The Rose I'll Recapture

The day the operation closed in, I snapped the cuffs around his wrists myself.

He lifted his chin and asked me.

"Baby, did you ever really love me?"

I laughed, bent down, and patted his cheek lightly.

"Not even a little."

"Just settle in and serve your time, my glorious medalist."

...

But the next morning, the man who had kept half the city's police force running and hunting for six whole months—

slipped right out of prison.

1

Damon Blackwood had escaped.

When I heard the news, my commendation hadn't even been approved yet.

The vehicle transporting the prisoner to the East District Detention Center was hit by a bomb. Officers were dead and wounded.

This man, who had taken half the city's police force and a six-month ambush to catch,

had vanished before he could even warm the iron bench in his cell.

The smoke and debris from the blast hadn't even been cleared. I stood there, staring blankly at the scorched black marks and cracks.

Worse.

According to my colleagues' analysis,

I had been undercover as his lover for two full years.

Not only had I played with his feelings, but I had also stabbed him in the back at the most critical moment.

With a man as vengeful as he was,

I would definitely be his first target.

2

"Officer Evelyn, you don't look too happy."

...Who could be happy when their commendation just ran off?

Twenty-seven hours after Damon's escape, the police had deployed fifteen drones, nearly every K-9 unit, and set up a full cordon for a地毯式 search. Still, not a trace of him.

The man had left with incredible arrogance. Before he went, he used the blood of the escorting officers to leave a message:

*I'll recapture my rose.*

Who did this "rose" refer to...

A room full of officers turned their gazes to me in unison.

"Even if you all stare at me like that,"

I crossed my arms and shrugged.

"All I can prove is that Damon Blackwood is a hopeless romantic."

Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked such a stupid question—whether I ever loved him—even after I had already cuffed him.

Of course I never did. Work was already annoying enough.

3

In the police car, my colleague Leo handed me a tablet.

"We found that after his jailbreak, Damon used a public phone here."

I looked down at the photo on the screen.

"Yes, that's the place where we used to live together."

After we confirmed our relationship, I had indeed lived with Damon there for quite a while.

Walking through the door, the pair of couple slippers that greeted me seemed to say nothing had changed.

But the ash in the ashtray on the coffee table was clearly fresh.

"The DNA from the cigarette butt is confirmed to be Damon's."

As Leo and I walked into the bedroom, he let out a cold laugh.

"Pretty bold, hiding out here just hours after escaping. Playing the reverse psychology game, huh?"

There were plenty of officers taking photos and collecting evidence, but my mind was wandering.

This was the first home Damon and I shared. He was also the first drug lord I ever got close to as an undercover.

4

Right after graduating from the police academy and inheriting my father's badge number, I was assigned to get close to Damon.

The reason was simple: I looked like a student, had the clearest eyes, but was the toughest among my graduating peers.

At the time, Damon hadn't yet become the head of the largest drug trafficking organization in West China.

He was just a second-in-command with little power, but he was so young that he caught our attention.

If we wanted to take down the whole organization, the best way was to slowly plant the fuse.

I hid as a cashier in a small convenience store under his apartment building.

Every night around eleven or twelve, he would come down to buy a pack of cigarettes.

He had deep, striking features and wore a black jacket.

The first time I saw him, I was surprised. For a young and somewhat notorious drug dealer, he had a face that was breathtakingly handsome.

His skin was almost cold white, and his features carried a hint of indifference.

To avoid scaring him off, I waited nearly a month before saying a single word to him.

Something along the lines of, since he bought cigarettes every day, he should smoke less.

He raised an eyebrow, his indifferent gaze flickering over me, and gave a soft "mm."

After that, I used this opportunity to chat with him a little every day.

Honestly, after all those days, I felt like I could have made a stone blossom, but Damon back then didn't seem to feel a thing for me.

Luckily, my comrades gave me a boost.

It was a small-scale crackdown on a trafficking chain. It didn't touch the core of the massive organization, but it was enough to wipe out some of its minor pawns.

Damon's group was one of the targets.

We deliberately let Damon escape, barely alive, so I could "save" him in that pile of trash.

When I found him, he was covered in blood. His already pale skin, stained with red, looked almost translucent.

Even in that state, he was still on guard when he saw me.

I played my role perfectly as a frightened convenience store clerk, and when he told me not to go to the hospital, I took him to my place.

He stayed at my house for the next few days.

