Collector’s Cage - Chapter 58

Froy spoke to Hermie, who was shifting uncomfortably.

“Can’t sleep?”

Sleep was the last thing on her mind. Hermie answered plainly.

“No.”

“Would you like some warm milk?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Her stomach felt heavy even though she’d eaten nothing—likely from the stress.

Froy probably wasn’t in his right mind. Then again, a sane person wouldn’t obsessively collect things or pine desperately over a single fairy. The problem was she had underestimated him too much.

Hermie let out a frustrated sigh. Still, should she be grateful he hadn’t immediately punished her with a beating?

If she didn’t think positively, she felt she might go mad, so she beautified her current situation by recalling the worst possible scenarios.

It was unbearably uncomfortable being treated like a precious fairy. But at least her life was spared because of it. Thinking that way calmed her nausea a little.

“Froy.”

“Yes?”

“Froy… do you like me?”

Is it liking? Is that why you’re doing this? What on earth do you want from me?

Hermie looked up at him. Her glossy black eyes stared directly at Froy.

Froy’s lips parted slightly for a moment. Like her… He wasn’t completely insane; he knew how absurd this situation was.

But he simply couldn’t let go. He couldn’t give her up. He’d become enough of a fool to commit this madness under the guise of punishing the wretched Hermie.

Would locking her back in a cage quell the maddening thirst and anger swirling in his mind?

Would such a shallow trick, like covering his own eyes, relieve this suffocating frustration?

Yet, the moment he saw Hermie sitting in the bedroom—making his earlier suspicions seem laughable—he felt relief. As if everything had finally fallen into place.

Only now did he understand what he wanted. He was no longer confused. He needed Hermie.

“I think I’d go mad without you.”

It didn’t matter if she was a fairy or a human. From the moment he first saw her, it was Hermie who had slowly consumed his heart, and it had to be Hermie.

“I want to keep you locked away forever. I don’t want to show you to anyone. I wish you’d only look at me. From inside my cage.”

Froy buried his face in Hermie’s hair. The soft strands tickled his skin.

“Can this kind of feeling also be called ‘liking’?”

He asked in return.

He had never let go of something once it was in his grasp. He had never grown bored of something he considered his, nor had he ever resold it.

This avarice he harbored was clearly not the common, fleeting emotion others so easily spoke of and that so easily soured.

His obsessive compulsion to collect had never faded like others’, it had only grown more intense with time.

“If this heart can be called love… Then, Hermie, I must like you very much. I must love you desperately.”

Hermie, still confused, felt a flicker of resentment. He wanted to warn her not to entertain foolish thoughts.

But he would be patient. He still intended to treat Hermie, small and cute, with care.

As precious as a fairy. He would cherish and love her, keeping her in a cage, feeding her only what he provided, dressing her only in what he gave.

If that was her punishment, then so be it. She was the one who had walked into the cage of her own accord. If she had disliked it, she shouldn’t have done such a thing in the first place.

Deceiving him, toying with his heart, mocking him, and finally running away—these were wicked deeds.

It was too late to turn back now; they had come too far. He was no longer in his right mind. No, perhaps he never had been from the start.

“Why do you look like that?”

“I’m a little cold.”

Hermie shivered and burrowed deeper into Froy’s embrace. Froy, moved by her action, willingly held her tighter. Even if this act was a despicable performance, he felt a sense of satisfaction.

Hermie realized she had no choice but to dance to his tune.

Until he grew tired, until he forgave her, she would play the fairy.