The days that followed blurred into a chaotic dream. Tran Gia Minh had indeed been arrested, and the evidence Lanh Thien Phong gathered was enough to ensure he faced a fitting sentence. Ha An Nhien didn't need to testify, which should have brought her relief. But it didn't. The downfall of Tran Gia Minh, their shared enemy, brought no complete sense of triumph. Instead, a hollow emptiness enveloped her.
Lanh Thien Phong also vanished for a few days after the news broke. The penthouse returned to a terrifying silence, occupied only by Ha An Nhien and Housekeeper Lee. She'd thought he would grant her freedom once his goal was achieved. But no. Lanh Thien Phong never mentioned ending the contract.
One evening, he returned. No fanfare, no grand entrance. He simply stood there, in the living room, watching her. His eyes were still cold, but Ha An Nhien noticed a subtle difference: the tension in his gaze had lessened, as if a great burden had been lifted.
"It's done," he said, his voice low, betraying no hint of triumph. "Tran Gia Minh will rot in prison."
Ha An Nhien looked at him, feeling a complex surge of emotions. Hatred, fear, and even an inexplicable curiosity. "So... what about me?" she asked softly, almost a whisper.
Lanh Thien Phong walked closer, each step deliberate and forceful. He stood facing her, leaning down slightly so their eyes met. "You are still mine, Ha An Nhien," he replied, his voice authoritative, allowing no argument. "The contract is still in effect."
Ha An Nhien's heart sank. She knew it, but she'd harbored a sliver of hope. "Why?" She couldn't stop the question. "You've achieved what you wanted."
A faint, humorless smile touched Lanh Thien Phong's lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "This world doesn't operate on what's right, Ha An Nhien. You signed the contract. And I... I want to keep you."
His gaze fixed on her, scrutinizing, as if searching for something. He raised a hand, his thumb gently brushing the faded bruise on her collarbone, where he had once brutally claimed her. A small electric current ran down Ha An Nhien's spine.
"These past few days, I've seen you reading a lot," Lanh Thien Phong said, abruptly changing the subject. "What do you read?"
Ha An Nhien was surprised by the shift in conversation. "Books... books on history, economics."
He smirked. "You think you can understand my world through those books?"
"I want to understand you," Ha An Nhien said directly, "to know why you became this way."
A flicker of shock crossed Lanh Thien Phong's eyes, but it quickly vanished. He unexpectedly pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. It wasn't a gentle embrace, but a vice-like grip, an impulsive act, as if he were seeking solace, or perhaps reasserting his control. Ha An Nhien felt the unyielding strength of his body, and a powerful beat from his heart, a stark contrast to his cold exterior.
"You don't need to understand," he murmured into her hair, his voice hoarse, carrying a profound loneliness she had never sensed from him before. "Just stay by my side."
Ha An Nhien stiffened in his embrace. She couldn't rationalize this action. He was her captor, the one who had inflicted the deepest humiliation upon her, yet in this moment, she felt a pain, a deep emptiness emanating from him. Had revenge not brought him the peace he craved?
He released her, his gaze returning to its usual coldness, as if the moment of vulnerability had never existed. "Let's go," he said, "we're having dinner out."
Ha An Nhien was bewildered. This was the first time he had taken her out not for a social gala. What did he want?
Lanh Thien Phong led her to an opulent French restaurant, where every detail was exquisitely arranged. Throughout the meal, he spoke little, only occasionally asking her casual questions about the books she read. Ha An Nhien sensed a subtle shift in his demeanor – he was no longer the fierce predator, but more like a lonely man, searching for a connection, however small.
Upon returning to the penthouse, Lanh Thien Phong didn't go straight to his room. He pulled Ha An Nhien into the library, bathed in a soft, warm light. He sat down on the large leather sofa, patting the empty space beside him.
"Sit," he said.
Ha An Nhien hesitated, then sat down. Lanh Thien Phong looked at her, his eyes complex, then he reached out, gently stroking her hair. This gesture, surprisingly tender and unexpected, made Ha An Nhien flinch.
"You know, Ha An Nhien," he said, his voice low and quiet, unlike his usual domineering tone. "Some wounds never heal. Even with revenge, it's still there, aching."
Ha An Nhien looked into his eyes, and she saw it. She saw a deep pain, a profound loneliness he had kept carefully hidden. She suddenly understood that, despite being the Devil King, he was also just a wounded man, lost in his own sorrow.
He pulled her closer, not with brutality, but with an invisible gravitational pull. He rested his head on her shoulder, like a tired child seeking comfort. Ha An Nhien remained rigid. This was a Lanh Thien Phong she had never known. He was cold, cruel, yet also heartbreakingly vulnerable.