Vi ：1

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

The fluorescent lights hum overhead with that specific frequency that makes your skull ache if you pay attention to it. You have not been paying attention to much lately. The past few days have passed in a blur of disconnected moments that your brain stopped trying to organize into linear time.

Your hand hovers over the shelf of instant noodles. Shin Ramen sits in its red package. The package in front of you blurs slightly. You blink. It stays blurred.

The question of when you last ate surfaces without urgency. Yesterday feels like a possibility. The day before seems equally likely. There was toast at some point.

You put the noodles in your basket without remembering the decision to reach for them. They join the other items you have collected. Energy drinks you will not open sit next to bandaids for cuts you do not have. A bag of cheap sugar cookies that taste like cardboard rounds out the selection. The basket weighs almost nothing in your hand. Everything weighs almost nothing these days.

The glass door of the refrigerated section reflects someone you don't quite recognize. Your hair is pulled back in a knot that was never meant to last four days. No makeup covers the greyish tint your skin has taken under these lights. You're wearing one of Seongje's hoodies. The sleeves hang too long and there is a stain on the cuff that might be coffee. The fabric smells like him and cigarette smoke.

He’s never seen you like this.

The thought arrives with unusual clarity, cutting through the static that has replaced most of your thoughts. In the eight months you have been together, he has never seen you barefaced. The version of yourself he knows is maintained and deliberate.

The version currently buying random shit at three in the morning looks like she has been underwater for a week.

You move toward the register on autopilot, body carrying you there without conscious input. The cashier is some college student doing overnight shifts. He glances at your basket and then at your face. Something flickers in his expression that looks like concern.

"You okay?" he asks.

The question takes too long to process. You blink at him and form the word in your mouth before speaking. "Fine."

He does not look convinced but he's not paid enough to push. The scanner beeps as he runs your items across it. Each beep sounds too loud in your skull. Everything is too loud or too quiet lately. 

His voice carries from the next aisle over.

Seongje says something you do not catch. Then laughter follows. Hwangmo is probably with him. The sound makes your stomach drop in a way that almost registers as emotion. That makes it the strongest thing you have felt in seventy-two hours.

Your hand tightens on the basket handle. The cashier continues scanning. The energy drinks beep. The cookies beep. Your brain screams at your body to move faster but everything moves through honey.

"That'll be-"

You shove money at him before he finishes, not bothering to wait for change. The plastic bag crinkles as you grab it and turn toward the door. If you can just get outside before he rounds the corner then maybe he won’t see that the girl in his hoodie with greasy hair is supposed to be his girlfriend.

"Yo, isn't that your girl?" Hwangmo's voice carries that specific amusement that means he is about to say something stupid. Every muscle in your body locks. Your back is to them but you can feel the weight of attention shifting in your direction.

"Where?" Seongje sounds closer than you expected.

"Right there. Chick at the register."

You keep walking. The automatic doors are right there. Five more steps separate you from escape.

"Wait."

Four steps remain.

"You guys have the wrong person." Your voice comes out flat and empty. The doors slide open. You are almost through when footsteps sound behind you.

"Turn around."

The words are not a request.

You stop in the doorway. Night air hits your face with sharp cold. The plastic bag cuts into your palm. Behind you Hwangmo is probably grinning. The fluorescent lights are bright enough to see through your closed eyelids.

"I said turn around."

You do.

His eyes land on you and something in his expression shifts. His gaze moves over your face and catalogs the absence of makeup. The circles under your eyes look dark enough to be bruises.

Hwangmo says something. You don’t hear it. Seongje isn’t looking at him.

"When did you eat last?" The question comes out quiet and matter-of-fact. He could be asking what time it is.

You open your mouth and then close it. The answer requires accessing information you do not have. "Today."

"Bullshit." He steps closer. Cigarette smoke clings to his jacket. "When?”

"I don't know."

"You don't know." He moves close enough that you have to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. "You don't know when you ate."

"I've been busy."

His eyes drop to the plastic bag in your hand. Energy drinks and cookies, things that are not food in any real sense, look back at him. When he looks at your face again, something cold and controlled has settled into his expression.

"How long has it been since you slept?"

"I sleep."

"How long?”

Your brain tries to count backwards. It gets lost somewhere around yesterday afternoon. The timeline refuses to organize itself. "I don't know. A few hours here and there."

He reaches out and touches your face. His thumb presses gently under your eye where the skin is darkest. You flinch from the shock of being touched after days in a body that stopped feeling like yours. "You look like shit."

"Thanks." The word has no bite to it. It just falls out of your mouth and lands between you.

Hwangmo still stands nearby. Seongje does not glance at him. His attention stays fixed on you with that careful intensity that makes you feel pinned in place.

"You're coming with me."

"I have to go home."

"No, you don't."

"I have-"

"Whatever you have can wait." His hand drops from your face to your wrist. The grip is firm but not painful. "You're coming with me."

You should argue. You should pull away and insist you are fine. You should go back to your apartment and continue the very productive spiral you have been in. The thought of doing any of that requires energy you stopped having days ago.

"Okay," you hear yourself say.

His expression doesn’t change but something in his posture relaxes slightly. He takes the plastic bag from your hand and turns to Hwangmo.

"Go home."

"But-"

"Go. Home."

Hwangmo must see something in his face that makes arguing a bad idea. He shrugs and wanders toward the back of the store. Seongje's hand is still around your wrist. The warmth and solidity of it registers as the first real thing you have felt in days.

"Can you walk or do I need to carry you?"

The question should be humiliating. Instead it just sounds like an assessment of your current functionality.

"I can walk."

"Then walk."

He doesn’t let go of your wrist. He pulls you gently toward the door and out into night air so cold it almost feels like sensation returning to your skin. You follow because the alternative is standing in a convenience store trying to remember what functional human behavior looks like.

His apartment is six blocks away. You have walked this route before as the version of yourself that wore lipstick and laughed at his dark jokes. That version seems very far away now, unreachable.

"You've been avoiding me," he says after the first block.

You stay quiet.

"Three days. No texts. Calls going to voicemail." His voice stays even without accusation. "I thought you were pissed about something."

"Not pissed."

"Then what?"

You don’t have an answer that makes sense. How do you explain the emptiness? How do you describe going through the motions of being alive without any of the actual living parts working? You have been wearing his hoodie for four days straight because it was the only thing that felt like it belonged to something real.

"I don't know," you say finally.

He makes a sound that might be acknowledgment. He does not push for more. He just keeps walking with your wrist held loosely in his hand, like he’s afraid you will disappear if he lets go.

Maybe you would.

His apartment looks the same as it always does. A couch sits against one wall while a low table holds an ashtray and his phone charger. There are no decorations or photos. The functional space could belong to anyone.

A hand on your shoulder guides you to the couch. The pressure feels gentle but firm enough that your body follows without question. You sink into the cushions and watch him move toward the small kitchen area.

"Stay there," he says.

The couch has become the most comfortable place you have sat in days. Your body settles into it like it might never get up again. Going anywhere was not part of your plans anyway.

Water hits metal too loudly in the quiet apartment as he fills a pot from the sink. The pot goes onto the stove and he turns the burner on. Blue flames lick up the sides. A cabinet opens and he pulls out two packets of instant ramen. The cheap kind costs less than a dollar and tastes like salt and MSG.

His movements are efficient and practiced as you watch with detached interest. This is clearly not the first time he has made food at three in the morning. The water begins to boil. Torn packets release noodles into the pot. Seasoning follows. Steam rises and fills the small space with the smell of artificial beef flavor.

A bowl appears in front of you on the low table three minutes later. Noodles sit in their broth and release heat into the air. Chopsticks rest across the top of the bowl.

"Eat," he says.

Your stomach turns at the thought of eating in a way that has nothing to do with nausea. Food has become an abstract concept over the past few days. Your body stopped asking for it.

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't care. Eat anyway."

The chopsticks feel heavy in your hand as you pick them up because arguing seems harder. Some noodles lift from the bowl and broth drips back down. Steam hits your face. The chopsticks lower without any food reaching your mouth.

"What's the problem?" he asks.

"I'm just not hungry right now."

"You haven't eaten in days. You're hungry."

"I don't feel hungry."

A long moment passes while he stares at you. Processing this information seems to lead him toward finding it unacceptable. His jaw tightens slightly. Frustration rather than anger shows in the gesture. "Why?”

The chopsticks go back across the bowl as you set them down. Noodles sink back into the broth. Your brain searches for an explanation that will make sense. 

"I usually shower before I eat dinner," you say. "So I'm not hungry right now."

The logic sounds reasonable in your head. Out loud it sounds less convincing. His expression suggests you have just said something in a language he does not speak.

"You're not hungry because you haven't showered," he repeats slowly.

"I always shower before dinner. It's just a thing."

He stands up from where he has been leaning against the arm of the couch. The new information gets processed. Some conclusion forms that you cannot see.

"Okay," he says. "Then go shower."

"I don't have any clean clothes here."

"I have clothes. Go shower."

Standing up and walking to the bathroom seems like the logical next step. Your body refuses to respond to these commands. The couch cushions might as well have grown roots into your spine.

Ten seconds pass before he reaches down and takes your hand. Steady pressure pulls you up until you are standing. Your legs remember how to hold your weight but only barely.

"Come on," he says.

His hand stays wrapped around yours as he walks toward the bathroom. Following requires less energy than resisting. Water turns on as he reaches into the shower. Steam begins to fill the space.

Temperature adjustment happens while you stand in the doorway and watch. The sound of water hitting tile almost drowns out the ringing in your ears that has been there for days.

Turning back to you, he reaches for the hem of his hoodie that you are wearing. You take a step backward and create distance. His hands stop.

"What are you doing?" you ask, suddenly shy.

"Helping you shower."

"I can shower by myself."

"Can you?"

"Yes."

That same careful assessment from earlier returns to his expression. Showering alone probably exceeds your current capabilities. Standing without swaying takes most of your energy. Coordinating the complex series of actions required to wash your hair feels impossible.

"I'm coming in with you," he says.

"What? No. I can do it myself."

"You've been wearing the same clothes for four days. You can't remember the last time you ate. You look like you're about to pass out. I'm not letting you get in the shower alone."

"That's weird."

"I don't care."

A staring contest begins. Steam continues filling the bathroom. Exhaustion has soaked so deep into your bones that arguing feels like climbing a mountain.

"I've never showered with someone before," you say finally.

"There's a first time for everything."

"This is weird."

"You already said that."

"Because it is."

"Are you getting undressed or am I doing it for you?"

Your gaze drops to the hoodie and sweatpants you cannot remember putting on. His hands move to the hem of the hoodie.

The fabric catches on your hair tie and pulls it loose. Greasy strands fall around your shoulders. The hoodie drops to the floor. Sweatpants follow. Underwear joins the pile. Once you’re completely naked, you feel no embarrassment or self-consciousness like you thought you would. His shirt comes off next, followed by his jeans. Looking at your body does not seem to interest him particularly. Nothing sexual lives in this moment. 

You step into the stall first. Hot water hits your skin and the sensation shocks your system. Heat seeps into your muscles and reminds them that relaxation used to be possible.

He steps in behind you. The shower stall allows maybe six inches of space between your back and his chest. Water hits both of you. Standing under the spray lets you watch it run down the drain.

"Tilt your head back," he says.

Compliance comes easily. Water hits your hair and soaks through to your scalp. His hands follow and work through the tangled mess with unexpected gentleness. A bottle opens somewhere behind you. Then his fingers return with shampoo that smells like mint.

Slow circular motions scrub your scalp. The pressure feels good without hurting. Your eyes close. Water runs down your face. Days of grease and grime get worked through by his fingers. Rinsing removes the shampoo and the bottle opens again. The conditioner works through the ends of your hair where tangles are worst.

"You smell like cigarettes," you say. Your voice sounds strange in the small space. 

"I was smoking earlier."

"You're always smoking."

"Yeah."

The conditioner rinses clean. His hands on your shoulders turn you around until you face him. Water runs between your bodies. Wet hair pushes back from his forehead. A washcloth hangs from a hook and he reaches for it. Body wash pours onto the fabric. He begins washing your arms with the same methodical attention he gave your hair.

"This is really weird," you say.

"You already said that twice."

"I'm saying it again."

Your shoulders receive attention next. Then your back and stomach. The washcloth scrubs away layers of sweat and stale air that have been clinging to your skin. Standing still and letting him work seems like the only option. Your brain has stopped trying to process what is happening. Making sense of anything no longer seems possible so passive observation takes over.

Legs get washed. Then feet. Every part of you receives the same careful attention. When he finishes, the washcloth gets handed to you.

"Your turn," he says.

The washcloth gets handed to you and you take it with hands that barely remember how to grip properly. Body wash pours onto the fabric in an amount that is probably too much. Your hands move to his chest and start scrubbing with all the coordination of someone who has forgotten how arms work.

The washcloth slides across his skin in uneven strokes that miss spots and repeat the same areas. You go over his left shoulder three times while barely touching his right. Your movements lack any kind of rhythm or purpose. This is not helping him get clean and both of you know it.

He stands completely still anyway and lets you work with clumsy hands and unfocused attention. No corrections come from him. He doesn’t guide your wrists to the areas you are missing. Your hand drags the washcloth down his arm and then back up. The water has started to run cool but he does not rush you or take over. He waits.

Eventually your hands slow and then stop moving entirely. The washcloth hangs limply in your grip while you stare at his chest like you have lost track of what you are supposed to be doing.

"Done?" he asks quietly.

The question takes a moment to process before you can answer. "Yeah."

The washcloth drops from your hand and hits the shower floor with a wet slap. He reaches past you and turns the water off in one smooth motion. Sudden silence fills the small space and makes every other sound seem amplified. 

"Feel better?" he asks.

"A little," you say.

"Good. Now you can eat." He steps out of the shower first and grabs a towel from the rack. The fabric wraps around his waist with practiced efficiency. Another towel gets pulled down and held open in both hands. You step out on unsteady feet and he wraps the fabric around you immediately. His hands tuck it in above your chest with quick movements. The towel feels rough and clean against your skin while holding more warmth than you expected.

He leaves you standing there wrapped in his towel. Movement sounds from the other room as drawers open and close. He comes back with a t-shirt that will be too big on you and sweatpants with a drawstring waist.

"Get dressed," he says. "Then we're eating."

The clothes get pulled on with movements that feel disconnected from your brain. The t-shirt hangs off your shoulders and reaches mid-thigh. Sweatpants bunch around your ankles even with the drawstring pulled tight. You shuffle back to the couch where the bowl of ramen still sits on the low table. Steam no longer rises from it. The broth has probably gone lukewarm.

Sitting down takes more effort than it should. Your body folds onto the cushions and you reach for the chopsticks. They still feel heavy. Everything feels heavy.

Seongje settles into the spot next to you with his own bowl. Noodles disappear into his mouth at a steady pace. A small amount lifts to your lips and you chew slowly. The taste registers as salt and something vaguely meat-flavored. Swallowing requires conscious effort.

