"Sir Ivanovich!"
"Sir!"
From behind Ivan, Hiroshi—the owner of the brothel—appeared with Madam at his side. Both of their faces had lost color at Ivan's sudden eruption. Ivan's expression was unreadable as he pummeled Takawa mercilessly, blow after blow landing with such force that anyone watching felt their skin crawl just from its sound alone.
"Sir, please stop! I beg of you!"
Hiroshi's voice cracked with desperation as he tried to intervene. Along with the brothel's guards, he attempted to restrain Ivan, while others dragged Takawa's battered body away. The man was barely clinging to life, blood dripping onto the tatami mats. Yuki, stripped of her clothing, could only sit frozen in shock, her wide eyes watching every second. She didn't understand. Why had Ivan suddenly returned like a storm after vanishing for so long?
"You dare to stop me now?"
Ivan's fury shifted like a blade turning toward Hiroshi. The owner felt a chill crawl down his spine. Takawa was one of their most profitable patrons, a successful businessman with powerful connections across Japan. Though Ivan's power in Russia was far greater, here in Japan, Takawa's influence could not be dismissed.
Hiroshi's only thought was to prevent disaster—to stop Ivan before he killed Takawa outright, dragging them all into a political nightmare.
"Please forgive me, Sir. I only acted for your sake."
"For my sake, you say?"
Ivan's voice was cold, almost venomous. He pulled off his blood-stained leather gloves with deliberate calm, discarding them onto the floor. His eyes bore into Hiroshi and Madam, both kneeling at his feet, trembling like cornered animals.
"If you were truly acting for my sake," he said, his words slicing through the air, "you would have known—I despise anyone who was touching what belongs to me."
A silence fell. Hiroshi and Madam swallowed hard. Until now, they had never known what it meant for a girl to survive Ivan's bed. Every other woman he had lain with was killed shortly after. None remained to tell the tale. They had assumed Yuki was no different, just another expendable body. If only they had realized earlier that Ivan did not want her shared with anyone, they would never have risked offering her to another client.
"I—"
BANG!
Ivan's boot lashed out, a seemingly casual kick that nonetheless sent Hiroshi flying against the wall. He crumpled with a groan, blood pooling at his lips. Ivan turned his piercing gaze to Madam, who was still kneeling, trembling violently. But unlike Hiroshi, she was quick to act. Crawling forward, she hurried to unlace Ivan's shoes, wiping the flecks of blood from the leather.
"Where's the bathroom?" Ivan demanded.
"T-that door there, Sir—it connects to the bathing room," Madam stammered, pointing quickly.
Ivan didn't spare her another glance. Grabbing Yuki by the wrist, he dragged her into the adjoining room. He twisted the faucet, letting the tub fill with steaming water, then shoved her inside, the surface splashing violently around her bare form.
"Scrub yourself. Wash until there's no trace of that man left on you."
His order was sharp and absolute. Yuki immediately obeyed, dipping the cloth into the water and scrubbing her skin with fervor. The sound of rushing water filled the room, broken only by the soft rasp of fabric against flesh. Ivan stood towering above her, arms folded, watching every motion with a gaze that revealed nothing.
Yuki's throat tightened. She could feel his anger lingering in the air like smoke, heavy and suffocating. For a fleeting moment, she recalled Madam's endless lessons on seduction—how to soothe, how to tempt, how to survive. Summoning her courage, she lifted her head.
"Master… I missed you."
Ivan's cold eyes pinned her in place, sharp as blades. But Yuki didn't flinch. She met his gaze steadily, her voice trembling yet determined as she pressed on.
"My body is clean now. Master, please… hold me like you did before."
"You dirty slut."
The insult cut deep, but his hand extended all the same, pulling her up from the tub. Her wet skin glistened under the lantern light as his eyes devoured her form, scanning every inch as if he could consume her whole.
"Master… I missed you," Yuki repeated softly, breaking the silence between them.
Her delicate hands reached up, daring to peel away Ivan's outer coat. Even if he had yet to respond, she pressed forward, driven by desperation to please him.
"Master… please give this dirty slut your attention."
She unfastened his garments one layer at a time. When only his shirt remained and Ivan still hadn't moved, fear began to coil in her heart. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her large eyes filling with tears she tried desperately to hold back. She lifted her face toward him, silently begging.
"Master… hic…"
A sob escaped her lips, and she thought—for a brief, dreadful instant—that he might abandon her altogether. But then his lips crashed onto hers in a brutal kiss.
Yuki gasped, caught off guard. There was no space for air, no pause for breath, only Ivan's unrelenting claim. She clutched at his clothes desperately, certain she would faint from lack of oxygen.
"Cough… cough!"
When he finally pulled back, she coughed violently, chest heaving. Yet Ivan gave her no reprieve. He seized her lips again, devouring her with the hunger of a starving beast. They kissed like it was the end of the world, until Yuki's vision blurred at the edges.
SLAP!
"Ah! Cough… cough!"
A stinging pain shot across her skin. Ivan's palm had struck her buttocks, leaving a vivid red mark against her pale flesh. The pain jolted her awake, pulling her back from the brink of unconsciousness.
"Should I kill you?" Ivan growled. "I despise things that too many hands have touched."
The words struck Yuki like a blade. Deep down, she knew the truth—he had abandoned her first. He had left her vulnerable, forced into another man's arms. Yet she swallowed her resentment. Survival demanded submission.
"This body belongs to the brothel, not me. I have no right to refuse anyone, Master." Her voice quavered, but her eyes remained steady. "But if you desire it… I would be more than happy to serve you, and only you, for the rest of my life, Master."
"Is that so?"
Something in his expression shifted, the edges of his rage softening. Yuki sensed her chance. She leaned closer, pressing her damp skin to his warmth.
"Yes. It would be an honor… to belong to you, Master."
Ivan lifted her chin, forcing her to look him directly in the eyes.
"On what grounds do you claim this?" he demanded.
Her fingers tightened around his shirt, her face coloring with shame. Yet her words came with unshakable honesty.
"Because you were the first to show me true pleasure, Master. The first to make me understand what it means to crave someone. As long as I can feel that again… I would willingly die by your hand."
For a moment, his sharp gaze softened. Ivan studied her eyes, and then—unexpectedly—he smiled, a satisfied, almost predatory smile. Without warning, he scooped her into his arms. His breath ghosted against her ear, low and intimate.
"Are you truly unafraid to die by my hand, Yuki?"
She clung to him tightly, her voice steady with resolve.
"Yes. That's why… please, Master. Make me yours alone."