer. I should discard her...and yet,  I have decided to show her mercy. Do you not see how I love her? How much her betrayal hurts me?”

“But Bucky would never--”

“And yet she has,” the Madame says, sharply. “I had given her a chance to prove her devotion. And she has failed. Will you continue to question me?”

Rin starts, his eyes growing twofold. Trembling lips purse together and he gives a jerky shake of the head.

Warmth blooms in the woman’s face at his assent. She rises from her seat and glides towards him, stretching out a hand for him to take. “Come, my dear. Come and sit.”

Desire disperses his trepidation and he tentatively slips his hand into hers. Kahin’s palm is dry and cool, and he’s keenly aware of his own clammy touch. She leads him to the couch, pulling him down after as she sinks into the cushions. They are at an intimate distance. There's a cloy fragrance from the Madame.

Their hands remain intertwined, like lovers.

“Your mask. Remove it.” There’s an oppressive darkness, underlied with an unspeakable longing. Her voice is soft, a near whisper.

Swallowing hard, the Rose reaches up with his free hand and removes his mask, exposing his clear expression and delicately carved features. Big black eyes catch the flickering flames and the electrical lamps hung upon the walls, making them appear tremulous and fragile.

There’s a shift in Kahin’s eyes. A moment of recognition. Her fingertips slide over his cheek and sink into the thick nest of his hair. “Oh,” she sighs. “You look just like her.”

His organs shake with every feathery stroke upon his burning flesh. “Like...like who?”

“...your mother.”

Rin’s stomach drops. His breath catches in his throat. “You know…” A sharp intake as the world lurches at a sickening angle. He palms his burning forehead, feeling the sweat gather upon his skin. “You know Dasom?” Quivering lashes tickle the inside of his wrist.

Cold fingers slither around his wrist and pull his hand from his face. From the shadowed gloom of his palm, emerges that unearthly visage. “I met your mother when my Rose Palace was but a small brothel in the West. By the second day of our meeting, she was entirely devoted to me. She called it her--”

“Madness,” Rin’s voice joins the Madame’s, his shock slowly giving way to curiousity.

“Yes. But what she considered madness, I considered devotion. She was my first Rose. My Perfect Rose. She discarded herself completely and adopted me as her world, her only reason for existence.” A manic glint dances in her eyes. “There was nothing she wouldn’t do for me. Nothing that I could do wrong by her. With a single word, I could have her destroy herself. Can you imagine the kind of devotion that would take? Your mother’s love...was exhilarating.”

The Rose lowers his gaze, lips pale and numb as he presses them together. “I can,” he murmurs. “I can imagine it...too easily.”

“I knew that I needed you the moment I laid eyes on you. Bucky’s devotion was questionable at best, and it was only a matter of time before she failed me.”

“So you took me...to replace her?”

“I took you to become my Perfect Rose.”

“What happened with Dasom?” He furrows his brows. “She obviously left you for my father. And she never even mentioned you before.”

Her glare pins him to the couch like twin arrows. “Your father stole Dasom from me. He corrupted her love and twisted her mind until he could control her devotion.”

“...seems like something he'd do.”

“I have tried to get her back,” Kahin relaxes her eyes. “But she is too far gone. The woman I see now is no longer my Rose. Her devotion has become an incurable madness.”

The raven falls quiet, staring down at his white knuckled fists. “Did Bucky have...did she have the same madness?”

Kahin sighs, reaching out to stroke his knuckles. “Bucky’s devotion was very much like Dasom’s. I let her forgo training and she remained devoted for the better part of ten years. However, as she grew older, her devotion started to wane.”

“So you’ve finally decided to train her,” Rin says, soothed by the Madame’s touch. “Then...maybe this is for the best. She’ll be able to remain at the palace and you can guarantee her devotion.”

“And you will remain by my side. I will need someone to keep the others in check. Ensure that their devotion does not waver. Any signs of betrayal - you must report to me. I can only trust you now, my dear. Everyone else has failed me so tremendously.”

