The sentence landed like an executioner's judgment. She felt the room narrow, the air leeched of warmth. For a moment she could hear nothing but the slow thud of her own heart, and the faint, ordinary noises of the house , the hum of the fridge, a car passing outside, mocking the violence folded into his voice. She forced a smile that felt like a fracture.
Her body trembled not with tears now but with calculation, the need to keep him calm, the need to live, the necessity of pretending trust while planning escape. The knife glinted on the table between them, a silent promise and an accusation. She swallowed, steadying herself on the thin thread of tomorrow.
His behavior sent a chill crawling down her spine. There was something in the way he stared, too calm, too steady, that made her instinctively lower her gaze. She just nodded and looked away, forcing herself to appear obedient, even as every muscle in her body begged to run.
Guilt pricked at her chest. Lying to him felt wrong, but she had no choice. Escape was the only option left to her, and deceit was the only weapon she could use. Each passing second in that house pressed heavier on her lungs, the air thick with dread.
No matter how hard she tried, her mind wouldn't stop replaying the memory, the image of him standing over his boss's body with a gun. That moment was carved into her like a scar, vivid and grotesque. The scene mirrored another horror she had tried for years to forget, something from long ago that she thought she had buried. She still remembers the smell of blood, and the cold stillness afterward.
She cursed herself for sitting here, sharing a meal with a murderer, a man who had the audacity to call his violence love. The thought twisted in her stomach. She wanted to scream, to throw the dishes across the room, to tell him what he truly was. But she knew that anger would only get her and others killed. She thinks he won't understand the reason, he only understand control.
So she swallowed her rage and forced herself to think clearly. She needed to be smarter this time, colder. The last time she helped him get away someone like him for the sake of her love for him. It's her fault that people are still dying because of her.
She would not make that mistake again.
This time, she told herself, she wouldn't run blindly. She would plan. She would survive. And when the chance came, when she finally stepped beyond that door, she would go straight to the police. She would report everything, the murders, the manipulation, the way he had trapped her under the illusion of love.
For now, she stayed still, wearing her calm like a mask. Inside, her mind whispered one steady command, wait until morning…... and then run.
_________
"Five murders and three kidnappings… and you're telling me we still don't have a single clue about the suspect?"
The Superintendent Charlie's voice echoed across the small, dimly lit office, the air thick with cigarette smoke and frustration. Papers were scattered across his desk, crime scene photos, police reports, witness statements, all useless, all leading nowhere. Simon's jaw tightened as he glared at his superior, preparing for an answer.
"Actually, sir… we have one clue."
The words hung in the air, soft but firm. Simon's calm tone only deepened the Superintendent's scowl. The older man leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow with a mix of disbelief and irritation.
"A candy? That's your clue? What do you plan to do, search every candy shop in the city until you find the culprit? There aren't even fingerprints on it!"
The Superintendent's sarcasm dripped like venom. He tossed the small evidence bag onto the desk, the wrapped candy inside catching the faint glimmer of the desk lamp.
Simon didn't flinch. His expression remained steady, eyes sharp and focused, as though he could see a pattern invisible to everyone else in the room.
"Everyone thinks he's a serial killer. But in my opinion… he's not. He has a clear motive behind each crime, whether it's a murder or a missing case."
A flicker of interest crossed the Superintendent's eyes. The tension in the room shifted slightly from anger to cautious curiosity.
"Explain."
Simon leaned forward, his pen tapping rhythmically against the edge of the open file. Each tap seemed to echo in the silence before he began speaking, voice low but confident.
"The first five murders happened after a private party. We recovered CCTV footage from that night, every victim was there. They were seen talking to one another, like old friends. Too close for coincidence."
The Superintendent's gaze darkened. His fingers pressed together beneath his chin, his sharp eyes studying Simon as though weighing every word.
"Go on."
"That party was organized by an advertising company, where Mr. Julian, the last victim who went missing, worked as a manager."
