Chapter 41 – The Silence Between Us
POV: Anastasia Celeste Volkov
Location: Private Estate – Saint Petersburg, Russia
*Time: 21:10 PM – Post-Broadcast
The AI's voice filled the cold, dimly lit study.
"Live broadcast analysis: 1.2 billion viewers.
Global trends indicate: heightened interest, escalating obsession, and speculative theories surrounding Subject Kang Jaeheon's fixation."
"Likelihood of deception: 0.004%. Statistical anomalies: none."
Anastasia barely blinked.
The screen before her replayed the moment in silence—his hand moving over paper, sharp black ink carving through the whiteness, forming declarations of love in 138 languages.
Not for the world.
Not for a spectacle.
But for her.
Her fingers rested against her lips. A slow exhale escaped her.
"…Enough."
The AI instantly obeyed, cutting the visuals, leaving the room in a cold hush.
Yet, even without the screen—she still saw it.
She saw him.
The way he sat, unnervingly calm. The way he wrote without pausing, without thinking, as if it had been etched into him long ago.
As if he had done it a thousand times before.
Just for her.
Her gaze flickered downward. The ice in her whiskey barely shifted.
The air felt… heavier.
This is ridiculous.
A slow inhale.
She tilted her head slightly, voice calm, detached.
"…Summarize his current status."
The AI responded instantly.
"Kang Jaeheon remains at the AUREUS private residence. He has reviewed post-broadcast trends but has not responded. No anomalies in behavior. No deviation from known patterns."
"No external communication detected."
Her nails tapped lightly against the glass.
As expected.
She knew him.
Knew how he moved, how he thought, how he concealed himself behind a frozen exterior.
She knew because she had studied him.
Because he had made her.
Again and again—he forced her to see him.
The quiet, unshakable obsession.
The unwavering devotion.
The unspoken truth.
And now—
The world had seen it too.
Her fingers curled slightly.
This isn't love.
Love was a lie men whispered to her like a poisoned gift.
She had seen it before. Too many times.
Men who claimed to worship her, but only wanted her throne.
Men who swore devotion, but feared her power.
Men who bent their knees, only to betray her the moment she turned her back.
Was he any different?
A part of her wanted to laugh.
He had never feared her.
Not once.
Not when she pressed a gun to his forehead.
Not when the blade at his throat made him bleed.
He had looked at her like a man who had found God.
And that was the most dangerous kind of devotion.
Because gods were worshipped.
But they were also destroyed.
Her gaze darkened.
She was not a god.
She was not an idol to be worshipped.
She was not an object for devotion.
And yet—
That was all he had ever given her.
A slow exhale.
She set the glass down.
The AI's screen flickered back to life.
She stared at the frozen frame—his face, his cold, relentless, unreadable gaze.
A man who did not fall in love—
He knelt for it.
She closed her eyes for a brief second.
And then, without hesitation—
She gave her next command.
"…Continue surveillance."
And the night stretched on.