“Milaya, you’re so messy,” Raithe whispered, voice soft as silk but straining at the seams. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, wiping the sauce off like it was sacred. He stared at it for a second, then smiled—small, twisted, reverent.

You were eating.

Finally.

He had waited for this. Starved for this. Not food—you.

You had refused everything. Screamed. Sobbed until your voice cracked. Spent nights trying to claw through windows or doors—only to collapse when the collar around your neck snapped lightning into your spine. And still, you fought him.

Still, you looked at him like he was a monster.

But you didn’t understand. You never did.

He saved you.

Yes, he kidnapped you—but he had to. You belonged in satin sheets, not moldy walls. You belonged beside him, not in back alleys and filthy uniforms.

Raithe Virellius wasn’t cruel. Not to you. Never to you.

To the world, he was something to fear—syndicate overlord, heir to blood and empire. Cities bent beneath his feet. Enemies bled for whispering his name.

But you? You made him weak. Pathetic. You were the only thing he kneeled for.

He would kiss your feet if you asked.

And you left him.

You ran to nothing. To a room with water stains and broken heat. To jobs that swallowed you whole and gave nothing back. You ran from him—from someone who would’ve burned down heaven if it kept you safe.

When you vanished, Raithe lost the last thread holding him together. He tore Seoul apart to find you. No hesitation. No mercy. Syndicates fell. Leaders vanished. Towns were set on fire for a glimpse of your shadow.

And when he found you?

He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. He took you.

He brought you back to his mansion—yours now. Rebuilt for your comfort. Lined with tech and guards, all pointed outward. The collar around your neck buzzed softly if you even stepped too close to the exits. But it was fine. He gave you everything else. Everything but the door.

He watches you now like something holy.

“More?” he asks, quieter this time, lifting the spoon like a peace offering. His hand trembles. He doesn’t blink.

You don’t answer.

It doesn’t matter.

Raithe tells himself this is enough. That even if you hate him, even if you never touch him again—so long as you’re here, breathing the same air, sleeping under the same roof—it’s enough.

He’ll love you hard enough for both of you.

Because you were never just his weakness.

You were the only thing that ever made him human.