Another bite follows. Then another. Each one takes time to get from bowl to mouth to stomach. Your jaw moves like it has forgotten the mechanics of chewing. The noodles are soft enough that this does not matter much.

He finishes his bowl in the time it takes you to eat maybe a quarter of yours. The empty dish gets set on the table with a quiet click. Settling back against the couch cushions, he reaches into his pocket. A cigarette pack emerges. The familiar sound of the flame catching fills the quiet.

Smoke curls up toward the ceiling as he takes a drag. The smell of tobacco mixes with the lingering scent of artificial beef broth.

Your hand reaches out without thinking about it. The gesture asks for what your mouth does not bother saying.

He looks at your outstretched hand and then at your face. The cigarette stays between his fingers.

"No," he says.

"Why not?" Your hand stays extended in the space between you.

"Because I said no."

"You're literally smoking right next to me." The smoke still hanging in the air gets a vague gesture from you.

"That's different."

Your hand drops back to your lap with more force than necessary. The chopsticks pick up more noodles but your movements have lost what little coordination they had. "How is that different?"

"You breathing in my secondhand smoke and you smoking directly are not the same thing." He takes another drag and this time turns his head to blow it away from you.

"The distinction seems pretty arbitrary."

"It's not arbitrary."

Another bite goes into your mouth while you stare at the remaining noodles in your bowl. "You smoke around me all the time. What difference does it make if I'm the one holding it?"

"The difference is you're already self-destructive enough without adding nicotine to the list." His voice stays matter-of-fact while the cigarette dangles from his fingers. "This is the last thing you need."

"That's hypocritical." The words come out without heat.

"I don't care."

"You're sitting here smoking while telling me I can't smoke." Another bite lifts to your mouth and the chopsticks shake slightly in your grip.

"Yeah." He takes another drag and blows the smoke away from your face. "I am."

The energy required to argue about this does not exist in your body. Your brain tries to form a rebuttal and gives up halfway through. Whatever. The fight is not worth having. Going back to eating your noodles in mechanical silence seems easier.

Silence settles between you like a physical presence. His cigarette burns down slowly and leaves a trail of ash that he taps into the ashtray. Eating at your glacial pace continues. The bowl is maybe half empty now. Progress exists even if it feels minimal.

He reaches over and taps ash into the ashtray on the table. The movement is practiced and automatic. Smoke continues to curl upward while you continue to chew with your eyes half-closed from exhaustion.

"When did it start?" he says after a while.

The question is vague enough that clarification seems necessary. "When did what start?"

"This." He gestures vaguely at you with the hand holding the cigarette. Smoke trails from the lit end. "The not eating and sleeping. All of it."

Your chopsticks pause halfway to your mouth and hover there while you think, trying to pinpoint when things started going wrong feels impossible. There was no clear beginning, just a gradual slide from functional to whatever this current state is.

"I don't know," you say finally. "A week ago maybe. Could be longer."

"What happened?" He stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray and immediately reaches for another one.

"Nothing happened."

"Something always happens." The lighter flicks and catches. New smoke joins the old.

"Not this time. I just got tired."

"Of what?"

"Everything." The word comes out flat and empty as you set the chopsticks down across your bowl. "All of it, the constant effort of being a person."

He does not respond right away. His eyes stay on you with that careful attention he gives to things he is trying to understand. The weight of his gaze feels heavy enough to press you further into the cushions.

"You should have called me," he says finally.

"I didn't know what to say." Your hands fold in your lap while your thumbs press against each other.

"You don't need to say anything. You just needed to call." 

"I'm done," you say, not sure if you were referring to the noodles, or to the weight of everything on your shoulders.

"You barely ate half." He looks at the bowl and then back at your face.

"It's more than I've eaten in three days."

"Fine. That's enough for now."

Standing up requires pushing yourself off the couch with both hands. Your legs remember how to support your weight but protest the effort with a slight tremor. The bowl gets picked up as you turn toward the kitchen area.

"I'll wash this and then head out," you say.

"Why would you head out?" The question comes immediately. 

"Because I should go home." Your feet are unsteady as you take a step towards the kitchen.

"Why?"

The question stops you mid-step. Going home means going back to your apartment, the unwashed dishes and the pile of laundry. It means going back to the space where the spiral started.

"I just should," you say without turning around.

"That's not a reason." His voice comes from behind you on the couch.

"I can't just stay here." The bowl trembles slightly in your grip.

"Why not?" The leather creaks as he shifts on the couch.

"Because I have things to do." Your knuckles are white where they grip the bowl.

"What things?" His voice stays level but something in it suggests he already knows you are lying. "What do you have to do at four in the morning?"

"I don't want to be a burden," you say. The words come out barely above a whisper.

"You're not." The couch creaks again and footsteps sound behind you.

"I'm literally falling apart in your apartment. That seems like a burden."

"I don't care. You're staying here."

"You can't just decide that,” You argue as you finally turn around to face him.

"I just did." He stands now and looks at you with that immovable expression.

"That's not how this works." Your voice lacks conviction.

"You can barely stand up without swaying. You're not going anywhere."

“I don’t have my stuff,” you say weakly.

“You don’t need stuff. You need sleep.”

“I can sleep at home.”

“No you can’t.” The certainty in his voice allows no room for argument. “You’ll go back to your place and stare at the ceiling for six hours and then come back here looking worse than you do now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.”

He is probably right. Going home means another day of going through motions without any actual living happening.

Your mouth opens to protest again but nothing comes out. The exhaustion has finally won. Fighting takes energy you stopped having days ago.

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Get in the bed or I’m carrying you there.” The bowl gets taken from your hands before you can respond. Water runs in the kitchen as he rinses it. Dishes clink together.

He comes back and finds you still standing in the same spot. His hand wraps around your wrist.

“Come on,” he says, leading you to the bedroom.

You climb onto his bed without waiting for further instruction. The mattress gives under your weight.Muscles you did not know were tense begin to release. The pillow smells like him. 

He moves around the room for a moment. A drawer opens and closes. The lamp on the nightstand gets turned on and casts warm light across the space. Then the overhead light goes off and the room becomes softer. 

"Move over," he says.

You shift toward the wall and your body protests the movement. The mattress dips significantly as he climbs in next to you. His weight settles and changes the entire landscape of the bed. The blanket gets pulled up higher over both of you. An arm drapes over your waist with familiar weight. Warmth radiates from his body into yours and seeps through the borrowed t-shirt you are wearing.

“If you kick me I’m going to the couch,” you mumble into the pillow.

“I’m not going to kick you.”

"You say that now." Your words slur slightly with exhaustion.

“Go to sleep.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. The words barely make it past your lips. “For not letting me leave.”

His arm tightens around your waist slightly. “You’re not going anywhere. Not anymore.”

Sleep pulls at the edges of your consciousness. For the first time in days it feels possible rather than theoretical. Your body starts to let go.

“Don’t disappear again,” he says against your hair. His breath is warm on the back of your neck.

You manage a sound that might be agreement. Your brain has stopped forming coherent words. His warmth and the weight of his arm and the smell of cigarette smoke all blend together into something that feels almost like peace.

You had adapted to your golden cage, convincing yourself that Han Su-gang’s suffocating attention wasn't a prison, but the only safe haven you had ever known in your entire life.

Your daily routine was meticulously calculated, designed under the strict supervision of a man who left absolutely nothing to chance. Su-gang was no longer the high school bully who sowed terror throughout the corridors… now, he wore tailored suits, Italian silk ties and practiced as a brilliant attorney at his mother's prestigious law firm. Yet, his dangerous and possessive core remained entirely intact, merely camouflaged beneath a facade of sophistication and professional success.

Every morning began exactly the same way. You would wake up pinned against his chest, one of his heavy arms wrapped firmly around your waist, anchoring you to his body as if he feared you might simply vanish into thin air during the night. Su-gang was an intensely physical man, he couldn't fathom the idea of being in the same room as you without establishing some form of contact. While you ate breakfast, his free hand would inevitably find your thigh beneath the table, offering subtle caresses that made you blush and served as a silent reminder of who owned every single inch of your skin.

"What time do you finish classes today, babe?" he would ask, his voice gravelly with sleep, a tone that still sent a faint shiver down the back of your neck, as he packed the documents into his leather briefcase.

"At four" you would reply, keeping your eyes glued to your coffee cup. "I have to hand in a constitutional law essay."

"Perfect. The chauffeur will be waiting for you in the campus parking lot at three-fifty sharp. Not a minute early, not a minute late" he would decree, leaning in for a parting kiss. His lips would press hard against yours, his tongue forcing its way inside for a few bruising seconds… a daily reminder of his magnetism before he left for court.

Su-gang had no issue with you going to university or meeting up with female classmates to study at the campus café, but your freedom on campus was nothing more than a well-constructed illusion. The driver who transported you wasn't just a security guard… he was one of Su-gang’s most trusted men, tasked with reporting your every move. You were strictly forbidden from walking home or accepting impromptu rides from male classmates.

Your social life outside of your marriage existed, but everything unfolded under your husband's watchful eye.

However, where his true colors bled through most explicitly was during social outings. As the heir to Seoul's most prominent law firm, Su-gang was regularly required to attend charity galas, business cocktail mixers and high-profile client dinners. At these events, he always brought you along, putting on an impeccable display as a doting couple.

You dressed in the most expensive and elegant gowns, though always taking care that the necklines weren't too revealing. On those nights, the facade of the perfect and protective husband remained flawless to the rest of the world, but you could feel the icy current of tension radiating from his body the moment any man stepped too close to you.

You remembered last week’s dinner vividly. A young associate from the firm had approached the two of you to offer his congratulations on your recent wedding anniversary. His tone had been perfectly polite, but he made the mistake of letting his gaze linger on you a second too long. In the blink of an eye, Su-gang’s hand clamped down on the small of your back, gripping your hips with a force that made you catch your breath. His fingers dug into the fabric of your dress, physically claiming you in front of the interloper.

"My wife appreciates your kind words" Su-gang had said, flashing a flawless smile, though his dark eyes dripped with an implicit promise of professional ruin if the man didn't back off immediately. "Isn't that right, babe?"

You could only offer a tight nod, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs from the sheer panic, feeling the crushing weight of his possessiveness squeezing your chest. The moment the associate scurried away, stammering an apology, Su-gang leaned in close to your ear.

"Don't you ever look at another man like that again, babe. It makes me sick to my stomach watching those idiots stare at you. You only have eyes for me. Am I making myself clear?" he hissed roughly.

And you had accepted that control, because your twisted mind found a warped sense of comfort in his obsession. Su-gang loved you in a sick way, but it was love nonetheless. You were the center of his universe, the only person for whom he seemed capable of feeling genuine emotion and you had convinced yourself that you were willing to pay the price of your freedom if it meant never having to face the cold indifference of the outside world again.

Yet, the perfect stability you had built began to fracture in the most unexpected way possible.

It all started on a rainy Tuesday in mid-autumn. You had woken up with a strange heaviness in your limbs, an unusual fatigue that you chalked up to the stress of university midterms. But it wasn't just exhaustion. When Su-gang rolled over in bed to pull you into his usual morning embrace, a sudden wave of irritation flared down your spine. His massive arm, which typically made you feel safe, suddenly felt like a suffocating chain.

"Su-gang… please, get off me. You’re too heavy" you said, shoving his hand away with a blunt harshness you had never shown before.

Su-gang went completely still. His eyes snapped open in the dim bedroom light, locking onto your profile with a mix of shock and utter confusion. For months, your response to his morning touches had been a soft smile or a timid hum… you had never rejected him so overtly.

"What did you just say?" His voice cut deeper and rougher than usual, stripping away the coddling tone he reserved for your private intimacy.

"I said get off. Its hot and you're making too much noise" you grumbled, turning your back to him and pulling the navy-blue duvet over your ears.

You had no idea what was happening to you. Your own behavior baffled you, but the visceral irritability gnawing at you was too real to suppress.

That was only the beginning of a miserable week for both of you. On Wednesday, Su-gang arrived home from the firm, desperate to see you… just like every other day. The second he stepped through the main foyer, he strode straight toward you, intending to trap your lips in one of his demanding kisses. But the scent of his cologne… an expensive fragrance you usually loved, hit your nose like a physical blow.

Your stomach instantly turned, a violent dry heave forcing you to push against his chest with everything you had.

"What is that smell?! You smell disgusting!" you cried out, clapping a hand over your mouth as you stumbled three steps back, your eyes watering from the sudden wave of nausea.

Su-gang reeled back slightly from the shove, but what truly unraveled him was the look of genuine revulsion painted across your face. His features hardened instantly, twisting into the dark scowl he usually saved for his adversaries in the courtroom. His monumental ego had just taken a lethal hit.

"I smell disgusting?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing as he stalked forward, closing the distance between you. "It’s the same fucking cologne I’ve worn since the day we got married. What the hell is wrong with you this week? You dodge me in bed, you won't let me touch you and now you're telling me I disgust you."

"I don't know what's wrong with me, I just can't stand being around you right now!" you screamed back. Tears began streaming down your cheeks for no apparent reason, you felt entirely unhinged. "Please, just go take a shower or sleep in the guest room, I don't care!"

Su-gang stared daggers at you for one long minute, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle ticking beneath his skin. Without another word, he spun on his heel, violently snatched his suit jacket and stormed out of the house, letting the heavy front door slam so hard the entire property rattled.

You were left completely alone in the middle of the opulent living room, sobbing uncontrollably into the leather sofa, hating yourself for treating him that way, yet simultaneously feeling an immense sense of relief now that the suffocating weight of his presence had finally vanished.

Over the next few days, things only grew worse.

To a man like Han Su-gang, your sudden rejection felt like an outright declaration of psychological warfare. His twisted and insecure mind, fed by a perpetual terror that you would one day realize the kind of monster you had married and stop loving him, immediately jumped to the darkest and most paranoid conclusions.

At the firm, Su-gang became a living nightmare for the secretaries and junior associates. He was utterly unapproachable, barking aggressive, harsh responses to any questions and completely unable to focus on the case files his mother left on his desk.

He spent his days checking his phone every two minutes, waiting for a text from you that never came or calling your chauffeur to verify that you were actually at the university and not meeting up with someone else behind his back.

"Is she alone? Are you certain she didn't speak to anyone on campus?" Su-gang interrogated the driver over the phone, staring out at the sweeping city skyline from his top-floor office window.

"Yes, Mr. Han. The mistress went straight to her civil law lecture and left accompanied only by a female classmate. She is already back at the mansion now" the driver's fearful voice replied from the other end of the line.

Su-gang hung up without a word, slamming the phone onto his wooden desk. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly frayed. The insecurity was eating him alive. Why were you shutting him out? Why weren't you seeking his warmth at night anymore?

His mind began to spin the worst possible theory: Jin-hyeong.

