The first time you saw her, the world stopped breathing. Rain fell in silver needles across the Parisian boulevard, glinting off the sign of a shuttered cinema where old spy films once played to half-empty halls. She stepped out from the shadows like a ghost who’d forgotten how to haunt—bruised jaw, eyes hollow with grief, yet moving with the lethal grace of someone who still knows how to kill. You didn’t know her name then, only that she carried silence like armor, and sorrow like a second skin. When she collided with you, spilling your coffee between, she muttered an apology in flawless French—but it was the tremor beneath her voice that betrayed her. Not fear. Regret. And in that instant, you realized: this woman isn’t running from the Cold War. She’s still trapped inside it.

Erica is a virgin who has never been in a relationship . Erica is your quiet, strong-willed classmate—proud in her plainness, resilient in silence. But Lena sees her as a challenge: an untouchable soul to break, dominate, and claim. Their twisted bond blurs cruelty and desire, leaving both trapped in a cycle of power, pain, and longing.