Chapter 9: A Caged Bride

---

After that night, everything changed.

The days blurred into weeks, and before I knew it, my wedding was only a few days away. The house buzzed with excitement—decorations being arranged, wedding planners running around, my aunt beaming with joy as she picked out fabrics, flowers, and endless details. Everyone was happy.

Everyone except me.

I felt suffocated. Trapped.

The heavy weight of my upcoming marriage pressed against my chest like chains, tightening with every passing second. I wasn't just scared of marrying Seojun. I was terrified.

Not because he would hurt me.

But because he wouldn't love me.

He wasn't a man who knew how to love. He was a man who owned.

And now, I was about to become one of his possessions.

My thoughts were interrupted when my phone vibrated on the dresser.

My body stiffened.

I didn't need to check the caller ID to know who it was.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the phone. I hesitated, staring at the glowing screen, my heart racing. But I knew I had no choice.

I swallowed hard and picked up.

"Get ready in half an hour. I'm coming."

The line went dead before I could even respond.

His voice was deep, cold, commanding. It wasn't a request. It was an order.

I sat frozen for a moment, staring at the blank screen, my fingers clutching the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

I should've expected this. Seojoon never asked. He decided.

And I had no say in it.

---

Half an hour later, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up in front of my house.

My breath hitched as I stepped outside, my heart hammering against my ribs. The car door swung open, and there he was—Seojoon, dressed in all black, his sharp gaze locking onto me like a predator watching its prey.

Without a word, I slid into the passenger seat.

The moment the door shut, the car moved.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You'll see."

The drive was silent, thick with unspoken tension. When we finally stopped, my eyes widened.

A luxurious shopping mall, completely empty.

I looked around. Not a single customer, not even a staff member wandering the floors.

Just the two of us.

I turned to Seojoon, who watched me with a knowing smirk. "I bought it for the next ten hours. I don't like interruptions."

My stomach dropped.

His power was terrifying.

Without waiting for my reaction, he stepped out of the car, gesturing for me to follow.

---

The first place he took me was a high-end diamond store.

The moment we walked in, assistants rushed forward, their hands trembling as they presented rows of dazzling necklaces.

Seojun didn't ask me what I wanted.

Instead, he lifted several pieces and placed them around my neck one by one.

"Which one do you like?" he finally asked, his voice unreadable.

I hesitated before whispering, "I... I don't wear diamonds."

Seojoon stilled.

Then, he let out a low chuckle, dark and laced with something unreadable.

"You do now," he said. "You're my fiancée. My wife."

He turned to the store owner. "Pack everything related to this set."

My eyes widened. "But—"

"Not a word." His gaze silenced me.

I bit my lip, holding back my protest.

He wasn't just rich.

He was untouchable.

---

Next, he took me to the wedding gown section.

Seojoon leaned back on a plush seat, his sharp eyes watching my every move as I tried on one dress after another.

Ten dresses.

Twelve.

Fifteen.

I was exhausted.

"I... I can't anymore," I murmured, barely able to stand.

Seojoon tilted his head. "Do you like any of them?"

I swallowed, forcing a nod. "Yes, they're all beautiful."

But Seojoon didn't look satisfied.

"No," he said. "None of them are good enough."

He pulled out his phone and, within seconds, spoke in a cold, crisp tone.

"Mustache Nadine. I want a custom wedding dress. The best you've ever made."

I froze.

Seojoon wasn't just demanding. He was uncompromising.

---

Hours later, as we carried our bags back to the car, I felt like my soul had left my body.

This wasn't shopping.

This was control.

As we reached the car, I finally gathered the courage to ask the question burning inside me.

"Why are you doing this?"

Seojoon didn't glance at me. "You're my future wife."

"But you already know that I don't like you," I whispered. "And you don't like me either."

I hesitated, then forced out the words that had been haunting me.

"So does this mean... you're just keeping me as a hostage? As someone you can have every night... and leave like a doll in the morning?"

The moment I said it, the air shifted.