The Superintendent frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening. He scribbled something on the file in front of him but didn't look up.
"And what about the taxi driver and that carpenter? The ones who went missing?"
Simon flipped through his notes again, papers rustling softly.
"The taxi driver disappeared around 10 p.m., but CCTV shows he was parked outside the advertising company at 8. Which means… his last passenger likely came from there, from the advertising company itself."
He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. His fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the file, his tone lowering as though the case was starting to piece itself together in his mind.
"And after talking with a few employees about Mr. Julian's disappearance, we learned that the carpenter had worked there too, just a few weeks before he went missing."
The Superintendent's eyes widened, surprise flickering across his normally unreadable face. He looked at Simon for a long moment, then slowly leaned back in his chair, the realization settling in.
"So you're saying the criminal is inside the advertising company?"
Simon hesitated. His gaze shifted toward the board behind the Superintendent, photos of the victims pinned in neat rows, red strings connecting them like a web of secrets.
"Yes and no… maybe. Or… someone is doing this for someone inside that advertising company. I also found a clue regarding the first five victims. They were connected to the JN Mafia group. In my opinion, we need to start focusing on the JN Mafia group if we want to solve these cases."
A heavy silence fell over the room. The hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound that filled the tension-laced air. The Superintendent's expression hardened. It was clear he didn't like where this was heading. He leaned forward slowly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
"Do you know who the next target might be?"
For a moment, Simon didn't respond. His eyes flickered upward, just for a second, then dropped back to the notes scattered before him. The light caught the faint sheen of sweat along his temple. He swallowed hard, his voice lowering to a near whisper.
"If I'm right… then his next target might be me."
No one reacted. The words were barely audible, spoken more to himself than anyone else.
_______
Anna lay alone in her room, staring at the ceiling. The shadows of the night crawled across the walls, restless and alive. Just as her eyelids began to droop, the door burst open without warning.
"Already asleep?"
She sat up instantly, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her thin night suit wasn't revealing, but under Edward's gaze, she felt exposed.
"W-Why? What happened? What are you doing here?"
He smirked, stepping inside like he owned the air she breathed.
"Am I not allowed to enter my own room?"
Her fingers tightened around the blanket.
"You should've told me… Now where am I supposed to sleep? I mean, which room?"
He chuckled softly, the sound low and mocking.
"This is our room, Anna. Lovers should sleep next to each other."
"We're… lovers?"
"Aren't we? You know I love you. And I know you love me. So we are a couple."
His smile didn't reach his eyes, it stretched too wide, too forced, too wrong. She forced a weak smile in return, nodding only to keep the tension from breaking.
"R-right… but I'm a little shy."
"Don't you trust me, Anna?"
The sarcasm in his voice made her chest tighten. She swallowed hard, realizing she had no control over the situation.
"I… I trust you."
"Then let's sleep together."
He slipped under the blanket beside her. She turned her back to him, trying to keep distance, but he slid closer, his arm snaking around her waist, his breath brushing the back of her neck.
He said nothing at first, only inhaled slowly as if memorizing her scent. The sound made her stomach twist.
Her pulse quickened.
" What's wrong?"
He tightened his grip around her, his voice barely a whisper.
"I missed you so much… and I'm going to miss your scent."
"Are you going somewhere?"
He chuckled darkly.
"No… but you're planning to escape from me."
Her heart stopped.
"Aren't you!"
Her hands began to tremble under the blanket.
"W-what are you talking about?"
"Your job. You said you wanted to continue your dream job, remember? So I had to let you go, for eight hours a day."
Relief rushed through her in shaky breaths.
"Right… but I'll come back after work."
"Are you sure?"
Her breath hitched feeling exposed.
"You don't even know the way to this house. I'll have to pick you up every day." She let out a sigh of relief as soon as he finished his sentence.
"Oh…"
She forced a small, nervous laugh, turning away as he buried his face against her shoulder. She lay still, pretending to sleep, but her heart wouldn't stop racing.