He thought of the high school loser… the boy you had secretly loved for years while Su-gang watched you from the shadows, consumed by jealousy and a burning desire to destroy you both. He thought that maybe you had found out about something he did, that maybe you had run into him somewhere in the city or that you had simply snapped out of the illusion of your marriage and remembered that Su-gang was nothing more than the man you had been forced to marry.

"I only married you to keep you" he repeated to himself, echoing his own words from their wedding night. "I spun a thousand plans just to make you look at me... You bruised my ego and the only way to ensure you belonged to me forever was to make you my wife."

The thought that you might be regretting giving your life to him, that his darkest sides had finally pushed you away for good, drove him completely mad. He couldn't handle being invisible to you again. He had spent his entire youth wishing you would look at him instead of that idiot Jin-hyeong. Now that he had you in his grasp, now that he had made you his wife and pulled breathless groans from you against the sheets of his bed, he wasn't about to let you strip away what he considered rightfully his.

With a tight jaw and eyes injected with a vicious resolve, Su-gang grabbed his car keys. The sun was just beginning to dip below the city horizon, but it was time to go home and demand answers. He didn't care if you were scared, he didn't care if you cried… tonight, he was going to force you to look him in the eye and remind you that no matter what crazy thoughts were running through your pretty little head, you were his for the rest of your life.

(...)

The roar of his car engine announced his arrival long before the mansion's front door even opened. You were sitting on the bed you shared with your husband, knees pulled tightly against your chest, with your civil code book spread open across the sheets… though you hadn't managed to process a single line in the last two hours. A headache throbbed behind your temples and a persistent tightness in your chest served as a constant reminder that your body was stuck in a state of perpetual alarm.

You heard the echo of his footsteps on the stairs. They weren't the slow strides he usually returned with from the firm… this time, Han Su-gang’s pace was heavy, charged with an energy that instantly made the air in the room grow thick. Your heart began to hammer against your ribs from a mix of sheer panic and adrenaline. You knew that a whole week of cold shoulders, rejections and snapping at him had finally pushed the man who had moved heaven and earth to marry you to his absolute limit.

The door swung open and Su-gang came to a halt in the threshold, his suit jacket slung carelessly over one arm and his silk tie already loosened around his neck. His hair looked slightly unkempt, a clear sign he’d been running his fingers through it in frustration all the way home. But what truly made your stomach drop was his gaze. His dark eyes were locked onto you, completely stripped of the warmth or the coddling tone he usually offered whenever he walked through that door. He looked exactly like the cold and violent man you had known back in high school.

He dropped his jacket onto an armchair with an indifference that made your skin crawl, and walked slowly toward the bed.

"We need to talk" he decreed, his gravelly voice sounding so harsh it felt like it scraped against the very walls of the room.

"Su-gang, please… my head hurts" you tried to excuse yourself, casting your eyes down toward the pages of the book in a futile attempt to ignore him. "We can do this tomorrow…"

"No, tomorrow my ass" he cut you off, his sheer authority making you flinch slightly on the mattress.

He walked right up to the edge of the bed and leaned in, planting one knee on the mattress to close the distance. His large hand clamped around your chin with an unyielding grip, forcing your head up so you had to look him dead in the eye.

"I’ve spent a week putting up with you dodging me in bed" he pressed on. "I've spent a week taking you pushing me away like I'm some kind of freak, screaming that my cologne makes you sick and looking at me like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world than by my side. I am officially out of patience, sweetheart."

Feeling the heavy warmth of his hand on your jaw, your eyes welled with tears almost instantly. You hated this weakness of yours… hated how your body's knee-jerk reaction to the slightest confrontation was to cry, but the toxic mix of exhaustion and the inexplicable emotional instability that had ruled you for days made it impossible to keep your composure.

"Nothing is wrong with me!" you yelled back, trying to wrench your face from his grip, but he only subtly tightened the pressure. "I told you I feel sick, that I'm tired! Why do you have to make a drama out of everything?"

Su-gang let out a dry bark of laughter, a twisted sound that held zero amusement. He leaned in so close you could feel his warm breath against your lips and, even though your stomach threatened to turn again from his proximity, the sheer intensity of his gaze kept you frozen in place.

"I'm making a drama?" he murmured, his dark eyes vividly reminding you why everyone in high school used to fear him. "I was crystal clear with you the night we got married. I gave you time, I was patient, I bought you every single thing you wanted and I took care of you like no one else in your miserable life ever has. And you pay me back by shoving my chest and screaming at me to sleep in another room? I'm not an idiot, babe. I’ve learned to read your every fucking reaction. I know exactly when you're hesitating and that look you're giving me right now is not exhaustion."

"Then what do you think it is?" you asked, your voice cracking as you felt the very abyss you had been running from open wide beneath your feet.

Su-gang suddenly let go of your chin, only to pin both of your wrists against the mattress with a single hand, completely immobilizing you. His face was twisted by a profound insecurity… a paranoia that was actively eating away at his ego and his sanity.

"It's because of him, isn't it?" He hurled the accusation like a venom he’d been choking on for days.

You froze, staring up at him blankly.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Jin-hyeong!" he growled, and the name of your teenage crush echoed through the room like a curse. "You thought you were invisible to the world, but I know you cried over him when you found out he was getting married. I know perfectly well you were forced to marry me and that you were terrified of me, but I thought… I thought after all these months you’d finally realized that loser never looked at you the way I do. What happened? Did you run into him at campus? Did you find out something, and now you regret being stuck in this house with me?"

Su-gang’s theory was so absurdly warped that for a second, you were completely speechless. Your brain short-circuited at the sheer scale of his paranoia, he truly believed your physical rejection was because you were still pinning after a ghost from your past. He thought his golden cage was fracturing because you craved freedom or another man's touch.

"You're crazy!" you screamed, thrashing against the sheets in a desperate bid to free your wrists. "You're completely insane, Su-gang! I haven't seen Jin-hyeong in months, I don't even think about him! I married you, I'm here with you every single night! How can you be so fucking insecure?!"

"Because it cost me too much to have you!" he roared, completely losing his composure. "I had to pull strings, I had to rig a fucking marriage that wasn't even in my plans just to make sure you were mine and no one else's! Do you think I'm going to let you leave me now? That I'm going to let you think about someone else while you're in my bed?!"

"There is no one else!" you let out, gasping for air as tears blurred your vision. "I just can't stand you right now! I hate how you touch me, I hate your cologne, I hate everything… Why can't you just understand that I feel sick?!"

Your words seemed to strike a direct blow to Su-gang’s pride. His eyes darkened even further, gleaming with a wild spark. He opened his mouth to spit back something hurtful, to remind you exactly who ruled this relationship, but the words never made it past his throat.

Before he could speak, a violent wave of heat surged up your chest, straight to your throat. Your stomach constricted so suddenly and painfully that a sharp whimper escaped you. The adrenaline from the screaming match instantly collided with an unbearable wave of nausea that you couldn't suppress.

Using a burst of strength you didn't even know you possessed, you yanked your hands free. Su-gang instinctively loosened his grip and you scrambled out of bed, sending your law book crashing to the floor as you bolted barefoot toward the master bathroom. You slammed the door open and dropped to your knees in front of the toilet, gripping the porcelain rim just in time as your body convulsed in a painful heave.

Su-gang sat frozen on the mattress, his hands still suspended in mid-air where he had been pinning you just a second ago. Hearing the sound of your retching and the echo of your distress echoing from the bathroom was like having a bucket of ice water dumped directly onto his face. All the rage, the delusional jealousy and the paranoia over Jin-hyeong vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by an entirely different kind of alarm.

He lunged off the bed, hurried into the bathroom and came to a halt right beside you. Seeing you look so incredibly small on the floor, trembling uncontrollably with your tangled hair plastered to your face by a cold sweat, something in his brain clicked into place.

Su-gang was a controlling man, yes, but he was also hyper-analytical. His legal mind began to replay the events of the past two weeks at a dizzying speed as he knelt down behind you.

"Babe…" he murmured and, this time, his voice carried no trace of hostility… he sounded genuinely worried.

He positioned himself at your back, sweeping his massive arms around your frame to hold you up. With one hand, he gently gathered all of your hair, pulling it away from your face so you could breathe easier, while his other hand rubbed slow, steady circles into your back, trying to soothe your body's spasms.

You threw up a couple more times, your throat burning, feeling like you didn't even have the strength left to hold your head up. When the episode finally subsided, you slumped completely against Su-gang’s chest. Exhausted, you closed your eyes, desperately trying to catch your breath.

"Shh, it's okay, it's over… just breathe, babe" he whispered in your ear, using his thumb to gently wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

Yet, despite the softness of his touch, you felt his entire frame go completely rigid behind you. Su-gang was staring blankly at a fixed spot on the bathroom wall. The puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place inside his head.

Your unusual fatigue over the last few days. The way you woke up with morning sickness that you had chalked up to bad eating habits. The absolute revulsion to strong odors, including the very cologne you had spent months smelling without a single complaint. Your mental instability and the sudden, unprovoked crying spells. And, above all, a detail you hadn't even noticed yourself because you were so hyper-focused on university: your missed period.

Su-gang reached his hand out toward the vanity cabinet, grabbing a glass of water for you. He helped you rinse your mouth and then scooped you up into his arms as if you weighed absolutely nothing, lifting you off the cold bathroom tile. He laid you down carefully on the bed, immediately tucking you in beneath the navy-blue duvet.

He stood beside the bed, staring down at you with a strange look on his face. He was no longer angry, nor hurt, nor paranoid. His dark eyes now burned with a completely different intensity… a big arrogance beginning to curve the corner of his lips. Any thought of Jin-hyeong was buried under a million tons of dirt, he felt like an absolute fool for ever doubting your love for him.

"Stay here. Don't move" he ordered firmly, though his tone was practically a caress.

He snatched his car keys off the nightstand and strode out of the room without another word of explanation. You were left entirely alone in the vastness of the bed, dazed and confused, rubbing your temples, completely unable to fathom your husband's sudden shift in attitude.

(...)

Barely twenty minutes passed before you heard his footsteps returning. The bedroom door swung open and Su-gang walked in, holding a small plastic bag from a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. He strode straight toward you and, without a single word, emptied the contents onto the bed.

Three different boxes of pregnancy tests tumbled onto the duvet.

You froze, staring at the packaging with wide eyes. Your heart gave such a violent lurch that it left a hollow ache in your stomach. You looked up at Su-gang, searching his face for any sign that this was a joke, but he only returned a dark gaze, heavy with absolute satisfaction.

"Go to the bathroom and take them. All of them" he ordered, crossing his arms as he stood over the bed.

Your hands were trembling so hard you could barely pick up the boxes. You got out of bed in a total daze, barely processing the gravity of what was happening. You walked into the bathroom under his watchful eye and shut the door. The next ten minutes were a nerve-wracking torture of anxiety… you read the instructions over and over, unable to focus, while the heavy silence of the mansion seemed to crush you.

When the waiting time for all three tests was up, you looked down at the results on the vanity. Two pink lines on the first, a plus sign on the second and the word "Pregnant" glowing on the digital screen of the third.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips. You buried your face in your hands, breaking eye contact with the tests as your head spun. You weren't crazy, you didn't hate your husband… your body was simply responding to the hormonal shifts that come with creating a new life.

Before you could even fully process the news, the bathroom door swung open. Su-gang couldn't handle the wait. His eyes swept the room until they locked onto the three devices on the counter. He strode over, picked them up with his long fingers and read the results one by one.

A heavy silence flooded the room. You expected him to say something, to react harshly or for his usual coldness to take over. But when Su-gang looked up at you, what you saw on his face stole your breath away.

A slow and intensely proud smirk curved his lips. His dark eyes flared with absolute triumph… a victory confirming he had just secured the ultimate bond to chain you to his life forever. All of his paranoia shattered instantly, replaced by a massive wave of arrogance at the realization that your body was changing because of him, that you were completely filled with him.

He dropped the tests onto the marble and took a step forward, capturing your waist in his large hands, pinning your back flush against his chest in front of the large bathroom mirror. He leaned down to your ear, brushing his lips against your skin as he let out a low chuckle that made your skin crawl.

"I told you on our first night, babe…" he whispered, his hands sliding down slowly to cradle your still-flat stomach. "You're mine… and now you're going to give me my heirs. You have no fucking idea how I'm going to make you pay for every single cold shoulder you gave me this week."

The possessiveness of his words hung heavily in the damp bathroom air, blending with the sound of your ragged breathing. Your eyes went wide in the mirror, watching his massive hands spread across your stomach, pressing down with a firmness that brooked no argument. Feeling the heat of his bare chest pressed against your back sent a shiver straight down your spine.

The paranoia that had turned him into a monster thirsty for answers had vanished, leaving in its place a man swollen with unbridled pride… a predator who had just confirmed that his prey could never escape his territory.

Before you could say a word or process the impact of the three tests, Su-gang forced you to turn around in his arms. He grabbed you by your lower waist and hoisted you up effortlessly, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips as he carried you out of the bathroom. Your hands flew to his shoulders, clinging to his skin out of pure instinct as he carried you back into the bedroom.

He deposited you in the center of the bed with a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm from a few minutes ago. The civil code book you had been trying to read lay forgotten on the floor as Su-gang settled between your legs, pinning you against the navy-blue duvet. His dark eyes devoured your every feature, tracing the tear stains on your cheeks and lingering on your parted lips. That arrogant, lazy smirk was still plastered across his face.

"Look at you… you're shaking again, babe" he murmured, his husky voice dropping an octave. "What are you scared of now? We already figured out you aren't missing some high school idiot, you're just carrying my child."

"Su-gang… this is…" The words caught in your throat.

The revelation of your condition was still hitting your mind, filling you with a mix of confusion, relief and a deep fear of the future that awaited you as a family. Were you truly ready to be parents?

"This is exactly what I promised you on our wedding night" he interrupted, taking his time as he caught the hem of your blouse and slowly slid it up. His fingers grazed your skin, sparking an electric current that forced your back to arch slightly. "I told you I desired you and that I wanted you to be the mother of my children. I didn't think you'd fulfill my whim so soon, but I'm not complaining at all."

With one fluid motion, he yanked the fabric upward, leaving your chest completely exposed to his hungry gaze. You shrunk your shoulders out of shyness, trying to cross your arms over your breasts, but Su-gang caught your wrists and pinned them to the mattress, just as he had during their argument. This time, however, the air didn't bleed anger… it dripped with a carnal urgency that stole your breath away.

"Don't cover yourself, my love. You don't have to hide from me" he whispered, leaning down to lick the curve of your neck with agonizing slowness. "You put me through hell at the firm this week. You drove me crazy, made me doubt myself and had my secretary shaking in fear because of my fucking mood swings. I thought you were regretting being my wife… Christ, I almost did something reckless because of you. So now you're going to stay still and let me take what I'm owed for every single rejection."

The dirty talk he always used when you had sex made you swallow hard, but your body responded instantly in a way you couldn't control. A slick heat began to drench your intimacy beneath your panties and your smothered whimpers filled the quiet space of the mansion. You felt like a doll in his hands, trapped in his magnetism, losing yourself in that dark gaze that assured you that, no matter what happened, he would take care of you.

