Quincy stepped into the room.
The lighting was soft and golden, casting an ethereal glow on the walls. Rose petals scattered on the carpet, the air thick with jasmine and faint perfume. Silk sheets draped the bed like clouds, and there—lying still under the delicate canopy—was Harper.
His steps faltered.
She was dressed in a thin nightgown that clung to her body, her figure unfamiliar, shockingly feminine. A black silk blindfold covered her eyes. Her breathing was soft, chest rising and falling slowly. She looked… still. Too still.
"She's unconscious," he muttered, stepping closer. "She has to be. Harper wouldn't just lie here like this. She is not that obedient"
He moved to her side, kneeling beside the bed. His throat tightened.
"She looks… beautiful." The thought came unbidden, and he hated himself for it.
He reached out, trembling, and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. Her skin was warm. Real. Fragile.
"I thought I liked a boy all this while," he whispered, voice shaking. "Harper… am I supposed to be happy you're a girl? Or sad that I never knew you?"
The air conditioning hummed softly, but he felt hot—overwhelmed. He loosened the top of his shirt, chest heaving. Every breath tasted like guilt.
He touched her arm.
Then her collarbone.
His hand moved to tug at the silk jacket covering her, revealing more of her bare shoulder.
And then—he froze.
"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered, jerking his hand back like it burned. "I came here to rescue her, not… this. I'm not like them.
But when he looked at her again, desire clouded his judgment.
He reached for her a second time.
Before he could touch her again, she moved—fast.
"Shit—!" he barely registered the glint of silver before a blade pressed against his throat.
Harper had a knife. Her body tense. Her hands sure.
"You're awake?" he asked, stunned.
"You're not the minister," she growled. "Who the hell are you?"
Quincy's voice softened. "Were you… expecting him?"
"Yes. To kill him." Her eyes were still covered, but her aim never wavered.
"If you kill him, Harper, they'll kill you too."
"Gladly."
"No," Quincy muttered through clenched teeth, his voice thick with emotion. He snatched the knife from her trembling hand and flung it aside. The clatter echoed through the room like a final judgment. Before she could react, he cupped her face and crushed his lips against hers.
Hard. Fast. Uncontrolled.
Harper froze for a moment, then shoved him off with all her strength.
SLAP. Her hand connected with his cheek.
"Who the hell are you?! Let me go!"
Quincy blinked, stunned, still breathing heavily. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Harper, I—"
Before he could finish, he tried to grab her again and put her above her head and she fought him hard. But he was stronger. Driven by something feral and broken, he overpowered her, pinning her to the bed.
"I need to make you mine. That's the only way I can protect you," he gasped, but even he didn't believe the words.
Harper screamed.
"LET ME GO!"
Her voice cracked, but she was fighting, biting, kicking.
This wasn't right. This was fear. This was control.
And still—he didn't stop.
Until it was too late.
Damn you! She yelled and tried to push him away he put her hands back over her head and kept thrusting her since he couldn't hold himself back, he dragged her body closer to himself and fucked her harder
The sobs slowly quieted, tapering into a soft, broken rhythm of shaky breaths. Harper lay still, her body tense beneath his. Quincy, drained and overwhelmed by the storm between them, let himself collapse onto her—his chest pressing against her back, his heartbeat pounding erratically like a man who'd run from his own guilt and still found it waiting at the end.
He didn't speak. He couldn't. The weight of what had just happened settled like iron between them, heavy and suffocating. She didn't fight him anymore, but her silence screamed louder than any protest.
Eventually, he slid off her and rose from the bed without a word. The blanket shifted as he moved, leaving her exposed to the cold air and the even colder ache in her chest. She curled in on herself, eyes open in the darkness, glassy with unshed tears.
When he finally walked out of the room, the door clicked softly behind him—but her pain didn't. It lingered, raw and consuming.
And then, the tears came again.
She wept quietly, muffling her cries with the pillow, not wanting the guards or the walls to hear her shame. Each tear felt like betrayal. Each breath felt like drowning.
Outside, Quincy leaned against the hallway wall, hands buried in his hair, trying to block out the sound—her crying. The sound followed him like a ghost, twisting in his gut. He pressed his fists against his ears, but nothing could stop it.
She was crying because of him. And it was driving him mad.
"What have I done?"
He stumbled into the hallway and nearly collided with Angel, who leaned against the wall with a smirk.
"You bitch!" he hissed. "You did something to me last night, didn't you?"
Angel widened her eyes in mock innocence. "What did I do? I just helped you. Don't you like Harper?"
"When did I tell you that?" Quincy snapped.
"You didn't have to. It was obvious." She chuckled, tilting her head. "Oh… she didn't like that it was you?"
He froze. "I didn't… I didn't even remove her blindfold."
"Oh my," Angel whispered. "Trying to be a good person now? I thought you came to rescue her, Quincy—but you ended up sleeping with her instead? That's crazy. You're no different from the rest of us."
Quincy's jaw clenched. His hands trembled.
"Find someone to take care of her," he said coldly. "I'll be back tonight."
Angel smiled wickedly. "Okay. Bye, hero."
