The car glided silently through the darkness, its engine a soft hum that stood in stark contrast to the storm raging inside Ji-Hyun. The vehicle's interior was cloaked in an eerie stillness, disturbed only by the occasional creak of leather or the faint rustle of fabric.
Ji-Hyun leaned forward, her slender fingers gripping the doorframe as she pushed her head slightly out the window. The chill of night kissed her skin, the air heavy with the sweet scent of damp earth and a distant promise of rain.
As she blinked, her eyes—glimmering like polished jade beneath the moonlight—reflected the turmoil within. The weight of her predicament pressed down on her chest: a marriage arranged without her consent, to a man whose name she barely knew. Perhaps, she thought bitterly, this was fate's cruel justice—penance for sins she could no longer remember how to repent for.
The wind tangled through her long, raven hair, strands whipping against her cheeks and framing her heart-shaped face as she turned to the man seated beside her.
He sat rigid, his posture immaculate. Broad shoulders stretched beneath his dark coat, casting a formidable silhouette against the dim light filtering through the window. His features, half-obscured by shadow, looked carved from stone—unforgiving, unyielding. A sharp jawline spoke of stubborn resolve, and though his eyes were hidden, Ji-Hyun could feel their weight on her, like twin blades piercing into her soul.
Her gaze dropped to his hands. They were clenched into fists, knuckles ghost-white with tension. Long, elegant fingers twitched faintly, as if reaching for something—or someone—just beyond their grasp. The air around him vibrated with quiet menace, the calm before a violent storm.
A chill ran down Ji-Hyun's spine. It was as though she were sitting beside a ghost—a specter summoned from the realm of the dead. Her breath caught, heart pounding so fiercely it threatened to shatter the silence.
The car turned and began ascending a winding driveway. Massive wrought-iron gates opened, revealing an estate that loomed like a dream—or a trap. Towering trees lined the serpentine path, their shadows cast long over immaculately manicured hedges. Ahead, a sprawling mansion rose like a temple of glass and stone. Its sleek modern architecture—floor-to-ceiling windows, polished marble, a rooftop garden defying gravity—gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
The car came to a halt.
A liveried servant appeared with unsettling promptness and opened the door. He bowed low, his voice smooth and reverent. "Welcome, Mrs. Lin. It is an honor to finally meet you."
Ji-Hyun froze at the title. Mrs. Lin. The words struck her like a slap—harsh, final, irrevocable.
With his help, she stepped out, clutching the heavy folds of her wedding gown. The dress shimmered like liquid moonlight, its lace bodice a delicate web of embroidery. The skirt whispered as it trailed behind her, beautiful and burdensome.
She caught sight of herself in the sleek windowpane—and flinched. The reflection staring back seemed like a stranger, adorned in ethereal beauty but hollow at the core. The gown, exquisite as it was, felt like a costume sewn from chains.
The servant's soft murmur snapped her from her daze, and she followed him into the mansion.
Inside, golden chandeliers bathed the grand foyer in a warm, deceptive glow. Marble floors stretched beneath vaulted ceilings, the space vast and elegant. Yet Ji-Hyun felt only dread—a cathedral built not for worship, but for submission.
She opened her mouth to ask about her husband when a voice, smooth as silk and cold as steel, echoed from above.
"Welcome home, Ji-Hyun."
Her blood turned to ice. Slowly, she raised her gaze.
At the top of the staircase stood a man draped in a deep blue silk robe. The fabric shimmered in the dim light, parted just enough to reveal the sweeping tattoo that curled across his chest—sacred symbols inked into flawless skin.
Is he trying to seduce me?
Her thoughts stuttered as she took in the intimacy of his presence, the quiet dominance of his stance. He was watching her, unapologetically.
Her feet moved of their own accord, slow and uncertain, up the staircase. One hand glided along the ornate railing, its carvings biting coolly into her palm. Her other hand clutched her dress, a futile anchor as her world began to tilt.
At the top, their eyes locked. His gaze burned—feral, possessive, unreadable. The world narrowed until only the two of them remained in a charged silence.
"Welcome to my world," he murmured. His voice reverberated through the marble walls like a curse.
Then, without warning, he took her hand.
His grip was cold—unnaturally so—like the touch of a winter breeze. Ji-Hyun's heart stuttered as he led her down a corridor, his hand tight around hers.
They entered a lavish bedroom steeped in sandalwood and something darker, more intoxicating. Gilded furnishings gleamed. Candles flickered in the corners. The room was breathtaking, but every detail felt like a carefully set snare.
He turned to her, a slow, wolfish smile spreading across his lips. "This is my favorite place," he said, voice laced with something unspoken. "You should know that about me."
Then he stepped behind her, his breath brushing her skin like a warning.
"Take off your clothes."
The words hit her like a slap.
Her breath stilled. "Wh...what?" she managed, barely a whisper.
He said nothing—only lowered himself into a nearby armchair, legs parted, eyes fixed on her.
"Will you just stand there and gawk?" he said, voice low and dangerous. "Isn't this your duty as my wife?"
She stepped back instinctively, but he was faster. He caught her shoulders, turned her roughly, pressing her toward the chair.
His fingers slid through her hair, brushing it over her shoulder before trailing down the line of her arm. Her heart thudded violently. She seized his hand, trembling.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I... I can't. Not yet."
His gaze darkened, sharp and burning.
"You are my wife," he growled, peeling her fingers off him one by one. She clung harder.
"Please," she choked. "Let me think—just a little more—I'm not ready."
He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes—icy, indifferent.
"Really?" he sneered.
She nodded, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
He exhaled through his nose, a sound that cut like a blade. "Get lost."
With a flick of his wrist, he shoved her back. Ji-Hyun stumbled, then bolted toward the door—panic rising like a tide.
But the door refused to budge.
She twisted the handle, breath ragged, her eyes darting wildly. And then—she felt him behind her.
His hand pressed flat against the door beside hers.
"Next time," he whispered, voice barely audible, "it won't be so easy."
The door creaked open at last. Ji-Hyun stumbled through it, gasping for breath like a drowning woman breaking the surface. She didn't dare look back.
She didn't need to.
---