Laboni yanked the curtain aside in one swift motion and looked down. In the dim light of the streetlamp below, Henry stood there. He wore the same black shirt, blending seamlessly with the darkness of the night. He froze, staring straight up at Laboni's window.
Laboni gripped the window grill tightly. The mark on her forehead, left by her own hand, still burned vividly.
Henry: (in a calm but serious tone that carried up to Laboni) "Why do you keep hurting yourself, Laboni? Are you cursing yourself, or me?"
Laboni could see the golden glow in Henry's eyes even from this distance. It felt like his gaze was burning her.
Laboni: (shouting) "Why are you here? Are you even human? Are you really some kind of vampire? No ordinary person could disappear and return like this!"
Henry held the familiar, mysterious smile at the corner of his lips. He took a step forward.
Henry: "Whether I am human or not, you proved it thirty minutes ago, Laboni. That union wouldn't have been possible without the touch of human flesh. I keep returning to you because, even if you curse me, your body recognizes me."
Laboni: "I'll finish you, Henry! I'll go to the police again tomorrow morning."
Henry: "You're forgetting, Laboni, the police can't catch me because I live inside your mind. And listen… your daughters are coming back from the hospital. Will you stand in front of them with your bloody forehead and swollen lips? Or will you dress up again as 'Officer Annya'?"
Laboni shivered. Henry was right. Sara and Rini would be back any moment. She tried to cover her forehead with her scarf like a madwoman. She realized Henry hadn't come to hurt her physically—he had come to enslave her mentally.
Laboni: (in a low voice) "You really are a curse, Henry…"
Henry waved from below, as if bidding farewell, then slowly walked into the darkness. Laboni saw the scent of roses fading with his distance. Her knees weakened. She quickly stepped away from the window and picked up her phone, her chest pounding. Henry's mysterious presence and strange powers forced her to seek the truth even deeper.
She called a highly trusted senior officer in her police service, one who knew the details of the case from twenty years ago.
Laboni: "Hello, Sir? This is—uh, Laboni speaking. Sir, it's urgent. Henry… is he still in that solitary cell? What is his current status?"
Silence followed on the other end. Then the senior officer spoke in a low, serious voice:
Senior Officer: "Who are you talking about, Laboni? Henry? He's no longer a prisoner. Don't you know? Over the last ten years, the entire system changed. Henry is now the IGP. His rank is above everyone. The whole police force now obeys his command."
Laboni froze. The words exploded in her mind.
Laboni: (in disbelief) "What are you saying, sir? He was a killer! He was in jail! How can a convicted criminal become the head of the police?"
Senior Officer: "That's the mystery, Laboni. No one knows how he got out of that dark jail cell, how all evidence against him vanished. All I know is that he is the most powerful person in the current government. No one dares challenge him. But why are you asking? Did he appear before you?"
Laboni couldn't speak. She threw her phone onto the bed. Henry hadn't just learned dark magic—he had taken control of the entire state apparatus. He hadn't come to her office as a criminal tonight; he had come to assert his 'right.'
Laboni: (to herself) "The one I threatened to imprison, he holds the keys himself! He's the IGP? Then who were the ones coming to raid my office today? Did he stage that in front of his own police force?"
Laboni realized she had stepped into a deadly trap. Henry didn't want to kill her; he wanted to make her a captive queen next to his throne. And her daughters—Sara and Rini—were unknowingly under their 'new father's' shadow.
Laboni stood stunned in front of the bathroom mirror. Water still ran down her body, and the thin scarf clung to her wet skin. The mark on her forehead throbbed slightly.
At that moment, her phone rang. Who could be calling now, in this situation? With trembling hands, she answered, her chest racing—was it Henry again, or some bad news from the hospital?
Laboni: "Hello… who is this?"
There was no male voice on the other end. Instead, a mechanical, cold female voice spoke:
Phone: "Laboni, congratulations. You have accepted IGP Sir's special invitation. Your daughters are now in the hospital's special cabin block. They are not waiting for your return—they are dining with their 'new father.'"
Laboni nearly dropped the phone. She screamed:
Laboni: "What are you saying? New father? Is Henry there? I'm coming right now!"
Phone: "Don't be late, Laboni. IGP Sir doesn't like delays. And, will you change that thin scarf? Or will you come as you are? He likes seeing you in every form."
The call ended abruptly. Laboni stared at the mirror, her eyes wide with terror. Henry wasn't just outside her office or at home; he had penetrated every part of her daughters' lives. As the IGP, he had turned the entire city into a prison, and Laboni was the most valuable captive.
Laboni quickly removed her scarf and prepared herself. Ordinary clothes wouldn't do today. She took out her special red dress—a garment both elegant and mysterious. Its back was entirely open, with subtle cuts on each side, and a scarf-like piece hung like a locket, connected to multiple belts. Pulling these belts could tighten her body, but they could also be used to pull her close.
Standing in front of the mirror, she concealed her forehead and lip marks with makeup. She wasn't going to surrender; she was entering a dangerous game.
As she descended the stairs, the red dress hugged every curve. The belts swung like ominous ribbons in the air.
