"What have I done…" Oska muttered to himself as he stepped into Stevanie's opulent home, now her husband.
Their wedding had been a whirlwind affair, a quick ceremony at the church that afternoon with only Mr. Han as a witness. And now, they were back at her house as a married couple.
"Who's this little girl?" Oska asked, eyeing the child who clung to Stevanie's side as they entered.
"This is my daughter," Stevanie said, introducing the girl. "She's just four years old. Annchi, say hello to your new Dad."
The little girl looked up at Oska, then leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "You should run if you get the chance. You'll regret staying with my mom." Without another word, she darted off into her room.
Oska stood there, scratching his head in bewilderment. Stevanie watched the exchange from a distance, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. The relationship between mother and daughter was strained at best; Fengyin's harsh demeanor clashed with the innocence of a young child.
"Good heavens, how long has this place been neglected?" Oska complained as he surveyed the thick layer of dust coating every surface.
"Well, Oska, your first duty as my husband is to make this house sparkle," Stevanie said, her tone cool and matter-of-fact.
"What are you talking about?"
"Can't you see how filthy this place is?"
"That's exactly what I was asking. How long has it been since you last cleaned this house?"
Splash!
"Argh!!!"
Stevanie suddenly whipped Oska with her belt. The man screamed as he rolled around in pain on the floor.
"What are you doing!"
Stevanie looked down at her husband's tear-stained face while smiling like a madman, "does it hurt?"
Oska was about to respond, but when he saw his wife's beautiful face transform into a monster, he swallowed his words and fell silent.
"Didn't you read the contract? I am your boss, your employer, your master, and you are my paid slave. In other words, my husband."
"A husband shouldn't be treated like a slave!"
"Hahaha!" The woman burst out laughing like a maniac, "I just love seeing your face like that."
Fear etched across Oska's face, his chest tightening and his body shaking as the reality of his situation hit him. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Stevanie's eyes narrowed. "What are you on about? I'm not insane. I'm just going to keep hurting you until you do everything I want. And right now, I want this house spotless. Is that clear?"
Oska nodded, trembling.
"Good," Stevanie said coldly. "I don't care if you're angry or upset. If you don't want to be treated like a servant, then give me back the money I paid you. If you can't, then we'll continue living like this, day by day, as husband and wife. Understand? Now, get this house cleaned—immediately."
With a final, dismissive gesture, Stevanie turned away.
Oska scrambled to the bathroom, grabbing cleaning supplies with frantic urgency. He gathered a broom, dustpan, mop, rags, and various other cleaning tools, then set to work. The house, while grand, was in disarray and would take an immense amount of effort to bring to order.
He tackled the living room, kitchen, eight bathrooms, and eight bedrooms, cleaning every corner and the front porch until nightfall. By the time he finished, it was nearly nine o'clock. Exhausted, he stood by the front door, gasping for breath, his body aching from the relentless work.
"Oska, once you're done with the cleaning, don't forget to wash the dishes too," Stevanie called out, her tone unyielding.
"Can't you give me a break?"
"No, I want those dishes clean right now."
Oska's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. He felt a surge of frustration bubbling inside him, a volatile mix of fear, anger, sadness, and frustration.
"What are you doing? Why are you looking at me like that? There are two security guards outside ready to deal with you if you step out of line. Get moving!"
Stevanie's tone was harsh as she delivered another sharp reprimand. Oska, defeated and overwhelmed, trudged back to the kitchen to tackle the dishes.
After half an hour of scrubbing dirty dishes, Oska finally completed all the tasks assigned by his demanding wife. It was time for him to clean up.
Under the stinging hot water of the shower, the scars from Stevanie's whipping still hurt like hell when they hit the water. But the emotional pain cut deeper. Oska was left lamenting his fate, bewildered by how he had ended up making a deal with someone as crazy as Stevanie.
"So this is what Annchi meant when she whispered to me earlier today," Oska chuckled bitterly, reflecting on the insanity of the day.
Once he had finished his shower, Oska prepared for bed. As he opened the bedroom door, he found Stevanie already fast asleep on the bed. He moved as quietly as possible, sliding onto the mattress and inching closer to her sleeping form. Just as he settled in, Stevanie's eyes fluttered open.
"Arrggg!!!" She yelled, "What are you doing here? Get out of my room!"
"I'm just here to sleep," Oska said quietly. "It's only right for a husband and wife to share the same bed, isn't it?"
Stevanie's eyes narrowed. "Just so you're clear, don't ever think of yourself as my real husband. You're just a contractual spouse. We have an agreement, remember?"
Oska fell silent, unable to retort when the contract was mentioned.
"Perhaps you need me to remind you," Stevanie in her pajamas reached over the table for a piece of paper, "it says here that you are only a husband in terms of status. Our real relationship is boss and servant. You are my slave."
"I've been holding it in since this afternoon, but I can't take it anymore!" Oska exclaimed, his voice strained. "If this is what it means to be your husband, I can't do it."
"So what?" Stevanie replied coldly. "Our marriage was never about love. You signed the contract. If you want to break our agreement, it'll cost you a fortune, and I'm not sure you can afford it. If you choose to leave, I won't stop you. But you'll leave empty-handed—your belongings and money will all be mine."
"What? Why is that?"
"Read the contract," Stevanie said with a smirk. "All your assets and possessions are jointly owned with me. That means I have rights to everything you own. Even the clothes you're wearing now—if I wanted to, I could take those too."
"You've really lost your mind. No wonder you've been a widow all this time, no one can stand your crazy attitude, right? I'm sure your previous husband also ran away because he couldn't stand being treated by a crazy psychopath like you."
