The ride back to the mansion was filled with silence, the kind that wasn't peaceful but loud in its tension. Ren sat with his arms folded, looking out the window, his reflection staring back at him. He was still in the suit, still looking like someone who belonged in Li Zeyan's world, but inside he felt like a stranger wearing a costume that didn't fit. The glitz of the gala still clung to his skin like static, and the memory of Jun's expression wouldn't leave his head. He glanced across the car. Li Zeyan was typing something on his phone, his expression as unreadable as ever. Not a single glance toward Ren. Not a single word.
Ren's lips tightened. "You didn't have to do that," he said suddenly.
Zeyan didn't look up. "Do what?"
Ren turned toward him. "Back at the gala. You didn't have to step in like that. I was talking to someone. You made it weird."
"He was getting too close."
"He was an old friend."
Zeyan glanced at him finally. "He looked like he wanted to be more than that."
Ren's eyes widened. "And so what if he did? We're not a real couple. You don't get to decide who I talk to."
Zeyan's tone stayed level. "When we're in public, we follow the image. That's the deal."
Ren laughed bitterly. "Right. The image. The fake smiles and tighter leashes."
Zeyan said nothing, but the tension in his jaw gave him away. Ren turned back to the window. "You know, sometimes I forget this isn't a prison."
Zeyan didn't flinch. "You agreed to this."
"I agreed to pretend, not to be puppeteered."
The rest of the ride passed in strained silence, every breath heavy with unsaid words.
Back in the mansion, the tension didn't fade. Ren stormed ahead up the staircase, leaving Zeyan behind without a word. His footsteps echoed through the hallway, sharp and angry. He shoved his door open, threw the jacket onto the floor, and sat down heavily on the bed.
His chest was tight. Not just from the fight, but from the confusion. From how fast his heart had raced when Jun recognized him. From the flicker of jealousy he wasn't supposed to feel when Zeyan pulled him close in front of others. From the note still folded in his pocket from that morning.
"Be careful who you trust."
He ran both hands down his face. He wanted to scream. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to get money, stay out of trouble, keep his head down, and survive. But things were unraveling. Fast.
The doorknob twisted behind him.
Ren stood up quickly, half-expecting Zeyan. But the door didn't open. Just the sound of someone standing on the other side. Then silence.
He didn't speak. Neither did the person outside. After a long moment, the footsteps faded.
Ren opened the door slowly. The hallway was empty.
But there was something on the floor — another envelope.
Same cream color. Same handwriting.
He picked it up and unfolded it with shaking fingers.
"The cracks are starting to show.Be careful — not all truths are quiet."
Ren's heartbeat picked up. He looked down the hall again, scanning the shadows. Nothing. No sign of anyone. Just the creeping silence of a mansion too large for two people.
Who keeps sending these? And why now?
He pocketed the note and shut the door firmly behind him. But instead of resting, his legs moved on their own. He stepped out again and walked.
Not toward Zeyan's side of the mansion.
But toward the east wing.
The door stood there — tall, black, foreboding. The golden crest above it shimmered faintly under the hallway light. It still had no handle on the outside. Still looked like it led somewhere forbidden.
Ren stood there for a long moment, unsure why he was drawn to it. Maybe because it was the only place Zeyan had warned him not to go. Maybe because it was the one place that felt like it had answers.
He reached out, palm brushing the cool surface.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—click.
Ren stumbled back. The sound was quiet but clear — like a lock shifting inside. He waited, half-expecting the door to swing open. But it didn't. Just silence again.
What was that? Is someone inside?
He stared at the door, pulse racing.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed at the far end of the hall. Ren turned quickly.
Zeyan.
They stared at each other.
"What are you doing here?" Zeyan asked, voice low.
Ren steadied his breath. "I heard something."
"Stay away from that door," Zeyan said, sharper now. "I told you that already."
"What's behind it?" Ren asked.
"That's not your concern."
"Is it where you keep your humanity?" Ren snapped before he could stop himself.
Zeyan's eyes darkened. "You forget your place."
Ren stepped forward. "And you forget I'm not actually yours."
There it was. The break. The first real crack between them. Not just in the image—but in the distance they'd both been pretending was safety.
Zeyan's voice dropped. "Go back to your room."
Ren's voice shook. "I'm not afraid of you."
"I don't want you to be afraid," Zeyan said, almost too quiet. "I want you to be careful."
Ren stared at him. For a second, something flickered behind Zeyan's eyes. Not anger. Not pride. But something close to warning. Or regret.
Then it was gone.
Ren turned and walked away. Not because he wanted to obey. But because suddenly, the danger felt real.
That night, sleep didn't come easy. Ren lay awake, clutching the new note, staring at the ceiling. He kept replaying the words.
The cracks are starting to show.
And he wondered...
Was it Zeyan who was cracking?Or was it him?