Missy caught the faint scent of dampness, cigarette smoke, and rusted metal as her eyes slowly fluttered open. Her wrists were bound. She was inside an old, filthy warehouse.
"What, she's already awake? Didn't you use enough on the cloth?" one of the men in a hoodie muttered to his companion in a beanie.
Missy's vision blurred. Her breaths came short and uneven. Whether it was fear or adrenaline, she couldn't tell anymore. Her mind refused to work.
Not courage.
Not recklessness.
Just instinct.
As the two men turned, distracted by their conversation about what to do with her, Missy forced herself up and ran.
Her steps were unsteady, nearly collapsing beneath her, but her eyes locked onto the exit—the faint glow of light spilling through the door.
"Hey!" one of them shouted, tossing his cigarette aside with a curse.
She was almost there.
Almost—
A hand yanked her hair back violently, throwing her to the ground.
"Aaakh!"
Her body slammed against the cold concrete. Her head spun.
"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" The man in the hoodie approached her slowly, like a predator closing in on its prey.
"Ah!" Missy gasped, tears spilling as he grabbed her and forced her onto her back, pinning her down as he straddled her. "Let me go…" she sobbed desperately.
"Can't do that, sweetheart. We were told to finish you off. But where's the fun in that?" His chuckle was low and disturbing. "Might as well enjoy ourselves first before—"
"Aargh!"
Missy drove her knee upward with all her strength, hitting him right between the legs, then scrambled away.
"Catch her, you idiot!" he groaned, doubling over in pain.
She staggered to her feet—
Only to be grabbed again.
"Stop!" the man in the beanie barked, pulling her back.
Then—
A sharp, burning pain tore through her abdomen.
It spread instantly, flooding her body with unbearable agony as she collapsed.
She saw it clearly.
The man pulling his hand away—
leaving behind the cold, gleaming blade buried in her stomach.
"Damn it! I stabbed her!" he cursed.
"Forget it. Let's go. She won't survive. We're done here."
They left.
Just like that.
Missy lay there, her breaths breaking apart, each one harder than the last. The ceiling above her blurred into nothing.
Pain.
So much pain.
So… this is how it ends?
Like deja vu… for the second time, she felt her life slowly being taken away from her by force.
Her end.
Tears slid down the side of her face. Her gaze remained fixed on the dimly lit doorway.
She wanted to scream.
But she couldn't.
The pain stole her voice, leaving her gasping helplessly.
The sound of a car engine faded into the distance, leaving only silence… and the dust they left behind.
She had been abandoned.
Again.
Then—
A silhouette appeared.
Slowly.
A man stepped through the open doorway.
Missy blinked weakly.
The man in a coat approached her, crouched beside her, and gently supported her neck without a word.
"Help me…" she whispered weakly, her voice barely audible.
"I… I don't want to die… not yet…" Her fingers clutched at his coat.
From beneath the shadow of his hat, his voice came—low, calm, steady.
"If I do that… you will be bound to me completely."
Missy felt it. His voice. His warm breath.
This wasn't a hallucination.
He was real.
"Please…" she whispered again, her eyes growing heavy. "I'll give you anything… whatever you want… I just want to live…"
Her grip loosened.
As her hand fell, a gold button—engraved with intricate patterns—came loose from his coat, still caught in her grasp.
Shining.
------------
The scent of pancakes and butter drifted softly into her senses.
Warm. Comforting.
Missy's eyes slowly opened.
Where… am I?
She gasped and pushed herself upright.
This wasn't her apartment.
Her hand moved instinctively—her face… her stomach.
She pulled the warm blanket aside.
The same shirt from last night. Bloodstained. Torn where the blade had pierced her.
It wasn't a dream."
The man from last night entered the room, carrying a plate and a cup of something warm, placing them beside her.
"You… you're the man from last night," she murmured, trying to grasp the familiarity in his voice.
"The antique shop owner…?"
"Raven."
Missy stared at him, questions crowding her mind all at once.
"How did you—"
"How did I what?" he cut in calmly.
"I mean… how am I even—"
"Eat first. Then clean yourself up."
He placed the plate onto her lap.
Soft pancakes, butter melting slowly, honey glistening on top.
"I… I'm not hungry, I just—"
"Eat, Hart."
She froze. Confused.
The way he said her name.
