My stomach twisted. Hearing my name from him made the air feel colder than the dim light of the room suggested.
I swallowed hard. "How… how do you know my name?"
He didn't answer immediately. He just sat there, quiet, still — a presence that seemed to measure every detail of me, as if he could read my thoughts before I even thought them.
Finally, he spoke, calm and deliberate. "You've seen too much."
"I— I didn't hear anything. I swear," I said, my voice smaller than I intended.
He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing the truth in my words. "I can't take the risk."
I froze. It wasn't a threat, not exactly. But it left no room for argument. The locked door behind him made that perfectly clear.
The room was small, simple, yet unmistakably expensive. A bed, neatly made; a side table with a glass of water; the faint glow of a lamp casting long shadows along the walls. Nothing to hide behind. Nothing to defend myself with.
"Where… where am I?" My voice trembled, betraying the fear I was trying to hide.
"Safe," he said simply, like it was obvious.
"Safe? From… what?" I tried to force my voice steady.
"You weren't meant to hear," he said, watching me with eyes that seemed to cut right through hesitation. "You stumbled into something bigger than yourself."
I swallowed hard. My pulse quickened. "I… I just want to go home."
He didn't look at me. He didn't need to. His presence alone made me feel cornered. "You'll stay here. For now. And you'll work with me."
I blinked. "Work? What… what do you mean?"
He leaned back in the chair near the window, arms resting lightly on his knees, eyes never leaving mine. "A position. A role in my company. Not an internship. You'll have responsibilities. Tasks that matter. And you'll stay close."
I felt my stomach twist. "Stay close?"
"To keep you safe," he said quietly, almost casually. "And to make sure nothing unexpected happens."
I swallowed again. My mind raced, trying to sort logic from instinct. I wanted to argue, to push back, maybe even run — but the calm way he sat, deliberate and unreadable, made me hesitate.
I wanted to resist. I still did. Every instinct told me to pull away, to fight this. But I had no idea how to. My thoughts bounced between fear and… something else, something I couldn't name.
He didn't move immediately, just watched, patient and precise. I noticed how deliberate his every gesture was — the way he shifted slightly in the chair, the subtle narrowing of his eyes as he studied me. Each movement said he was in control. Completely.
"You understand the rules?" His voice was calm, steady, but carried a weight that made me sit straighter despite myself.
I nodded, though my throat felt dry. "I… I think so."
He leaned back again, settling into the chair, hands resting lightly on his knees. He didn't smile. He didn't relax. But he didn't need to. His presence alone held the room in balance — controlled, watchful, unyielding.
I looked around, trying to anchor myself in the room, in reality. The sheets on the bed, the faint hum of the air conditioning, the distant sound of city traffic — everything seemed both normal and completely wrong.
He spoke again, almost quietly, like he was thinking aloud but meant me to hear. "You'll learn soon enough. Every action has a purpose here. Every choice matters. And if you're careful… you'll be allowed to move freely. Eventually."
My stomach tightened. I didn't like being observed, measured, controlled. And yet, part of me couldn't stop noticing how precise, how… exact he was. The kind of presence that demanded attention.
I stayed on the edge of the bed, heart racing, trying to figure out what my first move should be. Fight? Scream? Beg? None of it seemed possible.
All I could do was sit there, wary, aware, and silently resisting — while knowing that this was only the beginning of whatever this man had planned for me.