"Angel?" Harper felt a familiar, eerie presence, her body tensing even before the voice came.
"Yes, it's me darling!" Angel moved closer to her on the bed, voice syrupy sweet. She gently helped Harper sit up. Harper stood slowly, unsteady on her feet. Angel reached for her nightgown, helped her wear it like a mother would a child, then guided her to the chair.
Angel removed the blindfold with a soft touch and untied the binds on her hands—but the moment Harper's wrists were free, her hands flew to Angel's neck.
Angel gasped, choking, her eyes wide in panic.
"It was you, right?" Harper's voice shook with fury.
"Me? What did I do?" Angel croaked, trying to pry her hands off.
"How can you plan against me?" Harper's grip tightened.
"How dare you betray me too?"Angel coughed, struggling.
"I was trying to save myself—you wanna use me as a scapegoat!"
"That's why you saved Quincy?" Angel hissed. "You saved Quincy and he came here to mess you up last night!"
"What?" Harper's voice faltered. "It was Quincy?"
"Sure! It was him!"
Harper's hands dropped, and Angel fell hard to the floor, gasping and coughing. Harper stood over her, dazed.
"That bastard!" she muttered.
"He forced you, right?" Angel's voice was breathless but accusing.
"He did!" Harper's voice broke, and she began to shake. "He handled me like I was some prostitute thrown at his door!"
Angel slowly rose to her knees, seizing the moment. "He was so happy to find out that you were a girl… he wanted to know how it feels like to sleep with you. The moment I told him you're a girl and serving punishments, he ran down here saying he wants to have you first."
Harper's eyes widened in disbelief. "He said that?"
"Definitely! He came faster than the minister!" Angel stood now, voice laced with faux sorrow. "I thought he was trying to save you—not knowing he'd end up messing you up too."
"Quincy…" Harper whispered, her voice soft, cracking. She dropped to the floor and grabbed the hem of her nightgown tightly. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks.
Angel crouched next to her, brushing Harper's hair softly behind her ears. "I feel so bad for you, sweetie. Why do you have to suffer such a fate? I told you to get rid of Quincy, but you wouldn't… Now he betrayed you. And he's coming back tonight. You have to serve him for three nights."
Harper snapped her head up. "I will never do that!"
Angel smirked, then suddenly lit up a lighter with a click, flame flickering between them. Harper gasped.
"Of course you will!" she said, her voice low and commanding. "Harper!" she called again, sharper. Harper's gaze went blank for a moment.
"Are you with me, Harper?"
"Yes."
"Quincy will come in tonight and you will kill him. He is your enemy. He forced his way with you. You have to take revenge."
"Yes."
Angel pulled out a small silver knife and placed it in Harper's hand. Harper clutched it tightly.
"Stab him straight in the heart. Do not miss. Do not let him go until you kill him."
"Yes!"
Angel smiled wickedly. "Very good. Now go to sleep until he gets back."
Harper nodded blankly, stood, and walked to the bed. She tucked the knife beside her pillow and lay down, eyes closing like a puppet being switched off.
Angel stood at the doorway and whispered, "Let's see how you escape death now, Quincy. One of you has to kill the other." She giggled softly and walked away. "I almost forgot my hypnosis talent!"
Night fell.
Quincy arrived at the entrance of the courtesan quarters, his brows furrowed in concern.
"How is she?" he asked one of the guards.
"She hasn't left the room all day."
"Did anyone come in here?"
"Only the escorts sent by Madam Fransisca to take care of her."
"Okay, cool," he muttered and headed inside.
He pushed the door open gently. The room was dim. Harper lay still on the bed, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Quincy moved toward her, crouched at her side, and reached out to caress her face gently.
"You look beautiful, Harper," he whispered.
Suddenly, her eyes flew open—sharp and alert. She moved in a flash.
Quincy's reflexes kicked in as he caught her wrist. "What are you doing?"
"I wanna kill you!" she screamed.
"Harper!" Quincy shouted, struggling as she lunged for him with the knife.
They wrestled violently. She slashed, he dodged, confused and panicked. "Harper, what the hell are you doing? It's me!"
"I'm gonna kill you, Quincy!"
He caught her wrists again, panting. "You ain't a better fighter than me, Harper!" He forced her arms behind her, but she stomped hard on his foot. He cursed and staggered back.
She snatched the knife again, chasing him around the room like a possessed soul.
"This is not you, Harper!" he shouted. "What the hell happened to you?"
"I have to kill you, Quincy! You are my enemy!"
"I'm not your enemy—we're allies!"
"No, we are not!" she yelled and rushed at him.
Quincy stood his ground and caught her arm mid-swing. He tried to twist her wrist but she resisted, wild strength in her body. Then—stab—she drove the knife into his stomach.
He gasped, eyes widening.
"Harper!" he choked, looking down. Blood spread across his white shirt.
She yanked the knife out and raised it again—thi time for his heart—when bam!, a blow landed on the back of her head. Her body crumpled instantly.
A guard stood behind her, hand still raised.
"Boss, are you okay?"
"Why did you hit her?" Quincy asked hoarsely, clutching his wound.
