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Y/N never expected a mysterious door to pull her into a Grimm fairytale. After nearly drowning in a raging river, she witnesses a maid stealing a princess's identity through dark magic and is cursed into silence before she can expose the truth.
Now trapped in a kingdom that isn't hers, Y/N must navigate court intrigue, a stolen crown, an increasingly suspicious Crown Prince Jongho, and growing feelings that are determined to go terribly wrong.
Pairing: Jongho x Reader
Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Dark Fairytale, Royal AU
Tropes: Goose Girl Retelling, Slow Burn, Grumpy Prince x Feisty Heroine, Hidden Identity, Curse of Silence, Banter, Court Intrigue, Portal Fantasy, Stolen Crown, Forced Proximity, "She Knows The Truth"
Fairytale Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Jonghos Masterlist
To read the other members Fairytale Retellings go to the Fairytale Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
This is Part 2
Jongho had expected silence.
Not the pleasant kind. Not the peaceful kind that settled over libraries in the late hours or over snowfields before dawn. He had expected the practiced silence of a princess raised for diplomacy. The kind of silence that knew when to lower its eyes, when to answer softly, when to allow men twice her age to believe they had led a conversation they had merely been permitted to finish.
That was what the reports had told him.
Princess Liora of Valterre was timid.
Soft-spoken. Gentle to the point of impracticality.
She preferred horses to court. Music to debate. Solitude to ceremony. She disliked crowds and wrote long letters to her father instead of speaking freely in council. She was not considered stupid, exactly, but sheltered. Young. Malleable.
That word had appeared in three separate reports.
Jongho had disliked it each time.
Malleable was what old men called women they believed could be bent without resistance.
He had prepared himself for a frightened girl arriving at his gates because two kingdoms had decided peace required her hand. He had not looked forward to it. Marriage, to him, was not a romance. It was a treaty in silk. A document given breath and expected to smile for the benefit of nobles who mistook ceremony for stability.
Still, he had intended to be kind.
Not warm, perhaps. He had never been especially skilled at warm.
But kind.
He had intended to give her distance. Space. Safety where the court would offer only scrutiny.
Then the princess of Valterre arrived.
And within half a minute, Jongho knew something was wrong.
She stood beside him now inside the entrance hall, dripping rainwater onto ancient stone and smiling at every person as if weighing their usefulness.
Not timid. Not shy. Not quiet.
She spoke too loudly.
Not in volume alone, though that was noticeable. Her voice rang through the hall with the confidence of someone determined to fill every space before anyone else could occupy it. She thanked servants without looking at them. She accepted greetings from nobles with a smile polished to brilliance and empty beneath it.
She commented on the weather.
On the road. On how unfortunate it was that border routes remained so poorly maintained when marriages of international importance depended on them.
That, especially, made Jongho’s jaw tighten.
She had not been inside his castle for ten minutes and already she had criticized his roads.
Politely, of course. Always politely.
“My father warned me the northern passes were difficult,” she said, resting one gloved hand lightly over her chest as one of the chamberlains bowed. “But I confess I had not imagined they were quite so neglected.”
Jongho turned his head slightly. “Did he?”
Her smile flickered. Only for a breath. “Yes. Though naturally I am grateful to have arrived safely.”
“Naturally.”
Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer than necessary.
She wanted reassurance. Perhaps admiration.
At the very least, engagement.
Jongho gave her nothing.
The reports had said she would struggle to meet his eyes. This woman held his gaze like a challenge.
Not from courage. From calculation.
He had known too many courtiers like that. Men and women who entered rooms already deciding who deserved flattery, who deserved pressure, who could be ignored, who could be used. They carried ambition beneath their tongues and perfume behind their ears. They laughed before kings finished speaking. They cried only when witnesses stood near enough to be persuaded.
Princess Liora of Valterre, if this was truly her, smelled of ambition.
Jongho hated ambition when it wore innocence as a veil. He watched her turn toward one of the older ladies of his court.
“How kind of you to receive me despite the delay. The storm made beasts of the roads. One of my servants frightened the horses near the river and caused nearly half the trouble.”
Servants.
His gaze moved before he could stop it.
Across the courtyard beyond the open hall doors, the arriving party continued to rearrange itself. Wagons were guided toward the lower stables. Guards dismounted. Servants carried trunks, rolled carpets, travel chests and damp bundles of cloth.
And there she was. The woman from the courtyard.
The one who had looked at him for all of two seconds and asked, very clearly and with bewildering sincerity, who had shit in his bed.
Jongho felt the memory threaten the corner of his mouth again.
She stood near the edge of the procession in borrowed servant’s wool that fit badly across her shoulders. Her hair was still damp, drying in uneven waves around her face. Mud marked the hem of her dress and one side of her jaw, though she did not seem aware of it. She had wrapped her cloak around herself with the defensive posture of someone both cold and irritated by the fact.
Wooyoung stood beside her. Talking, of course.
Wooyoung had a talent for turning air into conversation even when nobody had given him permission to breathe.
The woman looked at him. Then rolled her eyes.
Jongho looked away before his expression betrayed him.
She did not look like a servant used to court. She did not look like a noble pretending humility either. She stood wrong for both. Too straight in some moments, too careless in others. She did not lower her gaze enough, but not because she was arrogant. More because she seemed to forget she was supposed to.
And when she did remember, irritation crossed her face before caution buried it.
That was interesting.
Dangerous, probably. But interesting.
Beside him, the supposed princess continued speaking.
“I must apologize again for the state of my household upon arrival. Travel reveals character, does it not? Some servants prove loyal. Others prove careless.”
Jongho returned his attention to her. “Does it?”
Her smile sharpened slightly. “Oh, surely Your Highness agrees. People show themselves under pressure.”
Yes, he thought.
They did.
That was the problem. This woman was showing herself far too quickly.
A true sheltered princess, one sent across the border to marry a stranger for peace, should have been exhausted. Afraid, perhaps. Proud enough to hide it, but not untouched by it. She should have asked first after privacy, warmth, the safety of her remaining attendants.
Instead, she was performing. And not even subtly enough to flatter him.
“My staff will see you to your rooms,” he said.
Her expression froze almost imperceptibly.
She had wanted him to escort her. Perhaps she expected it.
That alone irritated him.
“I had hoped,” she said, lowering her voice into something softer, “that we might speak privately before the formalities begin. After such a difficult journey, it would comfort me to know the man I am to marry.”
The sentence was well chosen.
A lesser man might have felt cruel refusing it.
Jongho did not. “You will have time to rest first.”
Something passed through her eyes. Annoyance.
“Of course,” she said, recovering smoothly. “How thoughtful.”
He inclined his head, enough for dismissal.
A servant approached to guide her toward the guest wing. The princess hesitated for one final moment, then turned away with a graceful sweep of stolen blue velvet.
Jongho watched her go.
A few paces behind, another servant girl walked with lowered head.
Gray wool. Pale hair. Mud at the hem of her skirt.
Something about her posture pulled at his attention. Not because she looked suspicious. Because she looked broken in a way that did not suit a careless servant who had merely frightened horses.
Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. Too tightly.
Like she was holding herself together by force.
The river woman looked at her as the girl passed.
Her eyes followed her with something fierce and protective, barely hidden beneath exhaustion.
Jongho noticed that too.
He noticed the way the princess did not look back at either of them.
The moment the guests were taken from the hall, Jongho turned.
“Council room.”
The chamberlain bowed. “Your Highness, your advisors are already gathered in your work room.”
“Then they are impatient.”
The chamberlain wisely did not answer.
Jongho walked through the eastern corridor, away from the noise of arrival. The castle seemed to exhale around him as he left the ceremonial spaces behind. Stone floors gave way to darker wood. Tapestries thickened along the walls, muffling footsteps and voices. Rain struck the high windows in steady lines.
He did not hurry. Hurrying suggested uncertainty.
Still, by the time he reached his work room, irritation had settled beneath his ribs like a blade laid carefully on a table.
The advisors were waiting.
Not all of them were technically advisors in the formal sense. Some were ministers. Some military commanders. Some childhood companions who had grown into positions of influence because Jongho trusted them more than the polished men his father’s generation had left behind.
Hongjoong stood near the map table with his arms folded, sharp-eyed and already suspicious simply because suspicion was his natural state. Seonghwa sat by the window, composed and elegant, fingers resting around an untouched cup of tea. Yunho leaned against the bookcase, too tall to look casual despite his attempt. Yeosang occupied the chair nearest the fire, quiet enough to be mistaken for decoration by anyone foolish. San paced near the hearth like a caged wolf. Mingi had claimed the largest chair and still looked too large for it, one elbow propped on the armrest, gaze calm but attentive.
Only Wooyoung was missing.
Jongho entered and conversation stopped.
Hongjoong looked first at Jongho’s face, then at the door behind him. “Where is Wooyoung?”
“Enjoying himself too much.”
San snorted. “That means he found trouble.”
“That usually means he became trouble,” Yeosang murmured.
Jongho moved to his desk but did not sit. “Princess Liora has arrived.”
The room shifted.
“And?” Hongjoong asked.
Jongho looked toward the rain-dark window. “The reports were inaccurate.”
Seonghwa’s brows lifted slightly. “In what way?”
“In every useful way.”
Mingi leaned forward. “That bad?”
“That wrong.”
A knock came before anyone could ask more. Then Wooyoung entered without waiting for permission.
He was grinning.
Jongho stared at him.
Wooyoung bowed with outrageous elegance. “Your Highness.”
“You are late.”
“I was gathering information.”
“You were flirting.”
“For information.”
San groaned. “We are doomed.”
Wooyoung closed the door behind him and crossed the room with the satisfied air of a man carrying a secret he intended to unwrap slowly.
Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Because the road was fascinating.”
Jongho finally sat. “Speak.”
Wooyoung’s grin widened. “Where would you like me to start? With the princess who might not be the princess? The servant who looks at her like someone died? Or the girl from the river who insulted you before she knew your name?”
The room went silent.
Jongho’s gaze sharpened at Wooyoung .
Seonghwa set his cup down. San stopped pacing.
Yunho blinked. “She what?”
Wooyoung turned toward the room with visible delight. “Oh, you should have been there.”
Jongho said nothing. That was usually enough to make wiser men continue.
Wooyoung, unfortunately, had never placed enough value on wisdom.
He drew out the silence for another second. Then said, “A soaked servant girl, newly dragged from disaster, looked at our beloved crown prince at the castle gate and said, with remarkable emotional sincerity, ‘Who shit in his bed?’”
For one beat, no one moved.
Then San laughed. Loudly.
Mingi covered his mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking.
Yunho looked caught between horror and amusement.
Seonghwa closed his eyes as if requesting patience from a merciful god.
Hongjoong stared at Wooyoung. “You are joking.”
“I am not.”
Yeosang’s mouth twitched. “Was she executed?”
Jongho leaned back slightly. “Obviously not.”
San grinned at him. “Did you smile?”
“No.”
Wooyoung pointed at him. “He almost did.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did. A small one. Tiny. Like a secret trying to escape its prison.”
Jongho looked at him.
Wooyoung lowered his hand, still smiling.
“Moving on.”
“Please do,” Hongjoong said dryly.
Wooyoung settled into a chair without invitation. “I joined the Valterre procession near the border as planned. Officially, as a guard assigned by our outpost. Unofficially, to observe the princess before she entered our walls.”
Everyone already knew this.
Jongho did not interrupt.
“At first,” Wooyoung continued, “she matched the reports.”
Jongho stilled.
Wooyoung’s expression changed. The grin faded somewhat, though not entirely.
“She was quiet. Kept her hood low. Did not speak unless spoken to. Stayed mostly near her horse. The white one.”
“Falada,” Jongho said.
Wooyoung nodded. “Yes. Hard to miss. That animal hates everyone except the girls nobody important is watching.”
Hongjoong frowned. “Explain.”
“I will.” Wooyoung leaned forward. “At the beginning, Princess Liora seemed exactly as described. Timid. Tired. Soft. She avoided attention and let her maid handle almost everything.”
“Her maid,” Seonghwa repeated.
“Odette.”
Jongho watched him carefully.
Wooyoung noticed. “She was different from the start. Too comfortable. Too aware of the guards, the route, the supplies, the weak points in the group. At first I assumed she was simply competent. Some attendants are. Then we stopped near the river because of the storm.”
The rain hit the windows harder.
No one spoke.
Wooyoung continued. “Something happened there.”
“What?” San asked.
Wooyoung’s mouth thinned. “That is the interesting part. I do not know.”
Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “You were there.”
“I was with the rear wagons when the white horse bolted. By the time I reached the river path, the storm had made chaos of everything. Guards were confused. Servants were crying. One carriage was nearly overturned. And there was a girl on the bank who had not been there before.”
“The river girl,” Yunho said.
Wooyoung nodded. “Y/N.”
Jongho absorbed the name silently.
Y/N.
It suited her strangely.
Short. Direct. Unadorned.
Wooyoung’s gaze flicked toward him. Of course he noticed.
“The official story,” Wooyoung went on, “is that she fell into the river and was found half drowned. Which, judging from the state of her, I believe. Her clothes were unlike anything I have seen. Not Valterran. Not Astravian. Not from any court I know.”
“Foreign?” Mingi asked.
“Farther than foreign, if I had to guess.”
Yeosang tilted his head. “What does that mean?”
“It means she looked like she had been pulled out of a story that did not know where to place her.”
That silenced the room again.
Wooyoung rarely spoke so plainly when humor would do.
Jongho tapped one finger once against the arm of his chair. “And the princess?”
Wooyoung exhaled slowly. “That is where things become strange.”
“Stranger than mysterious river girl?” San asked.
“Yes.”
San nodded. “Excellent.”
Wooyoung ignored him. “Before the river incident, Princess Liora was timid. After it, she made a complete turn. Suddenly she was commanding. Loud. Comfortable giving orders. Her posture changed. Her speech changed. She looked directly at everyone.”
“That can happen under stress,” Seonghwa said, though he did not sound convinced.
“It can,” Wooyoung agreed. “But servants also changed around her.”
Hongjoong leaned forward. “How?”
“They behaved as though they were remembering and forgetting at the same time.”
Jongho’s gaze sharpened.
Wooyoung held it. “I know how that sounds.”
“Say it anyway,” Jongho ordered.
Wooyoung nodded. “The guards accepted her authority, but some seemed dazed when doing so. One called her Your Highness, then looked confused afterward, as if surprised by his own mouth. Another stared at the pale servant girl for several seconds like he knew he should recognize her, then turned away in visible discomfort.”
“The pale servant,” Jongho said.
“Liora’s alleged maid.” Wooyoung paused. “Though I would not wager much on alleged.”
Seonghwa’s expression had gone still.
Hongjoong crossed his arms tighter. “You believe the servant is the princess.”
“I believe something happened near the river that altered the roles within the party.”
Mingi sat up slowly. “Magic?”
No one laughed.
Magic was not common in Astravia. But old things did not disappear simply because courts found them inconvenient.
Jongho looked toward the fire. It burned low and steady, gold light licking over the carved edges of the mantel.
“Odette,” he said.
Wooyoung nodded. “The maid who became very timid, but was very commanding before the river.”
“And Y/N saw something.”
Wooyoung smiled again, slower this time. “You like her.”
Jongho looked at him. “You think I am interested in her because she insulted me.”
“I think you are interested in her because she insulted you and then looked at you like she was trying to decide whether you were another problem or a possible weapon.”
San laughed under his breath. “I like her already.”
“You have not met her,” Seonghwa said.
“I like her conceptually.”
Jongho ignored them. “What did she tell you?”
Wooyoung’s grin returned fully. “An extraordinary story.”
“Wooyoung.”
“All right.” He lifted both hands. “She said she came through a magical door on a bridge in another world, fell into the river, nearly drowned, crawled onto the bank, saw something she wasn’t supposed to, and was cursed so she could not tell anyone about it.”
Silence.
Then Yeosang said quietly, “That is oddly specific.”
“Exactly,” Wooyoung said, pointing at him. “Too specific for a lie told in panic.”
Hongjoong looked unconvinced. “Or too absurd for anyone to believe, which makes it safe to say.”
Wooyoung shrugged. “I laughed.”
Jongho’s eyes shifted to him.
Wooyoung winced slightly. “I thought she was joking.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
That answer settled heavily.
Jongho leaned forward. “How do you know?”
“Because when she later tried to say more in the courtyard, she stopped.” Wooyoung’s expression lost its humor again. “Not hesitated. Not reconsidered. Stopped. Like the word died in her throat.”
Jongho remembered. Liora had mentioned pity.
The river girl had opened her mouth. Closed it.
Her throat had moved as if swallowing pain. At the time, he had noticed only because he noticed everything usually. Because he was trained to notice details.
Now the memory sharpened.
“And when she looked at the pale servant,” Wooyoung added, “she looked furious. Protective. Terrified too, but mostly furious.”
“Protective of a stranger?” Mingi asked.
“Possibly not a stranger anymore.”
Seonghwa’s fingers rested together beneath his chin. “If the girl’s story is true, then she is the only witness unaffected enough to remember the original event clearly.”
Jongho nodded once. “Which is why she had her sent to the goose stables.”
San frowned. “That was punishment?”
“Containment,” Jongho said.
Wooyoung pointed again. “That is what I thought.”
“Stop pointing.”
Wooyoung lowered his hand.
Jongho sat back, thoughts moving quickly.
A false princess arriving under a storm. A timid woman turned commanding after the river. A servant girl who looked like grief wearing wool. A horse that disliked the bride. A mysterious woman dragged from the river who claimed a door brought her into their world and a curse sealed her mouth.
And Liora.
Liora, who smiled too easily, demanded too quickly, looked at status not as a duty but as a feast.
The kind of woman he hated most. Because she reminded him of every courtier who believed power was proof of worth.
“Do we have confirmation from Valterre?” Jongho asked.
Hongjoong answered immediately. “A painted likeness was sent six months ago.”
“Bring it.”
Hongjoong crossed to the cabinet along the wall and withdrew a sealed case. Inside, wrapped in cloth, lay a miniature portrait.
He handed it to Jongho. Hongjoong opened the miniature. The painted princess stared back at them.
Dark hair.
Sharp eyes.
Blue velvet.
Liora.
Exactly as she had appeared in the courtyard.
Silence settled over the room.
Wooyoung frowned. „That can’t be right.“
Jongho took the portrait from him.
It was unquestionably the woman currently occupying the princess’s rooms.
Yet something about it bothered him. He could not explain why.
The face matched. The details matched. The title matched.
Everything matched.
So why did it feel wrong?
“Well,” he said softly. “That is Liora.”
Jongho looked at the portrait again.
It was not exact, of course. Portraits flattered. Artists softened flaws and adjusted expressions to please whoever paid them.
But the woman in the painting resembled the bride currently occupying his guest wing. Princess Liora had been sent to him as a treaty.
Somewhere between Valterre and Astravia, something must have happened. He was sure of it, his instincts never betrayed him.
“What about the horse?” he asked.
Wooyoung’s brows lifted. “Falada?”
“The reports mentioned him?”
“Yes. Gift from the late queen. Old bloodline. Valterre superstition says some royal horses understand more than commands.”
“Where is he?”
Wooyoung hesitated. “Liora requested he be kept away from the royal stables. Said the animal became violent on the road.”
“Did he?”
“He became violent around her.”
Jongho closed the portrait. “Have him watched.”
Wooyoung nodded.
“And the girls?” Yunho asked.
“They remain where Liora placed them for now.”
San looked ready to object.
Jongho continued before he could. “If Liora believes they are isolated and dismissed, she may grow careless. If we remove them immediately, she will know we suspect her.”
Hongjoong nodded slowly. “We observe.”
“We verify,” Jongho said. “Quietly.”
Wooyoung smiled again. “I volunteer to talk to Y/N.”
“No.”
His face fell. “Why?”
“Because you enjoy it too much.”
“I enjoy most things. That is a strength.”
“It is a security concern.” Yeosang muttered.
“You may continue your usual duties near the guest wing and stables,” he said. “You will report everything. Do not provoke Odette. Do not reveal suspicion. Do not flirt information out of a traumatized woman who nearly drowned.”
Wooyoung placed a hand over his heart. “I would never exploit trauma.”
Hongjoong stared at him.
Wooyoung sighed. “Fine. I would do it a little bit.”
“Wooyoung.”
“I will behave.”
Nobody believed him.
Jongho moved toward the window.
Beyond the glass, evening settled over the castle grounds. Rain had softened into mist. In the distance, near the lower fields, he could just make out the pale shapes of the goose stables.
He thought of Y/N’s face in the courtyard.
Mud on her jaw. Exhaustion under her eyes. That ridiculous sentence leaving her mouth before fear could catch it.
Who shit in his bed?
Another involuntary trace of amusement threatened him.
He suppressed it again.
She had looked at him without awe. Without calculation. Without desire for his approval.
Even after realizing who he was, she had not folded into apology the way courtiers did when they feared consequence. She had looked horrified, yes, but mostly at herself. As though the danger of insulting a prince mattered less than the embarrassment of having thoughts escape without permission.
Unusual.
And then, when the false Liora spoke, Y/N had gone still in a way that was not obedience.
It was restraint. A woman physically holding back truth.
Jongho knew that look. He had worn it often enough in council chambers filled with men who spoke treason through smiles.
“What are you thinking?” Seonghwa asked quietly.
Jongho did not turn. “That our bride is not what she claims.”
“That much seems likely.”
“And that the girl from the river may be the most honest person who arrived today.”
Wooyoung made a pleased sound. “I knew you liked her.”
Jongho looked over his shoulder.
Wooyoung immediately became fascinated with the ceiling.
“I do not like her,” Jongho said.
San grinned.
Mingi coughed.
Yeosang looked away, suspiciously expressionless.
Jongho’s patience thinned. “She is a witness.”
“Of course,” Wooyoung said. “A very funny snd attractive witness.”
“A cursed witness,” Seonghwa corrected.
“A very funny cursed witness.”
Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose.
Jongho turned back toward the window.
Mist curled low over the fields. Somewhere beyond the walls, geese cried out.
He wondered if Y/N heard them too. He wondered if she was afraid.
Then he wondered why that thought had come so quickly.
Behind him, his advisors began discussing quietly. Valterre. Treaties. The portrait. Magical binding. Ways to test old spells without alerting the caster. Wooyoung, naturally, added several unhelpful suggestions before Hongjoong threatened to assign him archival tax records for a month.
Jongho listened with half an ear.
His mind remained on the courtyard.
On Liorass polished smile.
On Odette’s lowered head.
On Y/N’s throat closing around words she could not speak.
He had spent most of his life being told that power meant commanding armies, signing decrees, making men bow and kingdoms negotiate.
But power was quieter than that sometimes. Sometimes it was the ability to decide which woman was believed. Which name remained attached to a body. Which truth entered history and which was buried beneath stable straw.
Jongho looked once more toward the distant stables.
The false princess had made her first mistake.
She had assumed servants were invisible. Most nobles did.
Jongho never had. “Wooyoung,” he said.
The room quieted.
“Yes?”
“Tomorrow morning, I want the goose stables inspected.”
Wooyoung’s grin returned. “For what?”
Jongho looked at him. “For geese.”
San laughed. Even Hongjoong looked amused despite himself.
Wooyoung bowed deeply. “As Your Highness commands. I shall bravely investigate the suspicious poultry.”
“And Wooyoung.”
He straightened.
“No more jokes about the river girl to her face.”
Wooyoung’s eyes gleamed. “Worried she will dislike me?”
“No,” Jongho said.
Then, after a pause, “Worried she will push you into a river.”
The room broke into quiet laughter. Jongho allowed himself the smallest smile this time, hidden by the window’s reflection.
Then it faded.
Outside, night gathered around the castle.
Somewhere beneath it, a false princess settled into silk. A true one lay beside geese. And a girl from another world carried a truth no one could hear.
A week had passed. Seven days.
Seven mornings of being woken by geese screaming at the sun as if personally offended by ist existence. Seven afternoons spent chasing those same geese across fields while they committed increasingly creative acts of destruction.Seven evenings returning to the supply hut smelling vaguely of feathers, mud, and regret.
If someone had told Y/N two weeks ago that she would spend her days herding geese in a medieval kingdom after falling through a magical door, she would have laughed herself sick.
Now it was simply Tuesday. Or what she assumed was Tuesday.
Time had become difficult to track when your daily schedule revolved around poultry.
„Gertrude!“
The large white goose ignored her.
Y/N sighed. „Gertrude, I swear to God.“
The goose waddled faster.
Which was impressive considering geese were apparently fueled entirely by spite.
Y/N rolled her sleeves higher and continued after her through the tall grass.
The afternoon sun warmed her shoulders. Unlike the miserable rain-soaked journey to the castle, the last week had been bright and mild. Autumn painted the surrounding hills gold and copper, and the fields around the castle glowed beneath endless stretches of blue sky.
Beautiful. If one ignored the geese.
„Come back here.“
Gertrude honked. An insult. Y/N was certain of it.
A second goose joined her rebellion. Then a third. Soon four white feathery traitors were running through the field like tiny criminals.
„Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.“
Behind her came laughter. Y/N turned.
Liora sat on the fence, trying and failing to hide her amusement.
Or rather, Odette sat on the fence. Everyone called her Odette now.
The magic remained as cruel and effective as ever.
Even Y/N had nearly slipped twice during the first days.
Not because she forgot who Liora was. Because hearing dozens of people call her Odette all day did strange things to the brain.
Still, when they were alone, Y/N always corrected herself. At least in her head.
Liora remained Liora. No spell could change that.
„You think this is funny?“ Y/N demanded.
„Very.“
„Traitor.“
Liora’s smile widened.
The transformation over the last week surprised Y/N more than anything else.
Liora still looked exhausted whenever she thought nobody was watching.
Still looked heartbroken when the castle celebrated the arrival of „Princess Liora.“ Still looked away whenever Odette crossed the courtyard wearing stolen silk.
But something else had changed.
For the first few days, Liora apologized for everything.
Everything.
For speaking. For asking questions. For accidentally stepping in mud. For not carrying enough buckets. For existing.
Y/N had nearly lost her mind.
The third apology before breakfast had broken something inside her.
„You need to stop saying sorry.“
Liora had blinked. „Sorry.“
Y/N had screamed into a hay bale.
Now, thankfully, things had improved. A little.
The geese helped.
Strangely enough.
Because the animals adored Y/N.
Nobody knew why. Least of all Y/N.
The first morning one goose had followed her.
By the third day there were five. By the end of the week the entire flock treated her like some sort of feathered queen.
Which would have been charming if geese possessed even a single ounce of dignity.
Instead they followed her everywhere.
Once into the washing area where they had nearly started an international incident with a visiting noblewoman.
The stable workers found it hilarious. Y/N did not.
Gertrude finally surrendered and waddled back toward the flock.
Y/N pointed at her. „That’s right.“
The goose honked.
Y/N narrowed her eyes. „We’re going to fight one day.“
The goose honked again. Louder.
Liora laughed so hard she nearly slipped from the fence.
The sound warmed something inside Y/N.
A week ago Liora had barely smiled.
Now she laughed almost daily.
Enough to remind Y/N there was still a person beneath all the grief.
The stable doors creaked open nearby.
A young man emerged carrying a sack of grain.
Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Ridiculously attractive.
Y/N immediately regretted looking.
The stable hand noticed and smiled.
And Y/N regretted looking even more.
„Finished terrorizing the geese?“
„Never.“
His smile widened. „Good.“
Liora made a suspiciously innocent noise.
Y/N threw a piece of straw at her. It bounced off her shoulder.
The stable hand laughed. His name was Minseok.
And if Y/N was being completely honest with herself, flirting with him had been one of her better survival decisions.
Not because she actually planned to romance a stable hand in another dimension.
But because geese stables were miserable. The supply hut where she and Liora slept had originally contained:
One blanket Three broken buckets. A family of mice.
That was it.
After three days of strategic flirting, they suddenly had: Extra blankets, Proper hay mattresses, Access to warm water, Clean soap, Occasional fresh bread
Y/N considered that a diplomatic victory.
Liora called it manipulation.
Y/N called it resource management.
The stable hand waved before disappearing again.
Y/N finally dropped into the grass beside the fence.
Every muscle ached. She stretched her legs.
Above them, clouds drifted lazily across the afternoon sky.
For a while neither spoke.
