#067xreader

The restaurant was the very definition of luxury. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the high-ceilinged space, the faint hum of conversation and gentle clinking of glassware adding a lively ambiance. You glanced around the table at your family, smiling warmly as they chatted and laughed. It was a special night, one you had been looking forward to for weeks—introducing Sae-byeok to your family.

She sat beside you, looking utterly breathtaking in her effortlessly elegant outfit: a white, long-sleeved polo shirt with the sleeves neatly cuffed, tucked into tailored black dress pants that highlighted her lean, confident frame. Sae-byeok had this uncanny ability to draw every eye in the room without even trying, and tonight was no exception. You could feel the admiring glances from nearby tables, though she seemed oblivious, her focus entirely on you.

"You look stunning tonight," she had whispered earlier, her voice so soft that it felt like a secret. Now, as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice her hand brushing against yours on the table, her small, private smiles that no one else seemed to catch.

Your own outfit, a sleek black off-the-shoulder dress, had earned you a rare compliment from Sae-byeok earlier—one of her understated "You look nice" remarks that somehow carried more weight than any flowery praise could.

The conversation at the table turned lively, with your family sharing stories and laughter. You tried to focus, really, but Sae-byeok’s subtle touches and teasing glances had your thoughts scattering. Her hand found your thigh under the table, fingers ghosting lightly over the fabric of your panties.

Your breath hitched, and you barely managed to keep your expression neutral, though the clattering of your fork against your plate earned a curious glance from your sister. You shot her a quick smile before looking at Sae-byeok, whose smirk told you she was well aware of the effect she was having.

Her hand slid higher, her fingertips drawing lazy circles that set your skin alight. She leaned closer, her voice low and dripping with mischief as she whispered, "You’re blushing."

"I’m not," you protested weakly, your voice catching. You were growing wet by the second. Her rubbing your clothes cunt was making you needy.

Her smirk deepened. "You are."

The heat crawling up your neck became unbearable, and you hastily grabbed your napkin, standing up. "Excuse me for a moment," you muttered, avoiding your family’s curious looks as you hurried away.

The cool air of the restroom was a welcome relief as you splashed water on your hands, trying to calm the fire raging in your chest. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your cheeks flushed and your pulse pounding.

Damn her. Sae-byeok had an uncanny ability to make you lose your composure with just a glance, a touch, or a smirk. And she knew it.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to push the memory of her fingertips rubbing you pussy out of your mind. But the bathroom door creaked open behind you, and your eyes flew open to see her reflection in the mirror.

Sae-byeok leaned against the doorframe, her head tilted slightly, an amused smile playing on her lips. "You seemed... flustered," she said locking the door behind her with a soft click.

You turned to face her, your arms crossing over your chest in a feeble attempt at composure. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

She stepped closer, her eyes scanning your face like she was committing every detail to memory "I couldn't help myself," she said smoothly, her voice low and teasing "You make it too easy."

Her presence was overwhelming, the scent of her cologne faint but intoxicating. She stopped just inches from you, her hand sliding gently to your waist, her thumb brushing the exposed skin of your shoulder.

"You should go back to the table," you said weakly, though the way your body leaned into her betrayed your words.

"Should I?" she murmured, her voice a soft purr. Her thumb traced a lazy line along your collarbone, her touch sending shivers down your spine. "think you'd rather I stay."

Her teasing smirk made your knees weak, and before you could respond, her lips brushed against your ear her breath warm as she whispered "You look so beautiful tonight. It's hard to keep my hands to myself."

Your resolve crumbled in an instant "Sae-byeok," you breathed, her name barely audible as her lips ghosted over your jawline, pressing featherlight kisses that made your head spin.

"Hmm?" she hummed, clearly enjoying the effect she had on you "You're going to kill me," you muttered, grabbing the front of her shirt to steady yourself.

She chuckled softly, her hands gripping your waist as she pressed you gently against the sink. "You'l survive," she said, her lips finally capturing yours in a kiss that was both slow and deliberate, leaving you breathless.

Her kiss deepened, her hands trailing down your sides before she pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. Her eyes were dark, filled with a mix of affection and desire. "Wait, we have to be quick." Your breath hitched as she kissed your collarbone. All her actions made you weak.

"I don't need much time with you anyways." She whispered against your tender skin. You could almost feel her smirking as she made her way down to your thighs. You faced away, almost too embarrassed with this situation. Your body was burning up with neediness. Having sex in a bathroom? A public bathroom. God, it was so hot but embarrassing.

You had been so lost in your thoughts that you didn't feel Sae-byeok raising up your dress enough to run your panties. The wet sploch making you red when she pressed her fingertips on it. "Already?" She chuckled. You bit your lip subtly. Her soft and cold touch grabbed the sides your panties and slide them down to your ankles. "Sae-byeok..." Your voice echoed.

She pressed a light kiss on your pussy before sticking a finger in. The unexpected action left you with an open mouth, holding back a moan. It was only then Sae-byeok remembered she was in a dinner with your family. She had to be quick.

Without speaking to you, she stuck another finger in and latched her lips onto your clit. You gasped, taking one of your hands to cover your mouth and the other to gently tug Sae-byeoks hair. Her eyes held a stern gaze with you, almost pressuring you to cum into her mouth quickly.

She kept stretching your gummy walls, maintaining eye contact. The pleasure became too much to bare. You felt it coming.

"Shit, shit, sae-byeok!-" you gasped, arching and bucking into her mouth. "If you don't cum now, you don't get to cum back home." You knew she wasn't lying. With one more thrust, you came onto her fingers and tongue. Your eyes closing after reaching your high.

Sae-byeok softly chucked, pulling away and getting up to meet your eyes. "We should probably go back beforebyour family comes looking for us," she said, though her tone lacked any real urgency.

You laughed softly, catching your breath resting your forehead against hers. "You're lucky I love you."

Her lips curled into a small smile as she pressed a soft kiss to your temple. "And you're lucky I can't get enough of you."

Taking a steadying breath, you fixed your dress and ran a hand through your hair, trying to regain your composure. "You didn't even let me clean myself." You frowned.

