lawly

by footfungus

lawly

55. Chapter 55

The night air was thick with the scent of sea salt and blooming night jasmine, a deceptive calm settling over the Nam estate. Beyond the high walls, the city of Asterum was still alive, the distant hum of noble gatherings and the occasional laughter from drunken revelers filtering through the crisp breeze. But here, in the private gardens, everything was still. Too still.

Yerim exhaled, rubbing her arms as she wandered down the stone pathway. She hadn't been able to sleep—hadn't been able to in weeks, really. The stress of her debut into the royal society weighed heavily on her, her failures clinging to her like a second skin. She was the only one of her bloodline whose powers had yet to awaken, the only Nam without a claim to the sea's grace. A disgrace. A failure. She knew what they whispered behind her back. She felt it every time her mother's sharp gaze lingered a moment too long, every time Yejun tried to assure her that everything would be fine.

It wasn't fine.

She sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Perhaps some fresh air would clear her mind.

The lanterns hanging along the stone walls flickered as a breeze passed, their warm glow casting elongated shadows across the courtyard. It was a quiet night—eerily so. Usually, she could hear the distant murmurs of the house staff or the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. Tonight, however, there was nothing but silence.

The eerie quiet sent a shiver down her spine.

Shaking the feeling off, she made her way toward the small pavilion near the koi pond, sinking onto one of the stone benches. She pulled her knees up to her chest, staring at her reflection in the water.

She looked the same. Dark hair cascading over her shoulders, deep blue eyes—features befitting a Nam. And yet, she felt like a stranger to herself. Unchanged. Unworthy.

Her hands curled into fists on her lap.

A soft sound broke the stillness.

Footsteps.

Yerim stiffened, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She wasn't alone.

Her fingers twitched, instinctively reaching for the small knife she kept hidden beneath her sleeve. She didn't carry it out of paranoia—Yejun had insisted.

The steps were slow, deliberate, approaching from beyond the garden's entrance. Not a servant. They would have called out to her, asked if she needed anything.

She swallowed hard, rising to her feet. "Who's there?"

Silence.

The wind rustled through the leaves, but no answer came.

Then—

A shadow, barely perceptible, shifted at the edge of the path.

Her breath hitched.

"Show yourself," she commanded, her voice steadier than she felt.

Still, no response. But the presence lingered. Watching. Waiting.

Her grip on the knife tightened. Something was wrong.

A gust of wind blew through the courtyard, and in that fleeting moment, she could have sworn she saw a figure standing beneath the willow tree, barely illuminated by the lantern's glow.

By the time she blinked, it was gone.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. Was she imagining things?

Or was something—or someone—lurking in the darkness, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

Then, just as she turned back toward the estate, a low, pained groan drifted through the air.

Her body went rigid.

She spun around, scanning the dimly lit courtyard. The groan came again, weaker this time. Her eyes darted to the base of the stone wall, and that was when she saw him.

A man, slumped against the cold stone, his body barely illuminated by the lantern's flickering glow. His clothes were torn, dark fabric sticking to his skin, and a deep gash stretched across his abdomen, blood seeping into the ground beneath him. One of his arms dangled limply at his side, while the other pressed tightly against the wound as if it was the only thing keeping him together.

Yerim's breath caught in her throat.

Who was he? And—more importantly—how had he gotten in?

Her first instinct screamed at her to run. Call for the guards. Alert her brother. But something about the way he shuddered, the weak tremor in his breath, made her hesitate.

Then, as if sensing her presence, his head lifted slightly.

Dark, damp strands of hair clung to his forehead, and for a fleeting moment, she glimpsed his eyes beneath heavy lids—deep crimson, sharp despite his weakened state.

"Help…" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. His hand twitched, reaching toward her before falling limply against his chest. "Please… help me."

Yerim swallowed hard.

She shouldn't. Every fiber of her being screamed not to. But she was already stepping forward.

"Sir…?" her voice wavered. "What happened to you?"

A violent cough wracked his body, and his hand came away from his mouth stained with blood. He didn't answer. Couldn't, maybe. He simply sagged further against the stone, his breaths growing shallower.

Her heart pounded as she glanced back toward the estate. She had two options—leave him here and risk him dying, or take him inside and risk everything.

Miyeon would be furious. The maids would be horrified. And Yejun—

No. She didn't want to think about that right now.

She turned back to the stranger, who had gone frighteningly still.

"Can you stand?" she asked quickly, kneeling beside him. "I… I can try to help, but you need to move."

For a moment, there was no response. Then, weakly, he pushed himself up, his breath hitching as pain rippled through him. His strength gave out almost immediately, and without thinking, Yerim reached for him, her hands curling under his arm as she tried to steady him.

The contact sent a strange shiver down her spine. His skin was warm—too warm. Feverish.

"Thank you…" his voice was barely a breath, pained but almost… amused?

She ignored the unease curling in her stomach and pulled him upright. She could question her decision later. Right now, she needed to stop the bleeding.

And she had no idea she had just invited the devil into her home.

Carefully, she helped him inside, guiding him through the dimly lit halls of the estate. Every few steps, he stumbled, leaning more of his weight against her. He was heavier than she expected, but she grit her teeth and continued.

Reaching the study, she nudged open the door and led him to a chair. "Sit down. I'll get something to clean the wound."

She grabbed a bowl and cloth, wetting it before returning to him. But as she dabbed at the blood, her brow furrowed. The cut was there, but it wasn't deep enough to cause this much blood loss. Her fingers hovered over his shoulder, realizing belatedly—his clothes were drenched, but not all of it was his.

Her breath hitched.

She lifted her gaze slowly, scanning his face properly for the first time. The sharp features, the silver-black hair, the unmistakable crimson eyes.

A name burned at the back of her mind.

Eunho.

She went rigid.

His lashes fluttered slightly, and then, he smirked.

"Ah," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but rich with something that sent a shiver down her spine. "You do recognize me."

Yerim's breath came shallow, panic clawing up her throat as her mind screamed at her. Run. Scream. Call for help.

But she was frozen.

And Eunho…

Eunho was watching her like a predator who had finally trapped his prey.

Yerim's fingers trembled around the damp cloth still pressed to his chest, her breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls. Eunho. The name reverberated in her skull like a warning bell, each syllable dripping with the weight of his reputation.

The pirate. The traitor. The ghost of the Do family.

And she had just brought him into her home.

"You…" Her voice was barely above a whisper, her throat tight, constricted with the weight of fear. "You're…"

Eunho tilted his head, watching her like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. His smirk deepened. "Go on," he murmured, voice low, teasing. "Say it."

Yerim yanked her hands back as if burned, staggering a step away. Her heart slammed against her ribs, her mind reeling. She should run. She should scream. But her body refused to move, as if some invisible force had cemented her to the floor.

He shouldn't be here. He was a wanted man. The noble families had been hunting him for years. And yet, he was here, sitting casually in her study, his posture relaxed despite his so-called "injuries."

She sucked in a breath, her gaze flickering toward the door. Could she make it?

Eunho followed her glance, and a slow chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Don't," he said, the word soft but laced with an unspoken warning. "I'd hate to have to chase you."

Yerim flinched, her stomach twisting into knots.

He knows.

He knows she's terrified.

And worse—he's enjoying it.

Her hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she forced her voice to steady. "Why are you here?" she demanded. "How did you—" She swallowed thickly, pushing past the dryness in her throat. "How did you get past the guards?"

Eunho hummed, as if considering whether to humor her question. Then he exhaled, leaning back against the chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. "You'd be surprised what a little misdirection can do," he mused. "People see what they expect to see. Give them a little blood, a weak posture, and suddenly, I'm just another poor soul in need of saving."

Her breath hitched.

He had faked it.

The blood. The stumble. The weak, pitiful groans.

It had all been an act.

Her stomach churned. "You—"

"Shh." Eunho lifted a finger to his lips, grinning. "No need to be so dramatic, princess. You already let me in. No taking it back now."

She wanted to hit him.

Instead, she inhaled sharply, willing the fury in her veins to cool. "Then what do you want?"

Eunho's smirk didn't waver, but there was a glint in his eyes—sharp, assessing. "I think you already know the answer to that."

A cold chill ran through her spine.

Me.

He was here for her.

Her knees nearly buckled at the thought.

It didn't make sense. She was a failure. A powerless disgrace of the Nam family. There was no reason for him—of all people—to come looking for her.

Unless—

Her mind raced, grasping for answers. The families. The test. The whispers behind closed doors.

Did he know something she didn't?

She took another slow step back, the weight of the room suffocating. "If you think my family will—"

"Save you?" Eunho cut in smoothly, his tone almost amused. "Oh, Yerim. You really are sheltered, aren't you?"

Her breath caught.

The way he said her name—so easily, so familiarly—sent another wave of unease rolling through her.

"They won't come for you," he continued, his crimson gaze locked onto hers. "Not in time. Not before I take you with me."

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

He wasn't lying.

She could hear it in his voice, see it in the calm certainty in his expression.

"No," she whispered, her voice shaking. "No, you're not—"

The moment she moved, Eunho did too.

Fast.

Too fast.

Before she could blink, he was in front of her, his body caging her against the wooden desk, his hands braced on either side of her.

Yerim gasped, her head snapping back to meet his eyes, burning with an intensity that stole the air from her lungs.

"You don't have a choice, princess," he murmured, his voice a low drawl. "You're coming with me."

Her breath came in shallow bursts, her heart a wild drum in her chest. But through the panic, through the haze of fear curling around her like a noose—

Something inside her snapped.

She refused to let him control the narrative.

Swallowing her fear, she tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. "And if I fight you?" she challenged, her voice steadier than she felt.

Eunho's smirk stretched, slow and dangerous. "Then I suppose we'll see how long you last."

He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, voice dropping to a whisper.

"Either way," he murmured, "you're mine now."

And just like that—the game had begun.

Yerim's pulse thundered in her ears, her breath coming in shallow bursts as Eunho's words settled over her like a thick, suffocating fog. You're mine now. The audacity. The arrogance. The certainty in his voice.

Her body tensed. She needed to move. Now.

He was too close. His scent—smoke, salt, and something undeniably dangerous—wrapped around her like a vice, holding her in place.

Don't freeze.

Her mind screamed at her to do something. Anything.

Without thinking, she moved.

Her knee shot up, aiming for his ribs.

Eunho caught it.

Fast. Effortless. As if he'd expected it.

The smirk on his lips widened as he gripped her thigh, just tight enough to make her still. "Oh?" he mused, eyes gleaming. "A fighter, after all."

She snarled, twisting to break free, but he was faster. With a swift movement, he spun her, pressing her front against the desk, his body caging her in from behind.

Yerim gasped, her palms slamming against the wooden surface.

She thrashed, but it was useless. He was stronger. His hold firm, unyielding. Like he'd done this before.

His lips brushed against the side of her temple, his breath warm against her skin. "Nice try," he murmured. "But not quite good enough."

Fury surged through her, hot and reckless.

"I swear to the gods, if you don't let me go—"

"What?" Eunho cut in, amused. "You'll scream?" He leaned in, his voice dropping into something silkier. "Go on, princess. Try it."

Yerim stiffened.

Because she couldn't.

If she screamed, the guards would come. But what if they didn't get here in time? What if she failed?

What if he got to them first?

She wasn't naïve. She had heard the stories. Eunho wasn't some street thug with a price on his head—he was a predator. A man who had outwitted the noble houses for years.

And right now, he had her exactly where he wanted her.

Her stomach twisted. Think. Think.

Eunho must have sensed her hesitation because he chuckled, the sound vibrating against her back. "There it is," he mused. "That moment when you realize you're trapped."

Her jaw clenched. "You're a bastard."

"Mm. I've heard worse."

She bit back a growl, her mind racing. If she couldn't overpower him, she'd have to outsmart him.

Slowly, she relaxed her body.

