Midnight Archivist

I write fluff and stuff (Will respond to Asks) I also post on fanprose: https://fanprose.com/users/midnightarchivist

[afterhours37]

~Masterlist~

Links to all posted stories and future stories will be updated here.

Overworked & Overwanted

- Behind the schedules, rehearsals, and cameras, ITZY is falling apart far more quietly than anyone realizes. When concerns about the group’s emotional state reach the wrong people, Park Benjamin finds himself pulled into a situation that was never meant to become personal. It becomes personal anyway.

A/N: This story is in the same universe as "Underpaid & Overloved"

• Prelude Story • Chapter 1: Proximity • Chapter 2: After Hours • Chapter 3: Quietly Yours • Chapter 4: The Things We Saw • Chapter 4.5: Damage Control • Chapter 4.75: The Top Floor Summit • Chapter 4.9: Hostile Wellness • Chapter 5: Wife Privileges

If It Were Me

- A series of alternate lives shaped by different choices—where each path is real, but only one can remain.

• Yeji • Ryujin • Lia • Chaeryeong • Yuna

Underpaid & Overloved (Original Series by @electro469)

- A rotating love story where John navigates nine relationships—each unique, each genuine.

Season 1

• Nayeon • Jeongyeon • Momo • Sana • Jihyo • Mina • Dahyun • Chaeyoung • Tzuyu • MiChaeng Special Chapter

Season 2

• Nayeon • Jeongyeon • Momo • Sana • Jihyo • Mina • Dahyun • Chaeyoung • Tzuyu

Spin Offs, One Shots, and Bonuses

• Yeji Birthday Special: Polaroids • Jisoo Oneshot: The Umbrella Rule

[afterhours37]

Overworked & Overwanted - Wife Privileges

Word Count: 11.4k Genre: Poly, Romance, Fluff with Smut

The first hour of the drive was quiet. Not peaceful quiet. Company-mandated quiet.

There was a difference.

Jihyo had said assigned silence until the first checkpoint, and somehow, by sheer force of Park Jihyo existing, everyone had obeyed.

Mostly.

Ryujin had obeyed in spirit, which meant she had not spoken but had communicated several criminal thoughts through facial expressions alone.

Yuna had lasted eleven minutes before silently writing activity notes in her vacation notebook with the intensity of a woman planning a government program.

Lia had watched her do it, sighed once, and taken the pen away twice.

Chaeryeong had spent most of the drive making sure the snack bags were evenly distributed, which became less about logistics and more about survival once Momo’s van pulled beside ours at the first stop and Momo looked through the tinted window with terrifying food awareness.

Yeji sat beside me. Her hand had found mine ten minutes after we left the parking level. No one commented. That was how I knew they were tired. Or plotting. Possibly both… definitely both.

By the second hour, the silence order had dissolved into low conversation.

By the third, Ryujin had fallen asleep with sunglasses still on, which somehow made her look more suspicious.

By the fourth, Yuna had renamed the retreat six times.

By the fifth, Lia had threatened to throw the notebook out of the window if the phrase “Hostile Wellness” appeared one more time.

“It’s not a title anymore,” Yuna protested from the back.

“It is on the page.” “It’s a concept.” “It’s a felony with spa access,” Lia said.

Ryujin, without opening her eyes, raised one hand “I vote felony with spa access.” “No one asked you,” Yeji said. “I live here emotionally.” “You live everywhere emotionally,” Chaeryeong murmured.

Ryujin opened one eye “That was sharp.”

Chaeryeong immediately looked down “Sorry.” “No, keep going. I like vacation Chaeryeong.”

Chaeryeong hid behind a snack bag. I looked toward Yeji. She was trying not to smile. I noticed. Of course I noticed. She noticed me noticing “Don’t,” she said. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “I was about to say you look happy.”

Her expression softened before she could stop it. Then she looked out the window “I am.”

That stayed with me longer than it should have.

Outside, the city had thinned into long roads, guarded turns, and stretches of coast that looked too clean to be casual. Eventually, the vans turned away from the public highway and onto a private access road lined with tall trees and security posts so discreet they looked decorative until you noticed the cameras. Yuna leaned forward “Are we arriving or being abducted luxuriously?”

“Both can be true,” Ryujin said. Lia looked out the window “This is… really private.” Chaeryeong shifted closer to the glass “There are no other cars.” “Good,” I said. Yeji looked at me “That sounded expensive.” “Privacy usually does.” “That did not make me feel better.” “It was not meant to.”

The first gate opened before our vans fully stopped. Then the second. Then a third, hidden behind a curve of palm trees and stone walls. By the time the resort finally appeared, even Ryujin sat up properly. The place did not look like a hotel. It looked like someone had taken a private beach, erased the rest of the world from around it, and built a quiet kingdom along the water.

White villas sat apart from each other along the coastline, spaced far enough that no balcony looked directly into another. A private road curved through landscaped gardens toward a central pavilion of glass, wood, and stone. Beyond it, the beach stretched out in pale sand and blue water, empty except for staff preparing shaded lounges beneath the trees.

No crowds, visible guests, camera flashes, distant fans, or noise— except the ocean.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Ryujin whispered “Okay. This is rich-rich”. Yuna pressed both hands to the window “This is not a retreat. This is where villains recover after losing the first movie”. Chaeryeong’s mouth opened slightly “Is this all for us?”

“For two weeks,” I said. The van went quiet. Yeji turned toward me slowly “Ben”. I looked out the window “Yes?”

“How expensive is this?” “That depends on how you define expensive.” Lia closed her eyes “Bad answer.” Yuna pointed at me “That is a tax bracket answer.”

The van stopped near the private reception pavilion. The doors opened. Warm air, salt wind, and sunlight spilled in. TWICE’s van had arrived just ahead of us, and they stepped out one by one into the brightness.

Nayeon took off her sunglasses and stared. Sana clasped both hands in front of her chest. Dahyun looked around like she was searching for the hidden production crew. Jeongyeon crossed her arms, suspicious. Momo looked toward the dining pavilion first. Tzuyu looked at the beach quietly. Chaeyoung smiled to herself. Jihyo stepped out last, already assessing the entire venue like a leader who did not believe in relaxing until the building had earned her trust. Mina stood beside her, calm as ever.

That was unfair because this was partly her fault. John got out of the van looking like a man who had survived a long drive only to be financially attacked by architecture. He looked at the resort. Then at me. Then at Mina “No.”

I frowned “What now?” “This is not a wellness retreat.” Mina looked at him “It has wellness facilities.” “This is a private country with towels.”

Nayeon walked closer, eyes still moving across the resort “So… nobody else is here?” A staff member approached at a respectful distance but did not stare. That helped. A little.

Sana’s smile softened, but her eyes stayed careful “No guests?” “No public bookings,” Mina said.

The group turned toward her. Mina adjusted the strap of her bag “This resort does not operate through normal channels. There are no public listings, no standard reservations, no casual walk-ins, no press access, and no guest overlap unless approved in advance.”

Dahyun lowered the invisible microphone she had almost raised “That sounds illegal.” “It is not,” Mina said. I added, “It is just expensive.” John looked at me “That is not a defense.” “It is often the explanation.” Jeongyeon looked toward the beach “And staff?” “Vetted,” I said. “Rotations locked. Phones restricted on working areas. Social posting prohibited by contract. Security handles perimeter access. Internal routes are separated.”

Jihyo’s eyes narrowed “That was too detailed.” “Privacy requires detail.”

Yeji stepped closer to me. Her voice dropped just enough “Ben.” I looked at her “What?” “Invoice.” I immediately looked away “No.” Jihyo turned toward Mina “Invoice.”

Mina looked at Jihyo, then at me. Then calmly opened her phone “Mina,” I said. She ignored me. John exhaled “I knew it.” Yeji held out her hand “Show me.”

“It is already paid,” I said. “That is not what I asked.” “Technically, Mina paid half.” Mina nodded “Split evenly.”

Jihyo took the phone first. She looked at the screen. Her face did not move. That was worse than screaming. Nayeon leaned over her shoulder. Then froze. Sana looked. Her smile dropped. Dahyun looked. Her imaginary microphone slowly lowered to her side. John saw the number and made a sound like someone had unplugged him from life support. Yeji took the phone last. She stared. Then stared longer. Then looked at me “Benjie.”

I stood straighter “Yes?” “This is the price of every seat in an arena concert.” Ryujin’s mouth dropped open. Yuna turned toward the resort “We are sleeping inside a sold-out concert?” Chaeryeong whispered, “For two weeks?” Momo looked concerned “Is food included?”

Everyone turned toward her. She blinked “What?” I nodded “Yes. Food is included.” Chaeryeong visibly relaxed. Mina added, “Food, staff, security, medical standby, private venue access, route control, and emergency contingencies.”

Jihyo handed the phone back to Mina slowly “Emergency contingencies?” “Standard,” Mina said. John pointed at her “For who?” “For people like us,” Mina said. He stared “That did not help.” Yeji looked at me “There are staff bonuses on here.” “Yes.” “Why are there staff bonuses?” “So they remain happy.” Jihyo closed her eyes “You bribed the resort staff into emotional loyalty.” “I prefer incentivized discretion.” “That is bribery with better lighting,” John said. Mina looked at him “It improves retention.” John looked physically pained “Why do both of you have the same money disease?”

I frowned “It is not a disease.” Yeji looked at me I corrected myself “It is a condition.” “That is worse,” Lia said. Yuna looked around the resort again, this time with a different kind of awe “So we can really… relax?”

The question softened the air. Because beneath the jokes, there it was. The thing none of them wanted to ask too loudly. Can we stop watching ourselves? Can we stop checking the corners? Can we laugh too loud? Can we walk outside without calculating exits? Can we exist without being consumed?

The ocean moved quietly beyond the pavilion. I looked at Yuna first. Then at Lia. Chaeryeong. Ryujin. Yeji. Then at TWICE “Yes,” I said. “That is the point.” Mina’s voice came softer beside me “For two weeks, this place is yours. Not publicly. Not symbolically. Functionally.” Jihyo looked at her. Mina continued “No press. No guests. No overlap. No staff access beyond assigned areas. If anyone tries to breach the perimeter, security sees them before they see you.” That helped more than the luxury did.

I saw it happen. Not all at once. Not completely. But enough. Nayeon’s shoulders dropped. Sana looked toward the beach like she was letting herself believe in it. Dahyun tucked her phone deeper into her bag without being told. Jeongyeon exhaled. Tzuyu smiled faintly. Ryujin pulled off her sunglasses. Yuna lowered her notebook. Lia looked at the water and said nothing. Chaeryeong held the snack bag a little tighter, but her face softened. Yeji stood beside me. Like the room inside her had finally opened a window.

A resort manager approached and bowed “Welcome. Your villas are ready.” John muttered, “Of course there are villas.”

“There are multiple groups,” Mina said. “I understand the concept. I’m reacting to the price.”

The staff led us down a private stone path toward the villa cluster. The resort opened wider as we walked. Private pool. Beach access. Outdoor dining pavilion. Spa building. Training room. Cinema lounge. Garden paths. A kitchen large enough that Chaeryeong made a small noise under her breath. Momo heard it. Momo looked at the kitchen. Then at Chaeryeong. Something like alliance passed between them.

Jihyo noticed and immediately looked concerned “Do we need kitchen rules?” “Yes,” John said. Momo blinked and Chaeryeong looked down “Maybe.” The room assignments became a separate diplomatic event.

Jihyo wanted structure. Nayeon wanted chaos. Sana wanted “organic bonding.” John said the word organic had become dangerous. Mina provided a villa map. Yuna immediately tried to improve it with activity zones. Lia took the pen away again. Eventually, the arrangement settled into something survivable. TWICE had one large villa wing closest to the garden path. ITZY had the connected wing facing the beach. John had a separate manager’s suite near the central office, which he claimed was for operational oversight.

Nayeon called it cowardice. Jihyo called it practical. Mina had a quiet villa near the end of the path with the best view and enough distance to make John suspicious. I had a room in ITZY’s wing. That alone should not have been a problem. Naturally, it became one. Ryujin looked at the room list. Then at Yeji and then at me. Slowly. “You two are sharing?” Yeji’s face changed by one degree. Leader mode tried to save her. It failed “For logistics,” she said.

Yuna leaned in “Logistics.” Lia closed her eyes “Do not.” Chaeryeong looked down, already smiling. Nayeon appeared behind Ryujin with terrifying timing “Honeymoon logistics?”

Yeji turned pink “No.” Sana appeared beside Nayeon “Wife privileges?”

“No.”

Dahyun lifted one finger “Room assignment confirms ongoing title dispute.” Jihyo pointed at her “No reporting.” Dahyun lowered her hand. I took the key card from the staff member.

“There are enough rooms for everyone to be comfortable. Yeji and I can switch if needed.” Yeji looked at me. The room went quiet. She took the key card from my hand “No.” Everyone froze. Yeji held the card, face warm but voice steady “It’s fine.” Nayeon smiled. Ryujin’s eyebrows rose. Yuna covered her mouth. Lia looked away to hide a smile. I looked at Yeji. She did not look back immediately. That was how I knew she knew exactly what she had done.

Jihyo, mercifully, clapped once. “Unpack first. Meeting in the dining pavilion in one hour. No wandering alone until security finishes the final perimeter confirmation.” Ryujin raised her hand “What if wandering is emotionally necessary?”

“Then wander with witnesses.” Yuna raised her notebook “What if I need to inspect activity zones?” “Later.” Momo raised a hand “Food?” Chaeryeong lifted her bag “I can help check the kitchen.” Jihyo looked between them, then sighed “Thirty minutes. Supervised.”

Momo smiled. Chaeryeong looked like she had been given a sacred mission. The group scattered in pieces. Laughter down one path. Bags rolling over stone. Staff moving quietly around us. The ocean following everything. For the first time, the noise did not feel trapped in a room. It had somewhere to go.

Yeji walked beside me toward our assigned villa. Neither of us spoke at first. The path curved past low greenery and opened toward a private terrace facing the water. Our room sat at the edge of the ITZY wing, close enough to everyone to be reachable, far enough to feel separate.

Yeji unlocked the door. The room opened into warm light. Wide bed. Soft curtains. Private balcony. Ocean view. A couch near the window. A bathroom too large to be reasonable. Fresh flowers on the table. Our luggage already placed neatly near the closet. And silence. Actual silence.

The door clicked shut behind us. For the first time since morning, there was no one else. No paperwork. No John suffering in the corner. No Ryujin listening through the walls. No Nayeon weaponizing the word ‘wife’ from ten feet away. Just the room. The ocean. Our bags by the door, and Yeji standing very still in front of me.

I looked around “Not bad,” I said. “Does my wife approve?” I meant it as a joke. Mostly. Yeji turned around slowly. The look on her face made every surviving thought in my head stop moving “Say that again.” I blinked “What?” Her eyes stayed on mine as she stepped closer. Close enough that I felt the shift in the air before I felt her hand against my shirt “You keep doing that,” she said softly “Doing what?”

“Calling me that”. My throat went dry “Jokingly.” Yeji’s mouth curved. Not quite a smile or a warning. Something worse. Something private “Do you know how hard it was for me not to pounce on you every time you called me your wife in front of everyone?”

The room went quiet. Or maybe I did. Because Yeji had stepped fully into my space now, one hand resting against my chest, close enough to feel the temporary ink beneath the fabric “And then you had the nerve,” she whispered, “to put my name here.”

I looked down at her hand. Then back at her “You chose the font.”

“I know.” “You chose the hearts.” Her fingers curled into my shirt “I know.” “Yeji.”

Her eyes lifted to mine, steady and bright and dangerous “You kept making me blush in front of everyone,” she said. “So now you can deal with me without an audience”. I swallowed. “Is this leader mode?”

“No.” She stepped closer “This is me, making good use of wife privileges.”

The silence of the room didn't just feel like a lack of noise. It felt like a vacuum, pulling the air out of my lungs until the only thing left to breathe was the scent of Yeji—something like vanilla, salt, and a sudden, electric heat.

She didn't give me a chance to answer. She didn't give me a chance to joke. Yeji stepped forward, her movements devoid of the hesitation that usually governed her public persona. She didn't just enter my space; she annexed it. Her hand, which had been resting on my chest, suddenly tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt with a strength that bordered on desperation.

"You think you're so clever," she whispered, her voice dropping an octave, vibrating against my skin. "All those little comments. All those looks. Do you have any idea what it does to me? To have to stand there, the leader of the group, pretending I'm not vibrating out of my skin because you're treating me like I belong to you?"

I opened my mouth to say something—probably a joke about how she seemed to be enjoying it—but the words died in my throat. Yeji’s eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide, swallowing the iris. There was a hunger there that I had only ever seen in flashes, hidden behind the professionalism and the poise. Now, it was a wildfire.

"I spent the whole drive thinking about this," she murmured, her breath hot against my lips. "Thinking about a place where I didn't have to be the one holding everything together. Where I could just... take."

Then she kissed me.

It wasn't a gentle invitation. It was a collision. Her lips slammed into mine with a ferocity that knocked me back a half-step, her tongue immediately forcing its way past my teeth to claim my mouth. She tasted like the mint she’d been chewing and a deep, visceral need. We exchanged saliva in a messy, desperate rhythm, the sound of our mouths meeting—a wet, slapping noise—filling the quiet room.

Yeji’s hands didn't stay still. While her mouth worked mine, her fingers flew to the buttons of my shirt. She didn't unbutton them so much as she ripped them, a couple of small plastic discs pinging off the wall as she tore the fabric open to get to my skin. I groaned into her mouth, my hands finding her waist, pulling her flush against me. She was relentless, her nipples peaking through her clothes, pressing into my chest.

"Clothes," she breathed, breaking the kiss for a split second, her voice a jagged edge. "Get them off. Now."

She didn't wait for me to comply. She pushed me backward, her kisses migrating to my jaw, then my neck, biting down on the sensitive cord of muscle there. I stumbled back, my heels catching on the edge of the luggage, but she used the momentum to keep me moving. We drifted across the room in a chaotic dance of limbs and friction. Yeji was a whirlwind, her hands diving into my waistband, shoving my trousers down with a frantic energy.

I managed to kick my shoes off, one of them hitting the nightstand with a thud, while she worked on my underwear. She didn't just slide them off; she peeled them away, her eyes never leaving mine for more than a second. When I was finally standing there, completely naked and shivering despite the warmth of the room, Yeji stepped back.

She didn't look away. She looked at me—really looked at me—from the line of my shoulders down to the heavy, pulsing length of my cock, which was already leaking a bead of pre-cum.

"Finally," she whispered.

With a sudden, forceful shove, she pushed me down onto the bed. I hit the mattress with a soft huff, the white linens cool against my back. Yeji stood over me, her silhouette framed by the golden light filtering through the curtains. Slowly, with a deliberate, erotic precision, she began to strip.

She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it blindly toward the corner of the room. Her breasts were perfect, small and firm with aroused nipples. I reached up, my fingers itching to touch her, but she stepped back, a small, commanding smile playing on her lips.

"Wait," she commanded.

She slid her trousers down, the fabric whispering against her skin. She stepped out of them, leaving her in nothing but a pair of lace panties that left nothing to the imagination. The sight of her—the curve of her hips, the softness of her belly, the way her thighs trembled slightly—made my blood roar in my ears. She reached back, hooking her fingers into the lace and sliding the fabric down her legs.

She stood there for a heartbeat, completely nude, her skin glowing in the afternoon light. She looked like a goddess, but the expression on her face was entirely human. She looked hungry.

Before I could even reach for her, before I could utter a single word of praise, Yeji climbed onto the bed. She didn't crawl; she prowled. She moved over me, her knees flanking my hips, and then, with a sudden shift in weight, she pivoted.

She lowered herself directly onto my face.

The air left me in a rush as the wet, hot folds of her pussy pressed firmly against my mouth and nose. The scent hit me instantly—musk, arousal, and that singular, intoxicating Yeji-smell. I could feel the heat radiating from her, the slickness of her juices already soaking into my skin.

She gasped, her voice strained as she shifted her weight, sliding down my body until her face was positioned perfectly between my legs. "I've wanted this since the moment we left the city." The world narrowed down to the sensation of her. I pressed my tongue upward, finding her clit, swirling around the tiny, engorged bud of pleasure. Yeji let out a loud, guttural moan that vibrated through my entire skull. At the same time, her mouth closed around me.

She didn't just suck; she worshipped. Her tongue wrapped around the head of my cock, swirling in a tight, rhythmic circle before she slid her mouth down the shaft. The suction was intense, a vacuum of heat and saliva that made my toes curl. I could hear the wet, shlicking sounds of her tongue working against my skin, the squelch of saliva as she took as much of me as she could handle.

I responded by burying my face deeper into her. I used my tongue to part her lips, delving deep into the creaminess of her center. She tasted sweet and salty, a flood of arousal that coated my tongue. I flicked my tongue rapidly against her clit while sucking on the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

Yeji’s breathing became a series of erratic, high-pitched whimpers. She was shaking, her hands gripping my thighs so hard her nails dug into my skin. The rhythm intensified. Her mouth was a furnace, her tongue dancing over the frenulum, while I worked my way deeper into her, my tongue mimicking the thrusts she would eventually want.

"Ben... Ben, I'm... I'm close," she wailed, the sound muffled by my lap.

She shifted suddenly, pulling away from my cock and sliding back up. She didn't move off my face; instead, she sat directly on it, her weight pressing her pussy firmly against my mouth, sealing us together. She arched her back, her chest thrusting toward the ceiling, her head falling back as the first wave of orgasm hit her.

I could feel her muscles contracting against my lips, the rhythmic pulsing of her walls as she came. A flood of hot, thick juices drenched my face, the taste of her climax filling my mouth. Yeji screamed—a raw, unfiltered sound of release that echoed through the room.

The sight and feel of her coming on my face, the sheer vulnerability and power of it, snapped something inside me. The tension that had been building for months, the longing, the frustration—it all converged into a single point of explosion.

I bucked upward, my hips surging with a violent force. I came with a power that felt like a physical blow, my cum spraying upward in thick, hot jets. Because of the angle, the force sent the white fluid flying, splashing across Yeji’s stomach and chest, and spraying directly across her face.

She gasped, her eyes snapping open as the warm liquid hit her cheeks and forehead. We stayed like that for a moment, locked together, breathing in sync, the room smelling of sex and salt.

Yeji didn't move for a long time. Then, slowly, she shifted, sliding off my face and rolling onto her side. She looked at me, her eyes hazy and pupils still wide. She raised a hand, her thumb wiping a streak of my cum from her cheek.

She didn't wipe it away in disgust. She looked at the white fluid on her thumb, then slowly brought it to her lips and licked it clean, her eyes locked on mine with a predatory intensity.

"Stay still," she whispered.

She moved with a purpose now, her movements slower but more deliberate. She guided my cock, which was already beginning to stir again, toward the entrance of her pussy. She didn't just slide on; she teased the head against her folds, rubbing the slickness of her own juices and my cum across her lips.

"It's time for the wife to give her husband what he deserves," she murmured, her voice a low, sultry purr.

She lowered herself slowly, the friction causing a wet, squelching sound that echoed in the quiet room. I felt my head disappear into her, the tightness of her walls gripping me like a vice. Yeji let out a long, shaky breath, her eyes closing as she settled fully onto me, her cervix meeting the head of my cock.

"Oh god," she whimpered. "You're so... you're so deep."

She began to move, her hips rotating in a slow, grinding circle. I reached up, my hands finding the swell of her breasts, squeezing them as she rose and fell. The sound of our bodies meeting—the slap of her ass against my thighs—became the only rhythm in the world.

Yeji was vocal, her moans turning into passionate, loving declarations.

"I love you," she gasped, her voice breaking. "I love you so much, Ben. I've wanted this... I've wanted you inside me for so long."

She increased the pace, her movements becoming more urgent. She wasn't just riding me; she was claiming me. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against my chest, her sweat mingling with mine. I could feel her internal muscles clamping down on me with every downward thrust, drawing me deeper into her heat.

As she approached her second climax, she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned down and captured my lips in a kiss that felt like a seal of ownership. She put both of her hands on my face, framing my jaw, her fingers digging into my cheeks, refusing to let go. She held me there, her gaze locked on mine, as the orgasm ripped through her.

I felt her walls spasm violently, squeezing the life out of me. My own hand slid down, gripping the curve of her ass, pulling her down hard against me, while my other hand stayed at the back of her head, holding her close. We rode out the wave together, the intimacy of the moment far outweighing the physical pleasure.

When she finally collapsed against me, her breathing ragged and her skin flushed a deep pink, she stayed there for a long time. She felt soft, spent, and completely satisfied.

"I'm... I'm done," she whispered into my neck, her voice trailing off into a contented sigh. "I think... I think the wife has made the husband happy. Maybe we should... go meet the others for dinner."

I felt a shift in my own chest. Watching her like this—undone, vulnerable, and utterly devoted—flipped a switch in me. The softness was gone, replaced by a sudden, towering hunger. I didn't want to stop. I wanted more. I wanted to see her break again.

"Not so fast," I whispered, my voice sounding deeper, even to my own ears.

Yeji blinked, looking up at me with a confused smile. "What?"

"You used the wife card to get your way," I said, my hand sliding from her ass to her waist, gripping her firmly. "Now it's time for the husband card. The wife deserves more pampering after all that hard work she's done."

Before she could protest, I gripped her hips and flipped her over. She let out a small, surprised yelp as I moved her onto her hands and knees. I didn't stop there. I guided her further, pressing her chest down into the mattress while keeping her hips high, her legs spread wide.

I entered her from behind, but I didn't just slide in. I angled my body, lifting one of her legs up and over my hip, creating a steep, deep incline. This was a variation of the *Indrani* position from the Kama Sutra, designed for maximum depth and contact.

As I thrust forward, I felt myself hit her G-spot—the sensitive area that had become hyper-responsive after her previous orgasms.

Yeji’s reaction was instantaneous. She let out a scream that was barely human, her back arching violently.

"Ben! Oh my god, Ben!"

The pleasure was too much. She began to shake, her movements mirroring the overstimulation Ryujin often described. Every thrust felt like an electric shock, a wave of intensity that threatened to drown her. She was moaning loudly now, the sounds raw and desperate, her fingers clawing at the sheets.

"Too much... it's too much!" she wailed, but she pushed her hips back against me, demanding more.

I didn't let up. I hammered into her, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room with a rhythmic, visceral thud. I could feel her internal walls fluttering, pulsing around me in a frantic attempt to absorb the pleasure. She was hovering on the edge of a third, massive climax, her voice reduced to fragmented whimpers.

"Please... please, Ben... give it to me... all of it!"

I felt the pressure building in my gut, a tidal wave that I could no longer hold back. With one final, deep surge, I buried myself as far as I could go, pinning her against the mattress.

I came inside her with a force that made my entire body shudder. I could feel the hot, thick pulses of my seed filling her, the warmth spreading through her core. Yeji let out a final, long moan, her head falling forward as she collapsed into the bed, her body still twitching from the intensity of the release.

We lay there in the wreckage of the room, the curtains fluttering in the breeze, the ocean calling from the balcony. The silence returned, but it was different now. It wasn't a vacuum; it was a sanctuary.

Yeji shifted, rolling over to look at me. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, and her eyes were filled with a softness that made my heart ache. She looked embarrassed for a fleeting second, remembering how aggressive she had been, but then she smiled—a real, genuine smile—and pulled me close.

"I think," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "I really like these wife privileges."

For a second, I forgot how to answer. Not because I did not have a joke. I had several. All of them terrible. All of them dangerous.

But Yeji was looking at me with her hair ruined, her lips swollen, her skin still warm against mine, and that tiny embarrassed smile caught between pride and disbelief. The kind of smile she only gave when she had surprised herself first.

So for once, I did the smarter thing. I kissed her. Softly this time. No urgency. Just my mouth against hers, slow enough that she melted into it instead of trying to win. Her hand slid up my chest, fingers brushing over the place where her name was still hidden beneath my shirt somewhere on the floor, and she laughed quietly against my lips.

“What?” I asked. Her cheeks colored “I’m thinking.” “That sounds dangerous.” “It is.” I smiled “About?” She hid her face against my neck “No.” “Yeji.” “No.” “Wife privileges?”

Her hand hit my chest weakly.

“Don’t ruin it.” “I’m not ruining it. I’m appreciating the policy.” “There is no policy.” “There are clearly benefits.” She groaned into my skin “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.”

Her silence lasted too long. Then, very quietly, she said, “No. I don’t.” That did something to me. More than the teasing. More than the way she had said wife earlier like it belonged in her mouth. More than the tattoo. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer until she was lying half on top of me, her cheek against my chest, one leg tangled between mine. The room had gone still again, but this time it did not feel empty. It felt protected.

Outside, the ocean moved beyond the balcony.

Inside, Yeji traced idle shapes against my skin. For a while, neither of us spoke. That was new. Not because we had nothing to say. Because for once, nothing needed defending. Her breathing slowed first. Then mine followed. I pressed a kiss into her hair, and she made a small sound like she wanted to complain but did not have the strength to commit to it. “You okay?” I asked. She nodded against me.

Then, after a pause, she lifted her head “You?” “Yes.” Her eyes narrowed “That was too fast.” “I’m very okay.” “Ben.” I smiled “I am happy.”

That softened her. She looked down, embarrassed again, but this time she did not hide. “Me too.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear “You were very scary.” Her eyes flicked back to mine. “You deserved it.”

“I did.” “You kept calling me your wife.” “I did.” “In front of everyone.” “I did.” “And then you put my name on your chest.” “You chose the hearts.” Her mouth twitched “They were artistically necessary.” “Of course.” “And private.” “Apparently not, since John betrayed me with documentary evidence.” Yeji covered her face “I still cannot believe he showed everyone.” “I can. John is a wounded animal. He wanted collateral.”

She laughed. Soft and happy. Then she kissed me again. That one lasted longer. It started gentle, but Yeji had a way of making even softness feel like a decision. Her fingers found my jaw, holding me there as if I might escape, even though both of us knew I had nowhere else I wanted to be.

I kissed her back until she sighed into my mouth. Until her shoulders loosened. Until the leader finally stopped standing guard behind her eyes. When she pulled away, she stayed close enough for our noses to brush.

“For the record,” she whispered, “I am still your girlfriend.” “I know.” “Not wife.” “I know.”

She stared at me. I stared back. Then she added, quieter, “Yet.”

The word barely existed. But I heard it. My heart stopped so violently that it should have triggered the resort’s medical standby. Yeji realized what she had said and immediately tried to roll away. I caught her “Nope.”

“Ben.” “No. Come back.” “I said nothing.” “You said theology.” “I said one word.” “One devastating word.”

She buried her face against my shoulder “I hate this room.”

“This room has done nothing wrong.” “This room has heard too much.” “The walls signed an NDA.”

She laughed again, and I felt it against my chest. For a while, that was all we did. Cuddle. Kiss. Talk in fragments. Pretend we were not both trying to memorize what it felt like to be this quiet together. Eventually, Yeji’s hand drifted lower and found my wrist. She turned it slightly, checking the time.

Then went still.

I felt it before I understood it “What?” She lifted my wrist closer. Then her head snapped up “Ben.”

“What?” “We’re late.” I blinked “For what?” “Dinner.”

The word landed like a siren. We both moved at once. Badly. Yeji sat up too fast, winced, then pointed at me before I could comment “Do not.”

“I said nothing.” “You thought something.” “That is not illegal.” “It will be if you smile.”

I did not smile. Technically. She scrambled toward the edge of the bed, then stopped when she looked around the room. The room looked like it had lost an argument. Clothes on the floor. One of my shirt buttons near the curtain. A pillow halfway off the mattress. The blankets destroyed beyond reasonable explanation. Yeji stared. Then slowly looked back at me.

“We need to get clothed.” “We need to be at dinner.” “We need all three.”

She closed her eyes.

“We are doomed.” “Probably.” “Benjie.”

I got up. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. We managed to shower, dress, and make the room look less like a crime scene in record time. Not clean, but survivable. Yeji fixed her hair in the mirror with the focus of someone preparing for a comeback stage instead of dinner with women who already knew too much. I buttoned a fresh shirt all the way up because I had learned at least one lesson in the past twenty-four hours.

Yeji noticed.

“Good.” “I can behave.” “No, you can be managed.” “That sounds like wife work.”

She pointed the hairbrush at me “Do not start.” I smiled. She tried not to, she failed. We were twenty-three minutes late. Which was not ideal. But also not catastrophic. Until we reached the dining pavilion and the entire table went silent. That was catastrophic. Every head turned. ITZY. TWICE. John. Jihyo. Mina.

Even Momo stopped eating.

That, more than anything, told me we were in danger. Yeji straightened beside me. Damaged, but functional “Sorry we’re late.”

No one spoke.

Then Ryujin leaned back in her chair and smiled. Slowly “Oh?” “No,” Yeji said immediately. Ryujin’s smile widened. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.”

Yuna looked between us, eyes bright with the kind of joy only danger could produce “You both look very… rested.” Lia closed her eyes “Yuna.”

“What? I said rested.” Nayeon leaned forward, chin in her hand “Rested is generous.” Sana smiled sweetly “Glowing?” Yeji’s face turned pink “We lost track of time.” John stared at me “You lost track of dinner?”

“Apparently.” “You?” “I was busy.”

The table inhaled as one organism. Yeji’s head whipped toward me.

“Ben.” “What? With unpacking.”

Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone “Breaking news: local couple claims unpacking after arriving twenty-three minutes late to dinner.” “I did not claim couple,” Yeji said. Mina looked at her plate “You did not deny unpacking.” Yeji turned toward Mina, betrayed “Mina.” “It is a factual gap.” Ryujin pointed at the two empty seats “Sit down before this gets worse.” “That sounds merciful,” I said. Ryujin smiled “It is not.”

We sat. Unfortunately, sitting did not help. Because the silence kept smiling at us. Chaeryeong, who had clearly been trying very hard not to participate, looked at Yeji with gentle concern “Unnie, are you okay?” Yeji froze. The table froze with her. I looked at my water. Cowardly, but necessary. Yeji cleared her throat “Yes.”

Ryujin’s eyes sharpened “Physically?” “Ryujin,” Lia warned. Yuna leaned forward “Private resort does not mean subtle resort.”

Yeji closed her eyes. I stopped breathing. Jihyo slowly lowered her utensils “What does that mean?” Lia looked at Yuna “Do not.” Yuna looked at her “They were not quiet.”

The table detonated.

Yeji covered her face. I stared into the middle distance and accepted death. Nayeon slammed both hands on the table “I knew it.” Sana gasped like she had just witnessed romance itself walk into the room. Dahyun’s imaginary microphone returned instantly “Breaking news: honeymoon logistics confirmed by acoustic evidence.”

“It was not honeymoon logistics,” Yeji said through her hands. Ryujin leaned toward her “Unnie.” “No.” “You screamed.” “Ryujin!”

Momo blinked. Then looked at John “Is that what we heard?” John choked on his drink. Jihyo closed her eyes “Do not answer that.” Nayeon turned to John anyway “Manager-nim.”

“No.” “You never did that when we arrived somewhere.” “I am begging you not to compare arrival protocols.” Sana tilted her head “Why not?” “Because that phrase already sounds illegal.” Jeongyeon crossed her arms “Ben arrives at a resort and immediately treats his wife properly.” Yeji’s face went fully red “I am not his wife.” Tzuyu looked at her calmly “But the room heard otherwise.”

The table exploded again. I covered my mouth. Not because I was embarrassed— because if I laughed, Yeji would kill me. Lia, somehow, tried to restore dignity “Maybe we should let them eat.”

“Thank you,” Yeji said weakly. Lia nodded, then added, “They probably need energy.”

Yeji stared at her. Lia took a sip of water, expression perfectly calm “Traitor,” Yeji whispered. Ryujin looked delighted “Vacation Lia is dangerous.” Yuna nodded “She has timing.” Nayeon pointed at John “See? Even Lia understands the standard.” John looked betrayed by the entire world “I drove for hours. I handled logistics. I survived Ben. I deserve peace.” Jihyo looked at him “You also streamed his tattoo video to everyone.” John paused and then nodded “I deserved that part.”

Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone again “TWICE files formal complaint: lack of honeymoon-grade welcome treatment.” John pointed at her “No filing.” Sana smiled “Just verbal complaint.” Momo raised her hand slightly “Can dinner still continue during the complaint?” Chaeryeong immediately nodded “Yes.”

“Good,” Momo said, and returned to eating. Mina looked toward me “Was the room satisfactory?” Yeji made a strangled sound. John put his head in his hands. I stared at Mina “The room was excellent.” Mina nodded “Good.” Nayeon grinned “Apparently.” Yeji grabbed her glass of water and drank like it was the only thing keeping her alive. I leaned closer to her, lowering my voice “You okay?”

She did not look at me “No.” “Do you want me to stop them?” “You cannot stop them.” “That is true.”

Her eyes flicked toward me. Then down to my shirt. Still buttoned. Still hiding everything. Her voice dropped “If you show even one letter at this table, I will push you into the ocean.” I smiled faintly “Yes, my dear wife.”

She kicked my ankle under the table. Hard. I deserved it. Unfortunately, Nayeon saw “She kicked him.” Sana gasped “Domestic.”

Dahyun lifted the microphone “Breaking news: wife disciplines husband at dinner after honeymoon scandal.” Yeji pointed at Dahyun “No more breaking news.” Dahyun lowered her hand “For now.” Jihyo finally clapped once “Enough. Let them eat.” The authority in her voice worked… Mostly.

People returned to their plates, but the table stayed lighter now. The kind of laughter that did not need to be loud to keep circling back. Yuna kept smiling into her food. Ryujin kept glancing at Yeji like she had discovered a new favorite weakness. Lia looked too pleased with herself for someone who had pretended to be the voice of reason all morning. TWICE, meanwhile, continued punishing John in smaller ways.

Nayeon asked if he needed “arrival training.” Sana suggested a retreat workshop. Dahyun offered to document improvement. Jeongyeon said he could start with eye contact and work his way up. Momo said dinner first. Tzuyu quietly added that expectations had now been established.

John looked at me across the table “I hate you.” I lifted my glass “You should have taken notes.” The TWICE side erupted. John pointed at me “You are the problem.”

Yeji, still pink, still embarrassed, still glowing in a way everyone could see, reached under the table and found my hand. No one saw that part. Or if they did, they were kind enough not to say anything. For once.

Yeji’s fingers threaded through mine. I looked at her and she did not look back. But her thumb brushed once over my knuckles. A private answer in the middle of a public execution. The first dinner of the retreat continued around us. Too full of people who knew too much and somehow, for the first time since we arrived, it felt exactly like what we had come here for.

It wasn’t peace, not yet. But release. A place where embarrassment could become laughter. Where privacy did not mean silence. Where Yeji could be late to dinner, red-faced and furious, and still have her hand in mine beneath the table.

Across from us, Ryujin leaned toward Yuna and whispered something. Yuna’s eyes widened. Lia immediately said, “No.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Ryujin replied. “You were about to.”

Chaeryeong smiled into her plate. Momo reached for another serving. Nayeon started bothering John again. Jihyo pretended not to enjoy it. Mina quietly checked the dessert options. And Yeji, my not-wife girlfriend, the leader with wife privileges, squeezed my hand once more. I smiled into my glass. Dinner was late and the vacation, apparently, had started properly.

Dinner lasted longer than it should have. Not because anyone was still hungry. Momo was, obviously, but that was a separate condition.

 Dinner lasted because nobody wanted to be the first one to admit they were tired. The first night of the retreat had settled over us slowly, warm and salt-heavy, with the ocean breathing somewhere beyond the lights of the dining pavilion. The staff had cleared most of the plates. Dessert had appeared without anyone asking. Mina had approved the plating with one quiet nod, which somehow made the chef look more relieved than when Jihyo thanked him.

Eventually, the table broke apart into smaller pieces. Not groups exactly. More like currents.

Momo and Chaeryeong drifted toward the kitchen with a seriousness that suggested diplomatic negotiations over breakfast. Yuna cornered Dahyun and Sana with her activity notebook, which immediately made Lia stand up with a sigh and follow them like a woman trying to prevent a recreational felony. Ryujin and Nayeon had started whispering again, and John noticed too late. “No,” he said from across the table.

Ryujin looked offended “We have said nothing.” “That is usually when the damage starts.” Nayeon smiled “Manager-nim, you wound me.” “I am trying to prevent being wounded.”

Jihyo stood, folder tucked beneath one arm, and looked toward Yeji “Can I borrow you for a minute?” Yeji looked up from beside me “For logistics?”

“For logistics,” Jihyo said. Sana appeared behind Jihyo, smiling too brightly “And wife privileges.” Yeji’s face went red immediately “No.” Nayeon lifted one hand “Emotional logistics.” Dahyun raised her imaginary microphone “Breaking news: senior leaders convene to discuss honeymoon noise policy.” Jihyo pointed at her without looking “No.” Dahyun lowered her hand “For now.”

Yeji turned toward me, still pink, still trying very hard to look like this was a normal dinner and not a public trial “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll survive.”

Ryujin snorted “Barely.” Yeji gave her a look, then leaned closer to me just enough for only me to hear “Behave.” I smiled “You first.” Her eyes narrowed. The wife voice almost came out. Then she seemed to remember where we were and only shook her head, but her fingers brushed mine under the table before she let go.

It was small, private, more importantly— enough.

Then TWICE took her. Not aggressively. Worse, playfully. Nayeon hooked an arm through hers. Sana took the other side. Jihyo walked ahead like this was an actual strategy meeting and not Yeji being escorted to a tribunal. Mina followed behind them, calm as ever, and said something about the morning schedule. Yeji glanced back once. Not worried. Not possessive. Just checking. I gave her a small nod. She rolled her eyes like I had done something annoying. Then smiled before turning away. That smile stayed with me after she disappeared down the garden path with them.

For a while, I remained at the table. John sat across from me, watching TWICE drag Yeji away “That,” he said, “is how it starts.”

“What?”

“First they ask for logistics. Then they ask for feelings. Then somehow you are apologizing for things you did in a hypothetical future.” I looked at him “You speak from experience?” He stared into his drink “I speak from survival.”

Across the pavilion, Ryujin laughed too loudly at something Nayeon said from a distance despite not even being part of that conversation anymore. Yuna was arguing that “optional midnight bonding” was different from “mandatory midnight bonding.” Lia had taken the notebook and was holding it above her head while Yuna tried to reach for it.

Chaeryeong returned from the kitchen with Momo beside her, both looking strangely satisfied. The first night was loosening. The kind of loosening that came from realizing nobody had tried to take a picture of them for hours.

Nobody had shouted their names from beyond a barricade. Nobody had watched them eat through a screen. I stood before the feeling could get too large. John noticed “Where are you going?”

“For air.” He narrowed his eyes “No cigarettes.” I looked at him “Yeji said the same thing.” “Good. I like being alive.” “I’m not smoking.” “Good.” “If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” “Bad.”

I left before he could continue. The path beyond the pavilion curved toward the beach. Lights were hidden low among the stones, soft enough not to ruin the night sky. The resort was quiet in a way the Top Floor never could be. The Top Floor had silence, sometimes. But it was city silence. Elevator silence. Glass-wall silence. Money pretending to be peace.

This was different. This was ocean and darkness and distance. I stopped near the edge of the sand, where the stone path gave way beneath my shoes. The wind moved warm against my face. For the first time that day, I did not immediately think about logistics.

Then a voice behind me said, “You really didn’t smoke.”

I turned. Lia stood a few steps away, holding two cups. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her expression quiet in the way it became when she had decided to say something before she was ready. I smiled faintly.

“Were you checking?” “Yes.” “At least you’re honest.” “I brought tea as a cover story.” “That is more suspicious than just checking.”

She looked down at the cups. Then back at me “It’s good tea.” I accepted one “Thank you.” She moved beside me, leaving enough space that it did not feel accidental, but close enough that it did not feel distant either. For a while, we watched the water.

The sound of the others drifted faintly from the pavilion behind us. Laughter. A muffled shout from Yuna. Jihyo’s voice cutting through something with leader precision. Yeji laughing after that, small and embarrassed and happy.

Lia heard it too. Her eyes softened “She sounds different here.”

“Yeji?”

Lia nodded “Lighter.” I looked toward the lights “She deserves to be.” “She does.”

The words were simple. But the way Lia said them was not. I looked at her. She was still watching the water, both hands wrapped around her cup. “And you?” I asked.

Her mouth curved faintly “I knew you would ask that.” “Should I not?” “No.” She took a breath “You should.”

The wind moved between us. Lia looked down into her tea like it might offer instructions.

“I thought coming here would make things quieter,” she said. “Has it?” “A little.” Then she smiled, but it was tired “Also no.”

I waited. That was something I had learned with Lia. If you filled the silence too quickly, she would let you. She would nod, soften, make room for everyone else’s words. But if you waited, sometimes she gave you something real.

She did this time “I have feelings for you,” she said quietly.

I did not move. Not because I was surprised. Because I knew this sentence had cost her more than she wanted anyone to see. Lia’s fingers tightened around the cup “I know that’s not new. Not exactly. I think I’ve known for a while. I think everyone else probably knew before I wanted them to.”

A small laugh escaped her. Embarrassed and soft “But knowing and doing something about it are not the same.”

“No,” I said. “They’re not.” Her eyes lifted to mine. That was the dangerous part. Not the confession. The looking. Lia could hide in careful words if she wanted to. But her eyes had always been worse at lying “I don’t want to be left behind,” she whispered. My chest tightened “Lia.”

“I know no one is doing that to me.” she shook her head gently, stopping me before I could reassure her too fast.

“I know. That’s not what I mean.”

She looked back toward the pavilion. Toward the people laughing under warm lights. Toward the life that had somehow become too complicated to name simply “I just mean… everyone is moving. In their own way. Yeji knows where she stands. Ryujin acts like fear is something she can flirt with until it gives up. Yuna is scared and still jumps anyway.”

Her voice softened “And Chaeryeong…” She paused. I watched her. Lia did not finish that thought. Instead, she looked at me again “I’m not like them.”

“You don’t have to be.” “I know.”

But again, her voice trembled enough to reveal the problem. Knowing was not believing. Not fully. Lia set her tea down on the low stone wall beside us. Then she stepped closer. Not much. Enough that I noticed. Enough that she noticed me noticing. Her breath caught, and for one second, I thought she might step back. She did not.

“Can I try something?” she asked. My voice came out lower than I expected. “Yes.”

She searched my face “You don’t know what it is.” “I trust you.”

That almost broke her.

I saw it in the way her eyes softened too quickly, in the way her lips parted around a breath she did not release. Then Lia reached for me. Her hand touched my arm first.

Careful. Testing. Then slid down to my wrist, like she needed something smaller than my face to hold onto before she could be brave enough for the rest. I stayed still. Lia stepped closer again. Then she kissed me.

It was not like Yeji. Not collision. Not fire finally finding air. Lia’s kiss was quiet. Deliberate. A question asked with trembling courage. Her lips touched mine softly, then pressed a little firmer when I did not pull away. Her fingers tightened around my wrist. For one second, she seemed to freeze inside the decision she had made.

Then I kissed her back. Carefully. Slow enough that she could stop me. Soft enough that she could stay. Lia made a tiny sound against my mouth. Not surprise, it was relief.

That sound nearly undid me more than anything else could have. Her other hand lifted, hovering near my chest. For a moment, she almost touched me there. Almost pulled herself closer. Almost crossed from kiss into something larger.

Then she stopped.

Her fingers curled in the air before they reached me. Not away. Just short of more. I felt the hesitation like a held breath between us. So I kept still. Careful “Lia.” Her eyes opened. Soft. Startled. Like she already knew what I had seen.

“You don’t have to force yourself.” Her hand lowered slightly “I know.”

But her voice said she was trying to. Not because she did not want this. Because she did. Because wanting it made her feel like she had to keep proving she was ready for all of it at once. I covered the hand holding my wrist with mine. Not to keep her there. Only to let her feel that she could let go without losing anything.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Lia looked at me for a long moment. The ocean moved behind her. The pavilion laughter carried faintly through the trees. Then she exhaled, almost laughing. Almost breaking.

“That’s the problem.” I smiled faintly “Is it?”

Her eyes dropped to my mouth again. Then back to mine.

“No,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

But she did not move further. And I did not ask her to. For tonight, this was enough. Her choice. Her kiss. Her stopping point. And the first time she did not run from wanting more. Lia leaned forward after a moment and rested her forehead lightly against my shoulder. It was so gentle that it almost hurt “Is this okay?” she asked.

I looked down at her “With me?” “With Yeji.”

The question was quiet. Important. I turned my head toward the pavilion lights. Yeji was still somewhere beyond them, probably being emotionally tortured by Nayeon and Sana while Jihyo pretended not to enjoy it.

I smiled softly “She knows you matter to me.” “That’s not an answer.” “It is.”

Lia lifted her head. I met her eyes “And if you need to hear the other part, I will talk to her. Properly. Not because this was wrong. Because you deserve not to carry uncertainty by yourself.”

Lia’s face changed. Not fully relieved. But steadier.

“Okay.” “Okay?”

She nodded. Then, after a second, she leaned in and kissed me again. Shorter this time. Still soft. But less afraid.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were pink “That’s enough for tonight.”

I smiled “Okay.” “Don’t sound proud of me.” “I’m not.” “You are.” “I am a little.” She groaned and looked away “That is embarrassing.” “It is also true.”

Lia picked up her tea again, but her hand was steadier now. We stood there for another minute, shoulder to shoulder, watching the water. Just letting the first step be exactly what it was.

From the pavilion, Yuna’s voice suddenly rose “Lia?” Lia closed her eyes “I am going to throw that notebook into the ocean.” I laughed “She found you.”

“She always finds me when she needs supervision.” “Do you want to go back?”

Lia looked at the water. Then at me. Then she smiled, small and tired and real “In a minute.” So we took one more minute. The retreat continued behind us. But out here, beneath the night air, Lia had crossed the smallest line in the quietest way. And somehow, that made it feel larger than if she had run.

By the time I returned to the villa, the resort had gone quiet in pieces. Not asleep. Not fully. Somewhere beyond the garden path, I could still hear faint laughter from the pavilion. Yuna’s voice rose once, immediately followed by Lia saying something that sounded like a warning. Ryujin laughed after that. Then the ocean swallowed the rest.

Our room was dim when I stepped inside.

Only the balcony light was on.

Yeji sat outside with one knee drawn up beneath her, wearing one of my shirts like she had every right to steal from my suitcase. Her hair was loose now, brushed soft over one shoulder. The night wind moved through it gently.

She did not turn around immediately. That was how I knew she knew. Not everything. But enough. I closed the door behind me. Yeji looked over her shoulder.

“Hi.”

Her voice was soft. Not suspicious. Not angry. Just awake.

“Hi.” I said back.

I walked toward the balcony, slower than I needed to. Yeji watched me the whole way.

“You were gone for a while.” “I know.”

She turned back toward the ocean. I sat beside her, leaving a careful space between us at first. Yeji noticed. Of course she did. After everything that had happened today, she still noticed the smallest distance.

“Ben.”

I looked at her. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were too clear for me to pretend badly.

“What happened?”

I exhaled.

“Lia kissed me.”

Yeji did not move. The ocean filled the silence for a few seconds. Then she nodded once. Small. Controlled.

“Okay.”

I waited. Because okay did not mean finished. It meant she was making room for the rest.

“She found me by the beach,” I said. “I went out for air after dinner. No cigarette.”

Yeji glanced at me.

“Good.” “I thought you would ask.” “I was going to.”

That almost made me smile. Almost.

“She said she has feelings for me.”

Yeji’s face softened by a degree.

“She said it?” “Yes.” “That must have been hard for her.” “It was.”

Yeji looked down at her hands.

“Did she force herself?”

That question hit me harder than jealousy would have. Because of course that was the first thing Yeji asked. Not whether Lia touched me. Not whether I kissed her back. Not whether she should be upset. Whether Lia had pushed herself past what she could handle.

“No,” I said quietly. “But she almost tried to.”

Yeji’s eyes lifted to mine.

“She kissed me first,” I continued. “I kissed her back. Carefully. She reached for more, then stopped herself.”

Yeji listened without interrupting.

“I told her she didn’t have to force herself.”

Her shoulders loosened. Just slightly.

“That was the right thing to say.” “I hoped it was.” “It was.”

The certainty in her voice settled something in me. I leaned back against the balcony chair and stared out at the dark water.

“She asked if it was okay with you.”

Yeji looked at me. I turned back to her.

“I told her I would talk to you properly. Not because it was wrong, but because she deserves not to carry uncertainty by herself.”

For a while, Yeji said nothing. Then she reached across the small space between us and took my hand. Her fingers slid between mine, warm and steady.

“Thank you for telling me.”

I looked down at our hands.

“I always will.” “I know.”

Her thumb moved once over my knuckles.

“But I still appreciate it.”

That somehow hurt more than being scolded. Yeji looked at the ocean again.

“I’m not angry.” “I know.” “Do you?”

I looked at her. She smiled faintly, but it was tired.

“I wanted to know,” I admitted. “Not because I thought you would be cruel. I know you wouldn’t. But because this is… a lot.” “It is.” “And it keeps getting bigger.” “Yes.” “And somehow I keep standing in the middle of all of you, trying not to ruin something I don’t even fully understand yet.”

Yeji’s grip tightened.

“You’re not standing in the middle alone.”

I looked at her. She looked back. In that way that still felt too undeserved to name carelessly.

“You came back and told me,” she said. “That matters.” “I will always come back and tell you.” “I need that.” “I know.”

“No.” Her voice dropped softer. “I need you to know I need that. Not because I don’t trust you. Not because I think Lia did anything wrong. But because silence makes stories when people are scared.”

That line stayed in the air between us.

“Then no silence.” “No silence,” she repeated.

I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. Yeji watched me do it, expression softening despite herself.

“She has been standing at the edge for a while,” she said. “Lia?”

Yeji nodded.

“I think she knows what she feels. She just doesn’t know how to move without feeling like one step means she has to take all of them.” “That’s what it felt like.” “Then don’t pull her over.” “I won’t.” “Let her step.” “I will.”

Yeji turned her face toward the water again.

“She deserves that.” “She does.” “And if she stops, let her stop.” “I did.” “I know.”

Her voice gentled “That is why I’m not angry.”

I looked at her for a long moment. Then something in me broke open quietly. The kind of feeling that arrived without asking and sat directly in the center of my chest.

“You know,” I said, “every time I think I understand how much I love you, you make it worse.”

Yeji blinked. Her cheeks colored “Ben.”

“I mean it.”

She looked down, but I did not let myself stop. Not this time.

“I don’t know how to explain this without sounding insane.” “That has never stopped you before.” I smiled faintly “Fair.”

Her thumb brushed my hand again. So I tried. “Everything around us is complicated. Everyone matters. I care about them. I don’t want to lie about that. I don’t want to diminish it because that would be unfair to them, and it would be unfair to you too.” Yeji stayed quiet. Listening. “But my heart keeps finding you first.” Her breath caught. I looked at her properly. “No matter how loud the room gets. No matter who needs me. No matter what happens with anyone else. I come back to you in my head before I even know I’m doing it.”

Yeji’s eyes softened. “You’re the place I return to,” I said. “Not because you demand it. Not because you hold it over anyone. Because you keep choosing me even when you could make this harder. You keep choosing honesty over jealousy. You keep choosing kindness toward them when it would be easier to make everything smaller so it hurts less.”

Her eyes shone now. She looked away quickly, but I saw it. I always saw her. “That does not make me perfect,” she whispered. “I don’t need perfect. I need you.”

She turned back to me. The words had landed. I could see it in the way her face changed, embarrassment and tenderness fighting for space. “I love them in the ways this life has made possible,” I said quietly. “But I love you like home.”

Yeji’s mouth trembled slightly “Do not say things like that if you don’t want me to cry.”

“I can stop.” “No.” I smiled “No?” She shook her head once “No.” So I leaned closer “I love you, Yeji.”

Her eyes closed for a second. Like she needed to hold the words somewhere safe before answering. Then she opened them and looked at me “I love you too.”

Simple. Barely above a whisper. Enough to undo me. I cupped her cheek. She leaned into my hand without hesitation. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then she said, very softly:

“I’m still your girlfriend.” “I know.” “Not your wife.” “I know.”

Her eyes narrowed faintly “But…” I waited. Her cheeks turned pink again “But if you keep being honest with me like this, I might keep letting you get away with calling me that.” I smiled slowly “That sounds like a policy.”

“It is not a policy.” “Wife privileges?” She groaned “Do not ruin the emotional moment.” “I would never.” “You are actively doing it.” “I love you.”

She tried to glare. Failed immediately. Then she leaned forward and kissed me. Loving in a way that made the rest of the night quiet around us.

I kissed her back with both hands careful at her waist, not pulling too hard, not asking for more. Just holding her there. Letting the kiss be what it needed to be after everything else the day had carried.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against mine.

“I’m glad you came back,” she whispered. “I always will.” Her eyes stayed closed “Good.” “Because my wife would be annoyed if I didn’t?”

Her eyes opened. She stared at me. Then, despite herself, she smiled “Yes,” she said. “Very annoyed.” I laughed quietly. She kissed me again before I could make it worse.

Eventually, we went back inside.

The room was still softly lit, the bed still imperfect from earlier, the ocean still moving beyond the balcony doors. Yeji turned off the light while I pulled the blanket back. She climbed in first, then immediately reached for me like the conversation had left her too tender to pretend she did not need contact.

I joined her.

She settled against my chest, one arm across my waist, her leg tucked between mine. I wrapped myself around her and pressed a kiss into her hair. For a while, she traced lazy circles against my side. Then her hand drifted to my chest. To the place beneath the fabric where her name still rested in temporary ink.

She did not say anything. She only left her hand there. I covered it with mine. Yeji exhaled softly “Tomorrow,” she murmured, half-asleep already, “no chaos.”

I closed my eyes “Of course.”

A pause. Then, from somewhere deep in her fading consciousness

“That sounded fake.” “It was a little fake.”

Her tired laugh warmed my chest.

“Good night, Benjie.” “Good night, Yeji.”

She shifted closer. Still mine. Still herself. Still choosing me. And for the first time since the retreat began, the silence did not feel like something waiting to be broken.

It felt like rest.

[afterhours37]

Jisoo Oneshot: The Umbrella Rule

Word Count: 13,400 Genre: Slow Burn, Romance, Fluffy Smut

Rain always made film sets worse. Not dramatically worse— just inconveniently worse. Cables needed covering. Staff moved twice as fast while pretending not to panic. Makeup artists hovered with tissues. Managers muttered into phones. Someone always slipped at least once and then immediately pretended they meant to do that.

Jisoo watched all of this from beneath the narrow shelter of a production tent, still wearing the coat from her final scene which was too elegant for the weather, too expensive-looking… too thin.

She stared at the rain falling beyond the tent’s edge and decided, very calmly, that whoever scheduled a night shoot during monsoon season deserved at least one mild inconvenience every morning for a week. Not a major curse. She was not unreasonable. Just enough that their socks never fully dried.

“Jisoo-ssi, your van is ready,” one of the assistants called. Jisoo nodded politely “Thank you.” A very professional voice and smile despite the fact that her toes were cold and one strand of hair kept sticking to her lip gloss in a way that felt personally targeted. Her manager was arguing with someone near the parking area, which meant Jisoo had approximately thirty seconds to solve her own umbrella problem.

There was a rack beside the tent entrance. Black umbrellas. All of them identical in the way production umbrellas usually were. She took the nearest one. A practical decision.

The umbrella opened with a soft snap above her head, wider and sturdier than expected. The handle was wooden, smooth beneath her fingers, warm in a way plastic never was. Not a production umbrella then. Jisoo paused, looked at it, then at the rain, and finally back at the umbrella.

“…Borrowing,” she decided quietly.

The rain didn’t object. So she walked. By the time she reached the van, her manager was still on the phone, the assistant director was apologizing to someone who looked too tired to accept apologies, and Jisoo had successfully avoided becoming dramatically soaked. It was a small victory to her.

She slid into the backseat and closed the umbrella carefully before handing it toward the empty space near the door. That was when something white slipped from inside the curve of the handle. A folded note. Jisoo stared at it. The van door closed beside her. Rain softened against the roof. Her manager climbed into the front seat, still talking quickly into his phone.

Jisoo unfolded the paper, there were only two lines written in neat, dark ink.

“If you return this, you owe one honest answer.”

Below it was a small address. Nothing else. No name. No phone number. No explanation. Jisoo blinked once, then again “…Annoying,” she murmured. Her manager glanced back “What?”

“Nothing.” She folded the note again and looked at the umbrella resting beside her. It looked perfectly normal. Black canopy. Wooden handle. Slight scratch near the metal tip. A faint smell of rainwater and cedar. It did not look cursed… probably.

Still, Jisoo narrowed her eyes at it. The umbrella said nothing. That was suspicious. Her phone buzzed in her lap. Jennie had sent a message to the group chat.

Jennie: Did you survive filming? Lisa: If she did, ask her to bring snacks. Rosé: Why are snacks always your first emergency response? Lisa: Because I’m emotionally consistent.

Jisoo typed with one thumb.

Jisoo: I stole an umbrella. Lisa: Finally. Crime era. Rosé: Please return it. Jennie: Was it expensive?

Jisoo looked at the umbrella again. Then at the note.

Jisoo: It has rules. Lisa: Never mind. Haunted umbrella era.

Jisoo put her phone face down.

Outside the window, Seoul blurred through rain and neon. Headlights stretched across wet streets. People hurried under convenience store awnings. The city looked softer in bad weather, like someone had smudged its edges with a thumb. She should have ignored the note. That would have been the normal thing to do. It was an umbrella. People lost umbrellas constantly. The entire country was basically built on accidental umbrella exchange.

And yet— Jisoo picked up the note again “If you return this, you owe one honest answer”. She frowned faintly. Not because the line was charming. It was not. It was irritatingly confident. The kind of sentence written by someone who thought they were more interesting than they probably were.

Naturally, that made her curious, which was also irritating. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes “I’m returning it tomorrow,” she decided. Her manager glanced back again “The umbrella?”

“Yes.” “Okay.”

A pause. Then he asked carefully, “Is there a reason?” Jisoo opened one eye “It has bad manners”. Her manager stared at her for one second too long before deciding, wisely, not to ask anything else.

—

The address led to a narrow side street two blocks away from the filming location. Jisoo found it the next afternoon between a closed tailor shop and a tiny café that smelled aggressively of burnt espresso. The sign above the door read:

NOON RAIN REPAIRS

Underneath, in smaller letters:

Umbrellas. Bags. Small Things Worth Keeping.

Jisoo stood outside for a moment, holding the umbrella like evidence “…Of course,” she said. Because apparently she had not stolen a normal umbrella. She had stolen one from someone poetic. Absolutely terrible luck, she told herself.

A small bell rang when she pushed the door open. The shop was warmer than expected. Umbrellas hung from the ceiling in neat rows: black, navy, yellow, clear plastic, one ridiculous green one with ducks along the edge. Shelves held jars of screws, spools of thread, replacement ribs, folded fabric, and small tools Jisoo couldn’t name. Rain tapped lightly against the front window. Behind the counter, a man looked up from repairing the handle of a red umbrella. He had dark hair slightly too long near his eyes, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and the calm expression of someone who had chosen a quiet profession on purpose.

His gaze moved from her face to the umbrella in her hand. Then back to her face. He didn’t gasp. Didn’t reach for his phone. Didn’t say her name like it belonged to the world before it belonged to her. He only said “You found it.” Jisoo lifted the umbrella slightly “You lost it.”

“I lent it to someone.” “You lent it badly.”

The corner of his mouth moved. Not quite a smile. Almost though.

“That depends. It came back.” “I brought it back.” “Then the system worked.”

Jisoo stared at him. He looked entirely too pleased with himself for someone whose business model apparently relied on strangers having moral responsibility. She placed the umbrella on the counter “There. Returned.”

He wiped his hands on a cloth before picking it up carefully, checking the wooden handle first like he was greeting an old friend. Jisoo noticed that. Unfortunately. People who cared about objects in specific ways were harder to dismiss “You read the note?” he asked.

“No.”

His eyes flicked toward her. Jisoo held his gaze calmly. The silence lasted three seconds. Then he said, “That was your first lie.”

“That wasn’t your question.” This time, he did smile. Annoyingly amused “You’re right.”

“I usually am.” “I can tell.” Jisoo narrowed her eyes. “That sounded sarcastic.” “It was an observational conclusion.” “That sounds worse.”

He leaned one elbow lightly against the counter. “I’m Kang Doha.” Jisoo did not immediately answer. Not because she was being rude. Because there was always a small moment, whenever introductions happened, where people stopped speaking to her and started speaking to the idea of her instead.

Doha seemed to notice the pause. He didn’t fill it, that was interesting. Eventually, Jisoo said, “Jisoo.”

“I know.” There it was. She waited. For the shift, the awkwardness. For the widened eyes or delayed excitement or sudden change in posture. But Doha only reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small tag attached to a string “Do you want a receipt?” Jisoo blinked “For returning an umbrella?”

“It feels official.” “It feels unnecessary.” “Most official things are.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. Barely there, but real enough that Doha’s expression changed slightly, like he had noticed something without meaning to. Jisoo immediately became suspicious “So,” she said, folding her arms. “The note.”

“Yes.” “You put rules inside umbrellas?” “Only that one.” “Why?” “It gets borrowed often.” “And the answer rule helps?” “Not usually.” “At least you’re honest.” “I try.” “Is that why you make strangers do it too?”

Doha looked down at the umbrella, thumb brushing once over the worn wooden handle “It started as a joke,” he said. “People return things faster when they feel like there’s a story attached.”

Jisoo hated that this made sense. “That’s manipulative.”

“A little.” “You admit it?” “That was my honest answer.” “It doesn’t count if nobody asked.” “Strict.” “Efficient.”

His mouth curved again. Jisoo looked away first, which annoyed her more than it should have. Outside, the rain grew heavier, soft afternoon drizzle turning into a steady gray sheet across the windows.

Of course it did. She had returned the umbrella. Now the weather was punishing her for being responsible. Doha noticed her glance toward the door “Do you need to leave?”

“Yes.” “With what umbrella?”

Jisoo looked slowly back at him. He looked innocent. Badly. She pointed at the counter “That one.”

“You returned it.” “I can unreturn it.” “That’s legally complex.” “This is an umbrella repair shop.” “We respect procedure here.” “You hide emotional homework in handles.” “And yet you came.”

Jisoo opened her mouth and closed it. A mistake that he noticed. Terrible man. Finally, Doha picked up the umbrella and held it out toward her “Borrow it again.”

Jisoo stared at him. “That is a trap.” “It is an umbrella.” “It has conditions.” “One condition.” “One too many.” “You can walk in the rain then.”

Jisoo looked outside. Rain hammered the pavement with immediate theatrical timing. She looked back at him. Doha’s expression remained calm. Patient. A little smug. She took the umbrella “Fine.”

“The rule still applies.” “I haven’t answered the first question.” “I haven’t asked it yet.”

Jisoo paused with her hand on the door. The bell above it swayed slightly from the movement. Doha leaned against the counter, thoughtful now, like he was choosing carefully. Then he asked “Do you always pretend you’re less curious than you are?”

Jisoo turned her head slowly. The rain blurred the world behind her into gray light. For a second, she considered giving him something easy. Something dismissive. Something clever enough to end the conversation without giving him anything real. But the umbrella was already in her hand. The note had been clear. One honest answer. So Jisoo exhaled softly through her nose.

“Yes.”

Doha’s smile softened. Not triumphant. Just quietly pleased that she had played along.

“That was better than lying.” “I’m leaving now.” “Because you answered?” “Because you look satisfied and I dislike it.” “That’s honest too.” “It’s free. Don’t get used to it.”

This time, Doha laughed. Warm and brief. Unexpectedly nice. Jisoo stepped outside before he could become more annoying. The umbrella opened above her with that same soft snap from the night before. Rain slid down its black canopy while the tiny shop glowed warmly behind her. She should have felt ridiculous. Instead, as she walked back toward the waiting car, Jisoo found herself glancing once at the wooden handle.

The folded note was gone. But somehow the rule remained anyway. Her phone buzzed again.

Lisa: Did you return the haunted umbrella?

Jisoo looked back at the shop window. Doha had returned to repairing the red umbrella, head bent beneath warm light, as if nothing unusual had happened at all. Jisoo typed:

Jisoo: No. Jennie: Why?

Jisoo looked at the umbrella above her. Then, after a moment—

Jisoo: It started raining again. Rosé: That sounds reasonable. Lisa: That sounds fake.

Jisoo slipped the phone into her pocket before anyone could ask more questions. The rain kept falling. The umbrella stayed open. And for reasons she had no intention of examining yet, Jisoo walked a little slower than usual.

The umbrella stayed with Jisoo for four more days. Not because she forgot to return it, that would have been too convenient. She simply kept finding practical reasons not to.

The first day, it rained again. The second day, there was a schedule too far from the shop. The third day, Lisa asked if the haunted umbrella had demanded her soul yet, and Jisoo decided returning it immediately after that would feel like losing.

By the fourth day, she stood outside Noon Rain Repairs with the umbrella in one hand and a convenience store coffee in the other, staring through the front window like the shop had personally inconvenienced her.

Doha was inside, repairing a yellow umbrella with a broken rib. He looked up before she knocked. The bell chimed softly as Jisoo opened the door.

“You kept it longer this time,” he said. “Observation or accusation?” “Both.” She placed the umbrella on the counter “Returned.” Doha looked at the coffee in her other hand “For me?” “No.” “Then why are there two?”

Jisoo paused. Looked down. There were, in fact, two coffees “I was thirsty twice”. Doha nodded slowly “That sounds medically concerning”. She pushed one coffee toward him “Take it before I change my explanation”. He accepted it with the kind of small smile that made her feel like he had won something. He checked the umbrella carefully, then looked back at her “You know what this means.”

“It means your umbrella has returned safely.” “It means you owe one honest answer.” “I was hoping you forgot.” “I repair umbrellas for a living. My memory has to compensate for the excitement.”

That almost made her laugh. Doha leaned lightly against the counter, choosing his question with unnecessary patience. Jisoo hated that part Finally, he asked, “Do you always answer questions like someone is cross-examining you?”

“Yes.” “That was fast.” “It was easy.” “Why?”

Jisoo pointed at him. “That is another question.”

“True.” “I respect rules.” “You stole my umbrella.” “I borrowed it with weather-based justification.”

Doha laughed into his coffee and Jisoo looked away first.

—

The umbrella returned three more times after that. Once because it rained outside a recording studio. Once because Doha claimed he needed to replace the handle grip and then somehow forgot to take it back. Once on a day it didn’t rain at all.

Jisoo noticed that last part. So did he. Neither of them mentioned it. The questions changed slowly. At first, they were harmless.

“Do you actually like rainy days?” “No. I like being inside while other people suffer through them.” “Do you always walk this slowly?” “I’m preserving energy.” “For what?” “Surviving conversations like this.”

But then Doha became worse. More precise. More dangerous. One evening, after Jisoo returned the umbrella just before closing, he asked:

“Do people usually misunderstand you?”

Jisoo’s hand paused on the counter. The shop smelled like rainwater, metal, and old fabric. Outside, the streetlights had turned the pavement gold. She should have made a joke. She almost did. Instead, she looked at the umbrella hanging between them.

“Sometimes,” she said. Doha didn’t smile this time. He only nodded once. Like he knew the difference between an answer and something that had cost her a little. That was the problem with Kang Doha. He did not push. Pushing would have made him easier to dislike. Instead, he waited and Jisoo kept answering.

—

By the third week, the umbrella rule had become less of a rule and more of an inconvenience they were both pretending not to enjoy. Jisoo left it at the shop. Doha returned it to her filming location. She brought it back the next day.

He said the strap needed stitching. She said that sounded fake. He said most meaningful things did at first. She stared at him long enough that he quietly returned to work.

The BLACKPINK group chat became suspicious before Jisoo admitted anything.

Lisa: Is this still the haunted umbrella? Jisoo: It is repaired now. Lisa: That does not answer the question. Jennie: It answered enough. Rosé: Is this a romance thing? Jisoo: No. Lisa: That was the fastest lie I’ve seen all week.

Jisoo put her phone face down. Doha glanced up from the counter.

“Trouble?” “My members are dramatic.” “Are they wrong?” “Yes.”

He waited. Jisoo narrowed her eyes.

“Do not look at me like you’re preparing a question.” “I wasn’t.” “You were.” “I was thinking one.” “Worse.”

Doha set down the small screwdriver in his hand.

“All right.” “No.” “I haven’t asked it yet.” “I can feel it.” “That sounds serious.” “It is. I’m suffering.”

He smiled faintly. Then asked, quieter than usual: “Do you like being alone, or are you just good at it?”

Jisoo went still, not visibly. She was too practiced for that. But something inside her paused.

The rain outside had softened to a drizzle, tapping lightly against the shop windows. Umbrellas hung overhead in neat shadows, swaying faintly whenever the door let in a draft. Doha did not take the question back. He also did not look pleased with himself. That helped a little.

Jisoo looked down at the umbrella between them. The wooden handle had been polished recently. She noticed because her thumb no longer caught against the old scratch near the curve.

“You fixed this,” she said. “I did.” “You didn’t tell me.” “You noticed.”

That was annoying too. She inhaled quietly. Then answered.

“I think being alone is easier to explain.”

Doha watched her for a moment “Than what?” Jisoo’s eyes lifted to his “Than wanting someone to stay.”

The shop went quiet. Not awkward. Just suddenly honest in a way neither of them had fully prepared for. Doha’s expression changed slowly. Not dramatically, just enough. Jisoo immediately regretted being sincere. So naturally, she reached for the umbrella.

“I’m leaving.” “It stopped raining.” Doha pointed out the obvious. “I enjoy unnecessary accessories.” “That sounds fake.” “It is. But you only get one honest answer.”

This time, when Doha laughed, Jisoo allowed herself to smile before turning away. It was small and brief. But it was real.

—

The storm came a week later. Not rain. A storm. The kind that made Seoul look briefly unreasonable. Jisoo had just finished a late shoot when the sky broke open hard enough to make even the staff curse under their breath.

The van was delayed. Her manager was trapped somewhere near the other entrance. And the umbrella—Doha’s umbrella, because apparently everyone had accepted that now—was the only thing between Jisoo and complete disaster.

She opened it with a familiar snap. Then a gust of wind hit sideways. The umbrella inverted immediately. Jisoo stared at it. The umbrella stared back, inside out and deeply embarrassing “…Traitor.”

Another gust pushed rain beneath the canopy, soaking her coat sleeve in seconds.

By the time she reached Noon Rain Repairs, she was damp, irritated, and holding the broken umbrella like a wounded animal she blamed personally. Doha opened the door before she knocked. His expression shifted instantly. Not amused. Concerned. Which was worse.

“Come in.” “I killed it.” “So I see.” “It died dishonorably.” “It’s an umbrella.” “It had responsibilities.”

He stepped aside, and Jisoo entered the warmth of the shop with rainwater dripping from the hem of her coat. Doha locked the door behind her and flipped the sign to CLOSED. That small action should not have felt like anything. It did anyway. The shop was dimmer after hours.

Only the lamps above the repair counter remained on, casting warm circles of light across fabric, tools, thread, and half-finished repairs. Rain hammered the windows hard enough to blur the street outside completely.

Doha took the umbrella from her carefully. One rib bent sharply outward. The canopy twisted near the top. He examined it in silence. Jisoo crossed her arms. “Be honest.”

“It looks bad.” “How bad?” “Emotionally or structurally?” “Both.” “Structurally fixable. Emotionally dramatic.” Doha continued to inspect the umbrella. “That sounds like me.”

Doha glanced up. Jisoo realized what she had said a second too late. A slow smile threatened the corner of his mouth. “Do not,” she warned.

“I didn’t say anything.” “You thought something.” “I respect your privacy.” “You do not. You ask questions for sport.” “For structure.” “For sport.”

Doha set the broken umbrella on the counter and reached for a towel from beneath it. Instead of handing it to her immediately, he paused. Then gently draped it over her shoulders. Jisoo froze for half a breath. The gesture was practical. That was the annoying part. Not romantic enough to accuse. Not casual enough to ignore. “You’re dripping on the floor,” he said.

“I see.” “I was protecting the wood.” “Of course.” “Historic floor.” “This building is not historic.” “It is emotionally historic.”

Jisoo looked at him. He looked back, entirely serious. She laughed first. A small, helpless sound she did not manage to stop in time. Doha smiled then. Properly. And the shop suddenly felt much smaller. Jisoo tightened the towel around herself and looked away.

“You owe me a question,” Doha said. “I returned your umbrella broken.” “It still returned.” “That feels generous.” “I’m in a generous mood.” “You’re enjoying this too much.” “A little.”

Rain filled the silence between them. Doha leaned against the repair counter, arms folded loosely, the broken umbrella lying between them like the remains of an excuse.

Then he asked: “Do you want to leave?”

Jisoo looked toward the door. Rain battered the glass. Her car was still not here. Her manager had not called. She had a hundred practical reasons to stay. All of them were true. None of them were the answer.

She looked back at Doha. His expression was calm, but not unaffected. That mattered. Because for once, he looked like he was waiting for an answer he actually needed. Jisoo could have made a joke.

She could have said the weather was bad. She could have blamed the broken umbrella, the delayed van, the flooded street, the fact that leaving now would be inefficient. Instead, she let the towel slip slightly from one shoulder and answered honestly.

“No.”

Doha’s gaze softened. The rain kept falling. The rule had no umbrella left to hide behind now. Jisoo stepped closer first. Doha did not move immediately. Still giving her room. Still letting her choose. That made the warmth in her chest turn sharper.

“You are very annoying,” she said quietly. His mouth curved faintly. “That wasn’t a question.” “I know.” “Was it an honest answer?” “Yes.”

Jisoo reached for the front of his shirt and pulled him down before he could say anything else. The kiss landed softer than she expected.

Not a hint of hesitation or uncertainty. Just controlled enough to give either of them the chance to stop. Neither of them did.

Doha’s hand settled at her waist, warm through the damp fabric of her coat, while Jisoo tilted her face slightly higher and kissed him again. Slower this time. Less like an answer. More like the first honest question neither of them needed to say out loud.

The broken umbrella lay forgotten on the counter beside them.

Rain blurred the windows and for once, Jisoo didn’t think about leaving first.

The rain continued its rhythmic assault on the storefront, a relentless drumming that turned the rest of Seoul into a blurred, watercolor smear of neon and grey. Inside Noon Rain Repairs, the world had shrunk to the size of a few square meters of polished wood and warm, amber light.

The kiss was not a tentative beginning. It was an arrival.

Jisoo’s hands were still slightly damp, her fingers curling into the fabric of Doha’s shirt, pulling him closer as if trying to erase the very air between them. He tasted of the coffee he’d been drinking and something uniquely him—clean, like cedarwood and the metallic tang of the tools he spent his days wielding. His hand remained firm at her waist, the heat of his palm seeping through the towel draped over her shoulders, anchoring her.

The broken umbrella lay on the counter just inches away, its ribs twisted and its canopy collapsed. It looked pathetic, a skeletal ruin of the object that had dictated their movements for weeks. The rule was dead. The shield was gone.

Jisoo pulled back just an inch, her breath hitching, her lips swollen and glistening. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. For the first time, she didn't look for an exit. She didn't calculate the social cost of the moment. She just looked.

"You're staring," Doha murmured, his voice a low vibration that she felt in her chest. "I'm observing," she countered, though the usual dry edge in her voice had softened into something breathy. "It's an observational conclusion."

Doha’s lips quirked. "And what is the conclusion?"

Jisoo didn't answer with words. Instead, she shifted her grip, her hands sliding from his shoulders down to the buttons of his shirt. Her movements were deliberate, devoid of the hesitation she usually applied to her life. She began to undo them, one by one, her fingers brushing against the warm skin of his chest.

Doha let out a sharp, shallow exhale, his grip on her waist tightening. He didn't stop her, but as she reached the third button, he tilted his head, his nose brushing against hers.

"Jisoo," he whispered.

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now," she teased, though her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "That would be a very dishonest development." "Not cold feet," he said, his voice thickening. He paused, his eyes flickering to the shop around them—the jars of screws, the hanging umbrellas, the open workbench. "The shop is... still a shop. My apartment is just upstairs."

Jisoo stopped, her fingers resting against his heartbeat. She blinked, her expression returning to that familiar, affected neutrality, though her cheeks were flushed a deep, tell-tale crimson.

"Is that a request for me to move locations?" she asked. "It's a practical suggestion," Doha replied, his gaze steady. "Unless you prefer the workbench."

Jisoo let out a soft, huffing laugh. She stepped back just enough to look him up and down, her eyes shimmering with mischief.

"You're so responsible," she murmured. "It's almost irritating."

She reached out, grabbing his hand and interlacing her fingers with his, her grip tight and commanding.

"Lead the way, Mr. Repairman."

The staircase was narrow, a steep climb of dark wood that creaked beneath their weight. They didn't make it to the top in silence. Doha stopped halfway, pinning her against the wall with the weight of his body, his mouth finding hers again with a sudden, hungry intensity. The kiss was different here—less about discovery and more about demand. Jisoo groaned into his mouth, her legs instinctively winding around his hip, her coat sliding further off her shoulders.

The friction of their clothes, the scent of the rain still clinging to her skin, and the claustrophobic warmth of the stairwell created a pressure cooker of anticipation. Every time they paused, it was only to catch a breath or to exchange a look that said everything they had spent weeks pretending not to feel.

When they finally reached the top, Doha pushed open a door that led into a space that felt like an extension of the man himself. The apartment was small and lived-in, smelling of old paper, tea, and a hint of oil. A low futon sat in the center of the room, surrounded by stacks of books and a box of spare umbrella parts that looked like they had been forgotten in a moment of inspiration. A single lamp cast a soft, golden glow over the room, and the rain hammered against the skylight above, creating a private sanctuary of sound.

Doha stepped inside and closed the door, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet room.

The energy shifted. The frantic heat of the shop and the stairs settled into something deeper, more deliberate. The silence stretched, not as a void, but as a space for them to finally be honest.

Jisoo stood in the center of the room, the towel finally slipping from her shoulders to pool on the floor. She looked around the small apartment, then back at Doha. She felt exposed, not just physically, but emotionally. The control she prized so much felt flimsy, a paper umbrella in a hurricane.

Doha didn't move toward her immediately. He stood by the door, his eyes tracing the line of her silhouette. He was giving her the room to choose, the same way he had given her the room to return the umbrella.

"You can still leave," he said softly. "The storm is bad, but the door is right there."

Jisoo stared at him. A small, genuine smile touched her lips.

"That sounds like a question," she whispered. "It's not a question," Doha replied. "It's an option."

Jisoo took a step toward him, then another, until she was standing within the circle of his warmth. She reached up, her fingers grazing the nape of his neck.

"I've already decided I dislike leaving first," she said.

Doha’s expression softened, the quiet mischief replaced by an intense, raw sincerity. "Are you sure?"

Jisoo paused. She could have made a joke. She could have deflected with a comment about the weather. But she looked into his eyes and felt the weight of the last few weeks—the stolen umbrellas, the honest answers, the slow realization that she didn't want to be alone anymore.

"Yes," she said, her voice plain and steady. "I'm sure."

That was the final seal. Doha reached for her, his arms wrapping around her with a strength that nearly knocked the breath from her. He kissed her with a desperation he had previously kept under lock and key, his tongue sliding against hers in a slow, rhythmic exchange of saliva and heat.

Jisoo responded with equal fervor, her hands working frantically to rid them of the remaining barriers. The damp coat hit the floor, followed by her dress, the fabric sliding away to reveal the pale, elegant curves of her body.

Doha stepped back for a heartbeat, his breath hitching. In the warm light of the lamp, Jisoo looked like a piece of art—all long lines and soft edges. Her skin glowed like porcelain, and as her breasts lifted with her heavy breathing, he saw the delicate, vivid pink of her nipples, peaked and hardening in the cool air of the room.

"You're..." Doha started, his voice cracking. "Observational conclusion?" Jisoo teased, though her voice trembled.

"Beautiful," he answered simply.

He moved back to her, his hands exploring her with a reverence that made Jisoo’s toes curl. He traced the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the dip of her spine, his touch light but intentional. He kissed her way down, his lips grazing her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, and the soft skin of her stomach.

Jisoo arched her back, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Doha..."

He didn't stop. He descended further, his hands sliding down to her thighs, parting them gently. He knelt before her, his gaze lifting to hers for one last silent check. Jisoo nodded, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer.

When his tongue first made contact with her clit, Jisoo’s entire body jolted. He was patient, using the same meticulous care he applied to his repairs. He started with slow, swirling laps, tasting the salt and sweetness of her, before increasing the pressure. His tongue flicked with precision, finding the exact rhythm that made her breath come in short, jagged gasps.

At the same time, his fingers slid inside her, stretching her gently, mimicking the motion of his tongue. The combination was overwhelming. Jisoo felt the tension building in her lower belly, a coil of heat that tightened with every flick of his tongue.

"Doha, please... I can't..." she whimpered, her hips beginning to buck against him.

He didn't let up. He sucked the sensitive bud of her clit into his mouth, creating a vacuum of pleasure that sent sparks exploding behind her eyelids. Jisoo’s fingers tightened in his hair, her voice rising in a series of melodic, broken moans. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth and the sliding of his fingers.

Then, the coil snapped.

Jisoo cried out, her body shuddering in a violent, crashing orgasm. She felt the waves of pleasure radiate from her core to her fingertips, leaving her limp and breathless. Doha didn't pull away immediately; he stayed there, kissing the inside of her thighs, letting her come down from the peak.

As her breathing slowed, Jisoo felt a surge of desire that wasn't just about her own pleasure. She wanted him. She wanted to feel him the way he had made her feel.

She pushed herself up, guiding him back onto the futon. With a level of determination that was quintessentially Jisoo, she began to undress him. When he was finally bare, she marveled at the sight of him—strong, lean, and fully aroused.

She moved down his body, her lips trailing fire across his skin. When she reached him, she looked up at him with a playful, challenging glint in her eyes.

"My turn for an honest answer," she whispered.

She took him into her mouth, her lips sliding over the crown of his cock with a slow, deliberate suction. She used her tongue to swirl around the head, tasting the pre-cum, before sliding deeper. She was not practiced, perhaps, but she was attentive, watching his face to see what he liked.

Doha let out a low, guttural groan, his hips twitching involuntarily. "Jisoo... wait..."

She didn't wait. She increased the intensity, her throat tightening around him, her hand gripping the base of his shaft to add more pressure. She focused on the sensation of him filling her mouth, the heat of him, the way his breath hitched every time her tongue brushed the underside of the head.

"I'm... I'm close," Doha warned, his voice strained.

Instead of slowing down, Jisoo leaned into it. She used her hand to stroke him faster while her mouth created a tight, warm seal. She wanted this. She wanted to feel the moment he broke.

Doha let out a choked sound, his back arching off the futon as he came. He released a massive, hot load into her mouth, the volume surprising her. Jisoo didn't flinch; she swallowed every drop, her throat working in a rhythmic, elegant motion until he was spent.

She pulled back, wiping her lip with the back of her hand, a small, triumphant smile on her face.

"That," she murmured, "was a very honest response."

Doha looked at her, his eyes glazed with pleasure and disbelief. He reached for her, pulling her up onto the futon so she was straddling his lap. The air between them was electric, the tension returning even stronger than before.

He entered her in one smooth, deep thrust.

Jisoo gasped, her head falling back as she felt him fill her completely. It wasn't like the fingers; it was a fullness that felt right, a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.

"You feel... incredible," she moaned, her voice strained. "Doha, keep... keep kissing me."

He complied, his lips meeting hers in a passionate, messy kiss while his hips began to move. The rhythm was slow at first, a steady grinding that emphasized the friction of their bodies. Every thrust was deep and deliberate, sending jolts of electricity through Jisoo’s nerves.

Doha’s hands were never still. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs grazing her pink nipples, while his other hand reached down to stimulate her clit, ensuring that she was riding the wave of pleasure alongside him.

"Is this... okay?" he whispered against her lips. "Don't ask," she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Just... don't stop."

The pace quickened. The sound of their bodies interacting—the wet, squelching shlick of skin against skin—filled the room, competing with the sound of the rain. Jisoo was vocal, her moans turning into short, sharp cries of pleasure. She felt herself climbing again, the tension building in her core.

"I'm close... again," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Doha didn't slow down. He drove into her with a sudden, fierce intensity, his movements becoming more urgent. As Jisoo hit her second orgasm, her internal muscles clamping tight around him, Doha felt his own control slip.

He groaned, his voice a low roar in his throat. Just as he reached the peak, he gripped her hips and pulled back, sliding out of her at the last second. He came across her stomach and thighs, the white heat of his release splattering against her skin.

They both collapsed against each other, hearts racing, skin slick with sweat and lubrication.

But the fire hadn't fully died.

After a few minutes of heavy breathing and soft kisses, Doha shifted, pulling her back on top of him. He entered her again, but this time, the energy was different. It was softer, more intimate, but underscored by a desperate need for connection.

They moved together in a synchronized dance, the friction building slowly. Doha continued to use his hands, massaging her breasts, kissing her neck, whispering things that were almost confessions.

As they approached the second climax, Jisoo felt a shift. She didn't want him to pull away this time. She wanted the fullness, the permanence of the act.

She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, locking him inside her.

"Don't pull out," she whispered, her voice urgent. "I want... I want to feel you inside."

Doha’s eyes widened, his breath hitching. The request was the most honest thing she had said all night. He didn't hesitate. He surged forward, his thrusts becoming deeper, more primal.

He felt her walls contracting, the rhythmic pulses of her third orgasm beginning to take hold. The sensation of her gripping him, the heat of her interior, and the sight of her flushed face drove him over the edge.

Doha let out a long, shuddering groan as he came deep inside her. He felt the hot surge of his seed filling her, a physical manifestation of the bond they had built through a broken umbrella and a series of honest answers.

At the exact moment he released, Jisoo peaked again, her body shaking in unison with his. They clung to each other, the world outside the room disappearing, leaving only the sensation of being one.

—

The afterglow was a slow, warm descent.

Doha didn't leave her immediately. He stayed inside her for a long time, his forehead resting against hers, their breathing gradually syncing. Eventually, he withdrew and pulled her into his arms, wrapping a large, oversized blanket around them both.

They lay in the dim light, the rain finally slowing to a gentle drizzle. The room was quiet, save for the ticking of a clock and the distant sound of a car splashing through a puddle downstairs.

Jisoo rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. She felt a strange sense of peace, a lack of the need to manage or control the narrative.

"You're very quiet," Doha noted, his voice soft. "I'm processing," she replied, though there was no dryness in her tone. "It's a lot of data to analyze."

Doha laughed, a low, warm sound. He kissed the top of her head. "And what is the conclusion?"

Jisoo shifted, looking up at him. "The conclusion is that you're surprisingly efficient at your job." "I repair things," he murmured. "It's what I do." "Is that what this was? A repair?" Doha looked at her, his eyes sincere. "No. I don't think anything was broken. I think it was just... waiting to be opened."

Jisoo didn't respond with a joke. She just closed her eyes and snuggled closer to him.

—

The next morning, the world was bright and scrubbed clean. The sun filtered through the skylight, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

Jisoo woke up wrapped in one of Doha’s shirts, the fabric smelling of him. She felt a lingering warmth in her limbs, a softness in her heart that she found slightly alarming but entirely welcome.

She wandered downstairs to the shop, her bare feet padding on the wooden floor. Doha was already there, standing behind the counter. He had not opened the shop yet. The sign still read ‘CLOSED’.

On the counter sat the broken umbrella, now carefully disassembled, its ribs laid out like a surgical patient. Beside it was a steaming mug of tea.

Jisoo leaned against the counter, watching him work. He looked calm, steady, and entirely too pleased with himself.

"Good morning," he said, not looking up from the rib he was straightening. "Good morning," she replied.

Doha paused and pushed the mug of tea toward her. "I made this. It's a blend of something I found in the back of the cupboard."

Jisoo took a sip. Her face immediately twisted into a grimace. It tasted like boiled grass and old socks. Doha looked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well?"

Jisoo set the mug down with a deliberate click. She looked at the broken umbrella, then at the man who had spent the last few weeks dismantling her defenses.

"Do you regret staying?" he asked, his voice quiet, devoid of the usual game. Jisoo looked at the terrible tea, then at Doha's expectant face. She smiled—a real, uncalculated smile.

"No," she answered honestly. "But your tea is terrible."

Doha laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet shop, and for the first time in her life, Jisoo didn't feel the need to leave the conversation first.

—

The umbrella took nine days to repair. Doha said it was because the bent rib needed replacing. Jisoo suspected he was lying.

She returned to Noon Rain Repairs three times during those nine days. Once because she was nearby after a fitting. Once because Lisa asked whether the haunted umbrella had been exorcised yet and Jisoo felt professionally obligated to investigate. Once because it was raining.

That last reason was technically valid.

Unfortunately, she had brought a different umbrella that day. Doha noticed immediately.

“That one isn’t mine.” Jisoo placed it on the counter. “Observation or jealousy?” “Structural concern.” “It works.” “It looks morally weak.” “It kept me dry.” “Low standards.”

She stared at him. He looked back calmly. The shop felt different after that morning. Not awkward— that would have been easier. Awkwardness had rules. Awkwardness gave people something to step around. This was worse. This was familiar.

Doha would reach past her for thread, and she would remember his hands at her waist.

Jisoo would pick up a jar of umbrella tips and pretend to inspect them while remembering the small apartment upstairs and rain against the skylight. Nothing between them had become loud. That was the dangerous part. Everything simply felt more honest now.

—

On the ninth day, Doha finally set the repaired umbrella on the counter between them. It looked almost new. The wooden handle had been polished again. The canopy was smooth, black, and neatly stretched. The ribs folded properly when he closed it, no longer bent into the humiliating shape it had taken during the storm.

Jisoo picked it up and opened it once inside the shop. It snapped into place cleanly. She inspected it with great seriousness.

“You saved its life.” “It was structurally fixable.” “Emotionally?” “Still dramatic.” “That does sound like me.” Doha smiled faintly. “I wasn’t going to say it.” “You thought it.” “I respect your privacy.” “You do not.” “No,” he admitted. “Not always.”

Jisoo looked at him over the top of the umbrella. There it was again. That quiet honesty. No rule. No question. No debt.

Just an answer given freely.

She closed the umbrella slowly. “So,” she said “What happens now?” Doha leaned one hip lightly against the counter. “You take it back.”

“And the rule?” His gaze stayed on hers. “Only if you still need one.” That settled strangely in her chest. Not heavy. Just noticeable. Jisoo looked down at the repaired umbrella in her hand.

For weeks, it had been a reason. A ridiculous one, but still a reason. Return it. Borrow it. Answer. Leave. Come back.

A structure.

Now Doha was quietly removing the structure and asking if she still wanted what had grown inside it. Annoying man. Emotionally competent men were a public hazard. Jisoo lifted her eyes again.

“That sounds suspiciously mature.” “I apologize.” “You should.” “Do you still need one?”

It was almost a question. Almost. Jisoo tightened her grip around the wooden handle.

“No.”

Doha’s expression softened slightly.

“Good.” “I didn’t say I was done answering.”

His smile changed. It was a small, slow, and warm smle.

“No,” he said. “You didn’t.”

—

After that, Jisoo and Doha started seeing each other. Not publicly. Not officially. Not in any way Jisoo would ever describe out loud unless someone had evidence, witnesses, and possibly a search warrant.

But deliberately.

That was the important part. She still came to Noon Rain Repairs after schedules, sometimes with the umbrella, sometimes without it.

Doha still pretended not to notice when she arrived on days the forecast was aggressively clear.

The repaired umbrella eventually stopped feeling like an object being returned and started feeling like something that simply moved between their lives. Some nights, it rested beside Jisoo’s apartment door. Other nights, it leaned against the counter in Doha’s shop.

Once, inexplicably, it ended up in Jennie’s living room after a dinner Jisoo refused to explain properly, which caused Lisa to send fourteen messages in a row about haunted umbrella custody rights.

The girls found out slowly, then all at once.

Lisa noticed first because Lisa noticed everything inconvenient. Jennie understood first because Jennie rarely needed people to finish their sentences. Rosé was the first to ask if Jisoo was happy, which Jisoo found deeply unfair because questions asked kindly were harder to insult.

Jisoo did not announce Doha like a confession. He simply began appearing in the edges of her life. Coffee after late shoots. A repaired bag strap after a fitting. A quiet walk to her car when the street outside looked too crowded. A short nod to Jennie when she visited the shop with Jisoo and pretended very badly that she was only interested in umbrella craftsmanship.

Lisa, naturally, made it worse.

“So,” she said one evening, looking around Noon Rain Repairs with far too much satisfaction “This is the haunted umbrella man.”

Doha glanced toward Jisoo. Jisoo stared at Lisa “Say that louder,” Jisoo said, “and I will tell everyone about your emergency ramen phase.”

Lisa gasped. “That was private.” “So is this.”

Jennie, standing near a row of hanging umbrellas, looked between them once and smiled like she had already solved a mystery nobody else knew existed.

Rosé touched the wooden handle of one repaired umbrella and said softly, “This place feels like you.”

Jisoo frowned “Old?” “Careful,” Rosé said.

Doha looked down at the repair he was working on. Jisoo looked away first. Unfortunately, she was smiling. That was how it happened. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Doha did not enter her life like a man trying to become important. He became important by being there often enough that absence started feeling noticeable.

He learned which schedules left her quiet. He learned not to ask for details when her day had been full of too many people. He learned that Jisoo did not like being managed, but she accepted being remembered.

Jisoo learned things too.

That Doha forgot to eat when he was focused. That he kept broken umbrella handles because he believed the wood could still be reused. That he pretended not to be sentimental while repairing things people had already given up on. That he never once made her feel like loving her meant surviving her fame.

That mattered more than she expected. Because there were difficult days. There were cameras outside restaurants. Managers who asked careful questions. Schedules that changed suddenly. Messages Jisoo ignored because answering them would mean explaining something she was still learning how to hold properly.

Doha never asked to be paraded around. He also never made himself disappear. He simply adjusted. Not in a passive way, in a steady one.

If they had to arrive separately, he did not act wounded.

If she could only see him for twenty minutes between schedules, he brought coffee and did not make the time feel smaller by complaining about it.

If someone recognized her while they were walking, he stepped half a pace away without making it feel like retreat.

And when they were alone again, he came back to her side like nothing had been lost.

That was when Jisoo began to understand the shape of it. This was not new-relationship impulse. It was not the storm, or the broken umbrella, or the kind of desire that confused itself for fate because rain made everything prettier.

It was the way his umbrella looked normal beside her door. The way his sweater on her chair no longer felt misplaced. The way the other members teased her about him and she found herself annoyed, not because they were wrong, but because they were enjoying being right.

It was the way Jisoo kept making room for him and never felt like she was losing space. That was the dangerous realization. The permanent one.

—

It came on a clear night. No rain. No wind. No dramatic weather behaving symbolically for once and the forecast was very clear about that.

Jisoo had finished a long shoot earlier than expected, which felt suspicious enough on its own. She came home with takeout, changed into loose clothes, removed her makeup halfway, then sat on the floor near the couch with her phone in one hand and a dumpling in the other.

The apartment was quiet. Comfortably quiet. Not empty.

That was new.

Nothing had changed visibly. Her furniture was still hers. Her schedule still waited on the table. Her shoes were still arranged the way she liked them near the entryway.

But Doha’s umbrella rested beside the door. One of his books sat on her coffee table. A gray sweater he claimed was not his but absolutely was hung over the back of one chair.

Jisoo stared at all of it while chewing slowly. Then she realized the thought had already formed before she could stop it. I could live like this. She froze. The dumpling remained halfway to her mouth “…Ridiculous,” she told the room.

The room did not argue.

Which was also suspicious. Her phone buzzed.

Doha: I left my sweater there, didn’t I? Jisoo: No. Doha: That was fast. Jisoo: I am efficient. Doha: I can see it in the photo you just sent by accident.

Jisoo looked down.

She had, somehow, sent him a blurry photo of the floor, the edge of the couch, and the very obvious sleeve of his sweater.

Jisoo closed her eyes.

Jisoo: Your sweater broke into my apartment. Doha: Should I come retrieve the criminal?

She stared at the message. The easy answer was yes. The dishonest answer was no. The honest answer sat somewhere deeper. Jisoo looked toward the umbrella by the door. Then back at the phone.

Jisoo: It’s not raining. Doha: I know. Jisoo: Then why would you come?

For a full minute, he didn’t answer. When he finally did, the message was simple.

Doha: Because you opened the door before.

Jisoo stared at it long enough for the screen to dim. Jisoo: That is not a practical reason. Doha: No. Jisoo: Bring the ugly tea you like. Doha: So I’m invited?

Jisoo looked around her apartment again. At his sweater. At his umbrella. At the quiet that no longer felt like defense.

Jisoo: Yes.

—

Doha arrived thirty-seven minutes later with tea, his allegedly criminal sweater still hanging over Jisoo’s chair, and the repaired umbrella in one hand despite the sky being completely clear.

Jisoo opened the door and looked at it first. Then at him.

“It’s not raining.” “I know.” “Then why did you bring it?”

Doha glanced at the umbrella, then back at her.

“Habit.” “That is a suspicious answer.” “It is.”

Jisoo stepped aside anyway. He entered her apartment like he always did now: carefully at first, then naturally, leaving his shoes beside hers, setting the food on the counter, placing the umbrella near the door where it had started to belong.

That was the problem.

Everything about him had started to belong. Dinner was ordinary. That made it worse. Lisa sent three messages accusing Jisoo of hiding umbrella crimes. Jennie somehow knew Doha was there without being told. Rosé asked if they had eaten properly. Jisoo answered none of them. Doha noticed.

“Trouble?” “My members are emotionally invasive.” “Are they wrong?” “Yes.”

He waited. Jisoo glared.

“You are very brave inside my apartment.” “I’ve repaired your umbrella twice. I fear very little now.” “That umbrella betrayed me first.” “It was under pressure.” “So was I.” “And yet you came back.”

The words were casual. Softly spoken. But they settled between them with more weight than either of them expected. Jisoo looked toward the umbrella by the door. Then at the apartment around them.

Her apartment. Her quiet. Her space. No rain outside. No rule forcing honesty. No excuse left. Just Doha, standing inside the life she had somehow made room for.

“I think about it,” she said.

Doha looked at her.

“About what?”

Jisoo’s fingers tightened lightly around the edge of the counter. She could still turn it into a joke. She could say something about umbrella custody, or Lisa’s crimes against privacy, or the legal risks of allowing repairmen into apartments. Instead, she gave the answer before she could protect it.

“I keep picturing you still being here.”

Doha went still. Not startled. Not afraid. Just quiet in a way that told her he understood exactly what she meant. Jisoo looked at him directly.

“I don’t mean dating.”

His expression softened slowly.

“I know.” “I mean…” She exhaled through her nose, annoyed at herself for needing language. “Longer than convenient.”

Doha set the takeout container down.

“Permanent?”

Jisoo frowned faintly.

“That word is dramatic.” “It is.” “I dislike it.” “Do you?”

She looked at him. Then, with the kind of honesty that still felt like stepping into weather:

“No.”

Doha crossed the small distance between them, not rushing, not assuming, but moving like something inside him had finally been answered too.

“I think about it too,” he said. Jisoo’s throat tightened “You answered very fast.” “It wasn’t fast,” Doha said. “I just stopped pretending I hadn’t already decided.”

That was deeply unfair and emotionally irresponsible. Jisoo looked away, but there was nowhere to put the feeling now. Doha’s hand found hers on the counter.