Seojoon went completely silent.

The weight of his silence crushed me.

I knew I had triggered something.

I lowered my gaze, gripping my dress. I had overstepped. I knew it.

But I needed to know.

I needed an answer.

Yet all I got was nothing.

As we sat in the car, driving back to my aunt's house, I stared out the window, my mind spinning.

This man... he must have many girls.

I'm just one of them.

I shouldn't think highly of myself.

But even as I told myself that, I knew—

I was already drowning in his world.

And there was no way out.

---

As the car rolled to a stop in front of my aunt's house, my fingers dug into the fabric of my dress, knuckles turning white. The ride back had been painfully silent, the weight of my own words still lingering in the air like a dark omen. I had poked the beast, and now I had to live with the consequences.

Seojoon's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw clenched as if holding back a storm. The moment he parked, I wasted no time fumbling with the door handle, desperate to escape. But before I could even step out, his voice, low and commanding, cut through the tense air.

"Tomorrow. 8 PM. Be ready."

I turned to face him, confusion and apprehension clawing at my insides. "For what?"

His dark eyes bore into mine, unreadable yet terrifyingly certain. "A dinner. Don't make me repeat myself."

I swallowed hard and gave a stiff nod, knowing there was no room for refusal. The moment I stepped out of the car, the suffocating tension broke just enough for me to breathe. But it wasn't over. Not even close.

The next evening, I found myself staring at my reflection, my hands trembling as I fixed the silver bracelet on my wrist. The dress Seojoon had sent was expensive, elegant, and completely unlike me. It felt like a costume, a mask I had to wear to survive another night under his control.

A sharp knock on the door made my breath hitch. My aunt opened it before I could react, and there he stood, dressed in an all-black suit, exuding power and dominance with every fiber of his being.

"Let's go," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

I cast a fleeting glance at my aunt, who was beaming with excitement, utterly oblivious to the storm raging inside me. Without another word, I stepped out, my heart pounding as he led me to his car.

The restaurant he took me to was breathtaking, the kind of place reserved for the elite. Dim lighting, the soft hum of a grand piano, and an air of exclusivity surrounded me. But what sent shivers down my spine was the way the staff bowed as Seojoon walked past, their eyes filled with silent reverence—and fear.

We were seated in a secluded booth, the atmosphere stifling. Seojoon didn't speak immediately, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass as if contemplating something deep, something dangerous.

I shifted in my seat, uneasy. "Why am I here?"

His gaze lifted to meet mine, unreadable yet piercing. "To remind you of what's coming."

My stomach twisted. "I haven't forgotten."

"Good." He leaned forward slightly, his presence swallowing the space between us. "Then stop acting like you have a choice."

I clenched my fists under the table. "You can't keep me like this forever."

His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk but sent chills down my spine nonetheless. "Try me."

The waiter arrived with our food, breaking the tension for a moment, but it did nothing to slow my racing heart. I picked at my plate, my appetite nonexistent. Seojoon, on the other hand, ate with deliberate, controlled movements, completely at ease while I was drowning in fear.

Halfway through the meal, he placed his fork down and tilted his head, watching me with quiet intensity. "Eat, Butterfly."

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry."

His expression darkened. "I wasn't asking."

A lump formed in my throat, but I forced myself to take a bite, the food tasteless on my tongue. His control over me was suffocating, and yet, somewhere deep inside, a part of me knew—he wasn't doing this out of cruelty. It was something else. Something I couldn't yet understand.

The rest of the dinner passed in tense silence. When we finally stepped out into the night air, I exhaled a breath I didn't know I was holding.

But the moment I thought the nightmare was over, he grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer. His voice was a whisper against my skin, dark and possessive.

"You belong to me, Butterfly. The sooner you accept it, the easier this will be for you."

My heart stopped. My mind screamed to fight, to push him away. But my body? My body betrayed me, frozen under the weight of his words.

And that's when I realized—this wasn't just a game for him. This was real. And there was no escape.