Chapter 2

The kidnapper hadn't held back—my arms and legs were completely numb, a clear sign that blood wasn't circulating. If no one came to untie me soon, my limbs might end up permanently damaged. And now, over forty minutes in, I felt even more numb. I couldn't wait any longer. Maybe this kidnapper was inexperienced and didn't know that if he really hurt me, he wouldn't get the best ransom. Or maybe he just didn't care what happened to me. But for me, I only had one body. I couldn't afford to gamble. After another 534 heartbeats, I gathered all the strength I had and toppled the chair, making a loud thud. My body was still numb—so numb that I didn't even feel pain from the fall. If no one came to untie me soon, I might not even need to be rescued. Too much time without proper circulation would mean necrosis, and necrosis meant amputation. There's no way I could accept becoming a cripple without arms or legs. At a time like this, the best thing to do was to make noise and draw the kidnapper in. Fortunately, less than a minute after I made the noise with all my might, the kidnapper appeared before me. He walked in and turned on the light. The moment the LED light flashed on, I instinctively shut my eyes from being in the darkness too long. When I slowly opened them again, I saw him. It was a man—tall and slender—dressed in a white shirt and dress pants. His shirt was neatly tucked into his trousers without a single wrinkle. He wore a Lanling King mask, hiding his face completely. But I knew the only reason his shirt was so perfectly smooth was because he was wearing one of those men's shirt stays underneath—pink, at that. How did I know? Because the moment he appeared, I recognized exactly who he was. It didn't matter how well he covered his face. Even if he turned to ashes, I would still recognize him. He was Nathan Cole—my boyfriend. No—my ex-boyfriend now. My memory started to return, and I recalled what happened before I passed out. Before I fainted, I had just finished a cup of coffee at a café. The only reason I was there was because today was the three-month anniversary of me and Nathan being together. Three months ago, I was having a savior complex episode and saved a man. His name was Nathan Cole, 18 years old, a freshman at MN University. Because of his poor family background, he worked part-time as a barista at a café. When I went to grab a coffee, I happened to see him getting a cup of coffee poured all over him, being cursed at in public. He had a tall build and a handsome face. He wore a white shirt, and his uniform trousers fit snugly around his long, straight legs. Even though he looked a little pitiful at the moment, the brown coffee dripping down his hair and that dazed expression made him look so vulnerable, so pitiful, that I just couldn't look away. Though it might be odd to describe a man that way, "vulnerable and pitiful" were the only words I could think of at the time. Later. We got together. Gratitude? Repayment with love? That's all nonsense. We got together simply because I liked his face, and he liked my money.