The black car screeched to a halt in front of the massive iron gates, its polished exterior gleaming under the dim glow of the mansion's exterior lights.
The engine's growl faded into an eerie silence as the door swung open, and Sank stepped out.
Dressed in a flawlessly tailored black suit, his presence was as sharp as the crisp night air. His polished shoes clicked against the cobblestone path as he adjusted his cufflinks, his expression unreadable.
The servants, lined up in perfect formation at the entrance, bowed deeply as he approached.
An old man—the head butler—stepped forward, his aged hands trembling slightly as he clasped them together. His eyes flickered with unease before he forced himself to meet Sank's gaze.
Sank's fingers twitched, forming a quick sign. "How is she doing?" His movements were precise, his tone gentle, yet there was an undercurrent of something darker.
The old man hesitated. Swallowing hard, he bowed even lower, his voice barely above a whisper. "Little Elli—" He caught himself, correcting swiftly. "I mean... Madam didn't touch a single piece of food."
Sank's hand lifted, the unspoken warning cutting him off mid-sentence, hanging between them like a blade.
Without another word, Sank strode past the servants, his polished shoes echoing through the grand, hollow halls of the mansion.
Behind him, the servants exchanged uneasy glances. The usual quiet murmurs of the household had turned into a suffocating silence.
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"Mam, uhm... Sir has arrived." The lady servant's voice trembled as she delivered the news, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her apron. She hesitated near the door, afraid that Ellina might scream. The last time had been... difficult.
"Why are you telling me this?" Ellina's voice was barely a whisper, muffled against her arms.
She sat curled on the grand bed, knees pulled tight to her chest, her small frame swallowed by the silk nightgown they'd forced her into. The delicate fabric was wrinkled now, one strap slipping off her shoulder, exposing the sharp lines of her collarbone. She hadn't moved for hours.
The servant swallowed. "I—I just thought you should know, mam."
A beat of silence. Then, in that same hollow tone: "Leave... Leave this room."
There was no anger, no outburst. Just exhaustion. Ellina didn't blame them—they were only following orders. But their pity was suffocating.
"Okay, mam. If you need anything, call us." The servant bowed and slipped out, the door clicking shut behind her.
Alone again, Ellina's arms tightened around herself.
Why did I end up here, Father? Is this a punishment?
Her throat burned, but no tears came. She was past that. The night deepened outside, the shadows stretching like claws across the room, but she didn't move. Didn't sleep. Just leaned there, a hollow-eyed ghost in a gilded cage.
Hunger gnawed at her, but the pain was distant, dull. She barely felt it anymore.
Then—a knock.
She offered no reaction. No sign of care.
The door opened. Heavy footsteps. A shadow loomed over her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the corner of the room.
A tray was placed on the bedside table. The creak of a chair. Then light—the table lamp flickered on, casting a dim glow over the bed.
"I know you can't endure hunger." Sank's voice was low, rough.
Ellina remained silent. Her gaze stayed downcast, vacant, as if she wasn't even there.
A sigh. Then, firmer: "Get up."
Nothing.
His frown deepened. In one swift motion, he gripped her shoulders and hauled her upright, pressing her back against the headboard. She was limp in his hold, her body slack like a broken doll.
He reached for the bowl—warm soup, steam curling into the air—and lifted a spoonful to her lips.
She didn't open her mouth.
Her gaze remained empty, distant, her presence almost a void.
Sank's jaw tightened.
The silence between them was thicker than the darkness outside.
The spoon hovered between them, untouched.
Then—
Sank moved.
Not with the spoon.
His hand shot out, gripping the back of Ellina's neck, pulling her forward as his mouth crashed against hers.
It wasn't a kiss.
It was a violation.
The warm soup spilled between their lips as he forced her tongue down with his, making her swallow. She choked, her body jerking in shock—and then her eyes flew open, wild and furious.
A sharp crack echoed through the room.
Her palm struck his cheek with enough force to snap his head to the side.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she glared at him, lips trembling.
"Bastard."
Sank's tongue pressed against the inside of his stinging cheek, rolling his eyes. Then—he smirked.
But it wasn't amusement.
It was something darker, something that made his features contort, a raw twist of emotion that seemed to demand: Why do you hate me so much?
But that question, if it even existed, was swiftly overridden by the cold, hard truth of his possession.
He had her.
He owned her.
And he would keep her, no matter how much she fought.
"If you're not going to eat..." His jaw clenched, eyes burning like embers. "Be prepared to eat like this."
