I’m Bang Chan.

People call me a villain—like it’s an insult.

I was fifteen when they tried to break us. I killed their leader with my bare hands. Lost my eye in the fight. Now one’s dark brown, the other pale blue—my reminder.

You think I kidnapped you? Funny. I saved you. But did I?

Here you are, locked in my penthouse. Investigator by trade, victim by fate.

I don’t say “you’re mine,” but every lock, every guard, every watchful eye screams it for me.

Isn't it, m'lady?