“I don’t want the famous parts,” he said quietly. “I don’t want the easy parts either.” “There are easy parts?” “Sometimes.” “Name one.” “You steal my food with no shame. That’s easy to predict.”

Despite herself, she laughed. Doha smiled, but his voice stayed soft.

“I want the life after all of it. After the cameras. After the rain. After the jokes. The part where you come home and stop explaining yourself.”

Jisoo looked back at him.

“And if that becomes difficult?” “It will.” “That was not comforting.” “It was honest.”

She hated how much that worked on her. Doha’s thumb brushed once over her knuckles.

“I don’t need easy,” he said. “I need real.”

Jisoo stood very still. Then slowly, she reached for the front of his shirt. Not pulling yet. Just holding.

“You are very inconvenient.”

His mouth curved faintly.

“Honest answer?” “Yes.” “Good.”

Jisoo drew him closer. This time, when she kissed him, there was no storm outside and no broken umbrella waiting downstairs. No rule nor a borrowed reason. Only the clear night beyond her apartment window. Only Doha’s hand settling carefully at her waist.

Only the certainty that she wanted this man in every version of the life she was still learning how to choose.

The silence that followed the admission of permanence was not a void; it was a bridge. For the first time in her life, Jisoo didn't feel the urge to retract a statement or shield her heart with a well-timed joke. She looked at Doha, and the man she had known as a mysterious rule-maker, a quiet repairman, and a steady companion now looked like the only fixed point in her spinning world.

The kiss that followed was different from the one in the shop. It wasn't the breaking of a dam or the desperation of a storm. It was an arrival. It was slow, deep, and heavy with the weight of a thousand unsaid things. Jisoo leaned into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, not to pull him down in a rush, but to hold him there, as if anchoring herself to the reality of him.

Doha’s hands settled on her waist, his thumbs grazing the skin just beneath the hem of her shirt. He breathed her in—the scent of her expensive perfume mixed with the lingering smell of the takeout they had just shared. He pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes searching hers with a tenderness that made her chest ache.

"You're sure about this?" he whispered, his voice a low, resonant vibration. "Not just the permanence. This. Now."

Jisoo let out a soft, huffing laugh, though her eyes remained locked on his. "I've already told you I dislike leaving first, Doha. Why would I start wanting to leave now?" She didn't wait for him to answer. Jisoo stepped back, her gaze never leaving his, and reached for the buttons of his shirt. Her movements were decisive, her fingers steady. She undid the first button, then the second, pushing the fabric aside to reveal the warm, lean expanse of his chest. She felt the heat radiating from him, the steady, rapid thrum of his heart beneath her palm.

"I think," Jisoo murmured, her voice dropping to a sultry, velvet tone, "that we've spent far too much time talking about rules. I'm tired of rules."

Doha’s breath hitched. He didn't stop her; instead, he mirrored her actions, his hands moving to the hem of her top. He lifted the fabric slowly, his eyes tracing the line of her stomach, the dip of her waist, and the elegant curve of her breasts as she stepped out of the garment. In the soft, amber light of her living room, Jisoo looked like a masterpiece of porcelain and grace, her skin glowing with a quiet radiance.

"You are breathtaking," Doha said, his voice thickening. "Observational conclusion?" she teased, though her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. "A fact," he replied.

He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive hollow of her throat. Jisoo arched her back, a soft moan escaping her as his tongue traced a path toward her collarbone. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, a familiar heat that had been simmering for weeks, now boiling over. She reached for the belt of his trousers, her fingers working with a focused urgency.

They didn't make it to the bedroom immediately. The friction of their bodies, the raw need for contact, pushed them against the wall near the counter. Clothes were discarded in a passionate blur—a discarded sweater here, a fallen pair of socks there—until there was nothing left but skin and the clear, silent night outside the window.

When Doha finally pressed her against the cool surface of the wall, the contrast of the cold plaster and his searing heat made Jisoo gasp. He lifted her, her legs instinctively winding around his hips, locking him in. He kissed her with a hunger that was balanced by a profound reverence, his tongue sliding against hers in a slow, rhythmic dance of desire.

"I want you," she whispered against his lips, her voice strained. "Right here. Now."

Doha groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through her entire body. He shifted his grip, guiding himself to the entrance of her heat. He paused for a heartbeat, his eyes searching hers one last time.

"Tell me," he murmured. "Stay," she answered, the word a command and a plea all at once. "Stay inside me."

He entered her in one smooth, deep thrust. Jisoo’s head fell back against the wall, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt him fill her completely. It wasn't the frantic surrender of their first time; it was a homecoming. The fullness was overwhelming, a physical manifestation of the permanence they had just promised each other.

"Oh... Doha," she whimpered, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

He began to move, his rhythm slow and deliberate. Every thrust was a conversation, a steady build of pressure and pleasure that echoed the slow burn of their relationship. The sound of their bodies interacting—the wet, rhythmic squelch of skin meeting skin—filled the quiet apartment. Jisoo was vocal, her moans turning into melodic cries that encouraged him to go deeper, to push further.

"More," she gasped, her hips bucking against him to meet every stroke. "Please, don't stop. I love the way you feel... I love everything about this."

Doha’s breathing was heavy, his movements becoming more urgent as the tension coiled tighter in his lower belly. He pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. He saw the desire, the trust, and the absolute certainty in her eyes.

"Jisoo," he whispered, his voice raw.

He drove into her one last time, his body stiffening as he reached the peak. A low roar escaped his throat as he came, the hot, pulsing surge of his release filling her deeply. Jisoo cried out, her own orgasm crashing over her in waves of shimmering heat, her internal muscles clamping tight around him in a desperate, loving grip.

They stayed like that for several minutes, chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, the only sound the rhythmic drumming of their hearts. Slowly, Doha lowered her to her feet, though he didn't let go. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, and finally her lips, a soft, lingering contact.

"Let's move to the bed," he whispered. "I don't think I can get enough of you tonight." Jisoo smiled, a genuine, sleepy expression of contentment. "For once, I agree with your practical suggestion."

The bedroom was a sanctuary of soft linens and dim light. As they tumbled onto the mattress, the energy shifted from the urgent heat of the wall to something more intimate and expansive. They explored each other with a slow, methodical passion, as if they had all the time in the world.

Jisoo took the lead, pushing him back onto the pillows and straddling his lap. She loved the power of it—the way she could look down at him and see the absolute devotion in his eyes. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against his chest, her hair falling like a silk curtain around them.

"You're so beautiful," Doha murmured, his hands reaching up to cup her face.

Jisoo paused, her gaze softening. The silence stretched, but it wasn't awkward. It was the kind of silence that only exists between two people who no longer have anything to hide.

"Jisoo," he whispered, his voice was full of sincerity, completely devoid of doubt "I love you."

The words hung in the air, crystalline and pure. Jisoo's expression shifted, a look of profound emotion crossing her face. She pulled him closer for a deep, searing kiss, and when he pulled away, her voice was a trembling but steady, a certain vow.

"I love you too, Doha. More than I know how to put into words."

The confession acted like a catalyst. The intimacy that followed was more intense, more connected. Jisoo moved above him, her movements fluid and elegant, her body arching as she guided him back inside her. The friction was exquisite, the heat building a slow, agonizing tension that made her toes curl.

"Kiss me," she pleaded, leaning down to capture his lips. "Keep kissing me while you... while you do that."

Doha complied, his tongue tangling with hers while his hips surged upward, meeting her descent with a powerful, rhythmic force. He reached down, his fingers finding the sensitive bud of her clit, adding a layer of stimulation that sent Jisoo spiraling. She was loud now, her voice filling the room with breathless declarations of pleasure, her nails leaving faint red crescents in the skin of his arms.

"Yes... right there... oh god, Doha, don't stop!"

The build-up was slower this time, a steady climb toward a peak that felt inevitable. As Jisoo felt the first tremors of her second orgasm, Doha’s own control snapped. He gripped her hips, pulling her down hard against him as he released a second, massive load deep inside her. The sensation of him filling her again triggered a violent, shuddering climax for Jisoo, her body shaking in unison with his.

They collapsed into each other, skin slick with sweat, their breathing synchronized. They lay in a tangle of limbs and sheets, the air in the room thick with the scent of sex and love.

"I think," Jisoo murmured, her voice a breathy whisper, "that your 'observational conclusions' are becoming very accurate."

Doha chuckled, the sound vibrating against her chest. He rolled her over, pinning her gently to the mattress, his eyes dark with a lingering desire. "I'm not finished observing you yet."

This time when their bodies were intertwined again was the most intimate of all. There was no urgency, only a deep, pulsing need for connection. They moved together in a slow, synchronized dance, a side-lying position that allowed them to stay face-to-face, their breaths mingling. Every thrust was shallow and teasing, building a tension that felt like a physical weight.

Jisoo wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him close, her lips grazing his ear. "I want to feel every bit of you," she whispered. "I want to know that you're really here. That you're staying."

"I'm not going anywhere," Doha promised, his voice a low growl.

He increased the pace, the friction becoming a searing heat that threatened to consume them both. The sound of their bodies—the wet, rhythmic shlicking of their union—was the only music they needed. Jisoo felt the tension building again, a coil of electricity tightening in her core. She could feel him reaching his limit, his movements becoming more primal, more urgent.

As they hit the final peak together, Doha let out a long, shuddering groan, his body locking as he came for the third time, pouring everything he had into her. Jisoo screamed his name, her body arching in a final, explosive orgasm that left her feeling completely undone, completely open, and completely loved.

The aftermath of their lovemaking was a slow, warm descent into peace. Doha didn't pull away immediately; he stayed inside her, his forehead resting against hers, their breathing gradually syncing. Eventually, he withdrew and pulled her into his arms, wrapping a large, plush duvet around them both.

They lay in the dim light, the clear night outside the window acting as a silent witness to their union. Jisoo rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady, calming thrum of his heart. She felt a strange sense of weightlessness, as if the armor she had worn for years had finally been dismantled, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but this.

"You're very quiet," Doha noted, his voice soft and drowsy.

"I'm just... happy," Jisoo replied, the honesty coming effortlessly now. "I don't think I've ever felt this quiet inside my own head."

Doha kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her. "That's because you don't have to fight for your space anymore, Jisoo. I've already made room for you."

Jisoo smiled, closing her eyes as she snuggled closer to him. "I love you, Doha."

"I love you too, my beautiful, stubborn Jisoo. Now go to sleep."

She did, falling into a deep, dreamless slumber with a smile on her lips, anchored by the warmth of the man who had turned a stolen umbrella into a lifetime of honesty.

The next morning arrived with a gentle, golden light that filtered through the curtains, illuminating the room in soft hues of amber and cream. Jisoo woke up slowly, the feeling of Doha’s arm draped across her waist the first thing she registered. She didn't move for a long time, simply savoring the comfort of the moment.

The apartment felt different today. It was still her space, but it no longer felt like a fortress. It felt like a home.

She eventually slipped out of bed, wearing one of Doha’s oversized t-shirts that reached mid-thigh, the fabric smelling faintly of cedar and him. She wandered into the kitchen, finding Doha already there. He was leaning against the counter, wearing only his lounge pants, staring at the tea kettle with a look of intense concentration.

"Are you attempting to make that grass-tea again?" she asked, her voice still husky from sleep. Doha looked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Actually, I bought a new blend. I thought I'd try to improve my rating."

Jisoo walked up to him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his bare back. "I don't care if the tea is terrible, as long as you're the one making it."

Doha turned in her arms, pulling her close for a soft, morning kiss. "That is a very dangerous level of affection, Jisoo. I might start thinking you actually like me."

"Observational conclusion," she whispered, leaning back to look at him. "You're stuck with me, Mr. Repairman."

They spent the day in a state of blissful, domestic inertia. They ordered breakfast, lounged on the couch with a book they both pretended to read, and talked about everything and nothing. There were no schedules, no cameras, no rules. Just the two of them in the quiet of a clear day.

As the afternoon waned, Jisoo’s phone, which had been resting on the coffee table, began to vibrate incessantly. She glanced at the screen and sighed, though the smile remained on her face.

The BLACKPINK Group Chat was exploding.

Lisa: THIS IS ME WAITING FOR THE UPDATE. Lisa:

Jisoo looked at the messages, then looked up at Doha, who was watching her with an amused expression "Your members are very persistent," he noted.

Jisoo picked up the phone, her fingers dancing across the screen.

Jisoo: I am alive.

The reply came almost instantly.

Lisa: SHE LIVES. Jennie: Good. Then we’re coming over. Rosé: We’re bringing food and coffee. Lisa: Please be dressed.

Jisoo stared at the screen. Doha, unfortunately, read it over her shoulder. His mouth twitched.

“Don’t laugh,” she warned. “I’m not.” “You are internally laughing.” “That’s harder to prove.”

Another message appeared.

Lisa: Also, if haunted umbrella man is there, tell him we’re emotionally prepared. Jennie: We are not. Rosé: I’m happy to meet him properly. Lisa: I’m happy to interrogate him properly.

Jisoo closed her eyes. Doha leaned closer, voice warm with amusement. “Haunted umbrella man?”

“You have branding now.” “That sounds serious.” “It is. Lisa is hard to rebrand.”

The phone buzzed again.

Lisa: Are you pregnant? Jisoo: Don’t make me send Dispatch your relationship details. Lisa: SHE THREATENED DISPATCH. Jennie: That means she’s serious. Rosé: Lisa, maybe stop asking pregnancy questions before coffee. Lisa: Fine. Wedding questions after coffee.

Jisoo dropped the phone face down onto the blanket. Doha had fully given up hiding his laughter now.

“You are enjoying this too much,” she said. “They love you.” “They are menaces.” “They’re coming over?” “Apparently.” “Should I be scared?”

Jisoo looked at him. Then at the phone. Then back at him “Yes”. That only made him laugh harder.

For a few more seconds, before the chaos arrived at her door, Jisoo let herself stay exactly where she was. Wrapped in the afternoon sun. In his shirt. In her apartment. With Doha beside her and the repaired umbrella leaning quietly near the door like it had always belonged there.

That was the strangest part. Not the confession. Not even the fact that Lisa had somehow escalated from coffee to pregnancy in under five messages. It was the umbrella.

The same umbrella she had stolen by accident. The same umbrella that had dragged her into an annoying repair shop with an annoying man who asked annoying questions. The same umbrella that had once felt like a rule.

Now it just looked like home.

Jisoo glanced toward it, then toward Doha. He noticed immediately. Of course he did.

“What?” “Nothing.” “That was your first lie today.” She narrowed her eyes. “You are very brave before coffee.” “I’ve survived Lisa in group chat. I fear very little now.” “You haven’t survived Lisa in person.” “That is less comforting.”

The doorbell rang before she could answer. Once. Then twice. Then three times in a rhythm so deliberately obnoxious that Jisoo knew exactly who was responsible.

“Lisa,” she said flatly.

From the other side of the door, a muffled voice yelled, “WE BROUGHT COFFEE AND EMOTIONAL SUPPORT.”

Jennie’s voice followed, calmer but no less amused. “And apologies in advance.” Rosé added, “Mostly coffee.”

Jisoo closed her eyes. Doha stood from the couch, still smiling.

“I should probably get dressed properly.” “You should have done that five minutes ago.” “I was distracted.” “That is not a legal defense.” “It might work in umbrella court.” “There is no umbrella court.” “There should be.”

The doorbell rang again.

Lisa shouted, “IF YOU TWO ARE STILL AT IT LIKE BUNNIES, SAY SOMETHING NOW.”

Jisoo walked toward the door with murder in her posture and affection in her eyes.

“Lisa,” she called through the door, “if you say one more thing before I open this, I’m telling everyone about the ramen incident.”

Silence.

Then Lisa, much quieter “That was private.”

“So is this.”

Doha laughed softly behind her. Jisoo looked back at him once. He stood in her living room wearing the shirt he had finally managed to button correctly, his hair still slightly messy, his expression calm despite the obvious incoming disaster. He looked nervous. Not about her. About them. About being folded into the loud, ridiculous, loving part of her life that refused to stay politely outside the door.

Jisoo softened before she could stop herself. “You’ll survive,” she said. “Honest answer?”

She reached for his hand.

“Yes.”

Then she opened the door.

Lisa entered first, because of course she did, holding iced coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. Her eyes immediately flicked from Jisoo’s shirt, to Doha’s face, to the umbrella by the door. Her smile became dangerous “Oh.” Jisoo pointed at her. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything.” “You said ‘oh.’” “That is a vowel.”

Jennie stepped in behind her, graceful as ever, taking one look at the apartment before smiling with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had already guessed correctly weeks ago.

“Good morning, Doha.” Doha bowed slightly. “Good morning.” Lisa leaned toward Jennie. “She said his name normally. That’s serious.”

Rosé entered last, carrying a box of pastries and looking between Jisoo and Doha with warm, slightly teary affection that Jisoo immediately found threatening. “No,” Jisoo said.

Rosé blinked. “I didn’t say anything.” “You looked sentimental.” “I’m allowed.” “You’re not.”

Rosé smiled and hugged her anyway. Jisoo tolerated it for exactly three seconds before patting her back stiffly. Lisa, meanwhile, had already spotted the umbrella. She pointed at it like she had discovered evidence at a crime scene “There it is.”

Doha looked at Jisoo. Jisoo sighed. “The haunted umbrella.” Lisa turned to him immediately. “So. Are you a wizard?” Doha considered this seriously “No.”

“Suspicious answer.” “He does that,” Jisoo said.

Jennie set the coffee on the table and glanced toward the umbrella “It’s repaired.” Doha nodded “Completely.” Lisa gasped “So the curse is lifted?”

“The only curse here is your personality,” Jisoo replied.

Rosé looked at the umbrella, then at the way Jisoo’s hand had found Doha’s without her seeming to notice. Her expression softened again. Jisoo caught it instantly “Stop.”

“I’m not doing anything.” “You’re emotionally narrating.” Rosé laughed. “Maybe a little.”

They settled into the living room with coffee, pastries, and exactly the kind of noise Jisoo usually pretended to hate more than she actually did. Lisa interrogated Doha about umbrella repair like she was conducting a national security briefing.

Jennie asked three calm questions that somehow revealed more than Lisa’s entire interrogation.

Rosé mostly watched Jisoo. That was worse. Because Rosé noticed the quiet things. The way Jisoo passed Doha coffee without asking. The way Doha shifted slightly so Lisa’s dramatic gestures wouldn’t knock over the cup beside Jisoo. The way Jisoo rolled her eyes at him, but leaned closer anyway. Eventually, Lisa pointed between them with a half-eaten pastry “So when is the wedding?”

Jisoo set her coffee down very slowly “Lisa.” “What? I waited until after coffee.” Jennie lifted her cup. “Technically true.” Rosé smiled into her drink “She did follow the rule.”

Jisoo stared at all three of them. Betrayal everywhere. Doha, traitorously, looked amused. Jisoo turned to him “You are not helping.”

“I wasn’t asked a question.” Lisa snapped her fingers. “Okay, then I’m asking. Doha, when is the wedding?”

Jisoo’s head turned slowly back toward Lisa “Don’t make me send Dispatch your relationship details.” Lisa clutched her chest “Again with Dispatch.” Jennie laughed quietly. Rosé hid her smile behind her coffee. Doha glanced at Jisoo. For a second, beneath all the teasing, something quieter passed between them.

The kind they had already spoken aloud when the apartment was still quiet and the morning had not yet been invaded by three women carrying caffeine and emotional violence. Jisoo looked away first, but her hand stayed in his.

Lisa saw it. Her expression softened for half a second before the menace returned.

“Okay,” she said. “Fine. I’ll stop asking.” “Thank you.” “For now.” “Lisa.” “I’m being respectful.” “You are being threatened.” “Same effect.”

The room dissolved into laughter. Jisoo sighed like she was suffering, she was not. Doha squeezed her hand once beneath the table, small and steady. She squeezed back. Outside, the sky stayed clear.

No rain.

No storm.

No rule.

No excuse.

Just coffee on the table, her members filling her apartment with noise, Doha sitting beside her like he belonged there, and the repaired umbrella resting quietly near the door. Jisoo looked at it once. Then at him.

Then at the three women she loved, who were already arguing about whether “haunted umbrella husband” sounded better than “repair shop boyfriend.”

Her life was still complicated. It would always be complicated. There would still be cameras, schedules, careful exits, and questions she did not feel like answering.

But for once, the thought did not make her want to step back.

Because Doha was not another thing she had to explain. He was the person she wanted beside her when the explaining finally stopped. Lisa waved a hand in front of her face.

“Yah. You’re smiling.” Jisoo immediately stopped “No.” Jennie tilted her head “You were.” Rosé nodded “You really were.”

Doha looked at her, mouth curved faintly. Jisoo narrowed her eyes at all of them.

“I hate this room.” Lisa grinned “This is your apartment, you know.”

Jisoo picked up her coffee. Took one slow sip. Then, very calmly, said, “Unfortunately.” Doha laughed first. Then Rosé. Then Jennie. Then Lisa, loudest of all. And Jisoo, despite every instinct that told her to deny it, let herself smile again. But because this time, she already knew the honest one.

[afterhours37]

Overworked & Overwanted - Hostile Wellnes

Word Count: 8.5k No smut in this chapter, purely plot (Last non-smut chapter for this series)

Morning came too clean for what the previous night had done to us. The Top Floor was quiet. Not ambush quiet. Not emotional tribunal quiet. Actual quiet. Which somehow felt more suspicious.

I woke up before my alarm, stared at the ceiling for three full minutes, and tried to remember what part of yesterday had been real. TWICE had visited the Top Floor. ITZY had signed the NDAs. Jihyo had revealed the TWICE arrangement with John. Mina and I had almost been accused of planning a polite corporate takeover. Ryujin had demonstrated things with couch cushions. Yuna had narrated her first time like a coming-of-age film with legal protection. Nayeon had asked John to punish her in front of everyone. I had smoked. Yeji had kissed me in front of the room. Then told me that was the last kiss I would get if I didn’t stop smoking.

Then I had apparently survived dinner, tattoo accusations, almost-wife allegations, and an impending temporary tattoo appointment that now involved Yeji choosing placement and font.

I closed my eyes “Outstanding.”

Beside me, Yeji shifted. Not fully awake yet. But awake enough “You’re thinking too loudly.” I turned my head. She was lying on her side, hair loose against the pillow, eyes still half-closed but already judging me with terrifying accuracy “I am silently suffering.”

“You do that loudly.” “That feels unfair.” “You earned unfair.”

I smiled despite myself. She opened one eye “Don’t look cute. I’m still mad.”

“That implies I look cute.”

“Benjie.” I immediately stopped smiling. Mostly. Yeji sighed and sat up, pulling the blanket around herself. The morning light softened her face, but not enough to hide the fact that she was already preparing herself for the day.

Leader mode. Girlfriend mode. Wife voice in reserve. Terrifying combination “We need a gameplan,” she said. I pushed myself up against the headboard “For JYP?”

“For everything.”

That was worse because it was correct. She counted on her fingers “JYP. The retreat cover. Mina and the money. John and Jihyo’s role. The tattoo appointment. Yuna’s vacation plan. Ryujin not committing crimes. Chaeryeong and Lia shopping. And you not buying another establishment because someone annoys you.” I looked at her “That last one feels targeted.”

“It is.” “Good to know.”

Yeji reached for her phone and checked the time “We leave in two hours.”

“For JYP.”

“For JYP first,” she said. Then her eyes narrowed slightly. “Then Frankie.” I had made the mistake of telling her the tattoo artist’s name last night. Now she said it like someone had entered a witness protection list “It’s temporary,” I reminded her.

“And I choose placement.” “You choose placement.” “And font.” “And no portrait.”

“No portrait.” “And no wedding date.” “For now.”

She turned her whole head toward me. I looked away “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” She threw a pillow at me. I caught it. That was when the bedroom door opened without permission. Ryujin leaned in “Are you decent?” Yeji clutched the blanket higher “Ryujin!” Ryujin looked at her. Then at me. Then at the pillow in my hands.

“Emotionally, no. Physically, probably.” “Get out,” Yeji said. “I’m here for the morning briefing.” “There is no morning briefing in our bedroom.” “Our?”

The silence changed. Ryujin’s smile widened. Yeji closed her eyes “Leave.” Ryujin pointed into the room “She said our.”

“I heard it,” Yuna called from the hallway. Lia’s voice followed, tired and resigned “Everyone heard it.” Chaeryeong added softly, “I was trying not to.” I looked at Yeji. Yeji looked at me. Her face turned pink before she pulled the blanket over her head. Ryujin grinned.

“Great. Breakfast in ten. Your wife has assignments.” “I am not his wife!” Yeji shouted from under the blanket. “Yet!” Yuna shouted back.

Ryujin closed the door before Yeji could throw the second pillow. I sat very still. Under the blanket, Yeji said, “Do not laugh.”

“I would never.” “You’re smiling.” “I am emotionally licensed to be happy.”

The blanket lowered just enough for one eye to glare at me.

“I hate that sentence.” “You loved it last night.” “I tolerated it under duress.” “Marriage duress?”

The pillow hit me directly in the face.

Breakfast was less a meal and more a tactical deployment. Yuna had taken over one side of the kitchen island with a notebook, a tablet, two pens, and the expression of a woman who had been given responsibility and planned to make it everyone else’s problem. Chaeryeong was checking the pantry. Lia was making a list on her phone. Ryujin was eating cereal directly from the box again, which meant civilization had already failed. Yeji sat beside me, still radiating mild anger, while pretending she was not leaning close enough for her knee to brush mine.

I accepted this as progress. Yuna tapped her pen against the notebook “Okay. Vacation pitch.”

“No,” Lia said immediately. Yuna frowned “You haven’t heard it.” “You started with a title voice.” “It needs a title.” “It needs JYP approval first.” Yuna waved a hand “Details.” “They are not details,” Chaeryeong said from inside the pantry. Yuna ignored that “I am preparing the vacation activities pitch for everyone. If we’re getting a week—” “If,” I said. Yuna looked at me “When.” “That is not better.” “It is more confident.” “It is more dangerous.”

Ryujin lowered the cereal box “What if JYP says no?” Yuna looked personally offended “Then Ben and Mina accidentally become a problem again.” Yeji turned toward her “Yuna.”

“What? I said accidentally.” Lia looked at me over her cup “Your influence is terrible.” “I have been saying that.”

Chaeryeong came out of the pantry with a haunted expression “Momo sunbaenim ate everything.” Ryujin nodded solemnly “Biblical.” Chaeryeong looked genuinely distressed “I stocked for three days.” “She is TWICE’s final boss,” Yuna said. “Momo is not a final boss,” Lia said. “She ate like one,” Ryujin replied. Chaeryeong looked at me “I need to restock.”

“Use my card.” Yeji turned toward me immediately. I lifted both hands “Not buying the grocery store. Just groceries.” She watched me for a second. Then nodded “For now.” I sent a quick message to my accountant. Before I could put the phone down, it buzzed. I read the reply and sighed. Lia noticed “What?” “My accountant says he is happy to oblige as long as the shopping request is from Chaeryeong.”

Yuna slowly looked up from her notebook “Excuse me?” I read the message aloud “‘If it is Ms. Chaeryeong, absolutely. Please tell her she may purchase whatever pantry supplies she needs. If it is Ms. Yuna, I require itemized pre-approval after the spa incident.’”

The kitchen erupted. Yuna’s mouth dropped open “That was one time.” Lia looked at her “It was not one time.”

“It was one spa arc.” Ryujin pointed at her “You traumatized the man.” “I improved his exposure to luxury wellness.” “You submitted a reimbursement request that had aromatherapy candles categorized as emotional infrastructure.” Yuna lifted her chin “They were.”

Chaeryeong looked between us “Should I itemize?”

“No,” I said. “Buy everything you need.” My phone buzzed again. I glanced down “He added a smiley face for you.” Chaeryeong blinked “For me?”

“Yes.”

Yuna gasped “He never sends me smiley faces.” Lia sipped her drink “That is because you send him invoices that make him question morality.” Yuna pointed at her “You’re also going shopping.” Lia nodded “For vacation needs.” I forwarded her accountant access too. A second later, my phone buzzed again. I read it “‘Approved for Ms. Lia. Sensible purchases expected.’” Yuna slapped the table “This is discrimination.”

“It is pattern recognition,” I said. Ryujin leaned over “What does he say about me?” I stared at her “You are not shopping.” She looked offended “Why?”

“Because your assignment is to try not to do any damage that can’t be undone.” Ryujin froze. Then slowly smiled “That leaves a lot of room.”

“No, it does not.” “It does if you’re creative.” “Ryujin.”

Yeji finally spoke, calm and dangerous. “Do not make me assign you to JYP aegyo TikTok preparation.” Ryujin sat down immediately “Understood.” Yuna whispered, “Wife authority.” Yeji pointed at her without looking “I heard that.” Yuna went back to writing. I stood and adjusted my watch “Yeji is coming with me to JYP.” Everyone looked up. Ryujin grinned “For emotional support?”

“Yes.” Yeji blinked. I continued, “I need my wife around for emotional support during this coup.” The room froze. Yeji turned bright red “Ben.” Ryujin screamed. Yuna nearly fell off her chair. Lia closed her eyes like she had been spiritually defeated. Chaeryeong looked down, smiling despite herself. I corrected smoothly “Jokingly.”

“That correction came too late,” Lia said. Ryujin pointed at Yeji “She reacted before the correction.” Yuna nodded “She liked it.” “I did not like it,” Yeji said.

I looked at her. She looked at me. I smiled. She kicked my ankle under the table, then her hand found mine anyway.

We left before Ryujin could make it worse. Unfortunately, the day had already decided worse was the theme. JYP’s office felt different when there were five of us walking in. Jihyo first, because she had the folder. John beside her, because suffering was apparently his full-time position. Mina behind them, quiet and composed, carrying no visible threat but somehow radiating legal consequences. Then Yeji and me.

JYP was already seated when we entered. He looked from Jihyo to John. Then Mina. Then Yeji. Then to me.  His expression settled into the weary calm of a man watching a storm arrive with paperwork “Why do I feel,” he said slowly, “that this meeting will cost me money?” John muttered, “Because you’re learning.”

Jihyo elbowed him lightly. I bowed “Thank you for seeing us.” JYP looked at me “Benjamin, when you speak politely, I become extremely more concerned.”

“That feels unfair.”

“It is experience.” Mina took a seat without being asked. JYP looked at her. Then at me. Then at Jihyo’s folder. His eyes narrowed “You brought both of them…” Jihyo smiled “I brought structure.” JYP did not smile back “You brought financial equivalent of a small country.” Mina blinked. I blinked. John whispered, “He’s not wrong.” JYP pointed at him.“Do not help them.”

Jihyo opened the folder “We are proposing a senior-junior wellness retreat.” JYP stared at the folder “For TWICE and ITZY.”

“Yes.” “For how long?”

I answered before anyone else could “One week.” Mina said nothing. Yeji sat beside me, straight-backed and composed, looking every bit like the leader who had walked into meetings like this for years and survived worse rooms than this one. JYP looked at the proposal. Then at me. “One week?”

“Yes.” “And the purpose?”

Jihyo took over “Recovery, mentorship, privacy, and controlled decompression after Waterbomb. Publicly, it becomes a senior-junior wellness retreat. TWICE and ITZY. Company-approved. Clean narrative. No speculation.”

JYP listened. He did not interrupt, that somehow felt worse.

Jihyo continued “Schedules would need adjustment. Staff compensation would need coverage. Transportation, security, lodging, privacy, and contingency logistics would all be handled externally.”

“Externally,” JYP repeated. I nodded “I’ll cover ITZY.” Mina nodded “I’ll cover TWICE.”

JYP closed his eyes. John leaned toward him “That reaction is normal.” JYP opened his eyes again “How much?” I slid the estimate forward. Mina placed a second document beside it. JYP looked at the numbers, then he looked at us. Then looked at the estimates again. His face did not change. But his soul did. “You are both insane.”

Mina’s expression remained calm “The numbers are conservative.”

“That makes it worse”. I nodded “It does, actually.” JYP looked at me “You are agreeing with me?”

“On accounting language, yes”. JYP leaned back “I have concerns.”

“Expected,” Jihyo said.

“Good. Then expect many.” He lifted one finger. “First. Moving schedules for one week is already difficult.”

“Yes,” Jihyo said. “Second. Moving both TWICE and ITZY creates speculation.” “We have a cover plan.” “Third. A private location reduces risk but does not remove risk.” “Agreed,” Mina said. “Fourth.” His eyes moved to me. “I do not like how Ben solves everything by means financial flashbanging.”

Yeji’s posture shifted. I looked down. JYP noticed. His voice softened by one degree “I am not saying the care is wrong. I am saying the method is dangerous.”

“I know,” I said. “Do you?”

Yeji answered before I could “He does.” Everyone looked at her. She sat straight. Calm. Leader-like “He knows. That is why he did not come alone.”

That landed. On JYP. On me. On everyone. Yeji continued “ITZY can keep working. We can keep performing. We can keep smiling and doing schedules. But that does not mean we are okay.” Jihyo’s expression softened. Mina watched Yeji quietly. JYP’s face changed.

Not much, but enough. Yeji took a breath “The Top Floor helped. Ben helped. But it is still attached to everything. The building. The schedule. The pressure. Staff. Reports. Calls. We need space away from all of it before we start treating containment like recovery.”

Silence.

Then JYP looked at me “You said that?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Lia did.” His eyes shifted “Smart girl.”

“Yes”. JYP looked at the folder again. Then at Mina, towards me, then at Jihyo. For a moment, nobody spoke. He tapped one finger against the desk. Once. Twice. Then he said “No”. John whispered, “Here we go.” Yeji’s hand tightened slightly on her knee. Mina was reaching for something in her bag, I leaned forward “Sir—”

“One week is not enough.” The room completely stopped. Jihyo blinked. John’s head snapped toward JYP. Mina’s hand was still in her bag, and her expression did not change but her eyes sharpened. I stared at him.

JYP leaned back in his chair like a man who had decided the best way to survive a storm was to control where it landed “I will give you two.” Nobody moved. John was the first to fail “Wait. That worked?” JYP pointed at him “Do not make me regret this faster.” Jihyo recovered first “Two weeks?”

JYP nodded “If this is recovery, one week will become a countdown. The first three days will be spent adjusting, the last two preparing to return, and everyone will pretend the middle was enough. Two weeks gives them time to settle. It also gives the company one clean explanation instead of repeated schedule reshuffling.”

I stared. Mina nodded slowly “Efficient.” JYP pointed at her “And that brings me to the conditions.” John whispered, “Peace treaty.”

JYP ignored him. “First. You cover all costs.” “Done,” I said. “Split,” Mina added. JYP’s eye twitched.

“Second. Staff compensation, schedule adjustment fees, security, lodging, transportation, medical standby, privacy measures, and contingency costs will be covered before anyone leaves, and anything else that comes up regarding you ‘retreat’ in any form.” “Done,” I said. “Split,” Mina said again. JYP rubbed his forehead.

“Third. Legal documentation.” Jihyo lifted her pen “Expected.” “No,” JYP said. “Not only for the retreat.” The room shifted. His eyes moved to Mina. Then to me.

 “Both of you will sign an agreement that neither of you, alone, together, directly, indirectly, emotionally, financially, strategically, through shell entities, friends, family offices, investment vehicles, private holding companies, anonymous proxies, or any other creative nightmare you can invent, will attempt to acquire, influence, pressure, restructure, destabilize, or otherwise interfere with JYPE.”

Silence. Absolute. John slowly turned toward me. I looked at Mina. Mina looked at me. JYP slapped one palm lightly on the desk “Do not look at each other like that.”

John whispered, “Oh my God.” Jihyo covered her mouth. Not to hide shock. To hide laughter. Yeji stared at me “Ben.” I looked at her “I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought something.” “That is not illegal.”

JYP pointed at me “It will be if I ask legal.” Mina tilted her head “Restructuring is not inherently destabilizing.” John stood halfway “No.” Mina looked at him “What?”

“You are proving why he needs the clause”. JYP nodded “She is.” Mina paused. Then folded her hands again “Reasonable.” I looked at her “Reasonable?” She looked back “Under the circumstances.”

John pointed between us “See? This is exactly what terrifies everyone. You two just negotiated not buying the company like normal people discuss not ordering dessert.”

JYP looked exhausted “Fourth. If anyone asks, this retreat is company-approved. Not Ben-approved. Not Mina-approved. Company-approved.” Jihyo nodded “That protects the narrative.”

“Fifth. No public-facing signs of anything that makes me need a medical team before noon.” John muttered, “That is broad.” “It needs to be.”

JYP looked at each of us “Two weeks. Costs covered. Legal agreement. Company-approved narrative. No corporate interference. No public scandal.” He paused “Do we understand?”

Jihyo nodded “Yes.” Mina nodded “Yes.” I nodded “Yes.” John nodded “With fear.” Yeji nodded “With supervision.”

JYP looked at her for a second. Then, for the first time, smiled faintly “Good. Someone has to.”

The meeting ended with more signatures than I liked. Mina signed the anti-interference clause without hesitation. I signed after reading every line, mostly because JYP watched me like I might discover a loophole mid-stroke. Which was offensive— not entirely inaccurate. But offensive.

John read over my shoulder and whispered “No shell companies.” “I can read.” “No emotional acquisitions.” “That is not a legal term.” “It is in spirit.”

Jihyo gathered the signed copies. Mina looked quietly satisfied. Yeji looked relieved. JYP looked like a man who had bought himself two weeks of peace by selling his legal department’s soul. As we stood, he looked at me one last time “Ben.”

“Yes, sir?” “No buying restaurants.”

Yeji’s head snapped toward me. I stared at JYP. John slowly turned. Jihyo closed her eyes. Mina blinked “How did you know about that?” JYP leaned back “I have instincts.” John whispered, “He’s evolving.” I bowed “No restaurants.” Yeji folded her arms.

“Or buildings.” “No buildings.” “Or companies.” “No companies.”

JYP looked between us. Then sighed “Good luck.” I frowned “With the retreat?” His eyes moved to Yeji “With you.”

We left before Yeji could agree too enthusiastically. In the hallway, John exhaled like he had been holding his breath since 2023 “Two weeks.” Jihyo looked at the folder “Two weeks.” Mina adjusted her bag “Efficient outcome.” John pointed at her “You are banned from saying efficient for the rest of the day.” Mina pouted at John “Why?”

“Because every time you say it, someone signs away corporate sovereignty.”

I looked at Jihyo “I did offer for you to come with us.” Jihyo looked up “To the tattoo appointment?”

“Yes.” John immediately stiffened. Jihyo’s smile turned slow “No.” John relaxed. Then she added “If I went, I would end up making John get one too.” John stopped breathing. Nayeon was not even there, but somehow I felt her approval in the universe. Jihyo continued calmly “All nine names.” John looked at her “You would not.” Jihyo looked back “I absolutely would.” He stared at her. Then looked at me “Help.”

I lifted both hands “No. If Jihyo decided that, you would have no way out.” John looked horrified because he knew it was true. Mina looked thoughtful “All nine names would require planning.” John pointed at her “Stop contributing feedback to the tattoos.” Jihyo smiled sweetly “Relax. I’m not going.”

“That does not make me feel safe.” “It should not.”

We separated at the parking level. Jihyo and Mina headed back toward the company wing to begin the official retreat paperwork. John, Yeji, and I headed for the tattoo shop. Or as John called it “Evidence creation.”

Frankie’s studio was private by design. No walk-ins. No visible signage. No social media tags unless he approved them himself. The kind of place that looked like nothing from the outside and too expensive from the inside. John still looked ready to scan the walls for cameras “This is insane,” he said as we entered “It is temporary ink.”

“You keep saying that like the problem is the ink.” Yeji was beside me, sunglasses on, cap low, mask in place. She looked like an idol trying not to be recognized. Which was accurate. She also looked like an angry girlfriend trying to pretend she was not excited— also accurate.

Frankie looked up from the counter. He was broad, tattooed up to his neck, with silver rings on three fingers and the expression of a man who had seen too much to be surprised by normal things. Then he saw Yeji. He stopped. Looked at me. Looked at Yeji, then back to me “Boss.”

“Frankie”. He blinked once. “When you said Yeji, you meant Yeji—Yeji.” Yeji stiffened. John’s soul visibly exited his body. I nodded “Yes.” Frankie stared for half a second longer. Then sighed “Honestly? Baffled. Not surprised.” John turned toward me “That is not comforting.” Frankie looked at John “You must be John.” John’s eyes widened “Why do you know that?”

“Boss said a tired manager might come in sweating through his spine.” I looked away. John turned to me “You described me like a medical warning.”

“The Boss’ description was accurate”. Frankie lifted both hands before John could spiral “Before anyone panics, not a word leaves this room.” His tone changed. Less joking. More certain “I don’t post clients. I don’t talk clients. I don’t hint clients. I don’t leak clients. Especially not his.” He nodded toward me “I still remember what he did for me with that investment broker.” Yeji looked at me. John stiffened.

Frankie continued while setting out the temporary ink materials “Guy thought because he had money and connections, he could walk out on my bill. Boss asked for a name. Next thing I knew, the man who was at the top of the food chain in his line of work was now bussing tables for tips.”

John went pale “You kept tabs?” Frankie smiled “Of course I kept tabs.” Yeji slowly turned toward me “Benjie.” I sighed “Please do not start here.” Frankie looked between us. Then grinned “Oh, that’s the voice.” John pointed at him “You hear it too?”

“Man, I tattooed him through worse ideas than this. I know when his woman is the only thing keeping him alive at the moment.” Yeji turned pink “I am not—”

“His wife?” Frankie guessed. The room froze, Yeji stared, John made a helpless sound. I closed my eyes “Frankie.”

“What? Lucky guess.” “It was not a lucky guess.”

Frankie looked at Yeji “Girlfriend?” Yeji lifted her chin “Girlfriend.” Frankie nodded seriously “Understood. Girlfriend with wife privileges.” John whispered, “I hate how fast everyone gets there.”

Frankie slid a paper across the counter “If it gives you peace of mind, I’ll sign whatever. NDA. Confidentiality. Blood oath— well not literally, unless the boss is paying extra.” John grabbed the paper “Yes. Thank you.” I looked offended “You do not need that.” John was already reading “I absolutely need that.”

Frankie looked at me “With respect, boss, the people around you look like they rarely experience peace of mind.”

“That is unfair.” Yeji looked at me. John looked at me. Frankie looked at me. I sighed “Somewhat unfair.” Frankie laughed “That’s why I like you, boss. You have more money than a small country and yet you’re pretty much down to earth.”

John slid the confidentiality paper back “Sign.” Frankie signed without hesitation. Then slid it back “Better?” John clutched it like scripture “A little.” Frankie turned toward Yeji “Alright. Temporary chest piece. Original draft was ‘Ben + Yeji.’” Yeji immediately shook her head “No.”

Frankie nodded “Good. It was corny as hell.” I looked at him “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on the side of decent composition.” Yeji stepped closer to the stencil samples “It should be ‘Yeji + Ben’, that sounds and looks better.” I looked at her. John looked at her. Frankie looked at her, Yeji froze “What?” I smiled “Nothing.”

“You are smiling.” Yeji pointed out. “I am emotionally licensed.” “You are not.”

Frankie leaned over the page “Yeji + Ben balances better.” Yeji nodded, suddenly focused “And this font is too sharp.” Frankie blinked “Oh.”

John whispered, “She’s actually doing it.” Yeji ignored him “This one is better. Still readable but softer.” Frankie nodded “Good eye.” Her confidence grew “And little hearts.”

I slowly turned toward her “Little hearts?” She pointed at the paper like a woman commanding an army “Not big ones. Small. Around the names. Maybe one between.” Frankie looked at me, I looked at Yeji. Her cheeks were pink, but her eyes were serious. I shrugged “Whatever the wife wants, man.”

Yeji snapped toward me “Girlfriend.” Frankie lifted both hands “Whatever the girlfriend with wife privileges wants.” John muttered, “This is a disease.”

Yeji glared at both of us “I am choosing design quality.”

“Of course,” I said. “And preventing disaster.” “Obviously.” “And the hearts are ironic.”

Frankie looked at the hearts “They are not ironic.”

“They are artistically necessary,” Yeji corrected. Frankie smiled “I am not going to debate that.” then he glanced at me “So we’re using the gun, right?”

I paused “What?” Frankie lifted the machine from his station with a grin that immediately made me distrust him “Temporary ink through the gun. All the pain of a real tattoo, none of the permanence— it also makes the temporary ink last longer.” John slowly turned toward Frankie. For the first time all day, he looked hopeful “That is an option?”

Frankie nodded “Sure.” Yeji looked at the machine. Then at me. Then back at the machine “I like that option.” I stared at her “B-babe…”

“You wanted drama.” “I wanted temporary romance.” “You can have temporary romance with consequences.”

John pointed at Frankie “I like him now.”

“You hated this place thirty seconds ago.” “I have evolved.”

Frankie looked at me with no sympathy whatsoever “Boss, you did say whatever the wife wants, the wife gets.” Yeji lifted one finger “Girlfriend.” Frankie nodded. “Whatever the girlfriend with wife privileges wants, the girlfriend with wife privileges gets.” I stared at him “You just met her, Frankie...” Frankie shrugged with a grin “Composition has consequences, and I’m just following instructions”

John sat in the corner with the confidentiality paper in hand, looking like he had just found religion “This is the safest I have felt all day.”

“That is deeply offensive,” I said. Yeji crossed her arms “Shirt off.”

I looked at her. She looked back. Not smiling. But almost “Placement review,” she said.

“Of course.” Frankie prepared the stencil. Temporary. Harmless. Ridiculous. And now apparently painful because everyone I loved had betrayed me in under three minutes. Yeji watched every adjustment. Font. Spacing. Heart placement. Whether the plus sign looked too childish. Whether it should be slightly tilted. Whether the names should sit centered or angled over my chest.

Finally, Frankie held up the finished temporary stencil. Yeji studied it. Then nodded once “That one.” I looked at the design. Yeji + Ben. Small hearts. Soft font. Over the left side of my chest. Not too high. Not too obvious under normal clothes, exactly where she wanted it.

“Approved?” Frankie asked. Yeji crossed her arms “For temporary.” I smiled faintly “For now.” She turned toward me “Do not start.” Frankie applied the stencil. Then the machine started buzzing. I looked at him “You are enjoying this.”

Frankie smiled “A lil’ bit.” The needle touched skin. I exhaled through my nose. John leaned forward. “How is it?” I glared at him “I can feel the love.”

“That does not answer the question.” “It answers enough.”

Yeji stood beside me, watching with far too much satisfaction for someone who claimed this was only damage control “You okay?” she asked. I looked at her “Yes.”

“Good.” “That sounded affectionate.” “It was.”

I smiled. Then the needle moved over a more sensitive patch. My smile died but Yeji’s smile grew. That was when I realized I was in love with a dangerous woman. Frankie worked quickly, but not quickly enough for my dignity. Temporary ink was nothing compared to the hours I had spent under real needles, but the room treated it like I was signing a marriage contract on my skin— which, given the past twelve hours, was not entirely inaccurate.

When Frankie finished, he stepped back. “There.” Yeji went quiet. John lowered his eyes from the ceiling. Even he stopped joking. The temporary tattoo sat over my chest.

Yeji + Ben.

Small hearts. Ridiculous. Soft. What was supposed to be mine, now hers too. Temporary… for now. Yeji stared at it for a little too long. Then looked away “It’s stupid.”

I smiled “You like it.” “I hate it.” “You like it.” “Benjie.”

Frankie nodded “She likes it.” John pointed at him “Do not join him.” Frankie shrugged “I know happy panic when I see it.” Yeji covered her face “I hate everyone today.” I pulled my shirt back on slowly enough that she noticed. Her eyes narrowed “You did that on purpose.”

“Yes.” “At least you are honest.”

John stood “Great. We have evidence, paperwork, temporary body art, pain compliance, and no leaks. Can we leave before he buys the building?” Frankie looked at me “You want to buy the building?”

“No,” Yeji said immediately. I looked at her “I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought of something.” “That is not illegal.” “It will be if I ask JYP.”

John pointed at her “Good. Use that.” Frankie walked us to the private exit. Before we left, he looked at Yeji “For what it’s worth, I really won’t say anything.” Yeji’s expression softened “Thank you.” Frankie nodded. Then looked at me “And boss?”

“What?” “If the permanent one happens after the wedding, please let her choose the font again.”

Yeji made a strangled sound, John pushed the door open “We’re leaving.” I smiled “You can ink it in front of the crowd during the wedding, Frankie.”

“Benjie!”

We left the studio with John muttering about confidentiality, Yeji pretending not to look at my chest every few seconds, and me feeling strangely lighter than I probably deserved. Outside, John stopped beside the car “Tomorrow we are turning JYP’s private approval into an operational nightmare.”

“We got approval.” “We got private approval. Now we need schedule coordination, staff instructions, cover story consistency, security routing, and whatever additional clause JYP invents because you keep revealing new problems.”

Yeji looked at me “No new problems.” I nodded “No new problems.” My phone buzzed. All three of us looked down. Yuna had sent a message to the group chat.

YUNA: Vacation plan draft ready. Do we think “Healing Retreat” sounds too boring? I have alternatives. RYUJIN: Call it Hostile Wellness. LIA: Absolutely not. CHAERYEONG: I restocked the pantry. Please do not invite Momo unnie again without warning. NAYEON: I vote Hostile Wellness.

John stared at the phone “When did Nayeon get into this chat?” I looked at Yeji. Yeji looked at me. Neither of us answered, John closed his eyes “I hate all of you.”

Yeji looked at my chest again. Just once. Then looked away. I smiled. She pointed at me “Do not look excited.” Too late. Tomorrow, we would begin turning the retreat from permission into reality.

Two weeks, TWICE and ITZY. JYP-approved. Legally protected against hostile rich-people nonsense. Publicly wholesome. Privately impossible. And tonight, apparently, I had survived the temporary tattoo appointment… Mostly.

Yeji slid into the car beside me and muttered “Show me again when we get home.” I looked at her. She stared out the window, cheeks pink “For placement review.”

John made a sound from the front seat like his soul had finally quit. I smiled “Of course, you can look at it anytime you want.” Because apparently, the easier problem had still found a way to ruin us.

By the time we returned to the Top Floor, the place had somehow become a headquarters.

Not officially. Officially, nothing was happening yet. Officially, the retreat still needed final schedule coordination, staff routing, transport assignments, cover story alignment, and whatever corporate language Jihyo planned to use to make “two groups of idols disappearing into privacy with two managers and too much money” sound like wellness.

Unofficially, Yuna had already taken over the main table. There were papers everywhere.

A tablet. Three pens. A color-coded list. A separate page titled POSSIBLE ACTIVITIES, with the word “Hostile Wellness” crossed out so aggressively it had almost torn through the paper. Ryujin was lying sideways on the couch, looking suspiciously proud of herself. Lia sat near the kitchen with shopping bags at her feet, calm in the way people became after surviving war. Chaeryeong was restocking the pantry with the solemn focus of someone rebuilding civilization after Momo.

TWICE had arrived again in clusters. Jihyo and Mina were already seated with the documents. Nayeon was too comfortable. Sana was too delighted. Dahyun was too ready.

Momo was already looking toward the pantry. Chaeryeong noticed and froze “No,” she said softly. Momo blinked. Chaeryeong immediately bowed her head “I mean… not yet.” Momo nodded, accepting the terms of war.

John stepped out of the elevator behind us and stopped “No.”

Jihyo looked up “What?” “This is a meeting.” “Yes.” “With everyone.” “Yes.” “After the day we’ve had.” “Yes.”

John looked at me “You did this.” “I did not.” “You created the conditions.” “That is different.”

Mina looked at the folder “It is structurally similar.” John pointed at her “You are still banned from helping.” Mina blinked “I was clarifying.”

“That is helping.” Yeji walked in beside me and immediately straightened. Leader mode returned as naturally as breathing. No hand-holding. No softness. No obvious girlfriend anything. Not because she was hiding from them anymore. Because this was the final meeting. And Yeji respected the difference. Unfortunately, the room did not.

Ryujin’s eyes moved from Yeji to me. Then to my shirt. Then back to my face. Slowly. Dangerously. I knew that look. I should have stopped there. I should have sat down quietly, let Jihyo take over, and avoided giving the room any reason to remember what had happened at Frankie’s studio. Instead, I chose violence. Not loudly. Not obviously. Just a tad bit enough.

I reached up, adjusted the collar of my shirt— acting like I was trying to fix something in my clothing, and let the fabric shift half an inch lower than necessary. Only for a second. Only enough. A small curve of temporary ink appeared near the left side of my chest. Not the whole thing. Not the hearts. Not even the full name. Just the beginning “Yej—"

Ryujin sat up so fast the couch cushion nearly slid with her. Yuna stopped writing. Nayeon’s mouth opened. Sana gasped. Dahyun’s imaginary microphone appeared out of pure instinct. Yeji turned toward me slowly. Very slowly. I looked straight ahead. Like an innocent man. John stared at me.

“You did not.” “I adjusted my shirt, can’t a man try to adjust for comfort?” “You exposed evidence.” “I adjusted my shirt.”

Ryujin pointed at me like she'd just solved a murder case “He did it.” Yuna slapped both hands over her mouth “He actually did it.” Nayeon stood halfway out of her seat “No, no, no. Show us the rest.”

“No,” Yeji said immediately.

Sana leaned forward “Yes.”

“No.” “Please?” “No.”

Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone “Breaking news: partial tattoo reveal causes immediate public demand for full disclosure.”

“I am not disclosing anything,” Yeji said. Mina glanced up from her folder “Technically, it is not your tattoo.” Yeji turned toward her “Mina…” “It is a factual statement.”

John stood there for another second, staring at me. Then his face changed. Not surprise— decision “Oh,” he said quietly. I looked at him “No… You did not?” He reached into his pocket “Yes.”

“JOHN.”

He pulled out his phone. I pointed at him “Don’t you fucking dare.” Yeji looked between us “What?” John was already connecting his phone to the television “I have documentation.”

The room froze. Then every head turned toward him. Yuna whispered, “Documentation?” Ryujin slowly rose from the couch like a spirit summoned by gossip “You recorded it?” John looked at me, completely shameless “For identity protection.”

“That is not why you recorded it.” “It began as identity protection.” “And then?”

John tapped his phone, the television came alive. Frankie’s studio appeared on the screen. There I was. Shirt off. Sitting under the lights. Frankie standing over me with the machine. Yeji beside me, arms folded, looking terrifyingly focused. The entire room went silent for exactly half a second.

Then the Top Floor detonated.

“OH MY GOD,” Yuna screamed. Ryujin grabbed a pillow and nearly threw it at the screen. Nayeon clapped once. Sana covered her mouth, delighted. Dahyun’s imaginary microphone returned with renewed purpose “Breaking news: private evidence enters public record.” Yeji turned scarlet “John!” John lifted both hands “You chose the hearts. They deserve context.”

“I chose them privately!” Nayeon gasped “She chose the hearts?” Ryujin spun toward Yeji “There are hearts?” Yuna looked ready to ascend “There are actual hearts?”

The video continued.

Frankie’s voice came through the speakers “Whatever the girlfriend with wife privileges wants.”

The room exploded again.

Yeji covered her face with both hands “I hate this.” Sana leaned toward Nayeon “Girlfriend with wife privileges.” Nayeon nodded solemnly “Accurate title.”

“I am not his wife,” Yeji said through her hands. Dahyun lifted the imaginary microphone “Sources confirm wife privileges remain under dispute.” Jihyo pressed her fingers to her forehead “I cannot believe this is the meeting.” Mina studied the screen with surprising seriousness “The stencil placement is tasteful.”

“Mina,” John said. “What? It is.”

Onscreen, Frankie lifted the machine “So we’re using the gun, right?” The room paused. Then my voice came through the TV “What?” Frankie grinned onscreen “Temporary ink through the gun. All the pain of a real tattoo, none of the permanence.”

Ryujin fell backward onto the couch. Yuna screamed again. Nayeon pointed at the screen “He suffered for it?” John turned toward everyone “He did.” I stared at him “You sound proud.”

“I am.”

Onscreen, Yeji said “I like that option.” The room turned toward her. Yeji lowered her hands just enough to glare at the floor “It was fair.”

“It was betrayal,” I said. “It was consequences.”

The video showed the needle touching skin. I exhaled through my nose onscreen. John, from the video, asked “How is it?” My recorded self glared “I can feel the love.”

The room lost whatever composure it had left.

Even Lia was laughing now. Quietly but visibly. Chaeryeong smiled behind one hand “That is actually kind of cute.” That somehow embarrassed Yeji more than the screaming “It was supposed to be damage control,” she mumbled. Ryujin pointed at the screen as Frankie finished “There. Pause it. Pause it there.”

John paused the video. The final shot froze on the temporary tattoo

“Yeji + Ben”

Small hearts. Soft font. Over the left side of my chest. Ridiculous. Embarrassingly sincere, and very, very visible.

Silence. For one full second.

Then “She picked the hearts!” Ryujin shouted. “I knew it,” Nayeon said. Sana clasped her hands “That is disgustingly cute.” Dahyun lifted the imaginary microphone “Breaking news: tattoo confirmed. Hearts confirmed. Victims include everyone present.” Momo nodded toward the screen “Frankie is good.” Mina nodded “The line work is excellent.”

“Mina,” John said again. “It is.”

Chaeryeong looked between me and Yeji. Then smiled softly “It’s actually really pretty.” Yeji’s shoulders dropped. Just a little “Thank you,” she mumbled. Ryujin immediately pointed at her “She likes it.”

“I picked it.” “You love it”. Yeji buried her face in both hands again. Yuna grabbed her notebook and began writing furiously. Lia saw it “Do not add tattoo evidence to the meeting minutes.”

Yuna paused. Then slowly crossed something out. John disconnected his phone from the TV and looked at me with the expression of a man who had done a public service. I stared at him.

“You betrayed me.” “You weaponized your chest first.” “You streamed my suffering.” “For transparency.” “This was not a government inquiry.”

Dahyun lifted a finger “It became one.” Jihyo finally opened the folder with enough force to silence most of the room “Meeting,” she said.

The room settled. Not because the chaos was finished. Because Jihyo had decided it was. That was different. She looked around the table “JYP approved the retreat.” Everyone froze for the second time. This time, it was not because of my chest. Yuna lowered her pen “The week?” Jihyo looked at me. I looked at Yeji. Yeji exhaled. Then said it “Two weeks.”

For half a second, nobody moved. Then the Top Floor detonated again.

Yuna screamed first. Ryujin shot upright. Sana clapped. Nayeon grabbed Dahyun’s arm. Momo looked pleased for reasons that were probably food-related. Chaeyoung laughed under her breath. Tzuyu smiled faintly. Chaeryeong stood frozen beside the pantry, holding a bag of rice like it had become emotionally significant. Lia closed her eyes and smiled. Just a little. Like relief had found her before she could stop it. Yuna pointed both pens at me “I knew it.”

“You knew nothing.” “I manifested it.” “You did not.” “She kind of did,” Ryujin said. “No,” Lia said. “Emotionally, yes.”

Jihyo tapped the folder “Two weeks with conditions.” That sobered the room enough. Not completely. Enough.

Mina spoke next, calm and precise.

“Costs are split. ITZY under Ben, TWICE under me. Staff compensation, transport, private lodging, security, medical standby, and contingency coverage are included.”

John leaned back “And because Ben and Mina scared JYP enough— they signed a legal promise not to buy, influence, restructure, destabilize, pressure, or creatively interfere with JYPE.”

Ryujin slowly turned toward me “You had to sign a no-coup paper?” I looked away “It was more nuanced than that.” Mina nodded “Barely.” Nayeon’s eyes widened “A no-coup paper.” Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone again.

“Breaking news: wellness retreat approved after anti-takeover peace treaty.”

Jihyo pointed at her “Do not make that the title.” Yuna immediately wrote something. Lia leaned over “Yuna.” Yuna covered the page “It is not the title.”

“It is absolutely the title.”

Yeji glanced at me “No loopholes?” I looked offended. She waited. John waited. Jihyo waited. Mina looked mildly curious. I sighed.

“Ironclad, no active loopholes. I should have my lawyers check that.”

The room groaned. Yeji stared at me “Ben.”

“I am joking.” “Are you?” “Yes.”

Mina looked at me “Mostly.”

“Mina.” “What? Accuracy matters.”

John rubbed his face with both hands “I am begging one wealthy person in this room to be normal.” Mina and I said nothing. John lowered his hands “That was the worst possible response.”

Jihyo returned to the plan before the room could spiral again “We leave tomorrow morning. The official announcement goes out as an internal senior-junior wellness retreat. No public location. No livestreams. No staff posting. No casual hints. No accidental spoilers.”

Her eyes went to Nayeon. Nayeon gasped “Why me?”

“Because I know you.” “That is profiling.” “That is leadership.”

Dahyun raised one finger “What about creative hints?”

“No.” “Symbolic hints?” “No.” “What if the caption is just a cloud emoji?” “No.”

Sana smiled “What if it is two cloud emojis?” Jihyo closed the folder “No weather-related crimes.” Ryujin whispered to Yuna “She’s good.” Yuna nodded “Terrifying.”

Mina took over the logistics “The vans will meet in the private parking level. TWICE and ITZY will separate for departure routes, then converge outside the city. Phones stay normal until we reach the first checkpoint. After that, private devices only.”

Chaeryeong raised a hand slightly “Food?” Momo also raised a hand. Jihyo looked between them “Food has been accounted for.” Chaeryeong relaxed. Momo looked satisfied. Lia looked at Yuna’s activity sheet “What is ‘voluntary emotional sunrise session’?”

Yuna looked proud “It’s a wholesome bonding activity.” Ryujin leaned over “It says mandatory in parentheses.” “That was a draft note.”

Lia kept reading “And why does one item just say ‘Ben trial by water’?” Yuna took the paper back “Still workshopping.” Yeji turned toward me “No.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” “You looked interested.” “I did not.”

Ryujin grinned “He looked afraid.” “Good,” Yeji said.

The meeting moved faster after that. Mostly because Jihyo refused to let anyone rename the retreat. Yuna presented three activity categories: healing, bonding, and “things that would be funnier if Ben was involved.” Lia deleted the third category. Ryujin brought it back under a new title. Chaeryeong volunteered to help with meals and immediately became Momo’s favorite person again.

Nayeon suggested group games. John said no. Nayeon asked what kind. John said that was not what he meant. Sana asked if the retreat had couple activities. Jihyo told her to define couple. Sana smiled. Jihyo withdrew the question.

Eventually, the meeting ended not because everything was solved, but because everyone was too excited to be useful. That was enough. For now.

Jihyo stood, folder under one arm “Tomorrow morning. Parking level. Do not be late.” Mina looked at me “And do not buy anything overnight.” I frowned “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because you hear limits as suggestions,” John said. Yeji nodded “He does.” I looked at her. She smiled sweetly. It was not sweet. Jihyo started herding TWICE toward the elevator. Nayeon paused beside Yeji “So.”

Yeji looked at her suspiciously “What?” Nayeon pointed subtly at my chest “Did you choose the hearts?” Yeji’s face went red. Sana appeared behind Nayeon instantly “She chose the hearts?” Yeji closed her eyes “They were artistically necessary.”

Ryujin screamed from the couch “I knew it.” Yuna wrote something down again. Lia took the pen away. John looked at me “You see what you did?”

I adjusted my collar back into place “Leadership requires sacrifice.” “That was not leadership.” “It created morale.” “It created paperwork.” “Same thing today.”

John looked like he wanted to argue. Then realized I might be right. That hurt him more. The elevator doors closed on TWICE’s laughter. ITZY stayed behind for a while after. Not talking much. Just moving. Packing lists. Charging devices. Laundry. Small questions. Soft excitement. The kind that grew when nobody wanted to scare it by naming it too loudly.

Two weeks. It had sounded impossible yesterday. Now it was a departure time.

The next morning, the private parking level looked like the beginning of a secret operation badly disguised as company logistics. Two vans idled near the far end. Black. Tinted. Clean enough to look official and suspicious at the same time. Security stood in quiet positions near the exits.

Staff loaded bags with the mechanical precision of people who had been told not to ask questions and paid enough to obey.

TWICE arrived first.

Of course they did not arrive quietly. Nayeon stepped out of the elevator mid-sentence. Sana was laughing. Dahyun was carrying a small camera case that Jihyo immediately confiscated. “It is not for posting,” Dahyun said. “No.”

“It is for memories.” “No.” “It is off.” “No.”

Dahyun sighed and handed it over “Cruel.” Momo had a snack bag. Chaeryeong saw it and visibly relaxed. Jeongyeon noticed. “You brought backup food?” Chaeryeong nodded. Momo smiled at her like they had achieved peace between nations. Mina arrived last among TWICE, checking something on her phone. John saw her and immediately said “No more efficiency.” Mina blinked “I was checking route timing.”

“That sounds efficient.” “It is.”

John looked toward the ceiling “I am surrounded.”

ITZY gathered near the second van. Yuna had her vacation notebook tucked under one arm. Ryujin wore sunglasses indoors and refused to explain why. Lia looked comfortable enough to be dangerous. Chaeryeong had somehow packed snacks for both vans. Yeji stood beside me, arms folded, pretending not to be excited.

I noticed. Of course I noticed. She noticed me noticing.

“Do not say anything.” “I was not going to.” “You were.” “I was going to say you look happy.”

Her face softened despite herself. Then she looked away “I am.” That was enough to make the noise around us fade for half a second. Then Ryujin appeared beside us “Gross.”

Yeji sighed “You were not invited into this moment.” “I live here emotionally.” Yuna joined from the other side “Are we doing seating arrangements?”

John immediately straightened “No.” Nayeon smiled “Yes.”

Jihyo stepped between them with the authority of someone who had prevented wars before breakfast “Assigned vans. Assigned routes. Assigned silence until the first checkpoint.”

Ryujin lifted a hand “What about emotional noise?” “No.” Yuna lowered her notebook “What about activity planning?” “No.” Dahyun raised her hand “What about documenting no one talking?” Jihyo stared at her, Dahyun lowered her hand. “No.”

Mina glanced toward me “Did you remember the anti-interference clause?” I stared at her “Why would I need to remember it in a parking lot?” John pointed at me “Because you might see a toll booth and buy the highway.” Yeji turned to me immediately “You are not buying a highway.”

“I was not planning to buy a highway.” Yuna whispered, “Planning.” Lia nodded “He said planning.” Ryujin grinned “So spontaneous highway acquisition is still possible.”

“Everyone get in the vans,” Jihyo said. The command worked. Mostly. Bags were loaded. Doors opened. TWICE separated into their assigned vehicle with John, Jihyo, and Mina coordinating like this was normal. ITZY moved toward ours.

Before Yeji stepped in, she looked at me. Her eyes dropped once. Very briefly. To my chest. Then back up “Is it covered?” “Yes.” “Fully?” “Mostly.” “Benjie.” “It is covered.”

Ryujin, already inside the van, leaned toward the open door “What’s covered?” “Nothing,” Yeji and I said at the same time. Yuna gasped “Tattoo.” Lia closed her eyes “Too early.” Chaeryeong climbed in quietly, smiling to herself.

John shouted from the other van “If I see even one letter during travel, I am filing a report.” Nayeon’s voice followed “Make sure it’s Yej—” the rest of her sentence vanished when Jihyo shut the van door.

Yeji looked at me. I looked at her. For once, I behaved. I buttoned the top of my overshirt. She smiled. Small. Proud “Good boy.”

From inside the van, Ryujin screamed “I heard that.” Yuna laughed. Lia sighed. Chaeryeong made a tiny sound that might have been a laugh too. I looked at Yeji. She looked back, cheeks pink but chin lifted. Then she stepped into the van. I followed. The door slid shut.

For a moment, the world became tinted glass, low engine vibration, quiet breathing, and the strange realization that we had actually made it this far. Two weeks. TWICE and ITZY. Company-approved. Legally anti-takeover protected. Publicly wholesome. Privately impossible.

The van started moving. Yeji’s hand found mine between the seats. No one said anything. Not at first. Then Yuna whispered from the back “So… Hostile Wellness?”

“No,” Lia said immediately. Ryujin whispered, “Temporary title.” Chaeryeong whispered, “Maybe something gentler?”

I looked out the window as the parking level lights slid past one by one. For the first time in days, we were not walking into a meeting. Not a confrontation. Not a secret. We were leaving. And maybe, if the universe was feeling generous, we would come back a little less broken than when we left.

Then Ryujin leaned forward and whispered “Ben.” I closed my eyes “What?” “Can we see the tattoo at the first checkpoint?”

Yeji’s hand tightened around mine. The van erupted. And just like that, vacation began.

[afterhours37]

Overworked & Overwanted - The Top Floor Summit

Word Count: 12k No smut content, purely plot (Part 2 of Damage Control)

By the time the elevator chimed, the Top Floor had never looked cleaner. Which was impressively suspicious. Because six emotionally compromised adults had tried to prepare a luxury floor for the arrival of nine senior idols, one exhausted manager, and whatever psychological weapon Park Jihyo had decided to bring with her.

The result was less “prepared” and more “crime scene sanitized by guilty people.” Ryujin had hidden anything she personally considered embarrassing. Unfortunately, Ryujin’s definition of embarrassing was deeply unreliable. Yuna had spent twenty minutes asking if certain things counted as evidence. Lia had told her that if she had to ask, the answer was yes. Chaeryeong had focused on food, because apparently she was the only person here with survival instincts. Yeji had tried to keep everyone calm. I had tried to help, nobody believed me.

“You are pacing,” Lia said from the kitchen island. “I am assessing the room.” “You have assessed the room nine times.” “Then the room should feel grateful.”

Ryujin leaned against the counter with a bottle of water in hand “You know, for someone who owns this entire floor, you look like a man waiting for his landlord to inspect the apartment.”

“TWICE is coming here.” “Yes.” “All of TWICE.” “Yes.” “And you think that is normal.”

Ryujin took a sip of water “No. I think it is funny.” Yuna appeared from the hallway holding a throw pillow “Where do we put this?” I looked at it “On the couch.” She looked down, then back at me “But what if Sana unnie touches it and somehow knows?”

“Knows what?” “I don’t know. That’s the danger.”

Lia closed her eyes “Please put the pillow down.” Yuna placed it on the couch very carefully, as if the fabric had legal consequences. Chaeryeong walked in with another tray of snacks “Do you think this is enough?” I looked at the table. There were already enough snacks to sustain a small diplomatic summit “Yes.” Chaeryeong frowned “But Momo sunbaenim is coming.” I paused “Good point, get double— no triple the amount.” Chaeryeong immediately turned back toward the kitchen. Ryujin pointed after her “See? That’s leadership.” Yeji looked toward the elevator doors “She’s not wrong.” I rubbed my forehead “Outstanding. We are preparing for TWICE like a siege.”

The elevator chimed again. This time, the doors opened and the siege arrived.

Jihyo stepped out first. She entered like a person who had already read the room, judged the room, and decided she could manage the room before her second foot crossed the threshold.

John followed behind her carrying a folder, looking like a man who had been warned about danger and still walked into it for love, employment, or stupidity. Possibly all three.

Mina came next. Calm. Elegant. Quiet. Her eyes moved across the Top Floor once, then again. Not like someone admiring luxury. Like someone evaluating asset value, security lines, privacy vulnerabilities, and whether the lighting choices were tasteful enough to survive wealth. That honestly made me uncomfortable.

Then came Nayeon. Smiling. Which meant one thing… incoming damage.

Sana appeared behind her, already looking around with delighted curiosity.

Jeongyeon followed with the dry expression of someone expecting nonsense and being disappointed only by how quickly it began.

Momo entered and immediately looked toward the food.

Chaeyoung’s eyes widened as she took in the lounge.

Dahyun looked like she was already preparing commentary.

Tzuyu stepped in last, quiet and composed, then looked through the glass wall toward the city view.

For a moment, everyone simply stood there TWICE looking at the Top Floor. ITZY looking at TWICE. John looking like he wanted hazard pay. Me looking for exits in a floor I owned. Then Nayeon smiled wider “So this is where you’ve been hiding them.” I sighed “Good afternoon to you too.”

Sana moved past her with sparkling eyes “This is so pretty.” Dahyun looked around slowly “Pretty? This is not pretty. This is expensive with emotional intent.” Ryujin pointed at her.

“I like her.” “I like me too,” Dahyun replied immediately. Yuna leaned toward Lia and whispered, “I fear her.” “You should,” Lia whispered back.

Jihyo looked at the lounge, then the kitchen, then the hallway “The entire place is bigger than I expected.” John snorted. “You expected modesty from Ben? I looked at him “You live with TWICE.”

“That is unrelated.” Mina finally spoke “It’s well-designed.” Everyone turned toward her. Her tone was calm, almost neutral but somehow, it felt like passing an exam. I nodded once “Thank you.”

Ryujin leaned toward Yuna “Rich people just communicated in furniture language.” Yuna whispered back, “I think that was intimacy.”

“It was not,” I said. Mina sipped from the bottled water Chaeryeong had handed her without anyone noticing “It was not.” Ryujin pointed between us “That’s what rich people would say.” John rubbed both hands over his face “We have been here for THIRTY seconds.” Momo, meanwhile, had reached the snacks. Chaeryeong appeared beside her almost instantly “I made more, just in case.” Momo looked at her. Then at the food. Then back at her “You are very thoughtful.” Chaeryeong turned pink.

Ryujin whispered, “Chaeryeong has secured Momo.” “Good,” Lia said. “That may save us later.” Yeji stepped forward, leader smile firmly in place “Welcome to the Top Floor.”

Jihyo smiled at her “Thank you for having us.” Nayeon’s eyes moved from Yeji to me. Then back to Yeji. Then to my hand, which Yeji was not holding. Her smile sharpened “So this is a wellness space?”

“Yes,” Yeji said carefully. Nayeon looked around “With private rooms?” Yeji’s expression did not change. Ryujin choked on her water. Yuna immediately stared at the ceiling. Lia closed her eyes. I looked at John. John looked at me. We both understood that the first shot had been fired. Jihyo turned toward Nayeon.

“Nayeon.” “What? I’m asking about the facilities.” Jeongyeon crossed her arms “You are asking about the facilities like a criminal.” Dahyun lifted one finger “For accuracy, some criminals have more subtlety.” Nayeon looked delighted “I missed this.” “You were with them this morning,” John muttered. “And I missed this version.” Sana looped an arm through Nayeon’s “Can we have a tour?”

The question sounded innocent. It was not. But refusing would be worse so I glanced at Yeji. Yeji looked back at me.

Her expression said, You caused this. Mine said, I know.

So we gave TWICE the tour. The lounge went first. Then the kitchen. Then the gym. Then the recovery room. Then the massage room, which Ryujin tried very hard to walk past too quickly. Unfortunately, Sana noticed “Oh?” she said. Ryujin froze. Yuna made a tiny delighted sound. Lia muttered, “Here we go.” Sana looked from Ryujin to me. Then smiled “Useful room?” Ryujin turned toward her with impressive speed “For recovery.”

“Of course.” “Physical recovery.” “Of course.” Nayeon leaned in from behind Sana “Why are we saying of course like that?” “Because Ryujin is lying badly,” Dahyun said. Ryujin pointed at her “You are dangerous.” Dahyun smiled “So I have been told.”

Yeji cleared her throat “This room is mainly for stretching, therapy, and post-practice recovery.” Jihyo looked at the equipment “Actually, this is impressive.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Mina looked at the room. Then at me. “Imported?”

“Mostly.” “Custom?” “Some.” “Hmm, you have good taste.”

Ryujin whispered to Yuna, “They’re doing it again.” Yuna nodded solemnly “Furniture language.”

Mina glanced at both of them. They immediately stopped whispering.

John leaned toward me “I enjoy when other people experience Mina’s quiet intimidation.” “It is not intimidation,” Mina said from across the room. John closed his eyes “See?”

The tour continued. The more TWICE saw, the more the jokes sharpened. The private dining area became “Ben’s idol bunker”. The lounge became “the world’s most expensive emotional support room”. The city-facing balcony became “where rich people stare dramatically after making bad decisions” I did not deny that one.

Then Nayeon saw the private suite hallway. She stopped. Looked at the hallway. Looked at Yeji, then at me. Her entire face lit up.

“Oh.” “No,” I said immediately. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.”

She turned to Jihyo “He built Yeji a honeymoon suite.”

Yeji’s face went red instantly “I— That’s not—” Ryujin appeared behind her “It is emotionally a honeymoon suite.” Yuna nodded “With witnesses.” Lia sighed “Why are we adding witnesses?” Dahyun placed a hand over her heart “For the documentary.” “No documentary,” Jihyo said.

Chaeyoung looked around “Honestly, this whole place does feel like a secret married-life set.” Yeji made a small helpless sound. I stared at the wall. John patted my shoulder “Congratulations.”

“I hate you.” “No, you don’t.”

Mina looked toward Yeji, then me. Her expression remained unreadable. But her voice was soft “It suits you.” That quieted the hallway more than the jokes had. Yeji looked at Mina. Then nodded “Thank you.”

For half a second, the room breathed. Then Sana smiled “Still honeymoon suite.” Yeji covered her face. The tour ended in the main lounge. Everyone settled into scattered seats across couches, armchairs, and stools. TWICE took over the space with a kind of terrifying ease. ITZY looked both overwhelmed and fascinated. Jihyo waited until everyone had drinks. Then she placed her cup down.

The sound was soft. But it changed the room. I noticed first. Then Yeji, John, and Mina. Jihyo looked across the room “This visit is not only social.” There it was. I leaned back slightly. John avoided my eyes. Ryujin looked between us “Oh no.” Yuna straightened, Lia’s expression sharpened, Chaeryeong went still. Jihyo continued “If TWICE and ITZY are going to be involved in the retreat Ben proposed, then everyone in this room needs to understand the risk of being honest.”

I frowned “Jihyo.” she looked at me “You called me.”

“I called for advice.” “And received structure.” “That is not the same thing.” “It is better.” John muttered, “She has you there.”

I glared at him, the Jihyo lifted the folder John had been holding. My blood went cold.

“No…” Ryujin’s eyes widened “What is that?” “Paperwork,” John said gravely. Yuna gasped “Ben predicted her.” “I feared her,” I corrected. Jihyo opened the folder “These are NDAs.”

The air shifted. Not badly, but seriously. ITZY looked at the papers. Then at TWICE. Then at me. Yeji’s posture went still. She knew enough to understand why.

Lia was already watching the wording from where she sat. Chaeryeong’s hands folded in her lap. Yuna’s playfulness dimmed. Ryujin leaned forward, quieter now. Jihyo noticed the change and softened her voice “This is not to silence you.” She looked at each of them “It is so everyone can speak honestly without endangering anyone else”. That mattered and the room held onto it.

Jihyo continued “TWICE knows the general shape of what has been happening with Ben and ITZY. Ben and Yeji know the general shape of what has been happening with John and TWICE. But general shapes are not enough if both groups are about to share space privately for a week or more.” Yuna glanced at me. Lia glanced at Yeji. Chaeryeong looked down at the papers.

Ryujin exhaled “So this is mutual.” “Yes,” Jihyo said. Nayeon leaned back, less teasing now “We are not here to expose you.” Sana nodded “Or judge you.” Jeongyeon added, “We are here because secrets are dangerous when people keep tripping over them.” Dahyun lifted her hand slightly “And because Jihyo said we were coming.” Jihyo looked at her. Dahyun smiled “Respectfully.” Mina spoke quietly from her chair “Protection first. Explanation after.”

That settled the room more than anything else. Yeji reached for the first copy. She did not rush. She’s already done this before to understand, then signed. Simple. Steady, leader first.

Ryujin watched her. Then picked up a pen “This covers emotional crimes too?” John looked at her “What?”

“Just asking.” Jihyo did not blink “Unfortunately, no.” “Shame.” Ryujin signed.

Yuna took hers next. She scanned the page, lips pressed together in concentration. Then signed with more care than her jokes would have suggested.

Lia read hers fully. Twice. Then she looked up. “This protects both sides equally?” Jihyo nodded “It does.” Lia signed.

Chaeryeong held hers the longest. Not because she was resisting, but because she was careful. She looked at Jihyo. “If someone becomes uncomfortable later?” Jihyo’s face softened “Then they can say so. The NDA protects information. It does not force participation.” Chaeryeong nodded. Then signed.

The pens sounded louder than it should have when everyone finally set them down.

Jihyo gathered the papers. John placed them back in the folder and suddenly, the room felt different. Not safer exactly. Just more honest. Jihyo looked toward me briefly. I did not like that look. It was the look of a woman about to push the next domino. She turned back to ITZY “Now we can speak properly.”

Nayeon sat up. Sana’s hand found Jihyo’s arm for a second. Jeongyeon leaned back, watching ITZY carefully. Momo stopped eating. Dahyun’s expression settled. Chaeyoung looked thoughtful. Tzuyu’s gaze moved toward John. Mina held her tea with both hands. Jihyo spoke first.

“TWICE has an arrangement with John.” No one interrupted. That alone said everything. Jihyo continued. “It started messy. Not because anyone wanted to hurt each other, but because care became complicated before any of us had language for it.”

My eyes shifted toward Yeji. She was listening closely. So were the others. Jihyo glanced at John. He did not look away “There are boundaries,” she said. “There is consent. There is rotation. There are rules we built because without them, someone would eventually feel forgotten, or guilty, or responsible for too much.”

Ryujin’s eyebrows lifted “Rotation?” Nayeon smiled faintly “There it is.” Ryujin looked at her “So you have a schedule?” John closed his eyes. Ryujin leaned forward “Like an actual romantic calendar?” Dahyun coughed into her hand. Yuna whispered, “She means horny calendar, we told her to be polite.” “Yuna,” Yeji said weakly. “What? She did.”

Jihyo sighed, but her mouth twitched “In less… Ryujin terms, yes. We have a system.” Lia’s question came quietly “And everyone agreed?”

“Yes,” Jihyo said with no hesitation “That is the only reason it works.” Chaeryeong looked toward John “How do you handle it?” John exhaled “Badly at first.” Nayeon snorted “Still badly sometimes.” John pointed at her “Thank you for the support.”

“You’re welcome.” Jihyo continued before they could spiral “John does not belong to a schedule. The schedule exists so none of us hurt each other by accident.” That landed. Especially with Yeji and me. Yuna leaned forward “So nobody feels left out?” The question was too soft to be a joke. Nayeon’s smile gentled “Sometimes feelings still happen.” Sana nodded “But it helps when nobody has to guess where they stand.” Tzuyu spoke quietly. “And when no one is punished for needing reassurance.”

The room went still. Yuna looked down. Ryujin stopped moving. Lia’s fingers tightened around her cup. Chaeryeong looked at the floor. Yeji’s hand shifted beside mine. Jihyo looked at ITZY with the calm of someone who knew exactly where the sentence had landed “That is why I wanted this conversation before the retreat,” she said. “Not because you need to copy us.” Her eyes moved to Ryujin. Then to Yuna. Then to Lia. Then to Chaeryeong. Then to Yeji. And finally, to me “Do not copy us just because we survived our version.”

“Build what fits you.” “But build it honestly.”

That sentence settled into the room like a rule nobody had to write down. Ryujin leaned back. “So TWICE built rules first,” she looked at all of us “And we built emotional chaos first.” Dahyun nodded. “That is a very accurate meeting summary.” Lia sighed “Unfortunately.”

Yuna glanced to both me and Yeji “So we are not broken.” The sentence was almost too quiet. Jihyo looked at her “No. God no.” Mina spoke next “You are unfinished.”

Yuna blinked. Mina’s expression remained calm. “There is a difference.”

For some reason, that hit harder. Yuna nodded slowly. Chaeryeong looked at Mina too. So did Lia. Ben and Mina communicating in wealth language had been strange. But Mina communicating in quiet precision was worse. It landed cleanly.

Jihyo let the silence stay for a while. Then John, because he was John, ruined it with mercy. “For the record, the rotation system also prevents Nayeon from starting coups.” Nayeon gasped “Excuse you?” Jeongyeon looked at ITZY “He’s not wrong.” Sana nodded “Sometimes coups are romantic.” Dahyun lifted a hand “Depends on the branding.” Tzuyu nodded seriously “Some coups need better scheduling.” John stared at all of them “This is exactly why we needed rules.”

Ryujin smiled “I respect this group deeply.” “I fear them,” Lia said. “Both,” Chaeryeong whispered.

The room laughed. Not because everything was simple now. Because for the first time, the impossible thing had been said out loud and nobody had shattered. That mattered. Then Jihyo turned the conversation toward the retreat “We still need to make this approvable.” Everyone groaned at the same time. Jihyo ignored it. “Publicly, this becomes a senior-junior wellness retreat. TWICE and ITZY. Recovery, mentorship, bonding, privacy.” Dahyun lifted a hand “Can the official name be less boring?”

“No.” “Cruel.”

John leaned forward “It gives JYP a clean reason to approve schedule movement.” “And it prevents speculation,” Lia said. “Exactly,” Jihyo replied.

I nodded “I’ll cover the retreat.” The room went silent. Not because they were surprised. Because everyone had been waiting for me to say something financially irresponsible. Jihyo looked at me like she had expected it. John looked tired because he had expected it too. Yeji looked like she wanted to argue but knew the argument would be pointless. Mina, however, simply lifted her tea “Half…” I looked at her “Excuse me?”

“Half,” Mina repeated calmly. “You cover ITZY. I cover TWICE.” “That is unnecessary.” “So is most of what you do.”

The room went quiet. Ryujin slowly leaned toward Yuna. “Are rich people allowed to talk to each other like that?” Yuna whispered back, “I think this is flirting in tax brackets.” “It is not flirting,” I said. Mina sipped her tea “It is accounting and logistics.” John rubbed both hands over his face “I hate when wealthy people argue. It sounds like two countries negotiating borders.” Nayeon leaned forward with interest “Wait. Is this how rich people fight?” Dahyun nodded thoughtfully “It’s quieter than expected.” “Usually we pay people to fight to the death for us as we watch” I added in as a joke. Mina cut me off “Shush, we don’t discuss that outside the walls, Ben.”

And honestly, I don’t know what scares me more, Mina making a joke or if that wasn’t a joke at all. I wasn’t going to poke that bear ever again, though.  Chaeyoung looked at me, then Mina.

“Are we witnessing the beginning of a secret takeover of JYPE?” Mina blinked “Secret?” I frowned “Takeover?” John pointed at both of us “That response was somehow worse.” Ryujin slowly sat up “Hold on. You both objected to different parts.” Yuna’s eyes widened “Oh my God.” Lia closed her eyes “Please do not encourage this.” Ryujin ignored her completely “Mina unnie objected to it being secret. Ben objected to it being called a takeover.” Dahyun gasped softly “That means they’ve considered a non-secret non-takeover.”

I stared at her.

“That is not what that means.” Mina took a calm sip of tea “A takeover implies disruption.”

The room went silent. John’s head slowly turned toward her. Mina continued, serene. “Poor management creates disruption. Good management creates continuity.” I looked at her. “That is true.” John stood halfway from his seat “No.” I frowned “What?”

“You agreed too fast.” “Because she is correct.”

Mina nodded once “Under better management, costs would be cleaner, staff retention would improve, artist wellness would have actual infrastructure, and food quality would apparently become a measurable morale factor.” Momo nodded seriously “It would.” Chaeryeong whispered, “It really would.” I leaned back, considering it despite myself “Scheduling inefficiencies would need work too.” Jihyo slowly turned toward me “Ben.”

“What?”

Mina looked at me. “Security structure as well.” “Obviously.” “Privacy leaks.” “First quarter priority.” “Artist recovery spaces.” “Non-negotiable.”

The room went so quiet that even Ryujin looked concerned. John pointed between us with both hands “This is what I mean. This is terrifying. You two are planning corporate reform like normal people discuss lunch.” Yuna leaned toward Ryujin “This is flirting in tax brackets again.”

“It is not flirting,” I said. Mina said, “It is governance.” John looked physically unwell “That is worse.”

Nayeon raised her hand “As a future beneficiary of improved snack policy, I support the polite coup.” “It is not a coup,” Mina said. I added, “It would be an acquisition of operational influence.” Jihyo closed her eyes “You are both making it worse.” Dahyun looked delighted “Can the documentary be called Hostile Wellness?” “No documentary,” Jihyo and I said at the same time. Chaeyoung pointed at us “That sounded like management alignment.”

John stood fully “Nope. Private meeting. Now. Before the two economic superpowers draft a five-year plan on a napkin.” The room exploded. Jihyo stood as well, already composed “Ben. Yeji. John. Mina. With me.” Ryujin raised her hand “Why not me?” Mina looked at her “Because this part involves money.” Ryujin lowered her hand immediately “Valid.” Yuna raised her hand “What about me?” Jihyo smiled “You would make it worse.” Yuna nodded “Also valid.”

Lia leaned back “I will stay here and monitor the damage.” Dahyun smiled at her “That implies you can stop it.” Lia looked at TWICE. Then at ITZY. Then sighed “I cannot.” Yeji squeezed my hand once before standing. Her touch said what her face did not… survive.

We moved into the smaller conference room near the back of the Top Floor. The door closed behind us. The private meeting was exactly as exhausting as I expected, maybe worse. Jihyo laid out the cover story. John handled scheduling optics. Mina handled privacy logistics with terrifying calm. Yeji explained why ITZY needed the space in a way that made the whole room go quiet. Not because she dramatized it. Because she did not “They can keep working,” Yeji said. “We all can. That doesn’t mean we’re okay.” That one sentence made Jihyo stop writing. John looked down. Mina’s expression softened by half a degree. I looked at Yeji. And for a moment, I remembered again why she was the one I came home to. Then the meeting became numbers.

Schedule movement. Staff compensation. Security shifts. Media cover. Travel routes. Possible venues. Medical access. Emergency exits. Vehicle swaps. Privacy clauses. JYP objections. JYP counter-objections. JYP emotional grievance fees.

That last one was John’s idea. Jihyo told him not to call it that. Mina suggested “disruption compensation.” John said that sounded less fun. I agreed with Mina. John called me a traitor. It was productive. Unfortunately. By the time the private meeting ended, my brain felt like it had been folded into a spreadsheet.

Vacation logistics. JYP approval. Schedule compensation. Security rotation. Privacy clauses. Mina and I politely arguing over money while John looked like he wanted to walk into the sea.

It should have been the dangerous part of the afternoon. It was not.

The dangerous part was the silence that greeted us when we stepped back into the main lounge. Not true silence. Way worse. The kind of silence that followed laughter too quickly. John stopped beside me. His eyes moved across the room. Nayeon was smiling. Ryujin was smiling. Yuna was sitting with her knees pulled up on the sofa, looking entirely too proud of herself. Sana looked delighted. Dahyun looked like she had just witnessed the greatest variety show segment of her career. Lia was staring into the middle distance like she had survived information she did not ask for. Chaeryeong looked like someone had gently handed her a grenade and called it friendship.

John inhaled slowly “They talked.” “Obviously.” “About us?”

I looked at Ryujin. Ryujin smiled wider. I looked at Nayeon. Nayeon smiled wider than that. “We’re dead,” I said. John nodded “Historically, yes.”

Jihyo stepped in behind us, took one look at the room, and immediately closed her eyes “What did you do?” Nayeon pointed at herself innocently “Why are you looking at me?”

“Because I know you.” “That is profiling.” “That is experience.”

Ryujin leaned back on the couch, arms folded behind her head “In our defense, nobody told us we were not allowed to compare notes.” Lia turned toward her “We absolutely did not need to compare notes. Sana lifted a hand “I disagree. This was very educational.” Chaeryeong’s voice came faintly from the edge of the sofa “I learned things I did not know could be discussed during daylight.” Yuna nodded solemnly “I also learned things.” I looked at her “You contributed things.” Yuna blinked at me with perfect innocence “It only happened yesterday. I still have fresh perspective.” Yeji made a small sound beside me. Mina, calm as ever, looked from Yuna to Ryujin to Nayeon. Then she took one careful sip of tea “I see we left the wrong people unsupervised.” John pointed at her “Thank you.” Nayeon gasped “Excuse me. We were bonding.”

“You were exchanging classified trauma,” John said. “Classified?” Ryujin repeated. “We signed the NDA.” Yuna immediately pointed at her “She’s right.” Dahyun nodded with frightening seriousness “Legally, the gossip was protected.” I stared at the ceiling “Fantastic. Wonderful. The law betrayed us.”

Nayeon crossed one leg over the other, looking far too pleased “Honestly, Ben, you should be proud. ITZY speaks very highly of your dedication.” Ryujin nodded “Very dedicated.” Yuna nodded too “Extremely committed.” Lia covered her face. Chaeryeong whispered, “Why are we like this?” Sana leaned toward her. “You get used to it.”

“No, she won’t,” Mina said quietly. John looked at Nayeon “What did you tell them?” Nayeon smiled “Only what was relevant.” “That means everything.” “Not everything.” Jihyo opened one eye “Nayeon.” Nayeon sighed dramatically “Fine. Some highlights.” John took one step back “No.” Ryujin’s eyes lit up “Oh, highlights is a good word.”

That was when I noticed the couch cushions. One had been flipped forward. Another had been pushed against the armrest. A third was somehow on the floor. I looked at Ryujin. She smiled.

“No.” “What?” she asked sweetly. “You demonstrated.” Ryujin’s smile widened “I clarified.” Lia made a pained sound “She clarified too much.” Chaeryeong nodded faintly, still staring at the floor “I understand angles now.” I closed my eyes “Outstanding.” Yuna lifted one hand “For the record, my contribution was tasteful.” Yeji turned toward her “Yuna.” “It was! I told it like a story.” Ryujin snorted “She narrated it like a coming-of-age drama with suspiciously detailed pacing.” Yuna looked offended “It was my first time. I’m allowed to have narrative structure.”

Sana clasped her hands together “It was actually very moving.” Dahyun nodded “And then immediately not moving.” Nayeon leaned toward John “TWICE also provided balance.” John stared at her “What does that mean?”

“It means we shared too.” His face went blank “All of you?” Jeongyeon shrugged “It seemed fair.” Momo nodded “They had questions.” Tzuyu added calmly, “Some of them were practical.” John looked at Jihyo. Jihyo did not meet his eyes. John’s jaw dropped “You too?” Jihyo cleared her throat “I couldn’t control damage I wasn’t there for.” Nayeon nodded solemnly “Leader duties.”

John looked like he had just been betrayed by democracy.

Ryujin’s eyes sparkled “Oh, highlights is definitely the right word.” I pointed at her “You.” Ryujin pointed at herself. “Me?” “You are so doing aegyo TikToks with JYP.”

The room exploded. Ryujin’s mouth dropped open, Yuna screamed into a pillow, Dahyun slapped the arm of the couch, Sana nearly fell sideways into Momo, Lia looked horrified and amused at the same time, Chaeryeong covered her mouth with both hands, Yeji turned to me with wide eyes “Ben.”

“What? She knew the risk.” Ryujin stood halfway from the couch. “That is a cruel and unjust punishment.” “It is character development.” “It is psychological warfare.” “It is content.”

John, however, did not laugh. He turned toward me slowly, horror spreading across his face like I had just introduced a new category of violence into the world “Wait.” I looked at him “What?”

“You can assign idol punishment content?”

“No”. Ryujin pointed at me “He absolutely can.” John’s eyes widened “Jihyo.” Jihyo did not look at him “Do not drag me into this.” John turned to Nayeon “Nayeon.” Nayeon smiled sweetly “Yes, manager-nim?”

“You are not getting ideas.” Her smile changed. Not brighter. Worse, it was sharper “Oh?” she said, tilting her head. “Does that mean you’ll punish me later tonight for being a bad girl?” The room froze.

I felt my soul leave my body in solidarity with John’s. John stopped breathing. Jihyo’s eyes snapped open. Mina looked into her tea like it had personally disappointed her. Chaeryeong made a tiny sound. Lia whispered, “Oh my God.” Ryujin slowly sat back down, reverent. Yuna looked like she had just found a new religion. Nayeon only shrugged, perfectly shameless “What?” she said. “They signed the NDAs. I don’t have to perform anymore.”

John covered his face with both hands “I miss five minutes ago.” “No, you don’t,” Nayeon said. “I do.” “You love me.” “That is unrelated to my suffering.” Jihyo pointed at Nayeon without looking at her “You are why we need paperwork.” Nayeon smiled “And yet everyone always thanks me later.” Dahyun raised a finger “She has a point.” “No, she does not,” John and I said at the same time.

That made the room laugh harder. The laughter should have made everything lighter. It did. For a while. But as the room kept moving around me, as TWICE and ITZY laughed together like the impossible had somehow become social, I felt something quiet inside me tighten.

First it was my space. Then it was ITZY’s shelter. Then it became Yeji’s sanctuary. Then Ryujin’s trouble. Then Lia’s waiting room. Then Yuna’s doorway. Then Chaeryeong’s quiet truth.

Now TWICE was here. John was here. Jihyo had paperwork. Mina had the audacity to match my money. Nayeon had no shame. And everyone was laughing like this was survivable. Maybe it was and maybe that was the problem. I stepped away before I realized I had moved. Not dramatically. Not enough for the room to stop. Just one step after the other. Past the lounge. Past the hallway. Toward the open balcony where the city air came colder through the glass door.

The noise faded behind me. For the first time all day, no one followed immediately. Good. I needed the silence. I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. The air hit my face sharp enough to feel real. For a while, I only stood there. Then I reached into my pocket. The cigarette was not supposed to be there. Which was a lie. Old habits did not disappear just because life became expensive and complicated. They waited like bad friends.

I lit it with my back to the city and took one slow drag. The smoke burned in a way I had not missed and missed anyway. I exhaled toward the skyline.

“Didn’t know you still did that.”

I did not turn around. John closed the balcony door behind him. He stood beside me, hands in his pockets, looking out at the city. For a while, he said nothing. That was how I knew he was worried.

John made jokes when he was annoyed. He made insults when he was scared. Silence meant he was trying to be careful.

“I don’t,” I said. He glanced at the cigarette “Convincing.” I looked down at it “Today is an exception.” “Today has been an exception since you slept with Yeji.” I snorted “Don’t get meta with me, jackass.” “I am emotionally exhausted. I’ll get whatever the hell I want.”

We stood in the cold for a few seconds. Behind the glass, the room glowed warm. The girls moved like silhouettes through the light. TWICE and ITZY. Two impossible systems orbiting two very tired men. John followed my gaze.

“Do you regret it?”

I knew what he meant. Not the cigarette. Not the money. Not the vacation. All of it.

Me and ITZY, Yeji, Ryujin, Yuna, Lia’s careful truth, Chaeryeong’s quiet waiting, Waterbomb, The Top Floor, The phone call, The door I had opened.

I took another drag, slower this time “No.” John looked at me. I exhaled “It is insane.” “That wasn’t the question.” “It is complicated.” “Still not the question.” “It might ruin me.” “That one is closer.”

I smiled faintly. Then looked back through the glass. Yeji was laughing at something Sana had said. Yuna was leaning toward Dahyun. Ryujin and Nayeon looked like a national security threat. Lia was speaking quietly with Jeongyeon. Chaeryeong was offering Momo more food. Mina sat near Jihyo, calmer than a meditating monk.

And somehow, in the middle of all of it, the Top Floor looked less like containment. More like proof.

“No,” I said finally. “I don’t regret it.” John’s shoulder relaxed by half an inch. I noticed. Of course I noticed. He always hated that. “Crazy as it is,” I continued, “I’m thankful.” John immediately grimaced “Disgusting.” I looked at him “What?” “Male emotional honesty in private. Horrible. Vile. We need to move on.” I laughed once “There he is.” John cleared his throat “Speaking of moving on, I’ve been thinking about something important.” “If this is another emotional grievance fee—” “TWICE recreational fund.”

I stared at him. The cigarette paused halfway to my mouth “What?” “TWICE recreational fund.” “No.” “You didn’t even let me finish.” “I heard enough.” “ITZY has one.” “ITZY has one because it’s out my own pocket.” “Exactly. Precedent.” “You are literally the manager of Mina— she’s wealthier than me.” “For now.” My eyes narrowed, his instinct was always on point. “There it is.” I looked away. “What?” “That little rich-person prophecy you have.” “I do not have a prophecy.” “You absolutely do. Every time someone mentions Mina being richer, you sound like a villain waiting for compound interest.” “That is unfair.” “Because it is accurate.” I sighed “It would take time.” John stared at me “Oh my God.” “What?” “You’ve calculated it.” “I have not.” “You absolutely have.” “It’s a rough estimate.”

John threw both hands up.

“I knew it.” I took another drag, trying not to smile “It would take longer now.” “Because of market conditions?” “Because Ryujin and Yuna have apparently made it their personal mission to financially ruin me.”

John looked through the glass at them. Ryujin was laughing so hard she had fallen sideways into the couch. Yuna looked far too pleased about something. John nodded slowly.

“They’ll do it.” “They can try.” “Proud of them.” “Traitor.”

He grinned. The city stretched below us. The cigarette burned shorter between my fingers. John’s smile faded slightly “You know Yeji will notice.”

“I know.” “You going to lie?” “No.” “Good.” “Are you going to tell Jihyo about Nayeon?”

John’s face immediately tightened “That is unrelated.” “She asked to be punished.” He closed his eyes “I heard.” “In front of everyone.” “I was there.”

I laughed under my breath. For a moment, the balcony was just cold air, smoke, city lights, and the strange relief of standing next to the only person who had known me before all of this became impossible.

Then the door slid open. Yeji stepped outside. Her eyes moved from John to me. Then to the cigarette. She did not scold me. That was worse. John immediately straightened.

“I was supervising.” Yeji looked at him. “Were you?” “No.” “Thank you for your honesty.” John nodded once. “I will go be useless inside.”

He opened the door, slipped past her, then paused just long enough to mutter to me “Good luck, emotionally married man.” I flipped him off without looking and he vanished inside.

Yeji closed the door behind him. For a moment, she only stood there with me. The city wind moved softly through her hair. Her expression was not angry. Not disappointed. Just quiet.

That was harder. I looked at the cigarette. Then put it out against the ashtray near the railing before she said anything. Yeji watched the motion.

“Was it that bad?” I leaned against the balcony rail “No.” She stepped closer “That means yes.” “It means crowded.” Her gaze softened “Too much?” I looked through the glass again. At everyone inside. At the impossible warmth of the room. “Not bad too much,” I said. “Just… real too much.”

Yeji followed my gaze. She understood. Of course she did. Her hand found mine. Cold fingers sliding between mine without hesitation. In full view of the room “Come back inside,” she said. I looked down at her hand. Then at her.

“You know they can see.” Yeji’s cheeks colored faintly. But she did not let go. “I know.” That answer did something to me. “Yeji.”

She stepped closer. Not hiding behind the balcony wall. Not looking over her shoulder. Not checking if ITZY could see. Or TWICE or John or Jihyo.

She only looked at me “I said I’m not pretending anymore.” The warmth in my chest hurt. Behind the glass, I saw movement. People noticing. Heads turning. The room becoming still. Yeji noticed too. She still did not let go.

Then, with the entire impossible room watching, she rose slightly on her toes and kissed me. Not sudden. Not accidental. Not stolen in the middle of chaos.

Deliberate, soft, and certain. The kind of kiss that did not ask the room for permission. The kind that made a private truth public without turning it into a performance. When she pulled back, her face was red. But her hand stayed in mine.

I smiled “Public now?” She looked embarrassed. Then stubborn “Public enough.”

I laughed quietly and that made her smile. Then her eyes moved toward the ashtray. The smile faded by half an inch. Not gone, just sharpened.

“Also,” she said softly, “that is the last time I kiss you after you smoke.” I blinked. Behind the glass, I could feel the entire room watching us fail to be subtle. “You waited until after the kiss to say that?” “Yes.” “That feels strategically unfair.” “It was.”

I looked at her. Yeji did not look angry. That was what made it land harder. She looked worried. Steady. Mine.

