Franz watched Emilie’s movements through the monitor. He observed how she greeted her colleagues despite her exhaustion, how diligently she worked through the endless pile of tasks. Emilie never left her desk, even after office hours. Her documents were still open — she had chosen to work overtime again tonight.

Third floor of the hotel. Underground parking lot. A heavy rain had just stopped, leaving behind the sharp scent of wet asphalt. Emilie had just finished her night shift, carrying a stack of reports that needed to be delivered to the VIP receptionist upstairs. The staff elevator was out of order, forcing her to take the dim corridor on the east wing — a rarely used path at this hour.

As she turned the corner, she froze.

A strange man stood there. Clearly not hotel staff. The stench of alcohol clung to him, and the way he looked at her made her skin crawl. Emilie stepped back, but the sound of her heels caught his attention.

“Are you alone?” the man asked hoarsely.

Emilie continued stepping back slowly. “I’m sorry, this hallway is for staff only—” she started, but was abruptly cut off.

The man lunged forward, gripping her arm roughly. “Keep me company for a while, Miss. I’m lost. A guest like me deserves some attention, don’t you think?”

Emilie gasped, panic rising. “Let go of me! If you’re lost, I’ll call security.”

The man smirked, shoving her hard against the wall. Emilie tried to scream, but before she could, the reek of alcohol was already overwhelming her senses. He came closer, trying to touch her face—until a sudden force hurled him backward.

His body hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood seeping from his head. Emilie stared in shock at the figure standing over the now-unconscious man.

A dark-haired man, dressed entirely in black. Emilie clutched the stack of reports in her arms, trembling.

“Are you alright? Don’t be afraid — he won’t touch you again,” Franz said calmly but firmly, his eyes locked on Emilie’s pale, tear-streaked face.

Emilie gave a faint nod, still shaken by what had just happened.

Franz hesitated. One second. Two. He could’ve told the truth — that he owned the hotel, that he wanted to take responsibility for everything. But the words were too heavy.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

Emilie looked at him, trying to recall. “You’re the man from that night—”

“I will take responsibility,” Franz cut her off with a resolute voice.

“Can we talk somewhere more private? I’ll explain everything,” he added, holding himself back from reaching out to Emilie.

“What about him? Is he still alive?” Emilie asked, glancing at the man on the floor.

Franz nodded. “I’ll have someone deal with him. Don’t worry, he’s still breathing.”

“Breathing with regret,” Fred muttered with a crooked smile.

“After you,” Franz said, holding the door open for Emilie.

Emilie followed the man in silence — a man whose name she didn’t even know — uncertain where he was leading her. A part of her was afraid. Not just because of what had happened, but because of him — the man who took down her attacker without hesitation. Could he be dangerous himself?

Franz finally stopped. They arrived in a large, quiet ballroom. He looked down at Emilie, who still avoided his gaze. She didn’t even reach Franz’s chest — even with heels, her petite frame seemed fragile.

Now Fred took over.

He leaned against the wall casually, his voice calm but intense. “This place is safer. The lighting’s better too. No need to be afraid,” he said, imitating Franz’s composed tone.

Emilie wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes still locked on his chest. The closer he stood, the clearer her memories became — of that night she had buried deep. She remembered flashes of it, the warmth that now felt suffocating...

“I’m Mr. Franz’s secretary. My name is Sergio,” Fred introduced himself with a false identity. He hated Franz’s weakness, his constant hesitation. And now, once again, he had to wear a mask.

“I’m Emilie,” she answered softly. “And about what you said earlier... I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Fred’s gaze sharpened. “But I’m going to do it anyway,” he replied. Franz may have been drunk that night, but Fred had been fully aware — from start to finish. He knew what happened. He knew what he did. And Franz would carry that burden.

“Take responsibility how? Money? A payoff?” Emilie retorted, raising her chin. “Mr. Sergio, I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider yourself lucky — and me, unlucky. Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

Fred’s eyes darkened. “That night wasn’t one-sided, Emilie. Even if you don’t want anything from me, I’m not going anywhere. I will take responsibility.” He pulled Emilie toward him in one swift motion.

Her body stiffened. Their breaths met. Emilie tried to push him away, but he only let out a soft, cold laugh — almost a whisper.

“I don’t like being rejected, Emilie,” he murmured, his voice low and sharp. “But what I hate most is you pretending that night never happened.”

“I’m not pretending. I just—”

“You’re trying to erase it, as if your body didn’t react. But I remember everything clearly. And I know you felt it too.”

Emilie’s eyes trembled, her breath caught.

“If you call it a mistake,” Fred’s voice turned bitter, “then it’s a mistake we made together. Because that night, you didn’t say no. You held me. You called my name. That’s not the reaction of someone who didn’t want it.”

“Fred…” her voice shook, torn between fear and confusion.

“I don’t care how hard you deny it. I know the truth. I know what we felt was real. And I know — you know it too.” He stared deep into her. “You can hate me. But your hatred won’t erase the part of me left in your heart. You opened the door, Emilie. And I... walked in.”

Emilie tried to pull away, but his grip remained firm.

“I won’t hurt you,” Fred said gently, “unless you ask me to.”

He touched her face with the back of his hand — a gesture that contradicted the tension in the air. “And somehow, there’s a part of you that didn’t completely reject me, isn’t there?”

His gaze was dark — not from anger, but from pain and unwavering certainty.

“I won’t let anyone else touch you. Because you... are mine. Since that night. And the more you deny it, the stronger my desire to protect you becomes.”

Emilie wanted to scream, but couldn’t. She wanted to hate him, but the pain in Fred’s eyes struck something hidden deep within her — something she couldn’t explain.

“I’ll always be around you, Emilie. In this hotel, in the hallways, in every passing moment. And one day, you’ll come to me. Not because I forced you. But because you choose to.”

“Why should I choose you?” Emilie asked, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through, Emilie,” Fred whispered. “But I swear — I won’t leave you. Even if you reject me. Even if you destroy me. I’ll still be here.”

He gently caressed her face. “I’ll be the only one who stays when everyone else walks away.”

Emilie bit her lip, torn between fear, confusion, and a warmth that rose from within. Was this man a threat — or the only one who truly saw her?

Fred slowly let go of her, allowing Emilie to step back, though his eyes still held her heart captive.

This isn’t over, his gaze seemed to say.

“Think carefully, Emilie,” Fred said before walking away, his scent lingering faintly in the air. “You can’t really run from me.”

And Emilie could only ask herself — Who is he, really?

****