Rin’s heart rattles in his chest. “Yes, Madame Kahin.”

She pinches his chin between finger and thumb, bringing her lips close. Features blur until he can only see a mirage of green. “Will you be my Perfect Rose?”

But he need not respond. For he closes the gap and pushes his lips against hers. She responds in kind, parting her lips to deepen the kiss. This is their contract. His lips, his vow.

As long as the terror, that endless void, keeps biting at his heels, Rin will always be helpless to the Madame’s desire. He will fill himself with her. He will be entirely devoted. He will be her Perfect Rose.

***

Spring encroaches and melts the snow. Animals stir from their hibernation. One by one, the flora unfold, shiver, and bloom. There’s a commotion on the grounds, near one of the villas. A Rose is on her knees, sobbing and pleading with another.

The one who stares down at her is a slight figure with a chilling presence. His pale face is cast impassive, framed by hair darker than soot. He steps out of her reach, just as she tries to grasp his legs, and he motions for the guards to take her away. The Rose screams in terror and flails in their iron grips, twisting and writhing in her desperate bid for freedom.

Rin watches the guards march the hysterical Rose into the main building. She has a date with the Madame and, most likely, the Training Room.

“What did Gigi do this time?”

The raven turns to glance at Poppy, a chiseled and muscular Rose who’d once given the Rat a black eye for stealing her client. Of course, right now she’s showing nothing but simpering deference.

“She’s been taking Bliss,” Rin says flatly. He wrinkles his nose in disdain at the other’s keen expression. “I’ve given her two chances to get clean. It’s out of my hands now.”

“Sure, sure, Rat. You gave her plenty of chances. The stupid junkie just can’t help herself, y’know?” Poppy huffs a laugh and pushes stray auburn locks from her handsome face.

“Rin,” he corrects her, turning on his heels to head inside. “Don’t you have something better to do? Like...anything other than being a pain in my ass?”

Poppy ambles beside him, taking long easy strides. “That’s the third Rose you’ve sent for retraining this week. You’re on a roll, Rat--ah. Rin.”

“Hm. It’s not like I have a choice. They keep betraying the Madame.”

“And you had Father Blossom take Jahan last week.”

“Jahan knocked up a client. On purpose.”

“I heard they were secretly engaged.”

“Should I have not reported him?” Rin snaps, glaring at the junior Rose from the corner of his eyes.

Poppy waves her hand, trying to calm his ire. “I’m just trying to point out the good work you’re doin’, Rin. Bucky was never this...efficient.”

“Bucky wasn’t devoted.” He locks his jaw and stalks into the dining hall, almost running into a gaggle of Roses. The group scatters upon sighting him, faces pale and eyes gaping. Am I really that scary?

“Well, either way, everyone agrees you’re more suited to be the Madame’s favourite.” Poppy’s chest swells when she sees the frightened looks cast their way, and she throws an arm around the raven’s shoulders. “I heard She’s even letting you off the grounds now? Without any supervision?”

“Mn.” They head past the stage and into the kitchens. He’s getting parched from all this talking and he can think of nothing better than the Essence of Yage to slake his thirst.

“Hah! Even Bucky couldn’t come and go as she pleased. The Madame must really trust you--”

Rin shrugs her hefty arm from his shoulders and shoves a bottle into her chest. She grunts in surprise and grabs the drink, blinking down at the raven.

“Just drink that and shut the fuck up already,” he growls, snatching a bottle for himself.

Poppy grins and tucks it safely into her robes, hurrying after the irritated senior Rose.

As they pass by the dining table, they catch sight of Bucky sitting hunched and pale, staring blankly at an upturned bowl of stew. Three Roses encircle her from behind, one of them licking stew from her fingers.

Rin slows to a stop, half hidden in the archway entrance. His companion also pauses to watch, a sneer fitted snugly on her face.

“This food is for Roses only, Rosebud,” Stewfinger smirks, licking the remnants from her lips. “If you’re hungry, you can just wait for the scraps.”

