Arin's eyes were dazzled as she looked out the window of the private jet. Below lay miles and miles of dazzling white snow. The distance from Seoul to this desolate corner of Russia felt more than just geographical to Arin; it felt like traveling from one world to another.
Seo-young sat beside her, sipping expensive red wine from a glass. He was dressed in a long black coat, making him look even more solemn and mysterious. Although the interior of the jet was warm enough, Seo-young's cold gaze sent an eerie shiver through Arin's heart.
When the jet landed on a private runway in Siberia, a heavy blizzard was raging outside. Seo-young held Arin's hand firmly and led her down. In the biting cold air, Arin's breath was almost caught, but Seo-young immediately pulled her inside his own overcoat.
"Are you afraid?" Seo-young asked, his voice filled with that primal sense of possessiveness.
Arin only shook her head. Standing before her was a massive stone palace—built in old Russian architecture, its spires shrouded in mist. There was no human settlement for miles around.
Inside the Palace: A New Game
Arin was stunned as she entered through the heavy wooden doors of the palace. While the cold outside was bone-chilling, a massive fireplace blazed inside. Seo-young had already arranged everything for Arin.
Seo-young took Arin directly to a room on the upper floor of the palace. The room held a Victorian charm alongside modern amenities. As soon as they arrived, Seo-young locked the door from the inside.
Arin asked in surprise, "Why did you lock the door? There is no one else here but us."
Seo-young walked slowly towards her. He finished the last of the wine in his glass and set it on the table. Then, leaning close to Arin's neck, he whispered, "I don't want any walls between us, even in this vast palace. Here, you are not just my prisoner, Arin; you are the only queen of my empire. But remember, you do not have permission to step beyond the boundaries of this palace."
Arin realized that in this desolate land of ice, far away from Bangladesh, Seo-young was about to imprison her in a very precious 'Golden Cage.'
Seo-young turned Arin's chin toward himself. His eyes held the flicker of a new thrill. He said, "The temperature outside is minus 30 degrees, Arin. But let our internal heat melt even the stones of this palace tonight."
Saying this, he gently sat Arin down in front of the fire. As the reddish glow of the fire fell on Arin's face, she looked like an ethereal beauty. Seo-young took off his coat and sat very close to her.
The flames of the fireplace flickered, their reddish light falling on Arin's bare shoulders. Though the room was warm, Arin trembled with a strange restlessness. Her entire body was draped only in a milk-white silk sheet, making every curve of her body look magical. Her long black hair was scattered messily over her back, like the remains of a storm.
At that moment, the notification of a message chimed on Arin's phone lying on the floor. Seo-young, who was standing by the window watching the snowfall, turned his head at the sound.
Arin picked up the phone with trembling hands. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at the screen. A message from her friend:
"Hey Arin? Won't you dance? The concert is tomorrow! You're our main dancer. You have to rock the stage even without practice, remember?"
Reading the message, the shimmering stage of Seoul, thousands of spectators, and the frenzy of the music flashed before Arin's eyes. But where was she now? In a desolate ice palace in Russia, where she was the exclusive property of only one man.
Seo-young walked forward slowly. Arin's heart began to throb at the sound of his footsteps. Seo-young stood before her and snatched the phone from Arin's hand in one swift motion. His jaw tightened as he read the message, but that familiar cold, devilish smile appeared at the corners of his lips.
He held the phone very close to the fire in the fireplace. Arin started to scream but stopped. Seo-young looked into Arin's eyes and said in a grave voice, "Dance? At a concert?"
He leaned in close to her, the phone in his hand now like a toy. "Arin, perhaps you've forgotten where you are. Your audience will look for you at tomorrow's concert, but they won't find you."
Seo-young gripped Arin's chin firmly. "If you must dance, you will dance only before me. In this closed room, before this fire. Every move of yours, every rhythm of yours will be for me alone. The outside world is dead to you from today."
With that, he threw the phone into the blazing fire. Within moments, Arin's last connection to the outside world turned to ash. Arin only sobbed, clutching the sheet tighter around her.
Ignoring the sound of her crying, Seo-young gently brushed away her messy hair. "Tomorrow's stage is this room. So what if there's no music? Tonight, you must dance to the beat of my heart, Arin."
