"Yes, sir," the bodyguard replied before quickly leaving the room. An uneasy silence settled over the space, thick with tension, as though just the mere mention of Zylan's name demanded a moment of reverence. It felt as if the very air itself had to be still, holding its breath for what came next.
Then, the door creaked open, and with fluid, graceful steps, Zylan casually walked into the large, dimly lit living room. His movements were effortless, as if he owned every space he stepped into.
Anna noticed him first—his presence was impossible to ignore. She immediately straightened in her seat, her posture suddenly poised, and her chest held high as though trying to impress him without uttering a word.
Naomi, on the other hand, froze the moment her eyes fell on him. Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening in disbelief. The shock of recognition sent a jolt through her system. 'It's him,'she realized, her thoughts spiraling. The man from the gala. The man who wanted to commit suicide.'
But what was he doing here? Her heart began to race uncontrollably, pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. Each beat echoed in her ears, drowning out the silence of the room.
He didn't jump that night ... but how is he here?' Naomi's mind raced. She hadn't seen him jump, but she had assumed the worst that day. And now, here he was, standing in her home, radiating an air of command that chilled her to the bone.
Zylan's gaze swept briefly across her, his eyes dark and unreadable. It was just a glance, nothing more, but Naomi felt the weight of it as if he had peeled back the layers of her soul. Her veins felt cold, an icy shiver creeping up her spine.
"Is he... Zylan?" she whispered to herself, her voice so low it was barely audible.
Her father suddenly rose to his feet, breaking the silence. His movements were jerky, betraying the anxiety that had settled in his bones. With an uncharacteristic bow, he addressed Zylan, his voice shaking slightly. "W-Welcome, Mr. Zylan, to our humble home."
Zylan said nothing at first. He simply walked further into the room, his presence dominating the space. Without a word, he lowered himself onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other in a casual yet calculated manner. His gaze flicked toward Naomi's father, but it was brief, dismissive, as though acknowledging him was a mere formality.
Her father quickly sat back down, his movements rushed and awkward, the usual air of authority he carried nowhere to be found. The room fell into another stretch of suffocating silence. Even the faintest sounds—the rustling of clothes, the ticking of a nearby clock—seemed too loud in the oppressive quiet. Naomi glanced at her mother, whose face had paled slightly, her hands tightly clutching the armrest of the chair.
Reverend James, who had been invited to the house for reasons Naomi couldn't quite understand, looked even more nervous. His hands fidgeted in his lap, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. Finally, he cleared his throat, attempting to break the tension. "I s-see you're h-having a conversation... M-Maybe I should take Naomi, and we'll be on our w—"
"Sit back down," Zylan interrupted, his voice low but commanding. There was no question in his tone; it was an order.
Reverend James froze, his entire body stiffening. His face drained of color, and his posture immediately shifted as if controlled by an invisible force. He obeyed without hesitation, dropping back into his chair so quickly it was almost comical. He now resembled a child who had been caught sneaking out after curfew, his face flushed with embarrassment.
Naomi bit her lip, trying to stifle the laugh that bubbled up inside her. 'Who would've thought Reverend James could be this obedient?'she mused. But as the absurdity of the situation hit her, the urge to laugh only grew stronger. Realizing how inappropriate it was, she quickly pressed her lips together, but her eyes sparkled with suppressed amusement.
Her father, noticing her reaction, shot her a warning glance before stammering, "I-I am really sorry, Mr. Zylan... My daughter, she lacks manners. Unlike her, Anna is—"
"I didn't ask you to speak," Zylan cut in sharply, his voice cold and final.
Her father immediately clammed up, bowing his head in submission. The silence that followed was suffocating, the tension in the room thicker than ever. Naomi's body trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer effort it took to keep herself from laughing out loud. 'This is ridiculous,'she thought, even as her palms began to sweat. Her father, a man who commanded respect from everyone, was reduced to a groveling servant in the presence of Zylan. The contrast was too much.
"Pfft..." Naomi almost snickered again. She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to suppress the laughter. She needed to stop. This was clearly a serious situation—Zylan wasn't someone to be trifled with. But the absurdity of her father's demeanor, the way he fumbled with his words, only made it harder.
"Naomi!" Her mother hissed, shooting her a sharp look. Her wide eyes warned her daughter to stop immediately.
Naomi cleared her throat, her face growing warm with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
Zylan's piercing gaze turned toward her, his eyes locking onto hers. Her breath hitched, and the laughter that had once bubbled in her chest died instantly. His stare was intense, and for a moment, Naomi felt like he could see right through her. She quickly averted her gaze, her heart hammering even harder.
"You find this situation amusing?" Zylan's voice was dangerously calm, sending a chill through Naomi's spine.
Naomi shook her head vigorously, her voice barely above a whisper. "N-No, I don't."
"Good," Zylan said, his tone filled with finality, as if any further insolence would not be tolerated.
The room remained silent, each person too afraid to speak. Zylan's presence filled every corner, his control over the situation palpable. No one dared challenge him. No one even dared to breathe too loudly.
Suddenly, Zylan broke the silence again. His voice cut through the tension like a blade. "She will be my wife," he declared, pointing directly at Naomi.
Naomi's eyes widened in shock, her heart skipping several beats. "W-What?" she stammered, unable to believe what she had just heard.
Her father's face drained of color. "Excuse me, M-Mr. Zylan," he began, his voice trembling. "You've got it wrong. She's not Anna... This is Anna," he said, gesturing towards her sister, who had been quiet throughout the entire ordeal.
Anna blinked innocently, her wide eyes giving away no emotion as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Naomi turned to her, her shock deepening at Anna's behavior.
Zylan, however, didn't seem to care. His cold eyes remained on Naomi. "I'm sure you know better than to argue with me," he said, his voice soft yet filled with authority.
Naomi's father swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he nodded. "Y-Yes," he whispered, utterly defeated.
"But she... she's cursed!" Naomi's mother suddenly blurted out, her voice breaking. "She can't get married!"
Zylan's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. It wasn't a smile of joy or kindness, but one of power, a silent warning to everyone in the room. His gaze was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
"Then consider the curse broken," he said simply, his words hanging in the air like a declaration of war.
The room fell silent. No one could speak. No one could move. The weight of Zylan's words settled over them, suffocating any attempt at resistance.
Anna, whose silence had been unnerving, finally stirred. Her body tensed as the reality of Zylan's declaration sunk in. Her face twisted with desperation, her hands clenching into tight fists. This can't be happening, she thought, panic rising within her. She had boasted to everyone that she would marry Zylan—that it was her destiny. How could he choose Naomi instead?
With a desperate cry, Anna stood abruptly, her voice shrill with panic.
"But I'm a virgin!" she blurted out.
"Naomi isn't!"