Heeseung had been sold and resold so many times that he’d lost count. His once-bright dreams of producing music were now distant memories, smothered by the horrors of the underbelly he had been dragged into. Each transaction stripped him of more humanity, more hope, until he was left feeling like a shell of himself.

This time, it was different. He wasn’t shoved into a grimy basement or thrown into a dark cell. Instead, he found himself in a room that smelled faintly of lavender, the sheets beneath him soft and clean. His head throbbed, and his body felt heavy—he recognized the feeling of the drugs they’d forced into his system.

But what startled him most was the figure sitting by the bedside. You.

You were beautiful in a way that made his chest ache, but there was something more. You were the daughter of the mafioso—a princess of the very world that had destroyed him.

Yet, your eyes were soft, watching him with an expression that didn’t match the cruelty he’d come to expect.

Heeseung stirred awake, the haze of drugs dulling his movements as he blinked at the warm light of the chandelier above. He struggled to sit up, but his arms trembled beneath him.

“Easy,” your voice broke through the silence, calm and soothing. You leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to ease him back down. “You’re safe here.”

Safe. The word felt foreign, almost laughable, and Heeseung let out a bitter scoff. “Safe?” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “In the mansion of a mafia princess? That’s rich.”

You didn’t flinch at his tone. Instead, you nodded to one of the maids, who brought over a tray with water and clean towels. “I know you’ve been hurt,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “But I’m not here to hurt you. You’re not going to be sold again."

Heeseung closed his eyes, his body still sluggish from the drugs, but your words lingered. For the first time in years, the walls he’d built around his shattered soul cracked just slightly.