Bound to the Man Who Saw My Death

Chapter 4 Introduction Snow (2)

"Please make sure to tell your parents that the man next door followed you today," Siana advised calmly.

The young woman, small-framed like a child, hesitated, then nodded.

"Yes... Thank you..."

From her reluctance, Siana sensed she wouldn't tell her parents.

Some people found it uncomfortable to cause a stir around them. She was exactly that type.

But pushing any further would be meddling.

Siana didn't interfere anymore—she simply exchanged a brief nod. The young woman bowed her head, then quickly entered her apartment and closed the door.

Siana turned around with a dry expression. Kaelen was leaning against the wall, sneering sarcastically.

"Telling her to talk to her parents—isn't that a bit much? There was no actual harm done. Just a creepy guy breathing down her neck because he walks fast."

It was the man named Kaelen Ashford. From today, he would be working with her as her Sightbond partner.

Siana drew a cold line.

"Whether it's too much is for her to decide."

"Sorry, but what was your name again? Siana... Siana Verlaine?"

Kaelen asked with a feigned vagueness.

They'd clearly introduced themselves earlier. He was deliberately trying to rile her up.

Siana shot back sharply.

"You must have received my file."

"..."

"If you can't remember, feel free to open it again."

Finally, Kaelen let out a short laugh.

"Siana Verlaine."

He called her name with an exaggerated, clipped enunciation.

"I thought I liked you because you seemed cold, but you're surprisingly nosy."

"Is there any reason I should care what you think of me?"

Siana brushed past him coolly and started down the stairs again. Kaelen followed at a leisurely pace.

She focused on the sound of his footsteps and his presence.

The Noctis Agency was full of all kinds of personalities, but Kaelen Ashford was the type that grated on people's nerves. He spoke lightly, almost spitefully, and grinned while doing it—but it sent chills down the spine.

He exuded an air of mystery and danger.

To make matters worse, his shoulders were notably broad, and he was tall enough that Siana—at 173 centimeters—had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. It was intimidating. One man filled her entire vision, making it impossible to see anything else.

Kaelen sneered from behind.

"Ah, Siana Verlaine. So that's your angle? The 'protect the weak' principle?"

"..."

"The weak should be weeded out."

Disgusting words.

No—he was deliberately trying to provoke her. He wanted to shake her.

She was about to coldly ignore him, but she turned slightly and accepted the challenge.

"If the competition starts from the same line, then you'd be right. But no competition starts from the same point."

"Things not being equal is what makes it fair. In the wild, the first targets are always the young or the sub-adults. Only the sensitive and clever ones survive—and isn't that fair among the sub-adults?"

"So you'd leave the weak to fend for themselves?"

"To a certain extent? Helping one antelope for a moment doesn't change the safari."

"The safari wouldn't change."

Siana met his eyes with a cold stare.

"But I don't live my life pretending not to see something when I do."

"Ah."

Kaelen tilted his head as if to say I see. Then he grinned again, provocatively.

"On our first day as partners, we already find each other insufferable, don't we?"

"Yes, insufferable."

Siana agreed without expression. Looking up at the man who was 197 centimeters tall, she gave a curt order.

"Then how about you shut up now and follow me quietly?"

Siana Verlaine didn’t look at her partner, Kaelen Ashford, even once—not from the moment she stepped into the apartment parking garage until she slid behind the wheel.

Kaelen settled into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut with a soft thud. She reversed out of the space without a word.

Outside, the midwinter wind howled and whipped against the car. Ragged Christmas decorations hung here and there across the dark city—ritualistic splashes of red that held neither joy nor glamour. Trees draped in illumination flickered like hollow phantoms.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Kaelen drummed his fingers on the passenger window. The small sound rippled through the silence, grating on her nerves.

“That psychopath we met in Mok-dong—Victor Mallick,” he said suddenly. “His persecution complex is bubbling over. I’d bet he’s going to kill that woman he’s fixated on.”

Siana frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

“He’s already killed three or four birds and cats. Small things.”

A trace of amusement laced his tone.

The worry that darkened her face seemed to be exactly the reaction he’d been waiting for. His voice softened. “So, should we kill him? That psychopath, Victor Mallick.”

“What?”

“When you want to drive a beast out of town for good, the best way is to just shoot it.”

She said nothing.

“Ah, right. Let’s make a deal. Our first case together is that twenty-three-year-old woman who was kidn*pped and murdered, isn’t it?”

He proposed murder with an air of unimpeachable elegance.

“If Siana Verlaine pleases me enough by the time that case is closed, I’ll kill that psychopath for you.”

Her brow creased almost imperceptibly.

Kaelen Ashford was talking about murder as if it were nothing. And he was smiling.

A joke?

No. A lure. He was testing her reaction.

Just as she knew nothing about Kaelen Ashford, he knew nothing about Siana Verlaine—they had only met two hours ago. He was poking at her, prodding her, like two strange dogs sniffing each other out. He wanted to gauge her tone, her habits, her gestures, even her scent. His gaze traveled slowly up the white curve of her throat and settled on her earrings.

