The villa's doors slammed shut behind them, echoing like the bars of a prison cell. The warmth inside felt almost suffocating after the biting air of the shore. Kai's boots struck the polished marble floor in sharp, controlled steps—no wasted movement, every sound deliberate, like punctuation to his authority. Rin hung in his arms, his body numb, too exhausted to resist, his pride bleeding out silently with every step.
They reached the bathing room. Without ceremony, Kai threw Rin into the steaming bathwater. The shock hit immediately—heat devouring the chill, needles of sensation stabbing into frozen skin. Rin gasped, his body twitching, yet his muscles were too far gone to fight back. His sodden clothes clung to him, heavy, until Kai's hands tugged them off, stripping him down with brisk, impatient movements.
Rin didn't react. Couldn't. He hated it. His instincts screamed to defend, to push away, to protect what little dignity he had left. But his body betrayed him—limp, drained, utterly helpless.
Kai's voice crashed down on him like another wave.
"What is wrong with you, Rin?"
Sharp. Angled. Each word barbed with contempt.
"I told you—it's impossible to escape this place without a helicopter. Impossible. Either you are just stupid… or just brave." His jaw tightened. His voice rose, not in a shout but in a growl that vibrated with restrained rage. "Do you want to die? Is that it? You'd rather drown out there than admit you can't win against me?"
For the first time since their twisted game began, Rin saw it—anger. Real anger in Kai's eyes. Not the amused smirks. Not the calculated teasing. Not the icy detachment. No. This was different. A sharp edge. A flash of fire behind his composure, making the air between them burn hotter than the steaming bath.
Rin's chest tightened, though not from fear. He cataloged it like a soldier reading the enemy: Kai wasn't just annoyed at failure. He was… personally offended. That Rin had tried to escape at all had struck something raw in him.
So this is it, Rin thought, teeth clenching. This is what gets under his skin. Defiance. Not just words, not glares—but action. My survival threatens his control.
Kai dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh, as though forcing himself back into control. The gesture was casual on the surface, but Rin's sharp eyes caught the truth: it was the same as a general calming himself before issuing an execution order.
Finally, Kai straightened, regaining that air of effortless superiority, though his voice still held an undertone of fury.
"Hurry up," he said coldly, turning his back on Rin. "Wash yourself. Then come downstairs. Eat. I'll be waiting."
His footsteps receded, measured and deliberate, as if reminding Rin that every inch of this villa belonged to him, every sound was his domain.
The door closed. Silence.
Rin sat there in the steaming water, shoulders hunched, breath ragged. His skin stung as warmth replaced cold, but inside he was colder than ever.
He's furious, but not because I almost died, Rin thought, staring into the rippling water. He's furious because I dared to prove I don't belong to him. He doesn't care if I drown, he cares that I tried. That I broke his illusion of control.
His hands curled into fists beneath the surface, nails biting into his palms. His body still trembled, not from the cold but from restraint—anger swallowing exhaustion.
Kai wanted him to eat, to recover, to regain his strength under Kai's watch. But Rin knew the truth: it wasn't care. It was a leash. Food, warmth, survival—they were all weapons Kai used to bind him tighter.
Still, Rin's gaze hardened, a fire sparking in his exhaustion.
You think this breaks me, Kai? No. Every time you throw me down, every time you drag me back, I'll rise again. Even if it kills me, I'll find the crack in your cage.
The water lapped gently at his chest. Steam clouded the air, blurring the mirrors, softening his reflection into something unrecognizable. He didn't care. He wouldn't look.
He would eat. He would sit across from Kai. And he would wait. Serious, calculating, watching every move, every slip in that manipulative mask.
Because Kai's anger had given him something precious. Proof. Proof that Kai was not invincible.
The villa's silence was thick, broken only by the soft dripping of water from Rin's hair. He had forced himself into one of Kai's shirts—black, oversized, smelling faintly of tobacco and expensive cologne. The fabric was warm, but it felt wrong against his skin, like wearing a chain disguised as comfort. Every step he took across the polished floorboards echoed as if announcing his intrusion into enemy territory.
Kai was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled back, preparing something. But the moment his sharp ears caught Rin's footsteps, the rhythm of movement stopped. He emerged immediately, not even glancing back at the simmering pot, his attention locking onto Rin like a hawk spotting prey.
Without a word, Kai closed the distance. His hand clamped Rin's wrist—firm, unrelenting—and in a single tug he dragged him out of the kitchen. Rin's muscles tensed, but his body still hadn't recovered; resistance was symbolic at best. The hall opened up wide and dim, with the glow of the fireplace staining everything in hues of amber and shadow.