Everything was carefully orchestrated: the position of his room, the towel that "accidentally" slipped when I came out of the bathroom, the inevitable physical contact during bandaging.

I made myself cheerful and lively, trying everything to make him laugh.

I shaped the curry into little bears and tied the bandages into pretty bows.

And yet, even alone together in the same house, the man held out for nearly a month.

Countless nights, he would just stare at me with those dark, unreadable eyes.

My captain kept warning me to be patient, but many times, resting my chin on my hand and looking at him, I couldn't help but wonder if I had already been exposed.

Until one day, because of a coordination issue, I came home late several times in a row.

That day, the house was unusually dark when I got back.

I took off my shoes and called his name a few times tentatively.

No response. Just as I was fumbling for the living room light switch, I felt a light touch on the back of my neck.

In that split second, I barely suppressed the urge to spin around and throw the person over my shoulder.

Damon held me in the darkness.

My body must have been stiff. Every breath he took landed on my ear, and the sensation of being gradually controlled by a stranger made every cell in my body scream to fight back.

But the truth was, when I set foot on this path, I knew I had only one goal.

In the darkness, I slowly relaxed my body.

His kiss landed on my neck, lingering and tender.

...

I had to play the naive woman, looking at him with the most childish and innocent eyes.

Even after we confirmed our relationship, Damon still wasn't very talkative and remained highly wary of me.

Of course, that wasn't enough. Damon didn't know what I had done for him.

The things he liked, the things he didn't, how he reacted to different situations, the slight raise of his eyebrow when he ate my cooking, or the unconscious curl of his lips when I wore a certain dress—

I remembered all of it carefully, reviewing it in my mind every night before bed.

Finally, he started to laugh when I got sauce on my face while eating noodles. He would gently ruffle my hair when I fell asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home late at night.

He crouched in front of me, looked up, and asked me, "Why aren't you asleep yet, sweetheart?" That was when I knew my first step was a success.

But that alone wasn't enough.

I wasn't part of Damon's future plans. I was just a girlfriend he could break up with anytime.

He wouldn't tell me where his deals were, or what he was really selling.

But soon, my chance came.

I was targeted by a rival organization of Damon's.

They kidnapped me on my way to the market the next day.

Their goal was simple: since I was Damon's lover, they would use me to threaten him.

They tied me to a chair and set up a camera.

The man sitting across from me told me everything about Damon—that my loving boyfriend was actually a drug dealer, how ruthless he was, what a complete monster he was.

My mind was racing. I couldn't seem too calm, but I couldn't be a complete mess either.

I had to shape myself into a woman who was resolute, decisive, and—oh yes—completely devoted to Damon.

Eleven hours after I was kidnapped, Damon finally showed up at the factory where I was being held.

He was born to wear black. I realized later that he was a demon born to thrive in sin.

My hands and feet were bound, and I looked at him with tearful eyes. But my lover, who had been so close to me just days ago,

only gave me a brief glance.

"Terms."

His voice was cold, devoid of emotion.

"Three of your suppliers, fifty kilos of the new stuff."

The gun at the back of my head pressed closer.

After a moment, Damon let out a scoff.

"You think she's worth that much?"

With a look of utter disdain and contempt, he gave me one last glance and turned to leave.

I stared at his tall figure, almost melting into the darkness.

That day, my life should have ended there.

But who would have thought? The gun aimed at my head shifted toward Damon's back.

"Watch out!!!"

The moment the man fired, I had already knocked him over. But because I had lunged in a panic, the bullet embedded itself deep into my arm.

I had been shot before, but back then, I was wearing a bulletproof vest.

The searing pain blanked my mind for a second, and the man next to me was already riddled with bullets.

Of course, Damon hadn't come alone. He had plenty of firepower hidden behind him.

He walked up to me, and the pain on my face wasn't fake.

As soon as I saw him, I rushed over, hugged him, and cried.

He was clearly stunned for a moment by my embrace.

After a while, I felt his hand gently stroke my hair.

"Why, when I had already abandoned you, did you still save me, hmm?"

What I was thinking was: *That guy's bullet wouldn't have even left the chamber before your backup turned him into Swiss cheese.*

But what I said was...

"Instinct... I just wanted to protect you."

In the darkness, I heard his voice soften.

"You don't mind what I do?"

I shook my head.

What I was thinking was:

*Damon Blackwood, one day,*

*I'll make you the brightest medal on my chest.*

5

"What are you thinking about?"

