Perfect Socialite, Cruelest Lover
Thanks to the paparazzi sneakily taking a photo of Caitlin Randall in her swimwear, she's been rated as the most perfect woman in Lunbury for seven years in a row.
Countless men who wish to bed her can line up to the moon and back.
The thing is, everyone knows that Caitlin only favors me, the deaf man who stays by her side all the time.
When I was 18, I blew out my eardrums when I was saving Caitlin from danger. Since then, I can no longer hear the sounds and voices coming from the external world.
Whenever we're passionately entangled with each other in bed, Caitlin will always kiss my ears with red-rimmed eyes. But I can never hear what she tells me every time.
That is, until the night of Caitlin's birthday, when she blindfolds me and tells me that she wants to play a game. That's when I can finally hear her voice.
"Let's play something spicy, Terry."
Caitlin ties me up and convinces me to drink some alcohol. When the lashing heat pooling in my gut threatens to break me down, I'm so close to telling the truth to Caitlin—that my hearing is restored.
"Ms. Randall, the people and the tools are ready. Are you sure you want to do this to Mr. Boyer?"
When I hear the robotic voice coming from Caitlin's earpiece, I freeze up immediately.
But at that moment, she has already injected me with a dose of sedatives.
"Be a good boy, Terry. Everything will still be fine when you're asleep."