Chapter 242
To resist the pull, Jaha turned her head away and clenched her fists.
“Look at me, Jaha. Look at me and say it. Please?”
His pleading voice coiled around her ears like a serpent, and despite being irreligious, she instinctively recalled the verse:
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
“Please, Jaha…”
Just as she began to wonder when this excruciating ordeal would end, Jaha suddenly realized—the surroundings had become unnaturally quiet.
This wasn’t the mansion, but a dessert café. There should have been sounds from other tables.
A chill pierced through her skull, trickling down to her toes.
When she looked around, the interior of the shop was completely empty.
“It’s just so we can talk comfortably. There’s no other reason, so please don’t worry.”
He quickly explained, having keenly noticed her unease. But Jaha’s mind snapped into sharp focus.
Just moments ago, this had been a public space anyone could enter. Now, without her even noticing, it had seamlessly fallen under this man’s control.
This was reality.
She had been foolishly oblivious, distracted by things far beyond her grasp.
The man before her could hunt prey like her effortlessly whenever he wished.
Any trace of sympathy she might have felt, swayed by his carefully crafted appearance, evaporated. The man pretending at fragility while standing at the apex of the food chain now seemed utterly repulsive.
This power. This status.
The hierarchy between them was glaringly obvious—so how had she ever…?
A story came to mind: <The Stolen Poverty.> About how the rich coveted even poverty itself, stealing it away.
It was true. She’d never imagined this man would try to rob her of even the position of the victim. Shaking people’s resolve with pitiful eyes and a voice feigning worldly sorrow while begging mercy from the strong.
Her body trembled with an emotion she couldn’t name—anger or terror. No, it was both. But not in equal measure. One overwhelmingly dominated.
A clattering sound came from the teacup in her grip. The cup kept knocking against its saucer from her shaking hands.
This was precisely when she needed to remain composed.
Predators only pounce harder when they see fear in their prey.
Yet no amount of self-admonishment could stop the tremors.
‘I can’t do this.’
Jaha bit down on the inside of her cheek.
‘I’m terrified. This man terrifies me.’
The final drop that makes a full glass overflow—that was what this realization became for Jaha.
The fear that had been barely contained by surface tension now spilled over completely.
The man who had once enslaved her, who had done those things to her, and then approached her again—he was horrifying.
No matter how much time had rewound, he still remembered everything he’d done. Yet he had approached her as if nothing had happened, acting as though they could be lovers. Wasn’t that way of thinking utterly chilling?
What kind of brain structure even makes that possible?
She couldn’t follow his logic. They were fundamentally different species.
She couldn’t even muster the courage to fight.
How was she supposed to defeat a creature that felt neither guilt nor shame?
‘Forget revenge. I just need to run.’
Seeing Jaha visibly trembling, he panicked and reached out.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt—?”
“Hhk—!”
The choked, gasping sound she made as she curled in on herself froze him in place. His mind went blank.
Why?
“D-Don’t… come any closer.”
Why?
Blinking in confusion, he could only stare as Jaha repeated in a voice thick with suppressed tears:
“Don’t touch me.”
He was lost. None of this made sense.
Why now?
He hadn’t said anything threatening. Hadn’t done anything aggressive.
He hadn’t even forced her.
Attitude, expression, tone—he had altered everything. Even the high-handed demeanor that had once been as natural to him as breathing. All to appear harmless to her.
So why was she still afraid?
What about me terrifies her?
He didn’t understand, but he had to calm her down first.
Retracting his hand slowly to avoid startling her further, he deliberately hid both hands behind his back—a silent promise not to touch without permission. Only then did Jaha’s hunched shoulders relax slightly.
“It’s a misunderstanding.”
He began with an explanation.
“Something must have given you the wrong idea, but I would never harm you, Jaha.”
Jaha neither agreed nor argued. But her pitch-black eyes spoke louder than words, radiating wariness aimed squarely at him.
His chest tightened.
Why? Why are you looking at me like I’m something monstrous—?
Drowning in bewilderment, he racked his brain for a solution. To fix this, he needed to identify the cause—yet nothing came to mind.
Had he unconsciously made a cruel expression? He touched his face, but no, that wasn’t it.
Then what?
What the hell is the problem here?
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1 CommentKamelia Kaltig