A hand holding a cigarette pulled me back to reality.

I hadn't smelled cigarette smoke in a while, and for a moment, I was dazed.

A lot of my colleagues liked to smoke when they were thinking,

but Damon didn't smoke.

And to keep up my "good girl" image, I couldn't smoke in front of him either.

"You'll be moving to a desk job after this commendation, right?"

Leo and I were sitting on the steps in the hallway. He ruffled his messy hair and flipped through the report in his hand as he asked.

I nodded.

People like us, no matter the outcome, always end up fading into the background like grains of sand.

"What do you want to do after you retire?"

"English teacher."

I answered without hesitation. He raised an eyebrow.

"I feel like... I'd be pretty good at teaching..."

...

Damon never went to school.

So I was the one who taught him English.

Maybe I'm a natural teacher, or maybe he's just naturally smart.

The guy who used to say "You is my" could now write a full sentence in English to declare war on the police.

Yes, I believed everything Damon was doing was a declaration of war against the police, and a way to force me out.

He was arrogant enough to go back to the place we once lived together and leave traces of his stay.

He was telling me that he would find me, no matter how many officers were protecting me. I couldn't escape.

...

"So I think keeping me here under guard isn't the best idea."

I was in a budget hotel, arms crossed, talking to Leo, who was leaning against my door.

"If Damon wants to find me, you should let me out."

He sighed.

"What are you saying? Everyone's life matters. Until the very last moment, no one wants to lose any comrades."

Seeing that I didn't respond, he stood up and patted my shoulder.

"Evelyn, you know better than anyone how those deranged drug dealers retaliate against undercovers."

...

The sun outside the window was blazing, seeping through the curtains that couldn't completely block it.

That sliver of light flickered.

Yeah, of course I knew.

My father was the captain of the Changming City Anti-Drug Brigade. Foreign drug dealers had put a million-dollar bounty on his head.

When I found his body with my uncle, I hadn't even graduated from the police academy yet.

I guess I should thank him for giving his daughter one last lesson.

Because I have never seen a corpse more horrific than his.

So after that, no matter what scene I witnessed, I felt nothing inside.

My father always told me that it was hard for an anti-drug officer to get a first-class medal while still alive.

So I wanted to earn one while I was alive, to show him in heaven.

...

Day three of Damon's escape.

The department's profiler asked me again for every detail about Damon as a criminal.

I had no choice. As someone who had been so close to him, all my experience was invaluable.

After I took that bullet for him, Damon slowly began to show me his true self.

During that time, I started to realize that he was actually a man starved for love.

This was incredibly advantageous for me. Damon had barely touched women in his life. He had no parents.

He was raised by human traffickers. Because he was sweet-talking and clever, he escaped having his tongue cut out or his legs broken to beg on the streets.

His childhood was probably filled with cruelty and pain, so maybe even he didn't know how much he craved a gentle, kind soul to love him.

Damon had a gift for being a criminal. He was decisive, calm, stubborn, and cruel.

But as a lover, he was a complete fool.

He was too easily drawn into a gentle embrace, too eager to please the person he liked, trying to act indifferent while his micro-expressions gave away every thought.

So even though I was a novice in love myself, based on the psychology I studied at the academy, I managed to handle him, albeit with some difficulty.

The final step was to plant a steel needle in his heart that could never be removed.

If there's anything more profound than a long-lasting companionship,

it's a long-lasting companionship that suddenly vanishes.

As Damon slowly climbed the ranks, he naturally attracted some attention.

Even though they knew about me, his "girlfriend," there were still plenty of women throwing themselves at him.

The most prominent one was Celeste.

"Celeste" was probably a stage name. She was strikingly beautiful, a completely different style from me. She was like a beautiful, venomous silver needle.

She had her sights set on Damon, wanting to take my place as his woman.

On the surface, she was the owner of a local chain of bars, but in reality, she was the biggest drug dealer in that district.

If she really seduced Damon, it would be a powerful alliance, and I would be out of the picture.

She didn't take me seriously at all. She thought I was just some schoolgirl she could easily push aside.

At that time, Damon and I were also in a stagnant phase of our relationship.

He was still good to me, even passionately so, but he never explicitly rejected Celeste.

And I thought, *Perfect.*

The heroine, the hero, and the third party.

If I played this drama well, I could make him remember me forever.

...It was a business meeting on a cruise ship.

