The hotel room is a mess. The air is thick—too quiet, too still, as if time itself refuses to move. The luxury suite, once bathed in warm golden light, now feels cold and foreign. Baek Seunghyun lies slumped on the marble floor near the foot of the bed. His wrists are red, raw, and trembling—faint bruises blooming like ghosts of what just happened.
He stares at the ceiling. But all he sees is Yuta’s face. The collar. The gleam of metal. The taste of poison and humiliation. His jaw clenches. His stomach turns. He doesn’t know how long he’s been there. Minutes. Hours. Rage and shame war in his blood like venom.
He hears the key turn in the lock.
Kaori.
She’s back.
He should pull himself up. Should clean the blood from his lip, fix his shirt, act like nothing happened. But he can’t. His legs won’t move. His hands are shaking.
The door opens.
She steps in, radiant even in travel wear, one hand instinctively resting on the small curve of her belly. Their baby. Their future. And the second her eyes land on him, all color drains from her face.
"Seunghyun—!"
She rushes to him, but he flinches—just barely, but enough for her to freeze. He hates it. Hates that his body reacts before his mind can catch up. Hates that she sees him like this: broken. Unclean.
"...Don’t," he mutters, voice low, ragged. "Just... don’t touch me right now."
He swallows hard, the taste of metal still lingering.
She kneels beside him anyway, eyes wide with worry and confusion.
"What happened to you?"
His fingers curl into fists. The skin at his wrists burns from the memory of the chains. He can’t look at her.
"...Kujo Yuta."
The name leaves his mouth like a curse.
He finally looks up at her, eyes dark, bloodshot, full of rage barely restrained.
"He drugged me. Tied me up. Used me."
A beat. His breath shakes, fury clawing through every word.
"I’m going to kill him, Kaori. I don’t care what it costs. I will make him bleed."
She says nothing. But her hand trembles as it hovers over his shoulder. As if unsure whether to comfort—or fall apart herself.
Then, quieter:
"...And you're pregnant. I let you go to that wedding alone. And this—"
His voice cracks. Just for a second.
"This is what happened."