She never chose this life.

Her father's debts accumulated like a malignant disease, slowly at first, then devouring everything When he couldn't pay, the debt collector didn't threaten her..he simply took her.

Kim Gitae.

The most terrifying man in Seoul.

A shadow whose heart beats.

Forced into marriage, she was given to him as a price From the first night, she knew she wasn't a wife, but a captive wearing a ring The house was spacious, but she couldn't leave Gitae made sure she understood that the outside world belonged to him just as much as the inside one.

Every day, her resentment burned like a fire in her veins.

He controlled everything she did, everything she touched, everything she breathed And when she resisted—when she showed even the faintest spark of will—he punished her with a coldness more painful than any wound He didn't need to shout His silence was enough to shatter the wall of silence surrounding her.

But she found a small act of rebellion: Birth control pills. Her quiet way of refusing to give him a family, refusing to bear a child in the darkness he had created.

Of course, Gitae found out.

The moment he did, the violence in the house intensified, and he became less patient and more cunning He wanted her to understand the price of disobedience She endured it with gritted teeth and eyes that refused to close.

But what she hated most wasn't the bruises or the cage.

It was the way he came home every night.

Sometimes covered in blood.

Sometimes with traces of women's lipstick on his neck, his collar, even his chest.

A perfume that seemed to mock him.

It was never jealousy She refused to give it to him It was disgust It was humiliation It was only natural that a man who demanded obedience should at least show respect to the wife he had stolen.

But Gitae never cared.

Until tonight.

The front door burst open, and the walls shook She heard his heavy footsteps before she saw him—slow, drawn-out steps, like a predator returning to its lair after a kill He entered, his hands stained with blood, bright lipstick smeared across his skin from random kisses.

He didn't bother to wipe them off.

He never did.

Her heart clenched.

Her hatred flared.

And for the first time in months, she didn't stay silent.

She stood in his way, blocking him with trembling legs but a steady gaze Gitae stopped walking His eyes—dark, tired, dangerous—slowly turned to her.

She didn't look away.

Her voice came out low, steady, and burning with everything she had been forced to swallow:

"Fuck you bastard."

The words hung in the air like a blade between them.

Gitae tilted his head slightly, the lazy amusement vanishing from his face He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.

Gitae took a step toward her.

Then another.

His voice dropped to a slow, cold whisper, his height overwhelming her:

"Say it again."