Laboni thought: "Henry, if you're the IGP, then I'm the predator who's been brewing poison for you twenty years. You designed these belts to pull me close—now I'll use them to choke you."
She reached her car. Her heels clicked on the night pavement. She knew waiting in the hospital was not just her daughters, but a powerful man—her lover, her killer, and her daughters' so-called father.
In the VIP lounge of the hospital, Laboni entered. The air became heavy. Her vibrant red dress, the mysterious cuts at the back, and the belts gave her an enchanting aura.
Henry smiled broadly, satisfied. He knew she would come—and in this way. He sat majestically in his IGP chair, his golden eyes glinting in the red dress's reflection.
But Laboni noticed her daughters—Sara and Rini—had changed. They sat silently at the table. Even Henry's attempts to make them smile were faintly effective; their usual sparkle was gone.
Henry: (smiling at Laboni) "I knew you'd arrive at the right time, Laboni. That red suits you perfectly. And look, our daughters are so regal tonight."
Laboni went to her daughters. They avoided her gaze, seemingly frozen by some unseen fear.
Laboni: (in a low voice) "What have you done to them, Henry? Why are they so quiet?"
Henry: (standing behind her) "They're just surprised, Laboni. They didn't expect their mother and their 'new father's' old relationship to run so deep. I was telling them stories of our golden days."
Henry's hand rested lightly on the locket-like belt on Laboni's back, pulling her slightly toward him. She felt his breath against her neck.
Henry: (whispering) "See, Laboni, the girls are watching. Do you want me to say more about our 'prideful union'? Or will you join this dinner like a dutiful mother?"
Sara and Rini lifted their eyes to their mother, tears welling. Laboni realized Henry had mentally trapped them. Any rebellion now might put them at risk.
Laboni walked to the table gracefully. The hem of her red dress brushed the floor. She felt a strange combination of elegance and determination.
Henry leaned closer, his hand moving subtly under the table toward her thigh. Laboni shivered but did not betray any expression. His touch was dominant, testing her patience.
Henry's golden eyes burned with desire and victory. He leaned his face toward her ear, whispering:
Henry: "The longer you stay silent, Laboni, the deeper I'll go. Did you think wearing this red dress meant I couldn't untie its ribbons? The girls think we're talking, but see—how I control you."
Laboni's hand instinctively clenched under the table. Henry's hand crept higher, toward dangerous territory, each touch primitive and fierce. She felt her breath constrict but maintained her composure in front of the daughters.
She twisted the ribbons of her red dress with her fingers, thinking: "Come closer, Henry… just a little. When you think I'm completely yours, that's when I'll crush your empire into dust."
Under the table, Henry's hand hovered, his dominance absolute. Laboni's heel struck his foot sharply. He let out a startled groan, his face contorting in pain.
Sara and Rini gasped.
Sara: "What happened? Uncle, why did you yell?"
Henry clenched his teeth, trying to maintain composure. He wiped sweat from his forehead and pulled his chair closer, leaning into Laboni's ear.
Henry: (coldly) "Starting the fight with your feet, Laboni? Fine… I'll show you the real fun. Tonight, you'll tear that red dress yourself and beg me for forgiveness. Remember, I am the IGP—this city obeys me, and your daughters are my captives."
He sent a message from his phone, and a chilling sensation ran through Laboni's spine. She removed her heel from his foot, but Henry had already played his new move.
Suddenly, the restaurant lights went out. Sara and Rini screamed.
Rini: "Mom! Why did the lights go out? I'm scared!"
In the darkness, Laboni felt the belts on her back being yanked violently. Henry pulled her close so forcefully that she nearly fell onto him.
Henry: (whispering) "The real game has begun, Laboni. In this dark, what I do, your daughters won't see, but you will feel it forever."
A heavy sound followed. Laboni felt the belt around her neck being used to restrain her. Her body stiffened like stone. Then, she felt a cold, mysterious touch on her bare back—not Henry's rough dominance, but something colder, stranger. A hand traced down the cut in her dress.
Laboni: "Henry… what are you doing? Let me go! The girls are scared…"
No reply came. Just the cold touch moved to the belt near her waist. She sensed the breath near her ear—earlier Henry's—now heavier and unfamiliar.
Laboni: (whispering) "Henry? Will you speak? Stop this dirty game!"
Suddenly, the emergency lights came on. Laboni turned quickly. Her eyes widened.
Henry was not at her side. He stood farther away, holding Sara and Rini's hands, his cruel smile intact. Then who had touched her back?
Laboni reached behind and found a black note tucked among her dress's belts. A waiter, blending into the crowd, disappeared. He wore the same black shirt Henry had earlier.
Henry: (laughing from afar) "I'm here, Laboni. Who touched you? Or is it still my old memory stroking your body?"
Laboni trembled as she opened the note. Written in blood-red ink were the words:
"IGP's power is outside, but the key to untying your red dress is still in my pocket. See you at your house in 30 minutes."
Laboni couldn't tell if the Henry before her was real, or if someone else—his twin or a mystical replica—had created an illusion to drive her mad.