"I ran away from demon... and straight into the devil's arms."
It started with footsteps, fast, desperate, uneven. Mine.
I didn't have time to think, I just ran.
The alley behind my stepmother's gambling den smelled like vomit and rotten meat, but it was better than being sold to those loan sharks. Better than staying another night in that suffocating house, she turned into a prison. Her voice still echoed in my head like poison. You're old enough to pay the debt I used on you.
She didn't mean "debt." She meant me. She wanted to sell me to them, like I was nothing more than a body with a price tag.
And I was stupid enough to believe she once loved me.
I didn't stop running until my bare feet slapped against the asphalt road, and headlights blinded me like the judgment of heaven. A black car slowed down.
I stood in the middle of the road, waving both arms, tears streaming down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I must've looked crazy, but I didn't care. Please. Please stop. I need help. I screamed.
The window rolled down halfway. I saw only a silhouette at first. Then, a calm voice answered. "Are you hurt?"
"No," I said, panting. But I have nowhere else to go. Someone's after me. Please... I just need help tonight. I swear I'm not a thief or anything.
He studied me in silence, then turned and walked to the back door of the car. He leaned down and spoke to someone inside. I couldn't hear what he said or what the man inside replied, but after a few seconds, he returned.
He opened the rear door instead. "Get in."
I hesitated. My instincts screamed at me not to enter a stranger's car.
But what choice did I have?
I climbed into the back seat, heart pounding, fingers trembling as I shut the door.
That's when I saw him.
The man sitting beside me.
Black suit. Cold eyes. Chiselled jaw. Silent as death itself.
Mike Mikako.
I froze. Not because I knew him personally but because everyone in this city knew the name Mikako.
The Mikako family didn't just rule the underground they owned it. Drugs. Arms. Real estate. Even politicians. And this was the son, the rumoured heir. The one people called the Silent Executioner. A man who smiled only when killing someone. A man who had no history of kindness. Only blood.
I stared at him for too long. I must've looked like a fool.
But instead of crying, I laughed.
Yes. I laughed.
Because at that point, what else could I do?
My life was already a twisted joke. From losing my real mother to being ignored by my father to being offered as payment for someone else's sins... it was funny in the most painful way.
"If this is how I die," I muttered, "at least it's dramatic."
Mike didn't speak. He didn't smile. He didn't even blink. He just stared ahead, like I didn't exist.
The drive was long, maybe forty-five minutes. I stopped checking the time after a while. The silence in the car was louder than any siren. I was too scared to cry. Too numb to speak.
We finally arrived at a mansion that looked more like a fortress. High walls. Iron gates. Security cameras. Armed guards. I counted them like I was counting the days left of my life.
Ten bodyguards are with us in the car. Fifteen more outside the house.
Twenty-five people who could kill me with a single command.
One man who didn't need to lift a finger.
"I should've run. But where was I supposed to run to? It was already late… and I had nowhere left to go."
When we entered, someone handed me a towel and told me to shower. I didn't argue. I was led to a room, lavish, large, and far too expensive for someone like me. The clock on the wall read 9:12 p.m. My usual bedtime, if I still had a normal life.
So I slept after the shower.
But peace is something people like me don't get to enjoy for long.
I woke to a knock.
At first, I thought it was a dream.
Then the door opened, and a group of women entered the stylists. They didn't speak. They just opened a wardrobe full of luxury clothes, laid out jewellery I'd never even seen in real life, and began to prepare me.
I asked what was happening.
No one answered.
I repeated the question louder. Why are you dressing me up at night? What's going on?
Still nothing. Just the silent curling of my hair, lipstick, and perfume.
Finally, one woman whispered to me under her breath, "Congratulations."
"For what?" I asked.
"You've just landed the biggest project of your life."
I frowned. "What project?"
She paused. Her eyes softened with what might have been pity. "Dying soon."
I laughed again. Not because it was funny, but because it was real. Because I was shaking inside, and humour was the only way I could stop the tears.
Then another knock came.
A voice outside the door. "It's time."
I looked at the clock at 11:47 p.m.
Time for what? I yelled. "Why is everyone acting like I'm some object?"
No answer.
Then I heard his voice behind me. Deep, cold, and final.
"Quiet and do as you're told."
I turned sharply. Mike was there. Standing like a shadow. His dark eyes scanned me once and narrowed.
"Don't ruin the makeup," he said. "It's more important than you."