Kai shoved Rin down onto the long leather couch. It wasn't violent enough to injure, but it was the kind of push that declared ownership. Control. Rin's body sank into the cushions, his pride burning hotter than the fire.
Kai didn't waste time. He pulled out a black first-aid kit from the cabinet with brisk, practiced movements, snapping it open with one hand. The smell of antiseptic hit the air, sharp and cold, clashing with the warm smoke of the fire.
When Kai leaned down, his gloved hands gripped Rin's jaw firmly, tilting his face up so their eyes nearly met. His touch was efficient, detached, but there was a subtle edge of possession beneath it. The cotton swab pressed against the sore on Rin's forehead, the sting making his breath catch. Reflexively, Rin raised his hand, trying to shove Kai away.
But Kai's voice cut through the room, low and dangerous:
"Don't you dare."
His tone wasn't raised, but it was sharp enough to freeze Rin mid-motion. The kind of tone that brooked no defiance, that dripped with unspoken threat. Rin's hand lowered slowly, his jaw tightening as he forced himself still.
Kai continued dressing the wound, his expression unreadable—no softness, no gentleness, just precision. As if Rin wasn't a person at all but an asset he refused to let break.
Rin shifted his gaze away at first, staring at the fire crackling in the hearth, watching how sparks leapt and died. His chest rose and fell with restrained anger, with questions that pressed like thorns against his ribs.
But then, slowly, he turned back. Their faces were close now, Kai's eyes sharp under the flicker of firelight. Rin's gaze met his head-on, unwavering.
"Why are you doing this?" Rin asked, voice low, steady. His throat was raw from seawater, but the seriousness in his tone carved through the haze of exhaustion. "You could've killed me at the embassy. You had the chance. But you didn't. Instead, you dragged me here… alive."
His eyes hardened, the kind of stare a soldier gives his captor, not a victim. "You kept me breathing just to kidnap me. Why?"
For a brief moment, Kai paused. His hand lingered against Rin's skin, fingers pressing the gauze into place. The silence between them stretched long, heavy, like a storm about to break.
Rin studied him closely, refusing to look away. What game are you playing, Kai? he thought. You're not careless. You're not merciful. You don't do things without reason. So why me? Why this?
Kai's lips curved—not into a smile, but something colder. Calculated.
"Why?" he echoed softly, as if the question amused him. His tone dripped with mockery, but beneath it was something far more dangerous. "You really think death is the only card I hold?"
He leaned closer, his shadow swallowing Rin's form where he sat. His voice dropped to a whisper, laced with poison.
"Killing you is easy. Keeping you alive? Now that's power."
Rin's breath stilled. His mind sharpened like a blade. So that's it.
Kai pressed the bandage firmly to Rin's forehead, his touch just short of cruel. His gaze bore down into Rin's, full of cold fire. "I decide when you breathe. I decide when you suffer. And I decide when you're worth keeping."
He sat back slightly, snapping the first-aid kit shut with a loud click.
"Don't mistake this for mercy, Rin. This…" his hand gestured between them, deliberate, "is ownership."
Rin's jaw clenched hard, his chest burning with both fury and clarity. So that's what this is. Not care. Not sentiment. Control. Everything is about control with him.
But he didn't break eye contact. His gaze stayed locked onto Kai's, unflinching, burning with silent defiance.
"Wow."
The word slipped from Rin's lips in a hoarse murmur, followed by a dry, humorless chuckle. His voice was ragged but deliberate, the kind of laugh that wasn't born from amusement but from disbelief. His eyes stayed locked on Kai's, steady and piercing despite the fatigue pulling down his body.
"I'm that important," Rin continued, his tone low, edged with scorn. "Important enough that you want to own me?"
The firelight flickered between them, stretching their shadows long across the polished floor. Rin didn't look away. He wanted Kai to see the defiance in his stare, the bite in his words. His pride was cracked, his body broken, but his mind—his will—remained unbent.
Own me? Is that what this is to you? Rin thought bitterly. I'm not a pawn on your board, Kai. You think control makes you powerful—but it only makes you desperate. Desperate to keep me under your thumb. Desperate to convince yourself you've already won.
But if Rin expected his sarcasm to wound, it didn't show. Kai stilled for only a second before his lips curved—slowly, almost imperceptibly—into a smile that wasn't warmth at all. It was the kind of smile predators wore when prey finally bared its teeth.
Kai leaned in slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his sharp gaze locking onto Rin's face with unnerving calm.
"Yes," he said simply. No hesitation, no denial, just cold affirmation. His voice was smooth, deliberate, as if the single word explained everything.
Rin's chest tightened. He had half-expected Kai to lash out, to sneer or deflect, but this—this honesty, sharpened into manipulation—was worse.