Eunho noticed.

"Giving up already?" His tone was teasing, but there was curiosity in his gaze, as if he was intrigued by her sudden compliance.

Good.

Let him think she was giving in.

Yerim let out a slow breath. "Fine," she muttered. "You win."

Eunho arched a brow. "That easy?"

She nodded. "I'm not stupid." Her voice was steady, despite the erratic pounding of her heart. "You're obviously stronger. Fighting won't get me anywhere."

Something flickered across his face—interest. He liked this. The shift in tactics.

She turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze over her shoulder. "So, if I'm going with you…" She swallowed, forcing herself to sound curious, not terrified. "Where are we going?"

Eunho studied her, his crimson eyes sharp, calculating. Then, slowly, his grip on her loosened. Just a little.

Her chance.

Yerim moved fast.

She grabbed the heavy ink pot from the desk and threw it straight at his face.

Eunho barely had time to react. The pot shattered, black ink splattering across his cheek and hair, momentarily blinding him.

Yerim didn't wait.

She twisted free, darting toward the door—

But she didn't make it.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her back.

She screamed, thrashing, but Eunho's patience had run out.

He spun her around, slamming her against the desk.

Yerim barely registered the sting of the impact before a cold blade pressed to her throat.

Silence fell.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her pulse hammering against the sharp edge of his cutlass.

Eunho was done playing.

Ink dripped down his face, streaking over his cheekbone, his lips, his furious, gleaming crimson eyes.

"Alright," he murmured, tilting his head. "I'll admit. That was impressive."

His voice was calm. Too calm.

Yerim swallowed, her chest rising and falling with each panicked breath.

He leaned in, pressing the blade just a little closer. "But now?" His smirk returned, this time tinged with something dangerous. "Now, you've pissed me off."

A shudder ran through her spine.

Then—a knock.

Firm. Sharp. Right outside the door.

Yerim's heart stopped.

"Yerim?" A familiar voice called. Yejun.

Her brother.

Her stomach dropped. If he came inside—if he saw this—

Eunho's gaze flickered toward the door, his lips curling in amusement. "Well," he mused. "This just got interesting."

Yerim's pulse roared in her ears.

If Yejun walked in now, there would be blood.

She had seconds to decide.

What the hell was she going to do?

The knock at the door was a thunderclap in the suffocating silence of her study.

Yerim stiffened, every muscle in her body going rigid. Yejun.

Her brother—the strongest water wielder of their generation. The only one who would fight tooth and nail for her.

But in this moment, he was powerless.

Because Eunho had the advantage.

A smirk tugged at his lips, slow and taunting, but his crimson eyes sharpened, gleaming with predatory amusement. He could hear the hesitation in Yejun's voice—the concern.

He was enjoying this.

Yerim's pulse hammered at her throat as the weight of the situation pressed down on her. Her study, once a sanctuary, now felt claustrophobic.

The scent of aged parchment and ink mixed with the faintest trace of iron. The firelight from the lanterns flickered, casting shadows that danced along the dark wooden shelves lined with scrolls and books.

And between those flickering shadows—Eunho stood, utterly at ease, a storm contained within a single man.

He was close. Too close.

His breath, warm and unhurried, ghosted along her cheek. The cutlass rested against her throat, cold and sharp, but he held it with deliberate care, as if teasing her with how easily he could end this.

Her fingers curled against the edge of her desk, her knuckles turning white. She had to think.

"Yerim?" Yejun's voice was closer now, his shadow slipping beneath the crack of the door. "Why is the door locked?"

Eunho hummed—low, rich, entertained.

"Smart brother," he mused, tilting his head, the silver strands of his hair catching the dim light. His free hand lifted to brush an errant ink-stained strand away from his cheek, his smirk widening. "Too bad it won't help him tonight."

Yerim gritted her teeth.

Think. Think.

She forced her breath to steady, forced herself to meet his gaze head-on. "I—I'm fine," she called out, her voice not quite as even as she wanted it to be.

A pause.

Then, a shift.

Eunho's brows arched, amused by the way her voice wavered. His cutlass tilted ever so slightly, allowing him to lean in, his lips brushing just near her temple.

"Try again," he whispered, his tone mocking, indulgent.

A shudder crawled down her spine. He knew.

He knew Yejun wouldn't buy it.

Damn him.

"Then open the door," Yejun said, firmer this time.

Yerim's nails dug into the wood. She could feel the warmth of Eunho's chest behind her, the slow, measured rhythm of his breathing. He was utterly unbothered, as if he already knew how this would end.

Damn him.

"I just—wanted some time alone," she snapped, forcing irritation into her tone.

Yejun hesitated. "You never lock your door."

Yerim swallowed hard.

Eunho's smirk returned.

"Careful, princess," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "He's sharp, but how sharp? Let's find out."

Then—

A loud knock from the main entrance.

Yerim's breath hitched.

The guards.

Eunho's entire demeanor shifted.

The smirk faded, his playfulness draining away like the dying embers of a fire. His gaze flickered toward the doorway, his expression turning calculative, sharp as a blade.

For the first time, he looked displeased.

"Ah," he muttered, tilting his head. "This complicates things."

Before she could process what was happening, Eunho moved.

Fast. Blindingly fast.

His cutlass disappeared, his fingers snaking around her wrist, twisting her into him before she could scream.

Her back hit his chest.

Firm. Unyielding.

One calloused hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the instinctive cry that nearly escaped.

Yerim's eyes went wide.

She could feel everything.

The way his breath steadied, no longer amused but focused. The subtle rise and fall of his chest against her back.

She struggled, thrashing in his hold, but his grip only tightened, his palm hot against her skin.

"Shh," he murmured, his lips near her ear now, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

"Time to go, princess."

Panic exploded in her veins.

Her body twisted, her heels digging into the wooden floor, trying to ground herself, to resist—but Eunho was already pulling her backward.

Toward the window.

No.

Her stomach flipped.

She kicked, managing to hit his shin this time.

Eunho hissed, but his grip didn't loosen. If anything, it tightened.

"Still feisty." He exhaled sharply, as if slightly exasperated. "Fine. Have it your way."

Then—

With a single motion, he hoisted her over his shoulder.

Yerim let out a shocked gasp, her fists slamming against his back.

"LET ME GO!" she snarled, twisting, kicking, thrashing.

Eunho barely stumbled.

"Drama queen," he muttered.

"You're KIDNAPPING me!"

He huffed a laugh. "Details."

Before she could scream again, he reached the window.

Cool night air rushed in, whipping at her skin, the distant glow of the city stretching out beneath them.

And then—

He jumped.

The ground raced toward them.

Yerim screamed, her stomach lurching—

At the last second, fire erupted from Eunho's boots.

The descent slowed, the heat curling beneath them, pushing against the air, as if he was stepping down on invisible platforms.

Yerim's heart slammed into her ribs. What—?!

They landed smoothly.

Eunho straightened, his grip on her still firm, but effortless—as if she weighed nothing.

Her head snapped up—

The guards were running.

And above them—

The door to her study BURST OPEN.

Yerim locked eyes with Yejun.

And for the first time in her life, she saw her unshakable brother's face pale with horror.

Her mouth parted.

"Yejun—"

But before a single syllable could leave her lips, Eunho moved.

He scaled the wall with ease, the fire licking at his heels, propelling them higher, faster.

Yerim struggled one last time, but it was useless.

The estate—the only life she had ever known—

Was disappearing beneath them.

Eunho had won.

And no one—*not even Yejun—*could stop him.

Yerim's breath was a sharp, frantic thing in her lungs, her body twisting violently against Eunho's grip as they soared over the estate wall.

The fire beneath his boots crackled, illuminating the night, painting eerie shadows along the walls of the Nam household. The rush of wind whipped at her hair, the scent of smoke and burning embers curling in her nose.

This couldn't be happening.

But it was.

She was being stolen from her home, and no one—not even Yejun—could stop it.

Below them, she caught a glimpse of her brother's face, twisted in horror, fury, and disbelief. His dark blue eyes were locked on hers, frantic, helpless, and that—that—terrified her more than anything else.

Yejun had never been helpless before.

A cold fist of dread tightened around her ribs.

"YERIM!"

Her brother's voice thundered through the courtyard, his power surging around him. A rush of water erupted, tendrils of it snapping toward them, reaching—grasping—for her.

But Eunho was faster.

With a flick of his wrist, flames roared, clashing against the water, sending up a burst of steam that swallowed the night.

Yerim coughed, her vision blurring as thick, stifling heat curled around them.

"You might want to hold on, princess," Eunho mused, voice maddeningly calm.

"Let me go!" she snapped, thrashing against his ironclad hold, but his grip was unyielding, as if he barely even registered her struggle.

"Not a chance," he drawled, completely unfazed. "You belong to me now."

Yerim's teeth clenched.

She had never wanted to stab someone as much as she did right now.

But before she could launch another attack, Eunho's fire surged, rocketing them away from the estate, over the rooftops of the outer city.

The palace lights faded behind them, swallowed by the thick mist of midnight.

The Rooftops of Asterum

The city stretched beneath them like an endless labyrinth of winding streets, bridges, and towering buildings. The rooftops—shingled, sloped, and dangerously steep—passed by in a blur as Eunho leapt effortlessly from one to another, the glow of his fire momentarily lighting the darkness before vanishing into the shadows.

Yerim hated how effortlessly he moved. How easily he could escape.

She could hear the faint echoes of shouts in the distance—the estate guards were scrambling, their heavy boots pounding against stone, but Eunho had already outpaced them.

Her stomach twisted.

If he got her out of the city…

No. She couldn't let that happen.

"You're going to regret this," she hissed, her voice low with fury. "My family will burn you alive for taking me."

Eunho only laughed, a low, rich sound that sent heat curling in her chest—whether from anger or something else, she refused to acknowledge.

"Burn me alive?" he echoed, adjusting his grip on her. "I think you've forgotten, fire is my domain."

Yerim wanted to smack that insufferable smirk off his face.

Instead, she forced her voice to steady, her mind racing. "Then what do you want from me?" she bit out.

Eunho hummed, as if considering.

Then he glanced down, meeting her gaze, his crimson eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"You'll find out soon enough, princess."

Yerim's blood boiled.

She hated how he kept calling her that—like a pet name, like a game. Like he was enjoying this.

"I will kill you the first chance I get," she swore, her voice like steel.

Eunho grinned. "I look forward to it."

She wanted to scream.

Instead, she twisted her wrist just enough to reach for the dagger hidden beneath the folds of her silk dress.

She'd only have one chance.

The rooftops blurred beneath them as Eunho prepared for another leap. Just as he pushed off, Yerim whipped the dagger free, the blade gleaming in the moonlight—

And drove it straight toward his ribs.

Fast. Precise. Deadly.

But Eunho moved.

At the last second, he twisted, his grip shifting, sending them into a sudden midair spin.

Yerim gasped, the world tilting as the dagger's tip *grazed his side—*just shy of piercing him.

A sharp hiss left his lips, but before she could react—

He dropped.

The air rushed past them, her stomach lurching violently as Eunho twisted in midair, redirecting the momentum—

And landed hard on a rooftop, rolling.

The force sent them sprawling, his body bracing hers as they hit the cold tiles—hard.

Yerim let out a sharp cry, her vision blurring for a moment as the impact knocked the air from her lungs.

Before she could recover, she felt a hot grip clamp around her wrist—too fast, too strong.

Then—a sharp tug.

She barely registered what was happening before Eunho had her pinned beneath him.

Her dagger was gone, ripped from her grip.

Yerim sucked in a breath, her pulse hammering as her back pressed against the tiles, Eunho's weight caging her in.

His crimson eyes burned, his jaw tight, shoulders tense.

"That," he murmured, his voice dangerously low, "was very rude."

Yerim glared, her breath ragged. "Should've aimed for your heart."