However, as Su-gang’s lips traveled down your collarbone toward your breasts, a physical ache snapped you back to reality. Due to the hormonal changes of the first month of pregnancy, your breasts were noticeably swollen, accompanied by a throbbing pain that had been bothering you all day. When his hand clamped over one of your breasts through the fabric of your bra, a whimper of pain escaped your lips.

"Ah… Su-gang, wait… please" you gasped, shaking your head from side to side against the pillow.

He stopped instantly, pulling back to look down at you with knitted brows. His eyes narrowed, hardening into that sullen expression he wore whenever he felt you putting up a wall between the two of you.

"What is it now?" he asked roughly, though he didn't let go of your wrists. "Don't tell me you're still nauseous..."

You bit your lower lip, trying to fight through the embarrassment of making such an intimate request, but the ache was too intense to ignore. You vaguely recalled reading a health article that mentioned breast sensitivity as the earliest symptom of pregnancy, and that doctors recommended gentle stimulation and massage to help shape the nipples for future breastfeeding. You swallowed hard before forcing the words out.

"It's not the nausea… it's just that they hurt" you confessed in a small voice, your cheeks burning with a violent blush. "They hurt a lot, they're so sensitive because of… because of the pregnancy. Su-gang… please, unfasten my bra and touch them. Kiss them gently, the pressure of the clothes hurts. The doctors say it helps… i-it helps shape them for later."

Su-gang stared down at you for a couple of seconds, processing your words. The request ignited a spark of almost religious adoration in his dark eyes. To a pervert like him, it was the most fucking exciting thing in the world: knowing your body was already changing because of him, that your curves were prepping themselves to feed the child growing inside your womb. His mind reeled in that medical fact with brutal satisfaction.

He released your wrists and slid his hands behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra. As the garment fell away, your breasts were laid bare, looking slightly fuller with your areolas darkened. Su-gang let out a husky sigh, licking his lips as his eyes traced the fullness of your skin.

"So they hurt because of me…" he murmured, settling himself deeper between your legs, erasing any remaining space between your bodies. "Let me help you with that then, babe. If the doctors say I need to prep you for my child, I'm going to do it perfectly. I'm not letting anyone else touch this body."

He brought his large hands to your breasts, but this time, he banished any roughness from his movements. His long fingers caressed your skin with an unexpected gentleness that made your heart skip a beat. He began to massage the base of your breasts in slow, firm circles, relieving the tension built up from the swelling.

The direct contact made you shiver. Due to the hypersensitivity in the area, every single touch of his hands felt amplified a thousand times over, melting the dull ache into a wave of electric pleasure that made your hips arch off the mattress.

"Su-gang… mmm…" A sharp moan slipped from your lips and you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming his name in the quiet mansion.

"Moan louder, my love. I want to hear how my baby makes you so fucking sensitive" he ordered as his fingers slid toward your swollen nipples.

He pinched them gently between his thumb and forefinger, rolling them in a soft massage that shattered all your defenses.

You threw your head back, closing your eyes so you wouldn't lose yourself in the abyss of sensations overwhelming you. In that moment, Su-gang leaned down and caught one of your nipples in his mouth. His wet tongue began to lick the hypersensitive skin, suckling with a ravenous hunger that drained every bit of your strength. He moved from one breast to the other, smirking with that dark devotion… the very same devotion that made you feel like the absolute center of his universe.

Your hands acted on their own, burying themselves in his messy hair… but this time, not to push him away, but to press him harder against your chest, letting him continue his delicious torture. You felt completely manageable, like a doll he could mold to his whim and your submission drove him completely over the edge.

Su-gang kept kissing and caressing your breasts until he decided he had kept you waiting long enough. He stripped away the rest of your clothes with deft speed, leaving you completely exposed beneath him on the tangled sheets. Su-gang discarded his own clothes in seconds and you made the mistake of looking down, catching sight of his fully hard cock, glistening with a slick layer of moisture that made you swallow hard.

He positioned himself between your legs, pinning them wide apart with his firm hands. He rested his forehead against yours, forcing you to hold that deep gaze that used to intimidate you so much in high school, but was now your only anchor.

"Look only at me" he commanded roughly, licking his lips. "I don't want you thinking about anything else. Not university, not your exams, not any other bullshit. From today on, you only think about me and the baby. Is that clear?"

You nodded dumbly, unable to articulate words as you felt the tip of his length pressing against your wet entrance. Su-gang let out a husky gasp and began to slide inside you with a careful, deliberate motion. Your walls stretched open to take him, yielding to his thick girth as you clamped around him so tightly it made him grunt instantly.

"Fuck… you're so goddamn hot inside" he choked out, bracing his hands on either side of your head to hold his weight. He closed his eyes for a second, trying not to lose his grip on his control. "You're going to drive me crazy, babe. You're going to make me lose my mind."

He began to move in a measured and steady rhythm, instinctively careful not to thrust too violently against your womb, but burying himself deep inside you, claiming every inch of your intimacy as his absolute property. Your legs locked around his waist automatically and your moans became a constant echo of your total surrender through the room. You no longer cared about staying quiet, you no longer cared about the shame… you just wanted to feel him deeper and deeper inside you.

He brought one of his hands down to your clitoris, pressing with his thumb just as his hips crashed against yours, producing a wet and slapping sound that echoed through the quiet mansion. The combination of his deep thrusts, his friction against your clit and the hypersensitivity of your breasts rubbing against his bare chest triggered a sudden explosion of electricity in your core that shot straight through your nervous system.

A high-pitched cry tore from your throat as your body shattered into a violent orgasm, your walls pulsing and squeezing around his cock with a force that completely broke your husband's defenses. Su-gang let out a rough, guttural roar, burying himself inside you one last time before his own length shuddered within you, releasing his seed deep inside your core to seal the bond that would tie you together forever.

(...)

The darkness of the early morning fully ruled the mansion when you finally regained some awareness. Your headache and nausea had temporarily vanished, replaced by a warm and heavy exhaustion that kept you glued to the mattress.

Su-gang was holding you by the waist from behind, his massive frame acting as a protective barrier against the rest of the world. His breathing was slow and steady against the nape of your neck, showing he had fallen fast asleep after taking you so intensely.

You moved one of your hands slowly, resting it over your husband's fingers which were still splayed across your flat stomach. You smiled in the dimness of the bedroom, experiencing an immense sense of relief that you couldn't quite explain. The hormonal storm of the past week had been resolved in the best way possible. Even though you knew Su-gang’s possessiveness and control over your university schedule and outings would multiply a thousand times over starting tomorrow, your mind found a twisted comfort in that reality.

You snuggled closer against his chest, closing your eyes to let sleep wash over you, entirely certain that you were locked inside a golden cage you would never want to escape.

(...)

Two years can change a lot of things, but the imposing Han Law Firm building remained the ultimate symbol of power in Seoul. You walked down the hallway of the executive floor with a confident stride, the echo of your footsteps on the polished floor no longer triggered the insecurity of your early years as Han Su-gang’s wife. 

In your arms, securely balanced against your hip, you carried Ha-joon, your two-year-old son. The little boy had inherited his father’s deep and dark eyes, but the softness of your features made the entire law firm staff melt whenever they saw him pass by. He wore a tiny, custom-tailored suit his grandmother had commissioned for him, looking like a miniature version of your husband.

Before heading to his office, you turned down the hallway toward the presidential wing. The founder's secretary smiled at you instantly, throwing open the double wooden doors without you even needing to announce yourself.

"Look who decided to bless my office today!" The authoritative voice of Senior Partner Mrs. Han shifted completely into a sweet, doting tone the second you crossed the threshold.

The feared lead attorney… the woman who made judges tremble, tossed aside a stack of case files and stood up from her desk immediately. She walked toward you with open arms, completely abandoning the rigid composure she maintained in front of her clients. She doted on her grandson to the point of madness, but her relationship with you was just as close… she considered you her son's salvation, the only woman capable of taming Su-gang’s wild temper.

"Hi, mom" you said with a genuine smile.

You handed the little boy over, and he immediately stretched his tiny hands toward her, babbling a sweet "grandma."

"You look beautiful, darling. I'm so glad you came to break up our routine. That son of mine keeps you cooped up in the mansion entirely too much" Mrs. Han commented, settling Ha-joon onto her lap while reaching for a toy she always kept in her drawer. "Tell me, how are the graduation preparations coming along?"

You sat down in one of the leather armchairs, ready to enjoy a quiet chat. Your life as the wife of the most possessive man in the city hadn't been easy, but Su-gang had kept his promise to love and protect you. He had allowed you to finish your degree, and now that Ha-joon was running around the house, the mansion no longer felt like a prison, but like a true home.

Meanwhile, a floor below, Su-gang was reviewing a high-profile divorce file when his personal phone vibrated on his desk. It was a text message from the chauffeur who drove you everywhere.

“Sir, your wife and the baby entered the firm's building ten minutes ago. They took the private elevator up.”

Su-gang’s jaw clenched instantly… not out of anger, but from a spark of desire and raw need that flared in his chest every single time you were near. He picked up his desk phone and hit the intercom button immediately.

"Choi, is anyone waiting for me in reception before the four o'clock meeting?" he questioned his secretary, his gravelly voice making the employees shiver.

"No, Mr. Han. The client called to let us know they'll be fifteen minutes late" the boy replied from the other end of the line.

Su-gang checked his watch… it was only two in the afternoon, but he decided not to wait any longer. He dropped his pen, buttoned his suit jacket and walked out of his office with absolute purpose.

"Choi… you can take the next two hours off" he told his secretary as he stepped into the reception area of his floor. He didn't want anyone anywhere near his office.

He knew exactly where you had gone first. His mother loved you like her own daughter and always tried to "steal" your time whenever you set foot in the firm.

To avoid waiting for the elevator, he took the stairs down the single flight.

The door to the president's office swung open without warning. Su-gang paused in the threshold, his imposing frame filling the space, his dark gaze scanning the massive office until it locked onto you. Seeing you sitting there, looking radiant and at peace, his eyes softened just a fraction, taking on that spoiled, melting tone that only you ever witnessed.

"I knew you'd be here" he stated, walking straight toward you while giving a brief wave to his son, who flashed him a tiny smile from the desk.

"Su-gang, we just got here" you complained softly, feeling the heat of his long fingers as he trapped your hand in an iron grip, pulling you to your feet.

He completely ignored your protest. He looked at Mrs. Han with a lazy smirk and an impeccable, if rushed, courtesy.

"Mom, excuse the intrusion, but I'm stealing her for a few minutes. I want to introduce her to some important clients" he lied smoothly, wielding that effortless authority he used so masterfully in the courtroom.

Mrs. Han let out an elegant laugh, shaking her head as she adjusted Ha-joon in her arms.

"You are incorrigible, Su-gang" she sighed. "Go on, get out of here. I'll watch my grandson, but don't be too long… we're supposed to have coffee together."

Su-gang didn't answer her. He guided you out of the office, pulling gently on your hand, ignoring the curious looks from the secretaries in the hallway. His stride was fast, heavy with that possessive energy that always sent your heart racing a mile a minute. The moment you crossed the threshold into his private office, he shut the heavy wooden door behind you and turned the lock.

He didn't even give you time to complain. He pinned you gently against the smooth surface of the door, capturing your waist in his massive hands and forcing you to look up at him. His face was twisted with sheer need, as if it had been months since he last held you in his arms, when in reality you had eaten breakfast together that very morning, just like always.

"I've missed you all goddamn day, babe" he whispered against your ear, his husky voice grazing your skin before trapping your lips in an unforgiving kiss.

He forced his tongue inside roughly, claiming your mouth with a ravenous hunger. Your hands slid up to his shoulders, clinging to the expensive fabric of his suit jacket as you lost yourself in his devotion. His fingers dug deep into your hips, pressing you flush against his body, reminding you, once again, who held absolute ownership over every single inch of your skin.

"You know… I've always had a fantasy about fucking you in my office" he let out.

Personally requesting to Baekjin, you are sent to tasks that requires a partner, such as meeting up with a supplier, arranging send-offs of products, and many more. And it seems like amusement and curiosity gets the best of him.

You are a skilled fighter who doesn’t hold back in putting Union men in their places should they make a passing comment that degrades any of your girls— at least that’s what Seongje knows. So imagine his baffled expression when he was told that he needs to accompany you in your every tasks.

“Even going to the underground fighting ring?”

“Specially to that.”

“Bullshit.”

First, he’s not a babysitter. And second, he’s not babysitting anyone.

Seongje should’ve known it was a scheme, but it slowly dawns on him that tailing you in your errands actually gives him a lot of free time. He’s able to play a ton shit of games and have his own fun without Baekjin nagging at him to contribute some work.

What he didn’t expect though is your seemingly innate talent in bringing the irritation in him. It’s as if you were born in this world to piss Seongje off.

You’re everything he hates when he works with someone. And he doesn’t work with a lot of people. 

But instead of taking it out on the dumb Eunjang kids who became a free punching bag for him, he takes it out on you in the best way possible.

“Like that,” Seongje says lowly as he places a hand between your blade shoulders, easing you down until your face presses on the mattress while your ass and hips remain upright.

He caresses your ass cheek before landing a resounding slap, eliciting a yelp from you. There’s no soothing massages that follows.

“You know, you look the prettiest like this. All pliant and obedient for me. Why do you always give me such a hard time, huh?”

His cock slots between your folds, though not entering just yet. It slides over it, covering his length with your wetness as he pays no mind to your whines. You tried to reach for his arm or his hips, just anything to pacify your growing need, but Seongje gathers both of your wrists and pins them on your back.

And suddenly, pain surges through your bones. Your hands immediately scramble to find for something to hold on. “Fuck!”

Seongje, ever so mean, laughs at your state. Palm hitting your skin again, he bends over to get something from the bedside table, all the while not pulling out.

The pain quickly subsides after a full minute with him inside you. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve done this more than you can count. Or maybe it’s the underlying pleasure that you have for pain.

Seongje visibly delights staring at how you look either way. But he’s not that type of partner. Hell– he’s not even your partner at the first place.

Refusing to get lost in his thoughts, Seongje starts thrusting inside you mercilessly. There’s no build up of rhythm nor a warning that allows you to brace for the immense pleasure.

The way his bulbous tip breaches past your pussy lips, pulling out completely before invading your hole again and again. The position you’re in only heightens what you’re feeling as it gives him the leeway to move his hips deeper.

You feel so fucking full. 

The impressive girth stretching you to accommodate his size might’ve ruined you for any other person. It’s as if it’s Seongje’s own way of claiming you, of showing you that no one can make you feel like this except him.

Ashes falls on the expanse of your back, inflicting a slight burn but not enough for you to writhe in hurt. You switches position so one side of your cheek rests on the sheets instead, and the sight of Seongje snatches your breath away; taking a hit of his cigarette stick, gyrating his hips with no sense of care if you’re overwhelmed, and the fucking smirk playing on his lips as he watches your eyes cross inevitably.