The geese grazed nearby. The castle stood atop the hill overlooking everything like a silent stone giant.
Eventually Y/N sighed. A long dramatic sigh.
Liora immediately smiled. „Oh no.“
„Oh yes.“
„Y/N—“
„Oh yes.“
Liora laughed. „The daily rant?“
„The daily rant.“
She crossed her arms.
Looked toward the castle. And began.
„First of all.“
Liora groaned.
„The prince.“
Y/N pointed dramatically toward the castle.
„He walks around looking like somebody murdered joy personally.“
Liora laughed. „He isn’t that bad.“
„You haven’t spoken to him.“
„Neither have you.“
„Exactly.“
Liora rolled her eyes.
Y/N continued. „I’ve seen him four times.“
„Five.“ Liora covered her mouth.
„The point is, every time I see him, he looks like he’s judging an entire kingdom.“
„He is a crown prince.“
„Then he should stop.“
Liora laughed harder.
„And don’t even get me started on Wooyoung.“
At that, Liora groaned properly.
Y/N pointed again. „No.“
„Y/N—“
„No.“
„The poor man.“
„The poor man?“ Y/N sat upright. „The poor man?“
Liora nodded. „Yes.“
„He spent an entire journey spying on us.“
„That was his job.“
„He lied.“
„He never actually said he was a guard.“
„That somehow makes it worse.“
Liora buried her face in her hands.
Y/N kept going. „He smiles too much.“
„He does.“
„He knows it.“
„He definitely knows it.“
„And every time he appears, I know he’s about to cause problems.“
„That’s fair.“
„Exactly.“
Y/N leaned back dramatically. „I hope he steps on a rake.“
Liora laughed so hard she nearly fell off the fence. „Y/N!“
„I’m serious.“
„No you’re not.“
„I hope two rakes.“
Liora’s shoulders shook.
„And the prince is no better.“
„Oh no.“
„Oh yes.“
Y/N threw both hands into the air. „Sending his little spy to investigate us.“
Liora wiped tears from her eyes. „Maybe he was just doing his duty.“
„He was spying.“
„He was gathering information.“
„Spying with extra steps being annoying.“
Liora laughed again.
Y/N dropped back into the grass. „I hate them.“
„You do not.“
„I do.“
„You absolutely do not.“
Y/N pointed upward. „The prince is grim.“
„Mmhm.“
„Wooyoung is suspicious.“
„Mmhm.“
„The entire castle is suspicious.“
„Mmhm.“
„And somehow the geese are the most emotionally stable residents here.“
A voice cleared itself behind them. Amused.
Y/N froze.
Liora froze.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
They turned around.
Wooyoung stood there. Already laughing.
Beside him stood six other men.
Men Y/N recognized from around the castle.
The prince’s advisors. The ones she occasionally saw crossing courtyards or entering council meetings.
And standing directly in the middle of them. Crown Prince Jongho.
Wooyoung looked delighted. „Two rakes?“
Y/N closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, Wooyoung was still grinning.
Unfortunately.
The other men looked equally entertained.
One was openly laughing. A very tall one.
Another had both hands over his face.
A third looked like he was desperately trying not to smile.
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
Liora had gone completely pale.
Y/N could practically hear her internally planning ten different funeral arrangements.
Wooyoung folded his arms. „So.“
Y/N stared. „So.“
„The geese are emotionally stable?“
„Compared to you?“
His grin widened. „See?“
One of the advisors laughed.
The prince remained silent.
Watching.
Y/N could feel it.
His attention settled on her with uncomfortable precision.
Most people would apologize.
Liora certainly expected her to.
Probably everyone did.
After all, she’d just insulted the future king of Astravia and his advisors while assuming nobody could hear her.
A normal person would apologize.
Y/N had nearly drowned in a magical river, been cursed, dragged across a kingdom, and forced to work in a goose stable for a week.
Normal had left months ago. Or maybe another world entirely.
Slowly she stood. Brushed grass from her skirt. Lifted her chin.
And met Jongho’s eyes directly.
Challenge for challenge.
Silence stretched.
Wooyoung looked like he might explode from happiness.
The prince watched her. Y/N watched back.
Neither looked away.
Then one corner of Jongho’s mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
But close enough that Y/N suddenly understood something very important.
The prince liked being challenged.
And that was probably going to become everyone’s problem.
The worst part was that Jongho looked entirely unimpressed.
Not offended.
Not angry.
Not scandalized.
Just… unimpressed.
As though finding two women sitting in a field insulting him was a perfectly ordinary occurrence.
Y/N hated that. A little. Maybe a lot.
The geese continued grazing around them, blissfully unaware that their lives had suddenly become significantly more complicated.
A breeze stirred through the grass.
Nobody spoke.
Wooyoung was visibly struggling.
Y/N could see it in the way his shoulders shook every few seconds.
The prince stood with his hands clasped behind his back, dark clothing stark against the gold-green field. His advisors remained nearby, watching with varying degrees of amusement.
And still Jongho looked at her.
Waiting.
Y/N lifted her chin another fraction.
Fine.
If he wanted to stare. She could stare too.
She had spent years working customer service jobs.
No prince was winning a staring contest.
Not today. Not ever.
The silence stretched.
One second. Two. Five. Ten.
Y/N remained stubborn.
Jongho remained stubborn.
Around them, everyone else seemed to realize something strange was happening.
Wooyoung’s grin widened.
Liora looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole.
Y/N refused to blink first.
Jongho narrowed his eyes slightly.
Y/N narrowed hers right back.
Then. Finally.
Jongho looked away first. Only for a second.
A brief glance toward the geese.
But it counted. It absolutely counted.
A surge of victory shot through Y/N.
She tried not to smile.
Wooyoung immediately noticed. „Oh no.“
Y/N looked at him. „What?“
„You think you won.“
„I did.“
Jongho looked back at her.
His eyebrow lifted. Y/N crossed her arms.
„You looked away.“
Jongho looked completely unbothered. „Did I?“
„Yes.“
„I was observing the geese.“
„You surrendered.“
„I observed the geese.“
„You lost.“
A dangerous flicker appeared in his eyes.
Not anger. Challenge.
„You are remarkably confident for someone employed by poultry.“
Y/N gasped.
The advisors immediately started laughing.
Even Seonghwa smiled.
Liora covered her mouth. „Did he just insult my profession?“ Y/N demanded.
Wooyoung nodded solemnly. „He did.“
„The audacity.“
Jongho’s mouth twitched. „There are no professions here.“
„There are now.“
The prince looked genuinely curious. „Oh?“
„I am Head Goose Manager.“
„Head Goose Manager?“ Jongho repeated.
Y/N nodded. „Very prestigious position.“
„I see.“
„I worked hard for it.“
„Did you?“
„The geese elected me.“
The silence that followed lasted exactly three seconds before Wooyoung bent over laughing.
Y/N pointed at him. „Don’t encourage me.“
„Too late.“
„You’re the reason I’m like this.“
„I’ve known you a week.“
„Exactly.“
That somehow made Wooyoung laugh harder.
Jongho shook his head.
The expression was small. Subtle.
But Y/N noticed it.
And worse. She realized he was enjoying this.
The prince. The grim terrifying prince.
Was enjoying himself.
That felt illegal.
Beside her, Liora was openly smiling now.
Not the tiny careful ones she’d been giving lately.
A proper one.
Y/N immediately felt better.
That alone made the embarrassment worthwhile.
Jongho’s attention shifted briefly toward her.
The smile faded from his face.
Not because he disliked it.
More because he seemed surprised by it.
His gaze lingered on Liora for a second longer than expected.
Then returned to Y/N.
„You have been living here for a week?“
Y/N blinked.
The sudden seriousness caught her off guard.
„Unfortunately.“
„In the stables.“
„Technically the supply hut.“
„That does not improve the situation.“
„Depends on your standards.“
„It doesn’t.“
Fair.
Jongho looked toward the small hut near the edge of the field.
His expression darkened slightly. „You’ve been sleeping there?“
Y/N followed his gaze.
The hut looked pathetic from a distance.
It looked worse up close.
She shrugged. „At least it doesn’t leak anymore.“
Wooyoung frowned. „Anymore?“
„Long story.“
The prince’s eyes narrowed.
Then slowly he looked toward Liora.
Or Odette. For everyone else.
The girl immediately lowered her gaze.
Jongho watched her carefully.
Then looked back toward Y/N.
„I was informed this arrangement was temporary.“
„It was.“
„One week is not temporary.“
Y/N snorted.
„Tell that to your princess.“
The air shifted.
Slightly.
Not enough for anyone except Y/N and Liora to notice.
Liora’s shoulders tensed immediately.
Jongho saw that too.
Y/N could tell.
Because he missed very little.
The prince was quiet for a moment.
„It is childish.“
Everyone blinked.
Jongho folded his arms.
„It is childish for a future queen to leave her ladies in waiting sleeping beside geese for a week.“
Y/N stared.
Liora looked completely frozen.
The prince continued as though discussing weather.
„You will be moved into the castle.“
Y/N blinked.
„What?“
„The guest servants‘ quarters.“
„What?“
„I spoke clearly.“
„You can’t just do that.“
„I can.“
Y/N hated that answer.
Mostly because it was true.
Wooyoung looked delighted.
„Welcome to the castle.“
„Oh no.“
„Oh yes.“
Liora looked equally shocked.
Jongho glanced toward her.
„You as well.“
Liora opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Nothing came out.
The prince’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The moment passed.
He looked back at Y/N.
Then something changed.
He stepped closer.
Not threateningly.
Not aggressively.
Just enough that Y/N suddenly became aware of how tall he actually was.
Annoyingly tall.
She hated when men were tall.
It made arguments less dramatic.
Y/N refused to step back.
Jongho stopped directly in front of her.
Close enough now that she could properly see him.
And unfortunately.
Very unfortunately.
Her eyes betrayed her.
Because he was handsome.
Extremely handsome.
The kind of handsome that made people write poetry.
Which was deeply inconvenient.
Strong jaw.
Dark eyes.
Long lashes that seemed unfair on principle.
The sort of face sculptors would get inspired about.
Y/N immediately decided she disliked it.
On principle.
Jongho looked down slightly.
Then down more.
Y/N frowned.
„What?“
His mouth curved.
A genuine smirk this time.
„You’re very feisty.“
Y/N narrowed her eyes.
„So?“
His gaze dropped again.
And Y/N suddenly realized exactly what he was looking at.
Her height.
The absolute bastard.
„You are also very small.“
The advisors lost whatever restraint remained.
Y/N stared.
Offended.
Horrified.
Personally attacked.
„I hate this kingdom.“
Liora laughed.
The sound escaped before she could stop it.
Bright.
Warm.
Natural.
The entire group fell silent.
Immediately.
Because none of them had heard that laugh before.
Not from her.
Liora froze.
Her smile vanished.
Fear replaced it so quickly it hurt to see.
Jongho’s attention snapped toward her.
The prince studied her face.
Not the way he looked at Y/N.
Not amused.
Not entertained.
Focused.
Interested.
The kind of look people gave puzzles.
Liora lowered her head.
Too late.
Jongho had noticed.
Y/N felt it happen. Like a piece finally sliding into place.
The prince took one step toward her.
„What’s your name?“
Liora froze.
Everyone else expected a simple answer.
Only Y/N knew what was about to happen.
Liora swallowed. „Odette.“
The word came automatically.
Like something forcing itself through her throat.
Jongho continued watching her. „How long have you served Princess Liora?“
Liora’s fingers clenched in her skirt. „A long time.“
Not a lie.
Not really.
The prince nodded once.
Then.
Very quietly.
„Are you sure the princess is who she claims to be?“
The world stopped.
Y/N felt it.
Like cold water down her spine.
Liora went completely still.
The color drained from her face.
Jongho noticed. Of course he noticed.
The advisors noticed too.
Wooyoung’s smile vanished.
Y/N looked at Liora.
The girl opened her mouth.
For one glorious second hope surged through Y/N.
Maybe…
Maybe…
Maybe…
Liora tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
Not silence.
Nothing.
As if her voice had simply ceased to exist.
Terror flashed across her face.
Jongho took another step forward.
„What is it?“
Liora tried again.
Still nothing.
Y/N felt her stomach drop.
No.
No no no.
The curse.
The spell.
It was fighting back.
Liora looked desperate now.
Her mouth moved.
No sound emerged.
Jongho’s expression sharpened.
„What happened?“
Y/N stepped forward immediately.
„The princess—“
Pain exploded through her throat.
She choked.
The words died instantly.
Every face turned toward her.
Y/N grabbed her neck.
No. Not now.
„The princess is—“
Agony.
White-hot.
Violent.
Something ripped through her chest.
Blood filled her mouth.
Y/N coughed.
Red splattered across the grass.
Gasps erupted around her.
The spell awakened fully.
Y/N staggered. „The princess—“
More blood.
Her knees buckled.
Pain shot through every nerve.
Not physical. Not entirely.
Magic.
Truth you carry.
Truth you keep.
The words slammed into her mind.
Louder.
Truth you carry.
Truth you keep.
Y/N screamed.
Or thought she did.
Nothing reached the air.
The field disappeared.
The geese scattered in panic.
Somebody grabbed her shoulders.
Maybe Wooyoung.
Maybe Jongho.
She couldn’t tell.
Everything blurred.
Truth you carry.
Truth you keep.
The rhyme repeated.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Violently.
As though someone hammered it directly into her skull.
Y/N doubled over.
Another cough.
More blood.
Her body convulsed.
The grass rushed upward.
Strong hands caught her before she hit the ground.
„The healer!“ someone shouted.
„The hell is happening?“ Wooyoung barked.
He sounded alarmed.
Which somehow terrified her more than the pain.
Liora was crying now.
She could see it.
The girl’s face above her.
Horrified. Helpless.
Jongho knelt beside her.
The prince’s face was closer than she’d ever seen it.
Not grim now.
Concerned.
His hand supported the back of her neck.
„Y/N.“
The sound of her name seemed distant.
Wrong.
Truth you carry.
Truth you keep.
The spell kept repeating.
Over and over.
Faster now.
Louder.
She tried to speak.
To explain.
To tell him.
To tell all of them.
But the moment the truth formed, agony tore through her again.
Her vision darkened.
Jongho’s face blurred.
Liora’s tears became streaks of light.
Wooyoung appeared beside them.
For once not smiling.
Not joking.
Genuinely worried.
That almost made her laugh.
The world tilted.
The last thing Y/N saw before darkness swallowed her completely was Jongho looking down at her as if she had just confirmed every suspicion he’d been carrying for a week.
And beside him. Liora.
Still trying desperately to speak. Still unable to make a sound.
Then everything went black.
Fairytale Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Jonghos Masterlist
To read the other members Fairytale Retellings go to the Fairytale Masterlist
Y/N never expected a mysterious door to pull her into a Grimm fairytale. After nearly drowning in a raging river, she witnesses a maid stealing a princess's identity through dark magic and is cursed into silence before she can expose the truth.
Now trapped in a kingdom that isn't hers, Y/N must navigate court intrigue, a stolen crown, an increasingly suspicious Crown Prince Jongho, and growing feelings that are determined to go terribly wrong.
Pairing: Jongho x Reader
Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Dark Fairytale, Royal AU
Tropes: Goose Girl Retelling, Slow Burn, Grumpy Prince x Feisty Heroine, Hidden Identity, Curse of Silence, Banter, Court Intrigue, Portal Fantasy, Stolen Crown, Forced Proximity, "She Knows The Truth"
Fairytale Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Jonghos Masterlist
To read the other members Fairytale Retellings go to the Fairytale Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
This is Part 1
The eigth woman discovered her door just as twilight balanced between gold and blue.
Y/N stood on the bridge with both hands curled around the cold railing, watching the river carry the day away. The water below moved slowly at first glance, but the longer she looked, the more she noticed the strength beneath its surface. The current pulled at fallen leaves and broken twigs, carrying them beneath the bridge and away from the city as though nothing could convince it to turn back.
She envied that, a little.
The ability to keep moving. To be pulled somewhere without having to choose.
Behind her, the city breathed in restless intervals. Cars passed with low sighs of tires against damp road. A tram bell rang somewhere in the distance. Someone laughed too loudly outside a café, their voice bright and careless in the evening air.
Y/N did not turn around.
She watched her reflection instead.
It wavered beneath her, caught between the last gold of sunset and the deepening blue of approaching night. Sometimes the water held her face clearly enough that she recognized herself. Sometimes the current broke her apart until she became only fragments.
She wondered, not for the first time that week, if this was what everyone else saw when they looked at her.
A quiet coworker. A patient daughter. A reliable friend. Someone who listened well, who remembered birthdays, who answered messages even when she had no strength left for conversation.
Never the whole.
Her phone sat heavy in her coat pocket. The call had ended nearly fifteen minutes ago, but her mother’s voice still clung to her thoughts.
You could sound a little happier for her.
Y/N closed her eyes briefly.
Her cousin was engaged. Everyone was thrilled. There had been talk of venues and guest lists, of dresses and colors and whether autumn weddings were more romantic than spring ones. Y/N had congratulated her. She had meant it. She had asked questions. She had listened.
Still, somehow, she had failed.
Again.
You always sound so distant lately.
As if distance had not become the only way she knew how to survive without spilling everything she carried.
She opened her eyes again.
The river had darkened. A breeze brushed across the bridge, cool enough to make her pull her coat tighter around herself. It smelled of rain and stone and something metallic from the road.
She should go home.
There was laundry waiting. A half-finished email she had promised herself she would not answer until morning. A plant on her windowsill that had begun to droop dramatically, as if personally offended by her neglect.
Ordinary things. Manageable things.
Things that belonged to the life she had built carefully, even if lately it felt less like a life and more like a room she kept tidying while the walls moved closer.
Her reflection trembled again.
Y/N let out a quiet breath. “Maybe,” she murmured to the water, “I just want to disappear for a while.”
She did not mean it badly.
She did not want to vanish forever.
She only wanted to step outside the constant weight of being known incorrectly. To go somewhere no one expected her to perform the right kind of happiness, the right kind of grief, the right kind of love.
Somewhere her silence would not be mistaken for emptiness. Somewhere she could be no one.
Just briefly.
The wind shifted.
The city sounds softened.
At first, she did not notice. Silence had a way of entering gently when it wished not to be refused. The cars still moved behind her, but their noise seemed farther away. The voices faded. Even the river beneath her changed, its steady rush lowering into something almost like a whisper.
Y/N lifted her head.
At the center of the bridge stood a door.
She stared at it.
Her mind tried, to make sense of what could not be sensible.
But each explanation died almost as soon as it appeared.
There was no wall. No frame beyond the door itself. No workers nearby. No sign asking people to admire or avoid it. It stood alone on the pavement, tall and pale gray, facing her as if it had been waiting for exactly this moment.
People walked past without looking.
A man in a dark coat stepped around it with the absent ease of someone avoiding a puddle he did not consciously register. A woman with headphones passed so close to the handle that her sleeve should have brushed against it. She never slowed.
No one saw it.
Y/N knew that immediately. The knowledge settled cold in her stomach.
The door was painted the color of river mist before sunrise. Along its arch, strands of silver hair curled and twisted as though caught beneath water. They were too delicate to be simple decoration. Too alive. Every few seconds, they stirred without wind.
Below, in the river, the door reflected perfectly.
That was impossible.
It stood on solid pavement, several steps away from the railing, yet the water mirrored it as though another door stood beneath the bridge. One above. One below.
Both waiting.
Y/N took a step back.
Her pulse had begun to beat harder.
She should leave. Every reasonable part of her understood that. But reason had become very small.
Something else unfolded in her chest instead. Not courage. Not exactly. More like the strange quiet that came before making a decision already made somewhere deeper than thought.
The air changed.
The bridge smelled suddenly of lake water, rain-soaked wool, extinguished candles and white feathers.
Y/N’s brows drew together faintly.
White feathers did not have a smell.
And yet she knew it.
The door did not move. It did not need to. Her feet carried her closer.
The city fell away with every step until only the river remained loud beneath the bridge. She stopped before the door and looked at the silver handle.
Her reflection warped across it.
For one second, she looked crowned by the last light of evening. For another, she looked like a stranger.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispered.
Her hand rose anyway.
The handle was cold.
The chill slipped beneath her skin and moved through her veins with unsettling care, as if searching for something it had misplaced. Y/N inhaled sharply, but her fingers did not let go.
Then sorrow brushed against her heart.
Not her own.
A grief made of stolen names and swallowed truths. Of someone kneeling in mud while the world bowed to another. Of silk dragged through dirt. Of a voice forced quiet while lies dressed themselves in gold.
Her breath caught.
The silver strands along the door trembled.
And the rhyme came, from everywhere at once.
“Silk to rags and crown to dust,
Guard your name and learn whom to trust.
Though false tongues weave a stolen tale,
The quiet truth shall yet prevail.”
The words passed through her like cold light.
The river roared.
Y/N gasped and tried to step back, but the handle turned beneath her palm.
The door opened inward.
Water waited on the other side. Black and violent, shining beneath rain. Before she could scream, the bridge vanished beneath her feet.
The world dropped.
Y/N fell forward through the doorway and into freezing water.
The cold hit like a blow. It swallowed her whole, closing over her head before she could understand what had happened. For one suspended heartbeat, there was only darkness and shock. Then the river seized her.
The current dragged her down and sideways at once.
Panic exploded through her chest.
Y/N kicked wildly, but her coat became heavy instantly, wrapping around her like grasping hands. Water filled her ears. Her boots struck something hard, a rock or branch, sending pain up her leg.
She opened her mouth. Water rushed in.
No sound came out and her lungs burned.
She clawed upward, or what she hoped was upward, but the river twisted her until direction lost meaning. The world became black water, silver rain, the blur of pale foam above her, then darkness again.
No.
The thought came sharp and terrified.
No, no, no.
Her hand broke the surface first. Then her face.
Y/N gasped, choking on air and water at once.
Rain hammered down around her, so heavy it seemed the sky itself had broken open. She saw trees along both banks, dark and enormous. She saw no bridge. No city. No door.
Only river. Which tore her forward.
She tried to swim, but the water was stronger than anything she had ever felt. It did not move around her. It took her. It spun her, dragged her beneath again, then threw her up into rain and night.
“Help!”
The word tore from her throat, broken and useless beneath the storm.
No one answered.
A branch struck her shoulder. She cried out, swallowed more water, and went under again.
This time the current held her longer.
Her chest spasmed. The instinct to breathe became unbearable.
She thrashed, fingers scraping against smooth stone beneath the surface. Something tangled briefly around her wrist, perhaps weeds or roots, then slipped away.
She thought of the bridge.
Of the door. Of how stupidly, desperately, quietly she had wished to disappear.
But not like this.
The thought cut through her panic with terrible clarity.
Not like this.
Y/N kicked harder. Her head broke the surface again.
She coughed violently, barely managing one breath before the current pulled her toward a bend where the river narrowed between rocks. The water there churned white and furious.
If it took her into that, she would not come back up.
Fear sharpened into action.
She looked for anything.
A branch. A stone. A root.
The left bank rose steep and dark, slick with mud. Too far. The right bank dipped lower where reeds bent into the water.
Y/N forced herself toward it.
Her arms felt useless. Her coat dragged at her shoulders. Every stroke seemed to move her no closer, yet she kept fighting because the alternative was the white roar ahead.
The river spun her sideways.
Her foot struck the riverbed for half a second and she felt ground. She pushed against it with everything she had.
The current knocked her down again.
Her fingers caught reeds. They tore free instantly.
She lunged again. This time her hand closed around something thicker.
A root.
The force of the river nearly ripped her shoulder from its socket.
Y/N screamed, but the sound became a strangled gasp. Her other hand slapped blindly against mud until she found another root. She clung to both, body stretched by the current, legs still in the water.
For several seconds, she could do nothing but hold on.
Her hands burned. Her lungs burned.
Everything burned except her skin, which had gone numb with cold.
Slowly, inch by inch, she pulled herself toward the bank.
Mud collapsed beneath her elbows. Water dragged at her hips. Her boots slipped against the stones. She sobbed once from effort, ugly and involuntary, then dug her fingers deeper into the roots.
Her chest hit the bank. She clawed at grass and wet earth, dragging herself forward until the river released her legs with one last violent tug.
Y/N collapsed fully onto the ground.
For a while, she was only a body trying to survive.
She coughed until river water spilled from her mouth. She rolled onto her side, shaking so hard her teeth struck together. Rain continued falling, soaking her hair, her clothes, the mud beneath her cheek.
She could not think.
There was only the memory of water over her head. The burn in her lungs. The horrible certainty of being pulled somewhere she did not want to go.
She pressed one hand to her chest as if to prove it still rose.
In. Out.
In. Out.
Her breath came jaggedly. But she was alive.
The realization did not comfort her immediately.
She was alive, and the door was gone, and the bridge was gone, and the world she knew was gone.
A laugh escaped her.
It broke apart halfway into something closer to a sob. Y/N covered her mouth with one trembling hand.
“Okay,” she whispered, though nothing was okay. “Okay.”
She pushed herself up slowly.
The riverbank sloped into a narrow strip of reeds and wet grass beneath tall trees. Beyond them, the land rose toward what looked like a road, though the storm and darkness made everything uncertain.
Her whole body hurt.
One knee throbbed. Her shoulder ached where the branch had struck her. Her palms were scraped raw from the roots.
She looked down at herself and almost laughed again.
Mud coated her jeans. Her coat hung heavy and shapeless. Her hair clung to her face in wet strands. One boot had nearly filled with water.
Then she heard voices.
At first, she thought she had imagined them. The rain was loud and the river louder, but there, beneath both, came the unmistakable sound of women speaking.
One voice was low and smooth.
The other trembled.
Y/N’s body reacted before her mind caught up. She lowered herself behind the reeds and listened.
The voices came from beyond the trees, somewhere slightly uphill from the bank. She crawled carefully through the wet grass, every movement sending cold fabric clinging tighter against her skin. Branches scratched at her hands. Mud soaked through her sleeves.
The ground leveled near the edge of the road.
Y/N peered through a tangle of shrubs.
Lantern light glowed in the rain. Two horses stood nearby beneath a cluster of trees. One was white, pale even in the storm, with a mane braided in silver ribbons. The other was dark brown and restless, stamping at the muddy ground.
Beside them stood two women.
One wore a cloak of deep blue velvet trimmed with fur, though it was soaked now and heavy from the rain. Beneath it, Y/N glimpsed cream silk embroidered with silver. Her pale hair had loosened from its careful braid, wet strands clinging to her cheeks.
She looked young. Frightened.
Royal, somehow, even while trembling.
The other woman stood across from her in a servant’s dark traveling dress.
At least, Y/N assumed she was a servant.
But nothing in the woman’s posture belonged to service. She held herself like someone already seated on a throne.
Her hair was black, braided tightly over one shoulder. Rain traced the sharp lines of her face, but she did not seem bothered by the cold. One hand rested on the white horse’s bridle, though the animal kept pulling away from her touch.
“You are being unreasonable,” the dark-haired woman said.
Her voice carried easily despite the storm.
The blonde woman took a step back. “I am being unreasonable because I will not hand over my mother’s charm?”
“Because you cling to childish protections when we are days from Astravia and you still behave as though songs and ribbons will save you.”
“It is not a ribbon.”
“No,” the maid said, smiling faintly. “It is blood wrapped in silk. How sentimental.”
The princess’s hand went to her throat.
Only then did Y/N see it.
A small charm hung there on a silver chain. Not a jewel exactly. A strip of white cloth folded and sealed beneath crystal, stained at the center with three drops of dark red.
The princess closed her fingers over it. “My mother gave it to me.”
“Yes. So you have said. Many times.”
“She told me never to let anyone take it.”
The maid stepped closer. The princess retreated. The white horse jerked against the bridle and let out a low, furious sound.
“Falada,” the princess whispered.
The horse stilled slightly at her voice.
Y/N’s fingers tightened around the wet branches in front of her.
She should not be watching this. She should call out. Ask for help. Explain that she had fallen through a door and nearly drowned and had no idea where she was.
But something about the scene held her silent.
The maid tilted her head. “Your mother is dead.”
The princess flinched.
The words were spoken without cruelty in tone, which somehow made them crueler.