Eunho laughed, the sound soft—dangerous.

"You'll have to try harder than that, princess," he murmured.

Then, without another word—

He hauled her up again, throwing her over his shoulder.

Yerim shrieked in frustration, pummeling his back with her fists.

"PUT ME DOWN, YOU INSOLENT—"

"Not happening," Eunho cut in smoothly, barely even flinching at her attacks.

And just like that—he moved again.

The rooftops blurred beneath them, the city fading away as they disappeared into the night.

By the time Yerim stopped struggling, they had reached the docks.

The air was thick with sea salt, the briny scent clinging to the cold mist rolling in from the water. The city lights flickered in the distance, growing smaller, fainter, swallowed by the stretch of night.

And then—she saw it.

A modest-sized ship, its dark sails barely visible against the obsidian sky. Not a grand, intimidating war vessel, but swift, sleek—designed for speed rather than battle. It was tied to the farthest dock, hidden from plain sight, its hull painted the color of the waves to blend in with the sea.

Yerim's stomach twisted.

No crew. No guards. Just him.

Eunho wasn't escaping with an army. He didn't need to. Because he had already won.

"You planned this," she whispered, her voice hoarse with realization.

Eunho huffed a laugh, setting her down with infuriating ease onto the deck. His crimson gaze flickered toward the distant city, toward the estate he had just stolen her from.

"Of course I did," he said simply. "What kind of pirate would I be if I didn't?"

Yerim lunged.

She moved fast, but Eunho moved faster.

Before her hands could reach his throat, he caught her wrists mid-air, twisting them behind her with a smirk.

"Still feisty," he mused, amusement lacing his tone. "You're going to tire yourself out, princess."

She snarled, yanking at his grip, but he held firm—not painfully, but effortlessly, as if restraining her was as simple as breathing.

"You planned every second of this, didn't you?" she spat.

Eunho leaned in, the cool night breeze ruffling through his two-toned hair as he studied her. "I was patient," he admitted, tilting his head. "Waited for the right moment. The perfect window."

A slow smirk curled at the edges of his lips. "And you opened the door for me, didn't you?"

Yerim's chest heaved, fury burning through her veins.

"I should have let you bleed out," she hissed.

Eunho laughed, low, rich, entirely unbothered. "Oh, but then we wouldn't be having so much fun, would we?"

She wanted to kick him off his own ship.

Instead, she wrenched her wrists free, taking a step back, glaring at him with every ounce of rage she had.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

Eunho exhaled, rolling his shoulders, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just kidnapped the daughter of one of the most powerful noble families in Caelum.

"Meeting point," he said casually. "Black Siren's waiting."

Her gut twisted.

That meant someone else was waiting too.

She needed to escape before they got there.

Eunho, as if sensing her thoughts, grinned. "You're plotting something, aren't you?"

Yerim lifted her chin, refusing to respond.

He took one slow step forward, closing the distance between them. The wooden deck beneath them creaked as the tide rocked the ship.

"Let me save you the trouble," he murmured. "You're not escaping."

Yerim's breath hitched as he reached past her—his warmth grazing her skin for the briefest moment—to pull at the ship's ropes, releasing them from the dock.

The ship lurched, the wind catching its sails.

They were moving.

Leaving Asterum behind.

Yerim's heart pounded.

This was it.

She had been taken.

And there was no turning back.

Yerim was still seething when they reached the docks. The scent of salt and damp wood thickened in the air, mingling with the low murmur of voices, the occasional burst of laughter from travelers ready to set sail.

She barely had time to take it all in before Eunho steered her forward, his grip loose but firm, guiding her toward a large passenger ship docked in the harbor.

Her stomach twisted.

He wasn't taking her to a pirate ship.

No, he was smuggling them aboard a cruise vessel.

Clever.

No one would expect a wanted pirate to blend in with noble travelers heading to the next port.

The plank leading up to the deck was crowded with passengers in fine silk robes and tailored coats, their luggage being hauled in by servants.

And in the midst of it all—Yerim walked beside the man who had stolen her away from everything she knew.

Her heart pounded, but she kept her chin high, her steps even. If she let her fear show, she had already lost.

Eunho's hand rested lightly on her waist, a casual, familiar touch— but the grip was iron beneath the surface. A warning.

She tried not to flinch at the contact.

Not here. Not now.

She couldn't risk drawing attention. Not when she was surrounded by strangers who would never believe her.

"You know the rules, princess," Eunho murmured lowly, smoothly, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You scream, you run—I start getting creative."

Yerim's stomach twisted, but she didn't stop walking.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

The ticketmaster barely looked at them when they reached the check-in booth. The moment Eunho handed over the small parchment slips, the older man nodded and glanced at his ledger.

"Names?"

Eunho didn't hesitate. "Jung Haneul and my wife, Jung Minji."

Yerim barely stopped herself from glaring at him.

He could have given her any other role—a sister, a cousin—but no, he just had to make her his wife.

The ticketmaster barely glanced at them, stamping their papers before handing over a small brass key. "Room 206. Enjoy your trip."

Eunho's grin widened. "Oh, we will."

Yerim hated the way he said it.

But she hated even more that no one noticed anything wrong.

She wasn't herself anymore. She was Minji, the dutiful wife of a man she despised. And no one would question it.

As they stepped onto the wooden deck, the scent of polished oak and fresh sea air filled the space around them. Servants bustled about, carrying trunks and setting up for the first night of sailing. The hum of noble chatter and clinking glasses mixed with the distant call of the ocean.

Eunho barely glanced at any of it.

Instead, he guided her through the hallways of the passenger cabins, his steps unhurried, his grip never faltering.

She hated the way he made it look effortless.

Finally, they reached room 206.

The moment Eunho pushed open the door and steered her inside, Yerim felt her blood run cold.

One bed.

A single, too-small, infuriatingly inviting bed sat in the center of the modest room, the lanterns casting warm light over the wooden interior.

She stared at it.

Then at him.

Then back at the bed.

"No," she said flatly.

Eunho barely lifted a brow as he closed the door behind them, locking it with a small click. "No?"

"No," Yerim repeated, stepping away from him, her back nearly hitting the wall. "I'm not sleeping with you."

Eunho's lips curled into a slow, lazy grin. "That's fine. I wasn't planning on asking."

Relief shot through her for a brief second—

Until he stepped forward, slow and casual, arms crossed. "But you're not getting the bed to yourself, either."

Yerim's stomach twisted.

He wasn't planning on forcing her into anything—but that didn't mean she wanted to share a damn bed with him.

"Then I'll sleep on the floor," she said stiffly.

Eunho sighed, running a hand through his silver-black hair. "Gods, you nobles are dramatic."

"This isn't dramatic—this is basic survival instincts," she snapped, crossing her arms.

Eunho's crimson eyes flickered, scanning her face.

She hated that look—the one that saw past her words, past her bravado, straight to the truth she was trying to hide.

"You're scared."

The words weren't teasing. They weren't smug.

They were just stated like fact.

Yerim's fingers curled against her sleeves, her nails digging into the fabric.

"I'm not scared of you."

Eunho didn't smirk this time. He just tilted his head slightly, watching her with an expression she couldn't quite place.

"Good," he murmured. "That makes two of us."

Silence stretched between them.

The distant hum of the ocean, the faint creak of the wooden walls—it all faded against the weight of the room.

Finally, Eunho exhaled.

"Look, princess," he drawled, "I need sleep. And I can't exactly sleep if you're awake plotting fifty different ways to murder me."

Yerim narrowed her eyes. "So what? You're going to tie me up?"

Eunho's grin returned, slower this time. "See? You're starting to understand."

Her stomach dropped.

He wasn't serious.

He couldn't be serious.

Eunho moved to his bag, pulling out a length of rope.

Yerim took a step back.

"You can't be serious."

He turned to her, raising a brow. "Would you rather I knock you out instead?"

Her blood ran cold.

He was bluffing. He had to be bluffing.

But… was he?

Yerim exhaled sharply, her pride screaming at her to fight, to spit more insults in his face.

But she knew the truth.

She was trapped.

And for now, she had to play along.

"...Fine," she bit out. "But if you tie me too tight, I'll scream this whole damn ship awake."

Eunho laughed under his breath. "Duly noted."

He stepped behind her, the warmth of his presence pressing against her back as he took her wrists in his hands.

His fingers were warm, rough, steady.

She swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that he was too close.

Too calm.

Too casual about binding a noblewoman's hands as if it were routine.

He tied the knots firmly but not cruelly, securing them just enough to ensure she couldn't pull a dagger on him in his sleep.

When he was done, he stepped back, admiring his work.

"You'll live," he said lazily. "Now, get in bed before you fall over and give me a concussion in my sleep."

Yerim glared.

If looks could kill, Eunho would have burned alive on the spot.

Instead, she stiffly moved toward the bed, sinking onto the farthest edge possible.

Eunho, for his part, barely even acknowledged her after that. He just kicked off his boots, stretched, and flopped onto the mattress beside her with a contented sigh.

Within moments, his breathing evened out.

He had actually fallen asleep.

Yerim lay stiffly beside him, staring at the ceiling, wrists bound, trapped on a ship with a man she despised.

Her stomach twisted.

This was only the first night.

And she had a long journey ahead of her.

The ship swayed gently with the tide, the distant hum of waves against the hull filling the otherwise silent cabin.

Yerim lay stiffly on the very edge of the bed, her bound hands resting awkwardly on her stomach, her heartbeat pounding too loud in her ears.

The space beside her felt too warm.

Too occupied.

Eunho was asleep.

Or at least, he looked asleep.

His breath was slow, even, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath the dim lantern light. His silver-black hair had fallen across his forehead, strands catching faint golden hues, and the usual smirk he wore like armor was gone.

It was… unsettling.

He didn't look like a pirate.

Didn't look like a murderer, a traitor, a thief.

For the first time since he dragged her from her home, he just looked… human.

Yerim swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away.

She shouldn't be watching him.

She should be plotting her escape.

But with her wrists bound and her captor asleep beside her, the reality of her situation was finally sinking in.

She was alone.

No Yejun. No family. No guards.

Just her, the open sea, and him.

Her stomach twisted.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, staring at the ceiling, forcing herself to stay calm.

But calm was the last thing she felt.

The Night Drags On

An hour passed. Maybe more.

Yerim was still awake.

Her wrists ached, the rope chafing against her skin every time she moved. She wasn't tied cruelly, but it was tight enough that escape wouldn't be easy.

She shifted again, huffing under her breath, trying to get comfortable.

Then—

A low sigh.

Not hers.

Her breath hitched as Eunho shifted beside her, rolling onto his side, his body facing hers.

She went completely still.

His breathing stayed steady, but the newfound closeness made her stomach tighten.

She could feel his warmth, the faint scent of smoke and salt lingering on him. His cutlass sat on the nightstand, inches away from his outstretched arm—because even in sleep, he kept it close.

A habit. A warning.

Yerim's fingers twitched.

She wasn't bold enough to try grabbing it. Not yet.

But the longer she lay there, the more the silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

She shifted again.

This time, Eunho's voice broke through the darkness.

"If you keep squirming, I'm going to start thinking you actually like sleeping next to me."

Yerim's entire body tensed.

Her head snapped toward him, only to find his eyes still closed, his expression relaxed.

But he wasn't asleep.

He had never been asleep.

Of course he wasn't.

"Unbind me," she hissed under her breath.

Eunho huffed a sleepy chuckle, finally cracking one eye open, his gaze hazy but sharp.

"Tempting," he murmured. "But I think I like you better like this."

Yerim's face burned with rage.

"I hate you."

Eunho's lips twitched. "That's adorable."

She let out a furious exhale, rolling as far away from him as possible, wrists twisting in frustration against the rope.

Eunho let her go, simply sighing as he settled deeper into the mattress.

