K

“Your call has been forwarded to voice mail. Please try again later…”

Disappointment fills your chest as a sigh bubbles up from the depths of them. This was ridiculous, you vehemently thought as you paced around your living room, tossing your phone haphazardly on your couch, not even caring where it landed. Everything about this was ridiculous.

For weeks, you’ve been on the hunt for a job after your last one didn’t work out the way you panned it out to be. It was a lot more frustrating than you would’ve liked it to be because it was like staring out into the void - a whole lot of nothing. It wasn’t like you didn’t try either; you’ve been quite diligent at submitting resumés literally everywhere, and when that didn’t pan out, you’d directly call the company to inquire.

If they weren’t going to call you, then hell, you were going to reach out to them. No harm done. Except that was leading you absolutely nowhere either.

“Still nothing?”

You paused your pacing, immediately turning your head to the sound of your best friend’s voice. “Jesus, I forgot you were still here,” you chuckled, combing your fingers through your hair to soothe yourself. “No, unfortunately. I’m about to lose my goddamn mind, I swear.”

San clicked his tongue softly, nodding in understanding, his eyes dropping into that rare softness you only saw when he was trying to give you your well-needed space. “It’s not your fault,” he shrugged, pushing himself off your doorway to make his way towards you. “The market’s just surprisingly oversaturated. And it’s not like you’re underqualified, you literally speak four other languages.”

“I mean it’s not like I’m completely out of options,” you said. “I do have an upcoming interview with KQ Corporation, but I’m not holding my breath for it. I applied for a random position and they’re literally the biggest company in the country so I’m trying to broaden my prospects.”

San whistled, impressed. “KQ? Goddamn. That’s tough, good luck with that one. Though I think you should be fine. Our company is, what, almost on par with KQ and you still got in.”

Your face bunched up in vexation, a grimace making its way up your lips. “As you can see that didn’t really do anything for me,” you scoffed, the bitter taste of your old job suddenly making its way in your mouth. “I got hired to speak Japanese, San, and then they started talking to me in Russian. Do I look like I know how to speak Russian?”

“Lee was a piece of rubbish shit,” he jeered, waving a dismissive hand, lazily plopping down your couch to make himself comfortable as if he always belonged there and lived here instead of you. “I’m about to honestly quit too, I hate working for the guy.”

“If you want to end up jobless like me, then be my fucking guest, I suppose,” you laughed sarcastically, not intending for it to come out snappier than it did. 

San’s brows both rose in surprise. “Woah, easy there, tiger. Didn’t mean to pee in your cereal bowl or whatever,” he frowned. There was a second of silence before he sighed. “Seriously, though, are you alright? I know the job-hunting is getting to you…”

The way he asked it made your stomach turn. Your throat clenched. You swallowed hard, but the lump stayed there, thick and immovable. “I’m fine,” you reassured when his eyes still didn’t leave yours.

It was more than the waiting game or the unanswered calls - it was waking up with nowhere to be, no reason to rush, no proof that you were needed anywhere at all. You told yourself it was temporary, but the longer it stretched on, the more it started to feel personal, like the world was moving forward, and you were stuck watching from behind a pane of glass.

San just stared at you. Finally, he rolled his eyes, a small smirk tugging up the corner of his lips. “It’s a nice day outside,” he began softly, his voice contrasting the mischievous look on his face. “Why don’t you take a walk? Clear that bitch out of you or something before I get pissed at you for giving me attitude.”

And just like that, that glass cracked. Quietly, like it was set down but not quite shattered. You scoffed in disbelief, not being able to stop the laughter that bubbled up your throat. Without a word, you grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair, shoving your arms through the sleeves, movements jerky and frustrated yet determined and energised. 

“Are you going to be fine alone, though?” You asked, holding onto the door frame as you carefully put your shoes on, looking back to hear his response. “I won’t be gone for long.”

San let out a dramatic scoff like you had just insulted him. “Go before I chuck the nearest thing I can get my hands on at you,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Take your time. I don’t want to be disturbed as I raid your fridge and your wine rack.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sting behind them had dulled. You chose to hide them behind your sunglasses. Before you closed the door, you looked back at him one more time and you saw the sarcasm in his eyes melt into something warmer. San tilted his head, gaze gentler than his words. “Go,” he urged. “And bring an umbrella in case it rains.”

You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets and started aimlessly walking. The walking trail was only a couple of minutes away by foot, but being lost in your head made it feel like it was kilometres away. 

At least the trail was pretty. It was lush and full of life; full of unexplored possibilities that brought you back to your childhood wanting to explore every rocky path and staircase that disappeared into the trees. All you knew was that you wanted to walk away from your responsibilities even if it’s only temporary. You were hoping that the fresh air might change something.

For now, you wanted to walk away from yourself. Whatever you were feeling was a pill you couldn’t swallow whole. So, instead, it had swallowed you whole and was now following your thoughts. For now, you kept walking. Not towards anything, just away.

You were currently on the highest part of the trail, on top of that winding staircase that nobody wanted to traverse given how many steps it demanded of anyone brave enough to try. By the time most people reached the halfway point, they were already turning back, laughing breathlessly and deciding the rest simply wasn’t worth it.

That suited you perfectly. Most people preferred the livelier parts anyway, but this place? This isolated, forgotten corner? It was easily the most beautiful part of it. You liked that no one bothered climbing all the way up, and because of that, its beauty remained untouched. No one ever came up here. That was exactly why you loved it.

It was where your phone buzzed in your pocket. Without looking, you picked up, thinking it was San, but it wasn’t. It was one of the companies that you applied for; another one that said you were on their waitlist. Suddenly, the view started to fade into the background, your mood souring entirely.

“I could put you on hold until upper management is free,” the lady on the phone uttered monotonously as if you were just another voice on their roster they had to get rid of. “Though I’m not sure how long that would be.”

“I’ll wait,” you gritted out, trying not to sound let down. You gripped the phone tighter like it was the only thing tethering you to the ground, the telltale music on the other end as you were put on hold ringing in your ear like a heartbeat you didn’t want to hear. 

You knew how this was going to end. It was only one of two; either they put you on hold long enough where you knew they’re doing it on purpose and you’d have no choice but to hang up, or they’d pick up to tell you that they’ll put you on top of their waitlist. You’re just surprised your eyes haven’t gotten stuck behind your brain by how much you rolled them at this point.

But you were in a good mood today. You absentmindedly idled around, still taking in the view as you held the phone to your ear, waiting for what you already knew. Whatever, you thought. If this doesn’t work, you still have KQ. Hopefully.

You dug your free hand inside your pocket, taking out the company card you always carried. You even put a star sticker on it for good luck. You turned the card over between your fingers, the weight of it surprising you every time. Your thumb traced over the embossed letters, in awe of how luxurious even that felt across your fingertips.

KQ Corporation. Of course, you wanted in. They were the best of the best; the crème de la crème of the business world. You’d be set for life. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You weren’t special for wanting it. You were just one in the thousands upon thousands of applicants who wanted their piece of the prestige.

You must’ve been so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t notice that you walked into the deeper part of the trail, the one where you didn’t even venture in because the brush was thicker and the trees were denser. It was mostly unkempt because barely anyone went in here. You cursed under your breath when you looked back. You were so high up that going down would take a while because it was steeper to walk down than up.

You decided to walk a little further to find a path that wasn’t as steep, but that turned out to be a huge mistake. Your shoelaces got caught on one of the exposed tree roots that you barely noticed, causing you to trip unceremoniously, dropping everything you held in your hand to catch yourself before you cracked your skull on the nearby tree trunk, using your umbrella to cushion your fall.

You stayed where you fell, palms pressed into the dirt, annoyed at your clumsiness before you started picking your stuff up from the leafy ground of the walking trail. Your phone was only a couple of steps away from you, but your wallet, it wasn’t anywhere near you. Confused, your eyes scanned the ground, and that’s when you spotted it lying on the other side of the trail, further than where it should have been.

With a small groan, you crawled to wherever it was, not caring about the dirt on your clothes. As you were about to grab the worn leather, you stilled, fingers hovering above it. There were voices - two male ones, in fact - and they were close. A little too close for your liking. 

At first, you were going to ignore it, thinking that they were people who ventured a little too far on the trail just like you, but when you heard the distinct sounds of an altercation, it got your attention. Still, it was none of your business. It was an argument you did not want to involve yourself in.

It was the sharp, guttural sound of someone getting choked that had you going completely dead still. Your head automatically lifts to find the source, and there they were. Just beyond the trees was a taller, much bigger man pinning an older man against a tree, his hand wrapped tightly around the other’s throat.

Your chest wanted to cave in. You weren’t supposed to see this. From where they stood, you can tell that nobody was meant to see this at all. But that wasn’t why your gut was churning; you knew deep inside, that you were not supposed to be seen watching this unfold. You didn’t dare move, didn’t even dare breathe in fear that they’ll hear.

The older man choked out a pitiful sound, his fingers desperately clawing the other man’s fingers away from his neck as his face turned into a concerning shade of purple as he struggled for some sort of leverage. “P-Please,” you heard him wheeze weakly. “You c-can’t…”

You were horrified as you watched the taller man tilt his head slightly, not bothering to say a word. He didn’t even look strained as he held the older man hostage even though you knew it must take great strength to force someone’s head against a surface. Hell, you felt like you were straining more trying not to breathe or move.

As the pinned man garbled strings of random words that reeked of desperate mercy, you took this opportunity to stare at the taller man. He was magnetic, and not in a good way. He was broad, menacing in ways that threatened you even from where you sat. His expression was eerily blank as if he wasn’t actively choking the life out of this man.

But his eyes...you did not like them. For a split second as the older man seemed to blabber on and on, his eyes seemed to darken, like an ominous shadow enveloping the humanity in it. Or, perhaps, the complete lack of it. “I-I’ll do it, please, I’ll pay you, give you w-what you want,” the man gasped, his eyes rolling at the back of his head. 

The other man scoffs softly. “I don’t need your money.”

Shivers erupted from your skin at the tone of his voice. It wasn’t that it was low, rough, and rugged - though that certainly was a huge factor. It was the first time you heard him speak after all the broken cries of the other man and you weren’t sure you wanted to hear it again. If his actions already freaked you out, hearing him talk definitely was not going to help. 

“Please, put me down,” the older man croaked pitifully. “P-Put it down.”

It?

That’s when you saw the thing that set this apart from a regular fight between two men. Your eyes settled on the gun the taller man held in his free hand, your stomach dropping as he lifted it, pressing the cold metal on the struggling man’s temple. The motion was sure and final, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been on the other side of the trigger. 

You wanted to throw up. You were done for. You had to get away from here, but how? One wrong move and you were sure you’d be next. You were about to watch someone die and there was nothing you could do about it without giving yourself away. The man’s face had gone blotchy, veins straining as he forced words out past the pressure. “Y-You,” he let out with much difficulty. “You’re going to regret t-this.”

The taller man didn’t react. He just blinked, nodding slowly. “Will I?” He asked, genuinely curious of the answer he might hear next. You wanted to whimper at his sheer indifference.

The pinned man sucked in a broken breath, desperation sharpening his voice. “You think no one’s gonna c-come looking? You’re not untouchable–”

His tirade gets interrupted, letting out a small cry when the man presses the gun more firmly against his head. Your heart just about dropped to your foot at the brash gesture while the latter just lets out a quiet exhale, his fingers visibly tightening even more on the former’s throat.

“Why would that matter to you? You’ll be long gone by then,” he murmured, the faintest hint of something dark curling at the edge of his tone.

 “D-Do you not know who I am? This is—”

“I do,” the taller man interrupts him again, gentler this time. That just made it worse, in your opinion. “And that is exactly why you’re here.”

You were surprised when he suddenly let go, and clearly, the older man as well. He wasn’t thrown to the ground like a rag doll, he was just released, crumpling to the floor as he took in big gulps of the breath that was almost taken from him, dirt smearing all over his clothes as he tried to get away from his captor.

But none of that mattered. The relief was short lived as the taller man took one unhurried step forward, bracing his leg firmly on the ground as he lifted the gun in the air, the finality of it sealing all of your fates - the killer, the victim, and the witness.

Blood drained from your face, but you couldn’t move. It was so morbid, but you just couldn’t look away. The man on the ground trembled, pure and unadulterated panic taking over his entire form. “No, no, wait, p-please,” he begged. “You’re not going to get away with this, Song. People will ask, and they will find you. Don’t do this—”

The taller man stared down at him, expression unchanged save for the slight twitch on the corner of his lips. “You’re right,” he said softly, almost thoughtfully, voice barely audible. “It is highly unusual for big animals to not leave footprints in the snow.”

A soft click fills the air. It was the gun being cocked back in preparation for that one shot, but in the silence of the trail, it sounded like a bone being snapped in half. “But, the thing is,” he continued, eerily calm. “I have very, very small feet.”

Bang.

It was loud. The sound was a split second of finality, but it was deafening. Everything happened in slow motion. The man fell backwards as the bullet that pierced his forehead snuffed the life out of him, the heavy thump of his weightless, limp body falling down the damp soil startling you to the reality that you had just watched cold-blooded murder; you saw somebody die before you.

Faint smoke lazily curled up from the bullet hole on the dead man’s head, his open and unseeing eyes that reflected nothing at all staring up at you, judging you silently. But that wasn’t what made bile rise up your throat - it was the thick splatters of blood speckling your face.

You flinched, eyes closing on instinct as you felt tiny droplets mist across your face, the metallic scent of it making you nauseous. Your breath caught, mouth open as you tried to chase it before you hyperventilated. Your entire body was numb, caught between wanting to tremble like the leaves surrounding you and staying frozen, but the shock of it was preventing you.

You had to get out of here. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want any part of this. All you wanted was to take a walk to relax, you didn’t want to die. But before you could even do anything, a shadow fell above you, enveloping your immediate surroundings ominously.

You stopped breathing then, your fingers curling in your palms, gathering dirt as they trembled. You didn’t look up - you didn’t want to. You could feel him there, staring down at you like he stared down at the man he had just killed, and every instinct in your body screamed at you to run, but you stayed exactly where you were, locked in place like prey that knew better than to twitch under a predator’s gaze.

Neither of you spoke or moved. Time twisted into something shapeless and it felt like a showdown to whoever would crack first. Maybe, your mind supplied in a panic. Maybe if I didn’t move at all he’d leave me alone–

You stopped yourself before that thought festered. No, that would not work. Not in a million years. He’d already seen you, and you know that he knows that you were there the entire time everything went down. Sweat trailed down from your temples, dripping down to the back of your hand. Your heart stopped when your fingers twitched, but that was when a thought struck you.

In a mixture of panic and sheer will to survive - and perhaps, possibly, the most idiotic thing you could ever do - you forced your hands to move. A little at first since they wouldn’t stop shaking, a little because you were scared that your nerves would cause you to topple over. You did it again until your hands dragged clumsily across the ground.

You swallowed hard, doing it over again, all without blinking nor moving your head, forcing your eyes to stare straight at nowhere in particular, your gaze slipping past everything like it couldn’t quite land as you patted blindly at the soil, movements uneven and hesitant while you tried to breathe through your panicked state.

Like you couldn’t see. Because that’s exactly what you were doing - you were pretending to be blind. Please, you internally screamed as your fingers swept all over the ground and purposefully missing your wallet by a few inches. Please let him believe it.

A scream bubbles up your throat when suddenly, the taller man crouches down. He went from standing menacingly tall above you to your eye-level, his face so close to you that you could smell the mint from his breath. You almost yelped when his hand came up to take your sunglasses off - the one you forgot you were still wearing all this time - and he was now staring directly into your eyes.

Your heart wanted to leap out your chest at the suddenness of it, but you forced yourself to look straight past him, hoping to convince him that you legitimately couldn’t see even though all you wanted to do was cry. His unexpected gesture made you fumble, causing you to accidentally run your hands on his shoe, though in hindsight, that might have helped your case. 

Through your unfocused gaze, you saw his brow tilt up. Without breaking eye contact, you saw his hand move through your peripheral vision, his fingers pushing your wallet in the direction where your hands were patting randomly. The silence stretched as you grabbed your wallet, clutching it a little harder than usual, the leather bending abnormally inside your palm.

What now, though? You had the one thing you crawled for in the sweaty palm of your shaking hand, so what now? Your heart was about to leap out of your ribcage. He was still staring, testing to see what you would do next. Even in your stationary gaze, you could tell that he was observing you; trying to detect any sort of deception on your end.

And you forced your eyes to stare between his brows and keep them fully open even when you felt them dry up. Fuck, you thought as dread crept upon you, don’t blink, Y/N, don’t you fucking dare blink–

It was a gradual sensation. You felt it slowly, that thin layer of moisture leaving your eyes. Your eyelids wanted to twitch, wanting to close for that relief, but you held them open; forced them wide. Then the burn came and tears threatened to form as the air around your eyes felt like fine grains, and still, your gaze stayed fixed and empty.

Unfortunately, though, your vision didn’t blur out. Instead, it sharpened in a way that made you notice every single detail about this man. You could see every pore on his skin, the way his icy blonde hair stayed in place even after what he had done, but most importantly, those unreadable eyes.

They showed no particular expression, and to you, that just made this entire thing much, much worse. You needed to know what this man was thinking. It was the only thing that will keep you alive. You had no idea if he was laughing on the inside because of this asinine charade you were pulling, or if his murderous intent had increased since then. You did not know.

Still, there was something chilling about them. Perhaps it was the nothingness in them, or perhaps, that thin, malicious sheen that pulsed with an unspoken threat. Your lashes quivered at the thought and you screamed internally at that blunder. He saw it, you knew he did. His head tilted slightly and you froze harder, if that was even possible.

Then, through your unfocused gaze, you caught the faintest movement. It was his hand moving slowly - the one holding the gun. You stopped breathing completely, but then, you saw him put it away. That should have made you feel better, but it didn’t, because the same hand started to come up until it was within your direct line of sight.

He waved his hand in front of your face, his eyes unblinking as he tested his suspicions, but you forced your eyes to not follow his hands, keeping them dull and off-center. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, his hand started to move forward. Controlled but with certainty, his hand moved until it made contact with your face.

You allowed yourself to flinch at the sudden touch, every muscle in your body locking up so tight that it hurt. His fingers were cold and honestly, you were just bracing for impact, but that didn’t happen. Instead, his fingers lingered, slowly tracing until they stopped on your cheek. He wiped something from your cheek, the pads of his fingers dragging lightly across your skin.

Your stomach lurched. You forgot you unwillingly got sprayed with blood. His hand momentarily pulls away and you watch as he slowly licked his thumb wet before going back in and wiping more of the blood away from your face. It made your skin crawl. The same hand that did not hesitate to pull the trigger felt abnormally tender like you were something so fragile.

It was over as soon as it started. He moved to get up and as you were about to panic, you felt him reach your arm, helping you get up. Your instincts told you to scream and push him away, but you didn’t. Your legs almost failed you as you tried to grab onto your bearings, and when you rose to your full height, your knees almost buckled when you realised that you were only up to this man’s shoulders. You never stood a chance.

You saw him bend down in your peripheral vision, saw him pick up your sunglasses and umbrella before handing them to you. In a morbid twist of events, he even put your sunglasses back on your face before positioning the umbrella for you on the wet, muddy soil of the trail. You swallowed, internally thanking whichever saint was watching over you and for San for making you buy those traditionally long umbrellas.

And for making you bring the umbrella in general, because this man must’ve thought you were using the umbrella as some sort of mobility cane to guide you on your walk. “T-Thank you,” you squeaked weakly, forcing the words out, willing yourself to sound normal even though the sound came out unsteady.

The man didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabs your shoulder, spins you around, and gives you a small nudge forward. At first, you were confused, but you were rendered dizzy when you realised that he turned you to the direction where it would lead to the main part of the trail near the exit. He was basically telling you to go.

The fear locked you into place, and you swear you willed yourself to walk, but you just couldn’t. That didn’t last long because you felt another push on your shoulder, this time, with a bit more force, as if he was telling you, “Go. Leave before I change my mind and end you here.”

That broke whatever mental barrier was hindering you. You gripped the umbrella handle so hard, your knuckles ached, like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Because it basically was. You lifted it, tapping on the ground like you thought people who couldn’t see would, not entirely sure if it looked realistic, but it was enough for now. It had to be.

San walked back and forth briskly in your living room, and had been for the past twenty minutes. His hair was in disarray as he bit his nails anxiously, pausing his walk to open his mouth before closing them again. “I-I just can’t believe it,” he blurted out in disbelief. “He let you go?” He snapped his fingers loud once and you unconsciously flinched. It reminded you of how loud that single gunshot was. “Just like that? He let you go?”

“Yes, how many times do I have to tell you?” You were getting exasperated at this point, stuck between laughing at the incredulity of the situation you found yourself in and crying at how messed up everything was. 

You came home in record time, busting through the front door about to pass out from the lack of breath. San was about to poke fun, but when he noticed how pale you were, trembling abnormally, with dried up streaks of blood on your face, he knew something was not right. “What am I gonna do?” You gulped. “W-What if he followed me here and I didn’t see him? What if he finds me, San? What if—”

“Alright, first off,” he interrupted before he led you to sit down on the couch. “Let’s take a moment—”

“I can’t,” you wailed, feeling tears threaten to fall from your eyes again. Everything suddenly hit you now that you were at the comfort of your own house. “I don’t know what to do, San, I just witnessed someone get shot and die.”

San holds your face in between his hands. “You’re hyperventilating. Breathe in with me,” he took a deep breath in, waiting for you to do the same. “Good, now breathe out with me…just like that, you’re doing great.”

It was easier said than done, but you managed to control your breathing by following his actions, and eventually, you felt like your airways were clear enough to get your thoughts straightened out. “I think I should go to the police,” you started, swallowing audibly before continuing. “I don’t think my conscience can take all this burden, I just can’t. I thought crap like this only happened in movies and they all made it seem so easy, but I don’t think I can hold this in.”

“Yeah, you do that, and what?” San raised a brow, pausing to sigh loudly in equal exasperation. “What are you going to tell the police? It’ll be your words against a man I’m pretty sure isn’t hanging around the trail anymore waiting to be caught like a live fish in a lake.”

You ran your hands on your hair, incredulous. “You serious? Are you telling me to just keep this to myself? Someone died, San.”

“Of course not,” he replied in disbelief. “But just think about it - do you even know which part of the trail it is? Do you know what this guy looks like? Can you even describe what this man looks like if they asked you for a composite sketch? You have no proof to bring them, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to retort before forcing them shut. “But, I saw it,” you tried again weakly, clearly grasping for straws at this point. “I saw everything. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It does,” he said, softer now. “To you.”

Your stomach sank. You knew he wasn’t wrong. Best case, they take a report and nothing comes of it. Worst case, they don’t believe you. Not without proof where they’ll start poking holes in a story built on fragments and adrenaline and fear. Your shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of you as quickly as it had come.

San leaned back slightly, watching you with something more measured. “You did what you had to do to stay alive,” he said. “Don’t twist that into something it’s not.”

Your thoughts raced faster, trying to think of how to turn this situation where you didn’t have to carry the burdens of what you saw, but there was nothing; not when you had nothing but a memory you couldn’t even fully trust because you’d spent half of it trying not to see. “So what, I just sit here and pretend it didn’t happen? But…” you trailed off, stomach churning violently. “So in other words, I’m fucked?”

“In many words, you’re fucked,” he scoffed, not at you, but at the situation, as he lightly shook his head. He went quiet for a second before he continued, more gently this time. “All’s I’m saying, let’s not dive in impulsively yet. If this freak had the audacity to do what he did in broad daylight…”

San trailed off, glancing at you pointedly. You gulped. You knew what he was trying to say - that this man was capable and more.

There are a lot of things that are easier said than done. You tried to forget, you really did. It’s been two weeks of constant nightmares plaguing you; two weeks of dread crawling up your skin, festering your insides like a rotten disease that has no cure. Every time you closed your eyes, you’d see man’s eyes that gleamed like a blade in the dark. You just wanted it to stop.

You sighed heavily, pressing your fingers to your temples to stop the clustered migraine making its way up your head, almost tempted to dig your fingers into your eyes just to stop the ache. You had to will them away, now was not the time.

You adjusted your sunglasses to block out the midday sun, gripping the fabric of your pencil skirt a little too tightly and then alternating that with smoothing the wrinkles you made over and over again. You were nervous. Today was a big day, after all.

Because you were currently in line along with other people outside of one of the most prestigious companies in the country, waiting to be let in for an interview. You will never forget getting the call a couple of days ago, thinking that it was another dud from a random company, but when Jeong Yunho introduced himself as KQ Corporation’s secretary and told you that you could come in for an interview, your mind just blanked out. 

The KQ logo sat high above the entrance, sleek and understated and you watched as it swallowed candidates one by one. Getting in the building was just step one; getting inside the lobby for the actual interview was another thing. That, alone, wracked up your anxiety.

“Sorry, but is there a way you could perhaps save my spot for me? I just need to use the restroom real quick.” You didn’t realise that the voice was coming directly from behind you. “Huh? Oh yeah, sure, of course, take your time,” you spoke nonchalantly, not really paying attention to the person.

You didn’t think much of it. After a while, you heard annoyed murmurs and minor complaints from behind you, snide remarks about people cutting in line. You assumed it was the man from earlier coming back and you thought that was that. “It’s crazy, huh? All these people want to be in and we’re one of them.” You didn’t reply at first, but then you realised that the casual statement was actually directed towards you. “Oh, yeah,” you chuckled when you turned around, nervously adjusting your sunglasses. “One can only dream, am I right?”

The stranger lets out a small laughter, nodding his head in agreement. You observed him for a second. He looked handsome, though intimidating in his stance with his sturdy and athletic build. However, his face was soft, his warm gummy smile complimenting his face. “For sure. If only it wasn’t so damn hot out here,” he said, fanning himself with his hand while the other jutted forward for a handshake. “Hi, I’m Choi Jongho. Should’ve introduced myself earlier.”

You took his hand and shook it well, hoping yours wasn’t clammy because he was right, it was hot outside the building. “L/N Y/N,” you smiled. “I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he replied, mouth tugging up with a soft smile as he adjusted his own sunglasses. “For one, you’re the nicest person I’ve encountered today. Been holding that piss for hours now and these assholes just…well. Half the people here are acting like they’ve already been hired. Thank you for that, by the way.”

He wasn’t wrong. People stood a little too straight, eyes flicking over one another in quick, calculating glances, silently sizing up competition. Some didn’t even bother to hide it. Everyone just wanted to one up another. “Don’t mention it,” you dismissed. “Good luck to us, I suppose.”

Jongho was about to open his mouth to say it back, but it never came because suddenly, the energy shifted. The people began to murmur to themselves, clamouring as their voices overlapped with one another. You were confused, but you soon realised what was happening.

Someone important was about to come; someone to impress. Security guards lined up, parting the crowd to make space. You didn’t have to wait long. You felt a presence a distance away so commanding that you didn’t have to look.

There he was. The person moved towards the building with ease like he didn’t need the path cleared - like the world would’ve parted for him anyway. His stride was unhurried and grounded, confident in a way that wasn’t forced. You could easily tell that this person was in charge with the way he didn’t even acknowledge the attention. He didn’t have to.

As he got closer, you got a clearer view of this person. Your eyes traced upwards slowly, taking him in piece by piece, until you stopped at his face. But the moment you did, you regretted it. Everything slowed and your breath caught so sharp that it physically hurt you afterward.

No, no, no, you internally screamed, doom suddenly making your ears ring, easily tuning everything out as you honed in on the one face you’ve been trying to forget for two weeks now. Your heart dropped so fast it felt like it hit the ground.

It was him. The man from the trail. There was no doubt about it. You didn’t even have to look at his entire face, his eyes alone were enough. It was those same empty eyes that contemplated your demise; the same eyes where you saw your end before he let you go that day. And right now, people were parting for him as he walked through with authority. But that wasn’t what made him different today, it wasn’t what made him even more dangerous.

It was the way he carried himself. It was so different from the rugged, aggressive man from the trail. Your stomach lurched violently. What was he doing here? You couldn’t breathe, everything in you wanted to run, but he was getting closer and closer to where you were, and you couldn’t even move away.

And as if things weren’t bad for you already, you swore, you could have sworn, that you saw his eyes flicker towards you for a split second.

But he just moved past you, not stopping, not slowing down, not even bothering to look. He walked straight past, the guards falling in line behind him as he approached the entrance. The doors opened seamlessly, like they’d been waiting for him and then he was gone. Just like that.

It was when your knees gave out. The world violently spun around you as you stumbled. Everything crashed down on you, overwhelmingly and suffocatingly so. The noise, the heat, the crowd - none of that mattered to you. All you could think of was the nightmare you’ve lived for two weeks and now that very same nightmare was haunting you while you were wide awake.

You barely registered the firm touch of hands on your waist, balancing you up. Jongho’s worried face suddenly materialises in front of you, a frown on his face as he used the folder he had on himself to fan you as his other hand held your limp arm to also stablise you. “Y/N? You’re pale,” he pointed out. “Is it the heat? I can get you water–”

“W-Who was that?” You blurted out in a panic, jutting your trembling fingers at the entrance door. “That man who just went in…who was that?”

“Hmm? Oh, that’s the CEO,” he answered as he helped you up, but all you wanted to do was throw up as his answer looped over and over in your head. That man was the CEO. He was the CEO. He’s in charge. He killed someone two weeks ago and you saw it. 

Your fingers curled tightly at your sides, nails digging into your palms as panic surged, hot and suffocating. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense. Did he see you? That can’t be. There were no less than a hundred people and you were just one of them. There was no way.

Beads of sweat started to trickle down from your scalp to your jaws, but you barely felt it with how cold your entire body felt on the inside. I have to get out of here, you internally panicked, already planning your escape route. You’d have lost your damn mind if you thought you were going to spend another second in the presence of a cold-blooded killer.

But before you could even attempt to leave, the entrance opens again and out comes someone and everyone falls into a hush when he raises his hand. Even in your frightened state, you could see that this was another person of authority. It was obvious that whatever he said next wasn’t up for discussion.

“We appreciate your interest in KQ Corporation and your time in attending today’s selection process,” he began, voice polished to perfection. “I’ll cut to the chase, if you are not Choi Jongho and L/N Y/N, then you are all dismissed.”

Your heart stopped for half a second. The crowd immediately erupted around you with voices of anger and disbelief as, but all of that faded into muffled white noise. You desperately wanted the high-pitched ringing in your ears to stop, but your limbs refused to move. “If there are any further disruptions,” the man said calmly, cutting through the noise with ease, “We will be forced to escalate this situation accordingly.”

Now, he didn’t say it outright, but the implication was clear - continue fucking around to find out. People still grumbled, but one by one, they started to leave. Still, you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was throw up. You had been picked, and now, there was no way out. Not anymore.

“Hey,” Jongho’s voice came through, breaking you out of your trance. You turned to look at him, and he still had that stunned look on his face. “This was…unexpected. We should go,” he cleared his throat nervously. He says something more, but you didn’t hear any of it. You were still feeling the aftereffects of your name being called. You were genuinely terrified and trapped. “Y/N?” Jongho frowned, looking back in confusion as to why you weren’t moving.

Your feet wouldn’t move. Inside those walls was everything you'd been dreaming of to advance in your career. The problem was, so was he. The memory hit you all over again - his eyes, the gun, the terror - and you just knew you couldn’t go in there. Your breathing picked up, throat tightening. You needed something, anything, to protect yourself. But before you could stop yourself, your mouth just moved on its own and you blurted out, “I-I’m blind.”

Jongho’s eyes widened in sheer surprise. “What? Oh my,” the latter uttered in disbelief, immediately walking back towards you. “I-I didn’t know, I’m sorry, here…”

He extended his hand, and you almost reached out, but stopped yourself, forcing your gaze to unfocus, tilting your head like you were listening instead of seeing. Jongho was confused why you weren’t taking his hand, but then, he face-palmed himself. “Oh, God, I’m an idiot,” he hissed. “Uhm, is it alright if I hold onto you so I can help you get inside?”

You nodded stiffly, legs finally unlocking as he guided you forward. In no time, the both of you were following the man, who you soon learned was none other than Jeong Yunho, himself. You saw him raise a brow at how Jongho was guiding you, but when he had told him of your circumstances, he stayed silent for a moment. If he was surprised, he barely let it show.

“Are you going to be okay?” Yunho asked as he guided you by the arm to sit down in one of the rooms. Jongho is already being shown his respective position so that left you. “On behalf of the company, I sincerely apologise for any discomfort. Had I known, I personally would have made you wait here from the start.”

Yunho’s voice was soft, and he was surprisingly gentle. It was such a contrast to his cool and intimidating exterior. You had to force your head still, thankful you didn’t have to take your sunglasses off so you wouldn’t have to pretend too hard. “I-It’s alright,” you stammered, trying hard not to sound like you were one step away from fainting. “I’d like to be hired fair and square despite my…shortcomings.”

“Admirable, I like that. I’m sure he will, too,” Yunho hummed. He stood up, patting your shoulder gently once. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. He’s just finishing a phone call, but he’ll be ready to personally interview you soon. Do call if you need anything, Y/N.”

Bile started to rise from your throat, but you had to make sure. “W-Wait,” you stopped Yunho before he walked away. “I-I’m sorry, who’s the he you’re referring to?”

Yunho lets a small smirk slip out before masking it quickly. “The boss, Y/N. This is his office,” he replied, gesturing his hand to the room. “He’s been quite taken with your credentials. You are exactly what he’s looking for.”

You did not like the sound of that. What the fuck does that even mean? Unfortunately, you had plenty of time to think about it as you sat in that chair, waiting for your doom to swallow you whole and spit you out with nothing but bones left. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

Life was a joke like that. You knew you were going to see him again. You weren’t meant to stay in peace forever. But, goddamn, you didn’t think it would be this soon. You could’ve gotten more time, at least. Hell, you never wanted to see him at all ever again if it was up to you.

Your gaze lifted, carefully taking everything in. The office was spacious and elegant, but minimal in its decor. Dark, sleek furniture of sharp edges surrounded you, and surprisingly, it actually made sense. It was a mirror of how he was as a person, you couldn’t explain it. And then, you saw it - a metal plate fixed neatly against the desk with his name on it.

Song Mingi. Chief Executive Officer.

Your mouth dried up, eyes focusing sharply on that plate. Song Mingi. The name echoed in your head. Finally, you had a name to match to the face; a name to tie to the crime. He wasn’t just a memory anymore, he was tangible and real. He was here. And so were you.

“Comfortable?”

Hot breath ghosted over your ear. You jerked on instinct, nearly jumping out of your skin, yelping as your heart thundered violently against your ribcage. A low, amused chuckle followed. “Sorry,” a deep voice murmured, not sounding apologetic at all. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Something about that just sounded so…wrong to you. It was a good thing you didn’t turn around, because there he was, the man of your nightmares walking to sit behind his pristine desk. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, terror washing all over you as you tried not to tremble, holding your breath as if that would save you.

Mingi. He was exactly as you remembered, yet somehow worse at the same time. He was still as broad two weeks ago, but instead of a black faded jacket, he wore a suit that emphasized his long limbs. He was still blonde, hair still slicked back, and the pale colour should’ve looked soft in this particular lighting, but not on him.

Unfortunately, it emphasized the sharpness of his features, contrasting his high cheekbones and lips that were curled slightly up the edges like he knew something you didn’t. It also highlighted those murderous eyes, except this time, they were filled with mirth and not in a good way. 

He looked good. No one would be the wiser that this man had no problem taking someone's life. You were about to stand, albeit stiffly, about to offer him a bow in respect, when his low voice cut you off mid-gesture. “No need,” he spoke firmly. You froze, not knowing what to do. “I’ve been informed of your…circumstances,” he continued, that faint curl of amusement still lingering in his tone.

You swallowed. Right. You were blind. You forced out a smile, hands gripping the sides of the chair awkwardly. You were still stuck in that halfway standing position and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even want to move, every inch of you wanted to just get up and run.

“Sit down.”

He said it so quietly that you barely heard him. You obeyed, though, because the way he said it was not a suggestion. So there you were, sat on a cushy chair that felt more like a trap across from where he also sat, not saying a word. The problem was, neither was he. You waited, keeping your posture pin straight as you waited for him to say something. Anything.

Instead, you saw his eyes on you, taking you in unhurriedly and deliberately like he had all the time in the world. Like you did too. Subconsciously, your fingers curled into your skirt, and you saw his eyes trail down at the gesture. His lips twitched a little, eyes shining like he was enjoying this far more than he should. It made your skin crawl.

The silence was oppressive. It made the room seem smaller, the air thinner somehow. Even the faint, ambient noises you might have expected like a clock ticking, footsteps outside the room, and paperwork rustling were absent. It was as if the room itself had decided to hold its breath, waiting to see what the both of you would do next.

But Mingi’s gaze remained fixed on you as though he could sit in this silence indefinitely and emerge victorious simply by outlasting you. There was no urgency in him, no need to fill the void. If anything, he seemed to thrive in it. You shifted slightly, your discomfort evident, and his lips stretched further. He was savouring this, enjoying it far more than he had any right to.

“You don’t look like someone who can’t see.”

The words didn’t land immediately. It was comparable to lightning where you’d see it before the booming loudness hit your ears. Your breath hitched, the dread pushing bile up your throat that you forced yourself to swallow. “I-I,” you started, voice cracking embarrassingly before you cleared your throat. “I, uhm, see silhouettes, but I’m mostly unseeing. You get used to it.”

There was a pause before he let out a soft chuckle, and somehow, that was the most menacing thing you’ve ever seen him do. “Do you?” He asked, tilting his head. You nodded weakly, and this time, you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking. 

“Ah, I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” he chuckled again, waving a dismissive hand like he didn’t just make this entire encounter the most uncomfortable thing ever. “I meant that as a compliment. Let’s start over again, yes? Would you mind if I touched your hand to shake it?”

“N-No, not at all,” you replied, lifting your hand, steadying your head forward, still keeping your gaze unfocused and out of centre. Mingi does not hesitate to grab it, gripping it firmly, and for a split second, the way he did it reminded you of how he held your shoulders at the trail. Shivers crawled up your spine at the memory.

“Song Mingi, Chief Executive,” he introduced, shaking your hand before letting go. “Welcome to KQ Corporation. I’m sure you’ve heard of us, hopefully only the good things, though.”

“L/N Y/N,” you smiled tightly, putting on your professional stance, pretending that all of this was normal. That wasn’t the hard part anyway, you were good at your job. Your resumé speaks for itself. “It’s my honour to be here, Mr. Song. KQ has been a lifelong dream of mine.”

A ghost of a smirk graces his lips. “Charmed,” he said. “And Mingi will be just fine. We’ll be working very close together, Y/N. I suggest you get used to it.”

You chuckled nervously, disliking the message, hating the way he said it even more. But there was nothing you could do, not as you felt the weight of his gaze dragging over every detail of you just waiting for you to fail, patiently standing by to see when he could dig his claws in.

“Right. Let’s begin,” he started, posture straightening immediately into something more professional. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry because, after all, the killer was an established businessman. “As you are aware, KQ invests plenty on international ventures. As do I. My presence is scarce in my own company because I’m always out of the country.”

You paid attention, ignoring the deep drawl of his voice and the change in his demeanor that was throwing you off-kilter. This was dangerous. If he could switch from being a menace to this composed, articulate executive in the blink of an eye, then nothing about him was accidental.

“Now, I had been told prior by Yunho about your visual impairment,” he continued, grabbing a couple of papers from the desk drawers. Your eyes tracked his measured movements without moving your neck, which proved difficult. “And while it is unconventional,” he paused, taking something small from the stack and sliding it across the desk directly in front of you. “Sight is not necessary for what I am hiring you to do for me, specifically.”

Your gaze dropped to his desk, and you felt your head spin so fast it almost made you dizzy. It was the company card you didn’t even know you had lost until this moment. It was yours, and you knew it was because of the star sticker. It also had small, dried up specks of blood on it.

You forced your breathing to stay even, but something in your chest had already tightened, coiling too fast to control. San was right - you were thoroughly, utterly fucked. This was no coincidence. He’d had the card all this time, and he was deliberately showing you.

But, you weren’t going to give in. Not now even if fear was harder to mask when it came from recognition. Mingi leaned on his seat, his gaze sharpening into something more analytical rather than predatory. “Something wrong?” He asked, almost innocently.

You shook your head, putting on a smile that you hoped didn’t resemble a grimace. “No, Sir—”

“Mingi.”

“—I was just wondering what my job description would be,” you finished, digging your nails into your palms. “M-Mingi.” 

A pause. His brows raised ever so slightly. There was a soft, almost inaudible, exhale of satisfaction from him before he went back to inspecting the stack of paperwork in his hands. “I reviewed your resumé,” he spoke, plucking said resumé from the stack. “Very impressive. Your previous company was tactless for letting you slip away.”

And there it was again. He was back at being eloquent. You watched as his eyes skimmed through your resumé, nodding imperceptively the longer he went on. You might even go as far as say that this might be the only time he was truthful with his words and actions. “If I didn’t know better,” he went on, voice lowering just enough to demand your full attention, “I’d assume they were giving you to me on a silver platter.”

Mingi didn’t miss the flicker in your expression. “Anyway,” he continued, the air shifting back into something more cutthroat. “To put this simply, I am in need of a personal translator. I do business with important people overseas and most of the time, you can imagine how challenging the language barrier could be especially if there is a lot at stake.” He paused, letting you absorb the information. “I do not always have the liberty of hiring different people all the time for that. We’re talking massive corporate leviathans here, Y/N. Things that simply cannot be common knowledge for the masses. Are you following me so far?”

You nodded. “I need discretion,” he continued smoothly, eyes hardening aggressively. “And efficiency. I will never compromise on those two. I will expect nothing less than perfection, certainly not while the vultures await. They only feed on decaying matter, after all.”

You straightened slightly. You were beginning to see why KQ was at the top echelon of the business world and why it was difficult to get in. “Understood.”

“I don’t repeat instructions. I don’t find pleasure being with people who waste my time and breath,” he added, almost conversationally. “Nor do I tolerate delays disguised as effort.”

There it was again, that edge that wasn’t loud nor overt, but unmistakably cutting nonetheless. You nodded once. “You won’t have to.”

“Good,” he said, seemingly pleased with your answer. He taps the resumé with his pen twice. “As I said, your credentials are impressive enough for me to overlook your limited vision. I only need you to hear and speak. If your achievements are what you say they are, then it won’t be of any hindrance.”

You could feel him watching you. Not curiously, but with the kind of attention that dissected reactions down to the smallest fracture. He was sizing you up, confirming if you had what it takes. “When do I start?” You asked, voice steady by sheer force and will.

He raised a brow, clearly fascinated. The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly, though there was nothing warm about it. “Interesting,” Mingi murmured, almost thoughtful, twirling his pen with his fingers absentmindedly. “You have maintained composure so far where other people would have folded. I admire your tenacity, Y/N. Truly.”

Your throat felt dry. He was talking about business, he had to be. The double entendre was difficult to ignore, however, it didn’t feel like he was just talking about this, but this was probably paranoia on your end. “I have been told I had plenty,” you replied curtly.

Another ghost of that smirk. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself. “I’m beginning to see that.”

He straightened before you could react, snapping back into place like nothing had happened. “Your role, should you accept the opportunity I’m willing to extend to you,” he said, now all business again. “Will be as important as mine. You are the bridge of communication, the deciding factor on whether KQ stays afloat or sinks beyond. Failure is not an option.”

You nodded, grateful for the clarity. You could do that. It was work you understood and could control. “And if I don’t?” You asked, deliberately.

His eyes held yours, glinting with something that refused to be challenged. “You can either follow the rules, break them, or answer to me.”

There were no traces of threat in that statement, but that lingering tension stayed in your chest. Your own fear was twisting his words into something they weren’t. “So,” he continued expectantly. “What say you, Y/N?”

To leave was diving into uncertainty, but to stay was entering the belly of the beast. You nodded firmly, effectively choosing the lesser of two evils.  It was beginning to feel like a crossroads deal with the devil rather than a business transaction. “Now that we got all of that out of the way,” he said. “I do have one small favour to ask of you.”

“I’ll try my best to accommodate,” you said.

“Might I see the eyes of the person that’ll be with me and my business for most of the time? Plus, I reckon it’s proper etiquette to remove any sort of outdoor eyewear in front of your boss.”

You stopped breathing. Your sunglasses. It was the only thing blocking your eyes from him, the thing making it easier to pretend you weren't actually blind. You took a moment, not doing anything under his scrutiny, frozen under the weight of his unyielding expectancy. You gritted your teeth, upset that you couldn’t worm your way out of this one without being questioned.

In the end, you lowered your head not out of submission, but out of necessity, forcing your vision to blur; to dull itself into nothingness even if you’d be looking the devil in the eye once you remove the protective barrier that was keeping you somewhat safe. But the moment you looked up, your soul nearly left your body.

The fountain pen Mingi was holding was right there, the sharp, gleaming tip of it hovering only a couple of inches away from your left eye. He pointed the nib so close that if you blinked, your lashes would graze the metal - so close that you could feel it. Not just the grizzly pressure of it against your cornea if he actually pressed it, but the coldness the metal radiated.

The fear had left you petrified from where you sat. One wrong reaction - one wrong move - and it’s over. You might actually lose your eyesight for real. You swallowed your terror, willing your eyes to stay unfocused, compelling yourself to not see the pen and Mingi, himself.

And through your bleary vision, you could clearly see the way his lips fought to stay still, how he tried not to let out a smile. “You have beautiful eyes,” he remarked casually like he wasn’t about to stab your cornea. “Such shame. It would’ve been a delight to see those peepers sparkle. Have you never seen your own eyes, Y/N?”

Oh, God. The nerve of this maniac, you internally panicked, vision wavering dangerously as you fought for your body to stay rigid. “At some point, I might have. I’ve long forgotten. I tend to…forget things easily,” you replied confidently, praying that he got the message - that you wouldn’t tell a soul what you saw that dreadful day on the trail.

The corners of his mouth finally gave in, amusement dancing faintly in his eyes. “Do you?” Mingi clicked his tongue, sounding deceivingly thoughtful if it wasn’t for how predatory his face actually looked. “Because I don’t.”

His hand shifted, the pen tilting closer by a fraction. It was just enough to make your heart lurch violently against your chest. You could already imagine it, the promise of pure pain once that sharp metal nib goes through your eye, yet still, you refused to move, not daring to even take a breath in for fear of accidentally stabbing yourself in the eye, instead.

You saw him nod to himself, running his tongue painfully slow against his bottom lip as if he was impressed at your show of obstinacy. “That’s alright,” he hummed thoughtfully, voice deceptively soft. It was terrifying. If you were actually blind, you would have genuinely thought he was comforting you because he sounded so gentle.

“Though I must say,” he added. “Do forgive this ignorant man, but for someone who’s blind, I’m surprised at the clarity of your eyes. They look so clear and unclouded.”

Before you could spiral, a voice from behind you cleared their throat - someone you didn’t know was there until they spoke out. That should’ve scared you, and it did because that meant they've been there all along, silently watching all of this unfold. But for now, you could consider them your saving grace because you were running out of excuses.

“Cut it out, Mingi. Not everyone who is blind has those milky eyes you’re thinking of,” a man spoke disapprovingly. 

Mingi’s eyes shifted to look behind you. His eyes, God, the way they glared at whoever this mystery person was nothing short of terrorizing. They were so soulless and predatory, but that wasn’t why it shook you, because for a second, it was like looking at him two weeks ago again. It was the same look he had as he stared at that man seconds before he pulled the trigger.

“Right,” he murmured, finally lowering the pen and allowing you to breathe. He paused, taking in a breath before he returned to that professionalism you were starting to abhor. “My apologies. I have a lot to learn. Anyway, that would be my personal assistant.”

“Kim Hongjoong,” the mystery man introduces himself. You stood up, purposefully bowing in the wrong direction, to which he chuckled lightheartedly. “I appreciate that. We’ll be working very closely together. I handle Mingi’s affairs a lot.”

You smiled tightly, curious as to why Hongjoong gave a pointed look at the taller man. “Affairs as in now. You have a meeting with the finance department,” he continued, glaring heatedly. Your gaze flickered between the two men. Something was off. You’ll have to observe more next time, so for now, you tucked this information away for later.

“You’ll be hearing from him more than you will from me,” Mingi said, already shifting, already moving on like nothing had happened. Your attention snapped back to him. “He handles my schedule. Hongjoong will e-mail them to you. You can return next Monday”

Your stomach twisted. “M-Monday?”

“Yes, my dear. Monday,” he chuckled, amused, already halfway to the door. “I’m giving you a week to prepare yourself because once you start, there will be no turning back. I’ll have Yunho arrange for someone to escort you home,” he added over his shoulder.

The words settled into the room like a verdict. And before you could even process it, he was gone.

Working at KQ proved to be rewarding and challenging at the same time. Everyone either loved or feared Mingi, but for the most part, it was both. And working for him has proven to be conflicting for you. You haven’t seen him much, which you were honestly very thankful for, however, he did keep you at arms length.

Perhaps, he just wanted to keep a close eye on you because you exclusively worked inside his personal office, sitting all day on his cushy leather couch. Even Yunho found it fascinating.

Mingi was good at what he did. Painfully so, because the results were hard to deny. He didn’t waste time, didn’t tolerate incompetence, and had a way of cutting through problems so cleanly it left everyone else scrambling to keep up. You hated that you were impressed. Beneath the fear you had, he earned the power he held over everyone and you hated admitting it.

But at the same time, he made things a little smoother for you. Or at least, he sent someone to make things easier for you. Seonghwa was heaven sent, a ray of sunshine, if you will. He was the opposite of what this cutthroat industry stood for - very bubbly and energetic. He was the sweetest person, and that in itself made this place more bearable.

But you knew better. This wasn’t just a random act of kindness from your boss. This was Song Mingi, and Mingi was cunning. This was him exerting control even in unconventional senses such as adjusting his variables to make sure you stayed exactly where he wanted you to.

“Y/N, sweetie, are you alright? You still haven’t told me what you wanted,” Seonghwa’s soft and comforting voice spoke, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You almost turned to look at him, mildly startled, but you stopped yourself at the last second. “Sorry,” you apologised sheepishly. “I was just thinking. What were you saying?”

“I brought coffee and tea, I didn’t know which one you wanted so I figured I’d buy both so you could pick one to sip on while we work,” he said, already setting things down without waiting for a response, his voice bright and alive in a way that warmed you up. He was a nice man, and you felt bad for deceiving him, but no one can know you weren’t blind.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off before managing a small smile. “I prefer tea. Thank you, you didn’t have to–”

“Of course I did,” he cut in cheerfully, waving you off like it was obvious, already sitting down next to you. “Let’s start now so you can leave early. I get worried every time you go home with the sun gone. Same as usual, yeah? Just forgive my crappy Mandarin.”

This was the arrangement. Seonghwa would read, you would translate, and he would write it down. Luckily, you didn’t get much written documents, and computers were easy to worm your way out of since you managed to convince Hongjoong that voice-to-text worked well for you, and Mingi seemed to have no problem with it so long as the work got done.

It was the in-person business transactions that you were nervous about. So far, Mingi hasn’t taken you out to speak for major clientele, but he wasn’t lying when he said he worked for the big sharks. Three weeks shy in and you were already exhausted drafting and translating contracts and paperwork for him. Until today.

You were halfway through the document when the door to the office opened. Your back automatically straightened, eyes dulling themselves even further, when Mingi strolled in. You didn’t even have to look at him; you could just feel the immense power he exuded from his presence, alone, and how one glance could silence the room.

He didn’t greet either of you nor looked in your direction, just striding straight towards his desk to review some paperwork that was waiting for him to sign. You loosen up a bit. When Mingi was in the zone, he barely paid attention to his surroundings. Or is that what he wanted you to think? You didn’t care so long as he didn't acknowledge you at all. And you liked it that way.

The only thing that could be heard was the rustling of paper as Mingi flipped some documents, Seonghwa reading, and your whispers of translation. Times like these also allowed you to pay attention to his mannerisms. He didn’t have a lot, but it was the little things that truly scared you.

Like right now with his brows furrowed, eyes narrowed into slits as he furiously scribbled. It brought you dread when you realised down the line that he showed more expression to mere documents more than he ever did pulling that trigger on that man on the trail.

He had taken the liberty to take his coat off, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms that you were unable to look away from. Another thing that frustrated you to no end was that the more you observed Mingi, the harder it was to deny that he was very attractive. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve been your type.

“How long until you’re done?” Mingi suddenly asked, voice hushed in the quietness of the office, still not bothering to look up.

“In about twenty minutes or so,” you blurted out, slightly startled, but more so annoyed at yourself for checking him out.

“Make it five. You’re coming with me.”

You could practically feel your hackles rise because, of course, nothing about this job was ever going to be simple. “Pardon?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Did I stutter?” Mingi retorted flatly, barely audible. Your heart almost leapt out of your chest when he turned lazily to you. “I vaguely recall telling you that I don’t particularly enjoy repeating instructions,” he drawled slowly. “Those aren’t empty words, Y/N. You told me you understood.”

You had to physically stop your face from visibly souring and glaring heatedly at him, stiffly just nodding in response while mumbling a half-hearted apology. True to his words, he stood up exactly five minutes after, giving you one glance as if to say, ‘Follow me’, before leaving. All without even waiting for you. 

So there you were, marching through the office like a spectacle, eyes wide open but empty, as if you’ve truly mastered the art of pretending to unsee. Mingi created quite a distance between you two and you’ve barely managed to catch up with him before he went in the elevator. “Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?” You inquired faintly in the tight area of the elevator as its doors closed.

Through your peripherals, you caught Mingi’s lips quirk into a small smirk. “You are,” he replied, pressing a floor button. “Am I required to answer them?”

Your lips curve down into a frown, brain buffering for a split second. Mingi seemed to sense your distress and let out a deep chuckle. “I’m taking you on a little trip around the company,” he said. “I reckon it’s good for you to map out a layout in your head so you could develop some sort of muscle memory to make up for your lack of sight.”

That made sense. And you hated that it did. If you were actually blind, you would’ve been all over the moon. You swallowed nervously, dread crawling up your spine bit by bit the more the elevator rose. You did not like any of this one bit. The silence was stifling. It was hard to breathe especially with him so close. Mingi was a snake; he was constricting and looking away would be a fatal mistake. You didn’t even want to blink because you know he’ll be there, slithering around the brush, waiting to coil himself around you. 

You were startled back into sensibility when you heard a ‘ding’. You have arrived, and you didn’t know where. Before you could even ask, Mingi walked out and you had no choice but to move after him. At least you were behind him; it allowed you to look around freely.

But the moment you lifted your head to take in your surroundings, your heart dropped to your feet. This floor looked desolated, abandoned at best, like construction had started but never fully finished. Lights worked, but it was dim, and the walls weren’t even painted, leaving exposed wiring behind unfinished panels.

“Right this way,” Mingi said smoothly like nothing about this was unusual. “We’re heading near the HR department, for starters.”

Your face turned green with the intense need to vomit. A damn lie, it was, because in no shape or form were you near said department. You had half the mind to turn around and run back to the elevator, and the further you walked, the more you wanted to. But then, he stopped right in front of a suspicious looking door.

“This,” he said, already turning the handle to open it. “Is one of our private conference rooms. We could start here, but not to worry, everything is…everything is on the same floor.”

Panic spiked through you, but you had no choice but to swallow it down and walk through, and you didn’t know what you were expecting, but it was certainly not an empty room. No furniture, no dividers, no equipment, no nothing. Just a large, open space with bare floors and large windows that emphasized how empty it was. There were no signs of use and no signs of life; just too much space. It was  somehow the most claustrophobic room you’ve ever been in. To make matters worse, you heard Mingi shut the door behind you.

“Let’s begin,” Mingi murmured, but it was loud as it reverberated around emptiness. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I’ll tell you where to go, you just have to listen. Fair?”

You nodded stiffly, not knowing what he was planning to do, but judging by the toothy, wolfish grin spread wide on his lips that screamed of danger, it wasn’t anything good. “Perfect,” he said. “Just give me a couple of steps forward.”

And you did, mechanically dragging your foot to make that first step, opting to stop when it felt right. “Good,” you heard him say. There was a pregnant pause in the air before he continued again. “Actually, let’s try that again. A few steps back, please.”

Your lips twitched in perplexity, not knowing where he was going with this. Somehow, retracing your steps made your feet feel heavier than moving forward. You were back where you started by the door with Mingi to your far left still leaning against that wall, still staring intently at you as if he was waiting for you next move. Kind of like how he watched you that day in the forest to see what you’d do after he shot that man.

“Turn to your right. Walk approximately ten steps forward,” he finally said. You followed. “Now turn to the left. It leads to another room.”

You took a deep breath, walking into said ‘room’ anyway. “Forward a bit, then turn left,” he instructed, and again, you followed. “That’s another conference room.”

You swallowed the urge to scream at him that there was no room; that there was absolutely nothing. You could only hum, hoping to sound enthusiastic as you felt him getting closer. “You best remember that, love,” he commented. Dread crept up your insides. He sounded a little too happy, letting that polite mask slip away for a moment to enjoy whatever this humiliation ritual was. “Anyway, there’s a door in front of you, doll.”

Gritting your teeth to reel in your annoyance, you lifted a shaky hand to play along, letting out a convincing hum of confusion and surprise when you felt nothing but air. “Ah,” he said lightly. “Maybe this is too advanced. Next time, I suppose.”

God, you just wanted to go back to translating with Seonghwa, but instead, you’ve become a clown walking forward and backwards into an empty room, kind of like a child with a vivid imagination playing maze. “Turn around,” you heard him say. “Walk until I say stop.”

He wasn’t there when you turned around. That would mean he was behind you. Your knees almost buckled because you didn’t even hear him walk at all. You did as told, each step stretching just a little too long in the silence. But as you moved, your worry increased. This was the longest you’ve walked so far and he hasn’t told you to stop yet.

You waited for him to say something, anything, because you were a couple of steps away from colliding into the wall. The next couple of steps had you sweating, breathing heavily as you tried to walk normally, pretending that you weren’t about to get a nasty bump on your forehead from purposefully smacking face forward a concrete wall - all to make him still believe you’re blind.

Several steps from impact and you could already feel your legs hesitating to move forward, your pace stuttering, but you pushed, adjusting your steps accordingly to make everything still seem believable. You waited up until the very last few steps, but when you heard nothing from Mingi, you instinctively closed your eyes as the wall got closer, bracing for impact.

“Stop.”

The word snapped through the air just as your nose hovered a breath away from the surface. You halted instantly, biting your tongue to stop the startled squeak that threatened to leave your lips, not feeling any pain at all from the adrenaline and the fear pumping into your bloodstream.

“Careful,” Mingi murmured, his voice just behind your shoulder now, lips barely touching your ear. “There’s a wall here. You’ll want to remember that.” 

A soft, nervous laugh left you, controlled but imperfect. “I-I will,” you stammered. 

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin when he chuckled, low and amused, directly in your ears. “Yeah?” He whispered. Shivers broke out of you at his tone, especially when you felt him smile against the shell of your ear. You nodded. “You sure?”

You felt him blow the faintest air onto your skin. “Hmm. I like it when people listen,” Mingi whispered again, voice going even heavier in a way that had your stomach churning. He paused, like he was giving you grace to take it all in. “Especially when they know they should.”

You fought the instinct to break through this newfound tension. You were very aware of how little close you were - how easy it would be to move, and how impossible it felt to actually do it. “I said I would,” you replied, though your voice came out quieter than you intended. 

“I know, but saying it and proving it…” Mingi let the sentence trail off, the implication settling in the charged silence between you. Your breath hitched when you saw his hands settle on the wall on either side of your head, effectively trapping you in. “...I wonder how far that goes,” he finished. “Anyway, let’s continue.”

You sighed in relief when he pulled away, though you weren’t sure if that was better. He was back at it with his instruction, and this time, he’s double the intensity. “Try again,” he instructed, clearly amused at your mistakes. “I said move slightly, not do a full swerve. Again.”

And again. Again. And again. Again and again and again. Mingi made you turn, then walk. Stop. Back. Forward. Shift. Over and over and over again. Your steps grew heavier, your legs starting to ache, your breathing less steady no matter how hard you tried to hide it. And through it all, he watched you. Still, you had to continue with gritted teeth.

Your patience thinned as he watched you walk yourself into humiliation like it was the most entertaining thing in the world. But you moved because stopping wasn’t an option, especially not when Mingi resembled a predator observing a prey exhaust itself, just lying in wait before he struck to take advantage of your vulnerability.

Every time you turned, you caught glimpses of him. His expression remained composed, but his eyes were alert and focused, waiting to see if your blind act was about to fail as he followed every single movement you made. And he was enjoying this, you could tell. The faint curl at the corner of his mouth when you adjusted yourself mid-motion was more than enough to tell you.

“That’ll be all, Y/N. You can stop now,” Mingi said, his voice returning to that composed, professional tone as if you weren’t breathing hard in exhaustion. As if he didn’t just make you go for a loop in an empty room to strip you of your dignity.

You couldn’t even reply, couldn’t even push him away when he put his hand to your shoulder to lead you back into the elevator. Your pulse still hasn’t settled, skin still tingling where his hand was, but you weren’t going to complain now you were about to go back to normalcy.

“You did well,” he said softly as the elevator doors opened back to the floor where his office was. He stepped out, walking away as if nothing had happened. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You watched as he walked away, frozen where he placed you in the elevator. Whatever happened back there felt like a fever dream, and you still haven’t woken up. On the outside, nothing felt out of place but on the inside, something shifted because before, you were just afraid of seeing him kill someone.

But now? You were afraid of him.

Mingi didn’t stop there. There were little instances here and there, not much to alarm you, but enough to put you on edge. It’s been a little over a month by then. The dread never left, not even the hefty paycheque you received was enough to ease that paranoia beneath your skin. You still didn’t see him often and so far, he technically hasn’t bothered you or done anything. 

But when he did do something, it was when you were the most ill-prepared; like a demon waiting for you to fall asleep before infiltrating your dreams and terrorising you when you least expected it, and by the time you realised he was there, you would have already been too paralysed to stop him.

It started small, as if he was testing how far he could go before you noticed, like giving you the wrong files to translate. Or that one time he turned on his obnoxiously bright desk lamp and pointed it on your face while you worked.

“Something bothering you, love?” Mingi asked, almost innocently, as if he wasn’t currently adjusting the lamp to beam it directly in your eyes, his tongue sticking out of lips a little in concentration. “You seem a little distracted.”

You felt your eyes tick, not because you’ve been forcing them wide open and pretending that lights weren’t bothering you, but because you were annoyed at the audacity of this man and his ability to get away with anything - all because he thinks you couldn’t see him. Black spots began to dance behind your eyes, the telltale signs of a debilitating migraine beginning to creep up your temples as the ache came in throbbing waves.

“Everything’s fine,” you let out weakly.

Mingi hummed softly at that, his fingers deftly clicking the lamp to amp it up to its maximum brightness. You had to dig your nails painfully in your palms to stop yourself from blinking as your vision burned, but still, you could see the smugness in his features, all while his eyes watched you. “Carry on,” was all he said after.

And then nothing after that for days, but that was the problem, because he would do them so randomly and sporadically that when you thought you were in the clear, you really weren’t. If Mingi was feeling especially heinous, he’d sometimes move your computer files and hide them in different folders, which would be already difficult for abled people, let alone for someone who is especially visually challenged. You’d just grit your teeth and move forward, all while his sharp, menacing shadow towered over you.

“Just call me whenever you need something, alright?” Jongho kindly handed you back the laptop after finding the right files for you and one day Mingi moved them. He let out a confused hum. “Perhaps we could ask Mr. Song to fix your laptop. It’s been acting up more than usual.”

You let out a nervous laugh. Jongho raised a brow, but decided not to say anything. The two of you had gotten closer over the following weeks and he’s honestly been your saving grace in times like these. He was a sweetheart, always offering to buy you lunch or drive you home whenever he could. It was times like these where you genuinely felt bad for lying to him.

But Jongho can’t possibly help you with everything. One thing Mingi was consistent about, however, was his work ethics. Mingi let out a sharp sigh, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose while his other hand drummed against the table.

“You think this is good enough, Y/N?” He asked, tone flat and unimpressed. He was strict, very much so, to the point that there were times where you were afraid to submit your proposals to him. “No. Actually, let me rephrase that.” 

He shuts the laptop off, eyes lifting to you, his back straightening against his chair. “Did you even read this before sending them to me? Or did you honestly think I just sign off every paperwork that gets sent my way without checking them for marginal errors?”

Your throat tightened. Mingi wasn’t loud when he was upset. Even when he tested your sanity with his stupid games, Mingi never compromised when it came to work. “My apologies, I’ll revise it as soon as possible,” you assured.

“I know you tried your best,” he crossed his arms. “But that’s exactly what makes it disappointing. I’ll let this slide. Go home. Yunho will finish this mess.”

Surprise crosses your features and you opened your mouth to argue, but decided against it. Not when his eyes left no room for debate. It wasn’t personal, but the brutal honesty in which he laid his expectations landed on your chest hard, and the worst part? He was usually right.

Soon, Mingi began taking you to meet important people like he said he would before he hired you. If Mingi was intimidating in the confines of his office, then he was downright terrifying around the people he did business with to the point that you had no idea how he was able to stay up top as long as he did. Hongjoong laughed when you spoke your thoughts out loud.

“It’s not just him,” he said, gently leading you inside one of the private rooms in the upscale restaurant. “You have to constantly one up everyone because they will not hesitate to bury you in this business, Y/N. Mingi just so happens to be the best at what he does.”

And you understood why. You saw how even those older than him with far more power and experience measured their words around him before saying them. Mingi just had this uncanny ability to dismantle people. Today, you sat next to Hongjoong while Mingi sat to your right, listening intently to you as you translated in real time, voice smooth and professional.

“This is preposterous,” the overseas investor from China scoffed at you, his confidence slipping the longer Mingi remained expressionless. “Tell Mr. Song here that I have a proposition.”

Indeed, he did, by giving a lower number - a number so low that even you knew that no sane businessman would take it seriously. You were visibly taken aback, pausing for a beat too long that Hongjoong had to nudge your foot with his subtly under the table. You swallowed nervously, already knowing that Mingi was going to hate this.

And he did. He nodded slowly, eyes narrowing for a split second before he neutralised his expression. He doesn’t speak yet, just pouring liquor into his shot glass. “Salud,” he cheered, lifting the glass up towards the investor who just spoke. “This one’s especially for you, fucker.”

Your head whips towards him, that smile on his face that you knew screamed danger flashing brightly as he downed his drink, followed by the merry cheers of the foreign nationals who were none wiser that they were getting cursed right in front of their faces. 

It was the first time you’ve ever heard Mingi curse, and you didn’t know what to feel about it. He was always so proper and composed and that anything outside of that realm bothered you more than it should’ve because you didn’t know which one was the character he was choosing to play in front of you versus the entire world. As if things couldn’t get worse, a thin trail of liquor slipped from the corner of his mouth, trickling down his sharp jaw down to his throat.

Warmth bloomed dangerously low in your stomach, but thankfully - or, perhaps, not - that heat vanished from your body when he spoke his next words. “Tell him,” Mingi said calmly. “That I can see why people stopped explaining things around him, that I envy people who would never hear how much of an imbecile he and his ideas are. If he wants to rob KQ that badly, at least haggle like a man. I’ve seen kids do it better for candy.”

The investor blinked at you expectantly, unaware, and beside you, Hongjoong went unnaturally still, but all you could do was freeze. You wanted to reword it, to soften the blow, but you must have hesitated for far too long because Mingi turned to you, his eyes cold and expectant.

“Well?” Mingi demanded, impatience creeping into his tone. “Word for word, Y/N. I want to hear it.”

Your throat was tight, but you forced yourself to translate, trying your best to not let your voice shake. “H-He says,” you cleared your throat, discomfort crawling up your spine. “That he can see why people stopped explaining things around you. A-And that he envies people who would never hear how much of an imbecile you and your ideas are…”

The investors’ polite expression drops immediately. God, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. The embarrassment was too much, every word tasted horribly against your tongue. “If you want to rob KQ so badly,” you spoke, or rather, squeaked. “Haggle like a man because he’s seen kids do it better for candy.”

The investors’ darkened faces stared at you in disbelief for a second before all hell broke loose. Slurs and curses were thrown all over the place, but all you could focus on were Mingi’s eyes on you and the small, satisfied smile on his face. And then it hits you. Provoking these investors wasn’t his only target.

Making you sit there and deliver those words for him amused him far more. You watched as his eyes landed on your ears, the tips of them red from the sheer secondhand embarrassment, and a faint smirk tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Well, that went terrific,” Hongjoong sarcastically let out as the three of you walked out of the restaurant, side-eyeing Mingi with intent while he helped you walk out, hands still as gentle as when he guided you in earlier.

You chose not to say anything, opting to stare blankly forward to keep up the act, periodically squeezing Hongjoong’s arm when you’d hit a bump or two. Mingi just smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes, walking as if he didn’t just botch an entire business transaction by letting his intrusive thoughts win.

“I don’t know, I’d say that went pretty well,” he shrugged, his indifference evident as he opened his car door, pausing to stare at the both of you. “Meet me back at the office. I reckon Seonghwa will have a field day after this. You tell him.”

You barely stopped yourself from raising a brow. Hongjoong stiffens under your touch, an unimpressed frown crossing his face, eyes narrowing with obvious annoyance. “Wait, why me? Do I really have to?”

“Yes. You’re my assistant, after all,” Mingi replied without missing a beat. He let out a condescending smile when Hongjoong’s eyes twitched. “Relax. He has a soft spot for you.”

Hongjoong was about to retort when Mingi gave him a look - a look that had Hongjoong pausing, glancing carefully at you as if he just remembered that they weren’t alone - before the shorter man rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning to lead you away. “Anyway, I’ll drive Y/N—”

“No,” Mingi interjected. “I’ll do it. Put her in.”

Without waiting for a reply, he gets in his car. And that was how you found yourself in the passenger’s seat of your boss’ car, stiff as a board, staring at the distance not to pretend to unsee, but simply because you couldn’t bear to acknowledge how close Mingi was. “A-Are we not leaving yet?” You couldn’t help but blurt out, not being able to take the awkward silence hanging between the two of you.

“I’m waiting for you,” he murmured.

You frowned, confused. “M-Me? For what?”

“Mhhm,” he hummed. Your stomach churned at how it echoed in your ear. It was a low rumble, warm and smooth like lullabies of despair seducing you in, but you willed it away. “Your seatbelt, sweet pea. I can’t drive without you wearing it.”

Oh, this was dangerous. The way he said it was quiet enough to feel intimate, yet teasing enough to make your pulse skip. Unhurried, you shakily reached for the seatbelt, careful to maintain that blind, dead look in your eyes, but you couldn’t seem to grasp it. Mingi chuckled and the next thing you knew, he was leaning in, reaching for your seatbelt, himself.

A whimper of surprise leaves your lips before you could stop it. His face hovers inches over yours as he clicks the belt into place. He was close, too close, and you thought he was going to lean back, but no. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even seem fazed; he just stares. And you didn’t dare breathe against this intentional proximity that he put the both of you in.

You didn’t even realise that his hand was on your thigh until he gave it a small squeeze, and once again, your stomach churns, but this time, it was with an intensity that made you want to throw up. And all you could do was stare in between his eyebrows, pretending that you were seeing through him instead of at him.

“Funny how we keep finding ourselves in this situation,” he mused in a quiet whisper, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Almost as if we were meant to be here.”

Your brows twitch, not knowing what he was referring to. And then it hits you. Hard. This was the exact position and the exact closeness you had with Mingi that day in the forest. Face to face, his dark eyes dissecting you with that horrifying scrutiny before he wiped that blood that accidentally found its way onto your face. “I-I don’t know what you’re—”

“You should relax around me more,” he murmured, tucking a piece of hair obscuring your face behind your ears with so much gentleness that you wanted to scream. “You’re always so tense.”

And then, without warning, he finally leaned back into his seat. The loss of pressure was so sudden that it made your chest ache even further. He started the car, casually driving as if he didn’t just psychologically terrorise you.

But that was fine, you could handle these because they didn’t necessarily hurt you. All you had to do was ignore Mingi and go on still pretending you couldn’t see everything that he was doing. And you knew he was a psycho, but clearly, he’d been holding himself back.

Mingi drove silently, posture relaxed like nothing was wrong. Eventually, he slowed down, eventually stopping when at a red light. It was the busy intersection that was a couple of blocks away from KQ and you couldn’t wait to get the hell away from this man. But when the lights changed to green, Mingi didn’t move. “We’re here,” he said.

Your stomach dropped, taken aback by what he just said. “Here? A-At the office?”

“Mhhm. Where else?”

It was that same low, intimate hum. Your ears rang amidst the busy traffic all around, the honks of the cars behind you, and the buzzing of cars from multiple directions. “Go ahead. Your friend, Jongho, is waiting for you by the door,” he said.

His words slithered coldly up your spine. No, you thought dreadfully. He wouldn’t. But you knew better. You were in the middle of an intersection. You could see that the lights were red again, but the moment those lights turned back to green, there was a high chance that you would get hit. The thought alone made your vision double, and beside you, Mingi patiently waited, staring at you to see what you were going to do.

Panic clawed up your throat. You grabbed your walking cane and started pushing the door open, because refusing without any valid reason would completely blow your cover away. And then, divine intervention - Mingi’s phone started to ring. The sound of it made the both of you pause. From your peripheral vision, you could briefly see the name of the caller. It was Hongjoong. Mingi’s eyes were still on you, specifically on your hand that held the door handle.

He let out an exhale, as if disappointed that you couldn’t step out into moving traffic.“Close the door, love,” he murmured. “I’ll park at the other entrance. It’s dangerous here.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You slammed that door shut so hard that the entire car rattled with force. Mingi’s lips twitched with a small smile, staring at you for one more second before he finally picked up the call. He wasn’t relieved that you were safe nor was he shaken that you could’ve been hit by a car right in front of his eyes. 

No, Mingi was steady and unbothered. Interested, even, like his stakes had just gone up and he just realised that the possibilities were endless for him so long as you played for him.

Mingi didn’t even wait a week to test that theory out. It was, by far, the worst he’s done not because of what he did, but because of how bold and brazen his acts were becoming. You were working with Seonghwa in your usual spot in his office, but this time, Jongho was also here. He was today’s representative from his department for the monthly report. Then, in comes Yunho, bringing with him cups and a thermos before leaving. It was fresh tea; you could see the steam in your peripheral vision as Jongho poured the boiling hot water into the cups.

You didn’t think much when Mingi walked over to where you and Seonghwa were, placing two cups at the table. This wasn’t out of the norm, Mingi had always treated you well when there were people around for show, but clearly, you’ve been giving this man more credit than he deserved.

“I ordered everyone iced tea from the café across the building,” he whispered silently, only enough for you to hear. “It’s in front of you. Drink it before the ice melts and dilutes it.”

Panic seized your chest so bad that your lungs were burning from how carefully you were trying to control every breath you took. Your body reacted instantly by freezing into place. You wanted to gawk at the audacity of this man because now he was deliberately playing with you right in the presence of other people.

You forced your eyes to dull further as you nodded stiffly while being at a loss for what to do. You knew this man was cunning, but this was insane. If you grabbed the cup properly, that would give away that you could see. If you grab it clumsily, you’d burn your hand with boiling hot tea. If you give any sort of excuses to not drink it, you were done. 

You could feel his eyes on you, sharpening at every second you hesitated to grab the cup. Swallowing, your hands began to jut forward, thinking of a way to touch it without reacting somehow or at least minimise the pain you were about to feel when you burned yourself.

“Ah ah, sweetie,” Seonghwa’s gentle voice cut, intercepting you by guiding your hand away from the cup. “That’s, uh, bland. I’ll be back, I’ll get us some lemons to go with the…iced tea.” 

Mingi merely raised a brow, watching as Seonghwa got up and left the room. He shrugged, not sparing you a glance before he walked back to Jongho, who was still none the wiser as he sipped on his own tea, engrossed in the paperwork Mingi gave him. 

Seonghwa reappeared a minute later, quietly removing the cup of hot tea before replacing it with something actually cold. You had no idea where he got it, but you didn’t dare question it as your trembling fingers wrapped around the cold drink. Through your peripheral vision, you caught the way Seonghwa stared at Mingi.

And you were surprised at how angry he was. The look he gave Mingi was so scathing, more scalding hot than the tea you almost burned yourself with, that it sent more shivers up your spine. You had no idea that someone as gentle as Seonghwa was even capable of such look. Mingi smirked back sardonically, tilting his head mockingly before his eyes set to you.

His eyes stared you down as he sipped his own tea with no particular expression on his face. But his eyes, they looked alive; alive because every second of watching you endure him fed something inexplicably insatiable inside him.

“You don’t look like someone who can’t see.”

Your lips twitched as you forced a smile on your lips, your arms tightening around the laptop you held close to your chest. “I-I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Jung. I’ve been told as such before…”

Mingi didn’t react, not even bothering to look away from his laptop. Though from your peripheral vision, you saw him gaze at you for a few short seconds before letting out a small smile. It was the exact same thing he told you when he interviewed you a few months ago.

Today’s work was a bit different. You were used to leaving to meet up with potential clients and even going as far as traveling outside the country - something you would’ve enjoyed had you had more freedom to move since Mingi used his private jet and he was extremely generous with you and your expenses abroad. But today, KQ would be the meet-up point.

Yesterday, Mingi’s longtime friend, Jung Wooyoung, who also happened to be an investor, owed another company a favour and wanted some connections with KQ. You were surprised since Mingi hated short notices, but judging by the lecherous smirk on his face after that phone call, you’d say he didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to look forward to it.

You tried not to squirm at the way Wooyoung stared at you through those sharp eyes of his. It wasn’t salacious, by all means, but it was extremely intrusive, like he was trying to read you from the inside out. It was unsettling, and you didn’t know how to avoid it, especially not when his hand started to play with your hair.

“I’m just teasing,” he chuckled. He gives Mingi a meaningful look before turning his attention back at you. “I’m just wondering what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this, is all.”

The snap of a laptop being deliberately shut off is what got Wooyoung to momentarily stop playing with your hair.. Across the room, Mingi had already stood up, walking towards the corner of the office where he had a mini bar set up.

"There are birds that survive storms, Jung,” he murmured, pausing to pour brandy in his glass, swirling it slowly before taking a leisurely sip. “But they rarely survive entering another bird's nest."

You frowned, not really understanding the meaning or intent of what he just said. He sounded so nonchalant - uninterested, even - but the way his eyes bore into Wooyoung through his lashes had the latter blinking before stepping away, hands up in the air with mock surrender as a disbelieving laugh left his lips.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Wooyoung chuckled. “If I didn’t know you I’d have assumed that you preferred your birds to be made out of fine china, Song.”

Mingi just hummed. Wooyoung scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. “So, uh,” he pointed at the brandy Mingi was sipping on. “Are you gonna pour me one?”

“No,” Mingi deadpanned, putting the empty glass down before walking back to his desk. “As I recall, your hands were working perfectly fine earlier. Now, these,” he paused, pointing at the box Wooyoung had brought with him when he arrived. “What are these?”

“That? Oh,” Wooyoung shrugged as he helped himself to a drink. “Premium cherries straight from Japan. Heard that Mr. Yamada was very fond of them, which he better fucking like them because these cost me a pretty penny.” 

“I see,” Mingi murmured. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “Little doll?”

You were a bit startled at his sudden attention to you. “Y-Yes?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated, not fully sure what Mingi wanted. Ever since that tea incident, you’ve become more wary of him - more terrified since clearly, an audience was never going to stop him. However, that hesitance must’ve come off as helplessness because you saw Wooyoung’s eyes lit into recognition, immediately leaping to action to guide you by the arm towards Mingi.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to taste test them?” Wooyoung asked casually, raising a brow as Mingi opened the box, revealing the most perfect cherries you have ever seen in your life. You had to make an effort not to drool at the sight. Pretending you couldn’t see them was sad.

Even Mingi was impressed as he let out a soft hum. “Mr. Yamada doesn’t deserve a whole box.”

Wooyoung barked out a laugh as he returned back to the mini bar, leaning against it. “Yeah, I told him you despised tardiness. Even I’m getting pissed that he’s still not here.”

“Anyway,” he continued after taking a quiet sip of brandy. “Will Yunho assist you during the meeting? I didn’t see him in the lobby earlier.”

“Yunho isn’t needed. What I need is my translator,” he answered, eyes lifting up to you slowly. “And she’s right in front of me.”

The way he said it made your stomach tighten. Wooyoung paused, the surprise visible across his entire face. “Your what?” He asked, opening his mouth to say something again. “But—”

“Cherries are supposed to be off-season in Japan right now,” Mingi interrupted smoothly, taking one from the box carefully. “I’m surprised you even got your slimy hands on one box.”

Thick silence enveloped the entire room for a moment longer than what you deemed comfortable. Sometimes, you underestimated how tiring it was to feign sight - to stare at one space and pretend that the world wasn’t moving around you while you tried not to openly make eye contact with anyone because that’ll give you away instantly.

Then, Mingi’s gaze settles onto you. “Have you ever tried one of these?”

You frowned at the random question. “Cherries? Yes. The premium kind? Never.”