I wanted to cry again. I did.
But I wiped my face with the back of my hand and held it in. Because deep down, I wanted to live.
Even if I had no idea how anymore.
They took me to a bar.
No, not a regular bar.
A private one. Underground. Exclusive. Silent as a graveyard but alive with dangerous men and deadly intentions. I didn't recognize any of the faces, but I could feel power oozing from them.
Mike sat beside me. A drink was placed in front of him.
He turned to me and asked, "Do you drink?"
I shook my head. "No, sir."
He nodded once. "Get her something else."
They brought me juice. I sipped it slowly. Tried not to shake.
The music played, but it felt so far away.
I wanted to go home. But where was home?
I poured myself a glass of alcohol when no one was looking. Just one sip. Just one brave act.
Then Mike's eyes snapped to someone across the room.
He stood. Smoothly. Calmly.
Gunshots rang out.
I screamed.
I didn't even see the gun.
All I knew was that someone was dead and Mike was gone.
Then, the guards rushed toward me.
"We need to move."
"I'm not going anywhere," I yelled.
They tried to touch me. I screamed louder.
Then he returned.
Mike.
Without a word, he lifted me off the seat like I weighed nothing.
"Put me down! Put me down!" I shouted, kicking, twisting.
I want to go home! I want to go home.
He didn't answer.
He just looked at me once, and then everything went dark.
I don't know if they drugged me or knocked me out.
But when I woke up, it was morning.
My head throbbed. My mouth tasted like cotton.
And I was back in his mansion. But not the same one.
This house was different.
Bigger and colder.
I panicked. Threw on clothes. Ran up the stairs. There were elevators inside the house, but I didn't care. I took the stairs like my life depended on it.
In the living room, bodyguards watched me silently. I rushed toward the main door but then I heard his voice again.
"Where are you going?"
I turned.
And finally saw him in daylight.
He was breathtaking.
Too clean, too perfect for someone so deadly. Tall. Strong. Eyes like steel. Skin like smooth stone. He looked untouchable.
I stepped back, then bowed slightly. "Good morning, sir. My name is Mira. Thank you for saving me last night. I'm ready to go home now."
He stared at me for a long second.
"Let me drop you," he said.
"No!" I shouted. "No, thank you. I can go on my own."
One of the bodyguards tried to speak, but Mike raised a hand. Silence.
"You can go," he said.
Relief flooded me until I opened the door.
This wasn't the house we came to last night.
It was a different mansion.
A different location.
How far had we travelled?
It would take me twenty minutes just to walk to the gate.
I paused.
I turned back.
Mike was already seated on the couch again.
I smiled weakly. "Actually... I don't mind if someone drops me off."
They did.
Three cars as usual. He came with me.
Dropped me in front of my house and drove away.
And that was when I saw my things thrown outside like garbage.
My stepmother stood in the doorway with my father beside her.
"Pack your things and go," she said.
"Dad," I whispered, "please. Say something."
He looked at me with empty eyes. "Go."
I begged. I cried.
I have nowhere to go. Where do you want me to go?
They didn't care.
I dragged my box down the street. Sat on the pavement and wept until my throat burned.
Then the cars returned.
Three black cars.
He stepped out again.
Mike Mikako.
He looked at me. "Aren't you going home?"
"They kicked me out," I said, eyes red.
He turned to walk away.
I ran after him.
"Please! Take me with you!"
He stopped. "Are you sure? You know who I am."
"I'm not scared."
He stared at me for a long time.
"Then follow me." And I did.
That was the beginning.
When we returned to the mansion, he gave me a room.
Then, hours later, he called me to his office.
There, he handed me a contract.
"You'll be my girlfriend. Sex is included. Everything a couple does, except love."
My breath caught.
"No love," he repeated. "Not from me. Not from you. Don't get it twisted."
He added. I never use protection. You'll have to handle that yourself. No pregnancy.
"You'll be paid. You'll live here. You'll obey. Whatever happens in my world, inside or outside this house, stays secret. If anything leaks, you're dead.
I trembled.
Then he asked, "Are you still a virgin?"
I nodded.
"Do you agree?"
I thought of my father's face. My stepmother's voice. The cold street outside.
"I agree."
He handed me a pen.
And I signed.
But nothing… "Nothing prepared me for the man I just gave my life to.
Nothing prepared me for Mike Mikako.
And everything that came next.