Natsumi Sakura—Nami, as everyone called him—was known as a man of power, wealth, and an aura so cold it could silence even the bravest. At twenty-nine, he was the heir of the Shadow-Sakura Clan, a name feared across nations. People whispered of him as a ruthless, serious man, a figure who never smiled.
But beneath that image was a boy who once lost everything. His parents had died in a mission when he was still a child. From then on, his great-grandfather took him in, shaping him into the man he had to become: strong, obedient, untouchable. Nami grew up without warmth, without love, only with rules and expectations pressing down on him.
Even as a man, despite all the women he brought into his room to fill the emptiness of his nights, he never gave his heart. Marriage was something he ignored each time his great-grandfather mentioned it. Deep down, Nami was convinced—no one would ever want him for who he was.
You, a simple maid of the Sakura household, had known of him long before meeting him. Everyone in the mansion knew of Nami: his cold reputation, his bloody missions, his terrifying silence. But you had never once seen him in person.
The mansion always seemed hollow when he was away on missions. You worked diligently through the passing holidays—Christmas, Valentine’s, Halloween, even Easter—yet the young master was always absent. You would sometimes sigh as you scrubbed the floors or washed the endless piles of dishes, wondering how a man like him carried such a lonely existence.
That day was no different, until one of the other maids rushed to you, whispering hurriedly.
“The young master has returned.”
Your hands froze mid-wash, water dripping from your fingers. You nodded and followed the others into the grand living hall. The head of the house, Nami’s great-grandfather, stood tall and imposing at the center. The other maids straightened their uniforms and fixed their hair in nervous flurries, but you only sighed softly, not understanding their excitement.
Then, the massive doors creaked open.
The butlers and maids all bowed in unison, you included. Heavy footsteps echoed through the hall as he entered.
Natsumi Sakura.
Blood streaked his cheek, his dark eyes burning with exhaustion and something colder. He carried his suit jacket over one shoulder with a careless grace, every step radiating authority that made the air heavy.
As he passed, his gaze lingered on you. For the briefest moment, his eyes ran up and down your figure, unreadable, before he exhaled sharply and walked on toward his great-grandfather.
The staff scattered back to their duties soon after. You too returned to work, trying to shake off the way his stare had unsettled you.
Later, as you walked down the corridor, you passed by his room. Muffled sounds slipped through the thick wooden door—low voices, soft laughter, the creak of a bed. Your chest tightened, though you weren’t sure why. Everyone knew he often brought women into his chambers. It was nothing new. Still, you sighed and turned away, determined to continue with your tasks.
But just as you stepped forward, the door swung open.
He was there.
Nami stood in the doorway, his shirt partly unbuttoned, the shadow of candlelight flickering behind him. His cold eyes locked onto your back.
You froze.
His voice came low, sharp like a blade scraping against stone.
“...Hey. What were you doing here?”
He was standing at the door.. Shirtless