Adrik's cold Russian words and his careless smile finally shattered Soha's patience. She could no longer control herself. The moment Adrik's grip loosened even slightly, Soha shoved him away and slammed the VIP room door shut with all her strength. The sound echoed violently, making the entire room tremble.
Soha stood with her back against the door, gasping for breath. Her blood-red gown was torn, strands of hair had fallen over her face, but there was no fear left in her eyes—only a blazing fire.
Adrik had fallen to the floor, yet he was laughing. Casually propping himself up on one elbow, he looked at Soha with a mocking grin.
"Ah, Soha… why so angry all of a sudden?" he said, switching back to Bangla. "The game had just begun. Did the Russian language hit a nerve? Or are memories from three years ago driving you insane again?"
Trembling with rage, Soha grabbed an expensive glass vase from the table and hurled it to the floor. It shattered with a sharp crash.
"Stop it, Adrik! Enough!" she screamed. "Did you think speaking that language would turn me back into that weak nineteen-year-old girl? You called me a 'project,' a 'doll.' But remember this—when a doll begins to take revenge, the first thing it burns is its owner's hands."
Adrik walked toward her slowly. There was no regret on his face—only enjoyment. He was savoring her fury.
"You look even more beautiful when you're angry," he said calmly. "But why exactly are you angry? Thinking about Alexander? Or imagining what I could do to you in this closed room?"
Soha tightened her grip on the door lock. She knew no one was coming to save her, but she also knew she would not surrender to him.
"I'm angry because you still don't see me as human," she said coldly. "You see me as a trophy you stole from Alexander. But tonight, in this VIP room, I'll show you what true wrath looks like."
Suddenly, Soha pulled out a small golden pen from her makeup box—but it wasn't just a pen. It was a concealed electric shocker she had taken from Alexander.
In a flash, Adrik snatched it from her hand and threw it into the corner of the room. Soha braced herself, expecting him to attack her again. But what happened next was beyond her imagination.
Adrik suddenly pulled her tightly against his chest. His iron-hard body was shaking. Soha felt something warm and wet on her shoulder—Adrik was crying.
The man who had been laughing like a demon moments ago now collapsed against her like a helpless child.
"Are you angry?" he sobbed. "Do you hate me? You should. I deserve it. But do you know why I'm like this? Do you want to hear the most terrifying story of my childhood—how I became this monster?"
Soha stood frozen. The sound of his crying dulled her rage. Still holding her, Adrik sank down onto the floor, clinging to her waist as if terrified of losing her.
"Everyone sees me as a mafia don, a psycho," he said blankly. "No one ever saw the eight-year-old boy locked in a dark room by his own father. He taught me that love doesn't exist—only fear and power."
Resting his head against her stomach, Adrik whispered,
"My mother was handed to other men right in front of me. I was forced to watch. When I screamed and cried, my father whipped my back and said, 'Don't cry. Tears are for the weak.' That's when the human inside me died—and a monster was born."
Soha noticed the deep scars still visible on his back. With trembling hands, Adrik touched her cheek.
"I hurt you because I'm afraid, Soha," he confessed. "I'm afraid that if I love you, someone will take you away from me. That's why I want to chain you, tattoo you, own you. I know I'm insane—but you are the reason for my madness."
There was no cruelty left in his eyes now—only a deep, endless loneliness. The feared killer was sitting at her feet, begging for mercy. The weight of his sobs filled the room.
Slowly, Soha placed her hand on his head. She wondered if there truly was a wounded child hidden inside this stone-hearted man. Each tear stirred an unsettling compassion in her heart.
But what the human eye sees is rarely the whole truth.
As Soha gently stroked his hair to calm him, Adrik's face reflected in the massive mirror behind them. Soha couldn't see it—but the mirror revealed everything.
There were no tears in his eyes. His lashes were dry. At the corner of his lips, a sinister smile bloomed. The sobbing was an act. His breathing was steady, controlled. While rubbing his face softly against Soha, his mind was playing a cruel game.
"Foolish girl," he thought. "Emotion is your greatest weakness. I don't need whips to control you—just a little fake crying, and you'll kneel at my feet."
He said nothing, only sighed deeply, pretending exhaustion. He knew girls like Soha couldn't endure someone's tears. This was his trump card.
"I didn't know your past was so painful, Adrik," Soha whispered softly. "I wanted to hate you, but…"
As she spoke, Adrik winked at his reflection in the mirror, saluting his own devilish self. He kissed her palm gently, while weaving a poisonous web in his mind.
He wanted to take her to a place where she would blame herself instead of hating him—where she would beg to stay, just so he wouldn't cry again.
Soha never looked at the mirror. If she had, she would have seen that the man before her was not a repentant lover—but a master manipulator.
Adrik's past was real—the dark room, the monstrous father, his mother's screams. But Adrik knew exactly how to weaponize that truth. He had learned that Soha could not be broken by force—but her heart could be crushed through emotion.
Later, far from Russia and its blood-soaked memories, they moved to Seoul. No one knew them there. No mafia wars, no old enemies. Adrik masked his dark empire behind a mysterious investment firm.
They lived in a luxury penthouse overlooking the city. Soha was enrolled in International Relations at Seoul National University. She wore expensive Korean coats now, intelligence shining in her eyes. A black Mercedes dropped her at campus every morning.
To the world, she looked free—brilliant, elegant, admired.
Adrik appeared changed too—powerful in Seoul's business circles, generous, controlled. He gave her credit cards, bodyguards, freedom.
But every time Soha smiled at a classmate, she felt the invisible golden chain around her neck.
At a glamorous party in Gangnam, a young Korean businessman named Min-ho admired her beauty and intelligence. He stepped a little too close, even tried to touch her shoulder.