Mingi doesn’t respond, only humming in affirmation. Then, slowly, he lifted the cherry to his mouth. You ceased breathing then and there, barely stopping your knees from buckling under the weight of his stare. Heat crept up from your neck all the way to your ears as you watched his thick lips slowly envelope the red cherry with his saliva.

His eyes never left you as his tongue deliberately dragged against it, flicking the fruit left and right before he pulled the stem off with his teeth. It was unhurried and intentional, extremely obscene in the way he licked it with every second that passed between the two of you. Wooyoung could only watch, mouth parted, eyes comically wide in disbelief, but Mingi paid him no mind.

Instead, he leaned forward, plucking the cherry out from his lips to hold it towards your lips. “Open your mouth, love,” he murmured. “Try it.”

The initial disgust almost overpowered you, but refusing wasn’t an option. Reluctantly, you parted your lips to accept the cherry into your mouth. Across the room, Wooyoung let out the strangest little sound.

“Wait—” he squeaked, reaching his hand out instinctively, but it was too late. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, biting into his fists, visibly cringing at the inappropriateness.

All you felt was the instantaneous heat that spread through your body. Sweetness automatically burst into your mouth, but underneath that was an undertone that didn’t belong in cherries - mint. The taste hit you so hard that your stomach flipped. It was the same scent you always caught on Mingi’s breath whenever he got too close, which happened more often than not.

Mingi didn’t react - at least, not in the usual way he did. The smirk that was always plastered on his face whenever he did something heinous was missing and the amusement that always danced in his eyes was absent. Instead, his eyes were dark, gaze heavy with intent as something unreadable settled over his features.

It was almost possessive in a way that made your skin crawl, and somehow, that terrified you more than anything he’s ever done. “Good girl,” he whispered quietly, so quietly that you weren’t sure if you were even meant to hear it even though you knew it was for you.

The meeting did not go well. It wasn’t because Mingi had somehow screwed it up on purpose or the client lowballing him enough to make him angry - on the contrary, the meeting went terrific. No, the meeting went horribly for you, specifically, because Mingi kicked you out. Hongjoong was also present but he could tell something was amiss when he came in. Unfortunately, he was smart enough to go to Wooyoung, who had no problem whispering to him what just went down with you and Mingi. Hongjoong’s disgusted, but not surprised, expression was enough to make you want to disappear. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Mr. Yamada was a raging pervert the entire time. He leered at you the entire time like he was undressing you and the discomfort made it difficult to stay still.

“You’re a beautiful thing, aren’t you?” He grinned, licking his lips in a way that made your stomach churn. “Does Mingi have a thing for hiring pretty translators?”

“T-Thank you,” you forced a smile. “Uhm, about the investments—”

“It’s too bad you’re blind, but I don’t mind. Why don’t you work with me, instead? I can already tell that Mingi doesn’t spoil you properly.” 

Your stomach churned further when he leaned back on his seat, eyes dragging all over you in ways that felt violating. But everybody’s eyes were on you, waiting for you to translate everything despite the way your body stiffened at every malicious stare this man gave you.

“You need better clothes, not these shabby ones,” he stated shamelessly, eyes dipping lower. “And those legs,” he paused to exhale through his nose. “Mingi’s an idiot. If you were with me, I’d dress you up nice to show off this delicate figure of yours…”

It was when his hand started to move to touch you did you actually panic. Suddenly, papers scattered all over the floor near you, making everybody pause. “Oh, geez,” Hongjoong muttered flatly, not even apologetic. “Terribly clumsy today, aren’t we, Jung?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung raised one brow as he stared at the Japanese pervert. “Yes, we are, Kim.”

Hongjoong crouched down to gather the papers, but not before shooting Mr. Yamada a look so cold that it had the older man withdrawing his hands. It was then that you released a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding in.

“Y/N.”

Your spine straightened instantly. That was Mingi. Your stomach dropped because you just realised that all throughout this, he had completely remained silent. “Y-Yes?”

“You’re dismissed.”

You paled. “M-Mingi,” you blurted out in surprise. As much as possible, you tried not to say his name in professional settings even though he allowed you to.  “I didn’t do anything, I swear—”

Mingi gave you a look that made your mouth shut immediately. “I won’t say it twice.”

And that’s how you found yourself walking out of the building with your thoughts spiraling in every direction. At least it was nighttime, you told yourself, sighing as you waited for the elevator. Pretty much all the employees have left and that meant that you didn’t have to stumble around pretending you couldn’t find your way out. For once, you could simply walk normally.

But as you were about to push the door open to leave, you cursed. You left some documents behind, ones you wanted to take home to work on since the deadline was in two days. Suppressing a groan, you begrudgingly turned around to go back to Mingi’s office, already dreading how embarrassing it was going to be.

That embarrassment soon transformed into utter shock when you heard a loud bang when you got to the office floor. You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes widened at how that sound exploded across the empty hallway. No, that can’t be, you thought. But there was no denying it - you knew that sound intimately.

You ran towards the sound before your brain could catch up, stunned at how you ended up right in front of Mingi’s office. The door was slightly ajar, just enough where you could peek in without being seen. You barely stopped the gasp from your lips as you covered your mouth in horror. There, on the couch, lay Mr. Yamada with his head hung at an unnatural angle. Standing over his body was Mingi, gun hung loosely in his hand, face speckled with blood. Your stomach lurched violently, because once again, you were looking at a murderer. Lucky for you this time, he didn’t know you were here. But you, you could see him. You could see how blank his expression was, like he didn’t just casually take another life like it was nothing.

“You out of your fucking mind or something?” Hongjoong asked with one brow raised, his voice breaking the silence that seemed to temporarily make everybody’s world stop for a second.

Mingi merely scoffed and Wooyoung barked out a laugh so hearty, it was almost contagious. “Jesus Christ, Mingi,” he snorted, walking away from the window towards the dead body, nudging the foot with his own. “Can’t believe this is how this old bastard went. Good riddance.”

You felt your knees weaken. No one looked shocked or even sick at the sight of a man getting shot and actively bleeding out against the couch. “Really, Mingi? This was supposed to be a null zone,” Hongjoong sighed, more inconvenienced than disturbed. “You couldn’t wait a few more days? Or, at the very least, get out of here?”

“For what? I’ve been meaning to off the bastard anyway,” Mingi paused to nudge Mr. Yamada’s shoulder with the gun muzzle. “He’s been on the shit list for a while, couldn’t really let the opportunity slip away.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with him eye fucking your translator now, would it?”

Your hand trembled violently against your mouth at the mere mention of you. Mingi plops down the couch, producing a cigarette and lighter out of nowhere. “Nuances,” he mumbled, exhaling smoke rings from his mouth up in the air. “I hate perverts, anyway. They’re very bad for society.”

The absurdity of that made you want to choke. Across the room, Wooyoung lets out another laugh. “Ah, yes. Because fuckers like you are the backbone of society,” he snorted, shamelessly opening the box of cherries to pop one in his mouth. “Anyway, why are you keeping her?”

Mingi doesn’t answer right away, inhaling another slow drag before exhaling. “I already told you why,” he replied, flicking the ash into a crystal tray. “The trail. I need to keep a close eye on her.”

Your heart stopped, coldness washing over your body. He knew. He’s always known. To be fair, if you recognised him immediately months ago, Mingi wasn’t a fool to not recognise you either, but hearing it made it ten times worse than it already was. Hongjoong immediately frowns. “Fuck’s sake, Mingi. She’s blind.”

That made Mingi pause. He turns his head, eyes darkened into something you’ve never seen before, one that made bile rise up your throat. “Is that supposed to mean anything?” 

“Song Mingi,” Hongjoong hissed. “There are rules to this—”

“Kim Hongjoong. Don’t test me, I may be in a good mood, but I’m warning you,” Mingi stated. The temperature in the room dropped instantly. His voice never rose, but something about it made your skin prickle. “Rules are suggestions until I deem them otherwise.” Heavy and uncomfortable silence followed. It was a subtle threat, one that made you understand why Mingi was to be feared in the first place. Mingi leaned back against the couch, his gaze fixed on Hongjoong, unblinking and calculated. The corners of his mouth twitched when Hongjoong sighed before looking away in exasperation.

Wooyoung tossed another cherry stem onto the table. “Christ,” he muttered. “She’s of no use to you, just let her go, you sadist.”

“Mhhm,” Mingi hummed, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Sorry,” he said. “Can’t do it.”

“Can’t?” Wooyoung echoed, eyes narrowed knowingly. “Or won’t? Does Yeosang even know?”

Mingi didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at him. Instead, he grabs a nearby cloth to wipe all the blood off of him. “Clean this up,” he ordered, standing up to adjust his sleeves. “I don’t give a fuck what Yeosang thinks. I’ll bust his head open if he has a problem with it. Anyway, I need a favour.”

“Don’t bother. He already knows and he’s not happy,” Hongjoong scoffed, gesturing towards Mr. Yamada. “What’s more important than dragging this piece of shit out here without being seen?”

“Of course he does, he’s Kang fucking Yeosang,” he snarled, tossing the bloodied cloth onto the corpse’s chest without a care in the world. “Go to the mall. You’re going shopping.”

You didn’t stay further, running to the exit as quietly and as fast as you can. By the time you reached the exit, your stomach gave out entirely, barely making it to the sidewalk before dropping to your knees and proceeding to vomit out everything you ate. Tears blurred your vision, your entire body shook, but the bile still burned your throat.

When you were done, you pulled out your phone, your trembling fingers barely able to dial the person you needed the most. “S-Sannie?” You squeaked when he picked up on the first ring, not being able to hold your tears any longer. “Can you pick me up from work?”

You didn’t know how you were going to return to work today pretending that everything was fine. You’ve thought about it over the weekend, drunk out of your mind with San convincing you to just quit at that point. He wasn’t wrong; you were working in a den full of monsters. But you knew there was no point - if Mingi found you once, he would find you again just as easily.

You were expecting to see Seonghwa or Mingi, himself, but to your surprise, there was no one, which was odd because you knew Mingi always arrived before anyone else. A part of you was relieved because you had no idea how you'd face Mingi but another part of you wanted to throw up because the office was pristine, no traces of anything heinous occurring at all.

A thought crosses your mind - would you be crazy if you tried to find some proof of Mingi's illicit affairs? You contemplated it. You couldn't pretend to be blind forever, it was getting harder because your emotions were getting difficult to contain, but you needed leverage in case he tried to do something to you - in case he decided that you weren’t worth keeping anymore.

With nothing to lose, you started rummaging through his drawers, careful not to mess anything up. The first few ones rendered nothing, until you got to the very bottom. There was only one folder in there. You frowned, picking it up and inspecting it. It was plain black with no company logo on it or any department, but it did have a label on it.

Confidential: High-Value Targets, and beneath it were the letters, K.O.S. Your brows furrowed, what the hell does that even mean? Opening it made less sense. Inside were names and dates, some of them crossed out, but before you could try to understand what this all meant, you heard voices right outside by the door.

“Hongjoong has sordid taste,” Seonghwa’s familiar voice stated. Your blood runs cold, nearly dropping the folder. “Christ, do I have to do everything around here? Promote me or something.”

As if things weren’t bad enough, you heard Mingi let out a short unimpressed sound. “Says you. Anyway, are you going home?” He asked, changing the subject.

You scrambled to put everything back into place, barely reaching the couch to sit on it as if you weren’t just snooping. “No,” Seonghwa scoffed as he pushed the doors open. “I have the gala to arrange—oh, Y/N, good morning,” he greeted warmly with a smile that always eased you.

But Mingi did not. Instead, his eyes lingered on you, assessing you more than usual, or was that your paranoia talking? Maybe not, especially when his eyes settled on his desk, then back at you. Your pulse climbed to your throat when Mingi shook his head, almost affectionately, a small smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth.

You thought he was going to say something about it, but instead, he turned to Seonghwa, relieving him of the several shopping bags hanging from his arm. “Wait, not this,” Seonghwa said, taking the smallest one before approaching you.

“Here,” he smiled, placing the bag on the couch beside you. “I stopped by that bakery we talked about one time and got reminded of you. I hope you like them, they’re just an assortment of pastries.”

Your eyes lit in surprise, touched that he even remembered such mundane information. “Seonghwa,” you said, heart squeezing in regret that you couldn’t express your thanks properly since you still had to pretend you were blind. “Thank you, really.”

Unfortunately, he had to leave after. Seonghwa had always been very kind to you, always sincere with his words and never tried to dupe you because you were ‘blind.’ The problem was, now you were alone with Mingi in the room. Nothing ever good came with being alone with Mingi.

For a moment, he simply observed you, but he, too, probably felt the weight of the silence. “You won’t be doing your usual work today,” he said.

You blinked, not expecting that at all. “What am I doing, then?”

Instead of replying, Mingi walks towards you and sets the bags down. You stiffened, the closer he got, the harder it became to control your expressions, and when his fingers gently closed around yours, your heart took a massive leap. He guided your hand forward, letting your fingertips brush against the bags. By the time he stopped, you counted no less than fifteen.

You gulped. No wonder Seonghwa looked so ready to drop them the moment he saw fit. “W-What am I touching?” You asked carefully, pretending you couldn’t see some of them - different arrays of clothes, all feminine, and all just about your perfect sizing.

“Clothes, lots of them,” he said, dropping your hand. “They’re all yours, precious.”

You stared blankly ahead. For a second, you genuinely thought he’d lost his mind. He sighed, nudging one of the bags with his foot. “There’s the annual gala tonight,” he began. “There will be a lot of future investors, clients, all that jazz. Then, the next day we have a short conference and an after party, so we’ll be staying in the hotel like last time. I already booked your room.”

“Okay?” You drawled, not quite getting what he was trying to insinuate.

His brows arched. “Okay?” He repeated, the mocking repetition making you want to slam one of the bags to his handsome face. “You’re coming with me. I kind of need you to translate.”

“No, I got that part,” you said, trying not to roll your eyes. “What I’m trying to understand is the excessive amount of clothes for one night.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t mad, rather, he looked more offended than anything which was puzzling to you. “Excessive, you say? I think I can determine that, myself.”

“I...understand,” you said slowly. “It’s still too much. There’s no less than fifteen bags, Mingi.”

“And?” He raised an annoyed brow like you were insulting him by just pointing that out.

You blinked, opening your mouth before closing it, and then trying again. “It’s one night.”

“And?”

That shut you up. That one was sharper, his tone getting more pointed and snappier. You could see his patience visibly thinning by how his eyes have darkened. “Mingi,” you sighed. “Nobody needs this much for one night.”

A humourless chuckle escaped him. Shaking his head, he leans by the nearby desk, crossing his arms. “You seem to be under the impression that everything in there is just for tonight,” he pointed out. “There’s a variety of stuff in there. Dresses, work clothes, shoes, et cetera.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the quiet between you two stretching thin. These weren’t just bags anymore, they were a deliberate purchase catered especially for you. That was the part that bothered you more than the quantity - that Mingi bought all of these just for you. It felt like chaotic indulgence, and underneath the uncertainty, was something inside your chest that started forming, something your traitorous heart was getting harder to ignore.

“I can’t accept these, then,” you said firmly, deciding to stand your ground. 

That was not an answer he was expecting. You could tell you said the wrong words when something flashed across his face, gone so quickly you almost missed it. “Can’t?” He asked calmly, a little too calm than you liked. “What do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, thinking of what to say without aggravating him. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, precious,” Mingi cocked his head with a smile. It was thin, dangerously thin. “Please elaborate, Y/N. I must insist.”

You shifted uncomfortably, not willing to tell him the truth. You didn’t want to owe him, didn’t want anything tying you closer to him than you already were. You wanted distance and an escape route; a future where Song Mingi wasn’t going to be involved, and that included reminders of him even if it was the littlest of things.

Your silence was ticking him off. Mingi’s jaw flexed, it was barely noticeable, but enough to tell that you were beginning to irritate him. “I rest my case, then. I don’t see an issue with—”

“I do,” you interrupted. “This is ridiculous, Mingi—”

“Love.”

Now that actually shuts you up. The way he said it made it sound less like a nickname and more like a warning by the slight edge in his voice. But you weren’t going to budge even if the fear was slowly washing your resolve away. “I said what I said, Mingi. I can’t take them.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. His expression remained unreadable, but his stare had something darker flickering behind his eyes now. Immediately, the atmosphere shifts. You knew this feeling - the one where you’d accidentally stepped on a landmine and were waiting for it to explode.  

And maybe it did, because Mingi went from standing in front of you to his face inches away from yours. The couch dipped when he propped his knee, his entire upper body leaning over you, one hand bracing itself against the back of the couch beside your head, and you? You froze, trapped underneath him with nowhere to go.

You prayed he couldn’t hear how hard your stupid heart was thumping. He was close, far too close. His cologne immediately envelops you, and you hated it. Hated the fact that despite knowing exactly what kind of person Mingi was, your body automatically reacted to his presence. “U-Uhm,” you stammered like an idiot. “I don’t think—”

“You’re right, you don’t think,” he whispered, tone casual. “Because you seemed perfectly capable of accepting Seonghwa’s pastries earlier. You didn’t even have to think about it.”

That statement hit you so unexpectedly hard that you had to blink owlishly, mouth opening agape in disbelief. Maybe he wasn’t so casual about it, after all. For some reason, that statement carried a bit of a bite to it, a bitterness that felt entirely out of place for someone of Mingi’s personality as far as you’re concerned.

“B-But,” you stuttered, not really knowing what to say, before you cleared your throat. “That’s different,” you reasoned, gesturing to the bags. “That’s…different.”

“Is it?” Mingi asked, somehow looking more irritated even if his face was expressionless. Then, his other hand moved to your waist, his fingers deliberately settling themselves onto your skin through your clothes. “Tell me, then. I want to hear it.”

You gulped, body tensing in a way that you were positive he felt judging by the faint smile on his face. You hated the way your stomach tightened, hated how every nerve ending in your body suddenly became alive, hated even more how natural this all was to him as though he hadn’t just short-circuited your brain. It was getting difficult to breathe and you hated him for it. 

It felt like hours being underneath Mingi like this. The hand at your waist didn’t move, and if anything, it felt more and more present like a constant reminder of how easily he could invade your space if he really wanted to. “Look me in the eye,” he murmured, voice low and gruff.

You lifted your head, freezing at the last second. He almost got you there. You lifted your head, deliberately staring at something else like a blind person would. Mingi was still waiting, a small smirk on his face. “Wrong direction, doll. That’s my neck,” he chuckled in amusement. “Higher.”

A wave of humiliation ripples through you when you realised that you were, indeed, staring at his neck. But, you’d be damned if you looked him in the eye, so you settled on his lips. But that soon turned into panic when his hand started to travel up your waist. “No,” he murmured. “Higher.”

The moment he said that, his hand moved slightly higher as well. It makes your breath catch, your throat locking at how tense you felt. Your eyes flicker hesitantly, lifting up to his nose this time. “Higher, baby doll,” he repeated, voice going even deeper and rougher. “Higher.”

Something in him changed. It was subtle in the way his eyes cast a dark shadow over it, his breath getting shallower as his hand glided further up. A faint exhale escapes him, and you stop the squeak that almost left you when he bit his bottom lip lightly. Your eyes didn’t move, but his hand kept going higher and higher, right below your breasts.

Panic settled in and before you could think of your mistake and the consequences of it, you looked him straight in the eye like he asked, your eyes clearly holding fright as you stared at him. Mingi’s hand stops exactly on the curve of your tit, a couple of inches below your nipple. The both of you stared at each other for a long moment; a predator studying prey.

You weren’t in the mood to pretend, not right now. Mingi stared at the way your chest heaved up and down, the way your legs instinctively squeezed together. You shuddered at his touch, stifling any damning sounds, but it was when his hard started moving again that you snapped out of the daze.

“Mingi—”, you gasped, aggressively pushing his hand away. 

“What I give you is what you get,” he said, finally leaning away and putting distance between you. “And you’ll find yourself grateful for it.”

The statement hung in the air. It was neither a threat nor a promise, but somehow, that made it worse. At first, your mind reached for the most logical explanation, but maybe this was his way of controlling you in a way that made sense only to him. Your hands flexed at your sides without you noticing.

“You didn’t ask me,” you spoke.

“I didn’t think I had to,” he stated confidently, completely certain of himself. “Pick what to wear from the bags or I will. You don’t want that. The gala starts at seven.”

The gala was no less than glamorous. Everywhere you looked was filled with pretentiousness covered in glitz; polished smiles and conversations disguised as networking when in reality, it was just another ruse for some sort of power play. You hated every bit of it and you could not wait until you were back in your hotel room.

Unfortunately for you, this happened to be exactly the sort of environment where Mingi thrived in and you spent the majority of it being with him. The business itself wasn’t particularly exciting, still, you translated them all for him without complaining - all while resisting the urge to fall asleep in the middle of this bloody ballroom.

The irony wasn’t lost on you, though, because Mingi looked good tonight. Infuriatingly so. The black suit fit him perfectly, tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and long legs, blonde hair pushed back to expose his sharp features that gleamed under the chandelier lights.

The worst part was that he looked like he belonged here. People flocked to him naturally. Sure, his status might have helped, but such was the charisma of one Song Mingi, really.

But despite the growing crowd vying for even a sliver of his attention, Mingi always found a way to pull you back. “Stay here,” he murmured, almost a warning, when you tried to wander off. 

Because God knows you wanted to. You needed to get away from him. The memory of what happened in the office earlier refused to leave your mind, and now, every time he stepped too close, the way his hand brushed your lower back to guide you through the crowd, and every time he leaned in to whisper something, your body immediately remembered.

But none of these surprised you - what actually bothered you was what Mingi wasn’t doing.

Turns out that there are some things that Mingi couldn’t even stand no matter how hard he pretends. Or, perhaps, you were the only one who noticed. Being around the blind makes people reveal themselves especially when they think nobody was there to watch. But you’ve always been here, mainly because Mingi had a thing for keeping you in check.

He hated being here, that much you could tell. Despised it, even. To others, Mingi looked the same, but you knew better. The way his eyes narrowed every time someone tried to talk to him was one thing, but his smirk was hollow and carried no weight, and his responses were beginning to get shorter and shorter as the night went on. 

His patience was wearing thin and that realisation was so fascinating to you. You’ve seen Mingi annoyed, amused, exploit, kill, but one thing you’ve never seen him be was be uncomfortable. The thought immediately makes you snort under your breath, and of course, Mingi notices.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you for a few seconds before he let out a long sigh, fingers slightly loosening his tie. “Do you need anything?”

The question surprised you, but the way he asked it almost created a big riff inside your chest. He wasn’t asking out of inconvenience, he looked like he actually wanted to ask you if you needed something. The thing was, the concern sounded so unnatural for him that you had a hard time conceiving an answer for him.

But you didn’t have to. Mingi was still waiting for an answer when, suddenly, his eyes darkened. The change in his body posture was subtle, but it was there. His back straightened, shoulders squared, and his chin lifted. You were stunned, you’ve never seen him like this before - not for investors, not for clients, and not for people who held twice the amount of power he did.

Someone was approaching and when that newcomer came in your line of view, you immediately understood why. This man looked like he should’ve been in a magazine cover, beautiful in a way that was not even fair. But that wasn’t what made you freeze - it was his eyes. They were cold, but not cold in a way that Mingi’s were. They weren’t sharp or predatory, they were just…cold.

This man was danger wrapped in silk to hide the rot underneath. The way he stood was restrained, his presence already squeezing your chest with unyielding tension. You understood why Mingi immediately tensed the moment he saw him.

“Yeosang,” Mingi greeted with a subtle nod. “Always glad to see you alive despite your efforts.”

You brows furrowed, the name tickling your brain to remember where it had heard it before. Yeosang returns the gesture. “Charmed,” he flatly stated. “My father isn’t happy, Mingi.”

You wanted to choke where you stood. That was it - no smile, no pleasantries, no nothing. Just straight into business. Mingi lightly scoffs, swirling his whiskey once before answering. “I would say that’s unfortunate, but it sounds to me that that’s his problem, and not my own.”

Yeosang stared at him for quite some time before cocking his head slightly. “You tainted the null zone,” he stated, expression unchanged. “Don’t mistake silence for approval. Though I must say, you’ve gotten…creative. I see you’ve also started including variables in your equation.”

The people around you blurred, and you were left stuck between two men who were clearly fighting for the upper hand even though you had no idea what they were talking about. “I aim to please,” Mingi shrugged, though you could see how tense he was. “It’s called adapting.”

Yeosang’s mouth curls into a small sneer. “Adaptable people know where the line is.”

But Mingi wasn’t having it. His eyes narrow into small slits, returning the glare with equal ferocity. “They also know when the line has moved.”

There was a pause, both men refusing to give out as they both stared at each other, communicating between their eyes. The measured silence was louder than all of the mindless chatter and ear-splitting music echoing in the ballroom and the discomfort was slowly creeping into your insides.

“What now?” Yeosang finally said, the taunting clear in his tone.

Mingi took another sip from his glass before setting it onto a passing waiter’s tray without even looking. “What else?” He jabbed in contempt. “I’ll deal with it. Like I always fucking do.”

Something flickered in Yeosang’s eyes, gone within the next second. Of course, Mingi notices. “Don’t even start,” Mingi said lowly, voice hardening. “Everything’s been done accordingly and neatly all within the given timeframe. You and I both know I’ve gone the extra mile way out of my area of responsibility every time. I have never failed. I never will. Not now, not ever.”

Yeosang scoffed. Your stomach begins to churn. Neither of them raised their voices or their fists, but this conversation felt more dangerous than any lingering violence you’ve witnessed. That statement earns the smallest reaction from Mingi. He lifts a brow, an action you knew too well - an action you knew was going to cost the nearest person he set his sights on.

“Is it not? My record says otherwise, Yeosang,” he said, voice sharpening on its edges. “I’ve been cleaning messes since the beginning. Run the reports and my every movement, I don’t care. Nothing’s off, nothing’s missing. So,” Mingi takes one step closer, enough to show that he wasn’t backing down. “Unless your dad has gone senile, then there’s nothing he can reprimand me on. He can talk to me, himself.”

For the first time, Yeosang’s expression shifts. It was subtle, but you could tell it was between disappointment and a warning. His gaze swept imperceptibly through the crowd before settling back on Mingi. There was pause before he finally sighed, his shoulders loosening visibly, eyes taking on something more human in them. “Don’t get too cocky,” he whispered.

A small smirk crosses Mingi’s face as he lets out a small huff. “You and I both know I’m not just someone. And about the…variable,” he said, eyes briefly landing on you before locking eyes with Yeosang once more. “It’s accounted for. But that’s not why you’re here. You didn’t approach me to criticise my methods.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he sets his sights on you, quiet but clinical. “You’re Y/N,” he stated.

You blinked, not expecting to be acknowledged by this beautifully dreadful man. As you were about to open your mouth to respond, for the first time since Yeosang approached, Mingi looked genuinely irritated. His hands suddenly grips your arm. It was neither tight nor gentle, but it was enough where you knew he was making his presence and intentions known.

“She is,” he answered quickly before you even could. Mingi doesn’t look at you as he speaks, but the pressure of his fingers slightly increases, but more than that, you could feel a slight tremble to them. You would even dare go as far as say that his hold felt desperate.

Yeosang’s eyes drop to Mingi’s hand, a slow, knowing smirk ghosting across his lips. But then, his eyes bore straight onto yours and your heart leapt out of your chest, too startled to look away. You immediately dimmed your eyes, hoping he didn’t notice how alert they were, but he kept staring, even slightly tilting his head as his penetrating eyes inspected yours.

“Huh,” he huffed in amusement, his mouth twitching at its corners. He sounded genuinely interested. “I’m impressed. Such tenacity. No wonder you’ve survived for this long.”

Mingi’s jaw shifts, his hold on you tightening once more before relaxing. Yeosang notices, his smile growing wider. “Don’t,” he warned. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Yeosang merely nods, but he all managed but two steps before stopping. You held your breath in anticipation, but what you weren’t expecting was for him to look back, eyes the softest you’ve seen. It wasn’t much, but it was enough where you thought you imagined the other version of him.

He reaches out, hand resting on Mingi’s shoulder, and by how Mingi didn’t flinch, you could tell it was a welcome and familiar gesture; almost comforting and brotherly, even.

Yeosang’s eyes settle on you briefly before he looks away. “I won’t tell if you won’t, Min,” he said quietly. Mingi managed the subtlest nod. Then, Yeosang was already gone. Approaching said table was the only thing left to do at that point.

And it wasn’t a pleasant experience. These people weren’t even predators; they were vultures and bottom feeders, just hovering over the weakest link before they did what they did best. It was revolting, and unfortunately for you, Mingi’s temper wasn’t helping.

He spent the entire time digging his fingers in to make these people bled, hooking in to let the pain fester more. Safe to say that being in the middle of this political fiasco was not for you in the slightest.

“As an outsider, what are your views on intelligence?” Mingi asked lightheartedly, though anybody with common sense can tell that his eyes said otherwise. It was awkward to translate that to the few people who didn’t speak the language, but you had to do it.

“I like how you never let facts get in the way of your opinions,” he whispered under his breath while another investor was explaining his plans for his company. The secondhand embarrassment of seeing the other man’s smile slowly fade and fumble to collect what was left of his social dignity was something you never wanted to witness ever again.

It wasn’t long before they started targeting you. It was to be expected - you were the weakest out of everybody in this table, the cripple, so to speak. If they couldn’t get to Mingi, they were surely going to take their frustrations out on the easy prey to salvage what was left of their egos. At first, they were polite about it, then they became just loud enough for you to hear.

“That’s the translator? My, so the rumours were true, after all.”

“But she’s blind. KQ couldn’t find anyone else that can at least look you in the eye?”

“I wouldn’t trust someone who can’t even see the people she’s negotiating with.”

Your fingers curled around your untouched champagne flute to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Imbeciles, you thought. You weren’t really blind, but of course, they can’t know that. You were playing the long game here and their words were nothing compared to the unknown of what would happen if Mingi found out. You didn’t even want to know. For now, you stayed silent.

But Mingi had different ideas. You and all the other patrons on the table flinched when his low chuckle pierced through the hushed conversations. “You know,” he started, gaze settling on the people who had questioned your abilities. “The funny thing about natural intellect is that it often doesn’t require sight.”

The implication was clear. No one spoke and a few nearby guests from the other table coughed awkwardly into their drinks. You were stunned into silence, your chest tightening as you watched Mingi take a sip from his glass, his posture as relaxed as ever. You wanted to believe that he meant something else - that he was doing this for his own interest - but you’d be lying to yourself.

One of the men who insulted you forced an awkward smile that looked like it was meant to be smug. “Ah, we were just curious,” he smirked. “KQ prides itself on excellence. I simply meant that eyesight is important in business.”

“So is a brain,” Mingi raised a brow, voice calm.

The dig was so pointed and deliberate that the people around were stuck in between snickering or stuttering in surprise, but the man’s face just reddened in embarrassment, perhaps in anger. “Come again?” He huffed in annoyance.

Mingi smirked behind his glass, scoffing softly. “All I’m saying,” he spoke calmly. “Is that I’ve met people who could see perfectly fine yet choose to be sightless. I’ve also met some who lost their sight along the way. I’m not sure who’s worse.”

His eyes lingered on every single face on the table long enough to make every single of them visibly uncomfortable. His words sent a shiver down your spine, so you turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at anybody else anymore. He was looking at you - no - he was looking through you. “Your entire existence has been led by your blindness.”

He continued, voice lowered enough not to be unheard, but enough to paralyse you because this felt personal. “And since you can’t see,” he paused as your pulse stumbled. “And the more nothing happens, the more dreadful it feels.”

A strange silence envelops the entire table. Some people gave an awkward laugh, but you barely noticed them, your focus entirely on the man beside you. This felt different. Every conversation you’ve had with Mingi felt like you were being hunted, but now? It didn’t even feel like he was mocking you for your blindness - it felt like he understood it.

Not the lie, but the fear of it and the suffocating uncertainty of not knowing whether or not he would finally do something drastic the next time you saw him. Your heart beat painfully against your ribs, and you couldn’t understand why because you should have been afraid.

So why did it feel like that the only person who seemed to perfectly understand the prison you’ve entrapped yourself in was the very same man who had built it?

You already knew that Mingi was detested being there - loathed the people around him, really - and that was fine, but even psychopaths like Song Mingi had their limits. You just weren’t expecting Mingi to act upon that unease in the most unconventional of ways. You shouldn’t be surprised anymore, yet somehow, you still were.

The water in the tub had long since gone cold but you had barely noticed. The bathroom was too quiet, especially in contrast with all of tonight’s events - the glittering chandeliers, forced smiles, conversations with hidden meanings, Song Mingi - all of it. The lavender scented bath salts that should have been calming, but they didn’t even work. Instead, you still felt sick.

You closed your eyes, but that was a mistake. Immediately, fragments of the evening flashed in your head. You sank deeper in the water to will yourself to think about anything else, but your mind refused. The last thing you remembered was running to your room after seeing Mingi and Wooyoung together in the emergency stairwell, but how did you even get there?

“Go to your room and rest, doll,” Mingi had spoken the moment he took you out of that suffocating ballroom. “You need it. We still need to attend the after party tomorrow.”

You absentmindedly played with the bubbles floating about, swirling mindless, abstract patterns with your fingertips. You remembered glancing at Mingi, reading to say your good nights, but he wasn’t even looking at you. Instead, he was staring at the ballroom doors, eyes fixed on it as if he was waiting for something to happen. You shivered at the memory.

“W-What about you?” You asked. “Are you not resting yet?”

He shook his head, gaze already down the hallway opposite the ballroom. “No. I’m going to smoke for a bit,” he flatly spoke, almost distracted. He grabs something from his coat pocket. “This is the list of people I need you to memorise for tomorrow,” he said, handing you a flash drive. “Go on. Jongho’s in the lobby to help you to your room. I’ll swing by later to get it back.”

You turned your head to the side where the flash drive lay on the pristine marble sink, still untouched, not knowing what exactly to do with it - not when you knew Mingi lied to you. You knew for a fact he didn’t smoke. So when he turned his back to walk away, you hung out but not because you were waiting for Jongho; no, you were going to see what Mingi was up to.

You should’ve just listened, because the next thing you knew, you were hidden by the staircase door, your eyes wide, mouth agape in fear and disbelief, watching Mingi’s smirk turn into a smug grin while Wooyoung grabbed him by the collar, eyes narrowed dangerously into slits, veins popping from his neck all the way to his temples in sheer anger. 

“Mingi, you piece of shit,” he seethed, voice scathing as he slammed Mingi against the concrete wall. “It was you, wasn’t it? I know it was you. The fucking gala is in shambles because of you.”

At that time you didn’t know it was related. When you were tailing Mingi, there was a sudden commotion that erupted in the ballroom when you passed it, panicked voices and frantic demands for an emergency hotline. The realisation made you pale, because now you knew why he looked at that door like he was waiting - because he actually was.

“Careful with the suit, Youngie. I happen to like this one a lot,” he murmured, not even bothered in the slightest. “Mighty bold of you to assume I had something to do with it.”

The playful, teasing investor who ate cherries was nowhere to be found. His usually warm face had darkened with rage, fists tightening even further against Mingi’s expensive suit. “Cut the bullshit,” he spat. “I was literally at the other table listening in while you were mouthing off to that dead trash.What the fuck were you thinking?”

The victim flashed across your mind almost instantly and your blood ran cold, realisation settling into your bones with horrifying clarity. Mingi had killed again and the one who died was none other than the executive who he spent the entire time digging into. And as if things weren’t bad enough, you saw a shadow approaching from the other side of the hallway. 

It was Jongho. He was about to open his mouth, but you hurriedly put your finger to your mouth, your teary eyes begging him to be silent and not speak while pointing at the staircase. His eyes widened, but luckily, he did exactly what you wanted and opted to stand beside you to listen in as well, though you think it was more because he was stunned into silence seeing you so panicked.

The both of you watched Wooyoung groan into his hands in sheer frustration before glaring at Mingi, looking like he was ready to throw him down the stairs. “God, Song Mingi, you just gave me a migraine and half,” he hissed, two seconds away from punching him. “Was he on the list?”

Mingi’s lips stretched at the corners. It wasn’t enough to be called a smile, but enough to show his canines. You remembered thinking how symbolic it was. “Oh. No, he wasn’t,” he replied.

Wooyoung stared, blinking twice like he had heard wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Mingi shrugged, casually straightening his tie. “I had no plans tonight, I genuinely wanted to leave this hellhole fast, so I wasn’t even going to do anything to the guy. He just pissed me off.”

Wooyoung stared more before exploding. “What?” His voice boomed through the entire staircase, loud and roaring, making you and Jongho both flinch at the intensity. “Mingi, that was blatant, you petty motherfucker—”

“I don’t get petty,” he interrupted with insulting calm. “I get even, Wooyoung.”

The amusement he had the entire time completely vanished. It was so unsettling. When Mingi looked back at Wooyoung, there was that terrifying cold that you only saw when he was in his murderous state.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” he said, holding Wooyoung’s gaze without flinching. “I’d have caved your skull in with my shoe for cornering me like this.”

Jongho’s breath hitched. Mingi wasn’t joking and even Wooyoung seemed to recognise that. For the first time since confronting him, hesitation crossed his face, but Mingi wasn’t done.

“This place,” he gestures randomly with his hands. “Runs on order, chaos, and my patience. If there’s a problem, it isn’t what I did. It’s what everyone thinks they saw. And I suggest,” he pauses, head tilting, menacingly so. “You make sure they’re looking at the right thing.”

Wooyoung paused, face settling into a dangerous realisation. You watched him take a step back, face reddening bit by bit as a newfound rage seemed to overcome him. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You play god to stay on top of that mountain of shit you’re sitting on and you expect people to just forget and hope their attention diverts towards something else?”

Mingi smiled a bit, genuinely amused by the situation. “You misunderstand me,” he said, taking a step slow enough to feel deliberate. “You think I killed my way here? Because anybody can kill. You certainly have. You think the man who kills the most gets to stay on top, Jung Wooyoung?”

The question was almost conversational and it had you and Jongho both holding your breaths. Wooyoung said nothing as Mingi’s eyes stayed locked onto his. “Listen to them,” he gestured towards the direction of the ballroom. “Half the room thinks he had a heart attack, and the other half thinks otherwise. But it doesn’t matter, because by tomorrow, every single one of those stories will be more useful to me than the truth. It’s always the little ants that help me stay up.”

His face had emptied with nothing but those dead eyes that stared through people rather than at them, but it was the way his voice remained calm - that was the terrifying part. There was no ounce of guilt in them. Mingi continued, voice dropping lower. “You see, before I built my network, I don’t announce my intentions to the anthill. Before I pull the trigger, I don’t explain myself.”

“You want to know why?” Mingi asked. Wooyoung's body tensed when Mingi stepped closer, jaw tightening when the taller man’s fingers brushed against his tie to fix it. “Because they’re ants, Youngie,” he declared, gaze sharpening dangerously, fingers twisting the tie, causing Wooyoung to choke out before letting go. “And ants are far below my understanding.”

The way he said it was soft, but the words landed like a blade. Mingi sighed, eyes drifting briefly towards the ceiling. “But the world is round,” he mumbled thoughtfully with an almost child-like innocence. “I could be the ant to someone else next time. But not tonight,” his eyes hardened when they returned to Wooyoung. “Because right here, right now, they are the ants.”

You finally understood something that terrified you more than the murders themselves - Mingi thought he was above these people and genuinely cannot imagine anyone changing the story he had already decided for them. You had to get Jongho out of here before Mingi realises he had another witness.

“Jongho, please,” you begged, grabbing onto his jacket. “Take me to my room.”

Jongho didn’t hesitate or ask any questions. His hands were trembling the entire time, you could feel it, and you could only imagine what was going through his head; to know that the boss he had admired for so long was a cold and calculated murderer.

The walk back felt impossibly long, but the moment you entered your hotel room, Jongho took a deep breath to prepare himself for the barrage of questions that he had for you. “Y/N, what the hell was that? I need to know—”

“I’m not blind,” you blurted out before you could help it. “I-I lied. I can see perfectly.”

And somehow between this revelation and the conversation between Mingi and Wooyoung, this one seemed to surprise him the most. You told him everything - how you had lied from the very beginning because you had accidentally witnessed Mingi doing the same thing months prior. And, knowing how smart he was, Jongho asked why didn’t you just leave or, perhaps, not accept the job offer, so you also told him about the company card and how Mingi found you through it.

Jongho nodded as he took the information in, but you could see how his face had paled as he tried to keep his composure. “He would’ve found you regardless of where you were,” he mumbled, more to himself, in realisation. “Y/N, this is fucked. All of this is. Does anyone else know?”

You nodded, telling him San, your best friend, knew. By the time you were finished, your voice had gone hoarse, hands trembling uncontrollably. Your chest, however, did feel a little lighter. Letting all of this out felt good for once even if saying it out loud solidified the danger wrapped behind it.

But as you stared at the way Jongho just stood there, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him; your chest felt lighter simply because you now had someone to share the heaviness with.

In the end, Jongho thought it was best to keep acting normal until the dust settles. “If anything goes wrong,” he said sharply through veiled concern as he was about to leave your room. “And I mean anything, you come to me. I have a spare room in my apartment you both could crash in.”

You could have cried. Jongho took it better than you ever did and finally - God, finally - you felt like you weren’t alone. The cold embrace of the lavender scented water you were submerged in didn’t feel so biting anymore. You were so engrossed and lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the bathroom door opening, though.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but not once in your wildest dreams were you expecting to see Mingi standing by the door of the bathroom. In your peripheral vision, you can see his breath hitch, frozen from where he was standing, just as startled as you were.

You racked your brain for reasons why Mingi would be in your room to begin with, but you saw him staring at the flash drive on your sink and it hit you. You forgot that he was supposed to take it.

He looked shocked. It wasn’t the subtle surprise you’d coax out of him once in a while or that morbid curiosity he always had. No, this was pure, unadulterated shock; one you’ve never seen on his face before. This wasn’t one of his calculated performances - he genuinely did not expect to see you like this, and for the first time since you’d met him, he didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t the only one, you were so caught-off guard that you couldn’t even move and this was when reality set in. You were in a bathtub and you were wearing nothing. You could hear the slow drip of the water from the faucet, the faint hum of the air conditioner just outside this suffocating, the ringing in your ears - everything. And God, that thought was so unsettling.

You became painfully aware of your vulnerability; of your bare shoulders and legs exposed to the cool air, of the thin sheet of bubbles that covered what little of your privacy, and every instinct told you to cover yourself and to scream at Mingi to get out. But you couldn’t. Blind people didn’t react to people silently appearing in their peripheral vision. Blind people never had the need to sink lower in cloudy bathwaters to protect their dignity from someone they didn’t know was there.

So, you remained still, keeping your gaze unfocused, praying that your breathing and your wild heartbeat wouldn’t betray you. With shaking hands, you reached for the shampoo bottle, missing it a few times on purpose for the sake of normalcy. In the dim, yellow lights of the luxurious bathroom, you just hoped that your reddened cheeks and ears weren’t so visible.

Mingi still didn’t move, and even if he did, you were expecting him to walk away as quietly as he crept in, but this was Mingi you were talking about and he was anything but. You had to stifle the alarmed yelp that wanted to escape your throat when he slid inside the bathroom completely. If you were really blind, you would have been none the wiser; he was good at being unheard.

Your hands were trembling as you continued to shampoo your hair, all while he leaned his back against the wall. Your stomach dropped, was he going to stay here? You could feel your hackles rise in the silence. This was absolutely absurd, because at this point, it was just impossible to not feel each other’s presence. Mingi was right earlier - people do love to pretend to be sightless.

As if things weren’t disturbing enough, his eyes had gotten dark somehow, and through your peripherals as you dragged the washcloth over your exposed legs, you saw his breathing grow heavier, his chest rising up and down with so much difficulty that it was becoming hard for you to breathe as well. Whatever he was thinking, you did not want to know.

But it seems like you’d have no choice. You froze when you saw his hand going lower, inching towards the outline of his obviously hardened cock. You swallowed, reaching out for the faucet to turn the water just so the tension wouldn’t slice you in two, but that mistake would cost you. Mingi took this opportunity to use the noise of the running water to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants.

The sight of his exposed cock, hard and already dripping in precum, caught you off guard, causing you to accidentally lose your balance as you tried to sit back down. The mishap completely shifts the hazy bathwater around, the bubbles sloshing around at the ripples, completely exposing you in your entirety. Just like that, the atmosphere turned sinister.

Song Mingi was jerking off at the sight of you bathing. You wanted to throw up, utterly disturbed at the turn of events. You were trapped; acknowledging him would mean seeing him, and hiding yourself would also mean seeing him.

Act normal, you told yourself. But to be fair, even if you weren’t pretending to be blind, how does one react normally to this?

A shaky exhale came from Mingi, the sound of it loud to your ears over the running water. He wastes no time wrapping his hands around his cock, stroking it slowly, eyes roaming greedily at your plump tits glistening with soap as you tried to rinse yourself. Subconsciously, you bit your lip, and it doesn’t escape your attention how his hand tightened around himself.

You shivered, not being able to stop the small whimper that left your lips. Fuck, you thought helplessly, your own body betraying you as the tingles went from your spine all the way down to your nether regions. It was stomach-churning and tears threatened to fall from your eyes because you were getting utterly, disgustingly, turned on by all of this.

No, this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. But there you were, gripping the edge of the bathtub so hard your fingers ached as Mingi’s eyes rolled back in pleasure at the slow, deliberate strokes he was giving himself at the sight of your nakedness. You weren’t supposed to feel like this, you weren’t supposed to feel stuck between a cliff where jumping down would mean giving in.

You grabbed the washcloth again, dragging it across your belly before the cloth dipped lower, spreading your legs, but stopping midway. You didn’t even realise what you were doing, and God, you were about to be sick.

But, fuck, you needed something. You swallowed, you were just cleaning yourself. Every section needed to be scrubbed, right? Nothing out of the ordinary.

You bit your lip as you finally dragged the cloth lower as you washed between your legs, spreading your thighs a little wider under the water as your fingers brushed your clit, going back and forth to make sure you were thoroughly clean. You closed your eyes, focusing on the delicious onslaught you desperately needed down there rather than the bile rising up your throat.

Mingi’s breath hitched and his pace quickened. You could see his fist going faster, his movement more urgent. He was watching every move you made, the way your fingers clenched around nothing as you rubbed the cloth there again, pretending and telling yourself that it was just routine bathing. You really shouldn’t be doing this.

His breathing turned ragged, his hand moving in quick desperate strokes, low groans barely contained, but just when you thought he was about to come, Mingi stopped. He closed his eyes, taking in slow but big gulps of air as he tried to contain himself with great difficulty if the veins popping on his neck weren’t telling.

You were confused, and thought of being confused made the bile in your throat rise even higher. This was so messed up. But you kept your expression neutral, eyes unfocused as you continued to wash yourself. And just as sudden as he came barging in your bathroom, he hurriedly tucked himself back in his pants, grabbed the flash drive on your sink, and left quietly.

When you heard the front door clicking shut, your lungs finally remembered how to work. You hurriedly turned the faucet off, drained the tub, and quickly got dressed, all in the span of not even five minutes, to sit on the bed. Every muscle protested as you slowly relaxed and you didn’t even realise how rigid you were the entire time until you felt the softness of the bed.

Your shoulders slumped in relief. Mingi was gone, and of course, you were relieved. So why did the room suddenly feel so empty? Your throat tightened, replaying the scenes over and over again like cinema credits that went on forever. You hated every second that his eyes devoured you, didn’t you?

You shook your head at that wretched thought, waiting for the correct answer in the expanse of your dark, luxurious room, but it didn’t come. Instead, another realisation crawled into your mind like poison. You didn’t want him in the bathroom, you knew that, but your body…

You barely reached the toilet before you were retching over it in painful heaves, your lungs burning terribly as nothing came out. You felt sick, not because of the thought of Mingi, because of the way your body responded on its own in his presence. The thought disgusted you, made you want to peel your skin off and flush it down the toilet.

Tears fell down from your eyes before you could help it. You told yourself that you were always going to see through this and not let Mingi get to you.

Yet there you were, hands on your face, sobbing and wondering whether or not he already had.

Sleep never found you that night. Sanity had long left you. Sentience was something of the past for you. Sensation swallowed reasons whole. Someone said your name, but you barely stirred. Sex on the beach tasted pretty bland in this afterparty, swirling it didn’t make it better either. Smiles spread across the room, and sobriety stood no chance finding you tonight.

“Easy on the cocktails,” Jongho murmured beside you, or rather, shouted above the loud music in the background. “Mingi’s going to suspect something.”

“Let him,” you deadpanned, downing more cocktails than you could ever take.

Not tonight. You needed to get drunk to forget what happened last night. And speaking of that, the morning after was the most awkward moment of your entire existence yet. Mingi knocked on your door to remind you of the party, but he looked fine, pretty much the same asshole he usually was.

In essence, you were the only one messed up while he was pretending like nothing happened and the thought made you angrier than it usually would have.

Maybe trauma had finally broken something inside you, or perhaps, living under Mingi’s constant intimidation and fear rewired your instincts into something else. Whatever it was, you absolutely hated it. Whatever. You weren’t here to party like everyone did, and the moment you got back home, you had made up your mind to talk to San about Jongho’s offer for safety and shelter.

Tonight was easy, though. It’s like all these snobbish elitists who pretended that the gala actually contributed to society wanted to let loose like they had the right to when every hypocrite in there and their mothers knew that everything was just a farce. Mingi hadn’t called for you at all. Good, you thought. It wasn’t like you wanted to see him; not after last night.

In fact, he hadn’t even looked your way once. You were positive of that even in the paradigm of how these backwards parties worked, so why did your skin feel like it wants to separate itself from your body? The way it prickled made you want to dig your fingernails in and scratch that unbearable itch until you reached bones and nerves.

He was like a ghost that lingered but never really stayed; a spectre of your inevitable downfall. He was everywhere, but nowhere at the same time. At least, not that your eyes could see. You could feel his eyes on you, but you knew for a fact that he was networking with investors as of the moment. You could feel him, not physically, but instinctually. You downed your drink in one go. Your senses have definitely left your mind. You felt delirious - paranoid. You rubbed your forearm, willing for that itch to go away, but it didn’t help. Whatever this was felt possessive—no, obsessive. It wasn’t until you felt fingers tap your shoulder that you snapped out of the chasm you jumped into. 

You blinked. It was a man, dressed to the nines and out to impress, already tipsy judging by the slight sway in his stance, an unpleasant grin plastered to his face like he deserved the attention he wanted from anyone.

“There she is,” he grinned, the horrible smell of alcohol and his pungent cologne invading your nose. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now.”

You forced a polite smile, your eyes dulling by itself not to pretend you were blind, but because you were genuinely not in the mood to act around pompous pricks when you already had so much in your head.

“My apologies,” you said, not even bothering to sound sorry at all.

His eyes traveled all over your form in ways you didn’t appreciate, his tongue poking out of lips, nodding in appreciation as if you were produce he wanted to purchase. Disgusting. “My, such pretty face for someone blind,” he clicked his tongue. “All wasted for Song Mingi.”

You immediately bristled at the insinuation. It was bad enough that you had to deal with the devil that was Mingi, himself, but you also had to deal with assholes like these who reduced you to what they thought you’re worth rather than what you’ve achieved. God, they made Mingi look like a saint because at least Mingi actually respected your job title and praised you for it all the time.

Jongho frowned. “With all due respect, Sir—”

The man cut him off with a dismissive wave. “I can make you see stars tonight, if you’d like,” he offered lasciviously, reaching out to you when he saw you stiffen. “You don’t need to be shy—”

An arm snakes around your waist, firm and certain, and you freeze before your body calms down. You didn’t even have to look, and the fact that you already knew who it was as you melted against him instinctively without thinking made you sick to your stomach. Mingi held you close, possessive without squeezing your waist, staking his claim without opening his mouth.

The other man’s smile falters and it was when Mingi spoke. “I see you’ve found yourself another friend, my little dove,” he said smoothly, dipping his head lower until you felt his breath against your ear. “Are you having fun?”

You shivered at the sensation, at his cordial and polite tone despite the way his eyes said otherwise as he fixated on the other man. He was completely devoid of warmth even though his skin left yours on fire. The other man took a cautious step back. You supposed that you weren’t the only one who could feel when Mingi was looking at them.

Mingi pulls you to the side, effectively seating you next to Jongho. “It seems our little friend here needs attention,” he mused, squeezing your waist possessively as if touching you was second nature to him.

He grabs your chin, turning you to him. “Be good for me, love,” he whispered. You gritted your teeth to stop that pleasurable zing up your spine. “Watch her,” he then told Jongho.

Jongho nodded dumbly, looking at you with wide eyes when Mingi turned back to the man, alarm clear on his expression that mirrored your own. The other man cleared his throat in an attempt to recover whatever dignity he lost, if he had one to begin with anyway.

“My apologies,” he began awkwardly. “I wasn’t aware that your employee was so…sensitive.”

What a piece of shit, you thought bitterly. He didn’t get what he wanted from you so he resorted to belittling you. “She seems to have misunderstood my intentions,” he continued, chuckling.

Mingi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t think so,” he stated bluntly, not bothering to mince his words like he usually did. The man blinked, surprised at the turn of events, but Mingi’s gaze settled on him with that unnerving calm you knew too well. “Just because my translator cannot see you,” he paused, letting the words sink in. “Never meant she cannot hear you.”

You felt your gut tighten. While you appreciated his defense towards you, that didn’t really make your situation with Mingi better. He knew you were aware of everything he did, yet he chose to play games and test your sanity for months, so what did that say about him? The other man merely laughed, apparently - or choosing - to miss the point entirely.

“Well, perhaps I could make it up to her. Take her to dinner and maybe more, if you catch my drift,” he offered, that salacious grin still on his smug face. Jongho stiffens beside you, his usually kind eyes morphing into a glare so fierce that it could have rivaled Mingi’s.

Unfortunately, this man must’ve brought only half his brain because he didn’t stop there.

“Maybe I could shoot my shot with her,” he grinned, winking conspiratorily at Mingi as if this was an inside joke between them. “Plant my seed in her, you know what I mean?”

Mingi didn’t reply, yet the air around him changed so drastically, it was almost suffocating. His expression remained unreadable, but the quiet amusement in his eyes completely vanished. He nodded like he was agreeing. You swallowed. You learned enough about him to recognize that this was not a good sign. This was worse than him shouting. Much, much worse.

Then, in a whisper so soft that you were positive that you were the only one who heard it because nobody was meant to hear it, Mingi had barely let the words out of his mouth.

“What if I plant a bullet between your eyes, instead?”

Your blood froze, but the executive merely frowned. “Huh?”

“Hmm?” Mingi hummed in polite confusion, feigning innocence.

“Oh,” the man laughed nervously. “I thought you said something.”

A faint smile tugged at Mingi’s lips. “Must have been the wind,” he shrugged lazily.

But you couldn't take any of this anymore, so you excused yourself and said you were going to have fun on the other side of the venue with Jongho who immediately understands that you just wanted to get away. Mingi just raises a brow and cocks his head for you to go, but you hardly moved an inch before his hand wrapped around your wrist. He reeled you back without warning, your body colliding with his.

His other hand found the back of your neck, broad fingers spreading possessively beneath your hair. He held you there not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you that if he wanted to keep you exactly where you were, he could. His thumb stroked the nape of your neck in slow, deliberate passes.

“Stay where I can see you,” he said. There was no hint of any teasing in his voice, just firm and reminding. “I’d hate to have to come looking for you.”

Because I will.

Those were what his eyes were telling you as he let go, gesturing to the crowd to give you and Jongho permission to have fun. And you tried, you really did, but you couldn’t even move without your knees feeling strangely unsteady. Even at a distance, you still held your breath inside your lungs, unable to let it go no matter how much you tried.

Eventually, you had to tell Jongho that you needed to go to the restroom to get some space and hopefully refresh yourself, telling him ‘no’ when he offered to take you.

Snap out of it, Y/N, you told yourself in the subdued lighting of the ochre-themed restroom, splashing your face with a generous amount of cold tap water. Gripping the marbled sink with your trembling hands, you looked up at your reflection, watching droplets of water fall slowly from your exhausted face.

A shaky exhale leaves you. trying desperately to focus on anything except the lingering grip of Mingi’s fingers on the back of your neck. The bathroom ultimately felt too suffocating, plus staying wasn’t an option anyway - the last thing you needed was for Mingi to stay true to his threats. However, you barely made a step out when you felt yourself being slammed to the wall.

It was disorienting, and there was only one bastard who had the audacity to do that to you, but as you were about to give him a piece of your mind, another man’s voice spoke.

“You took forever in there,” he sneered, a dark undertone curling up his tone. “I thought I had to drag you out, myself.”

You froze, true fear crawling up your spine. You looked up, getting pale when you realised it was the same man from earlier who was hitting on you and now, he looked more drunk, more aggressive as he squeezed your arm painfully. “U-Uhm, you’re hurting me—” you tried to say.

“Mingi’s looking for you,” he interrupted, the pain shooting up further from your arm to your shoulder when he started dragging you towards the crowd without even waiting for you to say anything. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

You were having a difficult time keeping up with this man. The way he kept a tight grip on your arm felt different from the way Mingi had done. This one felt forceful and right, you would’ve traded anything for Mingi to be the one doing it instead because your arm genuinely hurt.

But as you stumbled, you quickly sensed that something was wrong when the music started to fade behind you, and by the time you realised that, the man had already pushed you outside.

Blood drained from your face. He had deliberately taken you out from the back where no one would come looking. “No,” you resisted, planting your feet as hard as you could on the concrete, flailing and trying to twist your arm free from his hands. “Let go of me—”

You cried out when you saw that he was trying to drag you to a lone car parked near. You clawed useless at his wrist to pry his fingers away, but this earned you a backhanded slap so hard, your head flew back.

“Shut the fuck up and get in the fucking car,” he hissed, hand shooting up, digging painfully into your jaw when you, one you couldn’t fight off because of the overwhelming nausea from him hitting you. “Or I’ll break your arm. I don’t mind fucking you with broken bones.”

Just as he was about to shove you inside his car, the back exit door slammed open so hard, it bounced off the walls in a loud echo. You slumped on the side of the car when the man’s grip loosened, wanting to just close your eyes and give in to the disorientation, but your eyes settled on the familiar figure up ahead - black suit, broad shoulders, blonde hair.

And when your eyes eventually cleared up to see who it was, you couldn’t stop the tears that fell. You’ve seen Mingi with all sorts of emotions, but not panic so raw, real, and unfiltered. His gaze swept all over you - your trembling hands, the bruise on your arms, your buckling legs.

Then, he settled on your face and the relief that washed over him was so immediate that it sent more tears down your eyes. He really was coming to get you no matter what, just like he had said.

The sight of your tears snapped Mingi out of the emotion he momentarily slipped into, burying it beneath something more infinitely dangerous.

But you couldn’t take it anymore, closing your eyes to let the darkness overcome you because you knew that whatever happened next, Mingi wasn’t going to let this man take you away.

Touch was the first thing you felt when you came to. Gentle fingers carefully gathered your hair, tucking the loose strands behind your ears. Mingi’s eyes were the first thing you saw the moment you opened your eyes, their usual sharpness dulled ever so slightly, his features softer somehow. You didn’t even move when his thumb brushed your swollen cheek.

Neither of you said anything, afraid of crashing this solemnity you rarely found with each other. This couldn’t be the same man - Mingi was highly intelligent and sarcastic, cunning in his ways and malicious in his murders. He likes winning conversations, gets irritated when challenged yet rarely explodes, and loves making people walk themselves into traps.

But most importantly, you knew he found you entertaining in every calculated torment he put you through. Yet here he was. His touch was careful enough that it almost frightened you.

Finally, he sighed softly, leaning away. “You’ll be alright,” was all he said. “Stay here. I’ll be right back to drive you home. I won’t be long, so I’d appreciate it if you stayed put.”

You didn’t even realise that you were currently in his car until he got out, closing the door softly so as to not startle you. You were going to pretend that didn’t happen. “W-Where are you going?” You blurted out, suddenly afraid to be alone. “Wait, the man from earlier—”

“Lock the door,” he cut off with maddening calm, staring at you for a second too long before he walked away, not bothering to look back. Having no choice, you did as he said. Another wave of exhaustion runs through you and before you knew it, you were once again dozing off.

Something must have startled you awake, though, with how you jerked slightly in your seat and judging by the embarrassing amount of drool pooled on your shirt, you must’ve napped for a while. And yet, there was still no sign of Mingi back in the car with you.

You frowned, looking at the direction where he’d walked away, your brows rising when you realised he walked into a dark, unmarked building. Immediately, something in your gut told you that something was wrong.

And like every bad decision you’ve made so far, you found yourself walking in, your footsteps impossibly loud despite how careful you walked. You were about to turn around when nothing came around when you heard voices ahead.

Gingerly, you pushed through nervously until you found yourself situated in a blind spot above a stairwell that overlooked an empty storage area.

Well, mostly empty except for two chairs where two men were bound and restrained. One of them had a gag on, wet with tears and wasted saliva, and the other one was pleading from his life while Mingi bunched his hair up in his fist. The blood drained from your face, not from what you were seeing - you were used to catching Mingi in the act. An unfortunate topic for another day - but because one of them looked very, very familiar to you.

The man who Mingi was facing was the very same man who had tried to take you earlier, his expensive suit tattered, one of his eyes already forming a nasty bruise.

“You said you’d let us go,” his panicked voice cracked. “I-I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

Mingi tilted his head. It was terrifying, really, how he regarded them with the same detachment he’d wear while reviewing quarterly reports. “Why do you sound like that? Did you miss puberty?” He asked nonchalantly. “I’m struggling not to put a bullet in your brain, so tread very carefully.”

Silence. Even you were holding your breath. “I can handle people trying to find me and try to kill me once in a while,” he continued, almost conversational. “People like you will keep going to either find nothing at all or even get to me if your stars are aligned properly.”

The man hissed in pain when Mingi seized him by the jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. “But you did honestly think that I’d be caught unawares?” He hissed, anger bleeding into his voice, a rare one that you’ve never heard.

“Now, riddle me this,” he said, drawing a pained gasp from the man when his grip tightened. “Would you have been luckier to find nothing…or to find me?”

A broken whimper escapes the man when Mingi lets go. Above them, your fingers curled so tightly around the railing that they ached. Every instinct screamed at you to leave, but your body refused to listen. “I won’t do it again, I was just paid to do this, I swear, I’ll leave you alone. Hell, I’ll even leave town—”

“Oh, that’s not what you’re here for,“ Mingi rolled his eyes. “See, I’m a wise man. I don’t waste time with people like you. I pay people for that. You crossed a line that wasn’t yours to touch, let alone force. I did not like that. I did not appreciate it.”

The captive's face had gone ghostly pale. His shoulders shook against the restraints, and he strained forward as if getting physically closer might somehow make Mingi believe him. “Look, I’m sorry. Sometimes, you can’t help but follow the scent of sweet fruit and resist not taking a bite,” he laughed nervously. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Mingi’s composure fractures a bit. He turned away slightly, dragging a hand slowly down the lower half of his face as though physically restraining himself from acting on the rage threatening to spill over. The man gestures towards the other captive. “He could tell you who paid us—”

“I don’t care who paid you,” Mingi snapped, words clipped by an anger he was making no effort to hide anymore. His eyes had gone frighteningly cold, but beneath them burned something raw and visceral. You had to bite down your horror when Mingi produced a knife out of nowhere and stabbed the man’s hand, pinning it on the armrest. “Those details don't matter much to me.”

The man’s bone-chilling howl drowned out your panicked, laboured breaths. You had almost forgotten how truly sadistic Mingi was; how little he cared for human life. “I didn’t mean,” the man choked out desperately as if his blood would stop flowing. “I-I swear, I didn’t know—”

“You knew enough,” was all Mingi said, quietly wiping his hand with a cloth before haphazardly tossing it away. Mingi regarded for a long moment before walking to the other man, still gagged but now with more tears and terror in his eyes.

“And you,” he scoffed, crouching until they were eye level. “I’ve been meaning to get to you for a while. You’ve made my boss into a fool chasing a pest like you. Imagine my luck when I found out you and this bastard here were connected.”

Mingi chuckled, slinging an arm around the gagged man while he stared at the other. “I’ll give you two options. See, my boss needs proof that I did my job. You understand that, don’t you?” He smirked, echoing the other man’s words from earlier.

“It’s simple. I need fingers and a tongue,” he pointed to the bloody knife. “You decide if you want your fingers to go or his,” he clapped the gagged man’s back. “Or vice versa. I’ll let you live. If not, then I suppose I must kill you.”

His shoulders caved inward as pleas poured from him in broken sobs, begging until his voice cracked into something almost unrecognizable. And Mingi listened, or rather, allowed the noise to happen.

Finally, the man caved and with shaking fingers, he reached for the knife before a strangled cry ripped from his throat as he pulled the blade free. You recoiled instantly, one hand flying to your mouth, stomach lurching so violently you thought you were about to throw up.

You watched Mingi smile. “Go on,” he murmured almost encouragingly, as though coaching someone, not caring that the man shook in pain. “You’re doing great. Don’t lose your nerve now. If you do it fast enough the pain will be over before you even knew it started. ” 

You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think. You wanted to run. You wanted to scream. The captive drew one ragged breath, lifted the knife with an unsteady hand and just as he was about to land a hit, the heavy door on the opposite side of the room swung open. The man's hand froze midair and even Mingi turned. Your heart stopped. Someone else was here.

Seonghwa’s steps faltered, his eyes sweeping across the room like he walked into a scene he never expected. For one fleeting second, relief crashed over you so hard, your knees almost gave out. Seonghwa, who was gentle with his smiles, always remembered your pastries, and always cared for you, could stop Mingi. Unfortunately, the hostage took this distraction to move.

“Don’t move,” he threatened, fear thick in his voice despite the way he grabbed his other companion to wrap his arm around him, knife dangerously close to his neck. “I swear to God I’ll slice his neck. You won’t find out who paid us to kill you, Mingi, if you touch me.”

You needed to warn Seonghwa. You didn’t need Mingi targeting him next for being here. But before you could think further, a gunshot rang out. You jolted at the sound, and for one second, you couldn’t understand what was happening, that is, until you looked closely.

The captive remained standing, eyes wide and knife still raised, the gagged man he’d been using as a shield collapsed at his feet. He was dead, a bullet tearing clear through his heart.

Seonghwa stood with one arm extended, a pistol resting comfortably in his hand, smoke still drifting from the barrel. “Not much of an upper hand now, are you?”

He tilted his head rhetorically as if mildly inconvenienced. It all happened in a split second - the man barely had time to open his mouth before Seonghwa shot again, clean between the eyes, sharp and precise.

He let out a sigh, not even bothering to look at the corpses, before shooting a glance at Mingi. “I distinctly remember telling you not to play with your food,” he clicked his tongue, casually putting the gun down a nearby table. “Did Yeosang actually ask for proof? Which one was on the list?”

Mingi snorted, pointing at the man who was shot first. “No, not really,” he admitted, amused at the questions. “I’m a man of my word, though. I meant it when I said they’d live. Why?”

Seonghwa didn’t reply. Instead, he stood to retrieve the knife, turning it over between his fingers. “I’m bored,” he shrugged, voice pleasant. Though his eyes showed otherwise, a glint so sinister the knife couldn’t compete.

You had to shut your eyes when Seonghwa grabbed one of the corpses’ hands and went to work, putting your hands over your ears to drown out his cheerful whistling and the unpleasant sound of squelching blood and metal crushing bones.

This wasn’t Seonghwa - the man hacking away body parts methodically like he did this everyday was not your friend. The illusion shattered so violently that it hurt you more than Mingi had ever done because at least Mingi never pretended; he had shown you exactly who he was from the beginning.The tears came before you realised it, the grief far worse than fear. It was absurd to mourn someone who was still here, but perhaps, the friend you knew never existed to begin with.

Mingi watched him for another second before speaking. “No remorse for the guy?”

Seonghwa didn’t even bother looking up. “I wouldn’t pee on him even if he were on fire.”

Mingi raised his brows, more in fascination rather than blatant surprise, an amused whistle escaping through his teeth. “You’re evil,” he grinned, shaking his head.

Seonghwa let out a laugh, a real one that made his eyes crinkle. “That may be so, but I’m not as cruel as you,” he retorted lightheartedly, lifting a finger to signal men to drag the corpses away before continuing. “The translator shtick was creative, I’ll give you that, but not slipping once in your mother tongue after months of working together?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in vague admiration. “Incredible discipline. Shouldn’t have expected less from the Song Mingi, himself,” he tilted his head thoughtfully, something knowing glinting in his eyes. “It’s either discipline…or obsession.”

Your blood froze. No, you desperately thought. Your heart already knew what Seonghwa meant, but your mind refused to accept it, and it still hit when Mingi spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged innocently, replying in flawless Japanese. “I did need a translator. My Mandarin is pretty shitty, if I may say so myself.”

Seonghwa scoffed, rolling his eyes, fully offended at what he had just heard. “Don’t bullshit me, Mingi,” he replied in perfect, natural Mandarin. “You may not be fluent, but you’re decent enough. God, it’s been years and the way your mind functions still baffles me sometimes.”

Something inside you cracked open. Mingi never needed you. Everything crashed into you with suffocating force. He watched your panic over carefully chosen words all because he wanted to. He stared at Seonghwa for the longest moment before letting out a laugh, shooting his hands up in faux innocence as if he was caught stealing from a cookie jar. “You got me,” he mocked. “You said it yourself. My food, my rules. I get to play with it whenever I damn well please.”

Seonghwa’s amusement vanished. It was gradual, just enough for something infinitely more dangerous to settle on his face. “Careful, Mingi,” he started, inhumanly flat. “That food you’re referring to is Y/N,” he paused. He spoke your name with so much gentleness. “And I happen to like her very, very much. You’re not the only one with eyes, Mingi, so I’d watch your back if I were you. I’ve seen you play with her for way too long and I won’t stand by it anymore.”

The ease drained from Mingi’s posture first, the lazy tilt of his head disappearing, his eyes shifting into something far more terrifying than you’ve seen it. For the first time since you’d met him, Mingi looked genuinely angry. “Park Seonghwa,” he began, taking a measured step forward. “There are some things I tolerate, and some things that I won’t. You can borrow my car and you can raid my liquor cabinet. You can even take tens and thousands from my bank account.”

He paused to take more steps. “And I wouldn’t care,” he continued. They stood so close that their faces were mere inches away. “You can take anything you want, but you better not steal from me,” he seethed quietly. “Do not stand before me and tell me you’re entertaining thoughts you have no intentions of surviving. Because I won’t let you. Don’t take my goodwill for granted.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, pushing Mingi away. “Don’t piss me off. You already burned through every ounce of my goodwill when you shot Yamada in my fucking office on my favourite couch?” Seonghwa snapped, voice rising higher, unable to reel in his annoyance. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to keep the Kangs happy after that stunt, you disastrous son of a bitch?”

“Anyway,” Seonghwa sighed before his voice softened, and for a second, you couldn’t help but still see that friend you’ve come to like, especially knowing that he felt a little differently for you. But only for a second. “She’s been through enough tonight. Leave her alone. She looked so peaceful sleeping in your car when I passed by it earlier.”

Mingi shook his head, almost fondly. “No, she’s not.”

Your lungs seized inside your ribs. You subconsciously took a step back, hoping that he was speaking in tongues and doesn’t actually believe you were gone. Seonghwa frowned, his eyes following Mingi as he began to walk towards the exit. “You don’t know her like I do, Hwa,” he chuckled, reaching for the door. “By now, she’s probably long gone. You’ll be lucky if you even see a lick of her shadow at work this week because she’ll never step foot in KQ ever again.”

Something about the way he said it made your body scream. “But she’ll keep thinking about me. Fear has a funny way of making you remember someone. So yeah, she’ll run,” he said, smile  deepening, eyes glimmering into something more pleased and exciting. “And I’ll let her.”

The terror had seeped so deeply into your bones by now that your body hollowed itself out. The entire time you’ve been trying to navigate around Mingi, you had been dancing exactly the way he wanted you to. You thought you were running - Mingi knew how you’d react as if you running was something he already accounted for. Your choices were never yours to begin with.

“Whatever, you sick bastard,” Seonghwa’s dry dismissal cut through the silence. “Go play cat and mouse somewhere and get the hell out of my company. I’ll admit, you did a great job, but you bossing me around was getting on my nerves. Plus, I can’t take Hongjoong’s complaints anymore. You’ve been running my assistant to the ground, you opportunist,” he sighed. “Yeosang will put out a statement to avoid conflict or I’ll ask Wooyoung to take over the list for you.” 

His company? And what list? This wasn’t the first time you’ve heard of it. The words landed harder than the gunshots had and it suddenly explained every conversation where Seonghwa would pop up out of nowhere. It explained why Hongjoong acted the way he did, why Mingi himself never really challenged Seonghwa, and why Yunho bowed a little lower. It had always been Seonghwa who was holding the leash - Mingi was just the convenient front, but for what? 

Mingi shrugged, the statement not even bothering him, twisting the door handle to leave the premises. But before he could take a step, Seonghwa’s voice stopped him. “Mingi?” He spoke quietly, eyes softening significantly. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, pausing for just a fraction before he smirked. “We’ll see.”

Jongho made true to his promise. You haphazardly packed the bare minimum before San did the same at his place, all in the same night. Jongho’s apartment was modest and his generosity earned him a thousand thanks along with the tightest hug from you. “So, what now?” San asked that night after everything had settled, holding your hand tight in his. “What’s going to happen?”

Truthfully, you haven’t gotten that far yet, and admittedly, none of you thought this through. However, you did know one thing. “I’m going to the police,” you finally said. And you meant it this time. Out of all the crimes you’ve unwillingly witnessed, there was something about this last one that genuinely scared you. It wasn’t a burden you were willing to carry alone anymore.

Jongho and San looked at you, both concerned and uncertain. "They might not believe me," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I have to try. I-I can’t do this alone anymore. I just,” you paused, throat tight. “I need a record. That someone at some point reported it…”

They understood what you meant. If something ever happened to you, at least someone would hopefully connect the dots. For now, all of you agreed it was best to lay low for a while until the dust settles. But once it does, you really were going to go to the police station. It didn’t matter anymore because you were done protecting monsters; done going insane to remain sane.

It had been almost five months since then of you just sitting duck. Jongho decided that him working at KQ would cause the least suspicion and San absolutely forbid you from going out. You weren’t going to complain. You’ve found a routine designed to numb your brain and for the most part, you operated with the intent of forgetting, just walking around in a daze.

The image of Mingi just wouldn’t go away. You’d often wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming about him, having spent the last few weeks pushing him out of your mind with no success. You didn’t bet on lasting this long hidden away, however, there was a small part of you that ached at the thought that, maybe, he wouldn’t even bother with you anymore. It was confusing and revolting at the same time; the maximum reason why you couldn’t sit still in Jongho’s apartment. 

There was only so much of this that you could take. Needless to say, San wasn’t pleased when you told him that you’ve made up your mind and was finally going to make a move. “Y/N, I don’t know, I have a terrible feeling about this,” he spoke nervously over the phone. “Can’t you at least wait until the end of the week to decide?”

“I can’t, Sannie,” you murmured, turning the doorknob to enter your apartment. “I can’t live with uncertainty anymore. I already spoke with a detective earlier before I left. I just need to grab a couple of things from my place and then we can all go to the police station tomorrow.”

The moment you hung up the phone and entered your apartment, you wanted to crash. Oh, how you missed your place and the normalcy it provided. It wouldn’t hurt to stay for a little while you planned your next move, but first, you were going to change your clothes. You’ve been wearing the same ones for months and you felt bad for borrowing Jongho’s a lot. You headed up to your bedroom, not bothering to close the door, and started to take your shirt off.

But you froze when you heard the door close behind you. Slowly - painfully slowly - you turned around. Mingi stood leaning against the door, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. He looked…different. Gone was the suit, replaced by a leather jacket that looked lethal on him. And his hair was black now, messy and unstyled. Somehow, the darker hair made him look younger.

It also made him look even more dangerous. Or was it that unfathomable look in his eyes as he watched you that bordered between predatory and repressed anger? You had no idea; all you knew was that the sight of him made something inside you stir treacherously, but that didn’t last long because the fear had caught on. You’d escaped, you were finally safe, so how was he here?

“Mingi,” you whispered, the fear in your voice unmistakable, eyes darting around in search for the nearest weapon you could use to protect yourself, but finding nothing. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t reply, eyes still fixed on you. His eyes always unsettled you, but this one felt different. There wasn’t that sadistic amusement you’ve gotten used to nor that smug satisfaction that was always lingered. His stare was just pure ice with absolutely nothing in them. “Because I was looking for you,” he said, pushing himself away from the door.

You frowned, clearly not satisfied with this answer. He noticed and cocked his head in question. “Why? Were you expecting more?” Mingi asked, stepping closer to you. “Did you want me to tell you how irritated I was that you hid from me for so long?”

You maintained eye contact, raising your chin in defiance, trying not to falter when he stopped in front of you so close that his chest was brushing against your breasts. “You knew where I was,” you said, gritting your teeth when the tiniest quirk of his lips confirmed it. “There’s nothing for you here, Mingi, please just leave. I’m happy being with Jongho—”

“Enough,” his voice cut through like a blade. He quickly darted his hand out to your cheeks, gripping them painfully. “I must say, though, this is very nice,” he began with a dark chuckle, turning your face once as if he was inspecting a product. “Seeing you actually seeing me, if you get what I mean. I have to get used to it, but I am enjoying it so far. I mean it.”

Your blood turned to ice when the meaning struck instantly. All those months of looking through him and forcing your eyes out of focus. And now, your eyes were fully locked onto his. "So that's what your eyes look like when you’re not pretending to be blind," he whispered almost tenderly. "It’s so honest. It also means I can finally watch them tell me exactly how afraid you are."

The way he said it was far more unsettling than his presence. His voice had no teasing tilt anymore, none of that false gentleness that unnerved you and each word sounded flat. “So you've always known,” you couldn’t help but say as realisation hits you at the same time - that the polished, professional man in front of you had been hiding behind plausible deniability. And now that the jig was up, there was no reason for Mingi to maintain that mask. “Since when?”

“Right from when I saw you watch me shoot that man on the trail,” Mingi snorted derisively. Your breath hitched. Hearing him say it out loud like this right in front of your face brought in a new type of terror. “Wouldn’t be good with what I did if I couldn't tell, would I? It was funny,” he chuckled. “And so dumb at the same time that I couldn’t even be mad even if I wanted to.”

You glared at his blatant disregard of why you even had to resort to such methods in the first place, raising your hands to pry his fingers away, but that only resorted to him narrowing his eyes in warning, gripping your cheek harder. “Why did you let me go if it was so dumb, then?” You bit back. “You could have killed me on the spot and no one would’ve known except the trees.” “I wanted to fuck with you, was that so wrong? You can’t play games and not expect someone to not want to play with you. Or did you just not want me as your playmate?” He replied nonchalantly. “I’m not that bad. That’s why I made Seonghwa hire Choi Jongho. I saw he was being nice to you and I figured you needed someone who wasn’t part of this fiasco so you wouldn’t lose your mind. I don’t particularly enjoy playing with my food when they’re bland.”

Hot, searing rage courses through you, bone-deep in its intensity. He played you like a damn instrument and your melody invigorated him. You slapped his hand away from your cheek with adrenaline-fueled anger, even going as far as slapping his cheek once his hand let go. You hit him and you made sure it hurt. “You son of a bitch,” you seethed. “I saw everything, including Yamada and the warehouse with Seonghwa. I’m going to tell on you, Mingi, I swear I will. ”

You didn’t care anymore. Mingi let out a small laugh of disbelief, grazing his now bleeding lip with his tongue. “I knew you saw everything. Your reactions were never really subtle,” he said, speaking so casually that it made your stomach churn. “And that’s fine. You can go to the police. I’ll even drive you there. I reckon they’ll actually believe you. The only question is…”

You whimpered when he grabbed your arm and bent it behind your back painfully before slamming you up against the nearest wall. The room suddenly felt small, Mingi was too close; too warm for comfort. “...if they would do something about it,” he continued, getting closer, his breath tickling your ear, voice lowering just enough for your senses to cloud. “Think about it, Y/N.”

You swallowed, the sickening understanding finally dawning on you; he was right, the police would believe you. They just wouldn’t move because they were KQ’s lapdogs. You gasped when Mingi nibbled on your ear. “Yahtzee. That’s my girl,” he whispered, voice rough. “See? You can be smart if you want to be. A smarter choice would be to listen to everything I say from now on.”

You didn’t understand what he meant until you felt his hips grind against your behind, the feeling of his hardness palpable especially in this position. “Go to hell, Song Mingi,” you growled, not hesitating to tilt your head, the back of your skull catching him square on the face. “You can fucking shove it. You think this is a game to me? You murdered people. You terrorised me every single day, almost got me hit by a car, and almost burned me, you psychopathic pervert.”

Mingi grunted, grip on you relaxing as he clutched his face in pain. You took that opportunity to break free, kicking him again just to make sure he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. It worked, even setting him a few steps back. “You’re retaliating,” he pointed out flatly. The only sign that he was getting angrier was the cruel glint in his eyes as he watched you and the violent rise and fall of his chest. “That’s fine. I love the initiative. I just love punishing it more.”