“You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t scare me,” she said. The city wind moved between us. I looked toward the ashtray. Then back at her “I’ll try.”

Her fingers tightened around mine “Try how?” I exhaled slowly “I’ll try to quit.” Her eyes searched my face. I added, quieter, “At least… not around you. Not around ITZY. Not where any of you have to watch me use it to survive the room.”

Yeji studied me for a long moment. Long enough that I felt fourteen different versions of myself being judged. Then she nodded once.

“For now.” “For now?” “For now,” she repeated. “Because eventually I’m going to ask for more.” I smiled faintly. “Of course you are.” Her cheeks colored again, but her voice stayed firm. “Be a good boy.” I closed my eyes. “You cannot weaponize that after an anti-smoking ultimatum.” “I just did.”

Behind the glass, Ryujin visibly reacted despite not hearing a word. That somehow made it worse. I squeezed Yeji’s hand.

“I’ll try,” I said again. “Promise.”

This time, she accepted it. Not because it was enough forever. Because it was honest enough for now. We stepped back inside together. The room was silent. Not shocked like before. Not scandalized. Just caught.

Like everyone had witnessed something they already knew, but had never seen that clearly. Jihyo looked at Yeji first, then at me. Something in her expression softened “There it is,” she said quietly. Nobody asked what she meant.

Nayeon, unfortunately, recovered first. She turned slowly toward John. “See?” John froze “No.” Nayeon pointed toward Yeji and me “That was romantic.” John stared at her “I was gone for five minutes.”

Sana leaned forward “Manager-nim, where is our dramatic eye contact?” John looked betrayed “Sana.” Dahyun lifted an imaginary microphone “Breaking news: TWICE files formal complaint regarding lack of cinematic boyfriend moments.” John pointed at her “You are supposed to be on my side.” “I am reporting fairly.” Momo tilted her head “John-oppa is romantic sometimes.” John looked relieved “Thank you.” Momo continued “When he remembers.”

The room exploded. John turned slowly toward her. “Momo.” Jeongyeon crossed her arms “He shows love through damage control and panic.” Chaeyoung nodded “And snacks.” Mina, still calm, added “And calendar reminders.” John stared at her. “Mina.” She blinked “What? It is true.” Tzuyu looked at me and Yeji, then at John “Ben looks like a romance drama.” John’s eyes narrowed. Tzuyu continued calmly “John looks like a man surviving a group project.”

I made the mistake of laughing.

John turned toward me “This is your fault.” I lifted my free hand “I said nothing.” “You stood there romantically.” “I was being emotionally supported.” “Exactly. Publicly. Recklessly. With eye contact.” Nayeon pointed at John “So learn from him.” “I refuse to be mentored by a man who just smoked outside because eleven women compared bedroom notes.” I nodded “Fair.”

Yeji’s hand tightened around mine. Not warning. Laughing silently. Jihyo looked at John “You could still be more romantic.” John’s face fell “You too?” Jihyo smiled “Especially me.”

Nayeon clapped once “Leader has spoken.” Sana nodded “We need cinematic boyfriend moments.” Dahyun raised her hand “I would like mine under the rain.” Chaeyoung added, “And better lighting.” Momo said, “And food.” Jeongyeon looked at her “That’s just dinner.” Momo nodded “Romantic dinner.” Mina looked at John “I would accept quiet submissiveness.” John stared at her “That sounds attainable.”

Nayeon leaned in “Did you just say 'yes' to dominatrix?” John’s mouth opened then closed. Then he pointed at Ben “You see what you caused?”

I looked at him. Then at Yeji. Then at the room full of women now laughing across two impossible worlds. TWICE and ITZY. John and Ben. Jihyo with her paperwork. Mina with her half of the world. Yeji holding my hand where everyone could see. I exhaled slowly. For once, I did not feel like running from the noise. “Well,” I said, “at least now we know the retreat will be peaceful.”

Everyone looked at me. Then they all started laughing. Not because it was true. Because it absolutely was not.

Dinner happened because Chaeryeong and Momo had formed an alliance. No one said it out loud. No one needed to. By the time the sun lowered behind the city, the Top Floor no longer looked like a secret meeting space. It looked like a private dining room that had somehow been conquered by fourteen female idols, two managers, and then one financial superpower currently helping Chaeryeong decide whether the plating looked balanced.

Mina was very serious about symmetry. Chaeryeong was very serious about feeding people. Momo was very serious about the food. Together, they were terrifying. The rest of the room had slowly loosened. TWICE had stopped acting like guests. ITZY had stopped acting like hosts. John had stopped pretending he had any authority left.

I had given up on dignity somewhere between Nayeon asking if the retreat had honeymoon packages and Ryujin explaining that all wellness retreats should include “stress relief benefits.” Jihyo had told both of them to stop. Neither stopped.

Then I made the mistake of leaving the room to change. It should not have mattered. Formal managerial attire had started to feel suffocating after the meeting, the note-comparison disaster, the balcony cigarette, Yeji’s kiss, and the fact that Park Jihyo had essentially turned my recovery plan into a multinational idol event. So I changed into something simple.

Black fitted shirt. Dark trousers. Watch. No jacket. Comfortable enough to breathe. Presentable enough that JYP could appear on the elevator without me looking like I had completely abandoned professional standards.

Apparently, that was not the effect it had.

When I stepped back into the lounge, conversations died in waves. First ITZY. Then TWICE. Then John. Even Momo paused mid-bite. I stopped walking “What?” Ryujin slowly lowered her chopsticks “Oh.”

“No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” Yuna leaned forward with wide eyes “Manager-nim.” “That tone is now illegal.” “You look like you’re here to collect protection money.” Lia covered her mouth. Chaeryeong blinked at me from beside the dining table, eyes dropping briefly to the tattooed lines visible along my arms. Then back up “Respectfully,” she said, “Yuna is not completely wrong.”

Nayeon tilted her head. “I thought he was a secretly insane rich manager.” Dahyun lifted a hand “Correction. Without the formal clothes, he is giving secretly insane rich mafia manager.” Sana smiled brightly “But handsome.” Jeongyeon crossed her arms “That does not make it better.” Chaeyoung squinted at my arms “How many tattoos do you have?” “Enough.” “That is a suspicious number.” Tzuyu looked at me calmly “You look like someone parents warn their children about.” John pointed at her “That one is accurate.” Mina, from the table, only looked at me once “The shirt is well-fitted.”

Everyone turned toward her. Mina blinked “What?”

Ryujin whispered, “Furniture language evolved into shirt language.” Yuna nodded “Rich people are escalating.”

I looked at Jihyo. She was studying the exposed ink around my wrists and forearms with a thoughtful frown “I only saw some of the ones on the wrist last time.”

“That was the point of sleeves.” Nayeon leaned toward Jihyo “He hides his tattoos at work?” Jihyo looked at her “He is a manager.” Nayeon looked back at me “He looks like a final boss.” Dahyun nodded “Final Boss: Wellness Retreat Funding Phase.” John sighed “I hate that I can visualize the title card.”

Yeji had not said anything. That was the problem. She was staring at my arm. Not the old ink. Not the ones she already knew. One specific spot near my inner forearm, still fresh enough that the edges had not fully settled. Her expression changed. Small. Dangerous.

My body immediately recognized the threat. Not fear… worse. Girlfriend hostility.

“Benjie.” The room went silent. Ryujin’s head snapped toward me. Yuna’s eyes widened. Lia whispered, “Oh no.” John leaned back “She used the cute name. You’re dead.”

I looked at Yeji carefully “Yes, babe?” Her eyes lifted to mine “When did you get that?” I looked down at the tattoo. Then back at her “Recently.” “That is not a date.” “It is a category.” “Benjie.”

I closed my eyes. The second answer was worse.

“After Waterbomb.”

The room went still again. Not comedic this time. Not yet.

Yeji’s jaw tightened “You got a tattoo after Waterbomb and didn’t tell me?” “It was impulsive.” “That is not helping.” “I know.”

“First, you threaten that fan like a mafia boss. Then you scare everyone in ITZY half to death. Then you financially flashbang our company’s founder with a cheque worth more than most executives see in a year. Then I find out you started smoking again.”

Her voice rose with every sentence. Not loud enough to be screaming. It was worse. Controlled. Precise. Full of unyielding fury.

“And now,” she said, pointing at my arm, “I find out you got another tattoo without telling me?”

Ryujin whispered, “Wife voice.” John nodded “Oh, absolutely a wife voice.” Yeji immediately turned pink “I am not—” Nayeon pointed at her “That was a wife voice.” Sana nodded “Very wife.” Jeongyeon added, “Concerned wife.” Dahyun lifted an imaginary microphone “Breaking news: Hwang Yeji discovers husband has poor impulse control.” “I am not his wife,” Yeji said, face burning. Yuna smiled “Not yet.”

The room detonated.

Yeji looked like she wanted to throw a napkin at her I cleared my throat “In my defense—” Yeji turned back to me “You do not have one.”

“Correct, I do not.” Lia nodded “Growth.” I looked at Yeji and tried the only strategy I had left. A terrible one “I can make it up to you.” Her eyes narrowed “How?” “I’ll get your portrait tattooed next.”

Silence. Immediate. Catastrophic. John slowly turned toward me “Why would you say that?” Ryujin looked like she had seen heaven open. Yuna gasped. Lia closed her eyes. Chaeryeong made a tiny sound. Nayeon slapped the table “Oh, he’s insane-insane.” Sana clasped her hands “That is romantic.” Jeongyeon looked at her “That is not romantic. That is evidence.” Dahyun nodded “Depending on the artist, it is either love or a future court exhibit.” Chaeyoung leaned forward “Portrait tattoos are risky long term.” Tzuyu nodded calmly “They can age strangely on skin.” Momo looked thoughtful “Maybe not the face.”

Yeji stared at me. Then slowly pointed one finger “No.”

“It was a suggestion.” “It was a bad suggestion.” “You haven’t seen the design.” “I don’t need to see the design.” Ryujin leaned forward, delighted “You have discussed this before?” Yeji looked betrayed by the universe “Unfortunately.” I smiled faintly “In my defense, it was romantic then too.” “It was a bad pitch after we slept together for the first time,” Yeji said, voice dangerously controlled. “It is a bad pitch now. And it will still be a bad pitch after the wedding.”

The room died. Completely. Even John stopped breathing. Yeji realized what she had said one second too late. Her face changed “Oh.”

Nayeon whispered, “AFTER?” Sana whispered, “She mentioned a wedding.” Dahyun slowly raised her imaginary microphone. Jihyo grabbed her wrist without looking “No.” Ryujin looked like she had just discovered a sacred text “Unnie.” Yuna clasped both hands over her mouth “She said after the wedding.” Lia looked at Yeji with gentle devastation “That was very specific.” Chaeryeong nodded faintly “Very specific.” Yeji covered her face “I meant hypothetically.” John pointed at her “No, you said wedding with continuity.” “I did not say continuity.” “You referenced the first time.”

Everyone turned to him.

John paused “I mean emotionally.” I stared at him “That was suspiciously meta.” “I am under stress.” Mina took a sip of water “Regardless, a portrait remains impractical.” “Thank you,” Yeji said through her hands. Mina continued, “A name would age better.”

I stared at her “Mina.” “What? It is true.” Ryujin sat up like a demon had possessed her “Property of Hwang Yeji.” Yeji made a strangled sound. Yuna nearly fell out of her chair laughing. Lia whispered, “Please don’t.” Dahyun snapped her fingers “Yeji’s Dog.”

The room exploded again. I looked at her “Absolutely not.” Ryujin pointed at me “Don’t lie. You would enjoy it.” “That is defamatory.” Yuna grinned “You literally admitted you might bark if treats are involved.”

TWICE froze. Nayeon turned slowly toward John “You never told us that.”

John looked at me “I hate learning things with them.”

Jihyo put a hand over her face “Why is there always more?”

Sana smiled at Yeji “So the leash is real?”

Yeji turned even redder “It is a joke.”

Lia sipped her drink “It began as a joke.”

Chaeryeong, very quietly, added “It has evidence now.”

Yeji looked at her “Chaer.”

Chaeryeong immediately looked down “Sorry.” But she was smiling.

Ryujin leaned back triumphantly “Property of Hwang Yeji is the best option.”

“No,” Yeji said.

“Yeji’s Dog?”

“No.”

“Princess’s Dog?”

“No.”

“Good Boy?”

I looked at Ryujin. “Do not test me. I will make you solo debut and have JYP feature in your title track. I don't care how much it will cost me to make it happen.”

The room froze. Completely. Ryujin stared at me “...You wouldn't.” “I would.” “Ben,” Lia said softly, horrified, “that's not a threat. That's psychological warfare.” Yuna folded in half laughing. Chaeryeong covered her mouth. Nayeon slapped the table again. “Oh my god.” Sana looked genuinely concerned. “Can he do that?” “No,” Jihyo said immediately, then paused “Probably.” “Unnie,” Ryujin whispered, looking betrayed, “whose side are you on?” “Not yours.” John pointed at me. “That is the most specific threat I have ever heard.” Mina nodded thoughtfully “The JYP feature is what makes it cruel.” “Thank you,” I said. “That was not a compliment.” Ryujin narrowed her eyes at me “You are a villain.” “You started this.” “She did,” Yeji said without hesitation. Ryujin gasped. “Unnie!” “You know what you did.”

The room laughed again.

Yeji pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we please return to the tattoo conversation before he starts funding music videos out of spite?” Ryujin immediately pointed at her. “See? Even she thinks you'd do it.” “I wasn’t bluffing,” I said. “Terrifying.” Yuna grinned. “Anyway, back to the important issue. Good Boy?” “No,” Yeji said immediately. Nayeon tapped her chin, far too invested now. “What about something elegant? Like ‘Belongs to Yeji.’” Yuna pointed at me. “That sounded like you were considering it.” “It did not sound like that.” John crossed his arms “You made your wife mad.” Yeji whipped toward him “John.” “What? You did wife voice.” Nayeon nodded “He did make his wife mad.” Sana looked at me “You should apologize to your wife.” Jeongyeon added, “Before she finds out about another tattoo.” Momo nodded “Wives notice things.” Chaeyoung looked at Yeji “Your wife instincts are strong.” Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone again. “Domestic dispute resolved through tattoo governance.” Tzuyu looked at me calmly “You should listen to your wife.” Yeji buried her face in both hands “I am not his wife.” Ryujin leaned toward Yuna “Yet.” Yuna nodded “Yet.”

I looked at Yeji. She was embarrassed. Annoyed. Worried. Trying not to smile. Trying not to be touched by any of it. Trying not to show that everyone calling her my wife had landed somewhere she was not ready to admit out loud.

So I walked to her. The room quieted by instinct. Yeji lowered her hands just enough to look at me. I leaned down and kissed her. When I pulled back, I kept my voice low. “I love you.”

Her anger did not vanish. That would have been too easy. But it softened. Her shoulders dropped. Her eyes warmed.

“You are not kissing your way out of this.” “I know.” “The ‘I love you’ won’t help.” “I know,” I gave her another peck in the lips regardless “I love you”

“—John, take notes” Tzuyu was giving commentary from behind.

“I love you too,” Yeji finally calmed down a bit “but you are not getting my portrait tattooed. Not now. Not after the wedding. Not after three weddings.”

The room erupted. I smiled “Three weddings?” Yeji froze. Her face went red again. “I meant—” Ryujin slapped the table “She’s negotiating ceremonies now.” Yuna pointed at her “She said three.” Nayeon looked delighted “That is legally and emotionally significant.” Lia closed her eyes “We are never escaping the paperwork theme.”

John leaned toward me “Congratulations. Your wife is negotiating wedding volume.”

Yeji turned toward him “Stop calling me that.”

John smiled “No.”

Before anyone could make it worse, my phone buzzed on the table. Once. Then again. A voice message. I looked down at the screen. Tattoo artist. The timing was so bad that it became impossible.

Ryujin noticed first “What is that?” “Nothing.” Yuna leaned over “It says Frankie the Tattoo Artist.”

The room went silent. Yeji slowly turned toward me “Benjie.” I stared at the phone “I can explain.” John laughed once “No, you cannot.”

Ryujin grabbed the phone before I could stop her. “Ryujin, don’t you dare.” She hit play.

A man’s voice filled the room.

“Ben, confirming your next schedule. Still got you down for the chest piece. Just making sure you’re really serious about that corny-ass couple tattoo. You really want ‘Ben + Yeji’ on your chest? I mean, it’s your money, boss, but I’m asking one more time before we stencil that disaster.”

The voice message ended.

No one moved. No one breathed. Yeji stared at me. TWICE stared at me. ITZY stared at me. John looked like he had just watched me step willingly into traffic.

Then Ryujin screamed. Yuna followed. Nayeon stood from her chair. Sana grabbed Jihyo’s arm. Dahyun dropped her imaginary microphone.

Chaeyoung whispered, “Chest piece?” Momo said, “That is very committed.” Tzuyu looked at Yeji “He is serious.” Mina took a sip of water “Corny, but serious.” Jihyo stared at me “You planned this before tonight?”

I looked at the phone. Then at Yeji. Then at the room. There was no path out. So I stopped looking for one “Yes.”

Yeji’s voice came out small “Ben”. I stepped closer to her and slid one arm around her waist. In front of everyone. Because apparently subtlety had died several minutes ago and I had finally decided to stop attending the funeral “I’m not cancelling it.”

The room exploded again.

Yeji’s hands went to my chest like she meant to push me away, but she did not. She only stared at me, stunned. “You are insane.” “Probably.” “Ben.” “It’s temporary.”

The room froze again.

Yeji blinked “Temporary?” “For now.”

The silence became dangerous. Ryujin slowly turned toward me “Oh, he’s worse than insane.” Yuna’s eyes widened “He planned the emotional damage.” Lia closed her eyes “Of course he did.” John pointed at me “That is not clarification. That is psychological warfare.”

I ignored all of them and kept looking at Yeji “I wanted to see how it looked first.”

Yeji stared “First?” “Before it becomes permanent.” “Permanent?” “Eventually.” “Eventually?”

I nodded, completely committed now because retreat had stopped being an option three sentences ago. “Next to the wedding date.”

The room died. Completely. Even Nayeon stopped breathing. Yeji’s face went blank. Then red. Then blank again.

I continued, because apparently I had chosen death “And the other couple tattoos.” John whispered, “No.” Sana whispered, “Yes.” Dahyun slowly raised her imaginary microphone again. Jihyo caught her wrist without looking “No.” Yeji’s fingers tightened against my shirt “Wedding date?” “Hypothetically.”

“That did not sound hypothetical.” “It sounded planned,” Lia said softly. “It sounded scheduled,” Ryujin added. Yuna pointed at me “He absolutely has a folder.” Mina looked at me “Do you?”

I hesitated. John screamed “THIS FUCKING PSYCHOPATH HAS AN ACTUAL FOLDER.” “I have concepts.” “That is a folder,” Mina said calmly. Nayeon pointed at John “Take notes.” John recoiled “No.” Sana nodded quickly “Take notes.” Jeongyeon crossed her arms “You could at least have concepts.” John looked betrayed “Not you too.” Momo tilted her head “Would all nine of us fit?” John’s soul left his body. Tzuyu looked thoughtful “It depends on placement.” Mina added, “Spacing would be difficult.” John stared at her “Mina.” “What? It would.”

Ryujin raised both hands “If John gets nine names, Ben has to get all five ITZY names too.” I looked at her “Absolutely not.” “For equality.” Yuna nodded “And symmetry.” Mina looked thoughtful “Symmetry matters.” Ryujin was still staring at me like I had personally invented a new disease. “So let me understand this,” she said slowly  “You were not actually getting it permanently.” “Not yet.” “But you were going to let everyone think you were.” “For context.” Lia looked at me “That is not what context means.” “It was emotional research.” Chaeryeong blinked “On Yeji unnie?”

I looked at her. Then at Yeji. Then back at Chaeryeong. “Not my best wording.” “No,” Jihyo said. “It was not.” Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone again. “Breaking news: local man conducts unauthorized wife study. Results catastrophic.” Yeji turned red “I am not his wife.” Nayeon pointed at her immediately “You keep saying that like a woman who wants the title officially formatted.”

Yeji’s mouth opened. No sound came out, she looked at me like she wanted to melt into the floor and drag me with her.

“You are unbelievable.” “I was aiming for memorable.” “It would have been memorable for the wrong reasons.”

John pointed at Yeji “That means she imagined it.” Yeji turned on him “Do not involve yourself.” “I am already involved. Your boyfriend is ruining expectations for all of us.”

Nayeon nodded gravely “He is.” Sana looked at John “Where is our playlist?” John stared at her “Our what?” “Our romantic reveal playlist.” “I am not revealing anything.” Dahyun raised her hand “Technically, that is part of the complaint.”

The room made a collective sound of approval. John pointed at her “That was personal.”

“You could benefit from a strategy deck, best buddy” I looked at John “You want help with that?” He turned on me “You stay out of this, Chest Tattoo Romeo.” Ryujin gasped “That is his new title.” Yuna nodded “Final Boss: Chest Tattoo Romeo.”

Chaeryeong, who had been quiet for a while, looked at me with genuine curiosity. “Would the temporary tattoo actually say Ben plus Yeji?” I nodded. “That was the draft.” She frowned. “Wouldn’t Yeji plus Ben look better?”

The room went still.

I looked at her. Yeji looked at her. Mina’s eyes sharpened with immediate interest. Chaeryeong froze “What?” Mina set her cup down “She is right.” John threw his head back “No.” Mina continued. “Visually, Yeji’s name first balances better depending on placement.” I looked down, considering it “That depends on the font weight.” Mina nodded “And spacing.”

Nayeon leaned back, enjoying herself far too much. “Honestly, I respect the insanity. A temporary couple tattoo before the real one after marriage? That is commitment with a trial period.” Sana nodded “Romantic beta testing.” Jeongyeon looked pained “Please don’t call love that.” Dahyun smiled “Too late. Love 2.0 launches after wedding.”

“Metaphorically.” Ryujin smiled. “Ben didn’t say no any of it.” Yeji lowered her hands just enough to glare at her “Ryujin.” “What? I am supporting your household.” “Our what?”

The room inhaled. Yeji realized too late that she had said our.

Yeji tried to glare at me. Failed. Then looked away, cheeks burning. And because I had apparently developed a severe allergy to self-preservation, I leaned closer and murmured “For the record, I would put your name first.” Yeji froze.

The room went silent again.

Ryujin whispered, “Fatality.” Yuna whispered, “That was so smooth I hate him.” Nayeon turned to John “Write that down.” John snapped “I am not writing down tattoo flirting.” Mina looked at him “You should. It was effective.”

Yeji’s fingers tightened against my shirt. She looked up at me, still embarrassed, still mad, still very much losing the fight against her own smile.

“You are not getting anything permanent before we talk about it.” “Agreed.” “And no portrait.” “Ever?” “Ever.” “Even after the wedding?” “Especially after the wedding.”

The room made a noise.

Yeji looked at me, helpless and red and smiling despite herself “You are impossible.” I smiled back “And yet.” She looked away. But she leaned into me a little more. Just enough to lose. Just enough to consider it a win.

By the time dinner finally began to dissolve into goodbyes, the Top Floor looked less like a luxury residence and more like a battlefield that had been won through food, gossip, paperwork, and emotional blackmail. Plates had been cleared.

Momo had praised Chaeryeong’s cooking enough times that Chaeryeong looked like she was trying not to float.

Ryujin and Nayeon had formed a partnership that worried every manager in the room.

Yuna had somehow gotten Sana and Dahyun to promise they would help her “professionally evaluate” the retreat once it happened.

Lia looked tired, but steadier.

Chaeryeong looked overwhelmed, but not unhappy.

TWICE gathered near the elevator in clusters, still talking over one another as if leaving was merely a suggestion. Jihyo checked the folder one more time.

John looked at it like it had personally ruined his day.

Then Nayeon turned back toward me “So.” I immediately disliked her tone “No.” “You don’t know what I’m asking.” “I know the category.” “That is becoming your favorite sentence,” Lia murmured. Nayeon smiled “Are you really going through with the temporary tattoo?”

The room froze.

Not because anyone had forgotten. Because apparently everyone had been waiting for someone brave or shameless enough to bring it back. Yeji’s hand tightened around mine.

I looked at her. She looked back. Still red, pretending she was not invested. “Yes,” I said. The room erupted. Ryujin shouted first “I knew it. He’s committed to the emotional damage.”

Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone. “Breaking news: temporary tattoo confirmed; wife still denying wife status.”

“I am not his wife,” Yeji said automatically. “Yet,” Sana said sweetly. Yeji’s face went red again. I squeezed her hand once “And Yeji’s coming with me.”

That somehow made it worse.

Nayeon gasped “She’s choosing placement?” Yeji turned toward me. “I am?” “You said you were.” “I said several things under emotional distress.”

Yeji looked at me, cheeks still pink “I am not choosing anything ridiculous.” “Agreed, and no portrait.” “Agreed.”

John suddenly pointed at me “Wait. No.” I looked at him. “What now?”

“You are not taking Yeji to some random tattoo artist after all of this.” “It’s not random.” “You are bringing an idol to a tattoo appointment.” “A temporary tattoo appointment.” “That does not make the identity issue disappear.”

Jihyo looked at me “He has a point.” Nayeon leaned toward Sana “John said something responsible.” Sana nodded “We should document it.” John ignored them “How do you know this guy won’t leak anything?”

The room quieted slightly. Not from fear. From curiosity. I shrugged “He’s loyal.” John stared at me “That is not an explanation.”

“It is the most important part.” “Ben.” I sighed “He knows better.” Ryujin’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds threatening.” “It is not threatening.” Yuna smiled “It sounded expensive.” “That is closer,” Mina said quietly. Mina looked at me “You paid him well?” “Yes.” John exhaled “Okay. Fine. That is better.” “And I ruined someone who did not.”

The room stopped. John slowly turned his head back toward me “What?” I looked around.

“In his old shop, he had an investment broker client who refused to pay him properly after a full sleeve. Tried to use status and connections to make the bill disappear.” No one spoke. I continued “The artist complained about it while finishing one of mine. I asked for the name.”

John closed his eyes “Ben.”

“I had pocket change.” Mina’s gaze sharpened slightly. Jihyo lowered the folder. Nayeon whispered, “Pocket change?” I shrugged “So I bought the company.”

Silence. Absolute. Then everyone spoke at once.

“You what?” Yeji said. “Oh my God,” Lia whispered. Ryujin stood up halfway “Boss behavior.” Yuna’s mouth dropped open “You bought a company because someone didn’t pay for a tattoo?” Chaeryeong looked horrified “That is… very intense customer service.”

Sana clasped her hands “That is scary but loyal.” Jeongyeon stared at me “That is not normal loyalty.” Momo frowned “Did the artist get paid?” “Yes.” Momo nodded “Good.” Tzuyu looked at me calmly “Did you fire the person?” “It was the first thing I did.” Tzuyu nodded once “Then he learned.”

John pointed both hands at me “You bought the biggest investment bank in Korea and called it pocket change?” I looked at him. “I did not say biggest.”

“You implied something horrifying.” “I said company.” “You said investment broker.” “That does not mean biggest.” Mina took a slow sip of water “It was one of the bigger ones.” John turned toward her “You knew?” Mina looked at him calmly “Ben is not the only one with resources.”

The room paused. It was the first remotely smug thing Mina had said all night. John stared at Mina “Was that a flex?” Mina blinked once “No.” Mina took another sip of water “If it helps, I only checked because it was unusual.”

Jihyo looked at me with the expression of someone adding five more clauses to the JYP pitch in her head “You bought an investment firm to fire one man?”

“I also restructured it.” John threw his hands up “There it is.” I looked at him “What?” “You cannot say ‘also restructured it’ like you rearranged furniture.” Mina tilted her head “Was it poorly managed?” “Yes.” “Then restructuring was appropriate.” John pointed at her without looking away from me “You are not helping.” Ryujin slowly turned to Yeji “Unnie, your boyfriend is terrifying.” Yeji was still staring at me. “I know.” Yuna leaned closer “And you love him.” Yeji did not deny it fast enough. Nayeon smiled “She really does.” Yeji covered her face “I am trying to be angry.” Lia looked at me “Was the tattoo artist at least grateful?” “He has never leaked anything.” “That is not the same as grateful.” “He sends me holiday discounts.” Chaeyoung blinked “You buy companies for him and he gives you discounts?” “I told him not to.” Dahyun nodded solemnly “That is friendship.” John stared at the ceiling “I am going to develop a medical condition from knowing you.”

Jihyo finally exhaled and tucked the folder under her arm “We are going before I start thinking of more clauses.” TWICE finally began moving toward the elevator for real this time. There were more hugs. More warnings. More jokes about the tattoo. More comments about Yeji being the only person capable of keeping me from accidentally buying another company before breakfast.

“Actually,” Yeji said, pointing at me before anyone could step into the elevator, “stop buying companies, restaurants, buildings, or entire establishments because someone inconveniences you.” I looked offended. “I do not do that.” The entire room stared at me.

“You absolutely do,” Jihyo said. “Frequently,” Mina added. “Historically,” John said. Yeji folded her arms “No more buying things out of spite.” “Out of loyalty,” I corrected. “Out of spite.” “Sometimes both.” “Benjie.” I sighed dramatically “Fine.” She narrowed her eyes “That sounded fake.” “It was a little fake.” “Ben.” I looked at her “What am I supposed to do if a restaurant makes you wait forty-five minutes for your food?”

The room immediately erupted.

“No,” John shouted. “Absolutely not,” Jihyo added. Ryujin doubled over laughing. “He already has a contingency plan.” Yuna pointed at me. “He’s thought about this before.” “I have not.” “You answered too fast,” Lia said. Yeji stared at me “You are not buying a restaurant because my food is late.” “What if you're hungry?” “Ben.” “What if you're sad?” “Ben.” “What if they forget your order twice?” “BEN.” I held up both hands “Okay, okay.”

Nayeon was laughing so hard she had to lean against the elevator wall “This is the most billionaire boyfriend conversation I've ever heard.” Sana clasped her hands “He just wants her fed.”

“That is somehow sweet and terrifying,” Chaeryeong said. Momo nodded “As long as the food arrives eventually.” Tzuyu looked at me thoughtfully “If they forget three times?”

“Do not encourage him,” Yeji said immediately. “I was curious.”

John pointed at Yeji “See? This is why you're the only safeguard we have.” Yeji groaned. “I should not have this responsibility.”

“You accepted it when you started dating him,” Ryujin said. “I did not sign anything.” Mina tilted her head “There may be paperwork somewhere.” “Mina,” John said weakly.

Nayeon pointed at Yeji one last time. “Good luck preventing hostile restaurant acquisitions.” Yeji covered her face “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Sana sang. Then the elevator doors began to close. Nayeon stuck her hand out suddenly, stopping them “Wait.” Everyone froze. Yeji looked up warily “What?” Nayeon smiled “Make him put your name first.”

Yeji covered her face, I smiled, John pointed at me from inside the elevator “Do not smile. You are the problem.”

“I am aware.” “You are not aware enough.”

The elevator doors began to close again. Sana waved “Good luck, almost-wife.” Yeji made a strangled sound. Dahyun’s voice slipped through before the doors shut “Breaking news: tomorrow’s JYP pitch now includes tattoo liability.” Then they were gone.

The Top Floor fell quiet. Not empty. Never empty anymore. Just quieter. Yeji stood beside me, arms folded, cheeks still pink “You are exhausting.”

“I love you too.” “That was not what I said.” “It was implied.”

She tried to glare. Failed. Then reached for my hand anyway. I looked at her. She looked back. Still mad. Still mine in the ways she allowed herself to be.

“Temporary,” she said. “Temporary.” “And I choose placement.” “You choose placement.” “And font.” “And font.”

Chaeryeong’s voice came softer, amused despite herself “Do we still need more food tomorrow?” I looked around the Top Floor. I looked at Yeji. She narrowed her eyes. “Do not look excited.” I smiled.

Too late.

[afterhours37]

Overworked & Overwanted - Damage Control

Word Count: 9.9k No smut in this chapter, purely plot

The Top Floor was too quiet. Not peaceful quiet, ambush quiet. The kind of quiet that meant everyone had already woken up, already gathered somewhere, and already decided I was the morning’s main topic without inviting me to the meeting.

I fixed the front of my shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and stepped into the common area with the careful composure of a man who absolutely did not look like he had just spent the night in Yuna’s room. Unfortunately, Yeji was already there. So were Lia and Ryujin. All three sat around the kitchen island like a tribunal with breakfast privileges. Yeji had coffee. Lia had tea. Ryujin had cereal— directly from the box.

I stopped walking. “No,” I said immediately. Ryujin looked up, spoon still in her mouth. “You don’t even know what we’re going to say.” “I know the category.” Lia took a slow sip of tea. “That sounds like guilt.” “That sounds like self-preservation.”

Yeji did not say anything at first. That was worse. She only looked at me over the rim of her cup, calm and unreadable in that very specific way that meant she had already understood everything and was deciding how merciful she felt.

I looked at her. She looked back. Then I very carefully started turning toward the hallway again. “Nope.” Yeji set her cup down “Ben.” I froze.

Ryujin’s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. Lia’s brows lifted slightly. Yeji’s voice stayed soft “Come back.” I closed my eyes. “Yeji.”

“Be a good boy and sit.”

 Silence. Immediate. Catastrophic. Ryujin slowly lowered the cereal box. Lia blinked once. Yeji seemed to realize what she had said only after it had already taken physical form in the room, but to her credit, she did not take it back. I turned around. Looked at her. Looked at Ryujin. Looked at Lia. Then walked back to the kitchen island and sat down on the stool beside Yeji.

Ryujin stared at me “Oh my God.” “Do not.” “She really just—” “Ryujin.” “And you really just—” “Ryujin.”

Lia covered her mouth with one hand, though whether from shock or amusement, I could not tell. Yeji lifted her coffee again with the calm of a woman who had decided to survive by pretending nothing strange had happened.

“That worked too well,” Ryujin whispered. “It did not,” I said. “You sat.” “I chose diplomacy.” “You obeyed.” “I chose survival.”

Lia finally lowered her hand. “That was… informative.”

“Nothing was informed,” I said. Ryujin pointed her spoon at Yeji. “She has him on a leash.”

Yeji turned pink immediately. “I do not.” I looked at Ryujin. “Incorrect.” Yeji slowly turned toward me. I cleared my throat “I meant emotionally.” “That did not help,” Lia said. Ryujin leaned back, delighted “This breakfast is already historic.” I rubbed my forehead “I need coffee.” “You need accountability,” Ryujin corrected. “I need silence.” “You live here,” Lia said calmly. “Be realistic.”

Outstanding. Yeji finally looked at me properly. There was no accusation in her expression. No anger. No hurt. Obvious enough for anyone else to name. Just steadiness. And that somehow made me feel more exposed. “It happened,” I said quietly.

The kitchen went still. Not shocked. Just still. Because no one needed to ask who. Yuna had been quiet last night. Yuna had looked at me differently. Yuna had told me to rest. They already knew. Ryujin’s eyebrows lifted anyway, because naturally she was allergic to silence.

“So.” “No.” “I haven’t asked anything.” “You are about to.” “I was going to be tasteful.” “No, you were not.” “I was going to try.” “No, you were not.”

Lia took another sip of tea “He is correct.” Ryujin looked offended “I am capable of tact.”

Yeji looked at her. Ryujin sighed. “Fine. I am capable of delaying tactless commentary.” “That is closer,” Lia said.

Yeji’s gaze returned to me “She’s asleep?” I nodded. “She was when I left.”

That softened something in her face. Good. That was the first thing that mattered. Lia set her cup down. “Is she okay?”

“Yes.” The answer came out immediately. No hesitation. Lia watched me for another second, then nodded. Ryujin leaned forward, her teasing dimming just slightly around the edges “Okay as in okay, or okay as in you’re doing manager-language damage control?” I looked at her “Okay as in she was safe, comfortable, and resting.” Ryujin’s face shifted, not much, but enough.  “Good,” she said.

Then, because she was Ryujin, she immediately ruined the softness. “So Yuna got the careful version.” I stared at her. “Ryujin.”

“What? I’m not asking for details. I’m categorizing.” Lia closed her eyes “Please don’t.”

Ryujin ignored her completely.

“Yeji gets the emotionally devastating version. Lia gets the quiet slow-burn version. I get the version with workplace violations.”

“Ryujin,” Yeji warned. “And Yuna gets the first-time careful version.”

I looked at her. She smiled sweetly. “I’m just saying the ecosystem is diversifying.” Lia covered her face “I hate that that sentence made sense.” Yeji sighed into her coffee. I stared at the counter.

“I am going to retire.” “You are underpaid,” Lia said. “You cannot afford retirement.” “That is deeply cruel.” “That is technically your contract.”

Ryujin pointed at Lia “She’s on fire today.” “I am tired,” Lia corrected. “There is a difference.”

Yeji’s voice came quieter “Were you gentle with her?” The question was not for me at first. Not fully. It slipped out like something she had been holding beneath everything else. Ryujin stopped moving. Lia looked at Yeji. I looked at her too. Yeji did not take the question back. Her expression remained calm, but there was something beneath it now. Not jealousy exactly. Not fear. Responsibility.

She was not asking because she wanted details. She was asking because it was Yuna. Because Yuna was bold and reckless and proud, but still the youngest. Because Yeji had carried that kind of responsibility longer than any of them liked to admit. I answered immediately.

“Yes.” Yeji held my gaze. I did not look away. “I was careful,” I said. “She didn’t have to prove anything. Not to me. Not to herself.” Something softened in Yeji’s face. That was the only answer that mattered. Lia’s voice gentled. “She was nervous?”

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to answer. Because it felt like Yuna’s truth to give. “She was honest,” I said finally. “That mattered more.” Lia understood. Ryujin leaned back, quieter now. “Our Yuna being honest is more terrifying than our Yuna being shameless.”

“That is accurate,” Yeji murmured.

I looked at all three of them. “You knew?” Ryujin scoffed. “Ben.” Lia tilted her head. “She told you to rest last night.” Yeji looked down into her cup. “And she looked at you like she had stopped trying to win.” That landed harder than I expected.

Ryujin nodded.

“She spent a week trying to make you lose control. Then suddenly she was quiet and told you to take care of yourself. That is not subtle.” I exhaled slowly.

“She said she wasn’t asking for Yeji’s place.” The kitchen softened again. Even Ryujin. Especially Ryujin, maybe. Yeji went very still.

“She said that?” “Yes.”

My voice lowered. “I went to her room.” The answer was simple, but not careless. Yeji understood what I meant. I did not take Yuna into the space that belonged to us. I did not blur that line. I did not pretend the room did not matter. Yeji’s gaze softened. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Ryujin looked between us and made a face “God, you two are emotionally married.” Lia nodded “They are.”

Yeji turned slightly pink. I stared at Ryujin “You are eating cereal from a box. You don’t get to judge marriage dynamics.”

“I am spiritually qualified.” “No, you are not.” “I have experience.” “That is not the same thing.”

Before Ryujin could make the conversation worse, there was movement down the hall. All of us turned. Yuna appeared at the edge of the kitchen wearing the same oversized hoodie from last night, hair messy, face still soft from sleep. She stopped when she saw all of us. Then her eyes moved from Yeji, to Lia, to Ryujin, to me. A slow understanding settled over her face.

Then she gasped. Not naturally. Theatrically. “Oh,” she said, pressing one hand lightly against her chest. “So this is where you went.” I stared at her “Yuna.” She looked at me with wide, wounded eyes that did not fool a single person in the room. “You left me sleeping alone after taking my virginity?”

Silence. Immediate. Catastrophic.

Ryujin’s spoon froze halfway to her mouth. Lia closed her eyes like she had just felt a headache arrive in real time. Yeji made a tiny sound into her coffee. I stared at the ceiling. “Outstanding,” I muttered. “Fantastic. We’re starting there.” Yuna tilted her head, still pretending to be hurt “What? I woke up and you were gone.”

“You were asleep.” “So you admit it.” “That I let you sleep?” “That you abandoned me.” “To get coffee.” “After taking my virginity.”

Ryujin slowly lowered her cereal box “I have never been happier to be awake.” Lia sighed “Yuna.” Yuna’s eyes flicked toward her, bright with mischief now. “What? It’s true.”

Yeji finally set her cup down, her cheeks faintly pink but her expression trying very hard to remain leader-like. “There are gentler ways to say that.” Yuna thought about it for exactly one second. Then smiled. “Ben left my room after a very meaningful personal milestone.”

Ryujin nodded solemnly “Worse.” Lia covered her mouth. I looked at Yuna “I didn’t give them any details, you know.” That changed her expression. Just slightly. The performance softened. The teasing remained, but beneath it, something warmer appeared.

“He didn’t?” she asked. Yeji nodded “More like he refused.” Lia added calmly, “Annoyingly well.” Ryujin looked offended “Heroically annoying.”

Yuna stared at me for one second. Then something in her face softened fully. Not because she was embarrassed. Because she understood what I had protected.

Then, naturally, she ruined it again.

“Oh,” she said, walking toward the kitchen island. “So I have to tell them myself?”

I closed my eyes. Ryujin sat up so fast the cereal nearly spilled. Lia whispered, “Oh no.” Yeji sighed “Yuna.”

Yuna smiled. There she was. Still tired. Still changed. Still dangerous; But smiling again.

“What?” she asked sweetly. “They were curious.” Ryujin pointed at her “See? She understands journalism.” “It is not journalism,” Lia said. “It is if the source volunteers,” Ryujin replied.

Yuna slipped onto the stool beside me, close enough that her shoulder brushed mine. Not accidental, but softer than her usual attacks. Yeji noticed she always does. Yuna looked at her first. That mattered. “He was careful,” Yuna said. The whole room quieted. Just like that. No jokes. Just Yuna, saying the first thing that actually mattered. Yeji’s expression softened “I know.” Yuna blinked. Then looked at me “He told you?”

“He told us that and it was enough,” Lia said gently. Ryujin’s voice came quieter than usual “He refused to be fun.” Yuna smiled faintly “Good.”

That one hit me harder than expected. Then she leaned back slightly, gathering herself. Not because she was shy. Because she was deciding how much of herself she wanted to put in the room. “It was my choice,” Yuna said. “I asked him. I wanted him. And I knew what I was doing.”

 Yeji held her gaze “I believe you.” Yuna’s smile softened “Thank you.”

Then Ryujin raised her hand.

“That was beautiful. Deeply mature. Very important. Now, with respect—” “No,” Yeji said immediately. Ryujin pointed at Yuna. “She said she would tell us herself.” “I said I had to,” Yuna corrected. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving you a documentary.” Ryujin’s mouth dropped open “Betrayal.”

Lia looked toward Yuna, her concern more visible now “Are you actually alright?” Yuna’s expression softened. Yeji continued, careful but direct “We meant physically too. It was your first time, and Ben is…” She stopped. Her eyes flicked briefly toward me. Then away.

Ryujin grinned slowly “Unfairly gifted?” Yeji covered her face. Lia sighed. “Me and Yeji were trying to be tactful.” “That was your first mistake,” Ryujin said.

Yuna looked between all of them. Then, shamelessly:

“Oh he IS ‘unfairly gifted’, and it hurt.”

I immediately stared at the counter. Yeji made a strangled sound. Lia’s eyes widened. Ryujin looked like Christmas had arrived early.

Yuna lifted one shoulder “What? It did.” “Yuna,” Yeji said weakly. “But,” Yuna continued, glancing at me, and this time the smile turned softer, “he was so gentle that I barely remember the pain first.”

The room went quiet again.

Yuna’s voice lowered “I remember how careful he was. How nice it felt when I stopped being scared of it. How he kept checking if I was okay even when I was the one pulling him closer.” She looked down for half a second, fingers brushing lightly against the sleeve of her hoodie.

“I remember him asking if I was alright. Over and over. I remember how slowly he moved until I adjusted. And I remember thinking that I didn’t feel rushed. Or stupid. Or small.” Her eyes lifted back to mine. “Ben made me feel seen, cared for, and wanted at the same time.”

That silenced the room in a way I did not know what to do with. Lia looked at me with a warm, appreciative smile. Ryujin, somehow, did not look remotely embarrassed by any of this. Yeji, on the other hand, was blushing harder than I had ever seen her blush in my life. Lia looked back at Yuna “I’m glad he took care of y—”

“— and then Ben proceeded to have his way with me.”

Silence.

Then Ryujin came back to life like someone had plugged her directly into a power source “THAT’S WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR” “Ryujin,” Lia said, horrified. “What? She said it. I didn’t drag it out of her.” “You were absolutely waiting with a shovel,” Yeji muttered.

Ryujin pointed at Yuna. “And she buried us herself. Respect.” I slowly lifted one hand “Can we maybe not describe this like a crime scene?” Yuna looked at me, eyes bright with mischief “But you were very thorough.”

Lia made a tiny sound and immediately reached for her tea. Yeji stared into her coffee like the surface might open and save her. Ryujin leaned forward “Define thorough.”

“No,” I said. Yuna smiled “Do you want the emotional definition or the physical one?” “Yuna,” Yeji said, voice cracking slightly. “What?” Yuna looked genuinely pleased with herself now. “I’m being honest.” “There are gentler ways to be honest,” I said. Yuna turned toward me “You came inside me three times nonstop.”

Yeji slowly lifted her face from her hands and looked at me with disbelief so sharp it should have required paperwork. Lia’s warmth vanished instantly, replaced by the calm, flat stare of a woman rescinding all emotional credit she had given me ten seconds ago. Ryujin looked hungry— and not for cereal.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again “It is not what all of you are thinking.” Ryujin slapped the counter “It is exactly what I’m thinking.” “You do not even know the context.” “I don’t need context. I have numbers.” Lia looked at me “Ben.” “That tone sounds unfair.” “That tone is extremely fair.” Yeji was still staring at me “Three?” I looked at her “Babe, that is a very hostile question.” “It is a numerical question.” “Numbers can be hostile.” Ryujin pointed at Yeji “She’s jealous.” Yeji immediately turned redder “I am not.” Ryujin’s grin widened “You are.” “I am not jealous.” Lia looked at Yeji “You are a little.” Yeji looked betrayed “Lia.” “I said a little.” Ryujin leaned back, delighted “Leader-nim is jealous because Yuna got quantity.”

Yeji covered her face again “I cannot believe this is happening before coffee.” Yuna rested her chin in one hand and smiled at Yeji “Unnie, you still have quality.”

“That does not help,” Yeji said through her hands. I rubbed my forehead “It really does not.” Ryujin looked at me “Wait. Does Yeji not get quantity?” I stared at her “Ryujin.”

Yeji slowly lowered her hands. Her face was still flushed, but her eyes had narrowed now. Not angry. Worse. Playfully dangerous. “That is a good question.”

I looked at her “Babe... Please… Not like this.” She tilted her head “I am just asking for clarification.” Ryujin pointed between us, delighted “Oh, she’s using your manager voice against you.” Lia sipped her tea “Efficient.”

Yeji looked at me over her cup, cheeks still pink but expression far too composed “I enjoy the quality Ben gives me.” My soul left my body. Ryujin made a strangled sound. Yuna’s eyes widened with immediate interest. Lia closed her eyes. Yeji continued, quieter but very much audible “But apparently I should have negotiated quantity too.”

The sound Ryujin made was not human. Yuna dissolved into laughter against the counter. Lia whispered, “Yeji.” Yeji finally looked away, face burning, but the smallest smile tugged at her mouth like she was proud of herself and horrified by it at the same time.

I stared at her “You cannot say things like that and then pretend to be the responsible one.” Yeji lifted her coffee “I am still the responsible one.” Ryujin nodded solemnly. “With princess demands.”

Yeji immediately lifted her chin “I’m Ben’s girlfriend. I deserve princess demands.” The kitchen froze for half a second. Then Yuna pointed at Yeji “Wait. If you’re the princess, does that make the rest of us consorts?” Ryujin nodded thoughtfully. “I’m fine with that.” Lia looked suspicious already “Ryujin.”

“As long as I get a royal pounding.” The silence that followed was catastrophic. Lia nearly choked on her tea. Yuna doubled over laughing. I closed my eyes “Absolutely not.” Yeji, unfortunately, was no longer interested in being the responsible one. She pointed at Ryujin “You cannot put that in the royal charter.”

“Why not?” Ryujin asked. “I’m negotiating benefits.” Yuna was still laughing “Consort Ryujin has demands too.”

“Princess demands,” Ryujin corrected. Yeji nodded “Fair.” “Yeji,” Lia said in disbelief.

“What?” Yeji's cheeks were pink, but she was smiling now. “If we're apparently building a monarchy, we should establish standards.” I stared at her “Babe, you are encouraging this.”

“I am participating,” Yeji corrected. “That is worse.”

Ryujin slapped the counter “The princess has spoken.” Yuna pointed at me “Manager-nim, your performance review is getting complicated.”

“My performance review is no longer open for discussion.” “That sounds like someone avoiding accountability,” Lia said. “I am being attacked by statistics.” Ryujin raised her spoon “Three is a statistic.” “Ryujin.” “Technically,” Lia said, “she is correct.” I looked at her “You were supposed to be merciful one here.” “I was,” Lia replied. “Then Yuna said three.” Yuna shrugged, still smiling “It was memorable.”

Yeji’s eyes flicked toward me again. I caught it. The embarrassment was still there, but underneath it was amusement. Affection. And maybe, unfortunately for me, curiosity. I leaned closer to her, lowering my voice “Babe, you are enjoying this too much.” Yeji looked at me over the rim of her cup. “Be a good boy and survive breakfast.”

Then, before I could answer, she set her coffee down. The movement was so casual that nobody reacted at first. Not until Yeji leaned over and kissed me. Not a quick peck. Not an accidental brush. An actual kiss. Warm. Certain. Comfortable.

The kitchen froze. Again. When she pulled back, her face was already turning red. But she still looked directly at me “I love you”. For one second, my brain completely stopped functioning. Then I smiled. Leaning forward, I kissed her back “Love you too, Babe.”

The silence somehow became even louder. Ryujin looked physically wounded. Lia's eyes had widened so much she nearly dropped her tea. Yuna stared between us with open disbelief. Yeji immediately grabbed her coffee again like she could hide behind it. It did not work.

Ryujin pointed at us with both hands “No.” Lia nodded “No.” Yuna nodded too “Absolutely not.” Yeji blinked “What?” “You don't get to do that,” Ryujin said. “Do what?” “Be disgustingly cute immediately after discussing Ben's statistical achievements.” “Statistical achievements?” I repeated. “You know exactly what I mean.” “I wish I didn't.” Yuna looked at Yeji “Wait.” Yeji immediately looked suspicious “What?” “That was your first public kiss.”

The realization hit the room all at once. Lia lowered her cup “Oh.” Ryujin's jaw dropped “Oh my God”. Yeji froze. Then slowly turned toward me. Then toward everyone else. Then back toward me. Her face became the exact color of a fire alarm “Oh”. Yuna immediately started laughing “You didn't even realize.”

“I did realize.” “You absolutely didn't.” “I did.” “You kissed him and forgot we existed.” Yeji covered her face “I hate all of you.” “No you don't,” Lia said gently. “No,” Ryujin agreed. “She loves us. Unfortunately.” Yuna pointed at me “And she definitely loves him.”

Yeji made a small embarrassed noise, I smiled into my coffee. Ryujin immediately caught it. “Oh, look at him.” “Don't.” “He's so happy.” “I am drinking coffee.” “You're glowing.” “I am not glowing.” “You're glowing.” Lia looked at me “You are a little.” “Traitor”

Yuna leaned against my shoulder again “Honestly, this is kind of adorable.” Yeji groaned “Please stop helping.” Ryujin pointed between us “No, no. We need to discuss the real issue.” “There is no real issue.” “There is.” She pointed directly at Yeji “The leash.” Yeji nearly choked on her coffee. “Ryujin.” “The leash remains active.” Lia nodded thoughtfully. “The evidence is compelling.” Yuna raised a hand. “I would like to submit today's kiss as Exhibit A.” “I hate this kitchen.” Ryujin looked at me “Ben.” “No.” “Ben.” “No.” “Does she have you on a leash?”

I looked at Yeji. Yeji looked back at me. Still red. Still embarrassed. Still somehow trying to look authoritative. I sighed “Maybe.”

The room exploded. “I KNEW IT,” Ryujin shouted. “Ben,” Lia said, laughing now. Yuna looked delighted. Yeji stared at me “Maybe?” I pointed at her “You literally just told me to be a good boy.” “That is not the same thing.” “It felt pretty similar.” Ryujin slapped the counter “He admits it.” “I admitted nothing.” “You said maybe.” “I said maybe.” “That's an admission.” Yeji shook her head “You're impossible.” I looked at her “You're the one everyone thinks has me on a leash.” Ryujin immediately pointed at Yeji “Because she does.” Yuna nodded “She absolutely does.” Lia smiled into her tea “I don't think Ben is fighting very hard.”

I looked around the room Then shrugged “Maybe because I don't mind.” The screaming started again. Ryujin nearly fell off her stool. Yuna kept laughing over. Lia covered her face. Yeji looked like she wanted the floor to open beneath her. I lifted my coffee. “What?” “You don't mind?” Ryujin repeated. I considered it then nodded “Honestly?” “OH MY GOD.” “Honestly,” I continued, “I might actually like it.”

Yeji made a sound that could only be described as a system failure. Ryujin was crying. Actually crying. Yuna was no longer capable of standing upright. Lia had abandoned all attempts at dignity. I pointed at Ryujin “And for the record, I was serious earlier.”

Ryujin froze “Oh no.” I nodded “If treats are involved, I might bark.”

The kitchen detonated. Yeji buried her face in both hands. Yuna collapsed against the counter. Lia laughed so hard she had to put her tea down. Ryujin looked like she had achieved enlightenment “I've never seen a man surrender this completely.” I raised my coffee “Love is about trust.”

“THAT IS NOT WHAT THAT MEANS” Yeji finally looked up from behind her hands. Her face was still bright red. But she was smiling. And despite all the teasing, all the embarrassment, and all the chaos around us— she looked happy. Which, unfortunately for my dignity, probably proved everyone's point. She does have me on a leash.

Ryujin dropped her spoon into the cereal box “There it is again.” Lia nodded once “The leash is active.” Yeji’s face went completely red. I stared down into my coffee “I am moving countries.” Yuna leaned against my shoulder again, laughing softly now “You’d miss us.”

“That is the problem.” For a few seconds, the room stayed suspended between horror, laughter, and the kind of warmth that only existed because everyone had somehow survived the truth without breaking. Then Yuna looked back at Lia. “So yes,” she said, finally answering the original question with an almost angelic smile. “I’m alright.” Then, after a beat, her smile returned in full. “Actually, I’m more than alright.” Ryujin made a delighted sound “There she is.”

Lia looked relieved despite herself. Yeji watched Yuna for a long moment, then nodded “Good”. Yuna smiled at her “Unnie, you look like you want to scold me and hug me at the same time.”

“I do.” “That’s fair.” Ryujin leaned forward “So since you’re alright—” “No,” I said. Yuna tilted her head “No to what?” “To whatever is about to happen.” Ryujin pointed at me “He’s scared.” Yuna rested her chin lightly on one hand “Do you want to know what surprised me most?” “No,” I said immediately. Ryujin said, “Yes.” Lia said, “Carefully.” Yeji said nothing, which somehow meant all three answers at once. Yuna’s smile sharpened “He finally admitted I’m hot.” Ryujin slapped the counter “I knew that mattered.” “It did,” Yuna said proudly. I looked at her “That was not the most important part of the conversation.” “It was one of the important parts.” “It was emotional support.” “It was practical support,” Yuna corrected.

Lia smiled into her tea “Very Yuna”. Yuna looked at me, eyes bright “He said only an idiot would spend that much time near ITZY’s maknae and not want her”. Ryujin slowly turned toward me. Yeji’s eyes widened. Lia blinked. I stared at Yuna “That was private dialogue.” Yuna smiled “It wasn’t a sex detail.” Ryujin leaned forward like she had received divine prophecy “Dialogue counts.”

“No, it does not.” “It absolutely does,” Ryujin said. “Tone. Context. Setting. Very important.” Yuna tilted her head, pretending to think. “Then I probably shouldn’t mention the part where he said—”

“Yuna.” She grinned. “Fine. I’ll save that for later.” Lia muttered, “There is going to be a later.” Ryujin looked spiritually moved. “This is the best breakfast of my life.” Yeji finally looked at Yuna properly again “You’re really okay?”

The room quieted. Yuna looked back at her. This time, she did not joke immediately. “Yeah,” she said. “I am.” Then, softer “More than okay.” Lia’s face gentled. Ryujin’s teasing softened around the edges. Yeji just smiled.

For exactly two seconds, the room stayed warm. Then Yuna decided sincerity had been allowed to exist long enough. “Although,” she added, turning toward Ryujin, “you were not exaggerating.” Ryujin’s entire face lit up. I stood. “No.” Lia covered her mouth. Yeji’s eyes widened. Yuna smiled at me like she had found the exact lever marked catastrophe “I’m just saying, for a first time, it was a little unfair.” Ryujin pointed at me “I knew it.”

“You know nothing.” “I know enough.” “Ryujin.” “What? I said nothing specific.”

Yuna leaned toward Lia with the solemnity of someone giving a medical report “Let’s just say I understand why he walks around acting like restraint is a public service.” Lia made a sound that was half choke, half laugh. Yeji covered her face. I stared at the ceiling. “Outstanding. Wonderful. Fantastic breakfast.” Ryujin looked like she was about to ascend. “Yuna, I have never been prouder of you.” Yuna smiled. “Thank you.”

“That was not praise,” Yeji said weakly. “It sounded like praise,” Yuna replied. “That is because Ryujin is broken.” Ryujin pointed her spoon at me “Question.” “No.” “If Yuna survived the careful version, does that mean—” “No.” “—she gets promoted?” “Absolutely not.” Yuna’s eyes sharpened “Promoted?” I looked at Ryujin with betrayal. Ryujin smiled “I said what I said.” Yuna turned toward me. “There are levels?” Lia whispered, “Oh God no.”

Yeji lowered her hands from her face with the expression of a woman realizing the room had escaped her leadership authority.

“There are not levels,” I said. Ryujin nodded “There are absolutely levels.” Yuna’s smile widened “Interesting.” “That word has become a threat,” I said.

Yuna leaned closer, still smiling, but her voice dipped softly enough that only I caught the warmth beneath it “You like threats.”

“Not before coffee.” “You like me before coffee.”

The kitchen froze. Ryujin’s spoon stopped midair. Lia looked down into her tea. Yeji looked between us. I looked at Yuna. For once, she did not hide behind the joke. The line had been playful. But the feeling underneath it was not. “Yes,” I said quietly. “I do.”  Yuna’s smile softened. Just for a second. Then Ryujin ruined the moment, naturally.

“Emotionally devastating breakfast.” Lia nodded “With cereal.” Yeji exhaled slowly “We need rules.” Ryujin perked up “Sex rules?” “Room rules,” Yeji corrected immediately. “Coward.” “Leader.” “Same thing sometimes.”

Yuna laughed softly at that, leaning her cheek against her hand as she looked around the island. For once, she did not look like she was trying to win the room, she looked like she was in it. Really in it. Not watching from the outside. Not poking at glass. Not trying to prove she belonged in a conversation everyone else already understood. Just sitting there, shoulder near mine, surrounded by the women who had seen too much, asked too much, laughed too hard, and still looked at her like she had not broken anything by wanting me too.

That seemed to hit her a second later. Her smile softened. Yeji noticed. Of course she did. Lia noticed too, because Lia always noticed quiet shifts before anyone else knew they had happened. Ryujin noticed and, somehow, made the rare heroic choice not to immediately weaponize it. Yuna looked down at her sleeve for half a second. Then she smiled again, smaller this time.

“This feels weird,” she said. Ryujin tilted her head “What does?” Yuna shrugged, trying to make it sound casual “Not being left out.”

The kitchen went quiet. Not painfully. Not dramatically. Just carefully. Like everyone heard the line and instinctively knew not to step on it too quickly. Yeji’s expression softened first. Lia’s fingers stilled around her tea. Ryujin’s spoon lowered by half an inch. I looked at Yuna. She looked back at me. For once, there was no challenge in it. Just honesty, standing there without armor. Then, because she was still Yuna and apparently allergic to sincerity lasting longer than two seconds, she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t make that face. I’m not being sad.” “You were being honest,” Lia said gently. Yuna grimaced “That’s worse.” Ryujin nodded solemnly “Honestly devastating breakfast.” “With cereal,” Lia added automatically. Yuna laughed at that, and the sound loosened the room again.

She leaned back slightly, eyes moving from Yeji to Ryujin to Lia, then finally toward the hallway “Anyway,” she said, almost too casually, “Chaeryeong is really missing out.” The silence that followed was instant. Yeji turned toward her. “What?” Yuna blinked. Then the realization hit her “Oh.” Lia set her tea down very slowly. Ryujin leaned forward. I stopped breathing. Yuna looked between all of them, her smile turning a little apologetic and a little amused at the same time.

“You didn’t know she knew.” Yeji’s voice came carefully “Chaeryeong knew?” Yuna pressed her lips together, then lifted one shoulder “Unnie, respectfully…” She glanced around the room “You were not subtle.” Ryujin stared “None of us?” “No.” Lia closed her eyes “Of course.”

Yuna pointed lightly toward Yeji “You and Ben were obvious in the way people are obvious when they think being quiet makes them invisible.” Yeji’s cheeks warmed.

Yuna pointed toward Ryujin next “You were obvious because you are physically incapable of not looking proud after causing problems.” Ryujin opened her mouth. Closed it. Then nodded “Fair.”

Yuna looked at me “And Ben was obvious because every time someone said my name, he started acting like he was managing a live explosive.” I stared at her “That is inaccurate.”

Lia looked at me “It is not.” Yeji took a sip of coffee “It really is not.” Ryujin grinned “Live explosive Yuna is a good nickname.” Yuna smiled sweetly “I accept.” I rubbed my forehead “Outstanding.”

Yeji set her cup down carefully “How much did Chaeryeong know?” Yuna looked back at her “Enough.”

“That is not an answer.” “It is the safest answer.”

Ryujin pointed between herself and Yuna “You and Chaeryeong talked?”

“Yes.” “About Ben?” “Yes.” “About us?”

Yuna hesitated. That was answer enough. Ryujin’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.” Yuna lifted both hands “Not everything.” Lia’s brows rose “Define not everything.” Yuna looked at me. Then at Yeji. Then at Ryujin. Then back at Lia “Well…”

I immediately stood “Nope.” Lia looked at me “Sit down.” “I suddenly remembered work.” “No, you didn’t,” Yeji said.

I looked at her. She looked back. Softly. Dangerously calm.

“Be a good boy.” The room went silent again. I sat back down. Ryujin whispered, “Leash.” Lia nodded once “Still active.”

Yeji’s face went pink. Yuna laughed, bright and fully awake now. I stared into my coffee and accepted defeat. Ryujin leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “So Chaeryeong knew about Yeji.” Yuna nodded. “And me?” “She had suspicions.” Ryujin looked offended “Suspicions?” Yuna gave her a look “Unnie, you came back from certain rooms looking like you had personally won a war.” Ryujin smiled “Okay, that one is correct, and also fair.” Yeji covered her face again. Lia looked toward the hallway, thoughtful now “And she knew about you?”

Yuna’s expression shifted. Not embarrassed. Not exactly. More like remembering “She knew I wanted to stop being outside it.” That quieted the room again. Yuna looked down at her sleeve, then continued before anyone could interrupt “She didn’t push me. She didn’t tell me to do anything. She just… knew. She said I was only pretending it was about making Ben lose control.”

I looked at her. Yuna glanced at me “She was right.” The words landed softly. Not as a confession. As a conclusion. Yeji watched her carefully. “And you didn’t tell us?” Yuna’s smile turned faintly sheepish

“You were all very busy pretending you were being subtle,” and Yuna continued “Besides it’s not like I could have walked up to Ben and ask him to take away my virginity that casually.” “Might have worked for Ryujin unnie—” “The hell does that even mean?” Ryujin felt betrayed, “Why am I catching strays?” “— but that would have still been too much of a high risk gamble, if I were to say”.

Ryujin snorted. Lia sighed. Yeji closed her eyes for a second. Yuna leaned back in her chair, looking far too pleased for someone who had just detonated the entire morning.

“Relax,” she said sweetly. “Chaeryeong kept your secrets better than you did.”

That landed harder than the joke around it. The room went quiet. Because suddenly, breakfast was no longer only about Yuna and me. It was about the quietest person on the Top Floor knowing more than everyone realized. The person who had watched, listen, and understood. And said nothing because maybe, in her own way, Chaeryeong had been waiting for someone else to stop being left out first. Ryujin slowly smiled.

“Well,” she said, picking up her cereal again. “This just got interesting.” “Ryujin” I looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That sounded suspiciously meta.” “It was spiritually accurate.”

Yuna laughed, Yeji sighed, Lia reached for her tea, and I sat there, already exhausted, as the Top Floor shifted again around a truth none of us had bothered to notice until Yuna said it out loud. Chaeryeong knew.

The realization sat in the middle of the kitchen like an extra person at the table. For once, Ryujin did not immediately attack it. Yuna’s smile had softened into something smaller, almost careful now that the damage had been done. Lia stared into her tea like the answer to everyone’s collective lack of subtlety might be floating somewhere near the surface. Yeji only exhaled, like a leader realizing the meeting she had been avoiding had already started without her permission. I rubbed both hands over my face.

“Outstanding,” I muttered. Ryujin looked at me “What?” “I am starting to miss when the biggest problem on this floor was you threatening aegyo mutiny.” “That problem still exists.” “Wonderful.”

Before anyone could make it worse, a quiet sound came from the hallway. Not dramatic. Not theatrical. Just the soft shuffle of slippers against the floor. Everyone turned. Chaeryeong stood at the edge of the kitchen with a tray in her hands. Toast. Fruit. A small bowl of eggs. Because apparently, while the rest of us were busy detonating the emotional foundation of the Top Floor, Chaeryeong had been making breakfast. She stopped when she noticed all of us looking at her. Then her gaze moved to Yuna.

Yuna smiled awkwardly. Chaeryeong blinked once. Then sighed. “You told them? Yuna lifted one shoulder “Accidentally.” Ryujin pointed her spoon at her “That was not an accident. That was a controlled demolition.”

“It was emotional honesty.” “It was demolition with feelings.”

Chaeryeong looked between them, then set the tray carefully on the kitchen island. Far too calmly. That worried me more than if she had panicked. Yeji stood first “Chaeryeong.” Her voice had switched gears into leader mode.

Chaeryeong looked at her. Yeji hesitated for half a second, then continued “I’m sorry.” That made Chaeryeong’s expression shift. Not much but enough “For what?”

“For making you carry it alone,” Yeji said.

The room went quiet. That was the right sentence. Everyone felt it. Even Yuna, especially Yuna. Chaeryeong lowered her eyes briefly, her fingers brushing against the edge of the tray “I wasn’t carrying anything.”

“Chaer,” Yeji said softly. Chaeryeong looked up again. Yeji did not push. She only waited. That was probably why Chaeryeong answered. “I knew enough,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but steady. “I didn’t know everything. I didn’t want to know everything. But I knew enough to understand that something was happening, and everyone was trying very hard to pretend it was not obvious.”

Ryujin slowly lowered her cereal box. Lia looked down. Yuna bit her lower lip. I said nothing. Because there was nothing useful I could say yet. Chaeryeong looked toward Yeji first. “You and Ben were obvious in the quiet way.” Yeji’s cheeks warmed slightly. Then Chaeryeong looked at Ryujin “You were obvious in the loud way.” Ryujin opened her mouth. Chaeryeong added, “It was louder when tried to be silent.” Ryujin closed her mouth. Yuna made a tiny sound that might have been a laugh. Chaeryeong looked at her next “And Yuna…” Yuna straightened. Chaeryeong’s expression softened. “You were obvious because you stopped teasing like it was a game.” Yuna did not answer immediately.

For once. That alone told me how hard the sentence had landed. Then Chaeryeong finally looked at me “And you were obvious because every time something changed, you tried to manage it like a schedule conflict.” Lia made a sound into her tea. Ryujin pointed at me “That is painfully accurate.” I looked at Chaeryeong “I feel attacked.”

“You should,” Lia said calmly. “Traitor.” “You earned it.”

Chaeryeong’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Yeji pulled out the stool beside her “Sit with us.” Chaeryeong glanced at the stool. Then at the tray. Then back at everyone “I was just bringing food.”

“Sit,” Yeji said again, softer this time. Not a command. An invitation. Chaeryeong hesitated at first then sat and somehow, that felt bigger than it should have. The kitchen settled around her. Not comfortably. Yuna leaned forward slightly. “I’m sorry too.” Chaeryeong blinked at her. Yuna looked down at her sleeve. “I didn’t mean to throw you into it like that.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean…” Yuna exhaled. “You knew I wanted in before I even said it properly. And I still let everyone find out you knew by accident.” Chaeryeong studied her. Then nodded once “I wasn’t mad.” Yuna looked up. Chaeryeong’s voice softened “I was worried.” That shut Yuna up completely. Ryujin’s eyebrows lifted. Lia’s gaze moved between them. Yeji watched quietly. Chaeryeong continued “You were acting like you were only trying to provoke him. But you weren’t.” Yuna looked away “Yeah.”

“You wanted him to see you.” Yuna’s fingers curled against her sleeve “And last night?” Chaeryeong asked. Yuna looked back at her “He did,” Yuna said softly. Chaeryeong’s expression gentled “Good.” That one word did more than half the morning’s chaos had. It settled something. Not everything.

Ryujin, naturally, began to raise her spoon. Yeji looked at her “No.” Ryujin froze “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were about to ruin the moment.” “I was going to support it.” “With what?”

Ryujin paused then lowered the spoon “Actually, never mind.” Lia nodded “Growth.” Ryujin pointed at her “Do not document that.” “I already did.”

I exhaled slowly and leaned back against the counter. For the first time that morning, the room felt less like it was chasing a crisis and more like it had finally caught up to itself.

Then Lia set her tea down. “So what are we actually doing?” Everyone looked at her. Lia’s expression stayed calm. But her question had weight, a real question. Yeji’s posture shifted. Leader again. Yuna stopped playing with her sleeve. Ryujin went still, which was rare enough to concern me. Chaeryeong looked down at the island. I knew what Lia meant. We all did.

This was no longer about who knew what, or who crossed which line, or who had been pretending not to notice. This was about what happened next. Lia’s gaze moved to me “You can’t keep handling this like isolated incidents.” That one landed. I looked at her and she did not soften it “Yeji. Ryujin. Yuna. Chaeryeong knowing. Me knowing more than I say. The Top Floor. Waterbomb. JYP. John. Jihyo.” Her voice remained even “That is not a list of separate problems anymore.”

The room quieted again. I hated how right she was. Ryujin leaned back “So what is it?” Lia looked around the table “A system,” she said. Nobody spoke. “It’s becoming a system whether we admit it or not.” Yuna’s expression sharpened. Yeji’s eyes lowered to her cup. Chaeryeong held very still. I looked at Lia “And you think we need rules.”

“No,” Lia said. That surprised me. She glanced toward Yeji. “Rules make it sound like we can control everything if we write it neatly enough.” Yeji gave a faint smile “True.” Lia looked back at me “I think we need honesty before we need rules.”

That was worse. Because it was correct. Ryujin groaned softly.

“I hate when Lia says something mature. It makes me feel underdressed emotionally.” “You are eating cereal from a box,” I said. “Exactly. I’m not prepared for emotional governance.”

Yuna leaned her chin on her hand “So we admit things?” Yeji nodded slowly “I think we have to”. The room shifted enough that everyone knew the jokes had stepped aside. Yeji looked at me first. Not asking permission. Asking partnership. I nodded once. She took a breath.

“Then I’ll start.” Every eye moved to her. Yeji’s cheeks were still a little pink from earlier, but her voice was steady “Ben and I are together.” The sentence hit differently when said plainly. Not joked around or implied. Not protected by chaos— Together.

Yuna’s expression softened. Ryujin, for once, did not make a sound. Lia watched Yeji with something warm in her eyes. Chaeryeong looked down briefly, then back up. Yeji continued. “I don’t know exactly what that means for everyone else yet. But I know what he is to me.” Her hand moved under the counter. Finding mine. I felt it before anyone saw it.

“I love him,” she said quietly. “And I’m not going to pretend I don’t just because the situation is complicated.” The kitchen went still. My throat tightened. Yeji looked at me. Then, with terrible timing and perfect cruelty, Ryujin whispered “Emotionally devastating breakfast, part two.”

Lia closed her eyes. Yuna made a tiny laugh. Chaeryeong’s mouth twitched again. Yeji sighed “Ryujin.”

“What? I waited.” “You did,” Lia admitted. “That was restraint.” Ryujin nodded proudly “I am maturing.” “No,” Yuna said. “Fair.”

The tension cracked just enough to breathe. Then Ryujin leaned forward “My turn?” Yeji looked wary “Carefully”. Ryujin grinned “Ben and I have a dynamic”. Lia stared into her tea “That is one word for it.”

“It is the safest word.” Yuna nodded “Very restrained.” “Thank you.”

I looked at Ryujin. She looked back at me. Her grin softened by a fraction “And despite my reputation, I know what Yeji is to him.” That surprised me. Ryujin did not look away “I’m not trying to take that”. The room quieted. Yeji’s expression shifted. Ryujin shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with her own sincerity “I like what I have with him. I want more of it. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Lia murmured.

“But I’m not confused,” Ryujin continued. “I know the difference between wanting him and wanting to be her.”

Yuna’s eyes flicked to Yeji. Then to Ben. Then down. That one mattered to her too. Yeji looked at Ryujin for a long moment then nodded “Thank you.” Ryujin immediately leaned back “Great. I was emotionally mature for eleven seconds. Someone praise me.”

“No,” Lia said. “Cruel.”

Yuna lifted her hand slightly “My turn?” The room looked at her. Yuna’s confidence did not vanish. But it changed shape “I don’t want to be outside anymore.” Her voice stayed steady “I don’t want to compete with Yeji unnie. I don’t want to pretend I only teased Ben because it was funny. And I don’t want everyone treating me like I tripped into this.” She glanced at me “I chose it”. Then at Yeji “And I know what I’m choosing around.”

Yeji’s gaze softened. Yuna swallowed once. “I’m okay with not being first.” The sentence landed quietly. Harder than expected “But I don’t want to feel like I’m hidden because I came later.” Nobody spoke. I felt that one in my chest. Because I knew exactly where it came from. Yeji reached across the island. Yuna looked at her hand and then took it “You’re not hidden,” Yeji said. Yuna’s smile shook for half a second. Then recovered “Good.”

Ryujin sniffed dramatically “That was almost wholesome.” “It was wholesome,” Lia said. “I know. I’m uncomfortable.”

Chaeryeong looked at them, then finally spoke “I don’t know where I stand yet.” Everyone turned to her. She looked uncomfortable with the attention, but she continued anyway. “I know things. I understand more than I probably should. But knowing is different from being ready.” That sentence held the entire room in place. Yeji nodded “You don’t have to be ready.” Chaeryeong looked relieved. Just a little.

My chest loosened. That had been the fear that this conversation would turn into momentum. That Chaeryeong would feel dragged forward just because everyone else had finally stopped hiding. Lia looked at her gently.

“You’re allowed to just know” Chaeryeong nodded “Thank you.” Ryujin leaned back, softer now. “So Chaeryeong and Lia gets the observer status.” Yuna brightened “With premium access.” I looked at her “No.” “What?” “No premium access.” Yuna smiled “Worth a try.”

Chaeryeong laughed. Quiet. Small. But real. That laugh did more for the room than any official rule could have. Then Lia spoke again “I’m not ready either.” The room shifted, this time toward her. Lia held her tea with both hands. Her gaze did not go to me immediately. It stayed on the cup “I care about Ben,” she said softly my breath slowed “I think everyone knows that by now.”

Yuna nodded carefully. Ryujin did not joke. Yeji watched Lia with quiet understanding. Lia’s fingers tightened around the cup “But I am still figuring out what kind of courage that requires from me.” That was Lia, a careful admission placed gently in the center of the table. Not denial nor was it surrender.

I wanted to say something. I did not. Not yet. This was hers. Yeji spoke for the room “That’s okay” Lia looked up. Yeji smiled faintly. “We’re not asking you to rush.” Lia’s shoulders eased “Thank you.” Ryujin looked around slowly “So, to summarize…”

“Absolutely not.” Lia said immediately.

Ryujin ignored her “Yeji is emotionally married. I am chaos with benefits. Yuna is newly promoted from live explosive to acknowledged live explosive. Chaeryeong has premium observer status. Lia is slow-burn royalty. Ben is overworked, underpaid, and apparently enjoys being leashed.”

The silence lasted one second. Then Yuna burst out laughing. Chaeryeong covered her mouth. Lia sighed like she hated that the summary was almost useful. Yeji turned bright red. I stared at Ryujin “I regret everything.”

“No you don’t.” “I regret enough.”

Yeji squeezed my hand under the counter. Softly. A reminder. A warning. A comfort— all three, probably. The laughter faded slowly. And when it did, the room felt different… less dishonest. That was probably the best we could ask for.

Then Lia looked around the Top Floor. Her gaze moved from the kitchen to the lounge, to the hallway, to the windows overlooking the city “This place helps,” she said. Everyone followed her gaze “But it’s still attached to everything.” Yeji’s expression shifted “What do you mean?” Lia exhaled softly.

“The company still exists. We are still idols—” “Dysfunctional Idols” Ryujin corrected. “—Schedules are still on the phones. Staff can still call. Security can still report. We can rest here, but we’re not away.”

That landed. Because after Waterbomb, after JYP, after everything, she was right. The Top Floor had become a sanctuary, but also a pressure cooker. A beautifully expensive one, still a pressure cooker.

Yuna leaned back “So what? We run away?” Ryujin smiled “I vote yes to running away and having a fantasy harem.” Chaeryeong blinked “You always vote yes to running away.” “I am consistent.” Ryujin pointed out.

Yeji looked at me. That was the problem. Everyone eventually looked at me. I stared into my coffee “No.” Ryujin frowned “What do you mean no? Who doesn’t want a personal harem?”

“I mean no, do not look at me like that.” Yuna tilted her head “Like what?” “Like I am supposed to solve this.” Lia’s eyebrow lifted “You usually do.” “That is not helping.” Yeji squeezed my hand again “Ben.”

I looked at her. She was not teasing now. Neither was Lia. Neither was Chaeryeong. Even Yuna had gone quiet. Ryujin was watching me too, surprisingly serious. Yeji’s voice softened “Maybe this time you don’t solve it alone.”

That sat in my chest. Uncomfortably… I looked around the kitchen, at Yeji… Ryujin… Lia… Yuna… Chaeryeong. All of them tired in different ways. All of them pretending better than most people would ever notice. But I noticed and that was the whole problem. I noticed too much to ignore it. And not enough to fix it from inside the same walls. I exhaled slowly “We need out.”

Ryujin’s eyes lit up “Yes.” I pointed at her “No, not like that. No harems.” Her eyes dimmed “Cruel.”

I continued.

“Not away from each other. Away from the pressure.” Lia looked at me carefully “A break?” “A real one,” I said. “No company building. No staff wandering nearby. No fans. No cameras. No pretending this floor is enough because it is expensive.”

Yuna’s expression changed first. Hope. Fast and bright before she could hide it. Chaeryeong looked uncertain. Yeji looked worried. Lia looked thoughtful. Ryujin looked like she was already packing mentally. I lifted one hand “I’m not saying we just disappear.”

“That is exactly what a rich person says before disappearing,” Lia said. “She’s right,” Yuna added.

I ignored them.

“It would need cover. Proper cover. Something JYP can approve publicly. Something that doesn’t look like me kidnapping ITZY into a private resort.”

Ryujin tilted her head “Are you kidnapping us into a private resort?” “No. Kidnapping would imply unwilling to go… and Ryujin is clearly willing to go.” “Would snacks be provided?” “Yes.” “I consent.” “Ryujin.” “What? I’m helping.” Chaeryeong’s voice came softer “A vacation?” “Recovery leave,” I corrected. Yuna smiled “That sounds like vacation said by someone afraid of HR.” “It is vacation with paperwork.” Yeji’s eyes narrowed slightly “Paperwork?” I paused. A cold feeling went through me “No.” Lia blinked “No what?” “I just said paperwork.” Ryujin stared “And?” “And somewhere in Seoul, Park Jihyo probably felt a disturbance.”

Yeji covered her mouth. Yuna started laughing. Lia sighed “That is oddly believable.” I stood “I’m calling John.” Ryujin pointed at me “See? He is solving it.”

“I am delegating.” “That is just solving it with extra steps.”

I walked toward the lounge before anyone could stop me. Unfortunately, everyone followed. Of course they did. I pulled out my phone and called John. He answered on the fourth ring. Which was suspicious “Why the fuck are you calling me this early?” John asked.

“No greeting? That’s no way to talk to your best buddy” “You only call early when rich-person nonsense is about to happen.”

I looked at the phone. Then at the five women now gathered around me like a live studio audience.

“I need advice.” John went silent, then “Oh God.” “Relax. No one is pregnant or dying.” “No, that’s my shtick. When you sound like this, someone’s net worth gets involved.” Ryujin whispered, “He knows you well.” I ignored her “I need Jihyo on the phone.”

John went even more silent. Then his voice dropped “What did you do?” “I did not do anything.” All five of the girls looked at me, I sighed. “Recently.” John groaned “Ben.” “It’s about ITZY.”

That changed the air on the call. John’s voice sharpened “Are they okay?” I glanced back at them. Yeji’s face softened. Yuna looked down. Ryujin’s mouth tightened. Lia watched me carefully. Chaeryeong held herself still. “They’re functioning,” I said. John understood immediately. “That’s not what I asked.”

“No,” I said quietly. “It isn’t” the room went silent. John did not speak for a moment. Then his voice softened “I’ll get Jihyo.” There was muffled movement on the other end. A door opening. John saying something too quietly for us to catch. Then another voice entered the call. Calm. Alert. Dangerous “Ben?”

It was Jihyo.

I closed my eyes. Of course her voice alone made this feel like a meeting. “Sorry for calling suddenly.”

“No, you’re not.”

I opened my eyes. Ryujin mouthed, accurate. I waved her off. Jihyo continued “What happened?” I looked toward Yeji, then the others, then back out the window “Waterbomb happened,” I said. “Then everything after it happened. And now the Top Floor is starting to feel less like recovery and more like containment.”

Nobody spoke. Not in the room. Not on the phone. Jihyo understood too quickly. That was the problem with her, she always did “You want to take them somewhere.”

“Yes.” “How long?” “A week, at least.”

John coughed. Jihyo went silent. Ryujin’s eyes widened with delight. Yuna whispered, “A week?” Chaeryeong looked startled “At least?” Lia looked like she was already calculating the consequences. Yeji only watched me. Jihyo finally spoke “A week is not a break, Ben. A week is a scheduling incident.”

“I know.” “Do you?” “Yes.”

John muttered something in the background. It sounded like, “Here we go.” Jihyo ignored him “What exactly are you proposing?”

“A private recovery leave,” I said. “No cameras. No public resort. Controlled location. Full privacy. Medical access nearby. Security handled. Schedule disruption compensated. Staff covered. Company inconvenience handled.” Jihyo was quiet. Then she said “You have already calculated this.”

“Yes.” John sighed loudly “Of course he has!” Jihyo’s voice sharpened “And you are calling me because you know JYP will not approve this if it only comes from you.”

“Yes.” “Good. At least you are self-aware.”

Ryujin whispered, “She’s scary.” Yeji whispered back, “Yes.” Jihyo continued “If this happens, it needs cover.”

“I know.” “It cannot look like manager Sung Benjamin took ITZY away because he decided money solves emotional strain.” I looked down. The room went very still. Jihyo’s voice softened by one degree “I am not saying that is what you are doing.”

“I know.” “But that is how it can look.” “I know.”

She exhaled “Then it needs to be something else.” John’s voice came closer to the phone “A senior-junior wellness retreat” Jihyo paused. Then hummed “That could work.” I frowned “What?” John sounded smug now “TWICE and ITZY. Company-approved bonding. Recovery. Mentorship. Privacy. Very wholesome. Very public-friendly.” Ryujin’s mouth dropped open. Yuna’s eyes lit up like someone had handed her fireworks. Lia closed her eyes. Chaeryeong looked terrified and curious at the same time. Yeji slowly turned toward me. I did not like her expression. Jihyo spoke again, thoughtful now.

“If TWICE is involved, JYP has a cleaner reason to approve it.” I stared at the phone “Hold on.” John ignored me “And if Mina helps with location privacy, the rich-people problem becomes less obviously Ben-shaped.”

“Hold on,” I repeated. Jihyo’s tone shifted. Not quite amusement but close to it “Mina would be useful.” That was when I realized the conversation had escaped me. This was no longer my idea. This was a Jihyo operation. Which meant I had lost control approximately thirty seconds ago.

“Jihyo,” I said carefully. “Yes?” “This was supposed to be advice.” “And I am advising.” “No, you are expanding.” “Good advice expands when the original plan is insufficient.”

John laughed. I glared at the phone. Yuna whispered, “I like her.” Yeji nodded faintly “You would.” Jihyo continued “Also…” Something in her voice changed, a smile I could not see but definitely feel. My spine went cold “Well,” Jihyo said, “I guess this is the perfect time to cash in on your promise.” I froze “What promise?” John sighed through the phone “Oh no.” Jihyo’s smile was audible now “You said TWICE could visit the Top Floor.”

The room went very still. Ryujin slowly turned toward me. Yuna’s eyes lit up in pure, dangerous joy. Lia closed her eyes like she was already exhausted. Chaeryeong looked between all of us, deeply concerned. Yeji stared at me like she was calculating the exact moment I had doomed us. I swallowed “How many of you?” Jihyo laughed “All of us.” John added, “For the record, I tried to stop this.”

“No, you didn’t,” Jihyo said. “No, I didn’t.”

I stared out at the city. The Top Floor suddenly felt much smaller. Behind me, Ryujin whispered, “TWICE is coming here?” Yuna whispered back, “All of TWICE.” Lia murmured, “This is going to be a disaster.” Chaeryeong added “We have to buy a lot of food now.” Yeji only looked at me. Softly. Sympathetically. And I realized, far too late, that I had once again given Park Jihyo access to a door I should have kept locked. Jihyo’s voice came through the speaker again, bright and decisive.

“We’ll be there this afternoon.” The call ended. I lowered the phone slowly. No one spoke. Then Ryujin picked up her cereal box. “So,” she said, “do we clean, or do we prepare emotionally?” Lia looked around the room “Both.” Yuna smiled “I vote we hide embarrassing things.” Yeji looked at me “Ben.” I closed my eyes “Yes?”

“Be a good boy.” The room exploded. And somewhere in the middle of it, I realized this had barely solved anything and it had only opened the door. Literally.

[afterhours37]

Overworked & Overwanted - The Things We Saw

Genres: Romance, Drama, Slice of Life Word Count: 31k

The morning after was quiet. Not suspiciously quiet. Not “Ryujin is scheming something” quiet— just quiet.

Yeji had left my room before the rest of the Top Floor fully woke up, soft enough that nobody heard the door open except me. She paused once before stepping out, turned back, smiled sleepily, gave me a kiss, and then disappeared down the hallway like she hadn’t just ruined my ability to emotionally function for the rest of the week. Outstanding progression, actually.

By the time everyone gathered later that morning, the Top Floor had already returned to its usual rhythm.

Yuna was loudly complaining about how her body still felt “luxury sick” from yesterday’s spa day. Chaeryeong was making breakfast quietly while pretending not to smile at Yuna’s dramatics. Lia looked significantly more alive after finally sleeping properly, and Ryujin was sprawled sideways on the couch scrolling through her phone like someone who had never caused a single problem in her entire life— which was objectively false.

Meanwhile Yeji walked in last, hair tied loosely, wearing a hoodie that definitely wasn’t hers.

Nobody noticed or at least, nobody said anything. I noticed though. Unfortunately, so did Lia. She took one look at Yeji, then at me, then calmly lifted her coffee. No words. Just judgment.

I stared back at her. She smiled into the cup.

A few days passed like that. Normal on the surface. Schedules resumed. Waterbomb Festival preparations started creeping closer. The Top Floor shifted back into movement again—stylists calling, managers texting, rehearsal clips getting reviewed, stage notes being revised, staff asking impossible questions at inconvenient hours.

And underneath all of that? Things had changed.

Yeji had become better at finding me when nobody was looking. A hand brushing mine in the hallway. A quiet smile from across the room. The kind of small affection that somehow felt more dangerous than anything obvious.

Ryujin, meanwhile, remained Ryujin. Which meant she had somehow become even more unbearable. “You’re walking funny,” she muttered one afternoon while passing behind me in the kitchen. I slowly turned toward her. “Do not start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were spiritually saying something.”

Ryujin only grinned before stealing a piece of fruit from the counter and walking away like a criminal with diplomatic immunity. Lia became quieter around me too, though not distant. If anything, she had started settling into my space more naturally. She would sit near me while reviewing lyrics, leave tea beside my laptop without saying anything, or ask if I had eaten in that calm voice that made lying feel physically impossible.

Chaeryeong had started doing something similar, though softer. Less direct. She lingered more. Asked small questions. Smiled easier when I answered. And Yuna— Yuna was becoming a problem.

At first, I thought it was accidental. Which was adorable of me. The first time it happened, I was in the private gym late at night, trying to burn off enough stress to make my brain stop narrating every emotionally catastrophic decision I had made recently. Headphones on. Treadmill off. Weights finished. I was halfway through cooling down when the door opened.

Yuna walked in wearing an oversized shirt that slipped loosely off one shoulder and shorts small enough to make me immediately look at the ceiling like it owed me moral guidance. “Oh,” she said casually. “You’re here.”

“That does appear to be the case.”

She tilted her head, amused already.

“Why do you sound guilty?” “I don’t.” “You absolutely do.”

I reached for my towel and immediately pretended wiping sweat from my neck required intense concentration. Yuna didn’t seem to notice at first. Or maybe she did and simply chose not to mention it yet. She walked over to the dumbbell rack, picked up a weight, then frowned at her reflection in the mirror.

“Ben.” “That tone sounds dangerous.” “I need help.” “With what?” “My form.”

Right. Professional request. Completely normal. Manager-adjacent wellness support. Nothing spiritually hazardous about this situation whatsoever.

“What exercise?” “RDLs,” she said, turning slightly toward me. “I think I’m doing them wrong.”

I nodded once, immediately forcing my brain into work mode.

“Okay. Show me.”

Yuna positioned herself in front of the mirror, holding the dumbbells loosely at her sides. Her first attempt wasn’t terrible, but her back rounded slightly at the bottom and her knees bent too much.

I stepped closer automatically. “Not bad, but hinge more from your hips. Less squat.” She glanced at me through the mirror. “Show me?” That should not have sounded loaded. Yet it absolutely did. I moved beside her and demonstrated the motion once.

“Like this. Hips back, spine neutral, keep the weights close. You should feel it here.” I gestured toward the back of my leg. Yuna tried again. Better. Still slightly off. I exhaled quietly before stepping behind her, keeping enough distance to remain professional. “Can I adjust?” She looked at me through the mirror again. A beat too long. Then smiled.

“Go ahead.”

I placed one hand lightly near her upper back to correct posture and the other near her side to guide the hinge. Yuna followed the movement carefully, and for a moment, it was genuinely normal. Then she looked at me in the mirror. Noticing my focus. Noticing how quickly I pulled my hand away once the correction was done. And smiled a little differently.

Ah.

There it was. The exact moment something clicked in her head.

“Like that?” she asked. “Better,” I replied, reaching for my towel again too quickly. Yuna’s smile widened. “Why are you standing so far away now?”

“I’m giving you room to move.” “That sounds professional.” “It is professional.” “Sure.”

I looked at her. She looked back at me. Still smiling. And for the first time, I realized Yuna wasn’t just playing around anymore. She was testing something. And unfortunately— I had just given her results.

After that, things started happening in smaller ways. Nothing dramatic enough to confront her over. Nothing obvious enough to accuse her of anything. Just little incidents that honestly made it worse.

The first happened two nights later, after I used the recovery room connected to the private gym. Technically, it was less of a room and more of an overfunded wellness corner—compression machines, heated massage beds, automated recovery chairs, therapy mats, and enough expensive equipment to convince rich people they had invented muscle relief. I had finished using one of the massage beds and stepped out without thinking.

Which was my first mistake.

Because the recovery room was private enough that I had not bothered putting on a shirt yet. My towel hung loosely around my neck, sweat still cooling across my chest and shoulders while the ink across my arm and upper body remained fully visible under the hallway lights. And naturally— Yuna was standing right outside.

We both stopped. For a second, neither of us said anything. Her eyes dropped first. Not low. Not vulgar. Just enough to trace the tattoos she had probably only ever seen in fragments before—black lines disappearing beneath my shoulder, the ink along my arm, the pieces usually hidden under tailored shirts and manager jackets. Then slowly, her gaze returned to mine.

“…You have tattoos.” “You make it sound like I am a mafia boss.” “It was observational.” “Your observations have become increasingly dangerous recently.”

Yuna didn’t answer immediately. She leaned one shoulder against the wall instead, her eyes flicking briefly toward the ink again before the corner of her mouth curved upward.

“I didn’t know you were hiding all that under your boring manager clothes.” “They’re not boring. They’re professional.” “They’re boring.” “That feels unnecessarily aggressive.”

She smiled wider “They suit you”. That landed harder than it should have. Mostly because she did not say it like a joke. She said it like she had just discovered something useful. I reached immediately for the robe hanging beside the recovery room door. Yuna noticed the speed. Of course she noticed the speed.

“You’re covering up already?” “I’m cold.” “It’s June.” “The air conditioning is aggressive.” “Sure.”

I slipped the robe on and walked past her before the conversation could develop teeth. Unfortunately, right as I passed, Yuna glanced once more at my arm. Then murmured “You look different like that.” I stopped for half a second. When I looked back, she was already smiling. Not loudly. Not obviously. Just enough to let me know she had caught the pause.

The second incident happened the following morning.

I was walking through the hallway answering emails on my phone, which in hindsight was deeply irresponsible because multitasking around the Top Floor had become increasingly unsafe. Then one of the bathroom doors opened. Yuna stepped out with damp hair, skin still warm from the shower, wearing an oversized robe tied far too loosely at the waist.

Completely normal, innocent— absolutely catastrophic. I looked down at my phone immediately. Too quickly. Terrible mistake.

“…Did you just pretend to read an email to avoid looking at me?” “I was already reading an email.” “You walked into the wall.”

I slowly looked toward the wall beside me. Unfortunately, evidence existed. Yuna pressed her lips together like she was fighting laughter.

“That wall wasn’t there yesterday,” I muttered. “It was definitely there yesterday.” “Poor architectural planning.” “Uh huh.”

Then she stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough for the scent of shampoo and warm steam to reach me. She tilted her head slightly, watching my face with growing interest.

“You know,” she said lightly, “you’re very committed to not looking.” “That sounds like a compliment.” “It wasn’t.” “Then I’m emotionally rejecting it.”

Yuna’s smile sharpened. Then slowly—deliberately—she loosened one hand from her towel and adjusted the robe just enough for me to see the curvature for her breasts underneath the loose fabric. Not enough to be accidental. Definitely enough to be a threat. My hand immediately came up over my eyes “Nope, absolutely not.”

Yuna laughed. Actually laughed “Oh my God,” she said, voice full of disbelief. “You really covered your eyes.” “I am preserving workplace stability.” “You’re being dramatic.” “You are trying something with your manager in a hallway.” “I didn’t even show you anything.” “Spiritually, you were about to.”

That made her laugh harder. Meanwhile I kept my hand over my eyes because apparently dignity had become a defensive strategy. Then I felt her step past me, close enough that her sleeve brushed lightly against my arm. “Relax, Ben,” she said sweetly. “I was just checking something.”

My entire nervous system filed a complaint. When I finally lowered my hand, Yuna was already walking away. Still smiling. And I had the very uncomfortable realization that she was no longer wondering if she affected me. Now she was learning how much.

By the time the breakfast happened, I had already accepted one unfortunate truth. Yuna was no longer accidentally testing me. She knew. Maybe something, but definitely not enough to understand the full emotional disaster operating underneath the Top Floor.

But she knew enough. She knew I reacted. And now she was starting to enjoy making me prove it. Breakfast itself should have been harmless. Which was exactly why it became dangerous.

Yeji sat beside Lia, quietly nursing coffee while looking far too composed for someone who kept finding increasingly subtle ways to exist inside my personal space lately. Lia noticed. I noticed Lia noticing. Yeji noticed both of us noticing and chose peace through silence.

Ryujin was eating cereal directly from the box because civilization had failed her somewhere in childhood.

Yuna sat across from me looking entirely too comfortable in loose lounge clothes, one leg tucked under her on the chair while she scrolled through her phone.

Chaeryeong was the only person acting like a functioning adult. Naturally, she was also the first one to bring up something actually important. “Ben?”

I looked up immediately. “That tone sounds like you’re about to ask me for something and feel bad about it.” Chaeryeong blinked. “…That was weirdly accurate.”

“Occupational hazard.”

She smiled faintly before setting her cup down. “It’s about my YouTube series.” That caught my attention properly. “The cooking one?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, fingers lightly touching the edge of her mug. “There are a few recordings coming up, and the schedule is getting a little messy because of Waterbomb prep. I was wondering if you could help me coordinate it.”

“Of course.”

The answer came out immediately. Chaeryeong paused like she expected at least one complication first. I was already reaching for my tablet. “Send me the tentative dates. I’ll move what can be moved and block recovery time after recording.” Her expression softened slightly. “You don’t have to do all that.” “It’s literally my job.” “Still.”

I looked at her over the tablet. “Chaeryeong, if it matters to you, it goes on the schedule properly.” That made her quiet. Not sad. Just affected in that subtle way she always tried to hide.

Lia took one slow sip of coffee like she had just witnessed something emotionally important and decided not to say anything. Ryujin, unfortunately, had never respected emotional silence in her life. “Wow,” she muttered.

“That was dangerously competent.” “Try not to sound shocked.” “I’m always shocked when you behave like a real manager.” “That sounds insulting.” “That sounds accurate.”

Chaeryeong laughed softly, finally relaxing enough to take a bite of food. Then naturally Yuna chose chaos. “So,” she said casually, leaning forward across the table, “does that mean you’ll make room for my gym time too?” I looked toward her. Mistake.

Her shirt had slipped slightly off one shoulder again, exposing just enough skin to make my thoughts pause before professionalism violently dragged them back into formation. Yuna noticed. Of course she noticed.

Her smile changed by half a degree. Not enough for Chaeryeong to catch. Enough for me to know I was in danger. “You said my form needed work, right?” she continued innocently. I cleared my throat once and looked back down at the tablet.

“It does.” “Then you should help me more.” “I can schedule a trainer.”

Yuna tilted her head. “I asked you.” The table went slightly quieter. Yeji kept drinking her coffee like nothing was happening. Lia looked into her mug with the expression of someone watching a slow-motion accident. Ryujin’s grin widened. Outstanding. Audience participation from Problem Child #1.

I kept my focus on Chaeryeong’s schedule because I refused to reward emotional terrorism before breakfast. “I’ll help after Waterbomb rehearsals if there’s time,” I said evenly. “But right now we’re fixing Chaeryeong’s shoot schedule.” For one second, something flickered across Yuna’s face. It wasn’t anger, more of an interest. Because I had reacted. But I had not folded.

Apparently that was worse. Yuna leaned back slowly, smiling into her drink. “Okay,” she said lightly. “I can wait.” That sentence should not have sounded threatening. And yet somehow, it absolutely did. Chaeryeong glanced between us, mildly confused, while Ryujin immediately looked like she had just discovered premium entertainment. I stared harder at the tablet.

Professionalism. Schedule blocks. YouTube shoot logistics. Normal thoughts.

Unfortunately, across the table, Yuna was still smiling. And I had the very uncomfortable feeling that waiting had just become part of the game.

After breakfast, Yuna became worse. Not immediately. That would have been merciful. Instead, she became worse in the specific way only Yuna could—  slowly, playfully, and with just enough plausible innocence that calling her out would make me look insane.

The first time was during rehearsal review.

Everyone had gathered in the common area while one of the Waterbomb practice clips played on the television. Chaeryeong sat cross-legged on the floor taking notes seriously, Lia leaned against the couch with tea in hand, Yeji watched quietly beside me, and Ryujin had somehow decided lying sideways across the armrest counted as proper seating.

Yuna stood in front of the TV, watching herself in the footage with a slight frown.

“Pause there,” she said suddenly. I tapped the remote. The screen froze mid-choreography. Yuna stepped closer to the television, studying the angle. “My line looks weird there.” “It doesn’t,” Chaeryeong said immediately. “It does a little,” Yuna replied, tilting her head. “It’s the camera angle,” I said, looking down at the tablet. “You’re fine. The movement reads better from the center cam.”

Yuna turned toward me “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She smiled faintly. “Because you were watching carefully?” The room stayed normal. Mostly. But Ryujin’s eyes immediately flicked toward me like a predator hearing a leaf snap. I kept my expression completely neutral.

“I was reviewing performance footage.” “That sounds professional.” “It is professional.”

Yuna hummed, clearly unconvinced, then turned back toward the screen. “Okay,” she said lightly. “As long as you were looking properly.” That should not have sounded like a challenge. Unfortunately, it did. Beside me, Yeji quietly lifted her cup. No reaction. No comment. Just coffee. Which somehow felt worse.

The second time happened later that evening. I was in the kitchen making coffee because apparently sleep had become more of a theory than a practice lately. The Top Floor had settled into one of those rare quiet pockets between schedules where everyone existed in different rooms without actively committing emotional crimes. Then Yuna walked in. Oversized shirt again. One shoulder bare again. Tiny shorts again. At this point I was beginning to suspect that even the laundry had personally betrayed me. She opened the fridge, leaned down to look inside, then glanced back toward me.

“Ben.” “No.” “You don’t even know what I’m asking.” “That’s because your voice already sounded expensive.”

Yuna laughed softly before pulling out a bottle of water.

“I was just going to ask if you had time tomorrow.” “For training?” “For form correction,” she said innocently. “Those are the same thing.” “Not really.” “They are absolutely the same thing.”

She stepped closer, twisting the cap off the bottle.

“Then why do you look nervous?” “I don’t.” “You do.” “I look tired.” “You always look tired.” “That is both rude and accurate.”

Yuna smiled while taking a sip of water. Then, without any warning, she reached past me toward the cabinet above my shoulder. She could have gone around me. She did not.

Instead, she moved close enough that I had to lean back slightly against the counter to avoid contact. Her arm brushed near my shoulder. Her hair, still faintly damp from earlier, carried the clean scent of shampoo. I stared straight ahead. Very professionally. Very bravely. A hostage in that scenario.

Yuna pulled down a glass she absolutely did not need because she was already holding a bottle of water. Then she looked at me.

“You’re doing it again.” “Doing what?” “Not looking.”

I slowly turned my head toward her. She was closer than expected. Not crossing any actual line. Just close enough to make the air feel thinner.

“I’m looking now.” Yuna’s smile softened into something sharper. “Not really.” Then she stepped back like nothing happened and filled the glass with water she also did not need. Unfortunately, survival did not feel like victory when Yuna left the kitchen smiling like she had just won something.

The third time was the clearest. It happened during another private gym session two nights later. This time, Yuna did not pretend to stumble into the gym by accident. She knocked once, opened the door, and walked in like she had every right to be there. Which, technically, she did. That was the problem with shared private spaces. They were private. But not mine.

