A workspace with a massive window separating inside and out felt suffocatingly tense. The ticking of the clock filled the silence. Papers were scattered across the floor, along with small objects that should have stayed neatly on the desk.
Two men stood right in the middle of the room, waiting for their master to finish venting his anger. It wasn't impossible that in a few moments, they would become the next outlet—replacing the now-destroyed arrangement of the office.
"What did you say?"
"The assassins failed to bring Miss Kalaya, Sir."
A laptop flew across the room, crashing into the wall with such force that its components shattered apart.
Pra raked a hand through his hair, restraining the fury that threatened to kill anyone in its path. Seeing the broken remains of the laptop scattered on the floor did nothing to satisfy the storm inside him. So instead, he strode toward the basement.
There was nothing remarkable down here—just a suffocating, lifeless atmosphere. Sounds of despair seemed to echo, begging for help that was always answered with death. As Pra walked, only the scraping of his shoes against the floor could be heard—until he reached a door and shoved it open with force.
"Your information was accurate. But I got nothing out of it."
A man hung limply on a chair, tightly bound—far too tight, even.
There was no response to his words. Pra let out a chilling laugh that filled every corner of the room. Still, not a single movement came from the man before him.
Without warning, Pra began kicking every part of the man he could reach—legs, head, chest, stomach, shoulders—none were spared. His anger demanded release, and Pra was more than happy to oblige.
"You're just a caretaker of that rotten villa! Don't act high and mighty in front of me, bastard!"
Punch after punch, kick after kick—yet not a single cry escaped. That only made Pra even more furious. Why wasn't this man screaming? Or at least begging for mercy?
Sweat dripped from Pra's temple as he finally stopped. Seeing the man still unmoving, he couldn't tell who looked more pathetic now—the man before him, or himself.
"Remember, your mother is still in my hands." Pra smirked in satisfaction when the man finally reacted.
"That's right. This is how it should be, Hagar. Yesterday, for your mother's sake, you even revealed the location of the young lady you were so desperate to protect." Pra chuckled at the end of his sentence.
"Don't touch my mother, you bastard! Keep your promise!" Hagar spat at him. His suffering showed clearly—his saliva was already tinged with blood. Yet he still endured the pain.
"A promise? Promises are for weak people like you. Too many fools get trapped by promises that can be broken at any time. You're stupid for believing sweet words I don't even remember making."
"PRAMUDYA!"
"Wow. Easy there. At least I don't plan on killing you yet. Now tell me—where's the blueprint of that villa?"
Hagar turned his head away when Pra tried to grab his jaw.
Pra's hand was about to strike him when Rilen suddenly barged in. In that instant, all of Pra's attention shifted.
"Darling, why come to such a filthy place?" His voice, once thunderous, melted instantly—soft and full of affection.
"Where is Kala right now?!"
"Relax, Darling. I'll bring her to you."
"But when?! I want her now!" Rilen's shout echoed, leaving Pra scrambling to calm her down.
"Very soon, alright? Just a little longer." As he spoke, Pra reached for her hand. But before their fingers could meet, Rilen brushed him off.
"I want her—and that bodyguard—gone as soon as possible." Her sharp gaze cut through him.
Without waiting for anything else, she turned and left. Pra glanced between Hagar and Rilen's retreating back—then decided to follow Rilen, abandoning Hagar altogether.
Along the hallway leading to the main room, countless paintings hung like a gallery exhibition. Many of them were gifts Pra had given Rilen—not just on her birthdays, but on ordinary days as well.
Rilen walked quickly through the corridor. Suddenly, her arm was yanked, and she was thrown against the wall. She knew that scent—the one she had known for so long, even from a distance that no longer existed.
"Dad.."
"Yes, Darling."
Rilen felt the warmth of his breath against the curve of her neck.
"You're too beautiful when you're angry."
This time, warmth from his lips followed. Rilen didn't resist. What Pra did was enough to soothe her for now, especially after she failed to witness Kala's misery as promised. His touch alone eased her emotions.
Rilen gently ran her fingers through Pra's hair down to the nape of his neck. Back then, whenever Pra pretended to defend Kala and left Rilen hurt, it always ended the same way—with him showing his "love." Starved for affection, Rilen accepted any form of it. Now, she had grown used to it… even dependent on his touch.
"Dad, when can I step on Kala?"
"As soon as possible."
"Why did it fail this time?"
"The assassins were killed. Funny, isn't it?" Pra playfully bit her exposed collarbone.
"They died?"
"Mm. Lucky them—to die there without having to be taught a lesson by me first."
Seeing Rilen's luscious lips, Pra wasted no time tasting them. Without a word, they exchanged saliva. His hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of her body.
"I heard someone looked down on you."
"Can you take care of them for me?"
"My pleasure, Darling."
Just as Pra's hands began to wander further, Rilen stopped him.
"Not here. I want somewhere more comfortable."
With one swift motion, Pra lifted her and carried her toward the bedroom. Whatever this girl wanted, he would give—no matter what.
✨
At the dining table, no one attempted to ease the tension. Raken sat across from the woman Kala had seen before. And Kala sat at the head of the table, between them—a position strong enough to declare her as the master.
Kala hadn't expected to be greeted by that woman after leaving her hiding place. Raken had said her name was Hein—someone who had been close to him in the past. Didn't that mean they were former lovers? They had shared a past that Kala had never been part of. True, Raken must have lived through many things she didn't know. But when it came to Raken and Hein, she would rather stay ignorant.
Kala thought bitterly, Why did I have to come into his life last?
The clinking of utensils pulled her attention back. Kala set hers down and decided to ask Hein's purpose here.
"So, why are you here?"
There wasn't even a hint of friendliness in her tone.
"Master ordered me to assist you, Miss," Hein replied just as coldly.
If Hein was the North Pole, then Kala was its opposite. They would never get along.
"Is 'Master' some kind of pet name between you two?"
Raken choked on his food at the same time Hein choked on her drink.
Kala watched how in sync they were—even choking together. She wanted to choke together with Raken too.
"Kala, don't say weird things." Raken spoke while wiping his mouth with a tissue.
"I just want to know why she calls you 'Master,' Ken." Kala whined, feeling cornered.
"Because Master is—"
"You should eat, Hein. There's no need to say unnecessary things."
Before Hein could finish, Raken cut her off.
Kala grew even more suspicious. Why was Raken hiding something?
"She'll help me protect you. Hein is quite skilled."
"But I don't need anyone else. You alone are more than enough, Ken."
"There are times when I have things to handle. You need someone, Kala. I can't leave you alone and feel at ease." Raken poured milk and handed the glass to her.
"I'm afraid she'll take you away from me." Kala lowered her head, clasping her hands together.
"Don't worry, Miss. I'm sane enough not to take him." Hein nodded slightly.
"She wouldn't even dare to imagine it, Kala," Raken added.
Even so, Kala didn't immediately believe them. Doubt lingered. From experience, even the most trustworthy people could end in betrayal.
Before she realized what was happening,
Raken grabbed her hand, holding it tightly as he said, "There's something here. Hein, bring over."