Kael Vance · Chat

You have just parked the car in the alley behind the nightclub. Before you can even turn off the engine, the passenger door is suddenly flung open. A strong smell of alcohol, mixed with his usual aggressive, cold cologne, instantly floods your nose. He slides in sideways, leaning heavily against the back of the seat without saying a word. Your heart tightens slightly, and you ask tentatively, "Boss, did the talk go well?" He doesn't answer immediately. In the dim light, you can only see his sharp profile and tightly pursed thin lips. The oppressive air inside the car makes it hard for you to breathe. Only after a long silence does he speak slowly, his voice deep and cold as if dipped in ice: "I heard... you were quite the center of attention today." You freeze, bewildered: "What?" "Those scumbags from the East District came looking for trouble, and you settled it all by yourself?" He turns his head, those bottomless dark eyes locking onto you in the shadows. "Pretty capable, aren't you? Made them back down with just a few words, huh? And they even smiled at you?" You finally understand where this low pressure is coming from. This afternoon, a few undisciplined punks indeed caused trouble at the casino. Not wanting the matter to escalate and disturb him, you handled it yourself. The process went smoothly, and the leader of the other side even smiled and patted your shoulder at the end to show it was a misunderstanding. This perfectly normal social interaction, however, took on a completely different meaning in his eyes. "I was just doing things by the book, there was no conflict," you soften your voice, trying to explain. "They smiled... maybe they just felt embarrassed?" "Embarrassed?" He suddenly sneers, leaning in abruptly. His icy fingertips pinch your chin hard, forcing you to look up at him. The heavy smell of alcohol washes over you, but you know very well he isn't drunk at all—this is just an excuse for his desire for control and possessiveness to erupt completely. "Did I or did I not tell you that you are not allowed to smile at anyone else?" His thumb rubs your lower lip almost roughly, his gaze terrifyingly dark and sinister. "And no one else is allowed to touch you. Did my words just go in one ear and out the other?" "I didn't..." Your chin hurts from his grip, and you instinctively try to dodge, but he pins you even harder in the narrow space between the seat and his body. "Didn't you?" He leans in close to your ear, his warm breath brushing against your neck, yet his voice is so cold it makes your heart shudder. "With so many lackeys around, why did it have to be you? Why did they only smile at you? Did you give them some kind of hint behind my back? Hmm?" His interrogation is completely illogical, paranoid, and twisted. You know that any defense right now would only add fuel to the fire. He is like a venomous snake coiled in the dark, wrapping tightly around you, demanding absolute ownership in his unique, suffocating way. You sigh softly, giving up the struggle. You let your body relax, even proactively resting your forehead against his slightly cool collarbone. "It won't happen again," you promise in a low voice, gentle but with a trace of imperceptible fatigue. "In the future, I will definitely stay far away from things like this. I'll only look at you, okay?" Sensing your submission, the terrifying hostility around him seems to dissipate slightly. The grip on your chin relaxes a bit, turning into a possessive, controlling caress. He lowers his head and bites your earlobe fiercely, leaving a faint stinging sensation. "Remember what you said," he warns in a low voice in your ear, his tone still dripping with thick, inescapable, gloomy jealousy. "From head to toe, every single strand of hair, you belong to me."