His Perfect Lyra

Lyra's POV 

What did he say? Doll up? Like he wants to dress me up?

I didn't dare look behind me. I already knew there wasn't really a choice. Saying no wasn't possible—not with him.

So, I just nodded quietly.

"Please wait here. I'll go get the stuff."

He took the trash with him and left. For a second, I let myself think.

He must've been planning all of this for a long time. This room's design… it's not like something you just buy off a store shelf. His voice, his reactions, his behavior—it's all so hard to read.

Maybe that's how he got me.

His rules.

His house.

His system.

Everything here belongs to him.

And I don't control any of it.

Which means… I have to play along. Be the good girl for a while. Will he notice? I don't know.

But then… he's been gone for a while.

Is he really bringing a bunch of stuff to dress me up? If I'm not a person to him, then what am I?

A doll?

A pet?

When he came back, he was holding a pink makeup toolbox.

He's really serious about treating me like a doll, huh? Do I really have to wear makeup, have a perfect hairstyle, dress up in specific outfits… every day from now on?

He opened the bag and pulled out a single brush. That was it. Maybe he had more things, but he wasn't showing them yet.

I watched his hands as he placed things on the table, but then I flinched. His other hand brushed against the left side of my hair.

"Lyra, do you have any preferred hairstyle, or do you want me to pick one?"

His hand kept moving, gentle. Separating my hair like he was ready to braid it, or something else.

"Lyra, please answer me."

I barely managed to say it, scared of his cold voice.

"Just… just brush it and leave it down. That's fine."

And so, he just brushed my hair. That was all.

The room felt so quiet.

I sat there in the chair, letting this sick man brush my hair. It frustrated me, but I had to play along if I wanted to live. Follow his rules… just like he said.

Then it hit me.

What exactly am I to him?

What does he really want from me?

Why did he create this room just for me?

Why me?

There were so many questions spinning in my head.

And then—

A sharp pain against my scalp.

"Ow—that hurts—"

I reacted without thinking, shoving my hand up to the spot where it hurt. I looked back at Silas in shock. My whole body shook.

Shit. I didn't mean to react like that. I was supposed to be the good girl…

"I'm sorry," he said calmly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just trying to put a pretty pin on you. Does it hurt? Do you want me to fix it?"

His voice was steady, but there was a flicker in his face—his brows pulled down, almost like he was sad about it.

Like he really felt guilty for hurting me by accident.

Seriously? Why was he playing with my feelings like this…?

Then he grabbed a hand mirror from the table and held it up so I could see.

It was a hairpin.

A flower-shaped hairpin. Three little flowers lined up in a solid strip.

Why did he think something like that would make me feel better…?

I stared at my reflection for too long, lost in my head.

And then…

I spoke without thinking.

"What am I exactly to you?"

My voice came out flat, colder than I meant it to. My expression matched—blank, but filled with quiet curiosity. I just wanted to know.

What am I?

Why me?

Why this room?

Silas didn't answer right away.

He just kept holding the mirror like nothing happened. Like my question didn't even surprise him.