A mother who sold her body in the slums. The usual faces—opium addicts and drunken louts. And then, two mu*ders.

Just as Leticia—her body marked by the crimes—was about to be chased down by the police and thrown into prison, a carriage suddenly halted in front of her as she fled in panic.

“Get in!”

Grabbing the man’s outstretched hand, Leticia hurled herself inside. The kindness of a complete stranger—she couldn’t shake the suspicion in her eyes, but by then, the carriage had already plunged deep into the forest. Trapped by a raging snowstorm, escape was impossible.

The man introduced himself as the master of a grand estate, and Leticia, with no other choice, reluctantly accepted his hospitality. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the bed in the room he provided.

But when she awoke the next day, an unbearable thirst clawed at her throat. She drained an entire pitcher of water, yet the dryness only grew worse. Then came the fever—scorching, relentless.

“If you’re hot… shall I help you undress?”

A cold fingertip brushed against her parched lips. Dazed by the heat, Leticia instinctively l**ked the moisture clinging to his skin.

Her chest ached strangely, a throbbing she couldn’t understand. Her thoughts turned white. Her mind blurred.

And then—

⚠ This story contains depictions of immoral and coercive relationships.*

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