Rated M for strong language and mature themes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Skip Beat and its Characters.

Standing by the door, she focused on the ding that followed a sharp swipe of a platinum key card. A cluster of noise overpowered everything else around her. The thumping of her heart and his, the ding that followed as an elevator closed and opened, heels clacking on marble flooring and chatter from residents within the apartment complex assaulted her eardrums. To drown out the background noise, she listened to the automatic sounds of the locks unlatching resonating within the silver steel door and throughout the white walls around her. With each passing nanosecond, the mechanical reverberations thrusted her palpitations to an alarming rate. Pulsating faster than before, her heart circulated an overwhelming amount of blood throughout her system.

Any other day, she would have taken note of the oncoming nausea. Instead, looking ahead, the small crack that appeared between the door and its frame gripped her body and warned her to stay back. The darkness glaring back mirrored her own emotions, giving hints of the dangers lurking in their shadows. One more step is all it took. And for a girl pushed thus far, the next steps were for herself to decide. Is it too late to run? Is it too late to go to the authorities? She obsessively pondered. What they did was not illegal. The act could not be fully considered human trafficking, the technicalities are what separated the two. Even so, if she ran, who did she have to run to? Where could she run to?

"You can enter." A heavy voice jolted the fear that she had kept at bay since the tea ceremony. This moment terrified her more than anything. To outsiders, it would appear as though a bride and groom stood side by side as they entered their new home, their happily ever after. Yet, to the small woman easily towered by the lean body of muscles next to her, the moment felt like that of a wrongdoer – a criminal about to be locked behind bars for the rest of her life. Her new husband? Nothing more than her prison guard.

That is what this was. Her marriage was nothing more than a life sentence. Her crime? That, she still was not sure of. It simply seemed like fate was handing down the punishment she deserved for the sins she must have committed in her past life. That, it had to be. No one's life was this… cruel.

"Ladies first." His deep voice called for her attention and edged her on with an undertone of irritation. Lips curled in a thin line, eyes masked by newly trimmed dark strands, his face gave no hint as to what he might have been feeling. His tall frame and posture however, felt like that of a prison guard commanding respect with his mere presence. He stood at attention, back upright and hands clasped behind himself, his focus was straight ahead. Intentional or unintentional, his conduct was telling of his view of her. Consequently, she felt small. The lack of his gaze felt like he was thinking about, and looking far beyond her insignificant self. It was like she was not there. Her presence did not matter. Therefore, she did not matter.

RUN! Her mind screamed. This was a trap. A dark hole her former guardians wanted to bury her in. Marriage? What a fucking, beautiful veil of a disguise it was. Mind you, she had once fantasied about it. A fairytale wedding, a picturesque marriage was all she had dreamed about. Being a bride and a wife was what she had ever worked towards – ever saw. Since young, she was, unknowingly, been enrolled in bridal training, and she had loved it. Relished in the prospect of what would come. Tolerated everything as she dreamed of the sweet fruits of her labor. But, this was not it. The groom – among other things, was not who she had dreamed about.

RUN! Her mind jolted her paralyzed muscles awake. With a hesitant shuffle back, adrenaline kicked in and started moving the cogs within her system. Exhaling and inhaling rapidly, she could taste the hot breath grazing past her throat. As she slowly suffocated, her survival instincts awakened. Her automatic reaction chose flight over the fight response. Clutching a fistful of her own gown, she took another shuffle back and… her heart almost flatlined.

A hand of steel met her backbone, burned her clothes and the very skin underneath. His mere touch raised all the little hairs on her body, and left a cold tremor running through her veins. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! What now? Internally, she was unnerved. Externally, she appeared as cool as a cucumber. Glancing at the man to her side, his face seemed to inquire one thing. What are you waiting for? His high perched eyebrow questioned.

One hand hovering on her lower back, his other palm gesturing for her to enter through the wide-open door, the young woman, Mogami Kyoko, well, no longer a Mogami, took a shaky deep breath and prepared herself.