"Get some sleep, princess," he muttered, voice heavy with exhaustion. "We've got a long journey ahead."

Yerim scowled at the ceiling.

She would rather die than let herself fall asleep next to this man.

And yet—

Her body ached.

Her eyes burned.

Her mind, despite the fear, the fury, the overwhelming urge to kill him, was beginning to slip into exhaustion.

She just needed to rest her eyes.

Just for a moment.

Just until she could think of a plan.

As her breath steadied, the ship rocking her in a slow, traitorous rhythm, one final thought crossed her mind before sleep took her—

She was trapped.

And for now—there was nothing she could do about it.

Morning Comes Too Soon

Yerim woke to the warmth of sunlight pressing against her face.

For a brief second, she forgot where she was.

Then—

The sharp bite of the rope around her wrists pulled her back to reality.

Her eyes snapped open, her pulse spiking.

The room was still dimly lit, but golden rays of morning light spilled through the small round window, casting long shadows over the wooden floor.

And beside her—

Eunho was still asleep.

Her breath hitched.

He had shifted again in the night, now lying flat on his back, one arm resting over his stomach, the other loosely draped over the pillow.

His cutlass was still on the nightstand.

He was within reach.

This was her chance.

Her wrists twisted against the rope, her fingers searching, pulling—but it was still too tight.

Her heart thumped.

She needed a blade. A sharp edge. Something to cut through the ties.

Slowly, carefully, she turned her gaze toward Eunho.

He looked… too peaceful.

It unnerved her.

The tension he carried when awake—the sharp smirks, the teasing words, the ever-watchful stare—it was all absent.

His breathing was slow, even. His lashes cast faint shadows against his cheekbones.

He looked younger.

Less like a pirate. Less like a monster.

More like a man.

A very dangerous man.

Yerim clenched her jaw, shoving the thought away.

She didn't have time to sit here and analyze his sleeping face.

She needed to get out.

Her eyes flickered toward the door.

It was unlocked.

She could try running.

But could she outrun him?

Her heart hammered as she calculated, debated, weighed her chances.

Then—

Eunho let out a slow breath, his head turning slightly toward her.

Yerim froze.

She barely breathed.

But he didn't wake.

Not yet.

Her wrists twisted again, her fingers reaching for the rope's edge—

One more pull.

One more move.

And maybe, just maybe—

She'd be free.

Yerim barely breathed.

Her fingers worked carefully, tugging at the rope, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

One pull.

One twist.

Almost there.

Her gaze flickered back to Eunho—still unmoving, still deep in sleep.

The ocean breeze slipped through the tiny round window, carrying the distant hum of waves against the hull. The ship rocked gently, the floor creaking beneath them.

The only sound in the room was his breathing.

Even. Steady.

Vulnerable.

For the first time since he kidnapped her, Eunho was completely unaware.

She could escape.

She had to.

Yerim exhaled slowly, her fingers working faster. The rope was loosening. Just a little more—

A shadow shifted.

Then—a low, tired groan.

Her stomach dropped.

Eunho moved, his body stretching beneath the sheets, the lazy exhale of someone waking just before dawn.

No. No, not now.

Yerim squeezed her eyes shut, quickly relaxing, pretending to still be asleep.

She stilled her breath, her body perfectly still, hoping—praying—that he wouldn't notice the rope had loosened.

A beat.

Silence.

Then—a low chuckle.

Her heart plummeted.

"Nice try, princess."

Yerim's eyes snapped open, just in time to see Eunho shift onto his side, propping his head up with one arm, watching her with a slow, amused smirk.

Her blood ran cold.

He had been awake the whole time.

"You almost had me there," he mused, voice husky with sleep, his crimson gaze flickering down to her wrists.

Yerim's breath hitched.

Before she could react, his fingers caught her wrists, gripping just tight enough to make her still.

The rope slid free, dropping onto the mattress.

She had been seconds away.

Seconds.

Eunho exhaled through his nose, rubbing his free hand over his face, voice heavy with exhaustion.

"You really don't know how to sit still, do you?"

Yerim's chest heaved, panic coiling inside her like a vice.

This was bad.

She had been caught.

She had no plan.

And now—she had no restraints.

Her body tensed, ready to move, to lunge, to fight—

But before she could, Eunho moved first.

Fast.

Too fast.

One moment, he was lying there, tired and half-awake—the next, he had her pinned.

She barely had time to react before her back hit the mattress, his weight pressing her down, one arm braced beside her head, the other gripping her wrist, firm but not painful.

Her breath stilled.

Too close.

Too much.

The warmth of him, the scent of smoke, salt, and something distinctly him. His silver-black hair had fallen slightly, the strands brushing her forehead, catching the early morning light.

She hated how striking he looked like this.

She hated how her heart stumbled.

"You're really pushing your luck, princess," he murmured, voice lower now, rougher with sleep.

Yerim refused to look away.

"I wouldn't have to," she shot back, voice strained, "if you weren't a damn kidnapper."

Eunho let out a slow huff, tilting his head slightly. "Fair point."

Then, his grip on her wrist tightened—just slightly.

"Doesn't change the fact that you lost," he said.

A smug glint flickered in his eyes.

She wanted to slap it off his face.

Instead, she yanked her wrist, kicking up hard—

But he saw it coming.

Before she could land a hit, he shifted his weight, pressing her down just enough to stop her without hurting her.

Yerim sucked in a sharp breath.

His grin widened.

"Still fighting, even after losing?" he teased. "You're exhausting, princess."

"Then maybe you should let me go so you can get some sleep," she snapped.

Eunho laughed.

Actually laughed.

Low, rich, unhurried, his head tilting slightly as if she had just said something amusing.

His lips parted, about to say something else—

Then a knock sounded against the door.

Both of them froze.

Yerim's eyes widened.

Eunho cursed softly under his breath.

A pause.

Then—

"Mr. Jung?"

A woman's voice.

A steward?

"We've arrived at our first stop," she called from the other side. "Breakfast is being served on the upper deck, should you wish to join the other guests."

Eunho let out a slow breath, his gaze flickering toward the door.

Yerim's heart raced.

She could call for help.

She could scream.

She could—

Then Eunho looked down at her again.

His crimson gaze burned.

"Don't," he murmured, so softly it wasn't even a threat.

Just a promise.

Yerim swallowed hard.

Her throat felt dry.

She clenched her jaw, inhaling slowly through her nose.

Outside, the steward hesitated, waiting.

Then, after a moment—her footsteps retreated down the hall.

Eunho finally exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Then, as if remembering their situation, he looked back at her.

"Now," he said flatly, exhausted, "where were we?"

Yerim glared.

"You were about to let me go."

Eunho snorted. "Oh, princess, I don't think so."

Then, without warning—

He flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her arms behind her back, and tied them again—this time even tighter.

Yerim let out a furious growl, thrashing.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME—"

"Look, I'd love to keep wrestling with you," he cut in, tying the knot swiftly, "but unlike you, I actually need sleep."

She kicked out violently.

Eunho dodged, half-laughing as he moved toward the bed, collapsing onto it with an exhausted groan.

"Just accept your fate," he muttered, voice muffled into the pillow. "I'll untie you when I wake up. Maybe."

Yerim glared daggers at the back of his head.

"This isn't over," she hissed.

Eunho grinned sleepily.

"It never is."

Within minutes, he was asleep again.

Yerim lay seething, fuming, calculating.

Her second attempt had failed.

But she wasn't done yet.

No—not by a long shot.

Yerim lay fuming, her wrists bound behind her once again, the ropes biting into her skin just enough to be infuriating.

Eunho was asleep.

Again.

The bastard.

The morning light spilled through the small round window, glinting off the cutlass resting near the nightstand. His breathing was steady, deep, his chest rising and falling with calm ease.

He looked too at peace for someone who had just kidnapped her.

She hated him for it.

She also hated that she was stuck.

She tested the ropes again, but the knot was tighter than before. Eunho had learned from her first attempt.

That didn't mean she was giving up.

No.

She just had to wait.

Be patient.

For the first time in her life, she had to think like him.

A Few Hours Later

Eunho finally stirred close to noon.

The ship had stopped rocking as much—the waves were calmer, the soft murmur of crew and passengers drifting from beyond the thin wooden walls.

Yerim stayed perfectly still.

The moment Eunho sat up, running a hand through his disheveled silver-black hair, he sighed.

Then—he looked straight at her.

"You're awake," he muttered, voice rough with sleep.

Yerim arched a brow. "You're observant. Congratulations."

His lips twitched. "Fiery in the morning. How charming."

Yerim ignored the heat curling beneath her skin. "Untie me."

Eunho tilted his head, smirking. "Hm. Let's see—did you try to kill me last night?"

Her jaw tightened.

He held up a finger. "Did you try to escape—twice?"

Yerim glared.

"And did I tie you up for a good reason?"

She exhaled sharply, looking away. "I hate you."

Eunho laughed, pushing off the bed, stretching his arms over his head. "And yet, here we are, sharing a room, enjoying a wonderful morning together."

He moved toward the wash basin, splashing cool water on his face, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Yerim watched him warily.

She could tell he wasn't in full pirate mode yet.

His movements were looser, slower, still waking up, his body moving more naturally than usual.

That meant he was distracted.

That meant she had an opening.

"Breakfast is being served upstairs," he said idly, drying his face with a small towel. "I suppose I should feed you. Wouldn't want my captive passing out on me."

Yerim snorted. "Oh? You mean you actually have a conscience?"

Eunho grinned. "Debatable."

Then he strode over, towering above her, his gaze bright, calculating.

She refused to shrink away.

Instead, she lifted her chin.

"Untie me," she repeated, voice even.

Eunho's smirk softened, and that was worse than any grin, worse than any teasing remark.

Because he was thinking.

Because he was considering it.

Then—he crouched down, resting his arms on his knees, meeting her gaze.

"You know," he mused, too lightly, too calmly, "I could let you go right now. No ties, no restraints."

Yerim stilled.

"But then," he continued, tilting his head, "you'd do something stupid. Try to run, try to fight, maybe even try to stab me with a butter knife at breakfast."

Her lips pressed into a firm line.

"And I'd rather not have to toss you overboard just yet," he finished. "That would be inconvenient."

Yerim's breath caught.

Eunho wasn't bluffing.

There was no amusement in his tone now. No flirtation.

Just a warning.

She swallowed hard.

Think, Yerim. Think.

The next move was hers.

Either she could keep pushing, keep fighting, or she could play the game differently.

So she forced her shoulders to relax.

She lowered her gaze just slightly, letting her breath slow.

"I won't run," she said quietly.

Eunho raised a brow, amused. "Mm. That's cute. But I don't believe you."

"I won't," she insisted. "Just untie me. I can't eat like this."

Eunho studied her for a long moment.

Then—to her surprise—he reached down and undid the knots.

The rope fell away.

Yerim flexed her fingers, rubbing the raw skin on her wrists.

He really did it.

Now. Now was her chance—

Eunho leaned forward, so suddenly close that her breath caught.

His voice dipped low, quiet.

"Try anything," he murmured, "and I will not be this nice again."

A shiver crawled down her spine.

But she kept her face calm.

She nodded once.

Eunho sighed, standing up, stretching lazily. "Come on, then, princess," he said over his shoulder. "Breakfast awaits."

Yerim exhaled slowly, controlling her expression, controlling the relief that nearly crashed into her.

She wasn't tied up anymore.

That was all she needed.

Because now—

She had a new plan.

Yerim flexed her fingers, rubbing the sore skin where the rope had chafed against her wrists. She was free.

For now.

But she wasn't stupid—Eunho had only untied her because he was confident. Too confident.

That meant he didn't see her as a threat.

Good.

She would use that against him.

Eunho was already at the door, stretching lazily, his back to her as he fiddled with the latch. Too relaxed.

Her mind raced. If she ran now—

No. Too soon.

