Renée was left wearing nothing but a black shirt, just barely long enough to cover her bottom. Htet, expressionless like a puppet, carried her in his arms and followed the man into the main house of the Sein manor.

The moment they stepped into the grand hall, exaggerated panting and unrestrained screams filled the air, loud enough to nearly shake the roof.

Rex cast a cold glance at the entangled couple on the sofa in the side hall.

Under his frigid gaze, the man instantly froze as if someone had pressed his stop button. Scrambling, he tumbled off the woman in a panic.

The woman, however, looked annoyed at having her fun interrupted. She threw a sidelong glance at the newcomers, making no attempt to cover her bare body. Instead, she sat up languidly and lit a cigarette.

"Hubby, you're home early today."

Rex's expression darkened. Without a word, he gestured for Htet to take Renée upstairs. Then, turning back, he gazed down at the woman, who was absentmindedly stroking her full breasts with the hand holding her cigarette, utterly self-absorbed.

"You'd better rein yourself in," he said coldly.

The woman stood up, tilting her chin in defiance as she exhaled a slow swirl of smoke from her crimson lips. 

"You have your fun, and I have mine. Didn't we agree from the start not to interfere with each other?"

She brushed against Rex's body teasingly, her eyes flickering toward the upstairs hallway, where Htet had just disappeared with the unconscious figure in his arms. 

"I just don't get it, what's so great about such a scrawny, frail little man?"

Rex shot her a look of disgust, slapping her hand away. Then, his gaze shifted to the trembling man kneeling beside the sofa. Without hesitation, he turned to Htet, who had just returned downstairs.

"Chop this dog up for me."

Before the man could even utter a plea, Htet had already carried out the order like a phantom in the night.

Blood splattered onto the woman's bare body. She glanced sideways at the man who had just been plowing into her—now dismembered—and the corners of her lips curled upward.

"Honey, I'm so happy. You got jealous for me."

🎩

Rex seems to be getting more and more out of hand. 

This time, Renée had been carried into Tipsy Lounge, unconscious. Her body was covered in overlapping wounds, both old and new, leaving hardly any unscathed skin. Yet Rex refused to let anyone treat her injuries.

Hnin closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and sighed before carefully applying medicine and bandaging her wounds.

In the entire club, only he knew Renée was a woman. Even if propriety dictated that men and women should maintain their distance, this time, he had no choice but to tend to her himself.

To Hnin, Renée was like a daughter. If the child he and that woman had conceived long ago had been born, she wouldn't have been much younger than Renée.

And Rex—Rex was his creation.

The sharpness, the cruelty, the ruthlessness—Hnin had meticulously instilled all of it in him since childhood. He had personally forged a devil of a man, and now, that devil had set his sights on Renée. He didn't know whether to feel proud of his teachings or bitterly regret them.

Once again, the image of that woman who haunted his dreams surfaced in his mind.

Some things seemed to be repeating themselves.

The past—Wayne, Sophia, Aung. 

The present—Hnin, Renée, Rex. 

Was it fate or karma? The protagonists kept changing, yet he remained trapped in the same endless cycle, suffering, powerless to break free.

A sudden wave of helplessness washed over him.

Years ago, he had watched the woman he loved suffer. Now, he was watching a girl he cherished endure torment. And still, he could do nothing to stop it.

It wasn't that he hadn't tried. He had fought, resisted, reached for what was his. But every attempt had only led to the women he cared about suffering even more.

Against the overwhelming, domineering power of the Sein family, he had been afraid. He had backed down. He had surrendered.

Eighteen. A youthful age, a time that should have been filled with sunshine—walking through campus, laughing with friends, snacking, gossiping...

His own eighteenth year had been spent in darkness and despair. But at least, back then, he had been a man.

Hnin lowered his gaze, taking in the luxurious cheongsam that clung to his frame, the high heels on his feet. A bitter smile touched his lips.

Was he still a man?

Cowardly, fearful, despicable.

No.

He wasn't worthy of being one.

🎩

Another dream.

Renée stared at the sliver of light framed by the doorway. She wanted to wake up, to push the image away, but the harder she tried, the clearer it became.

She was six years old again, crouching in the shadows behind the door, her small hands gripping the chipped wooden threshold. Outside, in the courtyard beneath the pear tree, a woman lay sprawled on a lounge chair.

Petals drifted down, settling on her frail body, as if trying to bury her. Her vacant gaze stretched into some unseen world.

Her eyes were beautiful—like a lake, like gemstones. Her face was stunning, enough to topple kingdoms. When she smiled, it was delicate, mesmerizing.