Prepared herself for what? That was yet to be decided. The strange man, her husband, something about him did not sit right with her. Call her sceptical but she was not convinced. From the beginning of all this, not once had he shown any form of resistance or joy. From the beginning, it had been this deep monotonous voice accompanied by an apathetic face. Not once did he express any type of emotion. Not when he was introduced to her and told of their abrupt engagement, nor throughout the hasty wedding and the delivery of his vows – of his sworn loyalty to her and her alone. Was he an accomplice? A bystander? Or a victim caught up in the scheme of things?

She just could not figure it out, could not figure him out. What was this? Was she tied down to some robot? Because the man she married seemed… unfeeling. She had witnessed the numerous smiles he presented to everyone. Smiles that would otherwise indicate that he was content at the joyous occasion, hell, the heart-warming speech he made was still ingrained in her mind and soul. Echoes of some bullshit about how the occasion marked the joining of two lives, two bodies, two hearts as one inflicted pain within her withering heart. He was good with his words. A smooth talker she had noted.

She knew better though. When they were introduced, betrothed and married off in a span of a week, his smiles elicited fearful shivers within her being. Her body knew. She had felt the dangers resting behind his public persona, as his smiles – which failed to reach his eyes – sent alarm bells blaring in her mind. This strange man, Tsuruga Ren, did he truly agree to this marriage? Does he want this marriage? These were questions that she knew could either make her life sentence bearable or unbearable.

With her own… circumstances to consider, with no desire for her old life and his iron palm on her back, she supposed she had no choice but to move forward. Exhaling slowly, unclenching her fists, Kyoko allowed her arms to relax at her side. With dead weight on her feet, she took one step, two steps, three steps into the unknown.

Situated on the edge of a black leather couch, she silently gazed at a blank television screen. The moment she had entered through the door, past the hallway and the kitchen, she had taken instant notice of the home. White walls, a black couch, glass coffee table, grey carpet underneath her feet. The place was new. An untouched canvas readied to be touched, spruced up and shaped whichever way she desired. This alarmed her. It was no longer her – an unwanted lodger trespassing into someone's home. Because, everything around her indicated otherwise. This is no one's home. She had deduced as there was nothing that indicated that someone lived here. What now? Was she expected to make a home of this place, of this cage? That was not part of the plan. This was not her home. She had no home. And now this? This empty canvas was a trap! Any sort of attachment to this place was the last thing she wanted, or needed.

"I found the bedroom. It's the second door down the hall." His baritone voice beckoned from the kitchen counter. Turning her head over her shoulder, Kyoko locked eyes with the strange man. Golden brown met an intimidating dark gaze. Despite the distance between herself and the businessman, she was easily overwhelmed by the dark abyss behind his watchful eyes. Tsuruga Ren. She repeated the name in the private confines of her mind. Not daring enough to say it out loud, too afraid to awaken the beast that seemed to be slumbering behind his piercing gaze. Tsuruga Ren. Who are you? What are you? Her mind questioned while her face turned away before he sucked her in whole.

The man in question was comfortably standing by the marble counter with a glass in hand. Staring. Judging. Contemplating. His white tie was long forgotten, and she supposed it was in the bedroom he just mentioned finding. The top two buttons of his white shirt were now undone, exposing the tan skin underneath. This man, Tsuruga Ren, was handsome. From his silky jet-black hair to his carved jawline, stretching nose and the sculpted body that towered people around him – he was a man. Though the man was not built like the Hulk, he was the very image of masculinity in the way he carried himself. From his piercing eyes, powerful voice to the air surrounding him, the man personified a predator clothed in a black custom-made suit and tie. The icing on the cake was the perfected second layer of skin he wore to fool those around him. Any immoral intentions he might have had towards his targets were masked by sophistication and money. How did a man of his affluence end up in a situation like this? That, was a conundrum which continually plagued Kyoko's mind.