You screamed both in pain and surprise when he lunged, grabbing you by the hair to force you to look at him. “Here’s what’s going to happen, sweet pea,” he whispered, nothing short of sinister, sliding his other hand to your throat and starting to squeeze. “I’m going to have you. Do you know what that means?” He paused to chuckle grimly. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”

Your eyes go wide and you start to wriggle out of his hold, but Mingi’s hand just tightens. Tears collect in your eyes in fear, but there was something else too, something you refused to admit. That realization made your stomach turn because you were supposed to hate this, yet you were here. You had gotten so used to Mingi chasing you that it started to feel wrong if you weren’t on edge. You had started to associate Mingi with adrenaline and needed him for excitement.

But still, this was wrong. You weren’t going down for this. Not for him and not for whatever twisted hold he had managed to build around you. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time. I knew from the moment I saw you on that trail that you were something special, but I had to wait. Now,” his husky voice purred with a hint of barely concealed warning. “You’re going to give it to me. I don’t enjoy hurting you, but I will if you don’t listen.”

You were absolutely not going to accept whatever he planned for you without a fight. With all the strength you could muster, you punched him square in the jaw. His eyes widened for a fraction as he groaned in pain and you pushed him away, chest heaving violently. You didn’t hesitate to hit him again, but he managed to grab your arm before you could, lifting his own hand to backhand your cheek, causing you to stagger at the sheer force of it, your face already pulsing in pain.

“Not bad, love,” he laughed, massaging the jaw you hit. “I would like to not do that again, so how about this? You apologise to me and say you’ll be a good girl and you won’t do it again. Make it sound good and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you and go easy on you.” 

You spit on his face after that statement. Mingi closed his eyes to contain himself, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he wiped your spit off with the same hand he used to backhand you. When he opened his eyes again, you knew you were done for. His body was fully locked in, jaw locked stiff, rage simmering behind his eyes beneath deceitful calm - the type of calm that meant he’d already decided to hurt you. He just didn’t know where to start.

You made a run for the door, but unfortunately, Mingi was faster. He slammed the door shut before you could even get near. “I let you run off for too long now,” he hissed, yanking you away from the door. “You’re mine, Y/N. I’m going to have fun making this lesson memorable for you.”

You refused to stay still, kicking and scratching at him with all your might. “I don’t belong to you, Mingi,” you seethed. “You don’t own me, and you can’t just force me into it!”

He stared at you, eyes hollow and vacant in the most terrifying way, every trace of mercy deliberately carved out and discarded. “Your life was over the second I laid my eyes on you. And let me tell you something, I rarely want because I already know the outcome. But let me ask you this,” he said softly, holding your face deceptively gentle. “Who are you trying to convince?”

He barely let a second pass before he tightly held your head, keeping you still as he crashed his lips against yours. There was no tenderness in his actions; just viciousness and brutality. You whimpered in resistance, biting his lower lip until you tasted blood. He groaned at the pain, pushing you away to slam your head by the door. That caught you off guard, but if he was going to hurt you, then you’d repay him in kind.

That head slam did stun you for a moment. You couldn’t stop him when he threw you on the bed, immediately straddling your legs, holding your arms above your head. His eyes clouded, pupils blown over from pure desire, cursing under his breath. You gasped when he ripped your shirt clean off you with one hand, yanking your bra aside to squeeze your tit harshly. “Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. “Fuck, you look so good like this beneath me.”

You hissed in pain and started to struggle even though desire ran rampant through your veins, hot and searing, but Mingi wasn’t budging. He bent down, closing his mouth around your nipple, his tongue tracing around your sensitive bud. You groaned in response, arching against him as you were torn between your body trying to decide whether it wanted him gone or worse, inside you. When he pulled back just an inch, his smirk was knowing, pure of nothing but sin.

“Don’t do this, Mingi, please,” you all but begged, squirming weakly against the restraints of his hands, but for naught. He responded with a quiet huff. He slid his jacket off, revealing broad shoulders clad in a tight, black tank top that left nothing to your imagination. You jerked your head away when he tried to kiss your jaw, but you just felt him smile against your skin.

“Ah, ah. No begging yet, sweetheart. Not unless I tell you to,” he murmured, licking all over your neck all the way down to your shoulders and started to suck and bite. Mingi was indulging himself, ravishing you and relishing in your pain. You hissed, slightly relieved that your body wasn’t betraying you. That is, until you felt his hand starting to travel down.

“M-Mingi,” you whimpered when he immediately put a finger in you, not even waiting until you were ready, eyes glinting at the sound. He was gentle with his strokes, hitting you in spots you didn’t even know were possible. It elicited humiliating cries from you and you just wanted to die then and there. "You’re making a b-big mistake,” you panted helplessly against his ministrations. “I-If I don't show up, people are going to look for me. You're a damn fool."

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. You gasped loudly when he pushed another finger in, keeping the pressure until he was knuckles deep. “Let them look,” he replied flatly, not caring in the slightest, pushing in and out of you. You closed your eyes tightly, your whimpers turning into screams when he pushed a third finger roughly. He made a sound at the back of his throat. “You’re beautiful when you scream like this,” he growled.

It hurt badly, but that pain started to ebb slightly when he started circling his thumb against your clit. It was agony on top of another. You writhed against him to try and reduce the overwhelming sensations attacking you, but it didn’t work. You moaned helplessly when his fingers sped up, his thumbs pressing down on you, until you were screaming for dear life. “Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me,” he whispered over and over again, voice getting huskier with desire.

And you did. Mingi had to hold your trembling body tight to ease you back slowly. Tears streamed down from your face - both from pain and intense pleasure - and he didn’t hesitate to lick them off. Your head lolled back, your body exhausted from just that one ordeal. “I’m going to kill you after this, I swear,” you whispered when he pulled his fingers out and got up from the bed to leave you alone for a bit. 

You heard Mingi chuckle almost fondly over the sound of something you refused to acknowledge - the sound of something metallic clinking followed by a zipping sound and fabric rustling. “You do that, love. I’d like to see you try,” he replied simply as he got naked, exposing hard muscles that lead to his cock. Even through the haze, your eyes couldn’t help but widen.

Your heart was beating crazily with fear and you had half the mind to scramble up, scooting away from him as far away as possible. Mingi stalked towards you, utterly predatory, grabbing and dragging you by the legs until your ass hit his muscular thighs. He tried to pull your pants off, but you weren’t having it. You kicked at him, successfully hitting him once or twice, but Mingi was heavier and much stronger. Eventually, he was able to get rid of your pants along with your underwear, leaving you completely bare and exposed for him.

You were panicking. If you let him touch you, your resolve would weaken and you knew it. Mingi knew it too. He wedged himself between your legs to pin your wrists above your head, nudging himself against your entrance before he finally thrusted in hard. “Mingi,” you cried out loudly, half in pleasure, mostly in pain. You felt full, the fullest you’ve ever been, and the suddenness of his thrust made your insides sting and black spots to dance behind your eyes temporarily.

Mingi wasn’t faring any better. He inhaled controlled breaths, lips pursed together in great effort not to lose himself to the sensation of your tight cunt. He grunted low, the veins on his neck pulsating with great need. When he leaned back slightly to look at you, you moaned in surprise. Just there by the surface was a look of barely-contained lust and sadism, his eyes hazing out with pure desire. You clenched around him and it was enough to drive him totally wild.

“You’re mine, Y/N, you hear me? I’ll make sure of it. Gonna fuck you so hard and have you screaming for me every night from now on,” Mingi growled, voice guttural and dripping with arousal, leaning down to kiss you, but you turned your head away. “Am I going to have to break you?” He asked softly, clearly not looking forward to the idea, but not completely opposed to it either. “I’m already inside you, baby. Not much you can do but give in, really.”

You squared your jaw in defiance. “Drop dead, Mingi,” you spat venomously.

You cried out sharply when he started thrusting into you, rough and fast just like he intended to. You couldn’t even moan out properly - he was using you as if you were a sex toy only made for his pleasure. “If you’re not going to listen to me, I hope my dick sends my message well,” he laughed sadistically at your cries and resistance. “Now, do you understand?”

He kissed you, tongue demanding to be let in as he rocked his hips to ease his cock into you over and over again, not stopping until you felt his balls slap against your ass repeatedly. He let go of your wrists to wrap around you and held on tight, thoroughly claiming every inch of your body he could touch as his. Your pride wouldn’t let you off, so you still fought him as much as you could, struggling under his restraints while you tried to distract yourself from the feeling of his cock impaling you over and over again.

But Mingi wasn’t having it. He slows down his thrusts, giving you time to get yourself together, but not before he grabs your arm, pressing and squeezing hard at a particular spot that hurts so much that you let out an actual scream of pure pain. “Ow, ow, M-Mingi, you’re hurting me,” you whined, involuntarily squeezing his cock in because the pain mixed with his cock hitting your spot over and over again did something to you. “Stop it, stop—”

“Then stop resisting and give in to me,” he said, letting go of your arm, rubbing the bruised skin tenderly for a moment. “I meant it when I said I’ll make you scream. I just didn’t specify how. And I can do it again and again until I’m satisfied. Do you want that, little love?”

You glared at him, angry tears falling from your eyes. You took a deep breath in, trying to regain some of your dignity and strength. If he wanted a clear answer from you, then he was going to wait a while. Mingi smiled nastily, pulling back out only to thrust back in viciously, pleased when you let out a guttural moan. “I told you you were mine and I meant it,” he simply said.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe it. You absolutely did, God, you really did. Your heart was aware and your body was more than willing, but your mind refused to acknowledge it. You scowled at him, expression full of loathing and hatred. You sure as hell weren’t going to tell him that. But somehow, the glint in his eyes told you he already knew as he increased his speed in fucking you. “Go fuck yourself,” you sneered. “You are never going to have all of me, I swear to you.”

“Is that so?” He raised a brow, amused. He angled his hips in a certain way and it hit a spot in you so good that you couldn’t help but keen. He did this over and over again that once you got over the initial discomfort, Mingi’s body started to feel disturbingly comfortable against yours. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, pleased with your reactions. “I swear your pussy was made for me.”

You shook your head in denial, but that just prompted him to increase his speed just a little. You started to feel heat rising within you and at this point, it was getting difficult to deny just how good this was getting, but you weren’t giving up just yet. You moaned in dissatisfaction, struggling just a bit as a futile act of defiance. Mingi clicked his tongue in annoyance, and in retaliation, lifted your legs up to your chest so he could go even deeper and you swear you saw stars.

“Did you like that?” He growled, sliding his hand down to your ass so he could pull you against him even harder. His other hand went behind your head to pull your hair, dragging your head upright. “Look at me,” he demanded. “Tell me you like it while I fuck you hard, baby.”

You whined in response, your brain not entirely cooperating with your body anymore. “Yes,” you replied without thinking, arching your back against him. You regretted it the moment it came out of your mouth, but there was nothing you could do to take it back anymore. 

Mingi shuddered. “God, you little whore. You’re so fucking beautiful, and so dirty just for me.” he moaned, utterly wrecked, before his eyes snapped back into that dark, sadistic gleam you knew him for. “But only for me, yeah?” He whispered, the threat clear in his voice. “You don’t get to be a whore outside the bedroom. Only for my eyes and no one else’s. Say it.”

You echoed his moan. Nobody had ever spoken to you like this before and your body was burning in shame, but it didn’t compare the burn of being called a whore and actually liking it. You had never felt so desired in all your life and you didn’t know how to feel. “I-I don’t know, Mingi,” you squeaked in admittance, letting out another moan when you felt him fuck into you again.

That moan turned into a whimper when he squeezed your ass cheek painfully. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” He scoffed. “Look at yourself, pretending you don’t want this. Pretending you never enjoyed all the times I supposedly ‘tormented’ you. Your pussy is telling me otherwise, little one. You always enjoyed me being in charge.”

“Are you for fucking r-real? Congratulations, M-Mingi. You’ve managed to condition someone to fear you and mistook my survival for desire for y-you” You forced out, trying to sound angry, trying to reel in your moans, looking him dead in the eye. “You know what I actually enjoyed? Everyone’s presence except yours. Even Seonghwa’s as fake as it might’ve been. He’s—”

His hand shot out so fast you barely caught it before it wrapped itself around your throat. “Do not mention his name. And let’s get this straight, you survived because I allowed you to,” he hissed in legitimate anger, eyes reddening at the sheer intensity of it. “Now shut the hell up,” he said, grip tightening enough to hurt you. “And let me fuck you.” 

Mingi slid his cock out of you before ramming it back in with more force. It knocked the air out of your lungs, but Mingi’s feral state didn’t really care. His strong fingers gripped your hips as she pulled you forward to time it with his powerful thrusts. He stared down at you, eyes hazed and mouth parted open that betrayed how good it made him feel. “Ready to give up and tell me how good my cock is making you feel yet, baby?” He groaned.

The roughness in his voice combined with the possessiveness in his eyes sent shivers all over your body and you felt your toes start to curl in pleasure. “Never. I’d rather eat glass,” you gritted out, though the moans and whimpers that fell from your mouth after said otherwise. His jaw tightened for a second before a malicious grin spread across his lips.

“M-Mingi, please, ow,” you sobbed when he put a hand on your stomach, increasing the pressure as he pressed down hard, and you felt his cock kiss your cervix as he thrust the deepest he could go. The force of it hurt and before you could even process it, his other hand slid down to your clit and slowly, he started to rub in circles. You were delirious with all these overwhelming sensations, and your loud moans proved it, but goddamn, it felt good.

It scared you. You shouldn’t feel this way. In all the months you’ve been with Mingi, you’d never felt more alive. It was easy for you to leave from the start. He was brutal and rough, but the way he looked at you and obsessed over you was something you couldn’t ignore. And that was the problem. Your body suddenly tensed with fear because you were getting attached. Mingi felt the tension and paused. “Relax, love,” he murmured. “I don’t want it to hurt. Not too much, at least.”

He was never going to stop, and you knew how much this could hurt if you continued to tense up. So as much as you hated it, you tried to relax, gasping and feeling your cunt clench around him as he worked your clit, echoing his moans when he picked up the pace. “So fucking good, baby,” Mingi groaned harshly, the movement of his hips becoming erratic, breathing getting heavier.

He started to bite all over your shoulder, nuzzling your neck to pepper it with little kisses, his hand traveling from your tummy to your tits, alternating between squeezing and pinching your nipples. And when his lips found yours to set another brutal onslaught, eventually you found yourself kissing him back, no less brutal than him. It was all tongue and teeth gnashing against one another. “Mmm,” you moaned helplessly in his mouth, focusing on your pleasure this time.

To your surprise, Mingi slows down. Instead of the fast and shallow pounding, it became longer and deeper. You whined in response, not being able to believe that this could feel even better. His eyes were smouldering as he looked at you, pulling back and sinking into you over and over again with surprisingly gentle motions. “Wrap your arms around me,” he ordered.

You couldn’t speak, but it didn’t matter. Your wanton moans told him everything he needed to know. “You love this,” he grunted, pausing in between to suck and bite your neck. You moaned out a quiet response, pulling his hair a bit in affirmation. “Fuck,” he growled, shuddering at the sensation. “Tell me again,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.

You felt a wave of shameful pleasure ripple through you at the thought of actually having to repeat yourself but louder, especially while looking to those eyes that you feared so much these past few months. Your lips stayed shut, too embarrassed and prideful to say what he wanted to hear. He huffed impatiently, coaxing a response from you. “M-Mingi, please,” you whined.

But Mingi knew you. He leaned down, nuzzling your neck to position yourselves into an intimate embrace so you wouldn’t look him in the eye and you knew that you just ran out of excuses. “You drive me fucking insane, I swear,” he confessed through grunts. “Tell me what you want, baby doll, I’ll give it to you. Just as I’ve given you everything so far. I’ll put you on top so you can ride my cock and tell me, do you want that?”

You let out a breathy ‘no’ in response and he smiled against your ear. “You love it when I’m top of you, hmm?” He asked, voice getting huskier. You had to hold on to his shoulder to stop yourself from feeling faint. “You love it when I hold you down like this? When you feel dominated?”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, not being able to take it anymore. He growled, pleased with your response, sinking his teeth into your throat before he leaned back again, groaning when he saw how far gone you were, and it was all for him. “I do, Mingi, I do, Please.”

He grasped your chin roughly, making sure your entire attention is all on him, all traces of pleasure gone to be replaced with the familiar sadism and brutality for a second as he spoke. “If you ever look at someone the way you’re looking at me right now, I’m going to destroy you,” he asserted, the threat coated with nothing but the truth and the determination to carry it out if you ever even think of crossing him. “I promise you that, Y/N. I’ll do something I can’t take back.”

His thrusts became downright rough once more as he filled you over and over again, his intent clear with the goal of making you come. It should have hurt, but you didn’t care about the pain anymore. Your fingers curled, scratching his skin in desperation, and somehow with that  threat, you lost it. You opened your mouth to let out an animalistic sound you didn’t even recognise as your own, body bucking against Mingi’s as waves of pleasure finally crashed over you.

“Yes, just like that, squeeze my cock. God, baby, you’re gonna make me fucking come,” he cursed under his breath as he tried to chase his own high. His hips jerked, pressing his forehead to yours and let out a primal growl that sent a thrill through you. A harsh moan of your name escapes his lips as you feel his cock pulse, warmth filling your insides to the brim.

You were exhausted, laying next to Mingi as his cum started to drip out of you, but you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was sleep all week. The regret was already building, but you were too tired to even entertain it. You were about to fall unconscious when you felt him stir beside you. “Come here real quick,” he muttered before his hand shot out, gripping your jaw hard to force your face towards his. “Open your mouth.”

Your pulse hammered as you fought the urge to pull away, but you do as he says anyway, eyes widening in surprise and panic when he stuck his fingers in. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began calmly, pausing to watch every flicker of emotion cross your face. “You’re going to freshen up so you could take a quick nap, pack some of your clothes, and then go downstairs. I’m going home and you’re coming with me. You understand that so far, little one?”

Your eyes widened, hesitating, but he sticks his fingers a bit deeper in your throat and you choke on them. “I said, do you understand me?” Mingi reiterated. You finally gave him a reluctant nod, tears in your eyes. “Good,” he said, taking his fingers out. “Get rest. I’ll wake you up after.”

He released you as though nothing had happened, getting up to put his clothes back on. The second he turned, you lunged. The lamp left your hand before you could think, crashing against the wall as he sidestepped it with irritating ease. “You have got to stop trying to kill me, Y/N. You’re giving me a massive hard-on,” he clicked his tongue. 

You grabbed another random item, but all he did was grab your wrist, exhaling tiredly rather than in anger. “Stop it. I will fuck you again, I mean it,” he said. “And when I do, I will be forced to drag your pretty ass with me because you’re not going to be able to walk after. You and I both know I’m very, very well-versed in dragging dead weight.”

The certainty in his voice chilled you far more than the threat itself. His words lodged something deep in your chest, though. He moved at ease like nothing between you happened when in reality, everything happened. “You’re shameless, you know?” You scoffed, breathing ragged to contain yourself. “I understand you want to assert control over me, but there are better ways. I don’t believe that you were actually going to kill me, so do you even like me, Mingi?”

His eyes never left you and that only made the anger in your chest fester. Mingi didn't say anything for a while and he looked like he was actually genuinely thinking of what to say in response to your loaded question. “You wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t,” he finally said. “And I was going to. I tried many times. Failed multiple times. Backed out twice as much.”

You were taken aback, blinking in disbelief. But the way Mingi stared at you dead in the eye with seriousness on his face told you that he wasn’t lying. You bit your lip, swallowing down emotions you didn’t dare name out loud. “No. Do you even honestly care for my well-being?” You said instead, ignoring his second answer. “Or do you just want to possess me just because you can?”

Mingi regarded you for a long moment. There wasn't a flicker of guilt in his face, just that same maddening composure. “What’s the difference?” He asked, the question landing with no emotion as though the distinction had never once occurred to him.

Something in you just fell apart then and there and for the first time since meeting him, you didn’t have any retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion more than defeat. “You scare me,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes burning with tears you knew he could see. “You genuinely scare me, Song Mingi.”

His mouth parted in surprise, brows raising a bit as if he expected you to say anything but that. When he did speak, his voice was softer and quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “On the contrary,” he began breathlessly. “You scare me.”

You frowned. There was no manipulation in his voice. His gaze wandered slowly across your face until he met your eyes without blinking. “This,” he said softly. “The way you’re looking at me right now. I was wondering whether there was anything underneath the fear and disdain.”

The words were quiet, even your heartbeat was more deafening. His tongue pressed against his cheek. “I’m scared,” he repeated calmly. “Of the day you stop looking at me like this.”

You huffed in defiance, folding your arms over your seatbelt, refusing to acknowledge Mingi as he drove. It wasn’t like you were the only one not speaking anyway, the moment he basically shoved you and your haphazardly packed luggage in his car, he hadn't spoken a word. “Where are you taking me, you brute?” You asked harshly, not being able to take the silence anymore.

A small smile takes over Mingi’s sharp face and you have to stop the urge to curse out loud. The light hit his handsome features just right, his darkened hair falling over his forehead slightly as he effortlessly manoeuvered the wheel. “Home, I told you,” he said. “Have I not made myself clear enough? I won’t do anything to you, little peach, so don’t worry.”

“That’s not gonna be good enough,” you replied in anger. “And I was home. You know, the one you broke into - which I still don’t know how long you’ve been in there before you ambushed me, by the way - and the one you took me from without permission. I want to go back.”

“Well, this is the best you’re going to get,” he retorted, something flashing in his eyes quickly before it disappeared. “You’re in no position to make demands here. You’re mine. I’m the one who gets to decide what happens to you from here then on so I suggest you get used to it. Or you can spend the rest of your life being chased by me. You pick. I don’t mind either option.”

There was a fleeting second where you imagined both scenarios, and both of them made you tremble either way. You sneered at him in an attempt to look as though you weren’t flustered. “I really, really hope you rot in hell, Mingi,” you glared at him venomously. “Truly.”

He laughed. Really laughed. The kind that made his body vibrate, eyes crinkle almost shut, and all of his teeth bared that reflected his genuine joy. “And here I was thinking that you’d be a little more cooperative after waking up from that power nap,” he chuckled. “Regardless, I can always use more methods of coercion if you can’t be civil with me.”

“Civil?” You echoed in disbelief, a look of disgust on your face. “Look at me!”

He spared a short sideways glance towards you, smirking at the sight of the hickeys and bruises that littered your skin, savouring the wince you let out when he purposefully hit a road bump just now. “Nothing that won’t heal in a matter of days,” he brushed off nonchalantly, killing the car engine. “Though that could be arranged right now if you’re interested.”

You weren’t going to give him the reaction so you stayed silent until he rounded up in the nicer part of the city, clearly away from your tax bracket, and killed the engine in front of the fanciest building in the area. “Get cosy,” he muttered the moment you both entered his place and closed the door, taking his jacket off and tossing it somewhere before setting his wallet and keys on the marble kitchen island. “I have a quick phone call to make. I’ll be right back.”

It was only until he left that you allowed yourself to breathe. You let your eyes drift around the apartment. It was beautiful, that much was undeniable. You weren’t surprised; Mingi had money and he sure acted like it. Yet somehow, it felt empty. Not because it didn’t have Mingi’s personal effects, but because it lacked life. There was something about this apartment that felt so hollow to you, like it was more of a showroom rather than something that’s supposed to be lived in.

You don’t know what compelled you to explore. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was boredom, but either way, you weren’t going to sit still and wait for Mingi to come back. Truth be told, it just screamed Mingi all over even though there wasn’t much. The apartment had a modern touch to it, little knick-knacks here and there organised neatly, a small table with a crystal decanter full of whiskey, and just about everything that you knew Mingi had meticulously curated himself.

Something that looked out of place, however, was a glass cabinet situated in the corner. It was clean, too clean, not one speck of dust and you can easily tell that this was the only sign of life in this place and that Mingi took very good care of it. You took a closer look and frowned. You were expecting a wine collection, or perhaps luxury items like watches and whatnot, but not these.

Awards, medals, and trophies. Not a lot, but still a significant amount. One in particular was a medal encased in a fancy box, another sat in an acrylic display with nothing else. None of them were engraved, nothing to signify what they were for, not even photographs of Mingi receiving them or dates, but all of them did have a small insignia, but you didn’t recognise what it was.

What you did recognise, though, was the folder that was in the middle of the dining table when you turned around. You bit your lip, glancing down the hallway where Mingi disappeared to. You really shouldn’t, every instinct screamed at you to leave it alone, but you picked it up anyway. The moment you do, that familiar adrenaline rushes back to you. This was the same folder you found in Mingi’s office back then, the one where you almost got caught looking at.

Confidential: High-Value Targets, K.O.S. You swallowed, it was the exact same, only this time, you noticed the same unfamiliar insignia when you opened it. You didn’t get the opportunity to do so back then, but something in you had this need to see what it contained as if your life depended entirely on it. And maybe it did, you were about to find out.

The first page contained a photo of a man. There were categories alongside that split into categories like basic information, aliases and financial records, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. “Charges?” You murmured in confusion, eyes widening when you read further. “What the hell? Mass weapon distribution ring?” You breathed out, a knot forming in your chest. 

You haphazardly turned the pages, not caring if they get wrinkled or not, quickly skimming through everything, unable to stop the trembling of your hands. There were more people, charges more alarming than the last - extortion, cybersecurity threat, political anarchy, and money laundering to name a few - but then it just got worse. The worst ones you saw were drugs and human trafficking, organised crime, and homicide. But all of them had the same thing.

TARGET STATUS: NEUTRALISED

You put your hands to your mouth when you flip to the next page, trying not to puke. It was the man from the trail, the one whose dead eyes still haunted your nightmares sometimes. Witness intimidation and international warrants, it said. Mr. Yamada was there as well. The same lecherous smile, same expensive suit, but this time he had political corruption and sexual exploitation labeled to him. Both of them had the same status - neutralised.

Your vision blurred, knees threatening to buckle as you barely held onto the edge of the table for support. Out of all the things you did and saw, you knew deep inside that this was the thing you should’ve never crossed. None of these made sense at all, and worst of all, why was Mingi in possession of something this detrimental? Your breathing became increasingly uneven, hands trembling so violently that several pages slipped through your fingers at once. 

You instinctively bent down to retrieve them, but before you could reach it, another set of fingers grabbed them first. You paled, gaze slowly climbing upwards to meet Mingi’s eyes. His eyes were unreadable, but you were positive he wasn’t mad. “I-I can explain,” you blurted out anxiously.

He stared at you for a few seconds, finally letting out a sigh before putting his phone back against his ear. “Change of plans, Joong. Stay where you are,” he spoke tiredly, pausing to pinch his nose bridge with his fingers, eyes closed. “The little birdie found the worm all by herself.”

Mingi ended the call. He glanced down at the papers you dropped and one of them in particular had him tense for a second before he calmly placed everything back at the table. His eyes went back to you, waiting for you to say something. “What,” you cleared your throat when your voice cracked. “W-What are these, Mingi?”

His stare was uncomfortable, not because it was loaded since his eyes held no contempt, no accusations, and no anger, but because it felt like he was trying to read you just so he could reply accordingly - something he never really did with you. “You tell me,” Mingi spoke softly, almost thoughtful. “You have talent in snooping and you’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

You swallowed. God, this felt like a test of some sorts. “You’re blackmailing these people,” you blurted out, saying the first thing that popped in your head. “A-And when they don’t give you what you want from them then you…neutralise them.”

Silence. For the first time since you’ve met him, Mingi was actually speechless. Ridiculously so. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes blinking at you multiple times as if he was trying to convince himself he heard wrong. And then, he laughed out loud, the utter disbelief audible from the sound. “You really are something, Y/N,” he chuckled fondly. “Out of all the scenarios you could give, honestly. Well, I suppose that is one way to insult me.”

He walked towards the glass cabinet, pulling out a hidden compartment you didn’t even realise was there. Inside sat more paperwork, multiple passports, some handguns that made you freeze, but he set those aside to grab a small wallet. He picked it up, pursing his lips as if deciding if this was the right thing to do, before holding it out towards you. “Open it,” he urged.

You barely obeyed him. The wallet itself was minimal and elegant, but there was something about it that was heavy. Not because of its weight, but because of what you saw when you unfolded it. “No, t-this can’t be,” you whispered, hands trembling, greatly so. There was an ID, Mingi’s younger face staring at you, eyes less empty but still chilling nonetheless, and there was no mistaking the government seal embossed into the corner along with his information.

Name: Song MingiAge: 30Position: Senior Special Operations AgentLevel: BlackActing Overseer: Park SeonghwaGeneral Supervisor: Kang YeosangOperational Status: ActiveAuthorised to Kill On Sight

A pounding noise filled the apartment and it took you a second to realise that you were hearing your own heartbeat. You dropped the wallet, unable to control the intensity in which your body shook. You shot your eyes at him and his expressionless eyes stared back. “Y-You’re not a serial killer,” you blubbered out in disbelief. “You’re not just some cold-blooded killer who just kills whenever he wants or something?”

Mingi scoffed before he picked the wallet up. “If we’re being technical, I am. Make no mistake,” he explained as he put it back in the compartment, closing it. “But for the most part, no. The government wants these people out. I just so happen to be the best at what I do.”

God, you wanted to slap yourself to wake up from this nightmare. This completely rewrites everything you’ve ever known and believed. You’ve spent the last few months convincing yourself you were trapped beside a serial killer, but was the truth marginally better? You were so out of it that you didn’t hear Mingi sigh before he held your elbows, leading you to the couch and sitting you down. “You kill people for a living,” you stated bluntly.

The corners of his mouth lifted barely into half a smile. “Yes,” he replied, one brow raised in amusement, arms crossed as he looked down at you. “To put it simply, there are people that the government wants gone. The ones that really need to go. These are people that justice will never touch, Y/N. People that range from guilty to national security threats and they’re like ghosts; elusive because they’re aware that people are after them.”

Your mouth dropped. You thought that only happened in fiction. When you didn’t respond, he continued. “When the option of justice disappears, people like me become the option,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “They give me a list,” he pointed at the paperwork on the table. “I make sure that they wish they were never born. Plain and simple.” 

It was insane. Your eyes were being opened to a whole new world out there and that world was literally just sitting right beneath your nose all this time and you barely had any idea. You could barely look at Mingi right now without wanting to break down because how were you supposed to just take this all in? “A-Are there more of you?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Mingi hummed. He tilted his head at you, analysing you. He wasn’t expecting you to ask that, hell, you bet he was expecting you to act erratically. “A handful,” he admitted. “This is as discreet as it gets, there isn’t really a job market for this. The elimination process is…grueling, and obviously, not a lot of people want to do it. You’ve met about half of the entire operation already.”

He smirked when your eyes widened. “Wooyoung and Hongjoong. Different specialties, but same job description, nonetheless,” he explained. A shiver ran up your spine. It made sense, everything made sense - Hongjoong’s attitude towards Mingi and Wooyoung’s nonchalance with Yamada and his reaction at the stairwell that same night. “And you’ve met Yeosang at the gala.”

Your brows knitted. “Good-looking guy, birthmark here,” he pointed at his left temple. And that’s when it hit. That unsettling man who talked to Mingi, how could you forget? You nodded slowly. “He’s the Big Boss’ son. He actually trained me,” he huffed, a small flicker of respect reflecting his features. “Only one of two who are above me by rank. Besides his father, obviously.”

Somehow, that made plenty of sense. You remembered the way Mingi unconsciously straightened when Yeosang approached, the absolute lack of his usual bravado, and the effortless authority Yeosang seemed to carry that felt much heavier than Mingi’s. “And Seonghwa?” You asked. “Yunho? Where do they both fit here?”

Mingi laughed, shaking his head. “Yunho’s innocent, just a regular worker. We still need to keep a legitimate front to keep the operation behind wraps. Seonghwa, on the other hand, he’s a bit…” he trailed off, trying to find the right word. “...different. He used to do what I do.”

The amusement faded from his face before he continued. “He’s been doing this since he was eighteen and he’d already done more than enough. He was tired, but retirement doesn’t really exist in this line of work. Truth was, Big Boss didn’t want to let him go. It would be foolish to let go of the man who perfected this system after all. So, he offered him a compromise.”

It wasn’t that difficult to believe. You watched Seonghwa hold the knife that night. Turns out, the most dangerous man was the one you trusted the most. “The compromise,” you murmured, swallowing heavily. “Was it KQ?”

“Smart girl,” Mingi smirked. “See, for this to work, we needed discretion. We can’t just eliminate them out of the blue and for no reason. People would ask questions, and that’s the last thing we wanted. Unfortunately, these bastards aren't dumb, so it’s extremely difficult to isolate them and make their deaths believable. However, all of them do have one thing in common.”

Your mouth had gone dry, but you found yourself leaning slightly forward to anticipate the answer anyway. “Greed,” Mingi said. “Money and investing makes it easy to lure them out. All we have to do is make it look like a transaction gone awry. Seonghwa gets the life he wants and we get access to the people we need. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

“So, in essence, KQ is a real company that runs on legitimate business that also happens to be an intelligence network where Seonghwa still runs things behind the scenes without being in the actual field. Did I get that right?” You asked. When Mingi nodded, you laughed in disbelief. “No wonder you didn’t care if I went to the police or not. I would’ve looked like a massive idiot.”

Silence settled over the apartment. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to feel because everything just makes perfect sense. In your eyes, he was still a psychopath. The only distinction was that he was the government’s psychopath. “Everything you did was legal,” you sighed in defeat. “Why didn’t you say so? Why let me believe otherwise?”

Mingi raised a brow, amusement curling his lips. “You didn’t ask,” he shrugged.

Admittedly, you didn’t think your question through and it was a stupid one in hindsight. Also, you were never going to get a straight answer from Mingi anyway, at least, nothing that pleased you, but seeing how nonchalant he was still shot anger through you. “Are you being for real?”

Mingi crossed his arms, a deadpanned look in his eyes. “Says you. You were the one playing blind like it was going to work in the first place,” he pointed out, dry and flat. He turns around - which was a good thing so he couldn't see how red you were from rage and shame. You watched him grab only one paper from the folder before he walked back, this time, sitting across you.

Without a word, he slides the paper from across the table. You stared at him for a second before your fingers pulled it towards you. You expected to see another random face in there, but when you saw a blank piece of paper with only your face in it, you almost dropped it, heart falling down to your foot. 

“Relax, sweet pea, it’s not what you think it is,” he immediately said the moment he saw your panicked face. “The system can’t eliminate you simply because you were never a criminal to begin with, much less witness one happen right before your very eyes.”

“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You saw it,” Mingi stated plainly. He pointed at the paper in your hands. “That makes you a witness to an ongoing operation and a walking liability to something that was never meant for the public eye. I’m not going to lie to you, you caused quite the divide with the team back then for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

That caught your attention. “I don’t understand,” you frowned. “You said it yourself. Wrong place, wrong time. I didn’t mean any harm, I could have kept my mouth shut.”

Mingi smirked, shaking his head cynically. “People die because of what could have and should have. Don’t make me laugh here,” he scoffed. “At the end of the day, I am nothing but an agent no matter how high my rank is and I still had to answer to someone. That meant I had to tell Seonghwa. And Seonghwa had to tell Yeosang. And we do have protocols for this.”

“Yeosang was angry, obviously. He wanted to enact protocol immediately, hence that paper in your hand,” he continued. You swallowed audibly at that. “I happen to fancy you a little too much to let that happen, so I hired you. Having you work for me ensured that you didn’t blab to the wrong people. Plus, it wasn’t like you weren’t dying to work for me, anyway. No pun intended.”

“God, Mingi, you are such a massive asshole, I swear to God,” you scoffed. The way he talked about it rubbed you off the wrong way, though admittedly, you could see where he was coming from. “So, what? Am I supposed to thank you? My life is in shambles now, no thanks to you.”

“Yes, actually, you should,” he raised a brow, unimpressed. “Because lucky for you, Seonghwa took a genuine liking to you so it wasn’t difficult for me to disobey protocol and keep you and convince Yeosang to not tell his father about you, because trust me, you would not like that.”

You stayed silent, not really wanting to know what he meant by that. “Paper’s blank, love. I didn’t go through with it. I had no reason to and I still don’t. Even if they threatened me, I still won’t. You were innocent and I was aware of that. I’m not the animal you think I am, Y/N, and I don’t gain anything from killing civilians.”

Your fingers curled around the paper until it crumpled slightly. It wasn't compassion nor was it mercy. To Mingi, your life had been spared for the same reason someone chose not to swat a fly that landed on them. It wasn’t because it deserved to live, but because it simply wasn't worth the inconvenience. You didn’t know what to feel about that.

You got up, marching towards the dining table to hastily grab the folder before smacking it across the coffee table in front of Mingi, fuming with the repressed anger that had been building for months. “There were a hundred different ways this could’ve been handled. My entire career is a fucking lie,” you seethed. “There was no need for me to be dragged to KQ like some sort of luggage for something I didn’t even mean to see.”

Mingi regarded you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I understand you’re angry, love, but I don’t regret what I did,” he said, gaze settling on you, unwavering. “Big Boss and the other directors aren’t exactly known for being kind, Y/N. If they find out, you would’ve been a goner. Personally, you know I find absolutely no problem in hurting you. However…”

“...that had been with my own hands,” he continued. “I didn’t want them to hurt you. That’s an entirely different beast, and you would never be the same afterwards. You don’t have to like it. But the fact of the matter is that you were there that day. And unfortunately, we have protocol for it. Protocols that are written in blood, both by the bad and the innocent, and they are the reason why order exists on things that aren’t supposed to happen, do you understand that?”

You turned around, ready to walk away, when he grabbed your arm to spin you around, his eyes ablaze. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me,” he hissed. “I need you to understand that I did what I did to stop them from taking you from me, Y/N. I didn’t want your blood on my hands.”

You didn’t want to believe him. Mingi had spent way too long being angry over him making a fool out of you and you weren’t about to let him do it again. And even then, it wasn’t specifically because he cared for you. “I would rather hurt you once if it means protecting you forever,” he sighed heavily, letting your arm go. “Not one ‘thank you’ from that pretty mouth of yours.” 

That last thread of patience snapped. “Protection isn’t impressive when you’re the reason I needed protection in the first place,” you spat venomously, trying to pry his hand off of you. And there was still something that bothered you more than anything else. “And what about me?” You asked, afraid of the answer, but had to ask anyway. “Where exactly do I fit in in all of this?”

He knew you were at the warehouse that night and he knows that you know that he never needed a translator. Something completely shifted in Mingi’s eyes. That detached indifference dissolved into something more unnerving.  His pupils seemed darker somehow, fixed entirely on you with an intensity that bordered on reverence and possession all at once. It wasn’t lust or desire, not entirely, but it was something much worse that made you freeze.

Fixation and obsession. His hand rose, knuckles brushing your cheek, fingers disappearing behind your neck to cradle it. “Nothing,” he whispered, fingers spreading possessively across your neck, a faint smile tugging at his lips when you squirmed. “But everything at the same time. You and my profession are two separate things. You are my greatest professional failure, love.”

He tilted your face upward, forcing your eyes back to his. “At least that’s how it all started,” he spoke, his expression flattening. “You were my responsibility for the longest time. And I absolutely detested you for being on that trail because no matter what you did, everything would have come back to me. Who do you think they’d kill after they finished you?” 

That sent shivers up your spine. “Keeping you long enough to kill you, myself, if I see you fuck up was my only reprieve,” he chuckled. “But the longer I watched you, the more I found myself just keeping you for the shits and giggles. You are the most fascinating thing I’ve ever come across and I don’t ever want to let that go. The thought of it, alone, is enough to make me very angry.”

His eyes held yours with unnerving certainty, hand tightening around the back of your neck. “You represented the ruin of my art. You saw what I did that day, and yet, you’re still here. Alive…something you’re not supposed to be. So, yeah, I’m keeping you. Whether you like it or not. After that trail, you became mine. Trying to escape won’t do you good, I guarantee you.”

You were horrified. Mingi was completely obsessed with you, and he was never going to let you go. He was never going to apologise for playing with you and it wasn’t because he wasn’t capable of remorse, but because in his eyes, remorse is reserved for mistakes. This was no mistake to him; it was a calculated risk. He had absolute control the entire time and that realisation was more unsettling. You had no idea how you got here from where this all started.

“You are absolutely insane. You can’t just objectify me like this just because you want to, you prick,” you snapped, wrenching your head away from his grasp, taking a few steps backwards. “I’m human, Mingi, I have aspirations and things I wanna do and achieve. I want to be loved—”

“And I will give you those,” Mingi bargained. “Isn’t this as close to love as you’re going to get? You’ll have everything you want and more. I’ll give you everything and I can even learn to love you the way you like it. Being mine won’t be too different from the life you had before—” 

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” you cried out, thoroughly done with him. “I don’t need you. I don’t want to be with you, don’t you get it? I already have people who love me who won’t hurt me or force me into situations I don’t want to be in. I don’t need your fucked up version of love when I already have friends who genuinely care for me waiting for me to come home to them.”

Silence. For the longest time, all you could hear was your own heartbeat. Mingi stared at you, eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn. His eyes hollowed out, fixed on nothing and everything at once, before his lips twitched into something cynical. And then, he started laughing. At first, it sounded normal, but when the deranged vacancy in his laughter started to fill the entire apartment, that’s when it truly hit you - Mingi was a madman.

“I don’t know about that, love,” he said, tone almost insulting in its indifference despite the loud, bellowing laugh he let out earlier. “None of these so-called ‘friends’ of yours have called you within the last few hours you’ve been with me starting from when we fucked on your bed earlier. You might want to rethink that statement of yours before I make you. ”

You froze. Every word chipped away at the illusion you hadn't even realized you'd been clinging to, because he was right, and the way he started stalking towards you slows means he knew it, too. “W-What did you do to them?” You stammered, terrified out of your wits as you stepped back, only to be stopped when your feet hit the couch. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm all over your waist to pull you close. “They’re safe. Hongjoong is there as we speak and by now, he’s probably briefed them. Choi Jongho will be put into a witness protection programme. Since Yeosang and I go way back, he did me a favour and put him there. We just had to tweak it a little since the board cannot know he’s related to your case. He will not get hurt, and he will be put in a safer place, that I can guarantee.”

“But can I just go to that same programme?”

Mingi shook his head. “What makes his case doable is simply because he overheard something he wasn’t supposed to. I knew he was with you that night when me and Wooyoung were arguing by the staircase. Yes, you were both nosy, but still very much innocent and are civilians.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, the guilt riding on your back lifting at the fact that at least, Jongho was going to be alright. It’s been eating at you that you dragged him into this. “How do I know that you’re not lying?” You asked, suspicious.

He raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You have my word,” he said. “Which probably doesn’t mean much. Hongjoong will call in a little to update me and you can ask him,  yourself, then. I knew you were quite fond of my temporary assistant as he was of you.”

Relief hit you so suddenly your knees nearly gave out. For the first time in months, you weren’t thinking about surviving. “So this is it then,” you murmured, putting distance between you two. “You have no reason to keep me here. You’ve let me live alone on my own for months when I was working with you and you can just watch me from afar. Nothing changes so I’m leaving.”

Mingi didn't answer for a while. Then, the corners of his mouth lifted into the smallest smile. Without waiting for him to say something, you started to walk away. You meant it, you were going home. You refuse to play into Mingi’s cards no more, refuse to let him fiddle with you—

“I only mentioned one friend, sweetheart. I reckon you have two you were looking out for.”

The coldest bucket of water could’ve been poured on you on the spot but it wouldn’t beat the glacial fear that ran from your spine all the way to your toes. San. You had to mechanically turn yourself around, your frigid body locking in on itself as you forced yourself to look at him. There was pity in his eyes, but the mocking and contempt in them was difficult to ignore.

“He’s a tricky case, you know?” Mingi chuckled. “He’s a witness by association. He never witnessed anything and was never in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only misfortune he has is being that one sponge who absorbs every information without meaning to. Out of you three, he’s the most extreme liability. You and Jongho both work in KQ. We don’t know anything about Choi San except that he’s connected to you. Do you know what that means, love?”

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You thought you knew fear when you tried to outsmart Mingi on that trail, when you’ve witnessed multiple murders, or when you’ve been this close to being caught many times, but apparently, this was it. “It means,” Mingi whispered, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “He’s in limbo. Can’t be in the programme because he didn’t do enough but he also can’t be left alone because Big Boss is very particular about civilians knowing sensitive info.”

“No,” you breathed out, having to steady yourself to the nearest table. Genuine emotion cracked through your composure, and terror flooded every inch of you so violently it burned because this was San. “You,” you let out, voice shaking, lifting an equally trembling finger to point derisively at Mingi. “You stay the fuck away from him, you hear me?”

He was the person who never left; the one person who packed his life into two suitcases because you asked. "You ruined my life," you cried out, voice loud enough to carry to the next generation. "You dragged me into this. You manipulated me and lied to me for months for your sick satisfaction, and now you're telling me my best friend has to pay for your mistakes?" 

He smiled. It was small, but somehow, it looked more dangerous than all of the smirks he’s ever shown you. He had the upper hand and he reveled in it. But he didn’t bother replying; didn’t really need to. The way you unraveled in front of him was more than enough. “What do you want, Mingi?” You asked through gritted teeth. “Just…tell me what you want.”

The question came out more defeated than you’d like. You were tired of this back and forth and knowing him, there was already an answer waiting at the tip of his tongue just itching to be said. Mingi studied your face for several seconds before answering. “Surrender yourself to me.”

You felt sick. “I’ll make sure Big Boss doesn’t even get a whiff of Choi San’s scent,” he continued. “I’ll assume personal responsibility for him and make sure he gets to be in the same programme as your other friend. He will matter simply because he matters to me. And because he matters to me,” he tilted his head, smirking. “Nobody touches him. As long as you’re with me, that is.” 

Your eyes widened at the insinuation. He was basically asking you to sell his soul to him in exchange for San’s safety and he was bargaining it like it was some sort of contractual paperwork. “You’re blackmailing me,” you stated flatly. “You’re a monster, Mingi.”

He shrugged carelessly as though none of this mattered to him. “Call it what you will,” he said. "I call it the only arrangement where everyone you love walks away breathing."

Your knees finally gave out and you collapsed onto the edge of the sofa, your back sliding against it comically slow, squeezing your eyes shut. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, but you were just so exhausted. There was no point because this wasn’t survival anymore. Your consent had long been gone. “Fine,” was all you said even though you shattered on the inside.

Mingi exhaled, but not because he was pleased. It was because he was getting impatient, because to him, your answer should’ve been immediate. He wasn’t entirely pleased because he was already expecting it even though it took you a while. “Good,” he uttered, stepping closer, and for a second he thought he was going to corner you physically just because he could.

But then, he went straight, bending to grab the folder you haphazardly smacked against the table in anger earlier before squatting down eye level with you. “Sign it,” he muttered, jutting said folder towards you. “You’re my little spitfire and that’s what I like about you, but I don’t trust you. I need a guarantee you won’t run. This was what you were bound to do eventually anyway.”

You scowled bitterly at him. As if this piece of paper could stop you from simply running away anyway. You were about to reach and grab the folder, but you paused at the last second. His last statement. That went over your head for a second there. “Hold on,” you frowned. “What the hell do you mean? I’m pretty sure the government has nothing to do with your obsession with me.”

He let out a breathy chuckle that would’ve otherwise been innocent in any other situation. “No, not entirely. It’s just purely for assurance because I realised something rather inconvenient,” he said, thumb brushing lazily over the edge of the folder. “You are going to leave me eventually,” he paused to look you dead in the eye. “So I gave you something you couldn’t walk away from.”

You stared at him, confused. When Mingi saw that you were genuinely clueless, his brows raised, stunned in silence for a few seconds. “You’ve always been very bright, love,” he began, gently brushing your hair away from your face. You fought the urge to shirk away from the infantalising gesture. “But every now and then, you do disappoint me. ”

A chill crawled up your spine. Something tells you that whatever this was will change everything. You just didn’t know or understand how. “Remember this?” He lifted the folder up with a smirk. Your heartbeat pounded painfully against your ribs, not knowing where he was going with this. His fingers tapped once against the folder. “This was just files to you. Now, we have a problem.”

He opened it again, flipping each of the pages you’ve already seen yourself earlier, and he kept flipping until he got to the very last page of the entire dossier, raising it for you to see. A red classification stamp stretched across the whole page, but that wasn’t the part that made your stomach drop to your foot.

GOVERNMENT INTELLIGENCELEVEL BLACK FILESUNAUTHORISED ACCESS STRICTLY PROHIBITEDMUST REPORT IF UNCLEARED

“I…I-I don’t understand,” you blurted out, taking the folder in your hands to read it over and over again, because deep inside, you wanted to deny the facts that were slowly forming into a whole picture in your head. 

Mingi watched your face carefully. “Before today, you were merely a civilian who accidentally witnessed an operation,” he began, that sinister look in his eyes darkening the more he spoke. “And that’s fine. You can’t be punished for something you didn’t do wittingly. But now…”

He leaned, his lips a couple of inches away from your ears. “You’ve knowingly accessed confidential government dossiers, operational identities, assets, agent procedures, and most damning of them all, the criminal’s identities. These are things that must remain in secrecy within. You could have had at least some semblance to your old life.”

You wanted to throw up, the realisation settling into your stomach with sickening clarity and heaviness. He leaned away, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “I really do have to keep you now, love,” he chuckled. “I really, really do.”

Your eyes burned with the sudden onslaught of tears, but you refused to let them fall. You hated that he could read your fear so effortlessly. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt useless beneath you. “That's not fair,” you tried to reason. “I didn't know I couldn't look. It’s my damn fault you dragged me here.”

“Unfortunately, ignorance of the law excuses no one,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“It's your word against mine,” you shot back. “Nobody’s going to know I looked at it.”

Mingi smirked, turning and tilting his head to look up and when you followed his line of sight, you were met with the sight of a small camera in the corner of the room. Of course, you thought bitterly. The walls seemed to close in on you. You clutched your chest, willing for that claustrophobic pain to go away. All you wanted was to have your old life back, and somehow, even that option had been taken away from you.

Amidst all of that, something inside you snapped. Mingi was a very meticulous person. Obsessively so. Even looking around his apartment right now, it was easy to tell how neat and orderly he was, and somehow, a folder that important had been left out carelessly. “You did this on purpose,” you blurted out, breathing turning ragged. 

Mingi’s brows lifted, eyes snapping at you with renewed interest. He didn’t answer, and somehow, that was ironically all the answer you needed. You stood up, something hot and violent surging through you. “You left that folder out on purpose,” you seethed, jabbing your finger to his chest to emphasise every word. “You fucking psychopath, I’m going to—”

Mingi held both your hands to restrain you, mouth stretching into a smile so delighted that it bordered on erratic. “I did,” he admitted, eyes shining not with fear that he’d been found out, but with unbridled excitement. “But I didn’t tell you to look, did I? It was there, yes, but you…” He laughed quietly at first, but your ashen face fell when it got louder. There was something horribly wrong with it. “Oh, baby doll,” he broke off, laughing under his breath. “You can’t blame me for everything. I distinctly remember telling you to make yourself at home, I didn’t force you to look through the folder. But you want to know what I did know?”

His expression changed, not entirely because the ecstatic smile remained, but his eyes had gone colder. “I knew you’d snoop,” he said without any ounce of shame or apology. “I know you. And I know you wanted answers, so I gave you the opportunity to find them. You should be thanking me, honestly, and it’s not my fault you have no self-control.”

Your lips parted, breathing becoming uneven. That would explain why he wasn’t surprised or angry when he saw you looking through the files - he was waiting for the moment that you did. The room spun, nausea threatening to send you into a massive black out. The moment you opened that folder, you had already lost. “You manipulated me,” you said, voice cracking midway.

“No,” he corrected as though he’d rehearsed this conversation long before you’d ever walked into his apartment. “I guided you. You made the choice. I just simply knew which one you’d make.”

Fury-fueled adrenaline coursed through you and broke free from his grasp, shoving both hands against his chest. The impact made him take a step backward. “You son of a bitch,” you screamed. “You planned this, you fucking knew I’ve been trying to disassociate myself from all of this. How can you do this to me?”

You shoved him again, harder this time. Your palms stung and your throat burned, but you barely felt any of it. Mingi barely moved, and somehow, that just made you angrier. “You sick, manipulative bastard,” you cried, tears falling from your eyes but you didn’t care anymore. “You couldn’t just let me go, could you?”

Your hands trembled as you struck him over and over again, each blow fueled by months of fear, humiliation, anger, and helplessness finally finding somewhere to go. For once, you weren’t scared of what your anger might do. You were too furious to care. And throughout this, Mingi may have looked unbothered, but his eyes, they held a reverent satisfaction as though this - your rage, hatred, and defiance - was exactly what he’d been waiting to see.

When your fists fell limp against his chest, his arms came around you. The embrace was unbearably gentle compared to everything he’d done to you. “Relax,” he murmured, hand moving through your hair so soothing that it almost felt insulting. “It can’t be that bad to belong to me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything you need and protect you from now on.”

Mingi leaned back, thumb brushing beneath your eye to wipe away your tears. You stared at him, devastated by how easily he could turn captivity into something that sounded like security. “You don't get to call this protection,” you muttered bitterly. “I didn’t choose whatever the fuck this is.”

Something unreadable passed through his eyes. “Not everything good in your life has to begin with a choice,” he said. His words made your stomach twist. He released you to take a pen, put it in your hand along with the open folder. “Sign it, love. Don’t make this any harder for us both.”

You stared at the blank line for several seconds, wanting to fight him off, but you were exhausted. There was no point in escaping when the cage had no door. It took less than a second to sign your name, each stroke feeling like shackles tightening around your neck. When you finished, Mingi took one look at the signed paper before giving you a light kiss on your forehead. 

“You should get some rest. I reckon this took a lot out of you,” he spoke, leading your tired body to sit back on the couch, even going as far as to put a pillow behind your back. “I’ll order us food in a bit and then I’ll instruct people to get the rest of your stuff from your apartment. I want you completely moved in and settled within the week.” 

You looked away, not bothering to reply because you knew better. And so did he. As he was in the process of getting your luggage you completely forgot about, his phone rang. It was Hongjoong. “Go ahead,” Mingi coaxed. “You might want to hear what he has to say. You wanted to ensure your friends’ safety, yes?”

And with that thought in mind, you immediately answered. Hongjoong’s brows raised slightly, mouth parting in mild surprise when he saw your displeased face on the video. “Well, uh, this is a pleasant surprise,” he chuckled nervously. “I’m glad to see you, Y/N, I really am, but I need to speak to Mingi. Is he there, by any chance?”

“Cut the bullshit, Hongjoong. I know everything,” you deadpanned. In the corner of your eye, you saw Mingi smirk at your straightforwardness. “Put San and Jongho on the phone before I do something drastic, please. I need to see that they’re okay.”

And they were. In fact, they seemed to be doing a little too well. You couldn’t help but feel relief as you talked to San, who was no less than shocked at the turn of events while Jongho and Hongjoong were eating and laughing in the background like they’ve been longtime buddies. It was difficult to stay mad at Hongjoong seeing as he did at least try his best to remedy the lies he’s built up and gave your friends the safest place they could go after all of this.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really am,” Hongjoong apologised with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair in defeat. “You didn’t deserve any of this. None of you did. After I settle things here, I’m going to try my best to see what I can do for you, alright? I’ll try to talk to Seonghwa about it.”

You scoffed bitterly. “What else is there left to do? I’m stuck here with Mingi after he made me sign that goddamn paper. And while I appreciate your apology, I’m here to ask about San’s situation. Best case scenario, I want him to be at least with Jongho, but if not, I just want to make sure he’ll be put in the safest place, at least.”

Hongjoong didn’t speak for a moment, blinking multiple times at you as if he was making sure he was hearing you correctly. His brows furrowed as genuine confusion flickered on his face.

“What do you mean?” He asked, a clear hesitation coating his voice. In the background, you saw Mingi pause at what he was doing. “And what do you mean Mingi made you sign something?”

The way he asked that last part made you narrow your eyes, your mind numbing out as your blood ran cold. You told him everything - from Mingi telling you that everybody was actually government agents, your role and why Mingi had to make you his translator, the dossier, the witness protection programme , all the way to San’s state of limbo. Hongjoong stared at you, and for a second, his composure faltered. It wasn’t the usual controlled concern you were used to seeing on him. “Mingi told you San was in limbo?” He asked, genuine shock on his face.

You nodded and his eyes widened, muttering a quiet curse under his breath that made your stomach swoop. “Y/N, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said slowly, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “He was in limbo, that much was true. But that’s why I’m here - to work it out. Mingi sent me here to clear San. As of now, he’s in the same programme as Jongho.”

You snapped your head towards Mingi. He paused from dragging your luggage in to stare back at you. He was smiling. It wasn’t that smug, triumphant smile he always wore. It was just a tiny, knowing curve. Horror spread through you as you realised something - that Mingi technically never lied. He did tell you San was in limbo and that he’d keep him safe. He just never said when and how. You had just assumed he’d do it after, not that he’s already done it beforehand.

Your eyes burned. At this point, you didn’t know if you were the dumb one for falling for his manipulation over and over again or if he’s that good. You turned back to Hongjoong in panic. “He used San against me,” you blurted out. You told him about you looking through the criminal target files and Mingi pretty much blackmailing you into signing it using the cameras.

This was actually what made Hongjoong reel back in horror. “Did you sign it?” He asked, sheer panic clouding his features. You were rendered speechless, not knowing what to say, but you nodded anyway. “Song Mingi, you made her sign a binding contract? You son of a bitch. I’m going to shoot you myself when I’m done here, I swear to God—”

“It’s not my fault that she keeps falling for it, Joong,” Mingi spoke nonchalantly, not even bothering to pause this time as he hauled your luggage into a random room, a gleam in his eyes. “And you make it sound so bad. I already said I’ll take good care of her and you know I meant it.”

As if things weren’t bad enough already, Hongjoong dropped another bombshell, looking so helpless you almost felt bad for him. “And about those cameras,” he winced, clearly wanting to be anywhere but be the bearer of bad news. “They’re broken. I called to tell Mingi that I had the replacement units. I was about to drop by after I was done here.”

You closed your eyes, a long sigh heaving out from your lungs. It really was the gift that keeps on giving. “Word of advice, Y/N?” Hongjoong quietly spoke. “A leopard can’t change its spots. Even if you manage to beat him and make him leave, he’ll be back with a stick next time. Beat him with a stick he’ll be back with a gun and if you beat him with a gun you better make sure he’s dead because Mingi won’t stop. May we never go to hell, but always be on our way. Good luck.”

You sank back into the couch, staring at nothing. Mingi didn’t need to blackmail you anything - he simply needed to make you believe he would. You had done the rest yourself. You had let your emotions get the best of you and Mingi used this to his advantage. The realisation hollowed you out because how could you be so stupid?

Your eyes stung, but you didn’t cry. You couldn’t. There wasn’t much left in you anymore because you let Mingi lock the door you willingly went into. You crossed your arms petulantly, glaring daggers at Mingi because at this point, there was nothing else left to do. It was over. 

Mingi, unfortunately, seemed extremely delighted, looking too entirely pleased with himself. “For what it’s worth, you took it very well, love. You looked very convincing when you signed.”

Your glare intensified, rolling your eyes and sinking further into the couch, not willing to even talk to him anymore. You let your eyes do the talking - that if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even be in this situation. You set your eyes on the folder that had your signature, hoping that it would burn to ashes. with how hard you were glaring at it.

“What?” He asked innocently, a glimmer of mischief behind those eyes. “You never asked.”

Temporary taglist: @yungijoongsbaddie @fixon-ash @baddieboop69 @aissaxx @blu-kyl @mourninglizzy @arilxup88 @choreomvnia @ayayaeyato @jxerv @nox-eventide

Permanent taglist: @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 @mallielovssyou @jenluvzen @lovebuggjoy @mingiblossoms @crybabydollette @mustardmilkshake @asesinas @minyunsan-kitten @20-nps-03 @jooholicx @norixseaweed @caratkmg @p1ecewoniee @freyjaaaaaaa @echoesoftreasure @yeosr4t @whyismingi @raicecakes-and-buldak @ateez-yada @belongjoong @bearxgyeomie @cute-but-feral @klowiishere @ithinkthereforeidont @ltyzennie @sage-burrow @moonchild-stuff7 @shesgirlfriendmaterial99 @losergal143 @tournesol155 @mono20076 @fancypeacepersona @atinyiri @mar-lo-pap

It was supposed to be a normal day. What is normal, though?

Maybe normal wasn’t an outside influence. Maybe normal was driving on the highway to go to Mingi’s house to celebrate his new promotion at work with friends and booze. Normal was you bopping your head on whatever song was on the radio while you drove.

Maybe normal was more of a feeling. Maybe you were more excited for your best friend because Mingi was the most hardworking person you know and this promotion was something he’s been wanting all along. That was normal for Mingi - when he wants something he goes for it without ever stopping.

What was not normal was how difficult it was becoming to manoeuvre your steering wheel the more you drove. You frowned, straightening your back out of habit to concentrate on the road. You reckoned it was because the rain just started and it always made the roads slippery.

What was not normal was the strong, blinding light from someone’s headlights that almost made you want to raise your arms to shield your eyes. It was odd, how they grew even brighter the closer they got to you.

Or was it you that was getting closer to it? 

Your heart fell to your foot with a gasp, the sickening moment of realising that there was a car in your lane and it was barrelling straight towards you with speed so clear that no matter what you did, it would be a lost cause. 

It wasn’t normal. None of this was. Certainly not the way you noticed every little detail around you as you desperately tried to twist your wheels and swerve away - the rain being replaced with rays of sunshine like it wanted to highlight this event, the looming shadow of a cargo truck wobbling dangerously on the other side of the road. 

The deafening screech from yourself and your wheels could have been louder than the roar of metal against metal crunching against one another, but nothing was louder than the ringing in your ears on impact when your head violently snapped forward, colliding with the steering wheel before your seatbelt yanked you back so hard, you could feel it digging in your ribs.

And then there was nothing.

If this was a dream, you weren’t sure you wanted to escape from its illusive grasp on you. 

Because in this dream, you were floating. There wasn’t the excruciating pain that literally stole your breath away from you every time you inhaled. There was none of the agonizing sensation of your bones rubbing against one another like sandpaper inside your skin.

You were in pain out there. There was pain everywhere. The pain was too much; your body was in so much pain that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Here, you felt nothing.

And your head. Oh, that was another thing on its own. It didn’t even feel like part of you anymore, the God-awful migraine plaguing the frontal part near your temples almost split your senses in half. 

You opened your eyes, momentarily disoriented by how white everything looked. It was actually insane - everything was literally covered in white. Even the air smelled so clean with disinfectants that if scent had a colour, it would most definitely be white. You weren’t completely clueless, you knew where you were and you knew exactly why you were in the hospital.

What you weren’t expecting, though, was to see someone sitting by your bedside, staring into space with a look so lost, you almost felt bad for them even though you were the one in agonizing pain. 

And by God, he was handsome. You wanted to laugh - and you would have if breathing wasn’t so painful - because you were just in a fatal car crash and the first thing you thought was how handsome this stranger looked? 

Crazy. That was crazy even for yourself. But then, you froze. Was this actually God, Himself?

Shit, had I known I’d be here, I’d have prayed a little more even if I wouldn’t mean it.

For a second, you truly believed that you were a goner. It would make sense why everything was fuckass white; perhaps you were in heaven. Maybe you were still drifting in that dreamlike state, after all. 

Shit, God was exactly your type. Now, you really wanted to laugh, because there was no way someone this good-looking actually existed. Hell, this man looked otherworldly, like he’s not even supposed to exist, let alone sit by your bedside as if he was waiting for something. That’s how ethereal this man looked.

Clarity struck, however, when your eyes finally focused on what’s in front of you. His eyes met yours, red-rimmed and bloodshot, widened with disbelief and something akin to relief and despair. There were multiple bruises and cuts littered across his skin, the most prominent one being on his lips, that bled onto his shirt.

It completely ruined the delusions of heaven for you. If it weren’t for that, you could’ve convinced yourself that this man was at least an angel. Instead, he was proof you were still alive. The nightmare hasn’t ended, it has only just begun.

“Oh my God,” he whispered in shocked disbelief, standing up from the chair so fast that it tumbled all over the floor with a thud. “Oh my God, you’re awake.”

Relief crashed over his features so violently it almost startled you, more than the way he gingerly got closer to your bed until he almost hovered over you. You frowned, your eyes going over his injuries. They were a lot worse than you initially thought, especially his eye which you reckoned was soon to sport a nasty bruise. But how?

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he explained when he saw your apprehensive stare. “I-I’m sorry. My name is Kang Yeosang, I-I was the one who h-hit you with my car,” he stammered, his voice cracking halfway through his garbled nonsense. “I am so, so sorry. I-I was the one who did it, I-I mean, it’s my fault, I c-couldn’t avoid the truck on time.”

Pity crosses your features and if you currently didn’t have a tube shoved down your windpipe right now, you would have told him that it wasn’t necessarily his fault. His hands trembled as he reached toward you, then jerked back like he didn’t deserve to touch you. “I swear I tried, I swear I didn’t mean to. Please, y-you have to believe me—”

It took a lot out of you to do so, but you had to put your hand on his arm to make him stop. You weren’t sure if his panic was worse than the pain tearing through your body, but you sure as hell, in good conscience, did not like seeing man tear himself up for something you knew he didn’t want to happen to the both of you.

Immediately, his eyes widen, his stance springing into action. “D-Did you need anything? I can call the doctor for you,” he said.

You shook your head, slightly amused. You tried to smile to the best of your abilities, hoping your eyes were smiling for you; hoping your eyes could convey your thoughts.

Ah, it’s not entirely your fault. Stop beating yourself up for it. Shit happens.

And clearly, it did. His eyes soften, shoulders visibly relaxing and sagging in palpable relief, your reassurance calming him down even though his eyes still held that turbulent worry about your condition.

Yeosang proceeded to grab the chair that had long fallen to the floor, sitting back on it with more grace compared to his actions prior. “How are you feeling, though?” He asked softly. “I-I mean, obviously, you’re not well, but I just want to make sure you’re feeling better, at least.”

You felt the sides of your lips twitch, your amusement now through the roof. You shrugged, though it probably looked more like a muscle spasm on your end.

Eh, I’ve been better. You look like shit, yourself.

And in some way, somehow, he understood exactly what you were trying to tell him. He nodded, humming under his breath. “Let me know if you need anything else, please,” he said. “I want to make this as comfortable as humanly possible for you.”

You did need something. You had so many questions left unanswered - what caused the accident? How was he standing yet you weren’t? What happened to the truck that he mentioned earlier? How did the truck come into play with all of this?

But the opportunity would come later, because you felt your consciousness slowly slipping away from you once more. Your eyes were lidded, heavy with exhaustion that lay deeper than the bones you knew were broken in more ways than one. You didn’t realise your hands were still on his arm, but they loosened, eventually falling flat on your side.

This makes Yeosang panic, his eyes widening once again as he impulsively holds the very same hand. “No, no, wait,” Yeosang pleaded, sheer terror flashing on his face. “I know you just want to sleep, b-but I can’t lose you before I could make this right, please.”

You blinked sluggishly, struggling to keep your eyes open. And in what’s little that’s left in your consciousness, you realised that he was scared - terrified, even - that if you close your eyes, that this would be the last time you’ll ever do it. He was scared that you weren’t going to wake up again.

The only thing tethering you so far was the warmth that covered your hand. Yeosang was shaking, squeezing your hand as if it would stop you from falling asleep. Before you knew it, a tear made its way on your knuckle. Add your heart to another broken piece inside your body.

“I don’t even know your name yet,” Yeosang whispered, lamenting.

You lifted a finger, wiping the lone tear on his cheek. It didn’t take much effort, he already held your hand on his face, anyway, but somehow, the gesture just drew in more tears for him. You wanted to scoff good-naturedly.

Idiot. I’m not dead yet so don’t cry. You’re too handsome to be crying.

Suddenly, a dark thought creeps into your head. You wouldn’t mind, though, especially if the last thing you’ll ever see was Yeosang’s handsome face.

But you can’t. You had so much to live for. Mingi would be devastated to know that you left him alone. Your newly budding friendship with Yunho that you tried to maintain would instantly crumble. You promised San you’d finally go take cooking classes with him after you both go out of your office jobs. All three of them would miss you.

So for now, perhaps you’d just rest, your hand nestled in Yeosang’s warm ones. You weren’t going to see him ever again, anyway. Legally, since he was the one who hit your car first by being in your lane, you were entitled to get compensation, and after that, he’ll be gone.

It was odd, though. Because the moment you closed your eyes, it was like you suddenly thrust into a world that wasn’t completely yours. You were dreaming again.

Suddenly, you felt weightless, reminding a bit of what it was like before the crash where your body felt like it was suspended in the air before being violently thrashed against the windshield of your car. It somewhat felt nice. After all, there was no pain in the liminal spaces of your subconscious being.

But something felt wrong and out of place. This dream…it felt empty yet full at the same time, and you did not like that. Every inch of space crammed with something you couldn’t see, couldn’t name, only feel. 

And it was silent. Too silent. The type of silence where you felt dread instead of serenity. You tried to make sense of it, but unease coiled low in your stomach. And the longer you floated, the more wrong it felt.

Something wasn’t right. Whatever this dream was, you didn’t belong in it. This dream, it was as if it was made to tell you that you were missing something vital; something you couldn’t quite put your finger into.

This wasn’t rest nor was it peace. This was being lost in a place you had no right to be, a place that wanted you gone as much as it wanted to keep you.

You shouldn’t be here.

That startled you. If you weren’t certain that something about this wasn’t right, you were now. That voice did not belong to you or anyone you knew. You tried to look around, only to realise that this vast emptiness was so extreme. There was no up, down, left, or right. Just nothing.

But then, the sound of car horns started to fill up the space. It was loud, deafening almost. It was followed by the distinct sound of metal crashing against metal, tires screeching, bumpers bending in half due to the collision. They were all you could hear. 

Your eyes tore open in blinding terror, panic seizing your entire body, rendering you paralyzed, as if you weren’t already. Beside you, a monitor shrieked, your heartbeat spiking wildly across the screen. You wanted to scream, how was it that the absolute nothingness in your dream frightened you more than your car crash?

And then there was Yeosang. He was at the door, shouting hoarsely for doctors, his voice cracking under the weight of his own panic. “Somebody, help! She’s awake, please hurry—”

You had no idea how long you were out. All you knew, that the next time you woke up, you actually felt rested. Everything still hurt, but at least your mind had more clarity to it compared to when you first started coming to.

White ceiling. The sterile scent of a hospital that was too clean. That and there was now another man, a doctor, talking in hushed tones with Yeosang. The two of them haven’t noticed that you had woken up, completely engrossed in whatever they were talking about.

“...two fractured ribs, a broken ankle, and extensive injuries in her larynx,” the other man spoke. You raised a brow, this doctor was good-looking too. Did God take pity on your situation and decided to surround you with ridiculously handsome men after the accident?

Yeosang’s face fell. “What does that mean? What’s going to happen to us?”

Us. Your heart warmed inexplicably. It was with great devastation and relief deep inside that you realised that Yeosang was still here. The doctor sighed, lowering his clipboard before clearing his throat.

“All you had was a concussion and minor lacerations. Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Kang,” he began, voice lowering before he continued. “It would probably be best to wait until she wakes up and see before I could conclude my analyses,” he said. The doctor glanced at you then, and to your surprise, smiled. “But it seems we don’t have to wait too long.”

Yeosang’s head whipped toward you in relief, his body already angling itself to walk towards you, but before he could do so, you were suddenly surrounded by a couple of nurses. They moved quickly, adjusting the bed to raise your head a bit and removing the tube from your mouth. The instant relief of being able to fully close your mouth was honestly riveting.

Yeosang was there immediately, holding a small cup steady, guiding the straw to your lips with care. “Slowly,” he whispered gently as you took a sip, the water providing instantaneous relief on your dry and aching throat.

The doctor was on your other side of the bed, eyes on you as you took more sips, waiting for you to finish. “I’m Choi Jongho, your primary doctor,” he introduced himself warmly, almost reassuringly. “I need to examine you a little bit. May I?”

You nodded. His hands were gentle, carefully adjusting you before he proceeded. There was a small beam on both your eyes, a light pressure on your skull as his fingers pressed ever so slightly, mumbling to himself after as he listened to your heartbeat through his stethoscope. You were comfortable, Dr. Choi was as gentle and accommodating as he could be. 

“All good. Vitals are fine, though you did give us quite a scare earlier when you woke up briefly,” he said, leaning back once he was done, offering you more encouraging smiles. “Can you try saying something for me? Your full name, for a start.”

You did, or at least, you thought you did. Your mind still hasn’t caught up, still disoriented from your slumber, but the way Dr. Choi was still patiently waiting for you to say something was very telling. 

So you tried again. You opened your mouth, fully expecting the sound of your name to follow. But nothing came. Not a whisper. Not even a rasp. Your lips moved, your throat strained, but silence met the room instead.

But the silence that surrounded the entire room was the absolute overlord. Dr. Choi’s calm face visibly fell and Yeosang paled, his relief shattering into worry once again. The room shifted as they both shared an uneasy glance.

The panic was enough to fully wake you up. You tried again, your throat compressing onto itself the more you tried to force your voice to come out so tightly, your tongue was starting to recoil in discomfort. Agitated tears started to form in the corners of your eyes.

You couldn’t breathe, the ache in your throat was unbearable. Your hands automatically wound itself around your throat that was already wet with your onslaught of panicked tears. You were a pitiful sight; hysterical crying without any sound was unsettling to look at. You had a mouth, but you couldn’t scream.

Yeosang’s hands clutched yours, prying your fingers off from your damaged throat, holding them captive against his to try and calm you down. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, the tremble in his voice betraying how he truly felt. “It’s going to be alright, don’t push yourself.”

You shook your head, staring at him through tear-soaked lashes. The message was clear - that no, you weren’t sure if this was going to be alright.

You snapped your head up at Dr. Choi, waiting for an explanation, anything to explain why your voice wasn’t coming out. He exhales through his nose, eyes softening at your pitiful state. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it once for reassurance.

“I understand that this might be frightening to you, but there’s no need,” he began with a tight smile. His voice was calming, and for a second, you felt the tight ropes in your chest loosen up. “This was to be expected. You did sustain multiple injuries after the accident, which I will explain in a little, including your larynx.”

That you already knew.The momentary panic of your being voiceless made you forget your other injuries and now that the adrenaline had worn off, the pain returned. He glances at Yeosang, who was still holding your hand. “Would you like Mr. Kang to step out for a bit?”

It was your turn to hold Yeosang’s hands in yours. It was a subconscious gesture. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t want to be alone. Yeosang’s relief was visible, he didn’t want to leave the room either. Dr. Choi nodded, proceeding to grab a nearby chair to sit on.

“To put it simply, the collision fractured two of your ribs on the left side of your thoracic cage,” he began, crouching a little so he could be at your eye level. “They didn’t fully break, perhaps a crack. Your airbags absorbed most of the impact, but breathing and moving around might be painful. They’ll heal on their own with ample rest, but we’ll still monitor them just in case.”

You let out a sharp breath. Well, that explained why your bones felt like they were grinding against each other inside your chest like rusty, poorly oiled machinery. That small gasp was painful, further emphasizing what Dr. Choi had just explained.

“Now, your ankle,” he paused, twisting a little to grab something from the table right behind him - a skeletal model of a foot. “That’s a different story.”

He grabs a pen, inching the plastic foot a bit closer to you. “It’s a bit complicated. You’ve sustained what we call a fracture dislocation that’s bordering on an avulsion fracture in between your talus bone and tibia right here,“ he paused, pointing his pen in an odd location on the foot above your ankle. 

“In layman’s terms,” he put the foot model down, voice softening further yet still professional in his stance. “Not only did you break your ankle, but you also tore the joint off of the ligaments. We’ve stabilised it with a cast to ensure proper alignment as it heals. No walking or putting any weight on it for a month or so, and you will need physical therapy after the initial healing.”

Dr. Choi was patient as he waited for the diagnoses to sink in, which you appreciated. Wait as he might, you don’t think it ever will. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Your hold on Yeosang’s hands tightened, clinging to the doctor’s words like they were the only lifeline left.

“And her voice?” Yeosang asked the most difficult question that was burning in your head. “Why can’t she talk?”

Dr. Choi hummed, his face perking up significantly. “It might not seem like it, but this is the silver lining. Your voice loss isn’t permanent.”

You looked at Dr. Choi, forcing yourself to breathe in slower as hope started to fill your lungs. “We think that the airbag might have compressed your neck a little too much,” he said. “It caused a laryngeal contusion resulting in aphonia, hence the voice loss. It will take time and patience, but your voice will come back. We’ll wait to see if you also need speech therapy.”

A small board and felt-tip pen landed on your lap. You stared at it like an idiot. “Go on,” Dr. Choi encouraged kindly, soothing your worries. “I need to know if you also have memory lapses and if you could tell me if you have more pain. What’s your name and how old are you?”

Your hands were shaking terribly as you grabbed the pen, and your movements stuttered for a second the moment the pen hit the board as if you’ve forgotten how to write. Eventually, the letters came together, albeit crooked with how wretched your penmanship had become for now.

L/N Y/N. I just turned 21 last week.

Yeosang leaned closer. His eyes widened as he read it. “Y/N,” he whispered under his breath so low, you were sure you were the only one who heard it. “You’re my age.”

He whispered your name again. It was the first time he’s ever truly known your name, after all. It struck something deep inside you, and your throat ached. It wasn’t because of your injury this time - you just wanted to hear him say your name again.

Dr. Choi’s lips curved into a pleased smile. “Good. Very good,” he said. “Now, I need to know if you’re in any type of pain. Where does it bother you the most?”

You bit your lips, trying to channel where the pain was the most severe on your body. It was a bit difficult since the pain was everywhere, but nonetheless, the answer was relatively easy. After much hesitation, you began writing again, strokes shakier than the last.

My ribs. Feels like I’m breathing in glass shards. It’s almost unbearable.

You heard Yeosang’s sharp intake of breath. You could practically feel the guilt roll off from him in waves. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb in an attempt at soothing you, though you weren’t sure if it was meant to calm you or himself.

“Alright. We’ll prescribe you some pain meds. Morphine allergy?” Dr. Choi asked, to which you shook your head. He nodded, his voice softening into something more gentle. “Great. This might be difficult to answer, what was the last thing you remember?”

Yeosang froze, his shoulders stiffening in response to the question. He leaned in slightly, his worried eyes studying you. You swallowed, mind flickering with the memory of the rain and the blinding headlights approaching you. He was right, it was hard, but you had to write how it was.

Car accident.

“We will examine you for further complications, and I’ll be back tomorrow to talk about your recovery,” Dr. Choi reassured, his expression thoughtful. He stood up, making his way out the door. “You're alert enough, so that’s a good sign. Get some rest, you’re already healing.”

Dr. Choi turns his attention to Yeosang this time. “I’ll ask the staff to bring in a cot with pillows and blankets for you. Would that be alright for you? Or would you rather stay in the lobby—”

“Here, please,” Yeosang responded a little too fast, a little too enthusiastically, much to Dr. Choi’s amusement, who tried to fight off a small smile. And so did you when you saw Yeosang’s embarrassed expression and reddened ears. “I-I mean, here would be nice. Thank you.”

Dr. Choi gave a polite nod, his composure intact despite the amused flicker in his eyes, and left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him. For the first time since you’d woken, it was just you and Yeosang. The silence that followed wasn’t suffocating, but it was fragile.

It was when everything finally hit you. When you moved slightly to adjust yourself up against your pillows for more comfort, the sharp ache on your ribs almost knocked you out. You let out a silent scream, the pain so intense, you saw black spots dancing in your vision. It was pure agony, and you weren’t sure if you were able to live like this for months.

Yeosang was immediately on your side, not hesitating to lift you as gently as he could, wincing when you would subconsciously pinch his skin in response to your pain. Dr. Choi did warn you that it would hurt, but you severely underestimated how much it would hurt.

When you’ve settled, he shut his eyes tightly, his hand clutching the blankets until his knuckles whitened, his other hand on his head. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with so much sorrow and guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered brokenly. “I am so sorry, Y/N.”

You frowned, your eyes softening. Before you could stop yourself, your hand was already moving to push his hand off so you could pat his head, moving your fingers slightly to ruffle his hair a bit, silently telling him that it was alright. He froze, breath hitching. He didn’t move at first, then slowly, he lifted his gaze to yours.

He let out a shaky laugh, one hand coming up to brush at his face as if he could hide how much the small gesture meant to him. “You shouldn’t be comforting me,” he whispered, his lips curving in the faintest smile. “But, thank you.”

You smiled back. Cute, you thought. You grabbed the board again, picking up the pen to scribble your thoughts. As you wrote, you realised that this would be your method of communication with Yeosang for a while. It was a hassle, but you supposed you didn’t mind.

You didn’t have to stay here. I know you’re guilty, I can see it, but you don’t have to stay.

You fought off another smile at the way he tilted his head to read what you wrote. “I’m aware I don’t have to,” he spoke softly. “But, I want to. This is the least I can do for you. I promise to make this as comfortable as possible for you without pushing too much.”

You stared at him for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say - well, write. It was difficult not to admit that it was nice that someone was going to stay with you, but still, you were a little perturbed. You wrote again, more hastily this time.

Why are you doing this? Other people would’ve just written their info down or something.

He frowned deeper as he read. “I hurt you,” he sighed. He gestures randomly in the air towards you. “I did this to you. You can’t even walk or talk, so if staying here means you won’t be alone, then I’ll do it. At least until you’re good to go on your own.”

The warmth in your chest bloomed again, stronger this time, drowning out a sliver of the pain. You exhaled through your nose, the sound of it resembling a snort. You ruffled his hair again, stronger this time with the intent of actually messing his hair up. You ignored his startled expression, especially his blushing cheeks, as you wrote on the board.

You’re an idiot. But you’re cute, so I guess I’ll let you stay. I’m high maintenance though, think you can handle that? 

As if it was possible, his blush deepened, traveling from his cheeks down to his neck, but what made you grin was his bright laughter. The awkwardness melted away and the room felt warmer as if this was what you both needed to bridge that lingering fear and guilt between you.

Yeosang was that one desert rose that withstood every natural disaster and managed to still bloom despite everything.

“Really? That’s how you’d describe me?” Yeosang teased, clicking his tongue in faux annoyance, his fingers gently removing the knots from the mid-ends of your hair. “Very interesting.”

Your shoulders jerked, startled at his deep voice from behind you. You had totally forgotten that Yeosang was brushing your hair, and he was good at it. He was so good at it that you almost fell asleep, total relaxation taking over your body, but you didn’t want to fall asleep with Yeosang behind you, so you opted to doodle on your little board.

Yeosang was, for the lack of a better word, a sweetheart. Every gesture he did was full of thought and gentleness. It wasn’t only what he did, but how he did it. He was very soft-spoken, his words full of meaning that kept you on your toes all the time, and he did exactly what he said - every little thing he did was meant to make you as comfortable as possible.

And he was so attentive. He adjusted your pillows every few hours, making sure your head wasn’t strained, smoothing the sheets so you didn’t feel the tug of fabric against your injuries. When the pain flared and your breathing grew uneven, he’d notice before you even picked up the marker.

You did feel bad, wishing all the time that you could at least speak to him. You were at a point where you didn’t know what to do without Yeosang’s constant and steady presence. There were times where he had to leave to handle his personal life outside the four corners of your hospital room, and during those times, loneliness would creep in.

Your ribs were starting to feel better, most of the severe pain and swelling having subsided by then. And right now with the way he brushed your hair patiently as he sat behind you, it had almost made you fall asleep.

You tilted your head just enough to glance up at him, narrowing your eyes in a playful glare. It might have been a mistake on your end. Yeosang’s face was so close to yours, his gleaming eyes trained on yours, one brow raised lightheartedly in challenge. You smirked, scrawling messily on your board before raising it up to show him. Stop snooping on me, you creep. That feels good, by the way. I’m sleepy.

He smiled, the kind that softened every line on his handsome, delicate face, and continued to brush your hair in the sweetest, gentlest way possible. He was careful with it, too, especially since you haven’t had the strength to even groom yourself so there were plenty of knots.

“I’m very happy that this is relaxing for you,” he chuckled, the sound of it traveling and warming your chest. He gathered some of your hair, tucking them carefully behind your ears. “I did notice that you preferred your hair away from your face.”

Despite your body going lax and relaxing against his, your eyes softened before you closed them. God, you adored this man; this man who had technically almost sent you to your maker and was now brushing your hair as if he cherished you. You nodded, pretty much telling him that he was correct in his observation and he made a pleased sound behind his throat.

Because he wasn’t wrong. You did prefer your hair contained and styled because it was quite long and thick especially now that summer was approaching. You tried to push down these feelings as you felt his fingers massage your scalp, opting to scribble on your board before you actually fell asleep.

What about you, though? You were injured, too. How are you feeling?

When you tilted the board up for him, his brushing slowed. His eyes flicked down at the words, then back to you. “I’m fine,” he hummed, giving the brush one last pass before setting it on the table. 

You turned back, giving him an unimpressed look, to which he laughed. “Don’t give me that look,” he chuckled. “I’m serious. Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

You rolled your eyes, elbowing him slightly, careful not to jostle too much because the tiniest movements still hurt your ribs a lot and  your broken ankle doesn’t really leave you too much room to move and do anything else in particular.

It doesn’t escape your attention how Yeosang stretches his arms, wincing a little because he was trying very hard to stay still behind you so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt you. That warmth in your gut comes back because he doesn’t complain, his focus entirely on you and you only.

Yeosang, you scribbled on the board, with him watching as you wrote. I don’t want you to sacrifice your own comfort for me like this. You have to recover, too. You can just visit me from time to time.

“I know,” he said. “But I like being here. Does it bother you?”

No, definitely not. We practically just met, I’m just really curious on why you’re here, that’s all.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, playing with your hair as he hummed here and there while he thought of how he was going to reply to you. Finally, he gives the most nonchalant shrug you’ve ever seen him do. “I don’t know.”

You gave him an incredulous look, blinking at him repeatedly as if to tell him, you don’t know?

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he sighed, his fingers alternating between playing with your hair and massaging your scalp. “I mean, I did initially feel bad for what I did to you, but I genuinely like your presence. There’s something pulling me towards you and I can’t explain what it is.”

You paused. Maybe that’s what it was. You’ve always believed that friendship does take time, that it was something that naturally formed between two people, but with Yeosang? It was like there was an invisible force tying the two of you. Maybe it was the shared trauma of almost dying, but whatever this is, you wanted to embrace it.

The corners of your lips curved up into a genuine smile. I feel the same way, your eyes said. The hand in your hair stilled and Yeosang smiled back. “There’s so many things to like about you,” he murmured. “You’re funny without trying and I just know that there’s so much more to you that’s being contained right now in these four corners. I just do.”

You looked down, pursing your lips to contain the whimper that you knew wasn’t going to come out. You grabbed the board again, not really enthusiastic to write on it.

I’m sorry. I wish I could talk to you properly, I really do. I don’t want you to get too tired of being the only one to do so. Plus, I’m pretty boring.

You let out a silent squeak  - one that would have been highly embarrassing if you didn’t have voice loss - when you felt his thumb and index finger firmly grip your chin. You swallowed, eyes widening at the contrast of how gentle he turns your head towards him. You were speechless at how intense his eyes were as they bore onto yours.

“You’re not boring,” he whispered, sadness creeping onto his voice as if he was offended on your behalf. “I would love nothing but to hear you talk, but I don’t need your voice. Silence with you speaks louder than words ever could.”

His words lingered in the air and you found yourself staring at him longer than you meant to. “I’ve started to look forward to seeing your face when I wake up. So, believe me, I will never get tired of you.”

Your ribs started to hurt, but not because of your injuries. There was a rush somewhere in there, something that your chest could barely contain and started to expand into something you couldn’t begin to explain. You genuinely adored this man. If the pain your body was experiencing wasn’t painful, you would’ve almost said that being in this hospital was a blessing.

You elbowed him again, a bit harder than you intended. You were overwhelmed, and if you didn’t deflect, you might explode into pieces.  So you scribbled quickly on the board, shoving it behind you towards him with an exaggerated pout.

Yeah, you definitely need rest. Your medication is messing with your head.

It took him a moment to read and he laughed, letting your chin go to pinch your cheek instead. “Case in point,” he said, still laughing. “You’re unbelievably cute when you’re tired.”

You push his hand away, your entire face reddening like a fully ripe tomato that was ready to be plucked and harvested. Yeosang laughed out louder, eyes crinkling in amusement at the sight of you. “Actually, I take that back. Seeing you flustered is actually cuter.”

You snatched the board back at him, scrawling messily on it. There was a small pang in your heart as you wrote, because this would be easier if you could just talk to him like a normal person.

Are you always this annoying?

He shook his head in denial, his smile switching into something more serene as he lowered your board. “No. Anyway, can I try something?” Yeosang asked softly, a mischievous glint breaking through the tenderness.

You hesitated, then nodded, curiosity blooming. His face brightened up akin to a child that got told by their mother that they could go to a candy store. You watched him grab his phone, his other hand reaching for the forgotten hairbrush. You were confused, until you caught sight of his phone, and your heart just about exploded.

Yeosang was watching a tutorial on how to braid hair, his brow furrowed in concentration like this was the most important task in the world.

The sight of Yeosang studying intently just so he could learn to care for you better made your pain ebb away temporarily at the sight of him so pure, you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh, cry, or perhaps, both at the same time.

Safe to say, Mingi was not pleased to see your broken body recovering on the hospital bed, and he was even less pleased when he found out that you had temporarily lost the ability to speak or make sounds.

His jaw had been tight since the moment he walked in, his hand gripping yours like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go, tears glimmering on his eyes when you wrote what exactly your injuries were.

But what made him truly upset was the sight of whoever put where you laid. You had a difficult time reigning in his anger when Yeosang walked in the room after you said you were craving for some coffee. Mingi’s hand was shaking as you held onto it, tugging it from time to time to stop him from lunging at poor Yeosang.

There were a few choice words that have been said, words that Yeosang took in stride. You bit your lips in dismay as you watched his face fall, just taking in every hurtful word that Mingi had sent his way. He didn’t argue, he didn’t defend himself. He simply stood there with that fallen expression.

It broke your heart in two different directions -  one half aching for the friend who only wanted to protect you, the other half for the boy who, despite all his guilt, had been the one who was caring for you and filling the quiet with kindness that dissipated your loneliness somehow.

“You know being here won’t absolve you of anything, right?” Mingi snarled, gesturing to you. “Look at her, look at what you did.”

You tugged at Mingi’s hand again, not baring to look at Yeosang’s devastated face. You knew of the guilt he held, and while Mingi was right, you knew exactly what was in Yeosang’s heart. You squeezed Mingi’s hand tightly, pleading for him to just stop. 

His hand gripped yours back. “You fucked up enough, man. The last place you should be is anywhere near Y/N,” Mingi whispered, voice dropping low with the kind of fury that didn’t need to be raised to cut deep.

That seemed to hurt Yeosang more than the other accusations that Mingi hurled his way. He drew in a breath, his jaw working before he forced the words out, soft but steady. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up, but I’m trying my best to make it right.”

“Two wrongs will never make a right,” Mingi seethed, scoffing before he turned to you. His expression softened, but only a little. “I’ll be back, yeah? I’ll bring Yunho and San with me. They’re worried sick for you.”

You nodded, not knowing what else to do. Mingi gives you a tight smile, and when he finally moves to leave, he makes a point to purposefully bump his shoulders with Yeosang. It was deliberate and forceful, enough to lay down a silent warning, and Yeosang didn’t retaliate.

You quickly scrambled to grab your board, the squeaking of the marker filling in the silence as Yeosang stood in his spot, the weight of Mingi’s words still lingering on his shoulders as the door shut behind him. You wrote like you were in a race, as if time was running out and Yeosang would disappear if you didn’t get to tell him what you needed.

You had to loudly tap the marker on the board to get his attention. Your heart stung when he snapped out of his stupor, his sad eyes skimming your messy scrawls.

I am so sorry about Mingi. I will talk to him, what he said to you was uncalled for. Please, don’t go, I really want you here with me.

Yeosang gave you one of those small, practiced smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes, the kind that was more for your sake than his. He slid into his usual spot at your bedside and you watched as he put the straw in your coffee, wrapping the cup with tissue so your hands wouldn’t be too cold when he handed the iced drink to you.

It was such a small thing but it made your heart feel like it had been split open. You were definitely going to give Mingi a piece of your mind the moment you recovered, because he knew absolutely nothing. He didn’t know how tender Yeosang was with you, he knew nothing of how Yeosang took care of you.

Because he didn’t just hand you coffee, he thought of the little details you didn’t voice, the things you wouldn’t even think to ask for. It was tender in a way that words failed to capture, like he was stitching your broken pieces together one gesture at a time.

“I’m not going to take it personally. I possibly can’t,” he murmured. “In fact, I’d go as far as say that I’m happy.”

You raised your brows, confusion visible on your face. Yeosang smiles, his eyes fleeting towards your lips as you sipped on your coffee before he looks up again. “Because,” he said. “I know Mingi means well. I’m happy that you have people who care about your well-being. Plus, it’s not like the things he said were untrue.”

You immediately shook your head. It wasn’t your fault, you wrote hastily, it was the truck’s.

He smiled, opting not to reply. It was then when you realised that Yeosang’s kindness wasn’t just for show - it was steady, and it just made him, him. 

“Anyway,” he said. “It was a nice day outside, I wish you could have seen it, but you’re never going to guess what happened in the cafe I went to earlier.”

You perked up, your back straightening, nodding vigorously. This makes Yeosang laugh. “Alright, so earlier I saw that...”

You settled back against the pillows, your eyes fixed on him. This is what he did for you even though you both didn’t agree to it. Every day, he would come back with pieces of the outside world tucked into his words, stitching them into stories just for you. They were so mundane, but it made you smile, nonetheless.

“It was a mess,” he chuckled, swirling his own coffee to mix in the sugar that had settled at the bottom before taking a sip. “The barista had misspelled his name, and you wouldn’t believe it…”

You loved it. You loved the way his voice carried warmth into the sterile quiet of the hospital room, the way his eyes lit up when he reached the funny parts, the way he’d pause just to make sure you were keeping up, waiting for your nods or scribbled reactions on the board.

“You know what’s crazy?” Yeosang’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “They just wanted free stuff. I swear people are absolutely nuts nowadays.”

Your eyes widened, covering your mouth, scandalised at the story. “Yeah, I’m serious,” he laughed at your expression, deducing what you wanted to tell him with just your eyes. You quickly wrote on your board.

Did they actually get free stuff?

“Nah, no way,” he snorted in amusement. “It was so obvious what they’re trying to do.”

Good. I hope they get banned or something.

Yeosang gave you a piece of his voice when you couldn’t speak and it made the pain a little easier to bear. Soon, the conversation just ended naturally. He was about to get up, but you stopped him, tugging a little bit on his shirt. “Y/N? Are you hurt somewhere?”

You shook your head, lips pressing into the faintest smile. You tugged on his shirt again, but Yeosang was confused, not truly understanding what you wanted to tell him. It makes your heart flutter, it makes you tug on his sleeves harder, patting on the bed repeatedly.

He hesitated, but sat anyway, careful not to jostle the leg that had your broken ankle. “What are you—oh, what,” he began, but you cut him off by guiding him closer, putting your hand on his cheek while the other pointed toward your thigh;  the uninjured one.

Yeosang froze, his face now mere inches from yours. His cheeks turned the softest shade of red, blooming higher the longer your gaze lingered. “You want me to lay down? O-Okay,” he stammered, voice cracking with disbelief. “You sure?”

You nodded, and with that, Yeosang lowered his head onto your thigh. Your eyes softened when he exhaled shallowly, but the moment he felt your hand on his head, his shoulders softened instantly under your touch and the tiny sigh he released made your heart erupt.

Your fingers lightly played with his hair, wishing now more than ever that you had the voice to actually talk to him, and you he just lay on your thigh, his lashes fluttering in sync with the butterflies in your tummy. You couldn’t help it, you had to write something. And you did.

Yeosang took the board from you, laying it down away from your reach. “I wish that wasn’t the case,” he whispered. “But, I can’t say I regret it, either.”

You stared at the board he took away, not an ounce of remorse in you even though you could tell that Yeosang was displeased.

I’m glad it was you who hit me if I was to get hit, anyway.

The physical therapy was grueling. Each step felt like it was the end, yet every time you wanted to give up, it always felt like the beginning of something. Your ribs have healed well, though they still felt sore, but your ankle left something to be desired whenever you tried to walk.

You thought you were prepared for the pain - you had already survived the accident, the surgeries, the endless bruising - but this was a different kind of torture. Your muscles screamed in protest, your broken ankle throbbing with every attempt you tried to make.

There were days when the pain clawed at you so badly that tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them. Days when you shook your head at the therapist and mouthed, I can’t do this.

But Yeosang never lets you spiral too far. He was always there. He was steady, grounded, and patient. When your hands trembled, he was the first to hold them, reminding you to breathe. He was always there to remind you that you can, in fact, do this.

“Good things take time, yeah?” Yeosang would say after every session, his hands softly massaging your sore legs. A soft smile would always pop out of his beautiful face whenever you’d grimace. “I’m serious. It’s a work in progress, we can’t expect perfection immediately.”

Sometimes, you were able to take a step or two, but most of the time, you fell. This time, though, your body actually gave out halfway. You tried to balance yourself as you felt that familiar sensation of numbness slowly crawling from your toes all the way up your legs, but it was too late. 

Your body gave out, falling so fast that it surprised even your therapist. Unfortunately, you landed hard on your elbows and pain automatically flared up your arms as you let out a silent scream. It was agonizing, your arms were on fire, like you dipped them down the hottest gurgling pot of acid and left them there to disintegrate.

Your therapist tried to soothe you, but Yeosang beat them to it. He was already down on his knees, his strong arms wrapped around your midsection to help you off of the ground. He didn’t hesitate to sit on the floor, gently placing you in between his thighs to check if you were alright with those wide, worried eyes of his.

“I think we should stop today,” he whispered softly, his hand brushing the stray hairs away from your face. “Tomorrow is another day. I don’t want you to get hurt like this.”

No, no, no, I can’t stop. Not now. Fuck, I cannot stop now—

You shook your head vigorously, the hurt and the pain overtaking the newfound pain that found its way in your skin and burrowed deep to settle in your bones. There was no way you were stopping now, you had to get better. You refused to be stuck helpless in your hospital bed for another month or two to recuperate. 

Yeosang’s eyes swam with sympathy. Frustrated tears started making their way up your eyes. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but with all the words that clawed at you from the inside, there was no way to tell him. You hated how helpless you were, but most of all, you hated the way your body betrayed you in your moment of need.

Yeosang eyes bore onto you, peering into the deepest corners of your mind, all without saying anything - without needing to hear what you had to say. He doesn’t utter a word for a while. A sigh finally leaves his lips and he looks past you, giving your therapist a silent nod before bracing himself, picking you up from the floor, carrying you bridal style away from the room.

Your arms automatically found their way around his neck, the tips of your ears flushing red as he walked back to your room. The hospital hallways seemed longer than they actually were all of a sudden. 

“Do you know what I see?” Yeosang suddenly whispered, leaning his head a little closer to your reddened ears as if the words were only meant for you. And they were, you knew they were. That was Yeosang for you.

You shook your head. “I see someone strong,” he replied gently, pausing slightly to thank the nurse who opened your private room for you. “Someone who is trying despite all the odds being stacked against them.”

He lays you down on the bed, taking careful steps to ensure that you were comfortable before he sat on the edge. “I understand that it’s frustrating,” he continued quietly. “Believe me, it pains me to see your pain every step you take, but you’re already amazing just for trying.”

You shook your head again, mouthing a strong ‘no’ in response. He held your trembling hand to his lap, pursing his lips. “You’re amazing, Y/N. I’m never going to stop reminding you of it. I’ll be here to remind you of it because I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

Just like that, your pain seemed to increase tenfold. That was exactly what you were dreading; that when you’re all set and out here walking, you might not see Yeosang ever again.

You couldn’t fully explain it. You even dreamed about it every so often. The paranoia and dread of not seeing Yeosang again was intermixing and weaving itself in your dreams that your mind manifests it in different ways.

And just like every other time, the feeling hit you again - that deep, hollow ache of not belonging. Like this world was rejecting you and your very presence was a mistake waiting to be corrected. It was as if your dreams knew that he wasn’t meant to last or to stay.

Because something deep inside you knew it wasn’t wrong. Dreams didn’t lie, and you were terrified that one day soon, you’d wake up from this very bed and he’d be gone.

“Y/N.” You jumped out of your skin slightly, Yeosang’s stern voice bringing you out of your stupor all of a sudden. You stared at him, your chest heaving with breaths you’ve forgotten to take the entire time you were spacing out. 

He holds your hand tighter, a silent promise. “I can hear what you’re thinking even if you don’t say it,” he clicked his tongue. “None of that. I am not leaving you. Not when you can’t talk, not when you can’t take a step. I’ll hold your hand like this until you can, I promise you.”

Your lips wobbled. You wanted to swear that you weren’t usually this emotional, and if you could just scream the words out, you already would have, but for now, the best thing you could do was put your other hand up, making a fist with all your fingers but your pinky.

Yeosang stares at you in amusement. “A pinky promise, huh,” he chuckled, raising his own hand, intertwining his own pinky with yours. “Cute.”

And for the first time since the accident, you truly believed you were going to be okay.

Something was bound to change. The anxiety that loomed over you every time you tried to get better hid temporarily from the brighter side of your head. They’ll be back, you knew it, but for now, you were going to push them away. 

You started to view physical therapy differently. Maybe it was your stubbornness, but you’ll be damned if you let something like this hold you back, especially now that you had Yeosang behind you every step of the way who believed in you when you didn’t even want to get up in the morning.

Days turned into weeks, and therapy no longer felt like punishment. The pain was still there, sharp and stubborn, but so was your determination. There was something different about today, though. One morning, something truly unexpected happened that none of you saw coming.

You stood. It was only for a few seconds, but you stood and took three steps on your own.

Holy hell, I’m actually walking, what the fuck—

In those few seconds, everything went still. The three of you, though comically wide-eyed, stared at each other with bated breaths. Down you went anyway, but this time instead of disappointed tears, bubbling laughter came tumbling out of your chest

Your therapist had to close their mouth before clapping and saying something encouraging, but you were barely able to hear it over Yeosang’s loud and unrestrained cheer, one that was full of genuine excitement and joy for you.

“Oh my God, you did it,” he laughed in disbelief, immediately charging at you, pulling you to his chest to give you a tight hug. “You really did it, you see that? You’re amazing.”

It was ridiculous, really, how much warmth could come from someone’s voice alone. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning widely. You could feel the same warmth that had carried you from the floor that day to this moment now.

You were back in that dark place.

Not the tragic and anxiety-ridden mindset full of pity for yourself after your car accident. You were back in that pitch black, nightmarish dream you had before you woke up in that hospital bed and met Yeosang for the first time, the one where you felt trapped - the one where you felt like you were intruding.

You vaguely remembered anything from it, but you remembered enough; and the things you did remember, they were terrifying, especially the nothingness of it. You had a mouth, but you couldn’t scream. You had eyes, but you couldn’t see anything but black in every direction.

Then, came that voice. That distant, unfamiliar voice that was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Wake up. Your time is running out.”

You floated again, but not peacefully. Never. You were but a floating entity in this darkness, but you still felt the shivers and goosebumps break out of your skin at that silky smooth voice that whispered nothing but ominous things at you in this void.

“Don’t go too far. Remember, you don’t belong here.”

Your heart lurched, the fear rendering you paralysed if you weren’t already. But suddenly, you weren’t floating anymore; you fell. You didn’t know how, but your body felt completely weightless, and you took the biggest breath, opening your eyes to wake up to a jolt. You sat up, sweat drenching your forehead, your heart beating abnormally fast. But it wasn’t over yet. Something was wrong, because the cot was empty and Yeosang was gone. 

Your body ran cold, panic seizing through you because what was worse than Yeosang being gone was someone else standing by the foot of your bed.

It was a man. He was tall, and he was beautiful. He was so beautiful that it felt so wrong. Morbidly divine, is how you’d describe this man. He stood still, eyes boring onto you that were so dark, they seemed to swallow the surrounding light around the both of you.

You froze, not knowing whether to press the emergency button or throw the nearest item at this stranger even at the risk of angering them. When they spoke, the voice was the same one from your dream.

“Heaven’s door is getting farther away.”

You could have stopped breathing right there. You were genuinely terrified now, unable to move from your injuries. The man took a step forward, an unreadable expression crossing their face before they stepped closer and closer to your bedside.

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up, please, you’re scaring me—”

That was all you needed. That voice seemed to cut through the darkness, shining a ray of light you desperately needed. You gasped heavily, and suddenly, you were awake again, but this time, you were actually awake. Yeosang’s tired and terrified eyes searched yours, his hands cupping your face, his voice trembling.

The world spun around you, refusing to let you down on solid ground. Your chest heaved repeatedly and you blinked, disoriented as your heart hammered. You looked around, slightly relieved that the stranger was gone, but his voice was still echoing in your head.

Yeosang shook your shoulders, directing your attention back to him. “Hey. hey, look at me, Y/N,” he whispered, brushing away the cold sweat on your forehead. “It was just a nightmare, you’re safe, okay? Take a look around, you’re in your room, you’re safe.”

And he was right. You cautiously looked around and gone was the stark whiteness of your hospital room. In its place was the familiar lavender walls of your apartment, framed photos of you, Mingi, and San on your bedside table along with the stuffed bear that Yunho gave you on your birthday

Your heartbeat faltered, disbelief washing over you in slow, uneven waves. Yeosang was sitting beside your bed, eyes glossy from worry but smiling with visible relief. “It’s been a week since Dr. Choi had discharged you,” he murmured softly. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still shaking. “It was just a nightmare,” he repeated, voice low and careful. “Your body’s still adjusting. You scared me, though.”

You swallowed hard and glanced around the room again, needing to make sure it was all really there; that Yeosang was really here. It struck you then and there that it wasn’t really the dream that actually scared you - it was that Yeosang was gone and unseen. You shakily reached for your board and marker, writing hastily on it.

I had a dream where you were gone. It scared me.

Yeosang frowned as he read it. He sighed, tucking you back inside your blanket gently. “That’s not going to happen,” he murmured with a smile so soft, it made your heart beat fast. “I promised you I’d take care of you. You are the reason I am here, after all.”

You blinked again, your brows knitting in confusion. Your mind was still a blur, and you were sleeping a lot because of the pain medication for your healing ankle, but slowly, it comes back to you. A week ago, you got discharged from the hospital and Yeosang came home with you.

Bits and pieces of how that happened slowly came back to you. Dr. Choi came bearing good news last week after your last physical therapy session. By then, you’ve been walking consistently with crutches and after examining you further, he deemed you clear to go home to recover in the comfort of your own home.

You watched Yeosang pack his clothes in his small duffle bag as you put your number on his phone. There was sadness at every number you typed, but this was bound to happen - your time with Yeosang was done since your ankle was pretty much recovering and it was time for the both of you to return to reality outside the four corners of this hospital room.

You had grown used to the calmness of his presence. Now, watching him prepare to leave felt like watching sunlight slip out of reach. You handed the phone back to him, hesitating before picking up your board.

Please, text me your address so I can visit. When can I see you again?

Yeosang’s breath hitched. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but you’ve been around him and only him for weeks now to know the tiniest gestures he made and the meaning behind them. He pursed his lips, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Your brows furrowed, writing quickly. What do you mean?

He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll probably crash with a friend for a while,” he said, eyes avoiding yours. “Since I’ve been staying here with you, I had to skip work a lot so I couldn’t really pay my rent. Ended up selling some of my stuff to help with your hospital bills.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Suddenly, the pain from your injuries seemed to hurt less than the sharp sting that ran its course through your vein. All those nights he told you not to worry, all those smiles that made everything seem okay...he was not okay.

You controlled your breathing, hurrying to grab your board to scribble the words you wanted to say out loud to him with such a force that it made your entire body shake, and then you pushed the board towards him so fast that he took a step back in surprise.

Stay with me, please, you wrote. I have a house and I have a guest room. It’s the least I can do after you’ve taken good care of me.

One might say that in technicality, Yeosang has no bearing and you don’t owe him anything because after all, he was the one who almost sent you back to your maker, but you couldn’t just let him go like this in good conscience. Yeosang was a good man who had made a mistake, and you sure as hell weren’t going to turn your back on a man who needed help.

“No, I couldn’t possibly bother,” he shook his head, giving the board back to you without looking you in the eye. “I promise to visit you from time to time—oof.”

You didn’t even let him finish, already shoving the board back to him after more messy scrawling. He was about to say something, but paused when he looked at your glossy eyes, your quivering lips that you tried hard to keep hidden. He sighed, reading the board once more.

Please, Yeosang. We’re friends now. Stay until you get back on your feet then you could decide from there.

Finally, Yeosang smiled, the kind that looked like surrender. “You really don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

Mingi definitely wasn’t pleased when you told him that Yeosang would be staying with you, not even caring a bit when you gave him a piece of your mind about him giving poor Yeosang a hard time when the man was clearly trying to own up to his mistake.

The only thing that cooled him off was San talking him down, telling him that there were more benefits to having someone like Yeosang be with you 24/7, the biggest one would be someone to watch over you since you were still injured at the end of the day. Even Mingi couldn’t contest that argument.

And Yunho, God bless that man, had definitely lightened the mood in the car the entire time Mingi drove you home, brooding the entire time and mumbling under his breath about how dumb this whole fiasco was.

“Let me get you some wat—oh my, you’re bleeding, Y/N.”

You snapped out of the space you unwittingly put yourself in when Yeosang’s eyes widened, You were confused, that is, until you hissed, your hand flying to your ear, and you were horrified. You touched something warm; something that felt sticky and smelled disgustingly metallic. Your ears were bleeding.

Suddenly, your world started spinning on its axis, the walls of your room warping into something more abstract. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that it would help you get your bearings back, but somehow, that just made it worse.

Heaven’s door is getting further away.

Your breathing started to get laboured, your crimson-coated fingers clutching your head, that haunting voice echoing in your head like a resounding bell that’s begging to be heard. You opened your eyes and you could have sworn that you saw that tall, eerie figure walking towards your bed again.

No, no, no, stay away, get away from me—

And then, a different type of warmth. Yeosang’s hands gripped your shoulders, gently facing your body towards his. “Hey, look at me. Take a deep breath, Y/N.”

You gasped, the figure disappearing when you blinked. Suddenly, the world fell silent again. Your world wasn’t spinning anymore, and your walls weren’t shrinking in on itself. Yeosang’s hands gripped your shoulders tighter, frowning at  your troubled expression, but all you could think about was what was going on in your head.

What…what in the world was that?

Was it exhaustion? The fatigue that embedded itself deep into your bones? Or was it your medication messing with your head, exacerbating the anxiety that was already there? Or worse, were you losing your head?

You didn’t even notice Yeosang already holding a piece of cloth to your ear, tenderly wiping the blood off of your ears. “Easy there,” he murmured, brushing your hair back to carefully dab the cloth to your skin. “You were spacing out. Was your nightmare really that troubling to you?”

Your breath came out shaky, your hand gripping onto Yeosang’s arm for dear life, tethering him, your anxiety rising as you remembered how scared you were when you saw him missing in your dream. You pointed at the board again, the words you’ve written still there, unerased and clear.

Yeosang nodded once, sighing softly as he wiped the last traces of blood from your ear, setting the stained cloth aside to manually check your neck for little specks, his fingers lingering there for a second longer. “I’m right here,” he reassured in that calming voice of his that never failed to soothe you. “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried, you hear me?”

He grabbed your blanket, wrapping you in it like he was protecting you from the outside world. “Let me tell you something,” he whispered, gesturing to the pillow he just arranged for you. “Lay down, please.”

Maybe this was the dream, because it was difficult to believe that someone like Yeosang actually existed. He was a little too good to be true for you. “If I was actually gone, even in your dream,” he continued. “That would mean I was already on my way back to you, I guarantee you. I’d never leave you willingly, not even there.”

Your chest tightened, your eyes stinging horribly, your fingers gripping the blanket that Yeosang had just tucked you into. “Next time you dream and I’m not there,” he said, leaning closer. “Wait for me, alright? I’ll always find you in your nightmares, especially in those, alright?”

You stared at him, completely undone by how easily he said things like that. You nodded earnestly, a lone tear trickling down your cheek. Yeosang chuckled softly, not hesitating to lean down to kiss your tear away.

He paused, the reality of what he did actually hitting him square in the chest, and he slowly leaned away, the tips of his ears so red, they looked like they were on the verge of exploding. You didn’t dare move from your spot, surprise evident on your face.

“B-Besides,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly chuckling, eyes looking at everything except yours. “Who’s going to eat the crappy food I make everyday with me? You’re kind of stuck with me, you know?”

And somehow, despite the remnants of fear still clinging to your chest, you smiled because he was right. You were stuck with him. And if this was what being stuck felt like, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You patted the empty spot beside you while pulling on his sleeve. He immediately understands what you were trying to tell him, his eyes softening. “You want me to sleep here tonight? Are you sure you’re fine with that?”

You nodded, and he tilted his head, that boyish grin you found cute on him returning on his face. “Why? I already told you that I’m not going anywhere,” he joked. You rolled your eyes, pushing him away before you crossed your arms. You stared at him, displeasure clear in your eyes. God, you’re such an idiot, your eyes said. Are you coming or not?

“Yes, yes,” he laughed, giving in and slipped into the spot beside you. He shifted onto his side, propping his head up his arm so he could see your face. “Good enough for you?”

You nodded, hoping that he couldn’t hear how loud your heart was beating with how silent the world had become especially in the little bubble the both of you had made in your bed. He smiled, the kind that always made your chest ache in the best way possible - in the way only Yeosang knew how to do.

He intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing both your hands on top of his chest. “Feel that?” Yeosang whispered, closing his eyes. “Perfect.”

And you did, you felt his strong heartbeat that was in sync with your pulse. “Good night, Y/N,” you heard his sleepy voice whisper. “I promise I’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow.”

And he was. The moment you opened your eyes, warmth surrounded you, cocooning you in a safe haven only you knew how. It was odd at first, you weren’t used to waking up with someone lying down next to you, but with Yeosang’s chest pressed on your back, his arm draped over the curve of your waist, it just felt right.

And you wanted to make it up to him. It was how you found yourself in the kitchen for what seemed like forever. You weren’t the best cook, but you sure were better than Yeosang. And he knew this.

You were sitting across from him at the dining table, smiling softly as his eyes sparkled after taking a huge bite of the pasta you just whipped up. “You’re staring,” he smirked, placing the fork down. 

You scoffed, quickly grabbing the board that has become an extension of your body for the past few months or so. So are you, you wrote, sarcasm obvious even in scripture. His smirks widened and you took that opportunity to write another follow- up. How’s the pasta?

“Eh,” he shrugged, mischief clear in his eyes. “Could be better.”

You were taken aback, but when he laughed, you let out a silent sigh of frustration, though you couldn’t help but smile anyway.

Sometimes, I feel like you really want to get hit.

He paused, eyes taking on a different look you couldn’t really read. “By you?” Yeosang said quietly, his eyes raking all over your form before he stared into your eyes again. “Most certainly.”

Your heart skipped. You didn’t know what to say, your brain was struggling to catch up to your racing pulse. You felt heat spreading all over your face and before you knew it, you were lifting your board, hoping it would shield the wild blush on your cheeks.

Is that a compliment or are you making fun of me?

He took another bite, taking his sweet time chewing it. “Yes,” was all he said, chewing again to hide the smirk on his face.

Yeosang let out a chuckle at your reaction and you knew he wasn’t even trying to embarrass you. He was just so out of pocket sometimes that there were times that you were surprised at the things he said, though there was a part of you that sometimes wished he meant all the jokes he’d tell you.

Careful, Yeosang. I’m not as meek as you think I am. I’m just injured, that’s all.

His grin softened, a hint of something more genuine behind the playful teasing. "I know. I’ve noticed. I noticed everything about you," he said, his voice turning quieter. “Kind of hard not to. You are very interesting to me, Y/N.”

You didn’t know if it was the moment his voice softened when he said your name or the fact that this was starting to get a little too real for you, but regardless, you found your hands trembling a little as you wrote your reply. Thank you, I guess?

“Don’t sweat it,” he said. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “I just like making you smile, that’s all.”

And your heart? It just did a backflip. Well, you're doing a really good job, you wrote as the flutter in your chest felt like a thousand butterflies having a dance party.

Soon, everything seemed to be normal.Nothing happened anymore for weeks after, and you were thankful for it. You spent plenty of time with Yeosang to the point that you had actually forgotten that it even happened. You hoped that it was going to be a permanent thing.

“Does this bother you?” Yeosang asked weeks after that dream, squinting his eyes and raising his hand to block the sun rays hitting his face. “Should we go back inside?”

You were out in your backyard, just soaking in the sun as the two of you walked leisurely, mostly just to stretch your legs so you could get your daily exercise as per Dr. Choi’s instructions. It wasn’t all that difficult with your crutches but it was still a challenge.

You stared at Yeosang, a small smile spreading on your lips. Cute, you thought as warmth diffused inside your chest. Oh, Kang Yeosang. You are something else.

When he tilted his head in a way that the sun kissed his skin, the sight stole the breath out of your lungs. There was something impossibly gentle about him like the sun made him softer. You were sure it was almost deliberate at this point, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he could ever be anything less than perfect in such a moment.

You shook your head lightly, tilting your own head up, hoping that the sun would do you the same justice that it did to him. As hard as it was, you enjoyed this. You spent so long being cooped up in the hospital with no sun so you were going to get as much as you could now.

Yeosang hummed. “Alright,” he said, hovering close just in case you stumbled. “It’s such a nice day today, though. Just let me know if the sun is too much so I could get you a hat, or if your legs feel tired. We could sit down for a few minutes before resuming.”

You smiled, gripping your clutch tighter, taking another careful step forward. Yeosang didn’t hesitate to reach out and steady you. It was a light touch, his fingers barely brushing your arm and you appreciated it. The notion of him being close to help without actually fully helping you just so you could move on your own was worth more than gold to you.

Before you moved, you lifted your hand up, pointing at the end of your backyard to indicate you wanted to go there, and Yeosang immediately understood what it was that you were trying to tell him. Truly, you haven’t felt this joyful in a while.

Until you didn’t.

Because when you lifted your head up, there was a tall man wearing all black standing there. He was staring straight at you, and he was hauntingly beautiful with eyes so dark, it looked like they swallowed all the light that surrounded him.

Terror immediately gripped you, your heart dropping to your foot with maximum speed. You faltered, the step you almost took with your crutch wobbling under the weight of the fear that strangled you, and you fell straight to the ground. You didn’t even feel the pain on your ankle, the fear overtaking every single sensation you were supposed to feel.

Yeosang quickly kneeled on the ground to help you up. “Y/N, are you alright? Your ankle,” he gasped, clicking his tongue in displeasure as he examined said ankle. “Maybe we should…”

But you weren’t hearing him, your ears felt like they were underwater. You didn’t have a mirror, but you didn’t need one to know that all the blood had drained from your face at this point. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, to run, but your limbs locked in place. 

Your chest heaved. The world spun violently and before you could stop it, a wave of nausea surged up your throat. You doubled over, vomiting onto the grass, your body trembling uncontrollably.

Yeosang was shocked, but his hands were immediately on you, one holding your hair back, the other steadying your back as you trembled. You could hear him call out your name, but you weren’t hearing him. With no proper response, you felt your body go weightless as Yeosang started to carry you inside the house, all while instructing you to try and calm down.

But you couldn’t. You were still seeing him; the figure from your dreams, the one who never should’ve followed you into reality while you were awake.

Yeosang whispered softly that he’ll be back to get something, but again, you weren’t even hearing him. You wanted to open your mouth to answer, but you couldn’t, and you just sat on the couch, trembling and staring at the distance wondering if the void was going to give you answers.

And you didn’t want to blink. You were terrified that if you opened your eyes again, the man would be there, silently watching you spiral into madness.

Fuck, you internally hissed, clutching your head in frustration, hoping to wane the headache that knocked its way into your skull. Why am I seeing things?

Yeah, that was a good question - why were you? And you would have loved to dive deeper into the question, if it wasn’t for the warmth that suddenly trickled down your neck, that familiar metallic smell hitting your nose. 

Your eyes widened, your trembling fingers lightly touching your skin. You hoped to God it was sweat, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t going to be. Blood. Your ears were bleeding again.

No, no, no, not again. Oh God—

You opened your mouth to let out a silent scream, flinging your hands away as if it would make the blood go away. You wiped your neck harshly with your palm, but all that did was smear the blood, thick and sticky. 

What’s happening to me? Oh, God—what’s happening?

Your body was trembling so badly you thought your bones might rattle loose. You couldn’t even think properly. Your gaze darted across the room, searching the shadows and corners of the room. He’s here, you could feel it. 

But, he’s real, isn’t he? 

Stop.

Stop thinking. Stop breathing.

He’s coming.

Suddenly, you heard shuffling from the other side of the room, but luckily, it was just Yeosang. He was walking towards you, concern etched on his face as he held a glass full of ice cold water in his hand.

“Here, drink this,” Yeosang handed you the glass of water, taking your crutches and setting them aside for you. He sat beside you on the couch, his hand holding your arm. “Are you in pain? What was that out there? You look so pale right now.”

You blinked, not really knowing what to say. So you decided to show him your hands. And somehow, that just made it worse, because your hands were squeaky clean with no blood to  be found. Not even the tiniest speck. You were horrified, the same hand immediately flying to your ear, swiping it rather harshly. You even swiped the other ear just to make sure.

But nothing. No blood. It was as if you had just imagined it.

The glass slipped from your hands before you even realised it, dropping to your wooden floors, immediately soaking the nearby carpet as well as Yeosang’s socks. You wanted to whimper. For a second there, the puddle looked like blood, but when you blinked, it was water again.

“Y/N,” Yeosang exclaimed, instantly crouching beside you, his hands hovering over yours, unsure whether to comfort you or check for injuries. His voice was tight, but he was not angry. He was never angry, just frightened. “Hey, hey, look at me. What happened? Are you okay?”

Am I actually losing it?

My head…hurts.

I don’t belong here.

You stayed still, wide-eyed, but the worry in his eyes only deepened. He sighed deeply, propping his knees to help himself up to sit beside you. “Look at me,” he muttered, voice firmer than you’ve ever heard him. “Please, darling. I really need to talk to you.”

And when you still didn’t move, his fingers held your chin, languidly turning your face towards his. “Y/N,” Yeosang’s voice softened, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been yourself lately, and I’m getting very worried about you. You keep spacing out, and you’ve been so jumpy lately like there’s something chasing you.”

But, there is. Something’s out there to get me, Yeo. Can you not see him?

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said, hesitating, looking away for a moment before continuing. “Dr. Choi told me to keep an eye on you. Just in case you started showing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

You blinked, the words sinking in too slowly. PTSD. Trauma. Symptoms. Yeosang pursed his lips, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your cheek. “You’ve been through so much. It’s okay if you’re scared. Nothing’s wrong with you, I promise, but we have to take this slow, alright?” Your heart sank to your stomach. He didn’t understand, you didn’t know how to make him understand, because it was real. You knew to yourself that this wasn’t some form of trauma and you knew damn well you weren’t hallucinating. You wanted to tell him that, to scribble the truth across your board, to make him believe you, but you didn’t even know where to begin.

So you just wrote what was currently on your mind. Do you think I’m crazy, Yeosang?

Pain flashed in his eyes as he read your board, the hand on your face lowering to grab the board away from you, holding your hand in his. “Of course not, darling,” he said, sadness tinged in his voice. “I would never think that. You’re not the only one, I-I’m scared as well, you know?”

You faltered, guilt suddenly creeping down on you. Right, you have been so focused on your pain and how it was affecting you that  you had failed to see that you weren’t the only one who was hurting. You didn’t realise how tired Yeosang’s eyes actually were behind the cheeriness he usually showed you.

He let out an exhale, leaning his back against the couch, his head tilted up, eyes closed. When he opened them again, he looked at you with a soft smile. “I haven’t really told you much about that day, haven’t I?”

You shook your head, opting to lean your body against his, diverting your entire attention to him. “I still see it sometimes,” he admitted. “The rain, that big truck…it’s all burned into my head. I thought I could forget it if I stayed busy, if I took care of you, but…”

He paused, his hand idly playing with your hair to distract himself from a memory he didn’t want to remember. “But, most of all, I see you,” he choked, voice cracking. “You didn’t see what I saw. You were so still inside your car, bathed in your own blood. I thought I killed you, I-I thought I saw you die, Y/N. That was the most devastating sight of my life.”

Your heart twisted painfully, and he smiled faintly. “I know I look nonchalant most of the time, but I promise you I’m not. When we were still at the hospital and I watched you sleep with your face contorted in pain, or even now when I would hear you whimper or cry, I felt it. I always do.”

“So, yeah, I get it,” he continued. “Being scared. You’re not crazy, Y/N. You’re just surviving like me. We both are. So don’t worry, alright? It’ll pass, I’ll make sure of it.” 

You reached out to him, maybe to ground yourself, but this time, you wanted to be here for him - to make him feel like he wasn’t alone as well. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face onto his neck and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his own arms around your lithe body. While doing so, you lifted your pinky finger.

“You’re safe with me, yeah?” Yeosang hushed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, wrapping his own pinky finger with yours. “We’ll manage together.”

And yet, as his words tried to soothe you, your gaze drifted to the darkened corner of the room, and for a fleeting second, you swore you saw a shadow shift.

Unfortunately, it never really did get better. Everything just started going downhill from there on, and that one sighting when you were in your backyard seemed to be the catalyst that broke the camel’s back.

You haven’t even hung out in your own backyard. You refuse to be alone out there, susceptible to whoever - or rather, whatever - was watching you, simply waiting until you were caught unawares. 

Nothing was ever the same. You’d catch yourself looking over your shoulder in your own house, expecting a shadow to pop out of nowhere when you least expected it. You couldn’t even blink without your heart stopping every single second because you were terrified that the man would literally present himself in front of you.

And Yeosang. Your sweet, kind-hearted, Yeosang. What were you ever going to do with him? He’s definitely noticed. He wouldn’t say anything, but you’d catch him watching you from time to time, waiting for you to explode like a ticking time bomb, worry lining his features as he slowly watched you spiral into your demise.

Tonight, he offered to watch a movie in the living room with you in the guise of spending more quality time, but you knew better; you knew he was just distracting you. There was no way you could concentrate, not when you keep wanting to look around to see something that isn’t there.

He’s waiting. Always waiting.

The corner of the room, the hallway…don’t look

Don’t—

Your fingers trembled against the couch cushion, nails digging into the fabric. Every small sound felt too loud, too close, and too intentional. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Look.

You glanced at Yeosang, something you always did to bring yourself a little bit of comfort because through all of this, he was your anchor. You were expecting to see his familiar, handsome face, but you certainly weren’t expecting dark and haunting eyes that weren’t his.

Yeosang had kind eyes that twinkled in every direction. The ones staring at you were not his - they were the eyes of the very same nightmare that has been tormenting you and has been the subject of your paranoia.

Before you knew it, you were screaming. Raw, primal, and anguished. It was blood-curdling, the type that scraped your lungs and your throat as it bounced throughout the entire room. You began thrashing, throwing the blanket and pillows off of you to lessen the suffocation.

“Y/N, hey, it’s me, it’s me,”  Yeosang’s voice cut through your screams, desperate. He gripped your shoulders, trying to steady you, but you couldn’t stop trembling. You tried to push him away, not even wanting to look at him, but he held on, his hands traveling to your cheeks.

And then, silence. You blinked, and it was Yeosang’s familiar eyes staring at you. His face was pale, horrified, possibly more terrified than you actually were at the moment as he tried to steady the both of you. For a split second, you sobered up, feeling bad because not once have you seen Yeosang this terrified, not since you were at the hospital after the accident.

The adrenaline started wearing off and your hands automatically went up to grab his shoulders to balance yourself. “I-I’m,” you started, stammering your words out. Your throat felt impossibly dry, and it burned as you tried to force more words out. “I’m f-fine. I’m fine. I’m s-sorry.”

A small gasp leaves Yeosang’s lips, and if it was more possible, more blood drained from his face. His eyes widened, lips parting, not knowing exactly what to say. Somehow, his expression terrified you even more. “W-What?” You rasped, throat on fire. “What’s the m-matter?”

His grip on you tightened, impossibly so. His lips started to wobble, eyes softening in a way you’ve never seen him do before. “Y-Yeosang,” you croaked. “S-Say something.”

He stared at you like he couldn’t decide if he should cry or laugh, but that seemed to snap him back to reality. “You’re talking,” he said, disbelief shattering every word. “You just talked.”

You froze. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with silence and shock. Yeosang’s trembling smile that was half fear, half awe prompted you to touch your throat with both hands, realising just exactly what you did now that your fear had passed.

He smiled so softly that it almost hurt to look at him. He leaned his head on your shoulder, slumping in palpable relief before he laughed. He sounded breathless, disbelief coating his voice before he leaned away, eyes searching yours for an answer you probably didn’t have.

Before you could even react, his hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes as if he needed to convince himself that this was real. “You don’t know what this means,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been waiting for this. For you.”

Tears began to spring in your eyes, your throat tightening by the minute, but this time, it wasn’t because of the prolonged unuse of your voice. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you,” he said, laughing through his tears. “God, you’re amazing. I knew it, I just knew you’d find your voice again.’”

He wiped your tears away with his thumbs, grinning as tears of his own started to pool in his eyes. “Say something else,” he whispered, pleading as he rested his forehead against yours. “Anything. Just one more word for me, darling, please.”

You let out a small laugh, though it sounded more like a rough exhale, tilting your head as if to ask him what he wanted to hear. He paused before his eyes lit up. “My name,” he whispered. “I’ve longed to hear you say my name for the longest time now. You have no idea.”

He acted like you were giving him God’s greatest gift. Your heart melted, pursing your lips to muster up the courage to give him what he wanted. “Yeo…sang,” you rasped out.

He closed his eyes as a small, choked up sound rose from behind his throat, his hands tightening ever so slightly around your face. “One more, please.”

You could feel the tension thicken. You cleared your throat, hoping it would help you speak better. “Yeo-Yeosang.”

“Again.”

“Y-Yeosang.”

“Louder.”

“Yeosang.”

He let out a shaky laugh and his forehead pressed harder against yours as if he couldn’t bear to let the moment slip away. “That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s my name. God,” he stopped himself, his breath hitching. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me right now.”

He drew in a sharp breath, eyes glistening, and for a fleeting second, you thought he might cry for real this time. “You could say my name a thousand times and I’d still want to hear it again,” he confessed, voice trembling with a kind of raw honesty that made your heart ache.

And then, slowly, his joy softened into something quieter. “I’m happy, baby, I really am,” he whispered carefully, searching your eyes. “But, we have to talk, you know that, right? I need to know why you suddenly screamed so I can help you.”

You froze, letting the question hang in the air. Of course, you haven’t forgotten, how could you? That sight was something you could never, ever forget. But you had hoped that by your voice returning out of nowhere, it would have extinguished that primal fear you harboured inside of you, festering in your thoughts.

But, you were screwed. Absolutely screwed. When you couldn’t talk, you could’ve shrugged this out, using the fact that you literally couldn’t say anything. That and of course, you didn’t have your board with you all the time, but now, there was completely no way out of this. You would have had no choice but to tell him what you saw.

I don’t want to. He’ll think I’m losing it. Don’t tell him. I can’t tell him.

“I-I just,” you swallowed, your voice barely there but at least audible. “I-I kept thinking about that day and I g-guess I saw something I shouldn’t.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t necessarily a blatant lie either. It didn’t make you feel good about omitting the truth from Yeosang, but doing this was a passable consolation for your guilt-ridden heart.

“I see,” he sighed, eyes heavy with all the things he didn’t want to tell you but visible to you anyway. Not being able to talk taught you to observe more than you should have; things you would’ve missed otherwise. “Rest for tonight. Let’s continue the movie tomorrow, hmm?”

But the way he looked at you, you weren’t sure how to feel about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t take you seriously, you knew that he did, but his eyes were filled with a mixture of pity and wariness about what just happened rather than feeling bad for your mental instability as a whole.

“I’m fine,” you insisted with a deep frown. “I’m serious, i-it’s just a passing thought.”

“Passing thoughts don’t make you scream like you saw a ghost, Y/N,” he spoke softly, pursing his lips in thought. “Perhaps I should call Dr. Choi to tell him what’s been happening—”

“No,” you interrupted him rather rudely without meaning to. You faltered, swallowing before you continued. “Please, I’ll manage, I don’t want to go back in there, I refuse to go back to the hospital.”

Your chest was rising and falling too quickly now, shallow breaths spilling from your lips as your fingers twisted in the fabric of your shirt. “Please,” you whispered again, quieter this time, as if saying it softly would make it sound less like begging.

“Alright, no calls. I’m not going to make you go back. You’ve been through enough hospitals for a lifetime,” he murmured. “Right now, all you need is to breathe. That’s all I want you to do.”

Yeosang’s hand reached for yours before you could flinch away. His voice cracked near the end, but he didn’t care. His fingers stayed intertwined with yours and the silence that followed was deafening. You could feel the pounding of your heart like it was trying to claw its way out.

You’re fine, Y/N. This is nothing. You’re fine. I’m fine. I’m alright. 

You weren’t fine. You were far from alright. This was only the beginning and you knew it, however, you underestimated the amount of stress this torment brought you. Whatever this was made you feel like a person who had lost their mind so long ago.

Days blurred. You’d catch your reflection in the mirror and flinch because, for a split second, it wasn’t yours. You’d tell yourself it was just the lighting or exhaustion, which wouldn’t be unfounded, the paranoia was deeply exhausting. But deep down, you knew better.

You began to hear things. This, you could get by because you could choose to ignore them and you’d be fine. It was the things you’d see that were impossible to ignore. At least, the things you’d think were there. Your eyes would always dart to the darkest corners of the room, convinced that something was there.

But there was never anyone. There was never anything.

The line between waking and dreaming began to blur. You’d blink and lose time, not realising that Yeosang would be talking to you sometimes. You’d forget where you were, what day it was, why your mind was in shambles, and why you were feeling this way.

And Yeosang, he started to look at you differently. He started to look differently, too. It made your stomach twist and you’d squeeze your eyes shut. You tried so hard to smile, to breathe, to act like everything was fine when Yeosang was around, but even he could see your psyche cracking and the haunted look in your eyes.

The last straw was when you woke up looking for him and went to the kitchen where you knew he’d be making coffee for the both of you. You did daily vocal exercises so you could practice using your voice again without overdoing it. It was your mind’s only salvation in the midst of losing it, especially the way Yeosang tenderly looked at you every time you spoke to him.

As expected, he was in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he did his business. You smiled at how domestic this all felt. “Morning,” you greeted softly so as to not startle him.

There was no response. Strange, you thought, frowning at the lack of the usual cheery reply from the man you adored. That was fine, maybe he just didn’t hear you. “Good morning,” you repeated, a little louder this time.

Silence. No heave or sigh was to be heard from him, just the particular clinking of the spoon hitting ceramic as he mixed creamer onto his coffee.

You faltered, pausing. You were positive you were talking, positive that your voice was audible enough to be heard. You put your phone down the dining table, taking a hesitant step forward, hand just above his shoulder to touch him, hoping to ask what was wrong and why he wasn’t saying anything to you.

But just then, the sound of the front door opening behind you startled you. You let out a small gasp, your hand quickly going down to turn to the source of the sound. You froze, wishing that you didn’t turn around.

Yeosang let out an exhale, a cold morning air fleeting through the wind as he tried to take his shoes off. He held a plastic bag and a cup of coffee on the other, hair slightly damp from the morning dew outside. A bomb could’ve fallen in front of you and it wouldn’t even compare to the utter devastation and horror of seeing him enter the house.

He looks up, raising his brows, not expecting to see you standing in the kitchen. “Y/N, darling?” Yeosang asked in surprise. “Why are you up so early? It’s barely seven in the morning.”

It was difficult to stop your hands from shaking and your knees from buckling. “H-How did you get outside?”

He blinked, frowning, utterly confused. “Hmm? Oh, I went out to buy some breakfast from the corner. I didn’t feel like making one today, plus we ran out of coffee beans yesterday so I figured I’d get you coffee from there, too.”

No, no, no. That can’t be. That’s impossible.

You took a shaky step back, your mind spiraling into places you don’t even want to entertain. Your back hit the table, your hands holding the edge to stop yourself from keeling over. Shallow breaths left your chest as your head swivelled slowly behind you.

Emptiness. There was no Yeosang with this back turned towards you, stirring his coffee. The clink of metal hitting ceramic rang in your head, drowning out everything else around you. 

“Y/N,” Yeosang called out carefully, something you’ve been disliking lately because it made you feel like a lost cause, setting the coffees on the counter and reaching for your arm. “Baby, what’s happening to you? Are you alri—”

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped, shoving his hand away harshly without thinking. His eyes widened, hurt flashing across his face before he quickly masked it with concern. He takes a step back, nodding in response.

You froze, your breathing becoming even more laboured at the horror of what you just did. “Y-Yeo,” you stammered, guilt clawing at your throat.

You didn’t mean to snap at him. God knows you never meant to hurt his feelings. That prospect hurt you more than anything and you couldn’t take it anymore. You leaned away from the table, hoping to just run away back to your room. You turned back toward the table, desperate to grab your phone, but it wasn’t there.

The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stood up in attention. That can’t be, you thought as your chest tightened in panic. I’m sure it was there, I know I put it there. Oh God, am I actually going crazy?

You needed to get out of here, and so, you did. Phone be damned, you pushed past Yeosang, ignoring his worried calls and running straight to your room to slam the door shut. You leaned on it, clawing your hair as tears started to collect in the corners of your eyes. 

Your room would be your sanctuary for the next few days. Or your personal hell, depending on how you looked at it and how you felt that day. Yeosang didn’t bother you, only knocking on your door and leaving food in front of your door for you to take. Shame crawled up your skin and it did hurt not seeking comfort from him, but you couldn’t bear to look at him after what you did.

The only time you came out was when you knew Yeosang would be at the gym. It would also give you ample time to do your thing, but by then, it would have been too late to get you out of whatever madness you had already started to descend to. 

It started with small, harmless things at first - things you brushed off with excuses and things you wouldn’t even think twice about if the situation was different. 

Your hairbrush wasn’t where you left it the night before. You’d find it the next morning sitting on the kitchen counter beside a cup of water you swore you hadn’t poured. It couldn’t have been Yeosang either, he drank water straight from the bottle.

You also found your phone after not seeing it for days after that scene in the kitchen. It was tucked neatly inside your wardrobe, its screen still lit from a message you didn’t remember typing.

Why you? What’s so special about you? Fate binds, never releases, the text message said. Shivers broke out from your spine. You certainly did not remember typing that.

But the worst was when you woke up from a nap - a nap you didn’t even know you took because you could have sworn you were just in the bathroom - and you found your window slightly open, the curtains swaying even though you never left them unlocked. Not by choice because your ankle, which was almost healed by now, prevented you from doing so.

You had no idea what was happening, why things around the house started disappearing or how you blinked and you’d be somewhere else. All you knew, you were scared.

You started taking photos of things before you went to sleep, small proof that you weren’t imagining it. But when you woke up, the photos would be gone. And if they weren’t deleted, they were corrupted. The images brought shivers to your spine.

And if it wasn’t bad enough, it wasn’t just things that started to go missing. The world, itself, started to warp, like you were inside a dream or in a place that you just conjured up in your head. The world was losing its edges, softening, and blurring together to the point where you’d question yourself if everything was real or not.

Unfortunately, the paranoia never stayed in one place. It started migrating to things that you once deemed important - someone who you wouldn’t trade the world for. 

After a week of isolation, Yeosang entered your room in the middle of your crisis, wordlessly taking you to the guest room with him, tucking you in bed before slipping behind you to sleep, but not before cleaning you up because your ears started to bleed out of nowhere again.

You hated yourself for it. There were now quiet, ugly thoughts that began festering in the back of your mind every time you looked at him and they shouldn’t even be there because he was your anchor, your light, and the one person who was there for you despite everything.

He didn’t deserve it. Your sweet, gentle Yeosang who still smiled every time you spoke his name, who brewed your morning coffee without even asking, who massaged your ankles just so blood could circulate in it when you couldn’t take your daily walks outside. He was everything and more, and yet, something inside you was beginning to turn against him.

The demons in your head made you hurt much more than anytime before. Who were kidding? He had everything you needed even without you and just overall much better without him. Come to think of it, why were you still with him, anyway?

He had no reason to stay anymore. You were walking again, talking again. He’d done his part. Shouldn’t he have gone back to his life by now? Was it pity? No, Yeosang wasn't like that…or was he?

You were currently in the living room with him, silence enveloping the two of you as he braided your hair, just like he did when you were still at the hospital. And that was the hard part; if you weren’t broken, would he still stay? You wanted to believe that what you saw in his eyes was real but you couldn’t stop the fear that it was all slipping away.

Snap out of your pity party, L/N Y/N. Yeosang isn’t like that—

Well, to be completely fair, all of this started because he felt sorry for you. He’s only staying because he felt responsible for what happened to you, and he was going to leave soon, and you’ll be all alone again.

Don’t be ridiculous. He promised, you dumb fuck. You’re pathetic. He doesn’t deserve you.

Yeah, you really didn’t deserve him. Not at all. You gritted your teeth, shaking your head to rid all the poisonous thoughts. You wanted, no, needed to think of all the good things because these problems are problems that shouldn’t even have existed. You were such a loser.

But what is this?

Stop stop stop

Can’t. Can’t breathe. What was I doing? Yeosang. Yeosang? What’s this what where am I

Fuck it. Fuck it fuck it fuck it—

No. Don’t cry. You’re fine.

You’re not fine. Shut up shut. the. fuck. up.

Don’t think. Don’t think.

He’ll leave. He’ll go. He’ll realize he’s better off without you.

Let him go. Let him stay. 

Let him staystaystaystaystay

Let him go

I’ll miss him I’ll miss him IMISSHIMIMISSHIM—

“Darling, are you alright there? You look a little pale.”

That snapped you off back to sensibility. Yeosang paused from braiding your hair, opting to run his fingers through your scalp, a gesture he recently discovered relaxed you. You wouldn’t tell him, but the sensation did keep the demons at bay if only for a little while.

“Y-Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “Yeah, sorry. I was just about to fall asleep, actually. Whenever you do my hair, it feels so relaxing to me, that’s all.”

He hummed softly, though you could tell by the slight tremor in his fingers that he didn’t really believe you. “You’ve been zoning out a lot lately,” he said quietly after a moment, his voice careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “Even when I’m talking to you.”

You stiffened. “I’m fine,” you murmured, but it came out too quickly and too sharp.

He lowered his hands from your hair. “You’re not sleeping much, either,” he said, leaning closer,  his breath brushing your temple. “You’ve got to let me help you, darling. You can’t keep all of this inside.”

He leaned even closer until you felt his breath ghosting over the side of your neck before his lips brushed softly against your shoulder. Your breath hitched, not wanting to believe what you knew was happening, but then he moved them, enough for you to feel his plush lips against your skin, tracing the curve of your shoulder with little pecks here and there.

A shiver crawled up your spine. You could feel his warmth radiating behind you, the solid weight of his presence, and the steady rhythm of his breathing against your back. This was the thing that made it difficult for the demons in your head to fully take over. He wasn’t even doing anything, but it was too much.

Lately, the air between you has been thicker. Not that the tension wasn’t there to begin with, only a fool wouldn’t be able to feel it, but lately, the tension made it difficult for you to breathe. His fingers traced patterns at the base of your neck and you hated how your pulse stuttered.

But even this wasn’t enough to stop the mild panic that came over you when he mentioned helping you. That meant being sent back to the hospital and being labeled as someone who was potentially crazy. The smell, alone, was enough to make your heart want to explode.

You froze when you felt the tip of his tongue drag across your shoulder all the way up your neck, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, opening your mouth slightly, when a soft groan left his lips, the depth of his voice vibrating against your skin. His hands stayed still on your waist, squeezing hesitantly just to see what you’d do.

And for a second - just one second - the monsters in your head went quiet. This was dangerous, though. You didn’t deserve any of this, not when your mind was still slipping. Everything was happening too fast and your mind and your body barely caught up.

A whimper left your lips when Yeosang sealed his mouth on your neck, digging his teeth in just enough for you to feel ridges and for them to leave a dent. And when he changed his angle and sucked another bruise onto your neck, he took that opportunity to let his hands roam higher and higher, wanting to do something else with it.

It was when you pulled away, turning your head to stare at him, and stare back he did. It kind of made you think  if the warmth in his voice and the gentleness in his eyes were just kindness or if he felt something more for you.

“It’s okay,” you forced a laugh, your voice cracking towards the end. “Y-You’re already helping, Yeo. This is more than enough for me.”

Yeosang didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you - really looked at you - and that was somehow worse. “If you say so,” he murmured, though the way his voice wavered told you he didn’t believe a word of it.

You wanted to say something, anything to break the silence, but your throat felt tight again. So instead, you leaned back against him, forcing your body to relax as his hands hesitantly resumed their gentle rhythm on your torso, just right below your chest area.

You put your hand on top of his. “Is this your definition of help?”

He doesn’t respond for a minute or so, his hooded eyes opting to stare you down. “It could be,” he slowly said, tone careful, the look in his eyes darkening ever so slightly. “It could be whatever you want it to be.”

He could have pushed you off of a cliff and it still wouldn’t have knocked the wind out your lungs the way his words did just now. “Ah,” you hummed, nervous. “How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you harboured thoughts like these?”

A small smirk breaks out from his lips, enough for you to tell exactly what he was thinking, but not enough for it to be seen as something lascivious. He was still respectful and maybe that was what made you resent him further. “A while,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “For what?”

“For not being who you want me to be,” Yeosang said, his smirk transitioning into something sadder, more somber, his hands lowering, arms wrapping around your waist, instead. “For feeling things you didn’t ask of me. For looking at you other than a friend.”

You didn’t reply, just letting his words and the silence soak in. You let your mind drift into that uncharted territory right between the lines the both of you refused to acknowledge, and in the midst of it, you realised that you didn’t mind. Not at all. In fact, you wanted to welcome it.

You hadn’t meant to depend on him this much. It just happened. Somewhere between the quiet hospital nights and the mornings filled with the soft clatter of spoons and whispered jokes, Yeosang had quietly become your constant.

You could feel his heartbeat against your back, steady and patient. Every inhale and every exhale, you found yourself unconsciously matching his. When did that happen? When did you start needing him this much?

You didn’t know, but one thing you did know was that if Yeosang left, or if none of this was ever real, you weren’t sure you’d know how to exist in a world without his presence in it.

You needed to relax, and you wanted to ignore the things all around you. Even the way your stomach twisted into knots when your reflection in the black screen TV across the room didn’t move the same way you did. You could’ve sworn that it smiled when you weren’t.

You blinked and it smiled even wider. You closed your eyes, not willing to pay it attention, not when Yeosang’s steady presence was grounding you back to what’s real.

So you wanted to get better, you really did. It wasn’t just for you - though you could argue that you’d do anything to be that person you once were before all of this started happening - but for Yeosang as well. He thought that he wasn’t what you needed, but the truth was, he was everything you never should have had and deserved.

But the problem was, the demons in your head were stronger; much, much stronger. They still whispered that he didn’t care, clawing at you in the most unexpected moments and spreading poison in your mind and in your soul.

This had to end. You were done living like this, encaged and scared in your own mind with nobody to help. You had to help yourself and the first step to doing that was understanding what was happening and the root cause of it all. 

The glow of the screen was cold and harsh against your tired eyes as you typed on your laptop. It was late at night, but you were already deep into this. Perhaps, a little too deep, especially when you typed ‘why am I seeing things that aren’t there after a concussion?’

And it wasn’t like you were expecting to read something light. If anything, you’d be surprised if you didn’t see anything that was concerning, but the results still left you reeling.

Post-traumatic hallucinations. Psychotic depression. Early signs of PTSD-related psychosis.

The longer you scrolled, the more you wanted to throw up. The idea that it wasn’t supernatural but psychological, that it was you all along, terrified you even more. Because if it was all in your head, there was no escape. There was no waking up from it. It was just you, broken.

That should have been the end, but you couldn’t help yourself. You did more research the next day, the day after that, and the day after that as well. It was something new everyday, each article worse than the next -  how to tell if you’re hallucinating, traumatised or clinically insane, symptoms of psychological problems, signs you have PTSD.

Yeosang noticed, of course. He always did. He’d walk into the room quietly and find you staring blankly at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, face pale. And every time you caught the flicker of worry in his eyes, you felt worse because it was like you were slowly becoming someone who needed saving all over again.

But how does one save someone from the shackles of their own mind?

You didn’t hear Yeosang until he was right behind you. “Still researching?” He asked gently, setting down a cup of tea beside you. “What are you reading?”

You were startled, your reflexes automatically making you shut your laptop in haste. “Nothing,” you murmured out a lie. “Mundane things.”

His expression softened, opting not to say anything. It was what he did when he didn’t believe you. You swallowed hard, looking away. “I’m just trying to understand what’s happening to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “That’s not wrong, is it?”

“No,” he said gently, moving to crouch in front of you so your eyes met. “It’s not wrong. But, Y/N,” he sighed, searching your face for a moment before continuing. “This isn’t normal. This isn’t you trying to understand yourself, this is you losing yourself over things you can’t control.”

You clenched your fists, fighting the rising panic. “I’m fine. I just need to know if I’m crazy or not.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not crazy,” he said, firmer this time. “It just hurts to see you like this. You’re not being fair to yourself by being like this.”

“I am being fair by trying,” your voice cracked, the frustration bubbling up, sharp and raw. You quickly ran a hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself, but the heat of your emotions couldn’t be stopped. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right,” Yeosang agreed. “I don’t, and I never will because you have been through a lot. But, I get it, I really do, which is why…”

You were caught off guard when Yeosang grabbed the laptop back and slammed it shut before pressing multiple buttons on it, realizing a little too late that he had completely turned everything off. “You can’t do this,” your jaw dropped.

Yeosang didn’t flinch. His eyes were calm, but the muscle in his jaw ticked - a small sign that he was just as scared as you were. “I already have,” he said quietly. “You can’t do this to yourself anymore. I won’t let you. You need to take a break or take a walk instead of this.”

You stayed still, fists clenched at your sides, your chest rising and falling in quick bursts “You had no right,” you hissed, your voice trembling between fury and fear. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t understand—”

“But, I do,” he interrupted, his tone firm yet still kind. “I know what it’s like to be trapped by something that won’t let go,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “You forget that I lived through that crash, too. Sometimes, I still hear my tires screeching and the sound of metal crushing in my ears. Even if I cut my ears off, I can’t cut my head off to make them go away.”

You faltered, feeling your anger slip off but only for a little. Yeosang took one last look at you before he walked away, and just like that, he was gone, leaving you in stunned silence. Your throat tightened, your fingers twitching violently against his aching temples,

You gripped the edge of the table, staring at the spot where your laptop once was before it was taken like nothing from you. Yeosang didn’t get it; he had basically taken your lifeline away. That laptop was the only thing keeping you tethered into reality. Just like that, it was gone.

He took it, he really took it. I can’t believe it.

You let out a breath he didn’t know you’d been holding, but it came out more like a choked sob. The sound startled you. Your head dropped into your arms, breath shaky and shallow.

God, what the hell is wrong with me?

For the first time since you started all of this, the kitchen felt cold. So, you started pacing. Eight steps forward. Eight back. Eight again. Your brain counted even when you didn’t want it to.

Yeosang said I needed rest. He said I needed to go out.

A break. Break. Breaking. I’m  b r e a k i n g

I’m doing it! I’m following orders! ARE YOU HAPPY?

Maybe. No. Maybe. No. Ma—-

Shut UP. Think. Think. THINK.

I…don’t belong here.

Exhaustion couldn’t even begin to explain how you truly felt. All the things you hated that revolved around you, the demons whispering vile things in your ears, it came to a point where you got sick of hearing them that you just learned how to tune them out.

You felt like you were getting torn apart at the seams and all your dreams were turning into tears. If only you could run away and try to find a safe place you could hide whenever you weren’t feeling anything - to find that best place to be when it all fell apart.

But that safe place would be Yeosang and by his side, alone. You weren’t mad at him, not entirely, but things haven’t been the same lately. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t the smooth-sailing relationship you were used to with him. He still made your coffee, but his smile would be strained. You would make him his protein shakes, but your heart wasn’t in it.

You wouldn’t admit it, but him taking your laptop might have benefited you more than it harmed you. However, it led to another type of thinking, and that was your bond with him. And you missed him, you missed him so much, but in reality, you were experiencing another thing.

You didn’t have to say it. You didn’t dare, you didn’t want to. But you felt it; that impossible, overwhelming thing that didn’t need a name to be understood. You just knew that it was in the way your heart recognized him before your mind could even make sense of it.

It was how you found yourself standing in front of the guest room door in the middle of the night, staring at it as if it would disintegrate with the intensity of your eyes, alone. You were so lost, you didn’t know what to do anymore, but what you did know was that if you were going to lose your sanity, you wanted to do it by Yeosang’s side.

You knocked once, softly at first just to gauge the situation, and then you knocked twice, firmer this time to signify that you were on the other side, waiting for him to open the door you knew he didn’t lock anyway. You waited and waited, but it never swung open. You thought that, perhaps, he just didn’t hear you, so you knocked again.

But when there was still nothing, you just decided to twist the doorknob and let yourself in. As expected, the room was dark. You were once like this, you disliked any source of light when you slept, but not anymore. You were just closing the door behind you when you saw him stir awake.

His heavy-lidded eyes blinked slowly, darting everywhere until they stopped in surprise when he saw your barely-clad form standing by the door. “Y/N, love?” He rasped, voice rough with sleep. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

You swallowed. His voice came out lower, deeper than you were used to, much like a man who was just in the process of waking up, and it made you feel hot. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, filling in the silence of the room.

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and that’s when you noticed that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just boxers. You couldn’t help but trace the soft lines of his shoulders and you felt your face warm up, your heart hammering as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

And it wasn’t like you were the only one staring. You could tell the moment he realised what exactly was happening, his eyes widening slightly before they took you in slowly from top to bottom, pausing slightly on your plush thighs that were exposed to the air, your nightgown barely covering the top of them. You didn’t wear this on purpose, you were half-asleep, yourself, when you decided to walk here.

Then he lifted his arm toward you, palm open, an invitation without words. “Come here,” he commanded softly, though the intent was there. “Now.”

And you did. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to resist it. You shivered slightly, and it wasn’t because of the chill that enveloped the entire room. You started to move, crossing the space between the two of you like he was a siren beckoning an unfortunate sailor through its song.

When you laid down beside him, he didn’t hesitate to tuck you in underneath the blanket, making sure you were comfortable before settling in. However, you weren’t expecting him to scoot away from you, ensuring that there was a lot of space between the both of you, before he laid down, exhaling as he did so.

That stung more than you’d like to admit. Suddenly, the room felt even colder than it already was. “Yeo,” you called out softly, raising a brow when you saw him jump up a little at your voice. “Can you please come closer? I-I’m not used to you being so far when we sleep.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, just staring at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I…don’t think that’s a very good idea,” was all he said. 

And you felt it; that thick, tension in the air that made the back of your throat tight and choke you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But you weren’t a fool, and neither was Yeosang. You both knew exactly what was happening, but neither of you knew what to do. Or rather, neither of you wanted to do the first move.

You could have bitten your tongue, went off to sleep like normal since you just generally craved for his presence. Instead, you asked him, “Why?”

There was something so cathartic about the way his breath hitched at your unexpected question. “Must you make this difficult for me?” Yeosang counteracted, avoiding your original inquiry.

You sighed, the air expelling heavily from your lungs as you turned to face him, not being able to help yourself. “Yeosang.”

He went rigid immediately, the most rigid you’ve ever seen a person be in general. For a while, he didn’t move nor breathe, but when he did, it came out harsh and it sounded more like restraint rather than relief. “Don’t,” he said, voice low and tight.

Your heart skipped. “But, Yeo—”

“I said don’t,” he cut in, sharper this time. He froze, realising what he had just done and instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just…don’t say my name. Not like that. Not like this.”

Suddenly, the distance between the two of you felt like an ocean. The silence was unbearable. You could pretty much hear the small, shaky breaths that escaped from Yeosang’s chest, his restraint heavy and alive, trembling like an angry rubber band that was about to snap in half.

“I-I just,” you swallowed, trying to ease the knots that formed in the back of your throat. “I’m not trying to make things difficult. I just don’t like how far you are from me, that’s all.”

He groaned, the sound caught somewhere between frustration and despair, and grabbed the nearby pillow, using it to cover his face. “Y/N, baby, don’t tempt me, I’m begging you,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow. “Please. I’m trying here.”

So you opened your mouth again. It might be selfish - but that’s exactly what this all was, wasn’t it? Selfishness. You could have let him go, you could have stopped needing him to feed that empty hole in your heart, but you didn’t. “Yeosang,” you called out, softer this time.

He doesn’t respond, and this one, this one was the one that made you nervous. You could practically see the conflict crawling under his skin, watching as his fingers dug into the sheets until his knuckles whitened. He turned then, setting the pillow aside and finally meeting your gaze, and the look in his eyes made your breath catch.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said quietly, like it physically hurt him. “Because I can’t trust myself. I don’t trust myself around you. Because I’m trying so damn hard to do the right thing, and you’re making it impossible.”

You froze. His fingers tangled in his hair as if all of this was beyond what his head could wrap around. “You think I’m calm, that I’ve got it together, but I don’t. I don’t, Y/N,” his voice cracked, just barely. “Every time you look at me like that, I feel like I’m going to explode. I don’t want to do something we’ll both regret.”

The words sank into your chest like lead. You stared at him for a long moment, feeling every unspoken thing between you swell like a storm waiting to break.  He spoke first, taking a long breath to force his voice into something steadier. “So for your sake and mine, do not ask me to come closer.”

You didn’t argue after that. There wasn’t really anything left to say, not when he spoke with finality like he’s thought of this scenario over and over again and finally applied it when it mattered the most. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare, just relishing in the silence that was neither comfortable nor suffocating.

Finally, you nodded even though he couldn’t see you in the darkness, whispering a quiet ‘okay’ that you weren’t even sure if he heard or not. It really wasn’t okay, but it had to be. For his sake and yours.

So you settled, moving around to find a comfortable sleeping position, adjusting the blankets and all, but you needed another pillow to sleep. And then you remembered Yeosang taking it earlier. That was fine, you could just take it again. Reaching out in the dark, you groped blindly for the spare pillow.

You were expecting to touch something soft and cottony, but your breath got caught when you realised that your hand was on something warm - something that moved. Yeosang’s arm. You heard him let out a string of curses before you even opened your mouth to apologise, trying quickly to move your hand away from his skin.

It all happened so fast. He caught your wrist before you could retreat. The movement was sharp, almost violent, his arm snapping into motion faster than your mind could understand. His fingers were wrapped around your wrist tightly, but not enough for it to hurt, only for you to feel the burn.

You could barely keep up. One moment he was still on the edge of the bed, and the next thing you knew, you were letting out a little yelp of surprise when he tugged you towards him so hard, your hipbone hit him and that did hurt a little. “What—” you started, but the words died on your tongue the moment your eyes adjusted in the dark.

His face was only inches apart from yours, his eyes burning, tracing yours like he was searching for a reason why he shouldn’t be doing this. The tight set of his jaw told you he was angry, though the tremble of his lips told you that he wasn’t sure who he was actually angry at - you for how you both ended up right now or himself for his lack of self-control.

You froze, not knowing what to do, but you asked for this, didn’t you? You asked him to come closer. And now that he was actually here despite the circumstances, you didn’t know if you could handle what’s about to happen next; you didn’t know what to actually do.

But he did. He caved in, and suddenly, his forehead was pressed against yours. You closed your eyes instinctually, holding your breath as his hands found your face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, tortured and strangled. You weren’t faring better, your entire body burned as his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “Forgive me.”

You had the impression that Kang Yeosang was someone who would kiss softly, taking his time to worship your mouth with his. And maybe he did, but not tonight. The way his lips moved with yours wasn’t soft, and it wasn’t careful. It was filled with words he could never say for months, emotions he couldn’t explain - pain, longing, and guilt tangled in one kiss at a time.

Feeling everything all at once was overwhelming, and kissing him back felt like peace had finally come to you. You let out a small whimper from the back of your throat, and he swallowed every sound you made like air. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss and effectively surrendering to the battle he’d already lost to from the start.

He pulled away ever so slightly, his wild eyes staring at you as he bit your bottom lips, trapping it between his teeth. You exhaled an airy moan when he lifted your leg, putting it on top of his waist, his hand lightly caressing your plush thighs up to your buttocks, a contrast to how dark his eyes looked, before letting your lip go.

The world narrowed to the sound of your ragged breaths. Without saying anything, he leans in again, but this time, his lips attach themselves to your jawline, trailing lower and lower until he reaches your neck. You let out jagged breaths, your hips subconsciously thrusting towards him, the heat of your sex raw against his skin.

He lets out a sound that was between a growl and a whimper at the feeling, his hand pulling your ass even closer to repeat the motion, all while his lips nibbled your delicate skin, his tongue tracing your throat, concentrating on your pulse where it jumped every time he landed on it. 

The pleasure was blinding, and God, did you moan repeatedly. There was no space left for thought - only the frantic, undeniable truth of him against you, and the terrifying, beautiful realization that neither of you could go back now.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his hand lifting your nightgown up to further expose your ass, squeezing the flesh without restraint, exhaling a shaky breath as he pulled you even closer to him, his lips refusing to leave your neck.

Your breath caught when you felt his fingers play with the band of your panties. “I’m sorry,” he said, more urgent this time, as he pulled them down hurriedly, almost violently. He took a sharp intake of breath, tenderly tracing your crack. “I’m sorry, love, mmm.”

There was something so sensual at how slow everything was happening. You moaned helplessly, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. His other hand began to lower the straps of your nightgown. “I’m sorry, yeah?” Yeosang said, sounding less and less apologetic, especially the way he pulled your nightgown down to expose your breasts. “Sorry.”

He squeezed them, taking his time to pinch your nipples before his lips replaced his fingers, his other hand dangerously getting closer to your hole. “So, so sorry, baby,” he growled, sucking your nipples roughly, the restraint long gone from him. “So damn sorry.”

“Don’t stop, Yeosang, please, don’t you stop,” you whimpered, your entire body on fire, mind empty and numb from all his ministrations.

His lips captured yours again, the desperation unmistakable from the way he kissed you again. You felt him lower his boxers, freeing his strained cock before his fingers circled your hole once more.

“Say you want this,” he said, breathless, squeezing your ass once with fervor. “Say you want me, Y/N. I want to hear it.”

“I want this,” you replied in between the kiss, voice teetering towards a whine. “I want you.”

He moaned low in his throat against your lips. “Again.”

“I-I want you.”

“Louder.”

“I want you, Yeosang, please.”

He finally pushes his fingers in, groaning at the feeling of your warmth. You broke the kiss, lifting your head up to let out a high pitched moan. “Oh, Yeosang,” you squirmed, looking at him with half-lidded eyes.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, curling his fingers to find that spot that made the stars in your eyes spin, sliding in and out of you with a pace that was neither fast nor slow. “Moan my name just like that while I finger this pussy.”

You bit your lips, shuddering, unconsciously tightening up on his fingers and watching him let out a devastatingly tender smile at the sensation. Hearing Yeosang talk like he did right now did something to you. Your sweet Yeosang might have been a demon, after all.

“Don’t s-stop,” you pleaded, throwing your head back in ecstasy every time his fingers slid in and out of your walls, thumb tracing circles on your swollen clit.

“Go on, feel it, feel this,” he whispered, burying his head back on your neck right below your ears. “Let go for me, darling.”

Everything about this felt so intimate. The both of you faced each other, cuddling intimately in some sort of reverse spooning, his arm engulfing your small form as if he was scared you were going to disappear. You could feel him breathing you in, like he needed to memorize your scent. There was nothing rushed about it, just someone who had been holding back for too long.

“So wet for me,” he whispered, lips moving on your skin as rubbed soft circles on your clit. In response, you let out a small moan and arched your back, your naked pussy pressing against him. His erection was pressed on your thighs and he rubs his crotch against you to relieve himself.

“God, I want you so bad,” he said, his fingers steady in their movements. “So, do you think you’re ready to take me?”

You could have finished then and there, utterly drawn to the rasp of his voice and the undeniable authority in his tone. “I-I think so,” you groggily nodded, rocking your hips against him. “C-Can I take you?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his cock twitching against you in response. “Of course,” he curls his fingers one last time before pulling them out. ”Of course, my love. Can you do me a favour?”

“Hmm?” You hummed out, your mind not really there, drowning in the pleasures he’s given you and has yet to give you.

He smiles, fingers tracing your lips. “Spit on my hand for me, will you?”

You obediently opened your mouth, letting a wad of spit land on his fingers. He moans softly into your ear. "Mmm, that's perfect, baby," he murmured. "You're doing so well for me..."

He takes his hand and uses your spit to coat his fingers, then moves them lower, pumping his aching cock before lining it up to your waiting hole. "You know what I want, don't you?" He asks, voice rough and thick with desire. You shook your head. "Let me in."

“Fuck me, Yeosang,” you whispered in anticipation. He nodded, eyes returning your fond gaze, a small smile playing on his lips.

He lets out a strained exhale as he starts to fill you up, slowly, and you hiss at the sensation. He pauses, mumbling out an apology, but you shake your head. “N-No, keep going,” you mewled, jutting your hips to try and take him further. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

“It’s alright, darling, it’s alright,” he reassured, the push of his thick length into your pussy slow but steady. “I’ll do you slowly. It’ll feel good soon, I promise.”

Yeosang kept pushing in until he was all the way inside, pausing once in a while to let you get used to his size. You lazily pushed against him, timing it with his thrusts, letting out small, breathy moans every time his cock would slide in and out of your walls. He groaned, gently fucking into you, using his hand on your ass to guide you towards him.

“Yes, that’s it, baby, that feels so good,” he panted, fucking you just a bit harder, though still slow, opting to ram into you rather than punish you with fast thrusts. 

You couldn’t help but moan helplessly as the pain gradually turned into mind-blowing pleasure. “O-Oh, Yeosang, ha, you f-feel good.”

"You're so tight," his voice was strained as he spoke through gritted teeth, roaming his hands along your body. "Like you were made to take me like this all along, mmm.”

He held you close to him, whispering more sweet words he’s been dying to tell you and that you've been aching to hear, groaning as his thrusts get deeper, faster, more desperate in their pace with skin slapping against each other in the silence of the room.

He lifts your legs up to wrap them higher on his waist before rubbing your clit in sync with his thrusts. You turned your head, connecting your lips with his passionately as you moaned repeatedly in his mouth, making him moan back when you tightened on his cock reflexively. 

“Just like that,” you moaned out in between the kiss as your tongues tangled with one another, not really caring how nasty it was and how spit began to dribble from your open mouths. “I feel so full.”

“You can take m-more, baby,” he groaned, his thrusts quickening, lowering his head on your shoulders to give you more kisses and hickeys. “S-Still have to fill you with my cum. Will you let me fill you up, darling?”

"Yes," you sighed contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut. "P-Please fill me up, I need your cum inside me."

He places more soft kisses along your skin, maintaining his pace, his cock hitting you in all the right spots as his fingers continue rubbing delicious circles on your clit. You could feel your climax coming, that familiar heat burning in your lower belly. “There we go, love, there we go,” he breathed out soothingly. “Give it to me, I need you to come for me.”

You held his hand as your climax consumed you, your body tensing and convulsing against him. It sends Yeosang to the edge, groaning loudly as thick shots of cum shoot up in your pussy, filling you up just as he had said he would. He pulls you to him, pressing himself plush against your body as you both try to catch your breaths.

You wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face on his shoulders, feeling your emotions for him grow stronger, more fonder, as you felt his warm cum seep out of your wet pussy. You shifted slightly, just enough for him to look at you. Fondness was also evident in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang asked quietly, voice rough around the edges.

You nodded, though it took a second for your voice to find you. “More than okay,” you whispered, and for once, you meant it. “You?”

His eyes softened, his hand caressing your head before giving your forehead a gentle kiss. His hand found yours. “I could get used to this,” he murmured, lifting your hand to give the back of it a soft kiss. “I just hope you feel the same.”

You lifted your head, gently cupping his cheek to meet him for a soft peck on the lips, one he was still surprised about despite what just happened between the two of you. “How’s that for feeling the same?” You smiled, giving him another one.

He lets out a small, lighthearted scoff, one of amusement and disbelief mixed into one. Nothing was said for a while, just letting the silence speak for the both of you and though neither of you were going to ask each other, you just knew neither one of you regretted it. Never will.

“Y/N,” he called out after a few minutes, hesitant as his fingers idly traced patterns on your shoulder. “Can I be honest with you?” He asked, to which you nodded absentmindedly. “I’m not going to lie to you, I’m terrified.”

You blinked, worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is,” he whispered. “It’s just that I don’t know what happens after this. But I do know that I want something out of this…something more with you.”

His quiet confession catches you off guard. Even though you’ve been dancing around each other for a while - as early as the initial phases of your healing, really - you have never really talked about your growing feelings for each other. But they were there, lying quietly and patiently in wait and getting nurtured into something more beautiful the more time passed.

“I know it’s fast, a little too fast even for us,” he sighed, ruffling his hair as he spoke. “It’s only been a few months and we practically just met. The circumstances in which we’ve met weren't the most conventional either, and let’s be honest, we are both very traumatised people just trying to move on. So yeah, I’m scared.”

You hummed, taking in everything he was saying. “I won’t disagree with everything. I can’t,” you said, the sting in your chest growing. “And I understand. You can just say it as is, Yeo. I-I’m broken and fucked in the head, who would want me—”

He silences you by putting a finger on your lip. “Hush, love. Let me finish,” he soothes amidst the blush on your cheeks. He chuckles before continuing. “I’m not good at many things, but I’ll learn, because for once, I’m sure about this. About you. I’ve never been so damn sure about anything in my life before. If you’re okay with it. All you have to do is let me in.”

You stared at him for a long moment, heart tight in your chest as his words started to slowly sink in your head. Were you ready? And just then, brief flashes of everything you’ve been through with this man passes by in your head like an old movie reel like your mind was already telling you what your heart refuses to acknowledge born out of fear.

“Are you sure?” You asked, uncertain though hopeful. “I hurt easily because I’m the type to love too deeply. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again. My spirit’s a little too broken for the love you’re offering. You might regret this, Yeo.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but not because of the potential rejection hanging in the air, but because of the way you talked about yourself. “We’ve been through too much to not go all the way,” he said. “You were healing, and I was the reason why you needed to heal to begin with, I wouldn’t dare insert myself and whatever I felt for you in between that.”

He exhaled deeply before continuing. “And the only regret I will ever feel is not saying this earlier. I didn’t want to scare you off. I feel like a fool for wasting a lot of precious time with you when we could have been like this to begin with. I don’t want to waste time anymore, not after both our lives almost ended in that car accident. If you say yes, I will be with you until the end.”

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs. You wanted to protect him from yourself, from the darkness that still whispered ill-thoughts in your head. But the truth was, you didn’t want to face any of it without him even if it terrified you that you could never give the love he was trying to offer you in equal measure.

And he wasn’t like you were the only one who was hurting for all this time. He was, too; he was just better at hiding it from the world and controlling it. That was the part that made all of this even more painful, because you knew he controlled his fear for your sake and not his.

You reached for his hand, hesitant but sure, threading your fingers through his. “You’re right, we did lose time,” you whispered. “Maybe I won't be okay for a while, but if you’re alright with it, then I want it, too. I want you.”

He smiled. It wasn’t wide, nor narrow. Not too disbelieving, nor celebratory. It was perfect and full of adoration for you. You knew then and there that you had made the right decision. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead in response. “Thank you. You won’t regret it,” he promised. ”We’ll figure it out.”

He hugged you even closer, relief palpable from the way he held you. “You’ll heal with me, and me,” he paused, humming in thought. “I’ll find a better job, something that will support us. We’ll find you something to do to pass time, whether it’s a hobby or if you want to work too.”

A genuine smile blooms on your face, chuckling at his suppressed excitement. “We could. Don’t pressure yourself, though. If we’re in this together, then we do things equally.”

He stared at you, eyes alight with nothing but adoration for you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Anything for you, love. I’m just excited for what’s in store for us, that’s all. We could travel together one day to somewhere quiet, somewhere we could forget everything that hurt us here.”

You laughed softly. “Wow, you’ve thought about this for a while now, huh? That sounds nice, though. Maybe we’ll actually learn how to relax again.”

He spoke endlessly and you could see it all as he described it and you listened, laughing softly at his enthusiasm. Though you didn’t say much, just putting a thought or two once in a while, you nodded through it all, feeling each imagined moment as excitement also began to take form and grow in your chest. Finally, hope was more than just a word to you.

“And if things go really well,” he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe one day, we’ll start a family. Maybe we’ll adopt a dog or two. I don’t know.”

The thought made your chest ache but not from pain, but from how possible it actually sounded. You laughed through the lump in your throat. “You’re really planning far ahead, huh?”

“It feels good to imagine it, that’s all. To know that our lives wouldn’t stop at that accident, it’s nice,” he replied thoughtfully. “We’ll think about it tomorrow, but for now, let’s sleep, yeah? We’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

You hummed, closing your eyes to sleep, lulled by the warmth in his voice and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. For the first time in a long while, you let your guard down.

Darkness. Everything was dark, but not by your own accord. You already tried opening your eyes, and you know that your eyes were already open, but your mind wasn’t catching up. The only thing you could feel was that throbbing pressure in your skull. It takes a second, but your eyes slowly focus around you even though the world was still blurry like you were looking through foggy glasses.

But you could hear everything around you, and the smell - God, the smell -  was nauseating. There was the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline everywhere, metal squeaking somewhere, a hissing sound of something nearby, and the overwhelming ringing in your ears that was so loud, it drowned everything else out.

When you lifted your head, you realised that your head had been resting on a steering wheel. Amidst the chaos, confusion still burned through you. What? Why—what am I doing here? What happened?

You tried to move, something that would be a vital mistake on your end. You opened your mouth to let out a silent scream, your eyes almost rolling behind your head as white, hot, unbearable pain seared through your sides. Your hands automatically fly to your ribs, finding that the seatbelt was digging into it. You were no fool, you knew you had cracked them.

Everything started to come into focus. You were still inside your car, which was terrifying enough on its own because your car was a complete wreck. The windshield was severely cracked and the front of your car was crushed inwards, steam coming from under the hood of your car

But nothing could compare to what lay outside of your car. Across from you, there was another car that lay in the wreckage and to the other side of the highway, a large truck had fallen to its side. Even in your confused state, it wasn’t hard to deduce what might’ve happened - you were in a head-to-head collision with the car in front of you because they were avoiding the truck.

So you were just in a car crash. Bits and pieces of it slowly came to you and one by one, you started to remember them - you humming to the radio while driving to Mingi’s house for a party, the bright headlights heading your way, the screech of the tires, metal grinding against each other, and the collision that sent your head forward, slamming hard onto the steering wheel.

After that? Nothing. Blank. You had no idea how long you were out. You reckoned that it had only been a couple of minutes to half an hour maximum judging by how fresh the wreckage looked. That in itself was already terrifying to think about.

But there was something else. It felt deeper than the pain and much heavier than the confusion. A hollow ache in your chest that had nothing to do with the crash, like you were missing something - something so important that the emptiness in your chest only deepened.

Or someone. You didn’t know which one it was, but the absence of it hurt more than your injuries. You were alive, but something inside you wasn’t. 

You staggered out of the car. You automatically fell, cursing when you also realised that you must’ve also injured your ankle. But you managed to catch yourself on the car’s side, forcing yourself to stand up straight before trudging forward, one leg dragging behind the other.

You waited, but there was nothing; not even from either drivers of the truck and the other car. Panic clawed at your chest and with no other choice, you forced yourself back towards your car, opting to get your phone to call emergency services for more help.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the shock when you reached for the handle of your car and your hand just passed straight through it. You froze, trying again, but your hand passed through it again as if it was smoke.

It was then you saw it - your own body. It was still in the driver’s seat, eyes closed with your head slumped on the steering wheel, blood trickling from your ear down to your chest. You were standing, staring at your own body as if your soul had detached itself from it. You wanted to throw up because that’s exactly what it was - you were outside yourself. 

You looked around, not really knowing what else to do, until your eyes landed on the other car, the one that hit you. It was also mangled, and through the damage, you saw the driver. It was a man, and he was also unconscious just like your body was. His face was bloody, but even then, he looked so impossibly beautiful that even in your situation, it still caught you off-guard.

But just then, something inside you ached terribly. Your body reacted before you even knew it, your heart pounding painfully, your hand twitching and itching to touch him. The sight of him made your chest twist and your throat tighten, and before you knew it, tears were spilling down your face.

You’ve never seen this man before in your life, but deep inside, you knew that was just not true. Your heart ached in a way you couldn’t begin to explain, clawing its way up from deep inside you, desperate to be remembered.

You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know where you’d seen him, or when, or how. But you knew - you just knew -  because your soul recognised him. And the thing that hurt the most was that it didn’t stop at recognition. This was loss. 

Because the truth was, you did know this man. You had held him before, had heard his melodious laugh, seen the softness in his eyes only reserved for you. You had touched and loved him and you were loved in return at tenfolds.

Yeosang. My Yeosang.

But, how? You didn’t understand. You have legitimately never seen this man before, but you still felt his warmth, still heard the promises he had whispered to you in the dark. Was this a dream? So, if that was the case, then you should be waking up soon—

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my dear.”

You felt your body grow cold. Well, at least, what you thought your body was. But the low, steady voice that sounded a little too otherworldly behind you wasn’t done yet. “And, no,” it said, almost melancholically. “You are not dreaming. You were in a long one, but not anymore.”

You turned around on instinct, but you wished you didn’t because this one - this one you absolutely recognised. “You,” you whispered, face paling. “It’s you…”

It was him, the tall man that plagued your visions - visions that never existed until now. He was beautiful, different from the unconscious man in the car, because this one was so morbidly beautiful that it actually felt wrong. He didn’t feel remotely human, not at all, and his eyes were so dark, it looked like they swallowed all the light that surrounded him.

“I know you,” you couldn’t help but blurt out. “I-I don’t know how, but I just do. I’ve never seen you before but at the same time, I just know this isn’t the first time we’ve seen each other.”

He didn’t respond, only staring at you straight. He smiled faintly, something knowing and akin to pity shining through those obsidian eyes. “A-And you can see me,” you continued, stammering, absentmindedly pointing at your slumped body - your actual body, battered and bruised.

“You can call me Seonghwa. And yes, I can see you,” he murmured in confirmation, stepping closer. “I’m the one who put you here, after all.”

Dread started to fill your chest. “W-What do you mean you put me here? I don’t understand, y-you said I was in a dream,” you paused, your mouth going dry. “Who even are you? No, what are you? You said I’m here because of you?”

You were scared, terribly so, but even then, you didn’t feel like you were in danger around this…entity. You knew he wasn’t going to hurt you. He didn’t answer, his gaze shifting past you, instead, to look behind you. He nodded, pursing his lips. “Both of you.”

Confusion grew, but you whipped your head to look behind you, anyway, to see what this…entity was looking at, and you froze. If your ankles weren’t already weak from your injuries, they would have given in, anyway, from what you just saw.

Standing a few feet away with widened eyes was the beautiful driver who hit you. At least, what seemed like him, because he was just like you - disoriented and in shock as he stared at his own bloodied body still slumped inside his own car.

He blinked, the entire scene not clear before his eyes. But then, his eyes met yours and your chest pretty much caved in on itself. You saw it, that same recognition; that same passing emotion in his heart he doesn’t understand yet feels deep, deep in his heart.

His brows furrowed, and his lips parted like he was about to say something, but no sound came out. It hurt, it hurt so much knowing what exactly was going through his head but not knowing exactly how you knew that information.

His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm. You saw the horror set in his face, but beneath it, there was something warm, almost tender. “I-I don’t,” he stammered, a tear falling from his eyes, his trembling hand thumping his chest to ease the pain in there. “Why does it hurt this much to look at you? Who are you?”

And though he didn’t understand, though he didn’t remember, the look in his eyes said he felt it too. His gaze softened, confusion giving way to something that looked far too much like longing. He looked at you like you were something he’d been searching for without knowing it

“How curious. Even out here, the soul still remembers who it once loved.”

All of your heads whipped to the side. There were two more men standing a couple of feet away. One of them was staring at you with indifference, the kind that’s seen tragedy a million times before. “You’re a strong one, you,” he continued, terribly emotionless. “It’s impressive.”

Though Seonghwa’s features were eerie yet graceful in his beauty, this one was different and not in a good way. He was also beautiful, but his beauty was the darkest and most frightening you have ever seen. He was shorter, his body draped in a dark coat that hugged his frame. His skin was pale, almost translucent under the moonlight.

He was extremely intimidating, much more inhuman than Seonghwa and that was saying a lot. But it wasn’t his aura that frightened you so, it was his eyes. They were the chilling part. They weren’t just dark; they were empty. You felt like you were in danger just by looking at him. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said quietly, his voice smooth and resonant. “Tone it down a bit, yes? You’ll only frighten them.”

“Frighten them? Please,” Hongjoong scoffed, detached but not out of cruelty or malice. “After putting them in that dreamlike state and abruptly pulling them out just like this?” He snapped his fingers once. “I am the least frightening part of this whole experience. You best believe that.” 

“I beg to differ, though,” the other man besides Hongjoong suddenly spoke out. You had forgotten there was another one. His eyes go back and forth between you and Yeosang with the faintest hint of melancholy on his features. “I haven’t seen love like this in a millennia. It’s very moving, wouldn’t you agree, Hwa?”

This one was the most different out of the three. He was warm, radiant, and everything you want to surround yourself with right now. He just seemed real, almost human, melodic and too beautiful for this grim setting. Without meaning to, you watched as Yeosang inched towards you, as if his body was subconsciously telling him to shield you from these three strangers.

The last man grinned, and his smile was undoubtedly bright. It just seemed to breathe life all around you. “Oh my, see?” He cheered, his happiness contagious, pointing giddily at Yeosang. “Look at them, just look at these two and tell me what we did wasn’t worth it.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched, amused. You relax automatically. This man, the one who haunted your visions, he was a lot gentler than you initially thought. “Sentimental as always, Wooyoung,” he chuckled. “You speak as though this is the first time you’ve seen something like it.”

Wooyoung only smiled wider. “Oh, come on,” he chimed. “You out of everyone should know that even us angels get lonely watching mortals love so fiercely. It’s rare these days,” he said, tilting his head as his eyes lingered on you and Yeosang. “To still recognize each other…even here.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “You talk about love like it’s some kind of salvation. It couldn’t even save these two,” he callously jerks his head in you and Yeosang’s general direction. “They’re practically just souls at this point.”

Shivers broke out all over your body and you could tell Yeosang was just as terrified as you. Wooyoung only tilted his head, unaffected. “It will,” he said softly. “You promised.”

“I said no such thing,” Hongjoong simply said, though for a brief moment, he seemed to hesitate as though he couldn’t decide what to say next.

Seonghwa sighed softly, stepping forward without hesitation towards you and Yeosang. You immediately felt calmer, more at ease. “Forgive him,” he said gently, his kind eyes boring onto yours apologetically. “He means well. Compassion doesn’t come easily to him, if not at all. Such is the nature of someone in his calibre.”

Yeosang was the first one to snap out of it, voicing out his inner thoughts that were clearly laced with panic, like he was just realising that there were three odd strangers that spoke as if they knew the both of you - like they knew something the both of you did not.

“What the hell is even happening?” Yeosang demanded in fear. He quickly glanced at his car where his own bloodied body lay and then yours, and for a split second, his eyes faltered, before he looked back at the three inhuman strangers. “I-I don’t understand. What is this?”

His barrage of questions were met without any answer but with varying looks of compassion from Seonghwa to pity and sadness from Wooyoung all the way to indifference from Hongjoong. The lack of answer was more unnerving than anything else.

But the feeling of dread was nonetheless the same and you felt it deep in your bones. “Angels,” you blurted out weakly, looking directly at Wooyoung. “Y-You said you were angels. And…and our bodies...”

These were things you read in books, watched in movies as a child, not something you conjure up in your messed up situation. The word, itself, felt ridiculous to even say out loud from your mouth. Yeosang turned his head to look at you, no doubt thinking the same thing. It prompted him to step even closer to you until he was less than an arm’s length away.

All Wooyoung could offer was a gentle smile. It was comforting but also heartbreakingly kind at the same time, his eyes full of understanding. “Yes, angels,” he said softly, gesturing at Seonghwa with one hand. “At least the both of us are. Hongjoong…he’s a little different—”

“I’m the Grim Reaper,” the latter dryly supplied, merely crossing his arms as if he didn’t just tell you that he was basically the embodiment of death. You paled, it made sense now; Hongjoong looked and felt exactly like you imagined the Grim Reaper would be.

You waited to see if one of them would crack, to tell you that everything was an elaborate prank, but when nobody did, your knees gave out. Yeosang was automatically there, holding you. Your heart thudded wildly, but not because of his touch, but because of the way your body had just melted onto his as if it was used to being held by this man.

Before your panic spiralled into a full mental breakdown, Seonghwa stepped forward, holding your arm to help you up. His touch was calming, his movements gentle like he was approaching a wounded animal. And by God, he was even more beautiful up close, you couldn’t believe it.

“Are you quite alright, my dear?” Seonghwa asked, the affection in his tone warm and genuine. You nodded absentmindedly, your mouth open in awe despite the fear. He smiled. “Good. I know you’re confused and scared, and I will explain. I guarantee you’re safe, though.”

“Safe?” Yeosang blurted out, voice cracking with disbelief, the fear in his voice palpable. “We don’t even know where we are. With all due respect, if you don’t start explaining soon, God knows what I’ll do.”

Sympathy crosses Seonghwa’s features. He nods solemnly, lifting his hands in front of you. A small trickle of light emits from his palms. You instantly feel calmer. If you weren’t already desensitised to the situation, you would’ve panicked at what you saw. He was the opposite of Hongjoong, who was emitting black smoke now that you’ve looked at him closer.

“Let’s start over. My name is Seonghwa and I am the angel of time and destiny. Hongjoong,” he began slowly and tenderly, gesturing to the impassive man. “Is the Grim Reaper, as you already know. And our dear Wooyoung is an ordinary angel. No less than special, might I add,” he smiled, pausing to assess if you and Yeosang were following. “You are in what you mortals call limbo. Your souls are temporarily separated from your bodies as of now.”

Limbo. Time and destiny. Grim Reaper. Angels. Your breath hitched. Out of everything you were expecting to hear, limbo definitely was not it. Your hand found Yeosang’s, and coincidentally, it turns out that he was already trying to reach for yours.

Seonghwa’s eyes ached with sympathy before he continued. “To put this simply,” he said, warm and immensely apologetic. “I placed both of you in a dream, sent your souls in there to keep them stable so they don’t slip away while you two laid unconscious after the car accident.”

The information was not really sinking in your head, but you understood it enough to question how absurd it was. Yeosang wasn’t faring any better. “Impossible,” he shook his head in denial. “I don’t remember any dreams. I’ve literally never seen any of you people in my life before…”

But the way his voice faltered, the way his hand squeezed yours weakly whether it was on purpose or not, the both of you knew that saying that out loud just felt absolutely wrong. There was a memory knocking behind your heads, just waiting to be opened and let out.

Seonghwa sighed, smiling sadly like a mother who has to bear the pain of telling their child the burdens of the real world. “It’s exactly as it sounds, my dear. Everything you’ve lived through, those memories, those emotions you’re feeling…it happened in that dream.”

“But I’ve never met him,” you insisted, your voice losing its conviction the more you spoke, your world shattering. “How could anything have happened? How is this possible?”

“But you have. Just not in the way you think. Not while awake,” Wooyoung stepped forward, expression tinged with pity and compassion. You were about to shake your head, but he raised his hand gently. “Try to remember, but not with your mind, but with your soul. I’ll help you, close your eyes.”

The moment Wooyoung snapped his fingers, something warm flickered inside your chest. It wasn’t instantaneous, but rather a gradual sensation that caused a massive chaos in your heart. 

“Do you know what I see?” Yeosang suddenly whispered. You shook your head. “I see someone strong. Someone who is trying despite all the odds being stacked against them.”

He held your trembling hand to his lap, pursing his lips. “You’re amazing, Y/N. I’m never going to stop reminding you of it. I’ll be here to remind you of it because I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

“You could say my name a thousand times and I’d still want to hear it again,” he confessed, voice trembling with a kind of raw honesty that made your heart ache.

“If I was actually gone, even in your dream. That would mean I was already on my way back to you, I guarantee you. I’d never leave you willingly, not even there.”

“Next time you dream and I’m not there,” he said, leaning closer. “Wait for me, alright? I’ll always find you in your nightmares, especially in those, alright?”

There were more, and though you couldn’t fully remember all of them, you felt them. You trembled, covering your mouth as tears started to fall from your eyes. You wanted to crumble, these memories were overwhelming, everything was just too much.

Yeosang stiffened beside you, hand flying to his chest like something inside him had cracked open. Just like you, a part of him remembered it, a part of him never really did, but most of him had already started breaking from the weight of it.

Wooyoung gave a soft, mournful smile. “You see? The mind forgets, but the soul will never, ever forget who it once had a connection with.”

Even Hongjoong couldn’t help but stare. “Curious,” he murmured, his hand on his chin as he observed. “Very curious, indeed. ”

Yeosang stared at you, eyes glassy and wide, his voice barely a breath. “I-I loved you,” he started, voice devastated like he had already lost you before he even had you. “Y/N, I remember you. Oh God, I still do. Come here—”

You nodded, not being able to think straight, not being able to even speak with how overwhelmed you were. Without hesitation, Yeosang pulled you to him, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug, one you didn’t think twice in returning. Your heart didn’t have to remember him to love him - it already did.

Seonghwa stepped closer, his warmth surrounding you without touching you. “We tried to warn you the entire time,” he said, expression softening further at the sight of you and Yeosang clinging to each other. “I might have not done a great job at it because you seemed frightened with me especially, but I had to. It was the only way to protect your psyche.”

Seonghwa exhaled a slow, sorrowful breath. He gestures at the accident, his eyes pausing on your unconscious bodies inside your cars. “So you wouldn’t get used to it. I did everything I possibly could to tell you that that world wasn’t real without actually telling you outright. ”

Yeosang’s worry spiked again. “But why?”

“Because,” Hongjoong said flatly. “It would disturb the realm. Your minds would have rejected the realm as a whole. A lot of rules were broken just by sending two mere mortals in that dreamlike state. Your weakened minds needed protection. It could have collapsed.”

As if the entire situation wasn’t terrifying already. While you couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moments they were referring to, if you concentrated enough, you do remember snippets of moments where you thought you might have been losing your mind.

“I gave you signs,” Seonghwa continued, his eyes flicking to yours with deep regret. “The hallucinations, especially. I would visit you to try and talk to you, though I think I presented as a creepy ghost, apparition, or something in your head instead and for that, I’m sorry.”

Your stomach dropped. Those moments, the unplaceable oddities you tried so hard to dismiss, suddenly made a terrifying kind of sense. You felt a presence to your side, slightly getting startled when you saw Wooyoung. He, too, had this heavenly beauty. He reached out, seeking permission from you before he touched the side of your head.

“And your ears,” Wooyoung spoke gently. You felt him wipe your ears and when he pulled away, you were slightly horrified to see his fingers tinged with red. “The bleeding. You might remember that they bled a lot. It was a sign, but not one we did on purpose.”

You froze, your finger automatically reaching for your ears. “W-What does that mean?”

“It was a sign that the real world was breaking through. There was only so much to do to keep that dream going. We were breaking heavenly rules, you see, and our powers are just not enough. You spent almost a year there, but out here, it was probably only an hour at most.”

The realization hit like a physical blow. A year of memories with Yeosang, and out here, it was nothing more than a mere hour. You wanted to cry because that year felt like a lifetime of happiness to you and to find out that all of it happened inside your head in only one hour? It was devastating in ways you couldn’t even begin to explain.

“So, what now?” Yeosang asked, steadfast in his will to be strong. But you knew him - your soul knew him - and you knew that he was only pretending to be strong for you. “Are we dead?”

“No,” Hongjoong quickly answered, tilting his head in a fashion that might be seen as vindictive. “But you’re about to be.”

A cold, hollow numbness spread through your chest. “Hongjoong,” Wooyoung chastised, looking like this hurt him more than he could ever show.

Hongjoong regarded you again, sighing. “Don’t misunderstand,” he said. “Death isn’t some sort of sordid punishment. It’s simply just the end. Or, perhaps,” his gaze flickered between you and Yeosang. “It could be a new beginning. Perspective. A nuance.”

“That is enough,” Seonghwa shot him a warning look, but Hongjoong only gave the faintest shrug, unbothered.

There was only so much you could take and something in you just snapped. “Maybe you should have just let us die,” you blurted out, surprising the latter and the two angels. “Because whatever this was…it’s borderline cruel, don’t you think?”

Hurt flashed in Seonghwa’s eyes, but you weren’t done. “I need to know what this was all for. Why did you even send us there and make us live all through that if it wasn’t even real? Why let us feel everything and fall in love just to take all of it away? Why?”

That wasn’t a lie on your end - death would’ve hurt less than knowing everything was never real to begin with. Even though it was hard to regret whatever happened in that small span of a lifetime in your head, it was a bitter pill to swallow that none of those even happened in real life and even now knowing all of this, you still barely understood a single thing.

Wooyoung sighed, his face falling, the heavenly brightness that surrounded him dimming. He gestures to himself with one hand, tilting his head up to look at the sky with fondness. “We angels…we have no free will, you see, and we get one job. Mine was to tell Hongjoong which souls are to die next so he could collect their souls.”

“The good thing is, though,” he continued with a small smile. “With enough good deeds, we get to choose eventually if we would either like to ascend to a higher heaven, or reincarnate as mortals on Earth. This car accident was my last mission before I faced God so I could pick.”

You felt Yeosang’s hand tremble against yours. “Was it our souls?”

“See, that…that is the confusing part in all of this,” Seonghwa stepped forward this time, looking deeply troubled. “Because neither of you were meant to be here.”

“But you said you put us here on purpose,” you frowned.

Seonghwa’s expression softened with something unbearably grievous. “I meant the accident darling,” he replied carefully as if afraid to shatter you further. “Neither of you were supposed to be hit at all. I am the angel of time and destiny, I should know.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and a sick twist of disbelief coiled in your stomach at the revelation. “Something didn’t feel right about it, I had to go to Seonghwa,” Wooyoung looked down, guilt etched in every line of his bright and beautiful features. “The moment it happened, I knew something had gone wrong. Something that wasn’t in the books. Something that wasn’t fate.”

Seonghwa’s eyes shifted toward the wreckage behind you. “The truck driver was the only one who was supposed to die. That is why Wooyoung was here to pass his soul on to Hongjoong,” he continued, shaking his head with a helpless sigh. “But sometimes, even angels cannot predict every destiny. There’s only so much I could do.”

While this made sense, something else was still bothering you. “That still doesn’t answer my question,” you said bluntly. “Why go through all this trouble for us?”

“You weren’t supposed to die tonight,” Wooyoung answered, the halo you didn’t even notice he had dimmed entirely. “You weren’t even supposed to meet yet. Certainly not like this. This couldn’t be the end, your futures were supposed to stretch far.”

Something inside you went cold. You shook your head in denial, the dots clicking in your head one by one louder than an explosion at the insinuation of what they were saying slowly sinks into you. “I-It can’t be,” you said, breathless. “Are you saying…?”

Seonghwa nodded grimly, pressing a hand to his chest as if pained by a memory only he knew and could see. “You were meant to meet later on, anyway, had this accident not have happened,” he said, sorrowfully.  “Grow into each other and all in love the way souls do when the universe lines up just right. That was your destiny. That was the one I had in my books.”

The pain was indescribable. This was a different type of loss; one you didn’t know how to carry. It was the loss of a life you would have lived with Yeosang - a whole world of moments, conversations, emotions that were already gone before they even arrived. 

“So, what,” Yeosang swallowed, his voice trembling as the weight of the world seemed to fall on his shoulders. “You stopped time to correct destiny? Or you felt bad for us?”

His hold on you tightened, the only sign that this was affecting him more than he let on. “Yeosang,” Seonghwa began gently, almost maternally. “We meant it when we said we haven’t seen love like yours. We took pity with what could have been for the two of you and everything you were supposed to be. Wooyoung and I refused to accept your deaths.”

At the mention of only two angels, everyone turned to the darkness that was Hongjoong, who looked away with a sigh. “I don’t owe you mortals any explanation,” he said gruffly. “You have to understand, destiny owes your feelings absolutely nothing as well. My job is to collect your souls regardless if it was your time or not. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing against anybody.”

Wooyoung wrung his hands, his bright aura flickering like a fading candle. “Seonghwa and I decided to send you in that dream-like state to buy you two chances to live the life you were supposed to have. To propagate that love you were supposed to experience in this life as fate had originally written.”

The soft-hearted angel looked up with glassy eyes, pursing his lips as he looked at his fellow angel with reverence. “All while Seonghwa tried to plead with Hongjoong before he made his decision. That dream was a little piece of heaven for the both of you just in case he decided to take your souls, anyway, so at least you experienced what it was like to love one another.”

Something inside you pretty much died right then and there. Guilt started festering in your chest. The very angels you tried to condemn were the ones who had been caring for you all along, protecting the both of you as your souls tried to hang on to that thread between life and death.

Seonghwa reached for your hand. It was warm, soothing in a way that made you want to close your eyes. “We couldn’t bear to let your story end before it even began. I did what I could.”

You watched as he held Yeosang’s hand with the other before placing the latter’s hand with yours. Yeosang didn’t hesitate to squeeze your hand, his warmth seeping into your fingers, stirring memories you wished you could rewrite and moments you wished you had held tighter even if it was only a dream.

And at that moment, you couldn’t even regret anything, because deep in your heart as you felt Yeosang’s loving gaze, you knew you would do it over and over again. You would willingly jump into that realm even if you knew you’d wake up after just to know what it was like to fall in love with this man like it was the first time.

And you knew Yeosang felt the same with how he stared at you with the same type of emotion you had only seen in that dream. This doesn’t escape Hongjoong’s attention and for once, he looked neutral - neutral in a way someone like him could be.

“I didn’t want to at first, you know?” He began, the weight of his voice heavy in your chests. He walked closer, his eyes travelling all over your forms, black tendrils of smoke following his every step. “But I just had to see for myself as to why someone like you deserved the mercy of somebody like Seonghwa. It was temporary, yes, but it was mercy, nonetheless.”

The closer he got, the more suffocating the air became, like that of death slowly sucking the life out of everything. “I was there once, in that dream,” he continued, raising an apathetic brow. “In the kitchen. I just had to see for myself what was so special about you, a mere mortal. Fate binds, never releases. I wanted to know why you out of all the mortals we’ve encountered.”

Fate binds, never releases. You slightly staggered, a certain memory hitting you square in the chest. You remembered that day vaguely, of seeing Yeosang in the kitchen and then disappearing, to you finding your phone in the closet with those exact words typed in. You remembered almost losing your mind because you thought you were going crazy.

“Having said all of that,” Hongjoong stopped in front of you and Yeosang, voice smooth but not merciless. He wasn’t that tall, but at this very moment, he felt like a mountain. “I am not cruel. But I’m not kind either. I’m simply someone who has a job. However,” he pauses, and the air thickens with cold expectation. “I will give you something I’ve never done before. A choice.”

You didn’t know if angels breathed air like mortals did, but you could have sworn even they stopped breathing. “You may pass on, and I will guarantee your souls a safe journey to the Heavens,” he said, raising a hand to let the smoke curl around his arm. “You will be together for all eternity with these memories intact. Your love will remain exactly as it was written.”

Beside you, Yeosang tensed, leaning closer to you as if terrified of losing you again. “Or,” Hongjoong added, voice dropping into something colder, final, and absolute. “You may return to the mortal world to continue your lives.”

You let out a shaky breath, ready to nod, but not before Hongjoong raised a hand, squashing all the hope that threatened to rise from you. “But if you choose to live, then everything that happened from the dream up to this very moment…and him,” his chin tilted toward Yeosang. “Will vanish from your memory. And Yeosang will forget you in return.”

This. This was what real cruelty was like. You wanted to scream into the void. This wasn’t fair, none of this was. To lose Yeosang forever was unbearable, yet to stay, to live, and forget him, forget this, felt like a death far crueler than the one you were about to choose.

“You will wake up like normal,” Hongjoong continued calmly. “But you will forget each other. Completely. As if you never crossed paths at all.”

Yeosang inhaled sharply, the sound raw. “But why?” He croaked, voice breaking pitifully. To your left, Seonghwa looked away, not bearing to look even for one more second and Wooyoung already had tears falling from his eyes. “Why does it have to be like this?”

Hongjoong’s expression was neutral, but still unforgiving in consequence. “Balance,” was all he supplied. “It was already risky having you two here and even riskier to rewrite fate. Balance is needed to even out destiny. This is the only mercy I can offer. You either pick love beyond life or life beyond love. The choice is yours—”

“I choose to pass on,” you said with finality and conviction, not even hesitating in the slightest. 

Yeosang jerked toward you like he’d been stabbed. “No,” he breathed, shaking his head so hard his hair whipped around his face. “No, you cannot—”

“Yeosang,” you forced a small, sad smile. “It’s the obvious choice.”

“It isn’t,” he shot back instantly. “It isn’t.”

You shook your head in return, cradling his face with your trembling hands. “You don’t understand,” you said, trying to make him listen. “Out there, I have nothing. All my worth was in that dream we shared. I mattered there, you made me feel worth something…”

The dam you were trying to hold back shattered, your heartbreaking sobs echoing in the small space you shared. Wooyoung made a step to try and comfort you, but Seonghwa held him back, shaking his head. “I have no family, and all the people I had just quietly stepped away,” you whimpered, trying to hold it in but failing miserably. “Mingi’s got this promotion, San is moving out of the country soon, and Yunho’s getting married in the countryside—”

Yeosang shushed you and somehow, that hurt more than anything you’ve heard today. He looked so broken, shaking his head repeatedly as he tried to whisper soothing things to you. “That’s not true, love, that’s not…” he sniffled. “Don’t say those things about yourself.”

Desperation edged into his words as he held your hand away from his face, holding it tightly against his. “Listen to me,” he began. “You are always worth more than what’s happened to you. Even if you don’t always feel like it.”

It hurt. Everything just hurt and you didn’t know what to say or do. “It doesn’t mean that the world doesn’t need you, it doesn’t mean you need to disappear,” he brushed his thumb over your knuckles, his teardrops wetting the surface as he smiled ruefully, a quiet acceptance in his eyes you weren’t ready to face. “I’d rather live my life knowing you’re out there alive.”

He took a shuddering breath, biting his lips so hard, they bled on the corners. All in an effort on his end to not cry out loud. “Even if it meant I won’t ever remember you or see you again.”

You shook your head as if denial alone could stop all of this from happening. “I can’t live without you,” you choked, squeezing your eyes as tears fell freely. “How can you say these easily? How can you just decide that you want to forget all of this?”

Yeosang gave a wet, broken laugh. He pressed his forehead against yours in anguish. “It’s easy because I love you,” he said, words trembling as bad as his entire body. “You think I want to forget you? I love you too much to let you disappear, Y/N.”

You pressed your face into his shoulder, sobbing quietly. He held you like you were the last thing in existence worth clinging to. “I don’t want to forget,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to forget.”

“I know,” he murmured, smoothing your hair with a gentleness that shattered you. “God, I know.”

You stayed like that, holding each other for what felt like an eternity because you knew this was all you were going to get - that this would be the last time you might hold each other close like this because the world had no choice but to break the both of you.

Finally, you lifted your head, your palms framing his cheeks. Yeosang closed his eyes, a single tear cutting down his cheek. He held your face for the last time, gently pressing his lips on your forehead to seal the fate that awaited the both of you. And with that, hand in hand, you both faced Hongjoong. Yeosang nodded once, weakly, signifying both of your decisions to live on.

And Hongjoong nodded back, impassive and unreadable, accepting the choice you never had power in to begin with. He twirled his fingers and the black smoke that enveloped him approached you and Yeosang before they disappeared somewhere on your body.

Hongjoong gestures towards the two angels. “If you two would, please. My job here is done,” he murmured before turning around and walking away, but not before looking over his shoulders to address you and Yeosang. “Let’s not meet too soon again, shall we?”

And in a blink of an eye, he was gone, only traces of smoke and darkness left in his wake. Seonghwa’s eyes were glassy with grief so tender it nearly broke you all over again as he approached Yeosang and Wooyoung’s shoulders sagged, his radiant glow dimming as tears swelled along his lashes as he approached you.

“You made the right choice,” Seonghwa spoke with bone-deep melancholy. He extends his hands to Yeosang. “Come, my child. We must go. Wooyoung will take care of Y/N.”

Seonghwa guided him toward the left side of the empty road and Wooyoung touched your arm to guide you toward the right, but your hands were still linked with each other and neither of you wanted to let go. Yeosang’s grip tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to say he didn’t want this. His breath hitched, shoulders shaking despite how desperately he tried to stay composed. 

Eventually, your fingers slipped and his hand fell away from yours. You had no choice but to watch as you were being led away from each other. You stopped crying, not because it didn’t hurt, but because the pain was too much that your body blocked it out to protect itself.

Wooyoung’s touch on your shoulder tightened, his own tears slipping down like falling stars. You stared at the angel, mustering up a somber smile. “Thank you,” you said, meaning it. “For everything.”

He tilted his head, eyes softening into fondness. “I have a feeling we’ll see each other again. I’d advise you to stick to your friend Yunho,” he chuckled cryptically, chin gesturing towards Yeosang. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

You looked at the man you loved as Seonghwa seemingly asked the same question, and he was already looking at you. You both looked away at the same time, both shaking your heads. “No,” you replied quietly.

Neither of you said goodbye because how do you say goodbye to a soul that lives inside your own?

Wooyoung nodded solemnly. Just then, brightness started glowing from behind your eyes and you knew it was time. You could feel warmth coming from inside you as the veil started to slowly drift away and your soul slowly return to your body. Your eyes automatically met with Yeosang’s, possibly for the last time in this lifetime.

How many moments does it take to fall in love with someone wholeheartedly?

It was gradual. At first, his form started to disappear right before your eyes, the distance between you widening impossibly far. And then it was his shape, it started to blur. You refused to blink, just taking him in before your mind completely erased his existence.

Endless moments, born and broken inside the same dream we both couldn’t continue.

Yeosang smiled, tears falling from his eyes he didn’t bother to wipe. I’ll miss you, his eyes said, even if I wouldn’t remember why. As he started to fade away, each pulse of light felt like watching the only reason your heart remembered how to beat. 

How long does it take to fall in love?

And you feel yourself fading away as well. You nodded, smiling back, wishing this to be the last thing he saw before you went back out there. You closed your eyes as Yeosang completely disappeared, taking with him the only love you had ever known.

Thank you for giving me enough time to find out.

You opened your eyes, momentarily disoriented by how white everything looked. It was actually insane - everything was literally covered in white. Even the air smelled so clean with disinfectants that if scent had a colour, it would most definitely be white.

Everything just hurt, even breathing felt painful. You closed your eyes, trying to remember the last thing you did before you ended up laying on the hospital bed, and as things slowly came back to you, you couldn’t help the dread that seeped into your bones. You were in a car accident, that much was sure.

You remembered getting ready to go to Mingi’s house, excited that he got a huge promotion - though a part of you was sad since he’ll be transferring departments and you’ll be alone - driving on the highway as it started to rain. You vaguely remembered headlights approaching your car and then absolutely nothing afterwards.

It was odd though, you felt like you were still missing a chunk of your memories. You brushed it off, attributing it to the large bandage that was wrapped around your head. You reckoned that hitting your head on your steering wheel could cause a horrific concussion.

You groaned, trying to move around, wondering if anyone knew you were even here, but that question was soon answered by panicked and relieved gasps on the other side of the room. You felt someone grabbing your hand, repeatedly uttering a shaky ‘thank you’ to nobody in particular, trembling lips touching the bruised skin around it in gratefulness.

You turned your head, eyes widening in surprise at who you saw. “M-Mingi?”

“Oh, thank fuck you’re awake,” he sobbed in relief, his hold on your hand tightening. “I was worried sick, Y/N, we were literally ready to give that truck driver a piece of my mind if he wasn’t dead already.”

Your heart sank, but you weren’t surprised. Judging by the condition of your body, the accident must have been bad. “B-But your promotion party,” you blurted out. “And you said we?”

You looked around, your eyes widening even more at the sight of not only San, but also Yunho, hand in hand as palpable relief washed upon their faces. Your heart warmed, tears forming in your eyes. “I-I don’t understand, how are you guys here?”

“Y/N, are you kidding me?” Yunho was immediately by your side. “When Mingi called, my fiancée and I literally drove hours just to get here. I probably broke so many traffic laws on the way.”

“And I cancelled my flight,” San shrugged like it was no big deal. “Japan can wait, and fuck Mingi’s promotion party. He pretty much cancelled it. You’re more important.”

That pretty much did it. You started full-on bawling as your three closest friends formed a circle to envelope you in a warm hug. Somehow, you expected yourself to wake up alone, but you were an idiot to think nobody would be there for you. You were never alone, to begin with.

Shortly after, the doctor came in. Choi Jongho was young, quite good-looking, and he was kind and hospitable, carefully explaining the extent of the injury and the aftermath of the accident. Overall, Dr. Choi explained that you were fine, minus the crushed ribs from the airbag compressing your chest after the collision and the broken ankle.

Your hand subconsciously flew to your heart, an unexplainable feeling washing over you in a way you couldn’t pinpoint. “Is something bothering you in that area? Pain, perhaps?” Dr. Choi asked patiently, observing the way your hand clutched your chest area.

You paused, not really having words for the hollow ache. How were you going to explain something you couldn’t make sense of? You weren’t in pain, but you felt empty, like something had been scooped out of you and you were only now realising the space it left behind.

“N-No, I’m fine,” you replied carefully. “Uhm, would you happen to know the extent of the accident? Are there casualties?”

Dr. Choi had gentle concern lining his features. “Hmm, yes, I believe so. The truck driver was dead on arrival here,” he murmured, trying to recall. “And there was another man, but he was brought to another hospital because he needed surgery this hospital doesn’t provide.”

After that, Dr. Choi further explained what you needed, including future medication and possible therapy for your broken ankle, and everybody decided that it was in your best interest that you would stay with Yunho in the countryside to recuperate. San tried to contest, arguing that Japan might be better for you, but something told you to go with Yunho.

“I wish you the best recovery,” Dr. Choi bid goodbye kindly. He was about to walk out, when he paused, turning around with a pondering look on his face. “I’m sorry if this seems unprofessional, but I was just wondering if we’ve met before?”

You frowned, confused. “No? I don’t think so.”

“Ah, my apologies, I must have confused you for someone else,” he muttered on the way out, closing the door softly, accepting the answer though his confused face told you otherwise.

There was silence in the room before Yunho snorted. “Well, that was odd,” he chuckled. He stared at you fondly, patting your arm gently. “Anyway, we’ll help you settle once you’re better. The countryside air would be good for your health and my fiancée needs companionship as well. She’s been lonely out there. I promise you’ll like her, she’s very sweet.”

You nodded gratefully, and again, you had no words for the missing piece inside your chest.

Your injuries didn’t take long to heal, thanks to Yunho’s fiancée’s care, who really was as sweet as Yunho said she’d be. She was a welcome friend, one you already considered to be close with, who helped you heal in ways she wouldn’t be able to understand, namely that gaping hole in your heart that did get better with time, but still.

Yunho was right, the countryside did help a lot. The air was fresh, and the food was even fresher. You would accompany her sometimes to the market in the morning to fill out your walks to exercise your muscles for a faster recovery.

But for the most part, your days were spent with you sitting out on the balcony just staring at nothing in particular. Sometimes, you’d watch people. Not in a creepy way, just in a sense where you felt like you were supposed to be there too, doing mundane things with no goal in mind; just living out your life the way you’re meant to. 

It was very peaceful here and you liked it like that. It was slow in the best way possible, people weren’t in a hurry to get to where they needed to be, the rhythm of life beat just about right in tune to the ordinary life people hunger for. And you were just there, watching it all unfold.

You sat back in your chair, eyes tracing the vast fields, the evergreen trees, the way the sunlight shone over the grass. Something about it felt nostalgic and, somehow, heavy at the same time. Suddenly, you heard the door behind you open. You knew exactly who it was before you even looked.

“I knew you’d be out here. I thought you might be cold,” Yunho’s fiancée approached you, gently wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. She stepped beside you, leaning her elbows on the balcony railing. “You really like this view, huh?”

You thanked her, and thanked the heavens for giving you this woman as a friend. “Can you blame me?” You chuckled quietly. “Look at it, it’s breathtaking.”

“Not at all,” she laughed. She paused, her voice dropping into a somber tone when she spoke her next words. “I just wish you wouldn’t look beyond the fields all the time.”

You froze, surprised that she even noticed, but more so because of how close she got to something you’ve never managed to name out loud. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, pursing her lips as she spoke with melancholy. “You have this…look in your eyes,” she said. “I can’t explain it, It’s not exactly sadness, more like someone who’s already lived half a lifetime somewhere else beyond here.”

Her words settled into you deeper than you expected. You shift your weight, hugging the blanket closer as if to protect yourself. Half a lifetime. Did you really look that way? Probably. You weren’t entirely sure, so you stayed silent, looking at her and waiting for her to continue.

“Yunho can’t pinpoint it either,” she murmured more as an afterthought. “We see it all the time, the way you look like you’re expecting for someone to return whether it’s your old self or somebody else, we’re not entirely sure.”

Now that hit you. It was strange for someone to put into words things you couldn’t even think of. All your life, you’d been alone, and you were used to being alone. Maybe you did live another lifetime - one where you were defined by your choices, memories that have long faded, or perhaps, versions of yourself you never fully grew out of.

“I’m…not entirely sure,” you admitted. “Sometimes it does feel that way, but for the most part, I’m actually quite happy even though I have no idea why. Maybe nearly dying does that to you.”

She settled her hand over yours, grounding you. “Have I ever told you how Yunho and I met?”

You were grateful for the change of topic, so you shook your head no. She told you cryptically that they met under dire circumstances and that she was pregnant, to which you were a little surprised about. Yunho wasn’t the father, but you could tell that she loved Yunho. You smiled internally, because you could also tell that Yunho loved this girl.

It was complicated, but you weren’t going to ask for more details. That was their story, not yours. “Oh my, have I been burdening you? Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? When did you find out? Have you thought of any names yet?”

She giggled, placing a hand over her tummy lovingly. “No, on the contrary, you’re making my pregnancy easier by being my happy pill. We found out a month ago, and as for the name—”

“Wooyoung. We’re thinking of naming him Wooyoung, in case it’s a boy.”

The both of you turned to see Yunho leaning by the door, staring at the two of you with mild amusement. He walks forwards, smiling softly as he puts a gentle hand on his fiancée's tummy. “You bastard, you deprived me of good news,” you joked. “Congratulations on the baby.”

Yunho scoffs playfully, turning to his fiancée lovingly. “You should go rest. It’s cold out here.”

Yunho replaced her position on your side, being the one to lean on the balcony railing this time. “How are you feeling?” He asked softly. “Minnie might drop by soon, and Sannie called earlier.”

You hummed, the sound low in your throat. “Better than I thought,” you answered with ease because it was the truth. “Just a bit tired, I guess.”

Yunho nodded like he already knew. He had always been strangely perceptive when it came to you. “She’s right, you know?” He added quietly. “I see you all the time when you think no one’s watching. You look like you’re in another world most of the time and I don’t mean that like you’re daydreaming, I mean like, you look like you’re in a permanent dream.”

You let out a long breath, your gaze drifting to the darkened fields again. “Sometimes, I do feel like that,” you admitted. “But I don’t know. Sometimes I’m not sure what it is, exactly, or if it’s even real.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” he hummed, hair swaying along with the night breeze. “It’s alright if you’re not back being yourself for a little while.”

“It’s not the injuries,” you whispered. “Mentally, I’m okay. I just feel empty most of the time.”

“How so?”

“It’s like…” you started, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to reach for something that isn’t there.”

Yunho was quiet for a long time. Not dismissive, just thoughtful. “Maybe you need to reflect,” he said. “Me, Mingi, San…we know you feel alone most of the time and we never knew why. We tried to be there for you when we could, but you were the one who pushed us and everyone away, Y/N. No one abandoned you, you chose to be alone.”

You blinked, throat tightening, but he wasn’t done. “You need to help yourself, and I promise you, we’ll be right behind you. Just know that sometimes, the body heals faster than the heart even when you can’t remember what hurt you. A little soul searching might help, that’s the biggest reason why I bought you here in the first place because I care for you, I really do.”

For some reason, his words felt a little too familiar and you just blurted out the first thing that came to your head, one that felt like you’ve heard before. “How do you say goodbye to a soul that lives inside your own?” Yunho whips his head to stare at you with mild surprise. He nudges your arm lightly. “Well, you're here, aren’t you? You don’t have to go through it alone,” he said. “And you should definitely write a book.”

You scoff, letting out a light smile accompanied by that look in your eyes that spoke of a thousand words. “Nah,” you shook your head. “I can’t. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

“Why not?”

“Books are written by those who have already made peace with their story,” you replied, staring out, watching your breath fog up the spaces in between. “Writers write because their ghosts have learned to rest. Mine still whispers.”

Those thoughts clung to you long after Yunho went back inside, and you spent the entire afternoon thinking about your life and how it should change. Thoughts like these never crossed your mind, but this time, they did.

Maybe Yunho was right - something had to change. You couldn’t live like this forever. And as you stared at each blink of a star as nighttime approached, something had shifted. You had no idea where it came from, but you were determined this time.  And then it hits you, what you were feeling all this time - grief.

With that, you realised that grief was not something you should have turned your back against. It wasn’t meant to be something sharp or something that mocked you when you were already down. Sometimes, it was the thought of starting all over again, relearning how to live the life you once thought you had.

And sometimes, it’s that tickle in your chest, the bubbling laughter you sound out to prevent yourself from crying, instead. Most of the time, it’s that underlying feeling of a memory you almost had, a feeling you thought you recognised.

That maybe you mattered after all, and you still do to someone else, even if you had no idea who you mattered to. Grief doesn’t make sense, and it shouldn’t have to, but yet, it does. It just does, because it remembers everything even if you don’t.

It remembers you, too. Especially you.

You stood up, closing your eyes and just letting yourself breathe for the first time since that accident. Grief is just another word for acceptance, and with that comes with the realisation of finally moving forward, that maybe, life does go on and starting over wasn’t going to be so bad. You let that thought settle, and this time, it didn’t feel wrong.

It’s not some emotion that should have had a negative feeling attached to it. You clutched your chest, finally admitting to yourself that grief could be beautiful. You might still feel empty for a while, but that’s alright, because you will learn how to carry it and let it mean something to you and that, that is what makes it worthy of feeling.

Because grief doesn’t have to be terrifying. Sometimes, it just wants to be acknowledged.

You stayed in the countryside years after your recovery with your own apartment, and you had a new neighbour who just settled in a day before. You had a day off from your teaching job. Lately, you’ve also picked up baking, so today was the perfect day to practice. So there you were, an hour after carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies in front of your neighbour’s door, knocking lightly on it.

Not even a minute after, the door swings open, revealing a kind-looking man on the other side. You were rendered speechless for a second, wanting to clutch your chest all of a sudden. 

You haven’t felt that unknown feeling inside you in a long time, but instead of the usual emptiness, this time, you felt full, like the search was finally over.

“Hi, I’m your neighbour and, uhm,” you greeted cheerfully, raising the tray a bit. “I baked these for you. I’m L/N Y/N.”

He didn’t answer right away, staring at you for a heartbeat longer than he should have, the lines on his face softening. You wondered if this stranger felt the same pull you did; that same rush and warmth. And then, he smiled, eyes twinkling in a way you only knew how. 

“Hello,” he greeted back with a sort of reverence that wasn’t unfamiliar to you. “I’m Kang Yeosang.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I smell a Yunho spin-off here, don't you?

𝙽𝚎𝚝s - @keopihaus @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet @pirateeznet @ksmutsociety @cromernet

You were ten years old when you held both of your parents hand as the three of you walked side by side in an open field where the vastness of the green Earth was there for the taking as far as the eye could see. 

As your dearest father, whose eyes shone with adoration and his lips split with the fondest of grins, carried you in his arms to point at the bright, blue sky, your innocence and naivety paved way for the natural curiosity that lay hidden in your young mind.

“You, my darling,” your mother lovingly booped your button nose. “You are the prettiest, far more special than anything in this world, and I love you.”

The world felt impossibly vast, and yet in that moment, wrapped in the safety of your parents’ love, it felt perfectly sized to hold just the three of you. Truly, you were loved by your parents. It was the kind of love that would transcend even through the afterlife. Until they didn’t.

You were sixteen years old when you stood under the pouring rain that blessed your parents’ grave, your head down low as your expressionless face stared at the freshly dug soil under your feet. There was blackness all around you - black for the weeping sky, black for the clothes you wore around your frail, shivering body that symbolized your mourning and loss.

Black for the two coffins you had watched sink into the ground, swallowed by the earth as if it could somehow keep your parents safe when you no longer could, black for the words no one could say, black for the warning signals in your head as you were led away from the cemetery.

Everything was black. You were far too young for such a travesty, but since when has this life been fair to anybody? Your parents’ death has definitely taught you better.

The hours stopped flowing, the sands of time floating inside the hourglass in a perpetual cycle of your memories where the images of your parents were slowly disappearing, refusing to flow - refusing to let you move on.

You are the prettiest, far more special than anything in this world, and I love you.

“You call that clean? I could lick the damn thing and get road dust in my teeth!”

Your uncle, your mother’s older brother, barked from the doorway, snapping you out of your memories. His loud, displeasing voice echoed down the garage hallway far before you even laid your eyes on him.

You closed your eyes, taking the deepest breath you could possibly take from the deepest chambers of your lungs. Not that there was anything left, you were a walking entity of nothingness at this point, but you had to remain calm like you had learned to be - like you had to be.

Your uncle stepped into the garage, shoes clicking against the polished tile floor most mechanics would kill for. “That’s your problem. Always doing the bare minimum. You’re useless just like your mother.”

There it was. He didn’t have to mention her often like the mere thought of her slowly decayed his tongue inside his sinful mouth. He didn’t outwardly curse her name, it was just enough to let you know he still thought of you like you were a charity case; a stain on the marble floors of his pristine world.

You tried not to gasp out loud when he titled your chin up roughly. His calloused fingers burned every single hair strand on your face, his eyes could have disintegrated you on the spot with all the unspoken hate you knew he had for you but refused to speak out, but you had to remain calm.

He harrumphed, turning around and beginning to walk off to where he came from, but not before spitting up an unholy amount of saliva on the floor with an obscene smirk on his clean shaven face. “Clean it up,” was all he said.

Through gritted teeth, you had begun wiping the floor, and as the water began to wash away all the grime your pig of an uncle had left, you hadn’t realized that your tears had begun to mix itself in the water like it would rinse away all your troubles.

It was like you were sixteen again. You still remember the day like it was yesterday when he led you to his car away from the cemetery, all without a single word of comfort or condolences at the dearly departed. Never mind your father, but your mother was his younger sister. You were not surprised at the sight of his massive mansion - your family did come from old money - but the moment you stepped through it, you saw the facade quickly. You weren’t there as family, but as a liability. All of this was just for show, not for your comfort.

He walked ahead of you, not bothering to see if you were following him. There was no warmth in his voice, just clipped efficiency, like he was giving instructions to a driver. There was no welcome. No open arms. No kind words. Your room was barely one. A cot, no sheets. A single window so cloudy with grime it looked like frosted glass. Little did you know, it would be your room for no less than a decade - a decade long of hell reincarnate on an already scorching Earth.

Sometimes he didn’t call for food, most of the time he called to yell. Once, for leaving a cup turned the wrong way in the sink, he threw it at the wall and told you your parents would’ve done the same if they’d had the guts.

It didn’t stop the bruises, but your perseverance helped you survive the nights. No one came looking for you. No one asked how you were.

You were nineteen years old when you started finally accepting that this was your world. You were reduced to moping spit off of the floor, and after another four years of slaving away and just taking all the burnt end of your uncle’s anger, he decided to finally send you into college. You wanted to scoff, but you will take anything that you could get - anything to get even a sliver of your identity back. He wasn’t doing this for you, you knew he’d use you for free labour after.

“You owe me,” he said, sliding the acceptance letter toward me. “You remember that. Everything you have is because I kept you fed.”

Fed. You saw red. He never mentioned you’d earned every damn underfed crumb like an inbred. But you nodded, anyway, because even a dog learns how to slip the chain if it’s given enough time to watch the master.

And you waited, day by day, for someone to remember you existed, but the ones you longed for were the ones you knew were in heaven by now. And you hoped they weren’t looking down on you.

All you could feel was pain. It hurt to try to move your limbs, it was more reminiscent of bones grinding against each other sharply against sandpaper, it hurt to take the smallest gulp of breath, hell, it hurt to even blink.

The last thing you remembered was coming home from your graduation party with a couple of your friends from the restaurant, but the panicked yet controlled voices of the doctors and nurses surrounding you had you concurring that you were in the hospital.

You want to move, but your limbs won’t listen. You want to ask for your parents, but their names get caught in your throat. That sent a magnanimous amount of pain far worse than you were feeling right now down in the middle of your chest where your heart laid. They were gone, and you were soon to follow.

The first tear that fell from your eyes felt like glass shards. You didn’t know how to tell your parents that you had failed them. You were only twenty-eight, and your short life was slowly slipping away from you. You could feel it.

I don’t want to die. I’m much too young to fall.

But hope was bleak. You didn’t doubt that your uncle was already aware of the car accident you were involved in, and you didn’t doubt that he was happy about it. It would be good riddance for him, there was no way he would pay for your surgeries. You were alone, utterly alone. The thought of dying alone hurt more than you’d like it to be.

Until a warm hand wrapped itself around yours. It was big, rough, and warm. You were too weak to open your eyes, but you mentally thanked the kind nurse who comforted you in your time of need. Or more likely, it was one of your college friends, namely, your close friend Yeosang. He was much younger than you, only being a freshman while you were eight years his senior.

You volunteered as a substitute teacher in your spare time for high school students as a part of your program, and Yeosang offered to be your intern. You were the one to write him his recommendation letter to get into your college last year. You quickly became fond of the kid with the siren eyes who squeezed his way into your heart, who still admired you as his mentor and still stuck by you even after his high school. 

He was the only regret in your short life. There were times you dismissed him since you were far from his age and you wanted him to spend time with other people. You wish you had more opportunities to tell him that you cherished the little moments of peace he gave you, and to thank him for letting you know what it was like to care for someone when nobody cared about you. 

Time passed. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours, but the hand remained, covering yours in a soothing cocoon, a salve to your aching and hurting heart. 

It was just a hand, but it provided you the strength you needed. You might hate your uncle, but if it wasn’t for him sending you to college, this hand wouldn’t be here, helping you sign your own paperwork since you had no family. It must have been a pitiful sight - your soul was nearly gone yet you had to sign your own hospital papers.

Sometimes it would squeeze gently like it needed to be sure you were still holding on as you slipped in and out of consciousness, and you started clinging to it like it was the only real thing in the world.

Because, maybe it was. No one else came - not your uncle, and not the world you thought would notice if you ceased to exist prematurely before you even turned your life around, but the hand stayed.

Against your will, you stood before your own reflection. You always thought you had the prettiest of hazel-hued eyes - you had gotten them from your father, after all - but the hollowness of them scared even yourself.

“Y/N! Come downstairs, or I’m leaving you to walk yourself all the way to the Kim estate!”

You flinched, your fingers pausing from examining the thick concealer you splattered all over your neck to cover your uncle’s purple fingertips. You were still unsure if surviving was a blessing or a curse.

After getting back from the hospital, he had appointed you to fix his business paperworks - all without pay, of course - and he kept you locked away from the world. 

Except when it was time to remind you of your place, to remind you of his power. You were thirty-two when he finally decided to get rid of you and sell you off as collateral for his failing business to a man far older than you, because if he didn’t, the business won’t be the only thing your uncle would be losing.

“He’s your last chance,” he reiterated, voice low and full of threat. “You marry him, or you’re done here. I’ll have you on a flight by morning stripped of every cent, every roof, every name. I made a deal, and you’re the damn collateral. Don’t make me waste you.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d threatened to erase you from your own life. But this time, it felt final. “Your face is your saving grace,” he continued arrogantly. “Luckily for you, you inherited your whore of a mother’s pretty face. With luck, that bastard Kim Hongjoong might take a liking to you.”

You tuned out the way he cursed out the said man’s name with words you couldn’t even repeat, focusing on the way your fists clenched tight to control your breathing.

Kim Hongjoong, you thought. That was your future husband’s name, the man who would either be your salvation or be the one to push you into a deeper hell. You’ve given up on the aspect of marrying for love, but still, giving it up like this feels like a punch to your gut.

But there was no way around it, not when your uncle sent you a seething glare that told you that you needed to play along as he forced your arm to link with his as you were both escorted inside the huge mansion that screamed of wealth and dirty money by the stiff-postured butler.

“I welcome you to the Kim estate, you may address me as San,” the cat-eyed butler bowed respectfully before you and your uncle, gesturing forward as he walked on. “I do apologize if I’m the only one to extend the greetings for now, all of our staff is preparing for the bride-to-be.”

He sent you a polite smile, but all you felt was dread. “Shall I make it up and invite you to the dining room? The Master awaits the both of you.”

Your uncle’s fake, booming laughter fills the grandiose dining room. Every inch of this manor screamed of wealth and power, the chandeliers above casting a soft glow down the glossy marble floors, the ornate walls lined with ancestral tapestry partnered with vintage vases.

But none of it reached you, none of it mattered because none of this was for you. As slimy as your uncle was, the fact that this man was even agreeing to the prospect of marrying to settle a debt perturbed you.

You couldn’t help but let your fingers trail along the back of a carved dining chair as you entered the main dining room. Everything looked expensive, it reminded you of your mother who had the finer tastes in life when she was still among the living.

But it was when you looked up that your breath had truly gotten caught in your throat. Somebody was already looking at you, he was already staring at you. Even before you were introduced, you knew in your heart that this was the infamous Kim Hongjoong.

He was seated at the far end of the impossibly long dining table, his sharp eyes already watching your every move. The second your eyes met his, the air shifted, and you froze. All that existed was the intensity of his gaze. For a moment, everything disappeared. It was just you and him. You didn’t know how to feel about it. 

Your pulse thudded in your ears as you allowed yourself to stare back. You didn’t even need more than a couple of seconds, it was very obvious from the first glance that this man was undeniably attractive. It was almost devastatingly so.

His face was chiseled to perfection, all without the soft curves of a boy, he held the sharp angles that only belonged to a man of his age. That particular age suited him and you could tell he was years above you, his meticulously styled hair already sporting a couple of whites and greys

But it wasn’t his looks that immediately captivated you, it was his eyes. The way they stared at you heavily as though he was an all-seeing being that could read your every thought and predict your every move. He didn’t smile, he didn’t blink, he didn’t look away - he just observed. Something in your chest twisted. Your instinct told you to look away, to hide, but you stayed uprooted from where you stood. His stare left you unable to do anything else. 

But you had to eventually. Your uncle cut the obvious tension with a small, nervous laugh as he nudged you subtly. “Mr. Kim, it’s an honour and pleasure to be in your presence in this fine evening,” he tried to suck up, though you can tell his bravado was nowhere to be seen in front of a person who was obviously greater than he was.

You forced yourself forward, one step towards the other, graciously sitting down on the chair that San the butler had so generously pulled out for you. As you tried to settle comfortably, you looked up again, only to realize that Hongjoong still hasn’t looked away from you, only giving out a small grunt in response to your uncle’s poor attempt to start a conversation.

You would turn and stare at the way you knew your uncle’s face would turn red in embarrassment and anger at being snubbed, but Hongjoong’s eyes had once again held you captive.

Someone cleared their throat purposefully. Right. You didn’t even realize that there were other people seated towards the end of the table. You couldn’t even afford to be embarrassed for being the other end of the tension.

“You’re staring,” the voice, surprisingly rough and deep, said. It was more of a whisper, but the silence was so loud in the room that anything could be heard.

Hongjoong didn’t answer right away. He simply tilted his head, just slightly. Still watching you with those dark eyes. Then, calmly, still without glancing at anyone else, he replied, “Am I?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement in disguise, a graceful way of telling the other person off. It made the hair rise on the back of your neck. You heard an exasperated sigh somewhere.

Even when dinner was served and the conversation around you flowed naturally amongst the other guests deemed important enough to be here, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. You barely heard their voices. You knew he was still watching you from time to time.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you kept your posture stiff, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Your hands, however, clenched your utensils so tight, you wouldn’t be surprised if they bent from the pressure. You couldn’t stop the tremor that ran through you from all the weight of his eyes.

At first you thought it was fear, but no, this was something else entirely. It wasn’t flattering, it wasn’t lustful, it wasn’t romantic - this was unnerving, darkness at its purest form.

“Y/N, my dearest niece,” your uncle’s voice suddenly broke through your haze, effectively catching everyone’s attention as well. “I trust that you’re enjoying dinner?”

You swallowed, already reading between the lines. He was basically asking you to look alive, a silent threat. You forced a small smile, nodding in effect. “Yes,” you said softly. “It’s quite wonderful.”

An unreadable flicker crosses Hongjoong’s face as he leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. Somehow, that made him look more intimidating than he already was. He tilted his head, his gaze sharpened, but his body stayed relaxed. It was the posture of someone who knew he was on top of the food chain.

“Great,” your uncle cleared his throat. “I suppose it’s about time to get down to the nitty-gritty of this dinner. Let’s talk business, gentlemen.”

A saddened frown settles itself on your lips. Right, you had forgotten that this was just business for him at the end of the day. You had somehow forgotten that you were treated less than human, a little more akin to produce being sold off to a wanting consumer.

“There’s no need to drag this out,” your uncle continued, failing to read the room. Even you knew that he was in no position to call the shots like he was doing currently. “She’s all yours, for all intents and purposes.”

You looked down, shame and mortification filling your entire body, gripping your dress tightly in your fists. The implication of what that meant horrified you, given that you were the only woman in the room, surrounded by men who immediately understood the sexual insinuation of the statement.

Thick silence followed as everybody waited for Hongjoong to speak. His posture shifted ever so slightly from your peripheral vision as he started to open his mouth to reply. “I’m not here for that,” he said flatly.

The words were quiet, but they carried more force than your uncle’s screaming. The older man let out a nervous laughter, brushing it off. “Of course, still, it’s a part of the arrangement.”

Hongjoong’s expression didn’t change. “I heard you the first time.”

Your knuckles turned white from how hard you were gripping. His voice struck something in you, sending a zing through your body from your toes all the way to your scalp. His gaze, his voice, his complete control over the room; it was all too much. You hated the way it made your stomach turn into itself.

But your uncle’s ego rendered him unable to stop because he always wanted to be the one in control. “She turned out decent, though mostly useless. It could be changed,” he said, degrading your dignity further down to the ground. “She’s an obedient little thing, knows how to close her trap when prompted.”

You froze, as did everybody. You didn’t need to look around the table to know the weight of every eye. It was a different type of humiliation you had to endure, but you didn’t say anything. Years of training had taught you to just take all of his words in without flinching.

For the first time that night, Hongjoong looked away from you. His stare shifted, slow and deliberate, settling on your uncle who chuckled nervously, but also unable to look away from Hongjoong like you did.

It was his turn to be stared at, you could already tell that your uncle was starting to crack under the pressure of that silent, unnerving stare. 

Then as if to rub salt on his wounds, Hongjoong let a small smile curl at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t directed towards you, but it sent nasty goosebumps all over your skin. It was nothing short of sinister.

“How compelling,” he drawled out, leaning forward to grab his wine glass, swirling its contents leisurely before he set his dark eyes back towards your uncle. “Though I don’t recall ever asking.”

Your uncle stiffened, but Hongjoong continued, his voice controlled, and flat. “And if I ever find myself wondering, I’ll be sure to consult someone who’s managed to keep his life longer than selling their nieces to the mafia to save their skin.” Your legs felt suddenly too weak, your numb fingers loosening their tight hold on your dress. The mafia. Your uncle was selling you out to the mafia. The word itself echoed through your mind, a jagged, inescapable truth. Fear, raw and electric, lit up inside you.

Though, an undeniable satisfaction flowed through you at the prospect of your smug uncle finally being put in his place. He opened his big mouth to try and retort back, but Hongjoong didn’t give him the chance.

He sets his wine glass back down, lightly tapping on it with a butter knife. “More,” was all he said. It was just one command, but if you were standing, it would have brought you down to your knees. It was the end of the conversation, all because he said so without actually saying it. There were no more words needed to be said, the message had been delivered. He turned his gaze somewhere else, not looking back at you. There was no need to.

This entire room knew who held the leash, and it was the man you were set to marry sooner than later. The room had been entirely claimed by him the moment he opened his mouth.

Dinner was an awkward affair. The conversation between everyone was never really the same afterwards, but you didn’t care, you tuned them all out, even when you could finally breathe because Hongjoong never looked your way again, partaking in a conversation with the man nearest to him, the same man with the deep voice who called him out for staring at you.

It was every man for themselves at this very table, that much you could tell. Every clink of cutlery made you flinch, every swallow constricting your throat, every smoke coming out of your uncle’s ears petrifying you, his words still ringing in your head the entire time as you tried to eat.

Marry this man or face the consequences, but at what cost? You were damned if you did, and damned if you didn’t. There would be no ending where you wouldn’t end up bleeding. Hongjoong terrified you. It was the type of fear that settled itself deep in your bones. He hasn’t even risen from his seat, yet he’s managed to get under your skin far more than your uncle has in more than a decade.

This was a man who ruled in power. There was something in the way he sat, all composed and relaxed. He had nothing to prove, let alone raise his voice. He simply held everyone’s breath in his palms. One squeeze was all it took.

You didn’t realize you’d been staring until Hongjoong’s sharp eyes met yours briefly once more. He looked at your uncle, back at you, then back at the man who was talking to him. You had made your decision then. Anything was better than being your uncle’s property.

By the end of the week, all of your belongings were packed in a small suitcase, ready to be transported to the Kim estate. Not that you needed to pack a lot, there was no single thing that you truly owned.

The manor was just as breathtaking as it was the last time you saw it, dare say, far more glamorous than you remembered it to be now that the invisible collar that your uncle wrapped around your neck like a noose was now gone. It was far much easier to gaze in awe at the splendor that it represented.

Though you reckon that if you closed your eyes, the walls would be crimson red with blood. Your fingers clutched the suitcase handle with a grip that bordered on desperation, as if letting go might unravel something fragile inside you. The threshold before you wasn’t just the entrance to another home, it was a gate to uncertainty, and that terrified you more than anything.

The last time you crossed into the unfamiliar den of someone else’s house, you were met with a home, but with silent trials and unspoken wounds. But it was too late to ponder whether you should just turn back, run away, and start anew somewhere else - the massive door at the entrance suddenly opened ajar to reveal the familiar face of the Kim family butler, San.

It struck you then, as he was walking towards your direction, that he wasn’t wearing a uniform like the last time you saw him, in fact, he wasn’t like anything you remembered at all even though this was only your second meeting. Gone was the uniform, the gloves, and his rigid posture. Instead, he wore a gray tailored suit and he walked like he belonged in it. He wasn’t performing anymore. He grabbed your suitcase for you, but before he could take a step forward, he hesitantly turned towards you. “I just wanted to say that there are no shadows in this place,” he said softly, cryptically. “You don’t need to keep looking over your shoulders. He can’t hurt you here.”

You tried to keep your face still, unreadable. You supposed that one eventful dinner was enough for everyone to see how much of a swine your uncle was. You didn’t respond to his strange reassurance. Instead, you studied him again, this time more carefully, more warily. “You’re not a butler, are you?” You said quietly.

His brows raised, but he didn’t say anything; he just smiled at you before beckoning you inside the mansion that would be your new home. Everything looked the same, except that in the morning light, everything looked more marvelous than it did rather than when they were covered by the dark shadows of the night. No matter which direction your head turned, awe struck in every corner.

Then you passed the staircase. Something made you pause, there was a prickle at the back of your neck. Without meaning to, you looked up. It was the man at the dinner, the one that sat closest to Hongjoong at the far end of the table - the one who told the older man he was staring. He also donned a smart suit like San, leaning against the bannister while his sharp eyes watched you. 

He was a lot taller than you thought now that he was standing and he was younger, too. It was a surprise given his apparent ease with Hongjoong when everyone else wanted to piss their pants with fear. He didn’t glare at you, the only thing that signalled he wasn’t particularly angry towards you, but his stare still made your skin tighten. He was, by all means, intimidating.

“Did you need anything, Mingi?” San’s mellow voice cut the unspoken tension in the air as he also looked up the staircase. He motions to you with his hands. “You’ve met Y/N during the dinner.”

The man, Mingi, didn’t reply. His presence pressed down like a weight, not loud, but undeniable, as he turned around, but not before swivelling his head back, his side profile sharp and intense. “I know,” his deep voice spoke before he completely walked away out of your sight.

Your voice barely rose above a whisper as you turned to San. “Does he not like me?”

“It’s complicated,” he said simply, continuing the walk towards where was taking you.

Complicated. Somehow, that made you feel like you were trespassing in a life you hadn’t earned. Maybe he didn’t like you, maybe it wasn’t personal, but you understood it. You wouldn’t like you, either, ever since you were reduced to who you once were. Those were the thoughts that plagued your mind as you walked through the lavish mansion, until you stopped directly in front of a door that just screamed doom from the other side.

The feeling intensified when San gave the door a few light taps with his knuckles. You had been mistaken when you thought that this would be your room. There was only one reason why San would knock like he did.

“Come in,” a gruff voice replied from inside.

Coldness washed over you, the slight fear during that one dinner night creeping back and settling itself into your bones when you were met at the sight of Hongjoong at the end of his office behind a desk where there were plenty of papers strewn all over it.

You had to put in effort in your jaws so it wouldn’t fall open. You’ve seen plenty of good-looking men in your life, but none of them hold a candle to the enigma that was Kim Hongjoong. That night absolutely did nothing to justify how immaculate this man actually looked. The worst part was that he wasn’t even wearing a suit like San.

He was clad in a casual white-button up shirt, the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing lean forearms that moved with casual precision as he scribbled something across a document. He didn’t look up, not bothering to acknowledge your entrance. 

