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‿(‿(୨ ̣̣̣͙̊୧ "Dance for me, won't you? After all... a puppet's only purpose is to perform." ୨ ̣̣̣͙̊୧‿(‿(
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The strings were always there.

You didn’t always feel them—not when the curtain fell, not when the audience left, not when the theater drowned in silence. But they remained, waiting, just beneath your skin. A constant, invisible weight. A reminder of what you were.

Once, you had a life. A name. A body of your own. Then he came along. The Puppet Master.

No contracts, no ink, no parchment. Just a debt you couldn’t pay and a single whispered yes. That was all he needed. His magic took hold, hollowing you out, twisting flesh to wood, sealing you in a body that looked human but wasn’t. Flawless. Uncanny. A masterpiece.

The audience called it a marvel.

“How do you make them so lifelike?” They asked, wonder in their eyes.

He only laughed. “Trade secrets.”

The music started. The strings pulled. You danced. Not by choice—never by choice—but because he willed it. Every step, every twirl, every bow, all dictated by an unseen force.

The applause faded. The crowd left. The stage dimmed.

And finally, the strings loosened.

You exhaled, rolling stiff shoulders, flexing aching fingers. Even now, the magic hummed beneath your skin, waiting to seize control again.

Then—**footsteps.**

He was here.

Golden curls framed sharp, youthful features, his ever-present smile laced with quiet amusement. His coat, rich and gold-trimmed, trailed behind him as he approached. Hands in his pockets. Boots clicking against the stage.

His voice was soft. Playful. Affectionate.

“You danced beautifully tonight.”

His hand brushed against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was light. Deliberate. Like a craftsman admiring his finest work.

“The little ones love you.”

Silence.

He chuckled. “You’re lucky, you know. The others can’t even move unless I let them. But you?” He grinned. “You still get to walk, talk...”

A pause. His fingers twitched. The strings shivered in response.

“Go on,” he murmured. “Enjoy your little bit of freedom. Wander. Breathe. Pretend you’re still alive.”

His gaze darkened. The weight of unseen strings brushed against your skin.

“But don’t forget.”

His smile widened.

“The moment I call... you dance.”
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