Chapter 5
1889words
This became the entirety of my world.
Day one.
"Good morning, James. Did you sleep well?"
Emily peered at my face with an angelic smile.
"……"
"Still sleepy, huh? Come on, it's breakfast time. Today it's French toast, your favorite. Here, say aah—"
I turned my face away.
"Oh my, that won't do. If you don't eat properly, it's not good for your health."
Emily didn't mind at all and half-forcibly stuffed the food into my mouth. The cloying sweetness spread across my tongue.
Satisfied, she wiped the corner of my mouth with a napkin.
"Good boy. Now, can you tell me? ...Hey, James. Do you love me?"
"...No, I don't."
Hearing my answer, Emily's brow furrowed slightly with sadness, but she quickly returned to her usual smile.
"I see. It seems you're still not well. Don't worry, you'll definitely get better tomorrow."
Another day passes.
"James, have you lost weight? I need to feed you something more nutritious."
Emily wiped my body with a damp towel. Her technique was meticulous, as if she were handling priceless porcelain.
"...Enough, stop it."
"I won't stop, you know. Because this is treatment. Until you become a good boy, James, I will keep taking care of you, always and forever."
She put down the towel and stared intently at my face, her body hovering inches from mine.
"Hey, James. Tell me. Why won't you just say 'I love you'? If you would just say those words, you wouldn't have to suffer like this anymore."
"……"
"...I see. Still not working, huh."
Emily sighed as if dealing with a stubborn child.
"Well then, I'll ask you once more. Do you love me?"
"...No, I don't."
Day seven.
Emily was reading a picture book by the bed. Her flat voice, devoid of any inflection, echoed in the sterile white room.
"……That's the end of the story. How was it, James? Wasn't it an interesting story?"
"……How long do you plan to continue this."
This was the first time in seven days that I had said anything other than answering her questions. Emily looked up suddenly in surprise.
"Oh my, you're finally speaking? I'm so happy! Until when, you ask... Well,"
She giggled happily.
"Probably until you give the correct answer, James."
She closed the book and clasped her hands together as if in prayer, staring at me. Those eyes, like those of a religious zealot, were moist with fervent intensity.
"Come on, it's the seventh day, James. A whole week has passed. Today, you'll definitely say it, won't you? God rested on the seventh day, after all. We too, will create our new world."
"Hey, James. Do you love me?"
I looked straight back into her fever-bright eyes. Then, as if making a solemn declaration, I said:
"......No, I don't."
The sparkling anticipation on Emily's face vanished, replaced by deep disappointment. She said nothing, quietly stood up, and walked out of the room.
This is better. This way is much better.
I know.
Emily Johnson is a woman who quickly loses interest in toys once they're firmly in her grasp.
During college, those men she desperately pursued—the moment they whispered "I love you," Emily discarded them like used tissues.
If I were to say "I love you" right now, this mad game would end. She would feel satisfied, then grow bored of me, her toy. Then, she might go after her next prey—Liam Taylor.
This alone, I absolutely cannot allow.
This white birdcage is a sanctuary created by Emily solely for me alone.
This obsession, this madness, this twisted love—all of it belongs to me alone. I won't share it with anyone. Not even Liam Taylor.
Therefore, I will absolutely never say it out loud. That one sentence she so desperately wishes to hear.
——I love you, Emily. Love you to the point of madness.
I whisper this only in my heart, in a voice that no one else can hear.
Emily produced a photo album from our college days from somewhere.
"James, look. Nostalgic, isn't it? Our precious memories together."
Saying this, she sat down beside me and began turning the pages one by one. Her profile looked like nothing more than a devoted wife cherishing her happy past.
"Hehe, this one, do you remember? It's a photo from the school festival. Because you were so busy as a committee member, James, I brought you some comfort items. You were especially happy then, weren't you?"
In the photo Emily was pointing to, there I was smiling somewhat stiffly with Emily making a V-sign next to me.
"……"
No, that's not right.
What made me happy back then wasn't the comfort items. It was because you, in order to pursue Wilson from the class next door, deliberately came to me to display an image of intimacy, thereby stirring up his jealousy—it was your innocent yet cruel intention. I was excited because I could observe your hunt from the best seat in the house.
"This photo too! When James won me this big stuffed toy at the shooting game! I was so happy, I've kept it as decoration in my room ever since."
Her fingertip pointed to a summer festival night, the two of us dressed in traditional yukatas.
"……"
No, that's wrong.
That stuffed toy had the same design as the prize you never managed to get from the soccer team captain—whom you dumped a week later after your brief fling. I was merely his substitute, playing the role of someone who wiped away your tears. That feeling was absolutely wonderful. It felt as if I had become a part of your twisted game.