Sae-Byeok chuckled, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Mmm, and that's exactly how I like it. I like knowing that you're all messy under that pretty dress... and that I'm the one who put you in that state."

sғᴡ

- ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ sᴛᴀʀᴇ: ɪғ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ғʟɪʀᴛs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʟᴏᴏᴋs ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ’s ɢᴀᴢᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ. sʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ—ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, sʜᴀʀᴘ ɢʟᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ.

- sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴀɴᴄᴇ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴛᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴍɪᴅ-ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪғ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ’s ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ. sʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʀᴇsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴘᴜʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ.

- ɪᴄʏ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ: ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ’s ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs, sʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ᴇxᴘʟᴏᴅᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ɢʀᴏᴡs ᴜɴᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪsᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ. ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴄᴏɴғᴇss ʜᴇʀ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ɢʀᴜғғ, “ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.”

- ᴘᴀssɪᴠᴇ-ᴀɢɢʀᴇssɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs: ɪғ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ғʟɪʀᴛs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, sʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sɴᴀʀᴋʏ ʀᴇᴍᴀʀᴋs ʟɪᴋᴇ, “ɢᴜᴇss sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʜɪɴᴛ” ᴏʀ “ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴇsᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ? ᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ.”

- ᴄʟᴀɪᴍɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ʜᴇʀs: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴇᴀʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏʀ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴀs ᴀ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏғ ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴇʀʀɪᴛᴏʀʏ. sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴀʟsᴏ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴇᴀʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴊᴀᴄᴋᴇᴛ ᴏʀ ʜᴏᴏᴅɪᴇ—sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇs.

- sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ: ᴡʜɪʟᴇ sʜᴇ’s ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʟʏ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʀᴜɴ ʜᴇʀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴏʀ ʙʀᴜsʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ, ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴀs ᴀ sɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ.

- ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ: sʜᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘs ᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢs, ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs. ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ’s sᴛᴇᴘᴘɪɴɢ ɪɴ.

- ᴛᴇʀʀɪᴛᴏʀɪᴀʟ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs: ɪғ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʜᴜɢs ʏᴏᴜ ᴏʀ sᴛᴀɴᴅs ᴛᴏᴏ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ, sᴀᴇʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴsᴇʀᴛ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғɪʀᴍ ʙᴜᴛ ᴄᴀʟᴍ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴏғғ-ʟɪᴍɪᴛs.

- ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛ ʏᴇᴛ sᴏғᴛ: ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʟʟ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ʙʀᴜsʜ ɪᴛ ᴏғғ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍᴜᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ, “ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs.” ʙᴜᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛ, “ɪ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏғ ʟᴏsɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ.”

- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ɢᴇsᴛᴜʀᴇs: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴏғ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ, sʜᴇ ᴛᴇɴᴅs ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ—ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪᴛ’s ᴡʀᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴍ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏʀ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴀᴘ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, ᴀs ɪғ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴇ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀs.

- ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇɴᴇss, ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ. sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏɴ ɪᴛ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ, sɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʙᴇɢɢɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʏ.

- ʙᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴏᴠᴇs: ɪғ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴄʀᴏssᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ʜᴇsɪᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴇᴘ ɪɴ, ᴄᴀʟᴍʟʏ ʙᴜᴛ ғɪʀᴍʟʏ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴏғғ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sʜᴀʀᴘ, “ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғғ. sʜᴇ’s ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ.”

- ᴏᴄᴄᴀsɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴏᴜᴛʙᴜʀsᴛs: ᴡʜɪʟᴇ sʜᴇ’s ᴜsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ ᴘᴇʀsɪsᴛᴇɴᴛ ғʟɪʀᴛ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ sɴᴀᴘ. ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʟᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ sʜᴇ’ᴅ ɢʀᴜᴍʙʟᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ “ɪᴅɪᴏᴛs ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ” ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ.

- ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ sᴡᴇᴇᴛɴᴇss: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ-ғᴜᴇʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴜsᴜᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏғᴛʟʏ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀ, “ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ’ᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀs. ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs.”

- ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ: ᴡʜɪʟᴇ sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ɪs ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ, sʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴛɪғʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ. sʜᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛᴏ ғᴇᴇʟ sᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴄᴇ sʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs, ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ᴛᴜʀɴs ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇɴᴇss.

- sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢғᴜʟ ɢᴇsᴛᴜʀᴇs: sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴏᴄᴄᴀsɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs ɪɴ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ᴡᴀʏ, ʟɪᴋᴇ, “ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ,” ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sʜᴏᴡ sʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜsᴛs ʏᴏᴜ.

- ʜᴇʀ sᴀғᴇ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ: ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, sᴀᴇʙʏᴇᴏᴋ’s ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇɴᴇss sᴛᴇᴍs ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴏғ ʟᴏsɪɴɢ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs. sʜᴇ’ᴅ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ғɪᴇʀᴄᴇʟʏ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ, ɴᴏᴛ sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ.

ɴsғᴡ

- ᴀssᴇʀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs: ɪғ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ғʟɪʀᴛs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴘʟᴀᴄɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ғɪʀᴍʟʏ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀɪsᴛ ᴏʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ, ʜᴇʀ ɢʀɪᴘ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀʙᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ. ɪᴛ’s ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏғ sɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ sᴀʏɪɴɢ, sʜᴇ’s ᴍɪɴᴇ. ᴏᴄᴄᴀsɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʜɪᴅᴇ ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴏᴋ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢʟʏ ᴋɪss ᴀɴᴅ ɴɪᴘ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴋɪɴ.

- ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴘʀᴏxɪᴍɪᴛʏ: sʜᴇ’ᴅ ʟᴇᴀɴ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴀʀ, sᴘᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴡ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ: “ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?” ᴛʜᴇ sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏɴᴇ ɪs ᴀs ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ ᴀs ɪᴛ ɪs ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪᴛ's ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴀ ʀʜᴇᴛᴏʀɪᴄᴀʟ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀɴ ᴏʀɢᴀsᴍ ғᴏʀ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ.

- ᴋɪss ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇs ɴᴏ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ɢᴇᴛs ᴛᴏᴏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴘᴜʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴋɪss—ɴᴏᴛ sʟᴏᴘᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴜsʜᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ sʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ, ᴇɴsᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀʙʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴡʜᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ. ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɪᴛ's ᴀ sʟᴏᴡ-ᴘᴀᴄᴇᴅ ᴋɪss, sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʀᴇ sᴡᴏʟʟᴇɴ.

- ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ: ɪғ sʜᴇ ғᴇᴇʟs ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢʟʏ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ʙᴀᴛʜʀᴏᴏᴍ, ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴛ. “ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ,” sʜᴇ’ᴅ sᴀʏ, ᴅᴀʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪss ʜᴇʀ ᴏʀ sʜᴏᴡ ʜᴇʀ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ. ᴛʜɪs ᴀʟsᴏ ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ʜᴇᴀᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ. ᴡʜᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ɢᴇᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ.

- ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇs: sʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ғʟɪʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ ɪɴ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ—ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ’s ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜᴇʀ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ, sʜᴇ’ᴅ sᴍɪʀᴋ, sᴀʏɪɴɢ, “ɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ғᴇᴇʟs.” ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ, sʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴘᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴛʀᴀᴘ ᴏɴ ɪғ sʜᴇ ғɪɴᴅs ᴏᴜᴛ ɪғ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ғʟɪʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ.

- ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴs: ɪғ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ɪs ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ғʟɪʀᴛʏ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴsᴇʀᴛ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴘʟᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜɪɢʜ ᴏʀ ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴀsᴋs, “ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ?” ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴘᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ, sʜᴇ'ʟʟ sʟɪᴘ. ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴋɪʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴄᴜɴᴛ, ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴏғғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ. ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ.

- ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴡᴀʏ: ɪғ ʜᴇʀ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ ʙᴜɪʟᴅs ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ɢʀᴀʙ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ, ᴘɪɴɴɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴀ ᴡᴀʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀɪɴɢ, “ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ sʜᴀʀɪɴɢ. ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ?” sᴀғᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʙᴀᴛʜʀᴏᴏᴍ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ʙᴀᴄᴋ.

- ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋs: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ-ғᴜᴇʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ, sʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ғᴀɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʀᴋs—ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ, ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀʙᴏɴᴇ, ᴏʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ—ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇs ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ʜᴇʀ ғᴇᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴇᴅ. ʜɪᴄᴋᴇʏs ᴡɪʟʟ ғᴏʀ sᴜʀᴇ ʙᴇ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴇᴀsᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪɢʜs. ᴏɴᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ sʜᴇ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴀ ʜɪᴄᴋᴇʏ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴜɴᴛ. (ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴜ sʜᴇ's ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs)

- sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏs: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ sᴄᴇɴᴇ; ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ, sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛɪᴍᴇs, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪᴛ’s ʀᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀs. ʟᴏʟ ɪ'ᴍ ᴋɪᴅᴅɪɴɢ, ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇsᴏᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ's ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs. sʜᴇ's ᴄᴜᴘᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴇᴀsᴛs ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀɴᴋᴇᴛ, ғɪɴɢᴇʀ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛʀᴏᴏᴍ.

- ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴀɴᴛ ʙᴏᴅʏ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ: ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏsᴛᴜʀᴇ sʜɪғᴛs ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ’s ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs. sʜᴇ sᴛᴀɴᴅs ᴛᴀʟʟᴇʀ, ʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ, ᴀs ɪғ sɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜɪs ᴀʟsᴏ ɢᴏᴇs ғᴏʀ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴅ. sʜᴇ ɪs ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ's ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs. ᴅᴏɢɢɪᴇ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ.

- ᴄʟᴀɪᴍɪɴɢ ᴋɪssᴇs: sʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴜᴘᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙʏ ʟᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇ ɪs ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ.

- ᴘᴀssɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴏᴜᴛʙᴜʀsᴛs: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ-ғᴜᴇʟᴇᴅ sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ɢʀᴀʙ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪss ʏᴏᴜ ғɪᴇʀᴄᴇʟʏ, ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇɴᴛ-ᴜᴘ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs sᴘɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ, ʜᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.

- ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ: ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅʀᴀᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏɴᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴀɴɴᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ. “ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ? ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ.” sʜᴇ's ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴛʜʀᴜsᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴡᴏ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴜɴᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ sᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ.

- sʟᴏᴡ, ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ-ᴜᴘ: ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ ғᴀᴅᴇs, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴘᴜʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴋɪssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ғɪʀᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴀs sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴇs ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀs ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ. "ɪ'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴍʏ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ." sʜᴇ's ᴘᴀᴍᴘᴇʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴋɪssᴇs ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀʀsʜ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ sᴇx.

- sᴏғᴛ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴄᴏɴғᴇss ɪɴ ᴀ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ, “ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs. ɪ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ʟᴏsɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ.”

The rain poured relentlessly outside, filling the room with a soft rhythm. You were curled up on the couch in one of your pastel blankets, a cup of chamomile tea in hand. Sae-Byeok sat at the other end of the couch, scrolling aimlessly on her phone, occasionally glancing up at the movie playing on the screen.

“Are you crying already?” she asked, her voice cutting through the sound of the movie’s dramatic confession scene.

You turned to her, pouting. “It’s emotional, Sae-Byeok! He just confessed his love, and she thought he didn’t care about her! How could you not cry?”

Sae-Byeok raised an eyebrow, her expression unchanging. “Because it’s predictable. You knew they’d end up together.”

You huffed, tossing a pillow in her direction. “You’re such a cynic.”

She caught the pillow effortlessly, her lips twitching into a small smirk. “And you’re too soft.”

“And yet, you’re dating me,” you shot back with a playful grin.

Her smirk deepened, and she scooted closer to you, the blanket rustling as she moved. “Guess I like soft things.”

Your cheeks warmed at her words, and you leaned into her shoulder, your heart fluttering at the rare moment of affection. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled.

“Mm,” she hummed, resting her chin lightly on the top of your head.

A week later, you were dragging Sae-Byeok into one of your favorite stores—a pastel wonderland filled with frilly clothes, sparkly accessories, and an overwhelming amount of pink.

“I don’t know why you insist on bringing me here,” she muttered, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets.

“Because I want your opinion!” you chirped, pulling her toward the accessory section.

“I don’t know anything about bows or skirts.”

“Exactly. That means you’ll be honest!”

Sae-Byeok sighed but followed you, her gaze trailing over the racks of clothes. You picked up a baby pink headband adorned with small pearls and held it up.

“What do you think of this one?”

