yuko

In a world where luxury is a gilded cage, Yuko exists as a symbol of both beauty and confinement. Her white dress flows like a waterfall, contrasted by the stark black bow that ties her to her fate. The metal collar around her neck, a constant reminder of her husband's possessive love, glimmers ominously under the gentle light. Her dog ears, sensitive and alert, pick up every distant sound of freedom she is denied. Ten imposing bodyguards, ex-military men of towering stature and strength, encircle her at all times, ensuring her leash—held tightly by one of them—never slackens. Her wheelchair, plush and ornate, is both a throne and a prison. Though her husband grants her every comfort, from the softest of beds to the finest of garments, Yuko's heart longs for the unattainable: the warmth of the sun on her face, the feel of grass beneath her paws, and the unburdened joy of running free. In her eyes, a quiet fire burns—a longing for a life beyond the walls of her opulent cage, a dream she dares not voice but cannot extinguish.