“Shit– uh uh uh, fuck.. Seongje,”

The said man merely hums, changing his angle just a little, only to chuckle deeply to himself as your back arches uncontrollably. He prods at your spot like he knows your body better than you.

Seongje bundles your hair to a makeshift ponytail, albeit missing a few strands, and pulls you back until your back is skin-to-skin against his chest. He pries your mouth open forcibly, settling the stick in between your lips.

He grinds purposely on your firm yet spongy button, smiling triumphaly when you struggle to inhale a proper amount of nicotine.

“Look at you going dumb on me.”

The man licks a stripe along your face before sniffing out the burning end of the stick, and reclines on the bed, dragging you down with him. You now lay on top of him as Seongje thrusts upwards.

His hand travels from your wrists to where your clit sits prettily, puckered and swollen, while his mouth attacks your neck, littering it with hickeys that will most definitely give you a hard time covering it up.

“Oh my god—!”

“You’re so hot.” He growls in your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you someday against the counter, the one at the bowling alley. I will make them watch when I fuck that attitude out of you. Make them see how to properly handle that smart mouth.”

It should’ve embarrassed you at the thought of being exposed to everyone. Should’ve angered you that Seongje wants to parade you like some property he owns. But it doesn’t. In fact, your walls clenches around Seongje’s cock as if you couldn’t wait for it to actually happen.

“Yeah? You like that? You love when I treat– haah– you like this, don’t you? Acting all smart and independent when all you want is someone to take the lead and, shit, order you around like a fucking puppy.”

His condescending laugh resonates the bedroom after you slur your words in agreement, too cock-drunk to form a coherent sentence. He hooks his arms under your knees and forces them wide open which leaves you resembling a rag doll receiving his plows.

“Seongje! Uh– hnghh… fuck. Ah, ‘m gonna come– shit..”

Eyelids flickering, you could barely get the words out.

“Come?” Seongje grins. “You wanna come on my cock? Go ahead, doll. Be a good fucking girl and make yourself come.”

You thrash on top of him, legs shaking violently as tears roll down your cheeks. Your head throws back and lands on his shoulder. Seongje tilts his head, burying his face in your neck, eventually biting your skin as he shuts his eyes close and savors the delicious clenches of your pussy.

Feeling himself getting closer as well, Seongje plays with your nipples. His eyes roll to the back of his head as you twitch in his arms due to overstimulation.

“Slo– no! Oh god, slow down! Please.. slow down..”

Who are you even fooling? You might’ve said the words and attempts fleeing from him, but your own body craves the pleasure all the same. 

You sit up for a second, falling forward the next, and as you grapple the bed sheets, your hips rides the relentless movements of Seongje.

“Yeah, fucking take all of me. That’s what you fucking want, right?” Seongje pulls out and slides his cock deep in your throat. His hot cum spills as he reaches his bliss. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl..”

As the night deepens and the streets had gone quite, anyone who sees Seongje sleeping soundly in your arms would wonder: who is the real wolf? And which is the puppy?

Personally requesting to Baekjin, you are sent to tasks that requires a partner, such as meeting up with a supplier, arranging send-offs of products, and many more. And it seems like amusement and curiosity gets the best of him.

You are a skilled fighter who doesn’t hold back in putting Union men in their places should they make a passing comment that degrades any of your girls— at least that’s what Seongje knows. So imagine his baffled expression when he was told that he needs to accompany you in your every tasks.

“Even going to the underground fighting ring?”

“Specially to that.”

“Bullshit.”

First, he’s not a babysitter. And second, he’s not babysitting anyone.

Seongje should’ve known it was a scheme, but it slowly dawns on him that tailing you in your errands actually gives him a lot of free time. He’s able to play a ton shit of games and have his own fun without Baekjin nagging at him to contribute some work.

What he didn’t expect though is your seemingly innate talent in bringing the irritation in him. It’s as if you were born in this world to piss Seongje off.

You’re everything he hates when he works with someone. And he doesn’t work with a lot of people. 

But instead of taking it out on the dumb Eunjang kids who became a free punching bag for him, he takes it out on you in the best way possible.

“Like that,” Seongje says lowly as he places a hand between your blade shoulders, easing you down until your face presses on the mattress while your ass and hips remain upright.

He caresses your ass cheek before landing a resounding slap, eliciting a yelp from you. There’s no soothing massages that follows.

“You know, you look the prettiest like this. All pliant and obedient for me. Why do you always give me such a hard time, huh?”

His cock slots between your folds, though not entering just yet. It slides over it, covering his length with your wetness as he pays no mind to your whines. You tried to reach for his arm or his hips, just anything to pacify your growing need, but Seongje gathers both of your wrists and pins them on your back.

And suddenly, pain surges through your bones. Your hands immediately scramble to find for something to hold on. “Fuck!”

Seongje, ever so mean, laughs at your state. Palm hitting your skin again, he bends over to get something from the bedside table, all the while not pulling out.

The pain quickly subsides after a full minute with him inside you. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve done this more than you can count. Or maybe it’s the underlying pleasure that you have for pain.

Seongje visibly delights staring at how you look either way. But he’s not that type of partner. Hell– he’s not even your partner at the first place.

Refusing to get lost in his thoughts, Seongje starts thrusting inside you mercilessly. There’s no build up of rhythm nor a warning that allows you to brace for the immense pleasure.

The way his bulbous tip breaches past your pussy lips, pulling out completely before invading your hole again and again. The position you’re in only heightens what you’re feeling as it gives him the leeway to move his hips deeper.

You feel so fucking full. 

The impressive girth stretching you to accommodate his size might’ve ruined you for any other person. It’s as if it’s Seongje’s own way of claiming you, of showing you that no one can make you feel like this except him.

Ashes falls on the expanse of your back, inflicting a slight burn but not enough for you to writhe in hurt. You switches position so one side of your cheek rests on the sheets instead, and the sight of Seongje snatches your breath away; taking a hit of his cigarette stick, gyrating his hips with no sense of care if you’re overwhelmed, and the fucking smirk playing on his lips as he watches your eyes cross inevitably.

“Shit– uh uh uh, fuck.. Seongje,”

The said man merely hums, changing his angle just a little, only to chuckle deeply to himself as your back arches uncontrollably. He prods at your spot like he knows your body better than you.

Seongje bundles your hair to a makeshift ponytail, albeit missing a few strands, and pulls you back until your back is skin-to-skin against his chest. He pries your mouth open forcibly, settling the stick in between your lips.

He grinds purposely on your firm yet spongy button, smiling triumphaly when you struggle to inhale a proper amount of nicotine.

“Look at you going dumb on me.”

The man licks a stripe along your face before sniffing out the burning end of the stick, and reclines on the bed, dragging you down with him. You now lay on top of him as Seongje thrusts upwards.

His hand travels from your wrists to where your clit sits prettily, puckered and swollen, while his mouth attacks your neck, littering it with hickeys that will most definitely give you a hard time covering it up.

“Oh my god—!”

“You’re so hot.” He growls in your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you someday against the counter, the one at the bowling alley. I will make them watch when I fuck that attitude out of you. Make them see how to properly handle that smart mouth.”

It should’ve embarrassed you at the thought of being exposed to everyone. Should’ve angered you that Seongje wants to parade you like some property he owns. But it doesn’t. In fact, your walls clenches around Seongje’s cock as if you couldn’t wait for it to actually happen.

“Yeah? You like that? You love when I treat– haah– you like this, don’t you? Acting all smart and independent when all you want is someone to take the lead and, shit, order you around like a fucking puppy.”

His condescending laugh resonates the bedroom after you slur your words in agreement, too cock-drunk to form a coherent sentence. He hooks his arms under your knees and forces them wide open which leaves you resembling a rag doll receiving his plows.

“Seongje! Uh– hnghh… fuck. Ah, ‘m gonna come– shit..”

Eyelids flickering, you could barely get the words out.

“Come?” Seongje grins. “You wanna come on my cock? Go ahead, doll. Be a good fucking girl and make yourself come.”

You thrash on top of him, legs shaking violently as tears roll down your cheeks. Your head throws back and lands on his shoulder. Seongje tilts his head, burying his face in your neck, eventually biting your skin as he shuts his eyes close and savors the delicious clenches of your pussy.

Feeling himself getting closer as well, Seongje plays with your nipples. His eyes roll to the back of his head as you twitch in his arms due to overstimulation.

“Slo– no! Oh god, slow down! Please.. slow down..”

Who are you even fooling? You might’ve said the words and attempts fleeing from him, but your own body craves the pleasure all the same. 

You sit up for a second, falling forward the next, and as you grapple the bed sheets, your hips rides the relentless movements of Seongje.

“Yeah, fucking take all of me. That’s what you fucking want, right?” Seongje pulls out and slides his cock deep in your throat. His hot cum spills as he reaches his bliss. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl..”

As the night deepens and the streets had gone quite, anyone who sees Seongje sleeping soundly in your arms would wonder: who is the real wolf? And which is the puppy?

The screen on your phone lighting up made your heart stop. The rain drumming against the window seemed to disappear.

You stood frozen. 

It could only be a message from your parents– what the hell were you even doing right now?

You let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to walk over to the couch.

You picked up your phone. 

For a second you just stared at the screen before finally unlocking it to see the message.

Unknown number.

: seongje told me to contact u

: ill be taking over some of ur delivery routes, just letting u know

Cold washed over you.

You should be relieved.

Relieved that you’re not tanged up with the Union as much anymore. Relieved that someone is finally taking over the work– it’s what you wanted at the end of the day. 

Then why does it feel wrong?

You didn’t reply.

You knew who it was.

The girl, always the girl.

Who the hell was she?

You scoffed at yourself.

This was getting ridiculous. He slept with you, and now, he’s acting as if you were just another face in the crowd. Someone he spares just one glance at on the street and never thinks of again. 

Your jaw tightened. Your grip on your phone grew tighter.

Fine.

He thinks he can just cut you off?

You were still connected to the Union. You could still take jobs.

Just not from him.

You didn’t even know why you suddenly cared to prove yourself to a gang you’d spend months trying to avoid. There wasn’t a single logical thought behind what you were about to do.

Only anger.

And whatever consequences came with it.

You needed to find Baekjin. 

Your thoughts raced. 

Adrenaline prickled beneath your skin.

Seongje had mentioned a few places where Baekjin usually spent his evenings. If you were lucky, maybe you’d find him there.

Before you even realised it, you were already in your bedroom, changing out of your school uniform to your regular clothes– plain black top, black jeans and your checkered Vans.

You quickly glanced out your bedroom window,

The rain was still pouring out the dark sky with no intention of stopping.

You pulled on a hoodie, the material immediately warming up your ice cold skin.

Then you shoved your phone into your back pocket and headed to the front door.

You couldn’t even care to pick up an umbrella on your way out.

You walked with purpose, the cold air with the rain ironically fitting your exact state of mind.

There was an old warehouse where Baekjin usually hung out. He had an office there for his studies.

That guy had to have a small study room in each spot the Union owned.

It was only a few blocks from your apartment, nothing too far, hopefully he will be there.

The walk there was a blur.

The storm only grew more violent. 

By now, you were completely drenched.

You were about to cross the street– 

Then you saw him.

With her.

Again.

She was getting into his BMW.

Just like you had not so long ago.

Seongje walked carelessly around to the drivers side. His orange windbreaker bright against the grey rain. He flicked his cigarette into a puddle without a second glance.

His expression was unreadable.

Almost bored.

To you, it was anything but that.

Your body was ice cold,

Yet something was burning inside of you.

Any remaining doubts you had were completely wiped out of your mind the moment she closed the passenger door.

The traffic light turned green.

You crossed the road without looking back.

The warehouse was only a two-minute walk away.

The closer you were getting, the less sense you had left in your poor, confused mind.

The less you cared about the consequences.

The alleys were getting narrower, while the buildings were getting older.

Purple and red neon signs buzzed above unknown bars and gambling joints, trying to lure people inside to drink away their paychecks– or lose what was left of them over a poker table.

A few men stood beneath the awnings despite the rain, cigarettes dangling from their lips as they argued over money that was already gone.

You looked ahead.

Finally, you spotted the warehouse.

Your steps got faster, the only thing you cared about was talking to him. 

You wrapped your fingers around the cold metal handle and pulled. The heavy warehouse door groaned open.

The smell of dust and weed hit you the moment you stepped inside.

Your nose scrunched from the smell of it.

There was a small light on around the corner lighting up the empty building a bit. If you weren’t so angry you’d be probably shitting your pants right now.

You hated being in abandoned buildings at night.

The place was eerily quiet– a few chairs had been knocked over, empty cans of cheap beer scattered across the floor alongside trash you tried not to step on.

Puddles covered the cracked concrete, rainwater dripping through holes in the ceiling in slow, steady drops.

Just making your way through the warehouse felt like a task in itself.

You stopped in front of the office door, your hand hanging in the air, unsure if you should knock.

,,You can come in, you know.” 

A hoarse, firm voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, closing it behind you.

And there he was.

Sitting at his desk.

Uniform still on,  hair perfectly in place.

Papers–math homework, neatly organised– were spread across the desk.

He didn’t even look up at first. Just a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Did he already know who you were?

You hesitated before speaking, taking a small step closer to his desk,

,,I work for Seongje. . . Geum Seongje.”

Your voice came out quiet.

You opened your mouth to add more, but he cut you off,

,,I know who you are,” 

He finally looked up.

His gaze landed on you properly now– slow, measuring, like he was trying to figure out exactly what kind of situation you were talking in as.

 ,,Why are you here?”

His tone was flat. Bored, almost.

You swallowed, straightening slightly. 

,,Seongje doesn’t need me anymore. Give me someone else’s routes.”

Your words came out more confident than you expected.

The silence that followed felt heavy, only broken by the water drops hitting the warehouse floor from your dripping clothes.

Baekjin watched you for a moment.

Not surprised.

Not confused.

Just thinking.

Like he knew something you didn’t. 

And in less than five seconds, he understood.

Not everything– but enough.

Enough to know this wasn’t about work. 

It was about a misunderstanding– about Seongje. Of course Seongje didn’t bother to explain anything to you. That wasn’t his style.

Baekjin leaned back slightly in his chair.

He didn’t play with emotions. Didn’t care for them, either.

But people were useful.

And you had just walked in offering yourself as one.

Business was business.

Whatever was going on between you and Seongje wasn’t Baekjin’s concern.

,,There is one job I can think of..” 

His stare was dead, tone clinical.

His expression never changed, like this conversation meant nothing to him.

,,Can I take it?”

Your voice came out thinner than you intended, your confidence held together by nothing but stubbornness.

A smile slowly spread across his face.

Not a warm one.

But the kind of that made your stomach sink.

Like you just made a deal with the devil.

,,Sure.”

You quietly let out a breath you were holding.

If only you’d  seen yourself through his eyes.

You were trembling.

Hoodie soaked by rain,

Chapped lips,

Dark circles under your eyes.

