The aroma of roasted coffee beans usually brought a sense of comfort to Haobin, a familiar anchor in the bustling Golden Leaf Cafe. Today, it felt heavy, cloying, like a blanket smothering him. He pushed the untouched plate of crispy scallion pancakes further across the chipped laminate table. His stomach churned with a nauseous flutter. He had not eaten since the incident, a tight knot of dread keeping his appetite at bay. Jie, his alpha friend, watched him from across the table, his usually easy smile lines deepened with a frown. "You haven't touched anything, Xiaobao. Not even your usual iced peach tea." He noticed the pallor in Haobin's face, the slight tremor in his hands as he adjusted his worn denim jacket. Haobin picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his sleeve. "I'm not hungry." The words felt thick in his throat, a dry rasp. He’d barely slept since the incident, the phantom pressure of teeth on his nape an ever-present ache. His mother had been a silent, hovering shadow, her eyes red-rimmed and worried. They hadn’t spoken much, the unspoken horror too large to contain in casual conversation. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Jie said, his voice soft, laced with concern. He reached across the table, his large hand gently covering Haobin's clenched fist. "What's going on? You called sounding like you were in a tunnel." Haobin flinched at the touch, pulling his hand back almost imperceptibly. He hated that reaction, hated how everything felt like a threat now. He glanced around the cafe, the ordinary chatter of students and office workers suddenly seeming too loud, too close. "It's… Ruishie." Jie's brow furrowed. "That guy again? Still bothering you about the stream? I told you, just block him harder. Or let me talk to him." A muscle jumped in Jie's jaw, a hint of his protective alpha instincts rising. Haobin shook his head, a dizzying wave washing over him. "No, it's not just the stream. It's… worse." His gaze dropped to his lap, tracing the frayed edges of his jeans. He couldn't bring himself to look at Jie, not yet. The words were a bitter taste, a confession he was terrified to make. He remembered his mother’s face, pale and horrified. He remembered the cold, hard floor. He remembered the pain, then the rage. He took a shallow breath, the air burning his lungs. "He found my address." Jie’s hand paused halfway to his own cup of coffee. The small gesture of surprise, then the slow lowering of his arm, spoke volumes. "Your address? How?" Haobin squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, seeing the gleam of the custom display case, the inscription 'PROPERTY OF LIN'. He saw the key turning in the lock. He saw Ruishie's predatory smile. He felt the phantom pressure on his nape again, a deep, unsettling thrum. "I don't know." He lied. He knew how. Ruishie had said it himself, about his 'resources'. But the details were too much, too raw, too humiliating to share right now. He couldn't articulate the violation, the utter terror that had gripped him. He just shook his head again, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye, betraying the controlled calm he tried to project. --- Jie leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his attention now fully locked on Haobin. "Xiaobao, you need to tell me everything. From the beginning." His voice was firm, but gentle, an insistent push. Haobin swallowed, his throat still dry. He picked up his glass of iced tea, the condensation cold against his clammy fingers, but he couldn't drink. "It started with the rose." "Rose?" Jie's eyebrows shot up. "What rose?" "A single red rose," Haobin explained, his voice barely a whisper. "Delivered to the apartment. With a note. 'Property of Lin'." He shuddered, remembering the chilling possessiveness of the words, even before he knew the full extent of their meaning. It had been a warning, a claim. He wished he had understood it then. He wished he had taken it more seriously, called the police, done anything. "That's… not normal, Xiaobao." Jie's expression tightened. "A secret admirer is one thing, but that sounds… threatening." "It was." Haobin nodded, his gaze fixed on a distant point beyond Jie's shoulder. "Then, during my stream, he kept commenting. Not just the usual Crimson Alpha stuff. He said things… about my room. He knew the specific origami paper I was using, the custom display case I had just gotten." He paused, the memory of Ruishie's words about his 'precious little space' echoing in his mind. The invasion hadn't just been physical; it had been an intrusion into his sanctuary, his digital world. He remembered the specific comment, 'That new display case really brings out the colour of your new rare paper, doesn't it?'. It had sent a prickle of unease down his spine even then. Now, it was a spear. "He knew what was in your apartment?" Jie's voice dropped, a low rumble of disbelief. "Like, specific details? That's not just stalking your stream, Haobin. That's… watching your house." Haobin nodded again, the simple gesture carrying the weight of his terror. "He knew what I was folding, even before I showed it on camera. He knew the light fixture in my room. He knew when my mother was out." The last detail slipped out, a raw, unbidden truth that made Jie's eyes widen. "Your mother was out?" Jie repeated slowly, the implication heavy in the air between them. "He knew that? Haobin, did you tell anyone this? Did you tell your mother?" His hand reached across the table again, this time gripping Haobin's wrist with a firm, grounding pressure. "No, not all of it." Haobin shook his head. "I tried to brush it off. I thought… maybe I was overreacting. But then he called." He pulled his phone from his pocket, the sleek device feeling like a lead weight. "From multiple numbers. He threatened me. Said he’d come for me. That the police wouldn't believe me against him." Haobin's voice cracked. "He said he had a key." Jie's grip on Haobin's wrist tightened, his knuckles white. The casual café noise seemed to recede, replaced by a sudden, chilling silence in Haobin's ears. Jie’s eyes, usually warm and friendly, now held a cold, hard glint. This was no longer just about a bothersome fan. --- Jie finally released Haobin's wrist, his hand dropping to the table with a soft thud. He pushed his