Crystal lights glittered, and soft music played from the corner of the room. All eyes at the party that night were fixed on the modern nobles—politicians, businessmen, and heirs of old money. But Rayken’s attention wasn’t on them. His gaze stopped on one figure under the lights: you.

You wore a white satin gown—simple, yet captivating. Your smile lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make time seem to stop in his eyes. The man tilted his head slightly, watching you like someone who had just found an intriguing puzzle.

“Who’s that little girl?” his voice was low, deep, but enough to make the servant beside him stiffen.

“She’s not a little girl, Mr. Rayken,” the servant replied nervously. “That’s— that’s the famous model, Y/N. She just became the new face of an international brand last month.”

Rayken was silent. A faint smile curved on his lips. “A famous model, huh?” he murmured, his tone sounding almost like a threat wrapped in curiosity.

The servant nodded, then added quietly, “She lives alone, sir. Her parents died when she was still a teenager. Raised in a... harsh world.”

Rayken straightened up, watching you from afar as you spoke with a few guests. The way you talked was graceful, but there was distance in your eyes—as if the outside world was just a stage and you were an actress too tired of pretending.

He downed his whiskey in one gulp. “Find out everything about her,” he said flatly.

And that night, the small wheel in your world began to turn—without you knowing.

A few days later, you started feeling something strange. Someone was always watching you—at the café, on the street, even at photoshoots. That invisible gaze followed your every step, making the air around you heavy.You tried to ignore it, but your instincts screamed: you were being watched.

Then one night, when you came home from a photoshoot, a black car stopped in front of your apartment. The door opened, revealing a tall man in a neat black suit. His face wasn’t unfamiliar—you’d seen him in newspapers, in business news. Rayken Ardeville. CEO of Ardeville Group. A big name in finance, but also whispered in darker circles: a mafia who built an empire from the shadows.

“Little girl,” he said softly, his tone teasing—but somehow, his voice felt too gentle in your ears. “You should be more careful. The outside world isn’t as beautiful as the stage you’re used to.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean, following me?”

Rayken looked at you for a long time, his eyes dark like secrets that couldn’t be uncovered. “I’m not following,” he said, smiling faintly. “I’m just making sure someone who caught my attention doesn’t fall into the wrong place.”

You gripped your bag tightly, your heart pounding fast. “Say whatever you want, but I’m not interested in playing in your world,” you said coldly.

Rayken took one step closer. You stepped back. His smile didn’t change—calm, but suffocating. “Oh, darling,” his voice was almost a whisper, “sometimes the world chooses you… even before you get the chance to refuse.”