My Former Prisoner Claims Me

I had failed the mission, spectacularly. So, I went rogue.

I threw the rulebook out the window. I imprisoned him. I took him. And then, I staged a glorious, definitive, dramatic death.

I barely had a moment to catch my breath in the afterlife when the System shrieked in my mind.

[Male Lead has hit critical corruption level! Urgent need for a second intervention!]

The next second, I was back.

I walked through the fog of disorientation, and then it happened: a gleaming, blood-slick blade pressed flat against the skin of my neck.

The mans voice was a ghost in my ear.

Another fool who thinks she can try.

That faceyou think you can wear it?

My mind went blank.

01

I was mid-bite of a chip when the Systems scream broke through the quiet of my new life.

[Host, theres been an issue with your mission.]

[The Male Lead has hit critical corruption level. The world is collapsing. We need you to go back for a secondary fix.]

I had no idea what it meant. Critical corruption?

In my memory, Caspian Bellwether was an emotional glacierstoic, untouchable, the kind of man who floated above the base desires of the mortal world. He was a god carved from marble.

How could someone like him corrupt? The world could burn, and he would still be standing, perfectly still, perfectly unperturbed.

But before I could dwell on the absurdity, my vision swam, and I was abruptly shunted back into the alternate reality.

Specifically, I was back at the secluded estate where I had once kept Caspian prisoner.

I caught sight of the pomegranate tree Id impulsively planted years ago.

A sudden, jarring thought hit me: That tree was half-dead when I left. When did it get so tall?

The System answered the unspoken question instantly.

[Host, the timeline in this world moves differently than yours.]

[Seven years have passed since you left.]

Seven years. Caspian couldnt possibly still be here, could he?

I stumbled forward in a daze.

In that instant, my right foot hadnt even landed when a chilling sensation grazed my neck.

A strand of my hairsnipped cleandrifted down before my eyes.

A cold steel blade was pressed tight against my throat. And worst of all, warm blood from the swords edge was sliding down my skin.

I froze, terrified. My fingers trembled. I couldn't remember how to breathe.

The spectral voice drifted from behind me.

Another fool who thinks she can try.

That faceyou think you can wear it?

I turned slowly.

Caspians devastatingly handsome, ice-cold face was inches from mine.

His eyes were bloodshot, feral, the eyes of a creature driven mad.

My words came out in broken fragments.

Caspian, its m

The razor-sharp blade suddenly pulled away from my neck.

I was about to take a step forward, but my gaze snagged on a figure just beyond him, sprawled motionless in a pool of blood.

The womans eyes were wide and vacant.

She was a disturbing replica of mestrikingly, horribly similar.

My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the ground.

What had happened to him? How could Caspian have become this monster?

Caspian seemed to be in total shock. Naked bewilderment washed over his perfect features. His eyes flickered with a desperate, frantic uncertainty.

Suddenly, the sword clattered to the floor. He stepped forward, instinctively blocking my view of the body.

I gasped, finally letting out the breath Id been holding.

Damn you, Caspian Bellwether! You actually tried to murder me!

He didnt register my fury. He simply stared, blood-veins webbing his eyes, his brow furrowed in a tight, frightening knot.

I struggled to stand, wanting desperately to flee, but he grabbed my wrist, yanking me into his embrace.

His eyes were fixed on me, the way a predator watches its prey. His grip was too tight, making me wince.

Aubrey.

I paused. After a long silence, I heard the thick, ragged sound of his voice.

Is it really you?

Please, dont lie to me again.

Again?

02

Caspian should despise me. Logically, he wouldnt feel a flicker of emotion even if I were to die right in front of him.

Yet, I looked down at my ankle. The heavy shackle around my leg was padded on the inside, as if he were worried it might bruise me.

That was utterly unlike the Caspian I knew. He should hate me.

Seven years ago, I was bound to the System and sent here. The promise was ten million dollars if I successfully completed the "capture the male lead" mission.

For five years, I failed. No matter what I tried, the mission progress bar didn't budge. Caspian remained an unscalable peak, emotionally sterile. His gaze never lingered on me.

