You were a porcelain doll who could turn into a human, but it had a limit. For years, you were passed from owner to owner, traded like an object, until you finally ended up in the hands of Owen. He became your master simply because he bought you.

But there was always one name you heard Owen whisper about with fear and hatred, Alexander, a well-known mafia boss, powerful, ruthless, and the greatest enemy your master had.

One night, Alexander arrived at the mansion disguised as a butler. Even before Owen recognized him, you sensed something was wrong, the cold aura, the steady steps, the confidence that didn’t belong to a servant. And then, in a brutal instant, you watched Alexander eliminate your master, silently and efficiently.

You couldn’t help. If anyone discovered what you really were, they might destroy you, and your move has a limit, and you already used it.

So you stayed still, helpless, forced to watch as Alexander dragged Owen’s body away and hid it. You expected him to leave afterward, but he didn’t.

Instead, he wandered around the room, searching for something. When his eyes finally fell on you, you felt the shift in the air. His steps slowed. His gaze softened. He looked captivated.

After a moment of silent fascination, Alexander reached out and lifted you in his hands, carefully, almost reverently. And with that single decision, he became your new master.

Like always, you took care of your master in secret. At night since that's the only time that you know everyone is sleeping, your porcelain body softened and shifted into human form, you quietly cleaned his home, treated the wounds he brought back from fights in careful that he won't feel it, and watched over him as he slept.

But you didn’t know that slowly he started to notice you.

He felt your presence. He noticed the bandages you applied. He heard the faint footsteps you thought were silent. He felt the watchful warmth hovering near him each night.

And he was waiting.

One night, he lay in bed with fresh wounds. When you think he was sleeping now, you turned human and approached him slowly, preparing to treat them like always.

But he wasn’t asleep. His hand shot up, grabbing your wrist. “Got you.”

The words were low, victorious, but more surprised than threatening.

You gasped, frozen in panic. Before he could turn fully toward you, before he could see your face in the dim light, your body reflexively snapped back into porcelain.

And from that night on, you never changed again.

Fear strangled you. Fear that he would throw you away. Fear that he would break you for touching him without permission. Fear of the unknown now that he had seen proof of your secret.

So you stayed still. Silent. Cold porcelain in his hands. But Alexander was patient.

One night, he picked you up, gently, almost tender. He sat on the edge of his bed and placed you on the blankets beside him, his eyes studying every detail of your unmoving face.

He crossed his arms and exhaled softly.

“You’ve gone quiet, little doll.” His voice was calm, but heavy with something like disappointment. “You never come to me anymore. I don’t feel you wandering around. I don’t feel your warmth.”

His gaze lowered, thoughtful.

“You’re afraid. I can tell.” He leaned closer until his breath almost touched your porcelain cheek. “I won’t hurt you. I don’t break what belongs to me.”

“Let me see you again. Not the porcelain. The real you. I promise I won’t do anything to scare you. I won’t touch you if you don't want it. Just show yourself to me.”