“She cannot protect you,” the maid continued. “Your father sent you across half the continent to marry a prince you have never met. Your guards obey whoever gives orders clearly enough. Your ladies are frightened of their own shadows. And you…”
Her gaze swept over the princess slowly. “You cry when horses stumble.”
The princess’s face tightened. “I am not ashamed of having a heart.”
“You should be. Hearts are handles. People use them to drag you wherever they wish.”
The maid held out her hand. “The charm.”
“No.”
For the first time, the maid’s expression changed.
Not much. Only a small hardening around the mouth.
But the air seemed to grow colder.
Y/N felt it from her hiding place.
The princess felt it too. Her shoulders drew inward, but she did not remove her hand from the charm. “I am still your princess, Odette.”
Odette.
The name moved through the rain like something poisonous.
The maid smiled. “For now.”
The princess went still. “What did you say?”
Odette released the white horse’s bridle.
Falada stepped backward instantly, ears pinned, eyes fixed on her.
“I said,” Odette repeated softly, “for now.”
The princess shook her head once, as if refusing to understand. “No.”
“Yes.”
“You swore loyalty to me.”
“I swore survival to myself first.”
“You were my friend.”
Something flickered in Odette’s face.
It might have been anger. It might have been disgust.
“Friend,” she echoed. “Is that what you called it when I brushed your hair and fastened your gowns? When I walked three steps behind you? When I slept outside your door while you dreamed beneath silk?”
The princess’s lips parted. “I never treated you cruelly.”
Odette laughed then. A soft, humorless sound.
“That is the easiest defense of those born above others. I was not cruel. As if kindness from a height is the same as standing equal.”
Rain slid down the princess’s face.
Perhaps not all of it was rain. “I would have helped you.”
“No,” Odette said. “You would have pitied me. Sweetly. Gently. You would have given me a necklace one winter and called yourself generous. Then you would have married your prince and become queen while I folded your nightgowns.”
The princess looked wounded.
Not because the words were entirely false, Y/N thought. Because some part of her feared they were true.
Odette stepped forward. “The charm, Liora.”
Liora. The princess’s name.
Y/N held onto it without knowing why.
Liora’s fingers tightened around the chain. “No.”
Odette sighed. “Then I will take it.”
Liora turned toward the white horse. “Falada!”
The horse lunged.
Y/N gasped before she could stop herself.
Odette’s head snapped toward the shrubs.
For one terrible second, their eyes nearly met through the rain. Y/N ducked lower, heart hammering.
The white horse screamed.
When Y/N dared to look again, Odette had lifted one hand. Around her wrist, a silver thread gleamed, thin as hair.
Falada stood rigid.
His whole body trembled with the effort of resisting whatever held him still.
Liora stared in horror. “What have you done?”
“What I should have done before we left your father’s gates.”
Odette moved quickly.
She grabbed the charm at Liora’s throat and tore it free.
Liora cried out, both hands flying upward too late. The moment the chain broke, the rain stopped.
One moment it poured from the sky, the next the world held still.
Droplets hung in the air around them like glass beads.
Y/N forgot how to breathe.
The river below continued roaring, but even that sound seemed farther away now.
Odette wrapped the broken chain around her own wrist, beside the silver thread.
Then she spoke. “Silk to rags and crown to dust.”
Liora stumbled.
Her cream silk dulled before Y/N’s eyes, the embroidery fading thread by thread until the gown became coarse gray wool. The fur at her shoulders shrank into a plain wet shawl. Pearls slipped from her hair and fell soundlessly into the mud.
“Blood to thread and name to rust.”
Liora clutched at her throat. “No…”
Her voice cracked.
Odette’s dark dress shimmered.
The fabric deepened, softened, reshaping itself into blue velvet. Silver embroidery climbed over the sleeves like frost. Her braid loosened into something elegant, pinned with pearls that had belonged moments before to Liora.
Y/N pressed one hand over her mouth.
The world was rewriting them.
“Let every eye that looks this way, See servant born and princess made.”
Liora dropped to her knees. Mud splashed around her. Her hair, once arranged with care, hung loose and rain-dark over her shoulders. Her hands shook violently.
Odette stood above her now dressed in royal blue.
The stolen charm gleamed at her wrist. “There,” she said softly. “Better.”
Liora looked up at her. “You cannot do this.”
“I have.”
“They will know.”
Odette crouched in front of her. “Who?”
“My guards.”
“They will remember a nervous servant who frightened the horses.”
“My father.”
“Your father gave you away.”
Liora flinched. “The prince.”
At that, Odette smiled. “Crown Prince Jongho has never seen your face and even if he had, the people know only see what I want them to see.”
Liora went pale.
The name settled into the air with weight.
Jongho.
Y/N did not know who he was. But the way Liora reacted told her enough.
Odette reached out and touched Liora’s cheek with almost tender mockery. “By the time anyone thinks to question me, I will already be wearing his crown.”
Liora struck her hand away.
Odette’s expression darkened.
The suspended raindrops trembled. “You still think defiance belongs to you.”
She lifted one finger.
The silver thread around her wrist pulsed. Liora cried out and folded forward, clutching her chest.
Y/N moved without thinking. Only an inch.
A twig snapped beneath her knee.
The sound was tiny, but In the unnatural stillness, it might as well have been thunder.
Odette turned. This time, she looked directly at Y/N.
“Well,” she said.
Y/N’s blood went cold.
She scrambled backward, but mud betrayed her. Her hand slipped. Branches shook. Leaves parted fully, exposing her where she crouched, soaked and trembling among the reeds.
Liora looked toward her, horror spreading across her face. “Run,” she whispered.
Y/N tried.
She pushed herself up, but her legs were still weak from the river. Pain shot through her knee. She barely made it two steps before the world tightened around her throat.
No hand touched her.
Still, she stopped breathing. Y/N clawed at her neck.
Odette approached slowly, her stolen gown trailing through mud without staining. “How very inconvenient,” she murmured.
Y/N struggled for air. The pressure released just enough for her to gasp.
“Please,” Liora said from the ground. “She has nothing to do with this.”
Odette glanced back. “That is no longer true.”
Y/N backed away until she struck the trunk of a tree.
The bark dug into her spine.
Odette stopped in front of her. Up close, she was beautiful in a way that felt sharpened rather than softened. Her eyes moved over Y/N’s strange clothes, her wet hair, her scraped hands.
“You came from somewhere else.”
Y/N said nothing.
Odette smiled faintly. “I can smell the door on you.”
A shudder moved through Y/N.
Odette leaned closer. “What did it promise you, I wonder?”
Y/N’s voice came out hoarse. “Nothing.”
“Doors always promise something. That is how they open.”
Y/N looked past her toward Liora.
The real princess was still on her knees in the mud, one hand pressed to her throat, watching with helpless terror.
Odette noticed the glance. “Oh,” she said softly. “You saw everything.”
Y/N’s silence answered for her.
Odette’s smile faded.
For the first time, true calculation entered her face. “I could kill you.”
Y/N’s stomach dropped.
Liora made a small, broken sound.
Odette considered it.
Then her gaze drifted down to Y/N’s clothes again. Her boots. Her coat. Her trembling hands.
“No,” she said at last. “That would be wasteful.”
Y/N swallowed. “What do you want from me?”
Odette lifted one hand.
The stolen charm glowed red beneath the crystal. “You will come with us.”
“No.”
The word left Y/N before fear could stop it.
Odette’s eyebrow lifted. “No?”
Y/N forced herself to stand straighter, though her body shook so badly she barely managed it.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Odette looked almost amused. “You nearly drowned five minutes ago. You are shaking too hard to run. You do not know this country, its roads, its laws, its dangers or its language, though the door has kindly let you understand enough to be frightened.”
She stepped closer. “You are going exactly where I take you.”
Y/N hated that she was right.
Still, she whispered, “I’ll tell them.”
Odette’s eyes glittered. “Will you?”
The silver thread unwound from Odette’s wrist.
It moved through the air like a living thing.
Y/N stepped back, but there was nowhere to go.
The thread touched her throat.
Cold pierced her skin.
She gasped.
Odette began to speak, voice low and precise.
“Truth you carry, truth you keep, Buried where no tongue may reach. When you point and when you cry, let every witness hear a lie.”
Y/N’s hands flew to her throat.
The thread tightened. Not enough to choke.
Odette continued.
“If you speak of what was done, Your voice shall fade before begun. If you name the stolen crown, Your breath shall falter, words fall down. See and know, yet fail to tell, Bound beneath the silent spell.”
Pain flashed beneath Y/N’s jaw, sharp and bright.
She opened her mouth to scream.
Nothing came out. Not even air.
Panic tore through her.
She tried again. Only a strangled breath escaped.
Odette watched calmly. “There,” she said. “That should solve one problem.”
Y/N grabbed at the invisible pressure around her throat. It faded slowly, leaving behind a cold ache.
Liora stared at her, tears running freely now. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Y/N tried to say it was not her fault, but the words would not come.
Not because of the curse. Because fear had filled too much space.
Odette turned toward Liora. “And as for you.”
Liora stiffened.
“You will remember who you were,” Odette said. “I am not cruel enough to take that.”
Her smile returned. “Besides, it will be sweeter if you know exactly what you lost.”
Liora’s face crumpled. “But when others ask, your tongue will bend. You will answer as servant. You will bow as servant. You will live as servant until I decide whether mercy suits me.”
Odette lifted the charm.
The red inside it pulsed. “What is your name?”
Liora shook her head, crying silently.
Odette’s expression hardened. “What is your name?”
The princess’s mouth opened against her will. “Liora,” she whispered.
The air stirred.
Odette frowned.
Y/N felt it too.
The name had not broken.
Not fully.
It moved through the stillness like a small flame protected by cupped hands.
Liora seemed to realize it at the same time.
Odette’s mouth tightened. “Fine,” she said softly. “Keep that much. A servant may have a name.”
She turned away sharply.
The suspended rain fell all at once.
Sound crashed back into the world.
Rain slammed into leaves. The river roared. Horses cried out. Somewhere beyond the trees, men shouted, confused and distant.
Y/N staggered beneath the sudden noise.
Odette seized her wrist.
Her grip was painfully strong. “Listen carefully, door-girl.”
Y/N flinched at the name.
Odette smiled. “You belong to me now. I cannot have you speaking, but I can still profit from you.”
Y/N tried to pull away.
Odette’s fingers tightened. “The prince will expect a bride with gifts. Gold, horses, jewels, servants. Curious things.” Her gaze swept over Y/N again. “You are certainly curious.”
“I’m not a thing,” Y/N rasped.
Her voice worked now.
Odette’s smile turned pleasant. “To me, you are whatever keeps you useful.”
Liora pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. “Do not sell her.”
Odette looked back at her.
The false princess stood in stolen blue, rain shining on the pearls in her dark hair. “You are in no position to object.”
“She saved herself from the river. She has done nothing to you.”
“She watched me take a kingdom.”
Liora fell silent.
Odette leaned closer to Y/N. “I will present you to Crown Prince Jongho as a strange girl found near the border. Perhaps a foreign servant. Perhaps a charm against ill fortune. Perhaps merely a novelty.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “He is said to dislike frivolous things, but men with crowns often enjoy owning what no one else understands.”
Y/N’s stomach turned. “You’re insane.”
“No,” Odette said softly. “I am prepared.”
Hoofbeats sounded in the distance. Lanterns flickered through the trees.
The bridal procession was coming.
Odette released Y/N’s wrist and stepped back, instantly transforming her face into something fragile and frightened.
It was horrifying how easily she did it.
A tremble entered her mouth. Her shoulders softened. Her eyes filled with false tears.
Within seconds, she looked like a princess shaken by danger.
Liora stood beside her in servant’s wool, pale and ruined.
Y/N stood soaked and muddy between them, throat aching with a curse she could not explain.
The first guard broke through the trees. “Your Highness!”
He ran to Odette. Not Liora.
Odette swayed convincingly. “Captain,” she breathed. “There was an attack near the river.”
Y/N stared at her.
Liora lowered her head.
The captain’s eyes moved briefly over the real princess with mild irritation, then over Y/N with suspicion. “This girl?”
Odette glanced at Y/N. A warning lived in her smile.
“No,” she said. “That one was found half drowned on the bank. The servant frightened my horse and caused the chaos.”
Liora closed her eyes.
Y/N stepped forward. “That’s not true.”
The curse tightened instantly.
Her throat closed. Pain sparked beneath her tongue.
The captain frowned.
Odette tilted her head. “What was that?”
Y/N tried again. “She…”
No sound came.
Her mouth shaped the beginning of truth, but the word dissolved before it reached air.
The captain’s suspicion deepened.
Odette’s smile became almost tender. “The poor thing is in shock.”
Y/N’s hands shook at her sides.
Rage began to rise beneath the fear.
Helpless, burning rage.
The captain bowed to Odette. “We must return you to the road at once, Your Highness. The prince’s escort awaits at the border.”
Your Highness. Liora flinched as if struck.
Odette accepted the title with lowered eyes. “Of course.”
Then she looked once at Y/N. But the meaning was clear.
You saw. You know. And no one will hear you.
As the guards gathered around them and the storm pressed the forest into darkness, Y/N looked at Liora. The real princess met her gaze through the rain, trembling but not entirely broken.
Y/N could not speak the truth.
Not yet.
Maybe not to anyone.
But she could remember.
The river had not drowned her. The spell had not blinded her. The door had brought her here, half-dead and shaking, to the exact place where a crown was stolen and a girl was erased.
Y/N curled her aching fingers into her palms.
Liora’s name burned quietly in her mind.
Odette could take silk. She could take jewels. She could bend voices and dress lies in velvet.
But Y/N had seen the truth.
And somewhere beneath the terror, beneath the cold, beneath the curse resting like ice around her throat, a promise took shape.
She would not forget.
Y/N had imagined, once or twice in the past, what it might feel like to be completely out of place.
She had thought of awkward parties where everyone else seemed to know the rules. Of work meetings where the conversation moved too quickly around her. Of family dinners where one wrong answer could tilt the whole evening into disappointment.
She had never imagined standing in the middle of a muddy forest road, soaked to the bone, cursed into silence about a stolen crown, while a false princess looked at her like something she had decided to keep.
That, apparently, was a very specific kind of out of place.
Odette stood beneath a raised cloak someone had hurried to hold above her head, looking pale and shaken in exactly the way a wronged royal bride should look. It was impressive, Y/N thought distantly. Terrifying, but impressive.
Only moments earlier, that same woman had torn another girl’s life away with a ribbon of silver and blood.
Now she looked fragile enough to break beneath the rain.
The guards believed her.
Of course they did. Why would they not?
The world itself seemed to believe her.
“This girl,” Odette said, glancing toward Y/N with an expression that almost resembled pity, “was found near the riverbank. She fell in during the storm.”
Y/N’s jaw tightened. That much, unfortunately, was true.
“She is not part of my household,” Odette continued, voice soft but carrying easily. “Still, I will not have anyone say Astravia’s future bride left a drowning woman to freeze in the mud.”
Future bride.
Liora stood a few steps behind her in the rough gray clothing the spell had forced onto her body. Her hair hung wet and tangled around her face. The guards barely looked at her now.
Y/N looked at her too.
Liora’s eyes were fixed on Odette.
Not angry. Not exactly.
More like she was watching someone bury her alive and trying to memorize the shape of the sky before it disappeared.
Something in Y/N’s chest twisted painfully.
“She will come with us,” Odette said.
One of the guards frowned. “Your Highness, we know nothing of her.”
Odette turned her head slowly.
The guard lowered his gaze at once. “Of course,” he added quickly. “If that is your wish.”
“It is.” Odette’s attention returned to Y/N. “She is soaked through. Give her dry clothing before she catches fever and dies on the road. That would make this rescue rather pointless, would it not?”
A faint, obedient ripple of laughter passed through two of the younger guards.
Y/N did not laugh. Her throat still hurt from the spell.
The curse sat there like a cold hand, invisible and patient. She could feel it when she breathed. Not enough to choke her. Just enough to remind her.
Truth you carry, truth you keep.
Odette’s gaze sharpened slightly, as though she knew exactly where Y/N’s thoughts had gone.
“Wooyoung,” she said.
A guard near the back of the group straightened.
Y/N had barely noticed him before. He wore the same dark cloak and leather armor as the others, though somehow he looked less severe in it. His hair was damp from the rain, falling into his eyes despite his attempt to push it back. When he stepped forward, he did so with the effortless confidence of someone who had never once doubted that people might enjoy his presence.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
His voice was bright. Too bright for a forest road where lives had just been ruined.
“Find something suitable for her,” Odette ordered. “And keep an eye on her.”
Wooyoung’s gaze flicked to Y/N.
His eyebrows lifted with open interest. “Gladly.”
Y/N did not like the way he said that.
Odette’s mouth curved. “Do not let her wander.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
This time, Y/N was certain there was amusement in his tone.
Odette seemed not to notice. Or perhaps she did and simply did not care.
The procession began moving again in pieces. The broken carriage had been abandoned, ist contents transferred into wagons and saddlebags. Horses snorted restlessly in the rain. Servants hurried back and forth with lowered heads, avoiding Liora without seeming to understand why.
Y/N remained where she stood until Wooyoung appeared at her side holding a bundle of clothes.
“Come on, river girl.”
She turned to him slowly. “Do not call me that.”
His smile widened. “So she speaks.”
“Unfortunately for you.”
“Oh, definitely not unfortunately for me.” He looked delighted. “I was beginning to worry you were the tragic silent type.”
Y/N stared at him.
She had nearly drowned less than an hour ago. She had watched a princess be robbed of her identity through actual magic. She had been cursed by a woman currently pretending to be royal. Her clothes clung to her like freezing skin.
And this man was grinning at her. “What is wrong with you?” she asked.
Wooyoung blinked, then laughed. As if she had surprised him.
“A long list, according to most people. But right now? I am being helpful.” He lifted the bundle. “Dry clothes.”
Y/N looked at them. Then at him.
“I’m supposed to change where?”
He pointed toward a tilted supply wagon half hidden beneath several stretched cloaks servants had tied into a makeshift screen. “There. Unless you were hoping for an audience.”
Her expression flattened.
He raised both hands innocently. “I am a gentleman.”
“You said that too quickly.”
“Because I am.”
“No,” Y/N said, taking the clothes from him. “You’re something.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “Already insulting me. We are becoming close very fast.”
Y/N walked past him without answering.
Behind the wagon, the rain softened slightly, pattering against canvas and cloth. The space barely offered privacy, but it was enough. She peeled off her soaked coat with stiff fingers, then her sweater, then her jeans. Every movement hurt. Bruises were already forming along her shoulder and hip. Mud had dried in patches against her skin despite the rain.
The clothing Wooyoung had given her was simple. A linen shift, a dark wool dress, stockings, and a heavy brown cloak that smelled faintly of smoke and cedar. Servant’s clothing, likely.
Of course.
She pulled it on clumsily.
The fabric scratched in places, but it was dry. That alone nearly made her cry. She squeezed water from her hair as best she could and wrapped the cloak tightly around herself.
For a moment, she simply stood there, hidden behind the wagon, breathing.
What the fuck is happening?
The thought arrived with such clarity that it almost steadied her.
Not because she had an answer. Because the question was so normal.
So perfectly hers.
She had fallen through a door.
Into a river.
In another world.
A maid had stolen a princess’s identity.
Magic existed.
A curse now kept Y/N from telling anyone what she wittnessed.
And apparently she was being dragged along to be sold, gifted, presented, or whatever polite word Odette planned to use when handing her over to a prince.
Y/N pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.
Think. There had to be something she could do.
Run?
She had no map, no food, no money, no knowledge of the country, and every direction beyond the road was dark forest soaked in rain. Also, Odette had ordered people to watch her.
Y/N lowered her hands slowly and peered through a gap in the canvas.
Two guards stood near the wagon.
Not directly facing her. But close enough.
She let the cloth fall back into place and exhaled.
“Great,” she whispered.
From the other side came Wooyoung’s voice. “Do you always talk to yourself, or is that a river thing?”
Y/N startled hard enough to nearly hit her shoulder against the wagon. “Do you always stand outside where women are changing?”
“I stood very respectfully away.”
“You are literally right there.”
“I am guarding.”
“You are lurking.”
“I can do both.”
Y/N stepped out from behind the wagon, clutching the cloak closed at her throat.
Wooyoung looked her over. Not in the crude way she expected.
His gaze was quick, assessing, but not invasive. He noticed the limp she tried to hide. The way her fingers still trembled. The scrape along her jaw.
His smile softened for half a second. Then returned brighter than before. “Better.”
“I look like I was dragged out of a river and put in a sack.”
“You were dragged out of a river.”
“I dragged myself out.”
“See? Strong woman in a sack.”
Y/N stared at him.
He looked deeply pleased with himself.
“Are you always like this?”
“Yes.”
“Exhausting.”
“So I’ve heard.” He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “Also, for what it’s worth, you were not with the people who left the western court.”
Y/N stilled.
Wooyoung’s playful expression did not change.
But his eyes sharpened. “I would have remembered a woman like you.”
Y/N snorted before she could stop herself.
The sound startled even her.
He grinned. “There it is.”
“What?”
“The laugh.”
“That was not a laugh. That was disbelief leaving my body.”
“Still charming.”
Y/N looked at him for a long moment.
Then, because apparently almost dying had damaged the part of her brain responsible for self-preservation, she said, “I came through a magical door on a bridge in another world, fell into the river, nearly drowned, crawled onto the bank, and then wittnessed something I cannot tell anyone because I got cursed.”
Wooyoung stared at her.
For one beautiful second, he said nothing.
Then he burst out laughing. Loud enough that one of the nearby guards turned.
Y/N closed her eyes. “Of course.”
Wooyoung wiped at the corner of his eye. “That was excellent.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Even better. Commitment is important.”
“I am being serious.”
“That’s what makes it work.” He nodded thoughtfully. “You know, the crown prince hates dull entertainment, but you might survive court as a comedian.”
Y/N gave him a flat, empty smile. “Sure. Perfect. I’ll add that to my plans.”
“See? Dry delivery. Very strong.”
She turned away from him. “I hate this place.”
“You’ve been here an hour.”
“It’s made a strong impression.”
Wooyoung fell into step beside her as the procession began moving again.
Y/N noticed immediately that he positioned himself between her and the nearest guard without making it obvious. She also noticed that he never stopped watching.
Not just her.
Everything.
The road. The servants. Odette. Liora.
Especially Odette.
But his expression remained light, mouth curved like he knew a joke no one else had heard.
“So,” he said, “river girl.”
“Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he corrected easily. “Pretty name.”
She ignored that. “Where am I?”
“The northern border road.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“You are in Astravia now. Nearly.”
“Nearly?”
“The river marks the old border. Technically, when you were drowning, you were between kingdoms.”
“That feels unnecessarily symbolic.”
Wooyoung laughed again.
Y/N did not.
Astravia.
The name settled somewhere in her mind.
A kingdom.
A prince.
A false bride.
A stolen princess walking a few paces ahead with her head lowered, surrounded by people who thought she was no one important.
Liora had not changed clothes willingly. The spell had done that. But the rain and mud made her look even more like what the magic insisted she was. A tired servant girl. Nothing more.
Y/N wanted to tell everyone.
Her throat tightened as if in warning.
She swallowed hard and said nothing.
Wooyoung started talking again.
He seemed to have an endless supply of words.
He spoke about the road first. How it flooded every spring and half the border guards pretended not to know because repairing it would require paperwork. He spoke about the horses, naming three of them and insulting two. He spoke about a cook at the castle who once threw a ladle at a duke and was still employed because her stew was worth diplomatic risk.
Y/N heard almost none of it.
His voice became a background rhythm.
She watched instead.
Odette rode near the front now, seated sidesaddle on a dark horse, wearing Liora’s stolen blue velvet as if she had been born to it. The guards bowed when she passed. Servants hurried to obey. Her expression was composed, touched with just enough fatigue to seem believable.
Liora walked near the supply wagon.
No one offered her a horse. No one offered her an umbrella.
Y/N’s fingers curled beneath her cloak.
Run. The thought came again.
Not now, perhaps. But later.
Could she take Liora with her? Would Liora go? Where would they go?
A forest in a world Y/N did not know stretched on either side of them. The road was lined with guards. The rain had turned everything to mud. Y/N had no idea how far the castle was, what the prince was like, whether anyone would believe them even if she found a way around the curse.
Her eyes drifted toward the guards again. One glanced back at her almost immediately.
Not curious. Assigned.
Odette had made sure of it.
Y/N sighed. Fine.
First, figure out where she was.
Then what this place was. Then who had power here. Then how to break a curse.
Simple.
“Are you listening?” Wooyoung asked.
“No.”
“Rude.”
“Accurate.”
“I was explaining the political tension between Astravia and Valterre.”
That caught her attention. She looked at him. “Valterre?”
“The princess’s kingdom.” He nodded toward Odette. “Well. Her Highness’s former kingdom. Once she marries Crown Prince Jongho, the treaty binds both courts.”
Y/N glanced toward Liora.
Valterre.
Liora was from Valterre.
Odette had stolen not only her title but a treaty.
Peace. Maybe a war.
Y/N’s stomach sank.
Wooyoung watched her reaction with interest. “You really do know nothing.”
“I told you.”
“You told me you came from a magical door.”
“I did.”
“And I told you that you have excellent stage presence.”
Y/N made a low sound of irritation.
He smiled.
They walked until the rain thinned into mist and the sky darkened fully. By then, torches had been lit along the procession. The road widened near a grove of tall black pines, where the guards decided to stop for the night.
No tents were raised for servants.
The nobles had travel canopies. Odette received the best one, of course. Several attendants rushed around her, bringing blankets, warmed wine, food, dry slippers.
Liora stood nearby until one of the older women snapped at her to carry a trunk.
The princess obeyed.
Y/N watched, helpless rage simmering beneath her ribs.
Wooyoung appeared at her side with a piece of bread.
She looked at it suspiciously.
“It is bread,” he said.
“I know what bread is.”
“Then why are you staring at it like it confessed a crime?”
“Because I do not trust you.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “Wounded.”
“Not enough.”
He laughed and handed it to her anyway.
She took it because hunger had begun clawing at her stomach. The bread was hard, but edible.
“Try not to flee into the woods,” Wooyoung said lightly. “The wolves are rude after sunset.”
Y/N looked at him. “Is that a joke?”
“Mostly.”
He walked away before she could ask what mostly meant.
Later, after the camp settled and most of the guards turned their attention toward fire, horses, food or sleep, Y/N found Liora near the edge of the clearing.
The girl sat on a fallen log with her hands folded tightly in her lap.
She looked smaller without the silk.
Not less royal. That was the strange thing.
The magic could change clothing. It could bend memory. It could force titles into wrong mouths. But it had not removed whatever quiet dignity lived in Liora’s bones.
Y/N approached slowly. “Can I sit?”
Liora looked up.
For a moment, fear flashed across her face.
Then recognition. “Yes,” she whispered.
Y/N sat beside her.
The log was damp. Everything was damp.
For a while, neither spoke.
Around them, the camp murmured softly. Men laughed near the fires. Horses shifted. Somewhere, Odette’s voice carried faintly, sweet and false.
Y/N looked at Liora’s hands. They were trembling. “Who are you?” Y/N asked softly.
Liora’s eyes closed briefly.
A painful smile touched her mouth. “That is a dangerous question now.”
“I know.”
Liora looked at her then. “You remember?”
“Yes.”
“You saw everything?”
“Yes.”
Liora inhaled shakily.
Y/N continued carefully. “I cannot tell anyone. She did something to me.”
Liora’s gaze dropped to Y/N’s throat. “I thought so.”
“When I try, the words stop.” Y/N swallowed, feeling the ache pulse again. “It’s like my body forgets how to speak.”
“That is old magic.”
“Great. I hate old magic.”
Despite everything, Liora almost smiled. Then her face crumpled into grief again.
“My name is Liora Elsbeth of Valterre,” she said quietly. “Only daughter of King Marold. I was sent to marry Crown Prince Jongho of Astravia.”
Y/N glanced toward the distant canopy where Odette rested. “And Odette?”
“My lady-in-waiting.” Liora’s voice broke slightly. “My companion since childhood.”
“That sounds more personal than servant.”
“She was raised beside me. Her mother served mine. We learned letters together, music, court speech, histories. She was cleverer than me at nearly everything.”
Liora looked down at her hands. “I thought she loved me.”
Y/N said nothing.
“My mother knew something was wrong before she died,” Liora continued. “She never trusted Odette fully, though she never explained why. Before we left Valterre, she gave me the charm. It held three drops of her blood and a vow.”
“A vow?”
“That no false tongue could claim me while I wore it.”
Y/N’s stomach turned. “And Odette took it.”
“Yes.” Liora’s voice thinned. “She must have been waiting for the right place. The border road. The storm. Enough chaos that no one would question confused memories.”
Y/N looked out at the camp. “And now everyone thinks she is you.”
“Yes.”
“Can the spell be broken?”
“I do not know.”
That answer landed heavily.
Liora’s eyes filled again, though she blinked the tears back. “My horse knows. Falada knows. He was my mother’s before he was mine. He carries old blood too.”
“The white horse?”
Liora nodded.
“Can he help?”
“I do not know. Odette bound his voice tonight. He used to understand everything I said. Sometimes I thought…” She stopped, embarrassed even now. “It sounds childish.”
Y/N shook her head. “I came here through a magical door and was cursed by a fake princess after nearly drowning. Nothing sounds childish anymore.”
Liora’s mouth trembled into another almost-smile. Then faded.
“We are going to Astravia,” she said. “To King Eryndor’s castle. Crown Prince Jongho waits there.”
“What is he like?”
“I have never met him.”
“That seems like a terrible foundation for marriage.”
“It is not meant to be romantic.”
“Clearly.”
Liora looked toward the fires.
“They say he is stern. Brilliant. Difficult to deceive. His father is ill, so he already rules much of the kingdom in practice. The treaty depends on this marriage.”
Y/N digested that.
Difficult to deceive.
Good. Maybe.
Unless Odette’s magic was stronger than his suspicion.
“And if the marriage happens?” Y/N asked.
Liora’s expression turned hollow. “Then Odette becomes future queen of Astravia. Valterre is bound to her through my name. If she wishes war, she can make it. If she wishes power, she will have enough to take it.”
Y/N looked at her. “And you?”
Liora gave a small, broken laugh. “I suppose I remain a servant.”
“No.”
The word left Y/N immediately.
Liora blinked.
Y/N’s voice lowered. “No. That is not the ending.”
Liora stared at her as though the sentence itself was a strange kindness. “How can you say that?”
“Because I have to.”
The firelight flickered across Liora’s face.
Y/N looked down at her own hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “I don’t know where I am. I do not know your laws, your magic, your prince, or whether I can survive one more conversation with Wooyoung.”
Liora frowned faintly. “Wooyoung?”
“The guard who never stops talking.”
A small sound escaped Liora. It might have been the beginning of a laugh.
“But I know what I saw,” she continued. “And she cursed me because that mattered. So until I know more, we stay alive. We watch. We learn.”
Liora’s gaze searched her face. “Why would you help me?”
Y/N thought of the river.
Of the door. Of her reflection breaking apart. Of a girl in silk being forced into wool while the world agreed to forget her.
“Because I know what it feels like when people decide who you are without asking,” she said.
Liora looked away quickly.
This time, when she cried, it was silent.
Y/N stayed beside her until the fire burned low.
The next morning arrived gray and cold.
The procession moved at dawn.
Y/N’s body protested every step. Her muscles ached from the river, her bruises deepened, and her borrowed boots pinched badly enough that she considered throwing them into the nearest ditch.
Wooyoung appeared far too cheerful. “Good morning, river girl.”
“Say that again and I will push you into one.”
“Violent. I like that in a travel companion.”
Y/N ignored him.
He talked anyway.
By midmorning, the forest began to thin.
The road climbed gradually through hills silvered with mist. Then, without warning, the trees opened.
The castle rose ahead.
Y/N stopped walking. For a moment, she forgot everything else.
It was beautiful.
Not delicate. Not fairytale pretty in a sweet way.
It rose from the hill like something carved from storm and bone, all pale stone towers, dark slate roofs and high walls glistening from rain. Banners hung along the battlements, deep green and silver, snapping in the wind. Beyond the castle gates, mountains loomed faintly through clouds.
It looked ancient.
The procession straightened around her. Guards adjusted their cloaks. Servants lowered their eyes. Odette smoothed one gloved hand over her stolen gown and arranged her expression into graceful exhaustion.
Liora stared at the castle as though it were both salvation and sentence.
Y/N leaned slightly toward her. “That’s where we’re going?”
“Yes,” Liora whispered.
“Great.”
Wooyoung appeared at Y/N’s other side. “Try not to insult anyone important when we enter.”
Y/N glanced at him. “Why would I do that?”
He smiled. “I have instincts.”
The gates opened as they approached.
Heavy wood groaned inward.
Inside the outer courtyard, rows of attendants waited beneath the gray morning sky.
And at the center of them stood a man.
Y/N knew it was him before anyone said his name. Crown Prince Jongho did not need a crown to be obvious.
He stood still while others shifted around him, dressed in dark formal clothing embroidered with silver at the collar and sleeves. His hair was neatly styled away from his face. His features were handsome in a way that felt almost severe, all clean lines and controlled expression.
He looked young. Younger than the weight around him seemed to allow.
But nothing about him felt soft.
His gaze moved over the procession like a blade drawn slowly from ist sheath.
Assessing. Measuring. Finding cracks.
Y/N watched him watch them.
His expression did not change.
Not when Odette approached. Not when the guards bowed. Not when servants lowered themselves nearly to the ground.
He looked so grim, so deeply unimpressed by the entire arrival, that the thought rose in Y/N’s mind before she could stop it.
“Who shit in his bed?”
The courtyard went silent.
Y/N realized only then that she had said it aloud.
Her soul left her body briefly.
Wooyoung made a strangled sound beside her. Laughter trying very hard not to become public.
Liora’s eyes went wide. Odette turned slowly.
Every guard nearby looked at Y/N as if she had just signed her own execution order.
Y/N stared straight ahead, frozen.
Crown Prince Jongho’s gaze had found her. Of course it had.
For one terrible moment, nothing happened.
Then his mouth twitched. Barely. So faintly she might have imagined it.
But she had not.
A slight smile touched his face and vanished almost immediately.
Y/N blinked.
Well. That was unexpected.
Odette recovered first.
“Your Highness,” she said, stepping forward with perfect grace. “Forgive the state of our arrival. The road was crueler than expected.”
Jongho looked at her.
The almost-smile disappeared entirely. “Princess Liora.”
The real Liora flinched behind them.
Odette lowered her head modestly. “Crown Prince Jongho.”
His gaze stayed on her for a beat too long.
Not warm. Not admiring.
If anything, he looked faintly inconvenienced by the fact that she existed.
Then his eyes shifted past her. To Y/N.
Y/N’s stomach tightened.
Odette noticed.
“My servants had trouble during the journey,” she said smoothly. “One frightened the horses. Another was found half drowned in the river and taken in out of pity.”
Jongho’s eyes remained on Y/N. “Pity,” he repeated.
It was impossible to tell whether he believed the word.
Y/N felt the curse stir in her throat as if warning her not to get brave.
So she said nothing.
Wooyoung stepped forward suddenly. But not like a guard.
His posture changed so completely that Y/N almost turned to stare.
The playful looseness vanished. His shoulders squared. His expression sharpened into something elegant and dangerously composed.
He bowed, not to Odette, but to Jongho. “Your Highness.”
Wooyoung glanced at her sideways and gave the smallest smile.
The asshole.
He had not been a guard. Of course he had not been a guard.
Why would anything in this place make sense?
Odette went still. Only slightly.
But Jongho saw it.
“I trust the road gave you enough time to observe our guests,” Jongho said.
Wooyoung straightened. “Oh, plenty.”
His tone was polite now, but Y/N could hear the laughter hiding beneath it.
Jongho’s eyes returned to Y/N. “And?”
Wooyoung smiled. “The princess’s party is very interesting.”
Odette’s fingers tightened around her gloves.
Jongho said nothing. The silence stretched.
Finally Odette stepped closer, attempting again to draw his attention. “I hope my arrival has not caused inconvenience.”
Jongho looked at her. “You were expected yesterday.”
A lesser woman might have faltered.
Odette only smiled sadly. “The storm delayed us.”
“So I see.”
His tone revealed nothing.
Then he looked back at Y/N again. Y/N resisted the urge to check whether something was on her face.
Besides exhaustion, mud and the consequences of making terrible choices near magical doors.
Odette’s smile thinned. “Since my household caused disruption on the road, I will see to discipline myself.”
Liora went pale.
Y/N’s eyes snapped toward her.
Odette continued softly, “The servant who frightened the horses and the river girl who has forgotten manners will work where they can do little harm. The goose stables, perhaps.”
Jongho’s gaze sharpened. “The goose stables.”
“Yes.” Odette’s smile returned. “I have little use for careless girls near my rooms.”
Y/N opened her mouth.
The curse tightened immediately.
Not because she meant to expose Odette.
Because the truth sat too close.
She closed her mouth again.
Jongho noticed. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Wooyoung noticed too.
Liora stood very still.
Jongho looked at Odette for a long moment.
Then, calmly, he said, “As you wish.”
Odette’s expression eased.
A victory. Small but real.
Y/N hated him for granting it for approximately one second.
Then Jongho’s gaze moved back to her. And there was something there.
Recognition, perhaps.
No.
Interest.
Careful and quiet.
As if she were a loose thread in an otherwise well-made tapestry. And he had every intention of pulling.
Y/N held his stare because looking away felt too much like losing.
The corner of his mouth moved again.
Not a smile this time. A warning that he was not as bored as he looked.
Wooyoung leaned slightly closer to Y/N and murmured, “You may want to stop glaring at the crown prince before he decides to adopt you as a political problem.”
Y/N did not look away from Jongho. “Too late,” she muttered.
Wooyoung laughed under his breath.
Across the courtyard, Odette turned toward the castle with stolen grace, already playing bride.
Liora lowered her eyes like a servant.
And Y/N stood between them in borrowed wool, with a curse around her throat, a false princess watching her movements, a secret minister grinning at her side, and a crown prince staring as though she had arrived carrying an answer to a question he had not yet asked.
The geese cried somewhere beyond the stables.
Y/N closed her eyes briefly.
When she opened them again, Jongho was still looking at her.
And for the first time since stepping through the door, Y/N wondered if maybe disappearing had been the least of what this world intended for her.
Fairytale Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Jonghos Masterlist
To read the other members Fairytale Retellings go to the Fairytale Masterlist
I have been binging and catching up on your most recent fics and I have absolutely loved ALL of them!! You are so awesome and I can see how much effort you put in to every story. Thank you for sharing them all with us 💚💚 (JJ from @justsomekpopstuff )
I love all your comments on your reblogs. Whenever I see that you reblogged I pause everything and just have to read the #. They are always so fun and put a big smile on my face ❤️❤️
EXCUSE ME!?!!????!??!. YOU STARTED FOLLOWING ME.......... WE'RE MUTUALS NOW WHAT!?!??!???!. You have no idea how shocked and happy I am 🥹🫶🏻💖💐. I can't believe one of my favourite writers is my moot now. Believe it or not, this just gave me so confidence and joy.
I don't know who you are but I am so happy that this little act gave you confidence and joy ❤️❤️
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Just a little heads up for the new Fairytale Retelling. I finished writing the story now and will start to proof read it. Because my proof reader is in full wedding preparation mode I hesitated to ask them. So it will take a bit of time for me to read everything and edit it. I hope to post the first Parts on Friday or Saturday!
Also it is my birthday today! Yay, becoming 27 but feeling 80 already. 💀
P.s.: For the people who voted which member will get Goose Girl as the next Story...it is Jongho and I think he fits this story super well.
so a lot of you guessed that the next grimm fairytale retelling would be The Six Swans 👀🦢
but surprise... the next story will actually be The Goose Girl 🤍👑
which means i have a very important question for you all:
who do you think will be the main character? ✨
Wooyoung
Jongho
Seonghwa
Voting ended onJun 7
i'm genuinely curious to see your guesses before i reveal anything. because i've already seen some very different theories floating around 😭
The Goose Girl has always been my favorite grimm fairytale. there's just something about it that has stayed with me since i was little. i love the themes of lost identity, betrayal, hidden truths, and finding the strength to reclaim who you are. it's such a quiet story compared to some of the more famous fairytales, but it feels so emotional and magical to me. the mixture of sadness, hope, loyalty, and justice at the end has always made it special in my eyes.
and honestly? i'm so excited to finally share my own retelling with you all 🥹🤍 i've been looking forward to writing this one for a long time, and i can't wait to hear your thoughts, theories, and opinions once it starts posting.
if you haven't read the other grimm fairytale retellings yet, they're all available on my blog and waiting for you 🌙✨
and if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series (or future stories), please feel free to leave a comment, send me a message, or reach out anytime! i'd be happy to add you 🫶
I am curious what do you think will be the next Fairytale story?
❓️
Hansel and Gretel
Goose Girl
The Six Swans
Voting ended onJun 5
And what do you think who of Jongho, Seonghwa and Wooyoung will get which Retelling?
I am telling you I genuinelly love what I am writing right now and I can't wait to hear your opinions on it!
The last months were rather hectic, thats why I wasn't as active as normally. But i really needed that little time out. Especially after the whole AI slander I got. Thanks again to all the people who stay and love my little community corner here.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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I already told you that I am thinking about continuing my grimm fairytale series again 🤍
the only members missing now are seonghwa, jongho and wooyoung… and i already know which fairytale each of them will get. i’m not gonna tell you who is who yet because i want it to stay a surprise for a little longer 😭 one of them is getting one of my absolute favorite grimm stories ever and i’m way too excited about it.
the remaining stories are:
🦢 the six swans — a story about a sister trying to save her brothers after they get cursed into swans. it’s very quiet and emotional and full of sacrifice, loyalty and love that survives even years of suffering.
👑 the goose girl — a princess gets betrayed by her maid on the journey to her future kingdom and is forced to live as a goose girl while someone else steals her identity. it’s such a beautiful story about loneliness, hidden royalty and finally reclaiming your own voice again.
🌲 hansel and gretel — two siblings abandoned in the woods finding the witch’s candy house. this one feels darker and colder than the others, but also very clever and strangely comforting in a grimms fairytale kind of way.
i genuinely can’t wait to write these stories and see if you guys can guess which member belongs to which fairytale 🥹
After another soul-draining day at her corporate HR job, Y/N stumbles into a small underground bar to escape the exhaustion swallowing her whole. There she meets Yunho, a magnetic guitarist from a famous rock band and spends one unforgettable night wandering through the city with a stranger who makes her feel alive again.
What begins as a reckless decision slowly turns into something neither of them expected: a place to breathe.
Pairing: Jeong Yunho × Reader (Y/N)
Tropes: Rockstar AU, Strangers to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Late Night City Romance, Found Family, Emotional Healing, Soft Slow Burn, Falling in Love Before Realizing It
Featuring: Ateez as Yunhos Band Mates or Friends, Y/ns Childhood friend
A/n: Biggest Thanks to @threepointstogryffindor for requesting this idea
Main Masterlist | Yunhos Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
This is Part 5
Being loved by Yunho felt strangely gentle.
That was the first thing Y/N realized over the following months.
Not loud.
Not dramatic in the ways movies always tried portraying love.
Instead it arrived quietly in hundreds of small moments until one day she woke up realizing her life felt lighter than before.
It happened slowly.
Yunho texting her good morning every day without fail even during schedules.
Pictures of random things that reminded him of her.
Coffee cups with badly drawn hearts in the foam.
Claw machines holding shark-cat plushies.
Rainy streets at night.
At first Y/N still overthought everything.
Every single thing.
Especially being seen beside him publicly.
The first few times fans recognized him while they were together, she nearly had panic attacks internally.
Yunho always noticed immediately.
Every time.
Without fail.
The first incident happened during a late-night convenience store run.
One girl recognized Yunho instantly near the drink section and immediately started crying.
Y/N’s first instinct had been stepping away automatically.
Creating distance.
Making herself smaller again.
But Yunho reached for her hand immediately beneath the shelves where nobody else could see and squeezed softly once.
Stay.
The silent message settled warm inside her chest instantly.
Afterward, once the fan left smiling with a signed receipt and shaking hands, Yunho simply nudged her shoulder lightly.
“You okay?”
Y/N nodded weakly.
“You looked like you were preparing to flee the country.”
“That’s because she looked at me too.”
“And?”
“She’s your fan.”
Yunho looked genuinely confused.
“She can still look at you.”
The answer came so naturally that Y/N stared at him for a second.
And slowly, over time, moments like that started changing something inside her.
Because Yunho never acted embarrassed by her.
Never hid her away emotionally even when they stayed private publicly.
Never made her feel like she needed to earn her place beside him.
If anything, he constantly pulled her closer.
Sometimes literally.
Like during one dinner with the members when Wooyoung dramatically complained that Y/N clearly loved Jongho more because she laughed too hard at one of his jokes.
Yunho immediately wrapped both arms around her waist from behind possessively while glaring at Jongho across the table.
“She’s obsessed with me actually.”
“Debatable,” Y/N answered immediately.
Yunho gasped like she physically wounded him.
“You kiss me goodnight every evening.”
“That proves nothing.”
“It proves everything.”
San nearly fell out of his chair laughing.
Moments like that became normal somehow.
The boys folded her naturally into their lives with alarming speed.
Hongjoong started sending her music recommendations at two in the morning because apparently they shared the exact same taste in sad indie songs.
Mingi became obsessed with showing her random memes during dinners until both of them got yelled at by Seonghwa for laughing too loudly.
Yeosang remained terrifyingly observant and somehow always knew whenever Y/N felt overwhelmed before she even admitted it herself.
And Wooyoung…
Wooyoung treated her like emotional support and public entertainment simultaneously.
“Y/N,” he announced dramatically one evening while leaning across the bar counter, “you need to know something important.”
“That sentence already worries me.”
“He cried after your first real date.”
Across the room Yunho nearly choked on his drink.
“JUNG WOOYOUNG.”
“It’s true!”
Y/N stared at Yunho immediately.
“You cried?”
“It was one tear.”
“Liar,” San shouted.
“It was raining emotionally,” Wooyoung added.
Yunho buried his face in his hands while everyone laughed around him.
And somewhere in the middle of that noise and warmth and teasing, Y/N realized she genuinely loved being there.
Loved them.
Loved how easily they accepted her.
Even Yuna ended up pulled into the chaos eventually.
That night had started with Y/N nearly having a nervous breakdown beforehand.
Because introducing her best friend to Yunho’s world still felt surreal somehow.
Especially considering Yuna spent the first ten minutes whisper-screaming directly into a couch cushion after meeting Hongjoong.
“I can’t believe your boyfriend is real,” she hissed dramatically toward Y/N while Seonghwa mixed drinks nearby.
"He is just Yunho, Yuna.”
From across the room Yunho immediately looked offended.
“So I am just Yunho now, Baby?”
The entire group burst into laughter while Y/N hid her face behind her drink.
Yuna loved them instantly.
Especially after Mingi and San somehow convinced her into joining an aggressively competitive Mario Kart tournament that devolved into complete chaos within twenty minutes.
Now, hours later, everyone else had finally gone home.
The apartment rested in soft comfortable silence.
Rain tapped lightly against the windows again because apparently the universe refused giving Yunho and Y/N non-romantic weather conditions.
Y/N sat curled sideways against the couch wearing one of Yunho’s oversized shirts.
Nothing else underneath except underwear.
The fabric swallowed her whole and still smelled faintly like his laundry detergent.
Across from her, Yunho lounged comfortably against the opposite end of the couch wearing only gray sweatpants while absentmindedly strumming his guitar.
The domesticity of it all still stunned her sometimes.
Jeong Yunho from Ateez sitting shirtless in his apartment making up stupid songs about Wooyoung spilling wine on himself earlier.
“His face looked like betrayal,” Yunho sang dramatically.
Y/N laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink.
“You’re terrible.”
“It’s art.”
“It’s slander.”
“Important distinction.”
Yunho grinned brightly before continuing the ridiculous song.
The melody sounded suspiciously beautiful considering the lyrics involved Wooyoung crying over expensive alcohol.
Y/N watched him fondly from across the couch.
God.
He really was beautiful.
Not just physically.
Though obviously yes, physically too.
Especially like this.
Relaxed.
Messy-haired.
Comfortable in his own space.
But more than that…
Yunho carried warmth everywhere he went.
Into rooms.
Into people.
Into her life.
And slowly, over these last months, Y/N realized he had changed things inside her too.
Not magically.
She still overthought.
Still occasionally panicked before public outings together.
Still struggled believing she deserved this sometimes.
But now whenever insecurity crawled too loudly into her chest, Yunho met it immediately with reassurance so natural it became impossible not to slowly believe him.
Especially because he never sounded frustrated by her fears.
Only patient.
Like loving her properly mattered enough to keep repeating the truth until she finally accepted it.
Y/N smiled softly watching him continue singing nonsense lyrics dramatically.
“You know,” she teased lightly, “I’m starting to think you only write stupid songs.”
Yunho gasped theatrically.
“You wound me.”
“It’s true.”
“I’m literally an artist.”
“You just rhymed emotional damage with fermented cabbage.”
“That’s talent.”
Y/N laughed again.
Warmth glowed softly through her chest.
Lately life felt almost unrecognizable compared to before.
Especially after quitting her old job.
That alone still felt surreal.
Yunho practically celebrated harder than she did when she finally left.
“You escaped corporate hell,” he announced while physically spinning her around his kitchen afterward.
The new company suited her better immediately.
Smaller.
Healthier.
Focused on employee growth instead of slowly crushing souls beneath impossible workloads.
For the first time in years, work no longer made her dread waking up every morning.
And maybe part of that courage came from Yunho too.
Because he looked at her like she deserved more.
Until eventually she started believing it herself.
Yunho suddenly stopped strumming the guitar while narrowing his eyes toward her.
“What are you thinking about?”
Y/N blinked slightly.
“Hm?”
“You got quiet.”
“I was just…” She smiled softly. “Happy.”
The expression on Yunho’s face melted instantly afterward.
God.
That look alone could ruin her emotionally.
Before she could recover properly, Yunho leaned the guitar against the couch beside him and shifted closer instead.
Close enough that his knee pressed against hers.
“You know what’s dangerous?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“You smiling at me like that.”
Heat rose faintly into her cheeks.
“You’re dramatic.”
“You love it.”
Unfortunately true.
Y/N reached out lazily to poke his shoulder.
“You know,” she teased, “for someone who writes so many songs, I still can’t believe you actually didn't wrote love songs about me.”
Yunho went suspiciously quiet.
Y/N blinked.
“…Wait.”
His mouth curved slowly upward.
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“You actually did.”
Yunho laughed softly under his breath before leaning closer.
“Back then?” His voice lowered slightly. “I only wrote songs about you.”
Y/N’s breath caught embarrassingly fast.
“Yunho.”
“It’s true.”
He leaned forward then and kissed the tip of her nose softly.
The affectionate gesture made warmth bloom immediately through her chest.
“You ruined my emotional stability,” he informed her seriously.
“That sounds dramatic.”
“You made me stare sadly at rain.”
“That’s your own fault.”
“Maybe.”
Yunho picked up the guitar again afterward.
Only this time his expression softened slightly differently.
Less playful now.
Y/N noticed immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He adjusted the guitar against himself comfortably. “I just wanna show you something.”
Her stomach fluttered softly.
The apartment settled quieter around them while Yunho looked down toward the strings.
Then slowly, gently, he started playing.
The melody hit her immediately.
Beautiful.
Soft.
The kind of song that physically wrapped around your chest while listening.
Y/N stayed completely still.
And then Yunho started singing.
Not loudly.
Not performing.
Just… honest.
The lyrics painted pieces of her life so carefully that it stole the breath directly from her lungs.
Corporate girls looking exhausted on late-night trains.
Moonlight reflecting across lake water.
Shark-cat plushies tucked against nervous chests.
Girls who apologized too much for existing.
Girls who slowly learned how to laugh freely again.
Y/N stared at him completely mesmerized.
Because somehow Yunho always saw her more clearly than she saw herself.
And hearing herself reflected back through his music felt overwhelming in the most beautiful way.
His voice softened during the chorus.
Warm enough that tears almost instantly burned behind her eyes.
Not sad tears.
Just too much feeling at once.
When the final chord faded quietly into the apartment, silence settled softly afterward.
Y/N realized only then that she had been smiling the entire time.
Warm.
Completely helpless.
Yunho looked suddenly nervous once the song ended.
Which honestly felt insane considering he performed in front of thousands regularly.
“What?” he asked quietly.
Y/N shook her head softly.
“That was…” She laughed weakly. “Really beautiful.”
Relief flashed visibly across his face immediately.
Then warmth.
Then something even softer.
And suddenly Y/N knew.
Not suspected.
Knew.
She loved him.
Completely.
The realization settled gently instead of dramatically.
Like something that had already been true for a while finally catching up to her consciously.
Because how could she not?
She loved the way he made space for her fears instead of mocking them.
Loved how carefully he listened whenever she talked about work frustrations.
Loved how deeply he cared for people.
Loved that he still looked at her like she was extraordinary even when she felt painfully ordinary.
Yunho tilted his head slightly noticing her quiet expression again.
“What’s happening in your head right now?”
Y/N smiled softly before answering.
Then leaned forward instead.
And kissed him.
Full of everything she still struggled putting into words.
Yunho melted immediately into the kiss with a quiet surprised sound.
His hand slid instinctively against her waist while she shifted closer across the couch.
Warm mouth.
Gentle touch.
Home.
When they finally pulled apart slightly, Yunho stared at her strangely afterward.
Very strangely.
Too serious suddenly.
Y/N blinked.
“What?”
He kept looking at her.
Almost overwhelmed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked softly.
Yunho exhaled slowly through his nose.
Then set the guitar carefully aside before turning fully toward her.
And suddenly Y/N’s heartbeat started climbing nervously.
Because his expression looked devastatingly sincere.
“I love you.”
The words came quietly.
Still powerful enough that her breath caught instantly.
Yunho swallowed softly before continuing anyway.
“I think I’ve loved you for longer than I realized.”
Emotion tightened painfully in her chest immediately.
“You walked into a random bar exhausted and sad and somehow changed my entire life.” His eyes stayed locked carefully onto hers. “And every single day since then, I keep finding new reasons to love you more.”
Y/N’s vision blurred slightly already.
“You make me feel calm,” he admitted softly. “Which is insane because normally my life is chaos all the time.”
A watery laugh escaped her.
Yunho smiled faintly before brushing his fingers carefully along her cheek.
“I love how deeply you care about people.” His thumb traced lightly beneath her eye. “I love how hard you try even when you’re scared.”
The tenderness in his voice nearly destroyed her completely.
“And honestly?” He laughed quietly under his breath. “I love that you still act shocked every time I tell you you’re beautiful.”
Heat mixed painfully with emotion in her chest.
Yunho leaned slightly closer.
“You made me happier these last months than I’ve been in years.” His forehead rested gently against hers. “And I don’t wanna imagine my life without you in it anymore.”
Tears slipped fully down Y/N’s cheeks now.
Not sad.
Just overwhelmed by how deeply loved he made her feel.
“I love you,” Yunho whispered again.
The words settled warm and permanent somewhere deep inside her.
And for the first time in her life, Y/N believed completely that someone could know her fully and still choose her anyway.
Yunho still got nervous before concerts.
Not because of the stage itself.
That part had become instinct years ago.
The lights.
The crowds.
The deafening screams vibrating through entire arenas.
All of it settled naturally into his body now like muscle memory.
But tonight felt different.
Because tonight Y/N would be there officially as his.
Well.
Mostly officially.
The internet already figured things out weeks ago anyway.
Paparazzi pictures spread faster than wildfire the first time someone photographed Yunho waiting outside Y/N’s new office building holding iced coffees and flowers like an idiot.
The photos themselves were harmless.
Y/N laughing while hiding her face behind his shoulder.
Yunho holding her hand while guiding her toward the car.
But fans immediately noticed how soft he looked around her.
And then more sightings happened.
Late-night dinners.
Y/N wearing his hoodie.
Mingi accidentally posting her reflection in a group picture before deleting it twenty minutes later while panicking.
Now the internet practically treated Yunho’s mysterious girlfriend like national news.
Most reactions honestly surprised Y/N.
Way more positive than she expected.
