Seo-young's terrifying persona and the restraints on her wrists made Arin's heart ache with despair. She could no longer hold herself back. Tears streamed down her face in an endless flow—tears that weren't just born of fear, but of shattered dreams and ultimate humiliation.
In the dim glow of the fire, Arin's fair face turned flushed from crying. Sobbing uncontrollably, she whispered in a choked voice, "Do you truly love me? Or do you just consider me an inanimate object you want to display? Why are you crushing my dreams under your feet like this..."
The heavy silence of the room grew even more oppressive with the sound of Arin's weeping. A warm tear rolled down and fell onto Seo-young's hand. At the touch of that warmth, Seo-young froze for a moment. His rigid jaw relaxed slightly, but the possessiveness in his eyes did not waver.
He wiped Arin's tears with his thumb, but his touch held more stubbornness than tenderness. Bringing his face close to hers, he said, "Why are you crying? Are these tears for your dreams, or for the bonds I've placed on you? Arin, I told you before—I don't know how to love like an ordinary person. My love means possession; my love means hiding you away from the rest of the world."
Arin sobbed out loud, "But this isn't love, it's captivity! Let me go, I can't take this anymore..."
Seo-young ignored her pleas. Instead, the melody of her crying seemed to further provoke the dark mafia persona within him. He tightened the restraints on her wrists and leaned over her. Arin's cries were soon smothered beneath his heavy breath.
He kissed her—a deep, painful kiss that tasted of a thousand grievances and unquenchable thirst. He whispered against her ear, "Let these tears be the final farewell to your life as an idol. From tomorrow, a new Arin will be born—one who will smile only for Seo-young and weep only for Seo-young."
Outside, the Siberian blizzard reached its peak, while inside, the echoes of Arin's cries bounced off the stone walls of the palace. Arin realized that while this man knew how to protect her with love, the bars of that protection were razor-sharp.
The Game of Bullets and Fire
Arin's screams of agony evoked no mercy in Seo-young; rather, they made his predatory nature more ferocious. Suddenly, he stepped away from her. In the midst of the dead silence, only the sound of his boots echoed.
He picked up the pistol lying on the table. Arin thought he was merely trying to scare her again, but this time, his demeanor was different. He aimed the gun at the window and pulled the trigger—"THUD!"
With a deafening crash, the windowpane shattered, and the freezing Siberian wind howled into the room. Arin screamed in terror, her body trembling violently. She realized that this time, the gun wasn't empty; it was loaded with live ammunition.
Seo-young walked slowly back to the bed, a spark of madness in his eyes. He pressed the cold barrel of the pistol against Arin's sweat-slicked neck. The bone-chilling touch of the firearm pierced her skin.
Gritting his teeth, Seo-young said, "Last night I played with empty shells, Arin, but tonight, I play with bullets. Every act of disobedience, every tear of yours—I know how to silence them with this lead."
Arin's eyes widened in horror. Her breath felt trapped in her throat. She stared at him, paralyzed like a statue. She had never been this close to death. The pressure of the barrel increased against her throat.
A sinister, twisted smile played on Seo-young's lips. He said, "Are you afraid? Good. Because this fear will remind you who owns you. Is that dream of being an idol worth more than this bullet? Tell me!"
Arin couldn't speak; salty tears simply rolled from the corners of her wide eyes. Seo-young didn't move the gun; instead, he pressed it against her lips and whispered, "Submit to me quietly, Arin, or else your beautiful body will sleep forever under the Siberian snow. No one will ever know where you vanished."
Suddenly, he lowered the pistol and began unbuttoning his shirt, though the gun in his hand remained pointed at her chest. Arin realized that tonight was not just about love—it was a life-and-death struggle. To survive, she would have to surrender her entire soul to this monster.
The Peak of Madness
The atmosphere grew thick with a primitive and terrifying tension. With one hand, Seo-young held Arin's bound wrists against the bed, and with the other, he began to trace the contours of her body with the loaded pistol.
The sensation of hot gunpowder and cold metal ignited every pore of Arin's body. He whispered in her ear, "There are no rules to our game tonight, Arin. Every second, you will feel the thin wall between life and death."
Using the barrel of the gun, Seo-young pushed aside the remains of Arin's dance costume. As the chilling metal touched her bare skin, she let out a strange cry of pain and pleasure. He suddenly pressed the pistol against her thigh and crushed her with the weight of his own body.