But those eyes had never once focused on Renée. That face had never once smiled at her.

Renée had waited—waited for her gaze, her smile. She would have given anything, anything at all, just for a moment of her mother's attention.

But Renée had been born a girl. And for that, she had never been enough.

Then, the moment replayed—the one burned into her memory.

Her mother lifting her arms high, then hurling the swaddled infant in her grasp onto the ground.

Renée screamed, thrashed, fought to stop it. But she was always too late.

All she could do was listen as the baby girl's cries were suddenly cut short, watch as the scene froze in time.

The sorrow and emptiness of the dream clung to Renée, making her body tense with pain.

Hnin reached out, gently wiping away the tears that had slipped from the corners of Renée's eyes. He gently shook her shoulders, pulling her out of the nightmare.

Renée's eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred by tears. She tried to sit up, but dizziness crashed over her, forcing her back down onto the bed.

"You have a fever. Stay put—I'll get you something to eat."

Just as Hnin was about to stand, Renée grabbed his arm.

"What's the date today?"

"May 22nd."

The words sent a jolt through her. Panic surged in her chest. She struggled to get up, but Hnin quickly pressed her back down.

"What the hell are you doing? You're sick, covered in wounds—stay put."

The sudden movement tore at her injuries, sending fresh waves of pain rippling through her body. It felt like she was coming apart at the seams, every pulse throbbing against raw, aching flesh. Her head spun.

"No, I promised Mya I'd see her on her birthday. I'm already two days late—she must be worried."

Hnin sighed. "If you show up like this, don't you think she'll start asking questions?"

Renée's desperate eyes locked onto Hnin, making it harder and harder for him to suppress the frustration simmering in his chest.

"Just stay in bed. Call her, tell her you had to go on a last-minute business trip. If needed, I'll have someone prepare a gift and send it to her."

Renée hesitated, then reluctantly lay back down, her gaze still pleading.

Hnin leaned over, tucking the blanket snugly around her. Then, without another word, he turned and left.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, his expression darkened. His entire presence shifted—cold, dangerous. A passing staff member startled at the sight of him.

He couldn't wait any longer.

He couldn't endure this any longer.

He couldn't keep living like this—wasting time, doing nothing.

One life had already been destroyed in his hands. He refused to watch another wither away.

🎩

The pitch-black curtains smothered the afternoon sunlight, while the dim bedside lamp cast heavy shadows across the room.

Rex's bedroom was the same—black, nothing but black.

People say a person's nature is hard to change. But in real life, habit was far easier to surrender to. Renée, who had once loved pure white, had slowly grown used to the dark.

Endless, suffocating darkness.

"Phone... call... phone..." she murmured, eyes darting around as she searched frantically for her suit jacket, unaware that she had been wrapped in a bedsheet and carried back.

Ignoring the pain, she crawled out of bed—completely naked—staggering through the room in search of her phone.

She couldn't afford to lose it—inside were photos of her dressed as a woman, taken with Mya.

She didn't care if the world found out she was a woman. What she feared was Rex taking his anger out on Mya. That lunatic—no one ever knew what might set him off. Even if his madness was entirely impulsive, she wouldn't give him an excuse to torment her.

She should have deleted the pictures. But she hadn't. She couldn't.

The photos had been taken on her eighteenth birthday, in front of the orphanage where she and Mya had spent eleven years.

A day worth remembering. A day she would never forget. The dividing line between her past and present.

Renée had never imagined that a person's fate could be completely overturned in just twenty-four hours.

Her phone, that photo, Mya—these were the last fragile threads connecting her to the past.

She knew there was no going back. But still, stubbornly, she clung to something, anything, just to prove that her memories weren't illusions.

Those days hadn't been perfect. But for eleven years, at least, there had been moments of pure, simple happiness.

"René, you're back? Why didn't you let me know—René, you—"

Nanda's voice rang out from the doorway just as the door swung open.

Renée froze. A buzzing filled her mind, the room tilting around her. She took a shaky breath, scrambling for an excuse as she turned—

She barely made it halfway before a muffled thud echoed through the room. A body collapsed to the floor.

Hnin shut the door, set the tray he was carrying onto the table, and calmly lifted the unconscious woman he had just knocked out with a swift, precise strike. He laid her down on the black leather armchair.

"You should be resting. Why are you up? And... you didn't even think to put on some clothes?"

Renée looked down. Only now did she realize—she was completely naked, her skin marred with bruises and scars.

She wasn't sure what unsettled her more—seeing herself like this or the sudden release of tension. Maybe it was the pain, or maybe it was sheer exhaustion, but her vision swam, her legs gave out—

Hnin had been avoiding looking directly at Renée, but his instincts were sharp. In an instant, he lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the ground.