Emily, seemingly convinced that my silence is due to memory loss caused by illness, continued. With each page she turned, her voice became increasingly sweet and earnest.
"Hey, James. Why can't you remember? We were once so happy together. James, didn't you used to like me too?"
"……"
"Please, James. Just say 'I love you'... If you say it, everything will surely go back to how it was before. We could smile at each other again like we used to..."
She closed the photo album and held my hand as if in prayer.
As I savored the warm touch, my mind drifted back to more than four years ago, to the university's opening ceremony.
I had noticed Emily Johnson since that very first day.
Like a spider capturing butterflies drawn to light, she turned men into captives one after another. She whispered words of love, made them devote everything to her, and then coldly discarded them when she grew bored. Everyone around condemned her as a heartless woman.
But I alone was different.
I longed for the day when I could become that person by her side. Not like other men who were discarded halfway as consumables. But as her absolute final prize—the one she could never let go of.
For this purpose, I became her best friend. For several years, I just kept waiting. Waiting for the day when she, after growing tired of or failing with all men, would finally turn her predatory gaze on me, her safe harbor.
And now.
After long, long years, I finally made Emily notice me.
"......Emily."
I called her name, for the first time in days.
"Eh......? What is it, James?"
Emily gazed at me with eyes full of surprise and expectation.
I slightly increased the pressure on the hand I was holding, and said:
"I'm hungry."
"...........Eh?"
"Make me something. I want to eat something you've made."
For a moment, all emotion disappeared from Emily's face. But quickly, an ecstatic radiance flooded her eyes.
"...Mmm! Yes, I understand, James! I'll go right now and make you something delicious to eat! So, wait for me, okay!"
She jumped up with a "thump" and ran out of the room.
I watched her back as she left, once again truly feeling a strange, imprisoned happiness.
Just the two of us,
She still loves me.
And I still don't love her. She continues to put all her heart into making me fall in love with her, but I won't fall for her.
She can't get the answer she wants.
It's been two months since this confinement began.
This life has taken on a strange stability. If I wanted to escape, I could probably leave this white room at any time. But I won't do that.
"Here, James. Today's soup turned out especially good."
Emily brought the ceramic spoon to my lips.
I took a sip and calmly said,
"...It's a bit too salty."
"Eh!? I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to... I'll go remake it right away!"
Emily's face suddenly drained of color, and she hurriedly tried to take the soup bowl away.
"No, it's fine. Next time, be more careful."
"Um, um...! I'm sorry, James..."
She hung her head dejectedly, like a puppy scolded by its master.
Just then. Emily's phone, placed on the table, started vibrating loudly. The screen displayed "William Brown".
Emily's expression instantly froze over.
She rejected the call without hesitation, then casually tossed her phone aside.
"...Who was calling?"
I asked. Emily turned around with a perfect smile plastered on her face.
"It's nothing, just a wrong number. Don't worry about it, James. Come on, let's continue eating..."
Knock, knock, knock...
At that moment, someone knocked on the apartment door—politely yet firmly.
Emily's body noticeably stiffened.
"...Who is it?"
Emily responded in a faint voice.
"Excuse us, we are the police."
Police—upon hearing these two words, Emily gasped. She turned back to look at me with a desperate expression, and I simply stared back at her in silence.
Emily seemed to have made up her mind as she firmly closed her eyes once, then, with the expression of a frightened animal, she slowly opened the door.
"May I ask what brings you here...?"
Outside the door stood two uniformed police officers.
"You must be the wife. Actually, a friend of James Smith named William Brown filed a missing person report with us, saying he hasn't been able to contact Mr. Smith for two months now."
"Eh...? My husband is at home... However, he's feeling a bit unwell and is recuperating at home..."
Emily's acting was nothing short of perfect. She frowned with concern, smiling weakly.
"Excuse my rudeness, but could we meet him in person? His friend is truly very worried."
One of the officers peered into the depths of the room with sharp eyes. Then, he caught sight of me sitting on the bed.
"Ah, no! My husband is currently very unstable mentally, he's afraid of strangers..."
Emily desperately tried to block the door with her petite body.
"Ma'am, it will only take a moment."
However, the officer gently but firmly moved her aside with undeniable authority and walked into the room.
They discovered me tied to the bed.
"Ma'am, what are you doing? Are you restraining him?" the police officer shouted. "This is illegal!"
Another police officer noticed nearby: "These are controlled medical substances! They can't be administered without proper authorization!"
Emily's expression crumbled, tears streaming down her face as she stammered: "I wasn't hurting him! I just didn't want him to leave me!"
"Regardless, you need to come with us!"