Even if she made it into the hallway, then what? This wasn't a Nam estate, where the servants would rush to her side at a moment's notice. This was a cruise ship, filled with people who wouldn't question a man and his 'wife' sharing a room.

She had to be smart.

She needed a better opportunity.

So instead of bolting, she did the one thing she never thought she would do—

She played along.

With a sigh, she stood, shaking out her arms, making a show of stretching, as if she weren't ready to claw his eyes out.

Eunho glanced over his shoulder, amused. "What? No escape attempt? No flying kick to the ribs?"

She glared at him. "I'd rather eat first."

Eunho let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he pulled open the door. "Smart girl."

She ignored the way those words made her skin prickle.

Breakfast on the Upper Deck

The ship's upper deck was nothing like Yerim expected.

A grand dining area stretched across the floor, with polished oak tables, plush chairs, and long buffet stations lined with steaming trays of fresh food. The passengers were dressed in silks and velvets, their voices blending into the pleasant hum of conversation.

It was almost enough to make Yerim forget she had been kidnapped.

Almost.

Eunho walked beside her, his hand grazing her lower back, a subtle reminder that she wasn't going anywhere.

It was a light touch, but it burned.

She fought the urge to shake him off.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "See? We blend right in."

She clenched her fists, keeping her face neutral. "I hate you."

His chuckle was quiet, smug. "I'm getting used to hearing that."

She took a deep breath. Focus, Yerim. Think.

The only way out of this was to find help. Someone, anyone, who could see through this charade and—

"Good morning, lovebirds!"

A bright, unfamiliar voice made Yerim freeze.

She turned, just in time to see a young noblewoman—perhaps a year or two older than her—smiling warmly at them.

Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, her rich burgundy dress catching the early morning light.

Yerim's stomach sank.

No, no, no.

She didn't want to socialize. She wanted to escape.

"Mind if we join you?" the woman continued, already pulling out a chair for herself at the nearest table. A tall man followed behind her, dark-haired, broad-shouldered, clearly her escort.

Yerim opened her mouth, but Eunho—*damn him—*was already grinning, nodding.

"Of course," he said smoothly, pulling out a chair for Yerim. "We'd love the company."

She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she nearly drew blood.

Trapped.

Again.

She sat stiffly, casting a sharp glare at Eunho as he took the seat beside her.

If I had a knife, I would stab you in the thigh right now.

Eunho's smirk widened. As if he could hear her thoughts.

The noblewoman leaned in, chin resting on her palm. "I don't think we've met before. My name's Lady Soyeon. And you are…?"

Yerim parted her lips—

But Eunho was faster.

"Haneul," he said easily. "And this is my wife, Minji."

Yerim wanted to kick him under the table.

Soyeon clasped her hands together. "Newlyweds, I assume?"

Eunho's arm draped over the back of Yerim's chair, too casual, too comfortable.

She stiffened.

"You could say that," he mused.

Yerim had never wanted to murder someone so badly in her life.

Soyeon giggled. "How romantic!"

Yerim barely resisted the urge to throw herself overboard.

The Art of Playing Along

She had to get through this.

She had to smile, nod, pretend.

So she did.

As the conversation continued, Yerim let Eunho handle most of it, responding only when necessary, never saying more than she needed to.

The *tall nobleman beside Soyeon—Lord Kangmin, apparently—*gave Eunho a knowing smirk.

"She doesn't talk much, does she?"

Yerim's fingers curled into her lap.

Eunho—*the bastard—*just laughed. "She's still warming up to married life."

Yerim dug her nails into her palm so hard it hurt.

You will suffer for this.

An Opportunity

The meal dragged on.

Eunho stayed close, always aware of her movements. But his guard was down—just slightly.

Yerim bided her time.

She let herself relax. Just a little.

Then, at one point, he reached for his drink.

For the first time all morning, his hand wasn't on her.

Yerim acted.

She shoved back her chair, quick, quiet, controlled—

And bolted.

She moved fast, weaving through tables, ignoring the startled gasps, the confused murmurs.

Her breath came sharp, ragged.

Almost there.

She could see the exit.

She could—

A firm grip closed around her wrist.

Yanked her back.

Her breath caught.

She spun—straight into Eunho's chest.

His grip was tight. Unforgiving.

His eyes burned.

The dining hall was silent.

Everyone was staring.

And just like that, she had made a mistake.

A big one.

Eunho's grin was gone.

He didn't look amused anymore.

He just looked… dangerous.

Yerim swallowed hard.

His voice, when he spoke, was quiet. Controlled.

"Minji, darling," he murmured, his lips barely moving, his grip tightening just slightly.

Yerim shivered.

"You're making a scene."

She stilled.

The weight of the silence pressed down on her.

If she fought him now—*if she screamed, if she begged—*what would happen?

Would anyone believe her?

Or would they just smile politely, look away, pretend it wasn't happening?

She felt sick.

Eunho leaned in, his voice dipping lower.

"Sit down," he murmured, just for her to hear. "Now."

Her stomach twisted.

Slowly—so slowly—she let him pull her back to the table.

Her entire body shook as she sank back into her chair.

Eunho gave the room a charming, apologetic smile.

"She's not feeling well," he said smoothly. "I'll take care of her."

Yerim barely heard the murmurs of understanding.

She barely breathed.

Because beneath the table—Eunho's grip on her wrist remained.

Firm.

Unyielding.

And this time—it didn't let go.

A Lesson in Control

Yerim's pulse thundered in her ears.

Eunho's grip on her wrist hadn't loosened. If anything, it had tightened just enough to remind her who had won.

Her fingers trembled, though she clenched them into a fist to hide it.

Soyeon and Lord Kangmin had resumed their casual conversation, casting only brief, polite glances in their direction.

No one had seen what had just happened.

Or worse—no one cared.

She had never felt so powerless.

Eunho's voice cut through her thoughts, low and amused.

"You really don't learn, do you?"

Yerim turned her head, slowly, just enough to glare at him.

"You're an ass."

His lips quirked. "And you're a headache. Yet here we are."

She hated him.

She hated how calm he was, how he looked utterly unbothered despite the fact that she had just tried to escape.

And failed.

Again.

Eunho finally released her wrist, but only so he could lift his glass of wine to his lips.

"Eat," he murmured against the rim.

Yerim's jaw clenched.

"I'm not hungry."

Eunho exhaled through his nose, clearly unamused. "That's cute. Eat anyway."

She forced her shoulders not to tense.

Think, Yerim. You lost this round.

But that didn't mean she had lost the war.

So she picked up her fork, stabbing angrily at the food.

Eunho chuckled. "That's the spirit, Minji."

She imagined stabbing him instead.

Returning to the Cabin

The moment they left the dining hall, Eunho's grip on her elbow returned.

Not harsh. Not violent. Just unyielding.

A reminder.

Yerim kept her head down, letting herself be steered through the hallway, past noblemen and servants, past curious glances.

But inside, she was seething.

The moment they reached their cabin, Eunho unlocked the door and nudged her inside.

The second it shut behind them—Yerim snapped.

"You bastard—"

Eunho caught her wrist mid-swing.

Her breath hitched.

He pulled her forward, not roughly, but firmly enough that she stumbled—until she was so close she could feel his breath against her skin.

"Careful, princess," he murmured, low, quiet, dangerous. "You're testing my patience."

Yerim refused to back down.

"You think you can just keep me tied to your side forever?" she hissed.

Eunho tilted his head. "For now? Yes."

Her fingers twitched with the urge to claw at him. "You won't get away with this."

His smirk returned, lazy, slow.

"You're adorable when you make threats you can't back up."

Yerim hated how easily he could turn everything into a joke.

How he could make her feel small without even trying.

She was Nam Yerim.

She wasn't helpless.

And yet, every time she tried to fight, she lost.

Her throat tightened.

Eunho's eyes flickered, like he noticed.

His grip on her wrist loosened.

Then—he sighed.

"Look, princess," he muttered. "You can keep throwing tantrums, or you can start using your brain."

Yerim stilled.

His voice wasn't mocking anymore.

It was flat. Tired. Frustrated.

Like he was waiting for her to catch up.

"Think," he said. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have left your body floating in the Asterum docks. If I wanted to sell you off, I wouldn't have dragged you onto this ship myself."

Yerim's fingers curled into her palms.

"So ask yourself," he murmured. "Why am I keeping you alive?"

Silence.

Eunho let go of her completely.

Then—he turned away.

"As fun as this little routine of ours is," he said, "I'd rather not spend the next few days tying you to the bedpost just to get some peace."

Her cheeks burned. "You—!"

He ignored her.

Instead, he collapsed onto the bed, sighing as he stretched out.

"Here's what's going to happen," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"You're going to sleep. You're not going to run. You're not going to throw anything at me. And I'm going to get some shut-eye without worrying about you murdering me in my sleep."

Yerim crossed her arms, glowering. "And if I don't agree?"

Eunho tilted his head lazily against the pillow.

"Then I tie you up again."

Her jaw clenched.

Eunho smirked. "And I know you like that."

"I WILL THROW YOU OVERBOARD."

His laughter rumbled through the room.

The Standoff

Yerim didn't move.

Eunho didn't, either.

The room was quiet, save for the gentle creak of the ship, the lull of ocean waves.

Her skin prickled.

She would rather die than share a bed with him.

Eunho, on the other hand, looked utterly relaxed.

"You look like you're going to pass out," he muttered. "Just lay down already."

Yerim gritted her teeth.

She hated him. She hated him so much.

But she was also exhausted.

And she couldn't afford to push him any further tonight.

So—*without a word, without another glare—*she moved toward the far edge of the bed and lay down.

Stiff. Tense. On full alert.

Eunho barely reacted.

Instead, he turned onto his side, resting his head against his arm, his eyes closing.

"Good girl."

Yerim saw red.

"Shut. Up."

Eunho just laughed.

Then—silence.

Minutes passed.

Then an hour.

Yerim's breathing slowed.

She didn't want to sleep. She really didn't.

But exhaustion took over.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

The last thing she heard was the steady sound of Eunho's breathing, the ocean whispering beyond the cabin walls.

And then—nothing.

The Calm Before the Storm

Yerim woke slowly.

At first, she didn't register where she was.

The warmth of the blankets, the gentle rocking of the ship, the soft hush of the ocean beyond the cabin walls—it all felt deceptively peaceful.

Until she shifted—and her leg brushed against something solid.

Something warm.

Her eyes snapped open.

Eunho was still asleep.

She froze, barely daring to breathe.

He had shifted sometime in the night, his back against the headboard, one arm draped over his stomach, the other resting carelessly beside her.

His cutlass was still on the nightstand, but it was just out of reach.

His breathing was slow, deep.

For a moment, she wondered if he was faking it.

But no—his features were softer, the usual smugness gone, the weight of exhaustion still pressing on him.

And that was what scared her the most.

He trusted her enough to sleep near her.

That meant he was either incredibly arrogant—or he knew, beyond a doubt, that she was trapped.

Her throat tightened.

She should have felt rage.

She should have been panicking.

Instead, all she felt was the quiet weight of reality sinking in.

She really was alone.

Her family was far away.

She had no allies. No escape plan.

And she was stuck here—on a ship, with a pirate who had no reason to let her go.

Her fingers curled into the sheets.

No. She wasn't powerless.

She just had to be smarter.

Careful. Patient.

She turned her head slowly, cautiously, studying Eunho's face.

It was strange, seeing him like this—without his sharp smirks, without the usual gleam of mischief in his eyes.

He looked... normal.

Like someone who had once belonged to this world of nobility, before he had turned his back on it.

She swallowed.

Then—his breath hitched.

Her pulse spiked.

His eyes flickered open, half-lidded, hazy with sleep.

For a moment, he just stared at her.

Then, a slow smirk crept onto his lips.

"Morning, princess."

Yerim scowled, jerking away from him.

