Chapter 2
Morning came with the weight of inevitability. The mansion's sliding doors creaked as she moved through the hallways, carrying herself with the fragile dignity she could muster. Every footstep echoed too loudly, every glance seemed to draw invisible lines in the air.
Ren appeared silently at the end of the hall, dressed in black, tattoos hidden beneath the crisp fabric. His presence swallowed the light.
"You awake?" he asked, voice calm but sharp, like a blade resting against her spine.
"Yes," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.
"Good. Breakfast is in twenty minutes. You will be dressed by then." He didn't ask. He didn't suggest. He commanded.
The dining room was quiet except for the gentle clink of utensils. She kept her eyes low, watching the steam rise from her bowl. Ren's dark gaze never left her.
"You will eat slowly. Do not spill anything. Every movement is noted," he said softly, almost intimate, almost threatening.
She nodded, her fingers trembling. Every bite was a silent confession of obedience.
He didn't eat. He only watched. He observed her like a predator calculating—measuring fear, weakness, and subtle defiance.
After breakfast, he led her to the study. A room lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, the smell of polished wood and leather heavy in the air.
"Here are the rules," he said, voice flat, as he handed her a small, black-bound notebook.
No leaving the mansion without permission.
Speak only when spoken to or when addressed.
Your movements will be noted. Any disobedience will be punished.
You belong to me.
She read the words, her stomach twisting. She wanted to scream. She wanted to argue.
But she swallowed. Because she knew. He would enforce them.
And yet…
Her pulse quickened in an odd way. Fear and fascination tangled inside her.
Later, as she moved through the hallway to her room, she misstepped. A vase tipped. She froze, certain it would shatter—and so would her life.
Ren appeared beside her before she could apologize. He caught the vase with one hand, steadying it, while the other brushed past her arm.
His touch was deliberate. Controlled. Too close.
"You must be careful," he murmured, almost casually, though the sharpness in his eyes betrayed something more dangerous.
Her breath caught. His proximity made her pulse race, but she dared not look up.
Later, in his office, he watched her from the shadows. Every movement, every hesitant glance, every small quiver of fear—he memorized it.
Weakness disgusted him. Yet hers… drew him in. Protected her? Possessed her? He didn't know. All he knew was that he could not stop watching.
She belonged to him. And he would never let anyone—or anything—take her.
Night fell again, but the mansion was far from peaceful. Lanterns cast long, flickering shadows over polished floors. The wind carried the faint scent of rain and cherry blossoms, masking something darker.
Ren sat in his office, sharp suit pressed, hands folded over the desk. He wasn't reading reports tonight. He was listening. Waiting. Watching.
A knock at the door.
"Enter," he said, voice low.
A young subordinate stepped in, bowing quickly. "Sir… there's been chatter. The Kurozawa Clan. They've noticed… her."
Ren's eyes darkened. His jaw tightened. "Explain."
"They don't know her name, but…" The subordinate hesitated, swallowing. "…They know she's under your protection. They're testing the perimeter."
Ren rose, moving to the window. Beyond the gardens, the city stretched in neon veins. Somewhere in the shadows, eyes watched, calculating, waiting.
"Do they know she's mine?" he asked calmly, though the tension under his words could slice steel.
"They suspect," the subordinate admitted.
Ren's hand clenched. His fingers brushed against the dragon tattoo snaking up his arm. The ink seemed to writhe under his skin, alive.
"Good," he said softly. "Let them watch. One misstep…" He didn't finish. It didn't need finishing.
Meanwhile, she sat in her room, unaware of the danger closing in. A knock at her door startled her.
"Who…?" she began.
No answer. Just a slip of paper pushed under the door. Trembling, she picked it up. Written in messy, threatening script:
"You don't belong here. Leave before it's too late."
Her heart raced. Every instinct screamed fear. But something deeper twisted in her chest—fear… and a strange, reluctant defiance.
Ren's Reaction
By the time she read the note, Ren had already appeared in the hallway. Silent as a shadow, dark eyes glinting.
"You received a message," he said quietly, voice controlled but low enough to make her shiver.
She nodded, holding up the paper. "I… I don't know what it means."
He took it, reading carefully. Then he crushed it in his fist, the paper folding under his strength.
"Don't worry," he said softly, brushing past her so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "No one will touch you. As long as I am here."
Her knees almost buckled. He didn't just protect her… he claimed her, even in moments like this.
Ren returned to his office, voice low over a secure line:
"Prepare the men. Kurozawa thinks they can threaten us. They don't know who they're dealing with. And if anyone comes near her… there will be blood."
In the shadows outside the mansion, someone watched. A figure with sharp eyes and a crooked grin. The game had begun.