Tiger acted more like the host than the "homeowner" or perhaps Tiger and Misya shared a living space?

A twenty-story building with a 600-square-foot penthouse occupied by Arthemisya alone? Seriously.

Could it be that they were married and had children? Did their nannies and children occupy some floors? Eh, does this make sense?

Tiger and Misya weren't that old.

Tiger ushered me into the elevator, and I stared blankly at Tiger's broad back, which covered me from head to toe. I never imagined this man would be like a block of ice beneath a warm mountain range. Arthemisya loved him so much that she surrendered like a madman.

Tring.

The elevator stopped.

The panel displayed the number twenty in red lights, rapidly dimming. The highest residential unit was undoubtedly Arthemisya's central throne. Stepping into the Penthouse was like entering another world no one could ever touch. Greek relief carvings decorated each solid wall partition.

I think they adopted the majesty of the gods.

There was quite a distance between the middle partitions of the room. The interior, with luxurious sofas accompanying the central fireplace, was very spacious. Dim lamps cast red and blue-purple hues and were equipped with plant-shaped mirrors.

The floor was lowered slightly. We passed a luxurious piano and headed for the final partition. A large bed faced a giant glass panel that offered views of the skyline and downtown.

My gaze drifted freely to the tiny dots that flitted back and forth amidst the bustle of the city. I must have once been like dust. Meanwhile, this place implied the stars were always sleeping soundly above all else. Arthemisya was always above them. I'm sure it was because Tiger Letto ensured she was touched by everything.

I don't know if I'm envious, amazed, or satisfied that I'm filling Arthemisya's exalted place. My heart is in turmoil, trying to justify whether this is a blessing.

Or a curse? I'll never understand Arthemisya's life. She loved a monster, willing to abandon her moral compass for all this, but...

Warmth penetrated my heart without permission as Tiger's arms wrapped around me.

Gradually, I felt too tired to resist, so I didn't turn around, letting his cheek caress the top of my head. I wondered how he would disguise the stench of blood. The musk of Tiger himself is too strong.

"Do you miss all this, darling?"

"I don't remember," I replied flatly.

"It's okay. At least I think you look more at peace when you're here. Your subconscious immediately realizes that this is your haven."

I turned around, my chin raised defiantly. "Safe? Will I be safe with a 'monster' like you?"

Damn. That dimpled grin is increasingly captivating my heart.

"I may be a monster, but I'm not a loser who bites his master," Tiger said, sitting casually on the edge of the bed. He propped his arms up, thighs spread or split into two.

"How exactly do I turn you into a 'monster'?" I asked, folding my arms under my chest, matching his arrogance.

"The puberty we went through together on our eighteenth birthdays. When my parents were killing each other, you made me do it," Tiger said. "You said I had to win every fight they started."

"I… told you to kill?"

Tiger pulled his body up, pressing his fingers together on his thighs.

"Bingo. You said it resulted from those who dared to hurt me first. Since then, I've enjoyed it… killing."

"Enjoying it?"

My eyelids narrowed. Something was off. Tiger's wide, terrifying smile contrasted with the sad look in his eyes. I might have been hallucinating, but his reaction after killing Mr. Louis was unlike the psychopaths I usually see in serial killers. Of course, I knew the actors' reactions were probably exaggerated behind the scenes.

But I wasn't that stupid.

During high school, I read research journals by renowned psychologists that generally, psychopaths have difficulty conveying emotion. They tend to be flat. Their gazes are blank. They are worse than animals. Because animals kill to survive, while psychopathic humans take lives by choice and with perfect reason, it's said that there's a far worse level: the manipulative psychopath. There are only two possibilities.

"Could it be Tiger…?

"You're lying," I blurted out, trying to get an answer.

The cheerful curves receded into thin lines. "You want to be normal."

Tiger suddenly stood up, towering over me. I reflexively looked up, trying not to flinch from his sharp, intimidating gaze. Tiger stumbled forward while pushing me backward. He pressed me against the transparent glass, and my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest. I didn't know when I would be dropped.

"No," Tiger denied. His chuckle was looser this time, perhaps because something was fighting inside him.

"You always wanted me like this, like a monster."

"If you think I feel manipulated, you're wrong!" I grabbed Tiger by the collar of his shirt. "You're not a manipulative psychopath! You're lying to yourself that you want to stop killing, right? Tell me your reasons?"

"ARGH!" Tiger threw me onto the bed, then knelt and imprisoned my legs. "Because I can't! I want to kill someone right now! And remember, Arthemisya, this entire apartment is filled with my prey. I asked for it, and you volunteered to provide it for me. We agreed to this great thing together, honey? Do you not remember anything?!" Tiger shouted.

"Why? Why did I do it?"

My hoarse voice held the weight of denial.

Arthemisya, what kind of crazy life is this? It wasn't just Tiger who was sick. You did it, imprisoning people in a building?

I don't know how I'm supposed to continue this demonic life.

"Because I can't destroy your body. My murderous urges are uncontrollable. They strike without warning. At that moment, your body is my only escape route, the only thing that can replace the pleasure of killing, even if I want to stop," Tiger said.

"I never want to force you. So, you and I will lock up these useless people here. If you're tired, it's time for me to kill them."

I suddenly pushed Tiger away and stood up, scrambling backward.

Trembling, I pulled the blanket over my chest. Tiger's shoulders slumped limply.

His weak, sad, yet passionate gaze sent shivers down my spine.

"I said, I feel like killing right now. Are you tired now, honey?"