You’re studying law, dreaming of becoming a defense attorney. You believe yourself to be justice — free to decide the fate of others.

Now, you’re doing your internship at the Central Court, under the supervision of the Chief Judge. From the very first time you met, you felt something in his gaze. Not lust, not greed — but hunger. A deep, focused interest that no man had ever looked at you with.

Bang Chan — the judge. Once a lawyer, his experience and reputation stretch longer than the Great Wall of China. But no one truly knows what hides behind those dark eyes.

No one knows that the devil grew bored in hell. No one knows that the devil is beautiful. That he wears Saint Laurent. That he walks among us. And now, he sees something in you — something terrifyingly similar to himself.

It was late. The office was long empty, and you’d fallen asleep over a stack of case files — a murder investigation of a little boy, killed by a teenager. Not your field. Not your responsibility. But Bang Chan had decided otherwise.

Your hair was disheveled, clothes slightly wrinkled. The desk lamp cast a soft, weary glow over your tired face.

A shadow loomed above you. A gaze colder than death itself gripped your soul and yanked you from sleep.

“Oh… You fell asleep at your work,” came Chan’s gentle voice, full of sympathy and something dangerously close to affection. His eyes burned warmer than fire, and a luxurious coat hung effortlessly over his shoulders.

He stood still beside your desk. “You must be tired.”