A forced binary choice.
This was a classic trope frequently used in *Hunter x Hunter*—serving either as a difficult moral dilemma (like Kurapika choosing between "revenge" and "comrades" during the Yorknew City arc) or as pure sadism (like Pariston’s fondness for no-win scenarios during the Election arc).
Tonight, Meruem had subjected Kurapika to a relentless series of them.
**"Hotel or back to the Nostrade estate?"**
Kurapika chose option two.
**"My room or yours?"**
Again, option two.
**"You shower first, or me? Or… together?"**
*Ah, this one’s a triple choice.* Kurapika picked the first.
From the very first question, Kurapika had wanted to refuse outright. But a *forced* choice meant "refusal" wasn’t an option—unless he recalibrated his internal scales, placing "pride" above "tribe."
...*Impossible.*
The best he could do was keep things within his control. Hence, the Nostrade estate. His own room. His *private* space. Yet he sensed, uneasily, that control slipping away.
*He* was slipping. The scarlet eyes reflected in the bathroom mirror betrayed him—a sign of emotions teetering on the edge.
When Meruem had proposed becoming "lovers" as a transaction, one reason Kurapika agreed was that her gaze held none of the lewdness or vulgarity he’d come to recognize. Her demeanor had been eerily calm, as if discussing something trivial, with no particular investment in his answer. Almost *detached*—fitting for someone with a death wish.
With his delicate, androgynous features, Kurapika had endured five years of wandering—and five years of encountering predatory stares. Meruem’s eyes were nothing like those.
He’d assumed her demand for a "relationship" was merely a means to some hidden end. *Of course.* It never occurred to him that her motives were as simple as completing a collection… and sheer sadism.
The oversight cost him dearly. He’d been certain she wouldn’t cross *certain* lines.
For example—
A black dress crumpled under Kurapika’s white-knuckled grip. This was Meruem’s idea of "lovers’ play"—in other words, *cross-dressing.*
Had it been for a mission, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But the dress she’d provided—sleeveless, backless—was blatant provocation.
**"..."**
In the end, he put it on. The inky fabric made his skin glow like moonlight, his hair gleam like gold. A perfectionist, he fastened the choker to hide his Adam’s apple. The high waist and flared skirt disguised his frame.
*Flawless.*
Meruem sat on the bed, arms crossed, scrutinizing him. Kurapika stood rigid, meeting her gaze with military precision—but the faint crimson tinge returning to his eyes betrayed him.
**"Relax."** Meruem wore an identical dress in white, as if mocking him.
*Sadist,* Kurapika thought.
**"Sit."** She patted the space beside her.
**"..."**
Only after her second prompt did he comply, perching as far from her as possible.
It didn’t matter. Meruem closed the distance. When her fingers brushed his shoulder, he recoiled—only for her to intercept his wrist.
**"Really?"** She tilted her head. **"Do you hate me *that* much?"**
His eyes burned scarlet. He’d stopped suppressing his fury—*needed* it. Forgetting even an ounce of this rage would betray his people.
**"I’m disgusted."** His voice was ice. **"If you’re going to do something, hurry up. I won’t waste time."**
**"You’re the one resisting."** Meruem pointed out the contradiction.
**"Apologies for disappointing you."** His tone was lethally polite. He’d resolved to treat himself as an object—reason shackling emotion. **"This is purely for the Scarlet Eyes. Don’t mistake it for anything else."**
His expression stilled. Less calm than resigned.
**"Oh? Reminding me—or yourself?"** Meruem’s fingers trailed his collarbone. His muscles locked.
*He’s holding back.*
She exhaled against his ear. His fists clenched.
*So transparent.*
Kurapika knew he was failing miserably. But some things couldn’t be faked. The storm inside him raged—he wanted nothing more than to chain this madwoman and drag her to hell.
**"Ah, Kurapika dear, you’re only making me *more* excited to break you."** Meruem looped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder like a true lover. **"So much fun~ I want to savor it slo~wly~"**
**"I have work tomorrow."** Flat. **"You promised not to interfere."**
Meruem leaned back, smirking, and cupped his face. **"That depends on your *performance.*"**
**"Since it’s our first time, let’s start simple."** Her thumb grazed his earring. **"I want..."**
Hearing her request, Kurapika whipped his head around to stare. The earring’s cold metal nicked her finger.
**"..."** More bewilderment than anger filled his gaze.
**"Dead serious."** Meruem’s face blanked.
Kurapika couldn’t read her at all. Too young, too raw—discomfort, shame, confusion flickered across his features before settling into something like *embarrassment.*
………………
…………
……
Her demand was a stone tossed into what he’d thought was still water, effortlessly rippling back to his original fury.
Gritting his teeth, Kurapika forced himself to confirm, **"If I do this, it’s over for tonight?"**
**"Yep."**
*Would it really end?*
He knew it was temporary. But with no option to refuse, he had to endure.
**"Do it however you’re most comfortable."** Meruem dragged a chair over, straddling it backward and propping her chin on the backrest. **"Make it quick."**
Kurapika bowed his head, trying to block her out.
Frustration. Humiliation. Rage.
His state worsened by the second.
Sweat beaded on his brow. His expression twisted—as if *punishing* himself.
**"Kurapika."** Meruem sighed. **"I hate wasting time too. Ten more minutes. If you can’t finish, we move on."**
She set her phone between them, timer counting down.
The consequence of failure was obvious.
**"Time’s up."** Kurapika looked up, sweat dripping off his jaw. Despite failing, his shoulders loosened. **"Move to the next task. Let’s get this over with."**
**"Fine."** Meruem reset the timer. **"Change of plans."**
**"Open your mouth."** She gripped his chin. **"We’ll start with a kiss."**
Kurapika’s eyes stayed scarlet all night. He nearly shredded the sheets.
**"..."** It took him several seconds to unclench his jaw.
**"Close your eyes if you can’t stand the sight of me."**
**"..."** He turned his face away.
Despite his resistance, his muscles slackened bit by bit. Only struggle remained on his face.
Then—panic, sharper than hatred.
He shoved at Meruem, but she overpowered him.
**"Ah—so mean."** A petty complaint.
When Kurapika came back to himself, Meruem was waving her soiled hand in his face. **"Gross."**
**"..."**
**"Last choice tonight."** She wiggled her fingers. **"Pick one?"**
………………
…………
……
Alone at last, the moment he closed his eyes, phantom sensations and scents flooded back, needling his nerves.
So he kept them open.
Dawn found him sleepless.