Ostensibly, it was the annual party of a shell company, but in reality, it was a gathering of drug dealers.

Our people were also hidden on the ship, tensions simmering beneath the surface. I attended as Damon's lover.

But Celeste kept causing trouble.

First, she humiliated me at the banquet, then she boldly flirted with Damon right in front of me.

Damon didn't refuse.

At that point, I knew something was wrong.

Even if Damon had really changed his mind so quickly, I was still publicly his woman.

That night, after I showered and walked into his room, he grabbed my wrist and pinned me against the doorframe.

"Sweetheart, swear to me you've never lied to me."

In that instant, my heart went cold.

I had already imagined my triumphant return in my mind, but now I wasn't even sure I'd make it back in one piece.

But he was asking me to swear.

Swear.

That meant he had no proof. Celeste had probably whispered something in his ear, making him suspect I was an undercover.

He himself wasn't sure.

I couldn't seem too eager, but I couldn't be completely calm either.

"I have never lied to you."

I repeated his oath.

He let go of my wrist.

"Damon, I..."

I tried to take his hand, but he shook me off.

"I didn't lie to you..."

My voice was trembling.

"Go back to your room, sweetheart."

His tone softened, but his words were firm.

I didn't leave. I reached for his fingers again. He pushed me away, and I just stared at him in shock.

"Celeste was right. Maybe you really are a very good actress."

In the darkness, his black eyes stared straight at me.

I looked back at him in disbelief.

"You'd rather believe her than me?"

...

All I got in return was the door slamming shut in my face.

And the tears that had been welling up in my eyes stopped instantly.

Damon had some instincts. I didn't think Celeste was the one who changed his mind. It was his natural sixth sense.

No matter how perfectly I played my part, there was always a chance of exposure.

Once the seed of doubt is planted, no one knows when it will grow into a towering tree.

So I needed a drastic measure.

Thanks to Celeste, she had already set the perfect stage for me.

6

I had always told Damon that I was afraid of water.

In reality, I was a gold medalist on my high school swim team.

I never thought that a detail I planted so long ago would come in handy.

On the ship, there was another undercover officer disguised as a crew member.

He told me that the edge of the top deck was under constant camera surveillance.

And according to the ship's route, there was an island nine hundred meters away.

The sea breeze wasn't strong that night.

Around two or three in the morning, the deck was empty.

I stood where I had planned, adjusting myself to the best angle for the camera.

The sea breeze lifted the hem of my white dress. I typed a message to Damon.

"I know I'm not as smart or as capable as her. But maybe this..."

"will prove that I've never lied to you?"

And I jumped into the sea.

...

The act of proving one's innocence and love through death can have an infinite impact on someone starved for affection.

That night, I won't go into detail about how I navigated to that island with just a compass and a glowing sports watch, or how I collapsed on the beach waiting for my colleague's pickup, almost getting pecked to death by some unknown bird thinking I was a corpse.

It was a harrowing experience worthy of a novel.

In the end, my colleague picked me up in a rubber boat, and I hid out in a fishing village on another island for a while.

During that time, I learned that Damon was searching for me like a madman.

Even though the surveillance footage clearly showed how I, who "couldn't swim," had jumped into the sea to prove my innocence,

he still refused to believe I was dead.

No one had ever seen him so panicked. He deployed countless fishing boats to search for me.

I was pretty banged up from my ordeal at sea, so I took my time recovering.

The day he found me, I was sitting on a little stool in the fisherman's house, my braid hanging to one side, watching the reflection of the sunset.

I calculated that from his angle, my profile would look both tragic and devastating.

All my efforts paid off. He stumbled toward me and held me so tightly.

Men, they're all the same.

They love women who give everything for them and never ask for anything in return.

I felt like Damon was trying to meld me into his body.

I opened my mouth and spoke in my softest, slightly hoarse voice.

"Damon, you can give up on me."

"I'm fine."

"If you like her, just give up on me."

"But you can..."

"You can tell me yourself that you don't want me anymore..."

I felt his body stiffen.

His fingers gently stroked my hair. Unlike before, Damon was moved.

He couldn't leave me now.

I rested my chin in the hollow of his neck.

If jumping into the sea was a gamble, then now,

I had won.

7

"So, where do you think Damon will go after his escape?"

"He's a madman. How could I possibly understand what a madman thinks?"

In the office, the fan whirred loudly.

