The penthouse on the top floor of Lanh Corp Tower was colder than any winter wind Ha An Nhien had ever experienced. After that fateful night at the Royal Palace Hotel, she was brought directly here, to what would become her "golden cage" for the next year. The spacious, suffocatingly luxurious bedroom, with its dark furnishings, transparent glass windows overlooking the entire city, and a King-size bed on which she felt she would never find peaceful sleep.
Every object here exuded expense and frigidity, just like its owner. Even the air seemed to be compressed by Lanh Thien Phong's invisible presence. He wasn't there, but everything reminded her of him, of the damned contract that bound her.
The next morning, a middle-aged woman with a stern face, who introduced herself as Housekeeper Lee, appeared. She handed Ha An Nhien a thick stack of papers.
"These are the rules you must follow while living here, Miss Ha," Housekeeper Lee said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Young Master does not appreciate impropriety."
Ha An Nhien took the papers, her heart clenching as she skimmed through them.
No unauthorized departure from the penthouse. All outside activities must be approved by Lanh Thien Phong.
No contact with the outside world (personal phone confiscated, all outgoing calls must go through the housekeeper and be recorded).
No asking about Lanh Thien Phong's work or past.
Always be available when Lanh Thien Phong requires.
Maintain an obedient attitude; no defiance.
And the final clause, underlined boldly: Absolutely no developing any feelings for the Young Master.
Ha An Nhien clutched the paper, her nails digging into her palm. This contract wasn't just about selling her body; it was about enslaving her very soul. Lanh Thien Phong didn't just want her physical service; he wanted to destroy her will.
"What if I don't comply?" Ha An Nhien raised her head, her sharp gaze meeting Housekeeper Lee's.
"The consequences will be severe, Miss Ha. Young Master does not tolerate insubordination," Housekeeper Lee replied, her tone still calm but her eyes flashing a warning. "Think of your brother."
Those words hit Ha An Nhien like a splash of icy water, extinguishing any flicker of defiance. She bowed her head, realizing she was completely trapped.
The following days passed like a nightmare. Lanh Thien Phong was rarely home, but whenever he appeared, the atmosphere grew tense. He would arrive at unexpected hours, sometimes just to fix her with a scrutinizing gaze, sometimes to issue unreasonable demands. He seemed to enjoy witnessing her helplessness and reluctant compliance. On one occasion, he abruptly walked into the kitchen while she was cooking. The aroma of the food filled the air, somewhat softening the coldness of the house. Lanh Thien Phong leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her.
"You can cook?" His voice registered a hint of surprise.
"Used to for my brother," Ha An Nhien replied curtly, not bothering to look up.
"Is that so? Cook me a meal then," he commanded.
Ha An Nhien reluctantly prepared the food. Dinner passed in eerie silence. Lanh Thien Phong took only a few bites before setting down his chopsticks, his expression still cold. "Not bad," he said, then rose and left without a word of thanks. Ha An Nhien felt like a private chef, a temporary plaything for his amusement.
However, at times, his cruelty sent shivers down her spine, especially when night fell.
One night, Lanh Thien Phong returned drunk. The sudden sound of the door unlocking and his heavy, pounding footsteps echoed, tearing through the penthouse's stillness. Ha An Nhien flinched, her eyes filled with apprehension as his tall silhouette stretched across the floor. He said nothing, but his bloodshot eyes, burning with raw desire, foreshadowed a night of terror.
He lunged into her room like a predator. Lanh Thien Phong's icy hand roughly seized her wrist, yanking her towards him. Ha An Nhien struggled, thrashing in vain, but her strength was no match for his. His hot, alcohol-laced breath and his familiar mint scent enveloped her, making her skin crawl.
"You thought you could hide from me, Ha An Nhien?" His voice was hoarse, each word a knife to her ears, dripping with possessiveness and punishment. He shoved her against the wall, his strong body pressing her tight, giving her no escape.
His lips descended, forcefully claiming hers, utterly devoid of tenderness or pity. It wasn't a kiss; it was a tearing apart, a brutal declaration of ownership. Ha An Nhien gritted her teeth, trying to keep her mouth sealed, but he forced it open with absolute power. His hot, relentless tongue swept through her mouth, giving her no chance to resist. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the bitter taste of humiliation and despair.
His hands ceaselessly roamed her body, roughly tearing at the thin fabric of her clothes. The sound of ripping cloth echoed dryly in the silent room. Ha An Nhien shuddered, feeling the cold air touch her bare skin, but the disgust in her heart was even greater.
He lifted her, throwing her forcefully onto the vast King-size bed. Her body bounced with a painful thud. Before she could regain her bearings, he was on top of her, pinning her to the mattress. His deep-set dark eyes stared at her, devoid of any light or mercy, only primal lust and suppressed rage.
"Look, Ha An Nhien," he snarled, tightening his grip on her chin, forcing her to face his tormented gaze. "You are mine. Forever mine. No matter how much you hate me, this body, this soul, has been bought by me!"
He gave her no opportunity to resist or refuse. Every action was decisive, forceful, carrying absolute imposition. She felt his brutal entry, each sharp pain tearing through her body. Ha An Nhien bit her lip hard, trying not to let out a sob. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but her entire body felt paralyzed under his brutal possession.
He accelerated his pace, uncaring of her tears or her trembling. Each thrust was a declaration of power, a punishment for her unseen resistance. The luxurious room was filled with his heavy gasps and her choked sobs.
In a moment of frenzied abandon, Lanh Thien Phong suddenly paused, his eyes fixed on a distant, empty space, a fleeting glimpse of pain and internal struggle crossing his face, only to be quickly masked by darkness. He then continued, more forcefully and decisively, as if trying to bury some hidden pain with his very brutality.
After such nights, Lanh Thien Phong would disappear again, leaving Ha An Nhien alone in emptiness, humiliation, and the deep bruises marring her skin. She often spent the remaining time reading in his personal library, the only place she found a modicum of peace. Books were the only escape for her soul from this prison. She discovered that Lanh Thien Phong possessed a vast collection on law, economics, and even history. This made her even more curious about him, about what had made such a powerful man so cold and cruel.
One afternoon, as she was reading an ancient book on feudal dynasties, a small photograph unexpectedly fell out from between the pages. It was a picture of a young, beautiful woman with a gentle smile and eyes identical to Lanh Thien Phong's. On the back of the photo, there was only one old, handwritten line: "My beloved Mother."
Ha An Nhien was startled. Was this Lanh Thien Phong's mother? That gentle smile was a stark contrast to his cold demeanor. She turned the photo over, lost in thought. What had happened to his mother? Why would he keep this photo hidden in an old book, as if wanting to bury a secret?
In that moment, a small spark ignited in Ha An Nhien's mind. Perhaps Lanh Thien Phong wasn't merely a brutal tyrant. Perhaps, beneath that stony exterior was a deep wound, a painful past that had molded him into the man he was today. And that, perhaps, was the key to understanding this "devil king," and perhaps, the door to her freedom.