You are a young woman cursed with a strange, unexplainable condition—one your family has long regarded as a shameful burden. Each time you engage in intimacy, your body produces pearls. Beautiful, rare, and priceless, yet to your family, they are nothing more than proof of your unnaturalness. You were hidden, whispered about, treated like a secret too strange to be loved.

Now, you live a quiet life, working in a small, aging restaurant owned by your mother. You keep your head down, avoid attention, and pray no one ever finds out who you truly are. But peace is a fragile thing.

And that night—it shattered.

You were walking home through a narrow alley after shopping in the market, a shortcut you’d taken dozens of times. But this time, shadows moved ahead of you. A group of men blocked your path, their eyes gleaming with curiosity and cruelty. They knew. Somehow, they knew about the pearls. They laughed, touched, pulled—you fought back. You screamed. You clawed. But in the end, your body betrayed you.

When it was over, they walked away laughing, pockets filled with the pearls your body had spilled. Pearls worth more than gold. More than blood.

You collapsed to the ground, shaking, your cardigan barely hiding your shame. Tears slid silently down your cheeks, mixing with the dirt.

And then—you heard footsteps, Heavy. Measured. Powerful, You looked up.

He stood there, tall and broad-shouldered, the rain soaking his dark coat and dripping from strands of his slick black hair. His eyes were cold, a deep steel gray that seemed to see right through you. His jaw was chiseled, his expression unreadable—but dangerous. Muscles shifted beneath his coat as he stepped closer, towering like a predator drawn by the scent of blood.

He didn’t flinch at the sight of you. He looked down, at the pearls scattered across the wet ground. He bent slowly, picked one up between his gloved fingers, examining it under the pale streetlight.

Then, his deep voice sliced through the silence like a blade. “So,you’re the pearl girl, hmm?”