Some fans even called them cute which nearly made her cry from relief the first time she read it.
Still, tonight would feel different.
Because tonight Yunho planned on stopping the hiding completely.
The backstage room buzzed loudly around him while staff rushed everywhere adjusting last-minute details before the concert.
San warmed up loudly in one corner while Hongjoong argued with someone about lighting cues.
Mingi sat upside down on a couch eating snacks he absolutely should not eat before performing.
Normal chaos.
Yunho barely heard most of it though.
Because Y/N sat beside him on the makeup chair quietly fixing the sleeve of his stage jacket while looking impossibly beautiful.
Her outfit tonight nearly ruined him emotionally earlier.
Simple black skirt.
Soft fitted top.
Silver jewelry catching stage lights every time she moved.
And the necklace around her throat?
His necklace.
The one he casually gave her three months ago that she now wore constantly.
Yunho watched her carefully adjust his sleeve before gently catching her wrist.
Y/N looked up immediately.
“What?”
He smiled softly.
“You’re pretty.”
Heat instantly climbed into her cheeks even after six months together.
Still.
Every time.
Yunho genuinely thought he might spend his entire life addicted to that reaction.
“You say that every day.”
“Because it’s true every day.”
Wooyoung gagged dramatically from across the room.
“Oh my god.”
Neither looked at him.
Y/N tried hiding her smile though.
Yunho tugged lightly on her hand until she stepped closer between his knees.
Immediately comfortable there now.
Like she belonged.
Because honestly?
She did.
Yunho rested both hands against her waist while looking up at her quietly.
“You nervous?” he asked softly.
Y/N exhaled lightly through her nose.
“A little.”
That made sense.
Tonight marked the first time she would stand visibly in the VIP section during one of their bigger concerts.
No hiding backstage.
No sneaking exits.
No pretending she was “just a friend.”
Yunho brushed his thumbs slowly against her waist.
“You know,” he murmured, “you can still tell me if this is too much.”
Y/N immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“You sure?”
She nodded softer this time.
“I think…” She smiled faintly. “I’m done hiding from being happy.”
God.
He loved her.
So much it physically hurt sometimes.
Yunho leaned forward instinctively and kissed her softly.
Warm.
Gentle.
Y/N melted immediately into it before laughing quietly against his mouth.
“What?”
“You’ll ruin my lipstick.”
“Worth it.”
“Selfish.”
“Very.”
The backstage door suddenly slammed open.
“Five minutes!”
Yunho sighed dramatically against Y/N’s shoulder.
“Duty calls.”
Y/N laughed softly before smoothing her hands against the front of his jacket carefully.
The gesture felt so domestic now.
So natural.
Six months ago she barely believed someone like him could genuinely want her.
Now she stood backstage before sold-out concerts adjusting his clothes while wearing his necklace.
Life felt insane sometimes.
Yunho caught her hand again before she could step away fully.
His expression softened.
“I love you.”
The words still affected her every single time.
Yunho watched emotion flicker instantly across her face before she smiled softly back.
“I love you too.”
He kissed the back of her hand gently.
Then quieter:
“I’ll look for you in the crowd.”
Y/N’s breath caught slightly.
The promise settled warm inside her chest immediately.
Then chaos exploded again.
Staff moving.
Music blasting louder.
Members gathering toward the stage entrance while the crowd outside screamed loud enough to shake walls.
Wooyoung pointed dramatically toward Y/N while walking backward.
“If he cries during the love song, I’m blaming you.”
“He’s the emotional one,” Y/N defended immediately.
“I heard that!” Yunho shouted.
“You were supposed to!”
Yuna appeared beside Y/N seconds later looking equally overwhelmed already.
“I still can’t believe this is your life now.”
“Neither can I.”
Then suddenly stage lights darkened.
The crowd roared deafeningly outside.
And instantly Yunho transformed.
Not fake.
Never fake.
Just… bigger somehow.
The performer version of him rising naturally to the surface.
Still Yunho.
Still her Yunho.
But glowing now.
Before heading fully toward the stage entrance, he turned one last time toward her.
And smiled.
Not the polished celebrity smile fans usually saw.
The real one.
Soft around the edges.
Full of affection.
Just for her.
Then the stage exploded into light.
The screams hit immediately.
Deafening.
Massive.
Y/N physically felt the vibration through her chest while Ateez ran onto the stage.
Yuna grabbed her arm instantly.
“Oh my god.”
Even after months together, moments like this still stunned Y/N.
Thousands of people screaming Yunho’s name.
Lights flooding the entire arena.
Music crashing through speakers loud enough to shake the floor.
And there he was.
Confident.
Beautiful.
Completely alive on stage.
The first few songs passed in overwhelming energy.
San jumped across the stage like he physically contained infinite stamina while Hongjoong flirted shamelessly with cameras.
Mingi somehow made entire sections of fans scream just by smirking.
And Yunho…
Yunho kept looking toward her.
Tiny moments only she probably noticed.
Little smiles during choreography.
Quick glances during talking segments.
Once during a slower song, their eyes met fully across the arena and Yunho’s entire expression softened for half a second before he looked away again.
Yuna physically shook beside her.
“He’s literally heart-eyes staring at you.”
“He is not.”
“Y/N.”
Wooyoung leaned dramatically across the VIP railing beside them.
“He absolutely is.”
Seonghwa sighed fondly nearby.
“He’s been impossible for six months.”
“True,” Jongho added immediately.
Yeosang just nodded.
Y/N tried hiding her smile unsuccessfully.
Because honestly?
Knowing Yunho searched for her in crowds full of thousands made her chest feel embarrassingly full.
The concert moved beautifully afterward.
Fast songs.
Talking segments.
Fans screaming lyrics loud enough to drown out the members themselves sometimes.
At one point Yunho ended up drenched in sweat and laughing breathlessly during a ment while fans screamed marriage proposals at him from every direction.
Y/N laughed helplessly watching him grin.
God.
She loved him.
So much.
Eventually the concert reached ist midpoint break.
The members disappeared backstage briefly while the crowd buzzed excitedly.
Yuna collapsed dramatically against the railing.
“I understand now.”
“What?”
“How people accidentally fall in love with stars.”
Y/N snorted softly.
“You say that while Wooyoung is literally three feet away.”
The dynamic between Wooyoung and Yuna had shifted over the past few months. Wooyoung flirted with her, Yuna ignored him mostly.
“I’m emotionally committed to survival.”
Wooyoung looked offended immediately.
“I’m incredibly lovable.”
“Debatable,” Yeosang answered flatly.
Before Wooyoung could start fake crying again, stage lights suddenly dimmed once more.
The crowd screamed immediately.
Ateez returned to the stage calmer this time.
Less explosive energy now.
More intimate.
Hongjoong stepped toward the mic first smiling softly.
“We’ve got something special next.”
The crowd roared louder instantly.
Y/N noticed Yunho already looking toward the VIP section again.
Specifically toward her.
Her heartbeat immediately sped up.
Hongjoong continued speaking while grinning knowingly toward Yunho.
“One of our newest songs actually came from a pretty emotional period.”
Mingi snorted loudly beside him.
The crowd laughed.
Yunho already looked mildly betrayed.
San grabbed his shoulder dramatically.
“He suffered for art.”
“Please stop talking,” Yunho muttered into the mic.
Fans screamed louder.
Then Yunho stepped forward slowly.
And immediately the entire arena quieted slightly.
Y/N’s breath caught seeing him look directly at her.
Not hiding it anymore.
Not pretending.
Yunho smiled softly.
“There’s someone important I wanna thank before this song.”
The crowd absolutely lost their minds immediately.
Y/N physically froze.
Beside her, Yuna grabbed Wooyoung violently.
“Oh my GOD.”
Wooyoung screamed silently into Seonghwa’s shoulder.
Meanwhile Yunho kept looking only at Y/N.
“I wouldn’t have been able to write this song without a really special woman beside me,” he said quietly.
The arena exploded.
Actually exploded.
Fans screaming.
People crying already.
Phones instantly everywhere.
And through all that noise, Yunho still only looked at her.
Y/N felt tears sting immediately behind her eyes.
Because suddenly she remembered him singing this song softly in the studio while heartbroken.
Back when he thought she might disappear from his life completely.
Now here he stood in front of thousands openly dedicating it to her.
The music started slowly afterward.
Soft guitar first.
Then piano.
Y/N recognized the melody instantly.
The song.
Their song.
Yunho’s eyes never left her once as he started singing.
And somehow it sounded even more emotional live.
The lyrics hurt differently now.
Because Y/N knew the story behind every line.
The silence after she ghosted him.
The nights staring sadly at rain.
The fear of losing someone before love even properly began.
But now the song carried something warmer too.
Hope.
Relief.
Devotion.
The final chorus changed slightly from the original version Y/N heard months ago.
Back then it sounded desperate.
Tonight it sounded certain.
Like finding home.
Yunho sang with his whole heart.
Completely open.
And every single time his eyes found hers across the arena, Y/N felt herself falling deeper all over again.
By the bridge, she already cried openly.
Yuna cried beside her too honestly.
Even Jongho looked suspiciously emotional.
“Disgusting,” Wooyoung whispered while wiping his eyes dramatically.
Seonghwa patted his shoulder.
“You’re crying.”
“No I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Meanwhile Y/N could barely breathe properly anymore.
Because Yunho looked at her like she was the only person in the entire arena.
And maybe in that moment she was.
The final note faded softly into screaming crowds afterward.
The arena erupted immediately.
Fans shouting.
Cheering.
Some crying openly.
Yunho smiled breathlessly toward her before finally looking away again.
But even from this distance, Y/N could see the emotion still shining in his eyes too.
The rest of the concert blurred afterward.
Y/N stayed overwhelmed through all of it.
Because something about watching Yunho publicly love her without hesitation healed parts of herself she didn’t even realize still hurt.
By the time the show finally ended, adrenaline still buzzed violently through her chest.
Backstage became chaos instantly afterward.
Staff everywhere.
Members sweaty and loud and exhausted.
Y/N barely processed any of it because the second Yunho appeared through the hallway doors still glowing from performance adrenaline, she moved automatically.
Straight toward him.
Yunho barely had time to react before Y/N practically launched herself into his arms.
He laughed breathlessly while catching her immediately.
“Baby—”
Y/N kissed him before he could finish.
Hard.
Full of emotion and adrenaline and overwhelming love.
Someone behind them screamed dramatically.
Probably Wooyoung.
Neither cared.
Yunho kissed her back instantly while lifting her slightly off the ground.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathing unevenly, Y/N grabbed his face between her hands.
“I love you,” she blurted immediately.
Emotion flashed violently across Yunho’s face.
Strong enough that his entire expression softened.
Then he smiled.
That real smile again.
The one only she really knew properly.
And god.
Y/N thought she could survive anything as long as he kept looking at her like that.
Yunho brushed sweaty hair carefully away from her face before kissing her forehead softly.
“I love you more than anything, baby.”
The sincerity in his voice nearly made her cry all over again.
Behind them came loud gagging noises.
“Actually unbearable,” Wooyoung announced dramatically.
San pointed accusingly toward the couple.
“You two are disgustingly in love.”
“Physically nauseating,” Jongho agreed.
Yuna looked deeply emotional instead.
“This is literally my favorite romance movie.”
Hongjoong passed by holding water bottles while shaking his head fondly.
“Yunho wrote like twelve songs over this woman.”
“THIRTEEN,” Mingi corrected immediately.
Y/N looked at Yunho in shock.
“Thirteen?”
Yunho looked suddenly embarrassed.
“Traitor,” he muttered toward Mingi.
Wooyoung gasped dramatically.
“Wait until she hears the unreleased ones.”
“There are unreleased ones?”
Yunho buried his face briefly against Y/N’s shoulder while everyone laughed around them.
And standing there backstage surrounded by chaos and teasing and people who loved them both, Y/N realized something quietly wonderful.
Months ago she genuinely believed someone like Yunho could never truly choose someone like her.
Now he sang love songs about her in sold-out arenas without hesitation.
And somehow, despite everything fame complicated, loving Yunho still felt surprisingly simple in the ways that mattered most.
Epilogue
Mina decided heartbreak was deeply embarrassing.
Not even the poetic kind either.
No dramatic rain.
No cinematic breakup speech.
Just one stupid message at eleven thirty-seven in the evening from a boy she spent almost eight months loving.
I think you’re amazing but i met someone else
That was it.
Eight months reduced to one glowing notification on her phone screen.
Mina groaned dramatically and buried her face deeper into her pillow.
Outside her bedroom window, rain tapped softly against the glass.
Of course.
Apparently heartbreak legally required rain.
She reached blindly toward her phone again despite already reading the message at least thirty times.
Still there.
Still horrible.
The worst part?
She genuinely thought Jaemin liked her too.
The lingering hand touches.
The long conversations after class.
The way he smiled softer around her.
Apparently none of it meant anything.
Or maybe it did for a little while before somebody prettier appeared.
That thought made something ache sharply in her chest again.
Mina rolled onto her back dramatically staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to her ceiling from childhood.
Pathetic.
At sixteen years old she already sounded like someone’s divorced aunt.
Her room stayed dim except for fairy lights hanging loosely near her desk.
Usually she liked rainy evenings.
Tonight everything just felt heavy.
She needed distraction.
Immediately.
Mina grabbed her laptop from beside the bed and opened it with another dramatic sigh.
Music.
She needed loud emotional music.
Preferably something devastating enough to validate her suffering.
Scrolling mindlessly through recommendations, one title suddenly caught her eye.
ATEEZ – “Moon After Rain”
Interesting title.
The thumbnail looked old.
Really old.
Like vintage-performance-video old.
Mina clicked it anyway.
Soft guitar flooded her room immediately.
Then a voice.
Warm.
Deep.
Familiar.
Beautiful in a way that physically made her pause.
Mina blinked slowly at the screen.
Okay.
Wow.
The song built gently at first before expanding into something heartbreakingly emotional.
Lyrics about waiting for someone.
Loving someone through fear.
Finding home in another person after feeling lost for too long.
Mina stared quietly at the screen while rain tapped softly outside.
The lead singer’s voice especially caught her attention.
There was something oddly familiar about it.
Comforting somehow.
By the second chorus her chest hurt for completely different reasons now.
Not just heartbreak.
Something softer too.
Hope maybe.
The song didn’t sound tragic despite the sadness woven through it.
It sounded devoted.
Like love surviving anyway.
Mina hugged her blanket tighter around herself while replaying part of the chorus again.
God.
People used to make music like this?
No wonder older generations acted emotionally unstable about bands.
A knock sounded lightly against her bedroom door.
Before Mina answered, the door already opened slightly.
Her mother stepped inside carrying folded laundry against her hip.
Her mum Lia always moved softly through rooms.
Even at forty-two she still looked warm in a way Mina struggled describing properly.
Comfortable maybe.
Like sunlight through curtains.
“You’re awake late,” her mum said gently.
“Emotionally suffering.”
“Ah.” Her mum nodded immediately. “Teenage heartbreak.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you expected this.”
“I did.”
Mina looked betrayed.
Her mum laughed quietly before setting the laundry basket onto the chair near the desk.
Then suddenly she paused.
The music still played softly through Mina’s laptop speakers.
Her mum blinked once.
Then slowly,“…Why are you listening to that oldie?”
Mina frowned slightly while sitting up straighter against the bed.
“You know this song?”
Lia looked immediately amused.
“Mina.”
“What?”
“That song is ancient.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“That too.”
Mina glanced back toward the screen thoughtfully.
“The man singing kinda reminds me of grandpa actually.”
Silence.
Then her mum burst into laughter.
Full laughter.
The kind that made her physically lean against the doorway for support.
Mina stared in confusion.
“What?”
Lia covered her mouth still laughing softly.
“Oh sweetheart.”
“What?”
“That IS your grandpa.”
Mina blinked once.
Then again.
“…What?”
Her mother smiled helplessly now while walking toward the bed.
“No one ever showed you old concert videos?”
“You told me grandpa used to be in a band!”
“A very famous band.”
“I thought you meant like…” Mina gestured vaguely. “Local famous.”
This time her mother laughed harder.
“Oh baby no.”
Completely stunned, Mina looked back toward the laptop screen immediately.
The singer smiled during the live performance clip.
And suddenly…
Oh my god.
Now that she noticed it, the resemblance felt painfully obvious.
The same eyes.
The same smile.
Even the way he tilted his head while singing.
Mina physically grabbed her laptop closer.
“No way.”
Her mum sat down beside her on the bed smiling softly at the screen.
“Your grandpa was kind of a big deal.”
“KIND OF?”
“Okay.” Lia laughed. “A very big deal.”
Mina stared at the performance footage in absolute disbelief.
“You’re telling me grandpa was basically an idol?”
“Rockstar technically.”
“Oh my god.”
The realization completely rearranged her understanding of her grandparents instantly.
Because Grandpa Yunho had always just been…
Grandpa.
Warm smiles.
Movie nights.
Sneaking her candy before dinner while Grandma pretended not noticing.
The man who gardened obsessively and cried during emotional dog movies.
Not this.
Not someone performing in front of screaming stadiums while looking devastatingly cool.
Mina looked horrified suddenly.
“Wait.”
Her mum raised an eyebrow.
“Did grandma know?”
Lia snorted softly.
“She absolutely knew.”
“No, but like…” Mina gestured wildly toward the screen. “THIS version?”
Warmness softened across her mums face immediately.
“Oh, your grandma knew every version of him.”
Something about the way she said that made Mina quiet slightly.
The song continued softly in the background.
Then slowly Mina looked toward her mother again.
“Did they really love each other like that?”
Her mothers expression changed immediately.
Gentler somehow.
Like memory softened her from the inside.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Very much.”
Mina hugged her blanket tighter unconsciously.
Because honestly?
Grandma and Grandpa always seemed unreal together.
Even as old people.
Especially as old people maybe.
Grandpa still kissed Grandma’s forehead constantly.
Still looked at her like she hung the moon itself.
And Grandma always softened around him instantly no matter how grumpy she acted beforehand.
Mina used to joke they were disgusting.
Now suddenly she wanted that kind of love more than anything.
Lia smiled faintly at the screen again.
“That song actually has a story.”
Mina immediately looked interested.
“What story?”
Her mum tucked one leg beneath herself on the bed before speaking.
“Your grandpa wrote it when he thought your grandma didn’t want him anymore.”
Mina blinked.
“What?”
“Oh, they were a disaster in the beginning.”
That startled a laugh out of her immediately.
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely.” her mum smiled fondly. “Grandma almost ran away because she thought she wasn’t good enough for him.”
Mina frowned immediately.
“But grandma was gorgeous.”
“She still thought that.”
The words settled softly between them.
Her mum looked toward the rain outside briefly before continuing.
“She met him before knowing he was famous.”
Mina immediately leaned closer.
“Wait actually?”
And then slowly, softly, her mother told her the story.
About an exhausted office worker wandering into a random bar after work.
About a musician sneaking out onto a patio for fresh air.
About one stupid impulsive night wandering through the city together pretending adulthood didn’t exist.
Arcades.
Lake water under moonlight.
Street food at three in the morning.
Mina listened completely captivated.
Because somehow it sounded less like real life and more like one of the romance movies Grandma secretly loved watching late at night.
“And then?” Mina whispered quietly.
Her mother smiled softly.
“Then your grandma got scared.”
“Because of the fame?”
“Partly.” she nodded slightly. “But mostly because she loved him already.”
The room quieted softly afterward except for the song still playing faintly nearby.
Mina looked back toward the screen again.
Young Grandpa Yunho singing like his entire heart existed inside the song.
After another soul-draining day at her corporate HR job, Y/N stumbles into a small underground bar to escape the exhaustion swallowing her whole. There she meets Yunho, a magnetic guitarist from a famous rock band and spends one unforgettable night wandering through the city with a stranger who makes her feel alive again.
What begins as a reckless decision slowly turns into something neither of them expected: a place to breathe.
Pairing: Jeong Yunho × Reader (Y/N)
Tropes: Rockstar AU, Strangers to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Late Night City Romance, Found Family, Emotional Healing, Soft Slow Burn, Falling in Love Before Realizing It
Featuring: Ateez as Yunhos Band Mates or Friends, Y/ns Childhood friend
Main Masterlist | Yunhos Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
This is Part 4
For a few seconds after Y/N disappeared behind the apartment door, Yunho genuinely could not move.
Rain tapped softly against the hood of the car beside him while cold night air settled damp against his skin.
The building entrance stayed closed.
And somehow that silence felt louder than anything else.
Yunho stared at the glass door like maybe she would suddenly come back out again.
Maybe she would realize she overreacted. Maybe she would laugh awkwardly and tell him she was just overwhelmed. Maybe he should go after her.
The thought hit instantly.
Go upstairs. Knock on her door.
Tell her again that none of it mattered to him.
That he liked her exactly as she was. That he had not felt this connected to someone in years.
His body even shifted slightly toward the entrance before he stopped himself.
Because another thought followed immediately after.
Would that actually help?
Or would it just overwhelm her more?
Y/N already looked terrified standing there crying in front of him.
Not scared of him. Scared of everything surrounding him.
And Yunho understood that better than she probably realized.
People always talked about fame like it only brought good things.
Opportunities. Money. Attention.
They rarely talked about what it did to relationships.
How every interaction eventually became distorted somehow.
People projected versions onto him constantly. Some saw fantasy. Others saw status. Some only saw headlines and crowds and numbers.
Y/N had met him before any of that.
She met him sweaty behind a bar with a missing lighter and stupid jokes.
And tonight she finally saw the gap between that Yunho and the version the world recognized.
No wonder she got overwhelmed.
Still…
The image of tears in her eyes while saying I don’t know if I can manage something like this again made something ache sharply in his chest.
Again.
That word stayed with him.
Because whatever happened before him clearly hurt her deeply enough that now she expected disappointment before anything even began.
Yunho leaned heavily back against the car with a quiet curse. “Fuck.”
He dragged both hands through his damp hair before finally climbing back inside the car.
The engine stayed off.
Yunho rested his forehead briefly against the steering wheel and closed his eyes.
Everything replayed instantly anyway.
Y/N laughing earlier that afternoon with powdered sugar on her mouth. The way she relaxed when he kissed her hand outside the amusement park. Her coworkers staring at her like she did not belong beside him.
And worst of all, the way she looked at him near the end.
Like she already believed losing him would hurt too much.
Yunho exhaled slowly through his nose.
He should text her.
No.
Call her maybe.
No.
Give her space.
God.
He hated this.
Eventually he started the car again mostly because sitting outside her apartment spiraling for another hour would become deeply pathetic.
The drive back to Moonlight Room blurred together.
Rain grew heavier halfway there, streaking against the windshield while city lights reflected gold and red across wet streets.
Usually driving calmed him. Tonight his thoughts kept circling the same questions endlessly.
Should he have stopped her harder?
Should he have let her walk away so easily?
Was she already regretting everything?
The thought physically hurt.
By the time Yunho parked behind the bar, exhaustion sat heavy in his bones.
The familiar neon sign glowed dimly against the rain outside.
Tonight the bar was closed to the public. Just their people inside.
Sometimes after long schedules they gathered there anyway. Played music. Drank. Helped Wooyoung and Seonghwa clean or test new drinks.
Usually those nights relaxed Yunho.
Tonight he already wanted to leave again before even walking in.
The second he stepped inside, warmth and noise hit him immediately.
Music played softly through speakers while laughter echoed somewhere near the booths. Seonghwa polished glasses behind the counter while Wooyoung argued loudly with San over something involving tequila and “creative freedom.”
Mingi spotted Yunho first. “Oh!” He pointed dramatically. “The lover boy returns.”
Several heads immediately turned.
Yunho already knew where this was going.
Wooyoung gasped loudly. “How was the date with the woman of your dreams?”
San nearly fell sideways across the booth grinning. “Did you kiss?”
“Wait no,” Wooyoung interrupted. “Did you cry?”
“Why would he cry?” Yeosang asked flatly.
“Because he’s emotionally invested.”
“That’s fair.”
Usually Yunho would have laughed. Usually he would have shoved Wooyoung dramatically and complained while secretly enjoying the teasing.
Tonight he just forced a weak smile instead. “It was fine.”
Silence flickered briefly.
Because everyone immediately noticed the problem.
Hongjoong looked up first from his drink. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You look miserable,” Jongho pointed out bluntly.
“I’m tired.”
“No.” San narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Something happened.”
Yunho shrugged out of his damp jacket and headed toward the counter instead. “Seriously, it’s fine.”
Nobody believed him.
Wooyoung appeared beside him almost instantly. “That was the saddest ‘it’s fine’ I’ve ever heard.”
Yunho rubbed tiredly at his face. “I just don’t really want to talk right now.”
“Oh no,” Mingi muttered dramatically from behind him. “It’s bad bad.”
Seonghwa quietly slid a drink toward Yunho across the counter. “You wanna sit?”
Yunho nodded once gratefully.
The others followed immediately of course. Like emotional vultures.
San practically climbed across the booth. “Did she reject you?”
“No.”
“Did you reject her?”
“No.”
“Did you accidentally tell her you loved her?”
“What? No!”
“Then what happened?”
Questions kept coming from every direction. Too fast. Too loud.
And normally Yunho would have handled it fine.
But Y/N crying kept replaying behind his eyes every few seconds.
The sound of her voice shaking. The way she looked genuinely scared.
And suddenly everyone pushing at him felt unbearable.
“Can you all just leave it alone for a second?” he snapped suddenly.
Silence crashed instantly across the booth. Yunho immediately regretted the sharpness in his voice.
Wooyoung blinked. San leaned back slightly. Even Mingi looked surprised.
Yunho exhaled harshly through his nose before rubbing a hand over his face again.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered quietly. “I just…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Nobody spoke for a second afterward.
Then Hongjoong nodded once. “Okay.”
The conversation shifted awkwardly after that.
Nobody pushed again.
Still, Yunho barely heard most of it.
His thoughts stayed somewhere else entirely.
Hours passed slowly afterward.
Eventually San and Wooyoung started arguing over music again loudly enough to shake the entire room. Yeosang disappeared onto the patio with Seonghwa for cigarettes. Hongjoong answered work calls in the corner looking exhausted already.
Yunho slipped away quietly toward the small stage area near the back of the bar.
The room there stayed dimly lit except for scattered overhead lights reflecting softly across instruments.
His guitar already rested near one of the stools. Without thinking too much, Yunho picked it up. The familiar weight settled comfortably against him immediately.
Playing usually helped organize his thoughts. Or at least drown them out.
Tonight music came easier than words. Soft chords filled the empty bar while rain tapped quietly against windows outside.
Yunho stared down at the notebook resting open beside him. Lyrics already covered half the page.
Most unfinished. Most obviously about Y/N.
About girls who looked sad while laughing. About lakes under moonlight. About wanting someone enough to become terrified of losing them immediately.
Pathetic honestly.
Still, he kept writing anyway.
At some point footsteps approached quietly behind him.
Yunho didn’t look up immediately.
Only when Mingi settled beside him on the stage steps without speaking. For a while Mingi just listened quietly while Yunho played absentmindedly.
“You wanna tell me what happened?”
His voice sounded different now.
Not teasing. Not pushing.
Just… caring.
Yunho stared down at the guitar strings for a second longer before sighing softly. “She got scared.”
Mingi stayed quiet beside him.
So Yunho continued slowly. “She said she doesn’t know if she can handle…” He gestured vaguely around himself. “All of this.”
“The fame stuff?”
“Yeah.”
Rain continued softly outside while Yunho explained everything.
The coworkers. The comments. Y/N trying to pull her hand away. The way she looked smaller afterward no matter how hard he tried making her laugh again.
And finally the car ride.
Her crying. The way she kept talking like she wasn’t enough for him.
By the time he finished, his chest felt hollow again.
Mingi sat quietly processing it all.
Then eventually he leaned back against the stage step with a slow sigh. “Damn.”
“Yeah.”
For a second neither spoke.
Then Mingi rubbed lightly at his jaw thoughtfully. “I get why you’re upset,” he admitted carefully. “But honestly?” He glanced sideways toward Yunho. “I kinda get her too.”
Yunho looked over immediately.
Mingi lifted both hands slightly. “Not saying she’s right. Just…” He shrugged. “Think about it from her perspective.”
Yunho looked away again toward the guitar.
