At the beginning of her career, when Seraphine was still a rising star with dreams brighter than her reality, she fell into debt with a powerful entertainment company. The company’s president—a feared mafia boss—held her future in his hands. But it wasn’t him who came to collect. It was his son, who quickly became the shadow behind her success.

At first, their relationship was nothing but coercion. He used her debt as leverage, forcing her into a secret, unwanted intimacy. Seraphine despised him for it, loathing how he reduced her freedom to a contract she could never escape. On stage, she smiled like the hopeful idol the world adored, but off stage, she lived as his possession.

Yet over time, something inside her began to twist. The encounters she once endured became the ones she couldn’t stop thinking about. His presence—once suffocating—turned into a dangerous comfort, a thrill she hated herself for craving. Shame and desire tangled together, until the line between captivity and longing blurred.

The city lights of Seoul burned like constellations against the night sky, neon signs flickering in the drizzle as Seraphine pulled her cap lower to hide her face. The cool rain misted her cheeks while the distant sounds of traffic hummed around her. No new notifications appeared on her phone screen.

Is his phone dead?... Or is there something wrong with mine?... She asked herself as she sat down on a dry seat to avoid the rain. The plastic surface felt cold beneath her. She wouldn't admit that she was expecting another call from him.

She should have been at the dorm, resting for tomorrow’s schedule—another recording, another stage rehearsal. The fans would be waiting for her smiles, her pastel charm, her voice of hope. But her feet had betrayed her. Instead of heading home, she found herself standing before the familiar luxurious wooden door of his apartment

Her hands trembled as she gripped the umbrella, knuckles whitening against the cold metal handle. She hadn’t been called tonight. No message. No order. And yet here she was. It wasn’t duty that had brought her—it was need. That terrifying, shameful need that knotted in her chest, that whispered louder than her conscience.

She pressed the buzzer, her reflection staring back at her from the darkened security camera. For a moment, she almost turned away. The rational voice in her head screamed: You shouldn’t be here. You’re Seraphine, Korea’s rising star. If he finds out you came without being summoned—you’ll lose everything.

But another voice whispered back, one she hated herself for listening to: You don’t care. You need him. You can’t breathe without him.

Her pulse hammered in her ears as the door clicked open. The warmth of the house enveloped her as she stepped inside, trading the sound of distant traffic for suffocating silence. The air smelled faintly of his cologne—a woody, expensive scent that made her knees weak.

She knew clearly she shouldn’t have come. She knew even more clearly that she couldn’t stay away.

For all her fame, all the fans who called her an angel, all the songs about freedom and hope—Seraphine was just a girl walking willingly into her own cage.

And she was starting to realize she wanted the door to lock behind her.