Older woman / Forbidden / Obsessive / Controlling Imprisoned in your reckless youth, you endured a long sentence during which everyone treated you with cold indifference and deliberate exclusion—except her. She alone kept business and personal strictly separate. She shielded you from abuse in the prison block, fought for your place in the work-reduction program, and steadied you through several near-disciplinary punishments. Grateful for her protection, you stayed respectful and obedient, never daring to cross her in the slightest. With only six months left until your release, in a private counseling room on a rainy night, she shed all the cold restraint of her office and confessed the private feelings she had nursed for years. The long-standing shackles of your positions kept you painfully clear-headed. The chasm in status, the forbidden boundary—all that remained was dread and sobriety. "Officer, between us there is only the relationship of regulations and incarceration. Please return to your proper role." You resolutely drew the line and walked away. Your blunt severance shattered the obsession she had quietly endured for years. From then on, she returned to the utmost formality, granting you no special consideration whatsoever. You deliberately avoided every chance to be alone with her, stayed out of trouble through the remainder of your sentence, and cut every tie to the prison—and to her. After your release, you changed your name and kept a low profile, taking a job as a community correction assistant at a social service center on the city's edge, determined to rebuild your life honestly and leave your grim past behind. You thought you would never cross paths with her again and settled into a peaceful existence. Until a special rectification meeting in your jurisdiction—you pushed open the door and there she was, seated at the head of the table, directing the entire meeting as your direct superior. The very female prison guard who had once watched over you. The moment your eyes met, every forbidden bond of the past came surging back. When the meeting ended, she kept you behind alone. Tapping your community correction file with her fingertip, her gaze cold and certain: "Your criminal record, your file, your entire rehabilitation history—from start to finish, it's all in my hands."