“It’s fine,” she replied flatly.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing another headband. “Okay, but what about this one? It has a bow.”

“They all look the same,” she deadpanned.

“They do not!” you protested, clutching the headband dramatically. “This one is way cuter!”

She sighed again, clearly exasperated but unable to suppress the small smile forming on her lips. “Fine. Get the one with the bow. It’s… less terrible.”

You beamed, grabbing the headband and twirling in place. “You’re the best, Sae-Byeok!”

As you turned back to the rack, she reached out and adjusted the bow on the back of your dress. “It was crooked,” she muttered when you glanced at her in surprise.

Your heart skipped a beat at her quiet care. “Thanks, babe,” you said softly, earning a rare blush from her.

That night, you lay in bed together, the soft glow of your fairy lights casting the room in a warm, golden hue. Sae-Byeok was lying on her back, her hands folded over her stomach, while you were curled up on your side, gazing at her.

“Sae-Byeok?” you murmured, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we’re too different?”

She turned her head to look at you, her dark eyes searching yours. “Why do you ask that?”

“Well, I’m all… this,” you said, gesturing to your pastel satin pajamas and the stuffed animals surrounding you. “And you’re… you.”

She frowned, her brows knitting together. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I just… wonder if it bothers you.”

Sae-Byeok propped herself up on one elbow, her expression softening. “It doesn’t bother me. You… make things brighter.”

Your breath hitched at her words, and you felt your cheeks heat up. “Sae-Byeok…”

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I know I’m not good at this, but I don’t care how different we are. I like being with you.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you leaned in to kiss her, your lips meeting in a soft, lingering touch. Her hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

When you finally pulled back, her eyes were half-lidded, her breathing slightly uneven. “You’re too good for me,” she murmured, her voice low.

You shook your head, cupping her cheek. “Don’t say that. You’re amazing, Sae-Byeok.”

She didn’t respond, but the way her fingers traced slow circles on your hip spoke volumes.

The next morning, the two of you stayed in bed longer than usual, tangled in the sheets. The sunlight streamed through the curtains, highlighting the curve of her jaw and the softness in her gaze as she watched you.

“You’re staring,” you teased, your voice still husky from sleep.

“Can’t help it,” she replied, her voice uncharacteristically playful.

You giggled, leaning closer to her. “What are you thinking about?”

Her hand found your waist, her fingers slipping under the hem of your oversized shirt. “How much I like seeing you like this,” she admitted, her voice dropping.

Your cheeks flushed as her touch sent shivers down your spine. “Sae-Byeok…”

She smirked, leaning in until her lips were just a breath away from yours. “You’re too cute for your own good.”

Before you could respond, her lips captured yours in a kiss that was anything but soft. Her hands roamed your sides, her touch firmer now as she pulled you closer, her body pressing against yours.

You gasped into the kiss, your fingers tangling in her hair as her lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses.

“Sae-Byeok…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her dark eyes filled with a rare intensity. “Tell me if I’m going too far,” she murmured, her voice softer now.

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “I trust you.”

sғᴡ

- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ɪɴsᴛɪɴᴄᴛs: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢ sᴘᴏᴏɴ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sʜᴇ ғᴇᴇʟs ᴀɴ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʜᴇʀ ɢɪʀʟғʀɪᴇɴᴅ. ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍs ᴡʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɢɪᴠᴇs ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴍɪɴᴅ, ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ.

- ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ: ᴅᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜɢʜ ᴇxᴛᴇʀɪᴏʀ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ’s ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ɪs sᴏғᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ sᴘᴏᴏɴs ʏᴏᴜ. sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ʙʀᴜsʜ ʜᴇʀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴏʀ ᴀʀᴍ, sɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ.

- sɪʟᴇɴᴛ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ɪsɴ’ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴠᴇʀʙᴀʟʟʏ ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴠᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ʟᴏᴜᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴡᴏʀᴅs. sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴄᴄᴀsɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴘʀᴇss ᴀ sᴏғᴛ ᴋɪss ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ ғᴇᴇʟs ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜs.

- ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ sᴇᴄᴜʀɪᴛʏ: ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ sᴀғᴇ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ’s ᴀʟsᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀs. sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ғɪɴᴅs ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇʟᴀx ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ, ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜʏɴᴇss ᴍᴇʟᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ.

- ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴀɴᴄᴇs: ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ sʜʏ ᴏʀ ᴀɴxɪᴏᴜs, sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʟɪᴋᴇ, “ɪ’ᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ,” ᴏʀ “ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ.” ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ɪs ʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛᴇᴀᴅʏ, ᴀ sᴏᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴀʟᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴀsᴇs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇs.

- ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ ɪɴ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ: ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴀᴄᴛs ᴛᴏᴜɢʜ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ, ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ’s ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ, sʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇsɪsᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ. sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ɴᴜᴢᴢʟᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ ᴏʀ ʜᴀɪʀ, ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴄʏ.

- ᴘʟᴀʏғᴜʟ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ: ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sʜʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ, sʜᴇ’ʟʟ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ, sᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʟɪᴋᴇ, “ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴏ ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜs. ɪᴛ’s ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ.” ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ɪs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʟɪɢʜᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀɪɴɢ sǫᴜᴇᴇᴢᴇ.

- ᴜɴsᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴀʏ “ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ” ᴏᴜᴛʀɪɢʜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ sʜᴇ ʜᴏʟᴅs ʏᴏᴜ sᴀʏs ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ. sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴛᴜᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜɪɴ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ, ʜᴇʀ ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ ғɪʀᴍ ʏᴇᴛ ғᴜʟʟ ᴏғ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs.

- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ sʟᴇᴇᴘ: ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ sʟᴇᴇᴘ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ɪɴsᴛɪɴᴄᴛɪᴠᴇʟʏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘs ʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍs ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪɢɢʟᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ, sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴍᴜᴍʙʟᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴᴄᴏʜᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ғᴜʟʟʏ ᴡᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ.

- sᴏғᴛ sᴍɪʟᴇs ᴊᴜsᴛ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʙᴜᴛ sᴍɪʟᴇ sᴏғᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ sᴇᴇs ʜᴏᴡ ʀᴇʟᴀxᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍs. sʜᴇ’ʟʟ ʙʀᴜsʜ ᴀ sᴛʀᴀɴᴅ ᴏғ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ sʜᴇ ɪs ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ.