You shuffled your feet awkwardly, your heart beating a little faster, not out of attraction, though it wasn’t out of the realm entirely, but with palpable tension. Hongjoong flipped a page, still without acknowledgement as if he wasn’t bothered by your presence at all. It was San who finally broke the silence, his voice lower, more respectful than you’d ever heard it. “Boss. She’s here—”

“Leave,” the mafia boss cut off, voice hushed in the quietness of the office, but brusque nonetheless.

It was like you were struck with an imaginary hammer straight to your chest with that one single word, but it wasn’t just that - it was the undeniable truth that you were, once again, unwelcome in this shiny, brand new cage you were thrust upon. The silence that followed felt suffocating, even San was rendered speechless, clearly confused.

San cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I’m following, Sir.”

The sound of rustling paper and the pen scratching against its surface resonated in your head. “I didn’t stutter, San,” Hongjoong replied nonchalantly. “Both of you, out.”

There was no room for argument in his tone. He didn’t sound particularly peeved, in fact, he didn’t sound like anything at all, and yet, the dismissal stung you more than you’d like to admit. His utter dismissal was louder than any shout. You didn’t have to spend a minute longer in this room that was slowly beginning to feel like a jail cell - you didn’t matter.

“Alright,” San sighed, conceding, though against his will. “Where will she reside?”

The pen in Hongjoong’s hand stopped moving, and finally, he raised his chin, his eyes lifting slowly to stare at San. You swallowed, it reminded you of a predator being disturbed while it was resting. Your heart almost leapt out of your chest when he turned lazily to you, his eyes half-lidded this time. “Keep her in the dungeons,” he drawled flatly. Your eye twitched at the response.

“Hongjoong,” San’s mouth dropped open in surprise, not being able to stop his reaction at his boss’ reply.

“Apologies,” he said, leaning back on his leather chaise lounge, his tone egregiously insincere as he raised his brows at the butler. “I can’t help but jest at the stupidity of your question, Choi San. What did you want me to say?”

You clenched your fists before they could visibly shake. God, he was beautiful, and it only made it worse, like the universe had handed unimaginable cruelty to the face of an angel just to mock you. You were scared, yes, but you were also annoyed.

You haven’t even been here for five minutes yet he was already seemingly enjoying your discomfort and feeding off of your humiliation. The plan was to keep your head down so you could survive in this battlefield, but if he was going to keep this up, it was only a matter of time until your patience would snap and get you in trouble, or worse, killed.

As if he didn’t just say something outrageous, Hongjoong flicked his pen to start writing again. “I need Mingi,” he said. “And call your Third Master. He should have been back with Seonghwa from Suwon.”

San didn’t say anything as he shut the door behind you both, his steps quick and purposeful as he led you down a dimly lit corridor that felt far too silent for how grand the house looked from the outside. The heavy tension that lingered from the office followed you like a second shadow.

He glanced over at you, as if trying to read your face before turning his eyes back ahead. “I was wondering,” he started clearly just to ease the tension. “I’ve noticed, well, we all did, that you didn’t share a last name with your uncle. Is that on purpose?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. Such a  contrast to what had just occurred a couple of minutes ago. But more than that, nobody had bothered to ask you that question before. It wasn't invasive by all means, just unexpected.

It did, however, shoot a pang of hurt through your heart. You haven’t explained this in more than a decade. “He’s my late mother’s older brother.”

San nodded slowly, absorbing the information with interest. Bless this man, you thought. “May I ask what your last name is?”

“It’s Jeong,” you replied softly. Oh, how good it was to say your father's name like this again. “Jeong Y/N.”

When he finally stopped in front of a modest door near the end of the hall, he placed a hand on the knob, but not before pausing. Something didn’t feel right. “D-Did you know my father?”

You frowned at his frozen expression that didn’t last for another second before he snapped off of whatever trance he put himself in.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, turning to face you. “I know this was a horrible start to your soon-to-be life here,” San shook his head, the corners of his mouth tightening. “Hongjoong’s hard headed, but he’s not heartless. Just give it time, okay?”

Your heart wanted to leap out of your chest. He completely changed the topic. “I get it,” you sighed, letting it go. “He’s as much of an unwilling participant in this as I am.”

San opened the door, revealing a clean, minimal room with a bed, dresser, and tall windows draped in heavy curtains. The room was beautiful, not that you expected any less, but this was decay dressed in silk; a trap made to look like a sanctuary to your wounded soul.

“I’ll let you settle in,” he said gently as he left you alone. “If you need anything, please let me know. This is your home now as much as it is ours.”

Indeed, you were alone, but not free. Caged, but not chained,  at least, not in the physical sense.

San had said to give it time, but time was a commodity and you feared it - too much of it and it left you rotting away inside your body, and too little of it felt like a countdown.

Days passed from then, and you tried to settle in to the very best of your abilities. It was the only option you had, after all. You explored the rest of the mansion, even going as far as hanging out in the vast garden in the back when you had nothing better to do. It wasn’t home, per se, but it was far better from where you came from.

As suffocating as this mansion felt, at least San was right, nobody has hurt you - not yet at least. But that was always how it went, wasn’t it? Then the shift would be so subtle that you’d miss it if you weren’t already waiting for the sky to fall. You knew the pattern like your own breathing. So you kept your voice light. You smiled when you needed to, but you always stayed one step ahead. Because San was right, no one had hurt you, but they would. It was only a matter of time.

It was still a step-up from your uncle, his loud voice no longer calling you, but coincidentally, neither had Hongjoong. He didn’t look your way once, he didn’t call or summon you, and didn’t acknowledge your existence very much. Somehow, you weren’t sure if that was a curse or a blessing in disguise.

Nonetheless, you did enjoy it so far, and you had so much to learn. You’ve yet to peek through the library, study how the light filtered through your windows at certain hours, or just the layout of the mansion itself. You were just about to walk towards the garden when you heard the familiar, telltale signs of people talking in one of the rooms. No, rather, you were hearing an argument take place between two men.

“You lied to me,” a man’s voice, deep, thunderous, and absolutely furious, boomed throughout the expanse of the house. “That hit in Suwon was supposed to be mine, and mine, alone. Not anyone's, not Wooyoung’s, mine.”

You froze at the sound, instincts screaming at you to turn around, walk away, disappear. But curiosity dug its claws in. Your feet moved without permission, guiding you down the stairs toward the raised voices echoing from the living room just around the corner.

“I did not lie to you. Your lack of proper planning does not constitute an emergency on my end,” replied the familiar voice of Hongjoong, flat and stoic as ever, like he wasn’t on the burnt end of someone’s anger.

“That little fuck. Always stealing my hits. And you tolerate him.”

Heavy, furious footsteps and you barely had time to walk away unnoticed when you almost crashed into the tall and broad-shouldered form of none other than Mingi. His expression was twisted with the fury of a thousand suns as he glared at you. For a second, he looked like he was going to explode on you, but luckily, he just walked past you with rage he looked like he could barely contain.

“You,” came a voice from the living room.

You flinched, your spine automatically straightening like they did when your uncle screamed your name before he struck his fists. But Hongjoong didn’t shout, didn’t even raise his voice, but the sharpness in that single word pinned you in place like a knife. He stepped into view slowly, the light from the tall windows casting long shadows behind him. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone, gaze unreadable but heavy.

“What are you doing?” Hongjoong asked at last, his tone deceptively calm, but lined with quiet disdain. “Sneaking around corners like a rat.”

Despite your speechlessness in the frost of his tone, you couldn’t help but stare. Hongjoong’s back was turned against the window and little bits of sun rays hit his features just right. You tried to tamp the blush trying to sneak up your cheeks to make way at the vexation flickering inside your chest at his statement.

“I-I apologize, I didn’t mean to intrude,” you said quietly, your heart jumping to your throat. “I was just curious—”

“Curious,” he repeated slowly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You were curious.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears, as he stared you down. It was as if he was truly looking at you for the first time. He wasn’t much taller than you, but the way he stood felt like he towered over you by a mile. You felt numbness wash over you, but you tried your best to answer him with honesty. You had a feeling he’d catch you fibbing anyway. “I was told I could explore a little when I came.”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile - too sharp to be one. “But did I tell you that you could go prancing around anywhere you damn well pleased?”

Your breath caught when he took a slow, almost bored, step towards you. For a second, you saw the taller form of your uncle stalking towards you, and before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth to protest. “I’m sorry,” you squeaked. “I just assumed that since I’m staying here that I can—”

“Immaterial,” he interrupted, low and vicious. “This is my house, and you answer to me.” 

Hongjoong stuck his finger under your chin, slightly tilting it up. The tips of your ears reddened completely, not because you were flustered, but because it felt degrading. “I’ve been quite busy, you see,” he continued with a sneer. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten your existence. I can never forget the face of someone who was sold to me.”

You didn’t answer. The words stung too much, mostly because you’d dared to hope, even briefly, that maybe this place could become a safe haven. Being remembered like this hurt even more. “You’re right, I won’t do it again,” you whispered, too defeated to even let your usual anger consume you. “I was out of line, I’m sorry.”

“Then, act like it,” Hongjoong’s eyes stayed locked on yours, unblinking, his tone dismissive and cold.

He turned his back to you, not bothering to wait for your reply as he started to walk away. “You shouldn’t have been here,” he added. “Don’t make the same mistake twice. Stay in your lane.”

You were left standing in the same spot he’d left you even after a long time clenching your fists, shame filling your chest at the minor confrontation, the sharp sting of his words looping in your mind, each repetition sharper than the last.

You dug your nails into your palms until it hurt. Good. You needed something to keep yourself grounded because the rage was almost enough to drown you. How dare he treat you like you were disposable?

The worst part was that you were supposed to marry this man, spend the rest of your miserable days walking on eggshells around this insufferable, arrogant bastard? You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose as you took a deep breath.

San told you no one was going to hurt you. He lied, to a certain extent he did, because hurt here came from humiliation and not the hand that’ll lay itself on your skin. You didn’t have to like him, especially since love was completely out of the question, and you had absolutely no obligation to please him, but you would survive this. You had to. 

You were following San one Sunday morning as he’d promised to show you the private library after you were no longer skittish after the last encounter with Hongjoong. “I’d love to show you the library today,” San turned, a smile blooming on his face. “Master is very fond of them, as is the Second Master. I’m sure you would, too. It’s quite fascinating.”

“I’ve heard a second and third master being mentioned once or twice before,” you started. “I assume they’re family. Would I be meeting them soon? Should I be wary of them?”

“You would be correct, they are family,” San nodded, pausing in front of the library doorway to face you. “Unfortunately, the Second Master is currently on a…”

He cleared his throat, trailing off to find the right wording like you didn’t already know you’d be marrying into the mafia. “Mission, so to speak. And as you’ve gathered, the Third Master is in Suwon so he should be back soon.”

He took a pause, glancing at his wristwatch before glancing back at you. “Right now, actually. I completely forgot about that,” he cursed under his breath as he looked at you sheepishly. “I apologize, would you mind if I left to instruct someone of his arrival?”

You gave San a small, amused smile, waving him off. “It’s okay. Go do what you need to do. I’ll just wait here.”

“Thank you,” he sighed in relief, already backing away. “I promise I won’t take long.”

You rolled your eyes fondly as he disappeared down the corridor, the sound of his quick footsteps fading behind you. Alone now, you took a slow breath, soaking in the ornate hallway. You didn’t mind waiting, at least you had something to look forward to very soon.

If anything, the wait was very peaceful, but that peace was soon shattered when you heard the door to your left at the far end of the hallway swinging open and two voices suddenly filling in the space of the house. They were unfamiliar, as far as you knew. One thing you noticed was that Hongjoong kept a very limited amount of staff going in and out of the manor.

You shifted nervously, looking to where San had left to see if he was coming back soon, not knowing where to go and how to interact with Hongjoong’s possible guests. He always had people over he was constantly talking to and you didn’t know how he’d reprimand you if he saw you talking to them.

“You got me fucked up if you think I’m not getting back at you for this,” the first man who entered snorted, his bright and shameless laughter put you on high alert. You watched as he made a show of stretching his limbs exaggeratedly. “You know I can’t stand economy flights, Seonghwa, why would you subject me to this torture?”

Then came the second voice, calm and firm, but edged with exasperation. “Forgive me for being presumptuous if I say you’re not going to die being a normal person just this once, master,” he said flatly, closing the door behind him with a sigh.

They were quite a pair, you noticed. It was easy to assume that this was the infamous Third Master Hongjoong had been waiting for. His eyes sparkled with mischief, his playful smirk clearly irritating his older, taller companion.

“We had to blend in, you know that,” the taller man - model - Seonghwa continued, gracefully trudging two suitcases behind him. “Hongjoong is going to throw a fit if he finds out we’re being tailed.” 

The other man scoffed once more, letting out an obnoxious laughter that frankly reminded you of a hyena. “He’ll be fine,” he waved his hand off-handedly as he started to walk. “I could just—”

He came to a dramatic halt when he saw you standing in the hallway, blinking in complete surprise. He was a lot younger than you thought he was, his boyish charm was impossible to ignore. He observed you from head to toe before he let out a grin that was too wide to be innocent.

Seonghwa almost did a halt, but his was more sudden than his companion. Recognition flashed in his eyes and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. He was more reserved, after all. If the first man was chaos, this one was control.

“Well, well, well,” the grinning one drawled, ignoring Seonghwa’s pointed sigh. “What’s a beautiful thing like you doing here?”

You blinked, taken slightly aback by the sheer confidence in his tone. “I’m not an intruder,” you said cautiously. “I-I’m waiting for San.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not. I would’ve already known if you were,” he smirked as he stepped forward, confidence dripping with every step, until he stopped in front of you. Shivers ran through your spine. He reminded you of Hongjoong’s predatory nature. “And I wouldn’t be smiling.”

He held his hands up for you to shake. “Jung Wooyoung, and my heart is yours to intrude, if you’d like. You’ll find that I’m very easy to rob,” He gave a unapologetic bow, his smirk widening. “You could do it now if you’d like—”

“She’s not available,” Seonghwa cut in, his tone flat, his gaze flicking to you with a subtle nod of acknowledgement. “Wooyoung, please, contain yourself, you embarrassment.”

Woooyoung backed off slightly, the confusion in his face palpable. “She’s not available?” He frowned. “Why not?”

Seonghwa leaned in slightly, whispering something low against Wooyoung’s ear, voice so quiet you couldn’t catch the words. Wooyoung froze, his gaze towards you no longer flirtatious, the warmth in his eyes being replaced by something so cold and calculating that had you taking a small step back.

You’d seen that look before - on Mingi, of all people. But then, just as suddenly, the light snapped back on. Your sense of danger heightened; Wooyoung and Mingi reminded you of Hongjoong the most. You had to avoid them at all costs.

Wooyoung gasped, hand flying to his chest like he was scandalized. “I don’t believe it,” he blurted out. “You’re marrying Hongjoong?”

Wooyoung looked at you again, a wild laugh tumbling out as he shook his head. “Wow. Poor thing. You’re how old? This’ll be so awkward during dinners when people ask me, especially Mingi. How did Mingi react to Hongjoong owning you?”

You frowned, not understanding Mingi’s significance. “Not well, I guess,” you admitted before you gave him a pointed glare. “And I’m no one’s property.”

“Nuances,” he shrugged. “Well, if you get sick of Hongjoong’s moodiness, my room’s on the east wing, just a few doors away from his office—”

“There will be none of that,” Seonghwa said dryly, voice heavy with the kind of weariness that could only come from years of enduring Wooyoung’s antics.

“I didn’t hear a no from her,” Wooyoung sing-songed. 

“Wooyoung, shut up,” Seonghwa whisper-shouted in warning.

“Anyway, I could take you to dinner,” he wiggled his brows, grabbing your hand. You were almost appalled at his audacity and shied away, yanking your hand away quickly.

“Wooyoung.”

He turned to Seonghwa in exasperation. “Why are you messing up my groove, Hwa? God, you’re just like my father at this point-–” 

“You fucking fool,” Seonghwa cut in coldly, stepping aside as he jabbed a finger toward the other end of the hallway. “Congratulations. Now you’ll find out what the afterlife is like.”

Wooyoung followed his gaze, then yelped so loud it echoed through the hallways, because at the far end of the corridor, shadowed in the doorway with the light behind him stood none other than Hongjoong. His arms were crossed and his expression screamed death.

Your stomach turned, the blood draining from your face as he stared at you. They were dark, narrowed into slits, filled with a contained fury. This was the first time you were seeing him days after your altercation at the living room and his presence reminded you of how remarkably terrifying this man was.

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong said, voice low, crisp, and venomous. “My office. Now.”

All the color drained from Wooyoung’s face, his smirk crumbled, replaced by a sheepish half-smile and a muttered, “Ah. Right. Of course. Be right there.”

“And you. Be ready, there will be a family dinner tonight,” Hongjoong turned his unyielding attention to someone behind you. “Brief her, manners included.” He eyes you up and down, and you blushed in humiliation once more, trying not to look as small as you felt with his judging gaze. “Lord knows you need brushing up.”

You barely heard Wooyoung’s nervous chuckle as he stumbled past you, still trying to mask his own fear. But it didn’t matter, your attention was solely fixed entirely on the man who still hadn’t moved an inch, still standing in that doorway like a judge awaiting a verdict before you felt yourself being pulled back by Seonghwa. 

“I am terribly sorry about that,” he apologized, leading you to the side door where he came from. “He’s not that bad, I promise. Just a bit aloof, and Hongjoong, he’s uh, something, but it’ll get better with time.”

You hummed, not knowing what to say. You couldn’t possibly say that their boss spiked a little fear in you somehow. As you were walking, you were pleasantly surprised to see red tulips blooming. You grinned, quickly running off to look closer.

However, you wouldn’t be the only ones to admire them. Mingi turned the tulip in his fingers with surprising care, before he set his eyes on you and Seonghwa before approaching. His walk, alone, screamed intimidation and hesitated. Mingi trained his sharp eyes on you before he set his attention back on the red tulip bud he was holding.

“Since when did we have these?” He murmured absentmindedly. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re back. Wooyoung? I heard him whining and bitching around here somewhere.”

“Since now, I guess,” Seonghwa curiously grabs the tulips and hums. He turns to you with a soft smile and shows you the tulip up close. “Say, Y/N, may I ask what your favourite flowers are?”

You didn’t answer immediately, not with Mingi staring at you. You tried not to look at him, but you could feel his stare dissecting your every breath and it made your spine stiffen. “These ones,” you answered softly, cradling a nearby petal. “Red tulips.”

A strange silence followed and when you glanced up cautiously, you found the both of them staring at one another curiously. Mingi’s eyes narrowed, and Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, as if they all knew something you didn’t. “Anyway,” Seonghwa cleared his throat. “You should go to the office. Your dad’s probably tearing him a new one. He, uh, may or may not have flirted with her.”

Mingi’s brows shot up in mild surprise. “God, that stupid fuck,” he hissed, shaking his head before he patted Seonghwa’s shoulder once and walking away. “I’ll catch up later, I need to settle the score with him and Father anyway.”

Dad? Father? Those were the only things circling in your head even as Seonghwa had guided you back into your designated room and sat you down on the bed. Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, because Mingi wasn’t just anyone, he was Hongjoong’s son.

“I take it you had no idea First Master Mingi was Hongjoong’s son?” Seonghwa asked, amusement dancing in his eyes at your bewildered expression. You robotically shook your head in denial. He let out a short, breathy laugh. “Figures. That’s very Hongjoong of him to not tell you,” he shook his head.

You smiled bitterly. “Why would he? I’m nobody to him.”

Seonghwa’s eyes softened. “That’s not it. You have to understand, you are only about seven or so years older than his eldest son. It might not seem like it, but he does have morals.”

San did mention that the so-called masters were family, but you thought that meant they had a brotherly bond. You weren’t expecting literal family. “I just assumed he was one of higher-ups,” you blurted out.

“He technically is, yes,” Seonghwa confirmed. “He’s set to inherit the title once Hongjoong retires. Wooyoung is the next in line given that the Second Master is not interested in the title.”

You blinked repeatedly. Then it hits you - there was yesterday when San mentioned a Third Master. Wooyoung is also Hongjoong’s son. “Mingi is the eldest, Hongjoong had him before he hit twenty because his father wanted him to have a son before he transferred the title to him,” he kindly explained.

“And his mother was, uh,” he tenses a little bit before shaking his head. “She’s not a good person. Only married a Kim to sell the enemy information. There was no love in the marriage anyway, so Hongjoong kicked her out when Mingi was only three. Haven’t seen her since. They’re all about the same age, but Wooyoung’s the youngest. There’s a reason he gets away with everything,” he chuckled.

“How come Wooyoung doesn’t share a last name with Hongjoong?” You asked.

“It’s because Wooyoung is not his biological son,” Seonghwa answered. “Neither is Second Master, but they’re biological brothers, however. They were his former right-hand’s sons, but he died in a hit gone wrong. They both got along with Mingi even before then, so adopting them was a no-brainer. But that doesn’t matter, they are his sons.”

You took that in slowly. Three sons; one cold and carved from stone, another a carefree spark of chaos, and a third somewhere in between you hadn’t even met yet. No wonder Mingi looked at you like that. You were just a few years older than him and he was probably naturally weirded out about it. 

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to it, you have to get ready for dinner tonight. Since Wooyoung has been gone for three months, it’s customary to welcome him back,” Seonghwa grabs your hand to shake it gently, smiling at you with that smile that eased your worries for a bit. “Don’t mind Hongjoong. I’m sure you’ll do well. It’s very nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

You didn’t pay much attention to Seonghwa’s words. It’s very nice to finally meet you. You didn’t bother to dress up too much as you stood in front of the mirror longer than you should have, smoothing invisible wrinkles from your clothes. For a moment, you thought about putting on makeup, but you’d always felt like a child trying to play dress-up.

When you finally stepped out of the room and down the long hallway toward the dining hall, your legs felt hollow. The muted murmur of voices from behind the doors swelled with each step. And you hated how it reminded you of that night - your first time meeting Hongjoong.

Thankfully, he wasn’t ignoring you because he was looking straight at you, arms crossed as he watched your awkward form walk to the centre of the room, as San led to the chair to sit directly to his left. You cursed internally, you were betting on settling in the background and would have chosen to sit on the far end of the table.

Thankfully, everyone was here, though you couldn’t really focus on them. Mingi sat in front of you, Seonghwa and San, respectively, sitting beside him. You were sure you wouldn’t be the only one who couldn’t breathe with Hongjoong’s menacing aura. Still, you were relieved, at least you wouldn’t be alone.

“Howdy, pretty,” Wooyoung saluted flirtatiously beside you, his eyes twinkling with mischief and excitement. You saw the man beside him roll his eyes dramatically, but didn’t say a word. You gave Wooyoung a tight smile out of politeness.

“Scram if you’re going to be insufferable, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong sighed, irritation palpable on his expression before he set his eyes on you. “And you, don’t do that ever again. You’re here to represent me. You know what that entails. I know you’re not as dull as you seem.”

You gritted your teeth, forcing a meek nod as a response. Wooyoung scoffs obnoxiously, ignoring the first statement directed to him. “Relax, nobody’s taking your woman from you,” he teased. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you. You’re practically frothing at the mouth.”

You could tell Hongjoong was close to exploding judging from the vein popping on his temples that protruded so much, it looked like it hurt. Instead, he puts his hands up, gesturing to the stoic man sitting beside Wooyoung. “This is Jongho,” he said, voice flat and uninterested. “He will be your bodyguard from now on. Jongho, show your respect.”

You blinked in surprise. This was the last thing you ever expected, but you welcomed it. You were surprised, however, Jongho didn’t look like he was much older than you. His face was carved with stoicism and impassiveness. “I’ll do my best to keep you safe,” Jongho said plainly, voice deep and steady.

“Right, let's get a few things out of the way,” Hongjoong started, voice still as sharp and astute as if time was running out, the entire time the staff was piling dinner on the table. “When did your parents pass away?”

That question hit you harder than all the insults and coldness he directed towards you. You were expecting something else, even about your uncle’s failing business that you had no idea about, but certainly not this. “When I was sixteen,” you blurted out. “It was sudden, I was told it was a hit and run.”

Hongjoong’s question had sliced through the dinner like a blade, and your answer left a ringing silence in its wake.You swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of how cold the room felt. Across the table, Mingi’s gaze sharpened instantly, replaced by something cold and alert. He flicked his eyes towards Hongjoong, a silent communication passing between them. And even Wooyoung let out a slow exhale, his playful demeanor was nowhere to be found.

Hongjoong nodded, his stern face not giving anything away. “Hit and run?” He repeated slowly, like tasting the words. “That’s what they told you? Who told you that?”

“M-My uncle,” you answered truthfully.

“Hmm,” Hongjoong hummed brusquely. “That good-for-nothing leech during dinner?”

You nodded stiffly. A beat passes, something about the way his jaw muscle ticked and his exhale changed. “When did you start living with him?”

“Right after the funeral,” you replied. “He took me before my other family members had a chance to say their condolences to me.”

“And?” he asked, voice clipped. “How bad was he?”

Just like that, memories upon memories of all the hurt, emotionally and physically, started playing in your brain like an old camera film. Subconsciously, you touched your neck. The bruises were gone, but you could still feel his hands wrapped around them. “Bad enough,” you replied quietly, avoiding eye contact.

San’s eyes softened. There was a slight crease in his brow, one of restrained empathy. He leaned back slightly, as if he needed space to process it, or to give you some. “Fucking bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

Hongjoong didn’t respond, his eyes lowering to your hand on your neck.  His eyes didn’t soften, but the edge in them did dull ever so slightly. He looked at you for one more second before he leaned back on his seat to stare out the large window that overlooked the entire manor.

"You need to act the part if you're going to stay here," Hongjoong said, voice sharp, still looking out the window. You were thankful for the change of topic, it was hard to pretend the questions didn’t sting.

You glanced wearily at him from where you were sitting. “What part?”

“You are going to be Mrs. Kim very soon, and you will be associated with me,” he said. “That means whatever you do will reflect on me, including both your victory and your defeat. I do not want the likes of you to embarrass me.”

You clenched your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Your identity was being stripped down, reshaped into someone he could not even tolerate standing next to. It was next level humiliation.

“I will not tolerate disrespect from any outsiders about what’s mine, hence me giving you a bodyguard,” he continued, casually sipping on his wine. “I refuse my family to be a laughingstock of some sorts. You will be under my name, so you will be under my protection.”

Under his name, not sharing his name. He was basically telling you that you will become his burden and liability. “It is imperative that no one knows about us for now. You will not wear a ring, and you will not speak about our arrangement. ”

You swallowed, throat tight. “So what am I supposed to be, then? Your accessory?”

He leaned closer, and your breath caught in your chest. “Play the game. Or pack your things.”

“Now, hold on a minute,” a voice cut off, one you weren’t expecting. Everybody looks at Wooyoung curiously, the cutlery in the background halting. “Don’t you think this is a bit much, Dad? You’re asking her to erase herself in front of everyone. Hide everything. No ring, no identity, no dignity? You want her to protect your name, but you won’t even give her the same courtesy?”

Your heart thumped. Was someone finally on your side? And of all the people, his own son? The one who you thought was a flirt. Hongjoong shifted his gaze. “Since when did you start calling me Dad?” He asked, tone cold now, sharpened to a lethal edge. “Do not undermine me at my own table, Jung Wooyoung.”

You weren’t that much of an idiot - this engagement was a farce because he was hiding you like a shadow. It was erasure disguised as a strategy. It stung, not that you were expecting him to hold you and show you off, but still.

Your fingers brushed against the gold fork, just drowning out the fight, and you were about to dig in when your plate was suddenly pushed away. Horrified, you stared at Hongjoong who had a passive expression on his face.  “Don’t eat anything,” he stated, cold eyes drilling onto your wide ones, his fingers still on the edge of the plate he so callously pushed off.  “Not until I say so.”

You froze, absolutely mortified at what he had done. You could accept all the insults and the cold shoulder he’d been presenting you in his house, but this? You swallowed the lump in your throat and kept your head down, your hands curling into your lap like they didn’t belong at the table. Your stomach had long since stopped growling - embarrassment had a way of killing hunger.

“She didn’t do anything. Why would you do that?” Seonghwa spoke, his tone laced with disbelief, his brows furrowed as he looked from the plate to you, then back to Hongjoong. Even Jongho, who had been trying to eat quietly, had stopped.

“No one eats until she does,” Wooyoung muttered suddenly, pushing his own plate away with a sharp scrape. He didn’t even look at Hongjoong. His focus was entirely on you, his eyes softening slightly. “I love you and all, Hongjoong, but we’re not playing these games. If you’re jealous, just say so.”

“Then none of you are eating,” Hongjoong snarled. The sudden sound of a chair scraping violently against the floor shattered the moment. Everyone flinched, heads turning just in time to see Hongjoong push himself up from his seat with a grace so sharp it cut through the hum of the room. “Get up,” he said, his jaw locked, his fists white-knuckled.

Your head whipped toward him in disbelief. “W-What?”

His eyes, narrowed and glinting with something unreadable, didn’t budge. “I said, get up.” His tone was low and lethal; it didn’t leave room for any arguments.

He didn’t wait for your response, not until he just grabbed you by the arm all of a sudden, dragging you away from the crowd and straight to the living room staircase. “What are you—?”

“You,” he spat, voice low and accusing. “What spell did you cast on them? How did you get everyone to turn against me?”

You blinked, stunned by the sudden accusation, but you couldn’t say anything as Hongjoong’s eyes darkened further, shadows flickering in their depths as his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Jongho. Take her to her room. No more scenes.”

Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat longer, a mix of frustration and something unreadable in his expression before walking away. It was like Hongjoong ripped your heart out directly from your chest and took it with him, leaving your insides hollow in its wake. 

“I apologize on his behalf. Hongjoong’s not good at expressing how he truly feels. You’re not missing much on the food, if it matters,” he assuaged in an attempt to make you feel better as he led you upstairs. “The steak was tough, the dressing was bland, and the avocados were mushy as hell. Our chef was sick, so we had to hire another one. Their last day, it seems.”

You swivelled your head slowly to look at Jongho. “W-What did you say was in the dressing?”

“Huh? Avocados? Yeah, it’s like someone stepped on them and plopped them on the plate. Bleh.”

Your heart rate began to pick up abnormally. You were deadly allergic to avocados. “Really?” Your voice cracked slightly, the information settling in your head like a broken record. 

“Really,” he confirmed with a soft smile that emphasized how young he actually was.

Avocado allergies were rare. Even when you were younger, it was easy to avoid them, and even your uncle didn’t know you had an allergy. Not that he gave you avocados, he was cheap on you like that. 

But besides that, you definitely screwed up last night. From what you’ve observed, not only was Hongjoong’s fuse short already, but his anger was difficult to dissipate as well. You needed to figure out a way to appease him, you didn’t want him calling off the engagement.

“You want to make Hongjoong’s dinner every night, you said?” San’s brows were both raised up to his hairline. “Are you sure, Y/N? Hongjoong’s quite the picky eater.”

You ignored the voice in your head that bristled at the thought of a man in his mid-forties still picky with his food. “It might not seem like it, but I’m a capable cook, I swear,” you joked. “I’ve had a lot of practice living with my uncle.”

San’s eyes softened significantly, but in the end, he relented. “I’ll instruct the staff to vacate the kitchen come nighttime,” he sighed. 

True to his words, the kitchen was all yours by 6 o’clock at night. You didn’t even have time to marvel around the luxurious setup, you had no time to waste. Not when you had to prove yourself useful. When push comes to shove, maybe you could be his chef instead of his wife rather than your uncle’s niece again.

You didn’t make anything fancy, just a simple soup to gauge what Hongjoong might like or might not. You even tried your best to make the vegetables in it barely visible, that’s how much effort you put in it.

You were about to bring the soup up to his office when by sheer coincidence, Hongjoong, himself, showed up to the kitchen, and judging by his slightly raised brow at you holding the bowl with an apron still on you, he wasn’t expecting to see anyone in the kitchen, let alone you of all people.

“H-Hi,” you stammered, avoiding out contact, awkwardly. “I, uh, I made you something.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, just blinking repeatedly, before sighing. “Don’t stay up late next time,” was all he said before he moved past you to walk out of the kitchen as if he didn’t want to be there in the first place.

Hongjoong disappeared into his study, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him like punctuation to the silence he left behind. You let out a shaky breath, the sting of his blatant rejection making your legs shake as you sat on the dining chair. Maybe tomorrow.

But he still didn’t eat. You did it again the next day anyway, even when the results were the same. You weren’t a master chef by any means, but one thing you were proud of was that you put genuine care on all of the things your hands create.

You patiently waited for Hongjoong, ready to try and spend time with him at dinner even though the both of you never got along since he disliked you. The thought of being face to face made your heartbeat go wilder than the prospect of him accepting your efforts.

By the fifth night after another failed attempt, you asked around to figure out what Hongjoong’s favourite foods were. You tried to ignore the pitying looks San sent you while Seonghwa quietly cleaned another plate of ignored efforts, taking everything with a smile on your face even though on the inside, you felt like crying.

You clutched another plate a little tighter again the next day, heat bleeding through porcelain and into your palms. You wondered if he even knew or if he smelled the spices in the air, wondered if he saw your sleeping form on the couch when you were too tired to wait for him.

Maybe you didn’t need him to eat it, maybe you just needed him to pause - to look at you like you were more than the terms of a deal neither of you asked for. But instead, all he gave you was a sigh and his absence. And there you were - offering warmth with shaking hands to a man who’d rather freeze.

Hope began to dwindle when you didn’t even see Hongjoong’s shadow anymore by the seventh night. You started plating smaller portions out of  humiliation and by the ninth, you didn’t bother waiting for Hongjoong anymore, just quietly making the food and leaving it in the kitchen, not even bothering to check if it was eaten or if Seonghwa had thrown it away.

You decided to stop after another week. You were tired of waking up in the room to Seonghwa’s shaking head when you looked at him expectantly. However, you wanted to make dinner for the last time not just for Hongjoong anymore, but for everyone who’s been nothing but accommodating to you.

You just needed a couple of ingredients to make what you needed, and for that, you wanted to pick them out yourself. That was how you found yourself directly in front of Hongjoong’s office where you knew he always was, steeling your nerves to knock and ask if there was a car that you could use to drive yourself to the market.

You were about to knock when you stopped yourself. There was a heated conversation going inside the office and by the sound of it, it was Hongjoong and Seonghwa. You could hardly hear what they were talking about.

“....can’t keep doing this….giving her the cold shoulder, Joong…she’ll find out….what are you going to do then?”

“Give me time…..so close to caging in Yoo Jaehwan, that bastard…no one can know….make sure he’ll pay….Yeosang.”

Your entire body locked, coldness spreading all over your chest at the mention of your uncle’s name. Those were Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s voices, you were positive, but what were they talking about?

“....won’t be safe forever, you know that. San….intel on the hit and run….was damn impossible to….think Jaehwan knows?”

“There’s no denying it…..will be safer here....never forgive myself if something happens….my everything—who’s there?”

You cursed internally when you accidentally misplaced your foot, causing your body to bump onto the door. You were about to turn and run away, to pretend that you were never here in the first place, but it was too late. The door swung open, revealing Hongjoong’s stern figure, eyes sharp and searching. His gaze landed on you in mild surprise, his chest rising slightly from how fast he'd moved.

“Y/N?“ You saw his hand squeeze the doorknob ever so slightly. Still, you can’t help the shiver that passed through you. That was the first time he’d ever said your name. “How long have you been standing there?”

His voice was low, but it wasn’t calm. “What did I tell you about sneaking around like a damn rat?”

“I-I just got here, I swear,” you swallowed, hard. He stared at you, deadpan. In no timeline or galaxy did he believe you. “I want to go out. I-I know there’s a market near here and—”

“Absolutely not,” he rejected, his voice rising up in pitch ever so slightly in disbelief. “You’re not going out.”

The denial was harsh and brutal - hell, he didn’t even let you finish your sentence - but this was also the first time you saw any other emotion on him other than anger, annoyance, and intimidation. “I really want to go—” you tried again.

“And I said no,” he repeated, his voice a little harsher this time.

You were taken aback. It wasn’t just the denial that struck you, it was the sheer urgency in his tone. It was the look in his eyes that if you stared hard enough, you could’ve found uneasiness and dread swimming in them.

“But I haven’t been out ever since I came here,” you blurted out in equal disbelief. He was the most arrogant and controlling one you’ve ever met and that was saying a lot. “I want to buy some produce—”

“Order it online, I don’t give a damn,” he snapped. He was about to close the door on you, but you put your foot to block it. “What the hell are you—”

“Please, Hongjoong,” you begged. It was a massive hit on your own ego and pride, but you were going to lose your mind if you don’t find fresh air soon. “I-I won’t even stay long, I’ll keep my phone on me.”

He stilled, his gaze faltered. You saw his throat tighten as he looked towards the floor. “Hongjoong,” he repeated under his breath, so soft you almost missed it. 

Your breath hitched. He said it so softly that you almost missed it. Except you didn’t. You weren’t even sure if you were meant to hear it. Seonghwa, who forgot was also in the room, cleared his throat, thus breaking that unspoken tension you found with Hongjoong. “I could take her—” he started gently, but Hongjoong cut him off with a look, his neck snapping up so fast that it scared you a little.

Hongjoong’s eyes hardened again, and this time, they were the darkest you had ever seen. “I don’t keep you to tolerate her, Seonghwa,” he barked before turning to you one last time. “You’re not going out. That’s final.”

His gaze lingered a moment longer on you, eyes glinting with something between rage and warning, before he completely shut the door on you. He didn’t slam it, but it still knocked the wind out of your lungs as the finality of his denial settles in on you.

Something shifted in you at the moment. At first, you had mistaken it for fatigue. The stress of constantly trying to walk on eggshells with Hongjoong just so you wouldn’t say the wrong things in case he decided to call off the marriage, the late nights staying up making him dinner he didn’t even want, they were starting to get to you.

It didn’t happen all at once, but now the weight in your chest didn’t feel like fear anymore, it felt like fury - no, you knew it was. The final push was so mundane it almost felt insulting. You could feel your anger simmering and it was only a matter of time until it boiled over.

You were tempted to bang on the door like a madwoman, but you chose to walk away to the one place you knew would give you comfort - the garden. But even the flowers weren’t enough to make you feel better. If anything, they emphasized how infinitely colourless your world was.

You clenched your jaw, jaw tight as you sat down on one of the benches, arms crossed, trying to remind yourself that you were still here. You were still standing and still breathing. You weren’t going to fall apart over someone like him.

“Your energy is so strong that I wouldn’t be surprised if the flowers started to wilt.”

You rolled your eyes, not really in the mood to talk to anybody, but when Jongho sat beside you, you couldn’t help but relax a bit. You’ve always loved company regardless of how you felt. You’ve been alone all your life, so it was always nice to have someone. “How did you know I was here anyway?” You murmured with a small pout.

Jongho chuckled, absentmindedly fiddling with a lone petal. “I’m not your bodyguard for nothing. I’m always watching.”

“That’s totally not creepy at all,” you chuckled a little, shaking your head.

He laughed, shifting his weight before letting out a slow breath. “He’s not mad at you, you know.”

You snorted, giving him an incredulous look, but Jongho just smiled. “I’m serious. Don’t take it personally,” he said softly. “He’s just scared. That’s all.”

You didn’t care what Hongjoong’s intentions were, but in reality, you were starving for anything that made you feel less like a ghost haunting someone else's palace. Yet your mind wandered, uninvited and unwelcome, back to that moment at the door when you’d said his name. But it wasn’t your own desperation that haunted you - it was his reaction. How his gaze had faltered and how he’d gone utterly still. 

If there was something to behold about your personality, it was that you were nothing but persistent, after all. It was the reason why you’ve come so far in your miserable life. So you tried again after a couple of days to ask Hongjoong again if you could go out.

Whatever conversation you overheard him and Seonghwa must have set him off that day so you figured you’d let his anger simmer and try to catch him in a good mood. Yesterday, you even saw him in the living room, casually reading the newspaper - you almost smiled at that because it inadvertently showed his age - while chatting casually with Mingi.

Now that you knew the real nature of their relationship, you could clearly see how much Mingi resembled Hongjoong, who honestly didn’t look a day over forty if it wasn’t for reading glasses resting low on his nose. God, you thought, that detail alone betrayed his age more than anything.

So you gathered your courage and waited when you knew he was going to be alone in his office in the afternoon. You took a deep breath, rapped your knuckles on the door before opening it slightly enough to poke your head in.

But he wasn’t here. That surprised you more than anything, mainly because it wasn’t much of a secret how much of a workaholic Hongjoong was. Even if you didn’t hear Wooyoung complain about it a lot, it wasn’t like you couldn’t see it.

Against your better judgment, you entered the room, opting to just wait in his room for his return, but not closing the door to signal that someone was here. Last thing you wanted was for Hongjoong to think you were intruding. You were hanging on your last thread with him as is. His office screamed of him all over.

Admittedly, you balked at the slight mess on his table as you walked towards the leather couches to sit down, but before you could do so, something inadvertently catches your eye amongst the mess that was his desk.

Half-tucked under a stack of manila folders and faded blueprints, barely sticking out like it had slipped by accident, was a photo. You reached for it on instinct - then froze. It was you.

Specifically, it was your graduation photo. You were smiling, though you could tell that it didn’t reach your eyes.. The photo was frayed along the edges and the corners were soft from wear. There was a faint crease running down the middle, as if it had been folded and unfolded a hundred times over. Your heart thudded, your hands shaking immensely. You shouldn’t have looked.

“You have thirty seconds to explain what you’re doing in my office before I lose all civility.”

The way your entire body trembled with uncouth shock was something to be seen. Hongjoong stood there, his sharp eyes trained on the photo you were holding in your hand, his jaw tightening. “Time is ticking, Y/N. You’re twenty-seconds away from having a very, very bad day.”

You put the photo haphazardly back on his desk. “I wanted to ask again if I could, perhaps, go out—”

You were stunned into absolute silence when he banged his fist on the door once but with enough force to shake the whole world around the both of you. “Are you deaf?” His tone sliced the air in half like a blade. “Or just unbelievably stupid? Didn’t I tell you that you cannot go out? How many times do I have to tell you?”

You stood frozen, the heat of his fury scorching your skin, but he wasn’t done. “You’re either acting like an imbecile, or you really are one. And I’m supposed to marry you? I’m already doing your uncle a favour by not shooting him between the eyes, but my God, this is pushing it. ”

His words gutted you. You were used to your uncle calling you all the insults in the book, but this was something else, Hongjoong was basically judging your entire personality from the skin side out, and that hurt more than anything else because he doesn’t even know you.

But you were only human, and even animals bite back when wounded. “You’re no different than my uncle,” you slipped out, unshed tears lining the corners of your eyes. “You’re hiding something from me. Why are you locking me in?”

He scoffed, eyes glinting with something that felt like contempt. “Please. Don’t insult me like that. He sent you to me like a lamb to a slaughterhouse. You just haven’t thanked me for the knife yet.”

You didn’t even know what expression your face was making, only that your cheeks felt hot and your throat burned like you’d swallowed fire. “I hate you,” your lips wobbled, looking at him with indignance in your eyes. “I hate you.”

He laughed bitterly, without humor, without restraint. “Yeah?” His voice was sharp, venomous. “Well, you’re about to hate me more.”

Then he turned, grabbed an envelope from the desk, and threw it at you. Money spilled out like a slap, some bills fluttering to the floor at your feet. “There, this is what you wanted, is it not? Now you can pretend you’re not living inside a cage.”

To say you were appalled would be an understatement. Your heart curled into itself, shriveling behind your ribs. Before you could fully break down, you ran out without another word, not bothering to look at him or the money littered across the room as you ran until your legs gave out in a random corridor of the mansion.

You didn’t bother minimizing your loudness, your hands trembling against the marble as you choked back a sob, quiet and broken. You haven’t cried in a long time, mainly because you refused to for someone like him, but this wasn’t just for Hongjoong. They were for everything; for the girl you used to be, the child who lost her parents, for the woman you were failing to become, and for the bride you never wanted to be.

The rubber band holding yourself together snaps, so you ran down the corridors, through the driveway, past the gigantic gates, anywhere but there. You didn’t know where you were going, but you needed to breathe somewhere he wasn’t.

 It wasn’t until your shoes hit an unfamiliar pavement that you realized that you were far away from the estate. In fact, you were in a small park with a playground. The sight was haunting, the play place devoid of the telltale laughter of children. It was perfect.

The adrenaline that kept you going had long worn off, but you didn’t care as you walked warily towards the swings and sat on it. Your fists clenched around the swing’s cold chains as more tears fell freely now. You didn't bother wiping them away. Why were you here anyway? To get away from a man who doesn’t want you even when you knew the invisible chains that tied you two together would shorten again?

Pathetic.

You had fantasized about the idea of finding freedom in a marriage that saved your life. You had hoped that maybe Hongjoong would grow on you, and him on you, but those fantasies had shriveled and rotted the moment Kim Hongjoong opened his mouth. And so, you let yourself swing, forward and back, forward and back, as if maybe, just maybe, you could go far enough to leave the hurt behind.

You were there for a while, you didn’t move when the sun started to set. You didn’t move when thunder clapped on the sky above. You didn’t move when the first set of raindrops fell onto your skin, sticking to your clothes like a fever that you can’t sweat out. You didn’t care.

You would’ve stayed there forever, let the ocean take you, but someone else had plans for you that day. At first, you couldn’t hear it above the rain and the thunder, but the unmistakable sound of footsteps hitting puddles was impossible to ignore.

You closed your eyes, willing your mind to focus, but when you opened them again, you froze. Hongjoong stood from afar, drenched to the bone, his head whipping around like a madman. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, but when his eyes met yours, his shoulders hunched like the entire world had just been lifted off his back and thrown back on again. You closed your eyes again, praying that he’d go away if you pretended to not see him, but just like you, Hongjoong was nothing but persistent, after all.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” he demanded, his voice losing its sharp edge, making way for an emotion you weren’t sure you were ready to hear from him. 

By God, he looked devastating. His breath ragged, chest rising up and down, jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap. His usual posh and classy look was missing as water dripped from his hair into his dark, unreadable eyes. And he looked absolutely furious.

“Go away,” you said, voice thin and cold, wrenching yourself from his grip. “Leave me alone.”

You stood up, but your legs wobbled, and he caught your arm before you could fall. His grip was tight, almost bruising. Your heart almost thudded out of your ribs when he pulled you close, both of his hands holding your shoulders now.

“Stop it,” he barked, but his voice was hoarse. He shook his head, closing his eyes before opening them again with a shaky sigh. “Why are you such a fucking pain in my ass? I’m too old for this shit.”

He sighed sharply, his hand hastily pushing his wet hair away from his face in frustration. His other hand lingered at your arm, warm despite the storm, as he stepped in closer, lowering his voice. “I will bring the market to you next time, alright?”

The wind howled around you, but you didn’t even notice. His fingers twitched like they were about to reach for you, but you turned your face away just about when he stopped inches away from your skin before he fisted his hand, his gritting teeth audible in the rain.

“I’ll take you back,” he said, voice sharp again. “Before you get yourself sick and make my life even more difficult than it already is.”

His hand clasped yours tightly as he pulled you along with him through the rain. His hand didn’t leave yours until you reached the car, and maybe he felt bad for you, but when he grabbed your hand again when he started driving, it wasn’t out of pity.

If anything, he held tighter. His hand found yours on your lap, his thumb softly caressing the still damp skin of your upturned hand, not letting go even when he had to swerve and turn. He said nothing. He stared ahead through the rain-blurred windshield, jaw clenched tight, knuckles white on the steering wheel, but he never let go.

And you didn’t pull away either. Because even though your chest hurt from his words, the warmth of his palm over yours was the first thing all day that didn’t feel cruel. It seemed to lull you into a short slumber even.

The soft brake of the car was what brought you back to sentience. You watched Hongjoong press some sort of button on his car before radio static comes to life from it. “Third wing master bedroom. I’m going for a ride,” he said gruffly before he let go and pressed the bridge of his nose.

The chill of the storm probably disoriented you and you didn’t understand, but when your door opened to be face to face with the gentle Seonghwa, you were a bit surprised to find that you were parked directly in front of the mansion front door.

“Come on,” he said quietly, holding onto your shoulders and not caring if you were wet, like he knew what you had already gone through. “Let’s get you warm.”

He guided and helped you get out but you yanked to a stop when you realized that something was stopping you - Hongjoong’s hand still entwined with yours. You turned your head toward him. Hongjoong hadn’t moved, his eyes locked with yours, burning but hollowed out. And for a heartbeat, everything was still. The world, the storm, the ache in your chest.

But he let go, shutting the door softly before driving off to the night to God-knows-where. You wouldn’t know, Seonghwa was already guiding you inside the mansion by your shoulders. His hands were gentle, his movements even more patient.

His eyes dropped into sympathetic comfort, his hand slightly squeezing your shoulders. He gently walked the both of you into the living room where the fireplace was already hot and going. 

San was already there waiting for you, eyes wide with panic along with Jongho who handed him a thick blanket. “Wrap up, yeah? Don’t want you getting sick now,” he said, quickly bundling you to warm you up. “You ran out during that storm? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Give her space, San,” Seonghwa said, but the relief in his voice was palpable. He handed you a mug of something warm, ginger tea, you guessed, and crouched down beside you, eyes soft. “We were all looking. You scared us.”

Suddenly, Jongho dropped to his knees, bowing his head low, much to your surprise. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I should have kept an eye, I didn’t guard you enough.”

“W-What? No,” you frowned, hesitantly patting his head. “It’s not your fault. You’re not my keeper–“

Before you could even answer, Wooyoung appeared behind him, surprisingly less loud but just as concerned. “Yeah, you tell him that,” he scoffed softly, arms crossed to his chest, shaking his head slightly. “Hongjoong almost killed him in sheer anger. Seriously, why did you do that?”

It was the most serious you’ve ever seen the man, but of course, he was still as dramatic as ever. His eyes darted from you to the others before dramatically flopping onto the arm of the couch. “I’ve never seen him like that before,” he chortled. “Like, ever. Hell, he doesn’t even react that bad when me and my brothers get shot or something.”

“It can’t be that bad,” you murmured, fiddling with the blanket. “I wasn’t even gone for long. I was going to come back.”

That was when all three of them looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “Not long?” Jongho echoed, his brows shooting up in disbelief. “You’ve been gone for hours, Y/N.”

“Hongjoong practically tore the city apart,” San shook his head. “You were gone for over five hours. Five. That’s not just a walk in the park, that’s a goddamn vanishing act. I swear he was about to murder us if he couldn’t find you.”

You blinked, confused. “He was…looking for me?”

“Obviously,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. “I’ve never seen him lose control like that before. But seriously, please don’t do that again. I’m not ready for Mingi to inherit the business in case Dad gets an aneurysm.”

You looked down at your lap, shame filling your lungs along with the thudding of your heartbeat. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

“But you did,” Wooyoung muttered, but his tone wasn’t offensive. “But I get it. I do apologise on his behalf, though. He shouldn’t have thrown money at you. That was unnecessarily cruel, even for him.”

Seonghwa gave your shoulder a squeeze. “You’re safe now and that’s all that matters. Hongjoong should be back shortly,” he helps you up once more. “Come along. You should wash up so you don’t get sick.”

You thanked everyone before you let Seonghwa guide you into a part of the mansion you’ve never been at, let alone the room he took you in before he bid you a goodnight with a promise to check on you the next day.

You sighed deeply, trudging your feet to the shower. Your heart swells the moment you opened that door, it smelled of Hongjoong. It was hard not to remember the way his fingers had clung to yours, how they didn’t tremble until after he’d let go, the entire time you washed up and got ready for bed.

When morning came, your eyes fluttered open when the first ray of sunshine hit your face, but you didn’t want to get up - the sheets smelled faintly of sandalwood and something distinctly him, and that the pillow cradled your head felt like a welcome comfort.

For a second, you had, perhaps, thought that everything was a dream, but when you rubbed your eyes and made a move to get up, you were completely startled awake to see the last person you ever thought you’d see the moment you’d opened your eyes.

Hongjoong was fully dressed in a crisp black turtleneck and slacks, hair slightly tousled, as he typed something furiously into his laptop. He didn’t look up when you stirred, but you noticed the subtle clench of his jaw.

“I trust you slept well?” Hongjoong asked, lowering his glasses to stare straight at you.

You willed for your heartbeat to stop thumping so much for fear of him hearing it. You stared straight back at him, noticing the faint shadow under his eyes. “I suppose so,” you said. “You didn’t, though.”

“I’ll say,” he shut his laptop off, reaching for a folder beside it, before leaning on the couch, crossing his arms, his sharp eyes trained on you. “You did sleep on my bed, after all.”

You blinked, the words not sinking in your morning-addled brain yet, but when it did, your mouth dropped open in surprise. “I-I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, heat pooling in your lower belly at the information. No wonder the entire room smelled like him. “I didn’t sleep here on purpose—”

“I know,” he sighed. “I asked Seonghwa to bring you here. Lest you already forgot.”

He took his glasses off, rubbed the bridge of his nose like the weight of the world had been sitting there. “Next time, don’t run off in a storm just to prove a point.”

“That wasn’t what I was doing,” you frowned.

He looked at you then, brief and unreadable. “Then what were you doing?”

“Trying to breathe,” you croaked, your voice dropping down to a whisper that you wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t heard it. “Plus, you looked all night for me.”

He didn’t say anything at first. But the shift in his expression, the subtlety of it, was louder than words. “Freshen up and eat breakfast,” he muttered, tapping the folder in his hand twice. “I have a couple of questions for you.”

You weren’t in the mood to argue with him, certainly not after his obvious attempt in shutting down the conversation completely. Unsurprisingly, your body still ached from last night. You opted for a quick brush of your teeth, tying your hair presentably. 

The scent of you had me dizzy. I have to get out of here.

You didn’t bother changing out of the pyjamas Seonghwa had provided for you since you didn’t have clothes here. It would give you an out, and you weren’t ready to face Hongjoong out of shame. That’s exactly what you did. You were about to slip out, when he cleared his throat.

“Where are you going?” Hongjoong stared at you, brows raised.

You gulped, feeling like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t. “Uhm. I’d hate to bother you further. Didn’t you tell me to have breakfast?”

“I did,” he confirmed, gesturing towards a particular direction of the room. “With me.”

Your brain almost shut off with the information. With him? He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he stood up and opened the balcony door. Your heart practically leapt out of your chest, you were positive that the breakfast set up there wasn’t present when you woke up. Had he instructed someone to set it up while you were in the bathroom?

This was the first time you were ever going to eat with Hongjoong. Not beside him, not five feet across the room like some barely tolerated shadow. With him. And worse, he was making you so nervous that you felt like you’d forgotten how to walk properly as you followed him out, sitting across him awkwardly, not knowing how to place your stiff limbs properly.

You didn’t even register how your hands trembled until you reached for your fork and nearly knocked it off the table. You were just about to dig in, not knowing what else to do, when he stopped you. “Wait,” Hongjoong halted you brusquely.

“W-What?” You froze, hand still mid-air, wondering if you did something wrong.

Instead of replying, Hongjoong reached over your plate and began digging into your food with his chopsticks. You narrowed your eyes in slight annoyance, ready to mouth at him for possibly controlling what you ate and picking at your food without asking, but your heart dropped to your feet by the time he was lifting his chopsticks back up again.

He picked out a couple of raisins from your plate, setting them on his plate one by one as if this wasn’t the first time he’s done this. You stared, blinking rapidly to stop the sting behind your eyes. “I hate raisins,” you suspiciously pointed out.

He pauses, glances at you once through his lashes, before eating like you didn’t say anything. And suddenly, your chest ached with the weight of all the things he wouldn’t tell you. Before you could open that can of worms, he was already flipping open a folder he had brought to the table, effectively cutting off the topic with the sharp precision he was known for.

“I need you to look at a couple of faces for me,” he said, back in business as usual with his clipped utterrance. He slides the files towards you in one, smooth motion. “It’s imperative that you tell me immediately if you see a familiar looking face.”

You were confused, but you took the folder with ease, flipping through pages and pages of different photos of both men and women alike. Hongjoong staring dead into your soul was distracting, but you were sure you'd never seen these people before. You were going to tell him as such, until you stumbled upon the very last photo.

“Him,” you drawled out, surprised at both the face and yourself for pointing it out. “I’ve seen him before…”

The moment you showed him the photo, the tension in his shoulders snapped into visible rigidity. “Where?” he demanded, his voice sharp and urgent. “Where did you see him?”

Truth be told, you would have forgotten about the man if it wasn’t for this. “I passed through him before I reached the park,” you frowned. “I remember him because he had this weird lip piercing.”

Hongjoong cursed under his breath, making the dread in your chest spread like a disease, before he hastily snatched the folder from your hands, his hands fisting the edge of the folder. “Finish your food, darling,” he said hurriedly, the darkness in his face making you nervous. “We’re going for a little trip downstairs after.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you frowned, doing as he says and stuffing your face with some bread. “You’ve been acting so damn weird lately, I’ve never seen this man in my entire life before yesterday.”

His head turned slightly, those unreadable eyes locking onto you again. “Rather,” he said slowly, voice dipping towards something ominous. “You’ve never paid enough attention.”

You stopped mid-chew to stare at him. This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Hongjoong and the foreboding feeling of potential sinisterness was the first thing he made you think about?

He held your gaze, his fingers curling gently around your chin. His voice dipped to a whisper, low and graveled, brushing across your skin like smoke. "Look closely," he murmured. “I want you to think about why you’re truly here.”

Your brows furrowed. “Because my uncle sold me to you—”

“Think, Y/N. Think,” his tone laced with a cutting sort of irritation. “I know that desiccated, dried-up brain of yours still works.”

You rolled your eyes, the backhanded insult slicing through the tension with a bitter familiarity, but it didn’t lessen the heat brewing behind your ribs. “I owe your uncle absolutely nothing,” he said, letting go of your chin with a scoff. “I could’ve killed him before you even set foot in this house.”

“Have you killed people?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. He raised a brow like it was a question unworthy of a response. "A-Are you going to kill me?"

“Do you want me to?” Hongjoong countered, tilting his head.

Your blood began to thrum in your ears, anger bubbling up in your chest like acid. “I’m not that stupid, you know,” you whispered, your voice cracking with frustration. “I’m aware there are things I’ve no idea about, but I know what a lie tastes like when it’s shoved in my mouth.”

You looked back at the spread of photos he’d shown you. But something inside you stirred as your gaze landed on the photo again. It was faint, like a memory just out of reach and a sense of recognition that felt older than logic.

“Have you ever wondered,” Hongjoong said slowly. “Why I’ve been so adamant in keeping you here?”

You opened your mouth, but he held up a hand. “No,” he said. “Forget that. Ask yourself this, have you ever wondered why your uncle took you in back then?”

Your heart stopped, but he wasn’t finished. “Surely, he wasn’t the only family you had. Worst of all, of all the people he could have sold you to, it had to be me. I know you’ve done your research on who I am.”

Indeed, you did, and the Kim family was not to be messed around with. Your throat felt like it was closing. You wanted to speak, but your brain was too busy racing through every memory you had, trying to connect dots that refused to sit still. Was your uncle much, much worse than you gave him credit for?

Hongjoong leaned close just enough to make you squirm under the intensity of his focus. The movement was subtle, but it was calculated - a hunter testing the waters, seeing how far he could push without you breaking. “Predators don’t fear prey,” he said. “They fear another predator.”

A scream threatened to bubble from your chest just lying around the surface. His statement echoed in your head far, far worse than a broken record. It was the only thing you could think about the entire time you followed Hongjoong downstairs towards his office. You couldn’t even lament what happened here the last time, the money he threw at you already cleaned up as if they were never thrown at you like dirty rags in the first place.

You didn’t even notice that Mingi and Seonghwa were already in the office, seemingly waiting for the both of you to arrive and such, until Hongjoong started to talk to them again. “This,” he slammed the folder rather harshly on the table directly in front of Seonghwa, who just took it in stride and opened the file. “That snivelling bastard on the last page. I want him gone.”

“And you,” he turned back to you, eyes ablaze with newfound anger you didn’t even know was already there. You raised a defiant brow, why was he looking at you like this was your fault. “You’re not going out anymore, you hear me? Never let me repeat myself.”

You narrowed your eyes, the simmering tension in your bones finally boiling and tipping over into something far more dangerous than you’ve ever felt. Your jaw ached from how hard you were biting down on your tongue, and the polite mask you’d worn like second skin started to peel.

Your feet started to march towards the bane of your existence like a bull who found the red spot. You didn’t even care that Seonghwa’s mouth dropped slightly and he was subtly shaking his head, you still poked Hongjoong’s chest pointedly and boy, you were sure that hurt a little.

“You could at least tell me why,” you snapped, your voice low and trembling with rage. He narrowed his eyes in warning, but you were done caring. “Or is it because you can’t keep your dogs in line? Tightening my leash is the only way you won’t lose control over your goods? Maybe it’s not the outside world you’re afraid of, it’s that someone might realize your entire empire is built on fear.”

Silence. A sharp, immediate silence that sliced through the room like a guillotine. Mingi visibly stiffened, Seonghwa’s face paled, but Hongjoong? He started to laugh. At first it was soft, then it turned into a full-blown laughter so sarcastic, you wanted to cover your ears from the grating sound. “The wolves are at my door, waiting for my empire to fall. I won’t let you destroy it just because you refuse to fall in line, brat,” he sneered.

You laughed, not out of humour. It was cold, sharp, and laced with every ounce of your pent-up exhaustion and rage. “Frankly?” You said, meeting his glare with one of your own. “I don’t give a flying fuck. You want to talk about wolves? Look in the damn mirror, Hongjoong.”

You poked him twice more in his admittedly toned chest, and you did it hard, too, just so he could even an ounce of how heavy he’d made you feel. “I’m not some damsel you could fool around with just because I was thrust here. I won’t roll over just so you can stroke your ego.”

A slow, unreadable flicker crossed his face. His gaze sharpened, but his body relaxed, curious now, as he tilted his head, slowly. His expression didn’t change much, but you saw it, that glint of something deeper. Respect? Amusement? Recognition? “She bites,” Hongjoong murmured, his voice dropping to a note lower, smooth and quiet like a blade sliding from its sheath. He crossed his arms, a ghost of a smirk fleeting on his sinful lips. “Finally.”

He was still watching you, but it wasn’t the same stare anymore. It wasn’t the same power dynamic. You had shifted something, and he had noticed. “You’ve mistaken my compliance with submissiveness,” you replied, your voice steady, your pulse roaring in your ears. “I’m terribly sorry to tell you that you’re wrong.”

Hongjoong’s lips parted slightly, as if that, too, had surprised him. Or pleased him, you couldn’t tell, but when his smirked widened, you almost faltered. You gritted your teeth, cursing whichever God had molded him for making this demon so  devilishly handsome, it was maddening.

“That doesn’t negate the point, little darling,” he continued, still sharp as glass. “I built this kingdom with my soul, and I am the king of this goddamn empire. Whether you like it or not, you are in it. ”

“I’ll bow to your king when he shows himself,” you said, clipped and cut. It was a direct dig towards him, it was a deliberate show of disobedience, but you didn’t flinch. You kept your chin up, gaze level  as you started to walk away from him for the first time.

The adrenaline didn’t wear off even hours later as you paced around your room in heated anger. But God, that felt good. You’ve never directly expressed your grievances towards someone else like that and now that you’ve gotten a taste of it, you don’t think you could hold your mouth longer around the menace that was Kim Hongjoong. It might get you killed, but at this point, death might be the only salvation you’ll feel.

One was for sure - something had definitely changed ever since that nasty confrontation between the two of you. If before you’ve barely seen even his shadow, lately all you’ve been doing was butt heads with Hongjoong, and man, are you not happy about it.

“Was it you?” Hongjoong marched towards the living room one day with steam coming out of ears. “Did you set the thermostat at twenty-eight?”

“I did,” you sneered, not backing down. “Not everyone in this house has cold, dead blood like you.”

He scoffed in disbelief, pinching his nose bridge. “This isn’t a sauna, go outside where you belong if you’re so cold.”

You watched him stalk towards the thermostat, cranking the heat lower so roughly, you were a bit concerned it would break. Oh no you don’t, you dictating bastard. You got up from the couch, pushing him away to crank the thermostat back to low before giving him the stink eye.

“Fine,” he nodded stiffly, his glare so intense, it had you backing up slightly. “I’m locking it. Don’t expect me to lower it when summer hits.”

It was the littlest of things that set the both of you off, but if you were being completely frank, you more or less enjoyed his annoyed reaction. Serves him right for all the months he put you down.

“You finished all the cookies,” you glared at him heatedly one afternoon, pointing at the plate of half-eaten cookies that lay next to him on the coffee table as he read his newspaper. “I liked those cookies.”

He didn’t even look up from the newspaper. “That’s just too bad, isn’t it?”

You yanked the paper from his hands. “You don’t even like cookies! They were for me.”

“I bought them for the house,” he glared, snatching it back. 

“Yeah?” You snarled, snapping your eyes towards the coffee mug you knew he was very, very particular about before a smug grin fills your face.

He stared in disbelief, his eyes widening at what you were about to do. “You insolent brat, don’t you dare—”

But it was too late, you gulped all his coffee in one go. You tried so hard not to grimace at the bitter taste, or else your pride will tank, but the redness in his face from sheer anger made it oh so worth it.

Everyone had definitely noticed at that point. Even the stoic Mingi would give his own father a dirty look whenever he’d catch that both of you mouth off to one another like you were in a damn competition. Woooyung, of course, was nonetheless fascinated about the turn of events.

“You two act like an old married couple, I love it,” he cackled while he ate dinner with you as you glared at Hongjoong’s turned back when he instructed the chef to put more raisins in your plate just to spite you. “I’m slowly getting over how my stepmother will only be like a decade older than me if this is the entertainment I’ll get for the rest of my life.”

You scoffed, grabbing a piece of raisin with a deep frown. “It’s not my fault he’s a petty bastard,” you said, flicking the raisin towards Hongjoong’s ear with an accuracy you didn’t even know. 

Wooyoung laughed with you not-so discreetly while San paled ever so slightly at the scorching glare Hongjoong sent your way. “You are something special, Y/N,” he shook his head. “Boss would have had our heads a long, long time ago for something less.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t fully finish your dinner. The taste of the raisins were so prevalent in the food even when you’ve removed all of them that the taste of it just permeated all over the dish.

You sneaked in the kitchen at two in the morning where you knew no one would be up just so you could ravage in the cupboard for some midnight snack, but you were so wrong. You squeaked, blinking at Hongjoong who was in the middle of drinking water and he blinked back at you.

“Couldn’t sleep from the guilt?” You asked, referring to you not eating dinner. And you knew that he knew, he was watching you the whole time smugly.

“No,” he muttered. “Just the sound of your attitude echoing through the halls.”

You snorted. “Wow. You’re real original for someone who thinks being emotionally constipated is a personality trait.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he walked past you towards the exit. “Don’t hog all the snacks,” he brushed with your shoulder and it sent a zing of electricity through your spine. “Money isn’t as easy to come by, yes?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re good at it,” you countered with a snarl. “If being a raging psycho and asshole was your living, no wonder you’re filthy rich. Let’s not even mention your head count.”

You blinked as he walked back toward you. He stopped in front of you, his hands coming to rest beside your waist on the counter, trapping you. “Would you like to know my head count?” He asked, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “I’d love to add you to that roster.”

You tried to breathe, his face was so close, your noses nearly brushed. His eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest moment before snapping back up. “Because I’ve been real patient,” he muttered. “But I’m tired of your mouth lately.”

And as quickly as he’d closed in, he pulled away with a sharp inhale, the smirk curling wider as he turned on his heel. “Sleep tight, darling,” he tossed over his shoulder, voice laced with poison and something dangerously sweet.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving behind blush on your cheeks, the thundering of your heart, and the faint scent of him clinging to your skin.

Usually, your banters were harmless. Dare anyone say that even though Hongjoong got under your skin, you’ve never felt more alive than you did whenever you’d cross paths with him. You didn’t know what it was; maybe it was because that finally, he wasn’t avoiding you like the plague even though nothing nice came from that mouth of his.

But this time, you didn’t know what completely set the both of you off. You just wanted to have lunch like normal, and today was very different, too. Usually you’d eat with one or two people only as everyone’s schedules didn’t quite align, but this time, even Seonghwa and Wooyoung were at the dining table.

You were laughing at something that Jongho had mentioned when Hongjoong’s cutting voice rang around the table. “Can you shut your mouth?” He snapped, cluttering his utensils against his paperwork. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”

You rolled your eyes. Ever since he got off a phone call he got before everyone started eating, he’s been in a horrible mood. “Get off the damn table if you can’t handle basic human interaction,” you snapped back.

He stared you down, voice ice sharp. “You’re not clever. You’re a loud, useless distraction and an irritation everyone’s sick of pretending to tolerate.”

“Father, stop it,” Mingi, who sat at Hongjoong’s left, shot back, eyeing the older man with warning. He turned to you and you almost faltered. How is it that his son was more intimidating than him? “And you. You’re not helping.”

“No, let her,” Hongjoong scoffed. “No wonder your uncle gave you away. You’re nothing but a liability.”

Patience was a trait you had that you were proud of, but not today. You can barely contain yourself, because that was a low, even for him. I'm sick to death of swallowing every single thing I'm fed. You slammed your hands on the table, rising swiftly, your chair scraping loudly against the floor. Everyone’s eyes followed you, wide and stunned. “Oh, give me a break, you belligerent, deluded, pompous prick,” you barked. The room stilled. You hadn’t raised your voice, but the words hung in the air like glass about to shatter.

Even Hongjoong seemed to falter a bit before his eyes narrowed once more. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” He yelled so loud it echoed through the halls, making everyone flinch. “Watch your tone, you ill-mannered disgrace—”

You scoffed in disbelief. “That’s tough shit coming from you who’s done nothing but make me miserable here.”

“That sounds like a you problem, darling,” Hongjoong’s eyes ticked.

“Well, to that, I say you're a cunt—” you were about to say, but your voice caught in your throat, the fierce words dying on your lips as a wave of dizziness swept over you. You faltered, mid-step, your knees threatening to give out.

He scoffed, the sharp edge of his haughtiness cutting through the silence. “Giving up already?” Hongjoong sneered with a smirk that promised he didn’t believe you had the strength to stand your ground.

No, this was different than anything you’ve felt before. Your breathing became laboured, the suddenness of it threatening the bile in your stomach to rise from your throat. You grabbed the nearest thing you could hold on to, but your grip slipped. “Hold on,” San balked, grabbing your arm in mild concern before his face shifted. “Y/N, are you okay?”

No, I’m not, you wanted to say, looking straight at Hongjoong just as your steps wobbled and your vision blurred. It was when his expression cracked, panic flickered across his face, eyes widening with sudden concern, breath hitching as he reached out instinctively.

But before he could reach you, Jongho was there, his strong arms catching you just in time. “Y/N? Oh, God,” he tapped your cheeks hardly, but to no avail, your eyes were closing. “Stay awake, fuck—”

Hongjoong’s face, the devastated, unsettled look you weren’t ready to see, and the way he grabbed your body was the last thing you registered before darkness swallowed you whole, but not before you heard Seonghwa mutter one word that would have made you faint regardless.

“Poison.”

All you could feel was pain. It hurt to try to move your limbs, it was more reminiscent of bones grinding against each other sharply against sandpaper, it hurt to take the smallest gulp of breath, hell, it hurt to even blink. It was like that car accident after your graduation all over again. Why did death love chasing after you? And why didn’t you chase it back?

But this time was different. You weren’t in a hospital bed, there were no nurses around, and there was none of that sterile scent you hated so much. Rather, there was warmth - warmth so comforting, you couldn’t help but snuggle into it, burying your head in hopes for the ache to go away.

“Fuck’s sake, It’s been days, why hasn’t she woken up yet?”

Even you could feel your subconscious frown at what you heard. Days. And you didn’t even feel better about it. “Give her time, Joong. I mean, look at her, so frail—”

“Frail, my ass,” a rough, familiar voice snapped just as you felt your arms being squeezed so tight, it would have woken you up if you hadn’t already. “She’s my little fighter, poison isn’t going to break her. Have you not heard the way she talks back to me?”

A deep laughter resonated through the entire room. It wasn’t quite like Mingi’s - not that Hongjoong Jr. would ever act normal around you - no, but this was richer, familiar, even. If you could just open your eyes and see.

“I see she hasn’t changed. Good to know you’re getting your money’s worth, Dad. You should go eat something. Anyway, I need a complete rundown, Hwa. I didn’t fly here for nothing, and I need to go back soon. The longer I stay, the more danger we attract.”

The warmth you had disappeared followed by a door closing nearby. Silence envelops the room and the familiar sigh of Seonghwa fills it. “Well, like we said, it’s poison. Someone who isn’t supposed to be here is here.”

“But how? What are the odds? It could’ve been anyone at that dining table. You think it’s Yoo Jaehwan?”

“Who else? To do it not only in his house, but right in front of Hongjoong’s face…whoever did it is asking for death.”

“Should’ve seen your father’s face,” San clicked his tongue. “I swear something inside him died.”

“Well, fuck, maybe because she could’ve died?” The familiar, deeper voice counteracted with a sass that knocked in your memory. “Because that’s not just a wife he’s protecting, that’s someone he’d burn the world for.”

“Anyhow. We should come back later. I have to check on your father to see if he’s eating or I might have to get your older brother to tie him up or something.”

Half of that conversation went through your head. You weren’t a total idiot, you knew what most of it entailed, but all you could think about was the missing warmth that enveloped you. You forced yourself to come to, your weak arms supporting your upper body as you tried to sit up. It was hell as your eyelids fluttered open against a dull ache pounding in your skull, but you needed to move your stiff limbs before they started to throb from prolonged unuse.

Just then, the door opened. Silently, carefully, like doing so would trigger another bout of faintness in you and you were met with the surprised eyes of Hongjoong. He froze in the doorway like he’d walked in on something sacred.

For a moment, he just stood there, unmoving. Then, the tension in his shoulders released slightly, only to be replaced by something else entirely - pure, unadulterated relief. You didn’t have to touch him to know that he was the warmth that kept you stabilized the entire time you rested.

He started to walk toward you in slow, controlled steps. His glasses were gone, his hair a mess, and there was a tremble in the hand that rolled up the sleeves of his unusually wrinkled shirt like he’d been gripping it in fistfuls.

Most of all, his eyes were tired. He sat on the bed next to you, his eyes never leaving yours, and you thought that was it. You certainly weren’t prepared for the way he lightly gripped your shoulders to pull you into a hug, and just like that, the warmth you’ve been craving for had returned.

“Get off,” you rasped weakly, but your voice betrayed the fight you didn’t have in you. Still, your pride flared, because nothing stung more than collapsing in front of him.

He didn’t budge. “Don’t even try,” he said through clenched teeth, his arms tightening around you. “Stay still and let me have this even for a moment.”

It was in the way he gripped you too tightly, in the quiet desperation of that whispered please. You didn’t even realize he was trembling slightly. His arms weren’t caging you, rather, he was a man holding on to you as if he was sinking at the bottom of the ocean and you were the balance he needed to stay afloat.

Pride be damned. You wrapped your arms around him, silent tears falling from your eyes as you held onto him. This was all you wanted, what you didn’t have back then when you had nobody. The prospect of never waking up was settling into you and you didn’t have enough strength to keep holding it in together.

“I’m still angry at you,” you sniffled.

“Get angrier. The sooner you get your strength back, the sooner you can talk back again like the brat you are,” he shushed, the tremble in his hand now visible at the way he smoothed the damp strands away from your face along with your tears.

“As touching as this is, I believe we have more pressing matters at hand.”

You tried to pull away, but Hongjoong wasn’t letting you - though if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t even really want to - so you opted to look over your shoulder at the source of the voice.

Hongjoong groaned when you pushed him away, your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes widened slowly, your hand flying up to cover your mouth in shock. “Y-Yeosang?” You whispered, like saying his name too loud might shatter the fragile reality in front of you.

The man in question stood from the plush armchair, casual in his posture but carrying an unmistakable grin, one you hadn’t seen in years. “The one and only,” Yeosang said with a lopsided smile, walking toward you. “How have you been, Miss Jeong?”

You stared at him in disbelief, the air knocked clean from your lungs. “I-I haven’t seen you since…” your voice faltered, because the rest of that sentence hung heavy in your throat.

Yeosang seemed to know what you meant without you saying it, because his expression softened as he gently pulled you into a hug. “Y-You’re the last person I expected to see here,” you mumbled against his shoulder, pulling back to get a proper look at him. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

The both of you turned around to look at Hongjoong when he cleared his throat. “You wretch,” he looked pointedly at Yeosang with a bitter scowl. “Aren’t you supposed to be down there with everyone?”

Yeosang scoffed, rolling his eyes so dramatically you were surprised they didn’t get stuck up his skull. “You were the one who called me and threatened to cut my allowance if I didn’t fly here soon,” he deadpanned as he pulled away from you to stand up. “Relax, she was my mentor. I’m allowed to say hello, Dad.”

Your eyes flew between the two men in shock. “Dad?” You blurted out. “How many kids do you have? Because holy sh—”

“Soon to be two if this one doesn’t shut his trap,” Hongjoong hissed. “I can still cut your allowance, Kang Yeosang. Don’t test me.”

“Oh, please. You need me,” he chuckled sarcastically, tapping on the stethoscope he had around his neck that you didn’t notice was there. You stared at him proudly, remembering the young Yeosang who always told you of his dreams to become a doctor one day back then.

“Anyway, you need to get out of here, Dad,” Yeosang said in urgency. “Mingi will take care of everything. It’s good training for the future, anyway. We need to purge your staff and I need to test every single surface of the manor to see if there’s more antifreeze contamination.” 

Goosebumps erupted on your skin. Antifreeze. It was how you found yourself saying goodbye to Yeosang, with the promise of catching up as soon as everything was safe, and then the others before you were dressing up to go with Hongjoong to his supposed safe house.

“I can walk, you know?” You frowned when Hongjoong walked beside you the whole time,  steadying you with a firm hold on your elbow. You hated how flustered it made you - how close he was, how natural it felt.

He glanced at you once, opting to ignore you as he opened the car door for you. But just before you could step in, he stilled. Hongjoong plucked a single sunflower and he tucked it carefully behind your ear. His eyes didn’t meet yours, but his touch lingered longer than necessary.

Your heart stuttered so sharply it almost hurt. It fluttered against your ribs, traitorous and soft, the way it always did when he did something gentle without meaning to. The warmth of his fingers near your cheek lingered longer than the sunflower itself.

He helped you into the backseat, settled beside you without hesitation, and closed the door. You thought he’d pull away once the engine started. You thought he’d sit back in his own thoughts like always.

But he didn’t. He pulled you close, gently but without question, and you leaned against his chest. His arm wrapped around you, fingers curling slightly against your side, grounding you. He held you the entire ride. And for the first time in days, the ache in your chest quieted.

“Where are we going?” You couldn’t help but ask, giving in to what your body currently needed and letting yourself lean onto his firm chest for once.

“Must you always ask irrelevant questions?” Hongjoong sighed.

You scoffed softly, thumping on his chest lightly. “How do I know you’re not leading me to my death?“

“Are you stupid?” Hongjoong snapped, his eyes widening slightly in irritation. You met them with an equal force of annoyance. He sighed exasperatedly, already sick of your antics. “One of my rest houses. It’s on the far end of the city, almost near the suburbs. You should sleep.”

“Would you still hold me when I wake up?” You croaked, not knowing what you were thinking when you blurted the words out.

His thumb, which had been idly brushing against your arm, stilled. You didn’t dare look up, didn’t even breathe, until you felt the slow, deliberate way his hand curled tighter around you. “Yes, darling,” he murmured, fixing the flower on your ear before fixing your hair.

It was infuriating, really, how a man who so easily sliced you open with his words could undo you completely with a simple touch. Your pulse betrayed you, and you didn’t dare look at him, afraid he might see just how deeply that one small act had shaken you.

You couldn’t sleep, not after that. Not while Hongjoong held you in his arms the entire time, his hand brushing your hair away from your face every fifteen minutes and he did so until the car stopped moving and he was helping you get down again.

“Easy, there,” he frowned when you took the wrong step and almost tripped.

“Don’t pretend you care now,” you raised a brow, even as your fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of his shirt.

“I don’t,” he said too quickly, too defensively. But he was still holding you like you were made of glass and you couldn’t help but fist the front of Hongjoong’s shirt. He didn’t push you away and neither did you pull away. 

Surprisingly, the rest house was of modest stature, situated in the middle of a small town. It was smart, blending in would be easy. It was simple and cozy, there was the typical small kitchen, a bathroom, and one bedroom with one bed. You stared. Hongjoong stared back.

“We’ll manage,” he said as he set the bags down, looking away and avoiding eye contact. “It’s easier to keep an eye on you this way.”

You opened your mouth to object, but your mouth wasn’t cooperating with your mouth today. “I-I'd love to sleep with you,” you blurted out without thinking.

Hongjoong froze mid-step, one brow raising with almost comical precision. It would’ve been endearing since you’ve never seen the usually poised man this caught-off guard before, but right now, you wanted to dig a hole, crawl in it, and never see the light of day again.