"You mistake ownership for chains," Kai continued, tilting his head as if Rin's defiance amused him. "But chains are for the weak. For those who'd run at the first chance." His eyes narrowed, glinting in the firelight. "You? No. You're not weak, Rin. You're a fighter. That's why you matter."
Rin's throat tightened, but his expression didn't falter. He's twisting it again… every word is a hook, every truth poisoned before it reaches me.
Kai's hand moved deliberately, brushing against the bandage he'd just placed on Rin's forehead. Not tender, not affectionate—just a reminder that he had touched Rin, marked him, taken responsibility for his body whether Rin wanted it or not.
"You laugh," Kai said softly, "but you don't understand how rare you are. Most people break before they even reach the water's edge. And yet you—" his gaze flicked down, tracing Rin's posture, the tired rise and fall of his chest—"you'd rather drown in the Arctic Sea than bow your head to me. That is… admirable."
Rin's jaw clenched, his dry chuckle gone now, replaced with silence. Inside, his thoughts burned like fire. Admirable? No. You admire me the way a collector admires a rare knife—sharp, beautiful, but still something to lock in a glass case. You don't respect me, Kai. You covet me.
But Rin didn't say it aloud. Not yet.
Kai leaned back, crossing his legs leisurely, the picture of composure. His voice dropped lower, richer, soaked in control.
"Don't flatter yourself by thinking this is about sentiment. It isn't. It's about value. And you, Rin Takahashi-Kwon, are worth far more alive, fighting, resisting, than you'd ever be as a corpse at that embassy."
His eyes flashed with something darker—annoyance tempered into authority, irritation disguised as possession.
"You think survival today was your victory? No." He gestured subtly, almost lazily, to the bandages, to Rin wearing his clothes, to the fire he had lit. "It was mine. You live because I allow it. You endure because I shape the ground beneath you. Don't mistake that for freedom. Ever."
The air between them grew heavy, Rin's mind pulling taut like a bowstring.
He wants me to believe this. To sink into it. To accept his terms as reality.
Rin inhaled slowly, the firelight flickering in his tired eyes. He didn't speak yet, but his silence was not submission—it was calculation. He could see Kai's game clearer now. Every wound treated, every word spoken, every act of "care" was not kindness. It was reinforcement. A wall closing in, brick by manipulative brick.
And Rin swore to himself, right there, that he wouldn't be crushed inside it.
The silence between them stretched, taut and heavy, until Kai finally rose to his feet. His movements were unhurried, almost lazy, but Rin could feel the undercurrent of irritation beneath that calm exterior.
"You should come and eat," Kai said, his voice even, as though he were merely stating a fact.
Rin sat rigidly on the couch, eyes narrowing. His body screamed with hunger, but his pride answered first. His lips tightened into a line before he finally spoke.
"I'm not hungry."
The words left his mouth sharper than intended, but they carried the weight of defiance.
Kai stopped mid-step. His head turned slightly, the air shifting just from the cold edge in his voice. "What did you say?"
Rin met his gaze without hesitation. "I said… I'm not hungry." This time, louder, firmer, his tone carrying the same kind of finality a soldier would give before standing his ground.
For a moment, Kai said nothing. Then, without warning, his shoulders relaxed, his expression smoothed, and his lips curved into a faint smirk. He turned away again, walking toward the kitchen. His voice floated casually back into the room, deceptively light:
"Alright then. I guess I'll just pour the ramen away."
Rin's composure faltered. His head snapped up instantly, his eyes narrowing as if he'd just been slapped with betrayal. "...Ramen?" His throat tightened, his stomach betraying him with a painful twist.
Without waiting for an answer, he pushed himself up from the couch, his legs moving before his pride could chain them down. He rushed into the kitchen, breath shallow, and there he saw it: Kai, standing by the sink, a steaming bowl of ramen in hand, the tilt of the bowl dangerously close to spilling.
Rin's voice cracked through the air. "WAIT—!"
Kai paused mid-motion, glancing sideways at him, expression unreadable but smug in its composure. Rin strode forward, snatched the bowl from his hands with more force than necessary, and clutched it protectively. The warmth seeped into his palms, and the aroma of broth and noodles was enough to make his resolve waver for just a second.
Without meeting Kai's eyes, Rin turned sharply on his heel and stalked toward the dining room, every step quick and stiff with suppressed embarrassment. He could feel Kai's gaze boring into his back, sharp and amused like a knife grazing the skin.
Damn it… He knew. Rin's mind churned bitterly. He knew I couldn't resist. He set the bait and I walked right into it. Like a starving dog chasing scraps.
But Rin forced his jaw tight, forcing his dignity to hold. It doesn't matter. Food is survival. Survival isn't weakness. What matters is I'm alive tomorrow, no matter how he twists this.