"I'll be in my study." He announced in a voice that screamed mystery, distance and a guard that he had built around himself. "Feel free to..." he seemed to have been searching for the right word. Right then, she had seen it. The look was fleeting, appeared and disappeared a second a part, but she had seen it. Amusement? Pity? Sympathy? She could not put a finger on it but she saw it. Feelings, emotions, as short lived as it was, his emotions had peaked through. "…to explore." He finished, placed the thin glass gently on the counter and gracefully made his way down the hall and disappeared from her sight.

Left alone for what felt like hours, Kyoko had finally allowed her straight back to bend a little; her own small attempts at relaxing and finally letting herself feel. In an instant, the gravity of the situation came crashing down. The first thing she felt was the pang in her feet as they throbbed from pain. Why glass slippers of all things?

A tear dropped down her check unwillingly. This was her reality. Unlike the fairytales she indulged in, her story was filled with suffering from beginning to end. Taking off the heels, she held one in her palms and examined it. The heel was made of transparent material that gave it the glass slipper effect. The diamonds and jewels strategically placed on top and sides presented the image of the wearer walking through a field of jewels. Whilst wearing the heels, she appeared as though she was the gem of them all. That was the intended illusion, a spell the shoe-maker attempted to cast upon her. The dress she wore, oh dear God what had she done to deserve this… torture.

Clutching onto the fabric with shaky fists, she had sobbed into the expensive white gown, hoping her tears were drowned silently. Her tightly held fists painfully pounded the dress. Hands and nails dug into the fabric as though to tear it off. The gown was exactly what she had fantasised about, and much, much more. While struggling to breath, the expensive gown painstakingly twisted around her body and squeezed her dry because of what it signified. This was not her dream come true, her transformation gown from rags to riches, rather, her prison uniform. A beautiful, elegant, creamy white gown that sparkled like millions of stars was suffocating her to her last breath. Mocking and taunting her of what it ought to be… could have been.

Feeling the lace that cupped her breasts before merging with silky satin at her waist, Kyoko painfully pulled, twisted and pounded the gown as though she was now moulding the material into her own body armour. He should not she see this side of her. She reminded herself. He isn't going to, vulnerability is weakness. She told herself. Trembling as she silently sobbed, it was like her body was cleansing her system of all the pain she carried. She just needed this moment to let everything out, everything that had been building up over the past weeks, months, years.

The pathetic girl she once was, was no more. Enough on waiting for her mother, her guardians, or him – she was going to save herself. Was this husband of hers going to treat her badly? Beat her until she was numb? Slice her apart with his words? Abuse was not something new to her, but fighting back would be.

Given hours to herself, Kyoko had made up her mind, if push came to shove, she was ready for a prison break. Her escape plan? Run as far away from him and everything that was wrong in her life. But for now, she had to gather her bearings – assess her prison cell and her assigned guard.

A week prior.

After being told she was needed by the boss – the Okami of Fuwa Inn, Kyoko had placed the final plate on the low table, smiled and left the customers to their meal. Returning the tray to its post, she had taken hasty, yet hesitant footsteps towards the forbidden room. Making her way past the kitchen, private rooms and hallways that were built like a maze, Kyoko faintly noticed how her body shook and her trembling hands frantically ironed her clothes. Her frazzled exterior matched her chaotic mind as it erupted with endless possibilities. Was he back? Did Shotaro return for her? Kyoko was never called to Fuwa Yayoi's private space unless the matters concerned were of importance. Perhaps… No, it could not be. Years had passed. But, was it possible? It was not a complete impossibility, she had done it before. So, then, maybe, was… her mother back? Even if for a couple of hours or mere minutes – could it be?

Hope that she thought had died after years of waiting started to grow, slowly and steadily. Although Kyoko thought that she was over her own mother's abandonment, the closer she approached the room, the higher her expectations developed and latched onto the budding hope. Upon reaching the wooden sliding doors, she had knocked. Ignoring the turning of her stomach, the shortening of her breath and the hyperventilation that gripped her lungs, Kyoko had waited. Once allowed permission by a low voice, her shaky hands slid the door open and what awaited inside was beyond her imagination.