The amusement in his eyes only deepened.

"You watching me sleep?" he teased, stretching his arms over his head. "I knew you had a thing for me."

Yerim glared. "I hope you choke on your own arrogance."

Eunho laughed, rolling out of bed. "Bold words from someone who was practically cuddling me in her sleep."

Her face burned.

"I—WHAT—"

"Relax, relax," he chuckled, running a hand through his silver-black hair. "I tied your wrists last night. Thought you'd try something."

He tilted his head, eyes glinting.

"Did you?"

Yerim clenched her jaw.

No. She hadn't.

She had been too exhausted to even think about escaping again.

But she refused to let him know that.

Instead, she lifted her chin.

"I thought about smothering you with a pillow," she said flatly.

Eunho grinned. "Next time, try harder."

He turned toward the nightstand, reaching for his cutlass before glancing at her.

"Get up," he ordered. "We're going for a walk."

Yerim stiffened.

"A walk?" she echoed.

Eunho twirled his cutlass once before sliding it back into his belt. "You know. That thing where you move your legs and pretend you're free."

Her stomach twisted.

"Why?"

Eunho leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

"Because if you stay locked up in here for the entire trip, people are going to get suspicious," he said lazily. "And I don't feel like answering questions."

Yerim's hands clenched the sheets beneath her.

This was an opportunity.

He was letting her out.

In public.

Where she could run.

She needed to play this right.

She needed to make him believe she wouldn't try anything.

So she inhaled deeply, forcing her expression to soften just enough.

"...Fine," she muttered.

Eunho arched a brow, clearly amused.

"That was easy," he said. "No threats? No insults? Are you sick?"

Yerim glared. "I figured I'd try being civilized for once."

Eunho's lips twitched.

"How terrifying."

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the door.

"After you, love."

Yerim bit back a snarl at the nickname and walked out.

The Upper Deck

The fresh ocean breeze hit her immediately.

The air was crisp, the sky a bright, endless blue, the scent of salt sharper than it had been below deck.

Passengers milled about, chatting, admiring the view, sipping morning tea.

And for the first time, Yerim saw just how large this ship really was.

Eunho stayed close, his presence like a shadow.

His fingers barely brushed her waist, just enough to remind her that he was there.

She hated how easily he controlled the situation.

If she ran, if she screamed—would anyone believe her?

She wasn't sure.

So instead, she let him lead her across the deck, her eyes flickering across the faces of the other passengers, searching.

For what?

An ally? A guard? A way out?

Then—movement near the railing.

Her breath hitched.

A man in a dark coat, standing alone, hands tucked into his pockets.

He wasn't noble.

He wasn't crew.

Something about him felt... off.

Her pulse sped up.

Eunho must have noticed, because he followed her gaze.

And then—his body went rigid.

For the first time since she had met him, his face lost its amusement.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Yerim snapped toward him.

"What?" she demanded. "Who is he?"

Eunho exhaled sharply, grabbing her wrist.

"Time to go, princess."

Yerim dug her heels in.

"Who is he?"

Eunho's grip tightened.

"Someone who doesn't need to know you're with me," he muttered.

Yerim's blood ran cold.

So he was a threat.

And if Eunho was worried—

That meant she had leverage.

She yanked her arm away.

"Maybe I should introduce myself, then," she said, taking a step toward the stranger.

Eunho moved faster than she expected.

Before she could take another step, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him, his hand clamping gently—but firmly—over her mouth.

Her eyes widened in shock.

Eunho's voice was low, quiet, deadly.

"You don't want to do that, princess."

Yerim struggled, her muffled voice furious against his palm.

His grip didn't budge.

The man at the railing finally turned.

Their eyes met.

The moment stretched—too long.

Then—the man smiled.

Yerim's heart pounded.

Because it wasn't a friendly smile.

It was one that said, I see you. I know.

Eunho cursed.

And just like that—everything changed.

A Game of Shadows

Yerim didn't dare breathe.

The man's smile lingered, his eyes scanning her—not with curiosity, not with interest, but with recognition.

Who was he?

What had Eunho gotten her into?

Eunho's hand was still over her mouth, his grip unyielding, his body pressed firm against hers. Not painfully—but with purpose.

He wasn't teasing anymore.

He wasn't mocking.

For the first time, he was serious.

And that was more unsettling than anything else.

The man at the railing finally turned away, his posture relaxed, as if he hadn't just seen them.

As if he weren't still watching.

Eunho's breath was slow, measured. His fingers flexed against her waist.

Then—without a word—he spun her around, gripping her wrist and dragging her back toward the lower decks.

Yerim struggled.

"Let me go!" she hissed under her breath, keeping her voice low, just in case the stranger was still watching.

Eunho didn't.

Didn't speak. Didn't react. Just kept walking.

The moment they were back inside the corridors, the door shutting behind them, Yerim yanked her wrist free.

Her chest heaved.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded.

Eunho turned, pacing.

It was the first time she had seen him unnerved.

Not scared, exactly—but calculating. Adjusting.

"He saw me," he muttered. "Damn it."

Yerim's heart pounded.

She knew it. She knew it.

"He's after you," she whispered.

Eunho stilled.

Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze.

Crimson eyes met hers.

"He's not after me," he said, his voice quieter now. "He's after us."

Yerim's stomach dropped.

She shook her head. "No. No, don't drag me into—"

"Do you think he smiled at you for fun?" Eunho snapped.

Yerim froze.

The way the man had looked at her—calm, knowing, patient.

Not like she was an innocent noblewoman.

Like she was a piece on a board.

Like he was waiting.

She swallowed.

Her fingers curled into her sleeves. "Who is he?"

Eunho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"He's called Inho." His voice was flat. Controlled. "A bounty hunter."

Yerim's blood ran cold.

"Not just any bounty hunter," Eunho continued, his expression dark. "He works for the families."

Her entire body stiffened.

"No," she breathed.

Yes.

The realization hit her like a blade to the ribs.

If Inho was here—if he was on this ship, pretending to be just another noble passenger—then someone had sent him.

And someone knew she was missing.

Yerim's breath came shaky.

Yejun.

Yejun must have figured it out. He must have sent someone after her.

Which meant—help was closer than she thought.

This was her chance.

Eunho must have seen it in her face, because his jaw tightened.

"Don't even think about it," he warned.

Yerim lifted her chin. "Why shouldn't I?"

"If you run to him," Eunho said evenly, stepping closer, "you think he'll save you?"

Her breath hitched.

"That's exactly what he'll do," she shot back.

Eunho let out a slow, exasperated laugh.

"You're cute, princess," he murmured, "but you're also stupid."

Yerim bristled. "Excuse me?"

Eunho's crimson gaze burned.

"You think the families want you back?" he asked.

She *opened her mouth—*but the words caught in her throat.

She had assumed—of course they wanted her back.

Didn't they?

Eunho studied her, his smirk fading into something sharper.

Something more like pity.

"You really don't know, do you?" he murmured.

A shiver ran down her spine.

"Know what?"

Eunho exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

"You're not a missing princess, Yerim," he said. "You're a loose end."

Her blood turned to ice.

She shook her head. "No. No, that's not—"

"Why didn't your brother announce your disappearance?" Eunho cut in. "Why aren't there search parties? Posters? Why is there only one bounty hunter, traveling in secret?"

Yerim staggered back.

She hadn't—she hadn't thought about that.

She had assumed her family was frantic, searching.

But she hadn't seen any signs of it.

Her throat went dry.

Eunho watched her reaction, his expression grim.

"You're not being rescued," he said quietly.

"You're being silenced."

Yerim's stomach lurched.

No.

No, it wasn't possible. She was Nam Yerim. She was the daughter of the Nam family.

Her brother—her brother loved her.

He wouldn't—

He wouldn't.

Right?

Her chest tightened.

Eunho let the silence stretch.

Then—*softly, carefully—*he reached out, tilting her chin up with two fingers.

She barely flinched.

She barely breathed.

"I kidnapped you, princess," he murmured. "But I'm not the only one who wanted you gone."

Yerim's legs felt weak.

She wrenched herself away, spinning toward the wall, gripping the wooden surface to steady herself.

No.

No, this was a lie.

It had to be.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Her brother was looking for her. He had to be.

Eunho was just manipulating her.

Right?

Right?

But deep inside—a cold, sinking feeling told her she already knew the truth.

And she wasn't ready for it.

Not yet.

A Storm is Coming

The cabin was silent.

Eunho was still watching her.

Yerim could feel it.

Finally, she forced her voice to work.

"What do we do?" she asked, hating how small she sounded.

Eunho sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We stay out of his way," he muttered. "And if he comes to us…"

His eyes darkened.

"We make sure he doesn't leave."

Yerim's stomach turned.

She had a feeling this was only the beginning.

She wasn't just a captive anymore.

She was a target.

And for the first time—

She wasn't sure if she would make it out alive.

The Fight for Freedom

The ship rocked harder than before, the scent of salt and distant rainfall thick in the air. The sky outside had dimmed, clouds rolling in, a storm brewing.

Yerim sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, her pulse hammering in her throat.

They were close.

Close to wherever Eunho was taking her.

Close to the moment she would have to act.

She knew Eunho had been keeping an eye on her. Every time she shifted, every time she so much as breathed too deep, his crimson eyes flicked toward her.

Not in mockery.

Not in amusement.

But in calculation.

Because he knew she was thinking.

Because he knew she was planning.

But then—a knock at the door.

Both of them froze.

Not a servant's knock.

Not a polite tap.

A slow, deliberate thud.

Yerim's stomach twisted.

Eunho's expression darkened.

A long pause.

Then—a voice.

"Come on, Do Eunho."

Yerim's breath caught.

Inho.

"Don't be shy," the bounty hunter continued, his tone casual. "We both know why I'm here."

Eunho's jaw tensed. His fingers hovered over the hilt of his cutlass.

"I just want the girl," Inho said smoothly. "Hand her over, and I'll let you walk away."

Yerim's chest tightened.

Eunho's voice was low, cold.

"Walk away?" he mused. "You and I both know it's not that simple."

A slow chuckle from the other side of the door.

"Then let's make it simple."

The next second—the door burst open.

Yerim gasped, scrambling back.

Eunho had already moved, fast as fire, his cutlass flashing as he blocked the incoming blade.

Steel clashed against steel.

Inho's blade was shorter, sharper, quicker.

Eunho's was brutal, powerful, precise.

They moved in a blur, dodging, twisting, striking.

Yerim could barely keep up.

Eunho was good.

But so was Inho.

The bounty hunter was smirking, his expression relaxed—like he was playing.

"Not bad," Inho mused. "You haven't lost your edge, prodigy."

Eunho's teeth clenched.

"And you still talk too much."

He swung hard, aiming for *Inho's ribs—*but the bounty hunter sidestepped, swift and effortless.

Yerim's heart pounded.

She had to do something.

She looked *toward the open door—*but the moment she so much as moved, Inho's gaze flicked toward her.

"Don't," he said simply.

Yerim froze.

And in that second—Inho struck.

Fast, vicious, his blade slicing toward Eunho's throat.

Eunho barely dodged in time, but the blade still cut shallowly across his shoulder.

Blood.

Yerim sucked in a sharp breath.

Eunho didn't react.

He just gritted his teeth and lunged.

And this time—he didn't hold back.

Flames burst at his fingertips, igniting the edges of his blade, the air searing hot in an instant.

Inho's smirk finally faded.

"You're using your powers?" the bounty hunter mused, rolling his shoulders. "You really must be desperate."

Eunho exhaled, low and slow.

"You have no idea."

Then—he struck.

The cabin erupted in chaos.

Blades clashed, the air thick with heat, the wooden walls groaning under the strain of power.

But Yerim wasn't watching the fight anymore.

Because through the open door—beyond the railing, beyond the chaos—

She saw it.

A ship.

