Laboni's confident smile still lingered on her face, but in the next moment, something strange happened. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped below freezing. The windowpanes began to tremble violently.
Henry, seeing the police at the door, didn't resist. He simply turned to Laboni and gave one last smile. There was no fear in it—only a deep, mysterious aura.
Henry: "Laboni, you're right—a metal ship made by humans can stop bullets. But can the spirit made of fire be trapped within four walls?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the room was suddenly filled with the familiar scent of roses. For a brief moment, the lights flickered on and off. When the illumination returned, Laboni realized—Henry was gone!
The police officers rushed in and searched every corner of the room—under the table, behind the cabinet, even on the balcony—but there was no sign of Henry. The windows were all shut from the inside, yet Henry seemed to have merged with the air itself.
Laboni frantically began rummaging through the files on the table. She shouted to the officers:
Laboni: "He's gone! He escaped! Block every exit! He can't leave this building! He may be a sorcerer, but he's still human!"
The IG of police shook his head helplessly.
Police Officer: "Ma'am, the CCTV shows that Henry didn't leave after entering the room. Even the window sensors didn't trigger. It's like he simply vanished into smoke."
Laboni walked over to the window. Her eyes burned with a mixture of tears and anger. She saw Henry's black car alone in the parking lot below—but no one was inside. Suddenly, she remembered the sorcerer's words: "Henry has given his soul; I've just shaped him."
Laboni realized she had won the battle, but losing Henry was far from easy. She tightened the collar of her blue shirt. The protective sheet over her chest now felt as heavy as stone.
Laboni (muttering to herself): "You still don't know me, Henry. No matter where you hide, this world is small. I will find you."
Suddenly, her phone on the table rang. There was no number—just a message floating on the screen:
"See you again in the morning, Laboni. This time, come without glasses..."
After the police left, the office was engulfed in a grave silence. Laboni collapsed into her chair. Her head throbbed, and she pressed her temples with both palms. She could not accept Henry's disappearance. Twenty years of planning, such careful strategy—was it all for nothing?
Just then, she heard small footsteps at the door. Laboni lifted her head. Her two daughters—Sara and Rini—stood there, their faces filled with fear and uncertainty.
Rini (the younger, running to her mother): "Mom! Are you okay? Why did the police come? And where's that uncle?"
Laboni hugged Rini. Her blue shirt was dampened by Rini's tears. She realized her quest for revenge had drawn her children into danger.
Sara (older, more composed): "Mom, we overheard everything from outside the drawing room. You're not Ananya, you're Laboni? And that man… did he really want to kill us?"
Laboni looked at Sara. Her eldest daughter's eyes were sharp, just like hers. Wiping away her own tears, Laboni steeled herself. She knew this was not the time to break.
Laboni: "Sara, Rini… listen. What I've done, I've done for your safety. That man is no longer here, but I'll make sure he never reaches you—even as a shadow."
Laboni drew her daughters close. Yet, in the corner of her mind, Henry's last message burned: "come without glasses…"
She felt the rose scent still lingering faintly in the air. Was it danger? Or had her daughters now become the target of Henry's golden-eyed charm?
Laboni (thinking): "No, I won't let it happen. If Henry returns, he'll face a mother who won't hesitate to become a demon for her children."
Gripping her phone, Laboni knew that the battle was no longer just between her and Henry. It had become a fight for her family's survival.
Even as she held her daughters, the rose scent kept pulling her back into the past. She knew it was no magical charm—just the memory of their intense pride and passion.
Laboni bit her lower lip. Her eyes glimmered with a strange mix of determination and embarrassment. She remembered last night in that dark room—her intimate moments with Henry, every twist and turn of their professional dance merging their bodies—was it just acting?
She knew that while staring into Henry's golden eyes during the dance, she had briefly shed the Ananya shell and become the old Laboni. The rose scent had been witness to their forbidden, proud union. Henry had touched her, and she had surrendered to that touch—was it part of revenge, or a buried desire accumulated over twenty years?
Laboni nearly drew blood biting her lip, cursing herself.
Laboni (thinking): "Ugh! Am I ensnaring myself in my own trap? I know that scent means Henry's victory. He wants to break me—body and mind. I didn't resist last night because my pride wanted to merge with his. I never thought that this game would leave such deep wounds."
Sara noticed her mother's trembling lips.
Sara: "Mom, you're bleeding! Are you too scared?"
Laboni quickly wiped the blood away. Her eyes blazed like fire. She understood that Henry hadn't just sent her to prison—he had thrown her into extreme psychological torment. The rose scent now felt like defeat.
She stood up, rolled up the sleeves of her blue shirt, and resolved to erase the scent of roses from her life. Even if she had been one with Henry's presence, it was only a ploy to weaken her vampire self—but the ploy had left a deep scar in her own mind.
Laboni: "Sara, Rini… go inside. Mom is coming."
Laboni went to the bathroom and faced the mirror. She looked at the bite mark on her lip and smiled—a sinister smile of vengeance.
While Laboni examined her wound in the mirror, Sara and Rini's voices pulled her back to reality.
Sara: "Mom, I don't want to leave you alone in this state, but I have duty at the hospital. Many emergency cases are expected today."
Rini (sweetly): "And Mom, I have practical class too. I'll go with Sara to the hospital, then straight to class. You be careful!"
Laboni sighed. She knew that keeping the girls nearby during this dangerous moment had been safe. But she didn't want to cast the shadow of her fight on them. She wanted them to live a normal life.
Laboni (calmly): "Alright, go. Be careful. Sara, drop Rini off first, then head to the hospital. And… if a stranger approaches, call me immediately without a second's delay."