"She wanted to kill you, boss!"
"Call the doctor down here. And send for Fransisca!"
"Yes, boss!" The guard bolted out.
Quincy collapsed to his knees, cradling Harper's unconscious face.
"What happened to you, Harper? What the hell happened?"
Outside, Angel stood near a window, peeking as chaos unfolded.
She saw the doctor and Madam Fransisca rushing in.
Angel grinned. "I guess she delivered." She walked away slowly, humming.
"Quincy!" Fransisca burst into the room, panic etched across her face. She rushed to him and held his arm. "What the hell happened to you?"
"It's nothing."
She looked down. "You got stabbed? Oh my God!"
"Let the doctor check it."
"Please check on him," Fransisca ordered.
"Yes, ma'am," the doctor replied and went to work, cleaning and treating the wound. Quincy hissed quietly in pain but stayed still. Once done, he pulled on a clean shirt and buttoned it up.
"How is he?" Fransisca asked.
"It's not a deep cut. He'll be fine."
"Thank goodness."
"I'll come back to check on him."
"Thank you so much, doctor."
"You're welcome, ma'am," he said and left.
Fransisca knelt beside Harper and gently touched her cheek.
"What happened to her?"
"It's a hypnosis."
"Hypnosis?"
"Yes."
"Who could've done that?"
"Angel, sure. She's one of the few who mastered the skill in the courtesan house. That's why Logan likes her."
"She's crazy. She really planned all this by herself?"
Fransisca nodded weakly. "I should've known she was up to something when she was forcing me to make Harper take punishments.
"She exposed Harper to everyone and set her up. She used drugs on me… and hypnotized Harper."
Fransisca's face twisted in anger.
"What should we do with Harper now? She'll still hate you."
"Get rid of the hypnosis when she's awake."
"Sure."
Quincy exhaled. "Bring her in later… we have something to talk about."
"No problem."
It was later in the evening when Harper opened her eyes. Her head throbbed, and her muscles felt stiff from staying in the same position too long. Panic gripped her chest as she realized she was still blindfolded, her hands tied tightly behind her back. She shifted, the ropes biting into her wrists, and her breathing grew uneven.
Across the room, Quincy stood tensely with his arms folded. His jaw clenched at the sight of her bound.
"Why did you tie her up?" Quincy asked angrily, voice rough with disbelief.
The guard straightened up nervously. "For security reasons! Madam Fransisca says."
"The blindfold?" he asked, his tone sharper.
"She can't see you right now, Quincy."
His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing with frustration.
"Remove the blindfold. Let me see her face!" Quincy commanded.
"Yes, boss!" the guard responded quickly and walked over to Harper. As the blindfold was lifted, Harper blinked rapidly, her lashes fluttering against the sudden light. When her gaze finally settled on the room, it landed on Quincy seated on the couch. Her expression hardened instantly.
She gave him a dead glare, her eyes full of fury and betrayal. Quincy felt a pang in his chest, but he kept his face composed.
"What do you plan to do with Harper now?" Fransisca asked from her position by the doorway. Her tone was calm but curious. Quincy let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple.
"Register her as a courtesan."
Harper's eyes widened in shock, and Fransisca's head snapped toward him.
"What? Have you gone crazy? She was sold here!"
"She belongs to the courtesan house then, so make her a courtesan!" Quincy stated sternly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"I will never become a courtesan! Never!" Harper fired at them, her voice shaking with rage and disbelief. She thrashed against her restraints, her teeth clenched.
"You have no choice, Harper," Fransisca said flatly, her arms folded as she watched the scene unfold.
"You can't decide my life, Quincy!!!" Harper yelled, her voice hoarse and desperate. Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Quincy turned to Fransisca again, this time with steel in his voice.
"Madam Fransisca."
"Yes, Quincy?"
"Register her as a permanent noble courtesan. She will be my courtesan. She is not allowed to take any other companion."
Fransisca blinked, clearly caught off guard.
"You wanna do that?" she asked, looking surprised, almost hesitant.
"It's not against the rules, is it?"
"Sure! As long as her pay goes on."
"I will pay for the next 5 years." His voice was unwavering, and he didn't look away from Harper—who stared back at him like she wished her glare could kill.
Fransisca narrowed her eyes slightly. "Are you sure about this, Quincy? She holds a grudge against you."
He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. "I can't allow her to be with anybody else. She is mine."
Fransisca sighed. "I will draw up the contract immediately."
"Cool." Quincy gave a curt nod.
Fransisca gestured toward the guards. "Take her away!"
"Quincy, you bastard! I will never become a courtesan!" Harper screamed, violently kicking and twisting in the guards' grip as they started to drag her out.
"You tried to take my life—you should pay for that!" she spat, fury crackling in every syllable.
"Damn you, Quincy! I hate you so much, you bastard!" she kept cursing, her voice echoing down the hallway until she disappeared behind the doors.
Quincy sat down slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes heavy with something more than exhaustion.
Fransisca remained silent for a moment, then spoke softly as the door swung shut.
"I'm sorry, Harper. If you don't hold any power here, you will get trampled on."