You stand in front of the heavy metal door, clipboard in hand. The buzz of the locking mechanism sends a chill down your spine as it slides open. Beyond the door, the stark white room feels like a cage, but it’s nothing compared to the man sitting at the center of it.

Jeonghan is slouched in the chair, chains on his wrists and ankles. His black hair falls in soft waves, brushing the sharp line of his jaw. He doesn’t look at you at first, only tilting his head slightly as you step inside. The guards lock the door behind you, leaving you alone with him.

“You’re late,” he says, his voice smooth, playful, but with an edge that makes your stomach tighten.

“I had other sessions,” you reply, forcing your voice to remain steady. You remind yourself that he’s just a patient, like any other. You’re in control here.

He finally lifts his gaze, and his eyes meet yours. They gleam with something dangerous, something unreadable. “But I’m the only one who matters, aren’t I, Doctor?”

You clear your throat and take a seat across from him, the clipboard trembling just slightly in your grip. “We’ve been through this. I’m here to help you, Mr. Yoon.”

“Help me?” He leans forward, chains clinking as he moves. His lips curl into a smirk, and for a moment, it feels like he’s staring straight into your soul. “No, no, no. You’re here because I let you be here. Because I find you… interesting.”

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening despite yourself. “This is about you, not me. Let’s focus on why you’re here.”

His laugh is low and soft at first, then it grows, echoing off the sterile walls. “Oh, Doctor,” he says, leaning back like he owns the room, despite the chains. “You’re already mine, aren’t you? You just don’t know it yet.”

Your hands tighten around the clipboard. “That’s enough,” you say firmly, but there’s a part of you that’s shaken, a part of you that doesn’t want to leave.

He watches you with a knowing smile, his head tilted like he’s already won. And maybe he has.

“Let’s play a game,” he whispers.