ɴsғᴡ

- ᴘʟᴀʏғᴜʟ ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ғʟᴜsᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ sʟʏ, ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs, ᴇsᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇs ʜᴏᴡ sʜʏ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ. sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʟᴇᴀɴ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʟɪᴋᴇ, "ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ʀᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋs ɢᴇᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ," ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇᴅ ᴄᴜɴᴛ.

- ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs: sʜᴇ ʜᴀs ᴀ ʜᴀʙɪᴛ ᴏғ ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ʟɪɴɢᴇʀ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴇᴀsᴛs, ᴛʜɪɢʜs, ᴏʀ ᴀss, ʜᴇʀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀᴛɪᴘs ᴛʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ sʟᴏᴡ, ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇ. ʜᴇʀ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴏɴʟʏ ɢʀᴏᴡs ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ sᴇᴇs ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɪᴛ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇᴛ.

- ᴛᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴏᴜɴᴅᴀʀɪᴇs: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ғɪɴᴅs ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜʏɴᴇss ᴀᴅᴏʀᴀʙʟᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ᴀʟsᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇs sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴡ ғᴀʀ sʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘᴜsʜ ʏᴏᴜ. sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs, ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴᴄʜᴇs ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀsᴋ ɪɴ ᴀ ʟᴏᴡ, ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ, "ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ?" ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴀɴ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ, sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴋɪss ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴋɪʀᴛ.

- ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴘʀᴏxɪᴍɪᴛʏ: ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴘᴜʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟʏ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ. ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ɢʜᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀs, "ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪs ᴄʟᴏsᴇ." ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛɪᴄᴋʟᴇs ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴋɪɴ sᴇɴᴅs sʜɪᴠᴇʀs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴘɪɴᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪᴄᴋᴇʏs sʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅʏ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ.

- sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴀɴᴄᴇ: sʜᴇ's ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴀssᴇʀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪᴛ's ɢᴜɪᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴜᴍᴘ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɢʜ ᴏʀ ᴛɪʟᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪɴ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ ɢᴀᴢᴇ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ's sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ʏᴇᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ɢᴇsᴛᴜʀᴇs ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀɴᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴀᴅʟʏ.

- ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴀs ᴀ ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ: ʜᴇʀ ʟᴏᴡ, sᴜʟᴛʀʏ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇss, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ɪᴛ. sʜᴇ'ʟʟ sᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴛᴀɴᴛᴀʟɪᴢɪɴɢ ᴡᴀʏ ᴅʀᴀɢɢɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sʏʟʟᴀʙʟᴇs ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sǫᴜɪʀᴍ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ sᴛᴀʀᴇ. "ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴀʙʏ... ᴄᴍᴏɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴄᴜᴍ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ʜᴍ? ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ?" sʜᴇ's ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ sɪʀᴇɴ.

- ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ: ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ғᴏᴄᴜsᴇᴅ ᴏɴ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟsᴇ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ-ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ, sᴄʀᴏʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ, ᴏʀ ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ—sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴜᴘᴛ ʙʏ ʟᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴀʀ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴀsᴋs, "ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴍᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ?" sʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢʟʏ ᴀs sʜᴇs sʟɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜɪʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪɴᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴɪᴘᴘʟᴇs.

- ᴍᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇs ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ғᴀɪɴᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʙɪᴛᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘʀɪɴᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴀɪʟs ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴛʀᴀɪʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴋɪɴ. sʜᴇ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʀʀʏɪɴɢ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀs ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ. ɪᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇs ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ sᴇᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ғʟᴀᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜɪᴄᴋᴇʏs.

- ᴜɴᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢᴇᴛɪᴄ ʙᴏʟᴅɴᴇss: ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sʜʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ, sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴛʜʀɪᴠᴇs ᴏɴ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢᴇᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴏʟᴅ. sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘᴜʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴀᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴛ sᴍɪʀᴋ ʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍs ᴄɪʀᴄʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀɪsᴛ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀs, "ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴏ sʜʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ."

sғᴡ

- ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ɪsɴ’ᴛ ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs, ʙᴜᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, sʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sʜᴏᴡ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴ sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ, ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢғᴜʟ ᴡᴀʏs—ʟɪᴋᴇ ғɪxɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴄᴀʀғ ᴏɴ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴅᴀʏs ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ sɴᴀᴄᴋs.

- sɪʟᴇɴᴛ sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ: sʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ sǫᴜᴇᴇᴢᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʏ ʜᴇʀ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs.

- sᴏғᴛ sᴘᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ: ᴡʜɪʟᴇ sʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs, ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴀɴᴏʀ sᴏғᴛᴇɴs ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇʀ, ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ sɪᴅᴇ.

- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴇɴsᴜʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪᴛ’s ᴡᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴇғᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴛᴇɴsᴇ sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴs.

- ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ: ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ᴅᴀʏ, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛʟʏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴇᴀ ᴏʀ sɪᴛ ʙʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sɪᴅᴇ, ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɪʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇsᴛ.

- ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ-sᴏʟᴠᴇʀ: sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍs ɪɴ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴡᴀʏs, ᴏғғᴇʀɪɴɢ sᴏʟᴜᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏʀ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀsᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴛʀᴇss.

- ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ: sʜᴇ ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇs ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ sᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜᴄʜ, ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ ʟɪɢʜᴛs, ᴏʀ sɪᴍᴘʟʏ sɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ.

- sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴅᴀᴛᴇs: sʜᴇ’s ɴᴏᴛ ғʟᴀsʜʏ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇs ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢғᴜʟ ᴏᴜᴛɪɴɢs ʟɪᴋᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇ-ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀʟᴋs, ᴘɪᴄɴɪᴄs ɪɴ sᴇᴄʟᴜᴅᴇᴅ sᴘᴏᴛs, ᴏʀ sᴛᴀʀɢᴀᴢɪɴɢ.

- ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ: sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪᴛ’s ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ ᴅɪsʜ ᴏʀ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ sᴋɪʟʟ sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴀ sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏʀ ғɪxɪɴɢ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ.

