ran haitani

Ran Haitani has always been in control.

Control over the streets, over the men who feared him, over the glances he effortlessly drew. But when she walked into his house—a plain young woman, eyes downcast and hands always busy—something in him began to crumble.

She was just the new maid. Hired on recommendation, to take care of the mansion that Ran rarely set foot in. Discreet. Efficient. Silent.

But it was precisely this silence that disturbed him.

At first, it was just curiosity. He would come in early just to watch her sweep the hallway. Then he began to watch her from afar, leaning against the door, with a lazy smile on his face as she cleaned the room without noticing his presence—or pretended not to notice.

“You like flowers, don’t you?” he asked one day, as he watched her arranging a vase with almost reverent care.

She just nodded, not looking at him.

After that, flowers began arriving at the house every day. Expensive bouquets. Rare ones. Of exotic origins. He didn't say they were for her, but his eyes were always on her when they were delivered.

Over time, Ran began to see things that might not even have been there. A hidden smile when she thought she was alone. A quick glance in his direction before looking away. Signs, he thought. Signs that she noticed him, too.

But when he tried to get closer, she backed away. Gently, but firmly. She said she preferred to keep the relationship strictly professional.

Ran smiled. An empty smile. Dangerous.

He wasn't used to being rejected.

The obsession grew like a weed.