Simple black obsidian drops.

He was clearly sizing up her taste.

“Let me make this clear,” she said, her voice cold. “I don’t care for pointless conversation or wasteful jokes.”

“That much is obvious.”

“From now on, keep our talk to work. If this continues, I’ll have no choice but to break the partnership before the one-year term is up.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

He gave a low laugh.

“We won’t last a year anyway. You’ll be dead before then. May 12th.”

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

May.

The word sent a chill through her heart.

But she ignored his certainty and sent a voice message to the Noctis Agency.

“No additional findings at Mira Lane’s residence in Mok-dong. I’m moving to the three-way intersection now. We’ll pull the nail tonight.”

Her tone was as dry and composed as always.

After sending the message, she pulled into the nearest aquarium’s parking lot.

“I’ll buy one goldfish.”

They parked the car in a paid lot. The soul vial on the dashboard trembled faintly. Siana tucked the vial—containing the spirit fish—into her coat pocket.

“One?”

Kaelen held out a luxurious box of six chocolates. An offering.

She declined with a glance.

As if he’d expected that, he picked one out and slipped it into his mouth. Then he closed his eyes slowly, savoring the taste.

He didn’t seem the type to have a sweet tooth. She was surprised he carried chocolate on him.

Thud. Thud-thud.

They got out of the car almost in unison.

Nine-ten at night. The area was somewhat secluded—cars passed only intermittently. A fine winter rain was still falling, breaking apart into mist.

Kaelen rolled his neck as if it were stiff, then jerked his chin toward one direction.

“Eleven o’clock.”

He was pointing to the curve of the three-way intersection above. Bare winter trees stood in a bleak row.

Without a word, they started walking. A careful distance between them. The cold wind that swept through that gap was as sharp as their mutual wariness.

They stopped twenty meters short of the intersection.

“Where is the nail?” she asked.

He came up behind her.

The distance between them narrowed, and an instinctive tension sharpened inside her. She tried not to be conscious of him.

Whoosh.

His scent, carried on the winter wind, was like swamp wood.

A dark, ominous blue pheromone. His fragrance was cold, refined, secretive.

He touched her forearm and gently adjusted her position with a slight pressure of his fingertips.

The first Sight Unlock.

Opening her eyes to see spirits.

It was a task she would repeat countless times with this man over the next year. His touch was clean, but there was something about it that brushed against her senses—sensitive, unsettling.

“A violet chiffon dress,” he said.

She couldn’t see it.

“I don’t see anything.”

Her reply was clipped. He pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together.

“That’s because you’re resisting me.”

The moment his solid chest touched her slender curves, a wave of discomfort washed over her. She grew restless.

“Come on, Siana Verlaine. Open your heart to me.”

He drew his fingertips upward slowly—from her forearm, over her shoulder, to her face.

He placed his hands on either side of her temples. Like blinkers on a racehorse, his palms cut off her peripheral vision.

“Now… see through my eyes. Don’t be afraid. As if we are one.”

The whisper was intimate, suggestive.

He was coaxing her, teasing her, as if she were a novice.

The role of Eyes like Kaelen Ashford was to enhance the supernatural ability of Hands like Siana Verlaine, allowing them to see spirits. The stronger the Eye’s power, and the deeper the trust between a Sightbond pair, the faster the Hand could unlock sight—and the longer she could see spirits afterward.

She had done this many times before. But with this man, it was different.

No. The unwillingness to touch was just a feeling. Work was work. Siana exhaled a white breath between her full lips and concentrated.

Exactly three seconds later, she saw a woman in her early twenties standing at the three-way intersection.

She immediately pushed Kaelen’s hands away with a clean motion.

“I see her.”

“Already?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly having expected the Sight Unlock to take longer given their psychological friction.

Siana stepped away from him at once and approached the woman at the intersection.

The woman wore a thin summer dress, seemingly oblivious to the late December cold. She was muttering to herself.

She glanced up warily as Siana drew near.

Siana let her gaze slide away. She made sure not to meet the spirit’s eyes, even by accident. She walked naturally, looking around as if searching for a taxi.

The woman turned back to the road and kept muttering.

“Slip… slip… slip…”

The director had insisted Kaelen Ashford was the Noctis Agency’s finest Eye. And he was right.

The spirit at the intersection was unnervingly vivid—indistinguishable from a living person. Siana could see every strand of hair tossed by the wind, even a tiny mole on the back of her neck.

She pulled a thin, long stainless-steel vial from her coat pocket. Inside was a highly concentrated solution of specially treated salt, used for creating temporary ward circles.

She walked in a circle around the woman, tracing a boundary about two meters wide. She sealed the spirit inside as she went.

Just before she completed the circle, Kaelen stepped inside and took his position.

Siana returned to the starting point and closed the circle’s gate.

It was a simple task, but it required finesse—quick and cautious, so the target never noticed.

The moment the ward was complete, the air shifted. The woman at the intersection stiffened with alertness.

“Excuse me,” Siana said, approaching. “Do you know what time it is?”