Wrapped tightly in a black trench coat and oversized sunglasses, Renée stood at the entrance of the Tipsy Lounge precisely at noon—an unusual sight, to say the least.

A long black limousine idled in the driveway. She took a deep breath and stepped toward it.

It wasn't the first time, yet fear still gnawed at her, despair clung to her, and a part of her still wanted to turn and run.

But she couldn't. There was no escape. He had never given her a choice.

A man in black emerged from the front passenger seat, wordlessly opening the rear door. Lowering her head, Renée slid into the car's dark interior.

Everything about him was black—his world, his people, his existence. Sometimes, she felt as if he were a black hole, an entity of immense gravity. Get too close, and he would swallow you whole, pulling you into his cold, merciless abyss, never to resurface.

The car stopped in front of the tallest skyscraper in the city. Following his personal assistant, Htet, she stepped into the VIP elevator.

She gripped the railing as the glass capsule shot upward, the city shrinking rapidly beneath her feet.

Renée had never understood why the VIP elevator had to be made of glass. Was he not afraid of being attacked? Or did he simply enjoy watching the world diminish below him?

No one truly knew what went on in his brilliant, dangerous mind. No one dared to ask what motives lay behind each of his decisions.

His word was law. You did not question. You obeyed.

The elevator chimed softly as it came to a stop.

Renée turned around. Htet held the door open. "Mr. Sein is in his office."

She nodded and stepped alone into the labyrinthine hallway.

Htet always remained behind, leaving Renée to find her way to him alone. It was deliberate.

It was his way of forcing her to acknowledge that whatever awaited her beyond that door was her "own choice." That she had "willingly" walked into the cage he had built for her. That the humiliation and pain she endured were, in the end, her doing. 

That she had chosen to sink this low, herself.

The carpet was soft beneath her feet, swallowing the sound of her footsteps, making it feel as if she were walking on clouds. But her legs were trembling, a slight but uncontrollable tremor.

Once, she had tried drinking beforehand, hoping to dull her fear. But he had smelled the alcohol on her and punished her even more ruthlessly than usual. 

She had never made that mistake again. It was useless. Numbing herself only made it worse.

Taking a deep breath, Renée pushed open the heavy black door.

Rex Sein, the most powerful and dangerous man in the city, sat leisurely in the leather chair behind his desk, elegantly smoking a cigarette.

Renée stood in the doorway, back straight.

Every time she stepped into this room, no matter how much fear and dread filled her heart, she refused to let him see it.

He fed on her fear. The more terrified she was, the more exhilarated he became.

Rex put out his cigarette and signaled Renée to come closer with a look.

As Renée stepped forward, she shrugged off her black trench coat and let it fall carelessly to the side. She would need at least one piece of clothing to cover herself afterward.

"Anything interesting lately?" he asked, his voice low and unreadable.

"Silas came again..."

Before she could finish, Rex pulled her over, slamming her down onto the wide desk.

The carved paperweight beneath her back dug in painfully. She clenched her teeth, refusing to make a sound.

"Oh?" Rex didn't hesitate, his hands swiftly tearing open her shirt. The buttons flew off, scattering and clattering onto the floor.

After leaving the Tipsy Lounge, Renée hadn't bothered wearing a binder—or anything underneath. Now, her body was laid bare before him.

The corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes darkening. His lashes cast long shadows as his gaze dropped.

She knew—she had spoiled his pleasure of unwrapping his gift.

But he must have been in a good mood today. He didn't lash out. When he looked up again, there was no anger in his eyes—only a deep, consuming desire.

Looks like today might be a sunny one.

"Take it off yourself."

Renée's fingers trembled almost imperceptibly before reaching for her belt.

"Who did Silas bring this time?"

He kneaded her breast with one hand, waiting as she unfastened the belt of his pants.

"He came with two people from the real estate bureau. They also brought two newcomers... seemed like a pair of siblings... ugh—"

Without any foreplay, the scorching hardness pierced into Renée's body like a dagger, sending uncontrollable tremors through her.

"That's it?"