I was stretching near the mats when she entered wearing fitted training clothes this time instead of loose lounge wear. More practical. Less accidental. Somehow worse. “I need help again,” she said. “Waterbomb really made all of you discover fitness at the worst possible time.” Yuna smiled.

“You said my form needed work.” “I regret saying many things.” “Too late.”

She moved to the center of the mat and started warming up. For a few minutes, it was genuinely fine. Professional even. I corrected her hinge again, adjusted her foot placement, had her slow down through the movement. Then she started making mistakes on purpose.

A shoulder rolling forward just enough that I had to correct it. A hip shifting out of alignment. A stance slightly too narrow. The third time I stepped in, I paused.

Yuna looked at me through the mirror. “What?” “You know what you’re doing.”

Her eyes widened slightly, fake innocence arriving half a second too late. “I’m exercising.” “You’re fishing for corrections.” “That sounds like an accusation.” “It is.”

Yuna turned around slowly. For a second, neither of us spoke. Then she smiled. Not sweetly this time. Knowingly. “So you noticed.” I exhaled through my nose, already regretting every decision that led to this conversation “Yuna”.

“What?” she asked, stepping a little closer. “I’m just trying to learn properly.” “You learned properly twenty minutes ago.” “Maybe I like being taught.”

That landed. Harder than it should have. I looked away immediately. Another mistake because Yuna saw it. Her smile shifted again, turning quieter. More curious than triumphant.

“You really do that every time.” “Do what?” “Look away when something works.”

I turned back toward her, keeping my face as neutral as possible. “Nothing is working.” Yuna stepped closer. Not enough to corner me. But enough to make the gym feel smaller. “Then why do you keep acting like I’m dangerous?” I had no immediate answer. That was also a mistake. Yuna’s eyes flickered with satisfaction. There it was again. A result.

“See?” she murmured. I finally straightened. “Training is done.” She laughed softly. “Because my form is good now?” “Because your behavior is becoming suspicious.”

Yuna tilted her head. “Suspicious how?” “Don’t.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.”

Her smile widened. Then she picked up her towel and walked toward the door, pausing just before leaving. “Okay,” she said lightly. “I’ll behave.” That sentence should have been comforting. It was not. Because before the door closed behind her, she glanced back once.

“And Ben?” I looked at her despite every survival instinct telling me not to. She smiled. “Your reactions are getting worse.” Then she left. I stood alone in the gym afterward, staring at the closed door. Yuna was no longer poking the bear. She was checking where the cage locks were.

The next incident was not subtle. Which, honestly, should have been expected. Yuna had never been the type to keep poking on something forever without eventually wanting to see what happened when she pushed properly.

It happened on the morning of the final Waterbomb wardrobe approval. The stylists had dropped off multiple sets of clothes of the building, which meant every member was fitting separately in different rooms while the staff briefing me of the logistics and criteria of the outfits, what was definitely not allowed, and what was approved, et cetera.

Naturally, since I had been handed the final approval list, it meant I had to screen each of their outfits before sending it out to the team to prepare accordingly. Outstanding. One by one, I had to check the outfits beforehand in order for the team to move forwarded to event planning and the executive side for final clearance.

Professional work. Normal work. Extremely survivable work. Then Yuna found me near the elevator.

She was not in her outfit yet. Not fully. She still wore a loose zip-up over whatever the stylists had given her underneath, hair already done, makeup mostly finished, looking entirely too pleased for someone who should have been waiting in her room.

I stopped walking. “…Why are you standing there like a final boss?” Yuna smiled. “Because you keep avoiding me.” “That sounds emotionally fabricated.” “It sounds accurate.”

I adjusted the folder under my arm and reached for the elevator button. Yuna stepped in front of it. Not dramatically. Just enough. “Yuna.”

“What?” “I have five outfit checks to do.” “I know.” “That means moving away from the elevator button would help the process.” She leaned back against the wall beside it instead, arms folding loosely as her smile sharpened. “You’re nervous.” “I’m working.” “You always say that when you’re nervous.” “That’s because I’m usually working while being nervous.” “Because of me?”

Fantastic. I stared at her for one second too long. Yuna noticed immediately. Her smile softened into something far more dangerous than smugness. It was confirmation.

“You really are easy to read when you stop talking.” “I’m not easy to read.” “You are with me.”

That landed harder than it should have. I looked away. Another mistake. Because Yuna stepped closer. Not close enough to touch. Close enough that I could smell the faint sweetness of her shampoo and whatever expensive product the stylists had used in her hair “You know,” she murmured, quieter now, “fans look at me all the time.”

I glanced back toward her despite myself. Yuna’s expression had changed. Still playful. But more focused now. “I know what that looks like,” she continued. “The staring. The pretending not to stare. The way people act like looking away makes them respectful.” She tilted her head slightly. “But you’re different.” My throat felt suddenly dry. “Yuna…” “You look away like it costs you something.”

That shut me up. Unfortunately, silence had become her favorite weapon. She stepped aside at last, letting me reach the elevator button. But before I could press it, she leaned closer, voice light again “So make sure you look properly later”. I froze. Yuna smiled sweetly. “My outfit needs approval, right?”

Professionalism attempted to stand. It was immediately shot in the leg. “Yes,” I managed. “Good.” Then the elevator doors opened behind her. Yuna stepped back, finally letting me pass. But as I entered, she looked at me one last time “And Ben?” I turned despite every survival instinct telling me not to. Her smile widened. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to.”

The doors closed before I could answer. For several seconds, I simply stood inside the elevator holding the approval folder like a man being transported to his own execution. Outstanding. Absolutely outstanding.

Waterbomb wardrobe checks had not even started yet, and I was already losing. The first room on the list was Chaeryeong’s. Which, honestly, felt merciful. After whatever the hell Yuna had just done near the elevator, I needed the emotional equivalent of a safe landing. I knocked twice before opening the door slightly.

“Chaeryeong?” “Come in,” she called softly.

I stepped inside and immediately found her standing near the mirror, twisting slightly from side to side while looking down at herself with an expression I recognized too easily. Overthinking.

She wore a clean white zip-front top with short sleeves, fitted neatly against her frame without looking overly tight. The white shorts matched the top, held together by a black belt that gave the entire outfit enough contrast to keep it from looking too plain. Paired with the white platform sneakers, it made her look bright, fresh, and effortlessly put together.

The problem was that Chaeryeong clearly didn’t believe that yet. She adjusted the hem of her shorts for what looked like the tenth time.  “That bad?” I asked. She looked up immediately. “What?” “You’ve been fighting those shorts like they personally offended you.” Chaeryeong let out a small laugh, embarrassed. “I just… don’t know if it’s too simple.” “It’s not.” “You didn’t even think about it.” “I didn’t need to.”

That made her pause. I walked closer, stopping beside her instead of behind her so she could still look at herself in the mirror without feeling inspected.

“It works because it looks clean,” I said. “The white-on-white makes you stand out without needing anything too loud. It’s bright, it fits the Waterbomb concept, and honestly?” I glanced toward her reflection. “You look really beautiful.”

Chaeryeong went still. Not dramatically. Just enough. Then she looked away quickly, but the small smile was already forming before she could hide it.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my manager.” “I say plenty of manager things without sounding nice.” “That’s true,” she admitted softly. “Exactly. So believe me when I say this looks good on you.”

She looked back toward the mirror again, this time a little less tense. Her shoulders lowered. Her hands stopped fidgeting at her shorts. That alone made the entire check worth it. Then eventually she smiled faintly. “…Okay. I’ll wear it.”

“Good.” I started marking the outfit approved on the tablet. Then Chaeryeong glanced at me again “Ben?” “Yeah?” “Thank you.”

There was more weight in it than the outfit deserved. Or maybe that was the point. I gave her a small smile. “Anytime.” And before that moment could become emotionally dangerous in a way I was not prepared to unpack before Waterbomb, I stepped back toward the door. “One down. Four emotionally hazardous outfit checks to go.” Chaeryeong laughed softly behind me. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, I’m going to need it.”

Lia’s room was next.

Compared to Chaeryeong’s quiet uncertainty, Lia opened the door looking far too composed. Which immediately concerned me.

She stood near the mirror, adjusting one of her bracelets while the yellow sleeveless top caught the light warmly against her skin. The color suited her almost too well. Bright, summery, elegant without being overly delicate. Her dark shorts balanced it out, fitted neatly at the waist with a black belt, while the white shoes kept the whole look clean enough for performance but still casual enough for the event.

It was graceful. Very Lia. Unfortunately, Lia noticed my expression before I could professionally recover. “Well?” she asked.

“That sounded rehearsed.” I called her out. “It wasn’t.” “It absolutely was.”

She smiled faintly. “You’re avoiding the question.” I sighed quietly before looking her over again with the actual focus required of my job.

“The outfit works,” I said. “The yellow reads well for Waterbomb. It’s bright enough for cameras, but it still feels like you. Clean lines, nothing too distracting, and the shorts balance it without making the whole thing feel too styled.” Lia tilted her head slightly. “That was very professional.” “That was the goal.” “And personally?”

That was a catastrophic follow-up that made me look at her. Lia looked back calmly, but there was something softer behind the question now. Not aggressive. Not like Yuna. Not shameless like Ryujin. Just curious. Quietly testing if she was allowed to ask. So I answered honestly. “Personally?” I said.

“You look beautiful.” Her expression shifted. Subtle. But I caught it. The way her eyes softened before she could hide it. The way her hand stilled against the bracelet. Then she smiled, smaller this time. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” A beat of silence passed. Comfortable at first. Then Lia stepped slightly closer, not enough to corner me, but enough for the air to change. “You know,” she said softly, “you’re getting better at saying things like that without panicking.” “That’s because I’ve been psychologically conditioned by all of you.” “Sounds like you’re blaming us.” “It is, but I am madder about not getting hazard pay.”

She laughed quietly. Then, with an almost unfair amount of composure, Lia turned slightly back toward the mirror. “So do I pass?” “With flying colors.” “Good.”

I started backing toward the door. Lia’s voice followed me, gentle but far too knowing. “Try to survive the others.” I paused with my hand on the door handle. “That sounded like you know something.” Lia only lifted her tea from the table and smiled into it. “I know many things.”

What a terrifying woman. Absolutely terrifying.

Yeji was third.

Which should have made things easier. It did not.

The moment she opened the door, I realized very quickly that I had made a mistake assuming familiarity would protect me from anything.

Yeji stood there wearing a cream sleeveless button-front top tucked neatly into black shorts, the dark belt pulling the whole look together sharply. The outfit itself was simple, but that was what made it worse. It didn’t need anything dramatic. The top softened her, the shorts sharpened her, and the white shoes kept everything casual enough to pretend this was just another stage outfit and not a direct attack on my ability to think.

Yeji noticed immediately “You’re staring.” “I’m doing my job.” “You always say that when you’re staring.” “That’s because sometimes my job requires visual confirmation.”

Yeji stepped aside to let me in, smiling like she had already won. I closed the door behind me carefully. Important distinction. Carefully, because unlike Chaeryeong and Yuna, Yeji knew exactly why that mattered. She turned once in front of the mirror, then looked back at me. “Is it okay?”

No teasing this time. There was still a hint of it in her eyes, but underneath that was the same thing I always noticed with Yeji when she asked sincerely. She cared what I thought. That alone made my chest tighten. “It’s more than okay,” I said quietly.

Her smile softened “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice even though nobody else was in the room. “You look beautiful.” Yeji looked down for half a second, pretending to inspect the top, but I caught the blush before she could hide it. “You already said that to the others, didn’t you?”

“That sounds like a question for your manager, but a trap for your boyfriend.” “It is.” “I used different professional wording.”

Yeji laughed softly, then stepped closer and lightly fixed the collar of my shirt like she had done it a hundred times before “You’re nervous today,” she murmured.

“I’ve had a very difficult morning.” “Yuna?” I went still. Yeji’s eyes flicked up to mine. She was more aware than I gave her credit for. I exhaled slowly. “She’s starting to act up.” Yeji hummed quietly, smoothing a wrinkle that absolutely did not need smoothing “She’s Yuna.” “That is not comforting.” “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

I stared at her. Yeji smiled. Then she leaned up and kissed me. A warm, quiet kiss that made the noise in my head shut off for exactly three seconds. When she pulled back, her forehead rested briefly against mine.

“Don’t overthink too much,” she whispered. “That sounds impossible.” “I know.”

Then she stepped back before the moment could become too obvious even in private. Leader mode returned slowly, but not completely. Not around me. “Approved?” she asked. I looked at her again. The outfit. That smile. The quiet affection she still carried even while pretending this was professional.

“Approved,” I said. Then softer whisper, enough for only her to hear “I love you.” Yeji’s eyes widened slightly, not because she hadn’t heard it before, but because it still affected her every time. Then she smiled “Good,” before whispering into my ear “I love you too, babe.” before giving me one quick peck in my lips.

I left before I did something deeply irresponsible before a public event. Unfortunately, the next name on the list was Yuna. Which meant irresponsibility had probably only been delayed.

Yuna’s room felt dangerous before I even knocked.

That was the annoying part. Somehow, without even opening the door, I already knew she had planned something. I knocked anyway because apparently I still believed in procedure. “Come in,” Yuna called. Too sweet. Immediate red flag. I opened the door.

Yuna stood near the mirror wearing the Waterbomb outfit from the reference board: a white sleeveless textured top, dark denim shorts, black belt, and white platform sneakers. The outfit itself looked bright and youthful, simple enough to pass as stage styling, but on her it became something sharper. The top drew attention to her shoulders and waist, while the shorts made her legs look impossibly long.

She looked good. She knew she looked good. The problem was that she wanted me to know she knew. She turned slowly when I entered.

“You’re late,” she murmured. “I had a schedule to follow, Yuna. Which, as your manager, I suggest you remember.” She laughed, a low sound that vibrated in the small space

“Well?” she asked me to show off her attire. I kept my eyes on the tablet for half a second longer than necessary. Mistake. Yuna smiled “You’re doing it again.”

“I haven’t done anything.” “Exactly.”

I looked up. Another mistake. She took one step closer. Enough to make the room feel smaller. “This is the outfit,” she said, smoothing one hand down the side of the top. “You have to approve it, right?”

“Yes.” “Then look properly.”

There it was. The elevator line returning with interest. I forced myself into manager mode and looked at the outfit the way I was supposed to. Fabric. Fit. Camera readability. Movement risk. Water exposure. Stage safety. “I need to check the fit of the shorts from the back for movement risks.”

Normal things. Professional things. Unfortunately, Yuna stood there watching my face instead of the mirror.

“It works,” I said. “That fast?” “The styling is simple. It fits the concept.” “That sounds boring.” “It’s not boring.” “Then say it properly.”

I stared at her. Yuna smiled wider. Not innocent this time. Not even pretending. She knew exactly where the pressure point was now and had apparently decided to press with both hands. “You look good,” I said carefully.

“How good?” “Yuna.” “What?” she asked, stepping closer again. “I’m asking for feedback.” “That is not what you’re asking for.”

For a second, her smile turned pleased. Not because I had pushed back. Because I had admitted there was something to push back against. Then slowly, she reached for the hem of her loose outer layer—the zip-up she had kept over the outfit until now—and let it slide off one shoulder first. Controlled. Not enough to be a full strip. Enough to make the intention unmistakable.

“You’re so focused on the risks, Ben. The wardrobe malfunctions. The camera angles. The public eye.” She stepped closer, her chest nearly brushing mine. I could feel the heat radiating off her, the subtle rise and fall of her breath.

“But what about the risk right here? In a locked room? With no cameras?”

I looked down at the tablet, my voice tight. “The shorts are approved. The top is approved. Please step back so I can finalize the notes.”

“You’re lying.” “I’m working.”

“You’re lying to yourself.” Yuna’s hand moved from my arm to my chest, her palm flat against my heart. She could feel it. The frantic, betraying thud of my pulse. Her smile widened, turning into something predatory. “It’s beating so fast. You’re terrified of me, aren’t you? Not because I’m scary, but because you want to see what happens if you stop being the manager for five minutes.”

She leaned in, her lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from my ear. Her breath was warm, smelling of mint and sweetness. “The fans... they want me. I know that. I see it in their eyes. But they can’t touch me. They can’t even get close. But you... you’re right here. You have the keys to the building. You have the schedule. You have total access.”

She shifted, her hip brushing against mine, the rough denim of her shorts scraping against my trousers. She let out a soft, shaky exhale. “Just one look, Ben. Look at me. Not as a member. Not as a liability. Just look at me.”

I forced my gaze upward. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with a mixture of curiosity and desire. She looked breathtaking—radiant in a way that felt violent. For a second, the professional wall didn’t just crack; it vanished. I saw the curve of her throat, the pulse jumping in her neck, the way her lips were parted, inviting me to close the distance.

Yuna noticed the shift. She sensed the surrender. She moved her hand down, her fingers skimming the fabric of my shirt, heading toward the waistband of my pants. She didn’t grab; she teased, the tips of her nails catching on the material. “Give in,” she whispered, her voice a velvet command. “Just once. I want to know if that willpower of yours is real, or if it’s just a performance.” I looked away immediately. Yuna laughed softly.

“You really are committed.” “To not getting fired?” “To pretending.”

I kept my gaze fixed on the safest part of the wall.

“Put that back on.” “It’s off for styling approval.” “You already have approval.” “Do I?”

I closed my eyes briefly. This was what Yuna did differently from Ryujin. Ryujin would have said exactly what she wanted and dared me to survive it. Yuna made me prove I was surviving at all. When I looked back, she had let the zip-up fall fully from her shoulders, catching it casually in one hand. The Waterbomb outfit was still perfectly acceptable for the event. That somehow made it worse. Because she was not crossing a line. She was dancing directly on top of it. “Are you nervous?” she asked.

“I’m busy.” “You keep saying that.” “Because I am.”

Yuna stepped closer again. This time close enough that I had to look down slightly to meet her eyes. “And if you weren’t?” The room went quiet. My grip tightened slightly around the tablet. Yuna saw it. Her smile softened into something more dangerous than teasing.

Confirmation. I looked back down at the tablet “Outfit approved,” I said evenly. “Shoes are fine. Belt works. Make sure staff tests the top under water before stage clearance.” Yuna blinked once. For a second, she looked almost offended that I had managed to pull professionalism back from the fire. Then interest replaced it. Because apparently refusal was also a reaction.

“Okay,” she said lightly. I turned toward the door. “Ben?” I stopped. She did not move closer this time. She didn’t have to “You’re getting better at running away”. I looked back despite myself. Yuna smiled. “But you’re getting worse at hiding why.” I left before she could see how badly that landed.

Inside the room, Yuna stood in silence, her heart racing. She didn’t feel rejected. She didn’t feel offended. Instead, she felt a surge of genuine, electric interest. She had spent her life being wanted by everyone, but I was the first person who had looked at her with that much hunger and still said no.

Is what I thought while hurrying out to the hallways as I could still see her as she touched her own lips, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Interesting,” she murmured out loud, loud enough for me to still hear “Very interesting”.

Ryujin was last.

Which felt less like scheduling and more like fate personally filing a complaint against me. By the time I reached her room, my nervous system had already survived Chaeryeong being quietly beautiful, Lia being gracefully dangerous, Yeji emotionally disarming me, and Yuna committing psychological warfare in platform sneakers.

So naturally, Ryujin opened the door looking like the final boss of poor decisions.

I had just survived a psychological siege, and I could feel the lingering effects of Yuna’s proximity manifesting as a dull, insistent ache in my groin. I was primed. I was tense. I was a walking powder keg.  And Ryujin was the match.

When I opened the door to her room, the atmosphere was entirely different from Yuna’s. There was no staged environment or antics, Ryujin was standing by the vanity, looking at herself in the mirror with a look of sheer, unadulterated mischief.

She wore the white long-sleeve zip athletic top from the Waterbomb set, fitted cleanly against her frame, paired with light denim shorts and white platform sneakers. Compared to Yuna’s playful sharpness or Lia’s elegance, Ryujin looked sporty, confident, and immediately suspicious. Mostly because she was smiling. That smile never meant anything safe for me psychologically.

“You took long enough,” she said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe you just had a very long conversation with Yuna.” I sighed, stepping inside and closing the door. The click of the lock sounded like a gavel. “Don’t start, Ryujin. I’m just trying to finish these checks so I can actually go relax for the rest of the day.”

“Mm.” She stepped aside. “You look stressed.” “I wonder why.”

Ryujin walked toward the mirror and turned once, arms lifting slightly “Poor Ben,” she mocked, turning around to face me. She leaned back against the vanity, crossing her legs. “So stressed. So professional. So... wound up.”

I looked her over, my eyes scanning the outfit. “So?” she asked looking down to her stage outfit. I stared with the exhausted professionalism of a man who had been emotionally mugged four times already “The top fits. Shorts work. Shoes match. Overall styling is good.” Ryujin stared at me through the mirror.

“That’s it?” “That is literally the purpose of this check.” “You’re boring today.” “I am trying to survive today.”

Ryujin laughed under her breath, then shifted her weight slightly. That was when I noticed it. There was something missing. The way the fabric draped, the absence of a visible line where there absolutely should have been one, something about the way the shorts sat.... my brain did the math instantly.

My eyes paused for half a second. Ryujin caught it. Her smile sharpened. “There it is.” I looked back up immediately. “Ryujin,” I said, my voice dropping an octave. “Tell me you’re wearing underwear.” She grinned. It wasn’t a sweet smile. It was a shark’s smile.

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’. “Completely bare. Just me and the denim.”

Ryujin turned around fully now, leaning lightly against the edge of the vanity. My brain stopped. There was a full system outage behind my eyes. Ryujin watched it happen with the calm satisfaction of someone knocking over a glass just to hear it shatter. She stepped closer.

Not slow like Yuna. Not soft like Lia. Not intimate like Yeji.

Direct. Ryujin didn’t play with silence because she didn’t need to. She walked straight through it. “I can wear it like this,” she said, voice casual. “Go on stage. Get soaked. Let the fabric do whatever it wants.” I stared at her. She smiled. “Or you can fix the problem.”

“That sounds like extortion.” “It sounds like a manager’s job.”

My jaw tightened. I felt the blood rush to my face, my heart hammering against my ribs. “That is a massive safety violation. One wrong move, one slip of the fabric, and you’re a headline. Put something on. Now.”  Ryujin laughed, a bold, raucous sound. She stepped forward, her eyes locked on mine.

“Why? Does the thought of it bother you, Manager-nim? Or does it actually turn you on?” “It’s a professional concern,” I managed, though my voice was strained.

Then Ryujin reached for the zipper of her top, not pulling it down enough to expose anything, just enough to make the implication louder than the action. “Liar,” she whispered, stepping into my space. She didn’t tease like Yuna; she didn’t dance around the edges. She moved in like a strike team.

“You’re already worked up,” she murmured. “Yuna got to you, didn’t she?” I didn’t answer. Ryujin’s smile widened. “Oh, she did.”

“Ryujin.” “Relax,” she said, stepping close enough now that I had nowhere useful to look. “I’m not jealous.” “I didn’t say you were.” “I know.” Her voice dropped slightly. “I just think it’s funny that she spent all day teasing you…” her fingers caught lightly at the front of my shirt “…and I’m the one who gets to use it.”

I tried to maintain my composure, but as she pressed her body against mine, I felt it. The hard, undeniable press of my erection against the fabric of my trousers. I tried to shift away, but Ryujin was faster. She reached down, her hand closing firmly around the bulge in my pants. I let out a choked gasp, my head snapping back. “Oh, look at that,” Ryujin murmured, her voice low and husky. “Professionalism is officially dead. You’re rock hard already, Ben.”

“Ryujin, we’re... we’re in the middle of wardrobe approvals...” “The approvals are done,” she countered, her thumb rubbing circles over the head of my cock through the cloth. “And I’ve got a great idea. How about this: I’ll keep the underwear off for the event. I’ll go on stage, get soaked in water, let the fabric cling to every single inch of me... and the whole time, I’ll be thinking about you watching me from the wings.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing against my jaw. “And then, when the show is over, while the crowd is still screaming, I’ll find a dark corner backstage. I’ll pull you into the equipment room, and I’ll let you fuck me right there, in front of everyone, while I’m still dripping wet and bare.”

That was the exact moment I realized I had lost the room. Ryujin tilted her head toward the bed, still smiling. “So, manager,” she said softly, “are you approving this outfit?” My grip tightened around the tablet. Then slowly, Ryujin leaned closer to lick and nibble on my neck “Or are you going to make sure I don’t walk out there like this?”

The mental image hit me like a physical blow. The thought of her—wet, exposed, and desperate for me in the chaos of the event—shattered the last remnants of my restraint. I didn’t think. I reacted.

I grabbed her waist and hoisted her up, her legs instantly wrapping around my hips, the denim of her shorts rough against my skin. I slammed her back against the vanity, the sound of the impact echoing in the room. Ryujin let out a sharp, needy moan, her head falling back, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Finally,” she gasped. “I thought I was going to have to strip completely to get you to stop talking about schedules.”

I didn’t answer with words. I crashed my lips onto hers, the kiss desperate and messy, a collision of teeth and tongue. We were both starving, the tension of the day fueling a fire that had been simmering for hours. I could taste the hunger in her, the raw, insatiable need that always defined our physical relationship.

My hands scrambled at the zipper of her shorts, my fingers trembling with urgency. I ripped them down, shoving the denim and the lack of underwear aside to reveal her pussy. She was already soaking, her folds glistening and swollen, dripping a clear, viscous lubricant that smelled of musk and heat.

“Fuck,” I groaned against her neck, my breath hitching. “You’re soaking.” “Because I’ve been thinking about this since breakfast,” she whimpered, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Now give it to me, Ben. Right now.” I fumbled with my own belt, ripping my trousers and boxers down in one frantic motion. My cock sprang free, throbbing and engorged, the head already weeping a thick bead of pre-cum.

Ryujin was a fountain. I gripped her thighs, pulling her flush against me, and drove home in one deep, punishing thrust. “Ahhh!” Ryujin screamed into my shoulder, her entire body jolting. The sensation was overwhelming. The tightness of her pussy, the heat, the way her walls clamped down on me like a vice.

It felt like being swallowed by a volcano. I groaned, a low, guttural sound that started in my chest, and began to pump. The sound of our bodies interacting filled the room—a wet, rhythmic slapping sound as I slid in and out of her.

Every thrust pushed the air out of her lungs in short, sharp gasps. The vanity groaned under our combined weight, the mirror rattling with every impact.

“Yes! Right there! Fuck me harder, Ben!” Ryujin urged, her voice breaking. She arched her back, her breasts heaving under the athletic top, the fabric straining against her nipples. I didn’t hold back. I hammered into her, my movements frantic and uncoordinated, driven by the need to erase the day’s stress. I could feel her clit rubbing against the base of my cock with every strike, a friction that sent sparks of electricity through my spine.

Ryujin’s breathing became erratic. She started to shake, her internal muscles pulsing rhythmically around me, milking me with a desperate intensity. “I’m... I’m close! Ben, I’m coming!” She let out a loud, piercing cry as her orgasm hit, her pussy clamping down on me in a series of violent spasms. The feeling of her climaxing around me was the final trigger. I felt the pressure build at the base of my spine, a tidal wave of heat that I couldn’t stop.

I thrust one last time, burying myself as deep as possible, and let out a roar as I came. The orgasm was explosive, a series of thick, hot jets of semen pumping into her, filling her to the brim. I collapsed against her, my forehead resting on her shoulder, both of us gasping for air, our skin slick with sweat. For a few minutes, the only sound was the heavy thud of our heartbeats.

“God,” Ryujin whispered, her voice trembling. “You were... so aggressive. I love it when you lose it.”  I pulled back slightly, looking at her. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smudged, her eyes glazed with pleasure.

She looked ruined, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But the release didn’t last. The physical connection, the scent of sex and sweat, and the lingering tension from Yuna’s room converged into a second wave of desire. My cock, despite the release, didn’t fully soften. It remained semi-hard, pulsing against her wet walls.

Ryujin noticed. She looked down at where we were joined, then back up at me with a predatory glint in her eyes. “Again,” she whispered. “Ryujin, I can’t... I have to finish the reports...”

“The reports can wait ten minutes,” she countered, her legs tightening around my waist, pulling me back in. “Look at me, Ben. Do you really want to leave right now? When I’m still this open for you?” She shifted her hips, grinding her clit against me, and the friction reignited the fire instantly.

I groaned, my resolve crumbling for the second time in an hour. This time, it was slower. More deliberate. I lowered her onto the bed, the white sheets instantly staining with the fluids of our first round. I knelt between her legs, spreading them wide, admiring the sight of her pussy—flushed a deep pink, dripping with a mixture of her arousal and my seed.

I leaned down, my tongue finding her clit. Ryujin let out a sharp gasp, her hips bucking. “Oh god, Ben... right there...” I licked her with a steady, rhythmic pressure, swirling my tongue around the sensitive nub before sucking it into my mouth. The sound of my tongue moving and slurping against her wetness filled the quiet room.

Ryujin was incoherent, her hands clutching the sheets, her toes curling. When she was on the verge of another peak, I slid back inside her. This round was different. It wasn’t about desperation; it was about pleasure. I moved slowly, savoring the way her walls hugged me, the way she whimpered every time I hit her cervix.

I watched her face, the way her eyes rolled back, the way she whispered my name like a prayer. “I love... how you feel... inside me,” she breathed, her voice a fragile thread. I increased the pace, the sound of her wetness returning, louder this time. I could feel the build-up again, the tension mounting in my loins. Ryujin was right there with me, her breath coming in short, jagged sobs.

“Now, Ben! Now!” I surged forward, my movements becoming fast and shallow, focusing all the friction on the entrance of her pussy. We hit the peak together. Ryujin screamed, her body locking up in a massive, full-body orgasm, and I followed immediately after, my second load of the day erupting into her with a force that left me breathless. I slumped onto her, my chest heaving, my muscles trembling with exhaustion. We lay there for a long time, entwined and sweaty, the room smelling of raw sex.

Eventually, Ryujin shifted, her hand sliding down to my cock, which was finally beginning to soften. She didn’t stop there. She slid down my body, her hair brushing against my thighs, and took the head of my dick into her mouth. The sensation of her warm, wet tongue swirling around the tip made me hiss through my teeth. She sucked deeply, her cheeks hollowing, her eyes looking up at me with a hunger that seemed bottomless.

“Ryujin,” I gasped, my hand finding her hair. “Stop.” She ignored me, swirling her tongue around the rim, her saliva coating me in a slick, warm layer. She wanted more. She always wanted more. I gently but firmly pushed her head away.

“No,” I said, my voice returning to its manager tone, though it was still raspy. “No more.”  Ryujin blinked, looking up at me, her lips glistening with my pre-cum. “What? Why? You’re still so hard.” “Because,” I said, sitting up and putting my clothes back on. “I am still working. We are in our residential building, yes, but I have a final briefing in twenty minutes and three more reports to file before the stylists leave.”

“You’re such a bore when you’re being a manager.” Ryujin pouted, sitting up and letting the sheets fall away from her breasts. “And you’re a menace when you’re being a member,” I replied, though there was no heat in it. I leaned over and flicked her forehead before giving her head a pat— a brief, tender moment that contrasted with the violence of the last hour.

“Get dressed, Ryujin. And for the love of God, put on some underwear for the actual event. I can’t have a heart attack on the venue.”

Ryujin laughed, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. “I will, but in exchange you’re going to have to fuck me in this outfit when I’m drenched, Ben.”

I walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind me. As I stepped back into the hallway, I felt a strange sense of equilibrium. The tension that had been building all day—through Yuna’s games and the pressure of the event—had finally broken.

I looked down at my tablet. The list was complete. Everyone was approved. I began the walk back to the common area, my stride steady once more. My body was exhausted, my mind was a blur of denim and sweat, but as I thought about the upcoming Waterbomb festival, a small, dangerous smile touched my lips. The wardrobe was approved. But the real show was only just beginning.

I walked out of Ryujin’s room, the door clicking shut behind me with a finality that felt almost insulting.

For a moment, I just stood in the hallway.

The tablet was still in my hand. The approval list was complete. Every outfit had been checked, cleared, and documented. Professionally speaking, the task was finished. Physically speaking, I was considering filing a workplace injury report against my own life.

I leaned back against the wall and exhaled slowly, trying to pull myself back together before anyone from staff appeared and asked why their manager looked like he had survived a natural disaster in denim form. A notification lit up on the tablet a second later. Final wardrobe approval? ETA for Waterbomb briefing? Right. The world still existed.

I straightened, fixed my shirt, ran one hand through my hair, and forced my expression into something close to functional. The building around me had gone quieter now that the fittings were finished. Stylists were packing up on the lower floors, staff messages kept arriving in short bursts, and somewhere upstairs, the Top Floor waited like nothing catastrophic had just happened. Which, honestly, was rude of it.

By the time I made it back to the common area, most of the lights had dimmed into their softer evening setting. The television was on, volume low, playing some emotional romance drama I didn’t recognize.

Lia was sitting alone on the couch. She had a blanket over her lap, one mug of tea balanced carefully between both hands, and the kind of calm expression that immediately made me feel spiritually exposed. She didn’t look away from the TV when I entered.

“You look terrible.” I stopped walking “…Good evening to you too.” “You also smell like panic and poor decisions.” “That sounds emotionally invasive.” “That sounds accurate.”

I considered retreating. Unfortunately, Lia finally looked at me without teasing or judgement. Which somehow felt worse. Then she patted the empty space beside her on the couch “Sit down before you collapse.”

“I have reports.” “You have twenty minutes before the briefing.”

I narrowed my eyes “How do you know that?” Lia lifted her tea calmly “I read the schedule you sent to the group chat.” Right. Managerial competence had betrayed me again. I sat beside her with the exhausted obedience of a man who had lost too many battles in one day.

For a while, neither of us said anything. The drama continued playing on the screen, all soft lighting and emotional close-ups, two characters staring at each other like saying one honest sentence might destroy civilization. Lia glanced at me briefly.

“Wardrobe checks went well?” “Technically.” “That means no.” “That means everyone is approved and I am choosing not to discuss the emotional cost.”

Lia’s mouth curved faintly. “Ryujin?” I stared at the TV.

“I am choosing not to discuss the emotional cost.” “That bad?” “That dangerous.”

She hummed softly, not pushing further. That was the thing about Lia. Ryujin would have poked until I bled sarcasm. Yeji would have touched my hand and made the entire room emotionally unsafe. Yuna would have smiled like she already knew exactly which nerve to press. Lia just sat there. Quiet. Present. Unfairly perceptive.

After a minute, she reached toward the table and slid a second mug toward me. I looked down at it “When did you make this?”

“When I heard the elevator.” “That sounds suspiciously prepared.” “You’re predictable when exhausted.” “That is deeply insulting.” “It’s also tea.”

Unfortunately, both things were true. I picked it up and took a slow sip. Warm and calming, just like Lia.  Annoyingly effective. The silence settled again, softer this time. The kind that didn’t demand performance. I didn’t have to joke immediately. I didn’t have to explain. I didn’t even have to pretend I was handling everything well.

Lia watched the screen, then said quietly “You know you don’t have to be perfectly composed every second, right?” My fingers tightened slightly around the mug. There it was. Not an accusation. Not even advice, really. Just Lia noticing the exact crack I had been trying to hide. I let out a slow breath.

“I’m managing a public water event involving five idols, wet clothes, live cameras, fans with phones, and several members who appear personally invested in shortening my lifespan.”

 “That does sound difficult.” Lia nodded solemnly. “It is.” “Still,” she said softly, eyes remaining on the television, “you’re allowed to be tired.”

For some reason, that landed harder than it should have. Maybe because she didn’t ask for anything after saying it. I leaned back against the couch, exhaustion finally catching up now that the room had stopped moving around me “…Thanks, Lia.” She smiled faintly into her tea “You’re welcome.”

Onscreen, the two drama leads finally kissed after what looked like twelve episodes of emotional incompetence. Lia sighed. “Finally.” I glanced at the screen.

“That looked inefficient.” “That’s romance.” “That explains a lot.”

She laughed quietly, and the sound made the room feel less heavy. For a few minutes, we just watched the drama together while the briefing documents finished uploading from my tablet. Somewhere below us, staff continued packing up the last of the wardrobe racks. Somewhere down the hall, the members were probably settling into their own rooms.

And for once, nobody was asking me to react. Nobody was testing me. Nobody was pulling me apart. Nobody was demanding that I choose the correct version of myself. I was just sitting beside Lia, drinking tea, watching fictional people fail at communication. And in all honesty? It was the most peaceful thing that had happened all day. Then my tablet chimed. Briefing in ten. The moment broke gently. Lia glanced toward the screen “Go be manager-nim.” I groaned quietly before standing. “That title feels cursed now.”

“It always did.” I looked back at her. She smiled softly. “Good luck next week.” “Next week?” “Waterbomb,” she said calmly. “Wet clothes, cameras, fans, and five women actively trying to give you a stroke.”

I stared at her “You know, for someone so graceful, you’re incredibly violent with words.” I picked up the tablet and headed toward the hallway. Behind me, Lia turned the volume up slightly and returned to her drama like she had not just quietly held me together for ten minutes. That was becoming the dangerous part about her. She didn’t pull me out of the chaos. She simply made sitting inside it feel survivable.

She didn’t pull me out of the chaos. She simply made sitting inside it feel survivable. A few nights later, I ended up in the private gym again. Not because I had energy. That would have been optimistic. Mostly because my body had started interpreting stress as a reason to lift heavy objects at unreasonable hours, which probably said something deeply concerning about my coping mechanisms. By the time I finished, the Top Floor had already gone quiet. The lights outside the gym were dimmed, most of the rooms were closed, and somewhere down the hall I could faintly hear the low murmur of a television.

I took a quick shower in the gym bathroom and stepped out afterward wearing only a black tank top and sweatpants, towel hanging loosely around my neck while my hair still dripped slightly against my shoulders. Comfortable. Unprofessional. Dangerously human. Which was probably why I almost turned around the second I saw Lia sitting alone in the common area. Same couch. Same blanket. Same mug of tea. Different drama.

At least, I thought it was different. The lighting looked the same. The characters looked equally miserable. And from what I could gather after standing there for seven seconds, everyone in the show was still emotionally allergic to direct communication. Lia didn’t look away from the screen when she spoke. “You’re standing there like you’re deciding whether to run.” “That sounds judgmental.”

“That sounds accurate”. I walked around the couch and sat down beside her, leaving enough space to be polite. Lia glanced at the distance between us. Then back at the television. “You’re very committed to safe seating arrangements.” “I’m learning from experience.” “That sounds like Ryujin trauma.” “It is a recognized condition”.

That made her laugh softly, barely disturbing the quiet around us. Then her gaze shifted. Her eyes moved from my face to my shoulder, then down toward the exposed part of my upper arm where the edge of a new tattoo still looked darker than the rest of the ink around it. I noticed immediately. “…What?” Lia tilted her head slightly “That’s new”. I looked down. Ah. Right.

A small fresh piece tucked near the existing ink on my upper arm, still healing beneath the soft glow of the common-area lights. I had gotten it impulsively two days earlier after a particularly chaotic round of schedule calls, Waterbomb briefings, and three separate conversations that made me question whether I was managing idols or surviving psychological warfare.

“It’s not that new.” “It’s very clearly new.” “That sounds accusatory.” “It’s observational.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yuna said that exact thing before making my life worse.” Lia smiled into her tea. “I’m more graceful about it.”

“That is unfortunately true.” She leaned slightly closer, not touching, just studying the lines with quiet curiosity. “What does it mean?” I glanced away for half a second. A mistake that Lia noticed “…You got it impulsively, didn’t you?”

“That sounds judgmental.” “That sounds accurate.”

I sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Maybe.” Lia’s smile widened faintly. “You should’ve gotten something funny.” “Like what?” She thought for a moment, completely serious. Then calmly “Incase found, return to Hwang Yeji.”

I stared at her. She stared back. Then I let out a laugh despite myself. “Yeji would kill me.”

“She would or she would match it with yours.” “That is terrifyingly accurate.”

Lia laughed quietly again, and somehow the sound made the room feel less heavy. Then, after a moment, her expression softened. “But it suits you.” I looked at her. She kept her eyes on the tattoo, voice gentle now “The ink, I mean. It makes you look less like you’re trying to hide inside a suit all the time.” That landed a little too precisely. I didn’t answer immediately. For once, Lia didn’t push. She simply turned back toward the television, leaving the observation between us like she had placed something fragile on the table and trusted me not to break it.

After a minute, she reached toward the side table and slid a second mug toward me. “When did you make this?” I looked down at it “When I heard the shower.”

“That sounds suspiciously prepared.” “You’re predictable when exhausted.” “That is deeply insulting.” “It’s also tea.”

Unfortunately, both things were true. I picked it up and took a slow sip. Warm. Mild. Calming. Annoyingly effective. And somehow, sitting there beside Lia in sweatpants, damp hair, exposed tattoos, and no manager armor left to hide behind, the silence felt less like emptiness and more like permission. A rare kind. The kind that didn’t ask me to perform. For a while, neither of us said anything else. The drama continued playing, soft and painfully slow. Two characters stood under the rain onscreen, neither of them saying what they clearly wanted to say. The woman looked like she had spent half her life swallowing words. The man looked like he knew it and still didn’t know how to help her.

Lia watched with her knees tucked slightly beneath the blanket, her expression unreadable at first. Then the woman onscreen finally spoke. Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just one sentence. Something about being tired of choosing the right thing every time if it meant never choosing herself. The room went quiet in a way that felt too specific. I looked toward Lia without meaning to. She didn’t move. But her fingers tightened around the mug. Small thing. Easy to miss. I noticed anyway. “…Lia?” “I’m fine.” “That was too fast.”

She smiled faintly, still looking at the screen. “You’re picking up my habits.”

“That sounds dangerous.” “It is.”

 The drama continued, but Lia wasn’t really watching anymore. Neither was I. For a minute, the Top Floor felt strangely far away. No Yuna testing reactions. No Ryujin creating structural damage to my sanity. No Yeji softening the room just by existing nearby. Just Lia. Quiet. Guarded. Sitting beside me like she had built an entire life out of not asking for too much. Then she spoke, barely above the volume of the television.

“Do you ever get tired of doing what makes sense?” The question landed carefully. Too carefully. Like she had spent several minutes deciding whether it was allowed to exist. I leaned back slightly, choosing my words with more caution than usual.

“Every day.”

Lia finally looked at me. There was no teasing in her expression now. No graceful deflection. No amused distance. No calm little smile to hide behind. “That’s a dangerous answer,” she whispered. “I know.” Her gaze dropped briefly to the mug in her hands. Then she set it down on the table. Slowly. Deliberately.

The sound of ceramic against glass felt louder than it should have. My pulse shifted. Not because she had moved closer. She hadn’t. Because for once, Lia looked like she had stopped trying to talk herself out of wanting something. “Ben,” she said quietly.

“Yeah?” “I know what you and Yeji are.” My throat tightened. “I know.” “And I know this is already complicated.” “I know that too.”

Her expression softened, but it didn’t break. That was the difference. Lia wasn’t panicking. She wasn’t apologizing before doing something. She was standing at the edge of a choice and looking straight at it. “I’m not trying to take anything from her,” she whispered. “I know.” “I just…”

She stopped. For once, words failed her. The silence stretched. Then Lia leaned closer. Not suddenly. Not desperately. Not like she had lost control completely. More like she had finally stopped forcing herself to step back. Her lips touched mine softly.

Warm. Careful. A kiss so quiet it barely disturbed the room. Then she pulled away. Only a little. Enough to look at me. And that was the important part. She didn’t freeze, she didn’t gasp, or cover her mouth.

She didn’t run from what she had done. She just stayed there, close enough for me to feel the warmth of her breath, watching my face with terrifying patience. Waiting. Not for permission to regret it. For an answer. My brain, which had survived Yuna’s psychological warfare and Ryujin’s complete disregard for workplace stability, somehow failed completely in front of one soft kiss from Lia.

I exhaled slowly. “Lia…” Her eyes flickered. Not fear. Expectation. “I’m not sorry,” she said quietly. That hit harder than the kiss. She swallowed once, then continued. “I probably should be. But I’m not. The honesty in her voice was so bare that it made every joke I could have used die before reaching my mouth. So I didn’t joke. I just looked at her. Really looked at her. The careful posture. The calm expression barely holding. The quiet bravery must have taken for someone like Lia to stop choosing everyone else’s comfort for one second.

Then softly, I reached for her hand. Not to pull her closer. Not to escalate. Just enough. Her fingers were warm around mine. “I’m not angry,” I said.

“I didn’t think you would be” “That sounds like trust.” “It is.”

The admission stayed between us. Small. Heavy. Dangerous. Then Lia let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but softer. “I wanted to know what would happen if I chose myself for once.” My thumb moved gently over the back of her hand. “And?” She looked down at our hands. Then back at me. “I think I’m still waiting to find out.”

The television kept playing in the background. The rain onscreen had stopped. The two characters were still standing there like idiots, probably about to spend another five episodes misunderstanding each other. But here, in the quiet of the Top Floor, Lia had already done the terrifying part. She had chosen. And she hadn’t looked away afterward.

The week leading into Waterbomb did not arrive gently. It hit the Top Floor like a scheduling truck with stage lights attached. By Monday, the building had stopped feeling like a private residence and started feeling like a temporary war room. Garment bags moved in and out of rooms. Stylists came and went with waterproof makeup kits, spare belts, double-sided tape, emergency stitching supplies, backup shoes, and towels stacked high enough to imply someone expected the building to flood.

Which, considering the event, honestly felt fair. I spent most of the week buried in logistics. Stage timing. Security routes. Camera placements. Emergency cover-ups. Wardrobe risk notes. Fan-zone sightlines. Staff communication channels. Post-performance exits. Hydration plans. Backup towels. Spare clothes.

The usual glamorous side of idol management. Naturally, the members handled the stress in completely different ways.

Chaeryeong became focused. She reviewed rehearsal clips more seriously than usual, occasionally asking me small questions about stage positioning or camera readability. There was still some hesitation in her voice sometimes, but less than before. Enough that I noticed.

Lia became quieter again, but not distant. She had returned to her tea, her dramas, and her terrifying habit of noticing when my brain was about six minutes away from collapsing.

Ryujin was energetic in a way that felt medically suspicious.

Yeji watched everything with leader mode fully activated, moving between members, staff, and rehearsals with the kind of calm control that reminded me why everyone trusted her even when the room started falling apart.

And Yuna? Yuna had changed after the outfit check. Not softer exactly. That would have been too simple. But more focused. She still teased. Still smiled a little too long. Still occasionally walked past me like she knew exactly how much space she was invading.

But there was something heavier underneath it now. Before, Yuna had been playing with a reaction. Now, she was waiting for something. Unfortunately, I had no idea what. Which was horrifying, because Yuna waiting patiently somehow felt significantly worse than Ryujin actively causing problems.

The night before Waterbomb, the final staff briefing stretched nearly two hours longer than planned. By the end of it, everyone looked tired. Except Ryujin, who looked like she had somehow absorbed energy from everyone else’s suffering. “We’re overthinking this,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “We perform. We get wet. People scream. We leave.”

“That is the least comforting summary possible,” I muttered. “It’s accurate.” “It ignores eighty percent of the risk factors.” Ryujin grinned. “You love risk factors.” “I do not love risk factors. I am employed because risk factors keep existing against my will.”

Yuna, seated across the room, smiled faintly at that. I noticed. A mistake because she noticed me noticing. Outstanding. Yeji stood near the screen where the stage layout was displayed, arms folded loosely as she studied the exits again. “We’ll follow the exit route exactly?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “You come off stage, staff meets you here, towels immediately, then straight to the waiting area. No lingering near the side barricades. No stopping for fan phones after the water set.” Yuna tilted her head. “That strict?”

“For this event? Yes.” “Because of the outfits?” “Because of the water, the cameras, and the outfits.” Ryujin hummed dramatically “Manager-nim is scared.” “I am prepared.” “That’s what scared people say.”

I ignored her. Mostly because she was correct and I hated that. Lia looked at me from the couch, calm as ever. “You’re more worried about cameras than the performance.”

“I’m worried about both.”

“No,” she said softly. “You trust the performance.” That made the room quiet for a second. Because she was right. I trusted them on stage completely. It was everything around the stage I didn’t trust. I looked back at the layout. “Performance is controlled,” I said finally. “Crowds aren’t.” Nobody joked after that. Not immediately. Even Ryujin stayed quiet. Then Yeji’s gaze shifted toward me. There was something in her expression I recognized now. Not doubt. Concern.

She had been watching me more closely since the conversation with Lia, since the outfit checks, since every little crack in my composure had started showing whether I wanted it to or not. I gave her a small nod. I’m fine. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Liar.

The briefing ended shortly after. One by one, the members drifted out of the room to rest. Chaeryeong left first, still reviewing a note on her phone. Lia paused long enough to leave a bottle of water beside my tablet without saying anything. Ryujin stretched lazily and told me not to “die from paperwork before the fun part.” Yuna was the last to pass me before Yeji. She stopped beside my chair. Not close. Not far.

Just enough to make the moment intentional. “You’re really worried,” she said. I looked up. “That’s my job.” Yuna’s expression shifted slightly. “No,” she said quietly. “You’re worried.” That landed differently. Not teasing. Not playful. Just observant.

Then she smiled faintly, like she had realized something but decided not to say it yet. “Good night, Ben.” She walked out before I could answer. Which left only Yeji in the room. For a second, neither of us moved. Then she closed the door. Softly. That was never a good sign. “You’re going to scare them if you keep looking like that tomorrow,” she said. I leaned back in my chair. “Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for someone to make a mistake.” I didn’t answer immediately. Because honestly? That was exactly what I was doing. Yeji walked closer, stopping beside the table. “I’m not saying you’re wrong to be careful.” “That sounds like there’s a second half.” “There is.”

She reached down and lightly touched the edge of my tablet, turning the screen off. The room dimmed slightly without the layout glowing between us. “You don’t have to fight every possible threat before it happens.” I looked at her. “If I wait until it happens, I’m too late”. Yeji’s expression softened, but her voice stayed steady. “That’s what worries me”. The words settled between us.

I knew what she was really saying. This wasn’t just about Waterbomb. It was about me. About the risk that did not exist yet. About the line I had not crossed yet. About the version of myself she was starting to notice before I even fully became what she was worried about. I tried to make my voice lighter. “I’ll behave” Yeji didn’t smile So the joke died immediately. She stepped closer and touched my arm. “Ben”. That was all. Somehow worse than a lecture. I exhaled slowly “I’ll handle tomorrow properly.”

“I know you will.” Her thumb moved lightly against my sleeve. “I’m asking you to remember that properly still has a limit.” I wanted to promise her. I really did. But the truth sat too close to my throat. So instead, I covered her hand with mine “I’ll try”.

Yeji studied me for a moment. Then she nodded. Not fully satisfied. But accepting the honesty. “For now,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss my forehead. The gesture was so gentle it made something in my chest ache. Then she left. And I sat there alone in the briefing room, staring at the blank tablet screen, wondering when protection had started feeling the need to choose cold calculations.

Waterbomb arrived loud. There was no other way to describe it. The entire venue pulsed with bass, heat, water cannons, crowd noise, and the kind of chaotic summer energy that made every staff member look like they were one mistake away from aging five years.

By the time ITZY arrived backstage, the event was already in full motion. Fans screamed from beyond the barricades. Staff rushed past with towels and headsets. Music thundered through the floor. Water mist floated through the air even behind the stage.

I shifted immediately into work mode. “Cover-ups stay on until standby,” I said, walking beside them. “No unnecessary stops near the side barricade. Towels will be ready as soon as you come off. If anything feels loose, you tell me before you go on, not after.”

Ryujin grinned. “You’re fun today.” “I am the only reason fun survives paperwork.”

Yuna laughed softly, but she was watching me again. I ignored that. Professionally. Mostly. Chaeryeong adjusted her belt once, and I caught it immediately. “You’re fine,” I told her. She looked up. “You sure?”

“Positive. The fit test passed, and the belt is secure.” Her shoulders eased. “Okay.” Lia watched the exchange quietly, then looked at me. “You’ve checked all of us twelve times.”

 “Thirteen for Ryujin.” Ryujin looked proud. “As I deserve.” “As your criminal record requires.”

Yeji stepped closer, her voice low enough that only I could hear. “Breathe.” “I am breathing.” “Like a normal person.” “That feels demanding.”

Her mouth curved faintly, but her eyes stayed serious. I took one slow breath. Then another. She nodded once. “Better.” Before I could answer, the stage manager called standby. The members moved toward the entrance. Cover-ups came off. Headsets were checked. Final towels were handed off. Shoes were adjusted. Hair was touched up one last time. Then the stage lights shifted. The crowd roared. And ITZY stepped out.

For a few minutes, I forgot everything except the work. Not because they weren’t beautiful. They were. Painfully. But because watching them perform from backstage always split my brain in half. One part saw the artistry. The charisma. The reason thousands of people screamed their names like they were something larger than life. The other part saw risk.

Water hitting fabric. A camera drifting too low. A strap shifting. A fan phone rising from the barricade. A staff member standing two seconds too far from where I needed them. It was constant calculation. And somehow, in the middle of all of it, Yuna found time to look toward me. Just one sharp glance during a transition, soaked under stage lights, smiling like she knew exactly what seeing her like that did to my concentration.

Then she turned back to the crowd like nothing had happened. Terrifying woman. Ryujin was worse in a completely different way. She performed with the smug confidence of someone who remembered exactly what she had promised me in that outfit and knew I remembered too. At one point, she came off a turn drenched, hair slicked back, eyes cutting briefly toward the wings. Her smirk said everything. I immediately looked at the stage monitor. Professionalism. Survival Instincts. Maybe a prayer.

Chaeryeong caught a wave of cheers after one center moment and visibly brightened. Not enough for the audience to notice maybe, but enough for me to see from the side.

Lia performed with her usual grace, but when she passed near the wing during a formation shift, her eyes briefly found mine. Not teasing but checking. Still making sure I was breathing.

And Yeji— she commanded the stage like she always did. Sharp. Focused. Electric. Every inch the leader.

But once, just once, during a brief turn away from the crowd, her gaze flicked toward me. A reminder. A warning. A promise. I remembered what she said. Properly still has a limit.

For most of the set, I managed. Then I saw the phone. At first, it was just one more screen among hundreds. Nothing unusual. Then the angle changed. Too low. Too deliberate. Following movement in a way that had nothing to do with performance and everything to do with stealing what was never offered.

My body went still. The noise of the crowd seemed to narrow around me as all I heard was static from the Stress-Induced Tinnitus I was painfully aware of. I didn’t move immediately. That would draw unnecessary attention. Instead, I touched my earpiece.

“Security left barricade. Black cap. Third row. Phone angled low.” The staff member beside me glanced toward the crowd. I kept my voice calm and precise, the ability of hiding my rage behind a calm was a skill that hereditary. “Do not make a scene. Block the sightline first.” A stage assistant moved with a towel stack, casually crossing into the angle.

The phone shifted. Still trying.

My jaw tightened “Mark him.” There was a pause in my earpiece. “Copy.” Onstage, Yuna hit her mark, smiling brightly toward the crowd, unaware for now. Good. Keep performing. Let me handle the ugly part.

The fan tried again.

This time, angling lower when the water cannons fired. Something cold and clean moved through me— panic or rage did not consume me. It made whatever decision I had feel validated. “After the set,” I said quietly into the mic, “pull him to the back. Whatever it takes.” A staff member looked at me, horrified at how calm I looked. I did not look away from the monitor. “Quietly.”

 The set continued. The audience screamed. The water exploded under the lights. And I stood in the wing, watching a man in the crowd learn far too late that anonymity was only protection until someone with resources decided it wasn’t.

The rest of the performance passed without incident. At least onstage. Which was the only reason I let the set finish before moving. The second ITZY came offstage, staff moved exactly as instructed. Towels around shoulders. Cover-ups immediately. Water bottles handed out. Hair and makeup staff closing in with practiced urgency. “Straight to waiting area,” I said, already scanning behind them.

Ryujin shook water from her hair like she was personally trying to ruin the floor. “That was insane.” Chaeryeong was still breathing hard, eyes bright from the crowd reaction. “They were so loud.”

“They loved you,” Lia said softly, wrapping her towel tighter around herself. Yuna looked toward me then. Still smiling from the stage. Still glowing under the adrenaline. “Manager-nim,” she teased lightly, “did we survive your eighty percent risk factors?” I looked at her. For a second, I almost answered normally. Almost.

Then my earpiece clicked. “Security has him.” The smile left my face. Yuna noticed the immediate shift in my expression, and so did Yeji.

“Get him inside,” I said to the nearest staff member. The warmth in my voice dropped so suddenly that even I felt the temperature change. Yeji felt that shift and stepped closer. “Ben?”

“Waiting area. Now.” My voice came out calm but cold, too cold. That was the problem.

Yeji’s expression changed, but she didn’t challenge me there. Not in front of staff. Not while the girls were still damp, exposed, and being moved through a busy backstage corridor. The leader understood the timing. The girlfriend understood the danger. I turned before either side of her could stop me.

The fan looked smaller backstage. That was usually how people like him worked. Brave behind distance. Bold behind anonymity. Pathetic once consequence had a face. He sat in a small holding room near the security corridor with two staff members by the door and his phone placed face-up on the table.

He was young enough to still believe fear looked like innocence if he made his eyes wide enough. I stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind me. No shouting. No dramatic anger. Just silence. That scared him more than yelling would have. Good.

“Unlock it,” I said. His hands tightened around the phone. “I already deleted them.” “I didn’t ask what you deleted.” His throat moved. I held out my hand. “I said unlock it.” He hesitated.

That was his second mistake of the day. One of the security staff shifted near the door, just enough for him to remember he was not standing in a crowd anymore.

The fan unlocked the phone.

I took it, looked at the screen, then placed it back on the table between us. “Recently deleted.” His face went pale. “There it is,” I murmured. He started talking immediately.

Apologies. Excuses. Panic. The usual useless mixture from someone confusing regret with accountability. I lifted one hand slightly. He stopped. “You came here to watch a performance,” I said quietly. “Not collect pieces of women they did not choose to give you.”

His mouth opened. Nothing came out. Good.

“You thought the crowd protected you. You thought the phone protected you. You thought being one person in thousands made you forgettable.” I leaned back slightly in the chair. “It didn’t.” The room went still.

Even the security staff stopped moving. They had stepped in thinking their presence would make the room feel dangerous, until they saw the veins standing sharp along my forearm, the stillness in my shoulders, the way my jaw locked so tightly it made my temple pulse, and realized the only thing in that room keeping me civilized was discipline.

Not mercy, discipline.

The ringing in my ears had started sometime between his first excuse and my first breath. A thin, high whine behind the skull.

Stress. Adrenaline. Rage so compressed it had nowhere clean to go.

I heard it anyway. Louder than his breathing. Louder than the security staff shifting by the door. Louder than the ugly little part of me that wanted him to give me a reason. Any reason. But my hands stayed still. My voice stayed soft.

That was what scared them. Not that I was angry. Anyone could be angry.

The staff were scared because I was aware of every single sign my body was giving me, every tremor I refused to let reach my fingers, every violent answer I did not allow into the room, and I was still choosing my next words like paperwork.

“I know your name,” I continued. “I know the ticket account. I know the section. I know the account those clips were going to. I know enough to make this painfully simple.”

His breathing changed. Shallow now.

“You should understand something before you leave this room. Companies bury people in legality every day. Quietly. Slowly. So thoroughly that by the time they realize they’re drowning, they’ve already signed three forms they didn’t understand and answered five emails that made things worse.”

His lips parted slightly. I continued. “Venue reports. Agency complaints. Civil claims. Platform escalations. Permanent bans from affiliated events. Reputation management. Legal discovery. Every polite mechanism people invented so nobody has to get their hands dirty.”

I tilted my head, the small smile on my face reaching nowhere near my eyes “And that is me choosing to be civilized.”

The fan blinked. Once. Twice. His eyes moved toward the hallway, toward where the members had disappeared minutes earlier, then back to me. That was when he understood. I wasn’t calm. I was restraining myself. Not because of him. Because of them. Because somewhere beyond that wall were five women who trusted me enough to believe I would come back as the same man who had left them.

His face drained of color. Not because he thought I was going to hurt him. Because he understood I wanted to. And the only thing keeping that want from becoming real was the fact that I cared more about what they would see in me afterward than what he deserved now. The room felt smaller. The fan swallowed hard. For the first time since I entered, he looked genuinely ashamed. Not of being caught. Of understanding.

“Personally, I don’t think fans like you deserve this much leniency,” I said softly. “Not legally. Not socially. Not personally.”

One of the security staff glanced at me. I did not look away from the fan. That was when the fan finally understood. The security staff were not there to help me scare him. They were there in case I decided human decency had become too generous.

His eyes flickered toward them. Then back to me. Then toward the hallway again. And somehow that seemed to break him more than any threat. Because he knew exactly why I was sitting in a chair instead of standing over him. Exactly why every sentence sounded measured. Exactly why every word felt chosen. Not for his sake. For theirs.

“You saw them as bodies first and people second,” I continued. “So I need you to understand exactly what happens if I decide to see you as paperwork instead of a person.” His hands trembled. “You would lose.” The words landed flatly. No heat. No drama. Just fact that I could deliver in the same breath as asking for coffee. The kind of fact that would bury him and leave me annoyed only because it had taken time out of my day.

I continued, “Not because I’m special. Not because I’m angry. Because I have more money, more lawyers, more access, more patience, and fewer reasons than you think to be merciful.” His eyes widened. I leaned forward slightly.

“Ruining your life would take less effort from me than deciding not to show up at work on a Tuesday morning.” Silence. Then quieter— “And unlike work, I might actually enjoy making the point.”

That was when he broke. Not all at once. Slowly. His breathing hitched. His eyes watered. The phone nearly slipped from his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I swear, I won’t—” he stopped. Looked away. Ashamed. “I didn’t think about it.” his voice shook “I swear I didn’t think about them like that. I wasn’t trying to—” his throat closed. Because even he knew how pathetic it sounded. The room remained silent. “I just wanted the video,” he muttered out. Then his face crumpled. The truth finally catching up to him. “I didn’t think they’d feel violated”. The word hung there. ‘Violated’. He looked sick after saying it.

Like hearing it out loud had forced him to confront what he’d actually done. His eyes darted toward me again. And somehow seeing that I wasn’t yelling made him unravel further. Because if I had screamed, he could have hidden behind fear. If I had threatened him, he could have called me unreasonable. Instead, I was sitting there, speaking calmly, choosing restraint he knew he hadn’t earned. And that made him feel small.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. The words came out broken. Small. Useless. “I didn’t think—” He stopped because even he heard how pathetic it sounded. Of course he hadn’t thought.

That was the problem.

He had wanted a video. A clip. A private thrill he could hide behind a screen and a crowd. He had not thought about the women on the other side of it until consequence gave them faces.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, weaker this time. “No,” I interrupted. “You’re scared. Don’t insult me by pretending this is morality. He flinched. The words hit. Because they were true. His guilt was real. His shame was real. But fear had opened the door first. He shut up instantly. I nodded toward the phone. “Delete everything. Recently deleted. Cloud backups. Draft uploads. Private archive. Any message where you sent it to someone else. Anything you thought was clever.”

He obeyed. Frantically. Thoroughly. When he finished, I looked toward security. “Flag his ticket information. I don’t want him near another event involving my artists ever again.”

The fan flinched at ‘my artists’. Good. Before security escorted him out, I spoke again “One more thing.” He froze.

“If anything appears online later—one frame, one cropped still, one anonymous repost that traces back to you—I won’t ask questions next time.” I smiled faintly. “I’ll just start,” then softer “and I’ll let you know it was me.”

The fan stared at me. Not defiant. Not angry. Just devastated. Because he finally understood that the mercy he had received had never been for him. It had been for the people waiting on the other side of that wall. The people I refused to disappoint. The people who would never know how close he had come to finding out what happened when that restraint disappeared.

My face challenged him to try. The door closed behind him. For a moment, the room stayed quiet. Then I exhaled slowly. Not from guilt. From irritation. Because the worst part was not how angry I had been. The worst part was how precisely I had controlled it. And how easy it had been to mean every word.

When I returned to the waiting area, the girls were quiet. Too quiet. They had clearly heard enough. Not all of it. But enough.

Yuna sat with a towel around her shoulders, still damp from the stage, eyes fixed on me like she was trying to reconcile the man who kept looking away from her with the one who had just calmly explained how easy it would be to erase someone from public life.

 Chaeryeong looked unsettled, fingers gripping the edge of her towel. Lia watched me without blinking.

Yeji’s expression was the worst. Not fear. Recognition.

Like she had just seen a door open inside me and realized she didn’t know where it led. Ryujin broke the silence first.

“…That was kind of hot.” “Ryujin,” Lia said immediately. “What?” Ryujin muttered. “I said kind of.” Chaeryeong’s voice came softer. “He was filming us like that?”

The cold part of me disappeared the second I looked at her. “Not anymore.” That seemed to help. A little. But Lia was still watching me. “You’re very calm when you’re angry,” she said quietly. I met her gaze “That’s useful”. Her expression tightened slightly “That’s what worries me.”

Then Yuna stood. Slowly. The towel slipped slightly from one shoulder, but for once she didn’t seem to notice. “You scared him,” she said “Good”. Her eyes stayed on mine. “You scared me a little too.” My chest tightened. “Yuna—”

“Not like that.” Her voice was quieter now. Focused. “I mean…” She glanced toward the door, then back at me. “I didn’t know you could look like that for us.” That landed harder than anything she had done all week. Because the teasing had been survivable. The flirting had rules. Even her temptation had a shape I could understand. But this? This was different. Yuna had stopped playing. And somehow, that made her more dangerous than before.

Yeji stepped forward. Not sharply. Not loudly. But everyone felt it anyway “Ben”. I looked at her. Her voice was quiet, but there was nothing soft about it. “How far were you going to take that?” The room went still again. I should have answered carefully. I knew that. Instead, the truth came out first. “As far as I needed to.” Wrong answer.

I knew it the moment Yeji’s expression changed. Not fear. She was hurt. Like I had answered a different question than the one she actually asked. For a second, nobody moved. Then Yeji inhaled slowly and looked around the room, her leader instincts locking back into place before the moment could fracture in front of everyone. “Everyone should change first,” she said calmly. “Warm clothes, dry hair, food if you can eat.”

Ryujin opened her mouth. Lia touched her arm once. Ryujin closed it. Good survival instincts. Yeji looked back at me. “We’ll talk later.” Four words. Quiet. Controlled. Catastrophic. Then she turned away to help Chaeryeong with the spare hoodie folded beside her bag, and the room slowly started moving again. But nothing felt normal after that. Not the towels. Not the staff. Not the sound of the festival still roaring outside like nothing had happened.

And definitely not Yuna, who kept watching me like the answer she had been waiting for all week had finally arrived— just not in the form either of us expected.

The rest of the backstage process moved with the strange stiffness of people pretending something had not shifted. Staff came in and out with dry clothes. Hair dryers buzzed from the corner. Someone placed food trays on the table. The festival outside continued roaring like the world had not narrowed into a backstage holding room and one question from Yeji.

Everyone changed into warmer clothes eventually. Chaeryeong stayed close to Lia for a while, still quieter than usual. Ryujin tried to joke twice, failed once, then wisely decided to eat instead. Yuna disappeared into her own thoughts, towel still around her shoulders even after she had already dried off.

Yeji remained composed. Too composed. Which somehow made the entire room feel more dangerous. I finished the final post-stage checks with staff on autopilot. Transport route. Security handoff. Outfit returns. Media restrictions. Recovery schedule. Uploaded incident report. Normal things. Professional things. Useful things. The kind of work that gave my hands something to do while the rest of me tried not to think about the way Yeji had looked at me.

Eventually, the staff cleared out. Then Lia gently stood. “We should give them a minute.” Ryujin looked at her. “What?” Lia didn’t answer. She just looked toward Yeji, then toward me. Ryujin’s mouth opened. Then closed. For once, she understood. “Right,” Ryujin muttered, grabbing her towel. “Emotional adult conversation. Gross.” Chaeryeong hesitated briefly before following Lia out. Yuna was last. She paused near the doorway, eyes flicking between me and Yeji. For a second, I thought she might say something. She didn’t. Not yet. She only looked at me with that same quiet intensity from earlier. Like the teasing had burned away and left something sharper underneath. Then she left too. The door closed. And suddenly the waiting room was too quiet.

Yeji stood near the table, arms folded loosely, hair still damp from the performance. Her hoodie hung around her shoulders now, but she hadn’t put it on properly. She looked tired. Not physically. Emotionally. That was worse. I tried first. “That wasn’t how I wanted them to see it.” Yeji looked at me. “That’s what you’re worried about?” I stopped.

Wrong opening. Outstanding start. She exhaled slowly, then looked down at the table like she was forcing herself to stay calm.

“I’m not angry because you protected us.” “I know.” “Do you?”

The question landed harder than expected. I didn’t answer. Yeji looked back up. “Because I watched you in there, Ben. You didn’t look like someone trying to solve a problem.” Her voice stayed even. That made it worse.

“You looked like someone deciding whether a person deserved mercy.” The words settled between us. Heavy. Accurate. Difficult to deny. I swallowed.

“He violated them.” “I know.” “He was going to upload—” “I know,” Yeji repeated, sharper this time.

Then she softened immediately, like the edge had hurt her too. “I know what he did. I’m not defending him.” Her eyes held mine. “I’m scared of what you were willing to become because of it.” That shut me up completely.

Yeji stepped closer, but slowly. Not like she was afraid of me. Like she was afraid I would misunderstand her.

“If this was something legal departments, venue security, and agency reports could handle, and you still looked like that…” Her voice lowered. “What happens when something happens to us that legality can’t handle?”

My chest tightened. There it was. The real question. The one neither of us wanted spoken out loud. I tried to answer carefully. “I’d handle it.” Yeji’s face changed. Just slightly. But enough to hurt. “That’s what I’m scared of.”

I looked away. Big mistake. Because for once, looking away didn’t save me from anything. Yeji reached for my hand. Not forcefully. Just enough to stop me from retreating into myself. “I’m not asking you to care less,” she whispered. That made me look at her again. Her eyes were glossy now, but her voice stayed steady. “I know you. If I asked you to care less, you’d just lie to me.” A weak laugh almost escaped me. It didn’t make it. She squeezed my hand.

“I’m asking you to come back afterward.” That hit harder than any accusation could have. Because it wasn’t about the fan anymore. It wasn’t even about Waterbomb. It was about the line inside me I kept pretending was theoretical. Yeji stepped closer, her other hand pressing lightly against my chest. “Protect us. Be angry. Do what you have to do. But don’t become someone we have to be afraid of losing”. My throat tightened “Yeji…”

“Because I love you,” she said, softer now. “And I don’t want your love for us to be the thing that destroys you.” For a moment, I couldn’t say anything. There were jokes for most situations. Deflections. Sarcasm. Professional language. Managerial distance. None of them survived her.

So I just lowered my forehead against hers and closed my eyes. “I don’t know if I can promise that perfectly.” Her fingers tightened against my shirt. “Then don’t promise perfectly.” I opened my eyes. Yeji looked up at me, close enough that the festival noise outside felt like another world entirely. “Promise you’ll try before you disappear somewhere I can’t follow.”

That was easier and harder all at once. “I’ll try,” I whispered. She breathed out slowly, like that was the only answer she expected and the only one she could accept. Then she leaned up and kissed me. Not passionate. Not desperate. Not trying to erase the conversation. Just enough to remind me that she was still there. That I was still there. When she pulled away, her thumb brushed lightly against my jaw. “You scared me today.”

“I’m sorry.” “I know.” Then, quieter… “Don’t make me get used to it.” That one landed deep. I nodded once. Yeji held my gaze for another second before finally stepping back. Leader mode returned gradually, but not completely. Not around me. “Come on,” she said softly. “The others are probably pretending not to worry.”

“Ryujin is probably pretending not to listen.” “She is absolutely listening.”

When we opened the door, Ryujin was standing several feet away beside the hallway vending machine, holding a drink she clearly had no intention of buying. She looked at us. We looked at her “…Hydration,” she said. Lia, sitting farther down the hallway, closed her eyes in visible disappointment. Yuna was leaning against the wall beside Chaeryeong, but her attention was not on Ryujin. It was on me.

And for the first time all week, Yuna did not look like she was trying to make me react. She looked like she had already decided what she wanted.

The incident report reached the Top Floor before the night had fully ended. Which was honestly impressive. Terrifying. But still impressive. By the time the members had washed up, changed, and retreated into various corners of the floor to recover from Waterbomb, I was already sitting in the private room with the report open on the tablet in front of me.

Across from me sat JYP. Beside him, Jihyo. And leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, face unreadable, was John. That was how I knew this was not going to be a normal review.

JYP looked down at the report first. “The official version says the fan was removed for invasive filming, footage deleted, ticket information flagged, and venue security notified.” He looked up at me “That part is clean”. I said nothing. JYP’s expression did not change. “The unofficial part is where this becomes complicated”. Jihyo sat quietly beside him, but her eyes were already on me. Not hostile. Not disappointed. Watchful. Like she understood the anger better than most people would. Like she was also trying to measure something she had not expected to find.

JYP folded his hands over the table. “Ben,” he said. “Was this handled as company procedure, or personally as Mr. Sung Benjamin?” The question sat there. Sharp enough that nobody needed to repeat it. I leaned back slightly.

“The fan was filming them from an invasive angle.” “That is not what I asked.” “He was corrected.”

John’s eyes flicked toward me immediately. There it was. The smallest reaction. Almost nothing. But I caught it. JYP’s gaze narrowed slightly “Corrected”. I looked at him “Yes”. For a moment, nobody spoke. Then JYP glanced down at another page attached to the report. “Before this meeting,” he said, “I spoke to the venue staff”. That got my attention. His eyes lifted “They all described the same thing”. The room stayed quiet.

“One security supervisor said you were calmer than anyone else in the room. Another said you never raised your voice once.” JYP’s gaze remained fixed on me. “And a third told me he was more afraid of you because you weren’t shouting.” Nobody spoke.

“They said you looked like a man whose body was about to tear itself apart from rage,” JYP continued. “But your voice never changed.” The words landed heavily. “You maintained composure the entire time”. For the first time since the meeting began, something almost resembling admiration crossed JYP’s face. Not approval. Certainly not approval. But recognition.

“Do you know how uncommon that is?” I said nothing. “Most people lose control when they become angry,” JYP said. “They shout. They threaten. They become emotional.” His eyes sharpened. “You did the opposite.” The room remained still. “You were disciplined.” The word hung there. Heavy. Measured.

“Frankly,” JYP admitted, “man to man, I understand why the staff found it unsettling.” John looked away briefly. Jihyo remained silent. JYP folded his hands again. “I can appreciate the discipline it takes to stay composed when every instinct is telling you not to.” Then his expression hardened again. “But that is also exactly why we are having this conversation.”

The admiration vanished. The executive returned. “Because if you had lost your temper, this would be easier.” I frowned slightly. JYP nodded. “A man who loses control can be corrected”. His gaze stayed locked on mine. “A man who remains perfectly in control while deciding how much fear another person deserves is much harder to predict.”

The room fell silent again. And somehow, that landed harder than criticism would have. Jihyo exhaled quietly. “Fans like that are disgusting,” she said. “I’m not going to pretend otherwise.” Her voice was calm, but there was something colder underneath it. The kind of cold that came from years of knowing exactly what it felt like to be treated like a body before a person. “But I have seen managers get angry before,” she continued. “I’ve seen staff lose their temper. I’ve seen people shout, threaten, overreact.” Her eyes stayed on mine. “You were not like that”. I said nothing. “You were calm.”

John finally pushed himself off the wall. “That’s the problem”. I turned toward him. His expression had changed now. Recognition instead of judgment. And somehow, that felt worse. “You didn’t talk to him like a manager protecting artists,” John said. “You talked to him like someone deciding whether mercy was worth the inconvenience.” JYP looked toward John. “You sound like you’ve seen that tone before.” John’s jaw shifted slightly. For one second, I saw the calculation happen behind his eyes. What to say. What not to say. What truths could survive in this room without exposing everything else. Then John looked back at me. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I have.”

Jihyo’s attention sharpened. John crossed his arms again, but his voice stayed even. “When I first came into this industry, things got messy with my old job. The company was trying to make me the clean scapegoat for something bigger than me. Easier to blame one foreign manager than admit the whole machine was already broken.” JYP said nothing. But he listened. “And they did,” John continued. “That’s how I lost my gig with NewJeans.”

The room stayed quiet. “After that, one of them pushed too far. Thought he had enough connections, enough paperwork, enough public distance to ruin me and walk away clean”. His eyes moved to mine. “Then Ben’s father got involved.” The air shifted. Not dramatically. But enough. Jihyo glanced toward me briefly. JYP leaned back slightly. “What happened?” he asked.

John smiled faintly. Without humor. “There was no dramatic ending. No threat anyone could point to. No crime anyone could prove. That was what made it worse.” His voice lowered. “One day, that man had a career, contacts, credibility, a history. Then little pieces of it started vanishing”. Nobody spoke. “Records stopped helping him. References stopped existing. People who used to know him suddenly couldn’t remember much. Opportunities dried up before they reached him. Every door he thought was secure somehow opened for everyone except him.”

John’s mouth tightened. “And after a while, it was like the industry looked at him and decided he had never really belonged there in the first place.” Jihyo slowly set her cup down. For the first time since entering the room, she looked genuinely unsettled.

“That isn’t influence,” she said quietly. “No,” John replied. His smile carried no humor “It wasn’t”.

JYP leaned back. The implications were settling in now. Not just what my father had been capable of. What kind of network, leverage, and reach had been required to make something like that happen without anyone ever being able to prove it happened. And then another realization followed immediately behind it. His eyes shifted toward me. Toward the son who had inherited everything. John noticed. Of course he did.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s the part everyone eventually figures out”. The room stayed silent. “Ben inherited all of it.” Jihyo’s expression tightened. John nodded once. “And then he expanded it.” That landed harder than anything before it. Not because it was dramatic. Because nobody in the room doubted it. John looked directly at JYP. “His father built an empire”. Then at me. “Ben made it bigger.” The silence afterward felt heavier than before. JYP’s fingers folded together slowly. For the first time, he wasn’t looking at me like a manager. He was looking at me like a variable. A force. Something difficult to measure.

Jihyo looked away briefly. Processing. Because suddenly the conversation wasn’t only about a fan anymore. It was about understanding exactly what kind of person had been standing beside ITZY this entire time. John saw where both of their thoughts were heading. And immediately stepped in.

“Which is exactly why I’m saying he’s not his father.” Both of them looked at him. John’s voice remained steady. “If Ben were his father, this conversation wouldn’t be happening.” I frowned slightly. John ignored me. “His father wouldn’t have stopped at fear. He wouldn’t have questioned himself afterward. He wouldn’t have sat here listening to criticism.” His gaze settled on me. “He definitely wouldn’t have admitted he didn’t know how to protect people without going too far.” Nobody spoke. John continued anyway.

“Do I think Ben is walking close to the same edge?” He did not hesitate. “Yes.” “Do I think he is capable of becoming something more dangerous than his father?” His expression hardened “Absolutely”.

That one hit. Hard. “But the difference,” John said, “is that Ben still asks whether he’s wrong.” The room fell silent again. And somehow, that silence felt different. Not lighter. But clearer. Because for the first time since the story began, Jihyo and JYP were not just seeing the shadow my father had cast. They were seeing the fact that I had every tool necessary to become something worse and still had not.

JYP looked at me again. “Ben.” His voice was not angry. That made it worse. “Do I need to worry that your protection of ITZY will become something the company cannot control?” There it was. Not punishment. Assessment. JYP was not asking if the fan deserved sympathy. He was asking whether the man entrusted with protecting ITZY had just shown him a liability no report could cleanly contain.

I looked down at the tablet. The report was still there. Clean language. Professional wording. Everything ugly trimmed into acceptable documentation. I should have said no. Instead, I said the truth. “If the company could control every threat, I wouldn’t need to exist.” Jihyo closed her eyes briefly. John looked away. JYP did not react immediately. But the silence answered for him.

“That is exactly the kind of answer that concerns me,” JYP said. I looked back at him. His tone stayed even. Not cold. Not corporate, either. Something more difficult. Understanding.

“You are not wrong that the company cannot control every threat,” he said. “And you are not wrong to be angry.” That surprised me enough that I said nothing. JYP’s gaze did not move. “What you felt in that room was human, Benjamin. More human than you probably want to admit. Someone tried to violate the privacy and dignity of artists under your care. Anger is not the problem.” he leaned forward slightly. “What you chose to do with that anger is.”

The room stayed quiet. “You had options,” JYP continued. “Legal options. Security options. Venue procedures. Agency action. Company escalation. All of them slower than what you wanted, maybe. Less satisfying, certainly.” his voice hardened by one degree “But they existed.”

That landed. Cleanly. “And instead,” he said, “you walked into that room already deciding how far you were willing to go if fear did not work fast enough.” I looked down at the tablet again. JYP saw it too. “That is where I have to stand with the company,” he said. “Not against you. Not against ITZY. But against the idea that access to resources gives you the right to become a private punishment system.”

Jihyo finally spoke. “Ben.” Her voice was softer now, but it carried something heavier than before “You know nobody here is asking you to let people hurt them.”

“I know.” “Do you?”

The same question Yeji had asked earlier. Different voice. Same wound. Jihyo leaned forward slightly “I understand why you did it. More than you probably think. I understand seeing someone try to take something from them and wanting to make sure he never gets the chance again.” Her eyes moved briefly toward the closed door. Toward the rest of the Top Floor. Toward the five women somewhere beyond it. “I knew you would care about them,” she said quietly. “I expected that. I needed that.”

I looked at her. Jihyo held my gaze. “When I asked John for someone who could help ITZY, I was not asking for someone detached. I knew ordinary management would not be enough. I knew they needed someone who would see them properly, someone who would become invested enough to notice the things everyone else missed.” Her expression tightened “What I did not know was how easily that care could turn into you throwing your humanity away for them.”

The words struck harder than I expected. Jihyo did not look away “And the worst part is…” She exhaled softly. “I understand it.” That made the room feel smaller. “I understand wanting to become whatever stands between them and the world. I understand wanting someone like that fan to be afraid. I understand why, in that moment, legality probably felt too polite for what he had done.” Her voice lowered. “But understanding it does not make it right.”

I said nothing. “He could have been handled by the company. By security. By legal action. By procedures that exist for exactly this kind of violation.” Her eyes softened, but her voice stayed firm. “You were willing to erase someone over something legality could have handled.”

Yeji’s question echoed through me again. What happens when something happens to us that legality can’t handle?

Jihyo looked at me like she heard it too. “That’s what scares me,” she said. “Not that you protected them. Not that you were angry. But that if this is what you resorted to when the system still has answers…” she paused. “What happens when it doesn’t?”

John nodded once “That’s what I’m trying to say.” I looked toward him. He was not smiling now. “You are starting to go down the same route as your dad.” The words landed harder than anything else in the room. John’s voice stayed quiet.

“And I owe your father more than I can say. I mean that. What he did for me probably saved my career. Maybe more than that.” He stepped closer “But he also scared the hell out of me”. I swallowed once. John noticed. “He protected people by making himself the thing everyone else was afraid of,” John said. “And it worked. That’s the dangerous part. It worked so well that nobody could tell him to stop.”

The room stayed still. John looked at me directly. “I watched him justify it the same way you just did”. That cut deeper. Not loud or dramatic. Just precise. “He would say the system couldn’t handle it. That normal rules were too slow. That people like him only existed because softer people couldn’t afford to get their hands dirty.” John’s expression tightened “And every time it worked, it got easier for him to believe he was right.”

I could not answer. He did not let me.

“I am not asking you to stop protecting them,” John said. “I know you won’t. Honestly, I wouldn’t believe you if you said you would.” A weak laugh almost escaped me. John continued. “I am asking you to notice when protecting them starts sounding like permission.”

JYP’s eyes stayed on me. Jihyo’s face softened with something like pain. John stepped closer, voice lower now. “Because today, you did not sound like someone who had lost control.” His jaw tightened. “You sounded like someone who had control and knew exactly how much damage he could do with it.”

That was worse. Because it was true. JYP finally spoke again. “Protection cannot become private punishment.” His tone was firm now. Not corporate. Personal. “I will not pretend the fan deserved sympathy. He did not. But if your first instinct is to decide whether someone’s life is worth ruining, then your line is already too close.”

I looked at him. JYP held firm. “You are valuable because the girls trust you. John trusts you. Jihyo trusts you. I trusted their judgment when they brought you here, so that means I also trust you.” He paused. “But trust is not permission to become uncontrollable”. That one struck deep. Jihyo’s voice followed, gentler. “They need you, Ben. More than I think even you understand.” Her eyes moved briefly toward John, then back to me. “And yes, I knew they would need you. I knew that was part of the risk.” Her voice softened.

“But they need you as a person they can come back to. Not as a monster standing between them and the world.” I looked down. For once, I had no answer ready. John’s voice came last. “And definitely not as someone who burns himself alive just to keep everyone else warm.” That was the line that finally made the room feel too small. I leaned back, exhaling slowly.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him.” “No,” John said. He looked at me carefully. “You were going to make him wish you had.” I did not deny it. That was the worst part. JYP saw that. Jihyo saw that. For a while, nobody said anything. Then I finally spoke. “I don’t know how to protect them halfway.” Jihyo’s expression softened immediately. “You do not have to protect them halfway.” John nodded “You just have to leave enough of yourself intact to come back afterward.”

Yeji’s words echoed through me. Come back afterward. I closed my eyes for one second. Then opened them again. “I’ll try.” It was not enough. Not really. But it was honest. And in that room, after everything that had happened, honesty was probably the only thing any of them were willing to accept.

JYP nodded once “For now, that will have to do.” But his expression made it clear the matter was not gone. Only held. John let out a slow breath. Jihyo looked toward the closed door, where somewhere beyond it, five women were trying to recover from a day that had become heavier than any of them expected. Then she looked back at me. “Go back to them,” she said quietly “But don’t make them carry the fear of losing you too”. That one stayed with me.

After the meeting ended with an agreeable note, all of us left the room and the silence followed us for about five seconds. Then JYP stopped walking. Which was never a good sign.

He stood in the hallway of the Top Floor, looking slowly from the private lounge to the open kitchen, then toward the glass walls overlooking the city. His expression shifted from concern to confusion to the unmistakable look of a man realizing a corporate budget had not been involved in any of this.

“…This is all yours?” he asked. I glanced around. “The floor?” JYP turned toward me “The floor, the lounge, the gym, the private kitchen, the recovery room, the security system, the separate residential access, and whatever room I saw with the massage equipment that looked more expensive than our trainee facility.” I blinked. “Then yes.”

Jihyo, standing beside John, slowly looked around again. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Not suspicious. Calculating. “This is where ITZY has been staying?”

“Sometimes,” I said. Jihyo looked toward me. “Sometimes?”

“It’s a private decompression space.” John coughed into his fist. That was not helpful. Jihyo’s attention sharpened immediately. “A private decompression space,” she repeated. “That sounds suspicious when you say it like that.” JYP looked toward the kitchen island, then back at me. “I assume the company is not reimbursing any of this.” I stared at him. Then laughed once. “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” he replied immediately “Because I was not approving this.”

“The company couldn’t afford reimbursement.” JYP’s expression went flat. John immediately turned away like he wanted no legal involvement in the conversation. Jihyo covered her mouth with one hand. Not quite laughing. Definitely close. JYP looked personally wounded. “Benjamin.”

“What?” I asked. “I took this job under minimum wage conditions. You are receiving premium infrastructure from a severely underpaid employee.” “You negotiated your own salary.” “I negotiated emotionally.” “That is not a legal category.”

“It should be.” John finally muttered, “For Ben, it usually is.” JYP looked at John. “You are not helping.”

“I know.” Jihyo walked a few steps farther into the lounge, still studying everything with quiet disbelief. Then she turned back toward me. “So…” I immediately disliked that tone “…do you plan on inviting TWICE here too?” John froze. I froze. The air froze. Jihyo smiled. Very slightly. This dangerous woman. I kept my expression professionally neutral with the full confidence of a man currently dying internally.

“For appropriate occasions, senior artists are always welcome to use recovery facilities.” John slowly closed his eyes. Jihyo’s smile widened “That sounded very rehearsed.”

“It was improvised under pressure.” “Terrible improvisation.” “Thank you.”

JYP looked between us, missing whatever invisible landmine had just almost detonated. “What is wrong with inviting TWICE? It would be good for senior-junior morale.” John made a sound that might have been a cough or prayer. I looked at JYP “Sir, with respect, if TWICE and ITZY occupy this floor at the same time, I cannot legally guarantee structural, emotional, or financial stability.” Jihyo laughed properly at that. John pointed at me. “He’s not wrong.” JYP frowned. “This is why company facilities have schedules.”

“This is why private facilities have locks.” The second I said it, John slowly turned his head toward me. Jihyo’s eyes lit up. JYP blinked. I sighed. “Not like that.” John nodded gravely. “Sure.”

“That tone says the opposite of sure.” Jihyo smiled into her hand. Before the conversation could become more dangerous, voices drifted from the common area.

The ITZY members had clearly been waiting.

 Chaeryeong appeared first near the hallway entrance, wrapped in a hoodie and looking relieved enough to make my chest tighten. Lia was beside her with tea in hand, calm but watchful. Yeji stood slightly behind them, composed in leader mode, though her eyes found me immediately. Yuna leaned against the back of the couch, still quieter than usual. And Ryujin— Ryujin walked in confidently, saw JYP, and stopped dead. Not slowed. Stopped. Her entire body locked like a deer in headlights.

JYP smiled politely “Ryujin-ah.” Ryujin’s face went pale “…Sir.” Everyone looked at her. I looked at her. Then slowly, beautifully, horrifically, understanding dawned. I smiled. Ryujin’s eyes snapped toward me. “No.” I said nothing. She pointed at me “No.”

JYP looked confused “What is happening?” Yuna’s face slowly brightened with evil realization. “Oh my God.” Lia immediately closed her eyes “Ben, don’t.” I clasped my hands behind my back. “Ryujin has been extremely committed to maintaining professional conduct lately.” Ryujin looked like she had witnessed the gates of hell opening “Ben.”

“That is good to hear.” JYP looked pleased. “It is,” I said solemnly. “In fact, we were discussing potential morale-building activities.”

Ryujin visibly mouthed, don’t you dare. I dared.

“Perhaps a lighthearted TikTok challenge.” Ryujin inhaled like she had been stabbed. Yuna folded instantly, laughing into the back of the couch. Chaeryeong looked between everyone, confused. “What TikTok challenge?” Ryujin spun toward her. “Nothing.”

“With aegyo,” I added. Ryujin made a noise that was not language. JYP brightened. “With me?”

The room went silent. Ryujin stared at him like he had personally announced the apocalypse. Jihyo slowly turned away, shoulders shaking. John whispered, “Oh no.” Yuna was on the floor now, actually on the floor. Lia set her tea down carefully, probably to avoid throwing it. JYP looked around, mildly offended. “What? I can do aegyo.” Ryujin’s voice came out hollow “That’s the problem.”

JYP blinked. John lost the battle first and laughed. Then Jihyo broke. Then Yuna made a sound like she was actively dying. Even Chaeryeong started laughing once she finally understood that Ryujin, of all people, was genuinely afraid. I stood there quietly, watching the Top Floor come back to life one laugh at a time. Ryujin slowly turned back toward me “You are a monster.”

“That was established in the meeting.” I told her. “Too soon,” Lia said immediately. “Correct,” Yeji added. “Fair.” I nodded once.

Ryujin pointed at JYP, then at me. “If this happens, I want hazard pay.” JYP frowned. “For aegyo?” Yuna wheezed from the floor. Jihyo leaned against the kitchen island, wiping at the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “I just never thought I’d see Ryujin afraid of anything.” Ryujin looked betrayed. “I fear reasonable things.”

“You once ate convenience store chicken that had been sitting out for six hours,” Lia said. “That was bravery.” “That was bacterial roulette.”

JYP raised a finger. “I still think the TikTok would be good content.” Ryujin whispered, “Please don’t say content.” John looked at me. “You realize you’ve created the first known Ryujin containment protocol.”

“I’m considering patenting it.” Yuna finally pushed herself upright, still laughing. “Can we make it a group challenge?” Ryujin spun toward her. “You were supposed to be my sister.”

“You threatened my recreational fund last time.” “That was different.” “You endangered luxury.” “That’s unforgivable,” I said. Yuna pointed at me. “Exactly.”

JYP paused “…Hold on.” Everyone looked at him. “What recreational fund?” Silence. Yuna immediately looked away. Ryujin suddenly found the ceiling fascinating. John muttered, “Oh no.” JYP narrowed his eyes. “There’s an ITZY recreational fund?” I answered honestly. “Yes.”

“Why?” “Because stress relief matters.” JYP stared at me. “I don’t have a recreational fund.” I blinked once “That’s deeply concerning.”

“I run the company.” “And yet no recreational fund. This explains a lot.” Jihyo physically turned away to hide her laughter. JYP pointed at me “You created a recreational fund for ITZY?”

“And associated wellness activities.” “What associated wellness activities?”

Yuna raised her hand immediately. “Luxury desserts.” “Movie nights,” Lia added carefully. “Spa reservations,” Chaeryeong admitted. “Private gym access,” Yeji said.

JYP looked increasingly betrayed with every answer. “I founded this company.” “And now your artists have better emotional infrastructure than most governments.” “That is not comforting.” “It should be.”

JYP rubbed his forehead. “I genuinely cannot tell if you are an employee or a hostile takeover with good intentions.”

“Both can be true.” John nodded. “That’s the scary part.” JYP sighed heavily. “I don’t even have a recreational fund.” I reached into my jacket. John immediately noticed. “Oh no.” I pulled out my checkbook. JYP stared at it “Benjamin.”

“You mentioned emotional distress.” “That was not an invoice.” “It is now.” “Ben,” Lia whispered, already laughing. I wrote the check calmly. Tore it free. Handed it to JYP. “For emotional compensation related to today’s incident, appreciation for not firing me on the spot, and a contribution toward a nice snack.” JYP looked down at the number. Then stopped breathing for a second “…Benjamin.” John leaned over. Then recoiled like he had witnessed a crime “That’s more than a CEO’s annual salary.”

“Several,” Jihyo corrected after seeing it. Yuna screamed, actually screamed. Chaeryeong covered her mouth in horror. Lia nearly dropped her tea again. Ryujin stared at the check “You could buy a building with that.”

“I like gratitude,” I said simply. JYP looked genuinely shaken. “This is not a snack budget.”

“It could be.” “For a nation.” “Treat yourself.”

John looked at me with exhausted disbelief “You emotionally tipped the founder of JYPE.”

“He looked stressed”

JYP still hadn’t moved “You cannot casually hand me this amount of money.”

“If you think it’s not enough emotional compensation, I’ll happily write a second cheque.” The room went completely silent. JYP stared at me. John stared at me. Jihyo slowly lowered her hand from her face. Yuna looked personally offended on behalf of basic economics. “…A second cheque?” JYP repeated. I nodded. “You had a stressful day.” John made a strangled noise. “Ben.”

“What?” “That is not how money works.” “It’s exactly how money works.” “That’s somehow worse.”

“He’s negotiating gratitude with executive bonuses.” Yuna pointed at me in disbelief “Emotional bonuses,” I corrected. Jihyo turned away immediately, shoulders shaking again. Lia covered her face “Oh my God.” Ryujin looked between me and the check. Then back at me. “You’re serious.”

“I’m always serious about emotional compensation.” “That is terrifying.” JYP looked down at the check again. Then back at me. “That is an absurd amount of money.” “You survived today without murdering me. I considered that premium service.”

Jihyo was openly crying laughing now. Yuna pointed at the check. “Sir, if you don’t want it, I volunteer as tribute.” “Absolutely not,” JYP said immediately, clutching it tighter on instinct. Everyone noticed. The room exploded again. Even Yeji laughed at that one. Ryujin pointed accusingly. “You held onto it!” “I was startled!” “You protected it!” “It’s emotionally confusing!”

John leaned against the counter “I cannot believe I just watched Park Jinyoung get financially flashbanged.”

“I said nice snack,” I reminded him. JYP looked back down at the check “…This could fund a small division.”

“Or an excellent dessert.” “You are insane.” “That has been repeatedly documented today.” “If you buy the company, I’m canceling the aegyo TikToks.” Ryujin narrowed her eyes at m “No,” I said immediately. She blinked “No?”

“If I buy the company, weekly aegyo TikToks become policy.” The room detonated. Ryujin looked physically betrayed “WHAT?” Yuna collapsed back onto the couch screaming. Chaeryeong nearly fell into Lia. Jihyo had to grab the kitchen island for support. John whispered, “He weaponized capitalism.” JYP looked horrified “You cannot make aegyo a corporate mandate.”

“Watch me.” Ryujin pointed at me like she was identifying a criminal in court. “This is tyranny.” “This is engagement optimization.” “I hate you.” “No you don’t.” “That confidence is upsetting.”

Yuna was crying laughing again “Weekly! Weekly!” “Yuna,” Ryujin hissed, “I know where you sleep.” “You live in the same dorm!” “Then nowhere is safe!”

Even JYP was laughing now despite himself “I suddenly understand why everyone here looks exhausted.” “Occupational hazard, sir.” John said. Ryujin crossed her arms. “If this becomes policy, I’m unionizing.” “I’ll fund the union,” I replied. “That’s worse!”

Ryujin stared at all of us. Then slowly turned toward Jihyo “You’re a leader. Help me.” Jihyo considered it. Then smiled “Nothing I can do.” Ryujin’s soul visibly left her body. Chaeryeong covered her mouth, laughing softer now, but still smiling for the first time since the incident. That mattered more than I wanted to admit. Even Yeji’s expression had loosened. She still watched me with concern underneath everything, but the immediate fear had softened into something warmer. Not gone, just held back for now.

JYP finally looked around the room again, his gaze moving over the kitchen, the lounge, the members, the ridiculous amount of private infrastructure, and the people standing inside it like this place had somehow become less of a luxury floor and more of an emotional disaster shelter. Then he sighed “I am still not reimbursing this.”

“Again,” I said, “nobody asked you to.” “You say that now.” “I will continue saying that indefinitely.”

John crossed his arms “Until he buys the company.” JYP turned toward me sharply. I looked away. Jihyo noticed immediately “…Ben.”

“What?” “Why did you look away?” “I didn’t.” “You absolutely did,” Yuna said, suddenly interested again. Lia picked up her tea “Oh no.” Ryujin’s eyes widened “Wait.” Chaeryeong looked confused again “Wait what?” JYP stared at me “Benjamin.” I sighed “I have not bought the company.”

Yet, remained unspoken. Unfortunately, everyone heard it anyway. Jihyo slowly covered her face. John looked spiritually exhausted. Yuna smiled like she had discovered premium chaos. Ryujin pointed at JYP “If he buys JYPE, can I cancel the aegyo TikTok?” I looked at her “No.”

“Then what is the point of wealth?” “Protection, infrastructure, and emotionally questionable recreational funds.”

Yuna nodded solemnly “I support the recreational funds.”

“Of course you do,” Lia said. JYP looked like he had aged several years in one conversation “I came here to review an incident report and instead—” John cut him off, “you discovered Ben built an idol recovery fortress.” Jihyo glanced around again “Honestly? It’s nice.” JYP looked at her “Do not encourage him.”

“I’m not,” she said. Then, after a beat “But TWICE should visit.” John immediately walked toward the kitchen “Nope.” I pointed after him “That is the correct survival response.” Yuna grinned “Now I want them to visit.”

“That’s because you enjoy consequences,” Lia said. Yuna smiled sweetly “I enjoy events.” “Catastrophes,” Ryujin corrected. “Memorable events.”

The room finally laughed again. Properly this time. Not because everything was fine. It wasn’t. The incident still sat somewhere underneath us. The meeting still weighed on my shoulders. Yeji’s warning still lived in my chest like a hand refusing to let go. But for a few minutes, the Top Floor sounded like itself again. Chaotic. Expensive. Emotionally unstable. And most importantly, ours.

Later, after everyone finally dispersed toward the lounge and kitchen in smaller groups, JYP stopped beside me near the hallway overlooking the city. For once, he wasn’t joking. Neither was I. He looked through the glass for a long moment before speaking quietly.

“You know why I didn’t stop you today?” I leaned against the wall “Because you were outnumbered?”

“That too.” Then his expression softened “But mostly because I watched what happened to them after you arrived.” I stayed silent. “They laugh more,” he continued. “They rest more. They fight less. They recover faster. Even after today, they came here instead of hiding from each other”. His eyes moved toward the lounge where the girls’ voices echoed faintly “You made them feel safe.” Something tightened painfully in my chest. JYP looked back at me. “And you did it without asking the company for anything.”

“That wasn’t their responsibility.” “It became yours anyway.”

I didn’t answer. He nodded slowly like that confirmed something “This industry creates dangerous people,” he said quietly. “Managers. Investors. Fans. Executives. Opportunists. People who smile while they hurt artists slowly.” The hallway suddenly felt very still “So I understand why someone like you becomes necessary.” I met his gaze, and a hint of seriousness could have been found in that calm demeanor “But necessary does not mean unchecked.”

The memory of the meeting flashed through my head. The silence. The fear. The way Yeji had looked at me afterward. JYP exhaled slowly “I’m grateful they have you,” he said quietly “I’m not grateful for what you almost became today.” That hit harder than I expected. He glanced once more toward the lounge. “Remember the difference.”

Then he folded the absurd check carefully into his jacket pocket “…And for the record,” he added, dead serious, “this better be an incredible snack.”

I stared at him. Then slowly looked toward John. John looked back at me with the exhausted expression of someone who had accepted that this was now his life. Jihyo, meanwhile, had already turned away with one hand over her mouth again. I sighed “I’ll have my accountant send recommendations.” JYP folded the check deeper into his jacket pocket with the solemn care of a man handling classified military intelligence “Good.”

“That check was not actually for snacks.” “It is now.” “Outstanding.”

John pushed himself off the wall “We should go before he accidentally funds another department.” “That has only happened once.” Jihyo looked at me “…Once?” “Allegedly.” “Benjamin.” JYP immediately looked concerned again. “I said allegedly.” “That does not comfort me.” “It was not designed to.”

John placed a hand on JYP’s shoulder and gently steered him toward the private elevator before the conversation could become financially catastrophic again.

Jihyo lingered for a moment. Her gaze moved toward the lounge where ITZY had settled into softer laughter again, then back to me “You did scare them today,” she said quietly. The humor in the room dimmed at the edges. I nodded once “I know.”

“But they’re still here.” That made me look at her. Jihyo’s expression softened. “That means something.” I didn’t answer. She smiled faintly, then tapped my arm once. “Just make sure staying near you keeps meaning safety. Not fear.” Then she turned and followed John toward the elevator. The doors closed a moment later, taking JYP, Jihyo, John, and whatever remained of corporate stability with them.

For a while, the Top Floor stayed quiet. Not heavy exactly. Just tired. The kind of quiet that came after too much noise, too much laughter, too much fear, and too much pretending everyone had survived the day without consequences. Ryujin was the first to break it, naturally.

“So,” she said from the couch, “does this mean JYP has a recreational fund now?” Lia didn’t even look up from her tea “It means JYP has emotional damage.” Yuna nodded from the armchair “And possibly snack trauma.” Chaeryeong smiled faintly “He did look really serious about the snack.”

 “He should be,” I muttered. “That was a generous snack.” Ryujin pointed toward me “You’re banned from saying snack for the rest of the night.” “That sounds unconstitutional.” “You financially flashbanged our founder.” “He survived.” “Barely,” Lia said calmly.