Ellina's breath hitched. Anger, disgust, miserable—all of it twisted her expression into something raw. She hadn't wanted to speak to him, but the words tore out of her anyway.
"Are you threatening me?"
"Threatening?" Sank tilted his head, a predatory gleam in his eye, the question a mockery of concern. "What do you think?"
Ellina's hand flew up again—but this time, he caught her wrist mid-air, slamming it against the headboard. Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling, emotions clashing like blades.
She yanked free, turning her face away. "Leave. I don't want to see your face."
Sank grabbed her chin, forcing her back. "Don't try my patience—"
"Or what?" she shouted. "You'll force me? To look at that pathetic face of yours? I never—"
He moved.
This time, the kiss wasn't just rough—it was consuming.
His mouth claimed hers with a desperation he'd been holding back, sucking the air from her lungs, the fight from her bones. He didn't close his eyes. He watched her—every flinch, every tremor—as if he could devour her soul through the contact.
Ellina shoved against his chest, one hand fisting in his hair, yanking him back.
In an instant, he twisted her arm behind her, pinning her in place. His other hand caged the side of her face, fingers pressing into her skin.
Is he going insane? I-I can't breathe.
Her heart hammered. Her mind screamed. What kind of monster... kisses like that?
"Mngh—!"
She struggled, thrashing, but his grip was iron. He wouldn't let go.
And then—
Memories.
Poisonous, suffocating, flooding her mind.
No. No. Not now. I don't want to remember. Go away—
With a snarl, she bit down—hard.
Blood bloomed between their lips.
Sank pulled back slowly, the crimson dripping from his split lip. But he didn't flinch. Didn't even seem to care.
Ellina wiped her mouth violently, tears streaking down her face. Disgust. Regret. Desperation.
Sank reached for the tray again.
"Eat."
His voice was steel. His eyes—a warning.
Another wrong move, and you'll face the consequences, Ellina.
Ellina dug her nails into her own skin, her gaze burning into his with pure, unfiltered hatred.
I'll kill you.
The vow seared into her heart.
You son of a bitch.
I'll ruin your life like you did with me.
He saw it all in her eyes.
"What do you want from me?" Her voice was raw, cracking from disuse.
Sank didn't hesitate. "Eat. Then I'll tell you."
A beat of silence. Then—
Ellina grabbed the tray violently, shoving spoonfuls of food into her mouth with reckless abandon. She barely chewed, swallowing chunks whole, her movements frantic as if she could bury her rage in the act itself. Soup dripped down her chin, her fingers trembling around the spoon—until she choked, coughing violently.
Sank extended a glass of water.
She ignored it.
Before he could force it on her, she snatched the bottle herself, gulping down the water with shaky urgency. When she finally lowered it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she glared up at him—
And found him giggling.
Her frown deepened.
"No matter how angry you are, you never say no to food," he mused, his voice almost fond. Then, before she could react, his thumb brushed against her lower lip, wiping away a stray drop of broth. "Good night." He turned to leave.
Ellina's hand shot out, gripping his sleeve with desperate strength.
"I'm asking you again. What do you want from me?" she demanded, louder this time, her voice rasping, raw, echoing off the walls. "I want to go back!"
Sank stilled. Then, slowly, he turned just enough to glance at her over his shoulder.
"Don't... misbehave. Or because of you, another life will be—" A pause. A threat wrapped in velvet. "—killed by me."
Her breath hitched. Her fingers went slack, releasing his shirt as if burned.
"What do you mean?"
N-no… Don't… Don't do anything to him.
She whispered, her voice breaking. "P-please... please."
Was it fear of him that made her tremble? Or the terror of losing someone else—someone precious—again? She didn't know.
She couldn't bear the thought.
Not again.
Never again.
Even if it cost her everything.
Sank studied her for a long moment. Then, as if rewarding a frightened animal, he patted her head.
"Do as I say, Ellina," he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. "Then the people around you will be fine." A pause. A ghost of something almost tender in his tone. "Please. Do as I say, Elli."
And with that, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.
"Good night," his voice floated back, barely audible.
Ellina sat frozen in the dim lamplight, her hands clenched into fists on her lap.
The shadows stretched longer.
And the mansion swallowed her whole.
Heion... please come. I want to go back... someone help me.
The first light of dawn crept through the heavy curtains, but Ellina hadn't slept a wink.
Her mind raced through the night, turning over every possible escape, every strategy. She couldn't stay like this—trapped, powerless, a puppet on Sank's strings. But fighting him head-on would only get people hurt. No, she needed to be smarter.
Play along. Survive first. Escape later.
By the time morning arrived, her decision was made.