A ship looming in the distance, hidden against the stormy sky, its sails blending with the mist.

And then—a signal.

Not a bright flare. Not a cannon shot.

A bloom.

Flowers, sprouting from the very air, curling toward them, dancing with the wind.

Bamby.

Yerim's breath hitched.

Eunho saw it too.

In the middle of the fight—his gaze snapped toward the window, his lips curling into a slow grin.

"Inho," he called, dodging another strike. "You're in my way."

The bounty hunter's brow furrowed. "What are you—"

But then—Eunho grabbed Yerim.

His arm curled around her waist, pulling her against him as heat coiled at his fingertips.

Then—flames exploded beneath them.

Not consuming.

Propelling.

Yerim barely had time to scream before they were launched backward—straight through the open window.

Into the open air.

Wind rushed past her ears.

She saw the drop. The ocean. The impossible height.

And then—

Vines.

Flowers, blooming midair. Catching them.

The moment they landed, Yerim gasped, clutching onto Eunho, her heart hammering.

The vines shifted, lifting them, carrying them toward the waiting ship.

Toward Bamby.

Yerim turned, just in time to see Inho standing at the shattered window, watching them, his expression unreadable.

Then—he smiled.

Yerim shivered.

"This isn't over," he called.

Eunho, still catching his breath, just smirked.

"I sure hope not."

And just like that—they were gone.

On the Black Siren

Yerim was still shaking by the time they landed on the deck.

Bamby stood with his arms crossed, pink hair damp from the storm, his violet eyes unimpressed.

"Took you long enough," he muttered.

Eunho just laughed, breathless.

"Missed you too."

Yerim, however, wasn't listening.

She turned back, staring at the ship fading into the distance.

At Inho's shadowed figure, barely visible now.

She wasn't free.

Not really.

She had just changed prisons.

And she had no idea what would come next.

The Enemy of My Enemy… Is Still My Enemy

Yerim sat stiffly on the deck, her arms wrapped around her knees, as far away from Eunho and Bamby as possible. The ship rocked gently beneath her, but her stomach churned for entirely different reasons.

She wasn't safe.

Not here. Not anywhere.

Her mind was a battlefield, torn between two impossible truths.

Either Eunho was lying, manipulating her, twisting her emotions to keep her weak—

Or…

Or Yejun had truly sent someone to kill her.

And she had no idea which one was worse.

Her brother loved her. He had always been there, always protective, always watching out for her.

So why… why wasn't he here now?

Why was it Inho, a bounty hunter known for his efficiency, and not a single Nam soldier, not a single rescue team?

A chill ran through her, even as the ocean air pressed heavy and warm against her skin.

She didn't realize how tight her fists had clenched until she felt her nails digging into her palm.

She forced herself to breathe. Slow. Controlled.

She couldn't let them see how shaken she was.

Not Eunho.

And definitely not Bamby.

The Enemy's Friend

"You look like you're about to throw yourself overboard."

Yerim snapped her head up, glaring.

Bamby was standing over her, arms crossed, his expression as unimpressed as ever.

She refused to shrink under his gaze.

"Would that make you happy?" she muttered.

He let out a dry laugh. "Would save me the trouble of dealing with you."

She bristled. "You think I want to be here?"

"No," Bamby said flatly. "I think you should be counting your damn blessings that you are."

Yerim's blood boiled.

She pushed herself to her feet, squaring her shoulders, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

"You think this is a favor?" she hissed. "You think I should be grateful to be kidnapped and dragged onto some pirate ship like—like some piece of cargo?"

Bamby didn't even blink.

"Better here than dead."

Her breath caught.

His violet eyes flickered, sharp and unyielding.

"Or did you already forget that your family sent someone to put a knife in your ribs?"

Yerim froze.

Because she had been trying to forget.

She had been trying to push it out of her mind, ignore the dark weight sitting in her chest.

She hated that Eunho had planted that doubt in her.

She hated that Bamby was reinforcing it.

And worst of all—

She hated that a part of her was starting to believe them.

Her voice was quiet, but sharp.

"You don't know anything about my family."

Bamby's eyes darkened.

"You're right," he muttered. "But I know the families. And I know people like you—people who grow up in silk and gold, thinking they matter."

Yerim gritted her teeth. "And what does that mean?"

Bamby leaned in, his voice dropping lower, edged with something bitter.

"It means the second you stop being useful, they throw you away."

The words hit her like a slap.

She had no response.

Because she wasn't sure if he was wrong.

Bamby studied her, then scoffed, stepping back.

"Whatever. Believe what you want."

He turned on his heel, already walking away.

"But if you think that brother of yours is still coming for you…" He shot a glance over his shoulder. "You're more naive than I thought."

Yerim's chest ached.

She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to throw something.

Instead, she stood there, hands trembling at her sides, her throat tight with something awful and uncertain.

The Shadow of Doubt

She didn't realize how long she stood there until Eunho's voice cut through the silence.

"You really don't like hearing the truth, do you?"

Yerim whirled around.

Eunho leaned against the mast, watching her like he had all the time in the world.

His silver-black hair caught the sunlight, his expression lazy, but his eyes…

His eyes were sharp. Watching. Calculating.

She hated him.

She hated that he had torn a hole in her mind, forcing her to look at things she didn't want to see.

She hated that he had the audacity to stand there like he knew her better than she knew herself.

"You don't know me," she said.

Eunho's lips curled.

"Don't I?"

She clenched her fists. "You're a liar."

His smirk widened.

"Sure," he mused. "But what exactly did I lie about?"

Her breath caught.

Because she had been trying to find the lie.

To pick apart what was real and what was manipulation.

But the more she thought about it, the more her mind spiraled.

And Eunho…

Eunho saw it.

He knew exactly what he had done to her.

She wanted to wipe that smug expression off his face.

"You just want me scared," she spat. "You want me broken so I have to rely on you."

Eunho hummed, tilting his head.

"Maybe," he admitted. "Or maybe I just told you something you weren't ready to hear."

Yerim's nails dug into her palms.

Because she didn't know which one was worse.

A sharp gust of wind whipped through the ship, carrying the scent of salt and sea spray.

And in that moment, she realized something.

She had been so focused on trying to escape Eunho—so focused on proving him wrong—

That she hadn't stopped to wonder where she would even go.

What if she did escape?

Would she run straight into Inho's blade?

Would Yejun take her back with open arms?

Or would she be met with silence?

Her hands shook.

Because for the first time in her life, she didn't know where home was.

And Eunho—*the bastard—*saw that, too.

He leaned in, voice low.

"Keep fighting, princess," he murmured. "You'll figure it out eventually."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Leaving her there, alone with her doubt

No Safe Haven

Yerim was angry.

Angry at herself for being caught. Angry at Eunho for his constant smug arrogance. Angry at Bamby for his unwarranted hostility. Angry at Yejun for not being here.

And most of all—she was angry at the world for turning against her so completely.

She had been kidnapped. Ripped from her home, dragged across the sea, forced to sit in silence while her fate was decided without her say.

Now, she was on a pirate's ship, surrounded by people who saw her as nothing more than a pawn.

She had never felt so powerless.

She stormed across the deck, not knowing where she was going, not caring. She needed to breathe, to think.

But then—

"Where do you think you're going, princess?"

Yerim whirled around, fists clenched, her rage coiling tighter and tighter.

Eunho leaned lazily against a barrel, arms crossed, watching her like a cat watches a trapped mouse.

Her chest heaved.

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

Eunho's lips curled. "What? Princess?"

Her fingers twitched.

"That's what you are, aren't you?" he continued, tilting his head. "A fragile little thing, all lost and scared, waiting for someone to save her—"

She lunged.

She didn't think—she just moved.

She swung at him, fury blinding her.

But Eunho was too fast.

He dodged easily, stepping aside as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience.

Yerim stumbled forward, nearly losing her balance.

A hand snatched her wrist.

Firm. Unyielding. Dangerous.

In an instant, Eunho had her pinned, her back against the mast, his crimson gaze burning into her.

Her breath hitched.

Too close.

"Now, now," he murmured, voice too soft, too calm. "That wasn't very ladylike, was it?"

Yerim glared, breathing hard.

"Let. Me. Go."

Eunho didn't.

His grip remained firm, his body blocking hers, his face unreadable.

"You're a real pain, you know that?" he mused.

Yerim's blood boiled.

"Then let me go," she hissed.

Eunho studied her for a long moment.

Then—*to her utter frustration—*he smirked.

"Not a chance."

Yerim's entire body tensed.

"Why?" she demanded.

Eunho's gaze flickered.

"Because I don't trust you," he said simply.

She froze.

"You think I trust you?" she shot back. "You kidnapped me!"

Eunho's smirk didn't fade.

"Exactly," he murmured.

Then—finally—he released her.

She stumbled forward, her breath unsteady, her heart racing.

Eunho stepped back, tilting his head as he watched her with amusement.

"Don't try that again," he said, voice low, amused, but undeniably firm.

Yerim hated the way his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

She clenched her fists, breathing hard.

"I hate you," she spat.

Eunho just grinned.

"You're welcome to try and kill me in my sleep, princess," he said lazily. "I'd love to see you try."

Yerim turned on her heel and stormed away.

No Allies

She didn't make it far before another voice stopped her.

"You're going to get yourself killed."

Yerim turned, scowling.

Bamby stood a few feet away, arms crossed, violet eyes filled with pure exasperation.

She rolled her eyes.

"What do you care?" she snapped.

Bamby scoffed. "I don't. But if you keep running your mouth at Eunho like that, he's going to break that stubborn little neck of yours."

Yerim's blood turned hot.

"You really think I'm that weak?"

Bamby let out a harsh laugh.

"I don't think you're weak," he said. "I think you're stupid."

Yerim's eyes narrowed.

Bamby stepped closer, his expression sharp, cutting.

"Look around you, princess," he said, voice flat. "Do you see any friends here? Do you see anyone who's going to help you?"

She gritted her teeth.

Bamby's gaze hardened.

"Eunho doesn't trust you. I don't trust you. No one on this ship does."

Yerim clenched her fists.

"Then why am I even here?" she snapped. "Why don't you just throw me overboard and be done with it?"

Bamby's lips curled in disdain.

"Believe me," he muttered, "I've thought about it."

Yerim sucked in a sharp breath.

For the first time since she had been taken, she truly felt it.

She had no one.

Not here.

Not anymore.

Bamby sighed, shaking his head.

"But Eunho wants you alive," he muttered. "And that's the only reason you're still breathing."

Yerim's stomach twisted.

"And you're just okay with that?" she muttered.

Bamby scoffed. "I don't give a damn about what happens to you, princess. But you better figure out where you stand before you get yourself killed."

Then—he turned and walked away.

Leaving Yerim alone.

What is the Truth?

The wind howled, salt thick in the air.

Yerim stood at the railing, gripping it tightly.

Eunho's words. Bamby's words.

They rattled in her skull, burning in the back of her mind.

"You're not being rescued. You're being silenced."

"No one trusts you here."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She wanted to believe—so badly—that her family was looking for her.

That Yejun was out there, tearing apart Asterum to bring her home.

But what if…

What if he wasn't?

What if everything Eunho said was true?

What if she was nothing more than a disgrace?

A problem to be erased?

Her fingers tightened on the railing.

No.

No, she wouldn't accept that.

She wouldn't believe it.

But doubt—*cold, unshakable doubt—*had already sunk into her bones.

And she wasn't sure if it would ever leave.

A Brother's Fury

The halls of the Nam estate were too quiet.

Too empty.

Nam Yejun sat at his desk, staring at the pile of untouched documents, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

His fingers dug into the wood, his nails scraping against the polished surface.

He hadn't slept.

Hadn't breathed properly since Yerim disappeared.

It had been days.

And there was still no sign of her.

No ransom note. No demand.

Just… nothing.

That silence was killing him.

"Yejun."