"It would do you good to smile." Fuwa Yayoi said at the unmoving wide-eyed girl kneeling in front of her. Her posture straight and proper, just like she had been taught.

"W-w-why so suddenly?" She asked the Okami's well-cared-for legs, not daring to lift her head and meet the older woman eye to eye. The developed terror and inferiority complex always made Kyoko shrink in the presence of the older women.

"It's not sudden. This is what we have been raising you for." That was a fact.

"For Sho-chan, not him. I-I-I do not know him." She clenched her trembling fists, trying her hardest to steady her voice. "I do not love him." Her voice came out as an audible whisper, masked by fear in her quivering tone.

"Love? Don't make me laugh. Now listen here Kyoko. Whether you love him or not is none of my concern. With my stupid son gone, you are of no use to me." Yet another cold fact.

"B-but I can work at the inn, cook, clean, serve the customers and–"

"UNTIL WHEN!? Stay at the inn until you have sucked my husband and I dry? Until you are old and grey? Do not test my patience Kyoko. They have paid a hefty price for you, and you will go through with this!"

"You… sold …me?" For the first time since she had entered the room, Kyoko had dared to look up. The shock of what was happening, the turn her life was taking pushed aside the fear she always felt in this woman's presence. A look of stark horror stared into the cold eyes of the one most thought of as her second mother – a saint that took in an orphan.

"Think of it as bride price." Kyoko was left speechless as she had recognised that voice. She knew it too well. A voice that said the matter was final. A voice that did not need to be raised to be heard. A voice layered in threats and painful promises. "You will be meeting him later tonight. For now, prepare yourself to meet his people." The Okami walked past the frozen teen and left the room. Wind was caught in her lungs, the distraught girl struggled to breath as she was drenched in ice cold water.

Kyoko had sat on that floor for God-knows how long. She was like a disoriented victim caught in the blast zone of an explosion. Her ears heard nothing but a loud, non-stop ringing. Left, right, up, down, she would not have known which was which.

Present.

The sounds of running water woke up the sleeping girl. Looking around herself, it was clear she had slept alone. The white sheets appeared untouched on the side that she had assumed he would claim for the night. Sitting on the large bed, she thought. Thought on what her next steps would be. Before she was allowed a moment to delve deeper into her survival plan, a tall body appeared by the door. As their eyes locked, she had registered the fleeting look of surprise on his face before it was erased in mere seconds.

A man wrapped in a towel around his waist took a step into the bedroom. Although he had a small towel around his neck, her husband seemed unconcerned by the water dripping from his hair.

"Good morning." He said as he made his way towards the large walk-in closet. His greeting passed by deaf ears as his glistening figure momentarily stunned her. The way his wet strands glued themselves to his forehead and neck, the little drops of water that trailed down his spine and shoulders made his wet being glisten. Whatever he had said afterwards failed to process in her brain, instead, her mind replayed the soft way his lips had parted and met again, shamefully focusing on the way his actions had appeared so… erotic. Fire threatened to set her face a blaze, but she refused to show how flustered she was. Eyes scanning the room, she had settled on looking towards the window. Leaving the room is a sign of defeat. She had reasoned with herself.

"Morning." She absentmindedly replied. Her eyes were focused on the closed blinds to her left. Tiny rays of sun light were peeping through and she could imagine the beautiful sunrise outside. She did not need to think too hard as to what it would look like. Waking up earlier than everyone else at the inn, she would make her way to the small hill at the back and wait for the sunrise. It had become a habit of hers that no one else knew. And in a way, it had become some sort of a ritual for her to watch the moment the world shifted. It somehow meant that her life was not stagnant, that it was moving forward, even if it was at the pace of a turtle, it was moving nonetheless.

"Did you sleep well?" His voice brought her back to the present. He had emerged from the walk-in closet fully dressed. Analysing the shirt that was half way tucked in and a tie loosely wrapped around his neck, the training that she had internalised moved her limbs before her mind could catch up.

