CHAPTER 5: THE PROP ROOM COVENANT
656 Words
Saint Mary Academy after hours was submerged in an eerie silence. The weak, terminal glow of the sunset filtered through ancient trees, casting long, twisted shadows across the deserted hallways. In the old auditorium wing, the stage prop room sat isolated at the end of the corridor. Its door was slightly ajar, the interior swallowed by darkness and the heavy scent of rotting wood and vintage fabrics.
Hoac Kinh stood leaning against a dust-covered grand piano, his heart rate refusing to stabilize. A three-word text message from an unknown number—"Prop room"—had been enough to make the arrogant young master abandon his basketball practice and run here like a man under a spell.
Click. The door was locked from the inside.
In the thick darkness, Kieu Yen emerged from behind a heavy crimson velvet curtain. She wasn't wearing her school uniform. Instead, a flimsy silk slip dress clung to her curves, and her bare feet made no sound as she moved. Without a word of greeting, she stepped forward and used both hands to pin Hoac Kinh firmly against the cold stone wall.
"Yen Yen... what are you doing?" Hoac Kinh rasped, his hands instinctively gripping the edge of the piano until his knuckles turned white.
Kieu Yen leaned in, her ruby lips hovering against his ear. Her hot breath left him paralyzed. "Young Master, I need you to do something for me. In the safe inside Mr. Bach’s study, there’s a life insurance file under my parents' names. I want it."
Hoac Kinh flinched, his last shred of logic attempting to resist. "That’s a confidential document of the Bach family. If I take it, I’m betraying the engagement..."
Kieu Yen let out a soft laugh—cold, yet intoxicating. She didn't argue. Instead, her slender fingers began to ghost from his Adam's apple down to his waistline. Her touches were delicate yet deliberate, stripping the seventeen-year-old boy of his ability to think rationally.
"The engagement?" Kieu Yen murmured, her teeth nipping lightly at his shoulder through his thin t-shirt. "Are you worried about Bach Lien, or are you worried... that I’ll never let you touch me again?"
This sweet threat struck Hoac Kinh’s Achilles' heel. He realized he was utterly addicted to her presence. She wasn't like the other girls who worshipped him; she controlled him, forcing his submission through the raw curiosity and craving of an adolescent boy.
Kieu Yen snatched the necktie hanging loosely around Hoac Kinh’s neck and roughly shoved him down onto a pile of soft stage costumes. In that cramped space, amidst wooden swords, fake crowns, and velvet drapes, Kieu Yen took absolute command.
Their encounter was fierce and scorching under the faint moonlight filtering through the ventilation slats. Hoac Kinh strained his body, his heavy gasps stifled within his chest. He felt like a predator that had been tamed, led by Kieu Yen’s heat and the masterful techniques of a "Queen" into a labyrinth with no exit. Every touch, every kiss of hers carried absolute possession, making him realize he was willing to trade the world just for this moment.
As the climax faded, Kieu Yen pulled back, leisurely adjusting her disheveled silk dress. She stood up and looked down at the young master gasping amidst the chaotic pile of props. Her eyes no longer held a trace of intimacy—only the coldness of a victor.
"Three days. I'm giving you three days to bring that file to the apartment," Kieu Yen leaned down, patting Hoac Kinh’s cheek as if stroking a well-behaved pet. "Do it well, and I’ll give you a bonus."
She turned and walked away, her bare heels stepping arrogantly over the prop fragments. Hoac Kinh remained there, staring at the dark ceiling. He knew he had officially become a pawn in her hand, a traitor to his fiancé’s family. Yet, strangely, the guilt was overwhelmed by a sense of maddening satisfaction.
- Writer
