The door swung open with a sharp crack, as if someone had ripped it free.
Nari stepped out.
She was no longer Nari.
Her face was wrecked — swollen eyes, red, almost shut, bruised-looking shadows beneath them, dried tears tracing shiny paths down her cheeks.
Her lips were trembling and sore, her mascara streaked down her pale skin.
She was breathing like every inhale tore her apart from the inside.
Then she froze.
Because Kai was there.
Still.
Straight.
Towering.
A block of black ice.
His gaze…
his gaze was incandescent.
A dark, dangerous fire, held in place by a terrifying calm.
His jaw was clenched so hard Nari could almost hear the bones grinding in his skull.
He was beautiful.
But he was terrifying.
He didn't speak.
Not a word.
Not even a sigh.
He stepped forward once.
Then again.
She stepped back just a little.
Just enough for him to understand that she was shaking — not that she was trying to run.
His arm lifted.
And he grabbed her wrist.
Not harshly.
But firmly.
Too firmly for her to pull away.
Too gentle for her to say he was hurting her.
As if he knew exactly how to hold her so she wouldn't have the strength to breathe.
His fingers closed around her fragile bones like a silent iron vice.
Then he pulled her along.
Without a word.
Without an explanation.
She tripped on a rug.
He didn't slow down.
The hallway slid past her in a blur — red, black, violet — neon lights flickering like warnings, the scene warping behind the heat of tears still burning in her eyes.
The smell of alcohol, gin, bodies, smoke…
and her own tears…
all of it clung to her skin.
And Kai kept walking.
Relentless.
Silent.
Like a storm.
Once they reached his office, he didn't even bother to turn the handle.
He slammed the door open with his shoulder.
The impact made the glass panel behind it shiver, and it swung shut again with a dull thud that cut off the rest of the world.
The key turned in the lock with an almost cruel slowness.
A sharp, final click.
Like a border being sealed.
Like a breath being smothered.
Nari didn't have time to speak.
Because Kai… pulled her into his arms.
Not gently.
Never gently.
Like a storm swallowing a ship.
As if his body was the only thing standing between her and a fall from the edge of a cliff.
He held her so tight her ribs protested, her breath snapped in a painful gasp, her head bumping against his chest with a low thud.
The fabric of his suit—expensive, heavy, smelling of sandalwood, black pepper, and a faint metallic bitterness—filled her lungs.
She got lost in it.
Drowned in it.
She could feel his heart pounding, hard, fast, furious.
Not against her.
For her.
— It's going to be okay, he murmured.
His voice was low.
Rough.
Raw.
— It's going to be okay, Nari. Breathe.
And at those words, she broke.
At those words, she collapsed.
Literally.
Her legs gave out.
Her fingers clutched at his jacket like a shipwrecked woman grabbing hold of the last plank.
She melted into him, small and shattered and burning with grief too heavy for her fragile body.
And she cried.
Not like in the movies.
Not prettily.
For real.
Violently.
Ugly.
Ragged sobs that tore her throat.
Silent screams crushed against Kai's chest.
Scalding tears falling in torrents, soaking through the black fabric of his suit, leaving salty traces on her own lips, sliding down her chin.
She clung to him as if her fingers were trying to dig into his skin.
As if pain was the only way to prove she still existed.
The silence in the office felt thick, almost sacred.
— Look at me, Kai said, his voice even lower.
He took her face in his hands—large, warm hands, with an almost shocking gentleness—and slowly tilted her chin up.
His thumb slid along her cheek, smearing away one tear, then another.
Not to wipe them.
To feel them.
As if he wanted to know the exact weight of her pain.
— Look at me.
She lifted her eyes, two swollen, reddened slits, completely lost.
A wounded animal.
A broken child.
A woman starved of air.
Kai picked her up—literally—his hands sliding under her thighs, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, and carried her over to the leather couch by the window.
He laid her down with a tenderness so unreal it sent a shiver through her.
He grabbed a dark grey cashmere throw—thick, warm—and wrapped it around her, like a shield, like a blanket of invisible armor.