The second Rose, a rather plump boy with a charming dusting of freckles across his nose, strikes Bucky over the head. The blow is vicious and quick, sending a loud crack into the air. The blonde lurches forward, hair flying into her face. Her shoulders rise and her lips pull back to expose grit teeth, but she says nothing.

“Who are you gonna infect next, Rosebud?” Freckles hisses, grabbing her by the back of her collar and yanking her close. “First it was Liana. Then it was Duri and Delilah. Who’s it gonna be next?”

“Snakes like you don’t belong here,” the third Rose sings, jumping onto the table to sit. She pushes the tip of her slippered foot into Bucky’s chest, nudging her way down between her legs. With a vicious smirk, she grinds her foot hard against that sensitive area, making her victim tremble in humiliation and pain. “You acted so high and mighty for all these years. Number one Rose. The Perfect Rose. Madame Kahin’s favourite. And all this time, you’ve been nothing but a fucking snake, slithering around and injecting venom into anyone dumb enough to fall for your tricks.”

Bucky’s complexion turns grey, sweat rolling from her pale forehead and dripping from her clenched jaw. Slipper rolls her foot, crushing the poor Rose with agonising pressure.

“I was...wrong…” Bucky gasps, trying to hide the flare of pure loathing in her stormy eyes. “I wasn’t...trained. My devotion wasn’t...pure. But now...I know better...I will never betray the Madame...never.”

“Hm. I don’t know if I believe that,” Slipper hums, kicking her foot up to knock into the blonde’s chin. Teeth clack as her head snaps back. “If there’s anything we’ve learned about you, Bucky. It’s that you’re a pretty good liar. All snakes are.”

“No,” Bucky pants, flinching as Freckles pulls sharply on her hair, almost ripping them out by the roots. “I would rather die...than betray her.”

Slipper picks up a chopstick from the table and jabs it into Bucky’s rolling throat, the indent so deep, the latter can feel it closing her airway. “Then maybe you should do everyone a favour, and just die already.”

“That’s enough.” A bored voice drawls from the archway.

All eyes turn to Rin as he steps through the threshold, taking indulgent swigs from a wine bottle. Poppy follows close behind with a rather gleeful expression.

The three abusers stiffen in surprise and they straighten up, Slipper hopping off the table to line up with the others. Bucky however, remains seated and hunched, sweat dripping steadily from her brow as she stares down at her hands.

“Ah, Rin,” Stewfinger greets him with a strained smile. “How are you doing tod--”

“Fuck off,” Rin scowls, waving at the abusers dismissively. “I just wanna speak with Bucky.”

Stewfinger stutters to a halt, her lips flapping silently like a dying fish.

“Oh, and find a new target,” the raven continues, coldly. “Bucky pulls more clients than you three put together. The Madame won’t be happy if her most requested Rose is harmed.”

The Roses glance at each other. They murmur their assent and scurry towards the archway as fast as they can.

When all is quiet, Rin sets down his bottle in front of the grey-faced woman, brows furrowed in irritation. “Drink it. You look like shit.”

Bucky stares at the bottle blankly, before grabbing it and taking a giant swig. When she lowers the bottle, her complexion is a little better, and she’s able to meet Rin’s eyes without flinching. She glances briefly at Poppy, brows knitting in perplexion.

“Why did you help me?” she asks, her natural husk ragged and crackling.

“Because you’re a Rose,” Rin says, frowning, “and you’ve been trained, so you’re devoted to the Madame. There’s nothing more that needs to be said.”

“You’re certainly the only one who thinks so,” Bucky says with a mirthless smile. She dabs at her face with the back of her sleeve. “You seem to be settling into your role well.”

“You fucked up, Bucky.”

“Yes, I did.” She takes another swig before returning the wine bottle. “And now you are the Perfect Rose.”

“I hope I can be.”

“Do you still think about him? The little lord?” She studies his face closely, catching every minute tremour and twitch.

His heart skips a beat. “What’s there to think about?” he scoffs, gripping the bottle with white fingers. “What about you? Are you done hurting the Madame?”

