When I got home, I didn't dare delay. I messaged him immediately, afraid he might show up at my door and make things worse if I made him unhappy.

Though I hated being threatened, strangely, I found myself somewhat excited about being Bern's model.

The idea of a photographer capturing my exposed state seemed thrilling.

I was angry at my own wild nature, unable to resist the allure of excitement and pleasure. As long as he could bring me joy, maybe it wasn't so bad.

I even started to fantasize...

Just then, Bern sent me a text message.

He told me to come to the balcony - he wanted to start the first shoot.

With my heart racing, I eagerly complied.

When I reached the balcony, I saw Bern across the building with his camera.

My phone buzzed with another text from him.

In the message, he playfully asked if I had ever played at home.

My face turned crimson red. I was the perfect daughter in my parents' eyes - even when they weren't home, I never dared to try anything at home.

As I hesitated, Bern impatiently texted again.

"Looks like you want me to come to your house personally, right?"

I looked at him, trembling with fear.

He couldn't come to my house!

Finally, I steeled myself, and the man across from me smiled with satisfaction.

Later that night, I tossed and turned in bed, wondering why being Bern's model felt so exhausting.

Then it hit me.

I enjoyed exposure because it gave me a sense of freedom.

If someone else controlled how I exposed myself, I'd lose my last path to feeling free.

I would only feel suffocated.

So, even after just one collaboration, I wanted to break free from Bern, whatever the cost.

When Bern video called to tell me to come to his house tomorrow for a shoot,

I laughed coldly, "Working with you makes me feel trapped, so I'm not going to let you threaten me anymore."

Bern stared at me in shock, unwilling to give up his leverage.

"I recorded you last night with the eggplant. Aren't you worried I'll send this video to your parents?"

Like a provoked young beast, I glared fiercely at Bern.