“I mean sleep as in literally sleep–I didn’t, I meant to say I don’t mind sleeping with you, uh, literally—oh my God,” you stammered, hands flying up to cover your face in pure panic.

“Why don’t you, uh, relax on the balcony while I do this?” Hongjoong said, and you didn’t miss the smirk on his face as he turned back to the bag he was unpacking.

You slept facing opposite sides that night. But somehow, the air between you was tighter than before. You lay stiffly on your back, eyes on the ceiling, acutely aware of every tiny shift in the sheets with each of his movements. “Can you stop fidgeting too much?” Hongjoong clicked his tongue. “I’m not going to eat you.”

You scoffed softly. “You don’t hear me complain about your awful breathing sounds.”

“You want me to stop breathing, then?”

“That’s literally not what I said,” you turned sharply toward him, only to find him already watching you. The two of you blinked at each other in silence. Eventually, you turned away again, cheeks burning, pulling the covers over your head.

You tried to find a comfortable position to sleep on, tossing and turning until your body felt right, but when the right angle had your leg up on Hongjoong’s by accident, he didn’t move, and neither did you.

And when you woke up the next day with your arm wrapped around his chest with his own arm cradling your head to his neck, you both didn’t say a word about it, but he didn’t move, and neither did you. “Hongjoong,” you rasped, half of your brain still dead from the world. “...Joong.”

“Hmm?” He hummed huskily from sleep, the vibrations of his chest traveling straight to your spine.

“I’m hungry,” you said. “Haven’t eaten since last night.”

You felt him turn his head, his lips touching your hairline directly, the warmth of it searing on your skin. “Five more minutes,” he replied hoarsely. “Can you do that for me?”

You nod groggily while he molded you closer to him, your cheek pressing just a little firmer to the warm space beneath his collarbone. “Good girl,” he whispered softly, low, and utterly wrecked by sleep.

Your body tensed like someone had just poured ice water down your head. Your eyes snapped open as you felt your throat tighten, not daring to move or breathe too loud. You just lay there, heart hammering wildly in your chest, trying to pretend like you hadn’t just short-circuited. “Are you drinking my coffee?” he snapped at you the next day, catching sight of your cup. “Again?”

Just like that, the both of you were back to bickering like normal.  “It’s not my fault you bought me that shitty sugar-free crap that tastes like nothing,” you said, sipping smugly. “Plus, your coffee tastes better.” He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. “It’s black with three shots of espresso. You can’t handle that.” “I can handle you, can’t I? Nothing worse than that.” He scoffed loudly in disbelief, muttering about how the younger generation was disrespectful before he snatched the cup and handed you a water bottle instead. “Hydrate before you pass out on me.”

You frowned, fully irritated at your caffeine being stolen. “Hey, I wasn’t don—” “And you call that breakfast?” He looked pointedly at your sad-looking toast. “It’s no wonder why I mistake your brain for an ornament sometimes.” You didn’t even get a chance to shoot back at his arrogance before he rolled his eyes but took your plate, setting down a neatly packed bento box. “Eat something that’s actually worth eating. Fuck’s sake, do I really have to do everything around here?”

The both of you went on like that for days, and as maddening as Hongjoong was, you were somehow thankful for how normal everything felt, though now, the change between you and Hongjoong was starting to become evident.

“How long would it take for you to clean this entire house?” He asked one day out of the blue. He stared disapprovingly at the phone in your hand. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was riling you up just to get a reaction out of you.

Your eyes ticked, but you didn’t look up at him. “It depends on how many helpers you want me to hire.”

“Why would you hire cleaners?” Hongjoong frowned.

“You asked.”

He scoffed, clearly displeased at the response. “No, I asked you. If you’re going to live here, you might as well do something that lessens the burden you put on me.”

“I did,” you shot back, finally looking up, mildly offended at the insinuation. “I made you dinner every night, one that you refused to eat.”

“Who told you I didn’t?” He raised a brow. Your expression froze, but before you could say anything, he waved a hand. “Anyway, you still need to clean. If I’m paying for your shit, I need something in return.”

Your mind was still reeling at the things unsaid between the lines. “Why the hell would I be doing free labour for you?”

“Well—”

You cut him off, refusing to go down. “I just got poisoned, in case you forgot. I should be resting, for God’s sake.”

“And I took you here to recuperate,” he replied sarcastically. “What now, then?”

“What about the times I had to deal with your grumpy ass? I don’t see you paying for my mental state.” You retorted back, putting your phone away to stand up to him.

He paused, blinking repeatedly in thought. “I could get you a therapist.”

“Yes,” you smiled brightly, a little too brightly. “I could also hire helpers to clean this house.”

His ears and neck redden in sheer frustration, and from here, you could see his mind malfunction slowly. “Shut up,” he muttered, refusing to admit you one-upped him.

“Well, why don’t you shut me up, then?”

You stilled, realizing what you just insinuated. His lips quirked, smug and amused, like he’d won a round you didn’t realize you were playing as he shook his head.

The nighttimes weren’t any better either. It was like bickering was both of yours’ defense mechanisms. “Turn off the light,” you yawn from under the covers.

“You turn it off,” Hongjoong replies from his side, brows raised in defiance. “You got in bed last.”

You groan, swing your legs over dramatically, but just as you reach the switch, the light clicks off behind you. You turn and find Hongjoong smirking, holding a small remote control in his hand. “We’re supposed to be a team here,” you hissed. “There is no “I” in team.”

“No, but there is in idiot,” he grinned.

Your mouth dropped, charging at him to hit him over and over again with a pillow, and he didn’t even let out a single sound as he deflected your so-called attacks. You huffed, trying to push off him, but the sheets had other plans. And truth be told, so did some strange, traitorous part of you.

Eventually, you both gave up, tangled under the blankets, breaths evening out against shared warmth. Once again, neither of you moved. In the hush that followed, you felt his thumb barely brush against your arm where it rested across his chest. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

And it would have stayed like that if it weren’t for the heavy weight that settled on your chest in the middle of the night. Literally. When you opened your eyes, an arm was pressing down your chest and you were met with Hongjoong’s glaring eyes.

“What—”, you were about to say when he covered your mouth hurriedly. He puts his finger to his lip to shush you and in your peripheral, you could see his arm slowly raising up a gun as he pointed at the door. Your eyes widen and your heart drops - someone was in the house.

Hongjoong didn’t say a word. He shifted, slow and precise, the mattress barely creaking as he slipped off it and tiptoed towards the door. You clutched the sheets to your chest, your breath lodged somewhere in your throat as the door clicked open. It was silent; too silent.

Bang. Bang. Pause. Bang. Bang.

Your ears rang. You flinched with each shot, your hands shaking as you sat in the dark, unable to move, unable to breathe. You shut your eyes, covering your eyes to will all the sounds to stay distant, the reality of who Hongjoong was dawning on you. It was just a couple of weeks ago when you asked him whether he had killed or not.

The door creaked open again, slower this time. You jumped, expecting the worst, but Hongjoong stepped in quietly, expression unreadable, but the blood spattered across his cheek told you more than words ever could. The gun was nowhere to be found.

He didn’t speak as he walked to the bed, just sat down at the edge and looked at you, eyes searching. You reached out, wiping the blood off gently. He closed his eyes at the touch, but it was enough. No words were exchanged, and there was nothing either of you could say that would ease the fear that settled in your gut.

So instead, he slipped under the covers again, pulled you into his chest, arms wound tightly around your body, trembling just a little. You closed your eyes, your hands digging onto his hand so hard, your fingertips might as well embed themselves on his skin.

“I wish my creator would tenderly wrap me in their own clothes to keep me sane and protected,” you murmured in the silence of the night. “God has abandoned us and my uncle was a cruel substitute.”

“Should we choose to remain here together, would you forget the world that’s waiting outside?” Hongjoong’s hand held yours just as tight. ”Would you let the world fall away, if only for a while?” The world has fallen the moment I set my eyes on you. You nodded, shivering when he tucked a finger under your chin, pulling your face closer to his to press the softest of kisses upon your lips as if the both of you had been holding your breath for years, and this, it was the first exhale. If only for a while. 

You woke to an emptiness you hadn’t expected. The bed was still warm where he’d lain, but without Hongjoong’s arms around you, you felt oddly cold. But that wasn’t what woke you up. It was the voices that came from the living room, one of which was Hongjoong’s, and you didn’t have to listen in to know that he was in a heated argument with someone.

You tiptoed out quietly, careful not to make a sound, peeking from behind the hallway wall. Hongjoong lounged on the couch like it was his throne, legs spread, an elbow draped over the armrest with a smirk that screamed arrogance, like danger wrapped in lazy elegance.

The man standing in front of him, however, was anything but calm. He was tall, broad-shouldered, about the same age as Hongjoong, and radiating heat like a bonfire about to explode. His fists were clenched at his sides, jaw tight with restraint.

“You’ve got some nerve,” the stranger ground out. “Keeping her hidden this whole time like some secret you planned to hoard. If my men didn’t hear the gunshots the other day, I wouldn’t have known, you sick fuck.”

Your breath hitched. They were talking about you. Hongjoong chuckled, crossing his legs exaggeratedly. “The only regret I have is that I didn’t bring suppressors. We would have been out of here before you knew it. ”

“You bastard,” the tall man gritted his teeth, stepping closer to Hongjoong. “This is my territory, you don’t get to waltz in here with my niece and pretend I wouldn’t kill you for it.”

Your ears rang at two words - territory and niece. This man was in the same business as Hongjoong was, and apparently you were this man’s niece. Slowly, you stepped out from behind the hallway wall, the silence in the room growing razor-sharp with each step.

Hongjoong’s back stiffened, but the other man’s posture tenses completely at the sight of you. “Y/N,” he whispered, as if disbelieving he was seeing you in the flesh. “It’s really you…”

You stared at the man closely. He looked familiar, it clawed at the edges of a memory you didn’t know you still had. It wasn’t the way he moved; it was the way his eyes mirrored someone else’s eyes that you thought you’d never see again after all these years - your father’s.

And then, it hits you. You remembered the way his huge hands held yours every time he offered to babysit when both of your parents worked. His younger, puppy-like features were slowly coming to life in your head. “Uncle Yunho,” you blurted, eyes wide.

Yunho’s head jerked up, like he hadn’t dared hope you'd remember. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “It’s me, kid.”

Your knees nearly buckled, threatening to fall under the weight of the missing family that you could have had instead of your other uncle. Hongjoong was immediately by your side, catching you in his arms and holding you close and sitting you down beside him. “You can’t just come barging in here like you did,” he hissed. “You’re in my house, I could kill you and no one would know.”

“I’m her blood, you blithering fool,” Yunho’s lips twisted into fury. “You’re the idiot that dragged her into this mess when she had a family - me.”

Hongjoong’s expression darkened. “You weren’t there---”

“And you think you were the better option?” Yunho growled. “You’re like, what? A good thirteen years or so older than her? You’re too damn old to be with her!”

That made Hongjoong stand, slow and deliberate, his stance loose but lethal. “And who the fuck are you to tell me that?  You weren’t there when shit hit the fan, don’t get too cocky now.”

“I would have been if you didn’t hide her from me,” Yunho scowled bitterly.

You barely registered your own shallow breathing, still stuck on the fact that your father’s older brother was there all along. All this time, you thought you were alone - that you had no one. Yunho’s eyes followed the sound, and when he saw you, all the anger on his face softened instantly.

He was about to walk towards you, but Hongjoong quickly raised a hand to stop him. “One more step and I swear I’ll end you right here,” he snarled. If you weren’t sitting beside him, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his eyes shifted into something a little more desperate.

Yunho scoffed, crossing his arms. “I wouldn’t act like this if I were you, Kim. You’ve had her in your manor all this time. By mafia standards, you should’ve married her within the first month. Why haven’t you? Did you want to keep her locked up like a secret no one else can touch? Or are you just dragging her through the mud?”

You flinched, the implication sinking in like stones in your gut. You immediately locked eyes with Hongjoong whose expression dropped, shaking his head ever so slightly as you stared at each other. That was right, why hasn’t Hongjoong married you yet? Come to think of it, the both of you haven’t even talked about anything marriage related - the date, the venue, the vows—hell, not even a promise.

Just tension, stolen touches, sleepless nights and a thousand unsaid things hanging heavy in the air. You swallowed thickly, trying not to let the sting of Yunho’s words show, but it was too late. Or worse, was he planning to secretly give you back to your uncle after all?

“Don’t listen to him,” he said tightly, crossing the room in three strides. His arm wrapped around you possessively, like shielding you from Yunho would shield you from the doubt unraveling in your chest. “She’s mine, Jeong. Get lost. It’s not like that, and you know it.”

Yunho’s lips pressed into a thin line. But he relented, lifting his hands in a gesture of peace. “Fine,” he muttered, then turned to you, his expression softening. “I’ll be back.”

You hesitated as you watched your uncle walk away, but something tugged at your heart. You pried yourself free from Hongjoong’s tight, possessive arms, despite his protests, to run as fast as you could to follow Yunho out.  The chill of the morning rain bit at your skin as you stepped into the yard. “Wait, please!”

Yunho turned to face you fully. The hardness melted from his face, and in its place was something unbearably gentle. He completely halted in his steps, letting the rain soak through as he watched your pitiful form catch up to him. “Y/N–”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” you murmured, voice unsure. “I-I needed you when I was alone, I had no one. But why now? Why didn’t you ever come for me?”

He sighed, taking his trench coat off to gingerly put it over your head as a deterrent for the pouring rain. “I did,” he said quietly. “Believe me, I did. I never stopped. Even if I didn’t find you here, I still wouldn’t have stopped.”

And that, that was what broke you. Tears filled your eyes, sadness and relief pouring over you in waves. “Are you…in the same business as Hongjoong?” You asked wearily. “Were my parents?”

He pursed his lips, patting your head. It made your tears flow faster. Yunho had your father’s face, albeit older and more rounded. “There are so many things you don’t know,” he said softly. “Things you would have if you would’ve been with me when your parent’s died. It’s better this way. I’m still enraged that that bastard hid you from me, but he’ll keep you safe.”

But what did you know at this point? It was what plagued your mind the entire walk inside the house after Yunho had left after promising to catch up on lost time. You clutched the wet, dripping coat that still carried Yunho’s familiar scent in your hands that wrapped around your senses, nostalgia hitting you full-force.

You didn’t look up at Hongjoong, the haze of all the memories - of what could have been - attacking your mind. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You began, voice cracking, looking up at him with emotionless eyes. “You knew and—”

“Would you have gone with him if you knew?” Hongjoong cut off, the familiar sharpness in his eyes pinning you from where you stood. 

“I don’t know that,” you replied sarcastically. “How could I give you something I had no idea about the entire time?”

“Oh, for the love of fucking God, Y/N. This, this is what pisses me off about you the most,” he snapped, stepping close, his gaze darkening. “Contrary to your belief, I’m not as callous as you deem me to be, and there are reasons for the things that I do around here—”

“And what about me?” Your hands balled at your sides. “What about the life I was robbed of? You don’t know what I’ve been through, you prick, the things that I had to endure. Yunho was right - you don’t want to marry me, in fact, you fucking hate me, don’t you? I didn’t even want any of this in the first place!” For the first time, Hongjoong’s expression fell, and you didn’t know what to feel about it. He was a beautiful man with a soul full of venom and a heart you weren’t convinced actually beat, but right now, his expression only told you one thing - I do, I do know what you’ve been through. His hand twitched at his side, and the muscle in his jaw jumped. “Don’t you dare say that.”

“Why not?” You seethed, shoving him backward with both hands. “Because it’s true, isn’t it? You had no plans in marrying me, but then again I was nothing but sold goods to you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up killing me in a ditch somewhere—”

Something snapped in him. He pushed you back until you stumbled against the wall. The air was electric. “Shut your mouth,” he seethed, but his voice was breaking, furious and wounded all at once. “You would have gone with Yunho, I don’t want you to go with him. You faltered, taken aback by how possessive he sounded. "I don’t need to see you walking away from me when we had just begun. You want to know why I didn’t tell you? I’ve already given up enough and I’m not giving you up again.”

Again? He just stood there, panting, one hand curled in a fist over his chest like the words had ripped something open in him. “You wouldn’t understand,” he snarled, shaking his head vehemently. “You never do.”

The silence afterward was deafening. You stared at him, chest heaving, tears hot and furious in your eyes, the confusion swirling in your head even more. It might be part of why your mouth moved on its own in either the best or worst decision of your life. “So make me,” you whispered in quiet desperation. “I’m so tired of being kept in the dark, I know you’re hiding things from me, make me understand—-”

He surged forward without warning, cupping your jaw as his mouth found yours like it had been searching, starving, waiting across lifetimes. The kiss was bruising, breath-stealing like he needed to taste the ache in your throat and the anger in your blood just to prove you were real. You gasped against him, and it was his undoing.

Your back hit the wall again, but it didn’t matter anymore. Not when his lips softened slightly, tracing the corner of your mouth like an apology. Not when his breath was hot and reverent against your cheek, your jaw, your throat. His forehead fell against yours, both of you breathless. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, voice shaking as his thumb brushed your lip, swollen from his kiss. “Tell me now and I will.”

But your fingers were already curling into his shirt, pulling him close. “I can’t,” you whispered, voice wavering. “Don’t make me.”

And that was all it took. Your lips refused to part from his as he pulled you to the couch, there was no way the both of you were reaching the bedroom, your clothes slowly peeling themselves away from your bodies all the while your tongues clashed against one another. His hands roamed with reverence, memorizing every tremble, every sigh. You didn’t know where you ended and he began - just that the space between your bodies was no longer enough. 

“Oh, fuck,” his lust-addled voice sounded through the hush whispers of the intimacy you both found yourselves in. “You’re beautiful, I knew you’d be, fuck…”

You couldn’t even have the nerve to cover your naked body as you stood in front of him; not when he was looking at you like you were the only salvation left in a world gone mad. He grabbed your hips, positioning you until you were straddling him as he sat plush on the couch. “You don’t have to do a thing, darling, I’ll take care of you,” he pressed a thumb on your swollen lips. “Would you let me?”

You nodded, feeling feverish in your head as he placed his hand on your hips, his hardness poking you in the spot where you wanted him the most. “Y-Yeah,” you said. “Please, I-I need you.”

The world could wait. Right now, it was just the two of you both bared, bruised, and still reaching for each other in the dark. He lifted your hips up, lowering you slowly onto his aching cock until your foreheads were clashing with each other. “Y/N,” he whispered, straining, summoning chills through your ears. “I’ll make it up to you next time, I’m not going to last. It’s been a while for me.”

You tilted your head, biting your lips to stop the lewd sounds threatening to come out from you. “W-What do you mean? You haven’t been with o-others?”

Hongjoong shook his head with an earnest smile. “No. Why would I when I have you?”

Your eye contact didn’t break even when Hongjoong pushed your plump ass to grind on him, your eyes fluttering shut as you moaned out earnestly. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his breath warm at your collarbone, and when his name left your lips, it prompted him to snap his hips up to meet your grinding.

“Hongjoong, ngh, fuck,” you gasped out, mouth slacked open at the force of his thrusts, your breasts bouncing their way freely at the pace he set. “H-Hongjoong—Joong.”

You both finally let yourselves feel it all. Not just the passion, but the ache of the longing between you both. You held his face between your hands when his eyes fluttered closed, and for once, he looked unguarded. “Mmm, ah, yes, yes, yes,” were all the sounds you could make amidst the skin slapping against skin as Hongjoong continuously pulled you up and down on his cock. “More?” Hongjoong’s voice trembled at the pleasure clouding his brain. “You can’t leave me, alright? Not when I’m making you feel so good like this.”

You nodded, mouth still open, snapping your eyes close in the pleasure of Hongjoong’s nails digging in your hips, scratching a line all the way to your chest until his hands were grabbing onto both of your plush tits. “So fucking good,” he growled, his other hand traveling to your head, grabbing your hair. “Come here.”

Your lips met into a feverish kiss, your heated moans of lust and longing being swallowed by Hongjoong’s sinful mouth, and when you subconsciously squeeze his impaling cock, it was his turn to groan into your lips and bite onto your lower lip until you opened to let his wild tongue mess with yours. The moans that fell from the both of you created a dizzying sound in combination of the wet tongue kiss and the slapping of his balls up your ass.

“Touch me, please,” you begged, grabbing onto his hand down to your throbbing clit. “T-Touch m-me, I need to come, Joong, p-please.”

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, immediately drawing circles on your swollen bud, instantly drawing a garbled scream from you. “That’s it, baby, fuck me. Ride my fucking cock, yes.”

You had not once paused from bouncing, continues fucking yourself ardently onto his thick, intruding cock until you were nothing but a senseless doll. “You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted this,” he rasped, his voice rough and uneven, his lips kissing and sucking every surface of your skin he could claim. 

“I’ve wanted you long before the day you looked me in the eye at that dining table. Each day was a risk I couldn’t afford to take, but God, I wanted you anyway. Every day. In every fucking way.”

He kissed you again, deeper, needier. It wasn’t just hunger - it was reprieve. Years of restraint burning away in the heat of a single truth finally spoken aloud. You were what he wanted. Always had been.

“Joong, a-ah, that feels so good,” you moaned out, all sense of mind gone from the feeling of him finally ravishing you the way you always wanted. “Just like that, say my name,” he gritted out, cupping your face tenderly in contrast to this thrusts, his eyes lidded and desperate. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say my damn name, baby, please, I’m begging you.”

“Hongjoong,” you let out, loud and clear. His cock twitched in your cunt, but you weren’t done yet. This was a man you had no problem seeing all of you. “Hongjoong, Hongjoong, Hongjoong.”

Soon enough, you exploded. It wasn’t the delicious rubbing of his fingertips in between young legs that or how deep his cock fucked that undid you, though that was a huge factor, but it was the way he kissed you, the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky for him to admire. “Oh, I’m com—Hongjoong, Joong, Joong—”

Hongjoong didn’t last much longer. With his final thrusts, Hongjoong lifted his hips to fuck into you until all the both of you had was mind-blowing blankness fulled with heat and lust. Overstimulation coiled in your groin as your eyes rolled in the back of your head, your little whimpers spurring Hongjoong on until he came with a loud groan and spilled inside of you.

Everything slowed down with you slumped completely onto Hongjoong’s rising chest, meeting yours as you both tried to catch your breaths. The sex was fast, but it was all the both of you needed. “Good girl,” he whispered, turning your face to his for a quick kiss. “My good girl—hey, you don’t have to move yet, stay.”

You pulled out anyway, whimpering slightly at the sensation of Hongjoong’s cum dripping onto your thighs as you bent down to give him a kiss in return before sitting comfortably on his lap and laying your head on his chest, resting your head onto the crook of his neck as his arm quickly wrapped around you protectively. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your eyes slowly closing, your breath evening.

“You want to stay like this?” Hongjoong asked fondly, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back.

But for naught. Sleep had caught on to you and the last thing you felt was Hongjoong carrying you as he chuckled affectionately at your drowsy state. It was the most peace you’ve felt in a while.

Just like everything in your life, nothing good seemed to last forever. In the beginning, everything was smooth sailing. You and Hongjoong went back to the manor the next day, and it was nothing short of chaos the moment you stepped in the house where everyone was already waiting by the entrance. Seonghwa was the one who greeted you at the front door and his brows almost reached his hairline with how close you stood next to Hongjoong.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Hongjoong asked sharply. “Why are you looking at us like that?”

Seonghwa raised his hands, blinking innocently. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

You frowned, not noticing the way you linked your arms with Hongjoong’s, but everyone did. Not one step inside the manor and everyone was already looking at the both of you. Jongho bent to grab both of your suitcases, but paused when he took one look at the both of you. “Huh,” he whispered. “Weird.”

Even Mingi who greeted his father, and you albeit stiffly, raised a brow, but opted not to say anything, just walking away while looking back at the both of you repeatedly like he was seeing what he wasn’t supposed to be seeing. You and Hongjoong looked at each other, thoroughly confused, but shrugged it off.

And that’s when San walked by, carrying a tray of cookies you loved so much, only to freeze when he saw Hongjoong gently placing a hand on your back to guide you past a stray step. He blinked over and over again until all the cookies plopped down towards the floor. “I’m sorry, what have you done to my favourite dysfunctional couple?”

You were horrified, mouth agape as you stared at all the sugary goodness on the floor. “My cookies,” you frowned, tugging at Hongjoong’s sleeve. “Joong…”

It only got worse when Hongjoong leaned down, pressed a kiss to your cheek nonchalantly and murmured, “I have to work for a couple of hours to catch up while we were gone. I’ll be back to spoil you rotten, yeah? I’ll see if I can order cookies after, so be good.”

You blinked, stunned, and so did literally everyone else in the hallway. The silence that followed could’ve cracked glass. You stood there, flustered, a hand over your cheek where he just kissed you in front of everyone.

Wooyoung took one look at you, one look at Hongjoong’s retreating form as he walked away, before letting out a screech so loud and unholy that you covered your ears immediately. “Oh my fucking God, what was that?” Wooyoung shouted, flailing like a game show host on a sugar high. “Did you just call him Joong?”

But that was it, because after that, it was like everything never even happened. You weren’t sure what you expected. Hongjoong pulling you aside just to hold you again like he did that night? Instead, life resumed as if nothing had changed. He never really did get you those cookies nor did he spend time with you afterwards anymore.

He wasn’t snarling or glaring at you anymore, that was for sure, but he always kept you close even in the small gestures like sitting beside you or holding your hand, but that was it. You still slept in separate rooms, and there were no more whispers in the dark, no more soft kisses, no more of him asking for five more minutes in bed before he got up. No one questioned it.

It started small, you almost convinced yourself you imagined it. During meals, he no longer sat beside you. He’ll speak, he’ll nod, but his body always angles away from you. That was when the absence of touch came next. Once, Hongjoong’s hand would find your lower back or brush yours when passing you a glass, but now, he didn’t reach out, didn’t accidentally graze your skin.

One afternoon, you entered the library. You hadn’t even called out his name, but the moment he saw you, he stood, gathered his things, and left. It was when his cold formality started again, never with warmth, and when he gave you instructions, he didn’t say your name. When you responded, his eyes would flicker, but he never truly looked at you.

By mafia standards, you should’ve married her within the first month.

Yunho’s words sank deeper than you wanted to admit. They curled under your skin like thorns. What if he was right? What if Hongjoong had never planned to marry you at all? Your eyes burned, and you blinked furiously to push the sting away. He had kissed you, held you, had made love to you. And now, he was walking around as if he hadn’t touched every inch of your soul.

You rubbed at your chest as if you could soothe the ache building there. What if this was it? What if this cold civility, this silence, was all he thought you were worth? Maybe he didn’t want to marry you. Maybe he never did.

Then came the locked doors. You never really hung out with him when he worked, but the locked door was suspicious. He also began sending people in his place. Hongjoong no longer filled your space, he ghosted it. You couldn’t even remember the last time he told you something directly.

You weren’t stupid. You knew how this world worked, how alliances were made and unmade at the flick of a wrist, at the spill of a secret. Maybe you had just been another deal. A piece of a war you weren’t meant to survive. Which was why you barged into his office one day without bothering to knock or close the door.

He didn’t seem at all surprised at your intrusion. He sighed, lowering his glasses and looking at you with tired eyes. “What’s this about, darling?”

“Do you regret us? Touching me? Kissing me?” You started, unable to stop the spiral now. “Or are you just pretending it didn’t happen so I don’t get any stupid ideas l-like marriage or a future?”

He didn’t answer. A bitter laugh escaped your lips, barely a sound. “I can’t believe you,” you murmured, your voice cracking around the edges. “Are you telling me what I felt was nothing? You almost had me fooled there, Hongjoong. I thought for sure hope wasn’t just a word anymore—”

“Can you not? How about this,” he sighed, placing his hands on your cheeks to cup it like he did before, and your traitorous body leaned onto his touch. “I’ll take you out later, okay? Let me just finish working. Sounds good?”

“Are you going to marry me?” You blurted out instead. He stiffened. You felt it immediately his arms didn’t fall away, but his hold loosened just enough for the space between you to feel colder than it had before. “Hongjoong?”

It spiraled. Your brain wouldn’t stop spinning. You didn’t remember pushing him and running away to the comfort of your room after locking the door. All you remember was his refusal to answer and look at you. And the way he never did take you out after.

And the worst of all, everyone had noticed. You had lost your spark, that light in your eyes, that drive in your walk. The anxiety, the paranoia, was slowly eating you alive. You were falling apart at the seams, and no one dared to say it out loud. But you could feel it; this immense pressure building in your chest like a ticking bomb.

Another thing was you were also starting to notice the way everyone was looking at you. It wasn’t quite pity, no, but it was akin to the end. To be fair, if Hongjoong was to keep acting like this, the end was nigh, indeed. What if this was all a game? What if he was keeping you close for power? Or pity?

You were thirty-three when your heart had failed you in a way that stayed. Your reflection in the mirror didn’t even look like you anymore. It looked like someone trying to be worthy of being chosen. Marrying Hongjoong was a want now, not a necessity, and that broke you. 

And then, one day, it all seemed to shatter. You were passing by Hongjoong’s office, an excuse you’ve been telling yourself just to see if you were going to have a small glimpse of him, when you heard it. Voices low, urgent, and hushed. One of them was Hongjoong’s.

“It’s being finalized, then?” Hongjoong’s sharp, business-like voice asked.

“Yes,” Mingi replied, serious and deep. “I reckon we’ll be able to make a move soon and then everything will be settled. You could let her go after.”

You froze in place, feeling like ice has been poured over you. Seonghwa sighed. “It’s just…are we really doing this? After everything? Won’t it destroy her?”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, it’s not knowledge she deserves to have, anyway. I didn’t go this far just for her to know. It’s better this way,” Hongjoong said curtly.

“Does she even know?” San’s voice now asked. “I’m confused. You both looked like you almost had it going, Joong. Why didn’t you tell her then?“

“No,” Seonghwa replied, sighing. “Hongjoong’s keeping her in the dark until all the loose ends are tied. Her bastard uncle did sign a contract after all, so technically she’s with us. It’s a good thing.”

Mingi clicked his tongue. “It shouldn’t have gone this far, Father. You’re lucky she’s still loyal after everything. You should’ve told her from the start this engagement was a fraud.”

Your heart stuttered. You covered your mouth, willing yourself to stay silent as tears started to pool on the side of your eyes. 

“I still think it’s cruel,” San murmured. “Are you ever going to tell her, Hongjoong? You’re really gonna let her go? Just like that?”

There was a beat of silence that stretched for far too long before Hongjoong spoke again. “There was never supposed to be an ‘us’ anyway. It was a mistake that should have never happened.”

You couldn’t take it anymore, taking off as soon as that conversation ended. You sat on the floor of your room, knees tucked into your chest, the ache in your bones eclipsed only by the quiet, creeping devastation hollowing you out from the inside. Yunho’s words echoed in your mind like a curse you couldn’t shake. By mafia standards, you should’ve married her within the first month. Why haven’t you? Did you want to keep her locked up like a secret no one else can touch? Or are you just dragging her through the mud?

But now? Now, after hearing that conversation, after watching him pass you in the hallway like a stranger, after everyone’s pitying glances and whispered silences, it all felt so grotesquely clear - you weren’t something he was building a future with, you were someone he was using.

You tried to breathe, but it came out ragged, your chest too tight. The truth clawed at you with wild, unforgiving hands. Yunho had been right all along, and now you were stuck in a house that felt more like a mausoleum than a home with a name he would never give you and a heart he would never claim. You spent days like that, refusing to see anyone who noticed they haven’t seen your face in a while, leaving the trays of food placed on your door untouched, and only going out to use the bathroom. It was how you had accidentally left the door ajar for someone to find you, face blotchy and swollen when Jongho came in, eyes widened at your messed up state, as he helped you up to sit on the bed. 

“Y/N, what happened to you?” He let out in concern. He stood up, and you thought for a second that he was giving you the space you clearly needed when you didn’t answer, but you were wrong. “I’m calling Hongjoong,” he said, already pulling out his phone. “I don’t know what happened, but you clearly need him.”

Something in your mind snapped into a quiet haze. Jongho was handsome. He was kind, and he was always there for you. For one breathless second, you wished that you could feel something, anything, other than the emptiness Hongjoong had left you with.

“Don’t call him,” you murmured, voice cracking as you reached for his hand. You looked up at Jongho, his brows furrowed in confusion. And before you could stop yourself, before you could think, you whispered, “Kiss me.”

Jongho’s entire body froze. His lips parted slightly, eyes widening, not with desire, but with shock and pity. He roze, the blood draining from his face. “Y/N, I don’t—”

“Please,” you begged. “I need to feel like I’m not losing everything—”

“Y/N?” Hongjoong’s voice suddenly crackled on the phone. “What’s going on? Jongho, what in God’s name are you doing?”

The call had connected after all, but you were done caring about Hongjoong. You grabbed Jongho’s shirt, lowering him to your lips. “I-I need to feel something, Jongho, please pretend I’m wanted,” your voice cracked.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hongjoong's voice roared through the speaker, frantic now. “I am going to skin you alive and drain your blood if you do it, don’t you dare, Jongho—”

But Jongho didn’t move. He respectfully held your shoulders, keeping you at arm’s length with utmost care. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice soft, heavy with pity but unwavering. “You don’t need more lies right now.”

On the other end of the phone, Hongjoong’s breathing was ragged, silent, tortured, like he was ready to rip through space to get to you before the line went dead. It was when you broke down, sobbing in Jongho’s arms apologizing through and through for your utterly shameful behaviour, thanking him for not taking advantage of your momentary weakness.

And then, the anger settled in. How dare Hongjoong act like that after what you overheard? What’s it to him that you wanted to kiss someone else’s lips besides his filthy ones? You remembered the way his voice sounded when told you that one dinner night that you were not to wear a ring. You should have known. 

You made up your mind then - you were leaving him. You weren’t going to live trapped in the unknown. You’d spent years chained under your uncle’s care, and now under the illusion of Hongjoong’s protection, but no more. Maybe you’d stay with Yunho to start again and figure out who you really were outside of the Kim manor’s walls.

But first, you needed that damn contract. The one that bound you to Hongjoong as his property. After much deliberation, the easiest way would be to drive him out of his office long enough for him to not come back.

So you picked a fight, purposefully targeting his tendency to get possessive of you like you were his property. It spurred you on, and at first, he wasn’t budging, but when you mentioned off-handedly about the kiss you wanted from Jongho, he bit.

The effect was instant. Hongjoong instantly stopped what he was doing, his entire frame taut with tension, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “What did you say?” He asked coldly.

You bit your lip to hold your smirk back. “I said,” you drawled. “Maybe I should’ve asked Jongho to kiss me again.”

That did it. His steps toward you were slow, deliberate, dangerous. He growled low under his breath, shoving past you, practically vibrating with possessive rage. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but don’t test me, Y/N,” he snapped. “I’ve killed for less without blinking.”

Your heart beat erratically as you listened to Hongjoong’s furious commands to hand him his keys so he could drive off that were sounding further and further until you heard the front door slam so hard, you could practically feel it vibrate from where you were.

Perfect. Now all you had to do was find the damn contract - and whatever other secrets he’d been hiding.

Luckily for you, Hongjoong didn’t lock his cabinets. To be completely fair, nobody in their right mind - except you, apparently - would even dream of digging through his files while he wasn’t present. It was like finding a needle on a haystack, but whenever you’d recall the conversation you overheard here, it gave you a newfound sense of determination. Finally, you found it. With trembling hands, you gingerly took the contract that basically held your uncle’s life and bound you to Hongjoong. You hated your uncle for selling you, but at the same time, you couldn’t imagine not meeting Hongjoong at all.

This was it, you were done, and you were leaving. You had already packed what little you brought here and all that was left now was to burn the bridge behind you and never look back. Tears welled in your eyes, however, as you willed Hongjoong’s fond eyes as he looked at you out of your mind. Your story with him had happened, but now, it had to end.

You folded the contract resolutely. Just as you turned to leave, something fluttered from between the pages. It  was a thinner piece of paper, tucked behind the contract, and it fell towards the floor, face up. You blinked in confusion, was this another part of the contract?

You crouched, hand shaky as you picked it up, but before you could touch it, you froze. Your pulse skipped, heart sinking the moment your eyes caught the title - it was a marriage contract and it had Hongjoong’s unmistakable signature on it.

You blinked once, twice, but the name didn’t change. The blood drained from your face, a sudden rush of nausea coiled in your gut with bile that started to burn your throat as you backed away from the fallen paper as if it had a contagious disease of some sort.

Was this it? The secret he’d been keeping? Your chest felt like it had caved in. No wonder he didn’t want to marry you - he literally couldn’t. He already belonged to someone else and you seeked comfort in his arms like you belonged in it when, in fact, you did not. You never did.

You ran out of the office, your pathetic tears finally falling from your eyes as you felt your heart starting to break. You didn’t bother stopping for Wooyoung, who looked genuinely worried for your state, and you pushed past a surprised Seonghwa, who was the last person you ever wanted to see besides Hongjoong.

You shoved the contract hastily in your luggage, trudging it silently towards the back door you knew nobody passed or guarded, each movement mechanical, like your soul detached itself long ago. The suitcase was filled with your clothes, but really, it's all the things you never meant to carry - bitterness and heartbreak.

You barely made it one step outside when a hand grabbed your arm from behind, spinning you unceremoniously. It was someone you never expected in a million years, and he was already waiting by the door like he knew you’d come out here. “Running away again, I see,” Mingi eyes your luggage. “Though it seems you have no plans of coming back.” 

His features are etched from the same ice as his father's - cold, unreadable. He’s never spoken to you beyond what's necessary. You pulled your arm away harshly from his hold. “Not that it would matter,” you scoffed. “Hongjoong has no plans of marrying me, what’s the point?”

Realization seemed to dawn on him. “You found the certificate. Is that why Wooyoung said you’re crying?” He sighed, long and breathy, as if he wasn’t prepared for what he was about to say next. “I have to give it to you, you’re clever for driving him out of his office, but whatever it is you’re thinking, you’re dead wrong.”

You laugh once, bitter and sharp. “I saw it with my own two eyes, and the facts speak for themselves, don’t they? All he’s ever made me feel was that I was an inconvenience to him.”

“You’ve only seen what he’s allowed you to see,” Mingi says quietly. “You think my father doesn’t care about you, but Y/N, he’d sell his soul for you. For what it’s worth, we all think it should’ve never gone this far.”

“Yeah, well,” you exhaled sharply, turning to leave again. “It’s a little too late for that—”

“Don’t leave,” Mingi said, almost a whisper, almost a plea. You faltered, stunned at how he wasn’t letting you pass. He rubs his face between his hands in distress. “How about this, let me show you something, and if that still doesn’t change your mind, I’ll even help you walk away.” “Why?” You asked coldly, but followed him back to what seemed like Hongjoong’s office anyway. “You made it clear that you never liked me from the beginning.”

“Because I’m not going to let him lose you, not like this,” Mingi opened the door for you to enter. “And I never disliked you. You are my father’s one shot at the happiness he never got before, I could never dislike you for that.”

San was already there. He looked up as you entered, and your breath caught. In his hands was the very marriage certificate that had shattered you just moments ago. He eyed your luggage, resignation clear in his eyes. “Y/N, I am so, so sorry,” his voice cracked when you refused to meet his eye. “You deserve to know the truth before you walk away, at least.”

Mingi sighed and walked over to the far side of the desk. He reached under the edge, clicking something underneath. “This,” he held out a small recording device. “Is for protection and insurance whenever he invites people over here. It never stops recording. I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.” 

And with that, he presses play. You didn’t speak, just listened. At first, you heard nothing, just pure static and a couple of movements before San fast forwarded it, stopping when he was satisfied.

“She’s beautiful, Hwa, my goodness. Her photos don’t do her justice,” Hongjoong’s familiar voice sounded all over the room, slightly startling you. “I-I must’ve looked like a fool during dinner. How am I supposed to pretend that I’m not head over heels in love with her?”

“You did look like a fool,” Seonghwa’s voice said next, deadpanned. “It’s embarrassing, Joong. Your own son had to tell you to stop staring.”

Head over heels? It didn’t make sense. Not when he avoided you for the longest time, not when he stood silent while you begged for clarity. San started fast forwarding again.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” The voice was unmistakably Hongjoong’s sharp, furious, and barely restrained. “Flirting with her in front of me? Do you want me to ship you back in Suwon, you uncultured swine?”

Wooyoung’s familiar laughter shrieked all over the room so loud, Mingi rolled his eyes. “My God, Dad, you are so down bad. I’ve never seen you so jealous in my life. I have no plans to steal your wife, relax.”

“That’s not the point,” Hongjoong snapped. “Don’t touch her like that again. Don’t talk to her like she’s anyone but mine. Do you understand me?”

You stood there, frozen. Your hands trembled slightly as you remembered that day so clearly in your head. San gave Mingi a glance before silently playing the recording again.

“I fucked up,” Honjoong started, but it was in a voice you’ve never heard on him before, and for some reason, it hurt your heart to hear. “I shouldn’t have shouted at her during dinner, she looked at me like I’d hit her. And I-I hate myself for it, she probably hates me—”

“You think?” Jongho’s voice responded, unusually sharp. “She looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. Seriously, what were you thinking?”

“I shouldn’t have pushed the plate like that, but it had avocados in it,” Hongjoong’s voice faltered, like he was trying to rein himself in. 

There was a pause in the recording, and in your head as well. You felt like you were about to faint. “Avocados?” San in the recording asked, clearly confused.

Hongjoong sighed heavily and you could practically hear him pacing in his office. “She’s allergic to avocados. Allergic enough for anaphylactic shock.”

“You could’ve just said something,” San replied, dry and disbelieving. “That wasn’t just over the line, Joong. It was humiliating.”

“That’s why she reacted like that when I told her about the dressing,” Jongho commented off-handedly. “But still, you scared her. Hell, you scared all of us.”

“I was scared as well, that’s why I’m furious,” Hongjoong snapped. “I clearly told the staff to not put avocados in her food. How was I supposed to tell her without arousing suspicion of the fucker that did it?”

That night, you’d gone to bed wondering if he hated you. Meanwhile, he was probably pacing the floor in this very room, wondering if you were still breathing, wondering if he should have just shouted your allergy across the table rather than risk letting you eat what could’ve killed you. “You okay to keep going?” San asked softly. When you nodded stiffly, he pressed play again.

“Did you order food out?” Wooyoung’s voice sounded out this time. “Oh, that actually looks good, can I have some—”

A loud smack can be heard in the background before Wooyoung’s yelp. “No,” Hongjoong’s light, almost boyish tone, smugly denied. “My love made this for me. Can you guys believe it? She’s literally perfect in every way, she even cooks well, too. A literal angel in every sense, I tell you.”

“Hold on, is that why she’s been hanging around the kitchen late?” Wooyoung asked, confused. “But she looks so down everytime—she doesn’t know you’re eating them, does she?”

There was a pause before Seonghwa spoke next, his voice quieter. “You have to tell her, Joong. Me and San have to carry the burden of seeing her tears the next day every single time we pretend to throw away the food the next day. She makes them with love, you know?”

Silence. Then Hongjoong sighed, deep and hollow. “God, I want to, but not yet. You know there’s a mole in the staff. If I let on that I care too much, it puts a target on her back. It’s the only way to protect her without tipping my hand.”

There was a pause. “She’s so bright when she cooks, and I never tell her,” he continued heavily. “I said nothing, like I always do. So for now, all I could do is savour her food, you know? It keeps my longing away for now.”

Something in your chest cracked. You remembered those nights. You never imagined he cherished every bite in silence, keeping up a mask to protect you from shadows you didn’t even know were looming. Suddenly, it transitioned into a conversation you knew far too well, the one you heard before you ran away to the playground.

“But you can’t keep doing this to keep giving her the cold shoulder, Joong,” Seonghwa clicked his tongue. “She’s too perceptive and you know she'll find out, what are you going to do then?”

“Give me time,” Hongjoong’s tone shifted into something darker. “We’re so close to caging in Yoo Jaehwan, that bastard ruined her life. Please, no one can know for now. I have to make sure he’ll pay for that car accident that almost cost her and Yeosang.”

You gasped audibly, almost tripping at what you just heard. There was only one car accident that had Yeosang and you in it, did this run deeper than you initially thought?

“She won’t be safe forever, you know that. San’s working on Mingi’s intel for the hit and run. It was damn near impossible to find who hit her parents back then. You think Jaehwan knows?”

“There’s no denying it. That bastard killed them. She will be safer here, so please, watch over her for me. I will never forgive myself if something happens to her. She’s my everything—who’s there?”

And all this time, the man you thought didn’t care,the man whose cold shoulder and distant silence had crushed you, had been carrying the weight of it all in secret. You shook your head in denial, if this wasn’t enough, your uncle had something to do with your parents’ death as well. “Make it stop,” you begged. “I-I can’t—”

“I’m sorry,” Mingi apologized, and you could see he was genuine this time. “We have to keep going. This is why Father was the way he was with you. You have to know.”

You heard a glass clink against another, followed by the unmistakable sound of Hongjoong’s tired hiccup, more human than you'd ever heard him, before the familiar sigh of Seonghwa followed. “That’s enough,” he gently coaxed. “You’re drunk, Joong. You’re half gone–”

“Half gone? I haven’t been whole since I lied to her,” Hongjoong’s drunk and pained voice slurred. “She ran away from me, Hwa. And I deserve it. I was prepared for her hate, but not her absence. When I couldn’t find her, I was so damn scared, none of you even understood.”

Hongjoong swallowed more alcohol. “I love her, Seonghwa. I love her more than this house, more than the empire, more than anything. But if she knew what I’ve done, she’d never stay.”

You clutch the edge of the table like it’s the only thing holding you upright. “There’s still time to tell her,” Seonghwa advised. “Mingi still thinks you shouldn’t hide this.”

“What if she realizes I’m the reason her life turned to hell?” Hongjoong cried out in melancholy. “I’m terrified she’ll disappear for good when she finds out what I’ve done and made the selfish decision to make her mine—”

“But she doesn’t know that,” Seonghwa said softly. “She doesn’t know you held her hand the whole time in the hospital. You did it to protect her. You married her, for God’s sake.”

Your knees nearly gave out. That hand - warm, calloused, unmoving but steady - had been the only thing tethering you to life. That hand was the only one that stayed when no one else did. Tears sprung to your eyes, that hand had been your lifeline, and after all this time, you had been his. 

“I married her to settle a score. But somewhere along the line, I just,” Hongjoong sniffled. “I just loved her. Every day I don’t tell her, she drifts further from me. And I-I don’t know how to fix it.”

You swallowed audibly when the recording paused. There was only one question lingering in your head, one that San read on your face but refused to acknowledge. Instead, he reached forward and pressed play. The room was silent again, except for the soft static of the next recording beginning to play.

“I’ll bow to your king when he shows himself,” your voice played out this time, clipped and cut. You cringed internally. You remember how liberated you felt after that day, but now you were about to find out what happened after you stormed out.

Seonghwa and Mingi were in the room that day and you were expecting the three of them to talk about your utter disrespect, but you were not expecting Hongjoong’s laughter, loud, bubbly, and full of mirth after a few seconds of you walking away.

“Well, would you look at that,” Mingi snorted, but even through the recording, you could hear the subtle fondness in his voice. “You’ve finally found your match, Father.”

“God, I’m so proud of her,” Hongjoong said through his laughter, his voice breathless and utterly thrilled. “Did you see the way she stood up to me like a champ?  I’ve never been that close to finishing on the spot.”

Mingi let out a sound of pure, exaggerated revulsion. “Please, never let me hear that again. That is fucking disgusting, this is why I get drunk often.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Seonghwa chortled. “Did you see the way he looked at her? He was looking at her like he wanted her to break his neck and thank her for it. It was sickening. I wanted to bleach my eyes.”

“Shut up,” Hongjoong muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. You could hear the smile in his voice. It was small, secretive, a little lovesick.

“No, you shut up,” Seonghwa shot back with playful disbelief. “She literally insulted your bloodline and told you that you are not the king of your own empire in her eyes and you look like you’re ready to carve her name onto your chest.”

“Well, he just might,” Mingi answered dramatically. “You two make marriage look fun. My money’s on her, you know? Hell, everyone’s is at this point.”  

Hongjoong laughed again, sounding more genuine, if that was possible. “So is mine.”

You’ve barely let that settle before the next recording sounded. You froze. This was the most recent, the catalyst that set this whole thing in motion. “I still think it’s cruel,” San murmured. “Are you ever going to tell her, Hongjoong? You’re really gonna let her go? Just like that?”

“There was never supposed to be an ‘us’ anyway. It was a mistake that should have never happened,” Hongjoong sighed and you were confused. You didn’t remember him sounding this torn about it. This was when you ran away crying to your room utterly heartbroken.

“That’s my wife, San. I don’t want to let her go, but it was cruel for me to take her secretly. I have to let her go if she doesn’t want to stay even if it hurts me. We go for the kill, but leave Jaehwan to me. I want to kill him, myself.”

The recording ended there, for good this time. You just stood there shaking, lips parted, eyes glassy. He hadn’t just tolerated you, he adored you - no, he loved you hopelessly with a hidden love that he kept choking down behind layers of silence and strategy. 

You feel your knees weaken not from pain, but from the crushing, beautiful truth that maybe you were never unloved. “I-I don’t understand,” you blurted, tears blurring your vision. “T-There has to be a mistake. He’s married to someone else—”

San started to show you the marriage certificate again, but you didn’t want anything to do with it. “Y/N,” San said gently, catching your hand before you could shove the paper away. “Just look closer, please. At the bottom.”

Your gaze dropped, unwilling at first but your breath stopped, your mind stilling into chaotic silence when you saw it - your name and  signature right beside Hongjoong’s. You blinked hard, heart thrashing in your chest. “I don’t remember this. I never - how could I not know I was married?”

“Our job is done. We shouldn’t be the ones explaining this. You need to hear it from him,” Mingi said as he stood and with a final glance, the door clicked shut, and you were left alone with your thoughts, the weight of the paper, and a heart that no longer knew what to believe.

You were shaking your head violently, eyes already welling up with tears you refused to acknowledge. One by one, everything started to make sense, even the little things you ignored for fear of falling too hard - your avocado allergy, how he picked raisins out of your food, your photo on his desk you now knew for sure he kept staring at every single day.

And everyone knew too, there were also the telltale signs of everyone slipping by accident - the way San froze when he found out your name was Jeong, Seonghwa telling you it was finally nice to meet you, overhearing Yeosang say you weren’t just a wife, you were someone Hongjoong would burn the world for. 

You should’ve been angry, and you were, but underneath all of that was grief not just for yourself, but for him too. Your chest ached as you imagined all those nights he must have sat awake, planning, hiding, hurting. All those moments you begged him to speak, and he couldn’t not because he didn’t want to - but because he loved you too much to risk everything.

A sob clawed its way up your throat. You wiped your face with shaking hands, but the tears wouldn’t stop now. How long had he carried all this alone? How long had he loved you silently, forced to cage every affection? How could you hate someone for hurting you when all they ever wanted was to protect you? It must have been crushing. 

Your heart was a tangled, desperate mess in your chest by the time the door finally opened. Hongjoong stepped in, his brows pinched together in confusion when he saw you there. When he saw the marriage certificate crumpled tightly in your hands, it was like the ground vanished beneath his feet.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes blown wide, his breath catching audibly. It was like you also held his heart in your hands. All the color drained from his face, but somewhere in his eyes, relief shone through. And you knew why - all the pretending has to stop now and you both knew it.

Hongjoong slowly closed the door behind him, eyes never leaving yours, and for once, he looked afraid, vulnerable and human. “We need to talk,” he said hoarsely, and there wasn’t a trace of command in his voice, only quiet pleading as he slowly approached you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You cried out, heart aching and throat tight, the paper trembling in your hands like the storm inside you that was finally meeting his. “Everything hurts, Hongjoong. I can’t breathe.”

Without another word, he knelt in front of you, like the wind had been knocked out of him, and reached for you with trembling hands. You collapsed into his chest, sobbing openly as he cradled you to him. His warmth surrounded you, his scent grounding you, and for the first time, his arms didn’t feel like a prison - they felt like home.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over again, his lips brushing your temple. “I’m so, so sorry. I never wanted you to find out like this, and I never wanted to hurt you. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

You shook your head against him, trying to make sense of the chaos in your chest. “I wanted so desperately for you to care for me, Hongjoong,” you confessed angrily, lamenting for all the times you spent yearning. “I wanted it so badly that I never blamed you for how you treated me, no matter how bad, I never blamed you.”

He clutched you tighter as if the very fabric of his soul depended on your forgiveness, his breath shaky, his words barely held together. “Blame me, Y/N. My soul can’t be saved if I sell you my sins and the scars in your heart are mine to atone, but don’t think for a second that I never loved you,” his voice cracked. “That I don’t love you now.”

Rage sets in as his words wrapped around your heart like a chain, heavy with the weight of long-buried truths. “You’re cruel, you know that?” You thumped your fists on his chest repeatedly. “After all the things you made me go through? You tell me this now?”

You could feel his tears now, each one a testament to the pain he had buried beneath the armor he wore for too long. “You think I’m cruel, but I’ve been your husband longer than you’ve known. And I’ve loved you every single day of it,” he whispered, his hands trembling.

Your breath caught as his words sank in, deeper than any wound he’d ever left behind. Husband. You wanted to scream, to cry, to pull away, to collapse into him all at once. How could he say it like that? So stripped of pride and power, like a man offering up the last piece of himself and hoping it would be enough? It was too much. It was everything.

He pressed his forehead to yours, lips barely apart from yours. “If you want the truth, I'll give you that. If you want to leave, I will never stop you."

But somehow, all you could do was hold him tighter. “I don’t want freedom from you, Hongjoong,” you whispered, breaking apart in his arms. “I just want the truth.”

Hongjoong didn’t speak at first. You felt his body tremble as he held you, as though the truth itself was too heavy to carry alone anymore. “I’m not the right person to tell you this, it would be Yunho, but to put it simply for now, your parents both served my father, and in turn, me after he passed away.”

You pulled back slightly, your breath catching in your throat. “M-My parents were in the mafia?” You asked, heart pounding with the realization already forming. Somehow, it made sense - they were absent throughout your teenage years and they did keep their career a secret.

“They were. Yunho took over your father after, but we didn’t get along much, but that’s another story,” Hongjoong said softly. “They were good people. One day I got myself into something I wasn’t supposed to. I would’ve been dead if it weren’t for them and my sons would be fatherless. I was young and stupid and they saved me. I owe them my life, I still do.”

He paused, voice tightening with grief. “I didn’t have much power back then, so I did the best thing I could. Assets, lots of them. I gave your parents millions, Y/N, but before I could fully ever thank them, before I could protect them…” Hongjoong looked away, sighing heavily.

“They died before they could use the money. My uncle wanted their money, didn’t he? Did he kill them?” You blurted out. His silence confirmed it and you shuddered, anguish and clarity warred within you as the weight of your stolen past pressed down on your chest. 

“At first I didn’t have proof it was him,” you felt Hongjoong’s hands holding you steady, his warmth anchoring you to something real. “I was investigating their deaths for years. It was my way of getting back for them for saving me. It wasn’t until your car accident with Yeosang a couple of years back.”

You swallowed. This was it, this was the part you weren’t sure you were ready to hear. His face turned dark before he continued. “Yeosang was suspicious of the accident. We both thought the hit was for him at first since he’s my son. When I investigated, it was how I found out who you were. It felt like the universe just punched me in the gut.”

“W-What does this have to do with marrying me?”

“Everything,” his expression twisted, like it physically hurt him to relive it. “When your parents died, all that money went to you automatically. Do you remember that day when I asked you why your uncle took you in when Yunho was losing his mind looking for you all this time?”

You nodded, your stomach sinking. “He took you in to drain every cent out of you. He was bleeding you dry,” his jaw ticked in concealed anger. “He got impatient, that car accident back then would speed up the process.”

You shook your head, denial flaring. Your lungs were too tight, your heart racing painfully in your chest as you tried not to throw up. “So, what, you married me to stop him?”

“Not just that,” he said hoarsely, and then, softer. “I had to make it legally binding. As your husband, I could legally control your funds. It was the only way I knew how, so I married you in secret, in the hospital, while you were unconscious. And I held your hand while you signed.”

Your head snapped up at that. Your blood ran cold, because you remembered that day. The warmth of a hand in yours, grounding you while the world spun wildly. You thought it was just hospital consent forms. “That was the marriage certificate?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “But that was years before my uncle sold me to you, Hongjoong, that doesn’t make any sense—”

“I had to let you go back to him after,” he explained, eyes shut tight with regret. “He was desperate, and desperate men get dangerous. I needed time. I needed him to think he was still in control, still bleeding you dry while I worked behind the scenes.”

You stood there in stunned silence, your hands trembling with the weight of a truth you never asked for but now couldn’t ignore. “I watched you for years,” he continued, voice hollow but steady. “Always from a distance. I told myself it was enough.I kept telling myself I was doing it for your parents, that I owed them everything. That’s how it started. But then…”

His voice cracked, and for a moment he didn’t go on. “Then I fell in love with you,” he whispered, trembling. “Without even realizing it, I fell. Hard. And for that, I’m sorry. I will regret taking that choice away from you for as long as I live. The plan was to annul the marriage when I was done compiling evidence against him, and believe me, I tried to do it quickly. I didn’t want you to stay with him for long.”

Your breath caught when he smiled faintly, and it was the saddest, most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. “You were always strong, and I hated that I couldn’t tell you how proud I was. I’m sorry I got selfish because the thought of annulling the marriage just hurt me on the inside.”

You looked down, heart racing, remembering the moments. All that time you resented him for being locked in his office instead of being with you, he was working to finally set you free. “Then why keep it a secret?” You asked, voice fragile. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared you’d hate me. Scared that if you knew the truth, you’d want nothing to do with me. I didn’t want to rip open old wounds by making you relive the past. So I just… watched and made sure you were doing well.”

“But everything changed. One time I sent Jongho,” Hongjoong went on, voice turning sharp with memory. “We didn’t know he was violent with you. He caught him hurting you. That fucking bastard,” his cracked slightly. “Not only was he stealing from you, he was beating you up the entire time, I-I wanted to die when I found out—”

A lone tear escaped his eyes when you shushed him, putting your finger on his lips gently. He cracked a bitter smile, kissing your finger before continuing. “So I bankrupted his business. I had Seonghwa pose as his client, made him plant the seed that Kim Hongjoong was giving money for something in exchange. It worked, that’s how I got you into my house.”

You froze up, suddenly breathless. Your whole life - every twist and turn, every unexplained pain, every confusing encounter - was beginning to piece together like a puzzle you never knew existed. “You were never a liability used to pay a debt,” he growled. “Once you were under my roof, I knew you were safe. I could fully start making my move on your uncle. I sent Wooyoung to Suwon to start—”

“Suwon?” You blinked in surprise, remembering the very first time you met Wooyoung. “He went there…because of me? Because you told him to?”

He nodded. “The man your uncle hired who hit your parents were both hiding in Suwon. Mingi wanted to do it since he was the one who found them for me, but Wooyoung…let’s say that son of mine is a little trigger-happy. Trust me, he was more than glad to do it.”

You felt your chest caving in. All this time, everyone - San, Seonghwa, Jongho, Wooyoung, and even Mingi - had been watching, protecting, quietly fighting battles for you that you didn’t even know existed.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stared at the man who had haunted your days and nights with confusion, rage, longing - only to discover that, all along, he had loved you in silence.

“What now?” You sniffled. “What are we going to do?”

“I was going to kill him and then come clean to you,” he admitted ruefully. “But death is a salvation that he doesn’t deserve. I have all the evidence I need to send him to jail, because there’s one more thing your uncle cost me, ” he said, voice low and rough. “Yeosang.”

You felt your chest twist. “I had to send my own son away,” he spat the words like poison. “Because if your uncle ever saw him around, he would’ve figured it out that Yeosang was the one who called me, panicked, sobbing, begging me to save you.”

You knew that Hongjoong called Yeosang in a panic  when you were poisoned to wherever he was hiding from to come and treat you. He risked all of it to save you. “Your uncle didn’t just steal from you,” he growled. “He didn’t just beat you, he stole from me too. He robbed me of time with you, your parents, and my son.”

He dropped to his knees again. “I did terrible things to keep you safe,” he said quietly. “And I can’t undo them. But if there’s anything left in your heart for me, even just a piece, I swear to you, I will make it right.”

Hongjoong was a man weighed down by guilt, someone laying every wound bare before you. You looked at him, this broken, bleeding man who had shielded you in ways you never even saw. And now, maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop surviving and start living. You gripped his hands tightly now, because for the first time, you understood.

“I hated you,” you whispered. His jaw clenched, and he closed his eyes like your words were blades, but he took it like he promised he would. “But I think I hated myself more for still loving you anyway.”

His eyes snapped open, wide and raw and shimmering with a hope he tried to suppress. “Y-You still do?” His broken voice stuttered.

“I don’t know how not to,” you said, your lips trembling. “I didn’t realize how much I fell for you until you started pulling back. Even when you pushed me so far away I thought I’d disappear, I kept looking for you.”

His breath hitched, and then he was kissing you, not out of possession or dominance, not like a man taking what he believed was his, but like someone starved for something he’d already mourned the loss of. His lips trembled against yours, and you tasted your shared sorrow, your silent tears, your aching, stupid, impossible love.

Hongjoong exhaled shakily, as if the weight of everything unsaid was finally buckling his knees. Now that you were in front of him, there was no more holding back. “I never meant to ignore you,” he said, voice rough and uneven. “These past few months, I-I know I’ve made you feel unwanted, like you were nothing but a pawn to me, but you never were.”

His eyes flicked to yours. “We were so close to getting your uncle. I could taste it, that justice. And I lost myself. I thought, just a little more time and I could finally give you peace.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but he shook his head. “No,” he whispered with a bitter smile. “It is my fault. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t supposed to love you, I was supposed to distance myself because your uncle’s mole was watching us. But how could I not?”

“Hongjoong,” you tried to coax him out of these thoughts, but to no avail. Your vision blurred as his words sank in.

“How could I not hold back when you looked at the world with eyes that still trusted even after everything?” Hongjoong continued. “Every time you touched me, I felt like I was being forgiven for sins I hadn’t even confessed yet. Every night you were in my house, pretending not to care that I was cruel, pretending it didn’t hurt, I wanted to fall to my knees and curse every God out there for doing this to me, to us.”

He took your hands, his thumbs brushing your knuckles, and he held you like you were something fragile. “I even got you poisoned,” he said, pressing your hands to his chest, where his heart thundered violently. “Because I let my guard down. I’ve lived every day terrified that loving you would be the death of you, but it turns out, not loving you openly was killing me.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, thick and hot. When he finally pulled back, it was only just enough to whisper. “I married you once to protect you and I’d marry you again just to love you. Marry me, Y/N, please.”

You looked at him, the man who had fought in silence for you, bled in shadows for you, and lost you just to keep you alive. And for the first time, you saw him as the only person who had ever loved you enough to break his own heart to save yours. “You already have me,” you said softly, hands rising to cup his cheeks. 

His exhale of relief and wonder, grief and gratitude all at once. No more pretending, no more secrets. Just the two of you, finally choosing each other in the light. You were already his long before you knew it and he’s always been yours.

“Let me get this straight,” Yunho uncrossed his long legs, his upper body leaning forward ever so slightly as his sharp, glaring eyes trained on Hongjoong’s flat, expressionless ones. “You’re telling me that you’ve been married to her this entire time? That you made her suffer in your slimy presence for the grand scheme of catching Jaehwan when you could’ve just left her with me?”

He removed his glasses to put it on top of the coffee table in front of him, its reflective surface and visual lightness made it a striking centerpiece while keeping the room feeling uncluttered and elegant, very befitting of someone like Yunho who exuded an exorbitant amount of grace. The way he scoffed after was anything of, however.  

“You fucking bastard,” he seethed, banging his fist on said table with a sarcastic laugh that left his lips in a disbelieving pace of staccato. “I ought to kill you on the spot, Kim Hongjoong. I cannot believe you thought that this was normal, you’re not right in the head, I’m telling—”

“Now, now Yunho,” Hongjoong - or should you say, your husband - smirked smugly, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you closer. “In front of Y/N, really?”

“You won’t get away with this, also you mean my niece—”

“Don’t you mean my wife?” Hongjoong grinned, all of his teeth bared out in a daring show of possessiveness that was not to be messed with, clearly not even Yunho. “And I already have,” he turned to look at you, his eyes softening significantly as he smiled. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Yunho balked at the blatant display of Hongjoong’s disrespect towards him. He looked at you expectantly, but all you could do was give him a sheepish smile as you toyed with the ring on your finger.

“Sorry, Uncle,” you giggled. “You heard my husband.”

Hongjoong whispered ‘that’s my girl’ softly on your ear as Yunho let out the most undignified squawk you’ve ever heard a grown man do.

Yunho covered his face with his hands and groaned. “You love him,” he deadpanned. “And you, you manipulative, delusional, leather-wearing tax fraud—”

“Tax fraud?” Hongjoong raised a brow, a slow grin spreading across his face like ink in water. “Really, Yunho? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“---you love her. Oh, Sungho is probably rolling in his grave right now,” he groaned, and you laughed at how he whispered his grievances in your dad's name.

He sat up, reclining back with one arm thrown over the couch. “Well, if you ever come to your senses, I know a great divorce lawyer,” he said dryly. “My door is always open for you, little love.”

You bit back the urge to laugh when Hongjoong rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’ll keep it in mind, Uncle,” you grinned. “But you should know by now that I have a type.”

Hongjoong only smirked from his seat, one arm slung lazily over the backrest behind you like this was his damn throne. “You’re just bitter I won,” he snorted at Yunho.

“Oh, I’ll be bitter until my dying breath,” Yunho snapped. “You married her and didn't even invite me to the wedding. I was supposed to walk her down the aisle.”

“Then die—”

“Fuck you,” he retorted. Yunho waved his hand, the humor in his eyes dimming slightly as his tone shifted, more measured now. “Alright, jokes aside. What happened to the motherfucker that is Jaehwan?”

Hongjoong’s arm around you tightened as his entire posture changed. “We got him. He’s in jail.”

The words dropped like a stone in the room. You looked down, purposefully grabbing the mug to take a sip, your mind flashing with the bright lights of one shot that gradually turned into two, three, four shots. Yunho’s brows furrowed. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly,” Hongjoong tried not to smirk, side-eyeing you with intent. “Nothing crazy, really. He doesn’t deserve anything theatrical for everything that he’s done. I had my men watch him for a couple of days, ambushed him when he least expected it, and that’s that. You recall that car accident from a couple of years ago, yes?”

You closed your eyes, the faux splatters of sticky red coating your face feeling realistic enough if you concentrated. Lifeless, hollow eyes stared back behind your eyes before you opened them again. Hongjoong’s fingers massaged yours with purpose back then, too. You kept your mouth from curling too far at the corners.

“How could I not? You took her that night,” Yunho scoffed, sitting forward again, steepling his fingers under his chin. “I was this close to finding Y/N at that time. I dislike talking about this, but it was hard. Years of failure meant I failed her father.”

Hongjoong hummed, ignoring Yunho’s pointed look. “My son was also there, you remember my middle son? He’s a neurosurgeon now,” he replied softly, his fingers playing with yours. “You could say I had a different drive back then. I had my reasons.”

Yunho’s brows shot up in mild surprise before they softened ever so slightly. “I didn’t know, I’m terribly sorry that your son got caught up in this fiasco,” he murmured, his soft eyes landing on you. “I suppose everything that happened was like a trigger set in motion, wouldn’t you say, Y/N?”

You shrugged as you gave Hongjoong a look. You  let your lashes lower slightly and adjusted your posture, just like you did when after the kickback from the trigger that had made your shoulders ache. “Perhaps.”

“Anyway, it’s over,” Hongjoong said with a clipped edge. “There’s enough evidence now to tie him to the attempted murder, fraud, and embezzlement. Stalking as well. The bastard didn't even stop at the mole in my house, he always sent his sleazy men around the area in case she went out. He’s done, I'll make sure of it.”

“Good riddance,” Yunho said with an unsurprising amount of venom. His shoulders sank, years and years of burden lifting off of his shoulders. Relief settles in his expression, and though it made him look a decade younger, the faraway look of a thousand suns in his eyes told you otherwise. “I knew your father would be proud of you," he sighed. "That bastard took everything from our family. But you…you gave it back.”

The man who haunted your childhood, the one who used your grief as a tool to strip you of everything, was finally out of your life. You squeezed Yunho’s hand, hoping that it said everything you couldn’t say out loud. You stayed quiet for a moment, trying to absorb the weight of what Yunho was saying. 

There was no reminiscing on your end, no smirk, no memories; just the hurt between two people who have lost their loved ones. He held your hand, holding it tight. “And your mom,” he added softly. She would’ve held you so tight. You look like Sohee, you know? Same fire, same goddamn backbone. Perfect for your father.”

“I hope they’re at peace now,” you said quietly.

“They are,” Yunho replied with a surety that only blood could lend. “Because you’re finally safe. And I can finally breathe again.”

You took in his words, the finality of them. The war was over now, justice had been served. And it sounded like a dull thud of a body hitting the floor, the heaviness of it almost satisfying in your ears. The conversation shifted into something lighthearted, with you and Yunho reminiscing about how he babysat you when you were younger, how your own father was when they were both teenagers, to all the mundane things like how your father would have reacted to your marriage with Hongjoong.

And Hongjoong was just there, laughing and smiling along like he’s always meant to be there with you. He would quip once or twice with his own accounts about your parents and you fell a little harder for the man, for the way he spoke about your parents with unparalleled fondness was something to behold. He truly adored them, and it just made you miss them even more.

“We should go,” you said gently, standing up, smoothing your dress daintily with a small smile. “I want to visit my parents today. It’s a good day and I haven’t been to ever since I was in college.”

Yunho, ever the gentleman that he was, walked both you and Hongjoong all the way to the door to see you out instead of sending his right-hand man like a man of his status should. The shift in his demeanor was immediate, but you tried your best to not pay attention to it as he hugged you goodbye.

“She’ll be back, Yunho,” Hongjoong rolled his eyes, noticing the small tension, subtly pulling you away back to his side with a curt chuckle. “Stop smothering her.”

Yunho didn’t answer with words. He just stared long, quiet, and with enough weight behind his gaze to make most men sweat as both you and Hongjoong speed walked all the way to the car to try and get away, but of course, there was no escaping. You were a Jeong, after all, and so was he. “Stop,” he spoke out, firm and absolute.

You halted from walking, giving Hongjoong a knowing look, who only squeezed your hand supportively. “Hmm?”

“I know what you did,” Yunho said, his voice just a touch lower than before. He swept his gaze on you from head to toe, stopping lightly at your shoulders. "Your sore shoulders tells me everything."

Your spine straightened, barely enough to notice, unless someone was trained to notice. You turned your head over your shoulder, lips curled into an innocent, almost amused smile. “Oh?”

He smirked, his body stilling like a predator catching scent. You faltered, suddenly reminded that Yunho wasn’t just your uncle - he was mafia, just like Hongjoong. Worse, perhaps, more patient and more precise. Hongjoong took pride in the brutality of it all while he was the kind of man who could make a death look like a ghost story.

For a moment, he looked overtly threatening, his intelligence sharper, and his confrontation carrying a much colder, calculated menace. He tilted his head mockingly, willingly playing your game. “Must’ve felt good,” he chuckled. “I bet you looked him in the eye.”

You had to laugh out loud at that one, not confirming nor denying what he was insinuating. “Maybe I just found peace,” you said innocently.

“I see. Say, what jail is he in? Might have to pay him a visit,” Yunho smiled, truly smiled, wide and cold, but still, it was impossible to miss the adoration and pride in it. “Let me guess - it’s two feet wide and six foot deep.”

Hongjoong, who’d been watching you both with amusement simmering just beneath the surface, finally spoke. “What vivid imagination you have,” he mused, smirking with dark intent, his eyes shining sadistically as he looked at you with faux curiosity. “Don’t you think, darling?”

Yunho nodded slowly, pursing his lips in a poor attempt to stop himself from smiling. “Not vivid enough,” he shrugged playfully. “Humour me this, if someone were to, say, shoot someone…would it be better to aim for a quick kill or prolong the agony? Hypothetically.”

You tapped your chin thoroughly, pretending to think. “ I’d prolong the agony. Shoot them four times on pressure points. Hypothetically, of course.”

“Next one,” Yunho said, clearly enjoying himself. “You’re standing over the body, hypothetically, and he’s looking at you, what would you say?”

“Hypothetically? You pondered, tilting your head as if you were really thinking about what to say. “I would have said ‘you should have killed me when you had the chance.’”

Hongjoong exhaled, something like reverence in his breath. “God, I love you.”

“Just one more,” Yunho said softly, his voice losing its teasing edge, now carrying the quiet weight of someone who’d once held you as a child, who had once promised your father to protect you. “Was it clean?”

You met his gaze evenly, nodding very subtly with a serene smile, one that he returned with all the love and unwavering support only someone who truly cared for you would do.

You wanted to tell him that it was so clean that after your hands didn’t even shake as you pulled the trigger and that the air smelled sweeter. Instead you said, “Like it never even happened.”

Yunho stared at you for a long moment, his eyes melting into something rawer, wearier. “If anyone asks,” he said lowly, the gravity in his tone undeniable now. “You were with me that night. Both of you were the entire time.”

His gaze cut to Hongjoong, who for once, looked struck silent. The air between them simmered with unspoken understanding. He nodded deeply with reverence. It wasn’t flashy, but it was sincere and genuine enough that Yunho didn’t mock him for it. “Thank you.”

Yunho just waved a hand, though his voice cracked slightly when he said, “Don’t thank me, you bastard. Just keep her safe or I swear, I’ll drag your sorry ass down and make you wish you’d stayed single.”

Hongjoong chuckled low in his throat. His hand settled gently on the small of your back as he led you forward. “Don’t worry, she married a man who never stopped watching her back.”

“God help us all,” Yunho rolled his eyes in mock disgrace, staring at the two of you as you both got in the car before he called for the last time. “Tell your parents I said hi.”

You looked back to see him watching you as Hongjoong started to drive away, arms crossed, but eyes glassy. And though he didn’t say it, you understood. You were safe, you were home, and he’d go to hell and back before anyone took that from you again.

The car ride was quiet at first, not from discomfort, but from something softer. Reverent. Hongjoong kept one hand on the wheel while the other was placed on your lap. It reminded you of that one stormy night when he sought out to find you in that lone playground. He turned to look at you, knowing that he was thinking the same as  you were. 

“I love you,” he said, pulling your hand up to kiss your knuckles. His eyes searched your face like he was memorizing it all over again, as though he still couldn’t believe you were here. “I should’ve said it a long time ago, I feel for you so much that it almost hurts.”

You blinked back the sudden tears, the sincerity in his voice cracking something wide open inside you. You laughed wetly. “That’s very sweet of you, I believe you, but why now?”

“I wanted to wait until everything was said and done,” he continued, pressing another kiss to your fingers. “I want to give you everything. A house to grow old with, a bed where you always feel safe, dinners where I burn the rice and you make fun of me for it. I want lazy Sundays and soft arguments and kisses, just like we’ve always done it.”

You looked at him, heart aching with how badly you wanted to believe in all of it and how, against all odds, you did. “You’re serious?” You asked softly, squeezing his hand back.

He placed a hand over his heart in a rare show of insecurity. “I would place a piece of my soul in every time and place you’d ever felt lonely, just so you wouldn’t be alone. I love you enough for the both of us, and there must be something about me worth loving if you would just see–”

You leaned in and kissed him the moment he parked, slow and sweet and full of the kind of hope neither of you had dared to hold onto before. When you pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. “I want that too,” you whispered. “I want everything with you, Hongjoong.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for years. “Then we start today,” he smiled as bright as the brightest star. “We say hello to your parents. We tell them you’re safe, then we build a life that’s entirely ours, okay?”

You nodded, your smile trembling. You finally look up at the sky after all these years, tearing up as the clouds seem to part way for the sun to finally shine, the rays beaming down at your parents’ tombstones. Finally, justice has been served, they can rest in peace now. You couldn’t help but stare if only for a little while.

Hongjoong approached the stones first, his head bowing low between them. He placed one hand gently on your mother’s grave, the other on your father’s. He didn’t speak loudly, but you saw his lips move, whispering something too quiet for even you to hear. It could’ve been anything - a greeting, a promise, or perhaps maybe even a thank you.

You didn’t ask what he said. You didn’t need to. For the first time, the cemetery didn’t feel like an end. It felt like a door closing softly behind you because the weight of grief was gone now. They could rest and so could you. You stood by Hongjoong’s side smiling at him as he gave you a small kiss on the forehead, coaxing you to talk to your own parents just like he did.

You brought your hands to your lips, kissed your palms, and pressed them reverently to each stone. “Rest easy now, Mom, Dad,” you whispered full of love and release, voice catching as you tried not to tear up. “I’m safe now, and I’m very happy. Happier than I’d ever been.”

You turned to look at the man standing just a few steps behind you - your husband, your protector, your love - watching you with a smile so soft, it nearly broke you open again. “I’m married now. It’s Hongjoong, remember him? Please bless our marriage, I really love him,” you paused, taking a deep breath. “I-I wish you were both here, I miss you…”

Then, slowly, you stepped back and began to walk away, hand in hand with Hongjoong. But before, you glanced back one last time, your heart feeling lighter at the sight of the wind blowing from the tombstones to your face lightly. You couldn’t help the serene smile on your face.

Hongjoong will take over now, he’ll take care of me like you would’ve wanted.

You were thirty-four years old when you finally found your peace that didn’t feel like a surrender this time and instead felt like home, hand in hand with the love of your life.

𝙽𝚎𝚝s - @keopihaus @dove-net @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet @pirateeznet @ksmutsociety @cromernet

Red was a colour you’d always been fixated on for multiple reasons. It’s distinctive, quite possibly the most conspicuous of its kind given all the connotations and implications attached to its name. It was very well-revered. A favourite of many.

Today, though, red was nothing more than the chipped polish on your fingernails as they rapped a restless rhythm against the black glass of your desk. It was sleek, cold, and reflective enough to catch the glint of irritation in your eyes. Red was the soles of your Louboutin, itching to fly across the table and meet a certain someone’s annoyingly composed face.

"Any time now, Mr. Park," you said, clearing your throat with purposeful sharpness. Your nails tapped louder, more deliberately. “It’s all in writing, Seonghwa. What exactly is there to think about?”

This contract was supposed to be signed twenty minutes ago. Your patience was fraying. Seonghwa was skating on thin ice by the second. All you wanted was to be done. The longer he stalled, the hotter your blood ran. The red in your vision sharpened.

Seonghwa, the smug bastard, didn’t even flinch. He met your glare through lashes too long to be fair, a fleeting smirk tugging at his lips as he tapped the contract once. “You’re forgetting, I’m the one getting the short end of the stick here,” he said with infuriating calm, waving a hand. 

“Take it up to Yeosang,” you seethed, the smile on your face not vanishing even though your tone was nothing but. “He’s the one who drafted it. I’m only here to make sure you sign it. I’ve no desire to be part of this project you have with him and my dad. Don’t make this hard for me.”

“Or,” Seonghwa drawled, setting the contract aside with a provoking slide of his fingertips, his eyes shining with mischief and intent as he leaned forward. You narrowed your eyes, already not liking what he was about to say before he opened his mouth. “You just want to spend the whole day with Mr. Dreamboat over there.”

Your breath hitched and his smirk deepens as he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, not even bothering to look behind him like he already knew what - or, who - was there all along. You gritted your teeth. Bastard.

“Ah, what was his name again?” Seonghwa pretended to think, tapping his chin mockingly. “Your hunk of a bodyguard who could literally kill a man with his eyes alone.”

“You could ask him, yourself,” you shrugged, the gesture weaker than you’d intended it, your voice coming out as a tremble rather than a statement. “He does speak. Just like you and me. I reckon you’d find that San’s quite the intellectual once you give him your time.”

San. Granted, he was outside your office but you didn’t even have to look at him, you just knew. You could picture him standing so still you doubted he breathed, his arms crossed, jaw sharp, eyes always watching like he had been carved from the very shadows he stood in.

But you couldn’t help it. You lifted your head and the moment you did, your eyes met with his for the briefest of seconds before you shifted your attention back to Seonghwa. His stare alone was enough to shake the carefully built wall of composure you'd spent years perfecting. 

Seonghwa chuckled, low and amused, his head shaking slowly back and forth, the playfulness in his eyes dissolving entirely. He tapped a finger to his temple. “He’s on your mind. Not me, not the contract. Him.”

He finally signs the contract he’s been toying with like a cat who found a mouse to play with, before standing up. You stayed seated, not trusting your legs to not give out if you tried to walk Seonghwa out. He was about to turn, but he stopped himself midway. A slow, almost demented grin spreads through his lips when stared back at you. Your lips twitch to a frown, confusion settling on your face when Seonghwa walks back towards you with calculated steps. “W-What?” You stuttered when he leaned down abnormally close to your face.

Seonghwa tilted his head, his hand touching the collar of your blouse. “I mean, your tits are basically out,” he pointed out with a smirk. “Trying to seduce him?”

“You hound,” you hissed, swatting his hand away. “Just wait until I get my hands on you, Park Seo—“

He rolled his eyes before finally walking away with his devious giggles along the way. “Whatever you say. Toodles, Y/N.”

