MasukRAYA The interior of the armored SUV smelled of expensive leather and the faint, lingering scent of Jin’s sandalwood cologne. It was a world away from the humid, trash-strewn streets of the North District, yet I felt more trapped here than I ever did in the slums. Silence ate our whole ride, heavy and thick, until Jin finally broke it with a voice that sounded like grinding stones. "Why didn't you tell me earlier, Raya?" He didn't look at me. His hands were gripped so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles were white. "I told you I wouldn't bother you anymore," I said, my voice sounding small and hollow. I kept my gaze fixed on the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of neon. "And I am sorry if my sister called Mr. Leon to inform you of this... this thing." "A thing?" Jin snapped, his head whipping toward me for a split second, his obsidian eyes burning. "I looked for you for over a month because my guilt was eating me alive, Raya. If I could bring back
CHAPTER 8: TITANS IN THE SLUMSRAYAThe sound of my sister’s palm connecting with Mark’s face was the most honest thing I had heard in years. As I watched him stumble back, his hand flying to his reddening cheek, I felt a sudden, sharp relief bloom in my chest. It was a visceral, satisfying thing to witness.I had loved Mark for all the years we had shared, or at least, I had loved the version of him I thought existed. I never expected our story to turn into this—a bitter street-side brawl in the mud. And then there was Trina. I had treated her like a sister, sharing my secrets and my few resources with her, only to find out she had been hollow all along. That was how life turned upside down; it moved faster than you could think. We used to be like princesses, shielded by our parents' wealth and love, but now we were like beggars just trying to survive the day.But as long as Riya was standing in front of me, I would never give up.Mark was fuming, his face twisted into a mask of p
RAYAAs we headed back to Mark’s apartment, the heavy air of the North District felt like it was suffocating me. I was ready to face whatever he had to say. Even if the cost was a brutal breakup, I didn’t care anymore. The girl who walked into this apartment a month ago was dead; the woman walking into it now was a mother.Riya sensed my spiraling thoughts and pulled me close, letting me rest my head on her shoulder as the taxi hummed. "Raya, everything will be okay. I’ll be by your side, every step of the way," she whispered. Her voice was the only anchor I had left.When we reached the apartment, the door was already unlocked. Mark was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He didn't look up to ask if I was okay. He didn't ask how my grueling shift at the club had been."Did you get your salary already?" he asked casually, his eyes still glued to the screen. "Trina is out of money again because of some family problem. Can you lend her some cash? She’s been our best friend
RAYAThe walk to the North District had felt like a journey between two different worlds. We had left behind the scent of expensive sandalwood and the silent, heavy protection of the Kim penthouse for the familiar, grimy reality of the streets. My body still ached with every step, a constant, throbbing reminder of the price I had paid in that moonlit room.When we finally reached the weathered door of Mark’s apartment, my heart was hammering against my ribs. I knocked, my hand trembling as I glanced at Riya. She looked exhausted, her pale skin contrasting sharply with the dark circles under her eyes. We waited for what felt like an eternity until the lock finally clicked.The door swung open, and for a moment, the world stopped. Mark stood there, looking surprised, but it was the woman standing behind him that sent a cold shiver down my spine. It was Trina, our "best friend" since high school. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, wearing a silk robe that looked far too comfort
The morning sun hit the floor of the penthouse with a cold, blinding clarity. When Jin Kim snapped his eyes open, he didn't feel the usual rush of adrenaline that came with a military awakening. Instead, he felt a hollow weight in his chest. He reached out instinctively, his hand searching the silk sheets for the warmth of the woman who had surrendered to him hours before, but he found only cold, empty space.The room was silent, save for the low hum of the air conditioner. Jin sat up, his bare chest heaving as he scanned every inch of the expensive suite. Everything was perfectly in place, as if the night before had been nothing more than a fever dream—except for the lingering scent of her and the sharp, jagged ache in his own mind. His eyes landed on the bedside table. There, resting where a lamp should have been, was a single, crumpled piece of clean tissue.He picked it up, his large, calloused fingers nearly tearing the fragile paper. As he smoothed it out, the words hit him like
The morning sun didn't just rise; it invaded. A sharp, golden beam of light pierced through the heavy velvet curtains of the penthouse, landing directly on Raya’s face. She squinted, her long eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she drifted back to consciousness. For a split second, she forgot where she was. She expected to wake up to the smell of dust and the sound of the slums, but instead, she was met with the faint, expensive scent of sandalwood and bourbon.Then, the reality of the previous night hit her.As she tried to shift her weight, a dull, lingering ache radiated through her lower body—a physical reminder of the intimacy she had shared with a stranger. It was a localized, stinging pain, the kind that reminded her of the girlhood she had so carefully protected for twenty-three years. She lay there for a moment, staring at the ornate ceiling, feeling the weight of what she had done.Yet, as she recalled the heat of the night and the way Jin had looked at her, she felt







