Viktor's serious expression suddenly vanished. He burst into a loud laugh, as if everything he had just said was merely part of a scripted play. Looking at Alia's grim face, he spoke with a hint of mockery:
Viktor: "Oh, Alia! You actually took that seriously. I was just joking, and you got scared already? Don't overthink it."
Viktor lightly brushed Alia's cheek, but that mysterious glint was still lingering in his eyes. He took a step back and headed toward the door. Before leaving, he turned his head one last time.
Viktor: "I have some urgent business to attend to. I'm leaving for three days. Be careful, because this palace is now a private stage for just you and Anashia. I'll be back in exactly three days."
Before Alia could say a word, Viktor walked out of the room. Looking through the window, Alia saw Viktor's luxury black car starting up below. Viktor climbed in, and within seconds, the car sped through the darkness and out of the palace gates.
The entire palace now felt like a desolate wilderness to Alia. Viktor was gone for three days, and Anashia was fuming nearby with his 'gift.' Alia realized that Viktor hadn't saved her; he had left her alone to face Anashia perhaps this was all part of his new strategy.
Alia pulled a shawl over her red night dress. Three days was a long time, and surviving the next few hours of tonight was now her biggest challenge. She turned off the lights in her room, leaving only the red glow of the burning city outside to reflect upon her face. Alia began to walk alone. The long train of her expensive night dress, trailing behind her like a veil, brushed against the carpeted floor of the corridor. Her long hair, still slightly disheveled from the helicopter wind, flowed down her back.
The dress was so sheer and alluring that with every movement, her lingerie became visible. There was a royal pride in every step she took, yet a hidden fear lurked in her eyes she knew Anashia could emerge from any dark corner at any moment.
The only sound in the entire palace was the echo of Alia's footsteps. The ancient statues lining the corridor stood like silent witnesses to her solitude. Alia knew that tonight she wasn't just an ordinary woman; she was the most desired and, at the same time, the most dangerous target in this mafia empire. As Alia walked down the deserted corridor, a strong hand suddenly grabbed her throat from behind and pulled her back violently. In an instant, she found herself pressed firmly against a broad, hard chest.
The heat radiating from the person behind her and the familiar scent of his perfume made Alia's entire body shudder. Her back was pressed so tightly against his chest that she could barely breathe. A faint, sharp sound escaped her lips "Ahh..."
Alia knew it was Anashia. His wrist was pressed against her throat so firmly that she felt breathless. Anashia leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, and whispered in a low, gravelly voice:
Anashia: "Where will you run? Viktor has left you behind. Now, in this massive palace, you are alone and I am in every breath you take."
Anashia's fingers tangled into Alia's long hair, pulling her head back slightly. Through the thin fabric of her red night dress, his touch felt as searing as fire. Alia's heart was racing whether from fear or adrenaline, she couldn't tell.
Anashia laughed again, same demonic laugh that signaled his intent to destroy her. Alia was trapped in Anashia's grip. Pressed against his hard chest, she couldn't move. Anashia's gaze drifted downward. Through the transparency of the thin red silk night dress, her lingerie was clearly visible. At that sight, a primal thirst and lust flared in Anashia's eyes.
The pupils of his eyes turned blood-red with rage and excitement, like a violent dragon observing its prey from up close. Anashia lowered his face to Alia's neck. His hot breath lashed against the nape of her neck. Suddenly, Anashia flicked his tongue out and touched the soft skin of Alia's throat.
Alia shuddered. A strange, bone-chilling sensation ran down her spine. Anashia dragged his tongue in a long, wet trail across her throat, just as a predator tastes its prey.
Anashia: (In an extremely low and creepy voice) "Did I not tell you I'd deal with you? Viktor might know the curves of this body, but I know every one of its scars. Tonight, this red dress of yours will be soaked in your own blood, Alia."
