🔞𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝙅𝙠×𝙔/𝙣×𝙁𝙚𝙖𝙩.𝙆𝙩𝙝)

🖤Chapter:- 46🖤

But Taehyung... noticed.

He wasn't stupid.

One evening, after dinner, he watched you for too long.

You sat on the divan, reading a novel he'd left for you. You didn't smile. You didn't frown. But you looked aware.

Too aware.

"You look different these days," he murmured, his voice smooth like oil on water. "Not so... broken."

You lifted your eyes to meet his, slow and blank.

"I'm learning to accept things," you replied softly.

It wasn't a lie.

He smirked, standing from the edge of the couch.

"I told you you'd come around."

And that—right there—was his weakness.

Overconfidence.

He thought you were softening.

He thought you were adapting.

He didn't see the armor you were building behind every nod. Every smile. Every soft-spoken answer.

And that was his fatal flaw.

Because he believed the worst had already broken you.

He didn't know the worst was still coming—and this time, it wouldn't be yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wind outside howled faintly that morning, but inside, everything remained too quiet. Almost... expectant.

You sat by the window, wrapped in a soft ivory shawl, staring at the ocean. It shimmered as always, a surreal mirror of everything this mansion pretended to be—*beautiful, endless, free.*

But freedom didn't come wrapped in glass and silk.

It was bled for. Carved out. *Stolen.*

Behind you, the room was calm, untouched, like a painting in a museum. The scent of jasmine tea still lingered faintly in the air—So-mi's morning routine. She'd come and gone as always, silent, careful, speaking in soft gestures rather than words. But today... she'd left more than just tea.

Folded neatly beneath the napkin beside your untouched toast was a note.

Tiny.

Plain.

No ink—just soft indentations from a sharpened pencil.

You unfolded it slowly.

Three lines.

East Garden — Guard Shift Change — 3:47 p.m.
Blind spot: Fountain Path, near greenhouse wall. 12 seconds.
My room: Code 1179. Ribbon on knob = safe. No ribbon = danger.

Your pulse quickened.

It wasn't much.

But in a world where silence was law and freedom was a myth—this was a *map*.

You memorised the numbers. Folded the paper until it vanished beneath the seam of your dress. Your fingers trembled—not with fear, but something far rarer.

Hope.

---

So-mi returned at exactly 4:15 p.m., as she always did.

Her presence, like everything else about her, was subdued but sharp. She moved like someone who'd learned how to disappear in plain sight.

She found you by the bookshelf, pretending to be lost in a book Taehyung had left for you—*The Count of Monte Cristo.* A tale of revenge, patience, and impossible escape.