_______________
They ate breakfast in hurried silence, the clink of cutlery punctuating the huge apartment. Edward had insisted on leaving early, he kept saying her workplace was far and she had to be on time. Anna moved through the motions, spoon to mouth, toast swallowed, every second counting down to the freedom she'd been craving. Today felt different. Today meant hours away from him, hours where she could breathe.
"Done eating. Let's go."
He watched her with a slow, almost reverent smile, studying the innocent tilt of her face as though capturing it into his memory.
"Wow… is that your car?" She felt the silence between them was so heavy so she tried to make small talk to look more convincing.
Edward turned the key and the engine hummed to life.
"No, it's our car. Whatever is mine is yours."
She laughed awkwardly and nodded, the laugh was small and brittle, but it made him chuckle in response. The sound of his amusement was like a ribbon tightening around her chest.
She was elated in that helpless, childish way, counting the minutes until departure, imagining the routine of a normal day like a balm. She did not see how long he had been watching her, how he catalogued every small expression.
"Ah… I'm going to miss you again."
He exhaled, a theatrical sigh that was part longing, part ownership. She offered him an uneasy smile.
"You know why I'm ready to let you go?"
He glanced at her, eyes narrowing for a breath, the look felt less like curiosity and more like a warning folded into affection.
"Because I want to show you I trust you more than my life. I'm ready to risk everything for your safety. So don't break that trust, Anna. It won't be good for you if you do."
"Are you scared I'll run away?"
He looked back at the road and answered without turning his head.
"I'm scared of myself. What will I do if you betray me? Even I don't know. "
She laughed then, a high staccato meant to quiet the thud of her heart. The laugh didn't help much, her pulse kept time like a trapped bird.
"Don't worry. I won't run."
"Remember one thing, Anna, I'm doing this for your satisfaction."
By the fifth repetition she closed her eyes against the words, letting sleep take her in the motion of the moving car. The city slid by in muted colors through the window. For forty minutes Edward drove, glancing sideways at her sleeping profile as though he might lose her in the moment if he blinked.
Watching her softened him in a way he rarely admitted aloud. Memory softened him further, their first encounter, the small things that had threaded them together, the brief warmth she'd brought into the dark places he kept hidden. He wanted to rewind, to fix what had gone wrong, but yesterday's knots could not be untied. There was only forward, and a need to make things right by force if need be.
"I wish you could believe me, Anna. The same way I trust you."
A dampness formed at the corner of his eye, he wiped it away quickly, annoyed at the betrayal of tears. Then he shook her shoulder gently.
"We're here, Anna."
She startled awake, fumbling for the handle only to find the door locked. She blinked, disoriented, panic nudging her muscles into sudden energy.
"Why are you in such a rush? At least say a proper goodbye."
She forced a soft smile because she didn't want to seed doubt in his mind at the last moment. Better to leave him peaceful if only for hours.
"It's not like I'm going for long. We'll meet again after a few hours, Edward."
"Still… let me hug you one more time."
He pulled her into a tight embrace, the contact too long, too claiming. She felt it as much as she felt his breath, the containment of his arms more like a brace than comfort.
"Try not to make it hard on me. I'll be back soon. Stay away from everyone."
"Yeah, yeah… can I go now?"
He broke the embrace, unlocking the door with a casual, practiced motion.
"Don't skip your meals. And don't overthink anything."
She stepped out, shoulders taut and polite, and closed the car door behind her without looking back. He watched until she disappeared into the glass fronted lobby, until she folded into the stream of suited commuters.
Once she was swallowed by the building, he pulled his phone free and made the call as if reciting orders from a script he'd written a thousand times.
"James… send someone to the usual place to take this car."
A pause as he listened, voice flat and businesslike.
Then, in a tone that made the word "Anna" sound less like affection and more like ownership, he added quietly,
"And clean the torture room I've prepared specially for my Anna."
To be continued