"Breakfast!" She had startled him as she jumped out of bed. What time was it? When did he need to leave? "I will get breakfast ready!" The perfect little wife programmed into her started to calculate what food were appropriate for breakfast, quick to make yet tasty enough to energise you in the morning. What am I doing!? She caught herself.

The man in the room gave her a side glance, perplexed as to why she had turned to stone mid-step after wildly bursting out of bed the way she did. Her face was marred in anger, frustration and hurt. Confused, the man was completely unware of the internal battle she was having. Kyoko had thought about making him breakfast, cook and clean after him. Overall, maintain the house and cater to him like she had been trained. Then, what exactly was her survival plan? Play house and then leave him? Or was it wiser to come out fighting straight out of the gates: Tell him she did not want this, be defiant through her actions until he gets fed up and kicks her out? What was the better option for her - the choice that will leave her intact the most?

"Do not bother yourself." He replied from the mirror. His eyes completely focused on his hands.

"Pardon?" Her exterior began to crack and her body started to move again. Her face returned to a blank expression, a defence mechanism that she had perfected years ago.

"I have no time for breakfast. Besides, there is nothing to cook with." He turned to her with a perfectly tied tie.

"I see." Not sure what to do, she had sat on the edge of the bed. For the first time, she took notice of the soft carpet underneath her feet. It felt nice, soothing even. The way the carpet kissed her toes and tickled her feet felt relaxing.

"Later today my assistant will stop by. He will give you a tour of the neighbourhood. Feel free to ask him for anything you may need to make you feel…more at home." With that said, he wished her a good day and left for work.

Crouched up on the foot of the bed, Kyoko was revolted with herself. Who was she? Make him breakfast. That was the first thing she had fucking thought of?! A man that she met for less than two weeks and she was about to act like his perfect little fucking wife?! Stupid, stupid, stupid. She berated herself. Where did her autonomy go, where was her free will? Just how much was her life determined by others? Before she knew it, she was about to fulfil the Okami's wish to 'be a good wife' like she had been tirelessly trained. A good wife who knew her place, a wife who wound bend over backwards to please her husband.

"What would you like for breakfast honey?" She mockingly whispered to the empty bedroom. "Oh, my poor sweetie, you must be exhausted from a hard day of work." She jerked herself off the bed and re-enacted a wife taking the coat and briefcase from her husband as he entered their home. "Would you like a bath before dinner?" Her smile forcibly stretched from ear to ear as she asked her imagined husband. "Or maybe a massage? Should I start from head, toes, or go straight to the shoulders? How about I rub your fucking feet master?!" Finishing her rant on her knees, she wiped stray tears off her face.

It was clear now. The only thing the Fuwas had taught her was how to serve their son. Wife? What a joke. She was more like a servant. She had been trained to be something beneath him, something he could use and she would not even have complained. And that is because she loved the bastard. He could have spat in her mouth and she would have thanked him for the treat. That is how much of a fool she had become.

Now look at her. What did she have? Not a single friend, family or even a high school diploma. She was a human being with an empty shell. Lived for 18 years, and all the things she had done, the skills she had learned and all the hard work she had put forth, none were ever truly for herself. She was hollow. Empty. Nothing.

As she wiped another tear streaming down her face, she felt a cold caress her cheek. Looking down at the ring on her finger, a loud sob escaped her. A simple gold ring circled her ring finger delicately. Despite its simplicity, the band was beautiful. Taking off her wedding band, she examined it, dumbfounded at all the meaning and value infused into such a small piece of jewellery. To her surprise, she noticed a date followed by 'you are the one' engraved on the inside of the ring. What does the date mean?

"You are the one." She read it out loud. "The one forced upon you." She remarked. Looking at the ring one more time, she sighed and chose to shove it inside their bedside table. Whatever the date was, it did not matter and neither did the meaning of the engraved words. Her wedding ring represented nothing but a contract she was forced to sign, a promise she was ready to break.