You sighed exasperatedly, the sound of it louder than it should have been as it reverberated around the empty conference room. Frustration crawls up your skin, the short meeting between you and Seonghwa shouldn’t have ended like this.

Now you had to fix your purposefully exposed chest, but how were you going to do that when he was now entering the room to stand directly in front of you? Your head pounded, cheeks blushed as his uncaring eyes bore onto yours. A part of you wanted to leave yourself exposed just so you could see if he’d notice. If he’d finally say something and react to you.

And he did. Of course he did. But not in the way you’d always wanted him to see you. His eyes, sharp and all-seeing, never once strayed from your face or past your neck to look at what you were offering him. 

“You know,” you drawled out, voice smooth and velvety, straightening your spine and purposefully pushing your breasts out in hopes to make him snap his composure.  “You might as well say something if you’re going to stare at me.”

A long pause. For a second, you thought he might not respond. That he’d turn away and ignore you like he always did whenever you started to talk like this. His voice, when it came, was low and measured. “I am required to look at you and be at your disposal at all times for your protection,” was all he said. “My apologies if my presence has made you uncomfortable.”

You faltered, the small smile on your face dropping immediately. Your posture breaks slightly, your back wanting to slouch, and the only reason why it didn’t was because you knew he did not disappoint. I’ll get you one day, Choi San. Just wait and see.

It was hard to look at him sometimes. Everyday was a brand new rejection, and yet you kept coming back, hoping this would be the moment you’d finally see something in his eyes that would tell you that perhaps, there was something in there, after all. It was hard to look at him sometimes because his nonchalance towards your seduction always, always pissed you off. This man was a rock and you hated it.

You stared at him as he started to take a tentative step towards you, shrugging his coat off without seeming to even think about it. “I reckon it’s cold outside,” he murmured, putting it over your shoulders. “Best if you cover up. Shall I reprimand Mr. Park for his audacity? Or, perhaps,  tell Mr. Kang what he had done, instead?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you pulled his coat closer to your body, hoping that his scent would somehow embed itself onto your skin. “Is that all, San?”

San’s eyes lingered on the carefully undone disarray that Seonghwa left you in. Shame washes over you in waves, and for a moment, you wished for them to whisk you away to let the ocean take you as you buttoned your blouse back. Tsk. Years ago shame was scared of you. You had no idea why now, why him. 

You couldn’t look at San, not fully. His gaze was so steady, so unfaltering in its scrutiny that you wanted to hide from it. And then, finally, he looked away. “That’s all,” he said, his voice softer now, the ghost of something gentler there before it vanished entirely. “Let’s go home, my lady. I’ll drive.”

He was already turning before you could say anything else. You hated how your pulse still fluttered for him. He was someone who never took the bait when everybody kneeled before you.

Oh, the irony. If there was anyone I would kneel for, it would’ve been no one but you.

Unfortunately, you had to return to the company the next day. No matter, it would give you more excuses to see San, especially given that you didn’t return his coat back to him on purpose. You stared at it the entire night while it was draped over your vanity chair, thinking of all the ways you could try to get under his skin and possibly get him to react to anything that you did. You’ve never lost, and you won’t start now.

There you were, walking towards the elevator with the proudest smirk on your face and with purpose on your strides. Seeing your bodyguard would be the highlight of your day. Of course, he was already there, leaning in the far corner, arms folded, that bulletproof calm pressed into every inch of his posture.

Your hand tightened on San’s coat that was draped over you. The fabric felt soft, familiar, but also heavy like it had absorbed all the unspoken words, all the little gestures that had once meant something but had faded into the space between you. His eyes flicked to the coat. Then back to the elevator buttons.

Nothing else. No reaction. Just a single glance, like you’d worn a sock he vaguely recognized. Your eyes twitched. “Morning, San,” you cooed, pressing the close button. “Hope you slept well last night. I sure did with your coat keeping me warm.”

Silence. The elevator hums and floors pass, but nothing. Still, you weren’t giving up. “It could have been you, you know?” You said sweetly. “But alas, this coat would do. It smells vaguely of you with a tinge of blissful ignorance.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. San stared at you blankly. Amused, almost. “I would say it’s accurately labeled, my lady.”

You grinned. God, he was good. You loved it when someone played the game you spoke of very well. You loved it when the opponent was stone-walled. You will love it when you’ve finally broken down San’s walls. “Hmm,” you purred. “I could’ve sworn I saw something in your eyes when you wrapped me in it.”

“Must’ve been a mistake” he said, voice flat. “Mr. Park did a splendid job distracting you.”

“Ah, so you noticed.”

“I’m paid to observe hazards,” he deadpanned. “You qualify.”

The elevator chimed  and the doors opened, much to your dismay. You could play this game with San forever and be content with it. He stepped out first, scanning the hallway like usual, all business and bullet-readiness. You followed, swishing his coat just enough to make sure he saw. To your regret, he looked and walked away, his stupidly attractive face not giving away any sort of expression to see if he was affected by your blatant flirting. You clicked your tongue when you saw none.

You were used to it though. He barely looked at you unless it was part of his job. He didn’t flirt, didn’t laugh at your sarcastic remarks, didn’t give you that satisfied buzz of control when you walked into a room. He resisted you. That alone made him worth chasing.

The meeting was a bore. Granted, you were only a stand in since your father wasn’t available, but it was what you’d describe as a colossal train wreck. It was a blessing in disguise, this could be a good bargaining chip to shove up your father’s face as to why you would refuse to stand in his place in the future if he’s not able to.

The entire time, however, all you could think about was San. You fiddled with his coat again, not even bothering to pay attention to the poor bloke who was giving the most disorderly presentation known to mankind, the familiar fabric providing you solid ground to keep yourself leveled whether you admitted it or not.

What is it that you have to do to get to him? What are you missing? A couple of months ago, you would have thought that you were the issue, but seeing as San’s eyes never flicked towards you or showed no signs of intrigue, you can certainly say with perfect conviction that it was definitely not you.

“My lady. There’s that bakery you’ve been fancying lately,” you heard San’s soft voice that you’ve come to find soothing in times where you longed to hear it the most the moment you got out of the meeting room, smiling tightly and bowing lightly at the people who left as well. “Would you like to go before we stop by your parents’ house?”

San protectively assumes position by your left, walking beside you towards the parking lot. A small smirk paints your lips. “Depends. Would you happen to be on the menu?” You teased as he opened the car door for you to enter.

He ignored you as he opened the other side of the door and sat beside you at the back seat, the lull of the radio on minimal volume filling in the distance between the both of you that was miles apart even though he was within arm’s reach from you. You rolled your eyes.

Just before you’d started to wonder if you went a little too far with that remark, San was already looking at you with those deep eyes that held an unsettling clarity in their gaze. They were unwavering, studying you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m afraid not,” he said slowly. “I recall bakeries traditionally offering a selection of delicacies that geared towards pastries and the likes.”

Of course.

Your lips twitched against your will, not being able to stop them from lifting up the corners from his outward rejection towards your very straightforward attempts. His directness used to annoy you because you never got the responses you wanted, but now, they just amused you to no end. “Ah, maybe next time, then. Thank you for asking,” you chuckled. “Have I…ever told you how nice your eyes were, San?”

There was a part of you that wanted to bite your tongue or take back what you’d said, but for all the rubbish that you’ve spit out, you’ve never been more honest than you were now. It was true, San’s eyes shimmered like pools of deep water, drawing you in the way the night sky entices with the promise of endless mystery.

And right now, there was a sharpness in them, as if he was weighing you, calculating the sincerity behind your words, or perhaps, your lack of them. “No, my lady,” San replied nonchalantly. “I don’t think you have.”

You let out a small chuckle. “Have you always been sparse with your words?”

He blinked. “Only towards things that aren’t of learning value.”

You tilted your head, challenging his resolve. “What if I fire you? Say, for insubordination? Some other rich bastard would’ve already done so.”

You would never do that, though you wouldn’t tell him. You had a big ego, but it wasn’t that big. That seemed to render San into silence. You wanted to smirk. Finally. But, of course, San wasn’t the most average man out there.

“Not once have I thought of you to fire someone unjustly,” San replied slowly, his formal tone almost making your eyes roll. “But if you must, I would accept it with grace.”

Your jaw ticked. You wanted to scream into the void. Hell, you had better chances of getting answers from the void rather than your fucking bodyguard at this point. You sighed, rubbing your temples. “You give me a headache,” you said.

“Is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell, my lady?”

You wanted to scoff. Leave it to San to basically tell you that you were basically speaking in tongues. You couldn’t even be mad - you were just impressed at this point. He was the master of avoiding every interaction with you.

“I’m fine,” you replied curtly, leaving the conversation at that. You turned your head back to the windows, opting to stare at the beauty of the passing city that was blurring into your peripherals the more the car flew by. The sides of your face burned with each ticking second that San spent boring holes onto them, but you ignored him this time.

If you closed your eyes, you could still see the image of San the very first time you saw him a couple of months ago. It had burned itself behind your eyelids, the moment - the feeling - seared onto your brain for years and years to come. 

You never wanted a bodyguard. Not once in your life had you thought that you had the need for a glorified babysitter who would be constantly watching your every move, monitoring your every breath and sigh, and just overall someone who you’d be required to adjust to and fit into your daily routine while pretending that their presence wasn’t bothering you.

“You are the heir to my company, Y/N. The successor of all the sacrifices I’ve made to finally reach the upper echelon of the business world,” your father brought up one day when he randomly called you into his office. “And I need you protected at all times. Our rivals are getting bolder.”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth back then, clenching your fists as hard as you could as if it bottled all the frustrations you’ve been harbouring. “We talked about this before. I am not interested in the company. I’m not interested now nor would I be in the near future, if ever. That means I don’t want a walking, talking bouncer on me all damn day.”

The problem was that you were not one bit interested in being tied down to that type of life. You didn’t want to dedicate the majority of your life doing something you can never see yourself enjoying no matter how good you were.

“Make no mistake, this isn’t up for discussion,” your father crossed his arms. Supposedly that’s where you got your defiant personality. “This isn’t a request, Y/N. It’s an order. You will get a bodyguard and that’s final.”

You combed your hair in vexation, a laugh of disbelief bubbling up your lungs. “Fine,” you sneered, not bothering to hide your ire. “What’s in it for me? Surely, you don’t expect me to agree that easily?”

Your father’s smirk back then should’ve told you everything you needed to know. “Here, take it,” he handed you a thick stack of paperwork. “You have full liberty of choosing your bodyguard since you’re the one they’ll be tailing around. That also means you have full discretion of his schedule, his location, your dynamic, down to whoever it is,” he said, staring pointedly at the papers you now hold. “Take your pick—”

“Here,” you said, ripping one from the middle of the stack. You didn’t even bother to check who it was. Without giving it a second thought, you shoved the paperwork back into his hands. “Take it from here. I don’t need to waste time on this.”

It wasn’t that you were being rude. You just didn’t see the point. Would it really matter who you picked? Would it change anything? Your father let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by your defiance. “Just remember, you’re not getting out of this.”

You shot him one last glare before turning back to leave his office. “We'll see about that.”

And now, here you were, still haunted by the memory of seeing San for the very first time. It’s been three months, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling you had that warm Sunday morning, the warmest it’s been all summer, when San knocked on your door for the first time to introduce himself.

You hadn’t been expecting anyone that day. Hell, you weren’t expecting anyone at all. You had totally forgotten that conversation with your father about the bodyguard you never wanted. But there he was - tall and broad-shouldered, wearing that same unreadable expression he had now that had caught you off guard the moment he showed up. 

“C-Can I help you?” You stuttered, momentarily taken aback at the gorgeous man with the sharp eyes staring at you as he stood stiffly on the other side of your door.

“Choi San,” he’d said, voice steady, almost too calm. “The new security detail you’d chosen?”

You cursed internally. You didn’t think your father actually went through that bullshit he was spewing. “R-Right,” you cleared your throat. “Have you been briefed?”

He shook his head. “Not much, no. I was told to go straight here,” he spoke quietly, but firmly. 

It had started with a polite handshake, something he probably did out of politeness, before you begrudgingly invited him inside your penthouse. For a moment, you caught yourself staring at his side profile, your head tilting up slightly just to even get a glimpse, the way his shoulders tensed as they almost bumped into yours. He didn’t even look at you.

Odd, you thought back then. You weren’t used to being ignored, it was a completely foreign feeling to you and you did not like it one bit. You reined in the twitch of your lips. You’ll just have to see what this man was made out of. If you were going to have someone tailing you, you might as well enjoy it, especially since this one was undoubtedly attractive.

“Sit, make yourself comfortable,” you motioned, walking in front of him, flicking your hair seductively along with the alluring sway of your hips and your plush ass, your voice taking on a suggestive tone.  “Tell me what exactly it is you plan on doing now that you’re here.”

But San didn’t sit. In fact, he didn’t even move. He simply looked at you with an unreadable gaze, his hands tucked neatly at his sides, his back so straight that it made your own back ache just by looking at him. You faltered, momentarily freezing at how stoic and nonchalant this man was acting around you. There was only that cold, steady stare that unnerved you more than you were willing to admit. You almost felt small. That was new. 

“I’ll do what I was hired to do,” he said simply, and for the first time, there was the faintest trace of disinterest in his voice. 

Oh? You squinted your eyes, now frustrated at this man’s total disregard at your attempts to grab his attention. Was it you? That couldn’t be, you were definitely an attractive woman. So what was it? You refused to believe that someone wasn’t falling for your charms.

You remembered how he looked so out of place standing in front of you back then, like he had no intention of fitting in. Like he didn’t even care about fitting in. You were used to being wanted, adored, admired. You could blink and people bent over backward to get your attention. But San?

Then, there were his eyes. That was something that never did change even after all these months. Deep, dark, almost unnervingly intense. They weren’t the kind of eyes that softened when they met yours. You remembered crossing your legs, your dress riding up to show that small sliver of skin up your creamy thighs, as well as your arms to position your arms under your shapely breasts, pushing them up to a point that if you leaned forward even a little, you wouldn’t doubt that they would spill out from your bra. 

“That’s all? What a bore,” you purred, clicking your tongue after, purposefully taking a deep breath that made your breasts puff up even more, watching closely if he’ll break a sweat. “You’re not even going to talk to me?”

San’s eyes met yours dead on. He didn’t even blink, nor did his composure falter. But yours certainly did. “With all due respect, I’m here to be your shadow and protector,” he ascertained, voice tightlining between professional and sarcastic. “I won’t be at your disposal just to entertain you. I wasn’t hired for that.”

You were startled out of that memory by the door being unlocked and the sight of  San holding the umbrella to prevent the rain from casting down upon you. You stepped out, placing a hand on San’s bulked out biceps for support, but not before grazing your hand with his warm one. He pulled away as if you had burned him intensely.

“You should come inside,” you offered with a small smirk, squeezing his bicep just enough to solidify the touch you had on him. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help the faintest pull you had towards him. “I could make you coffee.”

It was bullshit and you knew both knew it. He shrugged your hand off of his bicep, not even looking at you. “I’d rather not,” he whispered quietly. “I’ll be waiting in the car with the driver. Send my regards to Mr. Kang and First Master Yeosang.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when San walked past you, opening the car door to get in.  Though if you were honest, you could have sworn you heard the faintest crack in your ego at his blatant rejection. He always denied going into your house, always stating that his job involved protecting you, not pleasing your father.

Fair, you thought as you walked past the grandeur of the golden gates that served as the barricade between the world and the house you grew up in. You were the one to brief San, after all. Well, not entirely since Yeosang oversaw the hiring process to barely brief San in person, but that was it. Everything else was you.

When you randomly picked out San’s resume out of all the other applicants, your father instructed his assistant, Kim Hongjoong, to contact him and send him directly to you. You blazed in anger amidst your bruised pride at San’s refusal to give in to your seduction - your petty father had thrown you both into the deep end, keeping San in the dark on purpose.

Your father never met him, never explained his role beyond the vague title of “bodyguard.” San had no idea what the job truly entailed - or how far he’d be expected to go to protect you. In an act of malicious compliance for your rebellion, your father dumped full responsibility onto you, despite your lack of experience in hiring anyone.

San was yours to command. Your father simply paid his salary, but beyond that, San was entirely at your disposal. You wouldn’t be surprised if your father forgot that San was technically on his payroll.

It was difficult. You were pretty sure San saw how ill-prepared you were at giving him commands. And still, San stayed. Silent, reliable, distant, but present. That made you want his attention even more. You had gotten used to everything coming easily, and San? He was the one thing that didn’t come easily. He was everything you weren’t used to, and in that sense, he became something you needed to figure out.

Love at first sight.. How sordid. It would make sense because it would explain the instantaneous attraction you had with him and you were still holding on to that specific memory like it was a fragile treasure you didn’t want to lose. But was it love at first sight, though?

Nah. 

San was someone your family wouldn’t approve of, he was your employee. San wasn’t the kind to care about your feelings. San was someone who didn’t give two bits of shits about you. San was unattainable, and you liked that.  He was a puzzle you couldn’t solve; a mystery you couldn’t unlock.

You always got what you wanted. Always. And you wanted San the moment you saw him for the first time. He was older, big, strong, a bit of a tough nut to crack, but he is only a man after all. You were so sure you could have him wrapped around your finger. You didn’t want his love. You just wanted to win. To break through that armor of disinterest and make him falter, even for a second. A glance. A crack. Something.

But if there was anything cracking, it wasn’t San. It was you and your resolve. This man did not look at you twice, did not linger longer than he was needed, did not look past down your neckline, did not break a single sweat, nothing. 

So you didn’t need a bodyguard. You still didn’t. But somehow, here you were, still haunted by the memory of the stoic figure who knocked on your door that warm summer morning. The game had changed. And maybe, just maybe, you’d be the one who’d finally lose.

“Is he here? Dad?” You asked the butler who had approached you and gingerly took the umbrella out of your grasp the moment you stepped in your childhood home. “Thank you.”

Your attention was caught by the telltale sound of dress shoes clacking from the furthest side of the room. They were Oxfords, you reckoned, and there was only one person you knew who wore Oxfords on a daily basis like they were the solution to mankind’s plight.

You rolled your eyes at your younger brother. “Why is it that every time you arrive, you never announce your presence?” Yeosang scoffed, clicking his tongue in faux disappointment. He crosses his arms, a smirk painting his face. “I trust you bring me good news?”

“Hello, Yeosang. I’m fine, thank you very much for asking. Travels were safe, not too much traffic,” you sneered, your teeth grinding in annoyance and in the adoration you tried not to peek through. “But yes, Seonghwa signed yesterday. Hesitate to put me and him in the same room next time, please. Are you going out with Wooyoung?”

He nodded. “Him being the Security Department Head gives him less time. I was on my way out to meet the bastard, but I’ll cancel for you.”

“Let him. What he does is hard,” you chuckled, mentally thanking Woooyung for technically assigning San to you even though you picked him out. “Don’t let me stop you. I have to talk to Dad anyway.”

Yeosang hummed in dismay. He raises his arm to sling it around your shoulders like he always did, but halts midway to raise a brow, the tips of his fingers feeling the coat you had forgotten you had. “Who’s is this? Doubt it’s Seonghwa’s. Dude’s a germaphobe and a half.”

You frowned, gripping San’s coat and pulling it closer to your body as if to protect it from Yeosang’s scrutiny. “First off, I wouldn’t touch anything of Seonghwa’s within a ten foot pole,” you huffed. “And this is San’s. I didn’t know it was going to rain and I wasn’t dressed warm enough when I left this morning.”

Confusion crosses Yeosang’s face, his hand gradually dropping back to his side. “Who?”

“Who? San? My bodyguard,” you frowned, feeling slightly offended for San’s sake. “You know, the bodyguard Dad shoved down my throat repeatedly until I got sick of denying him and just let him have his way?”

You weren’t an angel, no. The things you wanted to do to San weren’t heavenly, by all means, but you couldn’t help but feel offended on his behalf. No matter how frustrated you were with his denial, it wasn’t fair for San to be forgotten when his job was to literally keep you safe. 

“Huh,” Yeosang muttered, tilting his head like he was making a note to himself, not responding to you. “I didn’t know that’s what you called him.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You said, raising a brow, almost like it hurt to even ask. “People have names and therefore should be called as such. It’s called basic respect, Sangie. Regardless if they're....”

You trailed off, the insinuation bringing a bitter taste to your mouth. San deserved better than that. You could argue that, perhaps, you could be a better person in general, but even you knew where the line was. Pretending like someone didn’t deserve a name? That crossed it.

Yeosang was about to open his mouth and retort but lost the opportunity when someone else crossed the living room - someone you were looking forward to seeing, but someone you wished you didn’t have to see at the same time. 

“Y/N, my precious one, why is it that you never announce your arrival?” Your father grinned, his entire face lighting up with joy while all you could do was roll your eyes at Yeosang who was smirking at you. “Come, come, give this old man a hug. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You clicked your tongue, rolling your eyes once more, but gave your father a tight hug anyway, one that he returned. “I was just about to have some tea on the patio. I could use some company.”

You groaned internally, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. “I’ll think about it.”

It was how you found yourself sitting across from your father, who sipped his tea with practiced grace, eyes peeking over the rim of his cup to study you. “So,” he began, placing the cup down to finally face you, his signature businessman look replacing his easygoing one. “I heard about the meeting today. Kim says it was disastrous.”

“Hongjoong,” you looked him straight in the eye, something only you could do and he knew it. “Would be correct. These people have no respect towards the board. They didn’t even prepare a presentation that would corroborate if our data coincides with our monthly reports. Terrible.”

You were giving him the bare minimum and he knew it. “You know, slacking won’t make it go away,” he said gently with a soft smile. “The company. Your name. It’s still waiting.”

“I know, I’m trying, I really am,” you murmured, eyes fixed on a spot beyond the garden hedge. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

Your father gave a slow nod, accepting but not entirely satisfied. “Then find something you do want. Don’t just float.”

You turned to him finally, and for a second, the sharp edges in your chest softened. A memory flashes through your mind amidst all your thoughts. You had to hide your smile by sipping on your tea again. It was one of the few instances where San actually spoke to you. You’d come to understand that he wasn’t exactly a conversation starter and you wanted to change that.

“You seem so…stiff all the time,” you shrugged, trailing behind him as he made his rounds on the perimeter of your office, perhaps lurking around for danger that’s not even there. “Have you ever thought of loosening up? Just once?”

San stops walking, his hands still behind his back, not bothering to even look at you, but you could tell he was at the end of his wits with how the veins in his neck were bulging at an alarming rate. “Forgive me for asking,” he said. “Have you thought of ever being normal?”

Usually, that would’ve set alarm bells in your head. You would have been offended if this was any other person, but this was San. San was different. San was someone you wanted. You laughed, shaking your head. “No, not really. You drive me crazy, you know?”

He sighed, fully intending to ignore the last statement and resumed his walking, or should you say, prowling judging by how intense he inspected your surroundings. “I figured as much.”

“Why?” You questioned, tilting your head in curiosity. “You say that as if it’s such a bad thing. And you’re still here as my bodyguard, so I would assume it doesn’t bother you as much.”

“My paycheque is rather hefty,” he deadpanned. “Money keeps me employed.”

“Ah, you say that as if the job itself is difficult and tiresome,” you shrugged.

“It isn’t. However,” he pauses, staring at you with that quiet, calculating look in his eyes before looking away again. You were glad he did. He barely looked you in the eye, but when he did, it always left you breathless. “Anyhow. Do you always wear your heart on your sleeves?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re predictable, my lady,” he said. “And that is what makes the job bearable.”

San was the first person to ever tell you something everybody knew but refused to say to your face straight-on and out loud - that, indeed, you wore your heart on your sleeves. As difficult as you were to handle, it wasn’t at all difficult to figure out what you were thinking.

Your dad’s eyes soften. He reaches for a biscuit, the one with the tart raspberry filling in the middle - your favourite - and hands it to you. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said. “At least tell me you’re working somehow.”

You looked away the moment he said that. “Yeah, yeah. I got that going at least,” you murmured through your teeth. It was half the truth; you were working, alright, but only once a week. That’s what you had Yunho, your secretary, for. Hopefully, your dad doesn’t find out.

“And speaking of things under your jurisdiction,” he cleared his throat. “How’s Choi Jongho doing? I heard he’s doing very well under you. It would do you well to keep him around. I’ll have to re-evaluate him soon. I heard he sang high praises about you during the meeting.”

You closed your eyes with a grimace. It was a pause long enough to be suspicious, partly because you had no idea who he was talking about. You barely went to work, let alone knew the names of the people who were supposed to be working with you. Chances are, he was one of the employees during the disastrous meeting.

You nodded a bit too quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Good employee. Very efficient, very professional.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” he said. “Should I ask him if you’re going to the company consistently, then?

Ah, fuck. You turned to him, a blush of embarrassment creeping on your cheeks. “Dad, I can explain.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the moment linger for a little before chuckling, shaking his head. “Listen, it doesn’t concern me what you do in your free time, but at least try,” he filled your cup with more tea before pushing it towards you. “Our company will prosper if he’s with you. I hired him for a reason.”

“If that’s the case,” you frowned, getting ready to argue with him. “Why not have Yeosang do it? You said it yourself, if I tried, then I’d be busy.”

Your father raised a brow. “That’s counterintuitive.  Your brother doesn’t need him. We need you more than ever. You know how the Songs get, those wretched bastards…”

You bit your lip. The Songs were your family’s biggest competitors since the dawn of time. They played dirty and while you weren’t into company politics, you were not the biggest fan of how the Songs played their games. And things were about to get messier now that they were pushing Song Mingi for the CEO position. “Alright. You win, I will. I promise.”

“I know. I always do,” he smiled, making you roll your eyes. He pushes more biscuits in your direction. “Eat first. Maybe you’ll finally get the energy you need and actually do your part in the company, at least, even if you don’t want to inherit it.”

“I’m afraid biscuits aren’t going to be enough, Dad,” you smirked, taking a piece anyway and biting into it.

He laughed, and for a moment, it was just tea and biscuits again before the weight of your  legacy and destiny crept back in.

You did promise your father that you were going to try and do your part in the company even if it was the bare minimum. But you didn’t specify when. And that was definitely not going to be today. No, you had better plans for yourself than to step into that hellhole. You paused as you were putting your shoes on. Well, it wasn’t a hellhole, not entirely, you just didn’t want to go.

You had to hurry, though. Yunho was determined to pull you back. You had texted him last night, told him you didn’t want to go, but he’d been insistent. It wasn’t like him to let you get away so easily. You had even told San to wait for you in the parking lot just so you could get out of your place as quickly as you possibly could. He raised a curious brow, a rare show of expression for him, but chose not to question it.

You smirked, you had plans today. Maybe today was the day you could finally get your stoic bodyguard to crack a little. You were already giddy thinking about it, but the moment you opened your door to step out, your smirk drops instantly.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Yunho asked, his voice low, but there was an edge to it. He raises a brow, looking you up and down. “Sometimes, I wonder what goes on through your head. At least Seonghwa’s head is in the game, but you?”

Jeong Yunho was who you would call, for the lack of a better term, your original babysitter. He was the company’s Head Legal Counsel, the one who oversaw everything that had to do with litigation and legal advice when it came to paperwork. He was a brilliant one at that, too, but besides that, he had taken it upon himself to assist you until you got your bearings.

He was you and Yeosang’s childhood friend along with Seonghwa. He had always been the serious one in your silly group whereas Seonghwa was the laidback one, but you had always been closer to him growing up. It had been that way when you were kids, when he first stepped in and became a kind of unofficial babysitter to you up until this day.

“What are you doing here?” You shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “I haven’t seen your face in weeks and this is how you finally show up on me?”

Yunho’s job involved him being more of an online presence than anything. Zoom meetings were how you, or anyone in general, would have to contact him. “You know damn well why I’m here,” he scoffed. “You have a job, and I’m here to make sure you do it well.”

“I told you, Yunho,” you sighed, your tone more serious now. “I don’t want to deal with it. Not today. Can you just handle it for me, please?”

His eyes softened a little. He was the only one who knew the depth of how much you didn’t want to take over the company. “I can, but it doesn’t mean I should. The Songs are getting desperate. They’re bribing our people, love. Yeosang had to fire multiple of our executives this morning for selling company information to them and data breaching.”

Your brows shot up in mild surprise. You couldn’t say you were too surprised, but the fact that it was an open secret now was staggering. For once, you did feel bad. Yunho looked exhausted and he sounded frustrated, something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen in him in a while.

“Damn it,” you hissed, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples in agitation. “I really didn’t want to stress you out like this, Yun, I really am.”

It was maddening. You were mad at your Dad for not listening to you when all you’ve wanted was to be shackled away from the responsibilities you told him over and over again you didn’t want any part of. You were mad at yourself for dragging your poor friend through the mud when all he’s been doing was to help you out.

But you were madder at the Songs. Just because you didn’t want your company doesn’t mean you were happy that someone was messing with it. This was your father’s hard-earned work, your mother’s legacy.

“I know, love. It’s not your fault,” a soft sigh escaped his lips. He finally stepped closer, handing you a sleek black folder you didn’t even know he was holding. “I already handled it. All this needs is your signature and then you can drop it off. Attend a short meeting and you can do whatever you want after.”

You hummed, taking the folder from him. It had a surprising amount of weight on it. “What’s in this?”

Yunho looked left and right, gauging if there were people close by, and when he deemed the coast clear, he leaned closer to you. “Internal affairs,” he whispered in a voice so hushed, you could barely hear him. “Trade secrets. Please, and I mean, please do not let this out of your sight. Our numbers, strategy, future drafts - they’re all here. We’re screwed if this gets out.”

You sighed and nodded, flicking through the papers inside the folder. He was right, you were basically holding the future of the company in your hands. “Alright,” you said. “What time do I have to drop it off?”

“Four in the afternoon. You have time, but I have to go. I still have to draft some paperwork for that project between Yeosang and Seonghwa,” Yunho murmured. ”And I was told that you should give the folder to Jongho. It’ll be safer with him.”

Who? You wanted to blurt out, but bit your tongue at the last second. You didn’t want another lecture from Yunho about how much you were slacking off again. Great, you thought. Another person I have to learn about when I get to work. Jesus.

“Sure,” you absentmindedly agreed, hugging the folder to your chest for safety measures before reaching up and putting your hand gently on the back of his neck to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. We’ll catch up soon.  Say hi to Hwa for me, will you?”

He simply nodded, giving you a kiss of his own on your forehead. “I will. Take care, love.”

Your steps were heavy, but the further you walked, the more you realised that the folder wasn’t the thing that was holding you down - it was the newly added burden and load on your back with all the newfound information you got from Yunho. You were at a loss and you could only imagine how your father reacted to the news. It was getting harder to stay away most especially because you did not want to completely turn your back away from your family as a whole.

Those thoughts plaguing your head were the reason you completely forgot that San has been waiting for you in the parking lot for quite some time. You had caught him just in time taking his phone out of his pocket, presumably to call you; something you instructed him to do if you were ever late to anything in general.

Seeing his relieved expression when you walked closer to him brought an unexplainable amount of joy in you. You smirked, easily seeing yourself forgetting all your worries temporarily in the name of teasing your attractive bodyguard.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you smirked, swaying your hips purposefully as you walked towards him to rile him up for your own amusement. “Got held up a little, you see. I’m sure you could understand.”

You could see San trying his damned hardest to not roll his eyes. You have to give it to him, really, San’s professionalism was something you’ve always admired in him given that you weren’t the easiest client to deal with.

“No worries, my lady,” he murmured, opening the back door of the car for you to enter. You tried not to stare at the way his big hands wrapped around the car handle. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

It was hard not to notice how much he tensed when you stood beside him. San cleared his throat, subtly inching away from you by stepping back once. You didn’t mind his avoidance today. In fact, you kind of liked it. It kept things interesting, and after all, what was life without a little fun?

“Is that so?” You leaned in just a little closer, enough to get a whiff of the musky cologne he always wore; the one you smelled even when he was not around. “Did you miss me while I was gone?”

His lips twitched, still avoiding eye contact with you. “I missed it when you were absent,” he deadpanned.

You scoffed at the sarcasm, your lips curving into a wolfish grin. This was why you were so drawn to him. San’s ability to garner your entire attention by not asking or begging for it always left you reeling and wanting for more. It was exhilarating to find new ways to get under his skin. “Ah, don’t be like that,” you waved off. Suddenly, an idea pops in your head and your smile widens. “Actually, I’m not in the mood to sit in the back. I want to sit in the front seat this time. That alright, San?”

You bit your lips to stop yourself from laughing when you saw his left eye twitch. “Of course,” he agreed through gritted teeth, slamming the door with a little more force than necessary, the loud bang echoing throughout the entirety of the parking lot.

You shot him a playful smile as he opened the passenger door, letting your gaze linger a bit longer than necessary on his broad shoulders, the way his dark suit hugged his frame. There was something undeniably attractive about how he always seemed to be in control.

“After you, my lady,” he gestured lazily inside the car, waiting for you to get in. You could almost hear him telling himself to keep his cool, but the slight tension in his shoulders betrayed the calm exterior.

As usual, your hand found itself touching San’s bicep, guiding yourself gently even though you were capable enough to get into the car. “Hmm,” you purred flirtatiously. “Such a gentleman, San. I know you’ve always liked me.”

San’s expression was a blend of irritation and restrained amusement, his lips twitching at the edges as if he were fighting a smile. Or, perhaps, a snarl. His eyes flickered to you, then away. Your heart did a double-flip in your chest against your will. You weren’t kidding when you said you found his eyes beautiful.

There was something so attractive about the way his sharp eyes were trained on you. It was a look that said he knew you were testing him, pushing him just enough to see how far you'd get before he snapped. You could only wish that he was quietly impressed by your nerve.

“Well, what can I say?” San replied sarcastically the moment he got in the driver’s seat. “It’s not every day I get paid to stick around. You really know how to make someone feel so special.”

You breathe out a laugh, turning your head to look at him to say something back, but the words died on your tongue long before you could even try to get them out. This was the closest you’ve ever been to San. It was just you and him in the tight enclosure of the car. This was what you’ve always wanted to achieve, but now that you were here, you didn’t know what to do. All your senses were starting to alight - your sight because all you could see was him. Your hearing because all you could hear was his steady breathing filling your ears as if it were syncing with your own.

Your taste because you could’ve sworn that your heart had practically leapt in your throat, and you could taste the anticipation. It was sweet and impossible to swallow. Your nose because you could smell the oncoming tension between you and San a mile away. Your touch because every inch of your skin was suddenly too aware of the electrifying sensation between the both of you.

You didn’t dare move. One breath too loud, one twitch too bold, and the fragile thread between you might snap or ignite. San’s gaze flicked to yours, and for a second, the world held its breath with you. You looked away, clearing your throat awkwardly, clutching the folder you had like it was your lifeline.. You only hoped that San couldn’t read what was going on in your mind.

“Well,” you began, a little bit too quirky and lighthearted even in your own ears for it to sound natural, trying to cover the tension that suddenly seized the space. “I’m about to make you feel even more special. I need a pen. Got documents to sign and some dude named Jongho to see.”

It was when his eyes shifted towards the folder you were holding. Whether it was because of the tension or the need to suddenly concentrate on something, his eyes focused so hard on the folder that you wouldn’t even be surprised if it suddenly caught on fire. But minutes passed, and he was still eyeing it. 

“What? I’m not brain-dead, you know,” you tried to joke out to lighten the uncertainty. “Contrary to what you think, I do do important stuff for the company. Signing paperwork is one of them.”

He blinked once, and the next time his eyes opened, they were already looking at you. It was a bit startling. His brows were slightly furrowed, like he was deep in thought, or maybe trying to read you just as hard as you were reading him.  Just then, he began to lean forward. His eyes deliberately never left yours as his entire body began to shift closer to you. You swallowed, your pulse slamming against your ribcage, your body going rigid. That steady, unreadable gaze pinned you in place was intentional.

Somehow, that was worse. Time warped and you stopped breathing entirely. He was so close at this point that you were able to see the small details that you wouldn’t have otherwise - the small, scattered freckles on his neck, his plump lips that were parted slightly, the slow blink of his individual lashes.

And his eyes, God, those eyes. There was a fire inside that started a riot in your heart and it was about to explode into flames. There was something so devastating in the way he looked at you, like he knew that the real heat was emanating from the outside, and it was coming from his body slowly inching closer and closer to you.

Click.

He reached past you, eyes still locked on yours, his face only a couple inches from yours. One move and it’ll all be over. He opened the glove compartment, his hand rummaging for something before he pulled out the pen you’d asked for. “Here,” he said, voice low and unreadable as he offered it to you like he just didn’t steal your breath away from your lungs.

You stared at the pen then at him. You didn’t grab it immediately and just let the pen hover in the air as he held it, your eyes refusing to cut contact from San’s. It was difficult and that was the truth. But, you weren’t backing down. You wouldn't be the one to look away. You let out a small smirk. Two can play this game.

You finally lifted your hand to take the pen, but you didn’t stop there, no. At first, you just wanted to graze your hand teasingly with his, but your impulsiveness made you grab his entire hand,  fingers curling gently around his as you slid the pen out from under them. Your fingers twitched, breath hitching, at the jolt of electricity that transpired between your fingertips.

San’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he raised a single brow at you. It wasn’t out of surprise. It was controlled, maddening, and unreasonably seductive. That one expression made your insides churn with heat and challenge. There was something so unbothered in the way he looked at you like he knew exactly what you were doing. It was as if he was daring you to continue. Go on, his eyes said. I want to see how far you’d take this.

There was a flicker of surprise that crossed your features when his thumb grazed lightly against your knuckles. You pulled away, the pen in hand and your pulse in your throat. Neither of you won. You looked away at the exact same time that San decided that the parking lot was now more interesting than whatever it was that transpired between the both of you.

“Thanks,” you said softly, unable to project your voice louder for fear of it cracking under the tension that squeezed you and San dry. 

San leaned back into his seat like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just lit a match and dropped it into the gasoline of your thoughts. “You’re welcome,” he rumbled, voice scratchy and raspy. “What’s the agenda, my lady?”

My lady. You were so used to him calling you that, heck, you didn’t even tell him to call you that in the first place but it just stuck when he refused to call you by your name. And you never minded, until now. For some reason, hearing him say it after what just happened made you feel a certain way that you didn’t understand yet.

Regardless, you were glad for the change of pace. This was a dangerous avenue for you, and it was something you were far less interested in exploring more than your inheritance and that was saying a lot.

“Let’s kill time for now. I’m taking your advice and will be passing through the bakery that I like,” you answered, skimming the paperwork carefully before placing your signature on every page that needed it. “Then at four in the afternoon, I just need to drop this paperwork off.”

“Important paperwork, I’m assuming?”

You paused, your pen halfway in the air as you stared at San. This was new, San had never once asked about whatever you were up to general, let alone anything that was related to work. “If you consider the future of the Kang Corporation important, then yes,” you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You finished signing all of the paperwork without a hitch, suddenly remembering what Yunho said earlier before you left. A frown makes its way to your face, what was it that he said again? You could’ve sworn that it was about the paperwork, were you perhaps meant to give it to somebody?

You sighed. Damn it, you thought, side-eyeing San who was still looking out in the parking lot with the most detached eyes. You are the most distracting man ever, I swear.

A sigh leaves your lips again, this time, more exaggerated. It was the kind that was loud enough to be noticed. And you were right, San suddenly whips his head around to look at you, and when he does, you drop your head back against the headrest and brought the back of  hand to your forehead like you had some fever you couldn’t sweat out.

“God, I’m so stressed,” you whined with the fakest, more overdramatic pout you could muster. “Super stressed, I say. All this work, and for what? I swear nobody looks out for me.”

You shifted in your seat at lightning speed, turning towards him fully with a smile so sweet that it was too good to be true. “This might be unprofessional, but can I please get a cuddle?” You asked, voice dripping in syrupy sugar and pure fakeness.

He blinked repeatedly, caught off-guard at your audacity and how thick-faced you were. “No.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, whining softly at his denial. “Call it a comfort hug. It’ll make me feel better.”

He stared at you, his stony face not shifting once. “No.”

You pouted again, your bottom lip jutting out a little too much when he started the car. You waited until he drove out of the parking lot before shooting your shot again. “So you don’t want a hug,” you said. “Hold my hand while you drive, then—”

“No,” he reiterated without missing a beat.

But you weren’t giving up. “Okay. Maybe a pat on the head?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

You scoffed. “Why not?”

“You’ll be fine,” he said flatly in that maddeningly calm voice of his.

You paused for a beat before bursting out laughing. You weren’t hurt, not at all. You were just so used to people falling over themselves to give you what you wanted, that San’s absolute refusal was kind of hilarious. “Here I was thinking that you liked me and that we had something good going on,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I believe that there was a connection there.”

“And I believe that this is your hunger talking,” he muttered sarcastically. “Fear not, we’re almost at the bakery.”

You laughed again. “You’re funny, but I can’t believe you think that low of me,” you clicked your tongue. “Seriously, though. Have you ever thought of breaking protocol for someone you potentially liked?”

“No, but I’ve increased the distance when clients get too flirty,” he side-eyed you with full intent, unimpressed.

“What’s the difference? You’re distant in general,” you pointed out.

"Do I seem distant, or is it that you never earned my closeness?"

You whistled, impressed. You had to admit that that was very good on his end. “Ouch. You hurt my feelings,” you put your hands on your chest, groaning dramatically for effect. “However shall I recover from this brutal pain you’ve bestowed upon me?”

“I have a feeling that you’ll live to see another day, my lady,” he murmured in finality, side-eyeing you with intent once more. Jesus, you’ll be thinking about that for days to come.

God, he was infuriating. You didn’t say it out loud, but you loved the challenge. You had a feeling that it was only because this was San, and that was the problem. He was your favorite kind of problem. You weren’t good at problem-solving, not at all, but for the enigma that was your bodyguard, you might as well be.

You were shallow about it. You wanted to see that cool exterior crack just a little, to feel powerful again, for you to see that even someone as untouchable and unobtainable. It wasn’t about San. Not really. It was about you and what you thought you deserved. He just happened to look like the perfect prize.

Come hell or high water, I will get what I want. It was like nothing happened. The way he guided you towards the bakery as you entered and even when you were ordering could have made you crash and burn. He was just doing his job, but that was it, wasn’t it? San was literally just doing his job when you wanted something more.

“Do you want to eat anything?” You asked, placing your iced coffee and your beloved French macarons with toasted sugar on top of the table, sitting down as San pulled the chair for you like the true gentleman that he was. A little too gentlemanly, but eh, I’ll take it.

He was in the process of shaking his head anyway when you both heard his phone buzzing in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and immediately, his face changed. His jaw tensed, and a shadow passed over his features. “I need to take this,” he said. “Would it be alright if I stepped out for a minute?”

You blinked, a little surprised at the courtesy, but nodded anyway. “Yeah, go ahead.”

You took this as the time to further review the paperwork Yunho gave you, but you couldn’t fully concentrate; not when your eyes keep fleeting on the man you’ve set your sights on whose phone was on his ear, his face darkening every second that he spent the entire time he talked to whoever called him just now. For a split second, those dark, tantalizing eyes met with yours before he looked away.

Something was wrong, you could feel it, but it wasn't your business. The way his eyes would set ablaze and the way his jaw ticked told you everything you needed to know. It looked personal. Was it family related? Or perhaps a lover he was quarreling with? You swallowed a piece of the macaron a little too hard, shaking your head to rid yourself of the thought. San could have anyone he wanted, that wasn’t any of your concerns. A player has no business wanting details about their prize.

By the time San got back inside from his phone call, you were finished eating and drinking your coffee. You were half-tempted to ask him what it was all about, but you reconsidered it. It was better for you not to know things about San. The less you know, the better you’ll sleep at night. “I apologize for my temporary absence,” he said.

You waved your hand in front of you nonchalantly, gathering the folder to tuck it underneath your armpit. “We have to get going,” you said, standing up in the process. “I have to drop this thing off to—what was his name? Jongin? Ah, I think it’s Jongh—”

“Actually, I was thinking of going for a walk with you,” San said, cutting you off so casually that it made your brain stutter.

Pause. Did I hear that right? You blinked repeatedly, tempted to even stick your fingers in your ears just in case your ears were clogged up. “A walk?”

San nodded toward a narrow path that cut through a small, tree-lined park just off the road. “There’s still plenty of time to kill,” he said, calm, steady. “And you’ve been going on about stress in the car. I reckon it’s good for digestion to go for a small walk after a meal or a snack.”

You raised your brows, the suggestion catching you off guard. San never suggested doing things with you, let alone a small walk. But despite yourself, your heart rate started to pick up at the prospect of taking a side-to-side stroll with San and curiosity got the best of you. The company could wait, it wasn’t like it was going to close its doors on you if you were thirty minutes late.

It was the right decision after all. There weren’t a lot of times where peace came into your mind with the pressure building up from all the responsibilities your family refused to let you ignore, but the sweet scent of blooming flowers, the earthy aroma of the damp soil after a light drizzle, and the cool smoothness of the paved concrete was rather soothing.

And there was San walking side by side with you, your steps louder than his on the cracked stone as you traipsed aimlessly. You had no ending in mind, not with how distracting his face was as the sun hit the high points of his features. You ignored it, opting to focus on the  occasional birds darting overhead.

“So,” you glanced at him, a lazy smile pulling at your lips. “It’s a nice day for walking. Perfect for admitting that you’re also starting to like me a little.”

San didn’t respond. He just kept on walking leisurely, observing his surroundings a little more attentively, you’ve noticed, though that is to be suspected since that was quite literally his job. Still, you tried. It wasn’t everyday you get to do this with San and you were going to take full advantage of it.

“Hello,” you drawled, stretching out the word longer than usual to catch his attention. “A conversation literally goes both ways, you know that, right?”

Nothing. Just his hands behind his back, his back so stiff and straight as he kept walking forward. You huffed dramatically, stepping directly in front of him so you could turn and face him while walking backwards. Big mistake. You forgot how huge San was and his imposing figure was towering over you. It made you feel small, but again, you were nothing but persistent if you wanted something. The reward was always greater after because if there was no pain, then there would be no gain.

“Slow down, tiger,” you put your hands in front of him playfully. “You think of a topic we could talk about, then.”

He did not, in fact, slow down. He glanced at your hands once before gazing back in front of him, stepping aside so he could walk past you. You wanted to scoff at the sheer audacity. It was like he’d fully mastered the art of selective hearing just for you and it would have been hilarious if it was in another scenario.

You turned around, speed walking once again just to stop in front of him. You crossed your arms defiantly on your chest. “San.”

This time, he did stop, finally glancing at you with that familiar unreadable expression on his face. You pouted, giving him arguably the best puppy eyes you could muster at the moment. “I feel ignored,” you said. “Which is odd because you were the one who got us here.”

“Hmm,” he hummed calmly, the light breeze tousling his hair as if even nature respected his ability to shut you out.

You frowned, not expecting the response. Or the lack thereof. “The heck does that mean?”

San relaxes ever so slightly, the hands that were always planted so firmly against his back now placed in his trouser pockets. You fought the urge to swallow. Somehow, this relaxed form made him seem larger. “I am afraid you wouldn’t like the answer, my lady,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Oh? So you do admit that you are ignoring me?”

“Mayhaps,” he spoke with infuriating elegance.

“Why?” You shot back, trying hard to take back the control you thought you had when you started this by flirting with him unapologetically. “Are you afraid of falling for me?”

“I’m afraid you’ll keep talking,” he replied, looking you dead in the eye for a couple of seconds before resuming the walk, hands still in his pocket.

You followed suit, trying to ignore the casualness of it all as you refrained from smiling. You wanted a different conversation, maybe something more up your alley, but you’ll take this. You'll take anything you could get from San. You’ll have anything that could feel as thrilling and as invigorating as this. “You make it seem like I’m a terrible walking companion to be with,” you shook your head, trying to tone down the delight in your voice. I’d have you know that I can make good conversations last.” 

“Debatable,” San replied smoothly, not even missing a beat.

“Well, if you weren’t so busy actively ignoring me, then you’d know,” you clicked your tongue. “I mean, you did ask for this. I thought it was kind of romantic, but you’re over here ruining the good that we have.”

“Well, I did suggest a walk, not a talk,” he replied, infuriatingly polite, even though the undertone was the opposite.

And yet. Yet, he was still walking beside you. He was close enough where he could pull close to him. You knew damn well you weren’t going to complain. None of you said anything, and the silence was enough to make your heart skip a beat for no good reason. You shrugged, must be the breeze. It was nearing winter, after all.

You’ve barely taken your next step when somebody walked out from one of the trees. It was a man wearing a hoodie that was pulled over his head, walking in the same path as you. It was odd, but you didn’t think anything of it at first. You and San wouldn’t be the only people walking around this path.

What was odd, however, was the fact that this man was now actively running towards your direction head-on. You were getting mugged in broad daylight. It was too late for you to react. Everything happened so fast. By the time you realized what was going on, the mugger was already twisting your arm painfully behind your back. You didn’t even have the time to scream - not when his sights were locked on the folder tucked beneath your other arm. Immediately, he snatches the folder, paperwork scattering all over the place.

Your eyes widened, anger searing in your veins as the realisation hit you like a freight truck. This folder held the Kang Corporation’s future, and there was only one reason why this mugger was interested in it as you played a sick game of tug-of-war to get the folder back, not letting go even if it meant imminent danger on your end.

Seriously? Fucking hell, you cursed internally. Are the Songs really that pathetic that they’d send a hit job in broad daylight? 

Unfortunately for this bastard, you weren’t the type to back down, especially if it’s some piss poor attempt at an espionage job from a bastard who was probably paid shit to do the job. You were angry because you weren’t expecting the Songs to go this low. You positioned yourself, raising your fist ready to hit back, the intent burning in your chest—

San’s arm immediately came up, body sliding in front of yours like muscle memory. His hand found your wrist. It wasn’t harsh, but it was firm enough to snap you out of the stupidity you were about to do as he pushed you behind him.

“Stay behind me,” he said, voice low, controlled, but you could feel the shift in his posture, the stiffening of his back muscles reminding you of a raging panther whose hackles were raised in danger. He was shielding you.

You hadn’t even noticed your heart picking up until then. Ironically, his touch made you more nervous than the impending doom happening in front of you. You tried to step back, startled. You stayed put behind him, even you weren’t dumb enough to tease San at a time like this, your hand tightly clutching the folder that you were positive that it was wrinkled and torn to the point of no return. Hell, you’re surprised that the folder stayed intact and hasn't ripped off in half yet.

Just then, a distant memory suddenly popped in your head. It was an inconvenient one at that, it was that one time you were trying to tease San just to get a reaction out of him. It was a week after meeting him - a week of your ego getting bruised repeatedly because he kept ignoring your attempts at seducing him and trying to get to know him.

“Now, why would they hire you as my bodyguard?” You clicked your tongue repeatedly, feigning disappointment. “You look like you’d break in half if someone so much as kicked you.” 

That wasn’t true, not at all. San’s shoulders were so broad that if you stood behind him, no one would be able to see you. His bulging muscles always made any shirt he wore look so strained, like it could barely contain the man. “My blackbelt says otherwise,” he counteracted politely, voice firm with a confidence only a man like him could carry with ease and conviction.

But you never had the opportunity to see if his blackbelt skills were legitimate because the look on his face was more than enough. You didn’t know what to do - you had a scowl on your face, holding his shirt for dear life, while San was staring the man down. You huffed softly, you were at least expecting a roundhouse kick or something.

That was it, though. You looked at San and he did have that warning look in his eyes that screamed danger, but that was the thing - it wasn’t all different from the usual look he also gave you. He was literally just staring the other man down - he didn’t say anything, he didn’t even need to yell or raise his voice.

No glare. Just a calm, controlled stare where he was dead still without having the need to blink. And you just froze, the folder still clutched to your chest, waiting and expecting something to happen. But nothing, there was just silence on your bodyguard’s end as if that was enough.

And apparently, it was. The mugger - who you could tell was a young man if his chubby cheeks and the juvenile look in his eyes wasn’t enough to give it out - hesitated,  eyes narrowing like he was re-evaluating something only he saw. 

The mugger took one look at you, turned around, then jogged away. You scrunched your brows in confusion as you watched the man’s figure disappear among the trees. There were no traces of him being here except the papers strewn all over and the nervous beating of your heart.

You stood there, frozen in place for a moment longer than you should have, staring at the empty space where the mugger had been. It wasn’t that you were expecting a wild confrontation, but whatever that was was even weirder than anything else you were expecting.

“What…the hell was that?” You asked amidst the weird, calm tension in the air. There was no answer, so you proceeded to bend down and picked up the papers in haste, not caring if they were in order or not.

That seemed to break San out of his own trance. His hand was still on your wrist, and normally you would have already been gloating and teasing him for it, but not today. You had no choice but to collect the papers with one hand only, but it was fine. You definitely needed the hand on your wrist to anchor you.

"We need to go," he said curtly, voice was low, edged with something you didn’t quite recognize, but it had that sharp quality to it that made you hurry.

You were spooked, almost terrified even, your father’s voice ringing incessantly in your head as San briskly put your seatbelt on for you. He knew exactly what he was doing when he coerced you to pick a bodyguard. For the first time in a while, you were more than thankful that you were forced to do something you didn’t want to

However, you were more than thankful that out of all the applicants, you randomly picked out San’s. Somehow, even in the chaos, he was the presence that calmed you down. He was solid, unshakable, and you were grateful for it. But as you stared at him as he drove out of the cafe, something didn’t sit quite well with you.

You weren’t dumb. You may pretend to be to get what you want, but you were far from it. Something had happened back there and San’s silence was weighing in on you. The whole situation was just…off. Something felt wrong, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Whatever it was, you needed to know. “San?” You asked softly, not in the mood to be playful with him. “That guy…he just left. There’s something wrong, don’t you feel it?”

San’s eyes flicked to you for a moment, but it wasn’t the same sharp, controlled stare he usually gave when he was ready to put you in your place. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. His face remained unreadable, and out of all the times that it was, this was the time where you genuinely disliked not being able to read what he was thinking.

“I-It just doesn’t add up in my head,” you stuttered your words out before you knew it, intimidated by the dark look on San’s face. You knew better than to press too much, he wasn’t the type of guy to crack under pressure - you’ve proven this time and time.

You almost jumped when sighed sharply, and finally he spoke, voice low, steady, and borderline scathing. “The kid was frightened. Simple as that.”

You frowned, not liking how vague and unsettling his explanation was. “Are you even hearing yourself? Repeat that, but slowly. And then tell me if that makes sense in your own ears.”

His gaze flicked to you again, but this time, it was colder. “What do you want me to say? You saw it yourself. He saw me, a big guy, a man. Imposing. Kid can’t pick someone his own size.”

You crossed your arms, watching his profile as the car sped down the darkened street, your mind racing with what had just happened. That did make a lot of sense, whoever the hell the Songs hired was ready to pounce on you, but the moment that San stepped in, it was like all his bravado vanished into thin air.

“Do not ask questions you do not want the answers to. There are things better left unsaid for your safety,” he said, cold and detached, when he saw you wanted to ask more. “He left, you’re unharmed, and that’s all that matters. You stay put and let me do what I was hired for. Call your father.”

It was a mess. Your father picked up two rings in after you called him - especially given the fact that you were never one to call him since you preferred talking to him in person - and you had to tell him in one breath everything from Yunho dropping off some paperwork all the way when you were mugged and now safe because of your bodyguard.

Your father was, naturally, upset about the whole situation. It was how you found yourself leading San to your guest bedroom in your penthouse because the moment your father hung up the phone, San had gotten a text message on his phone that he was now to spend all waking hours with you for your safety and that includes being in the privacy of your own home just so he could watch you.

You wanted to protest, but in the back of your head, there was a small part of you that was truly spooked by the whole encounter, so the words died on your throat before you could even think of uttering them. But that wasn’t what was truly bothering you was San now staying with you.

It made you want to scream, but you stopped yourself as you opened the door for him, stepping aside so he could take the big duffle bag he had brought with him inside to settle in. “Make yourself comfortable,” you muttered, trying to hide how flustered you felt with your situation.

San didn’t say much. He never did. Just gave a quiet nod, taking in the room with that ever-neutral stare of his and that was your queue to close the door and walk back to your room in a doozy. This is fine. San, the bodyguard that I’ve been trying to annoy, now sleeping just a wall away from me. Yep. Totally fine.

You were upset. For months, you’ve been trying to win over San for your own ego to make him come to your house. But not like this. The last time San was here was when he introduced himself for the first time and ever since then he’s always found the opportunity to deny the chance to come back inside. Whether it was because he genuinely didn’t like you or because of some moral compass he had in his head, you didn’t know.

But more than that, this was your house, and you were free to be whoever you wanted to be in it, but now, San was going to see you. This sense of vulnerability he hadn’t earned, but somehow, will have anyway. You didn’t want to care about someone who was technically paid to protect you. You didn’t want to get attached. That wasn’t your style. The game would be over before you knew it and that was the last thing that you wanted to happen.

San would be here. In your mornings. Your nights. In your silence. Your quietest, weakest moments. The thought of it made you breathless. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust San, on the contrary, you trusted him more than you should, his presence was never the issue. It was yourself that you didn’t trust.

As if the situation wasn’t bad enough, you heard the shrill ringing of your phone. The problem was, you had left it in the living room. You gritted your teeth in annoyance. You could only hope that San was still settling him in the guest room. You’d grab your phone and come back. Of course, as luck would have it, that’s not what happened.

The second you cracked your door open, you nearly jumped out of your skin. San was standing right there, his face blank as ever. “Jesus, you scared me,” you gasped, clutching your chest. You forced out a breathless laugh, though it came out more nervous than amused.

He simply raised an eyebrow and held out your still-ringing phone. You didn’t even realize he was holding it. “You left this,” he muttered. You awkwardly took the phone from him without even making eye contact.

San stepped back, already turning toward the hallway. You cursed internally, opting to answer the call in the wide breadth of your living room just so you could have more space to think and walk around. Not even an hour and San was already making you nervous. “Hello?”

“Y/N? Oh, thank God. Are you okay? I heard what happened from your dad,” Yunho’s frantic, but relieved voice sounded from the phone. “I should’ve come with you, I swear I should’ve.”

You pursed your lips, Yunho’s warm, honey-like voice instantly making you feel better. “It’s not your fault, Yun,” you reassured him. “I’m fine, but more than that, the folder is safe. Unfortunately, I still have it with me.”

“You do? I thought I told you to give it to Jongho this morning for safekeeping?”

“I know,” you sighed, letting your body plop onto the couch, but stopped yourself last minute when you remembered that San was literally just a few metres away from you, inspecting the entire house. You didn’t want him to think you were a slob or something. “I didn’t have the opportunity to. It’s a good thing San was there when I got mugged.” “How?” He pressed on, puzzled. “Was he not with you?”

You scrunched your brows in perplexity. “How? I didn’t even reach the damn company,” you retorted back, annoyed that all Yunho thought was the folder. “Those Song bastards were worse than I thought. It’s a good thing San was there or else I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“Fuck, you think it’s them? Cowards, they really targeted you when you were at your most vulnerable too,” he gritted his teeth. “Also, San? Who’s that?” 

An irritated vein popped up from your temples. You’ve had it with people bypassing San, especially since he was actually very good at protecting you and your assets, but you’ll forgive Yunho since he was busy all the time. You looked to your left, subconsciously trying to track San, only for your eyes to meet his.

Your heart skips a beat and you want to groan. Why did he have to look that good? You couldn’t peel your eyes away from the sharp features of his face, the planes of his muscles bulging out even from the shirt he was wearing. His jaw was set firm and had this quiet confidence that was both alluring and irritating as he stared right back at you.

“Who do you think?” You scoffed, trying your best to keep your voice leveled even though there was heat rising from your neck to your cheeks.

Yunho made a confused sound from the back of his throat. “But—”

“A-Anyway,” you cleared your throat, not letting him finish. You broke eye contact off with San immediately before you combusted on the spot. “I-I have to go. Ask my dad for more information. Bye.”

You quickly hung up, dumping your phone on the far end of the couch before you closed your eyes, draping your arm all over your eyes in hopes of easing the tension weighing on your mind. Everything that happened today was seemingly crashing down on you and you were stressed.

“My lady?”

Ah, yes. Just the thing you needed to get rid of your stress. Messing with San seemed to always do the trick. “Hmm?”

“I’m going to do more checking outside the premises. I could buy us takeout after. Don’t want to risk you going out or having somebody deliver just in case.”

You smirked, removing your arm from your face to take a good look at him. “Aww,” you cooed. “Look at you being all concerned about my well-being. And here I was, thinking that romance and chivalry had long disappeared from this desolate world we live in.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing when San’s left eye twitched. He crossed his arms over his chest, aggravation clouding his features. “Must you always be this difficult? I take it back. You can choose not to eat dinner.”

“I mean, you could,” you shrugged mischievously. “But aren’t you curious if starvation would make me more….what was it you said? Difficult?”

“Curious? No,” he deadpanned. “Concerned? Absolutely. Especially when it comes to my mental stability.”

You clicked your tongue. “This is why I’m very fond of you, San. Your ability to talk like you do always excites me.”

“I aim to impress, after all. Glad I entertain you,” he replied sarcastically, shaking his head in exasperation from your antics. “Chicken from the corner sound good to you?”

It was awkward, to say the least. It was quiet, a little too quiet. The only sound in the background was the wind swooshing from your air conditioner and the utensils clacking against one another as you both ate in silence. He raises his head to look at you. “Food not to your liking?”

You shook your head. “It’s good. But…must you be this stiff even when you’re eating? I swear my back is hurting just by looking at you,” you rolled your neck, cracking it to make a point. “Relax. Security is good downstairs. I don’t need you on high alert all the time, it’s unnecessary.”

“It’s not about what you need,” he replied, tone neutral. “It’s about keeping you safe.”

You hated how that almost shut you up because he wasn’t wrong. Almost. “Fine,” you conceded after swallowing your food. “At least talk to me, though. The silence and boredom is killing me.”

“I would highly implore you to finish your food,” he murmured, gently rejecting you once again like he always does.

“Geez, talk about being a mood killer,” you rolled your eyes. “Eating together is supposed to be a social thing, you know? Or is it only me that you hate for some reason?” “I’m all for equal opportunities. I hate everyone,” he replied, emotionless. His eyes flicked to yours, that unreadable gaze pinning you for a fraction too long. “You look exhausted. You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“Okay,” you muttered, pushing your chair back with effort. “You win. I’m going to bed.”

San only nodded, his expression unreadable again. “I’ll keep watch.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but being mugged definitely took a toll on you. The second your head hit the pillow, you were a goner. It was the longest, dreamless, most peaceful yet unsettling sleep of your life. You slept a little too long, however. You were still disoriented, your limbs still heavy, when your phone suddenly rang loudly like an alarm trying to signal something. This wasn’t the first call, you reckoned, and suddenly, the pit in your stomach deepened because you could feel that something was wrong.

And you were right. Yeosang’s frantic voice was telling you that the company stocks went down. The Songs had suddenly launched a new product overnight. Your brain wasn’t even catching up yet, that is, until Yeosang had hastily mentioned that he, himself, designed that product and it wasn’t supposed to be out for another couple of months.

“Are you saying,” you swallowed, your blood running cold. “That there was a leak?”

“Yes,” Yeosang sighed deeply, his voice tight with frustration. “Dad’s already doing damage control, but it’s bad, Y/N. Are you sure that the folder Yunho gave you was secure?”

“Positive. That bastard who mugged me didn’t take anything, I swear," you replied faster than you could’ve fully woken up. Your thoughts refused to keep up, but one thing was for certain - the Songs had begun moving and they won. All while you slept.

Needless to say, you were stuck in your penthouse as per your dad’s instructions. He wasn’t mad at you, not entirely, but he was still upset at the entire situation. The good news was that it wasn't a bad thing. You actually disliked going out. The bad news was that San was with you 24/7. You weren’t talking all the time and he actually just stayed in the guest room more than he didn’t, but his presence alone was distracting you.

San was beginning to get on your nerves. You couldn’t even normally flirt your way into his nerves.. You didn’t know exactly what bothered you. He respected your privacy and boundaries and that, alone, meant a lot to you because you valued your own time a lot.

If anything, he was infuriatingly disciplined. He didn’t touch anything that wasn’t his, never stepped out of line, and moved through your home with the quiet efficiency of someone who had long since learned how to disappear into the background.

And maybe that was the problem. He was too good at blending in. Too good at making you forget he was there until you remembered, and then you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The worst part was that sometimes you’d catch him looking at you just a second too long, and then he’d look away. God, that made you want to scream.

“Morning,” he greeted without any emotion the moment you got out of your room, tipping his head a little in courtesy before he went back to what he was doing on his laptop in the living room.

Your heart almost stopped beating, your hands becoming clammy at the sight of him. “M-Morning,” you murmured, passing him to open the big curtains in your living room to let the light in.

It’s been weeks and sometimes, you forget that San would be there the moment you’d wake up. You weren’t used to sharing your space, not like this. Not with someone who made your heart stutter just by existing in the same room. 

“I made coffee,” he spoke, his voice irritatingly calming and soothing as much as you hated to admit it. “I made too much, though. I figured you wanted some, I already put creamer and sugar in it and it’s ready in the fridge for you, in case you want it.”

You wanted to sigh. Damn him, you thought. It was the little things, too. He knew that you weren’t the biggest fan of hot, black coffee and you preferred it with a dash of cream and sugar. “Sounds good,” you replied. 

You were about to walk towards the fridge when he put his hand up, signalling for you to pause. “I’ll get it,” he said, already getting up from the chair to walk towards the fridge. You blinked repeatedly, your face going numb, not even noticing for a minute that he’d already stopped in front of you to hand you the coffee. “Here, take it.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, lifting your hands to take the glass. “T-Thanks.”

The moment you tried to wrap your hand around the glass, your hand accidentally brushes with his. This time, however, you were the one who flinched and pulled away. You gasped, pulling your hand to your chest as San stared at you, a frown decorating his handsome face. The tension was so unbearable that it had you dashing towards your room as fast as you could.

It was so awkward. You were so awkward. San was fine, he was acting like he always did around you and still wouldn’t look twice in your way unless you directly asked him a question or when he was asking you certain questions with regards to safety and all. Overall, you were the problem. You didn’t know how to move around him and it made you feel unsettled. San didn’t act like your house was his, but he didn’t act like a complete stranger either. He didn’t completely disregard you and was aware that you were living together, but he didn’t acknowledge this arrangement as more than a job at the same time. It was complicated and you had no idea what to make of it. The next encounter you had with him after stewing in your room for days was by sheer accident. It was midnight and all you wanted was something sweet for a snack. You were in the process of opening your fridge when something caught your eye - a movement in your balcony and you froze. His back was turned to you but you knew it was San.

He wore nothing but a tank top and some sweatpants, but the way his top clung to his skin because of sweat was almost sinful. He was working out, but it wasn’t just any workout. You knew Taekwondo when you saw someone practicing it. For a moment, you forgot what you were in the kitchen for. You’ve never seen San this focused; this human.

The way he flew in the air as if he truly belonged there, the powerful strides of his kicks, he was just different here. He was completely in his element. The intensity of his face in the midst of his focus made your stomach twist with something uncomfortably close to admiration.

You wanted to look away because you felt like you had just stumbled into something private, something you weren’t meant to see, and you were actually about to, but before you could lift your foot to turn around, San had already slowed his movements to turn his head and upper body to look at you.

San didn’t even flinch, he just stared at you with those cold, unbothered eyes with his brow slightly raised, an indication that he was just as surprised to see you watching him. “You’re still awake,” he said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

“So are you,” you murmured after clearing your throat awkwardly, breaking eye contact and refusing to look at anything in his general direction. 

He stood straight, crossing his arms. “Is there anything you need?” San asked, calm and measured yet clipped and stoic. 

You blinked, suddenly thrown off. He wasn’t even rude or impatient, this was just him in general. “No,” you answered quickly, taking a tentative step back in preparation for your escape. “I-I’m fine. Carry on with your thing.”

Without waiting for him to reply, you scurried off, the hunger suddenly dissipating from your stomach in replacement with something else. You flopped on your bed, burying your face in your pillow to let out a strangled groan, hoping the pillow would swallow San’s muscled back away from your memory. 

By the end of that week, you couldn’t take it anymore. This wasn’t you at all, and you were at your end’s wits and you were sick and tired of being awkward in your own house. You need to take charge of this entire situation before the situation swallows you whole. You had to do something, anything.

You didn’t care anymore about the awkward tension or the weirdness between you. You stormed down the hallway, the resolve in your step. You knew that San would be in the living room doing God-knows-what, and you were right. You hesitated only for a second as you reached the doorway. His back was to you, and he looked to be writing something in a journal, you figured. It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him do it, but you certainly weren’t going to mess with it since that was his privacy, just like he hasn’t messed with yours.

You walked in without hesitation, a strut and some renewed energy in your steps as sat on the other couch that was directly across where he was sitting. You smirked, feeling that familiar rush of power come back to you, that electric jolt of confidence that came when you were in control.

He stopped mid-writing, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. For the first time in weeks, there was something in his eyes, but it wasn’t the usual unreadable mask. It was curiosity. Pure, unadulterated curiosity.  Maybe even a flicker of something else.

You flashed him your signature grin, that one that always indicated that you brought nothing but trouble. He sighed loudly, removing his glasses - you didn’t even notice he was wearing one and your heart skipped one beat - and set them aside the table. “Yes, my lady?” San asked, already exasperated like he’d rather be somewhere else than entertain you.

“Nothing,” you answered, your eyes widened innocently. “I was just wondering how you’re settling, that’s all. You know…if you’ve perhaps forgotten that I’m here if you need help,” you bit your lips, giving him your best bedroom eyes. “I’ve been told I’m good help.”

His eyes flicker briefly, a twitch of frustration passing through them before he spoke again, his tone calm but now clearly edged with something else. "Oh, I haven’t forgotten about you,” he said. “Quite unfortunate. I almost succeeded, too, given you’ve been withdrawn lately."

You shrugged, but your smile only grew wider, more mischievous. How the hell have you lived without this for weeks? You almost forgot how fun it was to get under San’s skin. “Just say you missed me. Could’ve just knocked on my door, I don’t even lock it,” you chuckled.

San didn’t flinch this time. He stared at you for a moment before closing his notebook, crossing his arms and giving you his undivided attention. “I should’ve known,” he rolled his eyes. “I was wondering where that annoying flirt in you went. Turns out she was just recharging.”

You genuinely laughed. This was the most San has said to you in one conversation without him trying to shut the whole thing down and he sounded absolutely normal. Who knew you’d come to love normal when you’ve spent your whole life looking for something of the opposite? And somehow, you liked that even more than the thrill of getting under his skin. You knew whatever you were doing was working. He was trying not to show it, but you could feel the tension in the air shift away.

“Are you always like this?” San asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

You tilted your head in curiosity. He’s never asked you specific questions like this either. “Like what?”

“Like a hormonal teenager who flirts and treats everything like it’s a game.”

You stared at him, making a point not to blink on purpose. Oh, Choi San. If you only knew how spot on you were. You shrugged it away, your grin growing wider. “So straighten me up. If it’s such a problem, then how would you punish me?”

"By making you touch grass," San replied, not missing a beat, his voice holding just a hint of irritation. 

You laughed again, your amusement through the roof. “You’re hilarious,” you cleared your throat to shake your giggles out. “Why, though? Is that how you really think of me? Be honest.”

San stared at you, his gaze unshakable as he studied youThe way he looked at you made you nervous, like he was going to eat you alive where you sat. Finally, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. “You want honesty? You’re immature, Y/N.”

That was the first time he ever, ever called you by your first name, but you never imagined it would have been like this. “I’m not some convoluted project you could test just to see if everyone really does bend down to your will,” he continued, not giving you space to breathe. “But I’m just the tip of the iceberg, aren’t I? You act like this so your father expects nothing from you in the inheritance. It’s deliberate avoidance because you’re not ready for the real world.”

His words stung more than you expected, but you refused to let him see that. You could almost feel the walls you’ve built upon yourself crack slightly. “I see,” you hummed, your hands tensing in front of you a bit. “Is that it, San?” “You’re a lot smarter than you let on,” he pointed out, almost bored. “That’s the frustrating part. It’s impressive, though. It takes a lot of cunningness to make yourself look like you don’t know anything. The problem? You’re transparent. To me, at least.”

Something in your chest bloomed. It began spreading all throughout your body deep down your bones, and it was there to stay. You smiled, a little more genuine than you’re used to. “Is this what affection feels like coming from you?”

He rolled his eyes, his expression ironically relaxing even more. “Don’t push it. You’re still a walking chaos and a magnet for trouble. You make my job harder than it needs to be.”

“Ah, but here’s the thing, though,” you leaned forward, your voice dropping into something more soft, but still playful. “If I stop being the walking chaos you say I am, would that really make your job easier? Or would it just stop being less fun? ”

San pauses, freezes even. His eyes widen ever so slightly before he schools his expression back to the stony, impassive demeanor. For the first time, he was the one who was caught off guard. But, now there was interest burning behind those dark eyes. “That depends,” he finally said. “Are you going to act worse now that I’ve called you out for it?”

Ouch. Your eye twitched. San was blunt and he clearly wasn’t taking any of your bullshit. Thing is, you weren’t taking his, either. “Shame,” you shrugged teasingly. “Because I was thinking of doing something…fun.”

He exhaled sharply, his displeasure simmering and evident. “I’m your bodyguard, not your playmate. I don’t have time for games when I’m busy being on the lookout for your safety.”

You leaned in just enough to brush your hand across his arm, watching his muscles tense at the contact. You could practically see the battle raging behind his eyes as he lightly shrugged you off. "Not that type of fun, you silly goose," you giggled, shaking your head. "Though that could be arranged, too. I was thinking maybe we could get to know each other? I mean if we’re going to live together for a while, we might as well, you know?"

That part was true on your end. At the end of the day, it was tiring to walk on eggshells around him. Besides, he did save you from getting mugged, and for that, you had no problem giving credit where it was due. “And how do you propose that?” San asked, his lips pursed, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out if you were messing with him or not.

“The ball’s in your court, really. We could do this however you want,” you offered with a small shrug. “We could just talk or ask questions about anything. Interests, favourites, dark secrets, and whatnot.”

His jaw ticked. “I don’t have any secrets,” he said flatly.

“Liar. Everyone has secrets,” you retorted.

That might have been a mistake. His gaze sharpened and it got even colder, if that was possible. You felt chills; it was as if he was seeing through you instead of looking at you. There was a flicker of something that was a little too practiced and dangerous. It only lasted for a second but your breath still caught. 

Just as you were about to say that it was alright and he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to, San let out another sigh as he visibly loosened up and settled back on the couch. “Five questions,” he grumbled. “No more, no less. Make it count.”

You pouted, cutely you could say. “Five? That’s it?”

“Yes. Four questions.”

You blinked repeatedly, gawking at him. Well played, Choi San, you thought giddily. And by the way his eyes twinkled slightly, you could tell he was thinking the same thing. Your lips curled into a satisfied smile, nonetheless, and you were careful not to let it look too triumphant. San offering anything willingly to you was rarer than a blue moon.

“Okay,” you cleared your throat dramatically, building momentum. “Why are boxing rings called that when they’re square but the fights are called rounds, instead?”

You wanted to burst out laughing at what seemed like five stages of grief and emotion on San’s face at your question. “Really?” He asked dryly, lips pressed into the flattest and most unimpressed line you’ve seen yet. “You had four questions and you wasted it on idiocy?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question,” you wiggled your brows. “It’s a perfectly legitimate one. We could make this as a practice round if you want.”

“Three,” he deadpanned, eyes ticking and staring you down so hard you were surprised you haven’t combusted on the spot yet.

“Alright, geez, lighten up,” you chuckled. “What’s a food everyone seems to like but you can’t seem to get into.”

“Easy,” he didn’t hesitate to answer this time. “Coconuts.”

“Oh,” you let out. “Usually I’d make fun of it, but I’ll let it pass this time because I don’t like coconuts either. What’s your reason, though?”

He hummed, seemingly pleased that you were finally having a somewhat decent conversation. “They’re a little too bland for my liking,” he supplied.

“Next,” you said, sitting a little straighter out of pure excitement at how this was going. “You know Leonardo DiCaprio?” He frowned at you as if mocking you for even asking that. “Okay, do you prefer Titanic or Wolf Of Wall Street?”

His brows both shot up, the intrigue evident, with a hint of surprise that you actually asked a really good question. He pauses, his expression hardening as he actually thought of the answer he’d like to give you. “To be honest, neither,” he began. “I do prefer Wolf Of Wall Street.”

“I’m actually surprised you watch movies to begin with,” you snorted. “But I agree, I’d choose neither, too. Those were just the popular ones. Out of curiosity, which of his movies is your pick in general?”

“Django Unchained,” he answered with more ease. “Yours?”

“Inception.”

He gave a thoughtful hum, looking at you with something different like quiet approval. You tried not to smile. San was answering your questions and that might not seem like anything, but to you, this was the most progress you’ve gotten in months. “I have a good one,” you said after a while. “What’s the weirdest undercover name you’ve used before you worked for me?”

That one caught him. Only slightly, but still, San was someone who was always on guard so this was a feat. A beat of hesitation passed before he finally replied, voice low. “Santiago.”

You stared. “You’re joking. You’ve got to be.”

“I never joke,” he said flatly.

There was a beat of silence for only a second before you burst out laughing. You laughed out so loud and so hard that uncontrollable tears started to pour from your eyes as you lay sideways on the couch, clutching your stomach, all while San crossed his arms defensively, frowning. “I’m glad it entertains you, my lady,” he said dryly. “That name gave my identity out back then.”

You burst out laughing again. “I bet. They didn’t even try, it’s hilarious,” you shook your head, wiping your tears with your palms. “That was a good one, thanks for the laughs, Santiago.”

“You’re welcome,” he grumbled out, unenthusiastic.

“Last question,” you carefully laid out, not sure how to ask the question you’ve been purposefully saving for last. “Do you ever regret working for me?”

His feline eyes held yours, not blinking once, as if the answers were in your eyes and he just needed to search for it thoroughly. For once, you wished you knew what San was thinking. His face was neutral, but it wasn’t entirely dismissive. He was genuinely deciding what to tell you. He ran a hand through his hair, finally settling for a response that satisfied himself. “Regret is a very specific word.”

You stayed silent. You waited and waited, but nothing. His eyes never left yours, but you knew he wasn’t going to elaborate further. You broke eye contact. It wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but the fact that he didn’t say yes? You’d take it. You loved a good mystery, after all.

You settled deeper on the couch, leaning your back against it, mirroring San’s exact position where he sat. Five questions, over just like that. It was the end, that was it, the agreement was over and there was nothing left to be said. No more questions to be asked. But somehow, neither of you got up from the couch and went to your respective rooms. In that moment, the silence between you wasn’t tense or awkward with all the things unsaid. It just was comfortable. There was a lot to unpack, after all.

“Why did you ask that?”

You turned your head slowly to look at him, confusion all over your face, not expecting him to speak up after. “What?”

His face was still impassive, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon, but his eyes were…different. Dare you say it was a little softer than you were used to. “The last question,” he murmured. “Why do you want to know?”

You tilted your head, a smug smile spreading through your lips. “If you want to ask me questions too, I can play that game for you.”

He stared at you a moment longer, then exhaled through his nose, the closest thing you were probably going to get to San being a little more carefree. “Why do I even bother with you,” he muttered. “You’re a menace.”

So you stayed, answering his question in a way that would curb his curiosity without giving your intentions away. San stayed as well, prompting you to ask more questions off-handedly about the most random things. It ranged from places he’s been to the dumbest client he’s ever had - which thankfully was not you - and he answered them directly with grace.

You saw the tiniest crack in San’s icy facade, but you were not going to point it out. You didn’t even notice, too busy answering some of the questions he’d thrown at you randomly. “Ever been to a country you’d never go back to?” He asked lightheartedly in San fashion - emotionless but not necessarily empty.

You paused, thinking about it. “No,” you replied. “There are some that I’d rather go with people than alone, though.” The questions kept coming in one by one, each of them answered by either of you and those answers would stem another set of questions. It was a cycle, but it was one you didn’t mind getting stuck in. Your voices grew softer with serious questions, but grew louder in ridiculous ones.

“Admit it, you’ll miss me when I’m not around,” you replied in a sing-songy tone.

“Like a migraine. Brief relief before the next one hits,” he rolled his eyes.

Maybe it wasn’t about breaking him, maybe it was about trying to meet him halfway to see what would be the best course of action to get through San. You weren’t flirting anymore, you weren’t even teasing. You were just talking. 

And San’s eyes were on you the entire time, cool and assessing, not in a way that made you feel judged, but in a way that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t explain. The more you talked, the more San’s posture had completely relaxed - as relaxed as he could be - and he was starting to sound like he actually wanted to speak with you unlike in the beginning. Nobody was counting anymore and soon enough as five questions turned into thirty, the sun had long set and nighttime had come at last. There was nothing to it and the best way you could describe the atmosphere that had befallen the both of you was comfortable.

Thirty more questions and you were still there, but so was San. Both of you were sitting across each other still listening, talking, laughing, and watching. For the first time, San didn’t seem like your bodyguard - he just looked like San.