As the girls left, the room plunged into silence once more. Laboni stood alone, adjusting the collar of her blue shirt. Now, she could plan her search for Henry on her own terms.
But shortly after, a sudden realization struck her. Did Henry know the girls were going to the hospital? That message—"See you in the morning"—did it mean he had set a trap there?
Laboni quickly grabbed her glasses from the table, slung her purse over her shoulder, and prepared to step out. She sensed that Henry had deliberately created the opportunity to send her daughters away so he could isolate her.
Standing before the bathroom mirror, trembling, she fastened the buttons of her blue shirt. She felt annoyed at herself—why did she keep becoming unkempt? Why did the stone-hard Ananya alias Laboni feel so vulnerable today?
Just as she buttoned the last one, the air suddenly grew heavy. A gust of cold wind entered through the small bathroom vent—and with it returned that terrifying, intense scent of roses!
This time, the fragrance was so strong that Laboni felt suffocated. It was no ordinary floral scent; it struck directly at her mind. Everything in front of her eyes began to blur. The mirror fogged, and on the mist, an invisible hand seemed to write something.
Unable to hold herself, Laboni gripped the sink tightly. She felt Henry was nowhere, yet everywhere. The rose scent was actually a signal from him—where passion had merged, where desire had been born, escape was impossible.
Suddenly, a word appeared on the mist: "Union."
Laboni bit her lip again. Memories of last night flooded her—Henry's touch, every turn of their professional dance, their proud and arrogant union. She realized that Henry sought not only to claim her body but also to dominate her mind. This overwhelming fragrance reminded her that no matter how much she called the police or tried to hide, every cell of her body still bore the imprint of his golden charm.
Laboni (crying out): "Come out, Henry! Fight me! Don't drive me crazy with invisible scent!"
The bathroom light suddenly flickered. Laboni saw, in the mirror behind her shadow, another figure in a black shirt slowly emerging. The rose scent was now unbearably intense.Laboni didn't even get a chance to escape. The black shadow behind the mirror instantly took form. Henry came from behind and wrapped Laboni in a tight embrace. The rough touch of his black shirt pressed against her blue one.
Laboni stood rigid, yet her body shivered uncontrollably. Henry's hands wrapped over her abdomen like an unbreakable chain. The sharp scent of roses now mingled with her every breath. Henry didn't speak; his heated breath brushed against her ear.
In the next moment, he buried his face against the side of her neck and, slowly and deeply, kissed her there.
Laboni's eyes fluttered shut. Every resistance, every fire of twenty years of revenge, melted under this single touch. She wanted to scream, to strike him with her elbow, yet her body succumbed to some primal intoxication. She realized that this kiss wasn't just love—it was Henry's mark of victory.
Henry whispered, his face near her throat, "I told you, Laboni, you are inside my boundary. That glasses and blue shirt may prove you as Anonya, but my touch knows you are still my Laboni."
Laboni bit her lip again to hold back any sound. Henry's golden gaze seemed to penetrate even through her closed eyelids.
She murmured, "Let me go, Henry… the police are coming…"
Henry laughed softly. "Police? Those who couldn't find me even after seeing me with their own eyes, will they catch me in this locked room? Today, there's no police, no girls. Today, only our arrogance entwines."
He shifted her shirt collar slightly and pressed his lips there again. Laboni felt the protective metal beneath her shirt beginning to soften under his heat. In the confined space of the washroom, Henry lifted Laboni, pressing her against the wall. Her legs dangled, her back met the cold stone wall.
Henry's gaze fixed on her chest, where the hidden wounds and the secret protective ship of twenty years lay. His golden aura glimmered with a deep reddish hue. Slowly, he placed his hand on Laboni's face and began to kiss her lips with intense passion. Laboni initially resisted, but eventually yielded to the primal power. Time seemed to stop.
Thirty minutes later…
The scene had completely changed. The office heat, the binding embrace—all gone.
Laboni was now in her kitchen at home. She wore an apron over her blue shirt and cooked with calm precision. Steam rose from the pan, spreading its aroma across the room. Her hair was tied loosely; her glasses rested on the table.
She stirred mechanically, as if nothing had happened. Yet if someone observed closely, they would notice her lips slightly swollen and a faint red mark on her neck. Her mind still lingered on the wall of the washroom.
She couldn't comprehend how she ended up back at home after Henry had taken her in his arms.
Laboni thought, Did he mesmerize me? How did I get here? And the girls… are they still at the hospital?
The pale afternoon light fell on her face through the kitchen window. Her eyes caught a fresh, blood-red rose lying beside the spice jars—Henry's presence, though unseen, still lingered.
She tossed the rose aside, striking her head against the cabinet in frustration. Tears rolled down her cheeks, not from fear, but from self-loathing.
Laboni cried out, "Cursed! Cursed, I give myself! Why did I melt under his touch again? Did I train myself for twenty years for this? Ugh, Laboni, ugh!"
She struck herself again, hoping to purge the mental guilt with physical pain. She was a skilled officer, a vengeful woman—but Henry's kiss, and that thirty minutes of heat, had reduced her to helplessness.
Sitting on the kitchen floor, she murmured, "Have I lost? Will he gradually destroy me day by day? My daughters are outside in danger, and here I am, carrying the traces of his touch on my lips!"
At that exact moment, the doorbell rang. Laboni hurried to the door, her forehead slightly swollen from her own blows. She wiped her tears and gripped the handle tightly.
Peeking through the peephole, no one was there—only the dark corridor. Yet the scent of roses was stronger than ever, now coming from beyond the door.