The room laughed again, softer this time. Even I did. But it faded naturally afterward. The day had finally caught up with all of us. One by one, the girls started drifting away from the lounge. Chaeryeong went first, still damp-haired and sleepy, muttering something about needing actual food before she could process anything else. Lia followed after her, carrying two mugs like she had silently assigned herself emotional hydration duty. Ryujin stretched across the couch and looked at me once more “You know,” she said, “if you ever do buy JYPE, I want a better parking spot.”

“You don’t drive.” “Exactly. Nobody will expect it.” “That is the worst logic I’ve ever heard.” “It’s power.” “It’s waste.” “It’s symbolic.”

Yuna laughed quietly from the armchair, but it was still not her usual laugh. Too restrained. Too thoughtful. Her eyes found mine for half a second. Then she looked away first. That was new. Yeji noticed. Of course she did. Ryujin eventually dragged herself off the couch after Lia called her name from the kitchen with the tone of someone threatening responsible hydration. Yuna stood too, slower than usual, blanket still around her shoulders.

She paused near me. For one second, I thought she might say something. She didn’t. Instead, she only looked at me with that quiet, focused expression she had carried since the incident. Then softly “Rest, Ben.” No teasing. No trap. Just that. Then she walked away. Which somehow felt more dangerous than anything she had done all week.

Eventually, only Yeji remained. She stood near the window, arms folded loosely, watching the city below as the Top Floor settled behind us. I knew better than to run away. Mostly because she would catch me emotionally anyway. So I walked toward her. For a while, neither of us spoke. The city lights stretched beneath the glass, far enough away to make the world look peaceful even when it wasn’t. Then Yeji said quietly “You looked like someone else for a second.” I didn’t ask who. I knew. John’s words still sat in my chest. Your father.

I leaned against the window frame beside her. “That bad?” Yeji didn’t answer immediately. That was worse than yes. Finally, she looked at me. “I don’t know who that was,” she said softly. “That’s what scared me.” her voice soft and careful. “But I know you.” I swallowed once “And today, there was a moment where I couldn’t tell if you were protecting us… or punishing him.”

I looked down. The glass reflected my face faintly. Tired. Controlled. Too calm. “I wanted him afraid,” I admitted. Yeji didn’t flinch “I know.”

“I wanted him to understand that what he did had consequences.” “I know.” “I wanted him to never look at any of you like that again.” “I know that too.”

Her voice didn’t rise. That somehow made every word hit harder. Then she stepped closer. “But Ben…” she whispered, “when you said ruining him would be easy, I believed you.” I closed my eyes briefly. There it was. Not the act. The ease. That was what scared her. When I opened my eyes again, Yeji was still watching me. Not afraid of me, afraid for me. That difference almost hurt more.

“I didn’t lay a hand on him,” I said quietly. “I know.” “I didn’t break the law.” “I know.” “I didn’t actually ruin him.” “But you wanted to.”

The silence after that was honest enough to be cruel. I could have lied. Probably should have. Instead, I nodded once. Yeji’s expression tightened. Not disappointment. Pain. I hated that more than anything else that had happened today “I’m sorry,” I said. She shook her head slightly “I don’t want you to apologize just because I’m scared.”

“What do you want me to do?” Yeji looked back toward the city for a moment. Then she reached for my hand. Not hidden this time. Nobody was there to see. Her fingers slid between mine carefully, like she was reminding herself I was still solid. Still there she said, “I want you to let us matter before the line,” I looked at her. She turned back to me “You always think protection starts when something goes wrong. Like once there’s danger, you have to become worse than it.” Her thumb brushed against my knuckles. “But we matter before that too.”

I didn’t speak. Yeji continued, quieter now “If you feel yourself becoming that person, tell me. Tell Lia. Tell John. Tell someone before you decide you have to carry it alone.” That landed harder than expected. Because she wasn’t asking me to become harmless. She knew better. She was asking me not to become alone. “I don’t want to scare you,” I said. “You already did.”

The honesty hit clean. No cruelty— just truth. Then her expression softened. “But I’m still here.” My throat tightened. Yeji stepped closer until her shoulder brushed mine. “That’s the part I need you to understand,” she whispered. “I’m scared, but I’m not leaving.” I looked at her. She smiled faintly, but her eyes were glossy.

“I love the part of you that protects us,” she said. “I do. I love that you care enough to notice what others ignore. I love that you make us feel safe.” Her hand tightened around mine “But I don’t want to lose you to the part of protection that starts feeling like revenge.” For once, there was no clever answer. No joke. No escape route. Just her.

So I turned fully and pulled her into my arms. Yeji came easily, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her forehead against my chest. I held her carefully. Not because she was fragile. Because I was. “I’ll tell you,” I whispered. She stayed still. “When I feel it happening. I’ll tell you.” Her arms tightened around me. “Promise?” I closed my eyes. “Promise.” It was not a perfect promise. But it was real. And maybe, tonight, real was all either of us could hold. Yeji pulled back just enough to look at me “Good.”

Then, after a quiet beat, she added “Because I refuse to compete emotionally with your self-destructive morality.” A laugh broke out of me before I could stop it. Small. Tired. Needed. “There she is.”

Yeji smiled faintly “You’re not the only one allowed to be terrifying.” “That was terrifying?” “Emotionally.” “Very effective.” “I know.” She leaned up and kissed me softly. Not like earlier. Not to calm me down. Not to end the conversation. Just because she could, because we were still here. When she pulled away, she fixed the front of my shirt with that same instinctive care that always made my chest ache.

“Go shower,” she murmured. “You still smell like Waterbomb, stress, and questionable morality.” “That is a complex fragrance.” “It’s terrible.” “Honest woman.” “Someone has to be.”

She stepped back, but her hand lingered around mine for one second longer before letting go. Then she walked toward the hallway, leaving me by the window with the city below and her promise still warm against my skin.

For the first time since the fan incident, the darkness inside me did not feel gone. But it felt named. Held. Witnessed. And maybe that was the first step toward not letting it become the only thing left.

For a while, I stayed by the window. Not because I was trying to be dramatic. That would have required energy I no longer had. Mostly because moving meant admitting the night was still not over, and frankly, the night had already done enough.

The city stretched beneath the glass in quiet lines of light, distant enough to look peaceful if I ignored everything sitting inside my chest.

The fan. The meeting. John’s warning. JYP’s strange approval. Jihyo’s concern. Yeji’s hand in mine. And then there was Yuna.

Because somehow, after all of that, she was still there in the back of my mind. Not the way she had been before. Not just teasing. Not just danger. Not just the girl who smiled like she knew which parts of me were easiest to break. This was different now. She had seen something ugly in me today. And instead of stepping away—she had gone quiet. Which was far more concerning.

I finally pushed myself away from the window and headed toward the hallway. The Top Floor had settled into post-chaos silence again. Not asleep, exactly. Just scattered. Chaeryeong and Lia’s voices drifted faintly from the kitchen. Ryujin was somewhere deeper in the lounge, probably threatening food with intent. Yeji had disappeared down the hall, leaving behind the kind of warmth that somehow made everything hurt less and more at the same time.

I was halfway toward my room when I heard her. “Ben.” I stopped. Of course. Yuna stood near the entrance to the balcony lounge, still wrapped in an oversized hoodie, hair slightly damp from her shower. The stage makeup had been mostly cleaned away now, leaving her face softer than it had been under the Waterbomb lights. But her eyes were not soft. That would have been too innocent for someone who had spent the entire week weaponizing playfulness. For once, she didn’t smile first. That alone made me nervous. “You should be resting,” “So should you.” “Unfortunately, hypocrisy is part of management.”

Yuna’s lips curved faintly. Barely. Then the smile disappeared again. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The city light from the balcony windows cut softly across her face, and I realized she looked tired too. Not physically. Not from the performance. Something heavier. She stepped closer, but not in the teasing way she used before. No deliberate invasion. No trap. No calculated shoulder brush. Just closer.

“You scared me today,” she said quietly. My chest tightened. “I know.” “No,” she replied.

The answer came fast. Certain. Then softer “Not like that.” I looked at her. Yuna held my gaze. “I wasn’t scared you’d hurt me.” That should have relieved me. It didn’t. Because the way she said it meant there was a second half. “I was scared because I realized you meant it,” she continued. “Everything you said to him.” My fingers curled slightly at my side. “Yuna—”

“You did.” There was no accusation in her voice. That made it worse. “You weren’t bluffing.” I looked away. Mistake. Always a mistake with her. But this time, when Yuna noticed, she didn’t smile like she had won. She looked almost sad. Not for the fan. For me. That was new.

“I spent all week trying to make you stop pretending,” she said, voice lower now. “I thought that was the whole thing.” “The whole thing?” “You wanting me.”

The words landed carefully. Not shy. Yuna was not shy. But there was a difference between being bold and being careless, and for the first time tonight, she wasn’t being careless. She stepped closer again. “All week, I kept thinking… if I pushed enough, you’d finally admit it. That you noticed. That you were affected. That you wanted me.”

I didn’t answer. Yuna’s eyes searched my face. “But today wasn’t like that.” The hallway felt too still. Farther away, Ryujin laughed at something in the lounge. Lia answered dryly. Chaeryeong made a small sound of protest. Normal life continued just out of reach. But here, between me and Yuna, nothing felt normal anymore.

“You looked away from me all week like wanting me was the dangerous part,” she whispered. Then her voice softened “But today, you looked at everyone else who wasn’t on that stage like they were the danger.” That line hit clean through my ribs. I had no defense for it. Not one. Yuna saw that too. She swallowed once, then continued. “And I know that should’ve made me step back.” My pulse shifted “But it didn’t.”

“Yuna.” This time, my voice carried warning. Not rejection. Warning. Because I could feel where this was going. And because for once, I wasn’t sure I had enough pieces of myself left to survive it properly. She heard it. Of course she did. But instead of retreating, she took one more step closer. “I don’t just want to tease you anymore.” Silence. Heavy silence.

The shift we had both been walking toward all week. No playful trap. No innocent question. No “look properly” wrapped in a smirk. Just Yuna, standing in front of me, choosing to say exactly what she meant. “I want you,” she said. The words were quiet. But they didn’t shake. My breath caught once before I could stop it. Yuna noticed.

 This time, she did smile. Not triumphantly. Tenderly, almost. Like that tiny reaction mattered more because I had not hidden it fast enough “I saw what you were willing to become for us today,” she said. “And I know everyone else is scared of that.” “They should be.” “Maybe.” She stepped close enough now that I could feel the warmth of her presence. “But I also saw why.” “That doesn’t make it safe.” “I didn’t say safe.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “I said I want you.”

For once, the directness did not feel like a game. It felt like a door opening. And the terrifying part was how badly I wanted to walk through it. I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands to stay still. “You know this is complicated.” Yuna’s mouth curved faintly. “Everything on this floor is complicated.” “That’s not an argument.” “It’s an observation.” “Your observations are still dangerous.” “I learned from the best.”

That almost made me smile. Almost. Then Yuna’s expression shifted again, and the joke faded before it could settle. “I know about Yeji,” she said quietly. My body went still. Not fully. But enough. She noticed.

“I don’t know everything,” she added. “I’m not asking you to explain everything tonight.” My throat tightened. “Yuna—”

“I’m not stupid, Ben.” No hurt in it. No accusation. Just fact. “I see how she looks at you when she thinks nobody notices. I see how you calm down when she’s close. I see how Lia knows things before people say them. I see Ryujin acting shameless because she already knows where she stands.”

Her gaze held mine. “And I see you trying to carry all of it like nobody else is allowed to know it’s heavy.” That landed differently. Because this was not Yuna teasing. This was Yuna seeing. Really seeing. And somehow that was more intimate than anything she had done in the hallway, the gym, or that fitting room.

“I’m not asking to be Yeji,” she said. The words came softer now. “I’m not asking for what she has.” I looked at her. Yuna’s pride flickered there. Still intact. Still her. But beneath it was something younger. More honest. “I just don’t want you to pretend I’m only playing anymore.” There it was. The real wound underneath the temptation. Not insecurity. Not jealousy. A demand to be taken seriously. My voice came lower.

“You’re not only playing.” Her breath caught slightly. Small thing. Easy to miss. I noticed anyway. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe I had always noticed. Yuna’s eyes softened, but she stayed steady. “Then stop treating me like I don’t know what I’m choosing.” That made me close my eyes briefly.

Because there were many things I could survive. Yuna being bold. Yuna being reckless. Yuna trying to make me break. But Yuna being honest? That was something else entirely.

When I opened my eyes again, she was still there. Waiting. Not for permission to regret it. For me to finally stop running. I glanced instinctively toward the hallway leading to my room. Then stopped. Wrong. Not there. That room already meant something. To me. To Yeji.

To quiet mornings where she left before anyone else woke up. To the nights where she stayed because I asked her to. Yuna noticed immediately. Of course she did. “Not there,” she said quietly. I looked back at her. For once, she didn’t smile. “I know what that room is,” she said. “Maybe not everything. But enough.” My throat tightened. “Yuna…”

“I’m not asking for Yeji’s place.” The answer settled between us. Not jealousy. Not surrender. Respect. Then she reached for my hand. Her fingers slipped into mine with surprising certainty. Still Yuna. Still bold. Still choosing. But her grip was just tight enough to tell me this was real now. “Come to mine.” For a second, I said nothing. Then I nodded. No teasing. No smirk. Just trust.

Together, we walked down the quiet hallway toward her room. At her door, Yuna paused with her hand on the handle. For the first time all night, hesitation crossed her face. Not fear. Reality. I saw it immediately. “Yuna.” She looked at me “If we do this, we do it slowly.”

Her lips parted slightly. For once, she had no immediate joke ready. Good. “You can be bold,” I continued quietly. “You can be curious. You can push me all you want later.” Her eyes sharpened faintly at that. There she was. “But tonight,” I said, softer now, “I need you to be honest with me. If you’re nervous, say it. If you want to stop, say it. If you need more time, say it.”

Yuna stared at me. Then looked away for half a second. Not because she was hiding. Because something had finally reached her. When she looked back, her voice was quieter. “I’m not scared.” I waited. Her mouth tightened slightly. Then she added “I just don’t want you to treat me like I’m only acting brave.”

That broke through me so cleanly I almost hated it. Because there it was. The first crack. The truth beneath all the teasing. I stepped closer. Not enough to trap her. Just enough for her to know I had heard it. “I won’t.”

Yuna’s eyes searched mine. For once, she seemed to believe me before I had to prove it. Then she opened the door. Her room was quieter than the rest of the Top Floor. Softer too. Not childish. Not flashy. Just hers.

A hoodie thrown over a chair. A half-open drawer. A few skincare products lined neatly near the mirror. A faint trace of her shampoo still lingering in the air. The kind of space that reminded me, suddenly and sharply, that for all her confidence, all her teasing, all her impossible beauty under Waterbomb lights— this was still Yuna. The Youngest. The Boldest. The Most impulsive. And tonight, maybe the bravest.

 She closed the door behind us. The click was soft. Final. Then she turned around. For a moment, neither of us moved. Yuna looked at me like she was trying to memorize the fact that I was there because she had asked, not because she had won. That distinction mattered.

So I let her have the first step. She crossed the room slowly. No performance now. No deliberate teasing. Just Yuna, walking toward me with all the confidence she could hold and all the uncertainty she refused to hide. When she reached me, she lifted her hand to my chest. Not like in the fitting room. Not to test my pulse. Not to prove anything. Just to feel that I was there. “You’re still calm,” she whispered.

“I’m trying to be.” “Why?” “Because this is your first time.” Her breath caught. Not in embarrassment. In recognition. The words made the truth real. For one second, her expression flickered. Then she lifted her chin “I know, and I need you to know too.”

“I do.” Her voice was steady. But her fingers curled slightly against my shirt. I covered her hand with mine. “You don’t have to prove anything to me tonight.” Yuna’s eyes moved over my face. Then, softer “That’s annoying.” A laugh almost escaped me. “Why?”

“Because I spent all week trying to make you lose control.” “I noticed.” “And now you’re being careful.” “I can want you and still be careful.” That silenced her. Completely. Then slowly, something in her face changed. Not surprise. Not victory. Something deeper. Like that sentence had reached a place the teasing never could.

“You want me?” she asked. No smirk. No game. Just the question. I looked at her properly. Finally. Not as a member. Not as a risk Not as a liability. As Yuna.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I want you.” Her lips parted slightly. “And not because I kept pushing?” “No.” “Then why?”

I stepped closer, lifting my hand to her face carefully enough that she could pull away if she wanted. She didn’t. “Because you’re impossible,” I said softly. “Because you’re sharp enough to see things people try to hide. Because you’re brave even when you’re pretending it’s just confidence. Because you make every room louder, and somehow tonight you made silence feel honest.”

Yuna blinked. Once. Slowly.

Like she hadn’t expected the answer to hurt. “You’re bad at compliments,” she whispered. “That was a good compliment.” “It was too good.”

I let my thumb brush lightly against her cheek. “Fine,” I murmured. “Then here’s the simple version.” Her eyes searched mine. “You’re beautiful. Ridiculously so. And only an idiot would spend this much time near ITZY’s maknae and not want her.” For one second, Yuna only stared at me. Then the corner of her mouth twitched.

“That was better.” Yuna said as she hugged me. “Less emotionally devastating?” I asked, “More practical and very manager-coded of you.” she answered honestly. “Don’t ruin it.” I flicked her forehead. “Noted.”

But her hand tightened around my shirt again, and this time, when she looked at me, the vulnerability had not disappeared. It had just learned how to breathe. Her voice trembled faintly at the edges. Barely. But I heard it. So I moved carefully. No rush. No pressure.

I leaned in slowly enough for her to stop me. She didn’t. The kiss was soft at first. Unlike everything she had been provoking all week. Yuna kissed back after half a breath, tentative for exactly one second before her confidence returned in the way her hand gripped my shirt and pulled me closer. There she was.

But even then, beneath the boldness, I could feel the difference. This mattered. So I treated it like it did. When the kiss deepened, I kept one hand at her waist and the other against her cheek, grounding her instead of rushing her. Yuna’s breath grew uneven, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned closer, chasing the feeling with that same impulsive courage that had started this entire disaster.

Then suddenly she broke the kiss. Not far. Just enough to breathe. “Ben.”

“Yeah?” Her forehead rested lightly against mine. “I might be nervous now.” There it was. The admission broke me. I reached out, my hand sliding around the nape of her neck, my thumb brushing the soft skin below her ear. “I’ve got you,” I whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.” “Promise me you won’t treat me like I’m just acting brave.” “I promise.”

I leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was no longer a test. It was a claim. It started slow, a gentle exploration of taste and heat, but as Yuna moaned into my mouth, the restraint I had cultivated for weeks began to fray. Her tongue flicked against mine, eager and searching, and I felt her hands slide under my shirt, her palms hot against my skin. I pulled back just an inch, my forehead resting against hers.

“Are you sure? Once we start this, there’s no going back.” “I don’t want to go back,” she breathed, her eyes glossy. “I want this. I want you.”

I didn’t need to hear it again. I reached for the hem of her hoodie, lifting it slowly. She raised her arms, allowing me to pull the fabric over her head. She stood before me in a thin, lacey bralette and matching panties. Her skin glowed in the soft light, flawless and creamy, her breasts heaving with shallow, quick breaths.

I stripped off my own clothes with a focused urgency. When my trousers hit the floor, my cock sprang free, fully erect and pulsing. Yuna’s gaze dropped. She froze. Her pupils dilated as she stared at me, her mouth parting in a silent gasp.

“Ben…” “What?” I rasped. She reached out, her fingertips hovering just an inch away from the head of my cock. “Is it… is it always that big?” she whispered, her voice thick with amazement. “Are all dicks that huge?” I felt a surge of heat rush to my gut. “No, Yuna. Not all of them.”

She finally touched me, her fingers wrapping around the shaft. Her hand couldn’t even meet on the other side. She squeezed gently, her thumb brushing over the crown where a bead of pre-cum had gathered.

“It looks… impossible,” she murmured. “How is that supposed to fit inside me?” “We’ll go slow,” I promised. “I’ll take care of you.”

I lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carried her to the bed. I laid her back against the sheets, the white fabric contrasting sharply with the warmth of her skin. I moved between her legs, my hands sliding up her thighs, pushing the lace of her panties aside to reveal the glistening pearl of her sex. She was already wet, a trail of moisture coating her folds. I leaned down, my breath hot against her inner thigh.

“Ben?” “Shhh,” I murmured. “Just feel.”

I pressed my face into her, the scent of her arousal hitting me like a wave—musky, sweet, and entirely female. I flicked my tongue against her clit, a sharp, precise motion. Yuna let out a loud, piercing moan, her hips bucking upward.

“Oh god! That… that feels… like electricity!” she gasped, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” I spent the next twenty minutes worshipping her. I used my tongue to map every inch of her, swirling around her clit before sliding deep into her heat, tasting the salt and sweetness of her. I listened to her break—the way her voice shifted from confident commands to desperate, fragmented pleas.

As I worked her toward a peak, Yuna suddenly reached down, her hand gripping my hair. “I want to try something,” she panted. “I saw it in one of those videos… the 69 thing. I want to feel you while you’re doing that to me.” I hesitated for a heartbeat, but the hunger in her eyes was too much. I shifted, maneuvering my body until we were inverted. I settled my weight carefully, my face returning to her soaking wet pussy, while my cock rested against her lips.

Yuna didn’t hesitate. She opened her mouth and tried to take me in. I groaned, my hips jerking. She was eager, her tongue swirling around the head, but as she tried to slide deeper, she hit the limit. I was too long for her inexperienced throat to handle. She gagged slightly, her eyes watering, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she began to lick me— aggressively.

Her tongue was a weapon, sliding up and down the shaft with a frantic, wet intensity. She used her lips to suction the head, her tongue flickering over the frenulum. The sound of it—the wet licking noise of her tongue against my skin—combined with the feeling of her clit pulsing against my own mouth, was overwhelming.

“Fuck, Yuna,” I groaned, my voice vibrating against her thighs.

She grew more confident, her licking becoming more rhythmic. I pushed my tongue deeper into her, finding the exact spot that made her toes curl, and as she gave one final, aggressive swirl of her tongue around my head, I snapped. I let out a moan, my body stiffening as I came. I didn’t pull away; I just shuddered against her, the orgasm ripping through me in violent waves. At the exact same moment, Yuna’s body spasmed. She let out a muffled scream against my cock, her internal muscles clamping down on nothing as she hit her first real climax. We collapsed beside each other, gasping for air, the room filled with the scent of sex and sweat.

“I… I didn’t know it felt like that,” she whispered. I rolled onto my side, pulling her into my arms. I kissed her temple, my heart still racing.

“That was just the beginning.” I felt her shiver. I moved back between her legs, my movements deliberate. I rubbed my cock around her folds, getting it drenched in her nectar before inserting it. I wanted no friction, no unnecessary pain. I positioned the head of my cock against her opening.

“Ben,” she whispered “Look at me, Yuna.” She met my eyes. “I’m going to go very slow. The second you want me to stop, you tell me. Understood?” She nodded. “I trust you.”

I pushed. Just a fraction. The head of my cock entered her, stretching the tight, virgin walls of her cunt. Yuna let out a sharp, hissed breath, her hips instinctively trying to recoil.

“Stay with me,” I murmured. “Just breathe. In and out.” I paused, letting her body adjust. I could feel how incredibly tight she was, her muscles gripping me with a fierce intensity. It felt like being squeezed by a warm, velvet vice.

I pushed again. Another inch. Yuna’s eyes squeezed shut, a small whimper escaping her lips. “It hurts,” she whispered, a tear escaping the corner of her eye. “I know. I know it does. Just breathe, baby. Just breathe for me.” I stopped entirely, kissing her deeply to distract her, my tongue dancing with hers as I waited for the tension to leave her hips.

Slowly, agonizingly, I continued. Inch by inch, I claimed her. I felt the resistance of her hymen, a thin barrier that finally gave way with a soft, internal pop. Yuna gasped, her body arching.

“Oh god… Ben… you’re… you’re so big…” “I’m almost there,” I whispered. With one final, steady push, I buried myself completely. I bottomed out, my pelvis slamming against hers with a wet thud. Yuna let out a long, shaky exhale, her eyes fluttering open.

“I… I can feel you,” she breathed. “You’re… you’re all the way inside me. Everything feels… full.”

I didn’t move for a long time. I just stayed there, buried deep. Then, I began to move. It was a glacial pace, a slow, sliding friction. I withdrew almost entirely before pushing back in, my eyes locked on hers.

“Does it still hurt?” Yuna shook her head. “No… it feels… warm. It feels like… like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be.” As the friction increased, the pain vanished, replaced by a mounting, heavy heat. Yuna’s breathing changed. The whimpers turned into moans. “Yes… right there… oh god, Ben, keep doing that!” I picked up the pace, my thrusts becoming more confident. Every time I pushed in, I felt the incredible tightness of her insides clinging to me. “You’re so tight, Yuna,” I groaned. “It feels incredible.”

Yuna let out a loud, uncontrolled moan. “I love it! I love how you feel! Please, don’t stop!” The request broke the last of my restraint. I gripped her hips, lifting her slightly to get a deeper angle, and began to drive into her with a raw, primal energy. The sound of our bodies colliding—the wet, slapping noise of skin on skin—filled the room.

“Oh god! Yes! Right there! Ben, please! It’s happening… again… I’m going to…!” I felt her internal muscles begin to spasm, squeezing my cock with an unbearable intensity. She screamed, her body shaking as she hit a massive, crashing orgasm. I followed her immediately, letting out a guttural shout as I came deep inside her. I felt the hot surge of my cum hitting her cervix, filling her up. I collapsed on top of her, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Yuna wrapped her arms around my neck, her skin slick with sweat. “Are we done?” she whispered. But I wasn’t. The feeling of her tight, pulsing walls around my cumming cock was too much. I didn’t pull out. I began to move again, slower this time, but with a deeper, more grinding motion.

“Ben? You… you already…” “I can’t stop,” I rasped. “I can’t get enough of you.”

I shifted my position, pulling her legs up over my shoulders to open her up even more. This angle allowed me to hit her G-spot with every thrust. Yuna’s head hit the pillow, her eyes rolling back.

“Oh! Oh god, that’s… that feels different! Ben, please, don’t stop!” I began to caress her, my thumb finding her clit and applying a steady, circular pressure while I drove into her. I leaned down, capturing one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking and tugging on it.

“You feel so fucking good, Yuna,” I whispered into her ear. “Do you feel how much I want you?” “Yes! Yes, I do! I feel it!” she cried. I increased the tempo, my thrusts becoming shorter and faster. I could feel the second climax building, a slow-burn heat. I pushed her over the edge again, my thumb working her clit into a frenzy while my cock hammered into her.

Yuna screamed, her body shuddering in a second, more violent orgasm. Seconds later, I followed, I came inside her for a second time. I slid out of her slowly, the sound of the suction audible in the quiet room. “Stay inside me. Just for a little longer,” she whispered.

I smiled, sliding back into her—not for sex, but for closeness. I entered her slowly, filling her once more, and we just lay there, intertwined. But the fire hadn’t fully died. The emotional weight of the day, the need to protect and be protected, translated into a different kind of hunger. I wanted to explore her, not just use her. I shifted again, rolling her onto her stomach. She let out a soft, surprised sound, her chest pressing into the mattress. I knelt behind her, my chest brushing her back, my hands sliding down to grip her hips.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I want to see you from here,” I murmured, my voice dark. “I want to see how you react when I don’t let you see me.” I didn’t go back inside her immediately. Instead, I leaned down, my tongue tracing the line of her spine, leaving a trail of fire.

Yuna shivered, her fingers clutching the sheets. I moved lower, my mouth finding the dip of her waist, then the curve of her ass. I licked the crease of her cheeks, tasting the remnants of our previous rounds, the smell of musk and sex intoxicating me. I reached around, my fingers finding her clit again, while my cock pressed against the back of her thighs. I started to grind against her, not entering, just letting the head of my dick slide against her wetness.

“Ben… please…” she whimpered. “Please what, Yuna?” “I want it… I want you inside me again… but different.” I chuckled, a low sound in my throat. I gripped her hips firmly, lifting her just enough to align us. I entered her from behind, a slow, deep slide that felt different from the previous positions.

I could feel every ridge of her internal walls, the way she wrapped around me like a glove. This time, I didn’t go for speed. I went for depth. I pushed in slowly, then pulled back until I was almost out, before slamming back in. The sound was a wet and heavy, it that echoed in the room.

“Oh god! That’s… that’s so deep!” Yuna cried out, her face buried in the pillow. “I can feel you… right there!” “I know,” I groaned, my teeth grazing her shoulder. “I can feel how much you want this.” I maintained the rhythm, a slow, punishing grind that focused on the friction of her G-spot. I could feel her building again, her internal muscles pulsing around me in a desperate rhythm. I reached forward, my hand finding her breast, squeezing it firmly as I hammered into her.

“I love this… I love how you feel when you’re like this!” she screamed. “Harder, Ben! Give it to me harder!”

I obliged, my thrusts becoming violent, the bed frame creaking under the force. We were both drenched in sweat, our skin slapping together with a rhythmic, squelching sound. I could feel the third orgasm building, a tidal wave of release.

“I’m coming!” Yuna shrieked, her body locking up in a massive, full-body orgasm. I followed her a second later, pumping another load deep into her. We lay there for a long time, our breathing heavy and synchronized. I didn’t pull out. I stayed buried in her, feeling the slow throb of my cock as it began to soften. But then, Yuna shifted. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes glazed with pleasure, a small, curious smile on her lips.

“Ben?” “Yeah?” “I thought I wanted you to lose control,” she whispered, her voice fragile. “Now I think I want to learn every version of it.” The line hit me harder than any of her teasing ever had. She wasn’t asking for the gentle lover. She was asking for the man who knew how to be a rough but chose to be gentle. I rolled her back over, pinning her gently to the mattress. I didn’t go back for sex.

Instead, I focused on her. I spent the next hour exploring her body with a reverence I didn’t know I possessed. I kissed every inch of her, from the hollow of her throat to the tips of her toes. I used my fingers to tease her, my tongue to make her gasp, focusing entirely on her pleasure without any expectation of my own. I worked her toward one final peak, a slow, agonizing build-up that left her shaking. I used a combination of oral and manual stimulation, my fingers sliding inside her while my tongue worked her clit.

“Ben… I can’t… I’m going to…!” “Go,” I whispered. “Just let go, Yuna.” She exploded in a final, lingering orgasm that seemed to last forever. As she came, the sheer intimacy of the moment—the trust she had placed in me, the way she had completely surrendered her control—triggered something in me. I didn’t need to thrust. I didn’t need to hammer. I simply slid back inside her, slow and deep, and held her.

I felt the final surge of desire build, not from friction, but from the emotional weight of the night. I closed my eyes, imagining every version of the man I could be, and chose the one that loved her. I came for the final time, a slow, pulsing release that felt like a spiritual cleansing. I didn’t shout or moan this time. I just whispered her name into her ear, my body trembling as I filled her one last time. I slid out of her slowly, the suction audible in the quiet room. I immediately pulled her against me, wrapping us both in the duvet.

“You’re not playing anymore, are you?” I whispered. Yuna shook her head, her fingers tracing the tattoos on my arm. “I’m not. I don’t want to play. I just want to be yours.” I held her tighter, the silence of the room feeling honest for the first time in my life. The darkness was still there, the danger was still real, but in the warmth of Yuna’s arms, it felt manageable. “You are,” I whispered. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

Morning arrived too quietly.

No alarms. No schedule calls. No frantic staff messages. No Ryujin committing a felony against breakfast.

Just pale sunlight slipping through Yuna’s curtains and the soft weight of her breathing beside me. She was still asleep, curled against the pillow, hair messy, looking so far removed from the girl who had spent a week dismantling my sanity that I almost laughed. Almost.

The night before still sat too close to my chest. Yuna had chosen me. Not the idea of me, not the manager, not the dangerous man. Me. Carefully, I slipped out from beneath the blanket. Yuna stirred once, her hand searching the empty space beside her before finding the pillow. Still asleep. I pulled the blanket higher over her shoulder, then quietly collected my clothes and dressed. As I looked at her one last time, I felt a strange sense of peace. I had proven to myself that I could hold the power without becoming a person I didn’t want to be. I had chosen care. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, a lingering, soft touch. “Stay,” I whispered, though she couldn’t hear me. “Just stay and rest up a bit more. I’ve got the world handled for a while.”

I walked out of the room, the click of the door soft and final. As I stepped into the hallway, I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. For the first time in my life, I knew exactly where I stood.

[afterhours37]

Yeji Birthday Special: Polaroids

The city always sounded quieter after midnight.

Not because Seoul actually slept. It never really did. Somewhere outside the tinted windows of the van, tires still rolled over rain-dark roads, convenience store doors still chimed open, and apartment lights still flickered against the skyline like distant stars that refused to disappear. But quieter still existed. Especially after days like this.

Yeji rested her temple against the cool glass window, half-watching the reflections of passing streetlights smear across the surface beside her face. Her phone buzzed again somewhere inside her hoodie pocket.

Another birthday message. Another notification. Another clipped video from fans singing for her somewhere across the world.

She smiled faintly anyway. Professional instinct.

“Unnie, are you actually awake?” Ryujin’s voice crackled lazily through the speaker from the back row of the van. Yeji hummed. “Barely.”

“That means yes.” A tired laugh moved through the van. Chaeryeong was already half-asleep against the seatbelt beside her, mouth slightly open in a way she’d definitely deny later. Lia quietly scrolled through her phone while Yuna aggressively stole fries from the paper bag balanced on Ryujin’s lap.

This was ITZY to her, warm, normal, familiar. Yeji loved them for it. She really did. But exhaustion sat strangely in her chest tonight. Not heavy enough to hurt, but enough to dull everything around it slightly. Like the entire day had happened through a pane of glass she couldn’t fully reach through. Schedules. Cakes. Livestreams. Candles. Flowers.

Staff singing loudly backstage. JYP himself sending a message. Hundreds of thousands of strangers telling her they loved her. And somehow, all she could think about now was how badly she wanted to take her makeup off and sit in silence for an hour.

The van slowed outside her apartment building. Finally. “Birthday girl escapes,” Ryujin muttered dramatically as Yeji reached for the door handle. Yeji snorted softly “You’re acting like you won’t see me tomorrow”.

“That’s future Ryujin’s problem.” “Heartless.” “Get home safe,” Lia murmured quietly.

The softness in her voice almost made Yeji smile for real this time. “Text us when you’re inside,” Chaeryeong added without opening her eyes “I will.” Yuna pointed at her accusingly. “And don’t start crying alone because you’re old now.”

“Yah.”

The girls laughed. Yeji shook her head under her hood before stepping out into the cool night air. The silence hit almost immediately after the van pulled away. Her footsteps echoed quietly through the apartment lobby as she adjusted the strap of her bag higher onto her shoulder. The elevator ride up felt longer than usual somehow, fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead while she stared blankly at the glowing floor numbers.

Twenty-four. The doors slid open. Her apartment greeted her exactly the way she left it that morning dim, quiet, still. Yeji exhaled slowly. Then immediately kicked her shoes off halfway across the floor with significantly less grace than the public would probably expect from Hwang Yeji “Finally…” the hoodie came next. Then the rings. Then the earrings dumped carelessly into a ceramic dish beside the kitchen counter.

Her birthday flowers sat piled near the dining table like colorful evidence of a life she hadn’t fully caught up to yet. For a while, she just stood there in silence. No cameras. No staff. No members yelling at her for sitting weirdly— just the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant traffic beyond the windows. Her phone buzzed again. Yeji ignored it.

Instead, she wandered toward the kitchen with slow tired steps, pulling open the fridge and staring blankly inside like the contents might magically reorganize themselves into something emotionally fulfilling. Yogurt she forgot about nearing expiration, water bottles, half-finished fruit, questionable leftovers.

“…Amazing.”

She eventually settled for instant noodles. While waiting for the water to boil, she finally noticed the package sitting near the counter. Plain brown cardboard. No delivery label she recognized. Her brows furrowed slightly “That wasn’t there earlier…” she crouched down slowly, turning it over once before peeling the tape back. Inside sat an old disposable camera. Beside it a small box of thin white birthday candles and beneath both of them— a folded note. Yeji opened it carefully. For the moments you haven’t lived yet.

“…What?”

She stared at the sentence for several quiet seconds. No name. No explanation. No indication whether this was a fan gift, a prank, or something one of the members arranged while drunk and emotional. Honestly, Ryujin felt statistically possible.

Yeji let out a quiet breath through her nose before picking up the camera. Old-fashioned. Slightly worn around the edges. The kind people used for nostalgia now more than practicality. Strangely enough, it already had fewer exposures left. Someone had used it before. That should’ve felt creepy. Instead, it just made her weirdly curious.

The glossy surface caught faint reflections from the apartment lights as Yeji turned the polaroid carefully between her fingers. The image quality wasn’t perfect. Slight grain. Soft blur around the edges. Warm lighting bleeding unevenly into the darker corners of the frame. Like an actual memory instead of a photograph. Somehow, that made it worse. Or maybe better, she couldn’t tell.

Because the longer she stared at it, the stranger the image felt. Not because of the man sitting across from her. Honestly, she barely noticed him at first. Only fragments of him existed in the frame, a dark sleeve pushed lazily past his wrist, fingers curled loosely around the handle of a beer mug, the faint edge of a smile caught near the corner like whoever took the photo moved slightly at the last second. No.

What unsettled her was herself. The version of Hwang Yeji sitting inside that tiny restaurant looked… unguarded. Not idol pretty. Not camera aware. Not professionally charming. Just warm. Like someone had said something stupid enough to make her laugh before she could stop herself. Yeji swallowed slowly. Because she couldn’t remember the last time someone had photographed her like that.

Not for promotion. Not for fans. Not because cameras happened to be nearby. But because someone wanted to remember the moment. Her thumb brushed lightly against the corner of the polaroid. And for some reason, the realization made her chest ache quietly.

The noodles on the coffee table had long gone cold. Outside, distant headlights drifted silently past her apartment windows while the city carried on beneath the dark blue haze of early morning.

2:24 AM.

Yeji leaned back against the couch cushions slowly, still staring at the photograph “…This is creepy,” she murmured softly. Then after another pause— “Why does it feel real?” Silence answered her. The disposable camera remained where she left it beside the candles, quiet beneath the dim apartment lighting. For several seconds, Yeji simply looked at it.

Then finally— against her better judgment she reached over and picked it up again. The exposure counter stared back at her. 19 remaining. Her brows furrowed “…Nineteen?”

Which meant someone had already taken five photos. A strange chill crawled lightly across the back of her neck. Because if this photo already existed then where were the others?

The exposure counter stared back at her quietly. 19 remaining. Yeji frowned harder this time. That didn’t make sense. Disposable cameras didn’t magically print photographs in the middle of the night. And they definitely didn’t develop pictures no one remembered taking. Still, the polaroid remained warm between her fingers.

Her eyes drifted back toward the image again almost involuntarily. The tiny restaurant looked familiar somehow. Not enough for recognition, but enough to feel possible. Warm wood-paneled walls. Condensation running down the beer mug near the bottom corner of the frame. A cramped little table clearly too small for two people trying to fit too much food onto it. It looked lived-in. Not staged.

Yeji’s gaze lowered slightly. There, near the edge of the photograph— another detail. A second bowl. It was half-empty. Something about that tiny detail made her stomach twist strangely. Because whoever took the picture hadn’t photographed her— they photographed the moment. And that felt infinitely more intimate.

Yeji leaned forward slowly, elbows resting against her knees while the city lights stretched dimly across the apartment around her “…Okay,” she murmured quietly to herself. “Either I’m losing my mind, or Ryujin finally snapped completely.” Silence. Then— her eyes flicked back toward the disposable camera again. The apartment suddenly felt smaller somehow. Not dangerous. Just… aware like the room itself was waiting for her to do something. Yeji hated how curious she felt. Because rationally, this should’ve ended already. Take photo, call members and accuse Ryujin, or go to sleep.

It could have been done, instead— she found herself reaching for the small box of birthday candles. Thin white candles shifted softly against cardboard as she opened the lid.

Twenty-six. One for each year.

Her brows pinched together “…You’re kidding.” The note. For the moments you haven’t lived yet. Yeji stared at the candles for several quiet seconds before letting out a tired laugh under her breath “This is exactly the kind of thing Chaeryeong would cry over at three in the morning”. Still… her fingers eventually pulled one candle free. Just one.

The lighter clicked softly. A small flame flickered to life. Warm gold light danced quietly across the kitchen counter while the city beyond her apartment windows remained dark and distant. Nothing happened. Yeji waited another few seconds anyway.

“…Right,” she muttered. “Because magic isn’t—” a soft sound interrupted her. Her movement stopped instantly. Something slid lightly across the counter. The flame wavered faintly and slowly— another polaroid emerged beside the camera.

Yeji froze “…Nope” she stared at it from across the counter like it might suddenly explode. It didn’t. The photograph developed gradually beneath the dim apartment lighting, colors bleeding softly into shape piece by piece. Dark blue sky above the city lights. A river. Then her.

Standing on a bridge at night beneath the glow of distant buildings, oversized jacket hanging loosely from her frame while soft wind pushed strands of blonde hair across her face. The photograph was slightly tilted. Like whoever took it had been smiling while holding the camera.

Yeji swallowed. Because this one felt different. Lonelier. Quieter. But somehow warmer too. There was no visible hand this time. No reflection. No glimpse of the man behind the camera and yet— she could feel his presence anyway. Not in a dramatic way, just through the framing itself. The person holding the camera stood close enough that Yeji looked relaxed. Like she knew exactly who was behind it. Her chest tightened faintly. Because she recognized that expression too. Not happiness exactly. Peace.

The kind that only appeared during rare moments when schedules ended early or when the dorm got unusually quiet at night.

Small and private moments. Moments nobody usually noticed. Yet somehow— whoever stood behind this camera always did. Yeji lowered herself slowly onto the floor beside the counter, the polaroid still held carefully between her fingers.

The candle burned quietly nearby. Outside, distant sirens echoed somewhere deep within the city. And for the first time that entire night— Yeji no longer felt alone inside the silence.

Her eyes drifted toward the disposable camera again, then toward the first photograph still resting near the couch. The beer mug, the food, he warmth— now this. Two moments she’d never lived. But both somehow felt more emotionally honest than half the photos currently sitting inside her phone gallery.

That realization unsettled her more than the impossible camera itself. Because somewhere between the schedules and performances and years of always being watched— Yeji suddenly realized she couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at her quietly. Without expectation and to just… look at her like this.

Her thumb brushed absentmindedly across the edge of the second polaroid. Then she noticed something near the bottom corner. Tiny. Almost hidden beneath the shadow of her jacket sleeve. A timestamp 11:42 PM. Tomorrow. Yeji’s breathing slowed “…What?”

Yeji barely slept. Not because she was scared, that would’ve been easier to explain. Instead, every time she closed her eyes, the bridge photo resurfaced behind them— the peaceful expression in her face.

That was the part she couldn’t stop thinking about.

Not the impossible camera. Not the timestamps. Not even the unseen man behind the lens. Just that expression. Because somehow, the version of herself standing on that bridge looked more rested than she had in months, maybe years. Which honestly felt ridiculous considering the photo still technically shouldn’t exist. Morning schedules came and went in a blur after that. Normal idol life. And yet somewhere beneath every conversation and practiced smile, the timestamp lingered quietly in the back of her mind.

11:42 PM. Tonight.

By the time practice finally ended, Seoul had already darkened beyond the studio windows. Ryujin collapsed dramatically onto the floor beside the mirrors. “I think my spine just filed for divorce.”

“That implies you had one to begin with,” Yuna answered immediately. “Wow” Yeji laughed softly under her breath while reaching for her water bottle. The sound surprised her a little. Not because it was fake. Because it wasn’t. Chaeryeong noticed immediately. Her eyes narrowed slightly “Why do you look weirdly calm today?” Yeji nearly choked on her drink “What does that even mean?”

“You’re less…” Chaeryeong gestured vaguely. “Static-y.” “Static-y?” Ryujin pointed accusingly from the floor. “That’s actually accurate.” “Whose side are you on?” “Not yours.”

Lia smiled quietly from the couch without looking up from her phone. “Maybe she finally got enough sleep.” Yeji almost laughed at the irony. If only they knew. Eventually the members filtered out one by one until only Yeji remained behind to gather her things. And once the studio finally fell silent— her thoughts returned to the bridge immediately.

She really should go home. Take a shower. Eat something. Sleep like a normal person. Instead, two hours later— Yeji stood near the riverside beneath cold night air with both hands buried deep inside the pockets of an oversized jacket “…I’m actually insane,” she muttered softly.

The bridge from the photograph stretched overhead exactly the way it had in the picture. Not dramatically beautiful. Just real. Cars passed overhead occasionally while reflections of city lights rippled softly across the dark river beneath it. A few people wandered nearby here and there couples, cyclists, someone walking a dog too large for the hour. Ordinary. Nothing magical.

And somehow, that made the knot in Yeji’s chest loosen slightly. For several quiet minutes, she simply walked. No destination, she was just moving around.

The river breeze carried faint traces of rain and distant traffic while her sneakers scraped softly against the pavement. Eventually she stopped near the railing. The spot had to be close. Not because she memorized the bridge itself— but because she recognized the angle now. Subconsciously, her body shifted slightly. Then paused. Because suddenly she was standing exactly where the photo had been taken. A strange chill crawled lightly across her arms.

11:39 PM.

Yeji looked down at her phone screen slowly. Then back toward the river. Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened, what was she even expecting? A glowing portal? A mysterious stranger appearing from fog? She let out a quiet breath through her nose, embarrassed at herself.

Then finally relaxed against the railing. And for the first time all day— she allowed herself to just exist there quietly. Just cold air against her face and the sound of Seoul breathing softly around her. Maybe that was the point. Not the magic. Not the future. The realization settled unexpectedly deep inside her chest. Then— click.

The sound was small. Almost swallowed by the city noise, but Yeji still turned immediately. A man stood several feet away near the riverside path, lowering a compact camera from his face with mild surprise written across his expression “…Sorry,” he said almost instantly. “You were standing in the light”. Yeji blinked once. Then twice. Not because she recognized him. Because something about the moment suddenly felt familiar in a way she couldn’t explain. Dark hoodie, slightly messy hair from the wind. a camera strap hanging loosely around his neck.

Ordinary. Completely ordinary and yet her chest tightened quietly anyway. The man glanced briefly toward the river again before awkward realization crossed his face.

“Oh.” A beat passed “You probably thought I was photographing you.” “…Were you?” He looked genuinely conflicted for half a second “…A little?”

Yeji stared at him. Then unexpectedly laughed. The man blinked in visible surprise before laughing softly too. And somehow without her realizing it yet— 11:42 PM passed quietly overhead.

The river continued moving quietly beneath the bridge while cold wind drifted through the space between them, carrying faint traces of rain and the distant smell of street food from somewhere farther down the path. The man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “In my defense,” he said carefully, “the lighting actually looked really nice.” Yeji raised an eyebrow immediately. “That sounds exactly what a suspicious person would say.”

“…That’s fair.” Another laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Again— it felt real. The kind that happened too quickly for performance. Something about that realization made her suddenly self-conscious. Yeji adjusted the sleeves of her oversized jacket slightly higher over her hands while the stranger lowered his camera fully this time.

“You photograph random people often?” she asked. “Only accidentally.” “That doesn’t sound reassuring either.” Yeji pointed out. “I’m making this worse.” “A little.”

The corner of his mouth lifted faintly. Warm. Unforced. Yeji felt that strange flicker of familiarity again, the feeling of ease. Which honestly should’ve worried her more considering she was currently standing near a river at midnight talking to a man she didn’t know because of a magical disposable camera.

Maybe she was losing her mind after all. The thought almost made her laugh again. The stranger glanced briefly toward the skyline before speaking again “You came out here alone?” The question should’ve felt invasive. Instead, his tone carried simple curiosity more than anything else. Yeji leaned lightly against the railing again. “Could ask you the same thing”. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before glancing toward the camera hanging against his chest “I walk here sometimes when I can’t sleep”.

That answer felt strangely honest. No attempt to sound interesting. No over-explanation. Yeji found herself nodding slightly before she realized it “…Me too,” she admitted quietly. Not entirely true. But not entirely false anymore either. Silence settled again afterward. The strange part was that it was a comfortable silence.

Normally conversations with strangers required effort, social awareness, politeness, and a whole lot of careful emotional balancing. But standing here now felt weirdly simple. The man eventually looked toward her again “I’m Sion, by the way”. There it was. Something small shifted inside her chest. The soft quiet click of something beginning to make sense emotionally before logic could catch up. Yeji hoped the darkness hid her expression well enough.

“…Yeji.”

Recognition flashed across his face almost immediately this time. Then to his credit— he didn’t make it weird. No startled shouting, he didn’t fumble for his phone. No sudden shift in behavior. Just “Oh…”

Yeji almost visibly braced herself out of instinct. Sion noticed and somehow, that made his expression soften slightly.

“You don’t have to look that worried,” he said quietly. “Sorry, occupational hazard made it a habit.” Yeji defended herself. “That bad?” “You’d be surprised.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again. Then he looked back out toward the river instead of at her. And for some reason, that tiny action relaxed Yeji more than if he’d tried to reassure her directly. Because he wasn’t pretending not to recognize her. But he also wasn’t treating her differently because of it. The distinction felt… rare.

A cold gust of wind swept across the bridge suddenly, pulling loose strands of blonde hair across Yeji’s face. Sion noticed immediately. Without thinking, he lifted the camera hanging from his neck again— then paused halfway. Yeji caught the movement and their eyes met briefly.

“…Sorry,” he said again, quieter this time. The strange thing was— Yeji didn’t actually mind. Not really. Because for the first time in a long while, someone looking at her didn’t feel like being watched. And somehow, that difference felt bigger than it should’ve.

Yeji should’ve left after that. That probably would’ve been the normal thing to do. Instead, she stayed. The conversation drifted naturally after that. Photography, favorite late-night food places, why the river looked different depending on the season.

Simple things.

Sion spoke calmly, like someone used to silence instead of trying to fill it. Yeji found herself relaxing more than she meant to. At some point, he glanced toward the camera in his hands again. “You really don’t mind?”

“The photo?” Yeji asked.  He nodded once. Yeji looked out toward the river. “…I think I’m just tired of every picture of me feeling like it belongs to someone else.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Sion stayed quiet for a second.

“That sounds exhausting.”

No dramatic sympathy. Just understanding. For some reason, that hit harder. A faint vibration buzzed from Yeji’s pocket. Group chat notifications probably. She ignored it immediately. Sion noticed.

“You’re really famous enough to ignore messages like that?” “I’m emotionally prioritizing the river right now.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him. Warm again. Dangerously easy. The wind picked up harder this time, colder against her cheeks. Sion glanced briefly at her exposed hands before reaching into his pocket. A heat pack landed against the railing beside her.

Yeji blinked “…Did you just carry those around?”

“You’d be surprised how often people underestimate winter.” “That’s weirdly thoughtful.” “I get that a lot.”

She smiled despite herself. The city stretched quietly around them after that. Not awkward silence. Just comfortable enough that neither of them felt rushed to leave. Eventually, Sion lifted the camera again. This time slower, giving her enough time to stop him. Yeji looked at him for a second. Then very slightly she nodded.

Click.

The sound settled softly between them. And strangely enough, Yeji didn’t feel watched. She felt remembered.

By the time Yeji finally checked her phone again, it was nearly 1 AM. Twenty-three missed notifications. Five from Ryujin alone. Yeji exhaled quietly. “I should probably go before my members file a missing persons report.” “That serious?” “You don’t know Ryujin.”

Sion laughed softly before slipping his camera back over his shoulder. “Do you want the photo?” Yeji blinked “…You’re giving it to me?”

“You’re in it.” The answer came so naturally it caught her off guard. Sion stepped closer then, pulling the small instant photo from the camera carefully before holding it toward her. Their fingers brushed briefly during the exchange. Small contact. Still enough to make Yeji strangely aware of it.

The image hadn’t fully developed yet, colors still slowly bleeding into shape beneath the bridge lights. Sion watched the process quietly beside her. Then suddenly frowned slightly.

“What?” “…You really do look calmer at night.”

Yeji looked up. His expression remained thoughtful, almost absentminded, like he didn’t realize how personal the observation sounded. Before Yeji could answer, Sion reached into his hoodie pocket again and pulled out a pen.

“What are you doing?” “You’ll see.”

He flipped the developing photo carefully and scribbled something quickly across the back before handing it over again. Yeji narrowed her eyes immediately.

“That’s suspicious behavior.” “It’s called being sentimental.” “That’s somehow worse.” Sion grinned faintly “Read it later.”

And for reasons she didn’t fully understand yet— Yeji actually wanted to.

The note stayed inside Yeji’s hoodie pocket for three days before she finally unfolded it again. “You looked like you could finally hear yourself think here” it was simple. Which somehow made it better.

She still hadn’t decided. The bridge encounter should’ve faded into one of those strange late-night memories people eventually stop thinking about. Instead, Yeji kept catching herself looking for familiar dark hoodies in crowds. Which felt ridiculous. So naturally, she ignored it completely. At least until the noodle shop.

The restaurant appeared almost accidentally after another late practice night. Warm yellow lighting. Wood-paneled walls. Tiny, cramped tables. Yeji stopped walking immediately. Because she recognized it before she consciously understood why. The photo.

Her stomach twisted quietly. For several seconds, she just stood outside staring through the glass while people moved casually inside. And somehow, that unsettled her more than the camera ever had. Then through the reflection of passing headlights— she spotted him.

Sion sat near the back corner booth alone, lazily turning a beer mug between his hands while reviewing photographs spread across the table beside him. Completely ordinary. Like he belonged there. Yeji almost left. Not because she wanted to, because suddenly the situation felt too real. But before she could fully decide, Sion glanced up.

He smiled slightly. Not surprised. Not dramatic. Just a face that spoke “Oh. You’re here too.” without actually saying it. And somehow, that made leaving impossible.

A few minutes later, Yeji found herself sitting across from him inside the exact seat from the photograph while steam curled softly upward between them from two bowls of noodles. “This feels weird,” she admitted eventually.

Sion looked up from separating chopsticks. “The noodles?”

“The… situation.” “That narrows it down significantly.”

Yeji laughed despite herself. Then immediately froze. Because suddenly— she recognized the moment. The photograph had never shown her the future exactly. It showed her how the moment would feel. That realization settled quietly into her chest while Sion continued talking about something involving film cameras and terrible convenience store coffee.

And for the first time since receiving the disposable camera— Yeji stopped feeling like she was chasing something impossible, she was just… living it now.

Sion continued talking while Yeji quietly tried to process the fact that she was somehow sitting inside a photograph she’d once held between trembling fingers at two in the morning “…and instant coffee should honestly qualify as a human rights violation”. Yeji blinked back into the conversation. “That’s dramatic.”

“It’s accurate.” “You’re drinking beer with ramen.” “That’s different.” “How?”

Sion looked genuinely thoughtful for a second before answering “Emotionally.”

That earned another laugh from her. Yeji felt the moment had become dangerous. Not because he was overwhelmingly charming. Not because sparks were flying across the table. Because talking to him felt easy enough that Yeji kept forgetting to protect herself around it.

The noodle shop owner eventually shuffled past their table, setting down another plate without being asked. Sion looked up. “Thank you.”

“You brought a pretty girl this time,” the older man replied casually before walking away again. Yeji nearly inhaled noodles into her lungs. Sion looked significantly calmer about the situation.

“That sounded routine,” she accused once she recovered. “It’s happened twice.” “Twice is enough for a pattern.” “That feels statistically aggressive.”

Yeji shook her head while laughing under her breath again. And then— click. Her eyes snapped upward instantly. Sion lowered the small camera in his hands with absolutely no shame this time. “You’re getting bold.” “You were smiling.” “That’s not a defense.” “It is to me.”

Yeji stared at him for a second longer than necessary “…Can I see it?”. Sion hesitated dramatically. “Depends.” “On?” “Will you judge my artistic integrity?” “I already am.” “That’s devastating.”

He slid the photo carefully across the table toward her anyway. The image hadn’t fully developed yet, colors slowly blooming across the glossy surface beneath the ramen shop lighting. Yeji stared quietly while the shapes sharpened.

There she was again. Mid-laugh. Chopsticks nearby, beer in hand. Eyes crinkled almost completely shut. Unguarded. The realization hit differently now. Because the first time she saw herself like this, it felt impossible. Now—it just felt real.

Her thumb brushed softly across the edge of the photograph. Then she flipped it over instinctively. Sion’s handwriting stretched messily across the back already:

“You look happiest when you forget someone’s looking at you.”

Yeji went very still. The noodle shop suddenly felt too warm. Across from her, Sion was pretending to focus very hard on his drink now, ears slightly red beneath the dim yellow lights. After that, seeing Sion again stopped feeling unlikely. Just strangely natural.

Sometimes they crossed paths after Yeji’s late practices. Sometimes she found him near the riverside with another disposable camera hanging from his neck and sleep deprivation visible beneath his eyes. Other nights he simply appeared beside her life quietly enough that Yeji stopped questioning it.

And somewhere between shared ramen dinners, late-night walks, and polaroids slowly accumulating inside her apartment drawer— the remaining candles kept getting lower.

The remaining candles disappeared faster after that. Not because Yeji suddenly became obsessed with the camera again. Honestly, the opposite happened. The photographs still appeared quiet little glimpses of futures slowly becoming less impossible every day.

Sion asleep against the train window while Yeji’s reflection blurred faintly across the glass. Convenience store dinners at unreasonable hours. A blurry photo of her laughing while trying to steal his hoodie during sudden rain. Some moments hadn’t happened yet— others already had.

Eventually, Yeji stopped trying to separate the difference. Because somewhere along the way, the future stopped feeling distant around him. It just felt close.

The members noticed first, it was inevitable. “You’re happier lately,” Lia mentioned quietly one evening while the others argued over dinner nearby. Yeji looked up immediately. “That sounds suspicious.” “It wasn’t.” “It definitely was.”

Lia only smiled faintly before returning to her food. Which somehow felt more exposing than if she’d teased her directly.

Ryujin figured it out properly two weeks later after discovering an entire stack of polaroids hidden inside Yeji’s practice bag. The screaming lasted almost ten minutes.

“THERE’S A MAN WITH HANDWRITING.” “Lower your voice.” “HE WRITES LIKE HE PAYS TAXES.” “That doesn’t even mean anything.” “It means he’s emotionally stable and I don’t trust it.”

Yuna nearly fell off the couch laughing. Chaeryeong, unfortunately, became emotionally invested immediately after reading one of the notes.

“You looked tired today so I pretended not to notice.”

“Okay, wait,” Chaeryeong whispered dramatically. “That’s actually kind of insane.” “Give it back.” “No, I’m studying him.”

Yeji buried her face into her hands while the members continued aggressively analyzing a man they have never even met. Because eventually inevitably, Sion started existing around them too.

Coffee outside schedules. Accidental late-night dinners. One deeply unfortunate karaoke incident Ryujin would weaponize for the rest of his life. And somehow, Sion handled all of it with terrifying calm.

The scary part was how naturally he fit. Like Yeji’s life had quietly made space for him long before either of them noticed. That realization should’ve comforted her more than it did. Instead— the remaining candles kept bothering her. The camera’s number kept lowering from 13 now it fell to 11.

The lower the number became, the less excited Yeji felt whenever another photograph appeared beside the camera. Because how she understood what the final picture actually meant— an ending. Not to them. To this, to the strange impossible thing that brought Sion into her life in the first place.

And once the final photo appeared— the magic would disappear too. One night, Sion noticed her staring at the camera again from across his apartment couch. “You look nervous every time you hold that thing lately.” Yeji blinked. “…Do I?”

“A little.”

Rain tapped quietly against the windows while dim lamplight stretched across the apartment around them. One of Sion’s hoodies hung loosely from Yeji’s frame while scattered polaroids rested across the coffee table between half-finished drinks.

Yeji looked down at the camera again. Five exposures left. “…What if it stops?” she asked quietly. Sion tilted his head slightly. “Stops what?” She almost answered honestly. “The photos.”

A small silence followed. Then Sion leaned back against the couch cushions, thoughtful. “You know,” he murmured eventually, “I don’t think you look at those pictures the same way anymore.” Yeji looked up slowly. Sion glanced toward the scattered polaroids across the table.

“At first it felt like you were searching for something inside them.” “And now?” His eyes met hers briefly “Now I think you’re scared they’ll stop.”

The accuracy of it stole the breath from her lungs a little. Because he was right. The camera used to feel mysterious. Now it felt temporary, and that terrified her more. Sion’s hand settled quietly over hers before she could retreat too deeply into the thought.

“You know,” he said softly, “I still would’ve met you eventually.” Yeji laughed faintly under her breath. “That sounds statistically impossible.” “I walk the same routes every night.” “You still sound statistically impossible.” “That’s because you’re dramatic.” “I’m literally an idol. It’s part of my job description.”

That earned the quiet smile she’d become embarrassingly attached to over the past few months. Sion’s thumb brushed lightly against the side of her hand. And the room suddenly felt much smaller than it had a few seconds ago.

The rain didn't just fall, it hammered against the glass of Sion’s apartment windows, blurring the neon pulse of Seoul into a smudge of watercolor violets and golds. Inside, the air tasted of old paper, cedarwood, and the lingering scent of the peppermint tea cooling on the coffee table. A single lamp cast a pool of amber light over the living room, leaving the corners in a soft, forgiving haze.

Yeji sat curled on the edge of the fabric couch, her small frame swallowed by one of Sion’s charcoal-grey hoodies. Her fingers traced the plastic casing of the disposable camera. Five exposures left. The number felt like a countdown.

Sion watched her from the opposite end of the sofa. He didn't lean in or crowd her; he simply existed in her space, a grounding presence that made the walls of the apartment feel like a fortress "You're thinking about something negative again." Sion’s voice was a low hum, cutting through the rhythmic drumming of the rain.

Yeji didn't look up. "What if the last photo is just a picture of an empty room? Or a picture of me walking away?" "Why would it be that?" "Because that's how magic works in stories, isn't it? It gives you a glimpse of something beautiful to lure you in, and then it vanishes once the lesson is learned. I'm terrified that once the film runs out, the thread that pulled us together just... snaps."

Sion shifted, the fabric of the couch creaking beneath him. He reached out, his hand covering hers on the camera. His skin was warm, slightly calloused from years of handling equipment. "Yeji, look at me." She lifted her gaze. His eyes weren't searching for the idol, the leader, or the polished image the world consumed. He was looking at the girl who liked her noodles too salty and who forgot to breathe when she was nervous.

"The camera didn't create this," he whispered. "It just pointed the way. I didn't fall in love with a series of polaroids. I fell in love with the way you look when you think no one is watching. That doesn't disappear because a piece of plastic runs out of film."

The honesty in his voice hit her with the force of a physical blow. The tension she had carried for months—the fear of the deadline, the exhaustion of the performance—suddenly fractured. A shaky breath escaped her, and before she could overthink it, she leaned forward, closing the gap between them.

The kiss was hesitant at first, a question asked in the dark. But as Sion’s hand moved from the camera to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, the question became an answer. It tasted of peppermint and desperation.

Yeji moaned softly into his mouth, her hands sliding up his chest to grip the fabric of his shirt. This wasn't the careful, measured affection of their previous encounters. This was a landslide.

Sion pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing hard. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice strained. "I don't want you to feel like you're chasing a photo. I want you to want me." Yeji’s response was to pull him back down, her lips crashing against his with a sudden, fierce hunger.  "I want you," she breathed against his skin, her voice cracking. "God, Sion, I just want you."

The shift in energy was electric. Sion’s hands became more urgent, sliding beneath the hem of the oversized hoodie. Yeji shivered as his palms met the bare skin of her waist, his touch searing. She scrambled to pull the hoodie over her head, tossing it blindly onto the floor. She sat before him in nothing but a thin lace bra and matching panties, her skin pale and luminous in the amber light.

Sion froze for a heartbeat, his gaze roaming over her with a reverence that made her feel more seen than any camera ever had. He didn't comment on her perfection; he simply reached out and traced the line of her collarbone with his thumb. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. "Just... you."

Yeji reached for the buttons of his shirt, her fingers trembling. She popped them open one by one, pushing the fabric off his shoulders to reveal a lean, toned chest. She pressed her palms against his skin, feeling the rapid, thudding rhythm of his heart. It mirrored her own. He stripped her of the lace with slow, deliberate movements, his eyes never leaving hers. When she was completely bare, the cool air of the apartment hit her skin, but the heat radiating from Sion kept her warm.

He leaned forward, kissing the hollow of her throat, then the slope of her shoulder, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Sion shifted, sliding down the couch until he was kneeling between her legs. Yeji gasped, her thighs parting instinctively. He looked up at her, a silent request in his eyes, and she nodded, her fingers tangling in his messy hair.

He leaned in, his breath hot against her inner thigh. Yeji arched her back as his lips brushed against the soft skin, moving higher and higher. When his tongue finally made contact with her clit, a sharp, electric jolt shot through her entire body "Sion..." she whimpered, her head falling back against the cushions.

He didn't stop. He used his tongue in slow, swirling motions, tasting the honeyed sweetness of her arousal. He was patient, observant, treating her body like a masterpiece he was learning to read. He sucked the small, sensitive bud of her clit into his mouth, creating a vacuum that made Yeji’s hips jerk upward. The sound of it—the wet, rhythmic movement of his tongue against her clit towards her folds—filled the quiet room, competing with the rain outside.

He used his fingers to open her further, sliding one finger deep into her wet heat while his tongue continued to flicker relentlessly over her peak.

Yeji was unraveling. She felt the tension building in her lower belly, a coil tightening until it was unbearable. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. "Right there... please, don't stop," she sobbed, her voice a ragged whisper.

Sion increased the pace, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. He could feel her walls pulsing around his finger, the internal muscles clenching in anticipation. He let out a low groan of his own, the scent of her arousal filling his senses. With one final, deep flick of his tongue and a firm press of his finger against her G-spot, Yeji shattered.

Her orgasm hit her in waves, her entire body shuddering as she screamed his name into the empty room. She clung to him, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her vision blurring as the pleasure ebbed slowly, leaving her floating in a haze of warmth.

Sion didn't pull away immediately. He kissed the inside of her thighs, the softness of her skin still humming from the climax. As he sat back on his heels, Yeji looked at him, her eyes glassy and full of love. "My turn," she whispered.

She slid off the couch, kneeling before him. Sion’s cock was hard, straining against the fabric of his trousers. Yeji reached for his belt, her movements slow and purposeful. She slid his pants and boxers down in one motion, freeing him. He was thick and pulsing, her eyes were staring at the tip of his glans.

Yeji leaned in, her breath ghosting over the head of his cock. She started with a slow, teasing lick from the base to the tip, tasting the salt and musk of him. Sion let out a choked sound, his hands finding purchase in her hair. She took him into her mouth, her lips sealing tightly around him. She focused on the ridge of the head, using her tongue to swirl around the sensitive rim before sliding deeper. The sound of her saliva squelching around him filled the space, a visceral, intimate noise that made Sion’s hips twitch.

She used her hand to stroke the base, her grip firm, while her mouth worked the top. She looked up at him through her lashes, watching the way his jaw tightened and his eyes closed in sheer ecstasy. She sucked harder, drawing him in deep, her throat tightening around him.

Sion’s breathing became erratic, a series of broken moans escaping his lips. "Yeji... fuck, you're... you're incredible."

She didn't stop until he reached his limit. With a sharp intake of breath and a low growl, Sion stiffened. Yeji felt the first surge of his orgasm hit the back of her throat, a hot, thick flood of semen. She swallowed it all, refusing to let a single drop go to waste, her tongue swirling around him until the last of the pulses subsided.

They collapsed onto the bed in the adjacent room, the sheets cool against their heated skin. The rain was still falling, but the world outside the bedroom door had ceased to exist.

Yeji climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. She looked down at him, her hair falling around them like a blonde curtain, creating a private sanctuary. She guided his cock to her entrance, the tip brushing against her wet lips. "I want to feel you," she whispered.

She lowered herself slowly. The feeling of him filling her was overwhelming—a slow, stretching pressure that made her eyes flutter shut. She let out a long, shaky exhale as he seated himself fully inside her, their pelvises meeting with a soft, wet thud. Yeji began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, grinding circle. She watched Sion’s face, the way he looked at her with such raw intensity that it felt like he was stripping her soul bare. She picked up the pace, her breasts bouncing with the movement, her nipples rubbing against his chest.

The sound of their bodies interacting—the wet, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin—became the only soundtrack to the night. Yeji leaned forward, pressing her chest against his, her voice a series of soft, needy whimpers in his ear "More... please, Sion, let me feel more." Sion gripped her hips, helping her find the rhythm. He thrust upward, meeting her descent with powerful, driving motions. Each hit felt deeper, more purposeful. Yeji felt the friction building again, the heat between them intensifying until it was a searing brand.

As she reached the peak of her second orgasm, her internal muscles clamped tight around him. Sion groaned, the sensation of her pulsing walls pushing him over the edge. He pulled out at the last second, his body arching as he came in great, hot spurts across her stomach and thighs, the white liquid stark against her skin.

The two of them lay there for a while, tangled together, their breathing syncing up as the adrenaline faded. Yeji rested her head on his chest, listening to the slowing beat of his heart. But the hunger hadn't fully vanished. It had just changed shape.

After a while, Sion shifted, rolling her onto her back. Yeji was still humming from the first two rounds, her body feeling sensitive and overstimulated. "I want you again," he whispered, his voice gravelly. "But I want to be the one to take you this time."

Yeji smiled, her eyes half-closed. "I'm so sensitive, Sion... I don't know if I can."

"Just let me," he murmured. He entered her again, but this time it was different. It was slower, more deliberate. He didn't rush. He moved with a steady, rhythmic precision, his eyes locked on hers. He kissed her deeply, their tongues intertwining, exchanging saliva and breath in a way that felt like they were becoming one person.

The friction was different now—deeper, more emotional. Every thrust felt like a promise. Yeji felt herself building again, but it wasn't the sharp, electric peak of before. It was a slow burn, a steady accumulation of warmth that filled her entire chest.

As the tension reached its breaking point, Sion paused, his breath hitching "Yeji," he warned, his voice strained. "I'm close. I can't...”

Yeji reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down until there was no space left between them. "Stay this time" she whispered, her voice fierce and certain. "I want you inside me. I want to feel everything. Please, Sion... stay."

The request broke the last of his restraint. Sion let out a sound and drove into her one last time, burying himself as deep as possible. As Yeji’s orgasm crashed over her, pulling her into a void of pure sensation, Sion followed her. He groaned her name, his body shuddering violently as he came inside her. Yeji felt the hot, thick pulses of his cum filling her, a physical manifestation of the bond they had forged over months of late-night walks and candid photographs. It was messy, it was visceral, and it was the most honest thing she had ever experienced.

They stayed locked together long after the climax, the silence of the room returning, save for the distant, fading rhythm of the rain.

The morning light was pale and filtered, casting soft grey shadows across the bedroom. Yeji woke up slowly, the warmth of Sion’s body still pressed against her back. He was snoring softly, one arm draped protectively across her waist.

She shifted slightly, feeling the sticky residue of their night together on her skin. For the first time in years, she didn't feel the immediate urge to check her phone. She didn't feel the phantom weight of a schedule or the pressure to be "on."

She looked over at the bedside table. The disposable camera sat there, silent and still. Yeji reached out and picked it up. She looked at the exposure counter.

1.

There was one more left. The mystery that had led her to this room, to this man, has almost reached its conclusion. She waited for the panic to set in. She waited for the feeling of loss, the fear that the thread had finally snapped.

But as Sion stirred behind her, pressing a sleepy, warm kiss to the curve of her shoulder, Yeji realized she didn't care about the camera. She didn't need to see the future in a grainy polaroid because the present was finally enough.

She turned in his arms, smiling as he opened his eyes. "Morning," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "Morning," she replied, pulling him closer.

The camera remained on the table, a relic of a journey that had served its purpose. Yeji closed her eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of the city waking up outside, knowing that the most important moments of her life were the ones that would be with Sion.

The final exposure remained unused for almost a year. Not intentionally at first. Life simply kept happening around them. Schedules. Comebacks. Late-night dinners. Train rides. Polaroids accumulating slowly inside drawers and bookshelves and jacket pockets. And somewhere along the way, Yeji stopped needing the camera to tell her she was happy. Still, she never threw it away.

The old disposable camera stayed tucked carefully inside her apartment drawer beside faded receipts, spare batteries, and small pieces of life that somehow felt too important to lose. Sometimes she caught herself staring at it quietly before leaving for schedules. Sometimes Sion noticed. Neither of them mentioned it much anymore. Maybe because they both already understood.

Yeji’s next birthday arrived quietly. This time, no impossible package or mysterious note waiting outside her apartment door. Just warm apartment lighting, half-finished cake, and Sion standing in the kitchen looking deeply offended at the amount of frosting currently on his sleeve.

“You did that on purpose.” Yeji leaned against the counter laughing softly. “You moved into the spoon.”

“That’s not how physics works.” “You’re statistically impossible anyway.” “That’s your excuse for everything now.” “It’s versatile.”

The apartment windows reflected soft Seoul lights against the dark while music played quietly somewhere in the background beneath the sound of rain tapping lightly outside.

The kitchen itself looked lived-in now. Two mugs in the sink, one of Yeji’s hoodies hanging over a chair, polaroids clipped loosely along the edge of the shelves. Real life. Sion eventually set the cake knife down before reaching toward the counter behind him. Yeji immediately narrowed her eyes.

“…Why are you smiling like that?” “No reason.” “That’s a dangerous answer.”

Sion pulled out a small instant camera from beside the cake. Yeji blinked once. Then laughed quietly under her breath. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I learned from the best.” “That feels factually incorrect.”

Sion only grinned slightly before lifting the camera toward her. “Come here.” Yeji walked around the counter slowly before stopping beside him while candlelight flickered softly between them. “You know,” Sion murmured thoughtfully, “last year you looked like you wanted to survive your birthday.”

“That obvious?” “A little.”

Yeji snorted softly while shaking her head. Sion’s expression softened. “But this year’s better.” Something inside her chest tightened quietly at that. Because he was right. A year ago, birthdays felt exhausting. Heavy. Performative. Now— she was standing barefoot in an apartment kitchen at midnight with frosting on her fingers and someone looking at her like ordinary happiness was enough and somehow— it was.

Sion lifted the camera slightly. “Ready?” Yeji glanced toward him. Then suddenly leaned sideways just enough to smear frosting lightly against his cheek. Sion stared at her in betrayal.

Click. The flash filled the kitchen instantly.

Yeji immediately dissolved into laughter while Sion looked down at the developing photo with visible disappointment.

“You’re evil.” “You love me.” “That’s unfortunately becoming the problem, yes.”

Yeji laughed even harder at that while Sion shook his head beneath his breath before reaching for a pen nearby automatically. The movement made her smile immediately.

“You’re doing it again.” “It’s important.” “You write on literally every photo.” “And?” “And one day historians are going to study your handwriting and think you were emotionally unstable.” “That feels rude considering this is your birthday.”

Yeji leaned lightly against his shoulder while Sion scribbled carefully across the back of the developing polaroid. Then he handed it toward her. The image still hadn’t fully settled yet, Yeji mid-laugh, Sion visibly betrayed, the smoke from the candle moving softly around between them.

Yeji flipped the photo over slowly. Then went quiet.

“You don’t look lonely anymore.”

The words hit harder than she expected. Because somehow after everything— that had been the real thing the camera gave her. Not a magical romance. Just a way back toward herself. Sion noticed her expression immediately. “What?” Yeji looked up slowly before shaking her head once “…Nothing.” but her voice softened anyway.

And later that night, while the city slept quietly outside their apartment and the old disposable camera remained untouched inside the drawer nearby— Yeji realized she no longer felt afraid of the final exposure anymore.

A few weeks later, ITZY’s vacation devolved into chaos almost immediately. Which honestly surprised nobody. “THAT IS NOT HOW SUNSCREEN WORKS,” Chaeryeong shouted across the beach while Ryujin aggressively ignored her.

“I’m improvising.” “You’re dying.” “Creatively.”

Yuna nearly collapsed laughing somewhere behind them while Lia watched the entire situation unfold with the calm expression of someone who already accepted disaster as inevitable. Meanwhile— Sion somehow ended up carrying most of the bags again.

“You absolutely got manipulated into this,” Yeji informed him while walking beside him toward the beachside restaurant. “I realized that around the third tote bag.”

“You could’ve said no.” “I’ve met Ryujin. That was never an option, babe.” “Fair.”

The second they approached the outdoor seating area— “FINALLY.” Ryujin pointed accusingly across the table immediately. Yuna gasped dramatically beside her “Oh my god”. Yeji narrowed her eyes instantly. “Why are you both looking at me like criminals?”

Ryujin leaned back in her chair with the expression of someone about to ruin another person’s day recreationally. “I’m just saying,” she started casually, “you two were suspiciously late.”

“We were fifteen minutes late.” “That’s enough time.”

Yeji froze immediately “…Enough time for what?” Yuna nearly folded over laughing already. Ryujin looked toward the others innocently, her hands making an obviously obscene gesture “I don’t know. Maybe they a quickie before leaving.”

“RYUJIN.” Chaeryeong nearly inhaled her drink while Lia physically turned away trying to hide her laughter. Yuna pointed aggressively across the table “WAIT no because that actually makes sense”

“It does NOT make sense.” “You’re glowing.” “I’m standing in sunlight.” “That’s exactly what guilty people say.”

Sion quietly sat beside Yeji while setting the bags down carefully like this situation had absolutely nothing to do with him. Which somehow made everything worse. Yeji stared at him in betrayal. “You know you could defend me a little here, babe.”

Sion considered this thoughtfully “I think they’ve already made up their minds regardless.”

Ryujin slammed the table triumphantly “HE DIDN’T DENY IT.”

“OH MY GOD,” Chaeryeong shouted immediately.

Lia finally laughed openly into her drink while Yeji buried her face into her hands. And somewhere beneath all the chaos— Sion’s fingers quietly slipped between hers beneath the table. It was instinctive now. Yeji looked over automatically. Sion only smiled slightly. Calm as ever.

Eventually the others wandered farther down the beach toward the food stalls again while the noise slowly faded beneath the sound of waves. Yeji watched them disappear for a moment before exhaling softly through her nose.

“They’re exhausting.” “You love them.” “…Unfortunately.”

Sion laughed quietly beside her while adjusting the tote bag hanging from his shoulder. Then— Yeji paused. Because suddenly she remembered the shape resting inside her own bag.

The disposable camera. Her steps slowed slightly. Sion noticed immediately “What?”. Yeji hesitated before pulling the old camera carefully from her bag. Even now, the worn plastic looked strangely out of place against the bright ocean sunlight around them. A relic from another version of her life.

Sion stared at it for a second “…You still kept it?”. Yeji looked down quietly.

1.

“One left”. The ocean breeze pushed loose strands of blonde hair across her face while silence settled softly between them. Not heavy. Just thoughtful.

A year ago, the number would’ve terrified her. Now it mostly just felt strange. Like standing at the end of a road she’d stopped noticing she was walking. Sion leaned lightly against the railing beside her.

“You know,” he murmured, “part of me thought you’d never use the last one.” “…I almost didn’t.” “But?”

Yeji looked over at him. Really looked at Sion whose face was blasted by the afternoon sun and wind. The familiar softness around his eyes whenever he noticed her staring too long. Then slowly— Yeji smiled “I think this one should be mine.”

Sion’s expression softened almost immediately after that. Before he could answer— Yeji suddenly leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

Click.

The sound felt strangely louder than the ocean for half a second. Sion blinked once in visible surprise while Yeji pulled back laughing softly beneath the sunlight.

“You absolutely planned that.” “Maybe.” “That’s evil.” “You’ll survive.”

Yeji snorted quietly while lowering the camera again. Then— a small mechanical sound followed. The exposure counter shifted slowly.

0.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The ocean continued moving quietly behind them while distant laughter from the members drifted somewhere farther down the shoreline. And strangely enough Yeji didn’t feel sad. Just… full.

The photograph developed gradually between their hands beneath the warm afternoon sunlight. Slightly crooked. A little blurred from movement. Sion caught mid-laugh while Yeji kissed his cheek unexpectedly beside him. It looked messy and alive at the same time. Perfect.

Yeji smiled softly while watching the colors settle into place. Then absentmindedly flipped the polaroid over— and froze.

Sion noticed immediately “What?”. Yeji stared silently at the back of the photograph. Then slowly turned it toward him. The handwriting was already there. Not added afterward. Already there. Two lines that wrote the same words, different handwritings stretched across the back together. Half hers. Half his. Three simple words.

“I love you”

For a second, Sion genuinely looked speechless. Which honestly might’ve been the most impossible thing the camera had done yet. Yeji laughed quietly first. Emotional in a way that settled deep instead of loud.

Sion looked down at the message again before shaking his head faintly beneath his breath. “That thing is still dramatic.” Yeji smiled wider this time “Definitely”.

Then carefully she slipped the final polaroid into Sion’s hand. Not because the story was ending. But because now the memory belonged to both of them.

[afterhours37]

Overworked & Overwanted - Quietly Yours

The Top Floor had mostly settled down for the night by the time I finally made it back to my room. Somewhere outside, I could still faintly hear Yuna laughing loudly at something while Chaeryeong unsuccessfully tried to calm her down. Meanwhile, somebody was playing music quietly from another room down the hall. Surprisingly normal considering the increasingly catastrophic sequence of events that have just occured.

I leaned back against the headboard afterward before glancing down toward my phone again, opening the last message I got from Yeji.

YJ: I’m coming to your room later. Don’t fall asleep first :)

Somehow just reading it again immediately made something in my chest loosen. Then suddenly— another notification appeared across the screen. Different contact this time. Jihyo. Interesting. I opened it immediately. “Are you free for a quick video call? John’s here too.”

Excellent. Parental supervision. I sent her a reply. “Do we have to include John?” an instant reply suddenly pinged before I could get up to turn on my PC “You hurt his feelings…” hilarious.

A few minutes later, my PC rested open on my table while the video call connected successfully. And unfortunately— both of them were already staring at me like emotionally intelligent vultures. “Why do you look exhausted already?” Jihyo asked immediately.

“That sounds emotionally invasive.” “It’s Ben, that is his resting face.” John added helpfully.

I rubbed lightly at my forehead afterward while Jihyo narrowed her eyes slightly at the screen. “Just a bit tired from… recent events.” Meanwhile Jihyo looked seconds away from developing a migraine already. “Anyway,” she continued before John could worsen the situation further, “we just wanted to check how things were going after the comeback schedules.”

I leaned farther back slightly afterward. “Honestly? Better than expected.” That part at least wasn’t a lie. The schedules themselves had gone smoothly. The members looked happier overall. More stable too. Which honestly made the emotional complications significantly harder to justify professionally.

Jihyo seemed to notice the shift in my expression afterward too.

“You’re overthinking again.” “Why does everyone keep saying that.” “It’s not without merit, try smiling more.”

Then eventually John leaned slightly closer toward his camera afterward while narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “You look weirdly happy though?”

“I don’t look happy.” “You absolutely look happy.” “That sounds emotionally fabricated.” “That sounds like denial,” Jihyo added calmly.

Great… Professionally cornered by two emotionally evolved psychopaths. Then before I could continue defending myself— the door behind me quietly opened. Softly enough that I barely noticed at first. But then suddenly— a figure suddenly appeared on my side, carelessly placing themself on my lap while I was sitting in the chair, not noticing I was talking to someone on the PC.

Ah. Excellent timing. Very professionally survivable situation. I froze instantly. Because apparently it was Yeji and had decided subtlety was no longer a priority tonight. “You’re still awake,” she murmured softly against my shoulder afterward before resting her chin lightly there “Good”. Meanwhile— the silence from the PC became catastrophic.

Yeji however remained completely unaware for approximately two more seconds while hugging me comfortably giving John and Jihyo a good show, those two were suspiciously quiet.  “I missed you, Benjie…” she muttered quietly afterward. “The gala was exhausting.” Then finally— she noticed the PC. Yeji’s eyes slowly widen to the realization that both John and Jihyo saw and heard everything.

 Because now Jihyo was staring at the screen with visible secondhand embarrassment, John looked spiritually vindicated, and Yeji had gone completely motionless against my back.  Outstanding. Then eventually John spoke first “…Well.” Nobody answered. Then Jihyo immediately covered part of her face with one hand afterward while visibly trying not to laugh “We’re going to end this call now”. Jihyo left the call before I could defend myself.

Yeji meanwhile looked seconds away from evaporating from existence entirely. Honestly it was a very cute reaction. Then finally before disconnecting, John pointed toward the screen once more “Use protection”.  The call ended instantly afterward. Then slowly— Yeji buried her face into my chest while groaning softly in embarrassment “…I hate both of them.”

The room stayed quiet for another few seconds afterward while Yeji continued hiding her face against my chest like complete bodily disappearance was still a viable survival strategy. Unfortunately for her it was not. I eventually let out a quiet laugh beneath my breath before lightly running one hand through her hair afterward.

“They’re never letting us live that down.” “I’m aware,” Yeji muttered into my shirt immediately. “That sounded emotionally defeated.” “That’s because I just accidentally gave Jihyo unnie and John a live demonstration of my attachment issues.”

I felt her laugh quietly against my chest afterward despite the embarrassment still actively consuming her alive. Then eventually Yeji tilted her head slightly upward afterward before narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously.

“…You think John was serious?” “I refuse to comment on that without context.” “The protection comment.”

I rubbed lightly at my jaw afterward. “That unfortunately sounds exactly like something he’d say seriously and as a joke simultaneously.” Yeji snorted softly afterward before finally relaxing more comfortably against me now, one arm loosely wrapped around my waist while the earlier embarrassment slowly faded. “You make a fair point.”

Then eventually “…How was Ryujin?” That sounded like a very dangerous question. Not because of jealousy. That was the important part. Yeji’s voice hadn’t carried accusation, insecurity, or resentment. Just honest curiosity. I looked down toward her quietly afterward.

“She’s adjusting.” “That sounds evasive.” “That’s because the full answer feels professionally catastrophic.”

Yeji laughed quietly at that. Then eventually she shifted slightly in my lap afterward before speaking again. “She likes you.” Interesting. Very direct observation.

“I’m aware.” “No.” Yeji shook her head lightly afterward. “I mean she really likes you.”

Truthfully, she wasn’t wrong. Ryujin might refuse emotional labels, relationship structure, or softness. But the attachment itself? That was becoming significantly harder to ignore. I exhaled slowly afterward while Yeji watched me carefully now.

“You’re thinking too hard again.” “That sounds familiar.” “That’s because you do it constantly.”

Then eventually Yeji’s expression softened slightly afterward “…I knew something like this was probably going to happen eventually”. There it is. The emotionally devastating honesty. I stayed quiet while Yeji continued absentmindedly tracing small patterns against my shirt now. “I think part of me already accepted it after everything with us happened,” she admitted quietly. “It still feels weird sometimes.” Then immediately afterward “But I don’t hate her.”

“She makes you happy too,” Yeji added softly afterward before finally looking back up toward me again. “Just differently.” That somehow landed significantly harder than expected. Because she understood it completely. Not every detail. Not every complication. But the emotional shape of it? Absolutely yes.

Then suddenly— Yeji shifted slightly in my lap afterward before the corner of her mouth curved faintly upward “…Although”. That word alone immediately felt threatening. I narrowed my eyes slightly.

“That sounded ominous.” “Maybe a little.”

Then before I could ask further— Yeji stood slowly afterward before taking a few steps back from the chair. And only then did I finally notice the subtle nervousness in her expression. Because Yeji almost looked… shy. Then finally she spoke again quieter this time. “I bought something during the gala trip”. I leaned farther back slightly while watching her carefully now.

“That sounds financially dangerous.” “It wasn’t THAT expensive.” “That sounds like a lie already.”

Yeji rolled her eyes softly afterward before looking away for half a second “…It was supposed to be a surprise later.” And then slowly— Yeji reached for the hem of her outer shirt afterward. “…But after hearing about Ryujin…” She bit lightly at her lower lip before laughing softly at herself. “I suddenly don’t feel very patient anymore.”

Yeji stood a few feet away, the dim light of the room catching the nervous flicker in her eyes, her knuckles white. She didn't pull it up immediately. Instead, she lingered there, the fabric bunched in her grip, her gaze flickering from my eyes to the floor and back again. The confidence she had displayed seconds ago—the daring "although"—was evaporating, replaced by a fragile, endearing hesitation.

"You're shaking," I noted. "I'm not shaking. I'm... vibrating with anticipation," she countered, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

She took a sharp breath and lifted the shirt in one fluid motion. Underneath, she wore a set of midnight-black lace that looked like it had been designed specifically to ruin my composure. The bra was a delicate plunge, barely containing the soft swell of her breasts, the lace tracing the curves of her pale skin with surgical precision. Matching panties sat low on her hips, a sheer sliver of fabric that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The contrast of the dark lace against her creamy skin felt like a physical blow to my chest.

Yeji let the shirt fall back down, but she didn't let go of the hem. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and searching, a flush creeping up her neck to stain her cheeks a deep crimson. The seductive persona had completely collapsed, leaving behind the girl who loved me with a terrifying, honest intensity.

"I wanted... I wanted you to remember," she whispered, her voice small. "I know you spent the weekend with her. And I know you... you have that with her. The fire, the challenge. I'm okay with that. I really am." I tried to speak, but she stepped closer, the scent of her perfume—something like vanilla and rain—filling my lungs. "But I wanted to remind you that I'm the one who knows how you take your coffee, when you're doubting yourself despite being composed. I'm the one who knows the exact silence you need when the world gets too loud," she said, her lip trembling slightly. "I don't want to compete with her, Ben. I just want to be the place you come home to. Emotionally. Always."

The analytical part of my brain, the part that categorized every interaction as a professional or emotional risk, simply shut down. I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the sheer weight of the choice she made every single day. She didn't just happen to be in my life; she chose to stay, chose to adapt, and chose to love a man who spent half his time overthinking his own existence. I didn't move. I couldn't. The sight of her—this woman who acted as my emotional anchor, now standing there trembling in lace because she wanted me to remember where my heart always returned—did something to my chest, a pain that felt worse than any physical blow would. I reached out, my hand cupping the back of her neck, pulling her forward until our foreheads touched.

"You think you're reminding me of something I've forgotten," I murmured, my voice rough. Yeji blinked, her long lashes brushing my skin. "Haven't you?" "Yeji, look at me." She shifted her gaze upward.

"I care about everyone in ITZY, but you? I love you and nothing will change that. What I have with them is complicated. But what I feel for you has never been confusing. To Ryujin, what she does with me, to her it's a game, or a way to blow off steam. But you..." I paused, the honesty feeling like a raw nerve. "You're the only person I've ever actually let inside. I love you. Not because of what you do for me, but because of who you are. Because you're the only person in this entire chaotic ecosystem who makes me feel like I don't have to perform. I love how you always choose me, and I’m sorry that I haven’t said it until now. But I love you, and I will always choose to love you."

Yeji’s breath hitched. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. She didn't sob; she just leaned into me, her body molding against mine, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "You really mean that," she breathed. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

I didn't give her time to overthink it. I tilted her head back and captured her lips in a kiss that tasted of desperation and relief. It wasn't the kind of kiss that sought to conquer; it was a homecoming. My tongue slid against hers, tasting the salt of her tear, our breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Yeji let out a soft, needy whimper, her arms winding around my neck, pulling me closer as if she feared I might vanish if she loosened her grip.

The tension that had been building since the video call snapped. The desire was there, thick and heavy, but it was wrapped in a layer of profound tenderness. Yeji pulled back just an inch, her eyes hazy with love and lust. She sank to her knees in front of me, the movement slow and deliberate. She didn't look away this time. With steady fingers, she reached for the button of my trousers.

"I want to take care of you," she whispered. She slid my pants and boxers down in one motion, freeing my dick. It sprang forward, already hard and leaking a bead of clear pre-cum that glistened under the room's dim lighting. Yeji gazed at it for a moment, her expression one of pure adoration. She leaned in, her warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of my cock, making me quietly moan through my teeth.

Then, she wrapped her lips around me. The sensation was electric. Yeji didn't just suck; she used her tongue to swirl around the rim of the glans, her mouth creating a tight, wet vacuum that threatened to undo me instantly. I groaned, my fingers digging into her shoulders, grounding myself as she slid deeper, taking the length of my shaft into the warmth of her throat.

The sounds filled the room—the wet, rhythmic sound coming of her lips sliding against my skin, the soft squelch of saliva as she increased the suction. She looked up at me while she worked, her eyes hooded, her cheeks hollowing as she pulled. I could feel the muscles of her throat pulsing around me, a tight, rhythmic squeeze that drove me toward the edge.

"Yeji... fuck, Yeji," I gasped, my head falling back against the chair.

She didn't stop until I was shaking, my hips involuntarily thrusting into her mouth. Just as the first wave of climax threatened to break, she pulled away with a playful, wet pop. She stood up, her lips glistening with my pre-cum, a triumphant smile on her face. "Not yet," she whispered.

She stripped out of her remaining clothes with a slow, agonizing grace. The black lace fell to the floor, leaving her completely naked. Yeji’s breasts were perfect, her nipples supple and erect, peaking in the cool air. Between her legs, her pussy was already glistening, a sliver of pink flesh peeking through a dusting of soft hair, drenched in her own arousal.

I stood up, my hunger now an ache. I grabbed her waist and lifted her, her legs instinctively locking around my hips. I crashed my lips onto hers again, our tongues battling for dominance, swapping saliva in a messy, passionate exchange. I carried her to the bed, laying her down on the sheets, but I didn't stop kissing her. I trailed my lips down her jaw, her neck, and then lower, my tongue circling one nipple before sucking it deep into my mouth. Yeji arched her back, a loud moan escaping her as she gripped my hair. "Ben... please. Now. I need you inside me."

I moved between her legs, my cock brushing against her soaking wet folds. The scent of her—musk and sweetness—was intoxicating. I didn't just plunge in; I teased her, rubbing the head of my penis against her clit, dragging it through the creaminess of her juices. "You're so wet for me," I whispered against her ear. "Because I love you," she whimpered. "Please, Ben. Fill me up." I gripped her thighs, pinning them back to the point her legs were point up, and pushed inside.

The fit was perfect. The walls of her pussy clamped around me, hot and tight, welcoming me home. I let out a long, shuddering breath, burying my face in the crook of her neck. We stayed still for a moment, just feeling the connection, the physical manifestation of everything we had just confessed.

I began to move, slow and deep. Every thrust was a promise. I focused on the sensation of my glans hitting her cervix, the way her internal muscles rippled and contracted around me with every slide. The sounds of our bodies interacting were visceral—the wet slap of my balls hitting her perineum, the air being pushed out of her as she gasped for breath. I shifted my position, rolling her onto her side and pulling her back against my chest, my arm hooked under her neck. I entered her from behind in a modified spooning position, allowing me to reach around and stimulate her clit with my thumb while I drove into her.

Yeji let out a high-pitched scream, her body shuddering. "Oh god, right there! Ben, right there!" I accelerated the pace, my thrusts becoming more urgent, though I never stopped kissing her shoulder, her neck, her cheek. I wanted her to feel me everywhere. I could feel her peaking, the walls of her vagina beginning to pulse in violent, rhythmic spasms.

"I'm... I'm coming!" she cried out, her voice breaking. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave. Her entire body stiffened, her pussy gripping me with an intensity that nearly pushed me over the edge. I felt her release, the internal contractions milking my shaft, drawing the seed out of me. I surged forward, burying myself as deep as possible. I came with a violence that left me breathless, my cock pulsing inside her as I flooded her womb with hot, thick ropes of cum. I felt every spurt, the warmth of the liquid filling her, bonding us in the most primal way possible. Yeji whimpered, her head falling back against my chest, her breath coming in ragged sobs of pleasure.

We lay there for a long time, the only sound the synchronized thumping of our hearts. I didn't pull out; I wanted to stay connected, to feel the slow ebb of the climax. "I love it when you do that," Yeji whispered, her voice thick with exhaustion. "When you stay inside."

"I'm not going anywhere," I replied, kissing the top of her head.

But the fire hadn't fully died. As the minutes passed, the friction of our skin and the lingering warmth of the semen inside her reignited the spark. I felt myself stirring again, my cock refusing to soften, still humming with desire. Yeji felt it too. She shifted, turning in my arms to face me, her eyes shimmering. She reached down, her fingers tracing the line of my hip. "Again," she breathed. This time, it was different. The desperation was gone, replaced by a slow, luxurious hunger. I pushed her onto her back and knelt over her, my movements deliberate. I kissed her deeply, our tongues intertwining in a slow, rhythmic dance that mirrored the movement of my hips.

I entered her again, the lubrication of my first climax making the slide effortless. We moved together in a seamless harmony, a slow grind that focused on the friction of our pubic bones rubbing together. I watched her face—the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way she bit her lip to keep from screaming. "You're mine," she whispered, her voice a command and a plea. "Emotionally, spiritually... always mine."

"Always," I groaned, increasing the speed. The tension built again, but this time it felt more expansive, more fulfilling. Yeji’s second orgasm was slower, a rolling wave of pleasure that seemed to vibrate through her entire frame. She clung to me, her nails digging into my back, her voice calling my name like a prayer.

As she peaked, I followed her. I felt the build-up in the base of my spine, the inevitable rush. I thrust one last time, pinning her to the mattress, and released a second torrent of cum deep inside her. I felt the heat of it, the sheer volume of it spilling over, filling her to the brim. I collapsed on top of her, my weight supported by my elbows, breathing hard. We were both drenched in sweat, our skin slick and smelling of sex and love.  Yeji wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling my face down to hers for one final, lingering kiss. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but one of peace. "I feel... safe," she murmured, her eyes closing.

I tightened my hold on her, burying my face in her hair, the scent of vanilla and rain now mixed with the musk of our union. The world outside—the schedules, the other girls, the professional chaos—felt miles away. In the silence of the room, there was only the two of us, and the quiet, absolute certainty that no matter how complicated the ecosystem became, this was the only place I ever wanted to be.

Yeji stayed there quietly for a while afterward, still tangled against me beneath the sheets while my fingers traced slow patterns along her bare back absentmindedly. The room smelled faintly of sweat, perfume, and rain from the earlier storm outside. Somewhere beyond the curtains, the city continued moving like nothing important had happened tonight.

Meanwhile my entire emotional stability had probably just permanently relocated into the woman currently half-asleep on my chest. Dangerous development honestly.

“You’re staring again,” Yeji murmured quietly without lifting her head. “That sounds emotionally fabricated.” “You stopped blinking for like ten seconds.” “I was appreciating the view.” “That’s worse.”

I smiled faintly afterward before tightening my arm around her slightly again. Yeji only huffed softly in response before lazily tracing small circles against my chest with her fingertips. Comfortable silence settled afterward. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just warm. Eventually though, Yeji shifted slightly before letting out a small reluctant sigh.

“I should probably go back to my room before the others wake up.” “No.” Yeji lifted her head immediately afterward, visibly amused already. “No?” “Stay.” “Ben.” “I’m serious.”

She laughed quietly under her breath before resting her chin lightly against my chest again. “You say that now until Ryujin starts emotionally harassing you over breakfast.” “I can survive Ryujin.” “You say that like she didn’t psychologically dismantle you two nights ago.” “That was one time.” “I doubt that.” “Emotionally unnecessary thing to bring up right now.”

Yeji grinned against my skin before trying to sit up slightly only for me to immediately pull her back down against me again. She let out a surprised laugh afterward while I buried my face into her hair once more.

“Ben.” “No. I like this.” “You’re clingy after sex.” “You’re emotionally rewarding after sex. This is your fault.” “That’s not how accountability works.” “Feels correct to me.”

Yeji snorted softly afterward before relaxing back against me fully again despite herself. I could already tell she wanted to stay too. Honestly she was holding onto me just as much at this point. Then eventually she spoke again, quieter this time. “You know… John did tell you to use protection.”

I groaned immediately. “Please don’t bring John into this bed.” Yeji laughed properly this time, shoulders shaking lightly against me. “I’m serious though. What would you even do if I got pregnant?” I stared toward the ceiling for approximately two seconds afterward.

“Then I guess we’re disappearing together.” Yeji blinked once before immediately bursting into laughter against my chest again. “That answer came out way too fast.” “I already committed emotionally. Might as well commit to disappearing from public society too.” “That’s concerning.” “I’d do great actually. I could raise goats somewhere.” “You can barely take care of yourself.” “Unbelievable lack of faith from ITZY’s leader.” “You’re the one talking about vanishing into the mountains because of one hypothetical baby.” “Not hypothetical. Our hypothetical baby.”

Yeji made another offended sound somewhere between laughter and embarrassment before lightly hitting my chest. “That somehow made it worse.”

“You asked.” “You answered too confidently.” “Well yeah.” I glanced back down toward her afterward, fingers brushing lightly through her hair again. “It’s you.”

The teasing in Yeji’s expression softened slightly afterward. Then slowly— she tucked herself closer against me again. Honestly that alone almost destroyed me emotionally.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured quietly. “You love me.” “…Unfortunately.” “That sounded very emotionally dishonest.”

Yeji smiled faintly before finally tilting her head upward just enough to kiss me softly once more. Slow. Warm. Unhurried. Then afterward she rested her forehead lightly against mine. “I want to stay.” That honestly hit harder than the sex somehow. So instead of answering immediately, I simply tightened my arms around her again before pulling the blanket higher around us both.

Outside, the city lights continued flickering quietly through the rain while somewhere down the hall the building remained silent for once. No schedules. No chaos. No emotional disasters yet waiting outside the room. Just Yeji beside me. And for tonight at least— that was enough.

I woke up the next morning to warmth. Not metaphorically either. Actual warmth. Because sometime during the night, Yeji had somehow completely attached herself to me in her sleep. One leg tangled with mine beneath the sheets while her arms stayed loosely wrapped around my waist, face buried against my chest comfortably like she belonged there.

For a few seconds I simply stayed there quietly, fingers brushing lightly through her hair while soft morning light filtered through the curtains. The rain from last night had already stopped sometime during the early morning hours, leaving the room calm and unusually peaceful. Then eventually Yeji stirred slightly against me before letting out a sleepy sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

“…Why are you awake already?” “That sounds accusatory.” “You’re staring again.” “I’m appreciating the emotional consequences of my life choices.” “That sounds dramatic.” Yeji smiled faintly without opening her eyes yet.   “It’s accurate.”

She finally looked up at me afterward, still visibly half asleep while her hair remained completely ruined against the pillow. Honestly adorable enough to permanently alter my decision making abilities. Then slowly— her expression softened again. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I murmured back quietly.

For a while neither of us moved again. Just laying there comfortably while Yeji lazily traced shapes against my shirt absentmindedly. The kind of silence that only really exists when two people stop trying to be anything around each other. Eventually though reality returned unfortunately. “We should probably get up,” Yeji murmured quietly afterward. “Ryujin and Lia are probably awake already.”

“That sounds like a future problem.” “You say that until Ryujin starts making comments.” “I survived John. I can survive Ryujin.” “That’s not remotely the same threat level.”

Still— neither of us actually moved for another several minutes anyway. Eventually Yeji sat up first, stretching lightly before immediately realizing she was still wearing one of my shirts from last night. She looked down at herself briefly before glancing back toward me afterward.

“…You’re smiling again.” “I’m having a very normal reaction.” “You look emotionally compromised.” “That sounds medically serious.” “It should be.”