"You've really lost your mind," Oska said, incredulous. "It's no wonder you've been a widow all this time—who could tolerate your insane behavior? I'm sure your previous husband ran away because he couldn't handle being treated by someone as psyco as you."
"What have I done…" Oska muttered as he stepped into Stevanie's luxurious mansion — now, his new home.
Their wedding had been absurdly fast — a private ceremony that afternoon, witnessed only by Mr. Han. And now, before he could even process the madness, he was officially her husband.
The moment they entered the mansion, a small voice startled him.
"Who's this man?" a little girl asked, clinging to Stevanie's leg.
"This is your new dad," Stevanie replied calmly. "Annchi, greet him."
The girl looked up, her big eyes sharp and far too mature for her age. She leaned close to Oska and whispered, "Run while you still can." Then, without another word, she dashed to her room.
Oska froze. What kind of family did I just marry into?
He turned his attention to the mansion — chandeliers covered in dust, marble floors dulled by neglect.
"This place looks abandoned," he muttered.
Stevanie crossed her arms, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor. "Then make it shine again."
"Wait, what?"
"You're my husband now. That means you take care of the house. You wanted a job, didn't you? Consider this your first assignment."
"You can't be serious—"
Splat!
"Argh!!!"
Stevanie suddenly whipped Oska with her belt. The man screamed as he rolled around in pain on the floor.
"What are you doing!"
Stevanie looked down at her husband's tear-stained face while smiling like a madman, "did it hurt?"
Oska was about to respond, but when he saw his wife's beautiful face transform into a monster, he swallowed his words and fell silent.
"Didn't you read the contract? I am your boss, your employer, your master, and you are my paid slave. In other words, my husband."
"A husband shouldn't be treated like a slave!"
"Hahaha!" The woman burst out laughing like a maniac, "I just love seeing your face like that."
Fear etched across Oska's face, his chest tightening and his body shaking as the reality of his situation hit him. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Stevanie's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about? I'm not crazy. I'm just going to keep hurting you until you do everything I want. And right now, I want this house clean. Is that clear?"
Oska nodded, trembling.
"Good," Stevanie said coldly. "I don't care if you're angry or upset. You don't want to be treated like a slave? Then give me back the money I paid you. If you can't, we'll continue living like this, day by day, as husband and wife. Have I made myself clear? Then, get your ass up and clean this house, Now!"
Oska stared at her, mouth agape. He wanted to argue, but one cold glare from her made him freeze. Finally he took a broom and started cleaning the house.
Hours passed.
By sunset, he'd cleaned the living room, the grand hall, and what felt like a dozen bedrooms. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest. Sweat soaked his shirt, but the mansion finally gleamed again.
He leaned against the wall, panting. "What a day. At least I'm finally done."
From upstairs, Stevanie's voice echoed through the hall.
"Not yet. The dishes in the kitchen are still waiting."
He clenched his jaw. "You've got to be kidding me…"
"I don't repeat myself, Mr. Husband."
That tone — calm, emotionless, yet absolute — sent a chill down his spine. With a deep sigh, he dragged himself to the kitchen and began scrubbing.
After half an hour of scrubbing dirty dishes, Oska finally completed all the tasks assigned by his demanding wife. It was time for him to clean up.
Under the stinging hot water of the shower, the scars from Stevanie's whipping still hurt like hell when they hit the water. But the emotional pain cut deeper. Oska was left lamenting his fate, bewildered by how he had ended up making a deal with someone as crazy as Stevanie.
"So this is what Annchi meant when she whispered to me earlier today," Oska chuckled bitterly, reflecting on the insanity of the day.
Once he had finished his shower, Oska prepared for bed. When he finally entered the bedroom, Stevanie was already asleep. The moonlight painted her face in silver — beautiful, cold, untouchable.
Oska hesitated. "We're married. I guess it's fine if I sleep here too."
He moved as quietly as possible, sliding onto the mattress and inching closer to her sleeping form. Just as he settled in, Stevanie's eyes fluttered open.
The moment he sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes snapped open.
"Arrggg!!!" She yelled, "What are you doing here? Get out of my room!"
He blinked. "Uhh, Sleeping?"
"You must've misunderstood our arrangement," she said sharply, sitting up. "This marriage is a contract, not a romance. You're not my real husband, I repeat, NOT MY REAL HUSBAND. Our real relationship is boss and servant. You are my slave."
"Alright, I'm done! I've been holding it in since this afternoon, but I can't take it anymore!" Oska exclaimed, his voice strained. "If this is what it means to be your husband, I can't do it."
"So what?" Stevanie replied coldly. "Our marriage was never about love. You signed the contract. If you want to break our agreement, it'll cost you a fortune, and I'm not sure you can afford it. If you choose to leave, I won't stop you. But you'll leave empty-handed—your belongings and money will all be mine."
"What? Why is that?"
"Read the contract," Stevanie said with a smirk. "All your assets and possessions are jointly owned with me. That means I have rights to everything you own. Even the clothes you're wearing now—if I wanted to, I could take those too."
"You've really lost your mind. No wonder you've been a widow all this time, no one can stand your crazy attitude, am I right? Your previous husband must have run away because he couldn't stand being treated by a crazy psychopath like you."
Plak!
Stevanie slapped Oska on the right cheek. Her eyes burned with emotion this time.
"Don't you ever call me a widow. Don't you ever think you have any rights over me! You're just an outsider! A clumsy and foolish person, who has nothing. And you dare to say such things to me? Get over yourself you filthy scum!"
Oska lowered his face. The woman took a step back until she was leaning against the wall in fear of the terrifying aura that Oska gave off. He clenched his fists until they trembled with emotion as he walked closer to Stevanie.