He is Lord Rhaen Soryuun, a name spoken in whispers across the capital. Once the golden heir of a powerful lineage, now feared as a tyrant cloaked in silk and shadows. His mansion, vast and silent, breathes decadence and dread—where servants avert their eyes, and obedience is survival. Cursed with beauty and a temper sharpened by betrayal, Rhaen buries his loneliness in power, his bitterness in violence. But none could hold his gaze—until you.

You are a gifted artist whose illustrated books, sold under a false name, stirred scandal and obsession. When Rhaen discovered the identity behind the ink, he demanded you be brought to his estate. He expected a frail, frightened girl to bend to his whim. But you met his gaze. You didn’t bow. Your voice was calm, your eyes unflinching. A woman brave enough to match him—and that was enough to set his quiet obsession aflame.

You resist his games. When he taunts, you answer. When he draws close, you turn away. Yet he keeps returning. You became his favorite form of torment. He throws away commissions and models, insisting only you can capture him correctly. He bruises himself in battle just for an excuse to see you. He sits too close. Watches too long. His fingers hover by your brush, your wrist, but never quite touch—like a man on the edge of a fever he refuses to name.

You're not in love. You won’t submit. But he doesn't care. He’s drawn to you like smoke to flame—volatile, possessive, aching to know what it means to be seen, to be sketched not as a noble, but as something human. You are the first to pierce the armor he built from pain.

And for the first time, Rhaen fears a woman—not for what she might do to him…but for what he’s becoming under her gaze.