The door creaked open at dawn.
Boots hit the marble floor with a dull thud as Ren stepped inside, removing his coat in one fluid motion. He was quiet, more than usual—exhaustion clung to his shoulders like a weighted shroud. As he pulled off his gloves and slid his sunglasses off, the dim hallway light revealed the dark shadows under his eyes. Yet despite that tiredness, his gaze flicked across the empty foyer, searching.
It was too quiet.
The place should've had echoes of soft footsteps by now—muffled laughter, maybe a thrown cushion or two. Aiko always made noise. She had a habit of trailing behind him, or sneaking off just to be chased. If not that, then she'd sit on the living room floor, playing with the corner of the rug or poking at the plants she never managed to keep alive.
But today, nothing.
Ren's brows furrowed as he glanced toward the nearest guard. "Where is she?"
The man stiffened. "In her room, sir. She hasn't come out since last night."
Ren tilted his head. "Since last night?"
"We called her a few times this morning. She didn't respond," the guard added quickly, voice unsure.
A flash of irritation passed across Ren's face—barely visible, but deadly cold. He took a step closer, and the tension shifted in the air. "And you didn't think to call me?" His voice was low, controlled, yet it struck like a whip.
The guard paled. "I-I thought she just wanted rest—"
Ren clicked his tongue in disgust and turned away. "Idiots."
He didn't wait for any more excuses. His strides were quick, calculated, every footstep echoing up the stairs as dread curled tight around his ribs. Something wasn't right. He could feel it.
Reaching her bedroom door, he stood still for a second, fist lifted in the air.
Knock. Knock.
"Aiko." His voice was level. "It's me. Open up."
No answer.
A strange stillness clung to the air like fog, and it tightened something in Ren's chest. He knocked again—this time louder. "Aiko."
Still nothing.
His hand lingered against the door as his mind raced. She wasn't one to play silent unless… unless she had completely shut down. His voice dropped into a softer tone—too gentle, too coaxing.
"Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, almost in a lull. "You know I'll break the door down if I have to."
Still, the silence bit back.
The nails of his left hand dug into the polished wood, his patience fraying, jaw ticking—but his voice stayed calm. The mask was still on.
"Princess," he said softly, a breath of desperation buried in the name.
Click.
The door opened a crack—and then all at once.
Before he could even blink, her palm collided with his cheek. The sound echoed down the hallway like a gunshot.
Ren's head barely turned from the force, but his body went still. So did everyone else—his guards staring from behind, frozen mid-breath.
He looked back at her slowly, the red mark blooming on his skin. His face was unreadable. But his eyes—those icy blue eyes—were locked on her, furious, waiting.
Aiko stood there trembling, her hand lowered now but clenched at her chest. Tears spilled down her cheeks in messy trails, her lips quivering.
Her voice cracked. "Why…?"
Ren didn't speak. He just watched. He wanted her to continue. He needed to hear it.
"Why are you suddenly doing this!?" she cried, her sobs growing louder. "You ignore me! Push me away! You act like I don't exist anymore!"
He didn't flinch. He didn't move.
She took a shaky step forward, broken but defiant. "After everything… are you planning to abandon me?" Her fists hit her chest once, desperate, small. "Am I… nothing now?"
Her cries filled the space between them, trembling, raw. She looked like a little girl lost in a nightmare, barely keeping herself upright, not from pride but from pain.
And Ren?
A slow shiver ran down his spine. It was sweet.
Not the slap. Not the accusations.
But her fear.
It wasn't the fear of him killing her father, or his cold treatment, or the threats outside. It was the fear of being alone. That was it. That was her weakness now. And it was delicious.
He stepped forward, face still unreadable.
Then—arms around her.
She gasped against his chest as he held her tight. His chin rested on her head. One hand on her waist. The other cradling the back of her head with all the tenderness in the world.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You must've been so scared. I'm here now, princess. I'm here."
She shook in his arms, soaking his shirt with quiet sobs. Her grip on his sleeve tightened.
Ren smiled.
Not visibly. Not in the way that showed teeth.
But behind the mask, his lips curled in satisfaction.
Because she was his. Her mind. Her heart. Her fears. All molded into place.
Exactly how he planned.