As he held her, he noticed the slight furrow in her brow from the pain, felt the warmth of her body against his own.

For a moment, his mind went blank.

The scene before him blurred, overlapping with a memory long buried—a blood-soaked figure, a deep ache in his chest.

Renée leaned into Hnin, gasping softly. When she looked up to met his eyes—filled with an unfamiliar mix of tenderness and pain—something in her heart stirred.

"Madam Hnin... you... I..."

Hnin snapped out of it. Realizing their position, his expression shifted—blank, unreadable. He gently laid her back onto the bed, then turned away, retrieving a black nightgown from the closet. Without a word, he placed it beside her before setting a bowl of porridge and a glass of water on the nightstand.

"Eat something. Take your medicine. Get some rest. I've already sent someone to deliver a stuffed toy to Mya."

Renée watched as Hnin picked up Nanda's unconscious body and carried her toward the door.

After a brief hesitation, she called out, "Madam Hnin... my phone..."

Hnin paused but didn't turn around.

"I'll find it for you. Just focus on getting better. Don't keep Mya waiting."

🎩

Hnin sat by Renée's bedside, watching as she handed him the thermometer. He checked the reading and let out a breath of relief.

"The fever has finally gone down." he said, tucking the blanket around her. "Get some rest."

Renée reached out, tugging at the hem of Hnin's sleeve. He had been avoiding her for the past two days. Though he still brought her food and medicine on time, he hadn't spoken much, always dodging her questions.

"Madam Hnin, Nanda..." Her voice faltered. She didn't want Nanda to be silenced simply because she had accidentally seen her naked body.

Hnin let out a small smile, gently prying her fingers off his sleeve, patting her hand. "Don't worry. She's fine. She only caught a glimpse of your back—just a brief look. She didn't realize you were a woman. She was just shocked by your injuries."

"How did you explain it to her?"

"I told her the truth."

"The truth?" Renée tried to sit up, but Hnin gently pushed her back down.

"I told her you had an encounter with a perverted client. It's not exactly uncommon here. She just got worked up, said she wanted to get revenge for you. That's all."

Renée sighed in relief, then let out another, heavier one. "And Mya? She must be really mad at me."

"Oh, definitely. Even after getting her birthday present, she was still upset, sulking for days. So be good, recover quickly, and go see her as soon as you can."

Hnin gazed at the girl lying on the bed. She looked exhausted, yet there was a fragile beauty about her.

Was a woman's beauty a sin? Or was the true source of that sin a man's desire?

He took a deep breath and, almost to himself, asked, "Are you just going to let him keep tormenting you? Have you never thought about escaping?"

He expected sorrow in her eyes. But instead, she simply gave a self-mocking smile and asked, "Madam Hnin, you know him better than anyone. Do you really think I could escape?"

"If you truly wanted to leave, I could help you."

But Renée turned to comfort him instead, as if he were the one being naive. "Madam Hnin, don't deceive yourself. Holding onto meaningless hope will only lead to deeper disappointment, to more pain—not just for yourself, but for the people around you. If sacrificing myself means Mya can be safe, then I'll gladly do it."

"If Mya is the only thing stopping you—"

"There's no need, Madam Hnin," she interrupted softly. "You've already done enough for me."

She turned away, curling up under the blanket.

Hnin sighed, a deep, resigned sound. He stood to leave, and as he closed the door behind him, he cast one last glance at the fragile figure beneath the covers. Her shoulders trembled ever so slightly.

He exhaled silently, the weight of his own heart heavy in the quiet of the room.

The moment the lock clicked into place, Renée let herself cry.

She had thought about escaping—oh, how she had. That very first night in Sein's manor, all she had wanted was to run away.

But the world was built on money, power, and violence. Where could she possibly go? Even the slightest struggle had already cost her so much—body and soul.

Anyone who had ever shown her kindness, anyone who tried to help her, had disappeared. One by one. Like fleeting passersby, erased from this world.

She couldn't—she wouldn't—place her hope in anyone else anymore. At the very least, she wouldn't let her conscience bear that kind of burden.

She would never have the chance to repay those people. All she could do now was carry the weight of her guilt and survive.

Renée stared at the oppressive blackness of the room, memories drifting through her mind—her lonely childhood, her mother's hysteria, the struggles she and Mya had faced in the orphanage.

She had once thought that stepping into the adult world would finally give her a chance to escape her tragic past.

But instead, she had walked straight into an even darker cycle.

Perhaps her fate had been sealed long ago.

With endless sorrow.