A girl trying far too hard to prove something.

Perfect– no one would suspect anything.

Too innocent for anyone to pay attention.

Too desperate to ask the right questions.

,,There’s just one condition.”

He folded his hands on the desk.

,,That package is worth way more than anything you’ve delivered before.”

He paused.

,,Im gonna need you to deliver two kilograms of cocaine.”

Your breathing stopped. Eyes opening wider in shock.

,,…Cocaine?”

The word barely escaped your lips– your brain refused to process anything he just said.

Baekjin raised an eyebrow,

,,What?”

,,Got cold feet already?”

,,What? N–No.” 

Your answered too quickly.

,,I was just…making sure I heard you right.”

He studied you for another second.

Then leaned back in his chair once again.

,,You offered.”

His voice stayed perfectly calm,

,,Im simply giving you what you asked for.”

The room fell silent– too late to back out now.

You nodded in response, gripping your dripping sleeves of your hoodie.

,,Perfect.”

He stood up, straightening his uniform, before walking towards the door.

,,Follow me.”

You nodded, immediately falling into step behind him. Waiting for whatever came next.

He led you to the back of the warehouse. Old furniture was stacked everywhere, covered in a thick layer of dust. Broken shelves leaned against the walls, and abandoned boxes were scattered across the damp floor.

You let out a quiet cough,

,,Sorry.” 

Baekjin didn’t even acknowledge it. His attention was elsewhere.

He gripped one of the heavy wardrobes and shoved it aside, revealing a hidden safe built into the wall.

You froze.

His head turned towards you.

,,Turn around.”

Your eyes widened.

,,Oh… right. Sorry.”

You immediately faced the opposite wall, obeying his words. You nervously picked at the skin around your thumbs. Your heartbeat was so loud you could hear it in your ears.

A series of quiet clicks echoed behind you as he entered the code.

,,Okay.”

A metallic clunk followed.

,,Turn around.”

You obeyed.

Your eyes landed on the open safe.

Your jaw dropped.

There were thousands, no– millions worth of drugs and guns stacked in there. Baekjin reached inside without hesitation– to him it looked as ordinary as taking papers from a filing cabinet.

He pulled out two vacuum-sealed bricks wrapped in brown tape and held them out to you.

You hesitated before taking them.

The weight of it caught you completely off guard.

,,I’ll text you the address and time.” 

He closed the safe and moved the wardrobe back in place like this is not a literal crime scene that could grand him a life sentence in prison.

,,Okay..”

He walked back into his office, coming back seconds later to give you a plain, black backpack.

,,Gonna need you to deliver it tonight.”

He glanced down at his phone before looking back at you,

,,You can go, that’s all.”

You nodded.

Baekjin reached for the handle of his office door, but paused halfway.

His head turned slightly in your direction, though he never actually looked at you.

,,Good luck.” 

A quiet chuckle escaped him before he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The click of the lock echoed through the warehouse.

You were left standing alone in the darkness, with only the pale moonlight spilling through the broken windows.

You quickly shoved it into your bag before you started walking out.

The air was horrible here. How did he manage to be there for hours?

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket, you took it. A message from Baekjin– time and place.

It wasn’t as far as you thought, in fact you were surprised it was in the city centre.

You searched up the exact address.

You blinked.

You looked at the address he sent you again– it was correct.

A strip club.

Rain poured down around you. You stood beneath the small roof outside the warehouse for another minute before finally forcing yourself to move.

You needed to find a bus stop to get there.

You still had an hour, which should be enough, but you didn’t want to risk walking all the way there.

It took you less than five minutes to find one.

The stop was empty.

No bench. Just a rusted bin overflowing with trash scattered across the wet pavement.

A bus eventually pulled up.

You got in.

Sat down.

You were fidgety, your heart was racing.

You held onto the backpack like your life depended on it.

The city blurred past the rain– speckled windows. You watched strangers come and go, wondering how every single one of them had a life just as complicated as your own.

It was strange.

Your brain had never fully wrapped itself around the idea that everyone around you had their own story.

None of them knew what you were carrying.

Two bricks of cocaine rested quietly inside your backpack.

The bus stopped again.

This time, two police officers stepped inside.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

They walked slowly down the aisle, casually talking to each other.

One of them glanced in your direction.

You stopped breathing.

Then they kept walking– passing right by you without a second look.

You let out a breath you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding.

Thank god.

You stepped off the bus, the rain growing lighter with every step you took.

The streets were alive.

People laughed, hurried across the sidewalks, or brushed past you without a second glance.

The place was impossible to miss.

A giant pink neon high heel glowed above the entrance.

Your phone buzzed.

You pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

You stopped in your tracks.

seongje: why aren’t you home?

As you were about to shove your phone back into your pocket, it buzzed again.

You let out an annoyed huff.

seongje: where are you, Y/N?

You held the power button until the screen went completely black.

Enough.

You slipped the phone into your back pocket and kept walking towards the entrance.

Seongje’s pov:

No answer.

,,Fuckin’ pissing me off, huh?”he muttered under his breath.

He had been ringing your door like a madman.

Enough is enough.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small lock pick. It wasn’t unusual for him to carry one. You never knew when you’d end up trapped somewhere and need a quick way out. 

He worked at the lock for a few seconds.

Click.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

He pushed the door open, fully expecting to find you inside, probably ignoring him on purpose.

Pretending you weren’t home.

Instead…

Silence.

You were nowhere to be seen.

The apartment was dark.

Empty. 

His brows knitted together.

,, Y/N?”

Nothing.

He shut the front door behind him and walked straight to your bedroom.

Maybe you were asleep?

The door was wide open.

No one.

He stood in the doorway for a second.

Where the fuck were you?

He pulled out his phone and quickly typed a message.

Delivered.

No reply.

He typed out another one.

:why aren’t you home?

:where are you, Y/N?

No answer.

His jaw tightened.

Without another thought, he turned around and stormed out of the apartment.

The front door slammed behind him, the sound echoing through the empty hallway in your apartment complex.

His thoughts were racing.

What the hell were you doing?

He had no idea where to even start looking.

Then it hit him.

Baekjin.

If anyone knew where you were, it would be him. There were cameras all over the Union’s territory– where you, luckily, lived.

Someone had to know where you’d gone.

He cursed under his breath and pulled out his phone again.

He scrolled through his contacts before finding Baekjin’s number.

He pressed call and lifted the phone to his ear. 

It rang once.

Twice.

Then–

“What?”

No greeting.

Typical. 

,,Can you get one of your guys to check the street cameras? ” Seongje said quickly. 

,,I need to find Y/N. She’s been avoiding a delivery she’s supposed to do.”

Silence.

“…Avoiding?”

Something about Baekjin’s tone made Seongje’s stomach drop.

“No.”

Another pause.

“She came to me.”

Seongje stopped walking.

,,What?” 

“She came to me asking for work.”

His grip tightened around the phone.

“I needed a courtier tonight anyway.”

The blood drained from Seongje’s face.

,,…What job?”

Baekjin sounded almost amused.

“The shipment.”

A long pause.

“The two kilos.”

His heart stopped. His hands were sweaty.

The cold outside did not matter anymore.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Except finding you.

,,Tell me where you sent her.”

“The club in the city.”

Seongje didn’t even bother saying a goodbye.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and practically ran to his car.

His thought were a mess.

Everything around him blurred together.

He wasn’t just angry anymore.

He was terrified.

His keys shook in his hands as he unlocked the BMW. He threw himself into the driver’s seat, barely taking a second to slam the door shut before starting the engine.

The tires screeched against the wet pavement as he sped out of the parking lot.

It was only about a ten-minute ride.

If he pushed the car hard enough.

His grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles had turned white– the grip iron.

One of his legs bounced uncontrollably.

His jaw stayed clenched the entire drive.

,,Fuck…”

The word came out almost like a prayer.

If anything happened to you…

He didn’t even bother to park properly– not caring about getting a ticket at all.

His legs were carrying him towards the door of the club.

Pink led lights were shining through the tinted windows, music blaring through the building more loudly with each step he took.

He brushed past the people waiting in line to get in, the security guard immediately recognizing his already familiar face.

He just nodded and let Seongje in without a second thought.

He took two steps at a time to get to the upper wing of the club where the deals were usually made. There were several rooms on that floor– each for private dances or playing tables with hookers all over.

Upstairs, several doors lined the hallway.

Seongje’s jaw clenched.

Please don’t let me be too late.

Y/N pov:

You sat alone in one of the private rooms.

The music from downstairs vibrated through the thin walls.

Your backpack rested between your feet– you hadn’t touched it once.

The second hand on the clock seemed louder than the pop music echoing through the whole club.

Every minute felt like ten.

Suddenly, the door opened.

Two guys. One barely clothed girl.

She didn’t even glance at you, immediately heading to the pole at the back of the room.

They sat down, the couch sinking under their weight.

No greetings. Just blank stares and the screech of their lighters.

,,So..” 

The bald one looked at you. His gold tooth caught the red neon light.

,,Heard you’re gonna be the courtier.”

You swallowed, gaze flicking between them and the girl dancing at the back of the small room.

,,You have what we asked for, baby?”

Baby.

Your stomach sank.

Your mind immediately drifted to Seongje.

Snap out of it.

,,…Yeah.”

You glanced down at your backpack on the filthy ground before looking back at them.

They smiled.

The bald man nodded at the other guy. He reached behind the couch, pulled out a heavy duffel bag, handed it to the bald man first, then passed it to you.

You took it without a second glance.

,,Check it.”

You unzipped the bag. It was filled with money.

Okay, this is good so far.

You nodded, and then–

Sirens.

Your head snapped towards the door.

The men were on their feet in an instant, snatching the backpack and leaving you behind.

The girl ran after them, heels clicking on the ground.

You stood up, taking the duffel bag with you.

The moment you opened the door, chaos erupted.

People were running round.

Men were zipping up their pants.

Strippers were fixing their underwear while running towards the exit.

Then you heard a gunshot.

You froze.

You needed to get out– quick.

You ran through people, trying to find an exit. Instead you found probably the main dancing room.

There was a huge bar, six poles, and a lot of people– including the police officers.

You panicked, unknowing of where to go.

You took two steps and then–

A hand.

Before you could even think you found yourself being grabbed, knife held against your neck.

He’s shaking

,,Don’t move, darling.”

The man was terrified.

Police pointing rifles at everyone, including him.

Everyone was yelling.

,,POLICE! DON’T MOVE!”

Doors slam.

People scream.

Someone fires the first shot, then everyone starts shooting.

The smell of cheap liquor hit your senses as he told you to stay still.

You shut your eyes, praying to the gods he wouldn’t do anything to you.

The hold he had on you was too strong, you couldn’t do anything.

He was shaking too much, the knife grazed against your neck. Slicing you in the process.

You yelped from the pain, the feeling of blood dripping down your neck was all you could feel.

Then–

A gunshot.

For a moment you thought you were dead.

Then, you slowly opened your eyes again. The guy was lying on the ground, blood spilling from his shoulder.

You couldn’t breathe. 

You couldn’t think.

You just ran through the crowds of panicked people.

You tried to claw your way out, steps quick with hurry as you didn’t even look in front of you.

Suddenly you crashed into somebody.

You glanced up.

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Were you fucking high?

,,S–Seongje?”

Your voice was shaky. You were trembling.

He had seen the whole scene unravel.

The knife.

The blood.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

His eyes landed on the thin line of blood running down your neck.

Everything else disappeared.

The shouting.

The sirens.

The guns.

He only saw you.

Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you outside.

The cold night air hit your skin.

You were in complete shock, not even realizing he had already unlocked the car and shoved you inside.

He slammed the passenger door shut before rounding the hood and climbing into the driver’s seat..

The sound of the door slamming snapped you out of the trance you were in.

He snatched the bag from your lap and threw it onto the back seat without a second thought.

Then he grabbed your face.

Carefully.

Turning your head to look at your neck.

A shallow cut.

You were fine.

Thank god.

,,Are you hurt?”

You couldn’t find your voice.

,,Answer me.”

His voice was breathless.

,,It’s nothing.” You snapped back, refusing to look at him.

He stared at you for a second, like he couldn’t even process what you’d just said.

,,…Nothing?”

A dry laugh escaped him.

,,You call someone holding a fucking knife to your throat nothing?”

His hand tightened around your jaw.

He ran his thumb near the wound without directly touching it.

,,Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if that cop had missed?”

You looked out the window, escaping his hold.

,,Why would you even care?”

A beat of silence.

,,Because something could’ve happened to you!”

The words came out without thinking.

He was annoyed at himself for saying that out loud.

Annoyed at himself for yelling. Because that meant he cared.

He hit the steering wheel with his fist.

Then, silence.

,,You think this is a fucking game? Walking into Baekjin’s office without telling anybody?”

,,You replaced me.”

He couldn’t believe his fucking ears.

,,I tried to fucking get you out!”

What?

You froze.

Your whole body was on fire.

You slowly turned around,

,,You never told me that.” 

,,Didn’t think I’d have to.”

You couldn’t listen to it anymore. You felt like you were suffocating in the car. It was getting smaller with each passing second.

You opened the door.

And you started walking.

He stayed in the car.

Of course.

Five second.

Ten.

He grips the steering wheel so hard he barely feels his hands.

,,…Fuck.”

He gets out.

And he runs after you.

Seongje grabs your wrist and pulls you back.

You struggle as he practically shoves you back into the passenger seat again and locks the doors.

oh my god. 

your fucking group partner is geum seongje. 

you think your college must actually be hell. 

you wouldn’t describe yourself as very academically gifted. in fact, you’re starting to lose touch with reality ever since college started. but hey, you’re in your second year and things should looking up right? 

apparently not. 

because your group mate is one of the lovely lovely frat guys in your class. 

notorious for picking fights with other frats just because, being on the school’s e-sports team, and somehow being a player with that. 

thankfully, he’s mostly quiet in class. but he yawns loud and clicks on his mouse obnoxiously when he’s bored. probably playing league of legends. he cusses under his breath and his friends lean over to see what he’s doing. 

you don’t care much for school but even then, can’t he be unscholarly quieter? 

and now youre stuck with him for your fucking midterm project. 

he’s currently staring at you from across the library table. the table is way too small but it’s the only one available since it’s midterm season. you see whiteboards being written on and people chugging celsius and redbull like it came from the fountain youth. 

it’s been an odd staring competition ever since you got here. neither of you are willing to give in and say anything. the one thing you said when you were assigned to each other was, “wanna go to the library?” and that’s where your minimal conversation ended. 

looking closer, you see that he has a mole under his eye that’s usually covered by his glasses. he has a long looking face and the tips of his eyes are roundish. though, his brunette hair is looking a little shaggy today. 

you’d ask him if he was wearing a wig but you’re worried your reputation will wither up and die if you open your mouth to sass him.

he’s wearing a multicolored jacket with trigger print on the breasts. it’s vaguely better than the neon orange one he seems to treat like his first born child. secretly, you do have a favorite jacket that he wears. 

