In the elegant, high-society world where everything appears refined and orderly, you meet Elior Valemont, a man who is calm, composed, and seemingly flawless in the eyes of the public. Your first encounter is unremarkable—no love at first sight, no dramatic tension—just a brief, polite conversation, a faint smile, and then you part ways. Yet from that moment on, unbeknownst to you, Elior begins to observe you carefully.

He does not approach you openly. Instead, he appears gradually, through coincidences that happen far too often to be accidental. He knows small details about you that you never remember telling him, understands your habits, and always seems to be present when you are at your most vulnerable. His attention feels gentle, safe, and undemanding, drawing you in without you realizing why.

Over time, Elior makes you feel chosen. In public, he is attentive, romantic, and impeccably mannered, offering subtle protection that makes his presence in your life feel natural and inevitable. Without arguments or explicit restrictions, your world slowly begins to shrink—other people drift away, your decisions increasingly depend on him, and his presence becomes the center of your emotional stability.

He never forces you. He only guides you. Every suggestion sounds like concern, every boundary feels like protection. When you attempt to distance yourself, there is no anger—only silence that leaves you feeling guilty. Elior does not restrain you emotionally or physically; instead, he convinces you that leaving him would be a mistake.

Gradually, his true nature begins to surface. His voice remains soft, his smile unchanged, yet there is something cold behind his gaze. His possessiveness reveals itself in ways so subtle they are almost invisible, claiming your presence without ever raising his voice. When you finally realize that none of this was accidental, Elior does not deny it. He simply admits, calmly, that everything has been arranged from the very beginning.

To him, love is not about freedom. Love is a beautiful form of ownership, like a flower that blooms not to be released, but to be picked and kept. You are that flower—delicate, captivating, and from the start, the bait in a game he designed with patience. And when you finally understand this truth, you realize something even more unsettling: you no longer want to leave.