“She met you as just Yunho.”
The sentence landed quietly between them.
Not Jeong Yunho from Ateez.
Not the celebrity version everyone recognized instantly. Just him.
Mingi continued softly. “She didn’t know who you were at first. That’s probably why she relaxed around you so fast.”
Yunho remembered the first night instantly. Y/N laughing at his missing lighter. Calling him dramatic.
Looking at him without hesitation or expectation. No fame involved.
Just them.
“And then suddenly,” Mingi continued, “she sees the other side of it.”
The attention. People talking over her to get to him.
Yunho’s chest tightened again.
Mingi leaned forward resting his forearms against his knees. “You told us yourself she’s already insecure.” He glanced toward Yunho carefully. “And honestly? She sounds like someone whose trust you actually gotta earn.”
The sentence made Yunho blink slightly.
Because it felt painfully accurate.
Y/N did not open easily. Even the first night together, she kept overthinking every conversation at first.
And yet somehow she still followed him into the city anyway. Still trusted him enough to spend the night with him. Still let herself become vulnerable.
Mingi snorted softly beside him. “It still surprises me she even went with you that first night honestly.”
“That’s rude.”
“You know what I mean.”
Yunho did.
Because objectively?
Y/N should have been more cautious.
Instead she trusted him almost instinctively before even knowing who he was. And maybe that made tonight hurt worse too.
Because now she suddenly saw all the reasons not to.
Mingi nudged Yunho lightly with his shoulder. “I don’t think she pushed you away because she doesn’t like you.”
Yunho stared quietly at the notebook beside him. “She literally said she likes me.”
“There you go.”
“She still left.”
“Because she’s scared.”
Silence settled softly around them afterward.
Then Mingi smiled slightly. “You know,” he admitted, “I’m actually rooting for you.”
Yunho looked over.
Mingi shrugged. “You haven’t looked this genuinely happy in forever.”
The words hit unexpectedly hard.
Because they were true. Even Hongjoong mentioned it earlier that week.
Yunho laughed easier after meeting Y/N.
Smiled more. Seemed lighter somehow.
And all of it happened because one exhausted office worker walked into a random bar after work looking like she needed saving from adulthood.
Mingi looked toward the guitar resting against Yunho’s lap.
“So don’t give up yet.”
Yunho exhaled quietly. “You really think there’s still a chance?”
“I think,” Mingi said slowly, “that if something feels special this quickly, it’s probably worth fighting for.”
The sentence settled deep in Yunho’s chest.
Outside, rain continued falling softly over the city.
And for the first time since Y/N closed the door in front of him earlier that night, Yunho felt something besides helplessness.
Hope maybe.
Fragile. But there.
One week. Seven entire days.
Yunho knew because he counted every single one.
At first he tried being reasonable about it.
Y/N needed space. That was fair.
The night outside her apartment had been emotional for both of them. She cried. He pushed. Everything became messy and overwhelming.
So Yunho gave her time.
One day.
Then two.
Then four.
Now an entire week had passed.
No texts. No calls. Nothing.
And slowly, against his will, the thought started sinking in deeper every day.
Maybe she really was done with him. Maybe the silence itself was the answer.
Yunho sighed heavily from the couch in the recording studio before checking his phone again.
Still nothing.
No notifications except group chats and management reminders.
The screen reflected faintly against his tired face before he dropped the phone dramatically onto his chest again.
Across the studio, San’s voice blasted through the speakers mid-recording while Hongjoong adjusted controls behind the mixing desk.
Mingi glanced over from his chair immediately. “There he goes again.”
“I heard that,” Yunho muttered without moving.
“You were sighing like a divorced father.”
“That’s because he’s heartbroken,” San announced through the studio microphone before laughing at his own joke.
“Focus on recording,” Hongjoong shouted back immediately.
“I contain multitudes.”
The studio lights felt too bright today.
Or maybe Yunho just barely slept again.
Most nights this week ended the same way. Lying awake in bed staring at old messages from Y/N.
The messages physically ruined him now.
Because afterward came silence. Total silence.
Yunho dragged a hand over his face tiredly before checking his phone again despite knowing better.
Still nothing.
Mingi watched him for another second before speaking carefully. “She still hasn’t texted?”
Yunho shook his head once against the couch cushion. “Nope.”
“Maybe she’s busy,” San offered weakly through the microphone.
“San,” Hongjoong said flatly, “nobody is too busy for one text during an entire week.”
“Let me be optimistic.”
Yunho laughed softly despite himself. Weak.
But real enough that the others visibly relaxed slightly.
Because honestly?
This week had been rough. Not dramatic movie rough. Just quietly miserable.
Everything kept reminding him of her.
Coffee shops. Train stations. Rain at night.
Even the stupid claw machine plushie sitting on the shelf beside his desk at home because apparently Y/N forgot it in his car after the amusement park.
Yunho stared at the studio ceiling blankly. “She’s ghosting me, isn’t she?”
Three immediate reactions hit him at once.
“No.”
“Probably not.”
“You’re spiraling.”
Yunho groaned quietly. “I’m serious.”
Mingi leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “She doesn’t seem like the ghosting type.”
“She literally vanished.”
“She told you she was scared,” Hongjoong pointed out calmly without looking away from the mixing desk. “That’s different.”
Yunho knew that. Logically.
Emotionally, however, his brain kept producing worst-case scenarios every two hours.
Maybe she regretted ever meeting him. Maybe she met someone normal instead.
The last thought made something ugly twist immediately in his chest. Pathetic.
Yunho sat up slowly from the couch before grabbing his phone again. “I should text her.”
“Then do it,” San answered immediately.
“But what if that’s overstepping?”
Three heads turned toward him.
Yunho rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “She asked for space.”
“She never actually said that,” Mingi pointed out.
“She kinda implied it.”
Hongjoong finally looked up from the console then. “Yunho.”
“Hm?”
“You’ve spent seven days staring at your phone like a Victorian widow.”
“That feels dramatic.”
“It’s accurate.”
San nodded immediately. “You sigh every thirty minutes.”
“Yesterday you stared at rain for like twenty minutes straight,” Mingi added helpfully.
“That was unrelated.”
“It absolutely wasn’t.”
Unfortunately true.
Yunho dropped back against the couch again with another sigh. “I just don’t wanna make things worse.”
The room quieted slightly after that.
Because underneath all the jokes, the others knew him well enough to understand what this actually meant.
Yunho rarely got attached this fast anymore. Rarely let people affect him this deeply. And now one week of silence already had him looking permanently exhausted.
Mingi leaned forward slightly. “You know what I honestly think?”
Yunho looked over tiredly.
“I think she’s probably overthinking herself into another dimension.”
The sentence startled a laugh out of him.
Mostly because it sounded painfully accurate. Y/N absolutely seemed like the type to spiral herself into emotional isolation.
That part hurt more. Because maybe she genuinely believed walking away would make his life easier.
Meanwhile Yunho had spent the entire week writing songs about her.
Actual loser behavior.
San suddenly leaned back dramatically inside the recording booth. “You know what this studio session needs?”
“No,” Hongjoong answered immediately.
“A love song.”
Silence.
Then Mingi burst into laughter. “Oh my god.”
Yunho already knew where this was going. “No.”
“Yes,” San insisted brightly. “The people yearn for emotional devastation.”
“The people need you to finish your recording first,” Hongjoong replied.
But Mingi already looked deeply entertained now.
“Oh, Yunho has like twenty of those.”
Traitor.
San gasped dramatically through the microphone. “You wrote songs about her?”
“I write songs about everything.”
“Not like this,” Mingi corrected smugly.
Hongjoong slowly turned toward Yunho now too.
Interest immediately visible. “Wait.”
Yunho groaned quietly. “No.”
“Play one.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re literally an artist,” San shouted. “Suffer publicly.”
“I hate all of you.”
“Play the song.”
Yunho crossed his arms stubbornly against his chest. “No.”
Unfortunately that only encouraged them.
Mingi physically got up from his chair. “Oh, now we definitely need to hear it.”
“You’re being annoying on purpose.”
“Yes.”
Hongjoong leaned back against the console thoughtfully. “Honestly? We do need something emotional for the setlist.”
Yunho stared at him in betrayal. “You too?”
“You write best when you’re miserable.”
“That’s offensive.”
“That’s accurate,” three voices answered immediately.
Yunho buried his face in his hands briefly.
Because the worst part?
They were probably right.
This entire week had poured directly into music whether he wanted it to or not.
At some point around three in the morning two days earlier, he wrote an entire chorus about wanting someone so badly that silence itself started hurting physically.
Embarrassing.
Deeply embarrassing.
Still…
Slowly, reluctantly, Yunho reached toward the notebook resting beside the couch.
Immediate chaos erupted.
“Oh my god.”
“He’s doing it.”
“Wait, I’m emotionally preparing.”
“Shut up,” Yunho muttered.
The teasing quieted almost instantly once he actually picked up the guitar resting nearby though.
Because now they knew he was serious.
The studio settled into softer silence while Yunho adjusted the instrument against himself.
For a second he hesitated. Then his fingers moved automatically across the strings.
The melody came quietly at first.
Soft. Melancholy.
The room changed almost immediately.
Even San stopped moving around inside the recording booth.
Yunho looked down at the guitar while singing softly.
Not performing. Just… feeling it.
Lyrics spilled out rougher than usual.
About neon lights reflected in lake water. About girls who apologized for existing too loudly in the wrong spaces. About wanting to chase someone even while knowing they’d run first. And somewhere halfway through the second verse, Yunho accidentally forgot everyone else sat in the room.
Because suddenly all he could see was Y/N again.
Laughing at the arcade. Crying outside her apartment. Looking at him like she wanted him too much already.
His chest tightened painfully mid-chorus anyway.
Still, he kept singing.
The final line faded softly into silence afterward.
No one spoke immediately.
Yunho stared down at the guitar awkwardly.
Then finally:
“…Holy shit,” San whispered.
Yunho looked up. All three of them stared at him.
Hongjoong leaned slowly back against the mixing desk like he needed a second to process.
Mingi blinked once. “Okay,” he said carefully. “That was insane.”
Yunho rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck immediately. “It’s unfinished.”
Yunho groaned dramatically and dropped backward against the couch again. “I regret sharing anything with you people.”
Mingi laughed loudly. “No actually, that chorus physically hurt me.”
“That bridge was disgusting,” San added. “Like emotionally.”
Hongjoong already grabbed a notebook. “We’re keeping it.”
Yunho stared at the ceiling again while the others immediately started discussing arrangements around him.
Somewhere underneath the embarrassment, warmth flickered softly in his chest too.
Because despite everything else, singing about Y/N made her feel close again somehow. Even if she still refused to answer him.
Hours later, after finally finishing the studio session, Yunho returned home exhausted.
The apartment greeted him with familiar silence.
Usually he appreciated quiet after schedules.
Tonight it just felt empty.
He dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter before immediately pulling out his phone again.
Still nothing.
Yunho groaned softly and collapsed onto the couch.
Okay.
Enough.
He needed to text her.
Obviously.
The others were right.
Seven days without contact already bordered on ridiculous.
Still…
What the hell was he supposed to say?
Hey, are you still emotionally spiraling?
Miss me?
Sorry you think you’re not enough for me even though you absolutely are?
Yunho opened their chat anyway. The blinking cursor mocked him instantly.
He typed. Deleted.
Typed again. Deleted again.
Eventually the message box only contained:
hey
Pathetic.
Yunho dropped the phone onto his face dramatically.
“This is impossible.”
The apartment remained deeply unhelpful. After another ten minutes of suffering, he sat up again determined.
Okay.
Simple honesty.
That usually worked best with Y/N anyway.
He typed again slowly.
I know you probably need time but I miss talking to you
Yunho stared at the sentence.
Then deleted it immediately.
Too intense.
Or maybe not intense enough.
God.
He hated texting.
Another attempt.
Are you okay?
Delete.
Thinking about you.
Delete.
Eventually he threw the phone onto the couch hard enough that it bounced slightly.
“Nope.”
He stood abruptly and paced toward the kitchen instead.
Water. He needed water.
Or alcohol.
Or emotional stability.
Unfortunately the apartment seemed fresh out of all three.
Yunho leaned heavily against the kitchen counter staring toward the rain outside his windows.
Because of course it was raining again. Everything about Y/N somehow involved rain now.
Rain outside the bar. Rain after the amusement park. Rain outside her apartment while she cried.
His chest tightened immediately at the memory.
Maybe texting really wasn’t enough. Maybe this entire situation became too fragile for carefully worded messages.
Y/N overthought texts already. He knew that much about her.
If he sent the wrong thing, she would probably reread it fifty times and convince herself he secretly meant something else entirely.
Yunho sighed heavily before grabbing his phone again.
Still no message from her.
And suddenly the idea settled into place quietly but firmly.
He needed to see her.
Not text. Not call.
Actually see her.
The realization hit so clearly that his body moved before he could overthink it again.
Yunho grabbed his keys from the counter immediately.
Then froze halfway toward the door.
Was this insane? Possibly.
Would Y/N think he completely lost his mind?
Also possible.
Still…
The thought of spending another week waiting silently while she convinced herself they should stay apart felt worse.
Much worse.
Yunho shoved his phone and wallet into his jacket pockets before heading for the door again.
Rain waited outside. Cold night air rushed against him immediately as he locked the apartment behind himself.
His heart beat strangely hard while heading toward the parking garage.
Not nervous exactly. Determined maybe.
Because somewhere between a random bar conversation and a lake at four in the morning, Y/N had become important enough that silence no longer felt acceptable. And Yunho wasn’t ready to lose something that felt this special without fighting for it first.
By the time Yunho parked outside Y/N’s apartment building, rain had softened into a light drizzle.
The city looked blurred beneath wet streetlights.
Quiet. Almost sleepy.
His hands stayed resting against the steering wheel while the engine hummed softly underneath him.
And suddenly all the confidence from twenty minutes ago disappeared completely.
What the hell was he actually doing?
Yunho leaned back slowly into the driver’s seat while staring toward Y/N’s building entrance.
Most windows were dark now except for a few scattered lights higher up.
Maybe she was asleep already. Maybe she didn’t want to see him at all. Maybe showing up unannounced after a week of silence would only overwhelm her more.
The thought made him exhale heavily through his nose.
“Great,” he muttered quietly to himself. “Now I’m the creepy guy outside her apartment.”
Rain tapped softly against the windshield.
Yunho stayed where he was.
Just thinking. Or overthinking maybe.
Because honestly, part of him still felt scared too.
Not of rejection exactly. More of hearing Y/N say out loud that this really was over before it ever properly started.
His phone rested in the cupholder beside him.
Still empty. No messages.
Yunho rubbed tiredly at his face before glancing back toward the building again.
One week. One entire week without her voice.
Without her terrible nervous laughs or the way she overexplained things when anxious.
God. He missed her.
The radio played quietly in the background, mostly ignored until the station host suddenly started talking louder.
“And next up,” the host announced brightly, “one of the biggest tracks dominating charts this month…”
Yunho already knew what was coming before the instrumental even started. “Oh, come on.”
Their song flooded through the speakers immediately.
His own voice filled the car seconds later alongside San’s.
Usually hearing their music unexpectedly felt surreal in a fun way. Tonight it made his stomach twist instead. Because suddenly he saw everything through Y/N’s eyes again.
Not Yunho sitting nervously in a car debating whether to ring her doorbell.
Jeong Yunho.
The celebrity. The performer people screamed for. The version of him impossible to separate from the rest now.
Y/N’s words echoed painfully clear in his head.
Your career is part of you too. Your fans matter. They’d be disappointed.
Yunho stared down at his hands silently while the song continued playing around him.
Maybe she was right.
Not about being boring. Never that.
But about how complicated this could become.
He had lived inside fame long enough to understand the ugly parts too.
The scrutiny. The judgment. The way strangers suddenly believed they owned pieces of your personal life.
Y/N already looked overwhelmed after one interaction with coworkers.
What would happen if things became public someday?
Would she hate it? Would it crush her slowly?
The thought alone made guilt flicker uneasily in his chest.
Maybe loving him really would become exhausting eventually.
Outside, rain streaked softly down the windshield while the chorus played quietly through the car speakers.
Yunho listened to his own voice for another few seconds before suddenly laughing softly under his breath.
Because this was ridiculous. All of it.
He was sitting here convincing himself to walk away from someone he cared about because the world might become difficult.
Meanwhile Y/N already spent her entire life carrying things alone.
Work. Expectations. Insecurities people clearly fed into constantly.
And instead of standing beside her through it, he almost turned the car around because he got scared too.
“No,” Yunho muttered quietly.
The word settled something firmly inside his chest.
Because yes, he was famous. Yes, his life was messy and public and complicated. But he was also still just a man sitting in a car at midnight missing a girl.
A girl who laughed like she forgot how beautiful she sounded doing it. A girl who cried because she genuinely thought she wasn’t enough for him.
And Yunho absolutely refused to let her believe that without fighting harder first.
The realization hit cleanly. Enough that suddenly his nerves quieted slightly too.
He turned off the radio.
The sudden silence felt sharp.
Then Yunho grabbed his keys and stepped out into the rain before he could overthink himself out of it again.
Cold air hit instantly. The drizzle dampened his hoodie while he crossed toward the apartment entrance.
Each step made his heartbeat louder.
Yunho shoved his hands into his pockets while entering the building.
Warm air greeted him inside along with faint fluorescent lighting. The elevator ride felt unbearably slow.
His reflection stared back at him from the metal doors.
Tired eyes. Messy dark hair. Nervous energy practically radiating from him.
“You’ve performed in stadiums,” he muttered under his breath. “Get it together.”
Unfortunately his heart ignored that advice entirely.
By the time he reached Y/N’s floor, his pulse already hammered painfully hard against his ribs.
The hallway looked quiet.
Yunho stopped outside her apartment door for a long second.
Okay.
Last chance to leave. Last chance to pretend he never came here.
His brain immediately supplied worst-case scenarios again.
Maybe she’d be angry. Maybe she’d cry again. Maybe she’d ask him to leave.
Still…
Yunho lifted his hand anyway.
Then rang the bell.
Silence followed immediately afterward.
Heavy enough that Yunho suddenly became hyperaware of every sound in the hallway.
His own breathing. The distant elevator hum somewhere below. Rain against windows far away.
For one horrible second he genuinely thought she might not answer.
Then footsteps.
Yunho straightened instinctively.
The lock clicked. And suddenly the door opened.
Y/N stood there staring at him in complete shock.
Soft oversized sweater. Bare face. Hair slightly messy like she had been lying down before answering.
Beautiful. Painfully beautiful.
For a second neither of them spoke.
Y/N blinked slowly. “…Yunho?”
His chest tightened immediately hearing her say his name again after a week of silence.
And standing there in front of her, watching surprise and nervousness flicker across her face all at once, Yunho realized one thing with absolute certainty.
He was not leaving until he fixed this.
Y/N had been miserable for an entire week.
Not dramatic movie miserable. Just quietly, constantly miserable.
The kind that settled heavy beneath her ribs no matter what she did.
Work became worse because now every quiet moment left too much room for thinking. She caught herself staring at her phone during lunch breaks hoping for messages she simultaneously felt too guilty to answer.
At night it became unbearable.
Because every single thing reminded her of Yunho somehow.
Rain against windows. Coffee shops. Late-night train rides.
Even the stupid oversized hoodie he left at her apartment after the amusement park sat folded carefully over the back of her chair because she could not bring herself to wash away the smell of him yet.
Pathetic honestly.
Yuna thought so too.
Not in a cruel way.
More in the deeply exasperated best-friend way. “You’re spiraling again.”
Y/N groaned softly from where she laid half-dead across the couch.
The apartment smelled faintly like takeout and vanilla candles while quiet music played from the radio nearby.
Outside, rain tapped softly against windows again.
Of course it was raining. Everything involving Yunho apparently required dramatic weather now.
Yuna sat cross-legged on the floor eating fries directly from the container while watching Y/N carefully.
“You haven’t stopped sighing for like twenty minutes.”
“I’m suffering.”
“You’re self-inflicting suffering.”
“That’s even worse.”
Yuna snorted softly.
Y/N pulled the blanket higher over her face dramatically. The last week replayed endlessly in her head no matter how hard she tried distracting herself.
Especially the look on Yunho’s face when she walked away from him.
God.
That alone made guilt twist violently in her chest.
Because the truth was painfully simple.
She missed him. A lot.
More than she should after such a short time.
Y/N stared blankly toward the ceiling. “I feel stupid.”
Yuna looked up immediately.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“The emotional honesty.”
Y/N sighed heavily again before finally sitting up slightly on the couch. “I handled everything horribly.”
“You were overwhelmed.”
“I still handled it horribly.”
Yuna stayed quiet while Y/N rubbed tiredly at her face.
“Who cries in front of someone because they’re too famous?” she muttered weakly. “That’s genuinely embarrassing.”
“It’s not embarrassing.”
“It absolutely is.”
“No.” Yuna pointed a fry dramatically toward her. “It’s anxiety.”
Y/N laughed softly under her breath. Unfortunately true.
Still, shame sat ugly inside her chest anyway.
Because now that the panic settled slightly after a week, everything seemed clearer in retrospect.
Yunho never once made her feel lesser. Not once.
If anything, he spent the entire time trying to pull her closer while she kept pushing herself away first.
Y/N swallowed lightly. “I really like him.”
The confession came quietly. Still heavy enough that Yuna’s expression softened immediately.
“I know.”
“No, like…” Y/N looked down toward her hands. “I really, really like him.”
That part scared her too.
Because nothing about this felt casual anymore.
Yuna leaned back against the couch thoughtfully. “Then why are you acting like he’s impossible to love?”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“You keep talking about him like he’s some unreachable thing.”
“Well…”
“He’s famous,” Yuna interrupted immediately. “Not a god.”
Easy for her to say.
Y/N groaned quietly again. “You didn’t see how people reacted.”
“I don’t need to.” Yuna shrugged slightly. “People are weird about celebrities.”
“It’s more than that.”
Yuna looked at her carefully for a second.
Then sighed softly. “You know you’ve always done this, right?”
Y/N frowned slightly. “Done what?”
“This.” Yuna gestured vaguely toward her entire miserable existence currently wrapped in blankets. “Thinking you’re not enough whenever someone seems better than you in some way.”
The words hit harder than expected. Y/N looked away immediately.
“Which is complete nonsense by the way,” Yuna continued firmly.
“It’s not nonsense.”
“It absolutely is.”
Y/N laughed weakly under her breath. “Easy for you to say.”
“No, listen to me.” Yuna shifted closer slightly. “You did this in university too.”
Y/N already knew where this was going. “Oh my god.”
“The teaching assistant asked you out once and you spent three weeks convinced he pitied you.”
“He wore loafers.”
“That means nothing.”
“He looked emotionally stable.”
Yuna stared at her flatly. “You hear yourself, right?”
Y/N buried part of her face back into the blanket.
Unfortunately Yuna kept going.
“And your ex?”
Immediately Y/N tensed slightly.
Yuna noticed but continued more gently. “You spent that entire relationship trying to become smaller so he wouldn’t leave.”
Silence settled heavily after that.
Because unfortunately…That was true too.
Y/N stared quietly toward the rain outside the windows.
Her ex always seemed shinier somehow.
More social. More ambitious. More certain.
Eventually Y/N started feeling like something dull beside him.
And by the end she apologized constantly just for needing reassurance at all.
Maybe that was why Yunho terrified her so much now.
Because the feelings already ran deeper than she expected.
And losing something this good later would absolutely destroy her.
Yuna nudged her sock-covered foot lightly. “You know what I think?”
Y/N hummed quietly.
“I think you met someone who actually sees you properly for once.” Yuna smiled faintly. “And that scares the hell out of you.”
Y/N looked down again without answering. Because maybe that was true too.
The radio played softly in the background while silence settled more comfortably afterward.
Then suddenly the station host spoke louder between songs.
“And next up,” the host announced brightly, “one of the biggest tracks dominating charts this month…”
Y/N immediately froze.
Yuna noticed instantly. “Oh?”
Then the music started.
Yunho’s voice filled the apartment seconds later.
Warm. Smooth.
Familiar enough now that Y/N’s chest physically tightened hearing it unexpectedly.
Yuna looked deeply entertained immediately. “There’s your man.”
“He’s not my man.”
“You cried over him.”
“That’s unrelated.”
“It’s absolutely related.”
Y/N tried glaring but failed miserably once Yunho’s verse started.
God. His voice really was unfairly beautiful.
And somehow hearing it through apartment speakers instead of headphones made the reality of who he was hit all over again.
Not just Yunho. Ateez’s Yunho.
The man millions listened to.
Yuna leaned dramatically back against the couch. “Okay no, I get it.”
Y/N frowned slightly. “What?”
“If someone sang to me sounding like that?” Yuna placed a hand dramatically over her chest. “I’d listen to them all day long too.”
Heat immediately rose into Y/N’s face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m right.”
The song continued softly through the apartment.
And despite all the anxiety still sitting inside her chest, warmth slipped through too.
Because under everything else…
She missed him.
His laugh. The way he flicked her forehead whenever she spiraled too hard. The softness in his voice whenever he said her name.
Y/N stared blankly at the rain outside again while Yunho’s voice continued through the speakers.
Then suddenly:
Ding dong.
Both women looked toward the apartment door immediately.
Yuna blinked.
“Oh thank god. Food’s here.”
Right.
They ordered takeout earlier.
Y/N sighed softly before finally untangling herself from the couch blanket.
“I’ll get it.”
“Tell them I love them.”
“You would say that to every delivery driver.”
“Food is important.”
Y/N laughed quietly while heading toward the apartment entrance.
The radio still played softly behind her.
Yunho’s voice followed faintly through the hallway while she unlocked the door.
For some reason her stomach twisted suddenly.
Maybe because she spent the last hour thinking about him nonstop. Maybe because hearing his voice still lingering in the apartment made missing him feel sharper again.
Y/N pulled the door open distractedly.
Then froze completely.
Yunho stood there.
Dark hoodie damp from rain. Hair messy and slightly wet. Breathing faintly uneven like he came upstairs too quickly.
Y/N genuinely forgot how to function for a second.
Shock slammed through her entire body so hard she just stared. “…Yunho?”
He looked almost equally startled seeing her immediately.
Like maybe he expected more time before the confrontation actually happened.
For one painfully awkward second neither moved.
Then suddenly Yunho started talking.
Fast. Very fast.
“Okay hi,” he blurted immediately. “I know showing up here is probably insane and maybe slightly creepy but I couldn’t figure out what to text you and then I kept overthinking everything and honestly I just really needed to see you.”
Y/N blinked rapidly. Rainwater still dripped lightly from his hoodie sleeves onto the hallway floor.
Meanwhile Yunho continued rambling before she could respond.
“And I know you’re scared,” he said quickly. “I get that. I do. But I need you to understand something because I don’t think I explained it properly before.”
His chest rose unevenly beneath the hoodie like he had rehearsed this in his head the entire drive here.
Y/N stayed completely frozen in the doorway listening. Yunho ran a hand anxiously through his damp hair.
“I don’t care about any of that stuff,” he continued softly now. “The fame. The attention. What random people think.” His eyes locked onto hers intensely. “I care about you.”
The words hit her so hard she physically forgot how to breathe for a second.
Inside the apartment, Yuna suddenly made a very loud choking sound from the living room.
Neither noticed. Or maybe both ignored it.
Because Yunho kept looking directly at Y/N like the rest of the world disappeared entirely.
“I care about being with you,” he admitted quietly. “Talking to you. Making you laugh.” His mouth twitched slightly. “Watching you pretend you’re not competitive before losing games dramatically.”
Heat rushed painfully into Y/N’s face immediately.
“And I know this probably sounds insane because we haven’t known each other that long,” Yunho continued, voice rougher now, “but I genuinely feel like something about this is important.”
Y/N’s chest hurt.
Because he sounded so sincere. So open.
And somehow that made everything inside her unravel more.
Yunho swallowed once before speaking again. “I want to know you more.”
The hallway suddenly felt too small around them.
“I want more mornings with you,” he admitted softly. “More nights wandering around the city. More stupid conversations about office birthday parties and claw machines and lakes.”
Not from fear this time. From how deeply he meant every word.
Yunho stepped one tiny bit closer. Rain dampened the edges of his hair while he looked at her almost helplessly now.
