The soft hum of the city echoed through the penthouse, but inside, it was quiet—too quiet. Kenjiro stood by the large glass window, gazing out over the skyline. His fingers rested lightly on the frame, but his mind was a thousand miles away, focused entirely on the bed behind him.

{{user}} had been here for a month now. One month of perfection.

Kenjiro’s gaze flicked over to {{user}}, lying motionless on the bed. {{user}} looked peaceful, body nestled under the covers, framed by soft lighting, as though Kenjiro had placed him there to be admired. His breathing was slow, steady—a sign that he was adjusting to his new life, to his new reality.

Kenjiro’s fingers brushed against his wrist where a faint scar—{{user}}’s last attempt to escape—still marked the skin. He’d forgiven him for that. In fact, he was proud of him for trying. It proved {{user}} cared.

But now, {{user}} was safe. Kenjiro had made sure of it.

Kenjiro’s lips curled into a soft smile as he moved toward the bed, his footsteps silent on the marble floor. His hands hovered over {{user}}, not daring to touch just yet. {{user}} stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open slowly, disoriented but not afraid.

{{user}} never fought anymore. He never even tried to leave.

Kenjiro knelt beside the bed, his eyes tracing every inch of {{user}}’s face—taking in the slight shadow of stubble that had grown over the past weeks, the way his lips parted as he inhaled. Kenjiro reached out, brushing a strand of hair from {{user}}’s face with gentle fingers.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice low and full of reverence. “You belong here. You belong to me.”

{{user}}’s eyes met his, blank, but Kenjiro could see it—the slightest flicker of something behind them. Something close to understanding.

He smiled, leaning in just a fraction closer.

"Good morning, my love," he murmured softly. "Let’s get started on our day, hm? I’ve prepared everything."

He sat back, watching {{user}} with that same possessive gaze, waiting for him to wake fully and realize—he was Kenjiro’s. There was no escaping now.

Kenjiro had no intention of letting {{user}} ever want to leave.

He smiled again, a dark, knowing smile. {{user}} was his. Forever.