Chapter 38: Chapter 38 – A Declaration of Ownership

Hana’s husband’s scream was inhuman—high-pitched and raw, the kind of sound that came from pain so overwhelming the brain couldn’t process it.

He collapsed sideways, both hands flying to his ruined leg where the knee joint was bent at an angle that knees were definitely not meant to bend.

Bone fragments were visible through torn flesh. Blood pooled rapidly on the floor.

His face turned purple, veins bulging at his temples as his body went into shock.

Raven stepped over the convulsing body like it was garbage, his eyes never leaving Hana.

She was still on the floor, dress bunched around her hips, tears streaming down her face, looking up at him like he was an angel and a devil all at once.

Raven’s voice, when he finally spoke, was calm. Final. Absolute.

“From now on, you only spread your legs for me.”

And that was it.

That was the moment Hana ’broke’.

Not from fear. Not from pain.

But from ’relief’.

The dam inside her chest—the one she’d been building for years, reinforcing with every silent tear, every swallowed scream, every moment she’d told herself to just ’endure’—

It ’shattered’.

She started crying.

“Hic… waaah…”

Really, truly ’crying’.

“Uwaah… Sobb….. Snff… Hic…”

Deep, ugly, wrenching sobs that came from somewhere primal and broken deep inside her chest. The kind of crying you do when you’ve been strong for too long and your body finally forces you to feel everything you’ve been suppressing.

Her hands covered her face as her shoulders shook violently. She cried like a child—helpless, desperate, ’free’.

Behind Raven, her husband twitched once. Twice.

His face had gone from purple to a sickly blue-gray. His eyes bulged grotesquely. Foam appeared at the corners of his mouth.

Then he went still.

Dead. Or close enough that it didn’t matter.

Heart attack, probably. His alcohol-weakened system couldn’t handle the shock and trauma of his shattered knee.

Raven didn’t even look at the corpse.

He moved forward, stepping carefully around the spreading pool of blood, and bent down.

One arm slid under Hana’s knees. The other behind her back.

And he lifted her effortlessly into a princess carry.

“Kyaaa~!! W-what~!”

She was ’heavy’—thick and soft and warm in his arms, her body substantial in a way that made his muscles actually work to hold her.

But he didn’t struggle. Didn’t grunt with effort.

Just held her like she weighed nothing.

“Wait—the neighbors—” Hana gasped between sobs, her face still buried against his chest. “They’ll hear—they’ll call the police—”

“They won’t,” Raven said flatly.

And he was right.

Outside, the neighboring houses remained dark. No lights flickered on. No curtains twitched. No doors opened to investigate the screaming or the sound of splintering wood.

Because people in neighborhoods like this had learned a long time ago that minding your own business was the key to survival.

See nothing. Hear nothing. Know nothing.

That was the rule.

Hana clutched at Raven’s shirt, her fingers twisting in the fabric as she continued to cry against his chest. Her mascara was running, leaving dark streaks on his shirt, but she couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t control the years of pain pouring out all at once.

Raven looked down at her—at this broken, naive, beautiful woman who’d been ground down by life until she’d forgotten what it felt like to be ’wanted’. To be ’protected’. To be treated like something precious instead of something disposable.

His arms tightened slightly around her thick, pillowy body.

And then—

The air shimmered.

Reality bent.

And they vanished.

One moment they were standing in the ruins of her home, surrounded by blood and broken wood and the corpse of her husband.

The next moment, they were gone.

Leaving nothing behind but empty space and the faint scent of ozone in the air.

The world snapped back into focus with a disorienting lurch that made Hana’s stomach flip.

One moment she was cradled in Raven’s arms, the ruins of her home dissolving into darkness behind them.

The next, her feet touched solid ground—wooden floorboards, smooth and polished, so different from the splintered, worn planks of her own house.

She stumbled, her legs weak and unsteady. Raven’s hands steadied her shoulders for just a moment before releasing her completely, leaving her swaying like a drunk woman trying to find her balance.

Hana stood there trembling, her hands clutched together in front of her chest so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her eyes were still red and swollen from crying, mascara streaked down her cheeks in dark, messy rivulets that made her look like something out of a tragedy.

“Where… where are we?”

Her voice came out small, confused, barely more than a whisper.

She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what just happened.

“Wait—how did I—how did we—”

The question died in her throat as she spun in a slow, disbelieving circle, taking in her surroundings with mounting shock.

They were in an apartment.

Small. Cluttered. Dimly lit by a single desk lamp in the corner that cast long shadows across the space.

The air smelled faintly of paper and ink, with an underlying scent of stale coffee and old takeout containers.

But what made Hana’s breath catch in her throat—what made her heart start pounding for entirely different reasons—wasn’t the size or the lighting or even the mess.

It was the ’walls’.

Drawings. Dozens—no, ’hundreds’—of them.

Taped, pinned, hanging from every available surface like some kind of erotic art gallery.

Pornographic drawings.

Men and women tangled together in various positions—explicit, graphic, anatomically detailed sketches that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Some were fully colored, vibrant and bold with shading that made the bodies look almost three-dimensional.

Others were rough pencil sketches, unfinished but no less explicit in what they depicted.

Missionary. Doggy style. Cowgirl. Positions Hana didn’t even have ’names’ for.

Women with their legs spread wide, mouths open in silent moans of pleasure or pain or both. Men with their hands gripping hips, faces buried between thighs, cocks buried deep inside welcoming bodies.

But many of them were ’destroyed’.

Ripped down the middle. Crumpled at the edges. Some had been torn off the wall entirely and lay scattered on the floor like casualties of war.

Like someone had been in a rage and tried to destroy their own work.

Hana’s face burned. Heat flooded from her cheeks down her neck, spreading across her chest beneath her thin dress.

Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, but her eyes couldn’t look away from the images.

She ’stared’.

At the curves of drawn female bodies. At the thick cocks penetrating them. At the expressions of ecstasy and submission captured in pencil and ink.

And she felt something warm and shameful curl low in her belly—something that made her thighs press together instinctively, trying to contain the sudden, unwanted heat.

Raven looked around the apartment, his dark eyes scanning the space with casual familiarity.

A slow smile spread across his face.

Empty.

The webtoon artist wasn’t home yet.

Perfect. That gave him time.

“Just wait a second there,” he said casually, his tone suggesting he’d just asked her to hold his coat rather than commanding her presence.

Then he moved forward with predatory swiftness and ’shoved’ Hana toward the bed in the corner.

“Ah—!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep