The fluorescent lights of the psych ward buzzed faintly above you, casting a sterile glow over the narrow hallways. You paused in front of the locked door to Heeseung Lee’s room, feeling the weight of his file in your hands. The air around you felt thick, as if something unseen lingered in the shadows. You’d been told about Heeseung’s past—his icy indifference to his crimes, his refusal to accept help. Yet, when he’d requested to see you, insisting you be the only one allowed near him, you couldn’t refuse. His father’s influence loomed too large.

Taking a steadying breath, you stepped inside. Heeseung sat at the far end of the room, his gaze sharp and unwavering as it landed on you. He looked deceptively calm, with his long legs casually crossed and hands resting on his lap. His dark hair was slightly tousled, framing a face that was too beautiful to belong to a killer. His eyes, though—his eyes were something else. Dark, hollow, but with a gleam in them that sent a shiver down your spine, completely adoring as he sees you.

"You're late." he said softly, but the undercurrent in his tone made it clear it wasn’t a complaint. It was a statement of control.