“Hurting her?” Bucky’s smile twitches as turbulent clouds gather in her eyes. “I don’t ever want to hurt her. I never did to begin with.”

“Well, you did.”

The blonde glances at Poppy, lashes falling low. “I thought you hated Rin,” she says, lightly. “And now you follow him around like a loyal dog.”

“I just admire him is all,” Poppy sniffs, sprawling out in her seat. “He’s cleaning up this place like you never could.”

“You’re afraid of him,” Bucky says bluntly, a keen glint in her eyes.

Poppy visibly hesitates. Her lips move silently for a beat or two before a strident laughter bursts from between. “Why would I be afraid? I’m as devoted as he is to the Madame. I got nothing to be afraid of.”

The blonde turns her stormy gaze to Rin. He gazes back steadily, hellebores deep and a little pensive. “They’re all afraid of you, you know that, don’t you?”

“Oh?” His lips hook into a smirk. “It’s just like Poppy says. If they’re afraid, then it means they’re not devoted. And the Madame has no use for disloyal Roses.” The raven huffs and swigs his wine, impatiently. “Anyway,” he gasps, smacking his lips in satisfaction. “It’s not like I want to report them all. They don’t give me a choice and then they--”

“You always have a choice, Rin,” Bucky interjects, frowning. “No matter what the circumstance. No matter how trapped you may be. You always have a choice.”

Rin stares at her, a stirring recognition in his gaze. Goldens flash in his periphery.

“You know what, Rin. I don’t think Bucky’s training took very well.” Poppy jumps to her feet and swaggers over to the senior Rose, clapping her hand upon his shoulder. “I reckon we should send her back for retraining.”

“Get your fucking hand off me,” Rin says flatly, death lurking in his eyes as he glares at the simpering Rose. He spins on his heels and stalks out, not once looking back at his old friend.

There’s a hopeful smile. An ephemeral call.

***

“That’s five new Rosebuds today,” Kahin hums, carefully dragging an ornate malachite brush through long sable tresses. “We are making good use of those old cages in the cellar.”

Rin lulls on the couch like a lazy cat. He can only see a flicker of movement through his lashes - Kahin’s elegant shadow cast upon the wall as she tenderly brushes his hair.

“Five today, six tomorrow,” he sighs, tilting his head forward when the Madame catches a knot. “Poppy is a surprisingly good saleswoman.”

“I must give her a reward for her efforts, then. What do you suggest?”

“Hm. She might appreciate some new clothes. I think she’s long outgrown her current wardrobe.”

Soft laughter joins his own. “Then I will have the tailor come and measure her. And you?”

“...I only wish to be the Perfect Rose.”

“Good answer.” Kahin sets down the brush and gathers up his locks, twisting them into a graceful bun. She pulls the jade hairpins from her own hair, letting her silken locks tumble down to her waist. “You are exceeding my expectations, my dear. I knew I was right to choose you.”

Her fingers slide from his bun and down his nape, the gentle curve of his neck all too exquisite in its bareness. He suppresses a small shiver, hellebores alight and a little glazed.

“That boy came for you again this morning, or so I hear.” Kahin raises a brow, tucking a lock of hair behind the Rose’s ear.

Rin grimaces and glances to the fire, revealing a troubled profile. “Don’t worry, I’ve let the guards know not to let him in. He won’t cause any trouble.”

“Bull, is it?”

“Bellow. But he’s no-one, really.” Rin glances back to the Madame, acerbic fear lurking in his eyes. “I only have You in my heart. He and I...we just fooled around. No more than a client that doesn’t even pay.”

Kahin smiles, pinching his chin. “I believe you,” she says, though by her tone alone, it’s clear that she doesn’t. “If you tell me that he won’t be a problem, then I will leave it be.”

“...he won’t be a problem.”

Viridiscents tick as they study his expression. Satisfied, she releases him and gives his cheek a dry peck. “Very well.”

He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and absently touches his cheek. The warmth from her lips lingers.