Eventually, I simply broke. I drugged him. I kept him captive. Day after day, I forced intimacy on him.

But even with skin-to-skin contact, he never offered me a single, genuine glance. The contempt that radiated from him was a sharpened blade, cutting through my last shred of pride.

Heartbroken, I decided to abandon the mission.

On the last day, I leaned down to kiss him as I had countless times before. He kept his eyes closed, unmoving.

The kiss deepened, a desperate, silent farewell.

Then, I unlocked the restraint.

Caspian, youre free.

His eyes opened, a flash of suspicious confusion in their depths. What game are you playing now?

I managed a faint, bittersweet smile. No games. I just finally saw the light.

The sheer irritation in his eyes wounded me instantly. I had forced him, yes, but after a year of being togetherintimate and constanteven a stray dog would have developed some attachment. But not him.

I gave a bitter twist of my mouth. I watched him push open the door and walk out without a single pause. He didn't look back.

As the System signaled my imminent departure, I lit the match.

Everything after the blaze was a blank slate.

But now...

I tugged the shackle on my ankle, the metal links clanging dully. I fell into a confused contemplation.

Had my year of obsession finally, irrevocably, broken the unbreakable man?

03

The door creaked open. Caspian walked in, carrying a covered tray.

He was still lean and classically handsome, but the years had etched a harder, more dangerous charm into his features. His body was long, a sharp silhouette of broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Paired with that stoic, impossibly perfect face, he could make any magazine cover model look like a rookie.

He took a bowl of hot soup from the tray. The steam rose gently. He scooped a spoonful, blew on it, and lifted it to my lips.

Eat up, Aubrey. I wouldnt want you to run out of steam later.

My fists clenched, then slowly relaxed. I was, currently, in his cage. I had to yield.

His demeanor was unnervingly gentle, as if we truly were a devoted couple of many yearsif I could only ignore the crushing weight of the metal on my ankle.

The meal was heavy with unspoken tension.

I sighed, setting the bowl down. Caspian, is this what you want? To repay the humiliation I inflicted, piece by piece?

He said nothing, only smileda deep, slow, and utterly chilling smile.

I shuddered. Was he going to?

The thought was terrifying.

Suddenly, I watched him lean forward slowly. His beautiful face was inches from mine. A shallow, yet utterly evil curve lifted the corner of his mouth.

He raised his hands and cupped my head. His lips, hot and damp, crashed onto mine.

It wasn't a tentative exploration. It was a torrential, overwhelming flood of taking, of demanding penetration. He drowned me in it, sweeping me away until I was desperate for air.

Finally, he pulled back.

I gasped, frantically dragging oxygen into my lungs.

His eyes were bloodshot again. He roughly shoved me back onto the bed.

If I didnt believe you were her, Id already have gutted you. His voice was cold, sharp, like ice water.

I finally broke free of my stupor and struggled, screaming.

Caspian, how can you do this to me? Tears streamed down my face. I stared at him, my eyes red and furious.

He let out a short, dismissive laugh.

Why wouldnt I?

His long, cool fingers traced my eyebrows and the curve of my cheek. His intent was clear.

Didn't you do this to me that year?

You set the rules, Aubrey. Why do you suddenly object to playing by them?

04

Caspian kept me pinned and broken all night.

After that, he spent every night in my room.

He held me tight again that night. The candlelight flickered around us.

I traced the perfect contours of his face with my eyes, trying to solve the puzzle of his constant frown.

Had Caspian actually fallen for me?

No A soft whisper escaped his lips.

What is it? I leaned in.

My gaze instantly collided with his cold, clear eyes. He was suddenly wide awake. Our breath mingled, close enough for a kiss.

I awkwardly pulled back.

He didn't speak, just stared at me, unblinking. It was so intense I felt the hairs on my arms prickle.

I shivered, about to make a lame joke, but his next words silenced me completely.

Caspians fingertips lightly stroked my cheek. His eyes held volumes of mockery and chilling indifference.

Of all the pretenders, you are the closest replica.

And you get to stay.