> "…I'm not letting you go again."
His voice was firm, but his eyes… his eyes had that strange glint that made it hard to breathe— the kind of tone people use when they're used to being obeyed.
"You saved my life. You're owed something in return."
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a black credit card — sleek, dangerous-looking — and a folded slip of paper. "...Take these."
I shook my head instantly. "Saving you… that's my job. I can't take those things. I really can't. Keep them to yourself. I saved you out of humanity, not for payment."
His eyes widened a fraction. And then… that laugh. Deep, unguarded. The kind that felt like a rare thing for him.
"You're serious," he murmured, studying me like I was an alien species.
"Most people," he said, turning the card slowly between his fingers, "would sell their souls for this card."
"Then I'm not 'most people.'"
He watched me with something like… amusement? No — evaluation. Like I was a puzzle he hadn't solved yet. Then he tucked the card and paper away & took a slow step back — not in retreat, but like a predator giving space before striking again."Alright. No payment. No strings" .He paused, voice dropping lower. "…But can I have your name, at least?"
I crossed my arms. "Didn't you say you hire people to track anyone down? You must already know it."
That smirk. Infuriating and… oddly compelling. "…Touché." His head tilted slightly, as though he was reconsidering me. "I do know. But I want to hear it from you."
"…Fine. My name's Seraphina Vale. I'm a medical student at Saint Mercy University & Hospital." I offered a handshake. Professional. Detached.
His hand engulfed mine, warm and firm — but there was nothing detached about the way his thumb brushed against my skin, deliberate and slow. "Seraphina," he repeated, like he was testing the taste of it.
"How old are you?"—he asked keeping a calm tone.
"Twenty-three."— i just answered.
His gaze sharpened. "…A doctor in training, who saves lives without asking for anything in return." His head tilted slightly. "Incredible."
I shifted uncomfortably. "It's just what I do."
"That's my job," I replied simply.
"Right…" His tone shifted — softer, but more dangerous. "…But what if I want you to do it… only for me?"
My brows drew together. "…sorry, but What did you just said?"—confirming what he said.
He leaned in just slightly, enough for me to catch the faint scent of gunpowder and something darker.
"…"Be my personal doctor. I'll cover every expense — tuition, living, everything — until you graduate. And then you work for me. Exclusively."
"No, that's not possible." I said instantly.
"I'm still studying. Still practicing. Just a student, You should find a skilled doctor," I said, taking a step back.
His jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. As he wasn't used to hearing that word. "I don't want a 'good professional doctor.' I want you." He took a slow step forward, closing the space between us.
"And I," I said, not moving back, "don't want a client who thinks people are property."
His eyes narrowed… then softened, unexpectedly. "…You're different."
"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His answer was quiet, but it crawled under my skin like a secret I wasn't ready to hear. "…Because you didn't flinch."
My heartbeat stumbled.
"You should accept my offer, Miss Seraphina"...he continued, voice regaining its iron edge. "I'll pay for your entire education. Tuition, housing, everything. And when you graduate — you'll be mine."
"Sorry, but...i really can't." I said firmly, though my voice felt smaller than I wanted.
He studied me in silence, and it felt like he was peeling me apart layer by layer. Finally, he smiled faintly — not in defeat, but in warning.
"…We'll see Seraphina."
His voice was low, but it lodged somewhere deep inside me, like a thorn that refused to be pulled out.
Then he turned and left the apartment — no heavy footsteps, no door slam, just the faint click of the lock as the night swallowed him whole.
For a long moment, I stood frozen. My chest rose and fell too quickly, like my body already knew something my mind refused to admit.
Something was coming.
Something that would change everything.
I pressed a hand over my heart, trying to calm the strange rhythm pounding there. It wasn't fear exactly… it was something sharper. Like the air before a storm.
And then… life began to shift.
The first thing I noticed was the tuition notice in my email. Paid in full. I stared at the words until my coffee went cold, wondering if it was some clerical error. It wasn't. I tried my best to found who paid, but succeed.
A week later, my hospital rotations — the ones I'd been begging to change for months — were suddenly reassigned. I was moved to the high-clearance wings. The ones locked with biometric scanners. The ones where the patients had no official records, only initials and guarded rooms.
The strangest thing was… none of my supervisors could explain why.—that's so unexpected.
And then there was that feeling.
The prickling at the back of my neck when I walked to the bus stop after dark. The shadow that lingered a heartbeat too long in the corner of my vision. The way my phone sometimes lit up with no notifications.
Someone was watching me.
Not in the clumsy way of an amateur. This was… measured. Unblinking. Waiting.
I told myself I was imagining it. That paranoia was a side effect of sleepless nights and too much caffeine.
But deep down, I knew.
The man I saved — the one with gunpowder in his scent and danger in his eyes — wasn't just rich. He wasn't just important. He was something else entirely.
>And I was starting to suspect that he hadn't survived that last gunshot injury… without more secrets than I could ever be ready for.