Seo-young remained unperturbed by Arin's tears. Instead, his mysterious smile widened. He pulled his own phone from his pocket and directly called a number. As someone on the other end answered in Russian, Seo-young began to speak in a grave but commanding tone.
Hanging up, he turned back to Arin. Arin was sitting on the floor, wrapped in the sheet, crying silently. Seo-young knelt before her and gently lifted her tear-stained chin.
"Why are you crying, Arin? I am not taking away your dream; I am giving it a more royal form." There was a strange intoxication in Seo-young's voice.
Arin looked at him in surprise. Seo-young said, "I just spoke with the concert organizers. You won't be going to that local concert tomorrow. Instead, there will be a private concert tomorrow night in the largest auditorium of this city in Russia. There won't be thousands of spectators; there will be only one seat—and I will be sitting there."
Arin whispered, "But my team? My friends?"
Seo-young silenced her with a finger on her lips. "Your team is also being flown here tomorrow morning in a special jet. Famous Russian musicians will be in your background. You will dance, Arin; every move of your dance will melt the ice of Siberia tomorrow night. But I will be the sole owner of that dance. Tomorrow's stage will be only yours and mine."
Arin realized that Seo-young was shielding her from the world and imprisoning her in a dark yet royal world of his own. Where there is light, there is music, there is dance—but there is no freedom.
Seo-young picked Arin up from the floor and carried her toward the bed. Her messy hair fell over her face. Seo-young whispered near her ear, "You'll need a lot of strength for tomorrow's concert, Arin. So tonight, just rest in my arms."
Outside, the Siberian blizzard grew more intense, while inside, in the glow of the fireplace, two shadows merged. Arin realized that tomorrow's Russian concert would either be the greatest victory of her life or the beginning of perpetual captivity; only time would tell.
When the morning light broke in that ice-palace of Siberia, Arin's heart was throbbing. The remnants of last night's frenzy still lingered in her body. Seo-young himself stood by, supervising Arin's styling. Arin was wearing a stunning dance costume, created overnight by Russia's top designers.
But the real surprise awaited inside the concert hall. Arin thought the auditorium would be empty, with Seo-young sitting alone. But her eyes widened as the hall doors opened. Not only were her friends in the front row, but many of their friends were also present! About a hundred people were there.
Arin's friends rushed over and hugged her. They were ecstatic, saying, "Arin! I can't believe Seo-young Sir would bring us all here in a chartered plane! Even if it's just for one day, seeing your performance in this top auditorium in Russia is like a dream to us!"
Arin looked at Seo-young in shock. Seo-young sat alone on a royal sofa in the middle of the hall, glass in hand. There was a strange satisfaction in his eyes. He wanted to show Arin that he could change her entire world in an instant and establish Arin as his own 'property' in front of her friends.
The stage music began. Despite the bone-chilling cold of Siberia, the interior of the auditorium grew hot. As Arin stepped onto the stage, the cheers from the audience were deafening. But Arin's eyes remained fixed only on Seo-young's steady gaze.
That concert was a strange fusion—an exhibition of the outside world's excitement and Seo-young's private sense of possessiveness.
The moment just before the music began. All the lights in the auditorium went out, and a bright spotlight fell only on Arin. Pin-drop silence filled the entire hall. Just as Arin was about to take her position, Seo-young stood up from his sofa.
He took a microphone and, without looking at the audience, looked directly into Arin's eyes and began to speak in a very pure and grave Russian language.
His heavy voice echoed through the hall speakers:
"Gospoda i damy, segodnya vy uvidite ne prosto tanets. Vy uvidite moyo samoye dragotsennoye sokrovishche. Arin — moya, i kazhdyy eye shag prinadlezhit mne."
(Translation: Ladies and gentlemen, today you will not just see a dance. You will see my most precious treasure. Arin is mine, and every step of hers belongs to me.)
Arin's friends, though they didn't understand Russian, were stunned by the sharpness of Seo-young's voice and the way he looked at Arin. The Russian guests present looked at each other; they realized this performance was not just entertainment, but a display of a powerful man's dominance over his beloved.
