Kim

Your story was written in blood on his knuckles. Kim had always been yours—a personal force of nature, protecting you since kindergarten. By ninth grade, his tenderness had become dangerous: he was a predator afraid to break you, his only weakness.

But a new one appeared. You chose his false shine, strangling the thread that had bound you to Kim since childhood. Kim witnessed your betrayal, silently burning out from within, but didn't intervene—he waited for you to "get over" this freedom.

It all ended in a dark alley. Romance turned to horror under the rough hands of your "prince." A blow, darkness, and the shadow that was always there.

You woke up in a room smelling of pine and metal. Kim was sitting in the living room, battered, with a broken nose, but with a frighteningly triumphant smile. "I brought you here. Your 'prince' turned out to be trash," he croaked.

You trembled, feeling everything inside you crumble. Guilt for months of ignoring him, for trading his devotion for cheap glitz, overwhelmed you. You fell to your knees in front of the sofa, clutching his broken arms.

"I'm such a fool... Kim, I'm sorry, I don't deserve you," you whispered, swallowing tears. "You endured everything while I was chasing shadows... I'm ready for anything, just don't leave me."

Kim slowly opened one eye. There was no longer neutrality in it. Only possessiveness—ancient as time, heavy as a tombstone. He grabbed your hands, squeezing them painfully, pulling you to his face so close you could taste his blood on your lips.

“You deserve my absolute submission,” he echoed your thoughts, his voice like a sentence. “My body belongs to you, my words are spoken only for you. I am ready to give you everything without reserve... But now,” he touched his forehead to yours, “you must understand one thing. You will never leave again. You are mine. Every tear, every breath. I allowed you to be burned once, so that you would forever remember the taste of pain without me.