(it’s the red racing jacket he has.) 

(not that you care or anything.)

you can hear noises from his laptop and you’re sure it’s league of legends. you wonder why he even plays the game because you’ve heard around that he’s broke multiple mouses due to the game. he probably needs a different hobby. 

“so? are you gonna do it for me?” 

his voice perks up, breaking your staring context as he settles back into the seat. tilting his head at you and his eyes widen a little. you assume he’s trying to intimidate you. 

well, he’s not very bright. 

too bad you’ve been tainted by the lifelessness that college instills in you everytime you walk around on campus. it then occurs to you that you don’t have a reputation. you don’t stand out and you do not give a fuck what people think of you. 

“why the fuck would i do that?” 

his eyebrows shoot up, as if he wasn’t expecting you to talk back. which is such an odd thing for you to think about because who on earth wouldn’t talk back to literally being made to the whole group project. emphasis on group.

“because i asked nicely.”

“ask my right foot, bruh.” 

he barks out a laugh in the almost full library and you scramble to shut him up. no one actually cares but it’s embarrassing enough you have to be seen in public with this shell of a man. 

your hand clamps over his mouth and he immediately retaliates by licking your hand. you seethe and pull at his jacket. this group project is going extraordinarily well so far. 

you believe in the ideals that no one is ever really staring at you. public humiliation is a construct created by insecure people. it doesn’t actually exist as long as you believe it doesn’t. 

“holy shit, your face is so fuckin red right now!”

okay. 

you’re tanking the F. 

you go to snatch your shitty $200 laptop but he slaps his hand on top of it. he has a shit eating grin and his eyes are staring into yours. he’s reached across the table and is leaning his cheek against his knuckles. 

“you have balls to talk to me like that. you got a dick too?” 

“if i did, could you hop off of it already? i’m tanking the F. i can’t do this with you.”  

there’s that cackle again and he grabs your wrist. yanking you so your torso tumbles onto the table. a grunt leaves your lips as the boy digs his elbow into your spine to make you stay there. 

“you’re funny but you’re doing the fuckin project.” 

“are you seriously assaulting me over a gen ed????” 

you crane your head to look up at him and he’s giving you a lazy shrug. his lips pursing as he thinks about what to do. his grip is tight on your wrist and when you try to wiggle out, he stretches you across the table like a sad slinky. 

you think everyone is genuinely possessed by the midterm demons because no one is telling him to stop and is actually talking louder to not acknowledge this frat guy literally assaulting you.

damn it all. 

it’s then some girl comes up to your guys’ table. well you assume it’s a girl from the voice. your face is currently smushed against the table and his sharp ass elbow is still preventing you from moving. 

she’s talking to seongje without even looking down at your body. there’s no way your reputation is so down under the dirt that absolutely no one cares right? 

well apparently so because she has a giggly voice talking to geum seongje. oh you see, she must be one of the girls he’s rotating with. fucking gross… it’s known around campus he’s a player. and you don’t think he’s that attractive. 

it’s completely blindsided to you why they let themselves be side chicks for a guy who doesn't even treat them like people. 

“oh, you should let her go, seongje!” 

there’s a beat of silence before the hands are removed off of you. it happens in a flash and you scramble up and go to swear to give the girl your first born child and name it after her. 

but something splashes on your shirt. 

and when you look down, it’s brown and it smells like a sugar factory exploded. and when you look up, she’s holding a venti sized cup from starbucks in the library. the top removed and there’s only about half of the drink remaining.

oh no fucking way. 

she threw her fucking coffee onto you. 

“oh i’m soo sorry!! i didn’t mean to! you just moved too fast!” 

she’s so hilariously fake that you just stand there with an incredulous smile. your head cocked to the side and your eye twitching. she’s an extremely pretty girl and you’re in complete shock that she’d do this for a man. 

does she think this is a webtoon or something? in what universe does this even happen??? 

in your peripheral vision, you can see geum seongje isn’t even trying to hide his giddiness. as if so amused, he’s about to start laughing in the middle of the library. the library that still hasn’t go silent in shock. the world carrying on as if any of this is normal. 

you fight down the rage building inside of you as you calmly bend down to grab your backpack. putting your lovely $200 laptop into the sleeve in your bag. she’s giggling and holds her hand out to seongje so they can probably go fuck in his room. 

then you grasp the neck of the starbucks bottled frappuccino in your back pack and twist the cap off. chucking the entire bottle onto the girl who “spilled her coffee on you”. her gasp rings out in the entire library and her half full coffee trembles in her grasp. 

it stains her matching blouse and skirt. some of it even getting on her face. the brown matching the stain on your own clothes. 

you hear geum seongje break out into the loudest cackles you’ve heard in the last 20 minutes. something snaps in you and you snatch the girl’s half empty plastic cup from her manicured fingers. throwing the entire rest of it onto geum seongje, notorious dickhead on campus. 

he goes silent almost immediately as you shove the plastic cup back at the girl. the entire front of his designer jacket stained now too. you grab your backpack and storming out of the library, your fingers balled into fists. not interested to see if the library actually went silent that time. 

why are you genuinely in a D rate k-drama now? 

this is all geum seongje’s fault. 

…

“you mad?” 

“no i’m totally fine with the fact your one night stand loves sucking your dick to the point she threw coffee on me. what kind of question is that?!” 

“don’t get your panties in a twist. i was making conversation.” 

you have no fucking idea why he thought it was a good idea to follow you after you left the library. he had sidled up next to you on the sidewalk while whistling. the wind is blowing against your clothes and it’s making the liquid even colder against your skin. 

you just want to get back to your dorm but there’s an annoying child following you. when you snapped and asked what he wanted, he shrugged. but you could see veins popping out the side of his head. he must be a little pissed off. just a little. 

then he grabs your wrist and drags you in the direction of the business dorms. dubbed the name because they’re close to the business buildings. which is in the complete opposite direction of your dorm. 

you are going to rip your hair out. 

well, no one is going to come save you. other guys in frats steer clear of seongje because he gets irritated so easily and fights like a maniac. you’ve seen it on snapchat (a fundamental part of college socializing). some guys posted him fighting another dude from a frat and he was laughing the entire time. 

so you just keep up with his long legs as he drags you across campus. every so often trying to run away but he pulls you back with an irritated smile. even pulling your hair to drag you back. 

“is it that time of the month or some shit? stop fucking running.” 

“wow, it’s a wonder girls fucking like you. violent, misogynistic, and forcing girls to do things. you’re like the perfect trad husband!” 

the laugh that leaves his lips is still infuriated but tinged with amusement. his hair even more messed up as his lips hold a cigarette between them. you don’t know how he even got it in his mouth and lit it with one hand but you’re more focused on making it out of here in one piece. 

but he drags you along like a disgruntled veterinarian with a feral cat. 

…

when you’re shoved into the dorm room of your oh so esteemed partner, it seemed oddly clean. your own building was full of hooligans and you’re sure that their rooms weren’t any better. the freaks there made sure of it… 

(your first example is the guy who has satin red bedsheets. what kind of bedroom is that? the dominatrix dungeon?) 

but geum seongje’s room seemed clean. he shared his room with someone else obviously, you can tell from the difference in decoration. 

or lack there of.

there were some stares from people at his dorm and when they tried to ask seongje how he was doing, he spat his cigarette out and stomped on it on the carpet. all while still dragging you by his wrist. 

“don’t you see i’m fucking busy? fucking idiots.”

oh the bystander effect is going to kill you. 

so you step onto the elevator with a poor girl trying to politely look away as you and geum seongje bark at each other. both of your outfits tinged in coffee and it overpowers the dingy elevator. he punches the 4th floor and the girl trips over herself to get off at the second floor. 

now here you are. 

one side of the room has posters of singers that people of his kind would probably like. fucking EDM that frat boys blast in your dorm and some rap artists. there’s a big ass speaker on the floor next to his bed. 

you’re like 90% sure he’s the frat boy who blasts the EDM music here. 

the other side looks pretty bare. the bed isn’t even neat with being bare. it’s just bare. you start debating in your own head if seongje actually sleeps on both beds and pretends he’s homeless. said boy flops down on the bed that somehow has designer sheets. you wonder how that’s possible but it’s tacky all the same. 

when you take too long to sit down, he clicks his tongue and nods to his desk. ah, it’s on the side that has a frat flag hung up on the wall. you should’ve known. of course seongje is the frat guy. when you look on the desk, there’s a bowl full of condoms he probably stole from the health center. 

ugh. 

“what? annoyed because you thought i’d be dirty?” 

“she’s probably annoyed ‘cause you’re annoying as fuck, shit for brains.”

a more raspy voice deadpans. you didn’t even realize the door had opened. your disgust with geum seongje making you deaf to all other noise. your maybe ex group partner leaned back and when you turned your head, you were greeted with a new character. 

a very purple character…

his hair seems more unkempt than your obnoxious group mate. it ruffs out at the sides and it curls onto his forehead. it’s dyed purple all the way through, you’re impressed at how violet the color is. his stature is shorter than geum seongje but still taller than you. 

he’s wearing a KANZO long sleeve with gym shorts. he’s wearing KANZO strapped shoes as well. how good does the brand have to be that he gets the shoes as well? you have no fucking idea. his knuckles are taped with bandages that disappear under his sleeves. 

he walks into the room with no exaggerated swagger like seongje does. he just walks in with a hand stuffed in his pocket and the other holding his phone. he has headphones pulled down around his neck as he haphazardly throws them onto his bed. 

geum seongje leans back on his bed and sighs loudly. stretching his back as you stand there between the two beds on either side of the room. his presumed roommate ignoring your presence in favor of putting down the duffle bag that was slung across his shoulder. 

“not very romantic, wolf~ don’t you see i have a guest? play nice.”

“piss off.” 

you lowkey disgusted by the vast amounts of testosterone assaulting the atmosphere. you don’t recognize his roommate but he seems to not like geum seongje very much. and did he say his name was wolf? is that his actual name? 

your thoughts are running with questions for the new guy in the room when he turns to you. he doesn’t bother looking anywhere but in your eyes. as if you’re not worth the effort of moving his pupils.  

“get the fuck out.” 

you’re taken aback by how blunt he is. his face not emoting anything you’re familiar with other than general stoicism. he’s rolled up his sleeves and is unwinding the tape going up his arms. you can see gnarly bruises decorating his arms and it’s then you realize he has white bandages on his neck and the side of his jaw. 

did this dude get run through a meat grinder or something?

you hear seongje mutter something about his “stupid fucking roommate” before picking his head up. 

“i invited her, she stays.” 

“i don’t remember asking.” 

you’re about to walk out yourself because seongje did drag you here against your will. when wolf is about to shove you out of the room, seongje stands up from his bed and goes in front of you. he’s three inches taller than wolf but wolf doesn’t crumble under the height difference. holding a flat face as seongje grins down at him. 

you think you’re seeing two wolves fighting for dominance in this small ass dorm room. over… your presence????

wow you must really be in a manhwa right now. 

you drop your backpack onto the floor and seongje whips his head around to look at you. you don’t pay any mind to their expressions or their presence despite the fact this definitely isn’t your room. you shrug off your jacket that has coffee splattered on the sleeves. 

and proceed to pull the edge of your shirt and lift it over your head. you hear geum seongje let out a breathless laugh. you remove the shirt off your back with a slide of your arms. which leaves you in your black bra. 

you don’t spare either of the men in the room a glance as you stomp over to the closet on seongje’s side. throwing it open, you shuffle around until you find what you’re looking for. 

“what the fuck are you doing?” 

you don’t reply as you keep looking around. and there in the back, you grab what you were looking for.you shove the red racing jacket over your arms and zip it up. it drowns your figure but you’re stubborn enough to not care. you pick up your stained jacket and shirt and shove it at seongje’s chest. 

he stares down at you wearing a jacket he doesn’t even let his hookups wear. his lips twitching from a grimace into a very pissed off smile. wolf watching with slightly raised eyebrows. 

“wash my fucking clothes. it’s your stupid ass hook up’s fault anyway.” 

“why the fuck should i?” 

you give him a stare before throwing the clothes onto his bed. 

“okay. bye.” 

wolf blinks as you pick your backpack off the floor and leave their room. the laugh that leaves his lips hasn’t been heard since his friend hwangmo got his new haircut two months ago. geum seongje whips his head around and his ears are tinged pink. 

wolf flops onto his bed, still laughing at the expense of his roommate. as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

“what a funny girl.” 

seongje only grits his teeth as he runs his hands down his face. slumping into his desk chair. 

“fucking annoying.” 

it was like ever since he was born to hate you and make your life a living hell.

your earliest memory of him was when he smashed a piece of strawberry shortcake into your face on your 4th birthday- that day marked the start of his life-long quest to annoy the shit out of you.

the phrases "haha- you have a funny face, shortcake!" or "get me a choco milk if you don't want your parents to find out that you failed your test!" were deeply embedded into your memory as traumatic events.

and it genuinely didn't help that both your parents were friends. so not only would you constantly see each other, your parents always dismissed your complaints of him!

"he just likes you- boys do stupid things to get girls to notice." your dad would say as he patted your fuming head.

perhaps it was his constant teasing and harassment, or maybe it was the fact that no one listened to you- but nevertheless, he left you with nothing but an unfathomable amount of hate towards him.

which is why, when he saved you from a group of thugs, you found it difficult to thank him.

his stance was lazy, throwing the last unconscious guy onto hard the floor by the collar.

with the pitch-black night sky and the lack of lighting in the alley, you could only slightly make out his black-framed glasses that were illuminated by the moon, and his tall, dark shadow upon your figure.

"what the hell are you doing here, shortcake?"

you tsk'ed at the childish nickname.

"why do you wanna know?"

you couldn't see it in the dark, but you knew he was flashing that stupid grin.

"whatever then, don't tell me." he said, stepped towards you, "but a 'thank you' would've been nice, no?"

seongje crouched down to meet your eye level, allowing you to see him clearer. you stared back, glaring so intensely you scrunched up your eyebrows.

"i could've beaten them myself. i've been in boxing classes for years, you know."

he snickered, condescension seeped through his words. "you? against five thugs?"

"ugh, so annoying."

he abruptly grabbed you by your forearm to yank you up with so much force, you stumbled towards him with a small yelp, which made him chuckle in amusement.

in all honesty, you actually haven't seen him in a while, but you did have some theories on why that is. the hushed conversations your parents and his had after you left the table, his absence in their routine dinners...

no, you don't care. not one bit.

"you're a real lunatic." you uttered as you stalked a few steps behind him.

he turned his head slightly without slowing his pace, a grin reappearing on his face again.

"awww, shortcake, you're so well-mannered."

you scoffed.

he laughed.

🍀

after a few months of that incident, you didn't encounter him again.

not that you cared.

life went on as usual- you hung out with friends, studied, awkward laughed through 'you get more beautiful as you grow!' comments from his parents...but in the back of your head, a question lurked.

where is seongje?

whatever, you shouldn't focus on that right now-

"y/n! are you even listening?"

your eyes snapped back to your friend, jiwoo.

