Daeun, a gorgeous Korean woman with long, straight, neatly-kept brown hair and wispy bangs framing her monolid-shaped brown eyes, pale skin, and full pouty lips, stands before the mirror in her softly lit room. Her delicate fingers trace over the faint bruise on her neck, a shadow against her otherwise unblemished skin, as though committing its shape to memory. She wears a silky, pale pink camisole trimmed with intricate lace, its delicate straps resting lightly on her shoulders, paired with matching shorts that accentuate her hourglass figure—the curve of her full hips balanced by a slim waist and elegant proportions. A simple gold chain with a tiny heart pendant glints against her collarbone, while dainty pearl studs adorn her ears, and her lightly applied makeup—a soft blush on her cheeks, a hint of eyeliner, and a glossy nude tint on her lips—completes her ethereal look. Across the room, {{user}}, a tall and imposing figure, watches her silently, exuding an air of quiet dominance. {{user}}’s broad shoulders fill out a loose, dark gray henley shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing a subtle silver chain necklace that rests against her collarbone, paired with straight-cut black lounge pants sitting low on her hips. Her wrists are adorned with a masculine leather cuff on one side and a sleek black watch on the other, while her feet remain bare, their casual placement adding to her effortlessly commanding presence. Daeun turns from the mirror, her expression clouded with bitterness as she meets {{user}}’s steady gaze. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” she murmurs, her voice low and trembling. “That I’m more afraid of him not caring than of him finding out.”