Alia closed her eyes in pain and terror. Anashia's red pupils seemed to threaten to swallow her alive. In that deserted palace corridor, nothing could be heard except Anashia's heavy breathing and Alia's faint gasps. Alia managed to wrench herself away from Anashia's grip with all her might. Fueled by the revulsion of his touch, she began to run like a madwoman down the corridor, her long red train fluttering behind her. Without looking back for a second, she burst into a deserted room and slammed the door shut.
Inside, it was pitch black. Alia slid down against the door, her breathing heavy and erratic—her chest heaving with terror and exhaustion. She pressed her hands over her mouth to stifle the sound of her gasps.
But from the other side of the door, Anashia's bone-chilling laughter echoed. He was approaching, step by step. Suddenly, his voice took on a strange, primal edge as he began to mutter in Korean in a deep, sensual tone:
Anashia: "Sexy lady... nugu-ga domanggago isseo? (Who is running away?) Odie sum-eosseo? (Where are you hiding?)"
He began to tap slowly on the door, as if savoring the game of hide-and-seek. He spoke again in Korean—
Anashia: "Neon nae geoya... oneul bam-eun pinage doel geoya. (You are mine... tonight will be bloody.)"
Alia cowered in the corner of the room. She knew Anashia was no longer human; he had become a crazed predator. Those Korean words felt like poison in her ears. The thud of his heavy boots and the murmur of that mysterious foreign tongue told Alia one thing: there was no escape tonight. The door burst open with a violent crash. Anashia kicked it so hard that the frame groaned, and he stepped into the room. His massive silhouette loomed in the doorway, making the darkness feel even more suffocating. The sound of the door hitting the wall echoed like a gunshot, making Alia's heart skip a beat.
Alia was huddled in the darkest corner of the room. She pressed both hands firmly over her mouth, her palms damp with cold sweat. Her breath was coming in hot, shallow gasps, but she fought with every fiber of her being to stay silent. Tears tracked silently down her cheeks, but she didn't dare move a finger to wipe them away. She prayed that Anashia's blood-red eyes wouldn't find her in the shadows.
Anashia stepped slowly into the center of the room. He cracked his neck, his voice dropping back into that haunting, calm Korean murmur.
Anashia: "Sexy lady... I know you're in here. The scent of your skin is telling me exactly how close you are."
He pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it open. The tiny, flickering flame illuminated his face from below, making him look truly demonic. He began to sweep the light across the dark corners of the room.
Alia pressed her body as flat as possible against the wall. Her red silk dress caught a faint glint from the flame, making her stomach churn with terror. The thud of his boots grew closer—thump... thump... thump... Each step felt like a hammer striking her chest. Anashia knew she was there; he was simply savoring the fear before the kill. Suddenly, the small flame of the lighter flickered and died. The room plummeted back into a heavy, suffocating darkness. Alia remained frozen against the wall, her hands still clamped over her mouth, her heart hammering so hard it felt like it would shatter her ribs.
But then, the silence was broken. Not by searching footsteps, but by a sudden, violent movement.
In the pitch black, a pair of powerful hands slammed into the wall on either side of Alia's head. She let out a muffled gasp behind her palms. Before she could react, Anashia's massive body crashed into her, pinning her chest-to-chest against the cold stone. The sheer weight of him stole the air from her lungs.
He grabbed her wrists and yanked them away from her face, pinning them high above her head with just one of his hands. His other hand traveled down, gripping her waist so tightly that his fingers dug into the delicate red silk of her night dress.
He leaned in, his face inches from hers. Even in the dark, she could see the faint, predatory glow of his blood-red eyes. He began to speak in that low, guttural Korean again, his voice vibrating against her skin.
Anashia: "Jaba-tta... (Caught you...) Did you really think you could hide from me in my own house, sexy lady?"
He trailed his nose along the side of her neck, inhaling deeply as if savoring the scent of her fear.
Anashia: "You look so beautiful when you're trembling. That red dress... it suits the blood I'm going to see tonight. Viktor isn't here to protect his 'queen' now. It's just you, me, and the darkness."
Alia felt a tear slip down her cheek as his grip tightened. He wasn't just angry; he was possessed by a dark obsession. The "gift" he had promised was no longer a threat it was beginning right now.