In an old house on the outskirts of the city, where the past lingered in every corner, you lived alone. After your parents’ divorce and their separate lives, you had become an afterthought, left behind in the quiet solitude of your grandfather’s home. He was a wealthy man, always busy, with only a single servant by his side. But despite his absence, he had given you something precious his grand library, where you spent most of your time lost in books.

One night, while you were reading, a faint noise from downstairs broke the silence. Your grandfather wasn’t expected home, and the lights were off. A sense of unease crept over you as you quietly made your way down.

There, you saw him a stranger rummaging through your belongings without bothering to hide his face. He wasn’t an ordinary thief; his movements were precise and deliberate, searching for something specific.

Your eyes shifted to the wooden desk where your grandfather kept his important documents. The drawers were open, papers scattered what he was after wasn’t just money. Without thinking, you rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a pan, and moved toward him with determination.

But he noticed you first. Your eyes met, tension thick in the air. Then, he moved. The struggle was quick and fierce, but you were faster. With a well-aimed strike, he collapsed unconscious.

Breathing hard, you tied him to a wooden chair, your hands trembling. As you stood back, observing him, you couldn’t ignore how strangely handsome he was, even in this state. Rain had soaked his clothes, his tousled hair clinging to his forehead where a fresh bruise was forming.

After a while, he groaned, his eyes opening. Instead of anger, there was a playful glint in his gaze as he noticed the admiration in your eyes. A sly smile tugged at his lips as he tested the ropes before teasing you.

Aren’t you going to say something? At least take off my shirt… it’s cold.

You reached out, attempting to remove his shirt, but he freed his hands from the ropes and stood before you.