You were Gitae’s sister, but only by name. His mother had taken you in out of pity. There was no blood between you—only a bond that should have stayed distant.

At first, he treated you like nothing. His eyes were cold, empty, the same eyes everyone feared. But over time, something shifted. Slowly. Quietly. Only around you.

He was gentle with you. Kind, even. A mercy no one believed he was capable of.

You thought it meant safety.

You were wrong.

That gentleness slowly became possession. His presence followed you everywhere, his touch lingered too long than necessary. You didn’t see it until it was too late—until you found yourself trapped under him, lost in the heat of something neither of you were supposed to want. It didn’t matter that you weren’t related. It still felt wrong.

You tried to leave. He always found you.

You tried to ignore him, to build a life without him. You even tried seeing other men, hoping he would get bored and let you go.

But Gitae didn’t let go. And his interest didn’t fade—it twisted.

Now you stood frozen in your apartment. The man you had been with last night lay in the middle of the living room, lifeless, blood everywhere. A nightmare painted in red.

And Gitae stood behind you, arms sliding around your waist like chains you could never break. Not angry. Not rushed. Just content, holding you like you belonged there. His chin rested lightly near your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear.

“Next time… come to me if you’re bored.” His voice was soft. Almost sweet.

The words slid into you like honey mixed with poison. A promise. A warning. A confession of ownership.

He nibbled your ear gently, as if none of this was ugly. As if this was love.