Her survival plan was simple now. She would stay on her husband's good graces. Avoid love in this loveless marriage. Heck, she vowed to avoid love at all costs. My heart will not be swayed by my husband, or anyone else for that matter. And this was a promise to herself she was determined to keep. She was the one that mattered. It was time to put herself first before anything and anyone else.

Around noon was when her husband's assistant stopped by.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I am Yashiro Yukihito, Ren's secretary and personal assistance." He had formally introduced himself. As the man straightened up from his slight bow, a warm glint reflected within the rounded frames on his face. Contrary to his stiff posture, polished attire and a serious face, the older man's eyes spoke of a gentleness Kyoko was unfamiliar with.

"Please do come in." She smiled at the man and stepped aside to let him in. Once the door closed behind him, she moved to grab some bags from his hands.

"I am not sure if you remember, I was at your wedding, as-"

"Tsuruga-san's best man, of course I remember." Her smile grow a fraction, unwillingly to falter in brightness.

"I see. You looked quite beautiful on the night, if you don't mind me saying." Returning his own beaming smile, the man took note of the formal way she spoke of her husband. Despite being Tsuruga Ren's secretary, assistant and friend, he had limited knowledge on the circumstance surrounding his friend's sudden marriage. His employer was quite… guarded, to say the least. Nevertheless, his friend's sudden marriage was a good thing, he had thought. Maybe she was the one that would help Ren be a little more human.

"Not at all." She placed the bags on the kitchen counter.

"I bought groceries, par Ren's request, and this is for you ma'am." He handed her a small bag.

"Thank you and please call me Kyoko. Ma'am makes it sound like I am important." She said. Quizzically accepting the bag from his outstretched hands, she wondered what, or rather why, he was giving her such items.

"There is a mobile phone with mine, Ren's and an emergency contact, a credit card, house key, card and code written on a piece of paper." The man answered before she had the chance to verbalise her question.

"A key, a key card and code for the house, I understand. But a brand-new phone and credit card is too much. I cannot accept these." Yashiro took note of her troubled expression. Observing the way she felt burdened by such items.

"A cell phone comes very handy in cases of emergencies and for simple communication purposes. As for the credit card, you will have to discuss that with Ren." He watched as her face momentarily blanked at the mention of her husband. This was not something he had expected. Were his assumptions wrong? Did she not capture Ren's heart, and hence why they married so suddenly?

"I …suppose you are right." She placed the items on the counter. Empting grocery bags, she began to put things away. For someone who moved in last night, she had the kitchen all memorised. "Would you like refreshments?" She asked. Glancing at the bespectacled man, Kyoko noted the aura that surrounded him. Like the impression he gave at the front door, his attire, posture and air screamed sophistication. This man, Yashiro-san and her husband were classes above her. Was this why she found it easier to deal with him? Trained in the art of customer service, dealing with people from such a class seemed much more comfortable for her. Like the customers she handled in the past, such an association had defined boundaries and a set distance.

"I'm good, thank you." He replied, taking note of her analytical gaze of him. The moment Yashiro had entered the home, he had sensed her eyes scanning him. Both knew and neither brought it up. But they were sizing each other up, taking mental notes of each other. It was strange. It created an atmosphere of pretence. If it had been anyone else, her behaviour would have been categorised as excessive politeness, but he had sensed otherwise. "Would now be a good time for the tour ma'-" he paused, recognising the strain in her smile and what it indicated, "-Kyoko-chan?" He finished.

"About that…" She faced him fully, looking a little apologetic as she shyly fiddled with her fingers, "would it be rude of me to decline your company? I want to explore on my own." He noticed her guard go down a little as her eyes pleaded with him.

"Not at all. If you need me for anything, you have my number."

"I'm glad you understand." For the first time since they met, the man recognised that the smile she showed him now was real. From years of studying and observing people, he grew a knack for knowing when someone was being genuine or not.

"Ah, before I forget, Ren will be back late today, please do not bother yourself with preparing dinner for him."

"I see. Thank you for all this, Yashiro-san." She motioned towards the groceries and house keys.

"You are welcome. Have a great day Kyoko-chan."