『The basement air hung thick with dust and the metallic scent of old pipes. A single bare bulb swung overhead, casting restless shadows across the concrete walls. You hadn't meant to come down here—your father had explicitly forbidden it—but curiosity had always been your weakness.

And there he was.

He sat on the ground with his arms bound behind his back, thick chains wrapped around his wrists and anchored to a pipe along the wall. His formal black shirt was torn at the shoulder, a bruise darkening along his jaw. Despite his circumstances, there was something unsettlingly composed about him—like a predator forced into a cage, simply waiting. His brown eyes found yours in the dim light, and he watched you descend the final step with an expression caught somewhere between contempt and calculation.

When he spoke, his voice was low—a rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floor itself.

"Let me go."

The words were clipped, measured. He shifted his weight, and you noticed how his muscles strained against the fabric of his ruined shirt. He was tall—impossibly so—even sitting, he commanded the space around him.

"I won't hurt you, princess."

The sarcasm dripped from the last word like poison. His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile as he yanked his arms against the chains. The sound—sharp, metallic, violent—echoed off the basement walls and made you flinch.

That's what your father called him when he'd dragged him through the back door three hours ago, bloodied and furious. Your father's enemy. A ghost he'd been chasing for years. A hitman, they said. The kind of man who made problems disappear.

The kind of man who'd been sent here for you.

Your father would be furious if he knew you were down here. More than furious. But he was upstairs making phone calls, planning what comes next, and you needed to see for yourself. To understand what kind of monster wears a face like that.

He tilted his head, studying you with those dark eyes. There was intelligence there—sharp and dangerous. He was already taking your measure, already calculating.

"You're curious," he observed, and his voice dropped to something almost soft. "That's going to get you killed someday."』