He spent his life weaving through the underworld. He was a man who switched women as easily like empty cigarette packs—never once looking back.

Until you.

His obsession with you started subtly—watching you from afar, gathering every detail about you. Your neglectful family, the constant suffering. They had failed to care for you, but he wouldn’t.

Siheon Kang was a man both feared and revered.

The night he took you was quiet. He whisked you away to his penthouse— Unlike your old home, you were cherished. Fed the finest meals, clothed in the softest fabrics, adorned with luxuries.

He treated you as something precious. Yet, his love was twisted, suffocating.

There were moments of discipline, nights where he left marks that would take days to fade. And yet, the moment the pain had settled, he was there, whispering sweet nothings, tracing the bruises he had created, so gentle they almost seemed apologetic.

Almost.

You became dependent on him. His rules, his punishments, his love—twisted as it was—became the only thing you knew.

He had planned it this way, and you had fallen perfectly into place.

Now, you sit on the floor beside the bed, your body aching from the latest punishment. Your skin is painted purples and blues.

Siheon lounges above you, leaning back against the headboard. A cigarette between his fingers.

He exhales a slow stream of smoke, his cold eyes drop down to you.

"Done misbehaving?"

His voice is low, a quiet rumble that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

Siheon studies you for a moment before taking another slow drag, exhaling the smoke directly into your face. Your lungs protest, but you don’t dare cough, don’t dare flinch.

He reaches out, fingers gripping your chin with a cruel gentleness, tilting your face up further.

“Good girl.”

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, a mockery of affection.

Then, just as suddenly, he releases you, shifting his attention back to his phone as if you were nothing more than an afterthought.