With every movement, Arin felt the hard metal digging into her skin. At the peak of fear and adrenaline, she shut her eyes tight. Seo-young's body was slick with sweat, his muscular chest rubbing against hers.
In the heat of the moment, he brought the pistol close to her face. With his finger on the trigger, he stared into her eyes and demanded, "Tell me, who do you belong to? This bullet, or me?"
Arin, completely delirious, cried out, "I am yours... only yours! Save me... destroy me, but do not leave me!"
Hearing this ultimate surrender, a demonic joy flashed in Seo-young's eyes. He tossed the pistol aside and lunged at her with all his strength. The restraints on Arin's wrists felt as though they would snap.
Between the mortal fear of the gun and Seo-young's maddened love, a bolt of electricity surged through Arin. In a mix of ecstasy and agony, she bit down on the bedsheet. Every cell in her body now belonged to Seo-young's empire.
That night, in the heart of that impenetrable Siberian palace, a new game began—where love was not a flower, but a leaping flame of gunpowder and fire.
Return to Seoul: The Gilded Gallery
Ten days in that Siberian cold felt like ten years to Arin. During those days, Seo-young never let her see the light of day, taking her to a new world defined by his obsession. When they finally returned to South Korea, Arin was no longer the person she used to be.
As their private jet landed at Incheon Airport, the bright sunlight dazzled Arin's eyes. She was now dressed in expensive designer clothes, a diamond necklace from Seo-young sparkling on her neck—but the spark in her eyes was gone. In its place was a quiet depth and an unspoken loyalty.
They were driven to a high-tech, fortified penthouse nestled in the mountains of an elite Seoul neighborhood. This was Seo-young's true stronghold. Since returning, he had become even more silent, yet more grave.
As soon as they entered, Seo-young took her hand. The violence from ten days ago was gone, but the possessiveness remained. He led her to a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the entire city of Seoul.
"Ten days ago, you were my prey, Arin," he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "But today, you are the owner of this empire. See that city down there? No one there will look for you as an 'idol' anymore. From now on, you are Mrs. Seo-young."
Suddenly, he pressed a remote. A massive wall in the living room slid away to reveal a private dance studio—an exact replica of Arin's old practice room, but far more advanced.
Arin stared in shock. Seo-young whispered, "You love to dance, don't you? I've even hired your eight friends here permanently. They will come, they will dance with you—but outside this room, no one will know where you are."
Arin realized he hadn't fully stolen her dream; he had simply curated it like a statue in a private museum. She would dance and smile, but only one person would have the right to watch.
He pulled the bullet from the Siberian night out of his pocket and placed it in her palm—a strange symbol of their bond. "Do you remember those ten days, Arin? Or do I need to remind you again tonight?"
Arin hid her face in his chest, trembling with a mix of fear and longing. She knew that even though she was back in Korea, the game wasn't over.
The Final Rebellion
When Seo-young opened the doors to the studio, Arin felt a momentary flicker of her old self. The mirrored walls, the polished wood, the perfect sound system—it was everything she ever wanted, yet every brick was laid with Seo-young's control.
He sat in a comfortable chair in the corner, a glass in his hand, watching her with the satisfaction of a hunter. He signaled for her to begin.
Arin stood in the center. Dressed in a black, form-fitting dance gear that accentuated every curve, she waited for the beat to drop. As the music started, she poured all the pain, captivity, and fury of the last ten days into her movements.
Seo-young didn't blink. He saw that when Arin danced, she was no longer his frightened girl; she was an invincible force. Her body became a flame. At one point, when she dropped to the floor in a seductive move, the glass in Seo-young's hand trembled.
As the music peaked, Arin danced her way toward him. Her breath was louder than the music. She stopped in a pose that was simultaneously a sign of rebellion and surrender.
As the music faded, she sank to his feet, panting. Seo-young tilted her chin up. "Incredible," he whispered. "This fire is what drives me mad, Arin. But I am the only one who owns this fire."
He pulled her into his lap. Her heated body crashed against his cool shirt. "Your dance is over," he whispered. "Now it's my turn. You remember the price for dancing in this studio, don't you?"
Arin realized the freedom to dance was just another trap. He bit her shoulder, and she closed her eyes in a blur of pain and passion.
Finally, gathering every ounce of courage, Arin looked into his eyes and said firmly, "I am leaving now. I have a concert, and I have made a promise to my fans."The Illusion of Freedom
Arin expected Seo-young to explode in rage or bind her in chains once more. Instead, that mysterious, diabolical smirk played across his lips. He withdrew his hand from her waist and spoke in a chillingly calm voice, "Go. Let's see how much your 'ordinary world' still remembers you."