Seo-young didn't stop. He added in an even lower tone in Russian:
"Pust' ves' mir smotrit, no nikto ne mozhet eye kosnut'sya. Tantsuy dlya menya, moya lyubov'."
(Translation: Let the whole world watch, but let no one dare touch her. Dance for me, my love.)
Finished, he set the microphone aside and signaled Arin to begin the dance. Although Arin didn't understand Russian, the fire in Seo-young's eyes told her that even though she was before thousands of people on this stage, she was truly the captive of only one.
Suddenly, the melody of that famous Russian orchestra began to play. Arin composed her messy emotions and started to dance with all her might. Her friends cheered her on, but Arin felt Seo-young's Russian words wrapping around her feet like invisible chains.
When the beat of the drums and the thrum of the bass guitar echoed through the auditorium's massive sound system, Arin was not alone—eight of her friends joined her on stage. The nine of them crashed onto the stage like a spark of fire.
Finding her dear friends from her own country beside her in this ice-clad city of Russia, thousands of miles away, Arin forgot all her captivity for a moment. The whole auditorium was enchanted by their collective dance rhythm. Every movement was perfect; every step seemed to challenge the other at lightning speed.
As Arin's friends shouted in rhythm with the beat, Arin led from the very center of the dance floor. Her glittering costume swayed in the air like a flame.
Seo-young's Sharp Gaze
Seo-young, sitting below, was not still. His wine glass was placed on the table. He leaned back on the sofa, observing Arin intently. While everyone's eyes were on the dance, Seo-young's eyes were only on every sway of Arin's body.
As the other eight gave their all on stage, Seo-young felt—the way others were touching Arin, the way other men's eyes were on Arin—it was becoming unbearable for him. He wanted to prove Arin was the best before everyone, but now his old madness and jealousy flared up again.
The Climax of the Performance
As the dance reached its peak, the nine formed a circle. Arin performed an extraordinary 'solo' part from the center of that circle. The hall lights were changing colors rapidly. In the blue, red, and purple light, Arin looked not like a mortal woman, but like an ethereal angel.
Suddenly, the music slowed down. Arin was panting, sweat dripping from her forehead. In that state, when she looked at Seo-young, she saw him standing up. He wasn't clapping; instead, he was walking slowly toward the very edge of the stage.
Seeing his calm but grave presence, the other eight dancers grew a bit nervous and slowly backed away. Only Arin was on stage now, with Seo-young standing below in front of her.
Seo-young said something in Russian again, at which the auditorium lights went out in an instant, leaving only a red light steady on Arin. He extended his hand toward Arin and said in a low voice in Bengali, "Enough dancing before everyone... now the rest is only for me."
As soon as the dance ended, the whole auditorium erupted in applause. Arin's friends hugged her and congratulated her, but Arin's eyes were searching for Seo-young. Seo-young then signaled his bodyguards with a gesture. Within moments, the eight friends were escorted out of the auditorium respectfully but quickly. Arin realized her time of celebration was over; now began the return to private captivity.
A short while later, Seo-young appeared in a completely different avatar. No longer the romantic or stubborn lover, now a terrifying 'Mafia Boss' stood before her.
Seo-young had swapped his ordinary coat for a jet-black leather jacket and a special mafia outfit styled after a bulletproof vest. Tucked into his waist was that shiny pistol he had used to scare Arin, but this time it was loaded with real bullets. His gaze was no longer for Arin or for love, but like a hunter intoxicated with the scent of blood.
He had a secret meeting with a specific group of Russian mobsters in a dark VIP lounge just behind the auditorium. Seo-young gripped Arin's hand firmly and began walking toward that room, taking her with him. Arin was still in her dance costume; Seo-young took off his long overcoat and draped it over Arin so no one could see her body.
Upon entering the lounge, several massive Russian mobsters were seen sitting there, with countless weapons and stacks of cash on the table before them. When Seo-young began to speak in Russian, his voice was as hard as steel. He sat Arin right beside him.
As one Russian mafia leader looked at Arin with a somewhat lustful gaze, Seo-young instantly picked up a knife from the table and drove it right through the man's hand. A terrifying silence fell over the room.
