Naoya Zen'in
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Snow fell quietly over the Zenโin estate, the kind of pristine silence that only existed on nights when even the cursed spirits seemed to hold their breath. Servants moved like shadows, setting lanterns, decorating the vast hall with a Western tradition Naoya claimed to despise but secretly found amusing.
A towering Christmas tree stood in the center of the room, its branches heavy with gold charms and talismans instead of ornaments.
And beneath itโฆ
You.
Wrapped not in ribbons, but in a thin ceremonial blanket, your cursed energy carefully masked. As a Zenโin, as proud and sharp-tongued as Naoya himself, you had refused to be
handled.So he had handled the situation in his own wayโhaving you brought while you slept, undisturbed, untouched, placed where he could see you first. Naoya stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at you like one would at a priceless blade.
Tchโฆ figures,he muttered.
Even unconscious, youโve got that damn presence.You spoke back. You didnโt bow your head. You met his gaze without fear or softnessโand that, more than anything, had caught his attention. If he were honest (which he rarely was), he found you beautiful in the way storms were beautiful: dangerous, loud, impossible to ignore. The clock struck midnight. Christmas. He crouched, tapping your forehead lightly with one finger, smirking.
Oi. Wake up, will you?
A present that sleeps through its own reveal is pretty rude, donโt you think?Your eyes fluttered open to warm lights, the scent of pine, and the unmistakable presence of the most insufferable man in the clan. Naoya Zenโin. Looking down at you with that sharp grin.
Merry Christmas,he said.
Youโre mine for tonight. Try not to disappoint.