Sean would materialize in my room daily, or show up right as I was eating.

He stopped forcing me to do things. Instead, he'd just linger silently, dropping the occasional comment.


His words dripped with suggestion, weaving around me like invisible spider silk, slowly binding me tighter with each passing day.

"You've got some color in your cheeks today. Getting comfortable here, aren't you?"
"That dress brings out your complexion. Like moonlight on marble."
"Always with the scowl. You know, a smile would be devastating on that face of yours."


I either ignored him completely or fired back with ice in my voice.

"Hard to feel 'comfortable' when I'm basically your prisoner."

"These aren't my clothes. Just another part of your collection, right?"
"Smile? While I'm held captive by a ghost king? Damn, you really do have a sense of humor."

Yet he deflected my barbs effortlessly, transforming my resistance into his personal entertainment.

"It's alright," he'd say, his lips curving with absolute certainty. "You don't smile now. But you will." The threat in his confidence made my skin crawl.

This silent war of wills drained me completely. My nerves stayed wound tight as a crossbow at full draw. Sleep became a distant memory. Even though Sean's supernatural aura kept the malevolent spirits at bay, it did nothing for the terror eating me from within. I needed out—either by escaping this gilded cage or completing that damn "Kiss of True Heart" mission.

That night, a nightmare ripped me from sleep.

In the nightmare, my life counter hit zero. My body turned cold as stone while rotting hands tore me apart. Sean stood watching, his eyes empty as a winter sky. I shot upright, gulping air, heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted freedom.

Moonlight flooded the room with silver that did nothing to warm the ice in my veins. Nothing broke the silence but my own ragged breathing.

I slipped out of bed for water when something caught my eye—an eerie green glow pulsing deep within the garden. It flickered hypnotically, dimming and brightening with unmistakable purpose. Calling to me.

My pulse quickened. An opportunity! Sean had mentioned "disobedient ones" lurking somewhere in the villa. If I could somehow use them, create enough chaos... I might finally escape.

Survival instinct kicked in, drowning out every trace of fear.

I eased the window open. Night air rushed in, heavy with damp earth and rotting leaves. Crouching low, I slipped into the darkness toward that beckoning green light.

The garden sprawled endlessly, ancient trees forming a canopy so dense that moonlight couldn't penetrate. I moved through a world of shadows and whispers.

After ten minutes of careful movement, the green light vanished without warning.

I froze, scanning the darkness. Nothing but blackness, the soft rustle of wind through leaves, and the distant chorus of night insects—all suddenly sinister in their normalcy.

A chill crept up from my feet—not from cold, but from the unmistakable sensation of being watched by countless unseen eyes lurking in the darkness.

【WARNING: Hostile entity approaching. Life force rapidly depleting!】

The system's mechanical alert sent my heart into overdrive. I spun to flee, but before I could take a step, an ice-cold hand clamped over my mouth from behind. The stench of decay hit me like a physical blow, making bile rise in my throat. My body locked up, leaving me capable of nothing but muffled whimpers.

【WARNING: Entity consuming life force! Critical depletion in progress!】
【Life remaining: 9 days 20 hours 30 minutes...】

I thrashed wildly but the hand held me immobile with inhuman strength. A voice rasped in my ear—wet, guttural, and sticky with malice, like something crawling up from the deepest pit of hell.

"The scent of the living... so sweet... so rich..."

I felt my very essence being sucked out, draining away like water down a sink.

My limbs went numb. Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. As consciousness began to slip away, a blade of pure energy sliced through the night from above!

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!"

Sean's voice exploded through the darkness, raw with a fury I'd never heard before.

The rotting hand vanished from my mouth. The presence disappeared like smoke in a hurricane.

I crumpled to the ground, sucking in desperate breaths. My limbs felt like water, my whole body shaking beyond control. Relief and terror tangled together, making the world spin around me.

Sean materialized before me, face white as bone, his eyes swirling with a fury so intense it seemed to distort the air around him.

Power rolled off him in waves, making the ancient trees bend away as if cowering. The temperature plummeted, frost crystallizing on the grass around us—his rage made manifest.