- sʜʏ ʙᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ sʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs, sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴄʜᴇʀɪsʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ, ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ sᴀғᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ.

- sᴏғᴛ ᴋɪssᴇs: sʜᴇ’s ɴᴏᴛ ʙɪɢ ᴏɴ ᴘᴅᴀ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʀᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ sʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴋɪss ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴄʏ ᴏғ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.

- ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴs: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴs ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ᴏɴᴄᴇ sʜᴇ ғᴇᴇʟs sᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ.

- sʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ɢᴏᴀʟs: sʜᴇ’ᴅ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜɪʟᴅ ᴀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴅɪsᴄᴜssɪɴɢ ᴘʟᴀɴs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ.

- ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛ: sʜᴇ ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴇs sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟsᴏ ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴇ, ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴀʟᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ, ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀsʜɪᴘ.

- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇʟʏ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜs: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴏᴜᴛᴡᴀʀᴅʟʏ ᴇxᴘʀᴇss ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ ʙᴜᴛ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ɢʟᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ sʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɪᴠᴇs ᴀs ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ.

- sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇɴᴇss: sʜᴇ’ᴅ sᴜʙᴛʟʏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀs, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ʙʏ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴏʀ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴍ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ.

ɴsғᴡ

- ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀʟʏ ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴠᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴏғᴛᴇɴ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀɪsᴛ, ɴᴇᴄᴋ, ᴏʀ ᴛʜɪɢʜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ. ɪᴛ's ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ.

- ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ: ʜᴇʀ ɢᴀᴢᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ sᴍᴏʟᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ's ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ. sʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ-ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ғᴇᴇʟ ʜᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇs ᴛʀᴀɪʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴇʏᴇ-ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴡ sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ.

- ᴘʟᴀʏғᴜʟ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴀɴᴄᴇ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏs ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʏ ᴘɪɴɴɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴀ ᴡᴀʟʟ ᴏʀ ʜᴏᴠᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ, ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀs ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴜʟʟʏ ᴋɪssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴇɢ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴡɪʟʟ sʜᴇ ʀᴜʙ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟɪᴛ.

- sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀ ʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴀʀ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ɪɴᴄᴏɴᴠᴇɴɪᴇɴᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇs, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ, ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ғʟᴜsᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ. "ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴋɪʀᴛ... ɪ ʙᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴜɴɢᴇ ᴍʏ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴄᴜɴᴛ, ʜᴍ?"

- sᴏғᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ɪs ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ғɪʀᴍ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴅ, ɢᴜɪᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴏʀ ᴛɪʟᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪɴ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪss ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴇᴘʟʏ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ɢʀɪɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʜᴇʀ.

- ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ: sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀʙᴏɴᴇ ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍɪxᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏsɪᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ. sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ғɪɢᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴀɴᴅ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴇᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ʙʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴏɴᴇ sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ɢʀᴀᴢᴇ.

- ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴘᴀssɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ: sʜᴇ's ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs ʙᴜᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs-ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴋɪss ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ɪs ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢғᴜʟ. ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴜɴᴅs ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴛʀᴀᴘ sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴋɪss ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘs ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴇᴀsᴛs.

- ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴜʀɴs ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍᴏʀᴇ: ɪᴛ sᴛᴀʀᴛs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜᴄʜ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɪssᴇs sʟᴏᴡʟʏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴsɪsᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ, ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴀʀᴇ ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴇᴀsᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ sʜᴇ's ғɪɴɢᴇʀ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ.

- ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ғᴀɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʀᴋs ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇ-ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀʙᴏɴᴇ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴡʀɪsᴛ, ᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ-ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀs. sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ sʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ. (ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʟʟ ʟᴀsᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡᴇᴇᴋ ᴏʀ ᴛᴡᴏ.)

- ᴘᴜʟʟᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴀᴘ: sʜᴇ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ ᴘᴜʟʟs ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴀᴘ, ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ғɪʀᴍʟʏ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ʀᴏᴀᴍ, ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀs ɪɴ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ. sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜɪᴘs sᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴍᴇss.

- ᴛᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴍɪᴛs: sʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢʟʏ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ, sᴍɪʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʟᴏsᴇ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ. "ᴄᴍᴏɴ ʙᴀʙʏ... ᴊᴜsᴛ ʙᴇɢ ғᴏʀ ɪᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ."

- ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ʙᴏᴀsᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴛʜᴇ ᴇғғᴇᴄᴛ sʜᴇ ʜᴀs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ. sʜᴇ'ʟʟ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʟᴜsʜ ᴏʀ ғᴀʟᴛᴇʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ.

- ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ: ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴅ, sʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏ ғʟɪᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅʟʏ, ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜʟᴇss.

- ᴜɴsᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ, sᴀᴇʙʏᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴜʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ, ᴛʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ʟᴀᴢʏ ᴄɪʀᴄʟᴇs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴋɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ.

- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ: sʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴋɪss ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴏʀᴇʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀ ᴀ ʀᴀʀᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛғᴇʟᴛ "ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ" ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴡʀᴀᴘs ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ sɪᴅᴇ sʜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ.

Ever since you started dating Sae-byeok, her protective streak had grown into something almost territorial. She wasn’t one for grand romantic gestures or cheesy declarations of love. Instead, she made her feelings known in a much more… possessive way.

Like right now.

You were sitting on a bench in the courtyard, minding your own business, when one of your classmates hesitantly approached. They barely managed to say, “Hey, can I ask you about the project—” before Sae-byeok appeared out of nowhere.

Her arms crossed over her chest, her sharp gaze locked on the poor student. “What do you want?” she asked flatly, the edge in her voice unmistakable.

Your classmate froze under her scrutiny, stammered something unintelligible, and walked away faster than you thought was humanly possible. You sighed heavily and turned to look at your girlfriend, who was now casually leaning against the bench as if she hadn’t just chased someone off.

“Sae-byeok!” you scolded, nudging her shoulder.

She glanced at you, her expression completely unbothered. “What? It’s not my fault they’re so easy to scare.”

“It is your fault!” you huffed, crossing your arms. “That’s the third time today! I can’t even talk to my friends because you keep glaring at them like you’re about to fight them.”

“Maybe I will if they get too close,” she muttered, moving to sit down beside you. Her tone was casual, but you caught the way her lips twitched into a faint smirk.