Yeji laughed softly afterward before climbing off the bed completely while I watched her walk toward the bathroom. Honestly that alone almost restarted several problems immediately.

A while later, after both of us managed to become at least somewhat presentable for society again, Yeji quietly slipped her hand into mine the moment we stepped out into the hallway. That somehow affected me more than expected too. The Top Floor itself remained unusually quiet for once when we entered the kitchen area afterward. Only two people were currently there.

Ryujin sat sprawled lazily across one of the chairs while eating cereal directly from the box with absolutely zero shame. Meanwhile Lia stood near the counter preparing coffee quietly while still dressed comfortably from her day off. Both of them looked up the exact moment Yeji and I walked in holding hands.

Ryujin blinked once. Then slowly lowered the cereal box “…Wow,” she finally muttered afterward. “You two stopped pretending fast.” Yeji only smiled calmly before squeezing my hand slightly. “We were already terrible at hiding it.”

“That’s true actually,” Lia added quietly while trying—and failing slightly—not to smile into her coffee. Meanwhile I considered turning around and professionally evaporating from existence. Ryujin however looked entirely too amused now. “So.” She leaned back farther into her chair afterward while gesturing vaguely between the two of us. “Are we emotionally labeling things now or are we still pretending this is a workplace environment?” “Ryujin,” Yeji warned lightly. “What? I’m trying to understand the ecosystem.” “That somehow made it sound worse.” “It IS worse.”

Then eventually Ryujin shrugged lightly afterward before grabbing another handful of cereal. “For the record,” she continued casually, “I’m not trying to steal your boyfriend, Yeji.” I nearly choked on air. Yeji however remained surprisingly calm. Ryujin continued before anybody could recover emotionally.

“I just happen to enjoy getting my brain reset by him.” “Jesus Christ,” I muttered immediately. “That’s honestly the cleanest way to describe it.”

Lia physically covered part of her face afterward while laughing quietly into her cup. Meanwhile Yeji sighed softly before leaning slightly against my shoulder. “I already figured eventually everyone would need something different from him,” she admitted quietly afterward. “I just didn’t expect things to escalate this fast.” That immediately shifted the atmosphere slightly. Then eventually silence settled briefly again before Lia spoke unexpectedly.

“I don’t think it’s admiration anymore.” Everybody looked toward her afterward. Lia remained calm externally, though I noticed the way her fingers tightened slightly around her mug afterward. “And honestly…” she continued softly, “…I’ve been trying very hard not to think about that.”

Ryujin immediately understood. “You were doomed the second he started emotionally checking on you,” she muttered casually before eating another piece of cereal.

“Ryujin.” “I’m right.”

Unfortunately she absolutely was. Then slowly— Yeji looked toward Lia afterward, expression softening slightly. “I already knew,” she admitted quietly. Lia looked up immediately. Yeji smiled faintly afterward. “You look at him the same way I do sometimes.”

The silence afterward became devastatingly gentle. The most terrifying part was that nobody in the room seemed angry about it anymore. Lia looked like she regretted saying it aloud almost immediately afterward. Not because anybody reacted badly. Because neither Ryujin nor Yeji looked shocked anymore. If anything, the two of them looked like they had quietly reached the same conclusion long before Lia herself allowed the thought to fully settle in her head.

Meanwhile I was currently experiencing what could only be described as a professionally catastrophic amount of emotional awareness before breakfast. Lia let out a small breath afterward before lowering her gaze briefly toward the mug in her hands. “I know what you two are,” she admitted softly. “And I know things are already complicated enough.” She smiled faintly afterward, though there was something tired beneath it. “I wasn’t planning on saying anything.”

Ryujin immediately pointed toward her with the cereal box. “See? That right there is exactly why you were doomed.”

“Can you stop saying doomed like we’re discussing a terminal illness?” “I’m emotionally committed to the phrasing now.”

Yeji meanwhile remained leaning lightly against my shoulder before eventually speaking again. “You don’t have to feel guilty for feeling something, Lia.” That made Lia visibly pause. The way Yeji said it carried absolutely no resentment. Which somehow made the entire conversation feel even heavier emotionally. Lia laughed quietly under her breath afterward. “That’s unfortunately the problem.”

“What is?” Yeji pressed on, Lia hesitated briefly before answering. “That part of me feels relieved hearing you say that.”

Yeji understanding meant Lia no longer had to keep emotionally suffocating herself pretending nothing was happening. Ryujin noticed it immediately too. “You really like him,” she muttered casually. Lia immediately looked horrified. “Ryujin.”

“What? We’ve already emotionally detonated the conversation. There’s no reason to act subtle anymore.” “She has a point,” Yeji admitted softly. “I hate that both of you are weirdly calm about this.” I pointed out. “That’s because you’re the only one still trying to emotionally behave,” Ryujin replied instantly. Brutal but accurate.

Lia sighed quietly afterward before finally looking toward me directly for the first time since the conversation started. And immediately I understood why this felt so much heavier than Ryujin’s situation. Because Ryujin looked at me physically. Lia looked at me like she was trying not to emotionally fall any farther than she already had. “I’m trying to be realistic,” Lia admitted quietly afterward. “I know you love Yeji.”

My chest tightened slightly at how plainly she said it. Then slowly— Lia smiled faintly again. “But I think part of me still wanted to know if it was okay to feel this way anyway.” The room fell quiet afterward. The fact that Lia sounded more worried about hurting Yeji than herself almost made the entire situation worse emotionally.

Then finally Yeji stepped away from my side slightly before walking closer toward Lia. “You know what the funny part is?” Yeji murmured softly afterward. Lia blinked once. “What?”

“I think I stopped being surprised a long time ago.” That caught all three of us off guard honestly. Yeji laughed quietly afterward before folding her arms loosely across her chest. “I already accepted a while ago that Ben was eventually going to become emotionally important to everybody here in different ways.” She glanced briefly toward Ryujin afterward. “Some more physically catastrophic than others.”

“I still think that’s emotionally disrespectful phrasing.” Ryujin trying to act hurt. “You literally described it as getting rammed so hard that your brain resets.” “Fair.”

Then eventually Yeji looked back toward Lia again. “And honestly?” she continued softly, “if somebody else was going to understand him the way I do…” her smile softened slightly afterward, “…I’m glad it’s you.” That completely broke whatever emotional composure Lia still had left. The kind of expression somebody makes when they’ve been carrying guilt for too long and suddenly somebody removes part of the weight without warning.

Meanwhile I stood there, completely emotionally unequipped to handle the sudden shift in the room. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the kitchen, replaced by a heavy, humming awareness that made the hair on my arms stand up. I was the only one in the room currently experiencing a total system failure.

Ryujin noticed immediately. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes dancing with a predatory sort of glee. “You look like your brain just blue-screened, Ben,” she noted, her voice dripping with amusement. “That’s because all of you are terrifying,” I replied, my voice sounding an octave higher than I intended. “Emotionally? Or generally?” Ryujin pressed. “Yes.”

That finally made Lia laugh properly. It wasn’t the polite, reserved chuckle she usually employed; it was a genuine, melodic sound that softened the edges of the tension. She turned her gaze toward Ryujin, her expression one of elegant, calculated curiosity. “So,” Lia began, her voice calm but carrying a distinct edge of interest, “are you going to keep everything to yourself, or are you going to tell us what you did to the poor man when you took him hostage during the weekend?”

I immediately pointed a finger at Lia, my eyes wide. “See? This is exactly why emotional honesty was a mistake. I’m being framed as a victim in my own life.”

“Nobody asked you,” Ryujin replied instantly, not even glancing my way.

The movement was subtle, but I felt it. Yeji slowly turned toward Ryujin. It wasn't the look of a suspicious girlfriend; it was worse. It was the look of a lead investigator arriving at a crime scene involving her favorite person. Her eyes narrowed, her focus sharpening until Ryujin was the only thing in her field of vision.

“So something DID happen,” Yeji muttered, her voice low and dangerously curious. “Obviously something happened,” Lia added helpfully, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

Ryujin looked completely shameless. She didn't flinch; she thrived. She just shrugged, her shoulders moving in a slow, casual motion that suggested she had all the time in the world to dismantle my dignity.

“That silence somehow made it worse,” I muttered. “It should,” Ryujin countered. I didn't wait for another prompt. I immediately started backing away toward the hallway, my hands raised as if I were retreating from a live bomb. “Nope. Absolutely not. I am professionally removing myself from this conversation for the sake of my remaining sanity and my employment contract.”

I almost made it. I was three steps away from the sanctuary of the hall when a hand clamped around my wrist with the precision of a steel trap. I looked down to see Yeji’s grip, her fingers locking around me. It was an outstanding betrayal from my beloved. “Sit back down,” she commanded.

“I actually have a work email I need to— I think there's a crisis with the stylists— I might have left a stove on in a house I don't even live in—”

Yeji didn’t even let me finish. She didn't raise her voice, but she gave me the coldest, most focused smile I had ever seen. It was the smile of a leader who had already won the war and was now just deciding how to distribute the spoils.

“Benjie, my love,” she interrupted calmly, “sit down.” The fight left me instantly. I slumped back into the seat beside her, my shoulders dropping in total defeat.

“Yes, babe. Whatever you want.”

I felt the weight of the moment. This was it. The exact second I realized I had been fully domesticated. Ryujin lost her composure entirely, letting out a loud, barking laugh that echoed off the kitchen tiles.

“Wow, hasn’t been an entire day and Yeji already has you on a leash,” Ryujin wheezed, pointing at me. I looked at Yeji, then back to Ryujin, and leaned into the absurdity of it.

“Oh yeah she does,” I admitted, pointing a thumb toward Yeji. “And I also bark for treats. I can do a little dance if the mood is right.”

Ryujin doubled over, her laughter becoming a series of breathless snorts, while Lia physically covered part of her face with her hand, though her eyes were crinkling with mirth. Yeji, meanwhile, looked horrifyingly pleased with herself. She leaned into me, a smug warmth radiating from her. “As you should,” she replied calmly. “This relationship has become psychologically dangerous,” I sighed, leaning my head back against the chair.

“That sounds like accountability,” Ryujin managed to choke out. Eventually, Lia looked back toward Ryujin. The humor was still there, but the curiosity had won. She leaned forward, her chin resting on her hand, her gaze fixed on the other girl.

“So seriously,” Lia continued, her voice returning to that soft, probing tone, “what exactly happened during that weekend?”

“I’m seriously leaving now,” I announced, attempting to slide out of the chair again. “No you’re not,” Yeji replied without even looking at me, her hand simply returning to my wrist to anchor me in place. “See, this is emotional imprisonment. I’m calling a lawyer. I’m calling the union.” “Benjie, heel.” “Yes, ma’am.”

Ryujin looked like she was seconds away from falling out of her chair. She finally leaned back, shrugging casually, her eyes flickering toward me with a memory that made my stomach flip. “Well,” Ryujin started, her voice taking on a narrative quality, “We drank. We argued. We fought for dominance a little.”

Lia blinked once. Yeji’s eyes narrowed further, her focus intensifying. “…You make that sound significantly more concerning than it should,” Yeji noted.

“It got competitive,” Ryujin added. “That somehow made it worse,” I muttered.

Ryujin looked entirely too entertained. She shifted in her seat, her voice dropping an octave, becoming more visceral.

“You should’ve seen how rough he was after the third round,” she said, her voice devoid of any hesitation. “RYUJIN,” I hissed, my face heating up.

“He had his way with me,” she replied shamelessly. She paused, glancing at me and then back to the girls, trying to put on a face of mock-fragility. She fluttered her eyelashes, her voice becoming a forced, breathy whisper. “I was just… a poor, helpless girl, completely overwhelmed by his… intensity. I couldn't help it. I was simply swept away by the tide of his masculinity.”

Lia let out a small, skeptical snort. It was a terrible performance; Ryujin looked less like a damsel in distress and more like a predator describing her favorite meal.

“You drained the life out of me,” I countered. “That’s not how my body remembers it,” Ryujin replied, her voice returning to its usual bluntness. “Oh my God,” Lia muttered, laughing into her coffee, though she didn't look away.

Yeji had gone suspiciously quiet beside me. The silence was heavy, a sudden vacuum of sound that felt more dangerous than any of Ryujin's shouting. Slowly, very slowly, Yeji looked toward Ryujin.

“…Wait,” Yeji said.

That tone made me freeze. It was the tone she used when she found a flaw in a choreography that needed to be fixed immediately. Ryujin smirked. This was mutual psychological warfare, and I was the battlefield.

“You let him throw you around that much?” Yeji asked carefully. Ryujin shrugged, her eyes gleaming. “I got curious.”

“That is NOT the wording to use,” I groaned. “And?” Yeji pressed.

Ryujin grinned, resting her chin in her hand. “And honestly? It was kind of insane. At first, I thought I could handle him. I thought I could keep the lead. I was riding him, trying to set the pace, thinking I had him figured out. But then the switch flipped. He didn't just take control; he seized it. He flipped me over like I weighed nothing, pinned my wrists above my head, and just… hammered into me. No more games. No more teasing. Just this raw, punishing rhythm that had me sobbing into the pillows.”

I wanted to professionally disappear. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. But the girls were leaned in now, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifting from comedic to electric.

“He wouldn't even let me breathe,” Ryujin continued, her voice becoming more detailed, more graphic. “The sound was the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. Just this constant, wet squelching every time he drove deep, the slap of his skin against mine. He didn't just fuck me; he claimed me. He had me on all fours in front of a mirror, forcing me to watch as he buried himself in me over and over again. I could see my own face in the glass—eyes rolled back, mouth open, completely broken. He spanked me until my skin was humming, and every time I tried to protest, he just drove deeper, hitting my cervix with a bluntness that made my brain go completely blank.”

Lia’s coffee cup stopped halfway to her mouth. Her eyes were wide, her breathing becoming a bit shallower. She was no longer just observing; she was visualizing.

“And the cum,” Ryujin added, her voice a low purr. “He didn't pull out. Not once when it mattered. He just kept filling me up. I could feel the heat of it pulsing deep inside me, over and over. By the end of the night, I felt like I was made of his cum. I was a complete mess, drenched in it, and the best part was that he didn't stop. Even in the morning, the second I woke up, he was already hard. I tried to be the one in control, tried to wake him up with my mouth, but he just took over again. He used my throat like a toy until I was gagging and watering, and then he just… erupted. It was everywhere. My face, my chest. I looked like a painting of absolute ruin.”

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared straight ahead, my jaw clenched, wondering if it was too late to flee to a remote village in the Alps and raise goats.

Yeji was motionless. She wasn't looking at me; she was staring at Ryujin, her pupils blown wide. There was a mix of shock and a very specific, shimmering kind of envy in her eyes. She wasn't jealous that Ryujin had been with me; she was envious of the sheer, mind-numbing pleasure Ryujin had described.

“He… he did all that?” Yeji whispered, her voice sounding slightly strained. “Every bit of it,” Ryujin replied, looking entirely too proud of herself. “He’s a beast when he stops thinking. You should see him when he stops being the ‘manager’ and starts being the man.”

Yeji slowly turned her head to look at me. The gaze was different now. It wasn't just love; it was a hunger that made my pulse spike. She looked at me as if she were seeing a stranger—or a version of me she had only glimpsed in fragments.

“…You know,” Yeji murmured, her voice a soft, dangerous caress as she glanced at me. “I kind of wish you’d lose control like that with me sometimes.”

My brain didn't just blue-screen; it suffered a total hardware failure. Lia actually choked on her coffee, a small spray of liquid hitting the counter, while Ryujin lost it, laughing so hard she nearly fell off her chair again.

I stared at Yeji in complete emotional betrayal. “Babe, you can’t just ask me to manhandle you in bed like that in front of others!” I exclaimed, my voice a mixture of horror and desperation. “Benjie, please,” Yeji replied, her smile innocent but her eyes predatory. “The people who heard that already know. There's no point in modesty now.”

“That doesn’t make it safer!” Yeji smiled, leaning her weight against my shoulder, her warmth seeping through my shirt. “What?” she asked calmly. “I’m just saying it sounds fun. The idea of you… just taking over. No thinking. No professionalism. Just you and me.”

“Fun,” I repeated weakly. I felt like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, and Yeji was the one gently pushing me off. Ryujin, meanwhile, looked spiritually vindicated. She leaned back, crossing her arms with a satisfied grin.

“Oh, he is STRUGGLING,” she announced to the room. “I hate all of you,” I muttered. “No you don’t,” Lia replied immediately, her voice returning to its calm, melodic tone, though there was a new, shimmering heat in her eyes as she looked at me.

Lia laughed softly into her drink, her gaze lingering on my lap for a second too long before returning to my eyes. Yeji, however, didn't look away. She stayed pressed against me, her mind clearly already running through a list of "experiments" for the next time we were alone.

A few days later, the Top Floor had settled back into something dangerously close to normal again. Which, in hindsight, only made the whole thing feel more suspicious.  The schedules leading toward Waterbomb preparations had gradually started taking over everybody’s routines.

It was a whirlwind of chaos: outfit fittings that lasted six hours, rehearsals that left them drenched in sweat, frantic calls with stylists, and the kind of high-tension group discussions about stage arrangements that usually ended with someone sighing in defeat. It was the usual professional storm ITZY survived every comeback cycle, and I was, as always, the one holding the umbrella.

Meanwhile, the emotional ecosystem underneath the Top Floor had quietly become catastrophic. Yeji had grown more openly affectionate around me when the others weren’t around. It started with small things—resting her head on my shoulder during five-minute breaks, casually stealing my drinks without asking, or holding my hand briefly whenever we crossed paths alone in the hallway. It was as if the conversation in the kitchen had unlocked a door she hadn't known was there. She didn't just want the emotional anchor; she wanted the fire.

And Ryujin? Ryujin had somehow become worse. She had decided that physically invading my personal space was now a constitutional right. It didn't matter where I was. If I was sitting on the couch, Ryujin would arrive and simply displace me, shoving me to the side to take my spot. If I was in a lounge chair, she’d practically climb into my lap just to reach the remote.

One afternoon, I was sitting in the common area, trying to review the final setlist for Waterbomb, when Ryujin wandered over. Without a word, she stepped between my legs and sat directly on my thighs, leaning back against my chest and stealing my tablet right out of my hands. “You’re doing it again,” I sighed, my voice muffled by her hair. “Doing what?” she asked, scrolling through the list with an expression of total indifference. “Treating me like a piece of ergonomic furniture.”

Ryujin shrugged, her back arching slightly against my chest in a way that felt entirely too deliberate. “Consider it the trade-off every time you make it difficult for me to walk. This is your responsibility now. You broke the machine, Ben. Now you have to provide the seating.” I looked up at the ceiling, wondering if any of this was covered under my health insurance.

“I’m a manager,” I whispered to the empty room. “I am a professional. I have a degree in psychology.” “You’re a footstool,” Ryujin corrected, her voice smug.

Just then, Yeji walked into the room. She stopped, her eyes landing on Ryujin perched on my lap. A few weeks ago, this might have caused a flicker of tension. Now? Yeji just smiled. It was a slow, knowing smile that told me she wasn't bothered—she was just calculating.

“Is he being a good footstool, Ryujin?” Yeji asked, her voice light and playful. “The best,” Ryujin replied, glancing back at me with a wink. “Though he’s a bit stiff. I think he needs another ‘reset’ soon.”

I felt Yeji’s gaze shift to me. The look was heavy, suggestive, and entirely too focused.

“I agree,” Yeji murmured, her eyes darkening. “I think we should schedule some… overtime.”

The air in the common area didn't just thicken; it solidified. Ryujin, still perched on my thighs, didn't move. Instead, she leaned back further, her spine arching, pressing her backside firmly against my crotch. I could feel the heat of her through the fabric of our clothes, a deliberate, grounding weight that made my heart hammer a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I tried to maintain my composure. I tried to reach for the sarcasm that usually served as my armor.

"I’m pretty sure overtime is against labor laws in this specific ecosystem," I managed, though my voice lacked its usual stability. Ryujin let out a low, throaty chuckle, her head tilting back to look at me. Her eyes were shimmering, predatory.

"Since when do you care about the rules, Benjie? Especially when the boss is the one requesting the shift?" Yeji didn't answer immediately. She stepped closer, her movements slow and feline. She didn't stop until she was standing directly in front of us, her presence enveloping me. She reached out, her fingers grazing my jawline, her touch light but electric. The scent of her—that familiar mix of vanilla and something crisp—filled my senses, warring with the scent of Ryujin’s proximity.

"I’ve been thinking about what Ryujin said," Yeji whispered, her eyes locked on mine. "About you… losing control. About the way you look when you stop managing everything and just… take."

I swallowed hard. My psychological defenses were starting to fray. It wasn't just the sexual provocation; it was the way Yeji was looking at me. There was no jealousy there. There was no hesitation. There was only a raw, shimmering curiosity that felt far more dangerous than Ryujin’s blatant lust.

"Yeji," I breathed, my voice rough. "You don't have to—" "I want to," she interrupted, her voice a soft command. "I want to see it. And I think," she paused, her gaze flickering to Ryujin, who was watching her with an expression of amused intrigue,

"I think I want to experience it with her."

The world seemed to tilt. My brain, usually so quick to categorize and analyze, simply stalled. I looked from Yeji’s affectionate, daring expression to Ryujin’s shameless, expectant grin.

"Wait," I stammered, the manager in me making one last, desperate stand. "Are we—is this actually happening? Like, logically, emotionally, are we crossing that line right now?"

Ryujin laughed, the sound vibrating through my thighs. She reached back, her hand sliding up my chest to grip the back of my neck, pulling my face closer to hers.

"Stop analyzing the line, Ben, and just cross it. Unless you’re too scared to handle both of us at once?" "I’m not scared," I countered, though my shaking hands betrayed me.

"Then prove it," Ryujin whispered. Yeji leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear, her breath hot. "It’s okay, Ben. We both want you. Just… let go."

That was the trigger. The emotional permission. The weight of their combined trust and desire crashed over me like a tidal wave. My composure didn't just slip; it shattered. I didn't think. I didn't plan. I simply reacted.

I gripped Ryujin’s waist with a sudden, bruising intensity, pulling her flush against me, while my other hand shot out to wrap around Yeji’s wrist, pulling her closer. "Fine," I groaned, the word sounding more like a growl. "You both want this? You have no idea what you’re asking for."

Ryujin’s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine excitement crossing her face. "Oh? Is the beast finally waking up?"

Yeji didn't speak. She simply smiled, a slow, knowing expression, and pressed her lips to mine in a kiss that tasted of longing and liberation. The transition from the living room to the bedroom was a blur of frantic movement and desperate touch. We didn't make it to the bed without shedding half our clothes in the hallway. Ryujin was a whirlwind of physical greed, her hands everywhere—tugging at my shirt, sliding into my waistband, nipping at my neck. Yeji was the steady flame, her kisses deep and grounding, her hands tracing the lines of my muscles as if she were memorizing me all over again.

By the time we hit the mattress, I was emotionally spent and sexually starving. I collapsed onto the sheets, the two of them descending on me like beautiful, hungry predators. Ryujin was the first to escalate. She pushed me back, her knees pinning my arms for a fleeting second as she looked down at me, her chest heaving. She was completely naked now, her skin pale and glowing in the dim light, her nipples were fully erect.

"Look at him, Yeji," Ryujin panted, her voice thick. "He’s vibrating. He’s so fucking overwhelmed he can barely breathe."

Yeji crawled up beside me, her movements fluid. She rested her head on my chest, her hair spilling across my skin, while her hand slid down to the bulge in my trousers. "I can feel it," Yeji murmured, her voice a soft purr. "His heart is racing. He’s terrified and excited all at once."

I let out a shuddering breath, my head falling back into the pillow— I gasped.

"Good boy" Ryujin whispered. She shifted, her hand sliding down to unzip my pants and pull them down in one swift motion. My cock sprang free, already rock hard and leaking a thick bead of pre-cum that glistened under the lamp. Ryujin gazed at it with a hunger that was almost frightening. She didn't go for it immediately. Instead, she looked at Yeji.

"Do you want the first taste, or should I?" Yeji lifted her head, her eyes hooded. She looked at my cock, then back at Ryujin. A small, daring smile played on her lips.

"I think we should share," Yeji replied.

The first crossing was an explosion of sensory overload. Ryujin leaned down, her tongue swirling around the head of my glans, tasting the salt and the heat. Simultaneously, Yeji shifted, her mouth finding my other nipple, sucking it deep into her mouth with a rhythmic intensity that made my hips jerk upward.

The sounds filled the room—the wet, rhythmic slurp of Ryujin’s tongue, the soft, needy whimpers escaping Yeji, and my own ragged breathing. I felt like I was being pulled in two different directions, my nervous system unable to process the dual stimulation.

"Fuck," I groaned, my fingers digging into Ryujin’s hair. "You’re… you’re both… I can’t…" Ryujin pulled away for a second, her lips glistening with my fluids. She looked up at me, her expression smug. "You can’t what, Ben? You can’t handle two girls? The great manager is failing his performance review?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She slid down, taking the entire length of my shaft into her mouth. The suction was incredible, a tight, wet vacuum that threatened to undo me instantly. I could hear the squelch of saliva as she moved, the sound visceral and raw. While Ryujin worked on me, Yeji didn't stay passive. She shifted, her pussy rubbing against my thigh, the wetness of her arousal soaking through my skin. She reached down, her fingers finding Ryujin’s hair, guiding her, encouraging her.

"He loves it, Ryujin," Yeji whispered, her voice trembling. "Look at his face. He’s completely gone." and I was. It felt like floating in a sea of white noise and heat. The feeling of Ryujin’s throat pulsing around me, combined with Yeji’s soft, affectionate touches and the sight of them together—two women I cared for, collaborating to bring me to the edge—was overwhelming.

I reached out, grabbing Yeji’s waist and pulling her up so she was draped across my chest. I captured her lips in a messy, passionate kiss, our tongues battling for dominance, swapping saliva while Ryujin continued to milk me with a ruthless efficiency. The triangle was complete. The air was thick with the smell of sex, sweat, and an electric tension that felt like it could ignite the room.

"I can’t… I’m going to…" I gasped, my body stiffening. Ryujin felt it. She didn't pull away. She pushed deeper, her throat tightening, her eyes locking onto mine with a look of absolute triumph.

I erupted with a violence that left me breathless, thick ropes of cum flooding her throat. I felt every pulse, every spurt, my body shaking with the intensity of the release. Ryujin swallowed hard, taking as much as she could before finally pulling away with a wet, satisfying pop. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a predatory grin on her face.

"Round one goes to the beast," she whispered. But the release didn't bring the usual crash. Instead, the adrenaline remained, fueled by the sight of Yeji watching us, her eyes blown wide, her chest heaving. She looked at the remnants of my cum on Ryujin’s lips and then looked at me.

"My turn," Yeji breathed.

The shift in momentum was palpable. The first round had been about the shock of the crossing, but now, the restraint was gone. The manager had clocked out the moment the bedroom door closed. I rolled over, pinning Yeji beneath me, my movements sudden and dominant. I didn't ask. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, my body crushing hers into the mattress.

"You wanted to see me lose control, Yeji?" I growled, my voice an octave lower. "Look closely." Yeji let out a sharp, needy gasp, her back arching. The look of sheer, unadulterated desire on her face was the final nail in the coffin of my composure. I trailed my lips down her neck, biting the sensitive skin of her shoulder, while Ryujin crawled up behind me, her breasts rubbing against my back, her hands sliding down to grip my ass.

"Yes," Ryujin whispered into my ear, her voice a low purr. "Break her, Ben. Show her exactly what you did to me." I moved down, my tongue finding Yeji’s clit. She was soaking wet, her juices tasting of sweetness and heat. I licked her with a rhythmic, punishing intensity, my tongue flicking against her most sensitive point. Yeji screamed, her body shuddering, her legs locking around my waist.

"Ben! Oh god, Ben!"

While I focused on Yeji, Ryujin wasn't idle. She shifted, sliding her hand between our bodies, her fingers finding my cock, which was already stirring back to life. She began to stroke me, her grip tight and fast, her nails lightly scratching my skin.

"You’re so hard again," Ryujin whispered. "You really are a monster, aren't you?" I pulled away from Yeji, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I looked at the two of them—Yeji, flushed and trembling, her eyes hazy with pleasure; and Ryujin, shameless and greedy, her body practically vibrating with need.

I grabbed Ryujin, flipping her over in one fluid motion and shoving her onto her hands and knees. I didn't waste a second. I positioned myself behind her, the head of my cock brushing against her soaking wet folds. The sound of the first plunge was a loud, wet squelch.

"FUCK!" Ryujin shrieked, her head snapping back.

I didn't hold back. I drove into her with a raw, punishing rhythm, the slap of my balls against her perineum echoing in the quiet room. I was no longer thinking about professionalism, or boundaries, or the emotional weight of the situation. I was simply a man responding to the overwhelming physical demand of the woman beneath me.

Yeji didn't just watch. She crawled forward, her body pressing against Ryujin’s side. She reached around, her hand finding Ryujin’s clit, stimulating her in sync with my thrusts. The sight was intoxicating. Ryujin’s face was buried in the pillow, her muffled moans filling the room, while Yeji’s eyes were locked on me, her expression a mix of awe and hunger.

"Do it harder, Ben!" Yeji urged, her voice strained. "Give her everything!" I accelerated, my thrusts becoming shorter and more violent. I could feel Ryujin’s insides clamping around me, her pussy milking me with an intensity that nearly pushed me over the edge.

"I’m… I’m coming!" Ryujin wailed, her voice breaking. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, her entire body stiffening as she peaked. I felt the violent contractions of her pussy, and I surged forward, burying myself as deep as possible. I came with a violence that left me gasping, my cock pulsing inside her as I flooded her with a second torrent of hot cum.

I collapsed onto Ryujin’s back, both of us drenched in sweat, our breathing synchronized and heavy. But as I lay there, I felt a hand on my cheek. Yeji. She had moved, her body now sliding underneath me, pushing Ryujin aside with a gentle but firm insistence. She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with an emotional intensity that hit harder than any physical act.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I love how you look right now. I love that you’re mine, even when you were flooding her insides with seed just now."

That was the moment the physical and emotional fully merged. The dominance, the greed, the shame—it all melted into a profound sense of connection. I looked at Yeji, then at Ryujin, who was still shaking from her climax but already looking up at us with a restless, hungry gaze.

I entered Yeji slowly this time. Not with the violence I had used on Ryujin, but with a deep, searching intimacy. I felt her walls clamp around me, hot and welcoming. We moved together in a seamless harmony, a slow grind that focused on the friction of our pubic bones rubbing together.

"You’re so tight," I murmured, kissing her forehead. "Because I’ve been waiting for this," Yeji whimpered, her arms winding around my neck, pulling me down.

Ryujin, unable to stay still, crawled back into the fray. She positioned herself in front of Yeji, her breasts brushing against Yeji’s chest. The two of them began to kiss, their tongues intertwining in a slow, rhythmic dance while I continued to drive into Yeji from behind. The image was a masterpiece of desire. The two women I loved most in the world, entwined and open, sharing me and each other. I felt a surge of emotional adrenaline that pushed me past the point of exhaustion.

"You're both so perfect," I groaned, my voice cracking. "Stop talking," Ryujin murmured against Yeji's lips, her eyes flickering to me. "Just keep fucking her, Ben. I want to feel you shaking while you do it."

I shifted my position, pulling Yeji up so she was sitting on my lap, her back to me, while Ryujin lay beneath us, her legs spread wide. I entered Yeji again, but as I did, I leaned forward, my mouth finding Ryujin’s. We were a knot of limbs and heat, a singular entity of pleasure. The sounds were a symphony of shlicking, squelching, and desperate gasps. I could feel Yeji peaking again, her body vibrating against me, and as she let out a high-pitched scream of release.

I pulled out of Yeji at the last second, the momentum carrying me forward. I gripped both of them, pulling them close, their bodies pressed side by side.

"Look at me," I commanded, my voice rough.

They both looked up, their eyes hazy, their faces flushed. I erupted, spraying thick, hot ropes of cum across their stomachs and chests. I didn't stop until I was empty, the white liquid stark against their pale skin, marking them both as mine in the most primal way possible.

We collapsed into a heap of tangled limbs and spent energy. But the silence didn't last. The air was still electric, and as I caught my breath, I felt Ryujin’s hand slide back down to my thigh. "You're not done," Ryujin whispered, her voice a challenge.

"Ryujin, please," I panted, a weak laugh escaping me. "I'm a human man, not a machine." "I don't care," she replied, her eyes narrowing with that insatiable hunger. "I can still feel you. I can feel that you want more. You're just trying to be the 'responsible manager' again. Stop it."

Yeji let out a soft, amused sigh, her head resting on my chest. "She's right, Ben. You're not the manager in this room. You're just ours. And look at you... you're already waking up again." I looked down. Despite the exhaustion, the sheer weight of their shared desire was acting like a stimulant. My cock was stirring, pulsing against the sheets. The sight of them covered in my cum, their skin flushed, their eyes longing—was too much to resist.

I sat up, the movement sudden. I grabbed Ryujin and flipped her onto her back, her legs flying up. I didn't enter her immediately. Instead, I looked at Yeji. "You wanted to see her lose it, right?" I asked, my voice low. "You wanted to see what I do to her?" Yeji nodded, her breath hitching. "Yes. Show me."

I drove into Ryujin with a sudden, brutal force that knocked the wind out of her. I wasn't being gentle. I wasn't being intimate. I was being a storm. I gripped her hips, my fingers digging into her skin, and hammered into her with a relentless, driving pace.

"Oh god! Yes! Right there!" Ryujin shrieked, her back arching off the bed. The sound was raw, guttural. Ryujin wasn't the poised idol now; she was a mess of desperation and euphoria. She was sobbing, her head tossing from side to side, her voice breaking into incoherent whimpers as I pushed her further and further toward the edge. While I destroyed Ryujin, I kept my eyes on Yeji. I reached out, pulling Yeji's face close to mine, my lips brushing hers.

"I love you, Yeji," I whispered, the words a stark contrast to the violent sounds of my body slamming into Ryujin. "I love you so much. You're my everything."

Yeji's eyes widened, a tear escaping as she witnessed the duality of the moment. I was giving Ryujin the physical ruin she craved, but I was giving Yeji the emotional devotion she lived for. It was a paradox that seemed to drive both of them wild.

"Ben... oh god, Ben..." Yeji whimpered, her hand sliding down to touch herself, her fingers working in rhythm with my thrusts. "Look at her, Yeji," I groaned, my pace accelerating. "Look at how much she wants it. Look at how she's begging for me."

Ryujin was indeed begging. "More! Please, Ben! Fill me up! I want your cum! Give it to me!" The shamelessness of her plea pushed me over the edge. I didn't pull out. I drove deep, pinning her to the mattress, and let out a roar as I came for the third time, flooding her depths with everything I had left. Ryujin's orgasm hit simultaneously, a violent, shaking release that left her limp and gasping, her eyes rolling back in her head.

I collapsed on top of her, the scent of our combined sweat and fluids filling the room. I was shaking. My muscles were screaming. But as I shifted to breathe, I felt a soft touch on my back. Yeji had crawled over, her body sliding against mine. She looked at Ryujin, who was in a state of absolute, horny euphoria, her chest heaving, a dazed smile on her face.

"She really is... something else," Yeji whispered, her voice full of awe. "She's a monster," I breathed, kissing Yeji's temple. "And you're the only one who can tame her," Yeji replied.

I felt a sudden surge of protectiveness, a need to ground us both. I rolled off Ryujin and pulled Yeji into my arms, entering her with a slow, agonizingly deep slide. This wasn't about dominance or ruin. This was about possession.

"You're mine," I murmured, my voice thick. "Always mine." "Always," Yeji gasped, her legs locking around my waist, pulling me deeper.

We moved in a slow, grinding circle, our bodies slick with sweat and cum. Ryujin, recovering quickly, didn't stay on the sidelines. She crawled up between us, her breasts pressing against Yeji's, her mouth finding Yeji's nipple.

The sight of the two of them— my lover and Ryujin— sharing a moment of intimacy while I was buried inside Yeji was the final break. I felt a heat build in my gut that I hadn't felt in years.

"I can't stop," I groaned. "I don't think I CAN stop." I shifted, pulling Yeji up so she was on her hands and knees, and I entered her from behind. I mirrored the intensity I had used with Ryujin, but with a layer of tenderness, kissing the small of her back, whispering how beautiful she was while I drove into her.

Ryujin shifted, sliding her body beneath Yeji's chest, her tongue working on Yeji's breasts, her hands massaging Yeji's thighs. The synergy was perfect. Yeji was screaming now, her voice joining Ryujin's in a chorus of pleasure.

"I'm coming! Ben, I'm coming! I can feel it!" Yeji wailed, her body shuddering. I didn't pull out. I wanted her to feel every pulse of my release. I surged forward, my cock throbbing inside her, and I came with a force that felt like it was draining the very soul out of me. I felt Yeji's internal muscles clamping around me in a desperate, rhythmic grip, milking me dry. As I slid out of her, a thick trail of cum followed, coating her thighs. I fell back, exhausted, but the cycle wasn't over.

Ryujin was already there. She had crawled over to me, her eyes flashing. She didn't say a word. She simply knelt between my legs and took me into her mouth. The sensation was electric. After the emotional intensity with Yeji, the raw, physical focus of Ryujin's mouth was exactly what I needed to reset. She worked me with a professional intensity, her tongue swirling, her throat tightening, her eyes looking up at me with a predatory hunger.

Yeji joined in, her hands guiding Ryujin, her own lips finding my chest, kissing the sweat and salt from my skin.

"We're not letting you go yet, Ben." Yeji whispered. "I don't think I could leave even if I tried." I managed to gasp.

I felt myself hardening again, the sheer adrenaline of the situation overriding my physical limits. I grabbed Ryujin's hair, pulling her head back, and then I looked at Yeji.

"I want to see you both together," I commanded. "Right now."

I pushed them together, their bodies colliding. I watched as Ryujin kissed Yeji, a deep, hungry exchange of saliva and desire. I felt a surge of power, a sense of absolute ownership and trust. I moved between them, my hands gripping their waists.

I entered Ryujin again, but this time, I held Yeji close, her breasts pressed against my chest. I was the bridge between them, the center of their shared world. The rhythm was hypnotic. The sounds of shlicking and squelching filled the room, accompanied by the desperate whimpers of two women who had found their match. "You're so... fucking... good," Ryujin gasped, her head snapping back against my shoulder. "I fucking love this." I groaned, the words a mantra.

I felt the build-up again, a tidal wave of sensation that felt larger than any before. I pulled out of Ryujin at the last second, the momentum carrying me upward.

"Open up," I commanded.

They both looked up, their mouths open, their eyes hazy. I erupted, spraying thick, hot ropes of cum across their faces. It coated their cheeks, their lips, their chins. I didn't stop there. I grabbed Yeji's chin, pulling her toward Ryujin.

"Kiss her," I whispered. "Share it."

They didn't hesitate. They pressed their lips together, their mouths meeting in a messy, passionate kiss. I watched, mesmerized, as they swapped the taste of my cum, their tongues intertwining, their faces smeared with the evidence of my release. It was the most vulgar, honest, and intimate thing I had ever seen.

As they finally pulled apart, breathless and coated in white, I collapsed beside them. The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't the silence of exhaustion alone. It was the silence of a boundary that had been not just crossed, but demolished. I lay there, my chest heaving, the world slowly coming back into focus. I felt emotionally hollowed out, but in the best way possible. The manager was gone. I was just Ben, and for the first time, that was enough.

Yeji curled into my side, her head resting on my shoulder. Her breathing was slow, her body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of her orgasms. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close, kissing the top of her head.

"You okay?" I whispered. "I'm perfect," she breathed, her voice small and contented. "I've never felt so... seen."

I held her, giving her the tenderness she needed. I traced patterns on her skin, whispering promises of love and stability, anchoring her back to the world after the storm. This was the aftercare she required—the emotional reassurance that despite the chaos, she was still the center of my world.

Ryujin, however, was not the type for quiet cuddles. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, her chest still heaving. She looked over at us, a smirk playing on her lips. "You know," Ryujin murmured, her voice still raspy. "That was a good start."

Yeji lifted her head, looking at Ryujin with an expression of genuine shock. "A start? Ryujin, we've been at this for hours. Ben has cummed... how many times? Six? Seven?"

Ryujin shrugged, her hand sliding down to her own hip, her fingers tracing the line of her muscle. "I'm still a little restless," she admitted, her eyes flickering toward my cock, which was finally, mercifully, beginning to soften.

"I mean, she's incredibly insatiable. This guy’s finally blacked out, but I THINK I could try push for another round.” “Make it two, AT LEAST." Ryujin slowly reached for my dick, demanding the impossible from it.

Yeji stared at her, then looked at me, then back at Ryujin. A look of utter defeat crossed her face.

"I give up." Yeji whispered, a soft laugh escaping her. "I officially admit defeat. I didn't think it was biologically possible to be that hungry for sex. I don't know how your body even works, Ryujin." "It works perfectly," Ryujin replied, leaning over to kiss Yeji's cheek, a gesture of unexpected tenderness. "And it works even better when we have Ben’s magical cock to keep up with me."

“Can you at least try to sound like my dick is the only thing you like about me?” I groaned, burying my face in the pillow, but I couldn't stop the smile from forming on my lips. "Don't even think about it, Ryujin," I mumbled into the fabric. "I am officially retired for the next forty-eight hours."

"We'll see about that," Ryujin whispered, her hand tried to jerk my cock awake, giving it a playful squeeze.

As the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room, the three of us drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep. The world outside—the schedules, the fans, the professional chaos—still existed, but for the first time in my life, it felt irrelevant. In the silence of the room, wrapped in the scent of sex and the warmth of two women who truly saw me, I finally found the only thing I had ever actually been looking for: a place where I didn't have to be the manager. I just had to be theirs.

The next morning, I woke up feeling like my soul had been used as blunt force trauma. Somewhere beside me, Yeji was still asleep against my chest, one arm lazily wrapped around my waist while Ryujin remained sprawled across the other half of the bed like a battlefield survivor who somehow won anyway.

Meanwhile my body felt approximately ninety percent muscle pain and ten percent emotional regret. Actually no. Correction. Zero regret. Physical regret only.

I carefully tried slipping out from underneath Yeji’s arm afterward with the stealth of somebody attempting tax fraud under government surveillance. Unfortunately—

“Benjie,” Yeji mumbled sleepily without even opening her eyes. I froze instantly. “Heel.”

Outstanding.

Ryujin immediately started laughing into the pillow while I slowly stared at the ceiling in spiritual defeat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Yeji finally opened one eye afterward, clearly amused now.

“Where are you going?” “To disappear permanently.” “Denied.”

I sighed dramatically before leaning down to kiss her cheek anyway.

“Yes babe” I muttered weakly. “Good boy.”

Ryujin nearly fell off the bed laughing. “This is actually insane,” she wheezed. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and she already trained you like a golden retriever.”

“I volunteered emotionally,” I defended immediately while pulling a shirt back on. “There’s a difference.” “Whatever helps you sleep at night, footstool.” “I hate this building.” “No you don’t,” Yeji replied instantly.

Unfortunately? Emotionally accurate. Eventually, the three of us managed to migrate out of the bedroom. We walked in a strange, quiet formation—Yeji leaning into my side, her hand interlaced with mine, and Ryujin trailing slightly behind, walking with a slow, deliberate gait that suggested she was still feeling the aftershocks of the previous night.

The moment we stepped into the common area, we stopped.

Lia was sitting alone at the kitchen table. She looked like someone who had survived a prolonged campaign of psychological warfare. There were dark, bruised circles under her eyes. A half-finished cup of coffee sat before her, stone cold. She was staring into the middle distance with the expression of a woman who had witnessed things beyond human understanding and was currently deciding if she could ever un-see them.

I stopped in my tracks.

“…Lia?”

Slowly—very slowly—Lia shifted her gaze toward us. Her eyes narrowed, her pupils reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and deep, simmering judgment.

“Oh good,” she said, her voice flat and devoid of hope. “The demons are awake.”

Ryujin instantly lost her composure, leaning against the wall and barking out a laugh. I, however, felt a genuine surge of fear.

“Wait,” I said carefully. “What happened?” Lia stared at me in complete disbelief. She slowly put her coffee cup down, the ceramic clicking against the table with an ominous finality.

“What happened?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “Ben, the three of you were loud enough to qualify as a public emergency. I didn't just hear you. I felt the vibrations in the floorboards. I’m reasonably sure the neighbors a few floor below are currently discussing the sudden onset of seismic activity in the Top Floor.”

Yeji immediately buried her face into my shoulder, a flush of deep crimson staining her cheeks. Ryujin, meanwhile, looked completely unrepentant, her grin widening.

“I had to stop Yuna from coming upstairs twice,” Lia continued, pointing an accusing finger with her coffee cup. “The first time, she thought she heard a cat being murdered. The second time, she was genuinely concerned that a piece of furniture had collapsed. And Chaeryeong? Chaeryeong literally asked me why somebody kept hitting the wall with such rhythmic, violent persistence.”

I covered my face with my hand, the heat radiating from my skin.

“Oh my God.” “You’re welcome,” Lia replied flatly. She leaned back in her chair, exhaling a long, tired breath. “I spent six hours as an unpaid security guard and a professional liar. I deserve financial compensation.” “You deserve a medal,” I corrected immediately. “That too.”

Ryujin casually dropped onto the couch, sprawling herself out with a shamelessness that was almost admirable. “Honestly, at this point, Ben should just build us a soundproof sex dungeon somewhere else,” she suggested.

Lia blinked once. Yeji choked on a breath. I physically pointed at Ryujin in utter disbelief. “See?” I exclaimed. “THIS is why professionalism died in this building! We are discussing architectural plans for a dungeon before breakfast!”

“Professionally speaking,” Ryujin replied calmly, “your walls are too thin. It’s a structural failure, Ben. Not a moral one.” “That sentence alone should get you fined by the company,” I muttered.

Lia rubbed her forehead, her eyes closing for a moment. When she opened them, the judgment was still there, but it was now accompanied by a shimmering, dangerous curiosity. She looked between Yeji and Ryujin, her gaze lingering.

“…Okay, but seriously,” she muttered. “How bad did things actually get? Because based on the acoustics, I’m assuming there were things involved that aren't covered in a standard health manual.”

“No,” I replied instantly. “Yes,” Ryujin replied at the exact same time.

I immediately started backing away toward the hallway, my hands raised in a gesture of surrender. I needed to escape. I needed to find a hole and crawl into it for a decade. Unfortunately, Yeji’s hand clamped around my wrist without her even looking at me. Her grip was firm, an anchor that dragged me back into the line of fire.

“Benjie,” she said calmly. I froze. “Heel.”

Ryujin collapsed sideways on the couch, laughing so hard she was practically vibrating. Lia physically covered her face with both hands, though I could see her eyes peeking through her fingers, eager for the details. I slowly returned to Yeji’s side, leaning down to kiss her cheek in a desperate attempt to buy some mercy. I sighed dramatically.

“Yes babe,” I muttered. “I love you too.” “Good,” Yeji replied softly, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. She finally looked back toward Lia, her expression shifting into something that looked like she was about to reveal classified military intelligence. I had never felt more emotionally outnumbered in my entire life. Lia narrowed her eyes, pointing toward me with a stern look.

“No,” she repeated. “He’s staying right there. He is the primary witness and the main attraction. He doesn't get to flee the scene of the crime.” “This is emotional imprisonment,” I protested. “This is accountability,” Lia countered. “That sounds legally questionable.”

Ryujin looked entirely too comfortable, curled into the cushions, while Yeji rested against me, clearly enjoying my suffering significantly more than any partner should. Then, slowly—dangerously—Lia leaned forward.

“I spent an entire night protecting all three of you from discovery,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, probing tone. “I think I’ve earned the right to ask questions. I want every single detail. The good, the bad, and the parts that make me want to bleach my brain.”

I looked toward Yeji desperately. My beloved traitor immediately avoided eye contact, humming a small, innocent tune. Outstanding. Ryujin, however, looked delighted. She sat up, her eyes gleaming.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.” “It absolutely is not,” I groaned.

Lia ignored me completely, looking toward Ryujin first. “…Okay,” she said carefully. “How exactly did this even start? Because the noise didn't start at a simmer. It started at a rolling boil.” Ryujin grinned.

“Technically? Ben blue-screened first.” “That is not what happened,” I snapped. “You literally stopped functioning when Yeji suggested overtime,” Ryujin countered. “I watched the light leave your eyes for a second. You looked like your soul had just been evicted from your body.” “Because both of you were behaving like psychologically dangerous women!”

“That’s fair actually,” Lia admitted quietly, a small smile touching her lips. Yeji finally spoke, her voice softer, more reflective. “It wasn’t really planned,” she murmured, playing lightly with my fingers. “I think… after everything became more open between us, I just got curious. I wanted to see if the fire Ryujin talked about was something I could handle too.” Ryujin smirked.

“Oh, she was VERY curious. She didn't just want a taste; she wanted the whole buffet.”

Yeji physically shoved Ryujin’s shoulder, laughing in embarrassment.

“Stop helping!” “No.”

Lia was now dangerously invested. Curiosity had officially defeated her morality.

“So what,” Lia continued, her voice fascinated. “You just suddenly decided to share him? Like, in the moment?” My brain attempted a second evacuation. Unfortunately, Yeji tightened her grip on my hand.

“Sit down.” “Yes babe.” Lia stared at me in complete disbelief. “You actually listen every time. It’s almost impressive how quickly you fold.” “I value my survival,” I replied. “That is the least convincing thing you’ve ever said,” Ryujin snorted.

Yeji sighed softly, looking at Lia. “It wasn’t really about sharing him,” she admitted. “At least not in the way it sounds. I already knew Ben cared about Ryujin. And I’d already accepted that Ryujin wanted him physically. I think I just realized I wasn’t scared of it anymore. I wanted us to be… a unit. For one night.”

The room went quiet for a few seconds. Even Ryujin stopped joking. Lia looked at Yeji with an expression of emotional understanding mixed with complete psychological exhaustion.

“…That’s actually kind of insane,” Lia whispered. “I know.” “And weirdly healthy.” “That part scares me more,” I admitted.

Ryujin burst out laughing again, the tension breaking. Then Lia looked toward Ryujin, her eyes sharpening. “…Okay, but seriously,” she muttered. “How bad was he? Because based on the screams, I’m assuming he went full beast mode.”

“LIA!” I hissed. “What?” she replied instantly. “I’m curious now! I spent six hours listening to enough noise pollution to qualify as trauma. I deserve context. I need to know what exactly was making those sounds.” “That’s unfortunately fair,” I sighed, defeated.

Ryujin leaned back, her expression one of pure, unadulterated mischief. She looked at me, then back to Lia.

“Oh, he was gone,” Ryujin started, her voice taking on a descriptive, narrative quality. “The second we hit the mattress, it was like a switch flipped. You know how he is—all managed, all polite, all 'yes, this is professionally acceptable'? Yeah, that guy died. In his place was this… animal.”

Lia leaned in, her coffee forgotten. “Tell me,” she commanded. Ryujin grinned. “Well, for starters, he didn't just fuck us. He claimed us. He started with Yeji, and God, it was like he was trying to merge their souls. He pinned her wrists above her head, his body crushing hers into the mattress, and he just… hammered into her. I could hear the wet, rhythmic slap of his skin against her backside, that thick, squelching sound of him burying himself deep in her over and over. Yeji was just a mess, sobbing into the pillows, her voice breaking into these high-pitched, needy whimpers.”

Yeji hid her face in my shoulder again, but she didn't stop Ryujin. In fact, she let out a small, shaky breath.

“It was… intense,” Yeji whispered. “Intense?” Ryujin laughed. “He was ruthless! And then I got in. I crawled up behind him while he was still driving into Yeji, and I just started tasting him. I was licking the sweat off his back, biting his shoulders, while he was still filling Yeji up. The sound was the best part—the combination of Yeji’s screams and the wet noises of him sliding in and out of her. It was like a symphony of desperation.”

Lia’s eyes were wide, her breathing becoming a bit shallower.

“And then,” Ryujin continued, her voice dropping an octave, “He flipped the script. He grabbed me and just… launched me. He had me on all fours, my face pressed into the sheets, and he entered me from behind with a force that literally knocked the wind out of me. I felt the head of his cock hit my uterus with this blunt, punishing rhythm. I was just shaking, my internal muscles clamping around him like a vice. Every time he thrust, I could hear the air being pushed out of my lungs in these ragged gasps.”

I tried to interject. “I think that’s enough context for one morning!” “Shut up, Ben,” Ryujin and Lia said in unison. “The best part,” Ryujin added, ignoring me. “Was when he had us both. He had Yeji sitting on his lap, her back to him, while I was underneath them, my legs spread wide. He was buried deep in Yeji, but he was leaning down, his mouth on mine, our tongues fighting for dominance while he just… grinded into her. I could feel the heat of them both, the smell of sex and sweat filling the air. Yeji was arching her back, her nipples rubbing against my chest, and she was screaming his name like it was a prayer.”

Lia let out a small, shaky laugh, her gaze lingering on my lap.

“And the finish?” Lia asked, her voice almost a whisper. Ryujin’s grin became predatory.

“Pure chaos. He didn't just cum once. He came over and over. The last time, he pulled out of Yeji and just… erupted. He sprayed thick, hot ropes of cum across both of our stomachs and chests. We were just lying there, drenched in it, shaking, completely ruined. I’m pretty sure I forgot where I was for about twenty minutes. I just lay there in a puddle of his cum, feeling like my brain had been completely reset.”

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared straight ahead, my jaw clenched, wondering if it was too late to move to the Alps. Lia looked at me. Her expression wasn't judgmental anymore. It was a mixture of awe and a very specific, shimmering kind of hunger.

“You growled?” she asked softly. “I did not growl,” I lied. “He totally growled,” Ryujin confirmed. “It was like a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat right before he hit the finish line. It was honestly the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Lia choked on a small sip of her coffee, a bit of liquid spraying onto the counter. Yeji physically folded into my shoulder, laughing silently.

“I hate this floor,” I muttered. “No you don’t,” Yeji murmured affectionately, her hand tracing a slow circle on my arm.

Then, quietly—far more softly this time—Lia looked toward me. The teasing had vanished, replaced by something raw and honest.

“…Were you happy, Ben?” The question caught me completely off guard. The room softened immediately. Ryujin stopped joking. Yeji looked up at me. The conversation didn't feel like a roast anymore; it felt like an admission. I looked between the three of them, exhaling slowly.

“…Yeah,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. “I was overwhelmed. I was emotionally terrified the entire time. I felt like I was breaking every rule I ever set for myself. But yeah. I was happy.”

The silence that followed was warm. It wasn't the silence of embarrassment, but the silence of a boundary that had been demolished and replaced with something stronger. Then, naturally, Ryujin ruined it.

“Cool,” she announced casually. “Anyway, I still think we need a soundproof sex dungeon. Like, with leather restraints and maybe a mirror on the ceiling so we can watch Ben’s face when he’s losing his mind.” “RYUJIN!” “What? I’m thinking long-term here! We have a brand to maintain, and 'Extreme Bedroom Noise' isn't part of the image.” “You are never allowed near architectural planning again,” I groaned. “That sounds oppressive,” she countered.

Lia finally gave up, burying her face into the couch cushion while laughing tiredly. Yeji stayed comfortably pressed against my side, her warmth seeping through my shirt. As the morning sunlight filled the common area, I looked at the three of them. The sex had been wild, the aftermath had been embarrassing, and the lack of professionalism was catastrophic. But for the first time, the ecosystem didn't feel fragile. It felt real.

“I’m still waiting for my financial compensation, by the way,” Lia murmured from the cushion. “I’ll buy you a very expensive coffee,” I offered. “Make it a bottle of wine and a massage,” Lia replied, glancing up with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Because I think I’m going to need a lot of support to handle the next time you three decide to have a 'public emergency'.”

Ryujin laughed, Yeji squeezed my hand, and I simply leaned back, accepting my fate as the most emotionally outnumbered man in the building.

The laughter eventually settled into something softer afterward. Ryujin had somehow migrated halfway across the couch while still complaining about being hungry enough to “financially ruin a steakhouse,” Lia looked one sarcastic comment away from collapsing into a medically concerning coma, and Yeji remained comfortably attached to my side like separating from me had become personally offensive overnight.

Meanwhile my body still felt catastrophically destroyed. Honestly? Deserved.

Then quietly— somewhere in the middle of the chaos I realized something. The three of them looked exhausted. Not emotionally. Physically. Which honestly made sense considering

Lia spent the entire night running covert damage control. Ryujin apparently treated sex like an Olympic endurance sport. And Yeji somehow emotionally and physically overloaded herself simultaneously.

Outstanding ecosystem management all around. So eventually I sighed before reaching for my phone. Lia immediately narrowed her eyes.

“…Why do I suddenly feel nervous?” “I’m exercising managerial authority.” “That sentence has literally never improved any situation.”

So, this how it feels to be on the receiving end of that line… Huh. I ignored her completely afterward while opening the schedule planner. Then calmly—

“I’m suspending the rest of today’s activities.” The room immediately went quiet. Ryujin blinked once. “…You can do that?” “My job title is literally your manager.” “That feels deceptive.” “It’s called executive privilege.”

Yeji smiled softly against my shoulder afterward while Lia stared at me like I had just announced the collapse of capitalism.

“Wait,” Lia said carefully. “You’re serious?” “Yes,” I replied while already sending messages into the staff group chats. “The three of you need recovery.”

Ryujin looked deeply offended.

“Excuse you. I feel fantastic.” “You couldn’t walk correctly thirty minutes ago.” “That sounds judgmental.” “Because it is.”

Right then the front door opened. Yuna stepped inside first looking mildly exhausted from schedules while Chaeryeong followed behind carrying drinks and snacks for everyone.

Both of them immediately stopped after seeing

Lia spiritually deceased, Ryujin horizontal, Yeji attached to my side, and me looking like I survived military combat.

Yuna narrowed her eyes immediately.

“…Why does this room feel suspicious?” “Don’t worry about it,” Lia replied instantly.

That somehow made it significantly more suspicious. Chaeryeong blinked toward me afterward. “…What happened?”

“Nothing,” I answered immediately. “Too fast,” Yuna replied. “That was way too fast.”

I pointed toward her immediately.

“Stop inheriting Ryujin’s behavior.” “Impossible,” Ryujin replied proudly from the couch. “I’m inspirational.”

Yuna narrowed her eyes again afterward before glancing between me and Ryujin suspiciously.

“…Did Ryujin finally apologize for busting your balls twenty-four seven or something?”

The room went completely silent. Lia immediately folded into the couch laughing. Yeji physically buried her face into my shoulder while Ryujin looked moments away from falling off the couch entirely. Meanwhile I stared directly at the ceiling because apparently God enjoyed watching me suffer personally. Chaeryeong blinked once.

“…Why is everybody reacting like that?” “No reason,” four different voices answered immediately.

Outstanding teamwork honestly. I immediately redirected before the ecosystem collapsed permanently.

“Anyway,” I continued quickly while reaching toward Yuna afterward. “Your schedules are cancelled for the rest of today too.”

Both of them froze.

“…What?” Chaeryeong asked. “You’re free,” I repeated calmly. “Go relax. Go shopping. Go eat somewhere expensive. I genuinely don’t care.”

Yuna looked suspicious immediately.

“…You’re being weirdly generous.” “That sounds accusatory.” “Because it is.”

I sighed dramatically before forwarding a contact toward her phone. Yuna looked down at it. Then slowly back up at me.

“…Why is your accountant saved as ‘Emotional Damage Control?’” “Because it’s accurate.”

Lia physically started laughing again while Ryujin nodded approvingly like this was completely normal behavior. Then finally I pointed toward Yuna’s phone once more.

“Tell him it’s under the ITZY recreational fund.” “That’s a REAL thing?” Lia asked in disbelief. “Yes.” “There’s absolutely no way JYPE approved that.” “They didn’t. It’s from my own pocket.”

That somehow made the room significantly quieter. Then calmly “Today’s password is ‘Sorry Not Sorry.’” Ryujin immediately started wheezing into the couch. Meanwhile Yuna looked moments away from financially abusing freedom irresponsibly. Which honestly meant this was probably a terrible decision. Chaeryeong however looked at me softly afterward.

“…You’re really okay with this?”

I looked around the room afterward:

Ryujin finally relaxing properly, Lia smiling despite the exhaustion, Yeji warm against my side, Yuna already plotting expensive chaos, Chaeryeong looking lighter than usual.

“Yeah,” I admitted softly. “I think all of you deserve a day where you don’t have to think about work for a while.” The room softened afterward. That was probably when the idea stopped feeling temporary. The six of us existing together without pretending to be okay for once. Then naturally the peace lasted approximately four seconds.

“Hotpot,” Ryujin announced immediately. “No,” Lia replied just as fast. “You’ll order enough meat to financially destabilize a country.” “That sounds like quitter mentality.” “I watched you eat three ramyeon cups at three in the morning.” “That was recovery nutrition.” “That was demonic behavior.”

Meanwhile Yuna was already scrolling through shopping apps beside Chaeryeong like somebody who had just been granted legal permission to become economically dangerous.

“…Wait,” Yuna muttered suddenly while looking up from her phone. “How rich ARE you exactly?” “That question has never ended safely.” “Because this recreational fund thing sounds fake.” “It’s not fake,” Lia replied immediately. “I’ve seen him use it before.”

I slowly turned toward her.

“…Why do you know that?”

Lia blinked once. Then calmly “You bought Yeji an entire luxury mattress after comeback week last year because she kept sleeping on the couch.”

The room went silent. Yeji immediately looked toward me.

“…You never told me that.”

I stared directly at Lia in betrayal.

“That was classified information.” “You named the receipt ‘leader preservation initiative.’”

Ryujin completely folded over laughing while Chaeryeong looked moments away from emotional collapse from secondhand affection.

Meanwhile Yeji’s expression softened in the most dangerous way possible.

“You’re ridiculously soft.” “That sounds slanderous.” “It’s literally documented.”

Yuna slowly lowered her phone afterward before looking at me suspiciously.

“…Wait. So all this time you’ve secretly been emotionally micromanaging everybody?” “That sounds significantly more manipulative when you phrase it like that.” “That’s because it IS manipulative,” Lia replied calmly. “I prefer ‘supportive infrastructure.’” “Psychology major detected,” Ryujin muttered.

Unfortunately? A fair criticism. Then eventually I clapped my hands once before the conversation spiraled again.

“Alright,” I muttered. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in an hour.”

Ryujin narrowed her eyes. “…Where exactly are we going?” I looked toward her calmly. “Somewhere expensive enough that none of you can emotionally recover there for free.”

Yuna gasped immediately.

“Oh we’re committing luxury today.” “Stop making it sound illegal.”

The private spa resort somehow looked even more expensive up close. Not flashy expensive either. Worse. The kind of rich where the lobby smelled faintly like luxury candles, the staff spoke in calming voices,  and there was apparently an indoor waterfall for absolutely no practical reason.

Yuna stopped walking first.

“…Oh this place has generational wealth.” “That sounds judgmental.” “There’s a waterfall INSIDE the building, Ben.”

To be fair— there WAS a waterfall inside the building. Meanwhile Ryujin looked dangerously energized already, which immediately activated my survival instincts. I pointed toward her instantly. “No.” Ryujin blinked innocently.

“I didn’t even do anything yet.” “That sentence alone proves malicious intent.”

Then calmly— very seriously— I pointed toward her again.

“If you fuck around too much today or even THINK about trying something, I’m going to make your entire schedule filming TikTok aegyo challenges with JYP for the rest of the year.”

The silence afterward was immediate. Ryujin stared at me in genuine horror.

“…You wouldn’t.” “I absolutely would.” “Ben,” Lia muttered quietly beside us. “That might legally qualify as psychological torture.”

Even Yeji looked disturbed. Meanwhile Yuna physically folded over laughing while Chaeryeong nearly dropped her bag from secondhand emotional damage. Ryujin pointed at me accusingly.

“You can’t weaponize that man against me.” “Someone here clearly wants to post TikToks with JYP doing aegyo.” “That is NOT funny.” “It’s a little funny.”

Ryujin looked spiritually betrayed. My inner peace restored immediately. Then eventually the staff guided us farther inside while explaining the recovery packages, massage rooms, hot springs, and private lounge areas. Yuna immediately looked toward Ryujin afterward.

“You’re coming with me.” “That sounds dangerous.” “I want to see how rich people waste money properly.”

Ryujin looked emotional instantly “…You understand me.”

Meanwhile Chaeryeong quietly looked toward the calmer side of the resort before exhaling softly. Then almost immediately Lia noticed.

“You want the quiet area too?” Chaeryeong looked mildly embarrassed at being read that quickly “…A little.”

“That’s fair honestly.”

Then naturally the two of them drifted toward the tea lounges and garden spa section together while Yuna immediately dragged Ryujin toward whatever expensive chaos waited deeper inside the resort.

Which somehow left me and Yeji standing alone beside the massage reservation desk. Outstanding. Absolutely survivable situation. Then the receptionist smiled politely.

“We still have one couples treatment room available if you’d like.”

My soul immediately left my body. Meanwhile beside me Yeji stayed suspiciously calm.

“Oh?” Yeji said casually. “That sounds relaxing.”

I slowly turned toward her in complete disbelief. Meanwhile Yeji looked entirely too innocent. Which honestly meant she was about to psychologically destroy me somehow.

The receptionist smiled politely again.

“Would you like me to reserve it?”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Outstanding professionalism.

“You’re overthinking again,” Yeji murmured quietly enough that only I could hear. “That sounds emotionally invasive.” “That sounds accurate.”

After all this chaos a quiet room with Yeji suddenly sounded dangerously tempting. So eventually I sighed in defeat. “…Fine.” Yeji immediately smiled to herself like somebody who had already expected victory from the beginning. Terrifying woman honestly.

The massage room somehow looked calmer than the rest of the resort combined. Low lighting. Warm stone floors. Soft music somewhere in the background. The kind of environment specifically designed to emotionally disarm people against their will.

I hated how effective it was immediately. Meanwhile Yeji looked entirely too comfortable already while settling into one of the lounge chairs near the window.

“You look nervous.” “I’m alone in a couples room with you after the week we’ve had. Of course I’m nervous.” “That sounds like a you problem.” “That IS a me problem.”

Yeji laughed quietly afterward before the staff eventually returned carrying robes and explaining the treatment setup. Then naturally the universe decided my suffering still wasn’t complete.

“Would you prefer side-by-side massage beds or the private relaxation setup afterward?”

My brain physically stopped functioning. Meanwhile Yeji calmly answered before I could process language anymore.

“Side-by-side is fine.”

Then eventually the staff finally left us alone briefly while the room settled quiet again. For a few minutes neither of us really spoke while the sound of water echoed faintly through the room. Then quietly Yeji looked toward me again.

“…You really needed this too, you know.”

I leaned farther back into the chair afterward before exhaling slowly.

“Coaches don’t get to play, and managers don’t get recovery settings.” “That sounds unhealthy.” “It’s the entertainment industry. Everything is unhealthy.” “That’s fair honestly.”

Then softly Yeji reached over afterward before lightly fixing the collar of my robe where it had folded awkwardly. Small gesture. Easy to miss. But instinctive. And somehow that hit harder emotionally than it should’ve. Because she wasn’t doing it to flirt. She was just— taking care of me back. Then quietly she smiled faintly afterward.

“You take care of everyone so automatically that I think you forget people can do the same for you.”

That shut my brain down significantly faster than expected. Outstanding. I looked toward her afterward while she rested her chin lightly against her hand, watching me with that same calm warmth that always made me feel emotionally transparent against my will.

“…I think I’m still getting used to it.”

Yeji’s expression softened immediately afterward. Not dramatic. Just gentle.

Then naturally— because the universe apparently refused to let sincerity survive uninterrupted— the room door suddenly opened. Ryujin walked in holding two luxury dessert boxes while Yuna followed behind looking violently excited about something financially irresponsible.

“There you are,” Ryujin announced immediately. “We found gold-covered cheesecake.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“…How did you even find this room?” “I followed emotional tension.” “That’s not a real navigation system.” “It worked though.”

Meanwhile Yuna pointed directly at me afterward.

“Your accountant approved unlimited dessert spending.” “What the fuck kind of vixen magic did you do to convince him?” “Firstly, rude. Secondly I just told him that you told me to go crazy today.” “He also called me ‘young miss.’ I think I’m inheriting wealth now.” “I am so firing him.”

Then finally Ryujin narrowed her eyes toward the massage beds. The room went silent. Absolutely catastrophic silence. Then slowly—

“…Oh.”

I immediately pointed toward her.

“Don’t.”

Ryujin looked moments away from spiritual ascension.

“Oh this is a COUPLES room.” “RYUJIN.”

Meanwhile Yeji physically folded into the couch laughing while Yuna looked between us suspiciously again. Not fully understanding. But definitely observing. Then Chaeryeong quietly appeared behind them holding tea with Lia beside her looking significantly more emotionally alive than earlier.

Lia took one look at the room. Then at me. Then at Yeji. Then immediately sighed.

“…I leave you people alone for ONE hour.” “That sounds judgmental.” “That’s because I’m judging you.”

Meanwhile Ryujin had already opened one of the dessert boxes without permission.

“Oh this is expensive-expensive.”

Chaeryeong immediately leaned over her shoulder.

“…Wait why is there gold on the cheesecake?” “Because rich people fear seasoning.” “That somehow makes sense.”

Chaeryeong quietly laughed into her tea while Lia physically pinched the bridge of her nose again.

Watching the five of them naturally fill the room with noise somehow made the entire place feel less sterile immediately. Then eventually Yuna suddenly pointed toward the hallway outside.

“Wait there’s a rooftop infinity pool.”

Ryujin looked up instantly.

“…We’re financially abusing this resort.” “That’s the spirit.”

Then naturally chaos resumed immediately. Ryujin grabbed the desserts. Yuna grabbed Ryujin. Chaeryeong apologized to the staff out of instinct. And Lia looked moments away from accepting death peacefully. Before leaving, Lia paused beside me briefly afterward.

“You owe me another spa day after this.” “That sounds extortionate.” “For baby-sitting them on your behalf so you can play ‘married’? That sounds earned.”

Then finally the door closed behind all of them again. And for the first time all afternoon— silence returned properly.

Outside the windows, the city skyline glowed softly beneath the late afternoon light while the sound of distant water echoed faintly through the room. Then quietly beside me, Yeji exhaled softly before leaning back against the chair again.

“…There,” she murmured. “Finally.”

I laughed quietly under my breath afterward.

“You sound relieved.” “I am.”

Then after a pause she glanced toward me again.

“I like them.” “That sounds concerningly emotional.” “I mean it.”

Her voice softened slightly afterward. “I like seeing everyone relaxed like this.”

Truthfully, so did I. Maybe that was why the room suddenly felt warmer now that everything finally slowed down. No schedules. No pressure. No pretending. Just us existing for once. Then quietly Yeji shifted closer again before resting her head lightly against my shoulder. No teasing this time. No hidden agenda. Just comfort. And after the emotional disaster of the past few days, that alone felt dangerous enough already.

For a while neither of us moved afterward. The room stayed quiet except for the soft music somewhere beyond the walls while the city lights slowly brightened outside the windows. Then eventually Yeji shifted slightly beside me before glancing upward.

“…Come here.” “That sounds suspicious.” “Ben.”

I sighed dramatically afterward before finally giving in and sliding farther down beside her on the lounge seat. Immediately Yeji curled comfortably against my side like she had been waiting for that exact outcome the entire time.

Then softly she reached up afterward before brushing part of my hair back from my forehead. It was a gentle feeling, the kind that somehow felt more intimate than everything else that happened this week combined.

“You look tired,” she murmured quietly. “That sounds observant.” “That sounds concerning.”

I laughed quietly under my breath afterward before leaning farther back into the chair.

“I think my body is filing formal complaints internally.” “That’s fair honestly.”

Then softly— Yeji smiled to herself afterward before resting her chin lightly against my chest.

“You know,” she murmured quietly, “this is probably the most normal we’ve felt in weeks.” I looked down toward her afterward. “Normal?”

“Mhm.” “You’re in a luxury spa hiding from schedules while your members have coerced my accountant into commit financial crimes somewhere upstairs.” “That sounds pretty normal for us actually.”

Fair point honestly. Then eventually the room settled quiet again afterward. Not empty. Comfortable. And somewhere in the middle of it, Yeji suddenly laughed quietly to herself.

“What?”

She shook her head slightly before looking up at me again.

“I just realized something.” “That sounds dangerous.” “You always look at everyone else first.”

That caught me slightly off guard. Yeji noticed immediately.

“Whenever we walk into a room,” she continued softly, “you check if Lia’s stressed first. If Ryujin’s too restless. If Chaeryeong’s comfortable. If Yuna’s causing problems.” “That last one feels medically necessary for my sake too.”

Yeji laughed quietly again before her expression softened.

“But when it’s just us…” she murmured quietly, “you finally relax.”

That hit harder than expected. She wasn’t wrong. And apparently my silence answered enough already because Yeji’s expression softened even more afterward.

Then gently she reached up and held my face lightly between her hands. Her expression full of warmth.

“I’m really happy,” she admitted quietly.

My chest tightened immediately. Not because the words were dramatic. Because they were honest. Then softly she smiled again afterward.

“And I know things are complicated,” she murmured. “But when it’s you… I don’t really mind anymore.”

That almost destroyed me emotionally on the spot. So naturally I coped the only way I knew how. “…You realize saying things like that should legally require a warning first.” Yeji immediately laughed again before leaning upward just enough to kiss me softly.

A real kiss. The kind couples share when nobody’s asking anything from them. Then afterward she stayed close enough that our foreheads rested together naturally. And quietly for the first time in what felt like forever— neither of us needed to pretend we were okay. Because somehow, somewhere along the way we actually became okay.

By the time all six of us regrouped for dinner, the sun had already disappeared behind the skyline completely. Everybody looked significantly more human again. Yuna returned carrying enough shopping bags to qualify as organized crime while Ryujin looked spiritually refreshed for the first time in days. Meanwhile Lia had apparently slept long enough to regain basic faith in humanity again and Chaeryeong looked calmer than she had all week.

That was worth every financial crime committed today. Then immediately upon sitting down, Yuna pointed toward me across the private dining table.

“I need you to know your accountant fears me now.” “That sounds earned.” “He asked if there was a spending limit.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “…And?” Yuna smiled proudly. “I told him you said ‘follow your dreams.’”

“I absolutely did not say that.” “The emotions implied it.” “I am going to start looking for a new accountant tomorrow.”

Ryujin immediately raised her hand.

“In her defense, the vibes WERE generous today.” “That sentence alone lowered my credit score.”

Meanwhile Lia quietly sipped her tea while watching the entire conversation unfold with visible emotional exhaustion. “I think this is the first meal in weeks where nobody’s mentally preparing for schedules afterward.”

The table actually went quiet for a moment. She was right. No rehearsals afterward. No meetings. No interviews. No flights. No cameras waiting somewhere outside. Just dinner. Then softly beside me, Yeji smiled faintly to herself while looking down at the menu. And the way she looked so calm and at peace, that alone made the entire stupidly expensive day feel worth it.

Then naturally the peace lasted approximately twenty seconds. Ryujin looked up from the menu afterward. “…Can we order irresponsibly?”

“No.” “…Oppressive.” “You already abused the dessert section of this establishment, even the staff is traumatized.” “That sounds judgmental.” “Because it is.”

Meanwhile Chaeryeong quietly laughed into her drink while Yuna immediately started trying to negotiate luxury beef quantities like a woman preparing for economic warfare. Watching all of them relaxed like this felt strangely surreal. Not because they looked different. Because they finally looked off-duty. No idol masks. No pressure sitting behind their eyes constantly. Just them.

By the time we finally left the restaurant, the city outside had already gone fully quiet. Yuna immediately started complaining about being too full to walk correctly while Ryujin argued that “second dinner” should still legally exist.

Meanwhile Lia looked one warm blanket away from falling asleep standing upright. And beside me, Yeji stayed close enough that our hands brushed briefly once while walking back toward the car.

The ride back to the Top Floor ended up significantly quieter than the rest of the day. Not awkward quiet. Just tired.

Yuna had fully crashed halfway through the drive and was now asleep against the window while still loosely holding one of her shopping bags like a financially irresponsible security blanket. Meanwhile Ryujin somehow remained awake entirely through spite alone. Honestly medically fascinating.

“…I still think we should’ve ordered more steak.” Lia slowly looked up from where she’d been resting her eyes. “You said that after the third platter too.”

“And I stand by my values.” “That cow already died just for you to show biblical levels of gluttony.” “No better death for beef cattle, honestly.”

Chaeryeong immediately started laughing quietly again while Yeji leaned back comfortably in her seat beside me, exhaustion finally catching up to her properly too. Seeing all of them felt strangely grounding.

Then eventually we finally made it back to the building sometime close to midnight. The second the elevator opened onto the Top Floor, Yuna groaned dramatically.

“…I’m too rich and tired to function.” “That sentence alone makes me want to calculate which one of my businesses I need to sell to financially recover.”

Ryujin immediately pointed toward me.

“This is YOUR fault.” “That sounds inaccurate.” “You introduced her to luxury.” “That sounds educational.”

Meanwhile Lia had already started slowly walking toward her room before pausing briefly afterward. Then quietly she looked back toward me “…Thanks for today.” a simple sentence.

Softly said. But honest. I smiled faintly afterward.

“Get some sleep, Lia.” “That’s the plan.”

Then naturally Ryujin ruined the emotional atmosphere immediately.

“Don’t let them start cardio again tonight.” “RYUJIN.”

Chaeryeong physically froze. Yuna blinked once in confusion. And Lia immediately folded against the hallway wall laughing into her sleeve. Meanwhile I stared at Ryujin with the exhausted expression of a man reconsidering every life choice that led him here. Ryujin looked completely unrepentant.

“What?” she asked innocently. “I’m advocating for adequate rest.” “That’s definitely one TikTok with JYP.”

The silence afterward was immediate. Ryujin’s expression dropped instantly into genuine horror.

“…You wouldn’t.” “Oh I absolutely would.” “But I behaved all day” “First of all, barely. Secondly, the day isn’t technically over.” “You’re evil.” “You brought this upon yourself.”

Then calmly I pointed toward her again.

“And if you refuse, I’m shutting down the recreational fund permanently.”

Yuna gasped immediately.

“Okay no, she crossed the line. I side with Ben.” “TRAITOR,” Ryujin yelled immediately. “You threatened my luxury lifestyle.” “That’s fair honestly,” Lia admitted while still laughing weakly.

Meanwhile Chaeryeong looked completely lost now.

“…Why does the recreational fund sound illegal every time you mention it?” “Because it spiritually is,” Yuna replied immediately. “You didn’t seem to think like that when you traumatized my accountant. He filed for an emergency leave.”

Ryujin however narrowed her eyes afterward before crossing her arms dramatically. “…Fine.” I relaxed slightly. Then she pointed toward me.

“But I’m ONLY doing it if JYP suffers too.”

I immediately nodded once.

“That can be arranged.” “NO IT CAN’T,” Lia protested instantly before breaking into laughter again.

Meanwhile Yuna physically collapsed against the hallway wall while Chaeryeong looked moments away from actual concern.

“I’ll buy JYPE if I have to just to make it happen.”

That finally shut everyone up. Including Ryujin. Then slowly Lia looked toward me again afterward. And what visibly scared her wasn’t the joke itself. It was realizing from my expression that I had already mentally considered the logistics.

Apparently I had become the type of person capable of hostile corporate acquisition out of spite. Lia pointed toward me immediately.

“That right there is EXACTLY why nobody should encourage you financially.” “That sounds judgmental.” “That sounds CORRECT.”

Meanwhile Ryujin looked horrifyingly emotional now.

“…You’d really psychologically destroy JYP for me?” “You started this.” “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Marry me, now.” “Your standards for marriage concern me deeply.”

Yuna physically grabbed Ryujin afterward before the conversation could somehow become even more catastrophic.

“Nope. We’re leaving before Ben starts discussing shareholder percentages.” “That sounds responsible honestly,” Lia admitted.

Eventually the group naturally started dispersing afterward. Yuna dragging Ryujin away before financial crimes escalated, Chaeryeong still trying to process whether any of that conversation had been real, Lia retreating for self-preservation, and the Top Floor finally settling back into quiet.

Then finally it was just me and Yeji left standing near the hallway. Soft city light spilled faintly through the windows while the silence slowly returned after the chaos of the day. Then quietly Yeji adjusted the sleeve of her hoodie before glancing toward her room briefly.

And honestly the thought of ending the night alone suddenly felt strangely heavy. So before I could overthink it into oblivion— I reached out quietly and caught her hand. Yeji immediately looked back toward me. Then softly enough that nobody else could possibly hear “…Stay with me tonight?”

Very softly— she smiled. The kind of smile that always made something in my chest loosen instantly. “…Okay.” That was it. No dramatic confession. Just certainty.

Then naturally Yeji stepped slightly closer before lightly squeezing my hand once. Small gesture. Easy to miss. But somehow it still felt like the most intimate moment of the entire day.

As the two of us quietly disappeared down the hallway together while the Top Floor finally settled into silence— I realized something. Maybe peace didn’t always have to be grand. Maybe sometimes it was just knowing someone chose to stay.

The Top Floor stayed quiet afterward. No arguments from Ryujin. No suspicious questions from Yuna. No teasing from Lia. No schedules waiting tomorrow morning. Just soft city light spilling through the hallway while the rest of the world kept moving somewhere far below them. Then eventually Yeji disappeared into my room beside me without another word, her fingers still loosely intertwined with mine like letting go simply wasn’t necessary anymore.

And genuinely. For the first time in a very long time— none of the silence between us felt lonely.

[afterhours37]

Overworked & Overwanted - After Hours

The late drive out of Seoul started quietly. The kind of late where the city slowly stopped pretending to be alive. Streetlights stretched across the windshield in long golden streaks while soft music played low enough that neither of us bothered acknowledging it properly. Beside me, Ryujin sat with one leg tucked beneath herself while scrolling through her phone with the dangerous calmness of somebody who had already emotionally committed to causing problems several hours ago.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” she muttered without looking up. “That sentence makes absolutely no medical sense.” “You still understood it.”

Fair. I glanced briefly toward her afterward before returning my attention to the road again.

“You know normal people usually ask before abducting somebody in front of a crowd.” “You got into the car voluntarily.” Ryujin snorted softly beside me. “That feels legally debatable.” “You’re being dramatic again.” “You stole my keys earlier.” “Yet you’re the one driving.”

The silence settled comfortably again afterward. Not the softer kind I shared with Yeji. Different. Sharper. Like both of us were constantly waiting to see who would provoke the other first. That dynamic somehow suited Ryujin disturbingly well.

A few minutes later her eyes shifted away from the phone briefly toward me again.

“…So how many houses do you actually own?” “That sounded financially judgmental.” “That sounded like avoidance.” “That sounded invasive.” “That sounded correct.” I sighed softly afterward. “Enough that I don’t actively think about it anymore.”

Ryujin slowly lowered her phone now.

“…That’s the most rich person answer you’ve ever given me.” “In my defense, you people profile me constantly.” “Because you act suspiciously wealthy.” “I literally accepted minimum wage from JYPE.” “You bought an entire floor.” “That was emotional support architecture.” “Nope, that sentence still sounds fake.”

Another quieter silence settled between us afterward while the city lights slowly gave way to darker roads and quieter neighborhoods. “Why this house?” I kept one hand against the steering wheel while answering honestly “Closest one”.

“That somehow concerns me more.” The corner of Ryujin’s mouth twitched slightly afterward before she leaned her head back comfortably against the seat again. For somebody who spent most of her life constantly observed by cameras, fans, staff, and schedules— she looked strangely relaxed disappearing into the dark like this.

By the time we finally arrived, the neighborhood itself had already gone almost completely silent. Ryujin stared openly out the window while I pulled into the driveway. Then paused.

“…Ben.” “That sounded like another comment.” “What the hell is this?” “That sounds judgmental towards the architect who designed the place.” “This is a rich villain house.” “I feel like villains usually have more sinister lighting.” “You absolutely have hidden wine cellars in here.” “That’s ridiculous.”

A pause.

“…There IS a wine cellar though.” “Oh my god.” Ryujin immediately folded forward laughing against the dashboard. “In my defense, it came with the house.”

The inside of the house felt significantly colder than the Top Floor. Less lived in. Expensive in the way old money usually tried pretending it wasn’t. Ryujin noticed immediately. “You don’t stay here much”. More observation “…Not really.”

“Why?” I set the car keys down near the kitchen counter before answering honestly. “It’s too quiet.”

That earned a glance from her. A smaller one this time. Less teasing. Then eventually she walked farther into the living room area before dropping onto the couch casually while kicking her shoes off without asking permission. At this point I respected the consistency.

“Alright emotional support manager,” she muttered while looking around the house afterward. “Where’s the alcohol?” “There’s something deeply concerning about how comfortable you are saying that title now.” “You made it your whole personality.” “That feels unfair.” “But is it inaccurate?”

Unfortunately? She’s right. I grabbed two glasses afterward while Ryujin wandered toward the massive windows overlooking the dark city lights below “…It’s weird”. I glanced toward her briefly “What is?”. Ryujin folded her arms loosely while still staring out the glass “You. You’re ridiculously rich. You could literally disappear and never work again if you wanted to.” She glanced back toward me afterward. “But instead you willingly spend your days getting yelled at by five emotionally unstable women.”

“That description feels incredibly biased.” “It’s also true.”

I handed her a glass afterward before leaning back lightly against the kitchen counter “You’re all worth the headache”.  There it was. The smallest shift. But noticeable. Because Ryujin looked away first afterward.

Ryujin eventually wandered back toward the kitchen island afterward before taking a slower sip from the glass in her hand. Then she narrowed her eyes slightly.

“…You know what bothers me?” “You have never used that sentence on me with good intentions.” “Well that’s cause you answer questions like a politician.” “That feels professionally offensive.” “You dodge everything.” I took a slower sip from my own drink afterward. “That’s because you ask questions like an interrogator.” “Because you act suspicious constantly.” “I manage idols for a living. Suspicion is survival.”

Ryujin pointed at me immediately. “See? That.” She leaned lightly against the counter afterward. “Normal people don’t say things like that.”

“Normal people also don’t survive entertainment companies.” “That sounded deeply experienced.”

Ryujin studied me quietly for another moment afterward before continuing “So what’s the actual story with you?” Dangerous question. Invasively a very dangerous question.

I already knew “actual story” could mean family, money, education, why I took the job, or why I seemed emotionally exhausted at thirty despite technically being successful enough to disappear from society permanently.

The problem with observant people was that they eventually noticed the shape of the things you avoided. Ryujin especially.

“You’re gonna need to narrow that down significantly.” “Nope.” She took another sip casually. “I want all of it.” “That sounds emotionally greedy.” “That sounds correct.”

Then she started counting lazily with one finger. “Why are you rich?” “Why psychology?” “Why do you look emotionally tired all the time?” “Why tattoos?” “Why do you care so much about wellbeing?” “Why are you weirdly good at reading people?” “And why do I feel like half your personality is professionally curated damage control?”

Silence. An interesting sequence of observations. I stared at her slowly afterward. “…You’re alarmingly perceptive after alcohol.” Ryujin grinned slightly “You’re alarmingly avoidant while sober”.  Another unfortunately correct observation.

I leaned lightly back against the counter afterward while debating internally how much honesty I was willing to survive tonight. Then eventually I decided to partake. “My mother.” Ryujin blinked once. She probably didn’t expect an actual answer that quickly. I rotated the glass once slowly in my hand afterward before continuing. “She worked herself into the ground most of her life.” I shrugged lightly afterward. “Smartest person I knew. Also the worst at resting.” The teasing atmosphere softened slightly. “She died younger than she should’ve”.

The room went quieter afterward. No pity from Ryujin. No dramatic reaction. Which honestly made it easier to keep talking. “I spent a long time realizing most people don’t collapse all at once.” I looked down briefly at the amber liquid in the glass afterward “Usually it happens slowly enough that nobody notices until they stop functioning”.

Ryujin stayed quiet. Actually quiet. Very rare for her. “So now,” I continued more lightly afterward, “I annoy emotionally exhausted celebrities professionally.”

“That sounds like emotional deflection.” “Still an accurate description.”

The corner of Ryujin’s mouth twitched slightly again afterward. But this time the teasing didn’t fully return. Instead, she leaned lightly against the opposite side of the counter while looking at me differently now. Not softer. Just understanding something new. “That’s why you bought the floor.” Not question. Observation. I exhaled quietly through my nose afterward “Partially why”. Ryujin stared at me another second before taking another sip. “Okay now I feel slightly bad for bullying you financially.”

“That implies you’re stopping.” “I’m absolutely not stopping.”

Well, she’s back. Psychological stability restored. I laughed softly under my breath afterward while Ryujin walked around the island counter closer now before casually stealing the bottle directly out of my hand.

“That’s criminal.” “You’re rich. Recover emotionally.” “That sounded concerningly communist.” “That sounded deserved.”

Then she leaned beside me against the counter afterward while pouring herself another drink with visible satisfaction. Only to suddenly pause. Ryujin slowly tilted the bottle slightly afterward before narrowing her eyes at something attached near the bottom corner “…Hold on”.

“You left the price tag on this.” “In my defense, I genuinely forgot.” “That sentence already scares me.”

Ryujin turned the bottle fully now. Then immediately froze. It was a very expensive silence.

“You look like you’ve seen JYPE naked or something.” “What the actual fuck is THIS price?”

I glanced briefly toward the bottle. Ah, right. That one.

“Honestly don’t let it worry you, that’s not the most expensive bottle I have.” “That is NOT an answer.” “It’s alcohol.” “That costs more than my first car.” “That feels emotionally exaggerated.”

Ryujin immediately shoved the bottle directly toward my face afterward.

“THIS is a down payment.”

She stared at the bottle another few seconds afterward like it personally offended her upbringing before slowly looking back toward me.

“…And you’re just casually drinking this?” “I mean…” I shrugged lightly. “It’s open already.”

Ryujin blinked once. Then twice. She was close to a psychological collapse over liquor pricing.

“You know normal rich people usually save things like this for special occasions.” “I don’t really care about objects that much.” “That sentence sounded illegally wealthy.”

I took the bottle gently from her afterward before pouring another small amount into both glasses anyway. Ryujin watched the liquid hit the glass with visible emotional distress.

“You poured that way too confidently.” “That sounds judgmental towards my hand stability.” “You’re drinking liquid rent money.” “That feels economically subjective.”

Ryujin stared at me another second before suddenly laughing into one hand. Not mocking. Genuinely entertained. “You are actually insane.” “That feels medically unverified.”

“No seriously.” She shook her head slowly afterward while still smiling. “You buy buildings when traffic annoys you. You drink alcohol worth more than motorcycles. You accepted minimum wage because apparently money stopped mattering to you years ago.” Then she narrowed her eyes slightly. “And somehow you still act like the most exhausted man I’ve ever met.”

An interesting observation. Because unfortunately that one landed cleaner than expected. I leaned lightly back against the counter afterward before answering honestly. “Money’s useful.” I rotated the glass once slowly in my hand. “But eventually it stops solving the important things.” Ryujin stayed quiet afterward. Actually quiet.

“That sounded depressing.” “And you sounded psychologically observant.” “And you sound like a cry for help hidden behind expensive liquor.”

The corner of my mouth twitched slightly afterward while Ryujin took another sip from the glass before visibly relaxing into the counter beside me again. The atmosphere between us had shifted somewhere along the way tonight. But now there was something else underneath it too. Understanding. Which honestly felt significantly more dangerous than flirting ever could. Ryujin took another slower sip afterward before pointing lightly at the glass in my hand.

“You know what’s funny?” “That sentence continues to threaten my wellbeing consistently.” “You’re ridiculously easy to psychoanalyze when alcohol gets involved.” “That feels targeted.” “It is.”

I shook my head quietly afterward while Ryujin wandered away from the kitchen counter again, this time dropping sideways onto the massive couch while holding the expensive liquor like she personally won it in a custody battle. I respected the confidence.

“You gonna stand there looking emotionally burdened all night?” she asked casually. “That depends. Are you gonna keep financially assaulting me over alcohol pricing?” “Yes.” “Understandable.”

I eventually walked over too before sitting at the opposite end of the couch while Ryujin tucked one leg beneath herself comfortably. The house stayed quiet around us. Too quiet honestly. No upstairs noise. No Yuna screaming over snacks. No Chaeryeong half-asleep somewhere. No Lia quietly observing everybody like an emotionally intelligent cryptid. It was just me and Ryujin.

Ryujin took another slower sip afterward before lazily stretching one arm across the back of the couch “…It’s weird without Yeji unnie around”. I glanced toward her briefly.

“That sounded almost emotionally healthy.” “Don’t make it weird.” “Too late.”

Ryujin rolled her eyes lightly afterward before staring toward the windows again. “The floor feels different when she’s gone.” She was right, though. Yeji had somehow become the emotional center gravity of the entire ecosystem upstairs. Very dangerous emotional stability.

“She talks too much,” Ryujin muttered casually. “That’s objectively false.” “She sends too many messages.” “That’s still objectively false.” “She threatened me emotionally because I forgot dinner yesterday.” “That one sounds believable.”

The corner of Ryujin’s mouth twitched slightly afterward “She worries about everybody constantly”. I leaned back slightly into the couch afterward while rotating the glass once slowly in my hand. “She’s used to carrying things herself and that’s the problem.” Ryujin looked toward me again afterward.

“And you make it worse sometimes.” “That sounded accusatory.” “You keep making it easier for her to carry everyone.”

I blinked once slowly “…That might be the first time anyone’s criticized me for helping people.”

“Because you’re helping wrong.” That earned an actual laugh out of me. Ryujin immediately pointed afterward.

“There. That.” “What?” “You only laugh like that around us now.”

That was an intriguing observation. I looked down briefly toward the glass in my hand afterward. The room quieted again for a moment afterward. Then eventually Ryujin leaned slightly farther into the couch while looking at me more carefully now.

“You changed too.” “That feels dramatically vague.” “You used to act like this was temporary. But now you act like you belong there.”

I exhaled softly through my nose afterward while Ryujin continued watching me from the opposite side of the couch. The alcohol wasn’t making her emotional, it was removing the filter. Which honestly felt significantly more dangerous. Then eventually she spoke again.

“You know what I think is funny?” “That sentence continues to threaten my wellbeing consistently.” “You still think nobody notices things.” I tilted my head slightly “That sounds ominous.”

Ryujin rotated the glass once slowly between her fingers afterward before continuing.

“The way Yeji looks at you.” “The way Lia suddenly finds you hilarious.” “The fact that Yuna practically lives on your floor now.” “The way Chaeryeong calms down around you.”

One after another. Measured. Precise. Problematic girl. Very problematic observational skills.

“And you,” she added afterward while looking directly at me now. “You keep acting surprised every single time somebody gets attached to you.”

“That sounds psychologically loaded.” “That sounds deserved.”

I leaned slightly farther back into the couch afterward while trying very hard not to acknowledge how dangerously close this conversation was getting to several professionally catastrophic truths. Ryujin noticed that too. Of course she did.

“There.” She pointed lightly toward me with her glass. “That look again.” “What look?” “The one where you start thinking about consequences before anything’s even happened yet.” “That sounds emotionally responsible.” “That sounds exhausting.”

Eventually Ryujin spoke again. Quieter now. “But honestly?” She shrugged lightly. “I think you’re full of shit sometimes.” I looked toward her slowly.

“That feels aggressive.” “You act like you’re above basic human thoughts.” “That sounds vaguely insulting.” “You know exactly what I mean.”

I did. Ryujin leaned slightly forward afterward, one arm resting against her knee while she watched me carefully now. “You’re surrounded by five ridiculously attractive women constantly emotionally attached to you.” She tilted her head slightly. “And you still act like you’re some emotionally detached saint managing us professionally.” The floor finally cracking beneath the conversation. I rubbed lightly at my jaw afterward before answering carefully. “I never said that.” Ryujin blinked once. Because that clearly wasn’t the answer she expected.

“You didn’t deny it either.” “Because denying that you’re all attractive would make me either dishonest or legally blind.”

That immediately made Ryujin laugh softly beneath her breath. “There he is,” she muttered. “I’m deeply concerned by how happy that response made you.”

“Because it was honest.”

Then eventually the corner of Ryujin’s mouth curved slightly again afterward while she leaned farther back into the couch.

“I bet you just want to fuck us silly sometimes, don’t you?”

The worst part? She wasn’t wrong. Ryujin watched me carefully from the opposite side of the couch while slowly taking another sip from her drink. Waiting. I leaned back slightly farther into the couch afterward before answering honestly. “You say that like it’s some horrifying revelation.” Ryujin blinked once. Then immediately laughed. Actually laughed.

“Oh my god.” “That sounded judgmental.” “No seriously,” she muttered while shaking her head slightly. “You admitted that WAY too calmly.” “You’re all objectively attractive people.” I shrugged lightly afterward. “What psychopath would look at ITZY and go ‘absolutely nothing happening there physically’? I might not say it outright but it’s what I believe in.” “That’s fair honestly.” “Thank you.” “But also emotionally devastating to hear out loud.”

Ryujin snorted softly again before pointing her glass toward me afterward. “See? THIS is what I mean.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “You act emotionally responsible ninety percent of the time then suddenly say something catastrophically honest like it’s normal.”

“That sounds psychologically balanced actually.” “That sounds deeply incorrect.”

I rotated the glass once slowly in my hand afterward before continuing more seriously this time. “But that’s not why I took the job.” That shifted the atmosphere slightly. Ryujin immediately noticed the difference in tone. Of course she did. “I know, if it was, then none the others would have trusted you.” she answered surprisingly quickly. I glanced toward her briefly afterward.

“You say that with a concerning amount of confidence.” “Because I’m not stupid.”

Ryujin leaned slightly farther back afterward while looking at me carefully now. “You care too much for this to just be about attraction.” She shrugged lightly. “That’s why this whole thing is messy.” The alcohol hit differently now. Not enough to blur judgment. Just enough to stop sanding down honesty. I exhaled softly through my nose afterward.

“That sounds ominous.” “That sounds accurate.”

Then eventually Ryujin tilted her head slightly while studying me again. “But honestly?” The corner of her mouth curved faintly afterward. “I think the funniest part is you still act like you’re the only person trying to control themselves.” I stayed quiet— and that was answer enough too. Ryujin noticed immediately. Of course she did. Then slowly— she sat her glass down onto the table nearby before looking directly at me now. No teasing this time.

“What if I told you that what I want is for you to fuck me silly?”

The room went quiet again afterward. Dangerously aware now. Ryujin didn’t look away after saying it either. I stared at her for another second afterward before exhaling softly through my nose.

“That feels like an unbelievably reckless sentence to say to your manager.” “That sounds like avoidance.” “It’s professional self-preservation.”

Ryujin rolled her eyes lightly. “You know what I mean.”

Unfortunately? I did. That was the problem. I leaned forward slightly afterward, resting my elbows against my knees while looking toward the floor briefly.

“You’re drunk.” “That’s a horrible defense.” Ryujin immediately pointed toward her glass. “I’m buzzed at best.” “And honestly?” she continued more casually afterward, “you already admitted the attraction exists.” “That does not automatically make this a psychologically reasonable idea.” “Neither does buying an entire floor for five emotionally unstable women.” “That feels aggressively targeted.” “And it’s well deserved.”

Also fair. I laughed quietly under my breath afterward before rubbing lightly at my forehead. This entire conversation was becoming professionally catastrophic at alarming speed. And the worst part? Ryujin looked completely calm. No emotional spiraling. No vulnerability. No hidden panic. Nothing but deliberate escalation. Then eventually she stood from the couch. I looked up slowly as Ryujin wandered closer now before stopping directly in front of where I sat.

“You think too much,” she muttered. “That sounds hypocritical coming from you.” “No.” Ryujin tilted her head slightly afterward. “I just decide things faster.” I looked up toward her quietly afterward. “And this is one of those decisions?” Ryujin shrugged lightly. “I know what I’m asking for.”

That landed harder than expected. Because there was no hesitation in her voice. And honestly? That somehow made the situation significantly more dangerous. I leaned farther back slightly afterward while Ryujin stayed standing between my knees now, still watching me carefully.

“You really enjoy making my life difficult, don’t you Ryujin?” “You enjoy pretending you don’t want things.”

The alcohol wasn’t helping anymore. Not because it blurred judgment. Because it made honesty easier to stop being filtered. Then eventually Ryujin folded her arms loosely before speaking again.

“You know what the funniest part is?” “That sentence never stops to destroy me mentally.” “You still think this would somehow make me emotionally fragile.” I narrowed my eyes slightly. “That’s not what I think.” “It absolutely is.” Ryujin scoffed softly afterward. “Ben, I’m not gonna collapse because I slept with somebody attractive.” “That wording feels emotionally insane.” “That wording is honest. Ignoring it would make me either dishonest or legally blind.”

She used my own words against me. Then finally— she leaned slightly closer afterward. Not enough to touch. Just enough that the tension stopped pretending not to exist anymore.

“And if we’re being honest?” Ryujin muttered quietly. “I think you want me to stop giving you chances to walk away.”

She was right again. I stayed still for another second afterward while Ryujin remained standing directly in front of me. Close now, too close.

The alcohol settled warm beneath my skin in the worst possible way, not enough to cloud judgment— just enough to stop hiding from it. Ryujin tilted her head slightly afterward when I still didn’t answer.

“There’s that look again.” “That sentence is becoming mentally exhausting.” “And you stalling is mentally exhausting for me, Ben.”

I exhaled quietly through my nose afterward before finally looking up at her properly. “You really don’t know when to stop.” The corner of Ryujin’s mouth curved faintly again afterward “That sounds like you’re still hoping I will”.

There wasn’t a hint of softness or affection. Only the look of victory. Which honestly suited her significantly too well. Then finally she stepped closer. Close enough now that my knees brushed lightly against her thighs.

“You know what your issue is?” she muttered quietly. “I feel like I’m about to get psychoanalyzed against my will.” “You keep trying to act morally responsible after the line’s already gone.”

That landed harder than expected. Because unfortunately? She was right again. I looked up toward her slowly afterward while Ryujin watched me with entirely too much awareness now. “You think if you hesitate long enough,” she continued quietly, “it somehow changes the fact that we both know exactly where this is going.” Then finally— she reached down. Just enough for her fingers to lightly catch beneath my jaw before tilting my head upward slightly toward her.

“Still thinking?” she muttered softly. I let out a quieter laugh beneath my breath afterward. “That sounds incredibly smug for somebody currently propositioning their manager.” Ryujin shrugged lightly. “You admitted you wanted honesty.”

“That feels weaponized.” “Deserved weaponization, mind you.”

The tension between us stopped feeling theoretical somewhere several minutes ago. Now it just felt heavy. Ryujin’s thumb brushed lightly once against my jaw afterward before her eyes flicked briefly toward my mouth. “Last chance,” she murmured quietly. That wasn’t a warning or hesitation. Just letting me acknowledge it. That somehow made it significantly harder to pretend this wasn’t inevitable anymore.

The silence in the room didn't just linger; it pressed against my chest, heavy and suffocating. Ryujin stood there, a challenge wrapped in skin and stubbornness, her eyes locked onto mine with a clarity that stripped away every professional excuse I had left. The "manager" in me was screaming about boundaries and contracts, but the man in me had already surrendered. I stopped thinking. I stopped calculating the fallout. I simply reached out and grabbed her.

