From that day on, I saw Carl in a completely different light.

That ceaseless stream of crimson commentary in my mind—an omniscient narrator on live broadcast—was revealing my roommate’s innermost thoughts.

Like when I was washing dishes and broke a plate.

[Oho, opportunity knocks! Look at God Carl—he’s so nervous he’s about to rush over and scoop her up for inspection!]

[Internal OS: Her hands are so slender. Are they cut? I want to lick them.]

[Restrain yourself, Carl. Your persona is aloof roommate, not creep!]

I glanced down at my perfectly fine fingers, then looked up to find Carl standing in the kitchen doorway, his thin lips pressed tight, eyes shadowed with a worry I’d never understood until now.

Catching my gaze, he immediately looked away, his tone flat as always. “Be careful.”

Then he turned and left, his steps oddly stiff.

Or when I wore my new spaghetti-strap nightgown and deliberately paraded past him.

[!!! Nosebleed! Who could resist this?!]

[Warning! Warning! Corruption meter spiking! He’s debating whether to lock the door or just carry her straight to bed!]

Ignoring the commentary, I put on an innocent face. “Carl, does this nightgown look good on me?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ugly,” he bit out.

He all but fled to his room.

Leaning against the door, I listened to the muffled, ragged breathing from inside and smiled like the cat that got the cream.

So entertaining.

Here was a man whose desire stormed beneath the surface, yet who clung desperately to a veneer of gentlemanly decorum. The more he restrained himself, the more I longed to tear off that disguise and see what kind of ferocious beast lay beneath.

The commentary became my perfect accomplice.

It revealed that Carl would sneak into my room after I fell asleep, standing by my bed watching me for what felt like hours.

It told me he collected strands of my fallen hair, storing them in a small glass vial.

It confessed to an encrypted folder on his computer—photos of me from university until now, every angle, every occasion, some I’d never even seen.

He was like a hunter lurking in the shadows, wrapping me in a fine, invisible net. I was the prey he’d coveted for years.

The realization thrilled me to the point of trembling.

I began testing his limits even more brazenly.

One night, I deliberately left my door ajar and lay in bed pretending to sleep.

Sure enough, in the dead of night, I heard the faintest footsteps.

Him.

He stopped beside my bed and stood motionless for a long time. His crisp cedar scent filled the air, mixed with something darker, more aggressively masculine, wrapping around me.

[He wants to kiss her! He’s leaning down!]

[Don’t chicken out now, God Carl! Just kiss her! Do it!]

I felt his breath draw closer, warm against my cheek. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would leap from my throat.

Come on. Tear off the disguise.

Let me see how much you love me.

But the moment his lips were about to touch mine, he froze.

[Damn! Emergency brake! Why?!]

[He saw tear tracks. Thought she was having a nightmare.]

[God Carl: She’s crying. How can I take advantage? I have to be… good.]

A cool, impossibly gentle hand brushed the tear tracks from the corner of my eye—tears that had welled up from sheer nervousness.

Then he straightened up, gave me one long, deep look, and turned away without a sound.

My eyes snapped open. Staring at the ceiling, I felt a blend of frustration and bitter amusement.

Was this man… an obsessive with a heart of gold?

No. This was too slow.

I had to push him over the edge.

Kevin brought the confrontation right to my doorstep.

He must’ve tracked down my address. One weekend afternoon, his flashy Porsche was blocking the entrance to my apartment building.

I was just returning from the grocery store when he cut me off.

“Claire, come back with me.” He leaned against his car door, that old arrogance back in full force.

“No.”

“Don’t be difficult.” He frowned, impatience threading his voice. “I admit I was harsh that day, but it was for your own good. You’re a young woman—living with some guy you don’t even know? How dangerous is that?”

I looked at him and suddenly found it all absurd.

He was the one who pushed me away. Now he was the one worried about my safety.

“Your concern is unnecessary, Kevin. My roommate is perfectly fine.”

“Fine?” Kevin sneered. “A deadbeat who holes up at home all day doing who-knows-what—how fine can he be? Claire, don’t lower yourself like this. Come back with me. The Sterlings can give you the best life possible.”

Before his words could settle, a cool, detached voice spoke from behind me.

“My roommate is none of your concern.”

It was Carl.

I hadn’t heard him come down, but there he stood, right behind me. His hand rested naturally on my shoulder with an unmistakable, possessive weight.

I went rigid—then a wild surge of joy overtook me.

His familiar scent of cedar wrapped around me. Through the thin fabric of my shirt, I could feel the warmth of his palm with perfect clarity.

That acute need for his touch was instantly quelled. The relief was so overwhelming a soft sound caught in my throat.

[Oh my god! The first showdown between the real deal and the ex!]

[Carl’s possessiveness! I’m here for it!]

[Look at Kevin’s face—it’s turning green!]

Kevin’s expression was indeed terrible.

He looked Carl up and down, his eyes full of scrutiny and disdain.

“So you’re the roommate?”

Carl ignored him. He simply looked down at me, his voice softening a fraction. “Let’s go home.”

“Mm.” I nodded obediently.

The feeling of being shielded like that was incredible.

Completely ignored, Kevin flushed with rage. “Claire! Stop right there! Do you even know what this man does? What can he possibly give you? Come back with me, I—”

“She’s not going back with you.” Carl finally shot him a look, his gaze icy and sharp enough to cut. “It’s simple: she doesn’t need you.”

With that, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, turned, and walked away, leaving Kevin fuming alone on the sidewalk.

In the elevator, I could sense Carl’s mood was off. The aura around him was terrifyingly cold, and his arm tightened more and more around my shoulders.

[Darkening level at 99%! About to max out!]

[Kevin’s ‘What can he give you?’ line totally triggered him!]

[Oh no, oh no, Carl’s about to lose it! I’m so excited!]

A strange excitement stirred in me too.

Back in the apartment, he slammed the door shut with a bang and pinned me against it.

His eyes were lowered, long lashes casting shadows beneath them, his expression unreadable. All I could feel was the dangerous energy radiating from him.

“Claire.” His voice was hoarse, ragged. “Do you like him?”

“No.” My answer was immediate.

“Then why… keep tangling with him?” His hand came up to cup my face, his calloused thumb stroking my cheek. “Is it because I can’t give you what you want?”

“No!” I denied urgently.

“Then why?” He pressed closer, his nose almost touching mine. “What is it you want?”

I looked into his eyes, so close. They churned with obsession, madness, and a flicker of vulnerability I’d never seen before.

The live comments exploded across the screen.

[Ask her! Ask her what she wants!]

[He’s scared. He’s scared she’ll really leave, scared nothing he has can keep her.]

[My beautiful, strong, tragic hero! Tell him! Tell him you want him!]

My heart felt wrung tight.

So he could be afraid too.

I rose on my toes and kissed his lips.

His body went rigid. Then, an even more frenzied intensity swallowed me whole.

He took over, deepening the kiss with a punishing force, stealing the air from my lungs.

The cold scent of cedar mixed with his own unique essence, drowning me completely.

Just as I was about to suffocate, he finally released me.

His forehead rested against mine, his breathing ragged, the corners of his eyes tinged with a mesmerizing red.

“Claire,” he rasped, each word deliberate. “What… do you want?”

I looked at him and smiled.

“What I want,” I leaned close to his ear, my voice a whisper meant only for us, “is you.”