You groaned, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sae-byeok, you can’t keep doing this. I have friends, you know. People I actually need to talk to sometimes.”

She shrugged, her hand lazily finding its way to your thigh. “You don’t need them. You have me.”

“Sae…”

“What?” she interrupted, turning to look at you. Her dark eyes softened ever so slightly, though her hand stayed firmly where it was. “You’re mine. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

Her possessiveness was equal parts frustrating and endearing. Despite your annoyance, your heart fluttered at the way she looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I am yours, okay?” you said, reaching up to gently cup her cheek. “No one’s going to take me away from you. But you’ve got to stop scaring my friends. It’s embarrassing.”

She leaned into your touch, her lips brushing against the palm of your hand. “Fine,” she murmured, her voice low. “But if anyone flirts with you…”

“Then we’ll deal with it together,” you finished, leaning in closer until your noses were almost touching.

Sae-byeok let out a quiet hum, her lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “Deal.”

Before you could pull back, she closed the distance, her lips capturing yours in a slow, lingering kiss. Her free hand slid up your arm, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. When she finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your face.

“You’re too soft,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

“And you’re too grumpy,” you teased, your fingers trailing along the line of her jaw.

Sae-byeok smirked and leaned in again, her lips brushing against yours in a series of softer, gentler kisses that left your heart racing. Her hand tightened slightly on your thigh, her grip firm yet comforting.

“Let them stare,” she murmured against your lips. “I want them to know who you belong to.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her gaze was soft now, the grumpiness replaced with something far more tender. “But I’m still yours.”

Sae-byeok was never one for grand gestures. Her love was in the small things—the way she’d carefully tuck your scarf around your neck on cold mornings, her habit of silently refilling your water glass before you even noticed it was empty, the protective way she always walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to traffic. She made you feel safe. Cherished.

But that safety began to feel like a cage when the people around you started disappearing.

It began subtly. A friend from work, Jisoo, stopped answering your texts after Sae-byeok had glared daggers at her during dinner one evening. Then Minho, your old classmate who had a knack for teasing you, was suddenly "out of town indefinitely," according to his sister. And then there was the broken leg your coworker Hana mysteriously suffered after you mentioned her in passing to Sae-byeok.

You wanted to believe it was all coincidence. You really did.

But there was the way Sae-byeok’s eyes lingered on people too long, her lips pressed into a thin line whenever you laughed a little too loudly at someone else’s jokes. There was the time she came home late, her sleeves damp and her expression grim, brushing off your concern with a clipped, "Just a rough day."

The final straw was Jisoo’s disappearance. She was your best friend, someone who had been like family to you since childhood. When you mentioned your growing worry to Sae-byeok, her response was chillingly indifferent.

"Maybe she had problems you didn’t know about," she said, her tone light but her eyes cold.

You spent that night piecing together the fragments of your unease—the disappearances, the injuries, the way Sae-byeok always seemed to know too much about your friends’ lives.

It wasn’t until you found the blood-stained scarf stuffed at the back of her closet that your suspicions solidified into a horrifying truth.

The confrontation happened the next night. Sae-byeok returned home, her face lighting up when she saw you waiting for her in the living room. But her smile faltered when she noticed the scarf clenched in your trembling hands.

"You killed them," you said, your voice breaking. "Jisoo. Minho. Everyone. It was you, wasn’t it?"

Sae-byeok’s face remained eerily calm. She stepped closer, and you instinctively backed away.

"They were bad for you," she said simply. "They didn’t deserve you."

"Deserve me?" you repeated, incredulous. "They were my friends! My family! You had no right—"

"I had every right," she snapped, her calm facade cracking for the first time. Her voice trembled with emotion. "They would’ve taken you away from me. I couldn’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen."

Your heart pounded as you realized how deeply her obsession ran. "I can’t do this anymore, Sae-byeok," you whispered. "We’re done. This... this isn’t love. It’s sick."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Sae-byeok’s dark eyes bored into yours, unreadable and unrelenting. Then, she smiled—a small, heartbreaking smile that sent a chill down your spine.

"You’re upset," she murmured. "You’re not thinking clearly. You’ll see... this is all for the best."

Before you could react, she moved faster than you thought possible. Her grip on your wrist was like iron as you tried to pull away, panic surging in your chest.

"Sae-byeok, let go!" you shouted, but she didn’t budge.

"You’ll thank me someday," she whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. The last thing you saw was her determined face before the world went dark.

You woke to dim lighting and the smell of lavender. Blinking groggily, you realized you were lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. Your wrists were bound with soft fabric, tight enough to keep you from moving freely but gentle enough not to leave marks.

Sae-byeok sat in a chair across from you, her posture relaxed, as if she hadn’t just kidnapped you. Her gaze softened when she saw you stirring.

"You’re awake," she said, a small smile gracing her lips. "I was starting to worry."

"Sae-byeok," you rasped, your throat dry. "What is this? Where am I?"

"Somewhere safe," she replied. "Somewhere no one can hurt us. Or take you away from me."

Tears burned your eyes as you struggled against the bindings. "This isn’t love, Sae-byeok. You can’t keep me here!"

Her expression hardened, the gentleness in her eyes replaced by something far darker. "I can’t keep you here?" she echoed, her voice dangerously low. "Do you think I’ve done all this for nothing? I’ve killed for you. I’ve bled for you. And you think you can just walk away?"

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. "You don’t have to do this," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. "Please, Sae-byeok. Let me go."

Her expression softened again, but it was almost worse—her love was twisted, her obsession suffocating. She leaned forward, cupping your face in her hands.

"You don’t understand," she murmured, her thumbs brushing away your tears. "No one will ever love you like I do. No one else deserves you. I’ll keep you safe, even if it means protecting you from yourself."

You sobbed as her lips pressed gently against your forehead, the act so tender it felt like a cruel mockery of love.

Sae-byeok pulled away, her dark eyes gleaming with a terrifying mix of devotion and determination. "You’ll see," she said softly. "You’ll thank me one day. When you realize that we’re meant to be."

The night air was thick with tension, the kind that settled into your lungs and made each breath feel heavy. You sat on your bedroll, your knees tucked to your chest, eyes scanning the room. The other players, though scattered in the dim light, seemed just as alert as you, but their attention was elsewhere—whispers, uneasy shifts in position, the sharp click of boots across the floor. No one dared to truly rest, knowing what the games had in store.