Light filtered through the blinds, but the officers in the room were nearly at their wits' end.

No news. No movement. He had vanished into thin air.

Yet everyone knew for certain that he would reappear. He was never one to let things go.

"Have Evelyn's family been taken care of?"

"As a now-exposed undercover, we can't rule out the possibility that Damon will take revenge on her relatives."

Leo reorganized the files, pinched the bridge of his nose, and turned his gaze to me.

Yes, since Damon already knew my identity,

my family was under heavy police protection.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances...

But my right eyelid had been twitching all day.

I'm not superstitious, but some of the older officers in the department were.

For example, before making a major decision, they would eat their favorite meal to see if their taste had changed. They called it "testing the waters."

But this morning, my breakfast was completely tasteless.

I sat in my chair, eyes downcast. I was supposed to be moving to a desk job after this mission. I had even planned where to go on my annual leave. But fate seemed to be playing a joke on me.

The conference room door was pushed open hastily by an officer.

When his panicked eyes landed on me, my heart skipped a beat.

"Officer Evelyn, something's happened to your nephew."

...

"He was found this morning at nine, at the Donghuai Road market."

I sat in the car, dazed, listening to the officer's report.

"There are needle marks on his upper arm, wrist, and inner thigh. Preliminary tests indicate a single, repeated injection of a large dose of heroin."

"He's been taken to the First People's Hospital and is in surgery."

...

Damon's revenge... had begun.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

My head was buzzing. I told myself to calm down, to stay calm. What I wanted to ask, what I wanted to ask was...

"Weren't there officers assigned to protect him? How did this happen?"

Leo asked the question for me.

"The kid is in his senior year of high school. He's about to take the college entrance exam."

"His mother said they couldn't afford to delay his studies any longer, so they only had officers escort him to and from school."

"But no one expected..."

...

I remembered that I had promised that little brat, Marcus, that if he got into a top-tier university, I would buy him the latest, top-of-the-line computer.

But now, he was in the operating room, and I was outside it.

My cousin's cries echoed in my ears.

In the evidence bag I was holding was a note.

It had been found in Marcus's pocket. A message from Damon.

Damon's handwriting wasn't pretty, but it had a unique, stubborn sharpness.

It read:

"You are not allowed to stop loving me."

8

"Don't you all get it now?!"

In the hospital courtyard, it was the first time in days that I had cursed at Leo.

"Damon's target is me. Plain and simple. The longer I stay hidden, the longer he stays free, and the more revenge he'll take!"

"So why won't you let me go out and lure him out?"

Leo didn't say anything. The ground around his feet was littered with cigarette butts.

"My nephew was just wheeled out of the operating room."

I always thought I was calm enough, but at that moment, my voice was trembling.

"His mother was crying so hard, and she didn't blame me."

"She said she could blame a lot of people, but not me."

"So what am I supposed to do?! Her son ended up like this because of me!"

"Even if I died, even if I gave my life to make it up to her son, it wouldn't be enough..."

Don't people always need a breaking point to vent?

Had I been holding it in for too long?

After a long moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You've been through a lot, Evelyn."

Leo gave a bitter smile and patted my shoulder.

After working together for so long, I understood what that gesture meant.

It was time to go all in.

...

The reason Damon had been able to escape was, in the end, because our intelligence on him was flawed.

We had miscalculated his firepower and the remnants of his organization still loyal to him.

There must have been something we hadn't completely rooted out, some buried fuse we had overlooked.

The plan was simple now. Since Damon was so obsessed with me,

I would be the one to lure him out.

But before we could even set the plan in motion, he came to us.

At three in the morning, the department received an anonymous email.

It demanded that I be delivered, bound, blindfolded, and immobilized, to an abandoned factory in the eastern suburbs.

Otherwise, five bombs hidden in the city's central business district would be detonated.

...

This stunt sent the old chief, who usually went to bed early, jumping straight out of his covers.

An emergency meeting was called.

I would indeed be delivered to the location Damon specified, bound and blindfolded.

But that area would be surrounded by nearly ten armored vehicles and a hundred officers.

Drones would patrol 24/7. A bug and a GPS tracker would be sewn into the lining of my clothes.

In short, if Damon dared to show up,

he wouldn't be going back.

...

"Are you scared?"

When Leo tied the black blindfold over my eyes, the deployment was mostly complete.

Since Damon also demanded that no police be within a hundred-mile radius, the cordon wouldn't be too close to me.