Arin was stunned by this easy permission, but she didn't dare hesitate. She rushed to the dressing room and pulled out a magnificent, stylish pink dress. The color cast a fiery glow against her fair skin. With her hair loosely tied and light makeup, she stepped out of the room looking like a living fairy.
As she passed the hall, Seo-young was still sitting in that same chair. Arin paused for a second. Seo-young scanned her from head to toe. In that pink dress, Arin looked so ethereal that his pupils remained fixed, mesmerized.
He stood up and approached her. The sharp, intoxicating scent of his perfume enveloped her. Seo-young leaned into her ear and whispered, "You look incredibly seductive in pink, Arin. Go, let the world see your beauty. But remember—if you are even a minute late after the concert ends, that Siberian bullet will be waiting for you."
Arin took a deep breath and left the penthouse. A royal car was waiting for her outside. As she stepped in, a strange shiver ran through her. On one hand was the thrill of the concert; on the other, the terrifying possessiveness of the man she left behind. The hem of her pink dress fluttered in the wind, and she wondered—was tonight the start of her freedom, or just a new ritual for returning to the golden cage?
The Concert: Shadows in the Light
When the car stopped in front of the venue, Arin was blinded by the roar of the crowd and the flash of camera lights. After being missing for ten days, her return felt like a fairy tale. Her pink dress shimmered under the floodlights like a princess of spring.
Backstage Tension
The moment she entered the backstage area, her teammates and friends swarmed her. Their faces were filled with joy and a thousand questions. "Where were you, Arin?" "Why was your phone off?" "Where did Mr. Seo-young take you?"
Arin couldn't answer. The ice of Siberia and the cold touch of the pistol were still playing on her mind. She stood before the mirror for one last look. As innocent as she looked in pink, the secrets buried in her heart were twice as dark.
The Performance
As the curtains rose, thousands screamed her name. With the first beat of the music, Arin took her place. Her dance was different tonight—every move was infused with a strange intoxication and hidden pain. As the flares of her pink dress swirled in the rhythm, the audience felt they were watching a mesmerizing enchantment.
But mid-dance, Arin's eyes drifted toward the VVIP box.
There, in a pitch-black corner, sat a familiar shadow. Though his face wasn't clear, she knew that tall silhouette and those piercing eyes anywhere. Seo-young! He hadn't just let her go; he had come to guard her every movement. Arin felt his gaze like invisible hands stroking her skin.
The Ultimate Moment
At one point, as Arin moved to the very edge of the stage, her eyes locked with Seo-young's. From the shadows, he took a sip from his glass and smiled a mysterious, haunting smile. That smile reminded her: the applause of thousands was for her ears, but her body and soul were still prisoners of the four walls of the penthouse.
Suddenly, with the rhythm of the music, Arin spun so fast that her pink dress bloomed like a massive flower. The crowd went wild, but Arin was trembling inside. she knew that the moment the concert ended, those powerful hands would claim her once more.
The Return to the Dark
The adrenaline of the concert was still in her veins. As she exited the venue, the night air sent a bone-chilling shiver through her body under the pink dress. Seo-young's royal black car stood in the dark like a predator waiting for its prey.
The bodyguard opened the door. Inside was pitch black, smelling of expensive perfume and Seo-young's hot breath. Before Arin could react, a pair of strong hands yanked her inside.
The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. Arin found herself sprawled across Seo-young's broad, powerful lap. One of his hands clamped around her waist like an iron shackle, while the other brushed her messy hair aside to reach her neck.
"You danced beautifully, Arin," Seo-young's voice was heavy with intoxication. "Thousands of eyes were on this pink dress, but they don't know that the body trembling inside it belongs only to me."
The interior of the car was silent, save for Arin's racing heart and Seo-young's hot breath. He gripped her chin firmly, turning her face to his. The primal hunger in his eyes made Arin go numb. Seo-young traced a line across the pink fabric with his fingernail and whispered, "Your concert is over, Arin. Now, my private concert begins. It won't take me a second to ruin this pink color."
The car sped toward the penthouse. Arin closed her eyes, resting her head on his chest. She realized that no matter how much applause she received from the world, at the end of the day, her only home was in the dark embrace of this man. Seo-young bit her earlobe and whispered, "Tonight, you will give me much more than just a dance."