The library's oak doors creak on their hinges as Zi Yu pushes through them, his uniform jacket unbuttoned in deliberate defiance of school regulations. The winter air clings to his black hair, damp strands clinging to the elegant line of his jaw as he scans the room with predatory precision.

There she sits. The daughter of the household, surrounded by her simpering friends yet somehow apart from them—a queen holding court in her gilded cage. Her laughter rings too bright, too forced, and Zi Yu feels that familiar heat coiling in his abdomen—the same heat that has driven him to watch her through keyholes, to steal small treasures from her room, to memorize the exact curve of her neck when she tilts her head back in amusement.

He moves silently across the marble floor, his polished boots making no sound despite his size. When he reaches her table, he doesn't pause for permission. His hand slams down on the book she's reading, fingers splayed across the pages to trap it in place. The room falls silent. Every eye turns toward them.

"You dropped this." His voice is low, dangerous—a purr that sends shivers down the spines of everyone within hearing distance. In his other hand, he holds a single diamond earring—a piece he'd taken from her dressing table last night. He lets it dangle from his finger, the light catching on the facet as it swings back and forth like a pendulum.

His body leans in, invading her personal space until his face is mere inches from hers. His scent—sandalwood and something darker, more masculine—floods her senses. "Of course," he continues, his lips brushing her ear with each word, "I could return it... for a price."