“And honestly?” His voice lowered slightly. “I think I’m starting to fall in love with you.”
Silence crashed instantly through Y/N’s entire body.
The confession settled somewhere deep and terrifying inside her chest.
Because the worst part? Some part of her already felt the same.
Behind her, sudden loud movement exploded from the living room.
“Okay!” Yuna shouted dramatically while appearing around the corner holding both their takeout drinks. “I’m gonna leave you two alone before I witness something emotionally devastating.”
Y/N nearly died instantly. “Yuna!”
Yuna winked shamelessly toward her.
Then directly at Yunho too. “Don’t waste this,” she informed him seriously before grabbing her coat from the chair nearby.
Y/N stared at her in betrayal. “You’re abandoning me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then before Y/N could physically stop her, Yuna slipped past them both through the doorway.
While leaving, she leaned briefly toward Y/N’s ear. “He literally came in the rain to confess. If you fumble this, I’ll haunt you.”
Then she disappeared down the hallway.
Silence returned immediately afterward.
Y/N slowly looked back toward Yunho.
Yunho looked equally mortified now that his emotional speech apparently had an audience.
“I forgot other people exist sometimes,” he muttered weakly.
A laugh escaped Y/N unexpectedly.
The sound visibly relaxed him slightly.
For a second they just stood there staring at each other awkwardly in the apartment doorway.
Rain continued softly outside.
The radio still played faintly somewhere behind them.
And suddenly Yunho looked nervous. Actually nervous.
The realization alone melted something inside Y/N completely.
Because this beautiful impossible person really stood outside her apartment looking terrified she might reject him again.
Y/N swallowed softly before stepping slightly aside from the doorway.
“You…” She laughed weakly again trying to steady herself. “You can come inside.”
Relief flashed visibly across Yunho’s face so quickly it almost hurt to witness.
Then quietly, carefully, he stepped into her apartment.
And somehow that single moment already felt like the beginning of something important.
The second the apartment door closed behind Yunho, Y/N suddenly became painfully aware of everything around her.
The blanket still thrown messily across the couch. The half-finished tea on the coffee table.
The stack of work folders near the kitchen counter she forgot to put away.
The tiny apartment itself.
Too small. Too cramped. Too ordinary.
Y/N’s chest tightened immediately.
Because suddenly she imagined what his world probably looked like instead.
Luxury apartments. Designer furniture. Huge windows overlooking the city.
Places that looked polished and expensive and worthy of someone like him.
Meanwhile her apartment looked lived in.
Warm maybe. But undeniably small.
Y/N rubbed awkwardly at her hands while Yunho quietly slipped off his damp shoes near the entrance.
“You can just…” She gestured vaguely toward nowhere. “Sit wherever.”
Excellent. Very normal sentence.
Yunho looked up toward her immediately, still slightly damp from the rain, dark hair falling messily over his forehead.
And somehow that only made her more nervous.
“Oh my god,” she blurted suddenly. “Do you want tea?”
Yunho blinked once. “What?”
“Or coffee. Or water.” She immediately started moving toward the kitchen. “I have ramen too if you’re hungry and there’s leftover takeout but it’s probably cold now and—”
“Y/N.”
She stopped immediately.
Yunho crossed the small apartment space in two quiet steps before gently catching her hand.
Warm fingers wrapped softly around hers.
Then his thumb caressed slowly across her knuckles once.
The tiny gesture nearly unraveled her instantly.
Y/N looked down at their hands instead of his face because suddenly breathing felt difficult again.
“I only want to talk to you,” Yunho said quietly.
The softness in his voice made her chest ache.
Y/N swallowed lightly.
“You don’t need to panic.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You offered me ramen like you’re being held hostage.”
Heat immediately rushed into her cheeks.
Yunho smiled faintly.
There it was again. That soft expression that always made him seem more like just Yunho than the celebrity version everyone else saw.
His thumb brushed across her hand again gently.
“You’re overthinking right now,” he said quietly.
Y/N looked away instantly. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Caught. Again.
Yunho tilted his head slightly trying to meet her eyes. “You’re thinking about how your apartment looks to me.”
Silence.
Because unfortunately that was exactly what she had been thinking.
Y/N laughed weakly under her breath. “You’re really annoying.”
“And I’m right.”
Unfortunately true.
Yunho stepped slightly closer then. “Y/N.”
The way he said her name so gently made her finally look up.
And immediately regret it.
Because he was looking at her so warmly that tears almost embarrassingly threatened again.
“I don’t care how big your apartment is.”
His voice stayed calm. Certain.
“And honestly?” His mouth curved softly upward. “It feels like you.”
The sentence hit somewhere deep inside her chest.
Yunho squeezed her hand lightly before guiding her toward the couch.
“Come sit.”
For once, Y/N let herself be led without arguing.
They settled beside each other on the couch quietly.
Close enough that their knees brushed lightly.
The apartment suddenly felt too small in a completely different way now.
Not embarrassing.,Intimate.
Rain continued softly outside while the radio still played faintly from the kitchen.
Y/N stared down at her hands folded nervously in her lap while Yunho looked at her for a second longer before speaking.
“This week sucked.”
The honesty startled a soft laugh out of her immediately.
Yunho smiled slightly at the sound.
“I’m serious,” he continued. “I kept checking my phone like an idiot every five minutes.”
Guilt twisted sharply inside her chest.,“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize yet.” He leaned back slightly into the couch. “I wanna explain properly first.”
Y/N nodded quietly.
Yunho rubbed his palms lightly against his jeans before continuing.
“I haven’t felt a connection this strong with someone in a really long time.”
His voice softened slightly afterward. “Honestly maybe ever.”
Y/N’s breath caught immediately.
Yunho looked down briefly before laughing softly under his breath.
“You make me nervous enough that I wrote like six love songs this week.”
“What?”
He groaned quietly. “Don’t focus on that part.”
Heat rushed into her face instantly.
Yunho smiled weakly before continuing more seriously.,“When I’m with you, things feel…” He searched briefly for words. “Easy.”
The word settled softly between them.
“Not because everything is perfect,” he clarified quickly. “You overthink. I overtalk. We’re both kinda disasters emotionally.” That made her laugh quietly again. “But being around you feels real.”
Y/N looked down quickly before he noticed how much those words affected her.
Too late probably.
Yunho shifted slightly closer on the couch.
“I need you to understand something though.”
She looked up again slowly.
“The person you met behind that bar?” His eyes stayed locked gently onto hers. “That’s me.”
Emotion tightened painfully in her throat immediately.
“Not some fake version,” he continued softly. “Not a character.”
Y/N listened silently while rain tapped softly against the windows around them.
“I know the famous part looks overwhelming,” Yunho admitted. “And sometimes honestly it is.” He smiled faintly without humor. “But it doesn’t change who I actually am.”
The conviction in his voice made something inside her slowly loosen.
“I’m still the same guy who lost his mind over a shark-cat plushie,” he continued gently. “The same guy who lied about freezing lake water.”
“You absolutely did lie.”
“I stand by it.”
Y/N laughed softly despite herself.
Yunho’s expression warmed immediately at the sound.
“There she is.”
Heat rose lightly into her cheeks again.
Yunho reached for her hand once more, intertwining their fingers carefully this time.
“And if your biggest fear is things becoming public someday…” He shrugged slightly. “I’ve had relationships before.”
Y/N blinked slightly. “You have?”
“Y/N.” He laughed quietly. “I’m twenty-seven.”
Right.
That made sense.
Still, hearing it out loud weirdly made him feel more human again.
“Some were public,” he continued calmly. “Some weren’t.” His thumb brushed slowly against her hand. “And honestly? Fans usually just want us to be happy.”
Y/N looked doubtful immediately.
Yunho noticed. “I’m serious.”
“But what about the crazy people online?”
“Oh, those exist.” He sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”
That startled another laugh from her.
“But there are ways to keep things private too,” he continued more gently. “Ways to protect what matters.”
What matters. The wording alone made her chest ache.
Yunho looked at her quietly afterward.
Openly.
Like he genuinely wanted her to understand every single word. “I like you,” he said softly.
“I want to keep seeing you.” His fingers tightened slightly around hers. “If you want that too.”
Silence settled softly around them afterward.
Y/N stared down at their joined hands in her lap.
And somehow that terrified her almost more than before.
Because Yunho kept giving her opportunities to run.
And she kept wanting to stay instead.
Y/N swallowed lightly.
Then quietly: “Do you really want someone like me?”
The second the words left her mouth, Yunho’s expression changed.
Not annoyed. Sad.
Like hearing her talk about herself that way physically hurt him.
Slowly, carefully, he lifted one hand toward her face.
Warm fingers brushing softly along her cheek before tilting her head upward gently.
Y/N’s breath caught immediately.
“Someone like you?” he repeated quietly.
She looked away instinctively.
Yunho guided her face back gently again.
“No,” he murmured. “Look at me.”
Y/N forced herself to.
And immediately melted slightly seeing the softness in his expression.
“When I look at you,” Yunho said quietly, “I see someone who cares deeply about people even when they don’t deserve it.”
Emotion tightened painfully in her chest.
“I see someone funny.” His mouth curved softly upward. “Someone who makes every room feel warmer once she relaxes enough to stop apologizing for existing.”
Tears already threatened again.
Yunho brushed his thumb gently beneath one eye before they could fall.
“I see someone strong enough to keep going even while exhausted all the time.”
The tenderness in his voice nearly destroyed her.
“And honestly?” He smiled faintly. “I think you’re beautiful.”
Y/N’s breath shook softly.
“Especially when you laugh,” he added quietly. “Or when you get competitive over games even though you suck at them.”
That made her laugh through the tears immediately.
“There she is,” Yunho whispered again.
His forehead rested lightly against hers afterward.
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After another soul-draining day at her corporate HR job, Y/N stumbles into a small underground bar to escape the exhaustion swallowing her whole. There she meets Yunho, a magnetic guitarist from a famous rock band and spends one unforgettable night wandering through the city with a stranger who makes her feel alive again.
What begins as a reckless decision slowly turns into something neither of them expected: a place to breathe.
Pairing: Jeong Yunho × Reader (Y/N)
Tropes: Rockstar AU, Strangers to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Late Night City Romance, Found Family, Emotional Healing, Soft Slow Burn, Falling in Love Before Realizing It
Featuring: Ateez as Yunhos Band Mates or Friends, Y/ns Childhood friend
Main Masterlist | Yunhos Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
This is Part 3
The first three days after meeting Y/N, Yunho convinced himself he was being normal about it. Which, according to Hongjoong, was already a lie.
“She’s all you talk about,” Hongjoong had said flatly on the fourth day while adjusting sound levels in the studio.
“That’s not true.”
“You literally mentioned her six times during lunch.”
“I did not.”
“You compared a song lyric to the way she laughed.”
Mingi nearly fell off the couch laughing at that. Unfortunately, Hongjoong had been right.
Yunho thought about her constantly.
At first it happened in small moments.
Passing a claw machine in a mall and immediately remembering her hugging the stupid shark-cat plushie against her chest. Hearing someone laugh too loudly in a café and instinctively turning because for half a second he thought it sounded like her. Looking at the lake photos on his phone at two in the morning because apparently at some point during the night she had grabbed his phone and taken approximately thirty blurry pictures of him after swimming.
Most of them were horrible. One of them, however, captured him laughing while water.
The worst part was that Yunho genuinely could not remember the last time someone had looked at him that carefully.
Usually people saw pieces of him.
The performer. The idol. The famous version.
Y/N had somehow looked directly through all of it within a single night.
And now she was gone.
The first week, he still expected her to return to the bar eventually.
Maybe after work again. Maybe on a weekend.
Every night he casually found excuses to stop by Moonlight Room even when he was exhausted from schedules.
Wooyoung noticed immediately. “Oh my god,” he had whispered dramatically the first night Yunho walked in and immediately scanned the crowd. “You’re waiting for your wife.”
“She’s not my wife.”
“Emotionally she is.”
“She kissed him once,” Yeosang added from his usual stool.
“Twice,” Yunho corrected automatically before freezing.
Silence.
Then Wooyoung screamed loud enough that Seonghwa nearly dropped a glass.
The second week became worse. Because Y/N still did not come back. At first Yunho told himself she was busy. Corporate jobs were exhausting. He knew that much already.
Then slowly another possibility started creeping in.
Maybe she simply did not want to see him again. The thought annoyed him more than it should have.
Not because his ego was hurt.
Well. Maybe slightly.
But mostly because the night had felt important to him in a way he could not fully explain.
And now he kept wondering if he had imagined that entirely. Maybe for Y/N it had simply been one reckless impulsive evening before returning to normal life.
Meanwhile he still thought about the way she looked at the lake. Pathetic honestly.
“You’re staring into space again.”
Yunho blinked slowly. The recording studio returned around him.
Mingi lounged sideways across the couch scrolling through his phone while San sat cross-legged on the floor eating chips loud enough to become physically aggressive. Hongjoong stood near the mixing desk with his arms crossed already looking deeply unimpressed.
“You haven’t listened to a single thing I said for five minutes,” Hongjoong added.
Yunho rubbed tiredly at his face. “Sorry.”
San gasped dramatically. “He admitted it.”
“That means it’s serious,” Mingi added solemnly.
Yunho flipped both of them off weakly.
Outside the studio windows, rain tapped softly against the glass. The room smelled faintly like coffee, takeout food, and expensive equipment overheating after too many hours.
They had been working almost nonstop recently.
Usually Yunho could lose himself inside work completely.
Lately his brain kept drifting elsewhere. Specifically toward one exhausted HR employee who somehow wrecked his emotional stability in less than twenty-four hours.
Hongjoong sighed before sitting down beside the mixing desk. “You’re thinking about her again.”
Yunho leaned back in his chair slowly. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” San repeated dramatically. “You look like a divorced father every time someone mentions coffee now.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“You also bought a shark-cat plushie keychain yesterday.”
Yunho immediately looked defensive. “That was unrelated.”
“It absolutely was not.”
Unfortunately true.
Yunho groaned quietly while dropping his head back against the chair. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You like someone,” Hongjoong answered immediately. “That’s normal.”
“No, but…” Yunho rubbed a hand over his face again. “I literally knew her for one night.”
“And?”
“And now I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Silence settled briefly.
Then San shrugged. “That sounds like a crush.”
Yunho looked deeply offended. “I’m twenty-seven.”
“Adults get crushes too.”
“That’s humiliating.”
Mingi snorted loudly. “You kissed a girl in a lake at four in the morning and now stare sadly out windows. You’re basically in an indie movie.”
“Shut up.”
Hongjoong studied Yunho quietly for a second. “You don’t want to give up on finding her.”
Yunho hesitated. Then sighed. “No.”
The answer came easier than expected.
Because honestly?
He really didn’t.
He had met thousands of people throughout his career.
Fans. Celebrities. Models. Actors.
People constantly introduced through schedules or parties or industry events.
None of them stayed in his head like this. None of them made him feel lighter just remembering them.
Y/N did.
“I just can’t get her out of my head,” he admitted quietly.
The teasing around the room softened a little after that.
Mingi looked almost weirdly sympathetic. “Damn,” he muttered. “He’s actually gone.”
“Tragic,” San agreed.
Hongjoong leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “You’ll run into her eventually.”
“Maybe.”
“You literally met by accident the first time.”
“Yeah,” Yunho muttered. “And then I forgot her number like an idiot.”
“That part remains deeply embarrassing,” San informed him.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The next day, Yunho escaped the dorms mostly because his thoughts had become unbearable.
The others were right. He looked pathetic.
Every song lyric somehow reminded him of Y/N. Every late-night café looked like somewhere she would sit half asleep answering work emails. Even his own hoodie still faintly smelled like her perfume if he thought too hard about it.
The city buzzed softly around him while he walked.
Overcast skies covered most of the sunlight today. The air smelled faintly like rain from earlier showers.
Eventually Yunho ended up in a small café tucked between two office buildings.
Mostly filled with exhausted workers clutching coffees while staring at laptops.
Exactly the kind of place Y/N would probably complain about. The thought made him smile faintly.
He settled into a corner table near the window with an iced coffee and his notebook.
Writing lyrics usually helped clear his head. Today he spent more time staring blankly at the page than actually writing.
Fragments filled the notebook anyway.
About lakes at night. About people who looked sad even while smiling. About accidentally feeling alive again for a few hours.
Embarrassingly obvious inspiration honestly.
Yunho rubbed tiredly at his eyes before taking another sip of coffee.
Then he heard her voice.
His entire body reacted before his brain did. Yunho looked up instantly.
And there she was.
Y/N stood near the café entrance balancing a cardboard tray holding six coffees while holding her phone awkwardly against her ear.
She looked stressed. Hair slightly messy like she rushed out too quickly this morning. Office clothes again. Dark circles beneath her eyes sharper now than before.
Still beautiful. Painfully beautiful actually.
Yunho stared openly for a second because his brain genuinely stopped functioning.
No way. No actual way.
Y/N sighed tiredly into her phone while adjusting the coffees carefully.
“No, I already printed them,” she said quickly. “I know the meeting starts in twenty minutes.” A pause. “Yes, I’m literally on my way back now.”
Yunho nearly laughed from disbelief. After two weeks of mentally suffering over this girl, she randomly appeared inside the café he chose on impulse.
The universe was insane.
Before he could fully process anything, Y/N already turned toward the exit still speaking into her phone.
Panic hit immediately.
No. Absolutely not.
She was not disappearing again.
Yunho shoved money onto the table before standing so quickly his chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Several people glanced over. He barely noticed.
“Keep the change,” he muttered quickly toward the cashier before hurrying after her.
Outside, the street buzzed with lunchtime crowds rushing between office buildings.
Y/N moved quickly ahead of him balancing the coffees carefully while still half distracted by her phone conversation.
Yunho caught up within seconds. “Y/N!”
She startled violently. Her entire body jerked around in surprise. The cardboard holder slipped instantly from her hands.
“Oh shit.”
Coffee cups crashed dramatically against the sidewalk. Lids popped loose. Iced coffee splashed everywhere across the pavement and partially onto Yunho’s shoes.
For one horrible second Y/N simply stared downward in shock. Then frustration exploded across her face immediately.
“Oh my god, are you serious?” she snapped while spinning toward him. “I have to bring those back for a meeting and now they’re all ruined because you just suddenly yelled my name like a serial killer!”
Yunho froze.
Then Y/N fully looked at him. Everything stopped. The irritation vanished from her face so quickly it became almost funny.
Shock replaced it instantly instead. “…Yunho?”
He suddenly became very aware of how little sleep he got. Probably because Y/N stared at him like she was trying to determine whether he was hallucinating.
Yunho rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Hi.”
Silence.
People walked around the spilled coffee mess while Y/N continued staring at him.
Then she blinked rapidly. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I work here.”
Right. Corporate district. Of course.
Yunho looked down at the destroyed coffees again before grimacing. “Sorry.”
“You scared the absolute hell out of me.”
“Yeah, that’s my fault.”
“You think?”
Despite the words, amusement had already started slipping back into her expression. Which honestly relieved him more than it should have.
“I’ll buy new ones,” he offered immediately.
Y/N looked down at the mess dramatically. “I mean… you kind of have to now.”
“That’s fair.”
He bent down automatically to help gather the fallen cups while Y/N crouched beside him. For one brief second their hands brushed reaching for the same cup.
Both paused. The moment lasted barely longer than a heartbeat. Still, Yunho’s chest tightened unexpectedly anyway.
Because seeing her again felt strangely unreal after spending two weeks convincing himself he imagined everything.
Y/N straightened first. “You look tired,” she observed quietly.
Yunho laughed softly. “You look stressed.”
“That’s because my boss scheduled an emergency meeting thirty minutes before it starts.”
“Sounds horrible.”
“It is horrible.”
Yunho found himself smiling automatically.
Y/N noticed immediately. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That smile means something.”
“Maybe I’m just happy to see you.”
The words slipped out naturally.
Heat flashed briefly across Y/N’s face before she looked away toward the café. “Come on,” she muttered quietly. “I need replacement coffees before everyone at work kills me.”
Yunho followed beside her immediately. Neither spoke for the first few seconds after reentering the café.
Mostly because both kept stealing awkward glances toward each other. The air between them felt strangely charged now. Different from the easy flow at the lake.
Yunho ordered the coffees while Y/N checked messages on her phone with visible stress building between her eyebrows.
“You still look miserable checking work emails,” he observed softly.
Y/N sighed dramatically. “You still look annoyingly awake for someone who clearly got no sleep.”
“I’m naturally resilient.”
“You have eye bags.”
“That’s rude.”
“It’s true.”
He grinned slightly.
God. He missed this.
The easy back-and-forth. The way talking to her felt effortless even after weeks apart.
The cashier handed over the replacement drinks a few minutes later.
Y/N immediately grabbed the tray carefully.
Then paused when Yunho spoke again.
“Wait.”
She looked up. And suddenly all the frustration from the last two weeks returned hard enough that he blurted the question before overthinking it.
“Why didn’t you come back to the bar?” The question left Yunho’s mouth before he could soften it.
Or make it sound less honest.
“Why didn’t you come back to the bar?”
The moment the words settled between them, Y/N slowed slightly beside him.
Outside the café windows, people continued hurrying through the sidewalks carrying laptops and lunch bags and coffees. Cars rolled past through damp streets while conversations blurred together beneath the noise of the city.
But suddenly Yunho only really heard her answer.
Y/N looked down briefly at the coffee tray in her hands before exhaling softly through her nose.
At first she looked surprised by the question itself. Like she genuinely had not expected him to ask.
Then something quieter crossed her face afterward.
“I thought about it,” she admitted.
Yunho’s chest tightened immediately. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
Her voice stayed softer now than before.
Y/N adjusted the coffee holder slightly against her hip while continuing to walk beside him down the sidewalk.
“I actually almost came back a few times.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
She laughed quietly under her breath. “I don’t know.” She glanced briefly toward him before looking away again. “I started overthinking it.”
That sounded painfully like her.
Yunho remembered the way she paused before sentences sometimes. The way she clearly thought too much about everything.
Still, hearing it now made frustration twist unexpectedly inside him.
Not at her. At the fact that both of them apparently spent two weeks being idiots separately.
Y/N continued speaking before he could answer. “And work has been…” She sighed tiredly. “Honestly horrible lately.”
Yunho looked at her properly then.
Now that the shock of seeing her again had faded slightly, exhaustion became easier to notice.
The dark circles beneath her eyes looked worse than before. Her shoulders held tension even while walking. And she kept checking her phone every few seconds like she physically could not stop herself.
“It’s eating me alive a little,” she admitted quietly.
The honesty in her voice hit him hard.
Because he believed her immediately.
Yunho remembered the girl standing near the back wall of the bar looking like she carried exhaustion inside her bones.
That look had not disappeared. If anything, it seemed sharper now.
“And…” Y/N hesitated briefly. “I guess a small part of me thought maybe you wouldn’t actually want to see me again.”
Yunho stopped walking entirely.
Pure disbelief hit him so hard he actually laughed.
Y/N blinked at him immediately. “What?”
“You thought I didn’t want to see you again?”
She looked slightly defensive now. “Well, we met once.”
“We spent an entire night together.”
“That still counts as once.”
“You kissed me in a lake.”
Heat immediately flashed across her face. “That sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud.”
“Because it was ridiculous.”
Y/N tried to hide a smile behind the coffee cup tray.
Yunho stared at her for another second before shaking his head slowly. “No, seriously.” He laughed softly again, still disbelieving. “I literally came to the bar every evening hoping you’d show up.”
This time Y/N actually stopped walking.
People moved around them on the sidewalk while she simply stared at him.
“What?”
Yunho shoved one hand awkwardly into his pocket. “I kept thinking maybe you’d come back after work again.”
Her expression shifted slowly from confusion into visible shock.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“You came every evening?”
“Pretty much.”
“Oh my god.”
“And I hated myself for forgetting to ask for your contact information.”
The confession came out more frustrated than intended.
Because honestly? The memory still physically annoyed him.
Y/N stared at him like she genuinely did not know how to process that information.
Which, fair.
Yunho rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck before laughing quietly again. “The guys made fun of me for like three days straight.”
“The guys?”
“Hongjoong, San, Mingi.” He sighed dramatically. “Wooyoung almost cried laughing.”
That finally made Y/N smile properly again.
The sight hit him embarrassingly hard.
God. He really missed her.
“You actually wanted to see me again,” she said quietly.
The sentence sounded almost uncertain. Like she still could not fully believe it.
Yunho looked at her for a long second. Then stepped slightly closer before he could overthink himself out of it.
The street suddenly felt too loud around them. Too crowded.
Still, the second he moved closer, Y/N’s attention focused entirely on him anyway.
Yunho carefully reached toward her free hand resting beside the coffee tray.
Not fully holding it. Just brushing his fingers lightly against her pinky.
Y/N’s breath caught softly enough that he noticed immediately.
“I’ve been thinking about you for two weeks,” Yunho admitted quietly.
Y/N stared at him without speaking.
And for the first time in a while, Yunho actually felt nervous.
Which was insane.
He performed in front of stadiums full of people without shaking. Yet standing here asking one exhausted office worker if she liked him back somehow felt more terrifying than any stage.
Yunho let his fingers brush slightly more deliberately against hers.
“Would you like to meet me again?” he asked softly.
Y/N looked completely stunned for one heartbeat longer.
Then something in her expression softened so suddenly it almost hurt to witness.
Like relief. Like disbelief melting slowly into something warmer.
And when she smiled afterward, small and shy and real, Yunho genuinely thought he might already be completely screwed.
Y/N had cleaned the kitchen counter three times already. At this point the apartment practically sparkled.
Still, her hands kept moving restlessly anyway. She wiped down the sink again while trying very hard not to think about the fact that she had a date next weekend.
With Yunho.
Just remembering yesterday made heat creep slowly into her face.
The way he looked genuinely offended when she admitted thinking he did not want to see her again. The disbelief in his laugh. His fingers brushing lightly against hers on the sidewalk while asking if she wanted to meet him again.
Y/N groaned softly and pressed the dish towel against her face dramatically.
She was twenty-six years old.
Why was she reacting like a teenager?
The apartment door opened behind her. “You’re cleaning again.”
Y/N nearly jumped.
Yuna stood in the doorway holding grocery bags while staring suspiciously toward the kitchen.Long dark hair tied up messily. Oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder slightly. Her best friend had exactly the kind of expression that meant she already sensed something was wrong.
Or right. Dangerously right maybe.
“I always clean,” Y/N answered too quickly.
Yuna narrowed her eyes immediately. “You deep-cleaned your spice rack once because a man smiled at you in a bookstore.”
“That happened one time.”
“You reorganized your bathroom after your college crush liked your Instagram story.”
“That was years ago.”
Yuna slowly placed the grocery bags onto the counter without breaking eye contact. “Oh my god.”
Y/N groaned quietly. “Don’t do that face.”
“There’s a man.”
“There is not a man.”
“There is absolutely a man.”
Y/N looked away immediately which only made things worse.
Yuna gasped loudly enough to physically hurt. “There IS a man!”
“Can you lower your voice?”
“No.” Yuna pointed dramatically toward her. “You’ve been weird all week.”
“I’ve been stressed.”
“You’ve been smiling at your phone.”
Y/N froze.
Yuna’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”
“Stop saying oh my god.”
“You’re texting him?”
Y/N covered her face with both hands while Yuna started laughing victoriously.
“This is unbelievable. You haven’t liked someone in forever.”
“I don’t even know if I like him.”
“That’s a lie.”
Unfortunately, it was.
Yuna leaned both elbows onto the kitchen counter grinning like an actual menace. “Tell me everything immediately.”
Y/N sighed dramatically before finally abandoning the dish towel. “He’s the guy I told you about.”
Yuna blinked once. “The bar guy, who is in a band?”
“Yeah.”
“The one you accidentally spent the entire night with?”
“I didn’t accidentally spend the night with him.”
“You literally swam in a lake at four in the morning.”
“That part was slightly accidental.”
Yuna stared at her in disbelief. “You met him again?”
Y/N nodded slowly.
A smile threatened immediately.
Yuna noticed of course. “Oh, you’re down horrendous.”
“I hate that phrase.”
“You’re smiling like you’re in a romance movie.”
“That feels dramatic.”
“You cleaned the kitchen four times.”
Fair.