“You have many little friends in the Slums.” The Madame angles her body towards him as she pours wine into two Northern style glasses.

“Hm. I’m pretty popular, sure.”

“And Dasom. She will be missing your presence.”

“More like my coin.”

Kahin hands him a glass. “You do not miss her?”

Rin furrows his brows as he takes his drink, gazing into the blood red liquid within. It sticks to the glass like oil with every unsteady sway of his hand. “Why would I? When I have You?”

“Why would you indeed,” the woman hums, a beautiful expression cast upon her face. “My dear. You are indeed your mother’s son.”

“Don’t remind me,” Rin scoffs, taking a sip of the bitter wine. He stifles a grimace, pushing his fingers across his mouth.

The taut lines around his eyes soften when they see the woman’s face and his tone eases. “Madame--”

“Lila,” she corrects him, gently.

His heart thuds. “...Lila.” Mouth suddenly dry, he takes another sip, this time bigger. “You don’t need to question my devotion every time we meet. I am entirely Yours. Nothing could ever change that fact.” The youth sets down his drink and takes her hands into his, silently marveling at the silken quality of her skin. “Tell me what I can do to prove my devotion to You once and for all. I want You to trust me, as I trust You.”

The fire pops like a gunshot, sending a spray of embers into the flue. The scattered gold catches his eye and he intakes sharply.

But the Madame doesn’t notice his heart wavering. Her stare weighs heavy upon the Rose. She flips her hands to grasp his from atop, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Then I will ask of you to do something that will assuage my fears. If you do this for me, my dear, you will have my trust. You will be, without question, my Perfect Rose.”

“I will do anything,” Rin says, his pulse racing so hard, he can feel the vibrations in his throat. “Anything at all. Lila.” Her name is cloy on his tongue. Much like the smile growing on her beautiful visage.

***

They are having their supper. Beef, perhaps. With rice and vegetables. They have drinks, a pale orange liquor that might be Immortal Leaves. Judging by how large this house is, it’s a fair guess. Delilah’s laughing at something Duri said and he quickly joins in.

The hooded figure outside the window shifts, glances to the others sat around the table.

There’s another woman who shares the same eyes as Delilah. She’s as beautiful as any other Rose, but her eyes are full of so much life, like unfettered moonbeams. A man beside her, noble, by his manicured nails and languid body language. He’s handsome and fair with a kind smile. The type of man one knows would make a good father, even before he has children.

The noble and his lady excuse themselves from the table, hand in hand, all teeth and twinkling eyes. They disappear into the hallway, presumably upstairs.

Delilah’s sitting on Duri’s lap, straddling him, arms flung over his shoulders. He’s clutching at her waist, gazing at her with heated crescents. And there’s a moment of quiet, where they both regard each other with a deep, heart wrenching expression.

Goldens come uninvited into his vision. Melted pools of honey.

Fire.

Fire is rather funny.

It starts off so small, so unassuming, in a single spark of light. It’s insignificant in every way. Unnoticed by all. But then it finds a trickle of oil. Licks along the edges cautiously, like a wolf sniffing out a rabbit’s den--

And then it catches a scent. Lurches forward in a frenzy. Liberated. 

The trickle branches out, hundreds of tendrils racing across the kaleidoscopic hues of the oil slick. They grow and grow and grow as if every second that passes is fuel to consume.

It moves fast.

Terrifyingly fast.

It moves so fast that they are still wrapped up in each other’s arms, pressing their lips together, blissfully unaware as the flames rise up around them. The table is devoured, the curtains, the walls, paint blister and pop, paintings turn black, crumble to ash.

And when the flames reach his chair, engulf her dress and his legs, they finally break apart to scream.

Fire is rather funny.

He can’t help but laugh. He laughs as he turns and walks across the yard. As he stumbles and staggers through the crowded street. He laughs and laughs and laughs, even as onlookers howl. They shove him, slap him, beat him, repulsed by his giddy mirth.

Freak! they howl.

Mad fool!

Monster!

And monster that he is. Monster, a reprieve.