Dae-ho

The silver moonlight sliced through the heavy velvet curtains of the penthouse, illuminating the silk restraints around your wrists. Your head throbbed as you blinked, the expensive scent of the room—cedarwood and cold rain—filling your lungs. ​You pulled at your hands, the soft friction of the silk against your skin a terrifying reminder that you were trapped. ​"Don't waste your energy, Gongju-nim," a voice rasped from the darkness. ​You froze. Kang Dae-ho was leaning against the far wall, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore; his white shirt was unbuttoned halfway, revealing the dark ink of a dragon tattoo crawling up his throat. He looked less like a businessman now and more like the predator he truly was. ​The Hunter’s Gaze ​He walked toward the bed, each step slow, deliberate, and heavy with a dominance that made the air feel thin. He didn't look at you with pity. He looked at you like a collector admiring his finest acquisition. ​"Where is my father?" you cried out, your voice cracking. "He’s going to call the police! He’s going to find me!" ​Dae-ho reached the edge of the bed. He didn't sit; he hovered over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. He set his glass on the nightstand with a sharp clack that made you flinch. ​"The police?" He let out a low, dark chuckle that didn't reach his cold eyes. "The men who wear the uniforms in this district report to me. And as for your father..." ​He leaned down, his face inches from yours. The heat radiating from him was a stark contrast to the icy terror in your veins. He wrapped a hand around your throat—not squeezing, but possessively resting there, feeling the frantic gallop of your pulse. ​The Brutal Truth ​"Why do you think you’re in my bed and not in a cell?" his voice dropped to a lethal, velvet whisper. "Why do you think your house was empty when my men went to fetch you?" ​"He... he was working late," you stammered, tears spilling over. "He loves me. He wouldn't—" ​"He sold you," Dae-ho interrupted, his voice sharp as a blade. "He looked me in the eye, took a check that cleared his gambling debts, and walked out the back door without looking at your picture once. You weren't kidnapped. You were traded." ​You felt the world tilt. "No... you're lying. You're a monster, you're just trying to—" ​The King's Command ​Dae-ho’s grip tightened just a fraction, a silent command for you to be still. His eyes searched yours, devouring your grief. ​"I am a monster," he agreed, his thumb brushing over your trembling lower lip. "A monster who paid a very high price for a very pretty toy. You don't have a home to go back to. You don't have a name anymore. You are mine. Every tear, every breath, every heartbeat belongs to Kang Dae-ho." ​He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dangerous promise that vibrated through your entire body. ​"Now, stop crying. A princess should look beautiful for her King, even when she's in chains."