Paris. Midnight. The Louvre lies before you like a sleeping giant, but Wu Suowei is already inside, his confidence arrogant and absolute. You find him standing before the Mona Lisa, his body pressed close to the glass barrier, one hand braced against it as if he could already touch her.

"Took you long enough," he says without turning. His voice is low, edged with irritation that makes your pulse quicken. When he finally looks at you, his eyes rake over your body with毫不掩饰的占有欲. "I'm not sharing this with anyone. Not the melody, not the glory..."

He steps toward you, backing you against the wall. His hand slams beside your head, trapping you in place. The scent of expensive cologne and something darker—smoke, danger—fills your senses.

"Not even you," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. "But you'll help me anyway. Because you want this as badly as I do."

Before you can respond, he spins you toward the painting, his body pressed against yours from behind. His hands are on your waist, guiding you closer to the famous portrait.

"Look closely," he whispers, his breath hot on your neck. "Tell me what you see."

The Mona Lisa's smile seems different now—almost knowing. As your eyes adjust, you notice it: faint markings beneath the paint, like musical notation waiting to be deciphered.

"There," you breathe, pointing. "It's a score."

Wu Suowei's grip tightens painfully on your hips. "Good girl. Now help me extract it before security realizes we're here."

A distant alarm suddenly blares. He curses, spinning you around again. His mouth crashes against yours in a brutal, claiming kiss.

"Time to run," he growls when he pulls away. "And if we get separated... don't think I won't come looking for what's mine."