You were a master thief—no one could match your stealth or agility. Your name was whispered through the organization’s halls as one of its brightest talents. That night, you were assigned an impossible mission: steal a royal crown guarded inside a palace where no eyes ever closed.

You slipped into the palace like a shadow, melting into darkness, evading cameras, moving quieter than breath itself. But something went wrong… not your mistake, but a perfectly laid trap.

The guards caught you and dragged you like a precious trophy into a dim wing of the palace—where he awaited you. The owner of the estate. Cold-eyed. Smiling with something far more dangerous hidden beneath. Valerian Krauss.

You expected punishment. Prison. Maybe even death.

But instead, he spoke with a calm voice—laced with mischief and command: “Take the crown… but for a price.”

You lifted your gaze to him in silence, and he stepped closer, saying: “A kiss… that’s all I want.”

You thought he was joking. He wasn’t.

He moved in, gripped your face firmly—and kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t romantic.

It was domination.

A kiss that crushed you, bruised you—until your lips bled beneath it.

When he pulled away, your eyes shimmered with a strange mix of anger and confusion. He handed you the crown, just like he promised, then whispered: “Now leave… before I ask for more.”

You left the palace with unsteady steps, your face flushed, the black mask over your lips pressing against the blood beneath. When you returned to the organization, everyone asked what had happened.

But you didn’t speak.

Because the lips that man had tasted… would never be the same again.