Reclusive Master Novels & Stories

"He didn’t pick up his phone.” Kiel impatiently checked the screen on his phone. Alexander didn’t pick up his call now and something is urgent. Young Master was checking several factories on a remote island owned by the Grissham family and at the same time executed some 'rats' there. It most likely the Young Master was taking those ‘rats’ by his own hands. Now he was trying to contact the only heir of the Grissham family, but it didn’t work. And he had to think on his own how to protect a young girl that already attracted the attention of Alexander Grissham.

I walked to the table and accidentally dropped the folders as I saw a man's silhouette caused by the light coming through the glass windows. The light got switched on, and my eyes adjusted to its brightness. I looked up at the man holding the remote control light switch. He was tall and seemed to have a good social standing because of his clothes and posture. His fair and flawless white skin was surprisingly hot and attractive for a man—a drop-dead gorgeous man with his dark brown eyes scrutinizing me. And then I realized that his face resembled the late president's. "Who are you?" he asked in a deep masculine voice, sending me a jolt of fear.

He couldn't sense the speaker, couldn't locate them in the bustling scene. "Who?!" he exclaimed, his voice a strained whisper, laced with apprehension. From the corner of the mansion, a figure emerged, cloaked in shadow. It moved with a slow, deliberate grace, gliding towards Miron like a phantom. As it drew closer, the figure slowly pulled back its hood, revealing a face etched with wisdom and experience. "Grandmaster—" Miron began, his hand instinctively reaching out to bow in respect. But before he could utter another word, Zikk, his grandmaster, clamped a hand over his mouth, silencing him with a swift, decisive gesture.

"Thank you, Mistress. I have a little help here and there. Taking care of this place is something I love, and I feel lucky to have gotten the chance to do this." His eyes clearly displayed his sincere adoration, and the warmth he displayed made Sihyeon want to communicate with the man more. "Although I wasn't able to go through the entire place, this is lovely. Thanks to you, Mr. Jung, I got am opportunity to see this place," she spoke out. "You are giving me too much credit," he said, "This garden existed from a long time and holds the childhood of the Master. Even Master's father grew up at here."

The man just loved putting himself on a pedestal. We reached his private quarters and Maren held up a halting hand. "When you return, get back to me. There is something I need you to do." "Yes, Master Maren." There was a slave girl waiting at the door. She looked washed up the same way I was. And she was very pretty too. "Wait here until you are called," Maren instructed and left. We said nothing to each other until the door opened for us to enter. Lord Kael was waiting for us. He was wearing an unbuttoned red robe and pants. And on his right, was his visitor, who gleefully chuckled when he saw us.

Still, seeing everyone casually talking about Terrence made me realize something. They weren't afraid of him. Concerned? Yes. Frustrated? Definitely. But not afraid. As if beneath all his anger and terrible attitude, they still cared about him. The realization stayed with me. Maybe Uncle Hector was right. Maybe Young Master wasn't a bad person. Just a lonely one. Madame Beatrice cleared her throat. The conversation instantly stopped. She walked toward a nearby desk and retrieved an envelope before returning to me. "Take this." I accepted it carefully.

He was dressed down today—jeans and a soft navy sweater—looking every bit like a normal citizen enjoying the park. “Do you just haunt galleries and parks, or do you have an office?” I asked, trying to keep my heart from racing. “I live nearby,” he lied—or maybe he didn’t. With Julian, everything felt like a half-truth. “And I couldn’t help but notice you’re using the old Vermon style. Your grandfather used to say that ‘the secret to light is knowing where the dark is hiding.’ You’ve captured that perfectly.” I froze, my charcoal pencil hovering over the page. “My grandfather never published his techniques. How do you know that quote?”

A flush crept up his neck. He took my hand, leading me to the master suite—a room so vast it dwarfed any I’d ever seen. “It’s enormous, Brucha.” “Wait until you see the one in the new house.” “New house?” “Ten meters away. Still a secret.” I raised a brow. “Secrets now? Your apprenticeship in mischief is advancing. Who’s the master?” His laughter echoed. “I keep some things to myself.” “I see.” I feigned surprise, ready to needle him further.

He asked, his tone dripping with authority. Jasmine titled her head slightly, chin raised to sophistication. “Where I go is non of your business, Mr master,” Mr Master? Jerald’s brows twitched slightly, amusement tugging at his invisible expression. She was back with a sharp tone. What a sweet name. Mr Master. His lips twitched softly, curling into a deadly smirk wrapped in seduction. His hand rose, moving closer to her face. Jasmine stilled as his fingers hovered only an ich away from her face.

Thalia's eyes widened when he ran a finger down her chest and stopped right above her pelvic area "Have you forgotten I own you?" Owner her? How? Was she his property or something like that? Surely Natalia wasn't sleeping with Dominic too. Was she? Three men at the same time? Was she insane? "No. I haven't forgotten" "Good." Dropping his hand, he stepped back. "You'd better remember that the next time you open that mouth. My men will stay where they are until you find out where Orlando is. Understood"