Seo-young said calmly in Bengali to Arin, "Don't be afraid Arin, close your eyes. My score with these people is very old. They have seen your dance, but they haven't yet seen the edge of my sword."
Arin shuddered in fear and clutched Seo-young's coat tighter. She realized the difference between the quiet Seo-young of Seoul and this Seo-young in mafia attire was like heaven and earth. Here, love didn't just mean affection; here, love meant a terrifying game of blood and dominance.
In that tense atmosphere of the lounge, where the smell of blood and gunpowder mixed, a familiar word suddenly reached Arin's ears. One of the Russian mobsters, dealing with Seo-young, laughed and said something while looking at him.
Amidst those Russian words, Arin clearly heard— "K-pop Idol."
Arin startled and looked at Seo-young. She saw his jaw tighten. The Russian mobster was likely comparing Arin to a famous K-pop idol while praising her dance, or making a comment about Arin's past.
The man said in broken English to Seo-young, "Heard she was a rising star... a K-pop trainee back in Seoul. What a waste to keep such beauty in a cage, eh, Seo-young?"
Hearing this, a volcano seemed to erupt inside Seo-young. He gripped Arin's hand so hard that she winced in pain. Seo-young leaned over the table and grabbed the mobster by the collar. There was a murderous look in his eyes.
Seo-young said in a low voice in Bengali to Arin, "Did you hear that? Even these animals know what you could have been one day. But what they don't know is—you are not a stage puppet; you are my better half."
Then he gave that mobster a final warning in Russian, through gritted teeth. The room was now waiting to become a battlefield. Arin realized that her unfulfilled dream of being a K-pop idol was now Seo-young's greatest weakness and obsession. Seo-young didn't want anyone in the world to see her in that light; he wanted Arin to belong only to him.
Seo-young suddenly pulled Arin to her feet and signaled the mobsters with a weapon to leave the room. As he left, he said one last time— "She is not an idol for the world to watch. She is my life. And I don't share my life."
Seo-young practically dragged Arin (Ariya) out of that mafia hideout. Outside, the snowfall had increased, the sound of the wind like the howl of an angry wolf. Seo-young's anger was at its peak; he could not take the suggestion from the mobsters about Arin being a 'K-pop Idol' or 'public property.'
He threw Arin into the back seat of his massive black SUV and sat beside her. The car sped through the icy path toward that desolate palace. Inside the car was the silence of a grave, with only the sound of Seo-young's heavy breathing.
Arin sat huddled in fear, looking out the window. Seo-young suddenly grabbed Arin's hair and turned her toward him. There was a primal ferocity in his eyes.
"You wanted to be an idol, didn't you Arin?" Seo-young's voice was as cold as ice. "People would clap for you, praise your beauty—that was your dream, wasn't it? Those animals were looking at you in that same way today."
Arin whispered, "I... I didn't do anything. They were just saying it..."
"Shut up!" Seo-young roared. "From today, I will forever drive out that dream of dancing, that ghost of being an idol. You are not an idol, you are not a star. You are only the queen of my darkness."
Upon arriving at the palace, Seo-young carried Arin inside. He took her straight to the room where the fireplace was still flickering. He threw Arin onto the bed and brought out a black silk ribbon from the cupboard.
Arin cried out, "Seo-young, what are you doing? Please..."
Seo-young didn't listen. He tied Arin's hands firmly to the headboard with the ribbon. Throwing his mafia jacket to the floor, he leaned over Arin. He began to rub his fingers forcefully over Arin's lips, as if wanting to erase the gaze of all the people in the world from them.
"The world wants to see you on stage," he whispered near Arin's ear, "but I want to see you in my bed. Tonight, I will make you mine in such a way that tomorrow morning you will forget even your own name, let alone being an idol."
He tore away Arin's expensive dance costume in one pull. In the firelight, Arin's fair body trembled with fear and excitement. Seo-young pulled that pistol bullet from his pocket again—the witness to their first union.
"This Russian concert was your last concert, Arin," he said, sliding the cold touch of the bullet along Arin's throat. "From now on, every performance of yours will be for me alone, within these four walls."