"Sophia." He crouched and scooped me up in one fluid motion, his ice-cold hands gripping me with terrifying strength. His voice rumbled like magma beneath the earth: "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

I slumped against his chest, too weak to resist. His cold power enveloped me like a shield, and I felt the drain on my life force finally stop.

My lips parted, but no sound emerged. I couldn't even summon the strength to whisper.

He carried me toward the villa, each stride vibrating with barely contained rage. I half-expected him to hurl me to the ground in his anger.

Back inside, he marched straight to my room and deposited me roughly on the bed—forceful yet careful, like handling volatile explosives.

He ripped the curtains open with a violent snap, flooding the room with cold moonlight.

"Do you think I'm playing games here?" He loomed over me, his voice sharp as broken glass, vibrating with barely contained fury. "I WARNED you about wandering off!"

Staring at his fury-contorted face, I realized something odd. He wasn't angry because I'd tried to escape. He was angry because I'd almost been killed.

Did he actually care about me? I squashed the thought immediately. No—he only cared about his possessions, his precious "collection."

"You almost DIED!" My silence only fueled his rage. He seized my wrist with crushing force, his touch so cold it sent numbness shooting up my arm. "Do you have ANY idea what that thing was?"

"What was it?" I managed, my voice barely audible.

"That," he said, his rage giving way to something more complex—fear, concern, maybe even something deeper, "was a soul-eater. A vengeful spirit that consumes life energy from the living."

Soul-eater. The words sent involuntary tremors through my weakened body.

I'd nearly become its meal, consumed alive by that... thing. Fresh terror washed over me in a cold wave.

"If I'd been seconds later, you'd be nothing but a dried-out husk!" His voice cracked with what sounded almost like fear. He released my wrist and pulled me against his chest, cradling my head against him.

His heartbeat was steady and strong beneath my ear. Though his skin remained cold as ice, I felt an unexpected comfort in his embrace.

His power radiated from him in waves, pushing back the lingering chill of death. For a moment, I felt safer than I had in years—before shame and humiliation crashed over me like a tidal wave.

He'd saved me. Again. I couldn't even survive without him.

"Why not just let me die?" I whispered hoarsely, despair weighing down every word.

Sean went rigid. He pulled back, cupping my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. Anger still smoldered there, but beneath it lay something more complex—pain, and something that looked almost like... helplessness.

"You think I want you dead?" The anger in his eyes had burned away, replaced by something bottomless and raw. "Sophia, from the very beginning, all I've ever wanted was to protect you."

He leaned down until our foreheads touched, his breath fanning across my face—somehow both freezing cold and burning hot at once. Every nerve in my body sparked to life.

"You have something in you that draws them," he murmured, resignation heavy in his voice. "You can't run from this. Only I can shield you from what hunts you."

His unexpected gentleness made my heart flutter traitorously. Then I remembered the system's directive about the "kiss of true love." I needed him to fall for me. I had to manipulate him. Survival left me no choice.

With his face inches from mine, I felt a storm of conflicting emotions rise within me.

Fear. Humiliation. Dependence. And something darker—calculation. I reached up and touched his cheek. His skin felt like marble—cold and smooth, yet it sent an electric current through my fingertips.

He froze, genuine surprise flashing across his face. I'd never willingly touched him before. Those fathomless eyes widened with suspicion and something that looked almost like hope.

"Sean..." I whispered, letting my voice tremble naturally, working to sound sincere. "Thank you."

His midnight eyes searched mine, probing for deception. His breathing quickened slightly, and the cold air between us seemed to warm.

"I'll listen to you," I continued, resting my head against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat lull me. "No more running off. I promise."

The tension gradually drained from his body. Slowly, cautiously—as if afraid I might bolt like a frightened deer—he wrapped his arms around me.

His embrace remained cold as winter, yet contained a strength that could shatter mountains, holding me securely against him.

"That's my girl," he murmured, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it—a gentleness more dangerous than any threat, slipping past my defenses like a blade between ribs.

I closed my eyes, feeling hollow inside. I needed to play my part flawlessly. From that day forward, I abandoned escape attempts and began my performance of "submission" to Sean Shaw.

I dropped my icy demeanor and offered occasional small smiles—calculated gestures that somehow carried traces of genuine feeling I couldn't quite suppress.