Ryujin didn't wait for a gentle transition. She lunged, her body colliding with mine as she bent forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss that felt less like an invitation and more like an invasion. There was no tentative exploration, no soft brushing of lips. It was a collision. Her tongue forced its way past my teeth immediately, claiming the space with a hunger that mirrored my own suppressed desperation. She tasted of the expensive whiskey we’d been drinking and something uniquely her—something sharp and electric. She groaned into my mouth, a low, guttural sound, and her hands didn't just touch me; they seized me. She grabbed my wrists and dragged my hands down, shoving them onto her hips and forcing me to grip her. I dug my fingers into her flesh, my nails probably leaving marks, but she only pushed harder against me, her body molding to mine as if she wanted to merge our skeletons.

Ryujin pulled back just an inch, her breath hot and erratic against my lips. Her eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide, swallowing the iris. "Stop pretending you're the bigger person, Ben," she breathed, her voice a jagged edge. "Just fuck me."

The last thread of my restraint snapped. I didn't answer with words. I backed her up against the nearest piece of furniture, the sound of a lamp rattling as it hit the wall. Ryujin didn't flinch. Instead, she stepped back, her hands moving to the hem of her shirt. In one fluid, defiant motion, she ripped the garment over her head and flung it across the room. I watched her, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. She stood there in just her bra and lace underwear, her skin glowing under the dim lights of the house. She didn't look shy; she looked like a predator who had finally cornered its prey. "Your turn," she commanded, a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

I stripped with a frantic energy I didn't know I possessed. My shirt followed hers, then my trousers, until I stood before her in only my boxers. Ryujin’s gaze traveled slowly up my body, lingering on the hard lines of my chest and the ink that sprawled across my skin. She reached out, her fingertips grazing one of the tattoos on my arm, her touch light but searing. "I always wondered if you were hiding something under those suits," she whispered, her voice dripping with a new kind of heat. "The ink makes you look... dangerous. It makes me want it even more." Her eyes dropped lower, focusing on the prominent bulge straining against the fabric of my boxers. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed her face. She didn't hesitate. She reached out, her small hand wrapping around the length of me through the cloth, squeezing firmly. "Jesus," she breathed, her voice dropping an octave. She hooked her finger into the waistband and pulled the boxers down in one swift motion.

My cock sprung free, fully erect and pulsing with a heavy, aching throb. Ryujin froze for a second, her eyes widening as she stared at me. She reached out, her fingers tracing the head of my cock, feeling the bead of pre-cum that had already leaked out. "I've had toys," she murmured, almost to herself, her gaze fixed on the girth of me. "But this... this is something else entirely. You've been hiding this the whole time?" "You wanted the truth, Ryujin," I rasped, my voice sounding like gravel. "Here it is." She didn't waste another second. She didn't want romance, and she certainly didn't want a slow build-up. She grabbed my hand and shoved me back toward the sofa, pushing me down until I was lying flat.

Before I could even catch my breath, she was straddling me, her lace underwear already discarded on the floor. She didn't ask for foreplay. She didn't want a gentle introduction. She gripped the base of my cock, guided the head to her entrance, and slammed herself down in one violent, decisive motion. I let out a choked gasp, my back arching off the sofa. The heat was instantaneous and overwhelming. Ryujin was soaking wet, her pussy clamping around me with a tightness that felt like it was trying to pull the soul right out of my body. The friction was intense, the sensation of my skin sliding against her slick walls creating a wet, squelching sound that filled the quiet room. Ryujin threw her head back, a loud, unrestrained moan escaping her throat. She didn't start slow. She began to bounce, her hips moving in a frantic, competitive rhythm.

It wasn't a dance; it was a battle. She was trying to see how much she could take, how hard she could push me, and I met her energy with everything I had. "Is this... what you wanted?" I groaned, my hands gripping her waist, my fingers digging into the soft curve of her hips to drive her down harder. "More," she gasped, her voice strained. "Don't you dare... hold back now, Ben. Give me... everything." The sound of our bodies colliding—the slap of her thighs against my legs, the rhythmic sounds of my cock sliding in and out of her drenched pussy became the only thing that existed. Ryujin was aggressive, her movements impulsive and raw. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against my chest, her nipples hard and grazing my skin. She was fighting for control, trying to set the pace, her eyes locked on mine with a defiant, lust-filled glare.

I felt the pressure building in my gut, a tidal wave of release threatening to crash. As I neared the peak, my thrusts became more erratic, more powerful. But just as I felt the first spasm of orgasm hit, Ryujin gripped my hips and slid herself off me with a sudden, jarring movement. I let out a frustrated groan, my cock twitching in the open air, the sudden loss of heat leaving me reeling. I looked up at her, breathless and shaking. Ryujin stood over me, her chest heaving, a triumphant, smug expression on her face as she looked down at my leaking tip. "Not yet," she whispered, her voice playful and cruel.

She didn't give me time to argue. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom, her movements urgent. She wanted more, but she wanted it on her terms. Once we hit the mattress, the power struggle intensified. Ryujin immediately climbed on top of me again, her skin flushed a deep pink, sweat making her glow in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. She began to ride me again, her movements slower now, more deliberate, teasing the head of my cock against her clit before sliding down fully. "You're so frustrated," she taunted, a small, knowing smile on her lips. "I can feel it. You're practically vibrating."

"Shut up and move," I growled, my hands sliding up to her breasts, squeezing them firmly. She laughed, a breathless, airy sound, and increased the pace. The sex was a collision of wills. Every time I tried to flip her over, every time I tried to take the lead and dictate the rhythm, she fought me. She would shift her weight, pin my arms for a second, or change the angle to keep me guessing. It was a game of physical chess, and for the first two rounds, Ryujin won every single exchange. The friction was incredible. The smell of her musk, and the sweet scent of her arousal—filled the room. I could feel the inside of her walls pulsing around me, her own orgasms hitting her in waves. She was loud, her moans turning into high-pitched cries that echoed off the walls. But every time I reached the edge, every time I felt the surge of cum ready to explode, she would pull back or shift the angle, denying me the full release of coming inside her.

By the third round, the atmosphere shifted. The competitive energy was still there, but the physical toll began to mount. Ryujin’s movements slowed. Her breathing became heavy, labored. The sheer intensity of the stimulation—the size of me filling her to the brim and the relentless pace we'd kept—started to wear her down. She eventually collapsed onto my chest, her skin slick with sweat, her heart hammering against mine. Her guard dropped. The smugness vanished, replaced by a look of pure, exhausted bliss. She was spent, her body trembling from the back-to-back orgasms.

I felt it then. The shift in the air. The moment where the power balance tipped. I didn't give her time to recover. While she was still reeling from her last peak, I gripped her waist and flipped her over with one powerful motion. Ryujin let out a surprised yelp, her eyes snapping open. She tried to push back, tried to regain the dominant pacing she'd held all night, but her muscles were like jelly. She was too overstimulated, too physically drained to fight me. "My turn," I whispered, my voice low and dangerous. I grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and pinned them brutally above her head, slamming them into the mattress. The sudden restriction made her gasp, her body arching instinctively.

I didn't go slow. I entered her with a forceful, deep thrust that buried me to the hilt, hitting her cervix with a bluntness that made her eyes roll back in her head. "Ben!" she screamed, the sound raw and loud. "You've had your fun, Ryujin," I groaned, my hips slamming into hers with a rhythmic, punishing force. "Now you're going to take exactly what I give you." This wasn't the push-and-pull of before. This was total domination. I stopped caring about the pace she wanted and started imposing my own. I drove into her with a relentless, heavy intensity, each thrust accompanied by the loud, wet slap of my skin ramming her. The sound was visceral, a rhythmic squelch that signaled just how deep I was sinking into her.

Ryujin wasn't fighting me anymore. She was sobbing into the pillow, her voice a mixture of pleasure and desperation. The feeling of being overpowered, of finally meeting someone who could not only match her intensity but crush it, was overloading her. I released her wrists and grabbed her hair, winding the strands around my fist and pulling her head back. I shifted her, flipping her onto all fours in a jagged motion. I pushed her chest down against the mattress and guided her toward the large mirror leaning against the bedroom wall.

"Look," I commanded, my voice a guttural rasp. Ryujin looked. She saw herself in the reflection—her back arched, her face flushed and ecstatic, her eyes glazed with a level of pleasure that bordered on pain. She saw me behind her, my muscular frame looming over her, my cock disappearing entirely into her soaking wet pussy with every brutal drive. I leaned down, my chest pressing against her back, and delivered a sharp, stinging spank to her right butt cheek. The sound cracked through the room like a whip. Ryujin let out a piercing moan, her entire body shuddering. The shock of the pain combined with the depth of the penetration triggered something in her. Her internal muscles clamped down on me with a violence that nearly brought me to my knees. "Oh god, yes! Harder! Fuck me harder!" she wailed, her voice completely broken, stripped of all its previous smugness. I obliged. I hammered into her, my movements instinctive and rough. I could feel her coming again, a massive, rolling orgasm that made her hips shake uncontrollably. She was loud, her moans turning into guttural screams of satisfaction.

She had spent the whole night trying to control the experience, and now, in the total surrender of her control, she was finding a pleasure that was earth-shattering. I felt the pressure in my loins reaching a critical mass. I didn't want to pull out this time. I didn't want the game— I wanted the mark. I gripped her hips and flipped her back onto her back, pulling her legs up over my shoulders. I wanted to see her face. I wanted to see the exact moment she broke.

As I drove into her one last time, the depth was absolute. I felt the heat of her pussy enveloping me, the walls pulsing in a desperate rhythm. "I'm coming inside you, Ryujin," I growled, my voice thick with lust. "And you're not moving an inch." "No... wait..." she gasped, a ghost of her previous resistance flickering in her eyes. But her body told a different story. Her hips were bucking upward, begging for the impact, her pussy gripping me with a needy, starving intensity. She was faking the protest, her voice trembling with a desire she could no longer hide. "I don't care what you say," I rasped, slamming my weight down on her. "You're taking all of it." I let out a roar as the orgasm finally ripped through me. It was an explosion of heat and pressure. I felt my cock pulse violently inside her, pumping thick, hot jets of cum deep against her cervix. The sensation was overwhelming, a blinding white light of pleasure that made my entire body shake.

Ryujin screamed, her own orgasm hitting simultaneously. She clamped down on me, I could feel her internal muscles milking me dry, her face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. I didn't pull out. I stayed buried deep inside her, my chest heaving, my skin slick with sweat. I leaned down and captured her mouth in a kiss that was possessive and heavy, our tongues tangling in a messy exchange of saliva and breath. It was a seal, a silent declaration that the power struggle was over. But the fire hadn't completely died. Even as I lay there, I could feel the lingering thrum of desire. Ryujin was beneath me, completely broken and fulfilled, her breath coming in shallow hitches.

I started to move again. Slowly at first, then with a renewed, steady intensity. "Ben... I can't... I'm too sensitive..." she moaned, her voice a fragile thread. "Too bad," I whispered, my voice possessive. I continued to fuck her, the friction now almost too much for her to bear. Every slide of my cock felt like an electric shock to her overstimulated nerves. She was crying out, her voice hoarse, her body arching and twisting under me. She was caught in a loop of pleasure, unable to escape the sensation of me filling her. "Please... oh god, please don't stop..." she whimpered, her hands clutching at my arms. I kept going, driving her further and further into a state of sensory overload.

I watched her face—the way her eyes rolled back, the way her mouth stayed open in a silent scream of pleasure. I was the only thing she could feel, the only thing that mattered. Finally, after what felt like hours of relentless movement, I felt another surge building. It wasn't as explosive as the first, but it was heavy and inevitable.

I pulled out of her with a wet, sucking sound, the air hitting my slick skin. Ryujin let out a whimper of loss, her legs still trembling. I gripped her thighs, pulling her toward the edge of the bed. With one final, powerful thrust of my hips, I erupted across her stomach and breasts. The hot, white cream splattered across her golden skin, marking her in the dim light. Ryujin gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as she looked down at the mess I'd made of her. She didn't look disgusted; she looked conquered. She looked complete.

I collapsed beside her, the silence of the room returning, but this time it wasn't heavy. It was light, airy, and filled with the scent of our shared exhaustion. I reached out, my hand instinctively finding the small of her back, pulling her close. Ryujin sighed, a long, shaky sound, and curled into my side. The fire had burned out, leaving behind a smoldering heat that felt more honest than any professional boundary we had ever tried to maintain. "You're a menace," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You started it," I replied, kissing her forehead. She let out a soft, genuine laugh, the sound of someone who had finally found a match.

The haze of sleep didn't lift so much as it was ripped away. I felt it before I saw her—a sudden, searing heat enveloping the head of my cock, followed by the rhythmic, wet suction of a mouth that knew exactly what it wanted. My eyes snapped open to find Ryujin hovering over me, her hair messy, her eyes locked onto mine with a predatory glint. She wasn't just waking me up; she was claiming the day.

The sensation was staggering. She used her tongue to swirl around the rim of my glans before sliding down, taking me deep into the warmth of her throat. I let out a low, guttural groan, my hips instinctively bucking upward. She didn't flinch. She leaned into it, her cheeks hollowing as she created a vacuum that felt like it was pulling the marrow from my bones. The sound was a constant, wet with the noise of saliva mixing with the friction of her lips against my shaft.

She looked up at me, her eyes narrowing, a smug little smirk playing on her lips even as she worked. She knew the power she held in this moment. I reached down, my fingers tangling in her hair, not to pull her away, but to anchor her as I began to thrust my hips into her mouth. She let out a muffled sound, a small, nasal whine of protest that only served to heighten the intensity. She took me deeper, pushing past her gag reflex, her throat tightening around me in a way that made my vision blur.

The pressure built with a violent speed. I could feel the pre-cum leaking, lubricating the path as she accelerated her pace. Her tongue flicked against the underside of my cock, hitting the nerve endings with precision. I gripped her hair tighter, my breath coming in jagged hitches. "Ryujin," I rasped, my voice a wreck. She didn't stop. She doubled down, her suction becoming frantic, her mouth molding to every ridge of my length.

When the orgasm finally hit, it felt like a physical blow. I surged upward, my body shuddering as I pumped thick, hot jets of cum deep into her throat. She didn't pull away. She stayed clamped on, determined to take every single drop. I felt the pulses of my cock hitting the back of her throat, the volume of the release clearly catching her off guard. She tried to swallow, her throat working hard, but the sheer amount was too much.

A thin, white string of cum leaked from the corner of her mouth, dripping onto her chin. She pulled back slowly, a wet pop echoing in the quiet room. She licked her lips, savoring the taste of my seed, and gave me that same, insufferable grin.

"You're a lot louder when you're not thinking about your contract, Ben." "You're a menace." "And you love it." She slid off me with a slow, deliberate friction that left me twitching.

I eventually leaned back against the headboard afterward while trying to regulate my breathing again. Ryujin looked significantly too pleased with herself. “You look emotionally compromised,” she muttered casually while wiping lightly at the corner of her mouth afterward.

“That feels aggressively judgmental considering the circumstances.” “Usually people treat that as a reward for a good job.”

I rubbed lightly at my forehead afterward before finally looking toward her properly “…You woke me up like a starved nymphomaniac.”

Ryujin snorted softly. “You weren’t complaining.” “That feels legally unusable against me.” “That sounds like surrender.” “Absolutely not.”

The grin she gave me afterward suggested she interpreted that as complete victory anyway. Then eventually Ryujin shifted slightly closer across the bed afterward before speaking again. “By the way,” she muttered casually, “don’t start giving me that boyfriend treatment now.” I narrowed my eyes slightly. “That sounds vaguely threatening.”

“That sounds preventative.” Ryujin leaned lightly back against the pillows afterward while looking at me directly now. “I like you, Ben.” She shrugged casually. “Obviously, I don’t think anyone could give it to me the way that you did.” Then immediately afterward “But I don’t want whatever you and Yeji have.” A dangerous sentence that she said so casually. No bitterness. No jealousy. No hesitation. I stared at her another second afterward “…You know.” Ryujin immediately rolled her eyes. “Please.” She let out a quiet laugh afterward. “You two are terrible at hiding it.”

“That feels emotionally invasive.” “That feels observant.”

I exhaled softly through my nose afterward while Ryujin continued watching me with visible amusement now. “The way she looks at you alone already gives everything away,” she muttered. “And you act completely different around her.” Then eventually Ryujin tilted her head slightly afterward. “But honestly?” She shrugged. “I don’t really care about the details.”

“You say that surprisingly calmly.” I looked toward her quietly. “Because I’m not trying to replace her.” That landed cleaner than expected. Ryujin stretched one arm lazily above her head afterward before continuing casually. “I’m just being honest about what I want.” Her eyes shifted back toward me again afterward. “And after last night?” The corner of her mouth curved faintly. “I definitely want more of that.” I rubbed lightly at my jaw afterward while Ryujin watched the reaction with visible satisfaction now. “I don’t want the soft aftercare princess treatment,” she muttered. “I don’t need the emotional reassurance speeches.” Her expression shifted slightly afterward. Less teasing now. More deliberate. “You fucked me silly last night, for the first time— I was actually fucked silly and I loved it.” Ryujin held eye contact anyway. “I expect you to fuck me hard when I want you to,” she continued casually afterward. “And honestly?” Her eyes flicked briefly downward before returning to mine again. “I expect you to fuck me until I’m a mess when you want to.”

An hour later, the bathroom was a sanctuary of white tile and blinding steam. The hot water hammered against the walls, creating a humid fog that clung to our skin. I stood under the spray, the heat loosening the tension in my shoulders, until Ryujin stepped in. She didn't say a word. She just walked into my space, her wet skin sliding against mine, her eyes dark with a hunger that hadn't been sated by the morning's first round. I didn't give her the chance to tease. I grabbed her hips and lifted her in one fluid motion. Ryujin let out a sharp gasp, her legs immediately locking around my waist, her arms winding around my neck. The weight of her was perfect, her damp heat pressing against my groin.

I entered her with a single, deep drive. The sound was a loud, wet squelch as my cock slid into her drenched pussy, the lubrication of the soap and her own arousal making the entry effortless. Ryujin threw her head back, a loud moan echoing off the tiles, her body arching against mine. "God, you're so tight," I groaned into her ear. "Stop talking," she breathed, her voice a jagged edge. "Just... don't stop." I began to move, the rhythm steady and punishing. I walked her back against the shower wall, the cold tile a stark contrast to the searing heat of our bodies. Each thrust was deep, a rhythmic thud. We kissed with a desperation that felt like we were trying to breathe for each other, our tongues tangling, saliva exchanging in a messy, frantic blur. The friction was incredible. The water cascaded over us, but it couldn't cool the fire. I could feel the internal walls of her pussy pulsing around me, clamping down with every slide. Ryujin's breathing became a series of broken whimpers, her nails digging into my shoulders. I shifted my angle, driving my cock upward to hit her g-spot with every ram.

"Ben... please... right there..." I didn't let up. I accelerated the pace, my movements becoming more instinctive, more rough. I wanted to feel her break. I wanted to see that confidence dissolve into pure, unadulterated need. I felt the build-up in my gut, the tidal wave of release crashing over me. At the same moment, Ryujin's body began to shudder. She tightened around me, her internal muscles milking me with a violence that forced a roar from my chest. I slammed into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt. I pumped my cum deep inside her, the volume of the release filling her to the brim. The sensation of the hot fluid ffilling her womb triggered something primal in Ryujin. She broke the kiss, her mouth falling open as she let out a guttural, soul-shaking moan that drowned out the sound of the shower.

We stayed like that for a long minute, the water rinsing the salt and sweat from our skin. As I slowly lowered her to her feet, Ryujin didn't pull away. Instead, her hand wandered down, her fingers curling around my softening cock, squeezing it with a lingering possessiveness "Still not enough," she whispered. I looked at her—flushed, dripping, and completely insatiable. I reached down and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to her ass. The sound cracked through the steam. Ryujin jumped, a small gasp escaping her, but she didn't move her hand. I kept my grip on her hip, sliding two fingers deep into her dripping pussy, hooking them upward to toy with her clit. "You're going to be a mess by the time we leave this house," I muttered. "That's the plan, manager."

The house felt cavernous and too quiet, which only made the sounds of our breathing seem louder. Since the kitchen was barren, we ordered food, the wait time giving us a reprieve that neither of us actually wanted. We wandered the halls in nothing but our underwear—me in my boxers, Ryujin in a pair of black lace panties that left nothing to the imagination. The atmosphere was a strange mix of domesticity and raw electricity. We ate on the counter, the conversation casual, almost normal, but the way Ryujin’s eyes kept tracking the movement of my throat when I drank water told a different story.

"I'll do the dishes," she offered, leaning back against the sink. "Consider it a thank you for the... hospitality." I watched her as she turned her back to me, the lace of her panties stretching over the curve of her ass. The invitation was silent, but it was deafening. I walked up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against my chest. "I specifically asked you for none of that boyfriend treatment bullshit," Ryujin retorted, though she leaned her head back against my shoulder. "What is this?"

"A distraction," I whispered. I didn't wait for her to argue. I slid my hand down, pushing the lace aside and burying my fingers in her soaking wet heat. Ryujin let out a sharp, choked sound, her hands gripping the edge of the sink. I didn't go slow. I attacked her g-spot with a vigorous, rhythmic motion, my thumb grinding into her clit with a pressure that had her legs shaking.

"Ben... oh god... stop... no, don't stop..." She was on the verge, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. I could feel the tension in her thighs, the way her pussy was clamping down on my fingers. Just as she reached the peak, just as the first wave of the orgasm began to roll through her, I ripped my fingers out. Ryujin let out a whimper of pure frustration, her body sagging. "You... you bastard..." I didn't give her a second to recover. I stepped closer, my cock already hard and pulsing, and rammed myself into her from behind in one violent motion. The impact was brutal. Ryujin screamed, the sound muffled by the quiet of the kitchen. She had been so preoccupied with the near-orgasm that she had no defense. I had full control now. I gripped her hair, pulling her head back so I could see the expression of shock and pleasure on her face in the reflection of the window. I began to fuck her with a relentless, heavy intensity. Every thrust was a statement. I slammed my hips into her, the sound of our bodies colliding—a rhythmic, wet slap—filling the room.

I delivered a sharp spank to her right cheek, the sound echoing, and she tightened around me instantly, her pussy gripping my shaft like a vice. "Look at you," I growled, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, tongue-heavy kiss. "So loud now." I didn't stop the ramming, my cock sliding in and out of her with a visceral, squelching sound. Ryujin was lost. The struggle for control had vanished, replaced by a desperate, starving need. She began to sob into the kiss, her body bucking against me. The stimulation was too much; the combination of the rough penetration and the hair-pulling pushed her over the edge. She came with a violence that left her breathless, her juices spraying across the floor, dripping from the edge of the counter. I felt her internal muscles convulsing around me, milking me dry. I didn't pull out. I drove into her one last time, my body shuddering as I erupted across her back, the hot cum splattering against her skin.

Ryujin collapsed, her knees giving out as she slid to the floor. She lay there for a moment, chest heaving, her skin flushed a deep pink. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she turned and crawled back toward me. She didn't say anything. She just reached out and took my cock into her mouth, sucking the remaining cum out with a focused, expert intensity. "You... really do... like being a mess," I panted, looking down at her. Ryujin looked up at me, her eyes glazed, a bit of saliva trailing from her lip. "I like the way you make me one."

By the time the afternoon sun began to dip, we had lost count. The house had become a map of our encounters—the shower, the kitchen, the hallway. We were exhausted, our muscles aching, our skin hypersensitive, but the hunger remained. It was a cycle of escalation that neither of us knew how to break. I was sprawled on the couch, my head back, eyes closed, trying to find some semblance of peace. Then I felt it. Ryujin had knelt between my legs. She wasn't just sucking me off this time. She was practicing. She looked up at me, a challenge in her eyes, and then she opened her mouth wide. She slid down, taking me in, deeper than she ever had before. I felt the head of my cock hit the very back of her throat. She gagged, her eyes watering, but she didn't pull back. Instead, she used her hands to push herself further down, forcing my entire length into her.

The sensation was overwhelming. The tight, hot constriction of her throat wrapping around me was unlike anything else. I watched her, mesmerized, as she worked her way up and down, her movements slow and deliberate. She was learning the geometry of my body, finding the exact angle that made me groan. The sound of her swallowing, the wet, rhythmic suction—it was a symphony of surrender. I reached down, my hands gripping her shoulders, guiding her rhythm. I could see the effort in her eyes, the way she was fighting her own body to take more of me. The desperation in her expression was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.

"You're... actually doing it," I rasped. She didn't answer, her mouth too full. She just looked up at me, her pupils blown wide, and accelerated the pace. The friction of her throat was too much. I felt the pressure build, a sudden, sharp spike of need. "Ryujin, I'm—"

She didn't pull away. She wanted it. She wanted the evidence of my release. I surged upward, my body arching as I came. I pulled out at the last second, the force of the orgasm sending thick, white ropes of cum flying across her face. It splattered across her cheeks, her forehead, and a heavy dollop landed right on her lower lip. Ryujin stayed there, frozen, blinking through the white streaks of cum. She looked like a painting of absolute ruin. I looked down at her, my breath returning, and a small, genuine smile touched my lips. "You know," I whispered, reaching out to brush a bit of cum from her cheek. "You look perfect drenched in my cum." Ryujin wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, tasting herself and me. She looked at me, and for the first time all day, there was no smugness. No challenge. Just a raw, honest satisfaction. "Shut up, Ben," she muttered, though she leaned into my touch. "Just... make sure you can do that again before we go home."

Ryujin eventually disappeared into the bathroom afterward to clean up properly while I remained sprawled across the couch trying to remember what psychological stability felt like before this weekend happened, unsuccessfully. The house itself had gone quieter now. The air still carried traces of steam, sweat, expensive liquor, and several catastrophically irresponsible decisions. Somewhere in the bathroom, I could hear Ryujin humming faintly to herself with entirely too much satisfaction for somebody who had spent the last twenty-four hours destroying my remaining professional boundaries.

I leaned my head farther back into the couch afterward before closing my eyes briefly. Then eventually “…You alive out there?” I answered toward the bathroom afterward “Physically? Debatable”. Ryujin laughed softly somewhere behind the partially open door.

“That sounds like a skill issue.” “That sounds medically concerning after everything that happened.” “That sounds deserved.”

A few minutes later she finally wandered back out wearing one of my oversized shirts and a pair of shorts she had apparently stolen from somewhere in the house without permission. At this point I respected the consistency.

Her hair was still slightly damp from the shower, her face softer now without the constant smugness she weaponized ninety percent of the time. I immediately pointed toward her.

“You’re stealing clothes now.” “You’re rich. Recover emotionally.” “That sentence continues to financially threaten me consistently.”

Ryujin ignored me entirely before dropping sideways onto the couch beside me with visible exhaustion now finally beginning to catch up to her.

“We should probably go home before they start filing missing person reports.” “That sounds responsible.” I glanced toward her briefly. “Who are you and what have you done with Ryujin?” “Shut up.”

The corner of my mouth twitched slightly afterward while Ryujin rested her head briefly against the back cushions. Then after another quieter moment “We should stop by a pharmacy first.” I blinked once slowly. I tilted my head slightly afterward “That sounded ominously specific.” Ryujin looked at me like I’d asked something deeply stupid. “I’m not risking pregnancy, Ben.” I stayed quiet another second afterward while Ryujin continued casually scrolling through her phone now like she hadn’t just dropped a life-altering logistical statement into the room.

“You planned that surprisingly fast.” “I plan a lot of things fast.”

Then finally she glanced toward me again.

“I intend to keep letting you finish inside me when we do this.” “So I’d rather trust medication than luck.”

Because somehow the blunt practicality of the statement felt significantly more intimate than the sex itself had. Ryujin immediately noticed the look on my face afterward too.

“There’s that look again.” “That sentence is becoming psychologically exhausting.” “You’re overthinking again.” “That’s because you say things like that horrifyingly casually.” “That sounds like a you problem.”

About an hour later, the drive back toward the Top Floor felt significantly different from the drive leaving it. Not because of awkwardness. There wasn’t any. Ryujin sat comfortably in the passenger seat wearing a cap low enough to hide most of her face while lazily tapping through music on her phone. Meanwhile I was actively trying not to think about the fact that we had spent nearly an entire day having sex, she had already normalized the arrangement psychologically, and somehow I still had to return home pretending my life hadn’t become professionally catastrophic.

Excellent. Fantastic even. Then eventually Ryujin spoke again without looking up.

“You know what’s gonna happen the second we walk in there, right?” “That sounds threatening.” “That sounds accurate.”

Because the moment the elevator finally opened onto the Top Floor later that afternoon— all four of them were already there. It was an ambush. Yuna looked up first from the couch almost immediately.

“There they are!” “That sounded accusatory already.”

Chaeryeong narrowed her eyes slightly afterward while looking between the two of us.

“You were gone for like… an entire day.” “That sounds emotionally investigative.” “That’s because it IS emotionally investigative,” Yuna immediately added.

Meanwhile Lia remained seated near the kitchen island quietly sipping coffee while observing us with entirely too much awareness. And then finally— Yeji looked up too. Because unlike the others Yeji didn’t look confused and somehow that felt significantly scarier.

The silence lasted maybe two seconds. “…Why do both of you look exhausted?” Yuna asked suspiciously. “That feels medically invasive.” Ryujin answered casually while walking past me entirely unbothered. “That feels deserved”. Chaeryeong looked between the two of us afterward before narrowing her eyes slightly “…Did you two even sleep?” I immediately pointed toward her.

“That sounds accusatory for somebody currently unemployed from detective work.” “That’s not a denial,” Yuna gasped dramatically from the couch.

Ryujin immediately wandered toward the kitchen afterward like she owned the floor before opening the fridge casually, without even looking back— “Ben snores”. The room immediately exploded. “YOU SLEPT OVER?!” Yuna nearly folded sideways laughing. “That sounds significantly worse out loud,” I muttered while rubbing lightly at my forehead. Meanwhile Chaeryeong looked genuinely scandalized now.

“You disappeared for an entire day!” “That sounds emotionally clingy.” “That’s because we WERE worried!” Chaeryeong protested immediately afterward.

Then finally Lia spoke for the first time “…Did you at least eat properly?” Lia wasn’t asking ‘where were you?’ She was watching behavior. Ryujin immediately glanced toward her afterward before smirking slightly “We ate”. That somehow made the atmosphere worse. Yuna immediately pointed toward both of us afterward.

“Nope. Nope. Something weird happened.” “That sounds vaguely threatening.” “You BOTH look suspicious.”

Ryujin meanwhile looked entirely too relaxed while leaning against the kitchen counter now drinking directly from a juice bottle she absolutely didn’t buy herself “…Yeji unnie already told us where you guys went.” I slowly looked toward Yeji afterward. She had a very dangerous eye contact. Because Yeji was watching me carefully now. Not upset or angry. She was just reading me. That somehow felt significantly more terrifying. Then finally Yuna narrowed her eyes dramatically afterward.

“…Wait.” “Why are BOTH of you blushing now?” “I’m not blushing,” I answered immediately. “You answered too fast,” Ryujin added helpfully.

Yuna gasped loudly afterward like she’d uncovered state secrets.

“Oh my god SOMETHING happened.” “That sounds emotionally speculative.” “That sounds CORRECT.”

Meanwhile Lia quietly took another sip of coffee while visibly trying not to smile now. Then eventually Chaeryeong tilted her head slightly while looking toward Ryujin “…Why do you look so happy?” Because Ryujin actually paused for half a second. Then slowly— the corner of her mouth curved faintly upward afterward “Maybe I just had a good weekend”. And then before I could psychologically prepare myself— Ryujin casually walked past me afterward and pressed a quick kiss against my cheek.

The entire room froze. Professionally devastating even. I stared at her slowly afterward. “…What the hell was that?” Ryujin shrugged casually while walking toward the hallway.

“Emotional support.” “You are a horrible person.” “That sounds emotionally biased.”

Behind us? Yuna was losing her entire mind. Chaeryeong looked seconds away from spontaneous collapse. Lia looked deeply unsurprised. And Yeji? She didn’t react with jealousy. Instead she looked directly at Ryujin and Ryujin looked back. One second. Maybe two. No hostility or competition. And somehow? That felt significantly more dangerous than if they had argued.

Later that night, the Top Floor had finally gone quiet again. Mostly. Somewhere farther down the hallway, Yuna was still loudly accusing Ryujin of “emotionally traumatizing the group” while Chaeryeong tried unsuccessfully to restore order. Meanwhile Lia had long since stopped pretending she didn’t know more than she was saying.

Wonderful environment to professionally survive in.

I leaned farther back into the couch inside my room afterward while staring blankly at the ceiling. The exhaustion finally settling properly now. Not just physical. Mental too. Because somehow over the course of one weekend Ryujin had completely destroyed the remaining illusion of emotional distance, Yeji silently acknowledged it, Lia was becoming increasingly dangerous, and the ecosystem upstairs was now evolving faster than I could realistically control anymore.

Then eventually— my phone buzzed once beside me. Ryujin. Of course. I opened the message immediately “You survived” I stared at it for another second afterward before snorting quietly beneath my breath. Then another message arrived immediately after “Congrats”. I was still shaking my head lightly when the phone buzzed again a few moments later. Different name this time. Yeji.

The message itself was short. Simple. I’m coming to your room later.

YJ: Don’t fall asleep first :)

Somehow that message affected me significantly more than it probably should have. And honestly? That realization alone was psychologically concerning enough already.

Outside my room, I could still faintly hear Yuna yelling accusations at Ryujin somewhere down the hallway while Chaeryeong desperately attempted damage control. Meanwhile, somewhere in the middle of all that chaos— Yeji was still choosing me quietly. That felt like the most dangerous part of all.

[afterhours37]

Overworked & Overwanted - Proximity

The problem with ominous foreshadowing is that sometimes it actually arrives exactly the way you expected it to. Which unfortunately explained why three days later I was standing inside one of JYPE’s empty practice room hallways holding two iced coffees while Yeji looked significantly less concerned about this situation than I was.

YJ: You’re overthinking. B: I say this with complete sincerity, your group frightens me. YJ:  That’s dramatic. B: One of them sent me a shark emoji as a threat. YJ: That wasn’t a threat. B: That somehow concerns me more.

Yeji laughed quietly beneath her breath afterward before reaching over to steal the drink out of my hand like she had already done this enough times for it to become muscle memory. Then the practice room door suddenly opened before either of us could continue the conversation. And there she was. Ryujin leaned casually against the doorway first before immediately narrowing her eyes toward me like she was assessing a suspiciously intelligent stray animal— the shark emoji suddenly made psychological sense now. “So this is him.” Ah, great start already. Yeji immediately sighed beside me. “Ryujin.” “What?” Ryujin stepped farther into the hallway afterward without taking her eyes off me yet. “I’m observing.” “That wording sounds predatory.” “That’s because it is,” she answered instantly. Excellent. Very normal interaction. I extended the remaining iced coffee toward her anyway.

“Peace offering” Ryujin looked down toward the drink briefly first before slowly accepting it. “…You think bribery works on me?” “No.” I shrugged lightly. “But people are usually less hostile with caffeine.” “That’s emotionally manipulative.” “That’s called basic psychology.”

Ryujin stared at me for maybe two seconds longer afterward. “…Oh I get it now.” I narrowed my eyes slightly. That sentence psychologically threatened me. “She likes you because you fight back.” Yeji nearly choked on her drink beside me “RYUJIN.” Ryujin looked entirely unbothered afterward “What? You’ve been smiling at your phone like an emotionally compromised idiot for weeks. Silence “…Weeks?” I repeated carefully. Yeji looked ready to commit actual violence now. Ryujin looked delighted. They had an interesting ecosystem already. Then finally she took another sip from the iced coffee before speaking again. “Hm” another pause “You’re calmer than I expected.” B: That sounded vaguely disappointing. RJ: I was expecting at least one visible panic response by now. B: I’m choosing survival. RJ: That’s less fun.

Yeji rubbed lightly at her forehead afterward while I started understanding exactly why this woman probably exhausted everybody around her psychologically. Not maliciously. Just professionally committed to being a problem. Then suddenly another voice came from somewhere inside the practice room “Did Ryujin finally scare him away?” Ah. More of them, excellent.

Yuna appeared next almost immediately afterward before stopping mid-step once she noticed me properly standing there. Then without hesitation “Oh wow he’s actually handsome.”

YJ: YUNA. YN: What? I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs. YJ: That sentence didn’t even apply here. YN: It applies spiritually. B: How are YOU the leader here? RJ: That’s what I’ve been asking too

That finally Yuna stepped closer afterward before looking me up and down with absolutely zero subtlety whatsoever “So did you really manage Yeji unnie’s solo schedules?” I gave Yuna a nod and she followed up with “And does she like-like you?” I could feel Yeji giving their maknae a death glare. “What? I’m gathering information.” Yeji already had my fingers on the bridge of my nose “That’s not how normal people gather information, you know.” Yuna ignored her like a pro. Then eventually she pointed toward me directly. “You don’t look stressed enough to work here.”

B: That’s because panic is inefficient. RJ: That’s actually of annoying. B: Thank you RJ: That wasn’t a compliment. B: Spiritually it was.

Yeji physically lowered her head afterward like she was reconsidering every decision that led her to this hallway. Honestly, watching her fight back laughter while trying to maintain leader dignity was becoming one of my favorite hobbies alarmingly quick.

Then before the conversation inside the practice hall could deteriorate any farther, the practice room door opened again. Lia stepped out first while fixing one sleeve of her hoodie absentmindedly before immediately slowing once she noticed me standing there. Unlike Ryujin and Yuna, her reaction wasn’t loud— just observant. Then a soft voice came from her “Oh… You’re actually here” She blinked out of surprise. “That sounded vaguely accusatory.” Lia laughed quietly beneath her breath after hearing my comment “No. No. I just thought Ryujin was exaggerating dramatically again.”

“I NEVER exaggerate.” Every single person in the practice hall looked towards Ryujin immediately. “Wow,” Yuna muttered “That was probably the biggest lie spoken inside this building today”. Betrayed from every direction honestly.  Then finally as Chaeryeong arrived, she paused almost immediately once she noticed me there too. And unlike everybody else so far— she looked directly towards Yeji first. Then eventually her eyes shifted back toward me afterward “… So you’re the manager that unnie keeps smiling at her phone about.” Absolute silence. Yeji looked like she was about to cry from embarrassment. Ryujin looked fulfilled. And Yuna physically collapsed on the floor laughing.

“I KNEW IT” Ryujin pointed aggressively toward Yeji “I told you she had that look.” “You people are genuinely terrible for my mental health” Yeji muttered while covering part of her face with one hand. “Counterpoint,” Yuna answered immediately “This is the most entertaining week we’ve had in months”. Then Lia looked toward me again afterward while offering a small polite smile “Sorry in advance by the way.” I looked at her curiously “For what?” She glanced briefly toward the other members around her first “…Them”.

Reasonable concern honestly. Then before the conversation could continue farther, another staff member stepped out from inside the practice room. “ITZY?” the coordinator called carefully “The meeting’s about to start”. That finally shifted the atmosphere slightly afterward. Less chaotic, more curious. The members slowly started moving out of the empty practice room while I stayed farther behind instinctively out of habit. “Aren’t you coming in?” I looked up the voice, Yeji stood near the doorway watching me expectantly while the others slowly settled inside already. B: That sounded like a trap YJ: It’s a meeting B: That doesn’t make it less dangerous

“It definitely becomes MORE dangerous actually.” Ryujin immediately leaned sideways from inside the room. “Thank you, Ryujin.” Lia sighed softly. I eventually stepped inside anyway and the room itself looked surprisingly normal compared to the psychological hazards occupying it. Practice schedules covered one side of the wall, concept drafts, timeline boards, and preliminary comeback planning materials. It was an early preparation. Smart, honestly very smart.

The members slowly settled around the table while staff members arranged papers and tablets nearby. Then finally one of the division heads cleared his throat lightly before beginning the meeting properly. “As everybody already knows, preparations for the next comeback cycle will begin earlier than usual this time.” This cause immediate reactions from everyone around the room, mostly surprise— no resistance. A good sign. “We’re restructuring scheduling priorities to reduce unnecessary fatigue accumulation during comeback preparations.” They actually read my report based on my time managing the preparations for Yeji’s solo debut.

I could physically feel Ryujin looking at me already, then the division head continued calmly “This approach was heavily recommended after the success of Yeji’s solo preparation management”. Great, now everybody was looking at me openly. “In addition, due to the successful management techniques of Mr. Sung Benjamin— effective immediately he is to officially work as your personal manager and wellness coordinator moving forward.”

Silence, deafening silence at that “… Wellness coordinator?” Yuna repeated carefully “That sounds emotionally expensive.” I answered honestly. “Yeah, that title makes me feel concerned.” Ryujin looking too entertained now. Meanwhile Lia looked more thoughtful than surprised. And Chaeryeong? Still quietly observing everything, first at Yeji, then me, and the space between us. This girl has piqued my interest, she was very observant and not in a good way.

The division head continued speaking afterward while presentation slides changed quietly across the screen behind him. “With comeback preparation beginning earlier than previous cycles, the company’s priority moving forward is sustainability.” That alone almost made me laugh honestly— not because it was wrong, because hearing a corporation discover human beings require recovery after years of overworking idols sounded borderline revolutionary. Still, better late than never. “We’ll be implementing adjusted rehearsal pacing, structured recovery periods, nutritional monitoring, and revised travel management.”

“By any chance… are we dying?” Yuna slowly raised one hand while asking. “No” the division head answered patiently. “Then why does this sound like a hospital reform plan?” Yeji sighed beside me, “That’s enough” Ryujin leaned back in her chair afterward while looking toward me instead of the screen.

RJ: So this is your fault? B: That sounded accusatory. RJ: You made the company discover empathy. B: Allegedly. RJ: That’s terrifying.

Eventually another slide appeared onscreen— Travel Restructuring, Preparation Timelines, Rotational Rest Days. That was good progress for the company to give to the girls. The biggest issue with idols and their schedules wasn’t even the workload, it was accumulation. Too many consecutive days without decompression eventually turned exhaustion into personality and unfortunately people normalized that way too easily. “Wait,” I looked up to Lia who was looking at the screen “… We’re getting actual off-days during preparation?” The room unexpectedly quieted after. Because the question itself said enough. The division head nodded calmly “Mandatory ones, yes”. Silence again, not in a dramatic sense… more of unfamiliarity.

Lia leaned back afterward while looking strangely thoughtful now. That reaction bothered me more than complaints would’ve. Because it meant rest had become surprising, that should never happen to somebody. Then suddenly Ryujin pointed toward me again.

RJ: I’m blaming him for this too. B: Why are you acting like I committed corporate espionage? RJ: You kind of did. B: That’s not how my job works. RJ: Doesn’t sound convincing to me.

Yeji physically lowered her head into one hand beside me again. Meanwhile Yuna looked increasingly invested in this entire situation. “Wait so if he’s our personal manager now…” she tilted her head slightly afterward. “Does that mean he’s going to start bossing us around?” I answered immediately “Not in that way”. That made Ryujin narrow her eyes “That answer sounded suspiciously fast.” I didn’t even look at her “Because I value survival”. This warranted a grin within her. Then eventually Chaeryeong spoke again for the first time in the meeting “What exactly CAN you control then?”

Ah. That was a good question. The division head answered first “Schedule adjustments related to wellbeing, fatigue management, travel concerns, dietary recommendations, recovery prioritization, and emergency intervention authority if necessary.” A brief silence loomed aver until Yuna broke the silence “…Emergency intervention authority?” she repeated carefully. “That sounds vaguely threatening” Ryujin added. “It means if you’re overworked to the point of physical or psychological risk, I am allowed to override schedules temporarily.” I explained.

The room quieted again after that. Less playful this time with everyone processing what I just said. Then eventually Ryujin leaned sideways against one arm while looking directly at me. RJ: You can actually do that? B: Yes RJ: That’s kind of insane. B: That’s because most industries don’t let people sleep. RJ: That sound personal. B: It was. YN: WAIT. Does that mean he can let us go home early? LA: I already like this arrangement. RJ: Alright, I’m onboard with that. B: NOT LIKE THAT.

Then finally the division head spoke again “Additionally, Mr. Sung requested earlier visibility into future schedules to reduce last-minute stress buildup.” Now THAT got reaction. Because all five members looked up immediately. “You asked for that?” Yeji asked beside me. “Well that should’ve already existed honestly.” Yuna leaned forward slightly “You specifically asked for that?” I shrugged lightly. “People handle stress better when they can prepare for it mentally”.

“That actually makes a lot of sense.” Lia admitted first. And the way she said it sounded less surprised than relieved. Ryujin looked toward me again afterward, before narrowing her eyes slightly. “You’re annoyingly competent”. I looked at her with a grin “Thank you”. She sighed in defeat “That wasn’t a compliment”. That finally earned another round of laughter around the room again. And for the first time since entering the building— the atmosphere around the table no longer felt like managers and idols. Just people slowly getting comfortable with each other.

The moment the official meeting ended, the staff members slowly began filtering out of the room one by one. Papers gathered. Schedules discussed. Managers coordinating outside the hallway again. Normal company atmosphere.  Unfortunately for me though— the five women across the table were still sitting exactly where they were. Which immediately felt threatening. I slowly narrowed my eyes. B: Why does this suddenly feel like an intervention? RJ: We’re processing. B: That wording has never led to anything positive. YN: Correct.

Yeji looked significantly less amused now though as the others slowly shifted their attention toward me instead. And truthfully, the expression on Ryujin’s face specifically look like she just discovered gold, then Lia spoke first “So you’re really managing us now”. Shrugging my shoulder, “You sound disappointed” I told her. “Oh no,” Lia laughed softly beneath her breath “More like surprised.” I admitted the same. “Wow, that’s somehow less reassuring.” Ryujin muttered. “Well transparency builds trust” I reminded Ryujin. “That sounded manipulative”. Yeji sighed quietly beside me afterward while Chaeryeong kept watching the entire interaction unfold like she was mentally building a conspiracy board in real time.

“Wait one minute.” Yuna looked at me curiously. “If you’re doing all this extra work now…” she narrowed her eyes at me “How much are they even paying you?”. I immediately answered “The legally required minimum.” Silence filled the room. Then all four of them simultaneously looked at me like I was some sort of madman. Yeji was already staying out of this leaving me to fend the sharks alone.

RJ: No, seriously. B: I am serious. RJ: That’s stupid. B: That’s efficient. YN: NOT FOR YOU. B: The job interested me, money didn’t.

That silenced the room once more. Then “That’s not a normal sentence.” Chaeryeong tilted her head towards me. “THANK YOU” Yuna pointed aggressively toward me. Then Yeji finally stepped in to save me from this, “He literally wouldn’t take the position unless they lowered the compensation.” More silence, then everybody turned toward her. “…You knew that already?” Lia asked carefully. An interesting shift immediately happened, Yeji forze for maybe half a second too long, a small yet noticeable delay. Especially now that Ryujin noticed the delay, she’s sharper than I thought she was. “…He mentioned it before.” Yeji tried to regain her composure— technically true.

“Ok wait wait wait wait,” Yuna leaned forward now pointing directly at me. “You’re telling me you asked the company to pay you LOWER THAN WHAT THEY OFFERED for this job?”

B: Yes… YN: That either means you’re absolutely crazy or insanely rich. RJ: He could be both. LA: You really don’t care about the money? B: No B: This wasn’t even that much of an impressive sacrifice from my perspective, money stopped feeling emotionally real a long time ago. YN: Ohhh, he’s RICH-rich! B: I’m choosing not to participate in this conversation. RJ: That means “yes” CR: Wait… What kind of car do you drive? B: No, absolutely not. You stop that. RJ: That is not an answer. B: I am choosing self-preservation. RJ: OH MY GOD, he’s hiding billionaire lore. B: I am not a secret billionaire. CR: That honestly sounds like something a secret billionaire would say.

Yeji physically covered part of her face after hearing that while quietly laughing beneath her breath. No help whatsoever. Then eventually Yuna suddenly stood up dramatically afterward. “Well” she nodded firmly. “Since our emotionally concerning rich manager is apparently taking care of us now—” I DID NOT LIKE WHERE THIS WAS GOING “— you should treat us to lunch.”

B: Ahhh. Corporate extortion. Excellent. B: That sounded less like a suggestion and more like a ransom demand. RJ: It’s team bonding. B: So your idea of team bonding is to financially exploit your poor minimum wage manager? CR: Mr. Sung oppa, you are bad at acting. B: Fair— but please, drop the honorifics. “Ben” is fine. YJ: He likes it when you call him— B: YEJI DON’T YOU DARE. LA: I was always curious where rich people usually eat. B: Even the polite one is ganging up on me. YN: You did say recovery and wellbeing mattered.

Oh that was evil. But they had me at checkmate. “Fine.” I gave up fighting, it was more efficient to take the loss.

The next several weeks disappeared significantly faster than expected. Which honestly meant one of two things. Either everybody was adjusting well to the new preparation system— or we were all collectively too exhausted to properly perceive time anymore. Could’ve gone either way. Still, the earlier comeback planning surprisingly worked. Less last-minute panic, less schedule compressing, and more breathing room between rehearsals. It wasn’t completely healthy. But noticeably healthier.

Which unfortunately meant I was now driving to the building almost every single day. And the Seoul traffic was beginning to radicalize me. “You look irritated.” Ryujin pointed out the obvious one afternoon while sitting cross-legged on the practice room floor. B: Well I lost ninety minutes of my life in traffic today. RJ: Sounds dramatic. B: I could’ve completed three meetings, reorganized two rehearsal schedules, and consumed caffeine peacefully in that amount of time. RJ: Aside being a secret billionaire, are you secretly forty years old too? B: The polite term is “Spiritually Exhausted” and no, I am not a secret billionaire.

Yeji laughed quietly somewhere beside me while stretching near the mirrors afterwards. Meanwhile Yuna looked up from her phone afterward “…Wait how long do you actually drive here?” Thinking about it thoroughly “Sometimes less than an hour, sometimes almost 90 minutes. Depends on traffic.” Then Lia chimed in “You really are constantly here in despite being paid next to nothing.” Ok that was just mean. But that phrasing was interesting— not ‘working constantly’, but ‘here constantly’… that was a subtle difference, harsh nonetheless.

Suddenly Chaeryeong glanced up from where she’d been quietly reorganizing practice notes. “Why don’t you just move closer?” I answered immediately “Nope”. This caused Ryujin to glare at me with suspicion. RJ: That was too fast of an answer. B: Because all of you are psychologically a danger to my peace of mind. RJ: Liar YN: Oh my God, he thinks we’d invade his personal space. B: That’s not the issue, the issue is when you would. YJ: We absolutely would. RJ: Within the week if you’re lucky. B: That sounds more like a threat.

Eventually I leaned back against the mirrored wall afterward while rubbing lightly at my forehead “Traffic is still inefficient though.”

RJ: That sounded like a wind up for something. YJ: That sentence concerns me, Ben… B: That sounded accusatory YJ: What did you do? B: I solved the commute issue -silence- YN: Nuh uh. B: I did. LA: What scares me the confidence in how he says it. RJ: What exactly does “solved” mean in this context? B: It means renovations finished today… CR: …Renovations… YN: You were renovating something? B: That’s how renovations work. LA: You’re making it sound worse.

I eventually let my phone down and reached for my car keys on the nearby table “Come on, it’s better I show you” yet nobody moved from the table. “If we get murdered, I want everybody to know I was suspicious from the beginning.” Ryujin said standing up first. “Oh my God, are we actually going somewhere?” Yuna followed suit. “Why am I being pinned as a psychotic murderer?” Lia laughed on that statement “So you would prefer ‘Secret Billionaire’ then?” This made Yeji cover part of her face to laugh “I refuse to comment on that.” I looked back to them before walking to the van.

A few minutes later we were all inside the company-issued van driving towards their residential building while the members continued trying unsuccessfully to interrogate me along the wary.  “Wait, why are you even driving the company van?” a curious inquiry from Yuna. “All of us won’t fit in my personal car.” that wasn’t wrong but not the real reason I took the van. Ryujin broke the silence after my statement “Oh my God, that’s what rich people would totally say.” Yuna was backing Ryujin up “Rich people LOVE pretending to be normal by using company things”. Lia looked increasingly amused “I actually kind of see it now”. Great, even the polite one is against me on this “What are you on? I am literally using the company van for work.”

“They’re not going to let this go anymore, Ben.” Yeji laughed under her breath. “I noticed. Anyways were here”. The members realized that we were in their residential building. “Wait why are we here? Are you letting us go home early?” Yuna was looking around while we all headed to the elevator. I pressed on the button to the top floor. “What’s on the top floor? None of us live there, Ben.” Yeji pondered before the realization hit her “BEN THERE IS NO WAY”. I gave Yeji a quick look “We’re going there because that’s where the renovations are at”. All of them were looking at me now. RJ: No… B: Yes YN: Nuh uh… B: Again, yes. YJ: BEN, I TOLD YOU THIS WAS INSANE YN: Yeji unnie, YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS? YJ: I knew he was working on fixing that traffic issue.

Then the elevator doors finally opened on the top floor. There was a tinted door right in front of them. I took out my security card to scan the door open. And what they saw left them speechless— but to me it looked good enough to pass. It was an entire floor redesigned to mirror a luxury wellness facility, minus a few adjustments that catered to optimizing the recovery of exhausted idols. Warm Lighting, Private Lounge Spaces, Glass-panel Training Room, Sound-proof Resting Areas, Security Access Points, Recovery Facilities, and a fully renovated shared kitchen. And at the very center— a massive common space that somehow felt weirdly comfortable instead of overly luxurious.

At first, it was absolute silence. Then Ryujin broke the tension “What the actual fuck?” she was still staring at me. Yuna looked like she was about to enter cardiac arrest. Lia physical froze at the entrance. Chaeryeong looked like she was trying to manually process the financial implications in real time. Meanwhile Yeji just slowly covered her face with both hands afterwards.

YJ: You actually did this. B: I solved the problem. YN: YOU BOUGHT AN ENTIRE FLOOR?! B: For efficiency purposes. RJ: This is rich-rich, like evil villain rich. B: Now that feels judgmental. RJ: YOU BUILT AN IDOL RECOVERY FORTRESS B: Not what it is, but that does sound cool. YJ: I told you he was rich. RJ: No, you implied he was rich. THIS IS “BATMAN BEHAVIOR” RICH B: Now that was excessive CR: Says the person who bought an entire floor. YJ: Wait, did you talk to Jihyo unnie about this? B: Uhmmmm. RJ: You will be missed, Mr. Sung Benjamin oppa. YN: Wait, wait, wait. Didn’t John mention about Ben being richer than basically everyone except Mina unnie? B: There it is. YJ: Ignore that. John said that if Ben “pooled” all his resources… he could technically buy majority of JYPE.

Complete silence “…WHAT?” Yuna screamed so loudly it echoed across the entire floor. Ryujin physically folded onto the couch laughing like she lost control of her nervous system. Lia looked spiritually disconnected from reality. Chaeryeong just stared at me in complete silence now like she was rethinking every conversation we’d had over the past weeks. At this point I was starting to understand why people avoided discussing wealth entirely. “I need everyone here to understand something,” Yuna announced while pointing toward me like she’d uncovered government corruption. “I thought he was secretly rich in a normal way.” “That sentence has concerning implications,” I answered honestly. “No seriously,” she continued while pacing dramatically across the lounge now. “Like expensive watch rich. Maybe suspicious-investment rich.” B: Those are both fake categories. YN: NOT “can-buy-JYPE” rich! YJ: I said “technically” most of JYPE. LA: That correction somehow made it WORSE.

Meanwhile Ryujin was still collapsed sideways on the couch laughing intermittently like her body hadn’t fully recovered psychologically. “You know what the worst part is?” she wheezed eventually. “I’m frightened to ask.” RJ: You don’t even ACT rich. B: That sounded accusatory. RJ: You drive in silence and complain about traffic like a divorced office worker. B: That’s because traffic is emotionally disrespectful. RJ: That’s not a normal sentence.

Then finally Lia slowly walked farther into the shared kitchen afterward before lightly touching one of the marble countertops like she still wasn’t fully convinced this place was real. “…This kitchen is bigger than our old dorm.” I looked at her in quite the disappointing shock “That feels structurally inefficient honestly.” Everybody immediately turned toward me “…WHAT DO YOU MEAN INEFFICIENT?” Yuna nearly screamed again. “If you’re feeding multiple people regularly, larger shared kitchen spacing improves movement efficiency.” Silence. Then quietly “…He talks like an evil architect,” Ryujin muttered from the couch. “That’s because he planned this,” Chaeryeong answered softly while still looking around carefully. Lia looked at the sharp girl “What do you mean?”. Chaeryeong pointed towards the facilities— then back to me “None of these feels random. I mean he tailored it to focus on our needs”. I guess Chaeryeong noticed it faster than anyone else, I leaned lightly against the kitchen island afterward “Stress reduction works netter when people naturally gravitate toward comfort instead of needing to consciously seek it”. Complete silence

RJ: I’m sorry, are you secretly building emotional support architecture? B: That sounded fake when you say it like that RJ: Because it should sound fake YN: IS THAT A MASSAGE ROOM? B: Yes YN: WHY B: Recovery RJ: Morally ambiguous billionaire recruits emotionally damaged idols B: That sounds weirdly target at me RJ: It is

Meanwhile Lia had wandered toward the lounge area now while quietly observing the soft lighting around the common space. “…It’s really comfortable here”. And the way she said that hit harder than the screaming somehow. Because she sounded relieved. Yuna cut in to ask “What’s this room?” I pointed out to the room in question “It’s my private living quarters”. That gave everyone the same reaction— absolute shock. “OH MY GOD HE IS ACTUALLY MOVING INTO OUR BUILDING.” Yuna screamed. “You make it sound invasive.” I told her while she was still showing visible denial. “Because it IS” she pointed it out. “It’s efficient.” I corrected her.

Ryujin looked entirely too entertained now. “No no wait. This means he got annoyed by traffic and responded by purchasing vertical territory.” She pointed toward me again. “That is an emotionally hostile way to put it”. Then finally Yeji quietly walked farther into the lounge afterward, slowly sitting down on the center couch— and unlike everybody else, she wasn’t looking shocked anymore. “How long were you planning this?” she looked up towards me again. “About two weeks after becoming ITZY’s personal manager”.

YN: TWO WEEKS?! B: I needed construction permits. YN: THAT’S THE PART THAT BOTHERS YOU? LA: So all of this was because you were worried about us getting exhausted? The traffic thing was just a cover up wasn’t it? B: Brownie points for guessing it right. B: Look, you are all already overexposed constantly. Cameras. Crowds. Schedules. Public Expectations. The least I can do is make sure there’s somewhere you can destress without worrying about the general public.

The realization kept everyone silent, by then I was reaching for my jacket pocket, pulling out a stack of black access cards. “What are these? Why do you have access cards?” Yuna asked. “Cause this is not a public space for everyone in the building. Entry requires access, and access requires access CARDS.” I pointed out the logic.

Eventually I started handing the cards out one by one. The reactions varied significantly. Yuna accepted hers like somebody receiving forbidden technology. Lia took hers carefully with both hands like I’d accidentally handed her partial ownership of the building. Chaeryeong stared at hers longer than everybody else. Meanwhile Ryujin immediately held hers up dramatically toward the ceiling. “Oh my god.” She looked genuinely delighted now. “He gave us villain headquarters clearance.” I pressed my hand on my face “That wording is becoming emotionally exhausting.” Then finally Yeji accepted hers quietly afterward while already looking suspicious again.

I gestured lightly around the floor afterward. “You all have twenty-four hour access here.” Silence. Then immediately: “…WHAT?” Yuna nearly folded in half again. “It’s easier if you can access recovery facilities whenever schedules allow it and in case I’m not around.” Ryujin looked at me “That sentence sounds TOO emotionally healthy”. I shrugged my shoulders “That’s because your industry normalizes suffering”. Ryujin immediately pointed toward me. “See? This is why he wins arguments.” Tiny pause. “He says things that sound annoyingly correct”.

Then eventually Lia looked down toward her keycard quietly again. “…Anytime?” Another small silence. “Yes.” and honestly? The way her shoulders relaxed slightly afterward told me everything I needed to know about how exhausted they actually were beneath the surface. Then finally Chaeryeong spoke again. “…Everywhere on this floor?” I pointed back to my private room “Mostly”. Ah. There it is. Everybody immediately looked up again. “Mostly?” Ryujin repeated slowly. “My living quarters remain private.” Yuna immediately gasped dramatically. YN: Oh my god he DOES have a billionaire cave. B: It’s my room, please stop making it sound illegal. RJ: What are you HIDING in there? B: My home. RJ: That answer was disappointingly normal.

Then eventually I gestured lightly toward one section farther down the hallway. “The rest of the floor is open access.” Another pause. “…Wait,” Lia blinked once afterward. “Nobody else knows about this?” Another great observation “Correct”. LA: Not even the company? B: The company knows I purchased the property. They do not know the extent of the renovations. YN: Oh we’re so getting fired. B: That’s a little too dramatic. YJ: Says the man who build a secret idol hideout B: Again, hostile wording. YJ: So who does know about this? B: Me. All of you… and John RJ: Oh God No YN: WHY WOULD YOU TELL JOHN? HE IS THE WORST POSSIBLE PERSON TO TELL B: Firstly, valid. Secondly, he asked around with all the construction workers walking in and out of the building. YJ: Jihyo unnie is going to kill you.

Then eventually the atmosphere softened again slightly afterward while everyone slowly started wandering farther through the floor more comfortably now. Yuna had already discovered the media room and nearly screamed again. Ryujin was investigating the soundproof practice room like she planned on testing the laws of physics inside it later. Lia quietly lingered near the lounge spaces. Chaeryeong kept noticing tiny details in the layout that nobody else picked up on. Watching them slowly settle into the space felt weirdly satisfying in a way I probably shouldn’t examine too deeply psychologically. Then quietly beside me “You already knew they’d react like this, didn’t you?” I glanced to see Yeji standing beside me, giving me a warm smile while holding the keycard between her fingers. “I estimated about 70% of it was Yuna screaming”. That warranted a laugh from Yeji “Higher than expected?” I couldn’t help but laugh at my own joke too “Beyond expectations, surprisingly.”

Eventually when it was just me and Yeji at the sitting at the center couch while everyone was exploring the entire floor, I handed her one more access card. “What’s this one for?” she asked me. “That one is yours” Yeji gave me a confused look “You already gave me one” as she pointed to the one in her hand. “This one has direct access to my private quarters.” A small silence was between us as I looked down to see Yeji who was blushing beet red from hearing what I just said. “I-I meant in case you needed me” that only made her blush even harder and the fact Ryujin was giving me the eye meant she heard all of that. “I MEANT AS YOUR MANAGER”. Yeji looked directly at me afterward. That tiny smile forming afterward told me she knew exactly what the implications in-between professionalism meant.

Ryujin was still exploring the entire floor when Yuna suddenly pointed toward me again like she’d uncovered another conspiracy. “No but seriously. How does someone even GET this rich accidentally?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Which was a fair criticism, but I left her to her imaginations— it was funnier that way. Meanwhile Lia had slowly settled onto one of the lounge chairs now while quietly looking around the floor again. And the more she relaxed visibly— the more I started understanding exactly why this entire idea stopped feeling excessive to me weeks ago “This place is quieter”. Everybody looked toward her briefly afterward. Not because the statement was dramatic. Because it sounded surprised— that bothered me more than the screaming somehow.

It slowly got quiet until eventually Chaeryeong looked toward one section farther down the hallway. CR: …What’s over there? B: Private practice room.

Ryujin immediately sat upright again. “You built a SECOND practice room?” I argued back “The company rooms become crowded during preparation periods.” She just gave up the will to fight against my logic “That’s not a normal reason to build a private one”. Then Yuna let out a sudden gasp as she violently raised her hand to ask me a question

YN: Does this place have food? B: Of course? YN: IT’S AN ACTUAL EMOTIONAL SUPPORT HABITAT FOR IDOLS B: Can you not describe it like I’m keeping you as zoo animals? RJ: We’re raiding the fridge. NOW. B: Criminal behavior, Miss Shin Ryujin. RJ: You gave us access cards, this is your fault.

She got me beat there “…You really weren’t joking when you said you solved the problem. But I am still deciding if I should be impressed or concerned.” Yeji finally leaned slightly closer afterward. “Both are acceptable” I leaned back towards her. That finally earned another small laugh out of her. Dangerous sound honestly. Very dangerous. Then eventually the others disappeared farther down the floor while continuing to argue loudly about whether wealthy people naturally evolved into supervillains over time.

Then suddenly from the kitchen “BEN WHY IS THE WATER DISPENSER SMART?” I closed my eyes briefly. “…That sentence psychologically exhausted me”. Yuna still kept on screaming “You bought TECHNOLOGY WATER.” Yeji was laughing right next to me. “That’s just a normal filtered dispenser.” and Yuna still kept on going as if it was on purpose now “IT TALKS”. Ryujin physically leaned against the kitchen doorway laughing again while Lia quietly apologized to me despite not being involved whatsoever. Then eventually Chaeryeong walked slowly back toward the lounge afterward before glancing toward me again “…You really expect us to use this place whenever we want?” I gave her a nod “It’d be pretty useless if you girls didn’t” I assured her. Another small silence followed afterward. Softer this time.

The following days settled into something dangerously close to routine afterward. Which honestly should’ve concerned me more than it did. Schedules. Meetings. Practice evaluations. Recovery pacing. Nutritional planning. Travel adjustments. Normal management responsibilities on paper. Except now those responsibilities somehow also included Ryujin randomly appearing beside me without warning. Yuna treating the entire floor like an amusement park. Lia quietly falling asleep in the lounge area twice already. Chaeryeong continuously noticing things I wished she wouldn’t. And Yeji— well Yeji had started existing around me with a level of casual familiarity that was becoming psychologically hazardous. Like she’d already unconsciously decided my space was somewhere she belonged comfortably now. Still— the floor worked exactly the way I intended it to.

The members stayed longer after practice. Stress levels dropped faster. Nobody looked as constantly exhausted anymore. Even the atmosphere between them felt lighter lately. Which unfortunately meant the investment had technically justified itself already.

Then eventually one evening I found myself sitting inside my private unit finishing another game of Apex Legends with John and Mina over on Discord. Watching Mina carry both of us mechanically while John contributed emotional support and questionable decision-making had become a disturbingly regular experience lately. MN: John stop peeking that angle J: I believe in pressuring and baiting B: You believe in asking to get tapped in the head. MN: OH MY GOD THERE IS ANOTHER TEAM TRYING TO THIRD PARTY US FROM THE REAR

John got downed— AGAIN. While Mina managed to aggro the entire enemy team alone giving me the ample opportunity to flank and rush. I managed to get a two down before being in danger myself but Mina managed to finish off that last person before anything critical could happen. B: Crisis. Resolved. MN: By ME J: It was a team effort MN: Not how that works, babe. B: Tactical bait is technically a role.

Before John could ramble about my rudeness, there was a sudden voice from behind me. “Hi” that scared the shit out of me— I turn back to look, it was Yeji. How long has she been there watching me? Amazing stealth capabilities honestly. She sat comfortably near the far end of the couch now while loosely hugging one of the throw pillows against herself, more importantly— she didn’t disturb or interrupt me, just watched me do my thing. Then immediately through the headset “IS THAT YEJI?” John’s voice so loud even Yeji heard it “Yes it is, hi John.” A quick pause and it was back to more screaming. J: OH MY GOD. WHY IS SHE IN YOUR PRIVATE QUARTERS ALREADY? B: I gave her an access card, dumbass. For managerial purposes. MN: Lies. J: Absolute lies.

Yeji quietly laughed beside me afterward. God. That sound was becoming an actual issue now. Then eventually Mina spoke again. “…Anyway I’m getting off before John emotionally sabotages another ranked game— and don’t worry about John, I’ll make sure he doesn’t stay and pester.” I swore I heard a giggle from Mina before she left the call. After that debacle, I turned back to look at Yeji who still sat comfortably on the couch while absently playing with the keycard between her fingers “You’re good at games” she pointed out. “Sorry for coming in unannounced.” she shyly hid half her face on the pillow she was hugging.

“Don’t worry about it, that’s the whole reason I gave you an access card.” I tried to remind her. And something about her expression felt slightly different tonight. Not upset. Not distressed. Then eventually I leaned back slightly into the couch afterward “So… something bothering you?” I gave her my full attention. A tiny pause. Then immediately “No.” Another pause. “…Maybe a little”. I stayed quiet afterward. Not pushing. Not filling the silence immediately. Because Yeji had started doing something lately that honestly mattered more than she probably realized herself— she was beginning to approach difficult thoughts instead of hiding from them entirely.

Then eventually she shifted slightly farther into the couch afterward while still loosely holding the throw pillow against herself. “…Can I ask you something weird?” I scratched my head with genuine consideration “That sentence has historically led to psychological damage”. A small laugh escaped her again. “…As my manager—” Ah, a loophole. Clever girl.

B: That clarification sounded strategically prepared. YJ: Technically it counts for my wellbeing. B: Concerningly arguable. YJ: You mentioned it before. Stress affects people physically… What about… sexually?

I leaned back slightly afterward while considering the question properly instead of reacting too quickly. That question was careful. Measured. Genuinely curious. Not flirtatious. “It absolutely can.” Yeji nodded once slowly afterward like she’d expected that answer already. “…Okay”. Yeji’s fingers lightly tightened around the edge of the pillow afterward “I wanted you to know… what happened last time. I’ve never felt anything like that.” I genuinely was shocked “Are you talking about an orgasm?”

“Yes.” Yeji stayed quiet afterward for a few more seconds before finally speaking again “I used to think it was exaggerated. Cause I have had a few experiences in the past, but I’ve never felt what they usually described it was.” I was stunned, speechless— then she continued “I used to think that there was something wrong with my body.” I stayed silent for maybe one second too long afterward. Because suddenly the phrasing, the question, the confusion, the curiosity? It all started aligning together psychologically in ways I really didn’t expect.

“…Yeji” I said slowly, watching for a reaction “Was that really your first time experiencing an orgasm?” She immediately looked nervous afterward. Not because I sounded upset. Because she realized I noticed something. I kept my voice gentle anyway “I’m going to ask a follow up question, what do you think was the trigger that made a difference from past experiences to last time?” I was wondering was there something related to the stress she endured prior to all of this. Then she quickly answered with full confidence. “You.”

Oh… OH! That hit significantly harder than expected. I stayed quiet for a second afterward. Not because I didn’t understand what she meant. Because suddenly a LOT of smaller things started rearranging themselves into a pattern that was professionally bad, but something that I didn’t particularly hate. Yeji looked away first afterward while absently adjusting the sleeve of her jacket covering part of her hand again. A habit. One I’d started recognizing whenever she felt exposed emotionally. “…I didn’t mean that weirdly,” she muttered quietly afterward. “That sentence usually means the conversation is already psychologically doomed.” A tiny laugh escaped her again.

Then eventually she exhaled softly through her nose before continuing. “…I just mean…” Another pause. “The way I felt with you was…” She struggled briefly for the wording afterward. “…Different enough that I started wondering if something was wrong with me before.” That sentence bothered me immediately, not clinically. Because that wasn’t vanity, or comparison. Nor was it performance anxiety. That sounded genuinely confused. I leaned slightly forward afterward while keeping my tone calm.

“…Wrong with you how?” Yeji looked embarrassed now. Not ashamed. Just vulnerable. “…I thought maybe people exaggerated things.” Interesting. Very interesting. “Things,” I repeated carefully. “You know.” She looked increasingly flustered now. “The whole…” Tiny gesture. “…mind going blank afterward thing.” Oh. Oh no. There it is. I physically leaned back slightly afterward before my brain could stop itself from processing the implications too quickly. Then carefully “…Yeji.” She immediately covered part of her face with the pillow afterward. “That reaction means you figured something out.”

Another small silence settled afterward. Then finally I asked the question as gently as possible. “…Have you genuinely never experienced that before?” The room went completely quiet. Then eventually Yeji lowered the pillow slightly afterward while avoiding eye contact entirely now. “…I thought I did.” That somehow made the entire thing worse. Because it meant nobody had ever slowed down enough for her to even recognize the difference properly. Interesting. Deeply frustrating too. “…Can I ask something else?” She pondered to herself “Of course you can.” That made her smile warmly at me, I was there to listen— not critique. “…Was that actually an orgasm?” I closed my eyes briefly afterward. Not because the question embarrassed me. Because the sheer sincerity behind it was genuinely upsetting.

“By definition, I am sure it was.” Yeji stayed completely still afterward. No immediate response. No dramatic reaction. Just… processing. After a long silence filled the room, “…That explains a lot actually” she sighed to herself. “That sentence psychologically concerns me.” I was visibly narrowing my eyes despite the room being dimly lit. “It’s not bad,” she answered quickly afterward. “Just…” Another pause. “…I genuinely thought people were exaggerating before.”

That almost made me angry. Not at her. At the idea that somebody like Yeji— someone constantly expected to perform, endure, succeed, and maintain control had apparently experienced intimacy the exact same way too. Like it was something to manage instead of feel. Then eventually I leaned slightly farther back afterward while speaking carefully. “…For the record, this is significantly more common than people think.” That finally made her look toward me again. “…Really?” I paused for a bit “Yes. Especially people who are used to disconnecting from themselves under stress.”

“…Oh.” She realized. Watching her slowly connect emotional exhaustion, and physical disconnect in real time felt strangely intimate in a way I wasn’t entirely prepared for. Then she said in a low voice “That’s kind of depressing.” I interrupted her train of thought “That depends on perspective.” She blinked once. “How is there another perspective?” I shrugged lightly. “It also means nothing was wrong with you”. Yeji looked down again afterward while smiling very faintly into the pillow she still held against herself. Yeji stayed quiet for a while afterward. Not uncomfortable. Just… thinking harder now. The room itself had gone softer sometime during the conversation without either of us noticing. The muted city lights outside. The low ambient hum from the air conditioning. The faint glow from the monitor still left on after the game. Everything felt strangely still.

The longer Yeji sat there hugging the pillow against herself while processing all of this, the more I realized how carefully she must’ve been carrying these thoughts around alone for the past several days. Then eventually she spoke again. Quietly. “…I almost asked Lia about it.” That caught me slightly off guard “…What stopped you?” Yeji laughed softly beneath her breath afterward “Imagine trying to explain that conversation”. Then eventually she looked down again afterward while lightly tracing the edge of the pillow with her fingers absentmindedly. “…I kept thinking maybe I was just overreacting.”

I leaned slightly farther back into the couch afterward. “You’re allowed to notice when something affects you significantly.” She looked down to her legs “I know… I’m still getting used to it”. That sentence hit harder than it probably should’ve. Because she said it so casually. Like somebody admitting they were still learning how to breathe properly again. Eventually Yeji looked toward me again afterward. More carefully this time. “…Can I ask one more thing?”

“That depends on how emotionally catastrophic it is.” A small laugh escaped her again. Then quietly “…Did you know?” Interesting question. Very interesting wording too. I considered it honestly before answering. “…That it was different for you specifically?” She nodded once slowly. I exhaled softly through my nose afterward. “Not immediately.” Yeji looked relieved by that for some reason. “But I knew something about the way you reacted felt…” I paused briefly searching for the right wording. “…new to you”. There it is again. That soft realization. Then after another pause “…That’s kind of embarrassing.”

“No it isn’t.” Yeji looked at me for maybe a second too long afterward. Something about the expression on her face there felt strangely fragile in a way I hadn’t seen often from her before. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” I stayed quiet afterward instead of interrupting. And Yeji noticed that too. Then eventually she shifted slightly closer into the couch corner afterward before continuing. “…I kept trying to compare it to everything else before and it just…” Tiny pause. “…doesn’t.” The room stayed quiet again. Then finally she looked down toward the keycard still resting loosely in her hand. “…And I think part of me keeps wondering if it only happened because of everything that night.” There was the real fear underneath all of that. Not sex or experience, but uncertainty. Then she murmured “…Like maybe it was just because I was emotionally overwhelmed already.” I watched her carefully afterward. Then eventually I answered honestly. “It probably intensified things.” Yeji nodded slowly.

“But,” I continued carefully afterward, “that doesn’t make the experience itself less real.” Silence again. “…Yeah.” Tiny answer. Very thoughtful. Then after another quieter pause “…I think I want to know for sure.” The way she said that nearly made my chest tighten immediately. Because there wasn’t manipulation in it, or seduction. Just careful honesty— like she hated admitting the thought out loud but trusted me enough to do it anyway.

The room stayed quiet after Yeji’s last sentence. Because both of us understood exactly what this conversation had slowly become somewhere along the way. Yeji still sat curled slightly into the bed corner while loosely holding the pillow against herself, though at some point during the conversation her grip against it had gradually loosened. Less defensive now. That somehow affected me significantly more than I was prepared for. Then softly afterward “…I know how this sounds.”

“That depends.” Yeji looked up carefully. “On what?” I exhaled quietly through my nose before answering. “Whether you think I’m misunderstanding you.” Yeji’s expression shifted because that moment she realized I knew exactly what she meant now. Very transparent sometimes despite trying not to be. Then eventually she lowered her eyes again afterward while laughing quietly beneath her breath once. “…Right.” Another pause. “…You’re annoyingly perceptive.” I gave her a smile “That sounded vaguely hostile.” I laughed. “It was meant affectionately.” Then eventually Yeji spoke again without looking up yet. “…I keep replaying it.”

“I tried not to at first because I thought maybe I was just emotionally overwhelmed after the solo debut.” Tiny pause. “But the more time passed…” She exhaled softly. “…the more I realized I wasn’t thinking about the situation.” Slowly now. Carefully. “…I was thinking about how it felt.” No hiding behind vague wording anymore. No loopholes. Just honesty. The sincerity in her voice there nearly made my chest tighten immediately. Because Yeji didn’t sound reckless. She sounded curious. Trusting. Vulnerable. Like somebody standing in front of a door they never realized existed before “And I think I want to know if it was real.”

I stayed still afterward for a second. Not because I needed clarification. Because I was very aware now of where this conversation could go. Who was sitting in front of me and the fact that Yeji was giving me the choice to either move closer or stop this entirely. Then eventually I spoke carefully. “…Yeji.” She looked up again immediately afterward. The way her expression softened slightly just from hearing her name in that tone nearly destroyed the last remaining fragments of my self-restraint psychologically. “You know this doesn’t have to be some kind of test, right?”

“I know.” I looked at Yeji, trying to get a read on her “Then why does it feel like one?” Tiny pause. Then finally she answered honestly. “Because I spent a long time thinking intimacy just…” She searched briefly for the wording. “…wasn’t something my body understood properly.” That sentence hit harder than expected. The clinical part of my brain already understood exactly why. But hearing Yeji say it aloud anyway still felt quietly devastating somehow. Then eventually she looked down again afterward while speaking softer this time. “…And then with you it suddenly wasn’t difficult anymore.”

Oh boy that was a dangerous sentence. With very dangerous wording. The room stayed quiet afterward. No distractions now. No jokes. No comfortable escape routes left. Just open honesty between us. At some point during the conversation, Yeji had unconsciously shifted farther toward the edge of the couch closest to me. Not dramatically. Just enough that I noticed it immediately. Then softly “If I’m crossing a line right now, you can tell me.”

That almost made me laugh quietly. Not because it was funny. Because somehow even now— while sitting inside my private room at night after deliberately using the one keycard connected directly to my quarters— Yeji was still trying to make sure I felt comfortable too. I leaned slightly forward afterward before answering honestly. “You crossed that line the moment you walked in here looking for this conversation specifically.” Tiny silence. “But for the record the line was crossed that night after your solo debut”. Then slowly— very slowly Yeji nodded once. That was probably the moment the remaining distance between us stopped feeling accidental. Because now both of us knew. Not implied. Not danced around.

The city lights outside continued glowing softly through the windows while the room itself stayed warm and quiet around us. Then eventually Yeji shifted again afterward before setting the pillow aside completely. Small action. Very dangerous consequence. Because suddenly there was nothing left between us or the conversation. “You know what the worst part is? I think I knew why I came here before I admitted it to myself.” That nearly snapped the last thread of restraint I still had left. I stayed still for maybe one second longer afterward before finally standing from the bed she was on. Not rushed. Not impulsive. Just… certain now. Yeji watched me carefully the entire time. And interestingly enough— she didn’t look nervous anymore. Just aware.

The opposite end of my bed sat only a short distance away from where she’d shifted during the conversation. And at some point— quietly, naturally— she’d already settled there instead of the corner without either of us acknowledging it aloud. I stepped closer afterward until I finally stopped near the edge of the bed while Yeji tilted her head slightly upward to meet my gaze again. No games now. No loopholes. Just the both of us fully understanding where this was about to go.

Close enough now that I could see the slight shift in Yeji’s breathing every time she looked up at me and then away again for half a second afterward. Because despite how honest this conversation had become— there was still something careful about her. Like she understood this mattered now in a way neither of us could pretend was casual anymore. The room itself felt smaller somehow.

The fact that Yeji didn’t look nervous anymore was probably affecting me more than if she had. Because now this wasn’t impulse. It was choice. And before I got lost in my train of thought “You’re thinking again.” I exhaled softly through my nose afterward. “That accusation has become emotionally weaponized.” A tiny smile pulled briefly at the corner of her mouth again. I leaned slightly closer afterward before resting one hand carefully against the edge of the mattress beside her instead of touching her immediately. Giving her room. Giving her choice. Important distinction. Yeji noticed that too. I could tell from the way her expression softened almost instantly afterward. Then eventually she looked down briefly before speaking quieter this time. “…You know what’s weird? I’m not embarrassed right now”.

“Should you be?” I asked her to look for any hint of her wanting to back out. “No.” Tiny pause. “…But normally I overthink things like this.” Yeji overthinking vulnerability felt almost inevitable considering the life she lived. But right now? She looked calmer than she had during most emotionally difficult conversations we’d had before. Then eventually she shifted slightly farther back onto the bed afterward while still keeping her eyes on me. “…I think that’s part of why I wanted to talk to you instead of just…” She made a small vague gesture. “…wondering about it alone.” I nodded slightly afterward. “Because uncertainty becomes louder when you isolate yourself with it.” Yeji blinked once. “…That was annoyingly accurate.” I leaned towards her “Occupational hazard.”

The atmosphere between us had changed completely now. Less tension. Less confusion. Just closeness. The kind built from being understood too carefully for too long. There it is. That feeling in my chest again. Genuine issue honestly. Then eventually the laughter softened away again while she looked at me quietly afterward. And this time— neither of us looked away first. “I think I trust you too much.” The honesty in that sentence nearly destroyed me. Because Yeji didn’t say it recklessly. She said it like someone acknowledging something important they already accepted. I moved slightly closer afterward almost instinctively now. Her eyes just stayed on mine while her breathing slowed slightly again. The longer I looked at her sitting there— comfortable, honest, wanting— the harder it became to remember why I’d been trying to resist this at all anymore.

YJ: You’re still thinking. B: That sounds judgmental. YJ: You get quieter when you’re trying to be careful.

I exhaled softly afterward before finally admitting the truth. “I’m trying very hard not to overwhelm you.” The way Yeji’s expression softened after hearing that nearly ended whatever restraint I had left entirely. Because for a second— she looked almost relieved “…Benjie”.  I kept my gaze at her “Yeah, I still hate that nickname. But it’s not that bad hearing it from you”.  That made her giggle and in a soft voice “I came here because I wanted you to stop being careful eventually.” That answer nearly destroyed the remaining distance between us immediately. Not because of the words themselves. Because of the way Yeji said them. Soft. Certain. Honest. Like she’d already spent days thinking herself through every possible hesitation before finally walking into this room tonight.

I stayed still for maybe another second afterward while looking at her lay there against the dim lighting of the room. Comfortable now. Aware. Waiting. The longer I looked at her, the more obvious it became that Yeji wasn’t asking for reassurance anymore. She was asking to be chosen back. “You make this incredibly difficult sometimes.” A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth afterward.” Then eventually the smile softened away again while she looked up at me quietly afterward. And for a second— neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to anymore.

I moved closer again until I finally sat near the edge of the bed beside her. Yeji’s breathing shifted slightly again afterward “…Still trying to be careful?”. That somehow affected me significantly more than if she’d looked uncertain. “That depends on how much self-control I have left”. That finally made her laugh quietly again before the sound faded into something softer when I reached up instinctively to brush a loose strand of hair gently back away from her face. Yeji immediately leaned slightly into the touch before she could stop herself.  “You know it’s unfair how calm you look right now”. That almost made me laugh “I’m significantly less calm than I appear”. Then eventually her fingers lightly curled against the edge of the blanket beside her while she kept looking at me with that same quiet openness that had been destroying me all night.

That was probably what finally broke whatever restraint I still had left. Because suddenly the distance between us felt ridiculous. I leaned closer slowly afterward. Enough that I watched Yeji’s breathing catch slightly in real time. Enough that her eyes softened immediately before flicking toward my lips again. And the closer I got— the more obvious it became that Yeji already knew exactly what was about to happen.

I got closer to Yeji, her breath hot and erratic against my ear. I lowered on to her as she lay in mattress, the springs groaning under our combined weight. Yeji looked up at me, her eyes wide, dark, and shimmering with a hunger that had been suppressed for far too long. The fabric of her shirt was clinging to her skin, but her jacket was a discarded heap on the floor. I shifted, moving between her thighs and pushing them wide. The air in the room felt thick, charged with the kind of electricity that precedes a storm. I didn't go for her lips this time. I slid down her body, my chest brushing against her breasts, until I reached the edge of her underwear. "Ben..." she whispered, her voice a fragile thread.

I didn't answer with words. I hooked my fingers into the elastic of her panties and slid them down her legs, tossing them aside. The scent hit me immediately—sweet, musky, and heavy with arousal. She was already drenched, her core glistening in the dim light. I leaned in, my breath ghosting over her inner thigh, making her jump and arch her back. My tongue moved to the shape of her slit, tasting the sweet tang of her desire.

Yeji let out a sharp, strangled gasp, her fingers digging into the bedsheets. I focused on her clit, swirling my tongue around the swollen nub with a deliberate, agonizing slowness. "Oh God," she whimpered, her hips beginning to stutter upward. I increased the pressure, sucking the small pearl into my mouth while my fingers slid inside her. She was tight, pulsing around me, the walls of her pussy clamping down in rhythmic waves. I could hear it now—the moans she produced in reaction to the movement of my tongue against her clit and the squelching of my fingers moving through her cream. I didn't let up. I matched the rhythm of her breathing, pushing her higher and higher, feeling the tension build in her thighs. Her breath hitched, then stopped. Her entire body went rigid, her toes curling into the mattress. A high pitched moan tore from her throat as the first orgasm crashed over her. She shook violently, the muscles of her pussy squeezing my fingers in a desperate, crushing grip.

I kept going, refusing to let the peak fade, driving her right back into the fire. I didn't stop the stimulation. I used a flicking motion with my tongue, faster now, more aggressive, while my other hand gripped her hip to hold her still. Yeji was sobbing now, a mixture of pleasure and shock. "I can't—Ben, please—" I pushed her over the edge a second time.

It was more violent than the first, a total systemic collapse. She screamed into the quiet of the room, her back arching so high only her head and heels touched the bed. The second orgasm ripped through her, leaving her limp and gasping, her chest heaving under the thin fabric of her top. I pulled back, watching her. She looked shattered in the best possible way, her eyes glazed, her lips parted. "Was that..." she panted, her voice sounding distant. "Was that normal? That... that actually happened twice."

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, looking at her with a small, knowing smile. "Completely normal, Yeji." She stared at the ceiling, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. "I spent years thinking I was just... defective. That the stories were lies. But I felt it. I actually felt it."

She shifted then, her gaze sliding down to where I was positioned between her legs. My cock was straining, a hard, pulsing rod of meat that was leaking pre-cum onto the sheets. She looked back up at me, the realization hitting her face. "You didn't... you didn't even touch yourself," she whispered.

"Your pleasure was the priority," I told her, my voice rough. Yeji frowned, a spark of her usual leadership returning even through the haze of her climax. "No. No way. I can't just... I'd feel guilty. I can't let you do all the work and get nothing." "I'm fine, Yeji. Really." "I don't care if you're fine," she countered, her voice gaining strength. "I want to make you feel it too."

She reached down, her small hand wrapping around the shaft of my cock. Her grip was tentative, lacking experience, but the warmth of her palm sent a jolt of electricity straight to my gut. She started to move her hand up and down, her thumb rubbing over the sensitive head. I groaned, my head falling back as the friction began to build. As she worked her hand, she shifted her body, pressing her chest against my arm, her nipples hardening through the fabric of her top. The combination of her soft skin against me and the tight grip of her hand was almost too much. I reached up, grabbing her waist and pulling her closer, our bodies intertwining in a messy tangle of limbs and sweat.

The pace of her hand increased. She was getting the hang of it, her movements becoming more confident. I could feel the pressure building in me, the heat radiating. I let out a low moan as the climax approached, my hips involuntarily jerking upward. "Ben? Am I... is this right?" she asked, her voice breathless. "Yeah," I choked out. "Right there. Don't stop." I didn't have much time left.

With one final, forceful squeeze and a rapid slide of her hand, I snapped. I let out a loud, guttural shout as I came, the force of the ejaculation sending thick, white ropes of semen spraying across her stomach and thighs. It was a messy, visceral release, the hot liquid splattering against her skin in heavy bursts. Yeji gasped, looking down at the white streaks covering her body. She reached out, touching the warm fluid with her finger, looking fascinated. Then, she looked back at my cock. It hadn't gone soft. It was still standing, pulsing slightly, still fully erect.

"Wait," she whispered, her eyes widening. "You're still hard?" "I'm a bit of an overachiever," I muttered, my breath still ragged.

Yeji’s expression shifted from surprise to a determined kind of curiosity. She sat up, the movement causing the semen on her stomach to smear. Without a word, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it across the room.

She was stunning. Her breasts were small but firm, her nipples dark and peaking in the cool air of the room. She climbed on top of me, straddling my lap, her bare skin warm against mine. She looked down at me, her face flushed, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips. "I'm not... I've never really done this part," she admitted, her voice small. "The part where I'm in charge." "Just do whatever feels right," I told her, reaching up to cup her breasts.

Yeji lowered herself slowly, guiding the head of my cock to her opening. She let out a long, shaky exhale as she sank down, her tight walls stretching to accommodate my size. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as she seated herself fully, the wet sound of our bodies meeting echoing in the room. She started to move, a slow, tentative grind of her hips.

She was awkward at first, her balance off, but the feeling of her gripping me so tightly made my vision blur. I groaned, my hands sliding down to her ass, squeezing the firm cheeks and pulling her down harder against me. "Like this?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Yes. Exactly like that." As she found her rhythm, the movement became more vigorous. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room—a rhythmic, wet thudding. Her breasts bounced with every downward thrust, the tips brushing against the palm of my hand.

Yeji was beginning to enjoy it, her head tossing back, a series of short, sharp moans escaping her. I didn't stay passive for long. I gripped her hips and began to thrust upward, meeting her movements with my own. The friction was intense, the heat between us reaching a boiling point. I could feel her tightening around me again, the walls of her pussy pulsing in anticipation. "Ben! Oh god, it's— I’m coming again!"

I didn't slow down. I drove into her with everything I had, my thrusts becoming deeper and more frantic. Yeji was screaming now, her fingers clawing at my chest, her body shaking as she hit another peak. The feeling of her climaxing while I was buried inside her was almost enough to finish me. I felt the pressure building again, a second wave of heat crashing through my body. I knew I was close. As the sensation peaked, I gripped her waist and pulled her up, sliding out of her just as the first jet of semen erupted.

I came strongly, the white fluid hitting her stomach and chest with a loud, wet smack. It splattered across her skin, coating her in a second layer of heat. Yeji looked down at herself, breathless and covered in me, a look of utter disbelief on her face. "You... you're actually..." she panted, leaning her forehead against mine. "Most people... they usually just... one round and they're done. How are you still...?" "Told you," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "Overachiever."

Yeji looked at me, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes. She slid off my lap, but she didn't move away. Instead, she knelt between my legs. She looked up at me, her body smeared with a bit of my cum, her expression determined.

"I want to try something," she murmured. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against the head of my cock. I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat. Yeji took me into her mouth, but she immediately struggled. She gagged slightly, her eyes watering. "Careful," I whispered, my hand resting on the back of her head. She didn't give up. She used her hand to guide me, focusing on the head, her tongue swirling around the rim before trying to slide deeper. The sound was incredibly wet—the squelch of saliva and the suction of her cheeks creating a vacuum that nearly drove me insane.

She was inexperienced, her technique unrefined, but the sheer effort she was putting in—the way she looked up at me with those determined eyes—was the most erotic thing I had ever experienced. I groaned, my fingers curling into her hair. The sensation of her warm mouth and the friction of her tongue was the final straw. I was still sensitive from earlier, so I felt the build-up happen almost instantly, a sudden, violent surge of pressure. "Yeji, I'm—" She didn't pull away. She leaned in further, taking as much of me as she could.

I let out a strangled cry as I finished, the semen erupting from my cock and filling her mouth and throat. She swallowed some of it, but the sheer volume was too much; the rest sprayed upward, coating her cheeks, her nose, and her forehead in thick, white streaks. She pulled back, gasping for air, a thin string of saliva and semen connecting her lip to my cock. She looked like a mess—covered in fluids, hair disheveled, skin flushed—and she had never looked more beautiful.

We stayed like that for a long time, the only sound the heavy thudding of our hearts and the distant hum of the city outside. Eventually, I reached down and pulled her up into my arms, kissing her deeply, tasting a bit of myself on her lips. "Shower?" I whispered. "Please," she breathed.

I carried her into the bathroom, the air quickly filling with steam as I turned the water on high. We stepped under the spray together, the hot water washing away the salt and the seed. The shower was a blur of tactile sensations—the smell of sandalwood soap mixing with the lingering scent of sex, the feeling of wet skin sliding against wet skin. I pressed her against the tiled wall, my hands roaming over her curves, scrubbing the soap into her skin with slow, deliberate movements. I couldn’t help myself, deciding to sneak a few kisses in while we showered. Though we didn't have sex again—we were both too exhausted—but the intimacy remained. I kept on kissing her, slow and unhurried now, stealing softer kisses beneath the falling water while my hands rested comfortably against her waist. Neither of us seemed interested in letting go yet. She stayed close against me, her head eventually settling against my shoulder while the steam curled quietly around us, my hands lingering on her breasts, while she clung to me, her head resting on my shoulder.

"Ben?" she whispered, the steam curling around us. "Yeah?" "I think... I think I'm starting to understand why you're so obsessed with wellbeing." I laughed softly, pulling her closer. "Is that so?" "Yeah," she murmured, a small, content smile on her face. "I feel... quiet. For the first time in years, my head is actually quiet."

I held her there under the falling water, knowing that the bridge between us had been permanently crossed. We weren't just manager and idol anymore. We were something far more dangerous, and far more real.

We stayed there beneath the water a little while longer before eventually stepping out together, the warmth of the bathroom immediately replaced by the cooler air of the room outside. I reached for one of the towels first, wrapping it loosely around Yeji before drying her hair gently enough that she immediately narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously. “…Why are you being so gentle?” “I’m preserving company assets, professionally.” “That sounds deeply unserious.” “That’s because it is.”

Yeji laughed softly under her breath while I finished drying the ends of her hair before quickly drying myself afterward. Then she glanced down toward the scattered state of her clothes near the bathroom doorway. Those were absolutely beyond immediate reuse “…I think you murdered my shirt,” she muttered while picking it up carefully between two fingers.

“In my defense, there were a lot of emotionally charged variables involved.” “That sentence sounds legally dangerous.” “Correct.”

Another smaller laugh escaped her afterward while she tossed the clothes into the washer tucked near the laundry area before pulling one of the bath robes from the cabinet nearby. Meanwhile I just pulled on a pair of sweatpants before deciding shirts were currently an unnecessary societal expectation. Yeji stepped back into the living area afterward, the robe loosely tied around her waist while still drying bits of damp hair with a towel. Then immediately paused. Her eyes moved slowly downward.

“…You actually stayed shirtless.” “That sounds judgmental.” “You look like you belong on a cologne advertisement right now.” “That somehow feels insulting.” “It was complimentary.” “Your delivery mechanism needs work.”

Yeji rolled her eyes before quietly walking closer again, stopping directly in front of me before lightly tugging me downward by the waistband just enough to steal another kiss.

By the time we finally left the room together, the apartment floor itself had gone mostly quiet. Late enough now that most people were either asleep— or pretending to be responsible adults. We made it about halfway toward the kitchen before Yeji suddenly spoke up casually. “I’m getting a snack.” Then louder afterward “Do you want anything, Benjie?” I opened my mouth immediately. “I’m actually pretty thirsty myself, what do we ha—” And stopped. Because standing near the kitchen counter holding a half-open refrigerator door was Lia.

Lia blinked once slowly. Her eyes moved from Yeji in a bath robe, to me standing shirtless beside her, then toward the very visible tattoos across my shoulders and arms. The realization happened almost instantly behind her eyes. Not shock. Not judgment. Just understanding. Yeji froze beside me too “…Oh,” Lia said softly. That somehow felt significantly more dangerous than screaming would’ve. I rubbed lightly at the back of my neck afterward. “Well this is unfortunate timing.” Yeji immediately covered her face “Oh my God”. Lia stared at both of us for another few seconds before unexpectedly letting out a quieter laugh beneath her breath.

“No wonder you’ve both been acting weird lately.” “That feels accusatory,” I muttered. “That’s because it is,” Yeji answered immediately beside me.

Lia finally closed the refrigerator door afterward before leaning lightly against the counter, still visibly processing things. She was handling this significantly better than expected. Then her eyes shifted back toward me again “…You’re surprisingly fit.” I looked down briefly toward myself. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that tonight. I’m beginning to feel profiled.” Lia laughed softly before gesturing vaguely toward my shoulders “And the tattoos too”. Yeji immediately pointed toward her. “RIGHT? I said the same thing earlier”. Excellent. Now they were unionizing against me. Lia tilted her head slightly afterward while studying one of the tattoos near my collarbone.

“You honestly look like the type to get something emotionally reckless tattooed eventually.” “That sounds concerningly specific.”

Then suddenly— Yeji’s expression shifted. And immediately I knew exactly where this was going. Lia looked between both of us once before slowly narrowing her eyes.

LA: …Wait “No,” I answered instantly. LA: I didn’t even say anything yet. But you looked emotionally suspicious. B: That’s not a real sentence. LA: It should be.

Lia immediately started laughing again while Yeji completely lost composure beside me. Then finally Lia pointed toward Yeji directly. “You should get a portrait tattoo of Yeji somewhere, or at least her name written down.” I stared at Yeji. Yeji stared at me.

“Oh my god, YOU ALREADY TALKED ABOUT THAT?” Lia asked in disbelief. “That sounds significantly worse when phrased like that,” I answered immediately.

Yeji was still hiding her face behind one hand while laughing uncontrollably now. Meanwhile Lia looked increasingly horrified and entertained simultaneously. Interesting emotional combination honestly.

The next several days settled into a rhythm surprisingly quickly. Morning meetings. Practice evaluations. Wardrobe fittings. Demo reviews. Recording adjustments, and somewhere in-between all of that the top floor quietly became part of ITZY’s daily life. Not officially, just… naturally.

At first it started small. Yuna using one of the lounge rooms to nap between schedules because “the couches up here are spiritually better.” Chaeryeong occasionally hiding in the music room whenever the practice floor became too loud. Ryujin kept stealing expensive drinks from my refrigerator like some kind of emotionally unstable raccoon. And somehow Lia became the most normal about the entire thing.

Which honestly felt suspicious now. Very suspicious. Especially because every single time our eyes met across a room lately— she smiled like she knew something. The first time she winked at me during practice evaluations nearly killed me internally. I was midway through discussing rehearsal pacing adjustments with one of the choreographers when I glanced toward the mirrors and caught Lia casually sipping iced coffee while looking directly at me. Then a wink.

Subtle. Tiny. Absolutely catastrophic. I immediately lost my train of thought. “And then we can probably reduce strain on Yeji’s lower back during the second chorus by—” pause “…What was I saying?” The choreographer blinked. Meanwhile somewhere behind me

“You look distracted, manager-nim.”

I slowly turned afterward only to find Lia visibly trying not to laugh while Yeji completely avoided eye contact near the mirrors. Excellent. Now BOTH of them were psychologically dangerous. Even worse? The members started noticing something weird was happening. Not the truth, obviously. Yuna asked one afternoon while eating snacks on the studio floor.

YN: Why does Lia unnie keep looking at you like she knows your tax fraud secrets? B: I don’t commit tax fraud. YN: That sounded defensive. B: That sounded financially targeted.

Ryujin looked up immediately from the couch nearby.

RJ: …Wait. You absolutely look like someone who has offshore accounts. B: That feels racist toward wealthy people. YJ: That sentence alone confirmed it. B: I hate this group. “Emotionally false,” Chaeryeong answered quietly without looking up from her phone. Traitor number four. Then somewhere beside me Yeji suddenly laughed under her breath— and Ryujin noticed. Because Ryujin’s eyes shifted slowly between me, Yeji, and then at Lia. The stare lingered there slightly longer than comfortable.

The atmosphere returned to normal quickly afterward, but I noticed something important over the next several days, Ryujin started watching more. Not obviously. That wasn’t her style. But she lingered around conversations longer now. Sat closer during downtime. Interrupted moments more often. Started stealing my attention deliberately. It was the emotional equivalent of poking a bruise repeatedly until somebody reacts felt EXTREMELY Ryujin themed tactics.

One evening after rehearsals, I was reorganizing part of the comeback scheduling inside one of the smaller production rooms when the door suddenly opened behind me. No knock. “You’re avoiding everybody.” I glanced up briefly. “You entered this room like a police raid.” Ryujin ignored me professionally before casually dropping onto the couch nearby

RJ: You’ve been weird lately. B: That’s vague enough to qualify as emotional terrorism. RJ: And you keep looking at Yeji differently. B: That sounds observational. RJ: And that sounds like avoidance.

Ryujin studied me quietly for another second afterward before speaking again “And Lia unnie keeps looking at both of you like she’s watching a drama nobody else understands yet.” I stayed silent just slightly too long. And unfortunately, Ryujin noticed that too. Then slowly— a grin appeared “…Oh.” That singular syllable somehow felt psychologically threatening. I rubbed lightly at my forehead afterward “You need healthier hobbies”. “No I don’t,” Ryujin answered immediately. “This is fascinating.” “That word concerns me deeply.” “You’re hiding something.” “That describes literally every human being alive.” “But yours is interesting.”

That was somehow worse than false accusations. Then Ryujin leaned slightly forward afterward, resting her chin against one hand while studying me with visible amusement now.

“…You know what’s funny?” “That sentence has historically never improved my life.” “You stopped looking tired.”

Silence. Not because I didn’t have a response. Because unfortunately she was right. Then finally she leaned back again afterward while still looking unbearably smug.

“Wow.” “I’m beginning to resent your observational skills.” “You should.” She paused briefly. “You’re getting way too comfortable around us.”

That landed significantly harder than expected. Because there was no accusation in her voice. That somehow felt more dangerous than suspicion.

The following weeks passed in a blur of rehearsals, recording sessions, emergency wardrobe meetings, and increasingly concerning amounts of takeout food consumed on the top floor at two in the morning. Which honestly meant the comeback preparations were going well. Too well, almost. Because despite the heavier schedules approaching, something around the group had noticeably shifted. People laughed more now. Not loudly. Not dramatically, it was more natural now.

Yuna practically moved into the upstairs lounge during off-days, usually buried beneath blankets while aggressively stealing everyone’s snacks like a tiny home invader. Chaeryeong quietly developed the habit of staying upstairs after practices ended, often sitting near the music room while absentmindedly talking about choreography frustrations she normally kept to herself. And somehow Lia became terrifyingly calm about the entire secret she accidentally uncovered.