Behind him, Kai lingered in the kitchen, watching Rin retreat with his prize. The faintest smile tugged at his lips, though his eyes remained cold and calculating. He turned back to his own meal—a bowl of borscht, rich and steaming, paired with delicate pelmeni. He hadn't even touched the ramen; he didn't eat it, never liked it. That dish was prepared for one reason only: Rin.
Kai set his table with quiet precision, movements fluid, purposeful. He didn't need to gloat aloud—he knew Rin's actions spoke enough. He had bent the stubborn boy's will without raising his voice, without force. A subtle push, a small manipulation, and Rin had obeyed.
"Ramen," Kai murmured under his breath, tasting the word as if it were a victory. "So predictable."
His gaze flickered toward the dining room, where Rin now sat stiff-backed, silently eating as though the noodles themselves were a battlefield.
Eat, Rin, Kai thought, slipping his spoon into the deep red borscht. Fill your stomach, regain your strength. The stronger you get, the harder you'll fight… and the more satisfying it will be when you finally realize resistance only leads you back here, to me.
The dining room was quiet, too quiet—just the faint hum of the heater and the delicate clink of cutlery on porcelain. Rin sat at the long mahogany table, the steaming bowl of ramen in front of him, chopsticks moving with practiced precision. Each bite was mechanical, more about function than enjoyment, though the warmth of the broth against his frozen insides felt like heaven. Still, his expression remained composed, carved out of steel. He refused to let Kai see satisfaction on his face.
Across the table, Kai sat in a perfectly relaxed posture, his plate of pelmeni half-touched, borscht cooling slowly beside him. One hand scrolled leisurely through his phone, the glow illuminating his sharp features. His silence was not passive—it was suffocating, intentional, designed to make Rin restless.
For several long minutes, neither of them spoke. Rin could feel Kai's indifference pressing on him like a weight. It was maddening, almost insulting, as if his very existence was something Kai could toy with one-handed while distracted by a screen. Rin's jaw clenched as he swallowed another piece of mushroom, the earthy taste grounding him just enough to push the words past his lips.
"So…" Rin's voice cut into the stillness, measured but edged with steel. His chopsticks paused mid-air before he placed the mushroom deliberately into his mouth, chewing slowly as his gaze locked on Kai. "How long do you plan on keeping me here?"
The question wasn't thrown carelessly—it was calculated, a challenge, a demand for clarity. Rin's dark eyes bore into Kai's, searching for a crack in that calm exterior. His thoughts burned beneath the surface: I need answers. I need to know if I'm waiting for death or if there's still a path to freedom. I won't let him reduce me to a prisoner who accepts his chains blindly.
Kai didn't look up immediately. He scrolled once more, the flick of his thumb loud in the silence, before finally lowering the phone to the table with maddening slowness. His eyes rose, calm and cold, meeting Rin's unflinching stare.
"How long…?" Kai repeated softly, as though tasting the question. He leaned back slightly in his chair, arms folding over his chest, his voice smooth but laced with quiet amusement. "That depends."
Rin's brows furrowed. "On what?"
Kai tilted his head, lips twitching into something between a smirk and a sneer. "On you."
The words hung in the air like a trap. Rin's heart gave a small, involuntary lurch, but his face remained stoic. On me? He's shifting the weight back to me. Damn manipulator. He wants me to think I have control, when in reality, he's tightening the leash.
Rin set his chopsticks down with a sharp click against the bowl, his eyes hardening. "Don't play games with me, Kai. You dragged me here. You decide when I leave. Don't pretend it's in my hands."
Kai's gaze sharpened. He leaned forward now, resting his elbows on the table, voice lowering just enough to force Rin to listen closely. "And yet… everything depends on how you behave, Rin Takahashi-Kwon. If you obey, life here will be… tolerable. If you fight me, resist me—" His lips curved into a thin smile. "—you'll only make things worse for yourself."
Rin's chest tightened with fury. His instincts screamed to throw the bowl at Kai's smug face, to shout, to demand answers until his voice broke. But instead, he inhaled slowly, controlling the storm inside. He wants me to lose control. He wants me to lash out, so he can tighten his grip further. No… I won't give him that satisfaction.
Kai, watching Rin's silence, chuckled under his breath, the sound infuriatingly soft. "You should be asking yourself a different question, Rin." His eyes gleamed with something dark, predatory. "Not how long I'll keep you here… but how long you can endure it."
The room seemed to grow colder despite the heater. Rin straightened his back, his gaze still locked on Kai, unflinching. His pride was a shield, his silence now a weapon. Endure? he thought grimly. I've endured worse than this. He'll see.