Adrik appeared instantly.
Calmly smiling, he crushed Min-ho's hand in a handshake and whispered in Korean, "Touch her again, and tomorrow your fingers will wash up by the Han River. She is mine."
Later, in the VIP lounge, Adrik pinned Soha to the wall, his eyes burning.
"I didn't bring you to Korea to let others look at you," he said coldly. "I didn't come here to become human. I came here to protect what's mine."
Soha finally understood—no matter how bright Seoul was, Adrik's darkness had only become more refined.
And she was still the caged bird in his kingdom.
Soha's sudden rebellion stunned the VIP lounge into complete silence. For a moment, it felt as if time itself had frozen. Adrik had never imagined that in his carefully built empire, Soha would dare to slap him in front of everyone.
Her palm struck his cheek with brutal force. Adrik's head snapped to the side, a clear red imprint of Soha's fingers blooming on his skin. Without pausing even for a second, Soha turned away, carrying her torn dignity and blazing rage, and pushed open the lounge doors, storming back into the main party hall.
Adrik did not move.
He slowly rolled his tongue inside his mouth, tasting blood against his cheek. Then, once again, that devilish smile curved his lips.
"So the tigress has learned how to bite," he thought. "Good. That will make the game far more bloody."
Back in the hall, Soha walked straight toward a group of foreign businessmen and several professors from her university. She laughed, spoke fluent Korean, and carried herself as if nothing had happened moments ago. Only her trembling hands betrayed her.
Min-ho approached her again. He had not forgotten Adrik's earlier warning, but seeing Soha return alone gave him courage.
"Are you all right, Soha?" he asked gently. "Your face looks flushed."
Soha raised her voice just enough for Adrik to hear.
"I'm perfectly fine, Min-ho. I was just stuck a little too long in a suffocating environment. You were telling me about that new art gallery in Seoul—please, go on."
She knew Adrik was watching.
Deliberately, she touched Min-ho's arm and leaned closer as she laughed, her intention clear—she wanted to set Adrik on fire with jealousy.
From a distance, Adrik stepped out of the lounge and stood in a dark corner of the hall. He did not shout. He did not attack. He simply gestured to his personal bodyguard.
"Let her enjoy herself until the party ends," he whispered. "Let her believe she has won. But once we're home, build her a cage so tight she will never even dream of escaping."
In his hand, the wine glass cracked under the pressure of his grip, shattering into shards that sliced into his palm. Blood began to drip—but his eyes showed no pain. Only a manic hunger burned within them.
While Soha smiled, she caught his reflection in a mirrored surface—Adrik calmly slipping his bloodied hand into his pocket, staring at her in silence. That quiet gaze was more terrifying than a whip.
Amid the bright lights and lively chatter of the party, an unnatural stillness crept into the air. As Soha laughed with Min-ho, she noticed Adrik standing motionless in a shadowed corner, his eyes locked onto her.
He no longer looked human.
Soha's slap had awakened the dormant monster inside him. Slowly, he curled his upper lip into a twisted smile. With that smile, two long, sharp fangs seemed to emerge—eerily similar to a vampire's.
Whether they were artificial or a manifestation of his deranged psyche was impossible to tell. Adrik silently laughed, then deliberately ran his tongue across his lips, like a starving predator craving the taste of blood.
Soha froze mid-conversation.
A cold shiver ran down her spine. That monstrous smile—those bloodthirsty fangs—made her realize she was no longer facing a man, but something ancient and demonic.
"Soha?" Min-ho asked. "What is it? What are you looking at?"
She couldn't answer.
Adrik pulled his injured hand from his pocket and calmly smeared his own blood across his lips. Standing there in the darkness, he looked like something otherworldly—a vampire watching its prey.
Then he gestured to her with his fingers.
Come home.
That look promised no studies, no university, no normal night. Something primal and horrifying was about to begin in the penthouse.
Soha released Min-ho's hand and stepped back, one step at a time. She finally understood—slapping Adrik had not just wounded his pride. It had awakened the hunger of the psycho monster inside him.
Adrik began walking toward her through the crowd. Each step felt heavy, as if the marble floor itself trembled beneath him. His sharp teeth glinted between his lips.
When he stopped directly in front of her, Soha felt her entire body turn to ice.
He leaned close to her ear. His hot breath sent chills through her skin. With his bloodied hand, he gripped her wrist tightly.
"Your palm is very soft, Soha," he whispered coldly. "But today I learned how powerful it is. You knocked my crown into the dirt in front of everyone. Now you'll pay the price."
For a brief moment, he brushed his long fangs against the tattoo near her neck. It wasn't pain that made Soha shudder—it was pure, ancient terror.
"Let's go home," he murmured. "These bright lights disgust me. My darkness wants your blood. I will erase every fingerprint of that slap from your body… not with affection."
Soha tried to pull away, but his iron grip didn't allow her to move even an inch. He dragged her toward the hotel exit. Neither Min-ho nor anyone else dared to intervene. Adrik's presence alone had spread an invisible fear through the crowd.
The drive back was silent.
Adrik said nothing. He simply licked the blood from his injured finger and smiled at her.
Once inside the Seoul penthouse, he locked the door—three times.
He tore off his suit and threw it to the floor. In the darkness, the old scars on his sculpted body seemed to awaken. Slowly, he approached Soha, his fangs appearing even more terrifying now.
"Tonight, I am not a mafia lord," he said softly. "Not a businessman. Tonight, only a hungry demon stands before you. You wanted to see blood, didn't you? This penthouse floor will turn red tonight—but not with wine."
Soha backed away until the wall stopped her.
Adrik caged her in with his arms.
His sharp teeth hovered dangerously close to her throat.