In other words, I would be alone, blindfolded, in a pitch-black factory, for who knows how long.

I shook my head. I hadn't been afraid of the dark since I was a child.

With my eyes covered, I felt Leo gently smooth my hair.

He was quite close to me, and he whispered solemnly in my ear.

"Don't worry. I will bring Damon Blackwood to justice."

"And when this is over, we'll go to that new buffet place in the north of the city."

...

Nine forty-five at night.

Time always drags in the dark, especially when you're tied up.

Honestly, aside from the physical pain, the hardest part was staying alert.

The knots on my wrists were actually a slipknot disguised as a dead knot. If necessary, I wanted to be able to contribute to the arrest.

But as time ticked by, there was still no movement.

I couldn't help but think back to the first time, when I was tied up waiting for him like this.

...What if he saw how many people were here and decided not to come?

...What if he was just messing with us?

We had imagined many ways Damon might try to take me,

but we never imagined this—

a direct and brutal assault.

...

The first bomb went off in the forest in the eastern suburbs.

The explosion nearly deafened me.

Then, the sounds of gunfire and shouting came from a distance.

This guy had no intention of sneaking me away. This was a full-on gangster assault.

Maybe even...

this wasn't the kind of firepower a fugitive should have.

The moment I realized that, I immediately started working on the knots around my wrists.

But it was too late.

I heard a hissing sound, but I still couldn't get my hands free.

A choking gas filled my nostrils. I tried to grab onto something,

but my consciousness began to fade.

As I fell, the blindfold slipped off.

Through blurred vision, I saw a pair of leather shoes appear in front of me.

My last thought was:

I was wrong.

This wasn't the arsenal of a drug dealer.

He had been hiding things from me.

He was far more terrifying than I had imagined.

9

I stared at the slightly damp ceiling.

Fine rain fell onto the windowsill, as if it were just an ordinary autumn evening.

An old TV was playing in the next room. I lay in bed.

Nothing was binding me, but I still couldn't move.

I figured it was because the drug hadn't worn off yet.

My clothes had been changed. The bug and tracker were definitely gone.

I tried to move my eyes, but my eyelids felt incredibly heavy.

...

Twenty minutes after I woke up in this room, someone walked over to the bed.

"Long time no see."

He still looked good in black. He stood like a lone pine in a snowstorm.

Damon Blackwood.

It had been a while.

The last time I saw you, I was putting handcuffs on you.

"Sweetheart."

I couldn't move, so I let him do what he wanted.

When I saw his slightly pleased expression, I knew what happened when you angered a drug dealer.

The needle pressed against my upper arm. I watched as he slowly injected the liquid into my body.

This was the first time.

After he finished, he gently smoothed my hair and kissed the corner of my mouth.

"Sweetheart, you're not being sweet at all."

10

The following is the first conversation I had with Damon after I regained my ability to speak.

"What did you inject me with?"

"Heroin."

"Don't worry, it's a small dose."

"..."

"Did many of my comrades die?"

"No, I think my side took heavier casualties."

"..."

"How many guns do you still have? How much drugs? How are you still supplying people while on the run?"

He laughed.

"Sweetheart, do you think I'm going to tell you everything like I used to?"

His knuckles pressed against my cheek.

He was so close that I could smell the scent of pine and snow.

"My dear police lady."

"Was falling in love with you my misfortune, or yours?"

...

My movements were confined to this room.

Looking out the window, I could see lush trees and the walls of an old residential complex.

Screaming for help was out of the question. If Damon could live here so brazenly,

then it was likely that the entire building, maybe even the whole complex, was part of a drug manufacturing and trafficking ring.

There was still something I had overlooked, something that had become his key to turning the tables.

...

The man came back to this room every night.

And every time, he brought me something he thought would please me.

He didn't know that all my preferences were created to cater to him.

When he injected me with that needle for the second time, I almost wanted to kill myself.

But in the end, I rushed into the bathroom and vomited until I was seeing stars.

I grabbed the sink and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

Bloodshot eyes, pale skin, trembling lips.

I didn't want to die.

Even if I had to crawl.

Even if I had to live in shame.

I didn't want to die.

...

The intervals between injections grew shorter, and I knew exactly what he was trying to do to me.

One night, as I was writhing in agony on the bed, he pushed open the door.

"Do you want this?"

He leaned over, looking down at me.

"Beg me."

