#singlesinferno

For a split second, you just breathe before adjusting the strap of your shoulder bag and following the path production had carefully mapped out for you.

The firepit comes into view. And then you realise.

You’re last.

The others are already there, bodies turned expectantly in your direction. A small smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it.

Leave the best for last, right?

As you approach, a few of them rise to their feet instinctively, polite smiles forming as they greet you. You bow your head in return, offering a soft hello, acutely aware of the way their eyes linger just a second longer than necessary.

Your gaze sweeps the circle, searching for an empty seat, and that’s when it happens.

Eye contact.

It’s brief. Barely half a second. But it lands heavy.

He’s already looking at you when your eyes find his, posture relaxed yet unmistakably commanding. Something unreadable flickers across his face before you look away first, heat blooming low in your chest as you take the open seat directly across from him.

You settle in, crossing your legs carefully, but your awareness keeps drifting back to him no matter how hard you try to focus elsewhere.

He’s easily the tallest man there—no contest. His shoulders stretch the fabric of his plain white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to expose strong forearms with sun-kissed skin. His dark hair is slightly tousled by the wind, like he hasn’t bothered fixing it because he doesn’t need.

You let your gaze drift subtly around the group, careful not to make it obvious. Everyone is attractive in that intimidating way—fit bodies, confident smiles—but it’s impossible to ignore the pull of one person in particular.

The man in the white shirt.

Even now, when he’s not looking at you, your eyes seem to find him anyway. His attention seemed focused yet distant—as if he’s choosing what to give his energy to rather than offering it freely.

Based on first impressions alone, he’s the only one who truly caught your attention.

And that surprises you more than it should.

Not long after, production splits everyone into smaller groups to explore the island. You end up paired with two of the guys—Hyunwoo and Seojun—both friendly and easy to talk to.

You walk side by side along the sandy path, the sun warm against your shoulders.

“Should we go this way?” you ask, lifting your hand and pointing with a manicured finger toward a snowflake sign just past the kitchen.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Seojun agrees immediately, nodding as Hyunwoo hums in approval.

But before you set off, something—someone—pulls your attention back.

You glance over your shoulder.

He’s looking at you again.

The eye contact is brief, but it feels intentional this time, like a quiet acknowledgement. You look away first, lips pressing together faintly, and fall back into step with the group.

As you walk, curiosity gets the better of you.

“By the way,” you say casually, as if it’s an afterthought, “do you know that guy’s name? The one in the white shirt.”

“Kim Mingyu,” Seojun answers without missing a beat.

You hum softly, the name settling in your mind. Mingyu.

“Why?” Hyunwoo asks, glancing at you with a knowing smile. “Is he your type?”

You laugh lightly, shaking your head as if the question amuses you—though it lands closer to the truth than you’d like to admit.

“I mean…” you begin, choosing your words carefully, “he’s usually who I’d go for in the outside world. Appearance-wise.”

Both of them nod, clearly unsurprised.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Seojun says. “I noticed the other girls looking at him a lot.”

You smile at that, but your thoughts drift elsewhere.

You haven’t even spoken to him yet.

You don’t know his age. His job. His personality.

And yet—somehow—you already feel like your time on the island is going to orbit around him in ways you can’t quite explain.

~

YOUR CONFESSIONAL

You sit on a chair, the sound of the ocean audible behind you as the producer asks you how your first day feels.

You pause.

“It was… overwhelming,” you admit with a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Everyone’s attractive, everyone’s nice. But first impressions are funny.”

You shift slightly in your seat, choosing your words carefully.

“There was one person who stood out to me right away. I don’t know anything about him yet and we haven’t even spoken.” You smile, a little sheepish now. “But the eye contact we made was really intense.”

You glance down for a second before looking back up.

“I’m trying not to read into it too much. ” A small pause. “But if I’m being honest… I’m curious. Very curious.”

~

MINGYU’S CONFESSIONAL

Mingyu leans back in his chair, long legs stretched out, hands resting loosely on his thighs. He looks comfortable—too comfortable—until the question comes.

Did anyone catch your eye today?

He exhales through his nose, a quiet laugh escaping him.

“Yeah,” he says simply.

He rubs the back of his neck, gaze dropping for half a second before lifting again, thoughtful now.

“Y/n. She came in last,” he continues. “So everyone noticed. She looked very confident and I liked that.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips before he can stop it.

“We made eye contact. Just once. Maybe twice.” He shrugs lightly, trying to play it off. “But I remembered it.”

His expression shifts, more serious.

“I don’t usually decide based on first impressions. But with her…” He pauses. “I want to talk to her. Properly.”

“So yeah. If I get the chance, I won’t waste it.”

~

“Lia, should we go for a chat?”

Mingyu’s voice cuts through the low hum of conversation in the girls’ makeup room. You look over your shoulder to find him standing casually in the doorway, hands in pockets, but his eyes are fixed on you.

The room goes quiet in that very specific way it only does when something is happening.

You feel the other girls’ gazes shift instantly. A few exchanged looks. You blink once, collecting yourself, then smile back at him.

“Should we?” you echo lightly, tilting your head just a fraction.

A soft chuckle leaves him, low and warm, like he’d expected the tease. “If you’re up for it.”

You stand, smoothing your hands over your dress out of habit, and grab your water bottle before turning back to the girls.

“I’ll see you girls later,” you say, voice casual, though your pulse has picked up.

Mingyu waits for you to move ahead of him, considerate, matching your pace as you walk out into the open air.

The door closes behind you, muffling the chatter inside.

Outside, it’s quieter. The sun has dipped lower now. You walk side by side in silence for a few steps, the space between your arms deliberate, almost careful.

“So,” you say first, breaking the quiet, “this is our first proper conversation.”

He nods, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “Feels overdue.”

You glance at him then—really look at him up close. He’s even taller than you’d realised, features sharper in the evening light, dark eyes intent but not overwhelming.

“You looked busy,” he adds. “I didn’t want to interrupt earlier.”

“Mm,” you hum. “I noticed.”

That earns you another soft laugh.

You stop near the edge of the beach, the waves rolling in lazily just a few metres away. Mingyu turns to face you fully now, hands slipping into his pockets, shoulders squared but relaxed.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, more serious now. “Since earlier. At the firepit.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, keeping your tone light. “Why’s that?”

“Not quite sure,” he says after a moment, voice thoughtful rather than smooth. “I guess your entrance made a good impression on me. I was curious.”

The honesty catches you off guard more than any rehearsed line could. You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you look down at the sand beneath your feet.

“Was walking in last really that memorable?” you ask, glancing back up at him. “You’re not the first guy to mention it.”

Mingyu turns his head toward you fully now, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“Really?” he says. A slow smile curves his lips. “So I have competition.”

You lift a brow, amused.

He shrugs easily. “It’s fine. I know I’ll win.”

The confidence is so casual it makes you laugh before you can stop yourself. He laughs too, the sound warm and unguarded, and for a moment the tension between you snaps—easy, natural, shared.

Then he looks at you again, more serious this time.

“I am serious though.”

Your smile softens. You hum quietly in response, not looking away.

The silence that follows isn’t awkward. Your shoulders brushing as you shift slightly closer without meaning to.

After a few seconds, he exhales and breaks it.

“I really want to know your age,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s bothering me.”

You grin, turning toward him just enough that your arms touch.

“Really?” you tease. “Do you think you’re older?”

“Mhm,” he says without hesitation, nodding once. “Definitely.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Confident.”

His gaze drops to your lips for just a second before lifting back to your eyes.

“I’m usually right.”

You meet his gaze, holding it a beat longer this time. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

His brows knit together slightly. “Tomorrow?”