The scent of leather and power lingered in the air. So-yeon stood at the threshold of the mansion, the heavy door clicking shut behind her like the final nail in her coffin. Her heart pounded—not from fear alone, but from the awareness that everything she had known, every choice she had made to live an honest life, had been ripped away in a matter of hours.
Kang Ryu-jin didn't spare her a glance as he walked ahead, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor. She hated how effortlessly he owned the space, how even silence bent to him.
"Follow me," he said flatly, not turning around.
So-yeon's fists clenched, but she followed. What choice did she have?
The mansion was breathtakingly vast. Dark wood paneling covered the walls, broken only by cold oil paintings and gold-accented sconces. A massive staircase spiraled upward in the foyer like a serpent. This place was not a home—it was a fortress.
They entered a long corridor, and Ryu-jin pushed open a door.
"This is your room."
Her eyes swept the space. Luxurious, yes. But it was also empty of warmth. "Prison cell" would have been a more fitting term.
"I don't need your luxury," she snapped. "Let me go."
He turned to face her, finally. "You think this is about what you want?"
His voice was a blade—smooth, cold, final.
"You belong to me now."
That sentence hit her harder than any slap could. Her stomach twisted. She wouldn't cry. Not in front of him. Not in this place.
"Why me?" she whispered. "Why ruin my life?"
There was a flicker in his eyes—gone before she could name it.
"Because your name was on the list," he said.
"What list?" she demanded.
He didn't answer. He turned and left, the door closing behind him with a click that sounded far too much like a lock.
The following morning, So-yeon awoke to a knock.
A maid entered—a woman no older than thirty, dressed in black with a starched collar. "Breakfast is served, Miss Ahn."
"I'm not hungry," So-yeon muttered, curling back under the covers.
The woman hesitated. "He asked me to tell you he doesn't tolerate rebellion. You'll want to eat."
So-yeon sat up, eyes blazing. "Does he monitor everything I do?"
The maid bowed slightly, not answering.
She dressed herself in the modest clothes provided in the wardrobe. Everything in her size. Tailored. He had planned this.
Downstairs, a long table awaited. Ryu-jin sat at one end, reading a newspaper. The tension hit her in waves.
"You're late," he said without looking up.
"I didn't realize I was on a schedule."
"You are now."
She sat stiffly, refusing to meet his eyes.
"I want to go back to school," she said.
"No."
"You said if I married you, you'd leave my father alone."
"I did. And I will. But don't confuse that with freedom."
"I'm not a prisoner."
"You're not?" he said, leaning forward. "Try walking out that door."
Her breath hitched. She hated him. And she hated the part of her that wanted to understand him.
Later that day, he summoned her to the library.
"I have rules," he said. "You'll live by them. No secrets. No escape attempts. And never speak of what you see here to anyone."
"And if I break them?" she asked.
He stepped closer. "I don't like repeating myself."
"I'm not a dog."
"No. You're a storm I've decided to keep in a cage."
She turned to go. "I won't stay quiet forever."
He watched her go, something unreadable in his eyes.
That night, So-yeon stood by her window, staring out into the darkness. Somewhere out there was her old life. Her textbooks. Her dreams.
But they were out of reach now.
And inside this palace of shadows, her war had just begun.
The days blurred into each other, one long stretch of suffocating silence and barely concealed tension. Ryu-jin didn't touch her, didn't speak more than necessary, and yet his presence lingered wherever she went.
Despite herself, she became curious.
One evening, she wandered down a hall she hadn't seen before. It led to a heavy double door, locked.
"Where does this go?" she asked the maid.
"To the east wing. It's forbidden."
So-yeon raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
The maid hesitated. "Because it belonged to someone else."
Ryu-jin found her later in the garden, eyes narrowed.
"You were near the east wing."
"I didn't go in."
He studied her. "Don't test me."
"Why? What are you hiding?"
Silence.
"I'll find out eventually," she said, turning away.
"You're not ready."
That gave her pause. "For what?"
He didn't answer. Again.
That night, the storm outside echoed her chaos within. So-yeon couldn't sleep.
She slipped out of her room barefoot, the mansion eerily silent. She found herself at the east wing door again.
To her surprise—it was ajar.
Heart racing, she pushed it open.
Dust blanketed everything. A grand piano sat untouched. Framed photographs lined a shelf. She approached one.
Two boys. One clearly Ryu-jin, younger. The other—his brother?
A diary lay open on the table. The name scribbled inside:
Kang Min-jun.
She turned a page, heart sinking at what she read.
"He died because of a name. A name that should have never come up. Ahn."
Her body went cold.
A creak behind her.
She turned—Ryu-jin stood in the doorway.
"You said I was on a list," she whispered. "Was it your brother's list?"
His eyes were dark pools of pain and fury.
"Yes."
"You think I had something to do with his death?"
"I know you did. Or someone close to you."
"My father…" Her voice cracked. "You think my father killed him?"
Ryu-jin didn't move. "That's what I'm here to find out."
"So I'm your pawn?"
"You're my answer."
She staggered back. "You married me for revenge."
He stepped closer. "I married you to keep you close."
"I should hate you."
He looked into her eyes. "Then hate me."
And he left her in the shadows, heart pounding with questions, anger, and something terrifyingly close to heartbreak.
End of Chapter 2