The penthouse felt like a different planet. Outside, Seoul was a chaotic mess of rain and neon, but inside, the air was filtered, climate-controlled, and smelled of the kind of wealth that felt suffocating.
Han Jeo stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite, watching the raindrops race down the glass. He had changed into a loose, obsidian-silk robe that hung open just enough to reveal the pale, hard planes of his chest. He looked like a creature out of a dark fairytale—beautiful, timeless, and utterly predatory.
"He's in the bath, Sire," Manager Kim said, standing at the threshold. "He tried to lock the door, but I reminded him that in this house, locks are merely suggestions."
Jeo let out a low, dark chuckle. "Good. He has spirit. Most humans would have fainted the moment they saw the red in my eyes.
But Taeyul? He tried to knee me in the groin while being hunted by a Pureblood. He's a masterpiece of stubbornness."
"He's also terrified," Kim added, his voice dry. "His heart rate hasn't dropped below a hundred beats per minute since we crossed the threshold. If you push him too hard, he might actually break."
Jeo's eyes flared a jagged crimson. He turned from the window, his expression shifting from playful to possessive in a heartbeat. "He won't break. He's my medicine, Kim. I'll keep him whole because I need him to be whole. Now, bring the sedative tea. Not for him—for me. My blood is vibrating just being in the same room as him."
[Taeyul's POV]
The bathroom was bigger than my entire apartment. The tub was a sunken pool of black marble, and the water was so hot it felt like it was trying to scrub the very memory of the street off my skin.
I sat in the water, hugging my knees to my chest. I felt like a stray cat that had been picked up by a psychopath. Han Jeo didn't want a "bartender." He didn't even want a person. He wanted a "pill."
I looked at the window. It was reinforced glass, thick enough to stop a bullet. I looked at the door. I knew Secretary Kim was standing right outside, as unmovable as a gargoyle. There was no escape.
Why does the world feel so quiet?
That was the worst part. I should be screaming. I should be clawing at the walls.
But ever since Jeo touched me in that alleyway, the "noise" in my head—that constant, screeching static of my trauma—had fallen silent. It was a terrifyingly addictive peace.
I eventually got out of the water, my skin pink from the heat. On the counter lay a set of clothes. Not my clothes—my old shirt and jeans were gone, probably burned. In their place was a pair of silk trousers and a black robe so soft it felt like liquid against my skin.
I put them on, feeling like a doll being dressed up for a collector. I opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.
Han Jeo was waiting.
He was sprawled across the massive bed, propped up on one elbow. He was reading a fashion magazine, but the moment I stepped into the light, he dropped it. His gaze swept over me, from my damp hair down to my bare feet.
"Took you long enough, Dumbo," he purred.
He patted the space on the bed next to him. "Come here."
"I'm not sleeping in that bed with you," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to sound brave.
Jeo's smirk didn't falter. "You think you have a choice? Look at yourself. You're swaying on your feet. You haven't had a real night's sleep since your parents died, have you?"
My heart skipped a beat. "How do you know about that?"
"I know everything, Taeyul. I have people who dig up the dirt so I don't have to get my hands dirty. You're haunted. You see a man in the shadows every time you close your eyes." He stood up, walking toward me with a slow, rhythmic grace. "But notice something? You've been in this room for twenty minutes, and you haven't felt the shadow once, have you?"
He was right. The closer he got, the more the air felt "heavy" in a good way. The darkness in the corners of the room didn't feel threatening anymore; they just felt like shadows.
Jeo reached out, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. His touch was cold, but it sent a wave of calm through me that made my knees buckle. He caught me, his arm wrapping around my waist to hold me up.
"You're my 'Off' button," he whispered into my ear, his breath hot. "And I'm your 'Shield.' It's a fair trade, isn't it? I give you silence, and you give me rest."
"It's not a trade if I didn't agree to it," I managed to gasp out, though I was leaning into him without realizing it.
"Call it a forced investment then," Jeo teased, his hand moving to the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my wet hair. He pulled my head back, forcing me to look into those hazel eyes that were swirling with red.
"Now, get in the bed. If you try to run, I'll just find you again. And next time, I won't be this 'delicate.' I'll make sure you can't walk, let alone run."
He climbed into the bed, pulling me down with him. He didn't try to undress me further.
He just wrapped his long limbs around me, pulling my back against his chest. He was like a block of ice, but the moment his skin touched mine through the silk, the world vanished.
For the first time in years, the "man in the shadows" didn't appear.
"Sleep, little bird," Jeo muttered against the back of my neck, his voice thick with a relief that sounded almost human. "If you scream, I'll be right here to bite the nightmare away."
And before I could even find a witty comeback, the darkness took me. But for once, the darkness was kind.