No. 38, Diet Street.
This was the residential building where Gu Qinghan’s apartment stood.
Where had things gone wrong?
Gu Qinghan walked down the street, face grim.
Above the City of Devoted Love, dark clouds churned. The humid air pressed tight against his chest—a suffocating weight.
Like being shoved underwater, head forced beneath the surface, breath stolen.
His vision blurred. He braced a hand against the rough wall, legs heavy, dragging himself forward.
Occasional passersby glimpsed his twisted expression—and recoiled as if seeing a ghost, veering wide.
“No… can’t expose myself…”
He covered his face with one trembling hand, cold sweat soaking his skin, desperate to hide from prying eyes.
Truth was, he was already cornered.
The Kingdom’s Inspection Brigade suspected him. They’d deployed massive forces, sealing every exit like a trap.
Escape? Likely impossible now.
Katarina, squad leader overseeing Diet Street, was thorough. Every road out of the City of Devoted Love must be blocked.
Trapped like prey in a cage.
The target? “Hohenheim.”
But why? Why did Katarina still doubt *him*?
Gu Qinghan couldn’t fathom it.
The border wall was breached a week ago.
Katarina knew—*knew*—Gu Qinghan couldn’t be the culprit.
He’d moved into this apartment *before* the breach.
No criminal would settle here days prior to sabotage.
Yet she named him prime suspect.
His vision dimmed again.
From the start, Katarina seemed fixated on him.
Why?
He replayed the past two weeks:
Day one—he hypnotized Liana. Katarina walked in.
He lied: “Just an otaku who reads steamy romance novels.” Narrow escape.
Day two—a date with Liana. Katarina began tailing him, warning him off the girl.
No solid proof caught.
Day three—drinks at Richard’s, secret meetup with Liana.
Next morning, Katarina visited, warning of the destroyed border wall.
Last time—he invited Katarina over.
While she was drunk, he stripped her clothes for drug testing. She remembered nothing.
Every incident was risky. Suspicious.
But none held concrete evidence.
Without proof, why mobilize the entire City of Devoted Love’s Inspection Brigade?
Gu Qinghan’s brow knotted. Knuckles whitened from clenched fists.
The Kingdom of Pure Love had the wrong man.
*He* knew. *Katarina* knew.
But the body’s original owner—Hohenheim—was a criminal. A long rap sheet: coercion, illegal drugs, premarital relations…
If they leaned into the mistake, those sins would surface.
Illegal entry? A footnote.
His punishment would be historic—a national spectacle, branding him a disgrace for eternity.
His legs numbed. Only crushing weight remained, pulling him down.
The crisis had reached unprecedented heights.
Escape was no longer an option.
Only one path remained:
Lift Liana’s hypnosis.
Erase every memory linking her to Hohenheim.
Destroy the sole evidence. Then, suspicion alone couldn’t justify arrest.
But… how?
Gu Qinghan’s gaze darkened.
Ahead, the street corner loomed. His eyes sharpened. Steps grew heavy, deliberate.
Apartment 101, Building 38, Diet Street—the room Hohenheim rented.
He’d return home. Final interrogation of Liana awaited.
Moments ago, he’d been lost. Then the black-haired boy’s words struck:
*“Don’t press relentlessly. Leave an opening. Lure it onto the ‘path of life.’”*
To truly “capture” someone… first grant freedom.
In that fleeting liberty, her true thoughts would surface. Inner turmoil would crack her defenses.
His chance to strike.
He recalled the dark gray notebook:
*“All hypnosis is voluntary.”*
Liana chose it. Only *she* could choose to release it.
His steps steadied. One stair. Then another.
This was a gamble.
Fail—seal his own fate.
Succeed—all chains would shatter.
His expression turned solemn. A faint glimmer flickered in shadowed eyes.
The final gear began to turn.
He seized this last chance to shatter Liana’s psychological walls.
…
Inside the rental apartment, deep night.
Five days had passed since Liana’s confinement began.
Her heart hadn’t revolted against the filth—instead, it twisted.
She’d grown to *like* it.
So unique.
This punishment… she *loved* it.
Each day, she waited eagerly for Mr. Hohenheim’s return.
Dreaming of new tools. Craving fresh torment.
At the thought, electricity shot through her—waves of pleasure surging inward.
Sunlight glinted off the tools on the table, a sharp, blinding flash.
She felt giant hands grip her shoulders, dragging her toward desire’s abyss.
But today… the feeling vanished.
Last night, Mr. Hohenheim packed every tool into a black box.
The alchemy table stood bare. Empty.
Gone.
Restlessness clawed at her chest—ants crawling over delicate skin.
*Where were they?*
*Why deny her?*
*Didn’t he want to punish her properly?*
Another night fell.
Silence so thick it frayed her mind. Consciousness blurred.
Then—
Footsteps outside the door.
*Creak—*
The familiar sound jolted her awake. Breath hitched.
Crimson lips parted. Eyes locked on the door, hopeful.
Mr. Hohenheim was back.
*Please punish me soon ❤~*