What I had once feared like a monster was now my salvation.

I knew that once that needle went into my arm, all my pain would disappear. I stared at him.

I told myself again.

I had to live. I couldn't die.

Seeing me nod, the man smiled with satisfaction.

He pinned me to the bed, kissing me from the corner of my eye to my collarbone.

He was satisfied.

He knew that from now on, I would never be able to leave him.

11

Damon had gotten fake IDs somewhere.

Two little red books, with stamps and photos.

Marriage certificates. His and mine.

He held me in his arms and laughed first.

"You would probably never agree to marry me."

"So it's okay. I went ahead and got them for us."

My gaze shifted to the window, where I could see our reflection.

Sometimes, I thought about just giving in, letting myself drift through this haze.

Sometimes, I thought about using death to get back at him. If I died, he would probably suffer for a while.

But I couldn't.

I wasn't that weak.

...

Damon held me every night when we slept.

He probably never expected me to be so surprisingly compliant.

He started to give me a little more freedom.

One day, it was raining heavily.

He held an umbrella and walked with me. As I went down the stairs, I lost my balance and fell hard.

He picked me up and held me for a long time.

He said "I'm sorry" countless times.

He knew it was him who had made me this way.

But if he wanted to control me, he had no choice.

...

Maybe I was too obedient. Damon didn't keep me locked up very much.

But he was still extremely vigilant about any way I could contact the outside world.

One day, I went with him to a food stall downstairs for breakfast.

The cold weather had come early this year. I shrunk my neck.

This stall... was probably connected to Damon too.

I couldn't finish my noodles after a couple of bites, so I pushed my bowl over to him.

He sighed and reached out to ruffle my hair.

"At least eat the fried egg."

"I don't like it."

I dodged his hand.

"You used to love it."

"I was lying to you."

"..."

He didn't seem to mind and finished my leftover noodles.

I put my hands in my pockets and watched the smoke rise from the pot, occasionally disappearing into the cold morning mist.

...

Damon tried every way he could to make me happy.

He brought home a game disc.

It was a popular two-player game that required cooperation.

Every time it was my turn, I would fail.

"So Officer Evelyn does have something she's not good at."

The man beside me smiled slightly, like melting snow.

I turned my face away, not looking at him, and tossed the controller aside.

"I can't keep trying to please you forever."

"..."

He put his controller down too, cupped my face, and pinned me against his sofa.

I saw myself in his dark eyes, like a drifting ghost.

His kiss landed on my brow.

"Let's just go on like this, together."

...

Damon always liked to hold me when we slept.

It wasn't really a comfortable way to sleep, to be honest.

And his arm would get numb after a while.

I listened to his steady breathing, then slowly reached my hand under his pillow.

Then I climbed on top of him and pressed the gun he kept by his pillow against his forehead.

I pulled the trigger.

...Nothing happened.

"No bullets."

"You couldn't tell, could you?"

In the darkness, he opened his eyes and stared straight at me.

His fingers traced the muzzle.

...I slowly lowered my hand.

As a frontline anti-drug officer, I should have been able to tell if a gun was loaded just by its weight.

But I couldn't.

I really couldn't feel it anymore.

12

My movements were now restricted to that small courtyard.

Amazing.

The woman who sold bean curd snacks every day was actually a master at making drugs.

And the guy who was always drunk outside the courtyard had a perfect grasp of all the supply points.

I always thought Damon was alone.

But he wasn't. When I was undercover, he had still kept a secret from me.

The bean curd woman and the drunk guy seemed to have a kid.

He was always quiet. After school, he would play basketball alone in the yard.

One day, I stood under the eaves and watched him split a sausage into pieces to feed the stray cats meowing downstairs.

He noticed me looking at him and glared at me.

"What are you looking at?!"

"..."

I put my hands behind my back, the wind lifting the hem of my coat.

After that, I would go to the yard whenever I had time.

And Damon, though he was always gentle with me, even a little too doting,

had learned his lesson this time.

No matter how I tried, I couldn't get any useful information out of him.

Small ulcers started to appear around the injection sites.

Anti-drug officers know better than anyone never to touch drugs, but undercovers are the most likely to get addicted.

I tried to stay optimistic every day, but the negative thoughts still pulled at me like tangled threads.

...

One autumn evening, a strong wind blew for the first time.

I had only mentioned that I used to swing in a courtyard when I was a kid, and Damon had someone build one for