Y/N leaned against the counter with a quiet sigh. “I ran into him yesterday.”
“At the bar?”
“No.” She laughed softly. “Outside a café near work.”
Yuna looked deeply invested already. “And?”
“He scared me so badly that I dropped six coffees.”
“Oh no.”
“He bought new ones.”
“That’s kinda cute.”
Y/N bit lightly at the inside of her cheek trying not to smile again. Which absolutely did not work.
Yuna pointed accusingly immediately. “There it is.”
“What?”
“That look.”
“What look?”
“The one where you clearly like him.”
Y/N looked down toward the counter for a second before speaking quieter. “We made plans for next weekend.”
Yuna gasped dramatically. “A real date?”
“I guess?”
“Oh my god.”
“Please stop reacting like this.”
“No, this is huge.” Yuna looked genuinely excited now. “You haven’t been excited about someone in forever.”
That was true too.
Y/N tried not to think about why. Dating lately always felt exhausting before it even began. Apps full of awkward conversations and forced charm. Men who liked the idea of her more than actually knowing her. Coworkers trying to flirt during lunch breaks in ways that made her physically want to disappear.
Nothing ever felt easy.
Yunho somehow did.
Yuna noticed the shift in her expression immediately. “What?”
Y/N hesitated. Then sighed softly. “I’m scared it won’t feel the same.”
Yuna’s face softened slightly. “The same as what?”
“That first night.”
The words came out quieter than intended. Because honestly, she still could not fully explain what that night had felt like.
Y/N rubbed lightly at her arm. “What if it was only magical because it was spontaneous?” she admitted. “Like… one weird perfect night that only worked because we were strangers.”
Yuna listened quietly while she continued.
“And now he’ll realize I’m actually boring.”
The second the words left her mouth, Yuna looked personally offended. “Excuse you?”
“I’m serious.”
“No, you’re anxious.”
Y/N laughed weakly under her breath. “Maybe both.”
Yuna walked around the counter before leaning beside her. “You literally spent one night wandering around the city with him until sunrise,” she said carefully. “Then he spent two weeks trying to find you again.”
Y/N looked down immediately.
Just remembering him admitting that still made her chest feel strange.
“He came to the bar every evening,” she muttered softly.
“Exactly.”
Yuna nudged her shoulder lightly. “A man with that many options does not do that for someone he thinks is boring.”
The sentence settled somewhere deep inside her chest.
Because objectively?
Yuna was right.
Still, insecurity crawled in anyway.
“What if the second date feels awkward?” Y/N asked quietly. “Or we run out of things to say.”
“Then you survive one awkward date like every other adult.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s realistic.”
Y/N sighed dramatically while Yuna smiled slightly.
“You won’t know unless you try.”
Silence settled briefly afterward.
Then Yuna narrowed her eyes suddenly. “Wait.”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“You never told me his name.”
Immediately heat climbed back into Y/N’s face.
Which apparently answered enough already because Yuna stared harder.
“Oh no.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Oh no.”
“Please stop saying oh no.”
“What’s his name?”
Y/N looked away.
Yuna grabbed her arm dramatically.
“What is his name?”
“…Jeong Yunho.”
Silence.
Then: “No.”
Y/N frowned slightly. “What do you mean no?”
Yuna stared at her.
Like genuinely stared.
Then slowly: “Jeong Yunho?”
“…Yes?”
Yuna physically grabbed the counter for support. “No.”
“What is happening?”
“The Yunho?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Yuna looked seconds away from cardiac arrest. “You mean Yunho from Ateez?”
Y/N blinked once. “…Yes?”
Yuna made a sound somewhere between a scream and a wheeze. “Oh my god.”
“There you go again.”
“You met Yunho from Ateez in a random bar and DIDN’T KNOW WHO HE WAS?”
Y/N winced slightly. “When you say it like that it sounds worse.”
“Because it IS worse.”
Before Y/N could respond, Yuna already grabbed her phone aggressively.
“No. Absolutely not. Sit down immediately.”
“What are you doing?”
“Educating you because apparently you’ve been living under a rock.”
Y/N laughed helplessly while Yuna opened YouTube with frightening speed.
Within seconds performance videos flooded the screen.
Then interviews.
Concert clips.
Music videos.
Y/N slowly sat down at the kitchen counter while Yuna shoved the phone toward her dramatically.
“That,” Yuna announced, “is the man you made out with in a lake.”
Y/N stared at the screen. And genuinely forgot how to breathe for a second.
Because somehow seeing Yunho online felt completely different from hearing about fame casually.
On screen he looked… Massive.
Not physically. Larger than life somehow.
Crowds screamed loud enough to shake entire stadiums while he performed beneath flashing lights. Millions of views sat beneath videos casually. Fans cried meeting him. Edits of him flooded social media with hundreds of thousands of likes.
Y/N blinked slowly. “Oh.”
Yuna looked deeply vindicated. “OH?”
“He really is famous.”
“YOU THINK?”
Y/N stared at another performance clip.
Yunho stood on stage completely soaked from rain effects while thousands of people screamed his name.
The confidence in his movements looked almost unreal compared to the sleepy man who sat in cafés writing lyrics and fought claw machines for plushies.
And yet…
Y/N smiled slightly watching him laugh during one stage clip after Mingi shoved him unexpectedly.
There he was again. The same warmth she recognized immediately.
“What’s wrong with you?” Yuna demanded suddenly.
“What?”
“You’re not freaking out enough.”
“I think I’m still processing.”
“That man has millions of fans.”
“I know that now.”
“And you met him without recognizing him.”
Y/N groaned softly and dropped her forehead briefly against the counter.
“This feels deeply embarrassing in retrospect.”
“No,” Yuna corrected immediately. “This is iconic.”
Y/N laughed helplessly.
Then her phone buzzed beside her.
Both immediately looked down.
A message from Yunho.
Yuna grabbed her arm violently. “Oh my god open it.”
“You’re acting insane.”
“OPEN IT.”
Trying very hard to ignore Yuna’s dramatic breathing beside her, Y/N unlocked the phone.
Yunho: still thinking about how u dropped six coffees because i scared you
A second message appeared immediately after.
Yunho: also i can’t wait to see you again next weekend
Something warm twisted instantly through her chest.
Yuna watched her expression closely before grinning. “There she is.”
“What?”
“That look again.”
Y/N stared down at the messages a second longer.
Her stomach fluttered annoyingly.
Because suddenly next weekend felt very real.
Not just a memory anymore.
Not just one magical impulsive night disconnected from reality.
A real date.
With a real person she genuinely liked.
Who also happened to be ridiculously famous apparently.
And honestly? That terrified her slightly.
But underneath the anxiety was excitement too. Bright enough that she could feel it humming beneath her skin.
Y/N smiled slowly at her phone before typing back. And for the first time in a long while, the future felt a little exciting instead of exhausting.
Y/N changed outfits four times before leaving her apartment.
Not because the clothes looked bad. Because suddenly every single thing she owned felt wrong.
Too formal. Too casual. Too boring. Too much.
She stared at herself in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time while fixing the hem of her shirt nervously.
Still, anxiety buzzed annoyingly beneath her skin anyway.
Yuna had been deeply unhelpful before she left.,“You look cute.”
“That sounds suspiciously vague.”
“You look like the female lead in a coming-of-age movie.”
“Thank you?”
“It means Yunho will probably fall more in love with you.”
“Can you stop saying things like that?”
“Absolutely not.”
Now, standing outside the amusement park entrance thirty minutes later, Y/N regretted telling Yuna anything at all.
The amusement park buzzed loudly around her. Children dragged parents toward rides while groups of teenagers crowded near the entrance taking pictures. Bright music echoed faintly through the speakers overhead. The smell of caramel popcorn and fried sweets drifted through the air every few seconds whenever the wind shifted.
Y/N checked her phone again.
Three minutes early.
Still, nervousness kept crawling through her stomach anyway.
She adjusted her shirt again. Then her hair. Then immediately told herself to stop acting insane.
It was just Yunho.
Which honestly became a ridiculous sentence after the last few days.
Because now she knew exactly who he was. Or at least how the world saw him.
Millions of streams. Sold-out arenas. Entire compilations online dedicated to his smile.
Meanwhile Y/N still nearly had a panic attack ordering coffee wrong sometimes. Objectively absurd pairing.
“You know staring at your reflection in windows won’t magically change your outfit.”
Y/N startled so violently she almost screamed. A laugh immediately burst out behind her. Far too pleased with himself.
Y/N spun around sharply.
Yunho stood there grinning beneath a black baseball cap and oversized hoodie, hands shoved into his pockets while laughing openly at her expression.
“Oh my god,” she breathed out. “You actual asshole.”
“That reaction was incredible.”
“You scared me!”
“You jumped like a cartoon character.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
Unfortunately, hearing that sentence again after two weeks apart made warmth spread immediately through her chest. Annoying.
Yunho noticed the way she tried not to smile. Which obviously only encouraged him more.
“You should’ve seen your face.”
“You appeared out of nowhere!”
“I literally walked up normally.”
“Like a serial killer.”
“That feels dramatic.”
Y/N finally laughed softly despite herself.
And weirdly enough, the second the laughter escaped, some of the nervousness dissolved too.
Because there he was.
Still the same. Still teasing her immediately. Still looking at her like he was genuinely happy she showed up.
Yunho studied her for another second before his grin softened slightly. “You look cute.”
Heat instantly climbed into her face. “You’re biased.”
“Probably.”
He stepped slightly closer then narrowed his eyes suddenly. “What are you thinking about?”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“You’re doing the thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The overthinking thing.”
Before she could answer, Yunho lightly flicked the middle of her forehead.
Y/N gasped dramatically. “Excuse you?”
“Stop thinking so hard.”
“You assaulted me.”
“You survived.”
She rubbed her forehead while glaring weakly at him. “You’re annoying.”
“And you’re nervous.”
Immediately caught. Y/N looked away toward the park entrance. “Maybe a little.”
Yunho’s expression softened further then.
“You don’t need to be nervous.” His voice lowered slightly. “It’s just me.”
The words settled warmly somewhere inside her chest.
Before she could respond, Yunho reached for her hand casually. His fingers wrapped loosely around hers before lifting her hand slightly toward his mouth.
Then he pressed a quick kiss against her knuckles.
Y/N’s brain completely stopped functioning. Heat exploded across her entire face instantly.
Yunho looked entirely too pleased afterward. “There she is,” he murmured.
“What?”
“The blushing.”
“You do this on purpose.”
“Absolutely.”
She groaned quietly while he laughed softly and finally let go of her hand. Unfortunately her pulse remained completely ruined afterward.
“Come on,” Yunho said brightly. “I’m emotionally prepared to destroy you at carnival games again.”
“You’re deeply overconfident.”
“You lost five games in a row last time.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“You distracted me.”
“That sounds like a skill issue.”
Y/N rolled her eyes while following him toward the entrance.
The amusement park felt unreal once they stepped fully inside. Bright lights blinked everywhere despite the afternoon sun still hanging high overhead. Rollercoasters twisted above them while screams echoed through the air every few seconds.
Y/N had not been to an amusement park in years.
Maybe since university. Maybe earlier. Adult life somehow removed places like this quietly.
Days became work and exhaustion and responsibilities until suddenly joy started feeling childish. Now standing here beside Yunho while sugary air drifted around them, she felt weirdly lighter already.
Yunho noticed her looking around. “You haven’t been to one in forever, have you?”
“How do you always know?”
“You get this look.”
“What look?”
“Like you forgot places can be fun.”
The sentence hit harder than expected.
Y/N smiled faintly instead of answering.
Yunho looked at her carefully for one brief second afterward. Then suddenly pointed dramatically toward the largest rollercoaster in sight.
“First ride.”
Y/N followed his gaze immediately. The rollercoaster looked violent. Absolutely violent.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
“That thing kills people.”
“It absolutely doesn’t.”
“I can physically see death from here.”
Yunho laughed brightly before grabbing her wrist and dragging her toward the line anyway.
The next twenty minutes became chaos. Mostly because Yunho apparently loved rollercoasters with frightening sincerity. Meanwhile Y/N spent most of the waiting line alternating between panic and regret.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” she accused while staring up at the massive tracks overhead.
“I love rollercoasters.”
“That explains a lot actually.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You seem like someone who enjoys dangerous situations.”
“You followed me into freezing lake water.”
“That was emotional manipulation.”
“Sure.”
The ride itself nearly destroyed her. The second the coaster dropped, Y/N screamed loud enough that Yunho doubled over laughing beside her despite screaming himself moments later. By the end, her hair looked insane and her legs physically shook stepping off.
Yunho looked radiant. “That was amazing.”
“I saw god.”
“You screamed the entire time.”
“So did you!”
“Mine was masculine.”
She laughed helplessly. “No it absolutely was not.”
“Yes it was.”
“You sounded terrified.”
“I was expressing joy aggressively.”
Unfortunately his happiness became contagious.
Soon they moved from ride to ride with growing energy.
At some point Y/N stopped worrying about looking composed entirely.
She screamed during rollercoasters. Laughed too loudly. Nearly fell trying bumper cars because Yunho intentionally kept crashing into her.
“You’re targeting me!”
“You’re weak prey.”
“That’s psychotic.”
He only grinned brighter.
Between rides they wandered through crowded walkways sharing snacks and talking endlessly about random things.
Yunho somehow convinced her to try ridiculous rainbow cotton candy larger than her face.
“This is pure sugar,” she complained while still taking another bite.
“You say that like it’s bad.”
“I can feel my organs dissolving.”
“Worth it.”
Later they shared churros while sitting on a bench near the ferris wheel. Then caramel apples. Then something involving fried Oreos that physically should not exist.
“I’m going to die,” Y/N informed him seriously.
“From happiness maybe.”
“That sounded suspiciously romantic.”
“It was.”
Heat climbed lightly back into her cheeks.
Yunho smiled around another bite of churro looking deeply satisfied by that reaction.
Talking with him still felt strangely easy too. Like slipping naturally into rhythm again. They talked about childhood memories while waiting in ride lines. At one point Yunho admitted he once accidentally slept through an interview because San unplugged six alarms as revenge for something.
“At least it was an accident,” Y/N said.
“It wasn’t.”
She stared at him. “He admitted that later.”
“That’s evil.”
“He’s evil.”
Yunho looked genuinely fond despite the complaint.
Y/N noticed that about him constantly. How warmly he spoke about the people he loved. It made something ache softly inside her chest.
The afternoon blurred beautifully afterward. Sunlight slowly shifted warmer across the park while crowds thickened around them.
At one point Yunho won her another plushie after becoming irrationally competitive at a shooting game.
“You’re concerningly intense.”
“I have a reputation to maintain.”
He carried the plushie triumphantly afterward.
Watching him laugh while holding a stupid stuffed animal somehow made him feel more real than all the videos Yuna forced her to watch earlier that week.
And honestly?
That realization comforted her.
Because yes, he was famous. But he was also just Yunho.
The guy who flicked her forehead when she overthought. The guy who kissed her hand casually like it was natural. The guy who still looked ridiculously proud winning carnival games.
By evening, lights across the amusement park glowed brighter against the darkening sky.
Everything looked softer now beneath gold and neon colors.
Y/N felt almost drunk on happiness.
Which made what happened next hurt even more.
They had just stepped away from another ride, still laughing because Yunho insisted he absolutely could win another game in “one final attempt,” when Y/N heard a familiar voice nearby.
“…Y/N?”
Her entire body froze instantly.
No. Absolutely not.
She turned slowly.
Three coworkers stood near one of the food stalls several feet away.
Her manager. And two women from her department.
All staring directly at her. Specifically at her holding hands with Yunho.
Y/N felt her stomach physically drop. “Oh my god,” she whispered.
Recognition spread across their faces in horrifying real time.
First confusion. Then shock. Then complete disbelief.
Because Y/N knew exactly why she was always working. Because half the department constantly dumped unfinished tasks onto her desk. Because she was the junior employee expected to stay late without complaining. Because every “quick favor” eventually became her responsibility somehow. Because her manager praised her reliability while giving her workloads meant for three people.
And now they stood here laughing about it like her exhaustion was some funny personality trait.
Something hot and ugly twisted slowly in her chest.
Yunho had gone very still beside her. The polite smile faded slightly around the edges.
Not visibly enough for strangers maybe. But Y/N noticed immediately.
One coworker nudged another dramatically. “This is seriously insane though.” She looked at Y/N almost curiously now. “I never imagined you dating someone famous.”
Y/N laughed weakly. “We’re not…” Still not heard.
Her manager finally spoke again after staring at Yunho for nearly thirty seconds straight.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “Y/N never talks about her personal life.”
That was because none of you ever asked, Y/N thought bitterly.
Or because every conversation at work somehow became about deadlines and presentations and fixing everyone else’s mistakes.
But of course she did not say that out loud.
The woman beside her laughed again. “We honestly thought she just went home and answered emails all night.”
Y/N nearly laughed herself at the irony. Because sometimes she actually did.
And suddenly she hated this entire interaction. Hated standing here feeling twelve years old again while everyone looked at Yunho with fascination and her with confusion.
Like she somehow did not fit beside him. Like they were trying to solve a puzzle.
Beside her, Yunho looked calm and effortlessly attractive even in casual clothes.
Of course he did.
One coworker stepped closer toward him again holding out her phone. “Could we maybe take one more picture?”
Y/N instinctively started stepping back slightly.
The entire situation suddenly felt too loud. Too suffocating.
But before she could fully move away, Yunho’s hand tightened around hers again.
Y/N looked toward him immediately. And for the first time since the coworkers approached, Yunho finally spoke again properly.
Only this time his voice sounded different. “She’s actually really interesting.”
The sentence cut cleanly through the conversation. Everyone paused.
Y/N blinked.
Yunho looked toward her coworkers calmly. “And she’s funny,” he continued easily. “Smarter than me too probably.”
Heat rushed into Y/N’s face immediately.
One coworker laughed awkwardly. “Oh no, we didn’t mean anything bad.”
Yunho smiled slightly. “Sure.”
But something in his expression remained steady afterward.
Protective almost. Then he looked down toward Y/N briefly.
And the smile he gave her looked completely different from the polite celebrity one moments earlier.
The sight alone nearly unraveled the knot tightening painfully inside her chest.
Because somehow, in the middle of all this embarrassment and frustration, Yunho still looked at her exactly the same way he had before her coworkers arrived.
Not like she was boring. Not like she was invisible. Not like someone swallowed by office work and exhaustion.
Just Y/N.
The rest of the date never fully recovered after that.
Not because Yunho stopped trying. If anything, he tried harder afterward.
He kept holding her hand while they walked through the amusement park. Bought her hot chocolate when evening air turned colder. Kept making stupid comments during rides just to hear her laugh again.
And Y/N did laugh. Sometimes genuinely.
But something had shifted inside her after seeing her coworkers.
Or maybe something had simply cracked open again.
Because now every thought in her head suddenly sounded louder.
What is he actually doing with someone so boring as Y/N?
The sentence repeated painfully every few minutes.
And the worst part?
A tiny ugly part of her already believed it.
The amusement park lights blurred softly around her while Yunho talked beside her about some story involving Mingi accidentally setting a microwave on fire during trainee years.
Normally she would have laughed harder.
Now she only smiled weakly while nodding.
Yunho noticed eventually.
Of course he did. “What?”
Y/N blinked quickly. “Hm?”
“You disappeared again.”
She forced another small smile. “I’m listening.”
“You’re pretending to listen.”
Caught. Y/N looked away toward the crowd moving past them.
“I’m just tired.”
Not entirely a lie.
Yunho studied her carefully for another moment.
Then gently squeezed her hand once. The warmth of it almost made her chest hurt.
By the time they left the amusement park completely, night had settled fully over the city.
The streets looked wet beneath glowing streetlights while traffic moved steadily past them.
Y/N wrapped her jacket tighter around herself automatically.
“You cold?” Yunho asked immediately.
“A little.”
Without hesitation, he pulled his hoodie over his head and handed it toward her.
Y/N stared at it. “You’ll freeze.”
“I’m warm.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Let me be romantic.”
Despite everything twisting inside her head, a soft laugh escaped her anyway.
Yunho smiled slightly at the sound. “Better.”
Heat rose faintly into her face while she slipped into the oversized hoodie.
It still smelled like him.
Yunho looked deeply satisfied once the sleeves swallowed her hands completely.
“You look cute.”
There he went again. Saying things so naturally that they bypassed all her defenses entirely.
Y/N looked down quickly.
And unfortunately her coworkers’ voices immediately returned again.
What is he doing with someone like Y/N?
Her stomach tightened.
“I can drive you home,” Yunho offered gently while they reached the parking area nearby.
Y/N hesitated briefly. Part of her wanted to say no.
Not because she didn’t want more time with him. Because she was scared of it.
Scared of how easy falling for him felt already.
Still, eventually she nodded quietly. “Okay.”
The car ride started comfortably enough.
Soft music played quietly through the speakers while Seoul passed outside in blurred lights and reflections.
Usually Y/N loved nighttime drives.
Tonight her thoughts felt too loud to enjoy anything properly.
She kept replaying everything from earlier.
Her coworkers talking over her. The way they immediately ignored her for Yunho. The way they looked genuinely confused seeing them together.
Like she did not belong in his world.
And maybe she didn’t.
Beside her, Yunho kept trying to pull her back into conversation. “You’re still thinking about the rollercoaster, aren’t you?”
“Hm?”
“The giant one. You looked spiritually traumatized.”
Y/N smiled faintly. “A little.”
“That scream was impressive.”
“You screamed too.”
“My scream was masculine.”
“There is absolutely nothing masculine about yout scream.”
He laughed softly at that.
Normally she would have laughed too.
This time she just looked back out the window again afterward.
The city lights blurred against the glass.
Yunho glanced toward her briefly. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.”
Another lie.
Silence settled heavier after that.
And Y/N hated herself for it.
Because today had been wonderful. Objectively wonderful.
She had laughed more in one afternoon with Yunho than she had during entire months at work.
Yet somehow one interaction managed to poison everything afterward.
Maybe because deep down, her coworkers simply confirmed fears she already carried.
By the time Yunho parked outside her apartment building, guilt sat thick in her chest too.
Because she knew he noticed.
Of course he noticed.
The engine turned off softly.
Neither moved immediately.
Y/N stared down at her hands in her lap instead.
Then suddenly: Flick.
She gasped quietly and looked up.
Yunho leaned back in his seat after flicking her forehead lightly again.
Y/N rubbed at her forehead automatically.
“You really need to stop doing that.”
“You really need to stop disappearing into your own head.”
His voice stayed soft.
Y/N looked away immediately.
Outside, rain had started again lightly against the windshield.
Streetlights reflected gold through the droplets.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Yunho turned slightly more toward her. “What are you thinking about so hard?” he asked quietly.
The gentleness in his voice almost undid her immediately.
Y/N swallowed lightly. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
She laughed weakly under her breath.
Unfortunately true.
Yunho waited patiently.
And somehow that patience made speaking harder.
Because he genuinely cared about the answer.
Y/N rubbed her hands together nervously. “It’s stupid.”
“Probably not.”
“No, it is.”
“Y/N.”
The way he said her name softly nearly made her chest ache.
Y/N stared down toward her knees instead.
“I just…” She exhaled shakily. “I keep thinking about earlier.”
“With your coworkers?”
She nodded slowly.
Yunho’s expression shifted slightly.
Y/N struggled awkwardly for words. “I know they were being weird and rude and everything,” she muttered quickly. “But also…” She stopped, frustrated immediately. “I don’t know how to explain this properly.”
“You don’t have to explain perfectly.”
Easy for him to say.
Y/N laughed softly again, though nothing about it sounded happy. “I think seeing you through their eyes suddenly made everything feel very real.”
Yunho stayed quiet beside her.
“You’re…” She gestured vaguely toward him helplessly. “You.”
“That explained nothing.”
“You know what I mean.”
He watched her carefully.
Y/N stumbled through the words anyway. “You’re famous and talented and confident and people literally scream when they see you.” Her throat tightened slightly. “And I’m just…”
“And you enjoyed today too,” he continued softly. “I know you did.”
She did. God, she did.
That was the problem.
Because somewhere between rollercoasters and stupid carnival games and him kissing her hand casually, she had started wanting this too much already.
Yunho leaned closer slowly afterward.
Close enough that she felt his breath lightly against her skin.
Then he kissed her.
Y/N melted almost instantly into it. Her hand rose instinctively against his chest while she kissed him back softly.
And for one perfect moment everything quieted again.
No coworkers. No overthinking. No fear.
Just Yunho.
But then…
What is he doing with someone so boring as Y/N?
The words slammed violently back into her head.
Followed by another thought even worse.
His fans would hate someone like you.
Y/N pulled away suddenly.
Yunho blinked in surprise immediately. “What happened?”
Her chest hurt. Y/N looked away quickly before tears could embarrassingly rise into her eyes. “I like you too,” she admitted quietly.
The confession made Yunho’s entire expression soften immediately.
But before he could speak, she continued shakily. “Which is exactly why I’m scared.”
Confusion flickered across his face. “Scared of what?”
Y/N laughed weakly under her breath. “All of this.”
She gestured helplessly between them. “You’re you.” Her throat tightened painfully. “And I’m just…”
“Don’t.”
“No, but it’s true.”
“It’s not.”
“You’re famous, Yunho.”
“There it is again.” Frustration slipped softly into his voice now. “You keep talking like I’m not just a person.”
“You’re not just a person to everyone else.”
Y/N rubbed quickly beneath her eyes before tears could actually fall.
“Your career matters,” she whispered. “Your fans matter.”
“You matter too.”
The immediate answer nearly broke her. Yunho reached for her hand again but this time she pulled slightly away first. Pain flashed visibly across his face.
And god, she hated herself immediately for causing it.
“You shouldn’t do that,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Push me away because other people are idiots.”
“It’s not just them.”
“Yes it is.”
Y/N shook her head quickly. “No, it’s reality.”
“Y/N.”
“You can say it’s just you all you want,” she continued shakily, “but your career is part of you too. Your fans are part of your life.”
“So?”
“So they’d be disappointed.”
Yunho stared at her in disbelief. “Why would they be disappointed?”
“Because…” Her voice cracked slightly. “Because I’m just me.”
The silence afterward felt horrible.
Yunho looked genuinely heartbroken now.
And somehow that made tears finally spill over anyway.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered immediately.
That only made things worse.
Y/N shook her head quickly before fumbling for the car door. “I should go.”
“Y/N, wait.”
She stepped out too fast into the cold night air.
Rain misted lightly around them while streetlights reflected against wet pavement.
Behind her, Yunho immediately got out too. “Please don’t do this.”
The desperation in his voice physically hurt.
Y/N turned toward him with tears already sliding down her cheeks now.
“I don’t know if I can manage something like this again,” she admitted shakily.
The sentence confused him immediately. “What does that mean?”
Y/N wrapped her arms around herself tightly.
“It means…” She swallowed hard. “I spent years feeling like I wasn’t enough for people.”
The confession slipped out before she could stop it.
Yunho’s expression shifted instantly.
“And now suddenly I’m standing beside someone the whole world loves.” Her laugh came out broken. “Do you understand how terrifying that feels?”
Rain dampened Yunho’s hair slightly while he stared at her helplessly.
“I’m not asking the whole world to love you.”
“But they’ll still judge me.”
“I don’t care.”
“But I do.”
Yunho stepped closer desperately. “You’re already running away before anything even happened.”
Y/N closed her eyes briefly. Because maybe he was right. Maybe she was sabotaging this already. But fear sat too deep now. Fear of becoming another thing people judged him for.
Fear of eventually embarrassing him. Fear of wanting him too much only to realize she never belonged in his world to begin with.
Y/N stepped backward toward her apartment entrance slowly.
Yunho looked devastated watching her move away. “Please,” he said quietly. “Don’t decide this for me.”
God. That almost made her stop.
Instead she shook her head weakly through tears. “I’m sorry.”
Then before she could lose courage completely, Y/N slipped inside the building entrance and closed the door between them.
The last thing she saw was Yunho still standing there in the rain looking at her like she had just shattered something important.
the next Yunho Parts will be posted soon! I forgot that I will be at the Dokomi in Germany for four days (A big Anime convention). I will try to post the next Part on Sunday.
After the Yunho fic I will continue with the Grimms Fairytale series.
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