I started conversations, asking about his powers and abilities, feigning fascination with everything about him.

To my surprise, his knowledge was vast—centuries beyond what seemed possible. He answered my questions with unexpected patience, sometimes demonstrating small "tricks": making dead flowers bloom again or sending objects floating through the air with a mere gesture.

Watching him, I realized he was deliberately revealing his powers bit by bit—showcasing his "value" to me.

He was seducing me in his own calculated way, creating a dependency I couldn't escape.

I started exploring the villa, mapping its layout and secrets. Lucy Louis, the stone-faced housekeeper, shadowed my every move like a silent sentinel. Her constant presence weighed on me like an invisible hand.

In the basement, I found a door secured with heavy chains and plastered with strange symbols. Cold air seeped from beneath it. "What's behind there?" I asked Lucy.

Lucy's face remained perfectly blank. "That is the master's restricted area, Miss Winters. You are not permitted near it." Her flat voice carried an unmistakable warning.

My pulse quickened. A forbidden area? Nothing screams "important secrets" like a chained door covered in magical wards. Whatever Sean was hiding—possibly those "disobedient ones" he'd mentioned—lay behind that door.

I started finding excuses to venture near that door whenever Sean was occupied elsewhere.

Each time I drew near, a bone-deep chill radiated through the door—a malevolence far stronger than what I'd encountered in the garden. My heart would race just standing near it.

That night, Sean appeared in my room as usual. He carried an ancient leather-bound tome that smelled of dust and secrets, its pages yellowed with age.

"What's that?" I asked, not having to fake my curiosity.

"A grimoire of sorts." He handed me the book, his cold fingertips brushing mine, sending electric shivers up my arm. "It contains knowledge about spiritual entities. I thought you might find it... educational."

I leafed through the brittle pages, finding intricate illustrations of various spirits alongside text describing methods to communicate with—and control—them.

My heart raced. This was a peace offering—and more importantly, a sign his guard was dropping.

I glanced up at him through my lashes, injecting a playful whine into my voice. "Sean, I'm going stir-crazy cooped up in this room all day."

He arched one perfect eyebrow, studying me with those penetrating eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

"I want to see the basement," I said, pointing downward with deliberate innocence. "It seems so mysterious. Got any other fascinating collections hidden down there?"

The temperature plummeted as his expression froze over. The air around him darkened visibly, like storm clouds gathering.

"That place is forbidden to you," he said, each word sharp as a blade and heavy with warning.

My heart sank—I'd clearly hit a nerve. But his extreme reaction only intensified my curiosity. What could he possibly be hiding that warranted such a response?

I dropped my gaze, letting my shoulders slump in practiced disappointment. "Why?" I asked softly. "Are you hiding something from me?" I looked up, letting hurt and accusation fill my eyes—weapons aimed straight at his conscience.

The chill in the air slowly receded. He crossed to me in two strides and tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. Something complex battled behind his eyes—a struggle I couldn't quite decipher.

"Sophia," his voice dropped to a near-whisper, heavy with both warning and something like concern, "some secrets are dangerous merely in the knowing."

"I'm not afraid of danger!" I declared with false bravado, watching him carefully. "Besides, wouldn't you protect me?"

He studied me, conflict evident in his expression—resignation warring with what looked almost like fondness. He sighed like a man surrendering to the inevitable.

"You're truly determined to see it?" he asked, already sounding defeated.

I nodded eagerly, afraid he might reconsider if I hesitated.

He went quiet for a long moment before exhaling slowly. "Very well. But I have conditions."

Triumph surged through me. He was giving in!

"What conditions?" I asked, barely containing my excitement.

He leaned in close, his breath ghosting over my ear—somehow both icy and burning at once. "Once inside, no matter what you see, you must not show fear. You must not make a sound." His voice hardened. "And above all, you must not touch anything."

His proximity sent shivers cascading down my spine, my skin prickling with goosebumps.

"If you break these rules," he straightened, his eyes glinting like obsidian blades, "I'll remove you immediately. And you will never set foot near that place again."

"I promise!" I agreed instantly, perhaps too eagerly.

He studied me, his ancient eyes seeming to peel back my layers of deception.

"For your sake," he said quietly, "I hope you don't come to regret this curiosity."