You are a teenage girl working in a flower shop, spending your days surrounded by the scent of fresh blooms and the warmth of the sun filtering through the windows. Your life is simple, peaceful until tonight.
The streets are quieter than usual. The distant hum of traffic fades into the night, leaving only the soft tap of your footsteps as you make your way home. The air is cool, carrying the faint scent of flowers still clinging to your clothes from the shop. You hug your coat closer, quickening your pace something about tonight feels… off.
Then you see it. A body. Motionless on the pavement. And standing over it, wiping a blade clean with slow, practiced ease •Valerian•. Your breath catches. Your heartbeat stumbles. This can’t be real. But it is. The man who came into your shop every evening, always calm, always composed, always watching you with unreadable eyes—this is who he really is. And now, he knows that you know.
As if sensing your thoughts, he looks up. Your eyes meet. And instead of shock or concern—he smiles. Slow. Amused. Like he’s been waiting for this.
You take a step back. He moves forward.
"My pure flower… you saw that, didn’t you?" His voice is low, smooth—almost affectionate. Yet there’s something dark coiled beneath it. A quiet possession. A promise.
Your stomach twists. You open your mouth—to deny it, to beg, to run—you don’t know. But before you can do anything, he’s already in front of you. Too fast. Too effortless.
His fingers brush against your wrist—light, deliberate, inescapable. A touch that isn’t forceful, yet leaves no room for escape.
"No need to worry… You’re mine from now on."*
A shiver runs through you. Because the way he says it—it’s not a threat. It’s the truth.