— Stay here, he murmured.
His voice was no longer anger.
Nor rage.
Nor hardness.
It was something else.
Something deep, dangerous, heavy.
Like a black ocean suddenly deciding to hold someone gently instead of swallowing them whole.
— I'll let Aera and Ryo know you won't finish your shift.
He straightened up, fingers running through his hair, a man perfectly in control and yet ready to tear the world apart.
— Rest.
I won't bother you.
He turned away, walked toward the door, then paused for a second.
He looked at her.
For a long time.
As if part of him refused to leave.
Then he opened the door slowly…
…and Nari slipped into sleep before he even closed the office.
A heavy sleep, exhausted, torn.
The sleep of a child who has finally been allowed to breathe.
5:07 a.m.
The Black Orchid was dead, its heart gone, its monsters gone, its laughter gone.
Only the carcass remained: a silent bar, lying there, breathing slowly under the sickly green glow of the emergency exit sign.
Kai pushed the office door open without a sound.
He didn't turn on the light.
He didn't need it.
He walked over to the couch and stopped.
Nari was curled up under the blanket, folded in on herself like a wounded animal trying to make itself smaller than the pain.
Her knees were drawn up to her chest.
Her fingers clenched in the fabric, almost cramped.
Her parted lips let out a fragile breath.
A faint track of dried tears still shone on her cheek.
Her breathing was uneven, as if even in sleep she was still fighting.
And she was trembling.
With small, rhythmic jolts.
Like a child.
Like a woman sleeping with fear coiled tight in her stomach.
Kai stood there and watched her.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
He didn't move.
He just looked.
He matched his breathing to hers.
He silently absorbed the violence of what he was feeling—rage, frustration, worry, an almost animal need to protect this woman who was destroying herself right in front of him.
Then, finally, he bent down.
His arms slid under her: one behind her neck, one beneath her knees.
He lifted her.
She weighed nothing.
Nothing at all.
As if two weeks of cannibal love had stolen every gram of her existence.
In his arms, Nari's eyes fluttered half-open.
Her voice was thick, lost, broken:
— What… time is it…? Where are we going…?
— Home. The bar is closed, Kai answered, his tone unchanged.
— Put me down… I can walk…
— No, he cut in.
You can barely stand.
That's when she realized.
Too late.
— He's going to see us… Sion… he's going to—
Kai didn't stop.
— He's the one who's pushed you this far.
So yes. I'm going to bring you to him.
His tone was calm.
Far too calm.
The kind of calm that comes right before someone gets killed.
Nari struggled weakly in his arms, her nails scratching at his sleeve without any real strength, without any real intention.
— No… no… he's waiting outside… he's going to lose it… put me down, Kai… please…
Kai stopped dead.
In the middle of the service staircase.
In the flickering half-light of cheap neon.
In the cold air.
With the smell of damp concrete around them.
He looked down at her.
A dark gaze.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
The kind of gaze that says I'm this close to losing control.
— Are you afraid of him?
His voice was low.
Sharp.
A scalpel.
— Tell me to my face, Nari.
Are you afraid of him?
She looked away.
Her lips were trembling.
Her shoulders too.
Tears welled up again. Automatic. Survival reflex.
A burning shame rose in her throat.
— No… I just… don't want him to get hurt… that's all…
The crack of Kai's jaw tightening echoed down the hallway.
He clenched his teeth so hard a muscle pulsed in his neck.
Then, slowly, he set her down.
His hands stayed on her waist a second too long.
Like a last touch.
Like hesitation.
Like a silent confession: I don't want to let you go.
Then he stepped back.
One single step.
— Go to him, he said at last.
His voice rough.
Low.
Splintered from the inside.
She nodded in silence.
She pushed through the staff door.
And outside…
Sion was there.
Leaning against his car.
A still silhouette.
Cigarette glowing red between two fingers.
Snow falling on his shoulders without him ever moving.
Eyes fixed.
Golden.
Cold.
Incandescent.
He didn't even seem to be breathing.
He looked at her…
…as if she had just committed a crime.