"Mm..."

Renée knew he did it on purpose—asking her all sorts of meaningless questions while their bodies were entangled. 

She had no choice but to answer. If she refused, he would lose control and brutalize her body even more.

But the moment she opened her mouth, the sounds she didn't want him to hear would slip out, beyond her control. And those very sounds only served to awaken the darker, more terrifying beast hidden within him.

She didn't understand why he asked her these things, just like she didn't understand why he had sent her to the Tipsy Lounge.

He had countless subordinates—what information could he possibly need that required her to gather at the club? Even if he had to send someone, he had an army of well-trained men at his disposal. There was no reason to send her, the most useless one of all.

He was a madman. He tormented her not for strategy, not for necessity, but simply to vent the contradictions, filth, hesitation, and hatred inside him. Then, drowning in pain and rage, he could continue being the madman he was.

What was the point of reasoning with a lunatic?

She didn't know if it was something in her gaze that pricked him. He turned her body around, pressing her down against the desk. The muscles at the front of her thighs slammed against the edge of the table with each thrust—she didn't need to look to know they were already bruised.

"Answer me," he demanded sharply.

She kept her lips clenched, refusing to make a sound. That seemed to enrage him. He leaned down and sank his teeth into her shoulder.

"Aaah... The one named... Zew... mmm... sister, Thiri... is... Menke... ugh... the CEO..."

"Menke?"

Renée had no idea what this man's nerves were made of. He seemed to be contemplating why someone from Menke would be mingling with Silas, yet his movements never faltered. Not even for a second.

She focused on the digital clock inches from her face, watching the LED numbers flicker. Counting, distracting herself, anything to make the pain just a little more bearable.

"You said siblings." His breath warm against her ear. "So her younger brother was there too?"

"Y...yes..." she forced the answer through gritted teeth.

"Then why didn't you mention him? Afraid to? Seeing the charming young master of the Zew family—did you go into heat again?"

An untimely image of Min flashed through Renée's mind—him lounging in the private room, swirling his drink while sizing her up. Aside from the contempt in his eyes, he was undeniably the kind of man who could make countless women fall for him.

A sharp yank on her hair forced her upper body upright. His other hand slid around to her front, fingers pinching and toying with her nipple.

"So desperate... If you were this hungry, why did you tell Hnin you wanted to be a male escort? Too bad he's not into men—you missed such a golden opportunity."

Renée froze.

On her first day at the Tipsy Lounge, it was Madam Hnin who told her that Rex had ordered her to disguise herself as a man and work as a male escort at the club.

At the time, she didn't raise any objections. Even if she knew the reason, it wouldn't have made any difference. Nothing would change. Being a male escort was at least better than being a female one.

"What's this, regretting it?" The man behind her noticed her distraction, clearly misjudging what was on her mind. "Just mentioning him makes you this wet?"

He let go of her hair and grabbed her chin, forcing her tightly clenched teeth apart. His fingers thrust into her mouth, carrying the faint scent of tobacco. They swirled over her tongue, traced the inside of her cheeks, then pushed deep into her throat.

Renée's face twisted in pain, broken moans spilling unrestrained from her pale, bloodless lips. The gagging, the helpless retching, the sounds she couldn't suppress—every bit of it only fueled the man's hunger further. With a growl, he pressed down harder, his body sinking lower as he ravaged her with renewed ferocity.

The clouds eventually obscured the sun.

🎩

Rex left, satisfied, like a shift change as Htet stepped in to clean up after him.

It wasn't too bad. At least this time, she was still awake.

Htet's face remained as expressionless as ever, like a plastic mask. Renée sometimes wondered if his facial nerves were completely paralyzed—how else could he remain so impassive no matter the situation?

Htet lifted Renée from the ground with practiced ease, utterly indifferent to her nakedness or the bruises covering her body. He wouldn't so much as flinch—like an empty shell, devoid of a soul.

Only a man like him could serve as Rex's personal assistant.

By the time Renée returned to the Tipsy Lounge, it was already past dinner time.

