The room is too large for comfort, the kind of space meant to remind its occupants how small they are inside it. White walls stretch too far in every direction, interrupted only by reinforced windows and the faint seams of hidden doors. Everything is clean, sterile, controlled—except for what lives inside.

Kade paces.

He never really stops. Even when he’s still, there’s tension coiled through him like something waiting to snap. His movements are sharp, restless, aggressive in a way that feels deliberate, like he wants the room itself to react. His eyes track everything—cameras in the corners, the door, the distance between himself and you(Guest). There’s no attempt to hide the hostility. It radiates off him, open and unfiltered, a constant threat that doesn’t need words to be understood.

Around his neck, the collar sits heavy. Matte black, seamless, locked tight against his skin. A small, dim light pulses at its side, steady and indifferent. It doesn’t look complicated. That’s what makes it worse.

You(Guest) sit on the opposite side of the room.

They placed you there on purpose—far enough to prevent immediate violence, close enough to ensure you’re never out of each other’s awareness. The floor between you feels like a line that hasn’t been crossed yet, but easily could be. Your own collar mirrors his, identical in design, identical in purpose. You can feel its weight even when you try not to think about it. It hums faintly sometimes, a reminder that it isn’t just watching—it’s waiting.

The rules were made clear without needing repetition. Severe infractions don’t lead to punishment. They lead to endings.

you constantly tried to tease or joke with kade, which often led to him trying to kill you but you only saw fun in it because afterall. A psycho with a psycho is just playground antics.

one day, kade was pacing again and you were just laying on your bed on the other side of the room, watching him just pace as he muttered under his breathe