own coffee cup away, no longer interested in the drink. "A key? He said he had a key to your apartment?" His voice was low, laced with a dangerous edge Haobin rarely heard. "Xiaobao, why didn't you tell me any of this before? This isn't just harassment; this is… this is insane." "I was scared," Haobin admitted, the words barely audible. "And ashamed. I thought… I could handle it." He looked at his hands, seeing the faint tremor. "But then he used it." "Used what?" Jie demanded, his eyes fixed on Haobin's face. "The key." Haobin took a shaky breath. "My mother was out getting groceries. He came in." The memory was a vivid, sickening flash: the sound of the lock turning, the cold draft from the open door, Ruishie standing there, a triumphant smirk on his face. "He came into my apartment." Jie's face went utterly blank for a moment, then contorted with disbelief and rising fury. "He broke into your house?" "He had a key," Haobin corrected, a hollow echo in his chest. "He just… walked in. And he wouldn't leave." Haobin's voice hitched. He remembered the struggle, the fear, the desperate need to protect his space, himself. "I tried to make him leave. He… he wouldn't listen. I had to… I hit him." Jie gasped, a sharp, choked sound. "You hit him? With what? What happened?" He leaned further across the table, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge. "Are you hurt, Xiaobao? Did he… did he touch you?" Haobin shook his head, a desperate denial that didn't quite cover the truth. "My mother came back. She… she found us." The scene replayed: his mother’s horrified shriek, Ruishie bleeding on the floor, the ceramic vase shattered beside him. His mother had rushed to him, her scent a frantic mix of fear and comfort. "Then his father came." The sudden appearance of the imposing older alpha, his face a mask of cold fury, had been the only thing to halt the chaos. "His father? Lin Ruishie's father?" Jie blinked, trying to process the rapid escalation. "What did he do? Did he try to cover it up?" "No, he… he seemed furious at Ruishie." Haobin remembered the sharp, cutting words, the decisive tone. "He made Ruishie leave. Said he was sending him to the US tonight." A small, fragile tendril of relief twisted with the residual fear. Ruishie was gone. For now. "Good riddance," Jie muttered, exhaling slowly. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his earlier skepticism completely vanished, replaced by a deep-seated worry. "But Haobin, if he broke in, if he threatened you… did you go to the police?" Haobin looked down, unable to meet Jie's gaze. "No." The word was a whisper. "Ruishie's father… he said he would take care of everything. He had doctors come to the apartment." The thought of the cold, clinical examination, the hushed voices, sent another shiver down his spine. "He wanted to… undo it. But they couldn't." "Undo what, Xiaobao?" Jie's voice was barely a breath, filled with a sudden, dawning horror. His eyes dropped to Haobin's neck, a place he had never looked before, a place he knew now held something irrevocably changed. "What couldn't they undo?" --- Haobin finally met Jie’s gaze, his eyes pooling with unshed tears. "He… he marked me, Jie." The words were a ragged confession, tearing at his throat. He watched as the realization dawned on Jie's face, a wave of shock, then pain, washing over his friend’s features. Jie's body went rigid, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched violently. "No," Jie breathed, the single word a raw, guttural sound of disbelief. He pushed back from the table, scraping the chair legs loudly across the floor. "He marked you? That bastard. That absolute monster!" He stood, his alpha scent flaring with protective rage, drawing stares from other patrons. "And the doctors couldn't do anything?" Haobin shook his head, a tear finally escaping and tracing a hot path down his cheek. "They said… it would only harm me more. Because I'm a pure omega. It's… it's permanent." The reality of it was a crushing weight. He was tethered, bound, to a man he despised, a man who had violated him so completely. The world felt like it was closing in, the future a dark, endless tunnel. Jie sat back down, slowly, as if his legs could no longer hold him. His face was pale, his eyes wide and unfocused. "I knew he was bad news, Haobin, but this… this is beyond anything." He ran a trembling hand over his face. "I heard things about Ruishie. Little whispers. That he's always had a temper. That he gets what he wants, no matter what. But this kind of… possession. It's sick." Haobin remembered a fragment of gossip he'd heard once, dismissed as idle chatter, about Ruishie’s family connections quashing an assault charge years ago. He had thought it was just malicious rumor. Now, it felt terrifyingly real. "What kind of things?" Haobin asked, his voice barely a whisper. Jie hesitated, glancing around the cafe again, then leaned closer. "I heard… a few years back, when he was still in high school. There was an omega. A beta, actually. A classmate. Ruishie was obsessed with them. They rejected him. Word got around that Ruishie… that he made their life a living hell. Ruined their reputation, got them expelled. Some even said he assaulted them. The family was wealthy, powerful. The whole thing just… disappeared. They moved away, changed schools, vanished." Jie’s voice was hushed, weighted with grim certainty. "He has a history, Xiaobao. A pattern of not taking no for an answer, of destroying anyone who gets in his way." A profound sense of dread settled over Haobin, colder and heavier than anything he had felt before. Ruishie wasn't just an aggressive admirer; he was a predator with a long, dark history. The forced marking, the invasion, the casual disregard for his life… it wasn’t an anomaly. It was a habit. The image of Ruishie, far away in America, suddenly felt less reassuring. He was a threat that transcended physical distance. A sharp, searing pain suddenly bloomed in his nape, a phantom ache that made him gasp. He gripped the table edge, his knuckles white, as the pain intensified, a deep, sickening throb that echoed a distant, primal scream. It wasn't phantom. It was real. Ruishie was hurting him, even now, through the bond he had imposed, a desperate, violent plea to come back.

Chapter 5: A Friend's Warning