Chapter 1.

Yes, you read that right. It's a police officer that is right after me.

His name is Ethan. He is the captain of the criminal police squad in the capital, has served for many years, arrested extremely vicious criminals, and has seen countless instances of human depravity—even facing a gun to his forehead without flinching.

He comes from a long line of police officers, truly making him a genuine "police dynasty."

He didn't have a tragic childhood, nor does he suffer from any psychological disorders, and his temperament is neither extreme nor insane. He can recite numerous laws by heart and is a dedicated, exemplary officer.

I haven't redeemed him like some heroine in a romance novel, nor have we had any torturous love affairs.

Yet, I have amnesia. I don't even know why I lost my memory. When I woke up, I found myself in this room, with Ethan by the bedside.

At that time, Ethan was still in his imposing police uniform. He told me that my name was Ethel and that I was his girlfriend.

Then he locked me up.

As for the rest, he refuses to tell me anything.

Like other male leads in twisted love stories, he provides me with good food and drink, a large house, and even spends copious amounts of time with me, his gaze filled with deep, affectionate longing.

But he doesn't give me freedom.

Perhaps it's because of his role as a police officer, or perhaps because he truly cares for me so much, but ever since I woke up, I've been unable to feel any fear or dread of him, no trembling at his touch, no fear of meeting his gaze...

It's just like now.

I sit on the sofa, holding a bowl of popcorn, watching a legal program on TV. The host's calm, restrained voice carries no emotional waves.

The TV discusses a case of "[A man maliciously imprisoning a young girl for eight years as his slave]."

My gaze involuntarily drifts to the window, and I sigh almost imperceptibly, suppressing the longing in my eyes.

"From here on the seventh floor, if you jump, at best you'd be crippled, or you might die on the spot," Ethan emerges from the bathroom, his towering figure swiftly approaching, "Your body would break apart like a puzzle, and death wouldn't be instantaneous."

"You might hear the sound of your bones breaking, or see your brain matter splatter, your central nervous system would die from the pain, essentially a death by agony."

Why can such cold words come from a body at 37 degrees?

I shudder and quickly abandon the idea of escaping through the window.

Ethan is always like this; he can always read my thoughts and scare me off with his brutal, intimidating words.

"Good girl, just kidding." Ethan naturally pulls me into his embrace, a gesture he seems to have perfected through countless repetitions.

His deep eyes glance at the TV, particularly when the host starts reciting legal statutes, his gaze mockingly softening, "Is this program something Ethel specifically picked out for me?"

I don't like his sharp, interrogative gaze. I clench my fists and stare at him, "Coincidentally."

"Oh, is that so?" Ethan's lips brush against my earlobe as he chuckles lightly, "Ethel, you still can't lie to me."

He watches impassively as he unclenches my fists and interlocks our fingers intimately. I purse my lips, unable to understand the clarity in his all-seeing eyes.

Ethan almost lovingly gazes at my face, murmuring like a lover, "Ethel, you need to stay quietly at home, don't think about running away."

"But you're imprisoning me, and that's illegal."

"Heh, the law?!"

He scoffs lightly, "I'll never be convicted of a crime, not ever."

His voice is firm, as confident as the man himself, "As long as I wish, no one can catch me, and no one can put me in jail."

There's nothing to fear from a thug, unless the thug is cultured and understands the law.

I remain silent, believing in his capacity to become an outlaw.