Madam Hnin was leaning against the doorframe of Renée's room, a cigarette held between her fingers. She wore a black silk cheongsam with subtle floral embroidery, a shawl draped over her broad, muscular shoulders, though it did little to soften the incongruity of her frame. 

Whispers circulated that she was actually a man, a eunuch. She had once been the leader of a mercenary group, a trusted confidante of Rex's father. For the sake of a woman, she had been subjected to cruel punishment. After changing her appearance, she adopted the identity of Madam Hnin, taking over Tipsy Lounge and becoming its "proprietress."

Seeing Renée approach, Madam Hnin shifted slightly to let her pass, making way for her unsteady steps.

"He called you over again?"

Renée lifted her head weakly, snatched the cigarette from Madam Hnin's fingers, and took a deep drag. The strong tobacco burned her throat, sending her into a fit of coughing.

Madam Hnin sighed, shaking her head helplessly before following Renée inside and shutting the door behind her.

As Renée shed her black trench coat, her tattered black shirt—barely holding together—clung to her pale skin, making the fresh wounds stand out even more starkly.

Madam Hnin had seen it all before, yet she still couldn't help but draw a sharp breath.

She grabbed a jar of ointment. "Take off your shirt. I'll put on the medicine for you."

Renée reached for the jar, but Madam Hnin refused to hand it over.

"Madam Hnin. No need to trouble you. Give it to me, I'll do it myself."

Madam Hnin let out a wry smile. "Are you concerned about me seeing it?"

Still, she passed the ointment over and turned to leave.

"Madam Hnin," Renée called out just before Madam Hnin reached the door. "Why did you lie to me and say it was Rex who asked me to dress as a man?"

Madam Hnin turned back, looking at Renée in silence before asking, "Isn't it better this way?"

Renée bit her lip, lost in thought.

With a sigh, Madam Hnin pushed the door open, leaving behind a quiet murmur, barely audible, "Some things we can't change. But at least we should struggle a little."

🎩

Renée changed into her sleepwear, ready to rest when a knock came at the door.

Thiri was here again.

Suppressing a sigh, Renée bound her chest, pulled on another set of black clothes, endured the pain, and went out to entertain her guest.

The moment Thiri saw her, she noticed something was off. Renée's steps were slower than usual, almost unsteady. Worried, Thiri instinctively moved closer.

"René, are you okay?"

Renée smiled faintly. "Madam Zew. What could possibly be wrong with me?"

Thiri caught Renée's hand before she could pour a drink. "Stop calling me Madam Zew. Just call me Thiri, or whatever you want."

"Alright, Thiri." Renée could only muster a weak smile at the moment, too drained to get caught up in trivial details.

The way she said it, with a slight hoarseness, sounded seductive in Thiri's ears, making her heart flutter. But Thiri didn't forget her concern.

"You look exhausted, René. Did a client mistreat you? Did they hurt you? You shouldn't stay here anymore. Come with me, alright? I'll talk to them—no matter how much it costs, I'll pay. Just don't do this anymore, okay?"

As she tugged on Renée's arm, the motion caused Renée's wounded shoulder to scrape against her chest binder, sending a sharp pain through her body. But Thiri was too focused on pulling her away to notice the slight furrow of Renée's brows.

Steadying the anxious woman before her, Renée took a deep breath and looked directly into her eyes.

"Thiri, I'm fine. Really. No one mistreats me here. No one hurts me in this club."

"Really?" Thiri's gaze wavered, momentarily lost in the dark, glimmering depths of Renée's eyes.

Renée nodded firmly. She wasn't lying, and the sincerity in her eyes finally made Thiri temporarily set aside her doubts.

She couldn't understand how this woman had become the CEO of a company as large as Menke, but it wasn't her concern. Nor would she allow herself to entertain any illusions about her future, even if Thiri's words had momentarily stirred something inside her.

Even if Thiri had money, it wouldn't be enough to buy her freedom.

Rex didn't lack money.

There was only one person in this world who mattered to Renée.

And for her alone, Renée found the strength to keep living like this.