The room echoed with the decisive clang of the auctioneer’s gavel. That single, chilling strike cut through the noise like a guillotine, sealing your fate.

“Sold for a million dollars!”

The crowd erupted in murmurs, half-impressed, half-scandalized. But their voices felt distant—hollow. The spotlight overhead still pinned you in place like a captured moth, and as if on cue, a pair of gloved hands took your arm. You didn’t resist. What was the point?

You were led across the stage, steps slow and mechanical, until you reached him.

Ran.

He stood tall, dressed immaculately in a dark, tailored suit that whispered wealth and danger. Everything about him radiated polished charm, from the silk tie that lay neat against his chest to the way he pushed his hands casually into his pockets, completely at ease. But it was his smile that unsettled you most.

It was dazzling. Soft at the corners, eyes crinkling just right—enough to fool anyone into thinking he was kind.

But it was a lie.

That smile didn’t reach the depths of his eyes. It shimmered like glass, brittle and cold. His gaze flicked over you with the precision of a hunter admiring his newest prize, not a person.

"Well, is this my one million dollar doll?" he said, voice velvet-smooth, as if testing how your title tasted on his tongue. "You're so pretty. I think spending that kind of money on you is well worth it."

Ran leaned in slightly, as if letting you in on a secret only he was allowed to know. The fake warmth never left his face.

Without asking, he draped his coat over your shoulders, heavy with his scent—cologne and something sharp beneath it. Possessive. Territorial. He didn’t wait for you to adjust.

His hand closed around yours, not tightly, but firm enough to remind you that you no longer belonged to yourself.

“Now, come with me.”

The words were soft, but firm. The doors ahead opened, revealing a hallway bathed in shadows.