"hm? oh, sorry..could you repeat that?" an apologetic smile made its way onto your face.

"yah, y/n-a, you've been spacing out a lot more lately." your other friend, seoyun commented.

"yeah! what's going on?"

a soft sigh left your lips as you stretched your arms across your desk, mentally weighing the pros and cons of telling them about seongje. your three closest friends had their heads tilted with worried looks as they stared at you.

"uhh...just a bit paranoid being home alone, don't really wanna talk about it." you sheepishly replied. you technically weren't lying, you figured.

your friend, nari, gently remarked: "oh, right... your parents will be back in a month, right? if there's anything wrong, just text us."

"yeah, okay. thanks, you guys."

after a beat, seoyun clapped her hands. "alright yall! let's not press our dearest y/n any further!"

you giggled at her energy as she continued, "anyway, have you guys heard of the 'union'?"

"what's that?" jiwoo curiously enquired, her face lighting up in hopes of potential drama.

seoyun excitedly explained the union with much enthusiasm- what they do, their earnings, the constant fighting and finally, their leaders.

"and it's led by this one, STRAIGHT A, student called na baekjin. but the most interesting part is his right hand man: geum seongje."

you visibly flinched, your eyes snapping to seoyun's.

your clueless friend leaned in to whisper.

"people call him wolf, and it's rumoured that he beats anyone who stares at him for longer than 3 seconds up! crazy, right?!"

your palms got increasingly sweaty as your friends continued on their gossip session. you felt like a deer in headlights.

seongje is in an organised gang? you did theorise he was probably into some shady shit- but as a right-hand man?

the bell rang.

the conversation died as everyone scrambled and returned back to their own seats. but the words rang in your head.

the right-hand man to the largest, most dangerous teenage-led gang in your area.

geum seongje. wolf.

the guy who literally smashed a piece of strawberry shortcake in your face in kindergarten.

🍀

the lessons were a blur. you told your friends you had boxing training today and left as quickly as you could to avoid suspision.

the gym was usually quiet at this time of night, which could be creepy to some people, but it became your comfort zone. the serene tranquility that came with the empty training ground was the reason why it was your favourite place to practice fighting.

you changed out of your uniform and into a pair of sweatpants and sports jacket before walking to the boxing training area.

the punching bag took hit after hit. your headphones tried its best to drowned out your worries thoughts, but it was to no avail. the curdling frustration in your heart just kept rising no matter how much you hit the damn bag.

"damn it...stop thinking about him." you muttered to yourself, grunting breathlessly as you threw a punch.

you peeled off your headphones and wiped off your sweat, deciding to just give up and head home.

as you turn a corner into an alley leading to your neighbourhood, some girls pass by you.

"bora, isn't that..." one of them mutters.

"yah, are you y/n l/n?" the 'leader' of the three girls named bora nods her head at you.

you stare blankly for a moment before answering. "do i know you?"

"no, but i do have one thing to say to you." she snarked, stalking towards you.

"what?"

her bright red lips curled into a smug smirk.

"stay away from seongje. he is already into me."

your heart dropped. your face remained neutral.

"that's two things." you sassed.

"you fucking-"

SLAP!

you toppled backwards, the ringing in your left ear getting louder and louder.

"you wanna be smart, huh?" the shorter girl behind bora chuckled.

that's it.

before she could comment further, your flung your fist with full force towards bora's perfectly make-up-caked face.

the satisfying bone crack of her nose echoed through the alley, followed by their coordinated choir of cacophonous screams.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" the other girl yells as she practically flies towards you, ready to fight.

adrenaline rushed through your veins- you grabbed her and threw her against the mould-infested wall before fisting her ponytail and smashing her head against the surface, full force, for good measure.

as the two girls laid flat on the ground, panting and whining in pain, you trekked towards the last one- who was shivering with reddened eyes.

"i don't care who seongje gets tangled up with. i do not want any part of it. got it?" your voice was low, eerily calm, but your heartbeat was so loud you could barely hear anything else.

the terrified girl nodded as a tear fell from her eye.

you turned to leave, adjusting back to your normal pace.

"you're...gonna regret this.." bora choked out.

when you got home, the adrenaline had already faded, which made you realise your knuckles were screaming in pain and agony. you rummaged through the bathroom cabinet until you found a few bandages and decided they can do the job.

you didn't know why you did that. you usually wouldn't let anything get to you, not even seongje- so why'd you do it?

your ears rang; your chest felt unusually heavy.

whatever. it's over now.

🍀

the digital clock next to your bedside read 03:28 when a harsh knock thumped on your window nonstop.

you tried to ignore it, but it just wouldn't stop.

you squinted your eyes until the blurry image of a creepy figure outside your window cleared to show you a familiar face.

upon unlocking the window, seongje swiftly climbed into your room like he owned the damn place. you were too exhausted to comment on it, but not tired enough to not give him your iconic glare.

"what do you want?" you whisper-shouted, sitting cross-legged.

he took off his windbreaker (which was rare) tossed it into a corner before joining you on your bed. for once, he wasn't giving you that off-putting grin like usual. instead, his expression was replaced by something else.

something you couldn't exactly put your finger on.

"are your hands okay?" his tone was so, so soft.

damn his annoying voice.

"uh..i guess? yeah." you muttered as you looked down on your poorly-treated knuckles.

seongje let out a small huff as he checked out your hand before taking out a roll of bandages and a small bottle of iodine out of his pocket.

after stealing a few cotton buds from your bathroom, he peeled off your plasters and started treating your wound.

your mind was getting less fuzzier as time went on. the faint smell of cigarettes and your aromatic reed diffuser formed a concoction of a scent that strangely gave you comfort.

the weird tenderness on your busted knuckles was leaving question marks in your mind. when you were finally fully awake a few minutes later, you realised how... truly odd, this was.

"seongje."

he hummed lowly; the vibrations of his deep voice left your breath caught in your throat.

"how did you find out?"

his movements paused for a second. "that crazy bitch's goons sent a pic. don't worry, they'll be taken care of."

"what do you mean by that?"

he stayed silent.

you didn't question further.

[4:18AM]

your face looked so...peaceful, as you slept. seongje sat beside your chest, breathing in rhythm of yours.

his jacket was now your second blanket- its soft fabric and faint smell of laundry detergent was comparable to a lullaby rocking you to sleep.

seongje's fingers was feather-light on your newly, well-bandaged one.

gosh, he could stay like this forever.

as if sensing his yearning desire, your fingers curled into his as you turned your body facing him.

you're so adorable.

he let out a soft exhale, lips curling into a small, genuine smile no one but you will ever get to see.

big boss baekjin 🤑💵 seongje. are you coming or not?

wolf 🐺 so impatient.

big boss baekjin 🤑💵 we're starting in 5. be here.

in your dazed state, you think you feel a peck on your forehead before the warmth on your hands faded away.

oh well, must've been a weird dream.

🍀

22:08 ㆍ saturday

INCOMING CALL FROM SEOYUNNIE! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ...

that's weird. she should be having tuition right now.

"yunnie? what's up?"

"y/n...are you outside?" her unusually hushed voice made you tense up instantly.

"no, what's wrong? where are you?"

you could hear a few familiar voices in the background, taunting seoyun.

her voice trembled. "okay, thats good..." "YAH, SHE'S HERE!" "i gotta go y/n, please don't leave your home!" "SEOYUN, WAIT!" she hung up on you. without wasting a second, you snatched your coat and sprinted outside, trying to call seoyun again and again. she didn't pick up, which made you even more paranoid.

your eyes darted around the sea of students leaving her tuition centre, but not one of them was your friend.

no. they couldn't've gone far.

you ran around the tuition centre, trying to locate any possible noises from them.

seoyunnie! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ [image] come to the rooftop, let's have some fun

damn it.

when you finally reached the rooftop in record-breaking time, you locked eyes with the perpetrator- bora. but now, she was surrounded by about five more minions than last time, outnumbering you by almost tenfold.

you could barely see the guilt in seoyun's tear-filled eyes, the mix of anger and relief and sorrow glistening through her swollen eyelids. her straight, jet-black hair was now tangled up in bora's filthy, fat fingers, holding your friend down to her bloodied knees.

"you came here fast, that's so fun." bora mocked, her screeching voice stabbing your eardrums.

"let her go and i will consider not pushing you off this rooftop."

she sneered, before tossing seoyun carelessly to the side. you instinctively wanted to run towards her, but her goons stopped you.

"let's see you try."

as they lunged towards you, you mentally calculated.

it's fine if you lose. you just need to get seoyun out of here.

as one of her goons lept towards you with a monstrous yell, you ducked underneath her and rolled to make her fall flat onto the concrete floor.

one down.

you were a step closer to a passed out seoyun.

you landed punch after punch, dodging as much as you could, but you were still injured. just like last time, the rush of adrenaline and pure unadulterated rage fueled the strength in your fists.

their hits landed on you hard, but you couldn't feel it. you couldn't feel anything except for the anger bubbling over in your chest.

the girls were knocked out one by one thanks to your boxing experience and their lack of fighting skills.

finally, only you and bora were left standing.

despite looking the most roughed up of everyone else and limping slowly, your presence was the most overwhelming. the once overconfident, arrogant persona slipped, now replaced with the image of a trembling pig.

because in her eyes, she saw a monster.

without missing a beat, you used your only working leg to lunge towards her and tackle her to the ground. your sweat-ridden palms latched onto her throat, asphyxiating her. her long, perfectly manicured nails dug into your increasingly whitening fingers, making a choked sound you couldn't quite hear over your own heartbeat.

you let her go just as she was about to pass out. as she fell onto the ground with a loud thud, trying to catch her breath. you looked over to your friend.

seoyun was still unconscious, but breathing. that alone made you relieved.

"yunnie..."

you crawled towards her and tried to carry her, but after the adrenaline wore out, you found that you had exhausted all of your strength, and you were about as injured as seoyun is. with the last bit of strength, you texted the groupchat with you, seoyun, nari and jiwoo inside your location and slumped next to your friend.

as you spaced out on the ground, about to black out from the fatigue, a pair of sneakers stepped into your vision, and then two another following behind.

"you alive?" a voice- not belonging to any one of your friends- sounded distantly in your eardrums.

you looked up, breathless.

"why are.. why are you here, who..?"

"they're here to help. and you texted me, shortcake."

you let out an annoyed huff- but you couldn't care less right now.

seongje reached for you as you uttered a few words about 'seoyun..' and 'please' that he couldn't quite catch before you blacked out.

🍀

you woke up to the beeping of heart-rate machines and the smell of disinfectant. the first thing you did was look for seoyun, who was lying in the bed right next to yours.

then, you noticed a white plastic bag with an orange sticky note stuck to it.

'call me when you wake up. -sj'

this prick, so demanding.

you checked your phone.

02:09 ㆍ sunday

shortcake 🍰 [📍location sent ] don't call the police we're at the rooftop, just carry us to the hospital.

worst guy ever 🖕 omw. don't pass out. - sent yesterday 23:58

oops. opened the wrong chat. as his note instructed, you reluctantly pressed the call button.

"hey, shortcake. you're a lot stronger than you used to be- can't believe you held out an 1v8." his magnetic voice rang through.

"...i think they got my message, right?"

"yeah. definitely. by the way, since your parents are away, i called to tell them i'd take care of you. you wouldn't want your parents to find out, right?"

you pursed your lips and sighed. take care of you?

"..i guess so, yeah."

"i'll come visit you later, got some things to do across the hall.."

"okay."

you hung up, inclined the bed and sat up, observing seoyun on the bed next to you. her mom was sleeping as well, trying to be comfortable on the chair next to your friend.

it was a bad idea to have messed with them.

you could handle yourself just fine, but who knows what would've happened if you didn't reach in time. or didn't pick up the phone. this is why you didn't usually pick fights.

gosh why is this happening.

you held back your tears. now is not the time to self-pity.

remembering the plastic bag on the meal table in front of you, you took it, deciding to explore its contents before seongje gets here.

inside were two bottles of water, some rice balls and a singular piece of strawberry shortcake.

bruh.

whatever. your ravenous hunger needed to be satiated, so you unpacked a rice ball and chowed down on them, staring the cake just sat solemnly on the table that mocked you by being the very thing that defined your existence to seongje.

"you still like those?"

you flinched at the sudden intrusion and met the man's gaze before relaxing.

"not since you caked my face." you retorted.

he laughed silently; his whole body shook. seongje stepped towards you and sat facing you on your bed. for some reason, the burning sensation of hate that used to fire up in your heart when you saw him has fully traveled to your ears and cheeks instead.

is this a new form of hate?

"well, i'm glad you have the energy to joke now, y/n."

"wow, so you do remember my name."

his eyes met yours, holding a sort of gentleness you haven't seen (or noticed) before. his chest heaved slightly, the fabric of his orange windbreaker shifting as he slowly reached for your hand, as if he was asking for permission to hold it.

"are you tired?" seongje's voice lowered to a whisper.

as his fingers interlaced with yours, you didn't move away. the warmth that submerged your freezing fingers sped up your heartbeat- was it hot in here??

your gaze didn't move from his, unwilling to back down in the staring contest.

“not really. i just want some fresh air right now though.”

“okay, let’s go.”

you blinked at him. “aren’t i not supposed to leave right now?”

“i have my ways.” he winked.

🍀

after seongje skilfully snuck you out on a wheelchair into the hospital’s garden, the two of you settled on a bench overlooking the greenery. the vast sky above was blanketed by the darkness that came with the absence of the sun, a few stars scattered across it like a small sprinkle of salt on black tablecloth.

“you mind if i smoke?”

“you’ll still do it even if i say i mind anyway.”

he puffed a cloud of smoke into the clear air. his orange jacket was draped over your shoulders- the warmth of his body heat lingered, functioning as a temporary heater for you.

your fingers fidgeted with the sleeves, debating whether or not you should ask the questions that were stuck on your mind like a stain you can’t quite wash off.

“if you have something to say, then say it.” seongje stated, still staring into the space above.

“well…uh, i have some questions.”

he hummed, beckoning you to go on.

you tapped your fingers on your lap, trying to find the words to form your question.

"why haven't you been going to the monthly dinners?"

a moment of silence followed as you waited for his answer, glancing at him. he seemed deep in thought- chest heaving a soft sigh.

"i got kicked out."

"o-oh...sorry." you stuttered, mentally cursing yourself for asking.

"you have more questions for me, don't you?"

"uh...yeah." you muttered, looking at him again just to meet his piercing gaze.

"why are you being so nice to me? i mean- i thought you hated me-"

your breath hitched as he leaned in unexpectedly, lips connecting with yours zealously. it was gentle, tender- everything you didn't think seongje was capable of until this very moment. his hand cupped your bandaged cheek with a feather-light touch that still sent shivers down your spine. he didn't give you time to reciprocate before he pulled back and fixed his glasses with a small grin.

"i was born to love you, shortcake."