"Eat first. You'll understand later."
Slowly, she obeyed.
She cut a piece and took a bite.
Soft.
Sweet.
Warm.
Calming her instantly.
She was alive.
"Mmm…" she hummed softly, almost without realizing it.
Raven watched her in silence, a faint smile touching the corner of his lips.
"You have an investigation at your office today, don't you?"
Missy choked slightly. "How do you—"
He handed her a glass of warm milk.
"Get ready after you finish eating. The bathroom's over there."
She blinked, nodded, still confused.
"Shower? Ah, thank you, sir, but I think I'll go back to my apartment and...."
"No time. Aren't you almost late, Hart? Clean clothes and everything you need are in that bag. Finish in fifteen minutes. I'll wait outside."
"Great."
Panicked, Missy grabbed the small bag and went into the bathroom.
A few moments later, she stepped out of the bathroom, now properly dressed. The disheveled, fragile version of herself from before had been carefully put back together.
Raven was already seated on one of the chairs in the antique shop area.
"Ready? Let's go."
He stood and opened the door. Missy hesitated for a brief second before following him outside.
"I don't understand what's going on," she said quickly, her voice laced with unease. "But can you explain everything later? No—wait… now. Just… anything you can tell me right now."
Raven didn't answer immediately.
He guided her toward a car parked in front of the shop—something she hadn't even noticed before. Without a word, he opened the passenger door and helped her in, fastening her seatbelt as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"At least… tell me this," Missy tried again as he walked around to the driver's side. "How did my clothes and all my things end up in your shop?"
Raven got into the car and started the engine.
"Is that really the first thing you want to know, Hart?"
Missy blinked, then let out a small breath, leaning back into her seat.
"Not really… I just… don't know how to ask about the other strange things." She turned her head slightly to look at him. "I have a feeling the answers will be just as strange, right?"
Raven gave a small nod.
"Get used to it."
The car began to move.
For the first time, Missy truly looked at him.
A neat appearance. Dark grey suit. His features were sharper than she remembered—thick brows, dark brown hair, and those calm blue eyes that caught the sunlight just enough to feel… unreal.
A faint shiver ran through her.
Memories of last night flashed again—the warehouse, the pain, the moment he appeared.
Raven glanced at her briefly.
"I told you. It was all real. And yes… strange."
Missy exhaled slowly, her gaze lingering on him.
"How strange are we talking about?" she asked softly.
"Very."
He kept his eyes on the road.
"You've seen your wound, haven't you?"
Missy stiffened slightly, her hand instinctively moving to her abdomen.
"Y-yes…"
"You're still alive because you're bound to me."
His tone didn't change. Calm. Certain.
"Your life… your body… they're not entirely yours anymore."
Missy swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
"So… I really should have been…" she trailed off.
"Dead? Yes."
The car came to a smooth stop in front of her office building.
"Because of me, you're still breathing, Hart."
Missy's heart pounded harder.
She stared at her own hands, her pulse visible beneath her skin.
"I'm not a zombie, right?" she asked suddenly, her voice almost uneasy. "Not… some kind of living corpse that craves blood or something?"
Raven's lips pressed together, as if holding back a smile.
"Unfortunately, no."
He finally looked at her again.
"You're my worker now."
"A pause.
"Raven Ashcroft. Owner of Ashcroft Antique Shop, at the corner by the harbor."
Missy held her breath.
She didn't fully understand what that meant yet.
But somehow… she knew it mattered.
"The audit team has arrived," Raven said, glancing ahead.
Missy followed his gaze.
A group of people had just stepped out of a car and were entering the building.
Her stomach tightened instantly.
Her fingers gripped her bag.
Another storm waiting for her.
"Go," Raven said quietly. "Everything will be fine."
Missy took a slow breath, steadying herself.
Then she opened the door and stepped out.
"When will I see you again?" she asked, turning back slightly.
"Soon," Raven replied.
He stared at the girl's long, soft, wavy hair shining in the sun for a moment.
"Good luck, Hart."
Missy straightened her posture and walked toward the building, even as her chest tightened with every step.
Inside the lobby, the audit team was already entering the elevator.
One of them glanced at her.
Just before the doors closed.
Missy stopped for a brief second.
Her throat went dry.
"Well… I guess this is the end for me."
A faint breath escaped her lips.
"Again."
***