A familiar voice cut through the tension.

Yejun didn't turn.

Didn't move.

Because he already knew who it was.

Han Noah stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes unreadable.

"You need to stop," Noah said bluntly.

Yejun exhaled sharply.

"Stop what?" he muttered.

Noah stepped into the room, his movements calm, controlled.

"Driving yourself insane," he said. "You haven't slept. You haven't eaten. You're not thinking clearly."

Yejun's eyes flickered.

"I don't have time to sleep."

Noah sighed, rubbing his temple.

"You're going to burn out before you even find her," he muttered.

Yejun's hands curled into fists.

Find her.

As if he wasn't already tearing the entire city apart looking for her.

As if he wasn't already prepared to wage war to bring her back.

He finally looked up, his dark blue eyes burning.

"She's my sister," he said, his voice low, lethal. "And she's missing."

Noah met his gaze without flinching.

"I know," he said. "And I care about her too. But running yourself into the ground isn't going to help anyone."

Yejun's jaw tensed.

Noah sighed, stepping closer, his tone softer now.

"We'll find her, Yejun," he said. "But you need to trust me."

Yejun pressed his fingers against his temple, breathing hard.

His thoughts were too loud.

Too chaotic.

Yerim was gone.

And the longer she was gone, the more that cold, sickening dread crept into his chest.

What if—

What if she was already dead?

His breath hitched.

No.

No, he wouldn't accept that.

Not until he had proof.

Not until he had her.

But then—a sharp knock at the door.

Both men snapped their heads up.

Yejun's stomach tightened.

One of the guards entered, bowing quickly.

"My Lord," he said, his tone urgent. "We have news."

Yejun stood so fast his chair scraped against the floor.

"Where is she?"

The guard hesitated.

And Yejun felt it.

That creeping sense of wrongness.

"It's not that simple," the guard said carefully.

Noah stepped forward, his expression dark.

"Explain."

The guard swallowed.

"We believe she was taken by… pirates."

Silence.

The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Yejun's breathing slowed.

"Pirates?" he repeated.

The guard nodded.

"And not just any pirate," he continued.

He hesitated.

Yejun's stomach twisted.

"Say it," he ordered.

The guard bowed his head.

"Do Eunho."

The room went still.

Yejun's blood ran cold.

Noah cursed under his breath.

"That bastard," he muttered. "I should've killed him when I had the chance."

Yejun's hands shook.

His chest burned.

Rage, cold and deep, twisted inside of him like a knife.

"Eunho," he whispered.

The name tasted like venom in his mouth.

A man who had betrayed everything.

A man who had once belonged to the Do family—a family just as powerful as the Nam.

A man who had disappeared into the shadows, only to return as a threat.

And now…

Now, that same man had taken his sister.

Yejun's breathing grew unsteady.

If Eunho had hurt her—

If he had done anything—

"I'll kill him," Yejun said, his voice eerily calm.

The air shifted.

The temperature dropped.

His power stirred beneath his skin, the deep, ancient pull of the sea rising in his veins.

Noah exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

"Then let's go get her," he said.

The Hunt Begins

Yejun didn't hesitate.

Didn't wait.

By the time the sun set, his men were already mobilizing.

Ships were being prepared.

Noah stood at his side, silent but steady.

Yejun barely spoke.

There was nothing left to say.

He would find his sister.

And when he did—

Eunho would pay.

The Truth Unfolds

Yerim sat on the deck of the Black Siren, the cold night air biting against her skin.

She was exhausted.

Not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. Everything.

And she was still angry.

Angry that she was here. Angry that she had no control over anything.

Angry that Eunho wouldn't just tell her what the hell he wanted from her.

She could still feel Bamby's lingering glare from across the ship, his disdain like a living thing in the air.

She ignored it.

Right now—she only wanted answers.

She turned toward Eunho, who sat across from her, leaning back lazily against a barrel, arms crossed.

He looked too at ease. Too comfortable despite everything.

Like he wasn't a man who had just barely escaped a bounty hunter.

Like he wasn't a man who had stolen her from her home.

Like he wasn't a man who had just ruined her life.

Yerim inhaled deeply, steadying herself.

"Enough games," she said, her voice hard, cold.

Eunho raised a brow, clearly amused.

"Games?" he echoed.

Yerim clenched her fists.

"Why am I here?" she demanded. "Why do you even need me?"

Eunho sighed, rubbing his neck.

"You really don't like slow reveals, do you?"

She nearly screamed.

"Just tell me!"

Eunho studied her for a moment.

Then—he smiled.

Not his usual, cocky smirk.

Something smaller. Quieter.

Something that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You think I kidnapped you just to mess with your family, don't you?" he murmured.

Yerim stilled.

Because yes. That's exactly what she thought.

He leaned forward slightly, his crimson gaze burning into hers.

"I don't give a damn about the Nam family, princess."

Yerim's breath caught.

"Liar," she whispered.

Eunho tilted his head.

"If I just wanted to humiliate them, I could've taken any other Nam heir," he said. "Your brother. Your cousins. Anyone."

His voice lowered.

"But I took you."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Yerim's heart pounded.

"Why?" she demanded.

Eunho leaned back again, stretching like a lazy cat.

"Because you're the only one who matters," he said simply.

Her stomach twisted.

She hated how calm he was. How easily he could say things that turned her entire world upside down.

"You're wrong," she muttered. "I don't even have my powers."

Eunho chuckled. "Yet."

Yerim froze.

Yet.

Her pulse quickened.

"You think I—?"

Eunho nodded, tapping his fingers against his knee.

"Your powers are the key," he said, watching her closely.

Her breath caught.

"Key to what?"

Eunho's smile faded.

"To everything," he murmured.

Yerim's skin prickled.

What the hell did that mean?

She shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. My powers never awakened. I don't—"

"You don't know what your powers are," Eunho interrupted.

His voice was steady. Confident. Certain.

Like he knew something she didn't.

Like he had known for a long time.

Yerim swallowed.

For the first time since she had been taken, she felt something close to fear.

Not fear of him.

But fear of what she might become.

"You're insane," she whispered.

Eunho just grinned.

"Maybe," he mused. "But I'm also right."

She hated how sure he sounded.

She hated that a small, treacherous part of her was beginning to wonder…

What if he was right?

A Guide She Didn't Ask For

A sharp scoff came from nearby.

"Ugh, I'm going to vomit."

Yerim turned just in time to see Bamby approaching, arms crossed, his expression pure disgust.

He stopped beside them, looking at Eunho like he wanted to set him on fire.

"This is the worst way you could've told her," Bamby muttered.

Eunho shrugged. "She wanted answers."

Bamby rolled his eyes before turning to Yerim, looking her up and down like he was already unimpressed.

"Let me guess," he drawled. "You think this is all some big mistake, right?"

Yerim's jaw clenched.

"Because it is."

Bamby snorted.

"You really are hopeless," he muttered.

Yerim's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

Bamby crossed his arms, tilting his head.

"Look," he said, "I don't like you. I don't like the Nams. I don't like any of your pampered little noble families."

Yerim's fingers curled into fists.

"But," Bamby continued, voice flat, "Eunho thinks you're worth something, and unfortunately for me, I agreed to help."

Yerim blinked.

"You agreed to—?"

"Help you," Bamby said. "With your powers."

The words barely registered.

She could only stare at him, her mind racing.

Bamby? Helping her?

But why?

She looked at Eunho, searching his expression for some explanation, some clarity.

But all she found was certainty.

Like this had been the plan all along.

Like her powers—the ones she had spent her whole life waiting for, the ones she thought would never come—

Were already waking up.

Awakening the Unknown

Yerim stared at them.

Bamby, with his arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Eunho, lounging as if none of this was monumental.

And her.

The girl with no powers. The girl who was supposed to be a failure.

A mistake.

She felt cold.

"You think I have powers?" she muttered, mostly to herself.

Bamby rolled his eyes.

"We know you do," he corrected. "You're just too blind to see it."

Yerim's jaw tightened.

She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell them they were wrong.

But she had spent her whole life waiting—waiting to feel something, waiting to become something.

And now—

Now, she didn't know if she should be afraid.

Eunho exhaled, tapping his fingers against his knee.

"Look," he said, "whether you believe it or not, it doesn't change the truth. Your powers are there. They just need the right push."

Yerim bristled.

"And you think you're the one to push me?"

Eunho's lips curled.

"No," he said easily, tilting his head toward Bamby. "He is."

Yerim's stomach twisted.

Her gaze snapped back to Bamby, who still looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

"Wait—what?" she spluttered. "He's supposed to help me?"

Bamby let out a dramatic groan, dragging a hand down his face.

"Trust me, princess," he muttered, "I'm just as thrilled about this as you are."

Yerim glared.

She had no idea why this man, of all people, was supposed to help her.

He barely even looked like he had the patience to have a conversation with her, let alone teach her.

But Eunho was still watching them, looking far too pleased with himself.

"You're lucky, really," he mused. "Bamby has a way with people."

Bamby snorted.

"Yeah," he deadpanned. "I make them miserable."

Yerim rolled her eyes.

"Sounds about right."

Bamby clapped his hands together.

"Perfect," he muttered. "We're already off to a fantastic start."

The First Test

Yerim didn't know what she was expecting when Bamby started this so-called "training."

She had imagined something intense, something powerful, something worthy of the secret potential Eunho kept preaching about.

Instead—

"Stand there," Bamby ordered.

Yerim blinked.

"…What?"

Bamby motioned to the deck beneath them.

"Stand there. Close your eyes. Breathe or whatever."

Yerim scowled. "That's it?"

Bamby gave her a pointed look.

"Sorry, did you think I was going to throw you off the ship and hope you figured out how to swim?"

Yerim hesitated.

"I wouldn't put it past you."

Bamby shrugged. "I considered it."

Yerim let out a sharp breath.

This was ridiculous.

And yet—

She found herself closing her eyes.

The ocean breeze brushed against her skin, cool and steady.

The air smelled of salt and distant rain.

She inhaled slowly. Waiting.

Nothing happened.

She frowned.

Eunho was leaning against a crate nearby, watching with lazy amusement.

"Anything yet?" he mused.

Yerim opened her eyes and glared.

"Yes. I've awakened the power of frustration."

Bamby let out a dramatic sigh.

"This is going to take forever," he muttered.

Yerim crossed her arms.

"If this is your method, I can see why."

Bamby's eyes flickered.

"Listen, princess," he said. "Your powers aren't just going to show up because you want them to. That's not how this works."

Yerim scowled.

"Then how does it work?"

Bamby tilted his head.

"You ever been in a real fight?"

Yerim's lips pressed together.

"I—"

Bamby took that as a no.

"Right," he muttered. "That explains a lot."

Yerim bristled.

"You're seriously telling me I need to get into a fight to awaken my powers?"

Bamby grinned.

"Not just any fight."

Before she could process it—

He lunged.

Yerim barely had time to stumble backward before Bamby's hand shot out, aiming straight for her shoulder.

Panic spiked through her.

She tried to move, but he was too fast.

She braced for impact—

But just before he could touch her—

The wind shifted.

Something cold, something deep and heavy surged in her chest.

A sudden force—*not physical, but something else—*pushed outward.

The ship groaned.

Vines.

They shot up from the cracks of the wooden deck, twisting sharply like the ship itself was fighting back.

Bamby leapt backward, barely avoiding them.

Eunho let out a low whistle.

Yerim's heart pounded.

She stared, breathless, at the tangled mess of vines and roots now littering the deck.

That had been…

Her?

She looked up at Bamby, who was watching her now with an unreadable expression.

Something dark. Something knowing.

"Looks like I don't have to throw you overboard after all," he murmured.

Yerim shook.

Because she could still feel it.

That power.

That deep, dormant thing inside her, shifting, waking.

And suddenly—she wasn't sure if she wanted it at all.