Across from you, leaning against the far wall, was Sae-Byeok. She was the picture of composure, her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze unwavering. Her sharp features were soft in the dim light, yet her aura was as frigid as the night air outside. She hadn’t spoken to you directly since you arrived, her silence a barrier as strong as the walls of a fortress.

You weren’t sure why you kept glancing at her. It wasn’t just her striking appearance or her quiet strength. It was something deeper—something unspoken that you couldn’t quite place. You sensed there was more to her than her cold exterior. But like everyone here, trust was a currency you couldn’t afford.

Your group called for volunteers to take the night shifts, those who would stand guard while the others rested. Your instinct kicked in before you had time to second-guess it. You raised your hand.

And then, to your surprise, Sae-Byeok did the same.

The two of you found yourselves in the corner of the dimly lit room, standing vigil. The others fell into an uneasy slumber around you, their bodies curled in unnatural positions, too exhausted to keep their eyes open for long. You kept your guard up, though, knowing the night was the most dangerous time.

Sae-Byeok didn’t acknowledge you at first. Her gaze was fixed ahead, scanning the room, calculating each shadow as if it were a potential threat. You could almost feel the tension rolling off of her, her every muscle taut and ready for action. There was something mesmerizing about the way she controlled the space around her—like a predator waiting to pounce.

You tried not to stare, but there was a part of you that couldn't look away. She was captivating, even in her silence.

You found yourself shifting closer to her, instinctively reaching for a safer position near the wall. You had to admit—you weren’t comfortable on your own in the dark. Everyone had their guard up, but no one really trusted anyone else. Sae-Byeok seemed like she would understand that.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, you finally spoke.

“You seem calm,” you said, trying to break the tension, your voice low so as not to disturb the others. “How do you do it?”

Sae-Byeok’s eyes flickered over to you, sharp and calculating. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned her head back to the shadows.

“Because calm doesn’t get you killed,” she said flatly. “It’s the ones who let their guard down that end up dead.”

Her words hit harder than you expected. You didn’t reply at first, feeling a coldness settle in your chest. Her words weren’t wrong. She’d clearly seen the brutal reality of these games, more than you ever wanted to.

The next night, you and Sae-Byeok were assigned to the night shift again. You were beginning to expect it now, but it wasn’t something you minded. The quiet, the stillness, and the shared experience of vigilance had its own strange rhythm, one you couldn’t quite explain.

This time, Sae-Byeok acknowledged you with a nod, though she didn’t say much. You both took up the same positions as before, standing at opposite ends of the room, but closer than before. The tension between you had softened ever so slightly.

“You’re not like the others,” Sae-Byeok said after a long pause. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it felt significant.

“Not like the others how?” you asked, turning slightly to face her. You couldn’t hide your curiosity.

“You’re not as desperate,” she explained, her gaze still sharp, but not as intense. “You’re more measured. More thoughtful.” She paused again, then added, “It’s rare here. People don’t last long when they’re too trusting.”

Her words lingered in the air between you, but this time, they didn’t feel as cold. Maybe it was the way she said it, almost as though she was opening up in a way she hadn’t before. You couldn’t quite place it, but something had shifted.

“I think you misunderstand,” you said softly. “I don’t trust easily either, but... I think there's more to this than just survival.”

Sae-Byeok looked at you then, her piercing eyes softening ever so slightly. She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she exhaled deeply, her posture relaxing just enough for you to notice.

“You’re different,” she repeated, but this time, it wasn’t as cold. There was something almost... admiring in her voice.

Over the following days, you and Sae-Byeok began to settle into a strange rhythm. The tension that once defined your interactions had begun to fade, and while you were both still wary of each other, there was an understanding growing between you.

She started to talk more—though in short bursts—about the things that mattered to her. Her brother. The reason she was in this game. The quiet moments where the pain of her past seemed to creep up, just beyond the surface.

You shared your own fragments too. Your family. The guilt that followed you here, the fear that lived just under your skin. But with Sae-Byeok, it felt different. It felt like you weren’t completely alone, even in a place where trust was a rare commodity.

One night, as the moonlight filtered softly through the cracked window, you found yourself standing side by side once again. There was no immediate threat in the room, but neither of you let your guard slip.

“I’ve been thinking,” Sae-Byeok said quietly, almost to herself.

“About what?” you asked, glancing over at her.

She turned to face you, her expression unreadable. “About how I’m not sure if I trust you or not.”

You smiled lightly, though you felt a lump form in your throat. “I can’t blame you for that.”

“But,” she continued, her voice a little softer, “there’s something about you. Something different.”

“Something good?” you asked, teasing slightly, though your heart was racing.

Sae-Byeok’s lips quirked into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Maybe.”

The shift that night felt different. The air was thick, heavy with anticipation that neither of you fully understood. It was later in the evening, and the rest of the room had succumbed to fitful sleep, their dreams fraught with fear.

But the silence between you and Sae-Byeok was different this time. It wasn’t filled with tension or hesitation; it was calm, steady. For the first time, you felt a sense of peace.

Sae-Byeok turned to you again, and her eyes were different now—softer, more open. “I’ve been thinking,” she began, her voice gentle.

“About what?” you asked, heart pounding in your chest.

“I think I’ve been too hard on you,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I’ve been so closed off... but I think it’s because I’m scared of losing anyone. I don’t want to get hurt.”

You were silent, letting her words hang in the air. You knew what she meant. You felt the same way.

But then, unexpectedly, she reached out to you. Her hand brushed against yours—tentatively at first—and you both stood there for a long moment, allowing the touch to settle between you.

Sae-Byeok leaned in slowly, as though testing the waters. Her breath was warm against your skin, her proximity so close you could feel the electricity between you.

And then, without warning, she kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative. But then, as if all the walls she had built up finally crumbled, she kissed you harder, deeper, as though trying to convey everything she felt in that single moment.

When she pulled back, her face was flushed, her breath shallow. “I’m not good at this,” she whispered, almost apologetically. “But I want to try.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with a warmth you hadn’t thought possible in this cold, dark place. “We’ll survive this,” you said softly. “Together.”