That honestly concerned me slightly. Because now she occasionally looked at Yeji and me like an emotionally well-adjusted hostage negotiator. One afternoon during vocal recording evaluations, Yeji walked over absentmindedly while I was reviewing scheduling notes before immediately stealing the iced coffee beside me without asking. Normal behavior. “Wow,” Ryujin muttered from the couch nearby. Yeji paused mid-sip. “…What?” Ryujin slowly looked between both of us. “You two act married sometimes.” Dead silence. Yeji immediately coughed into the coffee while I calmly continued reading paperwork with the survival instincts of a man refusing to acknowledge a landmine directly beneath him.

“That sounded psychologically loaded,” I answered carefully. “That sounded defensive,” Ryujin answered instantly.

Then somewhere beside her Lia smiled into her phone. Unfortunately Ryujin noticed THAT too. The tension dissolved quickly afterward once Yuna loudly accused everybody of emotionally bullying her for being hungry, but the look Ryujin gave me before leaving the room lingered significantly longer than comfortable. Not suspicious anymore. Curiosity. That was worse, much worse. Still— despite the increasingly dangerous emotional ecosystem forming around me the comeback itself progressed almost shockingly smoothly. Not effortless obviously. Everyone was still exhausted. Still overworked. Still emotionally stretched thin sometimes.

But now? There was somewhere safe to come back to afterward. And having that safety net for the girls changed everything. Late nights became movie nights upstairs. Group dinners. Chaotic card games. Yuna loudly losing competitive games and accusing everybody else of cheating emotionally. Even Yeji slowly stopped carrying herself like the entire future of ITZY rested solely on her shoulders twenty-four hours a day. That alone probably justified my entire employment contract psychologically.

One evening after rehearsals, I found Chaeryeong asleep sideways on one of the lounge couches with a blanket tangled around her legs while Lia quietly adjusted the volume on the television nearby. “…You know,” Lia said softly without looking away from the screen, “this place feels different now.” I glanced toward her briefly.

“That sounds ominous.” “It’s not.” A smaller smile appeared afterward. “It just feels quieter.”

Then quietly afterward “…Thank you.”

That caught me slightly off guard. I looked toward her properly “For what?”. Lia finally glanced toward the sleeping Chaeryeong nearby before answering softly. “For noticing when everyone’s tired before they fall apart”. That sentence stayed with me significantly longer than expected.

By the time “Girls Will Be Girls” finally released, the atmosphere surrounding the group felt completely different from the one Yeji had dragged herself through months earlier during her solo preparations. Still stressful. Still chaotic. Still exhausting. But no longer lonely. The release day itself was predictably catastrophic in the way all comeback days usually were. Staff everywhere. Phones constantly ringing. Wardrobe emergencies. Three separate people crying for entirely different reasons. Normal idol industry behavior.

Yet despite all of that— the members looked happy. Actually happy. Not “camera happy.” Not “idol happy.” Real. That realization hit me harder than expected.

Later that night after schedules finally ended, the five of them collapsed across the upstairs lounge in varying states of exhaustion while takeout containers covered almost every available surface nearby.

Yuna was halfway unconscious against the couch. Ryujin was scrolling through early reactions with visible satisfaction. Chaeryeong looked seconds away from passing out entirely. Lia quietly hummed along to the television music playing softly in the background. And Yeji— she looked peaceful.

“…We did well,” Yeji murmured quietly into the room. Simple sentence. But the silence afterward said significantly more. Because everybody knew what she actually meant. Not just, the comeback— everything. The floor. The schedules. The balance. The atmosphere. All of it.

Then eventually Ryujin glanced toward me from across the room and smirked. “…You look happy,” she observed casually. Interesting. Very interesting. Because for once— I didn’t immediately deny it.

The celebrations after the first week of Girls Will Be Girls promotions were significantly less glamorous than most people probably imagined. No luxury parties. No celebrity-filled rooftop events. Just five exhausted women sprawled across various sections of the top floor while half-eaten food containers slowly occupied every available flat surface like an invasive species. Honestly? Probably healthier.

“You know what I miss?” Yuna muttered dramatically from beneath a blanket cocoon on the lounge couch. “Peace.” “You started three arguments today,” Ryujin answered without looking up from her phone. “That’s unrelated.” “That feels deeply related.”

Meanwhile Chaeryeong was halfway asleep beside the window while Lia quietly scrolled through social media reactions nearby. And somewhere several thousand kilometers away Yeji was currently attending some luxury fashion gala in Europe while occasionally sending me increasingly judgmental selfies from makeup rooms. The latest one arrived three minutes ago “stop forgetting to eat properly”.

I was midway through typing a response when Ryujin suddenly stood up from the couch. Historically, that move was concerning. Then she pointed directly at me “You”. I slowly lowered my phone.

“That sounded accusatory.” “You’re drinking with me tonight.”

Silence. Not because the statement itself was strange. Because the tone implied that she had already decided this hours ago internally. “I don’t think that was a question,” Lia muttered quietly nearby. I rubbed lightly at my forehead afterward.

“Why am I suddenly being kidnapped?” “Because,” Ryujin answered calmly, “our emotional support manager is now our designated emotional support drinking buddy.” “That sentence should not be legally binding.” “It is tonight.”

Yuna immediately sat upright beneath the blanket. “WAIT I WANNA COME.” “No, it’s a one on one tonight.” Ryujin answered instantly. “That’s maknae discrimination.” “This is purely business.” “Emotionally false.”

Chaeryeong blinked sleepily from the corner “Can I at least know where you’re going?” Ryujin shrugged casually. “Somewhere private would be better”. I narrowed my eyes immediately.

“Public places are absolutely not happening.” “Obviously,” Ryujin answered. “We’d get photographed in five minutes.” Then her eyes shifted toward me again. “So we’ll drink at your place.”

Silence.

“…My place?” “Yes.” “You say that like I casually offered.” “You were going to eventually.” “No I wasn’t.” “You literally own multiple houses.”

Traitorous wealthy information leakage. I slowly turned toward Lia.

“You told them?” Lia looked genuinely offended. “I absolutely did not.” Then quietly afterward “…But you DO look like someone who owns multiple houses.” “This group profiles me financially constantly.” Ryujin ignored the complaint professionally. “There’s probably expensive liquor there.” “That sounds dangerously assumptive.” “That sounds correct though.”

Unfortunately, she was right. I leaned back slowly afterward while weighing my rapidly deteriorating options mentally. “You realize I still need to drive back eventually.” Ryujin immediately smiled “No you don’t”. That singular sentence somehow felt psychologically threatening. Because suddenly I realized exactly what she was doing. She already planned around the escape route. Meanwhile Yuna pointed aggressively from the couch.

“SEE? This is favoritism.” Yuna protested. “You literally tried to invite yourself.” Ryujin argued back. “Because I believe in togetherness.” “You believe in chaos.” “That’s emotionally subjective.”

I rubbed lightly at my face afterward while Ryujin casually grabbed my keys from the counter beside her before I could physically stop her.

“…That feels criminal.” “That feels dramatic.”  “You are actively stealing my vehicle.” “You can always buy a new one.” Then she glanced toward the others briefly. “We’ll be back tomorrow.” Lia looked down at her phone immediately afterward, visibly hiding a smile. Meanwhile Chaeryeong looked mildly confused. Yuna looked spiritually betrayed. I was beginning to realize I probably lost this argument the second Ryujin stood up from the couch fifteen minutes ago.

By the time we reached the parking area downstairs, Ryujin was still holding my keys with visible satisfaction while I questioned every life decision that somehow led here. Then she stopped walking “…Wait”. I followed her line of sight directly toward my personal car. Unlike the company-issued vehicle— this one was mine. And unfortunately? It looked expensive enough to immediately become a problem. Ryujin slowly looked between the car, me, then back toward the car again “…Ben”. “That sounded financially judgmental.” “What the hell do you DRIVE?” “That sounds accusatory toward engineering.” “This is the most suspiciously wealthy thing you’ve done so far.” “That feels statistically incorrect.”

Ryujin walked slowly around the car afterward while visibly processing things. “…You absolutely grew up rich.” “No actually.” “That somehow made this worse.”

Then finally she tossed me the keys again afterward before climbing into the passenger seat with visible satisfaction. The grin she gave me once the door closed felt significantly more dangerous than alcohol ever could.

[afterhours37]

Overworked & Overwanted - Pilot Story

It starts with silence. The announcement drops quietly, no buildup, no warning beyond what could be mistaken for routine corporate scheduling. But in reality, nothing about it was routine at all. It was almost too detached, too clinical. The announcement that hit harder than it should:

“We would like to inform you about the status of ITZY member Lia’s health and her future activities…”

“…we decided that Lia will not participate in scheduled activities starting from today and will take a break for the time being to focus on her treatment.”

It was a simple statement of facts “Lia is going on Hiatus until further notice” there was no drama in the wording. That made it worse. Because for everyone outside the group, it was news. But for ITZY, it was a rupture, for Yeji, Ryujin, Chaeryeong, and Yuna— they were as clueless as to Lia’s condition as MIDZY was.

Yeji reads it a second time, and then a third time. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand, but because she did. She is the leader, but the title suddenly feels meaningless when she realizes she had been kept in the dark too. Yet despite the feeling of betrayal running in her blood at that moment, there was only one question that kept running on repeat within the confines of her mind: “How long was Lia carrying this alone?”

It wasn’t even hours after the announcement and inside the dorm— the dynamic shifts immediately. No one said anything related to the topic out loud, the members were already affected by the sudden news, and everyone was already walking on eggshells.

Ryujin wasn’t loud or subtle about it. She started to withdraw emotionally, distant in ways that feel intentional. Chaeryeong became more careful with her words, she was already fragile from her own internal conflicts and with becoming informed of Lia’s hiatus— as if the slightest mistake might shatter whatever fragile balance remained. Yuna kept a façade. She talked more than usual, as if believing that overcompensating would make up for Lia’s absence or would bring her back sooner, but that only felt like a noise filling in empty space. Words that believe they were hiding a pain with loudness instead. Yeji just stops sleeping, questioning herself as the leader her group deserves to have. Running back anything in her mind to what she could’ve missed that would have hinted to the pain Lia hid from everyone else.

The comeback cycle does not stop. The industry demands continuation even as if nothing has changed. The managers were hesitant on the day to announce to them about the upcoming comeback, and its name was bitterly ironic— BORN TO BE. As if the company was hinting that the group was about to be reborn as four. Every schedule felt heavier the passing day. Every rehearsal slightly longer. Evert crack within the members slightly more noticeable.

Every crack within the members became slightly more noticeable. Not all at once— that would have been easier to confront. It happened in smaller ways. A missed laugh here, a delayed response there. A water bottle left untouched after rehearsal because no one remembered who it belonged to anymore. The practice room became the first place where Lia’s absence stopped being an announcement and started becoming a shape. One empty space in the formation, adjusted by the choreographer with professional efficiency, as if rearranging bodies could make the loss feel smaller.

“Again, from the second verse,” the choreographer called.

No one complained. Ryujin wiped the sweat from her neck and returned to position without a word. Chaeryeong nodded too quickly, already apologizing under her breath before she had even made a mistake. Yuna smiled at the mirror, bright and practiced, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Yeji stood at the center.

“Music.” The track started again. They moved like professionals because that was what they were— Sharp. Clean. Controlled. Four bodies forcing themselves to fill a space that used to belong to five. For the first few counts, it almost worked. Then Chaeryeong’s foot landed half a beat late. She caught herself immediately. “Sorry.” No one blamed her. That made her look even more ashamed. “It’s fine,” Yeji said quickly. Too quickly. “Again.” The choreographer glanced at the clock. “You’ve been at this for hours. Take five first.”

“I’m okay,” Yeji answered, she didn’t ask the others.

Ryujin looked at her through the mirror, expression unreadable. For a second, it looked like she wanted to say something. Instead, she turned away and reached for her towel. Yuna clapped once, too loudly. “We’re almost there! It’s fine, right? We just need to clean it a little more.”

Her voice bounced against the walls and came back thinner. Chaeryeong only nodded.

The music played again. And again. And again. By the time the staff finally called the rehearsal over, the room smelled of sweat, floor cleaner, and exhaustion. The kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix because sleep was no longer the problem. One by one, they packed their things. Yuna was still talking as she zipped her bag, asking if anyone wanted convenience store snacks, if they should order food, if they should maybe watch something funny back at the dorm. She kept offering pieces of normal life like she was handing out bandages.

No one really answered. Chaeryeong smiled anyway, small and tired “Maybe later.” Ryujin slung her bag over one shoulder “I’m going ahead”. She didn’t wait for anyone to respond. The door closed behind her. For a moment, the room was quiet. Then Yeji walked back to the center of the floor. Chaeryeong noticed first “Unnie?” Yeji didn’t even look back to Chaeryeong “I’ll just run it once more". Yuna’s smile faltered. “But we’re done". Yeji faced the mirror “I know, just one more.” No one believed her. But no one stopped her either. That became the pattern, not because they didn’t care. Because everyone was too tired to know what caring was supposed to look like anymore.

The dorm was quieter now than it had ever been before, it wasn’t a peaceful silence either. The television stayed on most nights without anyone truly watching it. Variety shows played into empty space while half-finished drinks gathered on the table beside unopened delivery containers that had long gone cold. The members moved around each other carefully, like people afraid of making too much noise in a room already filled with tension. It became normal to hear footsteps at three in the morning. Sometimes it was Chaeryeong walking into the kitchen for water she barely drank before returning to her room. Sometimes it was Ryujin sitting alone on the couch in the dark with her phone face-down beside her, not scrolling, not sleeping either. Yuna filled silence whenever she could, but even she slowly started running out of things to say. And Yeji— she stopped pretending she slept at all.

At first, it was subtle enough to hide behind makeup and schedules. Dark circles covered by stylists who were paid to make exhaustion invisible. Energy drinks appearing more frequently beside practice notes. Longer moments staring blankly at mirrors before someone called her name and she snapped back into herself. But exhaustion always collects interest eventually.

One night after rehearsal, Yuna fell asleep sitting upright against the side of the couch, head tilted awkwardly with her phone still in her hand. The television cast pale blue light across the dorm while rain tapped quietly against the windows outside. Chaeryeong had already gone to bed. Ryujin emerged from the hallway with damp hair and an oversized shirt hanging loosely over her frame. She slowed when she saw Yuna asleep. Then she noticed Yeji who was still awake. Still sitting at the dining table, papers spread out in front of her. Schedule sheets, notes, performance breakdowns, handwritten reminders layered over company printouts until it all blurred together into meaningless clutter.

Ryujin leaned against the wall. “You’re still doing that?”

Yeji didn’t look up immediately. “Mm.”

RY: It’s two in the morning.

YJ: We have recording tomorrow.

RY: We always have something tomorrow.

Yeji finally glanced up, tired eyes meeting Ryujin’s for only a second before dropping back to the papers. “I know.” Ryujin observed her leader— that was becoming normal too. Not arguments. Not concern spoken aloud. Just observation. The kind people did when they noticed something getting worse but didn’t know where to place their hands without accidentally breaking it further.

“You missed dinner again,” Ryujin said eventually. “I ate earlier" Yeji said unconvincingly. Ryujin socffed at her “You’re a terrible liar.” That almost earned a smile. Almost. Yeji rubbed her eyes instead. “Why are you awake?” Ryujin shrugged lightly. “Couldn’t sleep.” Neither of them acknowledged how often that answer had started appearing lately. Rain continued tapping softly against the glass. For a while, neither spoke. Then Ryujin walked closer to the table, gaze drifting across the papers scattered there.

“You reorganized the rehearsal schedule?”

“The spacing was off,” Yeji muttered.

Ryujin frowned slightly. “You know that’s the staff’s job, right?”

“If I can make things easier for everyone, then why not?”

The answer came too fast. Too automatic.

Ryujin’s eyes lingered on her longer this time. There it is, she thought. That isn't leadership anymore, it was compensation. Yeji was trying to carry everything now. The performances. The atmosphere. The morale. The silence. Lia’s absence. The pressure of making sure four people still looked complete under stage lights designed for five. And the frightening part was how naturally she was accepting it. Ryujin pulled out the chair beside her and sat down without asking. Yeji blinked. “What are you doing?” Ryujin just sat there looking at her phone.

“Keeping you company.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Another silence settled between them.

A silience that showed tiredness no one wanted to say outloud. The kind built between people too exhausted to perform normality anymore.

Ryujin leaned back slightly, arms folded loosely across her chest. “You know none of us blame you, right?” Yeji’s hand stopped moving.

Only for a second— then she continued reorganizing papers that no longer needed reorganizing. “I know,” she said softly. But Ryujin could tell from the way her shoulders tightened that she didn’t believe it at all.

After that, the days started losing their shape. Morning schedules bled into evening rehearsals. Airport terminals became more familiar than the dorm itself. Staff voices, countdowns, makeup touch-ups, stage cues— everything eventually merged together into one endless routine of movement and noise. The comeback preparations consumed them completely. At some point, meals stopped becoming something shared. Food turned into half-finished containers left around the dorm table for whoever remembered they were hungry first. Energy drinks appeared more frequently than water bottles. Sleep became something negotiated between schedules instead of something naturally expected at the end of the day. And somehow, despite everything— BORN TO BE was successful.

That was the strange part. The stages trended online. The performances were praised. Fans admired how stable they looked despite continuing as four. Articles called them resilient. Strong. Professional. Yeji started quietly hating those words. Because strong people were expected to continue. Strong people didn’t get to stop. The practice room mirrors reflected the proof of that every night.

Sometimes Yuna still tried to hold the atmosphere together. Small jokes thrown into rehearsals. Dramatic reactions exaggerated just enough to make the others laugh for a few seconds. Sometimes she would intentionally mess up choreography near Chaeryeong just to hear her complain and smile at the same time. But even Yuna’s energy started fading around the edges eventually. The louder she became, the easier it was to notice how exhausted she really looked afterward.

Ryujin changed more subtly.She stopped joking during rehearsals as much. Stopped teasing staff members between takes. Stopped reaching for conversation unless someone else started it first. Instead, she observed.

Yeji staying behind after rehearsals. She even rereads schedules during van rides. Yeji would answer questions before managers could. She started apologizing for things that weren’t her fault. The frightening part was how natural it all started looking.

Even Chaeryeong adapted to it eventually. Her apologies became automatic. “Sorry" would slip out of her constantly now. Sorry for mistakes. Sorry for delays. Sorry for being tired. Sorry for forgetting things. One night Ryujin counted seven apologies in less than ten minutes before silently giving up halfway through. No one pointed it out anymore.

The schedules only became worse after promotions began. Interviews blurred together into identical rooms and repeated questions. Hotel hallways all started looking the same. Some nights the members fell asleep still wearing partial stage makeup because nobody had enough energy left to finish removing it properly. And through all of it, Yeji continued moving forward like someone terrified of what would happen if she slowed down even once.

The world tour started not long after— despite all four of them not wanting to tour without Lia, but it was the company's choice. That was when the isolation truly settled in. Airports, security escorts, fans screaming loud enough to shake the walls outside terminals. Then silence again the moment hotel doors closed behind them. Different country, a different room. But the same exhaustion. The members spent more time together than almost anyone else in their lives yet somehow began feeling further apart emotionally with each passing month.

Conversations became shorter. Everyone started saying “I’m okay” too quickly. There were nights where the only sounds inside hotel rooms were television noise and the humming of air conditioning units running too cold. One evening somewhere halfway through the tour, Yuna fell asleep during hair and makeup while staff members quietly continued working around her. Nobody laughed. Not because it wasn’t endearing. Because everyone else looked one bad day away from doing the same thing.

Another time, Chaeryeong burst into tears in the middle of rehearsal after forgetting choreography she had already practiced dozens of times. The crying itself seemed to scare her more than the mistake did. “I’m sorry,” she kept repeating through uneven breaths. “I know it already, I don’t know why I can’t—”

Yeji hugged her immediately. Too immediately. Like it was instinctually her responsibility as the leader instead of as a friend. Like if she held everyone together tightly enough, maybe nothing else would fall apart.

Ryujin watched from the side of the room, jaw tightening slightly. Because even then— even exhausted, even emotionally drowning herself Yeji still only knew how to become stronger for everyone else first.

The tour continued anyway. That became the answer to everything eventually. Fatigue, homesickness, and silence. The answer was always the same: Keep moving.

Country after country blurred together until the members stopped remembering where certain memories came from. Hotel ceilings changed shapes but never atmosphere. Waiting rooms stayed cold no matter what city they were in. Staff members rotated in shifts while ITZY continued existing in the strange in-between state of constantly being seen and never truly perceived.

The performances remained good. That was the unsettling part of it— maybe even better than before. There was a desperation hidden inside them now that audiences mistook for passion. Every movement sharper. Every stage heavier. Every expression carrying an intensity that translated beautifully under lights and cameras while slowly hollowing them out behind the scenes. People praised their professionalism constantly.

Yeji learned to smile every time she heard it. Somewhere during the middle stretch of the tour, Ryujin stopped trying to convince Yeji to rest. Not because she stopped caring. Because she realized Yeji no longer knew how. Instead, she started staying nearby. Sometimes beside her during flights while Yeji reorganized schedules she had no responsibility handling herself. Sometimes sitting silently in rehearsal rooms long after staff members left. Sometimes awake at four in the morning in hotel kitchens where neither of them touched the food sitting between them. No dramatic conversations ever happened. That somehow made it sadder.

Chaeryeong became more emotionally careful over time. She watched everyone closely now before speaking, as if constantly measuring the emotional temperature of every room she entered. The more exhausted everyone became, the more she shrank herself instinctively trying not to become another problem someone else needed to carry.

Yuna noticed it too. So, she compensated harder. Louder reactions. Brighter smiles. More touching. More attempts at pulling everyone together during meals and backstage downtime. Sometimes she would drag the members into group selfies nobody really had energy for anymore just because she missed how things used to feel. Most of those pictures still ended up online. Fans called them cute. None of the members had the heart to say those moments usually ended in silence seconds later.

Then eventually— Lia came back. There was no dramatic reunion. No tears the moment the door opened. No emotional release powerful enough to undo over a year of accumulated exhaustion. Just hesitation and carefulness. The strange awkwardness of people trying desperately to return to a version of themselves that no longer existed in quite the same way anymore.

The first rehearsal as five again felt unfamiliar. Not wrong. Just unfamiliar. Everyone kept looking at Lia like they were trying to reassure themselves she was actually there. Lia noticed the changes immediately. Yeji smiling too quickly whenever someone asked if she was okay. Chaeryeong apologizing before speaking. Yuna filling every silence before it could fully settle. Ryujin watching everyone constantly while pretending she wasn’t. And beneath all of it— exhaustion. Not temporary exhaustion. The kind that settled deep enough into people that they started mistaking survival for normalcy.

Lia carried guilt for it almost instantly. Not because anyone blamed her. That was the problem— nobody blamed her at all. Which somehow made her feel worse. The group slowly adjusted again after her return. Interviews became easier as five. Formations looked complete again. Fans celebrated the feeling of wholeness returning to ITZY after months of uncertainty.

Then GOLD happened, the first comeback as five— and publicly, everything finally looked fixed. The performances were stable again. The group chemistry looked natural during promotions. Variety appearances felt lighter. Smiles came easier on camera now that Lia was back beside them. To everyone outside the group, ITZY looked recovered. That illusion became dangerously convincing. Because even the members themselves slowly started believing it sometimes.

Until the cameras turned off and schedules ended. Until the dorm lights dimmed and exhaustion settled back into their bodies like something permanent waiting patiently for morning to come again.

Yeji got worse quietly. Not visibly enough for headlines. Not dramatically enough for intervention. Just small things. Skipping meals more often. Falling asleep sitting upright. Longer silences. Forgetting conversations midway through them. One night Lia found her asleep at the dining table with schedule papers still clutched loosely in her hand. Another time Yuna realized Yeji had been wearing the same ring on the wrong finger for nearly three days without noticing. Ryujin started looking at her with poorly hidden concern now. Even Chaeryeong noticed. But inside ITZY, concern had long since evolved into adaptation. Everyone saw the damage and nobody knew what to do with it anymore.

With the volatility that had long been noticed but never truly addressed beginning to surface more openly between the five of them, someone else eventually started noticing too. Not management. Not staff members. Someone who understood the difference between temporary exhaustion and the kind that settled into people slowly enough for them to stop recognizing it themselves.

(Jihyo's POV): I had seen this before, not in the exact same shape. But close enough, it was the close enough to the time where my own group imploded within itself to threaten the very existence of TWICE, my TWICE. The first time I truly noticed it was during a music show waiting room sometime during GOLD promotions. ITZY was laughing about something Yuna said when she passed by the open door with one of the managers beside her.

At first glance, everything looked normal. That was the problem. Years in the industry had taught me how to recognize when idols became too good at pretending. Yeji smiled through conversations half a second too late now. Ryujin kept scanning the room whenever silence settled for too long. Chaeryeong looked like she apologized with her eyes before words even reached her mouth. Lia had the careful attentiveness of someone trying to make up for an absence nobody blamed her for. And Yuna— Yuna looked exhausted in the way only people trying the hardest to appear energetic usually did.

I didn’t say anything that day, I couldn’t but after that, I started paying attention. Small things became difficult to ignore once she noticed them.

Yeji falling asleep during downtime between recordings.

Ryujin lingering nearby afterward instead of waking her immediately.

Chaeryeong quietly checking everyone else’s mood before speaking during group interviews.

The way the members looked relieved whenever schedules ended early, not because they were lazy, but because they genuinely seemed unable to process another hour being added onto the day.

It reminded me too much of something I recognized. The dangerous stage of exhaustion where functioning became so normal that nobody realized how badly things had deteriorated anymore. And once I recognized it— I couldn’t stop seeing it. At first, I was going to tackle it alone. But there was only little I could do by myself. But I remembered I had someone with me. Perhaps I could talk to John with my concerns, technically this is part of the job description of our managerial boyfriend.

(John's POV): It was the night before MISAMO left for Japan again. HAUTE COUTURE promotions overseas always shifted the atmosphere slightly within the dorms. Different schedules. Different pacing. Different forms of chaos. For once, it also meant the rest of us would finally have room to breathe again after months of nonstop movement. At least, that had been my plan before Sana decided otherwise.

“You’re thinking too much again” her voice came muffled against my neck while she remained comfortably tangled against me beneath the sheets, both of our bodies completely free from any form of clothing and she unconcerned with the fact that I was still trying to organize schedules on my phone moments earlier.

J: I’m literally doing my job. SN: You stopped looking at your phone ten minutes ago. J: …That’s not the point. SN: It kind of is.

I felt her smile against my skin before she shifted closer purely to annoy me further. Typical. The room itself was dim outside the soft lamp near the bedside table. Comfortable silence settled naturally between us in the way it only could after years of familiarity. Sana always had a strange ability to pull people out of their own heads whether they wanted her to or not. Usually against their will.

J: You’re going to Japan tomorrow SN: Mhm. J: And instead of sleeping— SN: I wanted attention. J: That sounds like a “you” problem. SN: It became your problem when you started dating me. J: Fair point.

“Now be a good boy for me” Sana’s mood changed like clockwork, it was as simple as flipping a switch. She gave me a quick peck on the lips before going down to my neck, then giving my chest a few bite marks “Something to remember me by when I’m in Japan” her giggled showed more of a territorial side than clingy. I decided to meet her halfway— directly flipping her over to have me be the one on top this time. “Let’s make every second count then” I whispered in her ear as the tip of my already erect cock was rubbing the around the folds of her already wet entrance, to which Sana stared at me showing that she didn’t need to say anything to let me know what she wanted.

She cooed in pleasure the moment she felt me enter her. I took my time to make sure she felt me inch by inch. Though I didn’t give her time to settle into anything. The moment I was full length inside her I pulled out leaving only the tip left inside, and before Sana could say anything in protest— I slammed my entire length going back inside in an instant. This gave Sana a jolt of extreme pleasure enough that for a very split moment it cause her to black out before instantly regaining consciousness. She was very used to me making love to her gently and her very sexual nature wasn’t opposed to it, but she loved it more when I was extra rough with her and since she was going to leave for a while I wanted to make sure to give a little extra treatment the way she likes it.

The change of pace was enough to make Sana reach her the near of her climax faster than normal, and I was still sensitive from earlier which worked in my favor— almost. The feeling of Sana’s walls hugging around my shaft as the tip kissed the entranced to her cervix was stimulation to much for me, it led me to finish first the feeling of pleasure overwhelming me to a point where I stopped moving as globs of my cum flooded Sana’s insides. The feeling of her insides being filled to the brim with my seed was enough to push her to orgasm as well, her insides contracted simultaneously around my already sensitive cock prolonging the rush of pleasure both of us felt.

I slowly pulled out of her and the cum started to escape out of her pussy “Oh wow, if we keep this up I might actually get knocked up, oppa” she looked at me with awe while rubbing her abs. “Dear God, Sana. It’s not like I’m against it, but we all know what’s going to happen to me if that does.” I laughed while falling on the bed with her right next to me “Either PD-nim is going to personally murder you, the rest of the members, or the wave of angry fans” Sana giggled as she slowly led her mouth to my already soft member as she tried to spring it back to life.

Then there was a knock on the door, and before I could tell whoever was on the other side to wait, they already opened the it "Aishh— I feel like we already did this before" as Jihyo looked at the sight of me in the bed. Sana was covered underneath the sheets not stopping despite being caught, her head kept bobbing without the slightest care of being caught. She was about to leave for a while— being seen by someone from the other eight whom she shared me was not Sana's concern.

"I'm borrowing John for a bit after you, there's something I need to talk to him about" Jihyo said in a serious tone as she told Sana who still didn't stop, her only confirmation was her hand leaving the sheets forming the okay hand sign.

Jihyo only stared at the two of us for a moment longer before rubbing tiredly at her forehead. “You know, normal couples would at least pretend to be embarrassed.” Sana finally resurfaced just enough to grin lazily at her. “That sounds judgmental.”

JH: That’s because it is. SN: It’s not my fault he’s cute. JH: You literally say that about all nine of us. SN: And I mean it every single time.

Jihyo sighed deeply, though the corner of her mouth still twitched upward slightly despite herself. The atmosphere inside the room remained warm in the familiar way it always became whenever the members naturally drifted around each other. Comfortable. Chaotic. Intimate without effort. It reminded me how different things felt now compared to years ago. Which was why the expression lingering behind Jihyo’s eyes stood out almost immediately. Sana noticed it too. Her teasing softened first. “…Something happened?” Jihyo hesitated. And that alone was enough to tell me this wasn’t casual concern. The room grew quieter afterward.

Sana slowly sat up properly beneath the sheets this time, finally giving Jihyo her full attention while I reached over to mute the television still playing softly in the background. For a few seconds, only silence remained. Then Jihyo finally spoke. “It’s ITZY.” That got my attention immediately. Not because the topic itself was surprising. Because of the way she said it. Carefully. Like she had already spent weeks trying to convince herself she was overthinking it before finally deciding she wasn’t. Jihyo moved further into the room before sitting near the edge of the bed, arms folding loosely across herself. “I think something’s wrong with them.” Sana frowned slightly. “Wrong how?” Jihyo exhaled quietly. “I don’t know if I can explain it properly. They’re functioning too well.” Neither of us interrupted her. Because we understood exactly what she meant. “They remind me too much of us back then,” she admitted softly. “Not publicly. Privately.”

The warmth inside the room dimmed slightly after that. I leaned back against the headboard slowly while listening as Jihyo explained everything she had been noticing for months now. Yeji pushing herself too hard. Ryujin watching everyone constantly. Chaeryeong growing smaller emotionally. Yuna overcompensating. Lia carrying guilt nobody blamed her for. And beneath all of it— exhaustion that had stopped looking temporary a long time ago. By the time Jihyo finished talking, Sana’s expression had completely lost its earlier playfulness.

“…That bad?” she asked quietly. Jihyo nodded once. I stayed silent longer than either of them liked. Because the truth was— I had noticed pieces of it too. Not enough to fully understand the situation from a distance, but enough to recognize the pattern forming underneath everything Jihyo described. And patterns like that rarely resolved cleanly on their own. “That kind of exhaustion changes people,” I said eventually. Jihyo looked at me carefully. “I know.” I added “And if nobody steps in early enough, they normalize it” which Jihyo shared my concern “That’s what I’m scared of.” The room fell quiet again.

Sana shifted closer beside me instinctively, her hand resting lightly against my arm while she listened. I already knew where the conversation was heading before Jihyo asked the question. “Can we help them?” I exhaled slowly through my nose. Not because I didn’t want to. Because I understood exactly how complicated the answer was. Emotional dependency inside this industry was dangerous. Lines blurred too easily when people spent too long isolated from normality. Support became attachment before anyone realized it was happening. And once that happened— things stopped being simple. Jihyo knew that too. Which was why she looked nervous asking me in the first place. For a long while, none of us spoke.

Then eventually, I ran a hand down my face before reaching toward the bedside table for my phone. “I know the right guy,” I muttered quietly. Jihyo’s posture straightened slightly. “He’s good at reading people. Better than anyone I know, honestly.” I glanced down at the dark screen in my hand for a moment before continuing. “But whether he agrees to this or not is completely up to him.” Sana tilted her head slightly. “That friend of yours?” I only nodded while reaching for my phone. “The psychology major who psychoanalyzed you in ten minutes?” Sana tilted her head in curiosity, “He was right about me, unfortunately.” That almost earned a small laugh from Jihyo. Almost.

I unlocked my phone slowly. “Even if he says yes,” I said carefully, “this doesn’t magically fix anything. And if this goes wrong—” “I know,” Jihyo interrupted softly. No optimism. No naïve expectations.

That made this harder somehow. I stared at the contact for another second before finally pressing call. The line rang once. Twice. Then:

“John?” a calm voice answered from the other side. I closed my eyes briefly “…Hey, Ben.”

(Ben's POV): I frowned slightly at my phone before leaning back deeper into the couch. “You usually only call this late when somebody’s either dying or pregnant” A muffled snort immediately echoed somewhere on his side of the call. Female. Sounded like Sana— Interesting. “Good evening to you too, jackass” John muttered dryly. “You didn’t deny either possibility” I commented only for John to annoyingly reply with “Because neither possibility should’ve been your first assumption.”

B: That sounds like denial. J: You sound unemployed. B: I technically am unemployed. J: You own SEVEN businesses. B: Own. Having passive income is not employment— I refuse to disrespect actual workers like that.

That earned another laugh somewhere near him, that voice definitely belongs to Sana. I rubbed tiredly at my face while sitting up properly this time, abandoning my PC on the table. The clock on the wall already pushed dangerously close to midnight which usually meant one of two things whenever John called. Either something genuinely serious happened, or one of the girls did something catastrophically stupid. Both were equally possible.

B: So, who’s dying? J: No one. B: Did you get one the members pregnant? J: What the hell? Again. No. B: Financial crime? Extortion? J: Can you be serious for five minutes?

I had my fun with John, I dropped my playful tone “Depends. Are you asking as my best friend or as whatever the hell your job title actually is nowadays?” Silence. That was enough for my expression to slowly flatten. Ah. So this actually WAS serious. I stood from the couch afterward and walked toward the kitchen automatically, phone tucked between my shoulder and ear while grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “What happened?” The joking disappeared from my voice completely. John noticed immediately too. “It’s not about TWICE.” That narrowed possibilities slightly. “But?”

A quieter exhale answered first. Then— “It’s ITZY.” I stayed silent. Not because I didn’t know who they were. Because I knew exactly enough about them for those two words to already sound exhausting. A young group. Heavy schedules. Leadership pressure. Public resilience. And JYPE announced recently that one of their members went on hiatus. That was an emotionally dangerous combination. I twisted the bottle cap open slowly. “What about them?” Another pause. Careful this time. John choosing words. That interested me more than the situation itself initially. Because John wasn’t someone easily intimidated by emotional complexity anymore. Which meant whatever this was— he considered it delicate.

“I think they’ve been surviving too long without realizing how bad things got.” And there it was. Not scandal. Not behavioral collapse. It was a burnout, the ugly kind too. I leaned silently against the kitchen counter afterward while processing that answer. Then eventually “…And you’re calling me because?” Another silence. “Jihyo noticed first.” Very interesting. Because if Jihyo was concerned enough to involve John— then this wasn’t ordinary exhaustion anymore. “When are you free?” John finally asked. I glanced toward the clock hanging above the kitchen entrance. 12:47 AM.

B: You do realize normal people discuss emotional crises before midnight, right? J: You were awake anyway. B: That’s not the point. J: You answered on the second ring. B: You know that if you called me even if I was in the middle of a car race I would still pick up. But… that’s also not the point.

A quieter laugh echoed somewhere near him again. “Fine. When do you want to meet?” John asked for tomorrow afternoon. “That sounds less like a request and more like kidnapping.” I told him “You’ll survive.” John ignored that completely. Typical. “The NDA’s already prepared.” That earned a short laugh out of me immediately. “Jesus Christ. You people are serious.” John still was serious, “We have to be.” There it was again. That carefulness. I rolled the cold water bottle lightly against my forehead while thinking. Young group. Hiatus instability. Solo pressure. Emotional suppression. Yeah. I could already see where this probably went wrong psychologically. “Alright, send me the location.” I muttered eventually. “Get some sleep first” I frowned slightly. “You can’t even see me.” John’s voice softened slightly afterward though “But I know you,” the atmosphere settled again naturally. “Tomorrow. Two in the afternoon.” The line disconnected not long after that.

I stayed leaning silently against the kitchen counter for a while afterward, phone still loosely in my hand while the apartment settled back into silence around me. Then eventually I glanced toward the laptop abandoned on the couch. Defeat screen still open. Unbelievable. I made a mental note to never play ranked past midnight again.

The café John picked the following afternoon looked exactly like the kind of place wealthy people pretended wasn’t expensive. Minimalist interior. Quiet lighting. Private enough to discourage attention without looking intentionally exclusive. The type of place celebrities used when they wanted to convince themselves they were still having normal conversations. John and Jihyo were already seated when I arrived. And immediately— John frowned.

J: You look like shit. B: Good afternoon to you too. J: No, seriously. You look exhausted.

I slid into the chair across from them before pulling my cap off loosely. “I stayed up too late.” John was looking at me again, that frown in face growing “Doing?” I stared at him flatly “…Making terrible life choices.” he narrowed his eyes at me “That narrows it down to everything.” I ignored him completely and reached for the glass of water already sitting nearby instead. “Some psychopath kept queueing into my ranked matches all night.” John looked mildly interested “And I lost. Repeatedly.” He finally broke into a smile “Huh, sounds like a skill issue.” That pinched a nerve in my pride.

Jihyo quietly laughed into her drink while I rubbed tiredly at my forehead. “The worst part is the IGN sounded pretentious too.” John raised an eyebrow. “What was it?” I tried recalling it properly. “Something elegant sounding.” I frowned slightly. “PenguinNoona? SilverPenguin? Something rich-person coded.” The silence afterward lasted exactly one second too long. Then suddenly John started laughing. Not normal laughing either. The genuinely disrespectful kind. Jihyo blinked between both of us immediately. “What?” I narrowed my eyes “…Why are you laughing?” John leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “Because that was Mina.” I blinked once “No it wasn’t.” Then again until John affirmed what I denied “It absolutely was.” Jihyo’s expression immediately shifted from confusion to visible amusement. “Wait,” she said while trying not to laugh herself now, “you spent all night getting destroyed by Mina?”

“She was reading my rotations before I even committed to them”. John muttered “That’s somehow worse since you challenged her first apparently.” I had no other play except to keep on making more excuses “I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS HER.” That only made John laugh harder, that jackass. I rubbed tiredly at my face while Jihyo laughed softly into her drink now too “…Tell her I want a rematch.” He held up his phone “You already said that six times last night apparently”. I stared at him blankly, that definitely was my IGN, and she even sent him screenshots? Unbelievable.

The atmosphere loosened naturally after that more familiar. Which honestly made what came next feel slightly stranger by comparison once the conversation gradually settled again. Jihyo’s eyes drifted briefly toward my wrist while I reached for the water again. Small movement that was easy to miss. But observant people always noticed expensive things eventually. Especially people surrounded by luxury branding professionally. The glance lingered only half a second longer before she looked away thoughtfully. John noticed too. “You’re still wearing that?” he asked casually. I glanced down at the watch. “It tells time”. He was visibly stressed “That’s not what I asked”. I raised my arms “Hey, it was free.” Jihyo looked up in the middle of sipping her drink “…Free?” I pointed to my watch “It was a gift.” John looked genuinely offended now. “You cannot call a limited allocation Patek Philippe ‘free.’ That’s not how reality works.”

“I didn’t pay for it” which was the basis of something being considered a gift. “That’s somehow worse.” Jihyo stared at the watch once more quietly before finally looking toward John “You did mention he was rich but… How rich is he exactly?” I immediately pointed at him. “Don’t answer that”. John ignored me completely. “Last I checked was a few years ago?” he muttered casually, “and by that time he was already wealthier than any of us.” then after a beat— “Barring Mina. That woman’s terrifyingly wealthy that it’s now even funny at this point.” Jihyo admitted immediately, “That’s fair.” I sighed deeply into my water. John continued anyway because apparently betrayal built character “After I lost the NewJeans job, he actually offered me one of his businesses so I could get back on my feet.” Jihyo blinked. “…One of?” John was waving his hand as he continued “I said no.” I muttered back “Because you’re dramatic”. He look back at me as if I was a crazy person “Because you were talking about handing me an entire company for FREE. Besides, I don’t like feeling like a charity case.” I shrugged lightly. “And I respected that.”

The conversation settled quietly for a moment afterward. Not awkward. Just thoughtful. Jihyo’s expression changed slightly then. Not impressed. Understanding. The puzzle pieces clicking together for her. To why I didn’t seem particularly concerned about industry politics. Why I moved carefully around obligation. Why agreeing to this meeting despite not needing anything professionally mattered more than it normally would. She’s an interesting woman. Finally, John leaned back slightly before gesturing toward the folder sitting on the table.

“So,” he said, “we should probably explain why we’re actually here before Ben decides this entire conversation was a mistake.” I glanced toward the folder sitting on the table. It was clean, organized and it had that expensive paper too “Please tell me that’s not the—” both of them answered at the same time “— it’s the NDA”.  I leaned back slowly afterward. “…You know, most normal people buy someone dinner before legally binding them into psychological warfare.”

“That’s HR’s job,” John muttered “I hate that you said that with confidence.” Jihyo laughed softly under her breath while sliding the folder closer toward me. The atmosphere loosened slightly again after that. Not fully relaxed, but enough. That was good. People usually spoke more honestly once rooms stopped feeling interrogative. I opened the folder afterward, flipping through the pages casually while half-listening to the quiet jazz drifting somewhere deeper inside the café. Standard confidentiality clauses first. Entertainment privacy. Internal operational discretion. Then— there it was “This is broader than entertainment confidentiality.” Neither answered immediately. Which honestly answered enough already. I glanced up from the papers quietly. Not scandal. Not criminality. Emotional complexity. “You two are acting like you’re hiring me to negotiate a hostage situation.”

“Some days that industry feels close enough,” Jihyo muttered dryly. Fair. I skimmed through the rest carefully. Nothing unreasonable. Strict. But understandable. Honestly, if anything, the wording felt protective more than threatening. That interested me. I signed the final page anyway. Not impulsively. Consciously. That mattered. Once the folder slid back across the table toward them, the atmosphere shifted almost immediately afterward. Less guarded now. “So,” I finally said while folding my arms loosely, “what exactly am I walking into?” Jihyo looked toward John briefly before answering. “Burnout.”

Simple answer. Honest and incomplete, I stayed quiet. People usually filled silence when they wanted understanding badly enough. Sure enough, John continued. “Yeji adapted by over-functioning after Lia’s hiatus,” he said calmly. “The others adapted around her. And after enough time passed, everyone stopped recognizing how unhealthy it became.” Yeah. I’d seen versions of that before. Not identical. But familiar enough to leave a bad taste in my mouth anyway. “She’s preparing for a solo debut now,” Jihyo added quietly. “Which means the pressure’s only getting worse.” I nodded once slowly. That tracked psychologically. Group exhaustion could still distribute emotional burden. Solo work couldn’t. Especially not for leaders— especially not for someone already carrying too much by default.

I leaned back slightly deeper into the chair afterward while processing everything carefully. Then finally— “And the company agreed to let an outsider manage this?” That earned the faintest humorless smile from John “Jihyo asked.” So there it is, that explained the authority issue immediately. Not unlimited power. But enough institutional trust to override resistance. Dangerous amount of responsibility to hand somebody. Especially someone like me. “I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re not just assigning another internal manager.” Jihyo answered immediately “There is. He needs to understand emotional pressure without treating them like liabilities,” she continued quietly. “And he needs to care more about Yeji’s wellbeing than maintaining schedules perfectly.” That narrowed things down significantly. Most companies protect the schedule and very few said “protect the person”. I was interested in the scenario “And you think I fit that?” as I took a sip of my coffee. “I think John trusts you enough to call you.” That answer landed heavier than she probably intended.

I glanced briefly toward John afterward. He looked annoyingly calm about the entire thing.

Typical. “You’re making this sound more serious every five minutes,” I muttered. “That’s because it is serious,” John answered this time. No humor, just honesty. The atmosphere quieted slightly again afterward. Outside the café windows, the city kept moving normally, meanwhile inside this conversation, two people were essentially telling me an idol group had been quietly falling apart in slow motion long enough for veterans to finally notice. Emotionally dangerous. I rested my fingers lightly against the untouched coffee cup in front of me.

“What does Yeji know?” I asked them bluntly. “Not much yet,” Jihyo admitted. “Only that we’re trying to arrange additional support for the solo.” I was intrigued with the lack of protest “She agreed to that?” John answered quietly “Well she didn’t really argue,” that bothered me immediately. Not because agreement was bad. Because exhausted people stopped resisting help once they got too tired to fight properly. And something about the way both of them described her made me increasingly certain Yeji had already crossed into that territory a while ago. Interesting and concerning, I exhaled quietly afterward before finally asking the question both of them were obviously waiting for. “And what exactly do you want from me?” Another brief silence settled over the table. Then Jihyo answered carefully. “Help her breathe again.”

…Ahhh. That was worse somehow. The words settled strangely in my chest afterward. There was no desperation in Jihyo’s voice. No exaggerated pleading or emotional manipulation, just exhaustion. The kind that only came from watching people deteriorate slowly enough for everyone around them to normalize it. I leaned back deeper into the chair afterward while thinking quietly. Outside the café windows, the world kept on moving— but inside this table, meanwhile, two people were essentially asking me to emotionally stabilize a group leader before her first solo debut pushed her into complete collapse.

Dangerous responsibility. Especially considering the amount of authority they were apparently prepared to hand me. “And the company’s genuinely allowing this?” I asked eventually. Jihyo nodded once. “Officially, you’re being brought in as temporary personal management support for Yeji’s solo activities.” I repeated that word she said that piqued my interest, “Temporary” I repeated “For now.” Interesting wording. “And unofficially?” I asked calmly. John immediately rubbed tiredly at his forehead beside her. “There it is,” he muttered. “There WHAT is?” that man really knew how to press my buttons “The part where your psychology degree becomes annoying.”

“That sounds like projection” I said “It is projection” he admitted. Fair enough.

I rested my elbow lightly against the table afterward while studying both of them carefully “You two keep talking around something.” Neither denied it. So not scandal then. Intentional secrecy. Finally, John sighed quietly beside me “There are… emotional dynamics within our situation that aren’t exactly conventional.” That was the first genuinely direct thing either of them had said all afternoon. I stayed quiet and let him continue. “Nothing illegal,” he added immediately. “That’s really comforting, best buddy. I’m listening.” John glanced briefly toward Jihyo first, an unspoken request for permission “The girls rely on me emotionally more than most people would probably consider professionally appropriate.”

That was not a full answer. But enough of one. I leaned back slightly afterward while processing the implication quietly. Not because it surprised me. Honestly? I’d already suspected something adjacent to it the moment confidentiality expanded beyond standard entertainment protection. “And you’re telling me this because?” Jihyo answered in John’s behalf “Because if you agree to this,” Jihyo answered carefully, “there’s a chance Yeji might eventually rely on you similarly. Romantically, sexually, and emotionally.” That distinction mattered. Even if all three of us understood those lines rarely stayed clean forever inside emotionally isolated environments like theirs. I glanced briefly toward John again afterward “…How bad are your boundaries exactly?” “Better than they sound.” John was no longer planning on hiding it. “That is not a reassuring answer, best buddy.” I grinned at him. “It’s the truthful one, and will you stop calling me that?”

I stayed quiet for a few more seconds afterward while turning the situation over mentally. Emotionally exhausted idols. High-pressure environment. Isolation. Dependency. Trust structures forming around the few people allowed close enough to consistently see them as human beings. Psychologically speaking, none of this was actually shocking. Dangerous? Absolutely. Unusual? Not really. Which honestly might’ve been the worst part.

Finally, I exhaled quietly through my nose “For the record,” I muttered while reaching for my coffee again, “sleeping with Yeji is not secretly part of my career development plan.” Jihyo nearly choked on her drink immediately. Meanwhile John just closed his eyes slowly like he regretted inviting me already. “What?” I asked flatly. “You cannot say things like that with a straight face.” “I’m clarifying expectations professionally.” “That is NOT professional phrasing.” “Would you prefer a PowerPoint presentation?”

Jihyo was openly laughing into her hand now while John looked spiritually exhausted beside her. Good. That probably meant the atmosphere needed it. Eventually, though, the humor settled naturally again. And once it did, I noticed something important almost immediately. Neither of them actually looked worried about me crossing lines intentionally. Interesting. That meant this conversation wasn’t about predatory concern. It was about emotional gravity. Much more complicated. I rested my gaze briefly against the city skyline outside before eventually speaking again. “I’ll do the job,” I said calmly. “And I’ll do it properly.” The atmosphere shifted subtly afterward. Not relief exactly. Then I added “But if I think this situation is genuinely becoming psychologically dangerous for her, I’m pulling her back regardless of schedules.” John nodded immediately “Fair.” That told me more about him than the entire partial confession earlier honestly did. Because people abusing emotional dependency usually became defensive once limitations entered the conversation. John didn’t. Which meant despite however messy the situation actually was— he genuinely believed he was helping them survive.

Complicated. But genuine. The conversation settled quietly after that. Schedules. Logistics. Formalities. Nothing emotionally explosive, which honestly made me trust them slightly more. No manipulation. No emotional recruitment. No savior complex. Just concern. By the time the meeting finally started winding down, the late afternoon sunlight outside had already begun fading gold against the café windows. I stood first. Jihyo followed shortly after while John stayed seated another moment finishing the last of his coffee. As I rolled the sleeve of my hoodie back down loosely, I noticed Jihyo’s eyes briefly catch against the tattoo wrapping partially beneath my wrist near the watch, a curious gaze. Most people expected wealthy men to look cleaner than me. Less ink, lack of carelessness, less visibly damaged. Interesting thing about appearances, people trusted polished images too easily. Unfortunately for everyone involved, I stopped looking polished years ago.

The watch probably didn’t help either. And neither did the ring resting against my finger. Minimalist. Dark emerald stone. Understated enough that most people missed it completely. But people surrounded by luxury long enough eventually learned how to identify quiet money instinctively. I noticed the exact second Jihyo recognized it too. A tiny pause “…Wait,” she said slowly. Her attention lowered briefly toward the ring again “That’s Graff.” I glanced down absentmindedly “Unfortunately so”. John immediately sighed beside her “You wore THAT here? ARE YOU INSANE?!” I looked at the ring “It’s jewelry, not a nuclear weapon.”

“That ring literally requires financial screening before purchase, it’s probably worth more than this entire café” Jihyo blinked once. “…Wait seriously?” John pointed it out “Made-to-order line,” John’s voice tired “You can’t even request one unless they already know you can easily afford it.” “That sounds discriminatory,” I answered calmly. “That’s because rich people are terrifying, and specifically you are insane.” That was a fair observation. Jihyo stared at the ring another second longer before finally looking back toward me again. Not impressed or intimidated, the puzzle pieces clicking together.

Why industry politics didn’t particularly impress me. Why leverage didn’t seem to matter much to me. Why agreeing to something this emotionally complicated despite not needing anything professionally mattered more than it normally would. Eventually John stood too before glancing toward me once more. “So?” I slid both hands casually into my pockets afterward.

“You’re lucky I’m curious.” “That sounds concerning.” “It should.”

Jihyo laughed softly under her breath while shaking her head “Thank you, Ben.” That one sounded genuine enough to make refusing later significantly more difficult. Park Jihyo is a dangerous woman too, apparently.

The drive back toward the company building was quieter than expected. The late afternoon traffic crawled slowly through Seoul while soft music played somewhere low through the speakers of the car. Beside him, Jihyo rested her chin lightly against her hand while staring out the window. “You know,” he muttered eventually while stopping at another red light, “you could’ve warned me before telling Ben you thought I was sleeping with somebody.” Jihyo laughed softly beside him. “I didn’t say that.”

“You absolutely implied it.” “I implied emotional dependency.” “That sounds worse somehow.” Jihyo’s amusement faded slightly afterward though, something quieter settling into her expression instead. “…Do you think he’ll actually help?” John’s fingers tapped lightly once against the steering wheel before answering. “Yes.” No hesitation. “You trust him that much?”

“I trust him to leave if he thinks the situation’s unhealthy.” John glanced briefly toward her afterward. “Which is exactly why I trust him around them.” That answer quieted the car again. Outside the windows, the city kept moving normally. Inside it, meanwhile, the atmosphere shifted back toward concern naturally once Ben’s presence disappeared from the conversation. Eventually Jihyo exhaled softly. “We should talk to Yeji tomorrow.” John nodded once immediately “She’ll try to downplay it.” Jihyo agreed “I know. She’ll also think this is her fault somehow.” That earned the faintest tired smile out of him. Leader instincts, unfortunately predictable.

It happened on Dahyun’s day— which unfortunately meant Jihyo technically had to negotiate for John first. Dahyun had been comfortably laying across the dorm couch earlier that evening with John half-trapped beneath her while some movie played in the background neither of them were actually paying attention to. The moment Jihyo explained she needed to borrow him tomorrow for something related to ITZY, “So let me get this straight, you’re taking my boyfriend during my rotation” Dahyun immediately narrowed her eyes in suspicion “… to have him meet with some other woman?” Dahyun said feigning a reaction as if what Jihyo was asking was absolutely monstrous. “It’s work related. And this is Yeji we’re talking about— not some random woman” she pointed out. “That somehow sounds more criminal.” Dahyun told her while tightening her grip on John’s chest, John already looked exhausted before the conversation even properly started “Dahyun.” he was also trying to convince her by patting her head. “No, no.” Dahyun waved him off dramatically before looking back toward Jihyo instead. “You may borrow him temporarily under one condition.” Jihyo already knew that tone, more importantly— Dahyun knew the cards were in her favor “…What condition?” Jihyo asked carefully. Dangerous, more importantly— Dahyun knew the cards were in her favor “…What condition?” Jihyo asked carefully. Dahyun hummed thoughtfully while still laying comfortably across John like she physically intended to prevent him from leaving the couch—then slowly “The next time he’s on my rotation, nobody interrupts us.” John muttered tiredly beneath her “That’s already the rule.” Dahyun tightened her arms around him slightly afterward “No. I mean NOBODY interrupts us.” A dangerous emphasis. Jihyo immediately narrowed her eyes in suspicion “…What exactly are you planning?” Dahyun gasped dramatically “You think so lowly of me.”

“It means,” Dahyun continued proudly, “I want twenty-four uninterrupted hours where nobody steals him because they suddenly ‘miss him emotionally’ or because Sana decides she wants attention or because Jeongyeon unnie gets jealous halfway through the day.” From somewhere deeper inside the dorm, Jeongyeon yelled immediately “I HEARD THAT.” Dahyun yelled back “GOOD.” John looked exhausted instantly “…Why are you all like this?” Jeongyeon answered from the other room “Because you enabled it!” That was valid, I spoil all of them in their own way. Jihyo was already laughing softly into her hand now while Dahyun continued like a lawyer finalizing contract terms “I want breakfast together” she raised one finger, “Lunch together,” another finger “Dinner together,” another “And if anyone tries emotionally manipulating their way into my day, I reserve the right to become annoying about it for an entire next month.”

“That sounds threatening,” John muttered. “It IS threatening.” Jihyo shook her head while still laughing quietly “Fair enough. You treat your relationship like custody negotiations.” Dahyun looked back at John, “That’s because sharing requires organization.” Dahyun looked genuinely proud afterward though. Then finally she loosened her grip around John slightly before giving him a kiss and pointing toward Jihyo. “Approved. But you owe me too” Dahyun was looking at John’s concerned face “…What kind of owe?” Dahyun smiled immediately. “I want you to be rough, make me scream so hard no one gets to sleep that night” John closed his eyes slowly “That’s somehow worse”. And just like that, the negotiation ended.

The following afternoon, Jihyo and John found Yeji between rehearsal breaks. The practice room was quieter than usual, though the silence felt more like exhaustion than peace. Backup dancers rested near the mirrored walls while staff members quietly reorganized equipment nearby. Yeji herself sat off toward the corner with a tablet resting against her lap, eyes fixed on schedules even during downtime. Jihyo noticed immediately that Yeji still hadn’t really learned how to stop working even while technically resting.

Yeji looked up once they approached before immediately straightening slightly. “Oh— hello Jihyo unnie, and John Manager-nim.” There it was again. Automatic composure. “You busy?” Jihyo asked gently. Yeji glanced briefly toward the tablet before shaking her head. “Not really.” John and Jihyo exchanged the briefest glance. That was a lie, a small one though “Can we steal you to talk for a bit?” Jihyo asked. Yeji hesitated only briefly before nodding.

The conversation itself happened inside one of the smaller meeting rooms deeper inside the building. Quiet. Private. Neutral enough not to immediately feel intimidating. Yeji sat across from them while loosely holding onto an unopened bottled drink the entire time. Not nervous exactly, but she was guarded. Jihyo spoke first “We’re arranging additional personal management support for your solo preparations.” Yeji blinked once “…Additional management?” John clarified calmly “Temporary though. Mostly for workload management, schedule restructuring, and helping you navigate solo activities.” Yeji nodded slowly at first, though the hesitation still lingered afterward.

“Is it… because I’m struggling?” Straight to the point “No,” Jihyo answered gently. “Because solo promotions are different from group activities.” John nodded once beside her. “In a group, pressure gets distributed naturally. Solo schedules don’t work like that.” Yeji lowered her eyes briefly toward the bottle in her hands afterward. “I can handle it.” There it is again. Not “I’m okay.” Just “I can endure it.”

Jihyo leaned slightly forward afterward. “We know you can,” she said softly. “And that’s not the issue.” Silence settled briefly across the room. Yeji didn’t argue again after that. Eventually she glanced back toward John instead “…Who is it?” “A friend of mine, his name is Sung Benjamin” that immediately earned the faintest uncertainty across her expression. Reasonable reaction, John noticed it too “He’s qualified,” he added calmly. Yeji looked mildly embarrassed immediately afterward “I didn’t say he wasn’t.” “You were thinking it.” “…Maybe a little.”

That was a good reaction, a tiny bit of personality surfacing beneath the exhaustion. A human response. Not leader one. Jihyo smiled faintly while John continued “A few years ago there was an idol whose career was basically collapsing after a severe mental breakdown.” He paused briefly afterward. “Ben was one of the people responsible for helping them recover.” Yeji’s expression shifted slightly. Everyone in the industry knew stories like that. Some idols disappeared quietly and never fully came back afterward.

“He never took public credit for it,” Jihyo added softly. “Most people don’t even know he was involved.” That seemed to catch Yeji’s attention more than the actual achievement itself. “He’s not there to control you,” Jihyo continued carefully. “His job is to prioritize your well-being and make sure this doesn’t destroy you.” The room quieted briefly again afterward “…Okay.” No enthusiasm, not resistant either. Just tired honesty. Honestly, that probably worried Jihyo more than if Yeji had argued.

The company building felt quieter than expected when I arrived the next afternoon. A disciplined environment. People moved quickly, conversations stayed low, schedules existed five minutes ahead of wherever everybody currently stood. Entertainment companies always felt like that to me— entire buildings functioning on controlled exhaustion while pretending it was passion instead. One of the staff members assigned to guide me through the building glanced toward me every few seconds while walking. I don’t think it was recognition. Not familiarity either. My guess is probably trying to figure out whether I was important, connected, or somebody dangerous to accidentally disrespect. The tattoos usually complicated that process for people. Good— I preferred it that way.

“You’ll be meeting with Yeji-ssi inside,” the staff member explained carefully once we reached one of the upper floors. “The rehearsal break should still have around twenty minutes left.” Twenty minutes. Not enough rest for a day of rehearsals. The practice room doors were partially open when we arrived. Music echoed faintly inside while dancers stretched near the mirrored walls and staff members reorganized equipment nearby. And immediately— there she is.

Yeji sat near the corner of the room with a tablet balanced against one knee while speaking quietly with one of the choreographers. Even from a distance, I noticed the exhaustion almost instantly. Not because she looked weak. Because she looked functional. That distinction mattered. People expected burnout to look dramatic. It rarely did. Most of the time it just looked like someone becoming increasingly efficient at surviving themselves. It was interesting… and concerning too.

The staff member quietly excused himself afterward, leaving me standing near the entrance while Yeji finally noticed the movement near the doorway. Her eyes landed on me briefly. Then narrowed slightly in recognition. Not recognition of me specifically it was a recognition of “Oh. That’s probably him.” That was professional instinct.

I raised one hand casually in greeting “Hi.” The response came a second later than normal. Not rude. Tired “…Hi.” her voice calmer than I expected. Yeji stood shortly afterward while the choreographer beside her quietly excused himself, leaving the two of us awkwardly existing near the edge of the practice room for a few seconds.

“You’re Benjamin-ssi?” “There’s a horrifying possibility John forgot to warn you about me, but yes.” That earned the faintest blink out of her “Just call me Ben, formalities aren’t really my thing. At least she still reacted to humor.

“I’m Yeji.” “I don’t think there’s anyone in this building that doesn’t know you, Yeji. But it’s a pleasure to official meet you.” That finally earned the smallest hint of amusement at the corner of her mouth before it disappeared almost immediately afterward. There were still tiny flashes of personality beneath exhaustion— those mattered more than people realized.

I glanced briefly around the practice room afterward. Empty water bottles. Schedules. Music paused mid-track. Dancers resting against mirrored walls. Nobody in this room looked fully rested. But Yeji somehow still looked the most tired. “You just finished rehearsal?” I asked casually “We’re still in the middle of it.” Well… even worse than what I had in mind. I nodded slowly afterward while mentally recalculating the schedule standards they were probably operating under. Unpleasant numbers already forming. Yeji stayed quiet for a moment before eventually speaking again. “John said you’d be helping with the solo.”

“Allegedly.” That earned another small reaction from her. “You don’t sound very confident.” “I’m confident,” I answered calmly. “I just think the word ‘helping’ creates unrealistic expectations.” That actually made her pause. Not offended but thinking. It was good sign. I leaned lightly against the wall afterward while studying her expression carefully. Guarded. Polite. Holding herself together very intentionally. And underneath all of that— tired enough that even standing still looked like effort. Jihyo wasn’t overreacting. Not even slightly.

Eventually Yeji glanced toward the practice room floor again before speaking more quietly. “Did… they tell you about me?” Interesting wording. Not “the situation”, but “Me”.

I answered carefully “They told me enough.” Yeji nodded once slowly afterward. Then after a brief pause “…And you still agreed?” There it is. That one mattered. Not professionally, but emotionally. She is an interesting girl. I stayed quiet for a second before eventually answering honestly. “Curiosity mostly.” That seemed to surprise her slightly “Curiosity?”

“I wanted to see if John was exaggerating.” “…Was he?”

I glanced around the practice room once more. The schedules. The atmosphere. Her exhaustion. Then eventually back toward her again “No,” I answered calmly. “If anything, he undersold it.” The room quieted briefly after that. Not awkward. Just honest. And for the first time since I arrived, Yeji stopped looking like she was trying to perform normalcy perfectly.

The first thing I learned about idol rehearsal schedules was that everybody lied about breaks. A “ten minute break” somehow became reviewing choreography, checking recordings, answering staff questions, adjusting wardrobe fittings, discussing camera positioning, or practicing transitions. Which meant nobody was actually resting. An intriguing and horrible system. I stayed mostly quiet during the first few days. I observed, listened, and watched patterns. That part mattered more than people realized because burnout didn’t usually expose itself through dramatic collapse first. It exposed itself through normalization— and unfortunately, Yeji had normalized an alarming amount already.

“You skipped lunch” the words left my mouth casually while she remained crouched near the practice room monitor reviewing another playback recording. Without even looking up “I’ll eat later.” It wasn’t denial but more of delaying which was functionally worse. I leaned lightly against the mirrored wall afterward while glancing toward the untouched food container sitting beside her “Define later” I asked invasively. “After rehearsal.”

“You’ve said that twice already” that finally earned a small pause out of her before she looked up toward me properly. She knew that she caught “I’m busy” I still pointed to the food container with her name “Unfortunately true”. Yeji looked back down toward the monitor afterward like that settled the conversation. “You’re running on caffeine and muscle memory right now”. That earned the faintest crease between her brows immediately “…I’m fine.” I stayed quiet for a second afterward before speaking again. “You know people usually become defensive when they already know something’s unhealthy, right?” That finally made her fully look up at me “I’m not being defensive” with a tone that was ironically more defensive than angry. “Uh huh” I let her hear that while looking unconvinced “…I’m not” she tries to assure me.  “Still counts if you say it twice”.

That clearly irritated her slightly. Good. Not because upsetting her mattered. But because frustration meant she was reacting honestly instead of professionally. Much more useful. Yeji finally set the tablet down beside her afterward. “You’ve been here three days.” I pointed back at her “Correct”. And with furrowed brows “And somehow you already think you understand how this works?” There it was— a comment not out of ego, but a sense of responsibility and it was an important difference. I straightened slightly from the wall afterward. “No,” I answered calmly. “I think you’ve been functioning like this long enough that everybody around you stopped questioning it.” The room quieted immediately after that. Not dramatic silence. Just uncomfortable honesty. Yeji folded her arms loosely afterward. “This is normal during comeback preparation.” I pointed out that “Normal and healthy aren’t interchangeable concepts.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” There was no hostility in her voice, just exhaustion. And underneath it— something dangerously close to guilt. I studied her quietly for another second before eventually asking “When’s the last time you slept properly?” Yeji answered too quickly “I sleep”. Not what I asked “There’s a difference between unconsciousness and rest”. That visibly frustrated her now. A tiny reaction, but a real one nonetheless. That was good. “People are depending on me right now,” she answered quietly afterward “I don’t really have the luxury of slowing down.” The real problem was starting to show itself, it was not perfectionism— but obligation. I nodded slowly afterward “That explains the behavior”. Yeji blinked once “…Behavior?”

“Overworking. Skipping meals. Monitoring everybody else before yourself.” I gestured lightly toward the practice room around us. “You’re treating self-destruction like responsibility”. That one landed. Immediately. Her expression shifted before she could fully stop it. For a second I genuinely thought she might argue again. “…You talk like a psychologist” she said looking away instead. “I paid an irresponsible amount of money to become one.” That finally pulled the faintest unwilling reaction out of her again. Small. But there.

I pushed off the wall afterward before casually picking up the untouched food container beside her and holding it out “Eat”. Yeji stared at me for a second “Are you always this pushy?” before taking the container from my hands. “No,” I answered honestly. “Usually people rest before I need to become annoying” I pointed out. “That sounds threatening” she told me. “It’s a promise.” That earned an actual visible exhale out of her this time. Not quite laughter. Closer to disbelief. But honestly? It was probably the first emotionally genuine reaction she’d had all afternoon. I would consider that progress.

The strange thing about exhaustion was how quickly people built personalities around it. By the second week, I started noticing patterns that had nothing to do with choreography anymore. Yeji automatically checked everybody else’s condition before acknowledging her own. She apologized whenever staff members adjusted schedules around her. She thanked people for things that should’ve been expected. And somehow— she still looked mildly uncomfortable anytime I forced her to sit down for longer than five consecutive minutes. It’s starting to be concerning. “You’re staring again” her voice pulled me out of thought while we sat near one of the side rehearsal rooms waiting for a delayed recording setup to finish “I’m observing” she squinted her eyes at me “That sounds creepier somehow”

“That’s because psychology as a profession is fundamentally invasive.” Yeji looked down briefly afterward, unsuccessfully hiding the faint reaction at the corner of her mouth. It is much easier to make her smile when she forgot she was supposed to act composed. The room settled quietly afterward. Staff members moved back and forth through the hallway outside while somebody farther down the corridor tested audio loud enough to echo faintly through the walls. It was just me and Yeji at the edge of the practice room then she suddenly broke the silence “…You really think I’m that bad?” The question didn’t defensive this time. I leaned back slightly in the chair afterward before answering carefully. “I think you got used to functioning exhausted.” Yeji lowered her eyes toward the bottled drink resting between her hands “That’s normal here”.

“See, that sentence specifically is the problem.” That earned the faintest crease between her brows again. “You keep talking like I’m doing something wrong.” A hint of guilt in her voice. I stayed quiet for a second before eventually shaking my head. “I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong,” I glanced briefly toward the hallway outside afterward, “Honest opinion? I believe you adapted to survive an environment that rewards self-destruction”. The room quieted again afterward. Yeji didn’t respond immediately this time. Instead she sat there silently turning the unopened drink slowly between her hands while thinking. People became quieter once conversations started reaching places they usually avoided, so this was another good sign. Eventually she exhaled softly “…You sound like you hate this industry, do you?” Interesting question. “I think this industry confuses endurance with worth.” That made her look at me properly again. Not because the statement shocked her. Because it sounded familiar.

I continued before she could disappear back into her own head again “That doesn’t mean I think idols are weak for enduring it,” I added calmly “I just think people stop questioning unhealthy things once enough talented people survive them”. Yeji stayed quiet afterward. Thinking again “…John talks similarly sometimes”. That was the first time I’ve been compared with John and that answer honestly explained more than she probably realized “TWICE sunbaenim”. The words left her mouth casually. Then immediately afterward, Yeji looked mildly caught off guard that she said it aloud at all. I leaned back slightly deeper into the chair afterward. “He was around during a pretty ugly part of my life”. Yeji didn’t pry— another interesting thing about her. Most people became more curious once they sensed damage in somebody else. Yeji instead looked almost careful around it. Like she understood boundaries too well. “…And you trust him too?” she asked quietly.

I laughed softly once under my breath “Unfortunately for me— I trust him with my life.” That finally earned another small reaction out of her. Tiny moments of ease were becoming more frequent now. Not comfort yet just a rhythm and that mattered. Outside the hallway, somebody called for Yeji a few moments later to prepare for the next recording setup. The moment her name was called, her posture immediately shifted again. Straightened. Focused. Ready. And that happened too fast, it was more dangerous behavior I got to see.

Yeji stood quickly afterward before instinctively reaching for the tablet and schedule folder beside her at the same time. Then paused. Because I was already holding one of them “…You don’t need to carry that”. I looked at her before calmly answering “You also don’t need to carry everything yourself”. That immediately earned a look from her. Not irritation or gratitude, it was something more complicated. Like she didn’t fully know what to do with somebody noticing things she normally handled automatically.

The next week became progressively worse in ways most people probably wouldn’t have noticed. Unfortunately for everyone involved, noticing things was apparently my job now. Schedules tightened. Rehearsals ran longer. Sleep became negotiable. And somewhere in the middle of all that, Yeji slowly started looking less like somebody preparing for a solo debut and more like somebody trying to outrun exhaustion through sheer momentum alone. It was a very common strategy, and an extremely risky one at that.  The problem with highly functional people was that they usually collapsed privately first. Which meant by the time everyone else noticed— things were already bad.

I started restructuring what I could quietly. Longer transition gaps between rehearsals. Mandatory meal windows disguised as schedule adjustments. Reducing unnecessary media overlap. Pushing less urgent recordings later whenever possible. Small changes. But Yeji noticed every single one immediately. Of course she did. “You moved the dance review again” the accusation came the moment she stepped into the hallway outside one of the rehearsal rooms late that evening.  I glanced up from the schedule tablet in my hands “I optimized it”. She pointed out my decision “You delayed it” it took a second for me to correct her “Those are emotionally different statements”. She looked serious this time “That doesn’t answer my question. Why?” she sounded more awake when frustrated.

I looked at Yeji in her eyes, I wasn’t going to back down on this “You slept four hours.” She didn’t see what was wrong with that, “It’s plenty enough” she said.  “The hell it is,” I answered neutrally “That’s barely survival”. Yeji folded her arms loosely afterward “We don’t have enough time right now to prioritize comfort”. Interesting wording, comfort— not health. “You think sleep is a luxury,” I observed quietly “I think this debut matters.” I could tell from that response that she wasn’t afraid of failure, It was the fear of disappointing people.

The hallway quieted briefly afterward while staff members moved around farther down the corridor preparing equipment for the next setup. Yeji looked exhausted. But more than that— she looked frustrated that exhaustion was becoming visible at all. “You’re treating yourself like a deadline instead of a person again,” I said eventually. That immediately made her expression tighten slightly. Not because the statement offended her, my words landed too accurately. “You make it sound simple” she told me. “It’s not simple” I disagreed with that observation. “Then stop talking like it is.” There it is. First genuine emotional pushback. Honestly, it was overdue too. I stayed quiet for a second afterward before answering more carefully. “I don’t think taking care of yourself is simple,” I said calmly. “I think you’ve spent so long believing your value comes from enduring things that resting now feels irresponsible.”

The silence afterward felt heavier. Not dramatic. Just honest enough to become uncomfortable. Yeji looked away first “…People are counting on me,” she muttered quietly. “And you think collapsing helps them?” I pointed that out. “That’s not what I said” she tried to argue. “No,” I agreed softly. “But it’s where this ends if you keep going like this.” That one landed harder. Immediately because for the first time since I met her, Yeji didn’t have a response ready. Just tired silence. Then eventually somebody farther down the hallway called her name again Schedule continuing. Yeji exhaled softly afterward before pushing herself away from the wall “…I have to go.”

“I know” she took maybe two steps before stopping unexpectedly. Then without fully turning back “…You’re really annoying, you know that?” she wasn’t mad or dismissive. And honesty I smiled faintly afterward “I’ve been told worse”. That finally earned the smallest breath of laughter out of her before she disappeared farther down the hallway again and that worried me more than the arguments did. Because people didn’t start letting somebody disrupt their coping mechanisms unless exhaustion was finally beginning to outweigh resistance.

After that, something subtle changed between them. Not closeness or comfort. Just familiarity settling into places where resistance used to exist. Yeji still argued occasionally whenever Ben rearranged parts of her schedule, but the arguments started sounding less like rejection and more like somebody frustrated that another person kept noticing things she was trying very hard to ignore. Unfortunately for her, Ben was professionally difficult to discourage “You moved the recording review again.” I didn’t even look at her since that was a sentence I’ve heard too many times, “You say that like I committed tax fraud.”

She sounded serious this time, “You’re delaying it.” “No, I optimized it.” “That’s still delaying it.” “Emotionally different.”

Yeji sighed tiredly afterward while pinching lightly at the bridge of her nose. I noticed another thing too during those days. Yeji’s exhaustion no longer looked sharp. Earlier on, she burned brightly— tense, overfocused, constantly moving like momentum alone kept her upright. Now? Everything about her started looking quieter. And somehow that worried him more. People expected burnout to look explosive. Most of the time it actually looked like somebody slowly disappearing inside their own routines. The first moment that genuinely unsettled him happened during choreography rehearsals late one evening.

One of the dancers missed a formation transition badly enough for the music to stop mid-run. Normally, Yeji would’ve immediately stepped in to help correct positioning before staff members even asked. This time she just stood there silently for a second too long while staring toward the mirrored wall. Barely noticeable for people, but enough for me. The choreographer repeated the correction afterward and Yeji apologized immediately despite the mistake not even being hers. Still carrying responsibility for things beyond her control. But slower now. Like even guilt was becoming exhausting. I didn’t say anything about it immediately, I just started to observe her more carefully afterward.

And the more I watched, the more something about her behavior started feeling wrong in a way exhaustion alone couldn’t fully explain anymore. Because Yeji wasn’t just tired now. She was starting to detach from things she normally cared about instinctively. That part worried me the most. I didn’t mention it immediately. Mostly because I was still trying to figure out whether I was overanalyzing things or not. Occupational hazard. Psychology teaches you very quickly that there’s a dangerous difference between observing patterns and projecting fears onto them.  And I’d made enough mistakes in my life already to know I wasn’t immune to the latter.

But the feeling stayed. Something about Yeji had changed. Not externally enough for most people to notice. She still rehearsed. Still smiled when cameras appeared. Still thanked staff members politely. Still carried herself like a dependable leader. But now it all felt… quieter. Like she was performing responsibility from memory instead of conviction. That thought sat badly with me for the rest of the week. The final rehearsal stretch before the solo debut became brutal even by industry standards. Everybody looked exhausted. Yeji somehow looked both exhausted and emotionally absent at the same time. That combination started to raise alarms in my head. I started catching smaller things afterward. She stopped checking playback monitors as obsessively. Stopped correcting tiny choreography inconsistencies immediately. Stopped rereading schedules during every spare moment. At first glance, somebody probably would’ve called that improvement. I didn’t. Because none of it felt like relief. It felt like withdrawal. And that scared me more than any of her overworking ever did. One night after rehearsals ended, I found myself walking through one of the quieter hallways near the upper practice rooms while answering emails on my phone. The building had mostly emptied out already. Only a few staff members still moved between floors. Then I noticed one of the rehearsal room doors partially open. Music wasn’t playing inside. I glanced up briefly while passing by— and stopped walking immediately afterward.

Yeji sat alone near the mirrored wall with her knees loosely pulled closer toward herself while staring blankly at the dark practice room floor. No tablet. No schedules. No reviewing choreography… Just silence. Something unpleasant settled heavily in my chest immediately afterward. Because suddenly every small behavioral shift from the past week connected all at once in my head. Shit, how did I miss that?

I stayed near the doorway for a second longer than normal before finally speaking “You know sitting alone in dark rehearsal rooms is usually how horror movies start, right?” The response came slowly. Not startled. Just delayed “…You’d survive the movie.” that was her reaction? Not a “Hi” or “You scared me”. Just quiet acknowledgment that I existed there beside her. I stepped inside carefully afterward before closing the door behind me halfway. Not trapped. Just quieter. Yeji still hadn’t moved much. Didn’t look embarrassed either. That worried me immediately. I lowered myself down beside the mirrored wall a short distance away afterward, giving her space.

For a while neither of us spoke. The silence didn’t feel awkward. Just heavy. Then eventually “…Do you ever wonder if people can just run out of wanting things?” She sounded like she was drowning in hopelessness. For the first time since taking this job, I genuinely felt uncertain about whether I was equipped to handle what came next.

I stayed quiet for a second too long afterward. Not because I didn’t hear her. Because I was trying very carefully not to answer that question carelessly. People said dangerous things quietly long before they ever acted on them loudly. And something about the way Yeji asked that didn’t feel hypothetical at all. Eventually I leaned my head lightly back against the mirrored wall behind me before answering honestly “Yeah, I do. All the time actually”. Yeji didn’t look surprised by the answer “I think people get exhausted enough that eventually wanting things starts feeling heavier than giving them up” I continued.  The room stayed silent afterward. The faint hum of the building’s ventilation somewhere above us. Yeji lowered her eyes toward the floor again “…That sounds depressing.”

“It’s psychology.” I shrugged lightly. “We market depression professionally”. That finally earned the faintest breath of amusement out of her. Small and weak, but real enough that I kept talking afterward “The important part is that exhaustion lies to people”. Yeji stayed quiet while listening. “It starts convincing you that permanent decisions are rational solutions to temporary emotional states.” that one landed immediately. I could tell. Not because she reacted dramatically. Because she went still— dangerously still. I kept my voice calm afterward despite the unpleasant realization slowly settling heavier in my chest “You’ve been thinking about leaving, haven’t you.” Not a question, I have fears that she was this far and this had just confirmed my fears.

Silence stretched between us immediately afterward. Long enough that a part of me almost wished I was horrendously wrong this time. Yeji eventually broke the silence “…I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” That was conventionally worse than just wanting to quit. Because she sounded guilty about reaching the thought. I exhaled slowly through my nose afterward while trying very carefully not to mishandle what this conversation was actually becoming. This wasn’t burnout anymore. This was somebody emotionally detaching from their own future. Very dangerous territory, dangerous enough that the wrong sequence of words would fuck everything up.

“You don’t need to decide your entire life tonight” Yeji laughed softly once under her breath afterward. No amusement in it “That’s easy for you to say”. There was no hostility in those words— just tired enough that hope itself probably sounded unrealistic right now. “I’m serious.” I looked toward her properly afterward. “You’re exhausted, overworked, emotionally isolated, and carrying enough pressure to distort your judgment.”

“You make me sound unstable” those words were wrong, she isn’t unstable— she was just pushed near her breaking point, and that was a far breaking point. “I think you’ve been strong for too long without resting properly” I paused briefly “Those aren’t the same thing.” That quieted her immediately again. This was an important distinction. Because the last thing she needed right now was to feel broken on top of exhausted. Yeji pulled her knees slightly closer afterward while staring down toward the floor “…Everybody keeps depending on me.” That was the obligation shackled to her. Always obligation. “And somewhere along the way,” she continued quietly, “I think I stopped knowing if I still wanted any of this for myself.”

That one hurt to hear. Not because it sounded dramatic. Because it sounded honest. It was that moment I suddenly understood why Jihyo sounded so worried back at the café. Because this wasn’t somebody collapsing loudly. This was somebody quietly preparing themselves to disappear from a life they no longer believed they were surviving correctly. I rubbed lightly at my forehead afterward before speaking again “Can I say something potentially annoying?” That earned the faintest glance toward me “…You usually do anyway, why ask permission now?”. Good a tiny reaction like that meant that she’s still there, Yeji wasn’t far gone.

“I think you’ve spent so long treating yourself like a responsibility that you forgot you’re also a person” the silence afterward felt heavier than anything else we’d said all night. Yeji looked away first. And for the first time since I met her, she genuinely looked close to crying.

That scared me more than if she actually cried immediately. Because people like Yeji didn’t usually break all at once. They held everything together for so long that by the time emotion finally surfaced, it usually meant they were already dangerously close to their limit. She kept looking away from me like maintaining eye contact would make the conversation too real somehow “…I don’t know how to stop”. That sounded like an exhaustion so deeply integrated into her identity that she genuinely no longer understood what existing outside of it looked like.

I answered carefully “You don’t have to figure that out tonight.” Yeji laughed softly again beneath her breath. Still tired. Still hollow. “But tomorrow still happens.” That one landed harder than she probably intended— because she was right. Schedules still existed. The debut is still happening. Expectations still existed. That was the ugly truth, part of what made this industry so psychologically dangerous was how little space it gave people to fall apart safely. I stayed quiet for a second afterward before speaking again.

“Okay.” I nodded once slowly. “Then don’t think about next month. Or next year. Or whether you stay in the industry forever.” Yeji finally looked toward me properly again “Then what am I supposed to think about?” I pointed at the clock “Tonight, for starters.” That quieted her immediately. I continued before she could spiral back into her own head again “You don’t need to decide your entire future while emotionally exhausted.”

“That sounds irresponsible” her instinctive belief that suffering somehow produced better decisions. “No,” I answered calmly “What’s irresponsible is making permanent decisions while psychologically cornered”. The room went silent again afterward. But this time the silence felt different. Less detached and more fragile. Yeji lowered her eyes slowly afterward before finally admitting something quieter than everything else she’d said so far “I’m scared that if I stop even for a second, everything will fall apart.”

That was her real fear. Not failure. Not criticism. Collapse. And she was dangerously near the edge of collapsing too.  I leaned my head lightly back against the mirrored wall again afterward before answering honestly “You know what the worst part is?”. Yeji blinked once tiredly “What?” I looked towards Yeji “You actually believe the people around you only deserve the version of you that’s suffering correctly”. That one hit immediately. I saw it happen in real time. Her expression tightened slightly before she looked away again too quickly and suddenly, I understood something else too. Yeji didn’t just feel responsible for people. She felt that she was easily replaceable. Like the moment she stopped functioning perfectly, somebody better deserved her place instead.

That kind of thinking destroyed people slowly. I rubbed lightly at my jaw afterward while trying very carefully to choose my next words correctly. Because honestly? I still wasn’t fully confident I had the right words, I just knew the wrong words and that I should avoid those. “I’m going to tell you something professionally irresponsible now”. That finally earned the faintest confused reaction out of her “…That sounds concerning.” I laughed a bit “It probably is.” I looked toward her properly afterward. “I don’t think you actually want to leave”. The room quieted instantly. Not because she disagreed. Because she needed to hear the rest.

“I think you want the pain to stop,” I continued softly “And right now your brain is trying to convince you those are the same thing.” Yeji stared at the floor silently afterward. Then very quietly “What if it never stops?” That was the moment I realized this had already gone far beyond anything I could safely handle through professionalism alone. The room stayed silent for a while after Yeji asked that question and I didn’t answer immediately, because honestly— I didn’t have an immediate answer. People liked imagining psychology experts as individuals who always knew the right thing to say during emotional collapse. In reality, most of the job was quietly hoping your words reached someone before their hopelessness did. Because false reassurance would’ve insulted her intelligence. Eventually I exhaled quietly through my nose before answering honestly “Then we adapt”. Yeji blinked slightly. Not the answer she expected “You say that like it’s simple.”

“It’s not simple.” I shook my head lightly afterward. “But neither is convincing yourself you need to disappear just because you’re exhausted.” that quieted her again. I leaned my arms loosely over my knees afterward while looking toward the dark practice room floor ahead of us. “You know the biggest lie high-functioning people tell themselves?” Yeji looked toward me quietly. “That needing rest means they failed” her expression shifted immediately. “I don’t think you actually want to quit” I carried on talking, “I think you’re emotionally cornered enough that you started treating self-removal like responsibility.” The room stayed completely still afterward, the exhaustion finally being spoken out loud instead of performed through professionalism.

Yeji lowered her eyes slowly “…I hate how accurately you read people”. I sighed lightly. “Trust me, it’s significantly less fun from this side.” That finally earned another small breath of laughter out of her. It was a fragile laugh, but better. Then eventually she spoke again “What if I disappoint everyone?”

There it was again— the fear of failing others. Always others. I answered carefully. “You’ve attached your worth to how much suffering you can endure for people.” I glanced toward her briefly afterward. “That’s not leadership. That’s self-destruction with a good marketing team”. That one made her laugh properly. Real enough that it echoed faintly through the otherwise empty practice room. That sound alone relieved something in my chest I didn’t realize had been tightening for the past hour. Yeji rubbed lightly at her eyes afterward before exhaling slowly “You really are annoying.”

“There it is,” I smiled in relief “That’s the version of you I’ve been waiting to hear again.” That immediately made her pause. The room quieted again afterward, it was softer this time— less hopeless. Yeji stared toward the floor silently for a few seconds longer before eventually asking “You really think I can still do this?” A careful question yet still a dangerous one too. Because this wasn’t asking if the debut would succeed but asking if she was still capable of her role without self-imploding. I answered honestly “I think you’re exhausted enough that you stopped recognizing yourself properly.” Yeji listened quietly. “And I think making permanent decisions from that emotional state would be unfair to yourself”.  Another silence settled afterward then finally she added “I don’t want to disappear.”

That was when I saw the real Yeji. Not Yeji the leader or Yeji the idol— Just Yeji. And that was probably the first moment since taking this job that I genuinely believed she was going to survive this properly. The relief that followed that realization hit harder than expected. Because suddenly I became a little too aware that this situation had already stopped feeling professionally distant to me a while ago. Yeji turned toward me slightly afterward. Still tired and fragile, but present again. And for a few seconds neither of us spoke. We just sat there quietly in the dim practice room while the city outside the building kept moving completely unaware that somebody inside had just barely talked themselves back from disappearing emotionally.

“Thank you” it were simple words. Honest ones too. I nodded once lightly afterward “You don’t need to thank me for staying”. The moment the sentence left my mouth, I saw the shift happen. It was tiny, barely visible. Because suddenly Yeji looked at me differently. Not as a manager or a nosy-pain-in-the-ass psychology major or just somebody temporarily hired to help her survive the recent schedules— just someone she emotionally found herself reaching toward instinctively. The timing was dangerous too. Honestly? I probably should’ve looked away first.

Instead, Yeji moved before I fully processed the expression on her face. Small movement. Careful movement. Like she was still uncertain even while choosing it. Then suddenly— warmth against my lips. Brief and soft. Hesitant enough that it almost felt like a question instead of a kiss, and somehow that made it hit infinitely harder. For a second neither of us moved afterward. Not because the kiss shocked me. Because my brain was trying very hard to decide whether responding to it would immediately make me a terrible person professionally. Occupationally inconvenient timing.

Yeji pulled back first. Not far. Just enough that I could finally properly see the expression on her face. And honestly? That destroyed any possibility of misunderstanding what just happened. She didn’t look impulsive. She didn’t look emotionally unstable. There wasn’t even a look of embarrassment. Just terrified of being rejected for choosing something selfish for once. Shit… a dangerous realization. A VERY DANGEROUS realization hit me “You probably shouldn’t have done that,” I said quietly, not harsh— just honest. Yeji lowered her eyes immediately afterward “…I know”. No defensiveness, no regret either. That was an important difference.

The silence stretched between us again for a few seconds before I finally rubbed lightly at my forehead and exhaled quietly through my nose. Because unfortunately, professionalism became significantly harder to maintain once somebody looked at you like you were the first place they emotionally felt safe landing in months. Terrible design flaw in humanity honestly, and one that I wasn’t immune to either. “You’re emotionally exhausted,” I continued carefully. “And I need you to understand that I’m taking that seriously.” Yeji nodded once slowly “I know.”

“That kiss can’t become something you use because you’re falling apart.” that one hurt her slightly. I saw it immediately. Not because she thought I was rejecting her. Because she thought I misunderstood her. Yeji looked toward the floor quietly for a second before finally answering “I didn’t do it because I’m breaking.” her voice stayed soft the entire time. “But?” she hesitated briefly afterward “…I did it because you stayed.” That one nearly destroyed my remaining professionalism on impact. Because suddenly every moment from the past few weeks rearranged itself differently in my head.

The arguments. The resistance. The exhaustion. The trust. The gradual honesty. None of it had been impulsive. This girl had been consciously choosing emotional proximity little by little the entire time. I looked away briefly afterward while trying unsuccessfully to reorganize my thoughts into something psychologically responsible. That didn’t work. Unfortunate. “You’re making this difficult for me.” That finally earned the faintest tired breath of amusement out of her “…Sorry.”

“There’s the apologizing again” that actually made her smile slightly. And somehow the sight of it after the past few days hit significantly harder than it should have. Concerning to me more than to Yeji. I stayed quiet for another second afterward before finally speaking more honestly than I probably should’ve “I’m trying very hard not to become somebody who takes advantage of emotionally vulnerable people”. Yeji’s expression softened immediately afterward. Not offended. It was understanding “You’re not”. Another dangerous answer. Especially because part of me wanted very badly to believe her immediately. I leaned my head lightly back against the mirrored wall afterward while staring toward the ceiling for a second “This is usually the part where I make terrible life decisions.”

“That sounds oddly specific” a giggle escaped her. “You’d be horrified how common emotionally compromised attachment is in this field, even for people like me who don’t professionally practice.” That earned another quiet laugh out of her. Much better sound now. She sounded more alive again. That realization alone probably should’ve warned me how emotionally involved I already was becoming. Yeji shifted slightly closer afterward. Not enough to touch. Just enough that the distance between us no longer felt accidental “…Do you regret it?” Carefully questioned. It wasn’t her asking me if I like her or if what she did was wrong— it was her subtly asking if I liked that it happened.

I answered honestly “…No” despite the professional choice was to lie— the word left my mouth much easier than professionalism probably would’ve preferred. And judging from the way Yeji’s shoulders relaxed slightly afterward— it mattered more to her than she intended to show.

The strange thing afterward was that nothing became dramatically different overnight. That probably reassured me more than anything else could’ve. Because if Yeji suddenly became emotionally impulsive after that conversation, I would’ve immediately known the kiss came from emotional instability instead of clarity. But she didn’t. The next few days still looked exhausting. Still chaotic. Still overloaded with rehearsals, fittings, recording reviews, and endless adjustments leading into the debut. The difference was subtler than that. Yeji started feeling present again. Not constantly. Not perfectly. But enough. Enough that I started catching small moments I hadn’t seen before. Like actual irritation instead of exhausted compliance “You moved the rehearsal review again”. I glanced up from the schedule tablet calmly. “Correct.”

“You’re abusing authority.” “No, I’m exercising competence.” “That sounds narcissistic.” “That sounds like somebody who slept five hours instead of three.” “You’re impossible.” Yeji narrowed her eyes immediately afterward while I continued walking down the hallway beside her completely unbothered “And yet your blood pressure’s improving. Curious.”. Yeji walked up close to my face “That’s not funny.” I just looked at her without a sense of shame “It’s a little funny, you have to admit that”. The fact she rolled her eyes instead of shutting down emotionally afterward mattered significantly more than she realized. Small behavioral recovery, but real. That became enough for me to start breathing easier too.

Despite the positive changes it felt dangerous on my end. Because somewhere along the way, I stopped measuring her condition professionally and started measuring it personally instead. I noticed when she smiled more naturally. When she ate without being reminded. When she stopped rereading schedules obsessively during downtime. When she started talking to staff members casually again instead of mechanically. And the worst part? She noticed me noticing. That became a problem almost immediately.

“You’re staring again.” “I’m observing.” “You say that like it’s legally distinct.” “It IS legally distinct.”

Yeji laughed quietly beneath her breath afterward while adjusting the oversized hoodie hanging loosely over her rehearsal clothes. That sound still affected me more than it should’ve. Occupationally inconvenient. Very inconvenient.

The solo preparations became more intense the closer debut approached. But strangely enough— the atmosphere around Yeji stopped feeling like slow emotional collapse and started feeling like pressure again. Still difficult and unhealthy pressure. But no longer hopeless. That distinction mattered a lot. One evening after rehearsal review, I found her sitting cross-legged near the edge of the practice room floor while reviewing camera positioning notes. Normal enough. Except this time, she actually looked focused instead of emotionally detached. Progress.

I lowered myself beside her afterward while handing over the protein drink she forgot sitting near the mirrors twenty minutes earlier “You keep leaving these everywhere”. Yeji accepted it quietly before glancing sideways toward me “…You remember small things annoyingly well.”

“Psychological profiling.” “That’s not how profiling works.” “You don’t know that.” “I literally Googled it after meeting you.”

That genuinely caught me off guard enough to laugh once “You researched me?” Yeji looked mildly embarrassed immediately afterward “…That sounded worse out loud.” I couldn’t hold back my grin to the admission of guilt “Ohh it’s significantly worse”. Yeji was flustered “I was curious.”

The room settled quieter afterward. Not awkward. Just softer now. That softness between us was becoming harder to ignore every day. Because nothing dramatic kept happening between us after the kiss. No stolen make-out sessions. No reckless emotional escalation. No relationship-defining conversations. Just consistency. Me staying. Her letting me. And somehow that became infinitely more intimate than impulsiveness ever would’ve been. One night closer to the debut showcase, the company finally cleared rehearsals earlier than expected after one of the production teams ran behind schedule. Miracle-level event honestly. The dancers left first. Then staff members. Then eventually the practice rooms emptied one by one until only scattered voices remained farther down the hallway.

Yeji sat near the edge of the stage platform afterward while loosely stretching one leg absentmindedly. Tired. But not hollow anymore. I leaned lightly against the mirrored wall nearby while reviewing tomorrow’s schedule from my phone.

“Your first live showcase interview starts at ten.” “That’s cruel of them.” “You’ll survive.” “Debatable.”

I glanced up briefly afterward “You nervous?” That made her pause. Not because she didn’t know the answer. Because she was actually thinking about it honestly now “…A little.” That was a healthy answer. Before she would’ve said that she was fine, now it was different. “You know,” I muttered while locking my phone afterward, “normal people usually celebrate before major life events”. Yeji looked toward me curiously “Celebrate how?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged lightly. “Food. Alcohol. Property damage. Irreversible consequences and whatnot.” “Wow… that escalated quickly.” “I believe in emotional range.”

That finally earned another real laugh out of her. God. There it is again. That feeling in my chest was becoming a genuine issue now. The fact that I could even recognize the difference between her real laughter and the polite versions she used around cameras now probably said enough about how emotionally involved I was becoming. Occupationally? It was catastrophic. Yeji eventually shook her head softly afterward while standing from the floor and stretching lightly. “You sound like somebody banned from multiple establishments.” “Allegedly.” “That’s not denial.” “It’s legally safer than honesty.” “Here I thought you’d just buy the establishment to unban yourself.” “I thought I told John to keep that a secret.”

Another laugh. Smaller this time. The practice room slowly settled quiet around us afterward while both of us began gathering scattered notes and water bottles left behind from rehearsals. That normalcy almost affected me more than the emotionally intense moments did. Because two weeks ago, this room felt like the emotional equivalent of a sinking ship. Now? Yeji looked tired, overwhelmed occasionally— but alive again. That mattered a lot.

She eventually slung her bag over one shoulder afterward before glancing toward me again “…You’ll be there tomorrow, right?” Interesting question. She wasn’t asking if I’ll be managing tomorrow, which I would still be doing. It was just asking if I would be there— if I wanted to be there. This girl started to ask the dangerous questions. I answered anyway.

“Unfortunately you’re professionally stuck with me for the foreseeable future.” “That sounds threatening.” “It’s meant to be reassuring.”

Yeji smiled faintly beneath her breath afterward while walking beside me toward the hallway outside the practice room. The company building had mostly quieted down now. Only scattered staff members still moved through the upper floors preparing final showcase logistics. Tomorrow suddenly felt very close. That realization probably should’ve made me more nervous professionally than it did emotionally. Because now the debut no longer felt like another project or management assignment. Now it felt personal.

The elevator ride downward afterward stayed mostly quiet. At one point Yeji leaned lightly back against the wall beside the elevator buttons while staring ahead absentmindedly. Then quietly “…I’m still nervous” a healthier reaction. Before? She would’ve swallowed the feeling entirely. I glanced sideways toward her “That’s good”. That earned an immediate confused look. “You WANT me nervous?” I shook my head lightly. “I want you honest.” That quieted her again “…What if I mess up tomorrow?” I answered without hesitation this time “Then you’ll survive messing up tomorrow.” Yeji blinked once. Not because the answer comforted her. Because it reframed the fear entirely. “I think people around you accidentally made perfection sound fatal,” I continued calmly. “It isn’t.”

The elevator doors opened a second later toward the lower parking levels. Neither of us moved immediately. Then finally Yeji exhaled softly through her nose before stepping forward first “You really are annoyingly good at this”. If only she knew how uncertain I actually felt most of the time.

The next day disappeared into controlled chaos almost immediately. Hair styling. Wardrobe adjustments. Stage blocking. Last-minute technical corrections. Staff members moving through hallways at speeds that probably violated workplace safety regulations. Standard debut atmosphere honestly. But somewhere in the middle of all that noise, Yeji stayed surprisingly steady. Still nervous. Still overthinking occasionally. But no longer drowning in it.

That difference mattered more than flawless execution ever could. I caught smaller signs throughout the day too. She actually ate during breaks instead of pretending coffee counted as nutrition. Stopped apologizing every five minutes whenever minor delays happened. Even argued with one of the stylists over an accessory choice at one point. Excellent psychological recovery indicator honestly. Nothing says emotional stabilization quite like reclaiming the ability to become mildly difficult again. The showcase itself passed almost too quickly afterward.

One second we were still backstage reviewing final timings. Then suddenly lights, music, the deafening screams of the crowd. Performance mode. Truthfully watching Yeji walk onto that stage felt strangely different from every rehearsal leading up to it. Because this time she didn’t look like somebody desperately trying to survive expectations anymore. She looked like herself again. Confident. Sharp. Alive. The performance ended to overwhelming noise shortly afterward, I wouldn’t except less from the crowd’s reaction— I actually liked the title track, myself. But I wasn’t going to tell that to Yeji anytime soon. Then the staff members started rushing again. Applause. Adrenaline. Everybody speaking too loudly because emotional regulation apparently disappeared backstage after successful events. More standard industry behavior honestly. The moment Yeji fully stepped backstage again, the rest of ITZY immediately swarmed her.

Ryujin almost tackled her into a hug. Yuna looked one emotional sentence away from crying. Chaeryeong kept repeating “You were insane” like she still hadn’t fully processed the stage properly. And Lia— mostly just looked relieved.

That one probably hit Yeji hardest. I stayed farther back near the hallway entrance afterward while giving them space naturally. Professional distance. Mostly.

Then eventually Yuna suddenly pointed toward me mid-conversation. “WAIT— you’re the psychology guy”. Great, just great, that title somehow sounded significantly more suspicious than my actual job. Ryujin looked between me and Yeji immediately afterward “…You hired him secretly?”

“That sounds illegal when you phrase it like that,” Yeji muttered tiredly. “I mean technically Jihyo unnie introduced us,” I added calmly. “That somehow sounds MORE suspicious,” Ryujin answered immediately.

Ryujin was an interesting one, sharper than she lets off too. Chaeryeong looked toward Yeji afterward before quietly asking “You’ve been with him this whole preparation?” Yeji hesitated briefly. Then nodded once. The atmosphere shifted slightly after that— subtle but noticeable. Because suddenly the members weren’t just looking at some temporary manager the company recommended, now they were looking at somebody who had been beside Yeji through the worst parts of the solo preparation they themselves only partially witnessed from the outside.

Lia understood first. I saw it happen almost immediately in her expression. Recognition, not in how Yeji looked at me or the way I secretly struggled to stay professional about Yeji, but the recognition of Yeji’s burnout. Honestly a dangerous thing to recognize in another person. “Thank you” Lia said quietly afterward. Simple yet heavy words. And somehow that affected me more than the louder reactions did. Because unlike the others— Lia understood exactly how ugly emotional exhaustion could become once somebody normalized surviving through it too long. I answered carefully “She did most of the work herself”. Yeji looked away immediately afterward in embarrassment— that didn’t help me look innocent at all despite me being actually innocent in all of this.

“Okay but professionally speaking, the vibe here feels suspiciously emotionally healthy” Yuna suddenly pointed dramatically between the two of us. “That’s because you’re used to dysfunction,” Ryujin answered instantly. “THAT SOUNDED TARGETED” Yuna yelled “Because it is” Ryujin retorted in amusement.

The backstage room immediately dissolved into overlapping noise afterward while Yuna fake-argued and Ryujin looked entirely too pleased with herself. For the first time since this whole situation started— the atmosphere around Yeji no longer felt fragile anymore. It just felt alive.

Later that night, after the official congratulations, staff photos, and endless “you did well” comments finally died down, Yeji found me near the parking entrance. “You said normal people celebrate.” I looked up from my phone. “I also mentioned property damage.” She grabbed me by the arm “Food and alcohol first”. Feeling like I declining her would be a death sentence “Responsible escalation, that’s good.” she smiled, tired but real. “Come with me?” There it was again. Choosing. I should’ve said no. Instead, twenty minutes later, we were tucked inside a quiet private booth at a small restaurant where the owner clearly knew better than to ask questions. Yeji ordered more food than she could realistically finish and one drink she kept pretending affected her more than it did.

“You’re a terrible actress,” I said. “I’m lightheaded” she blinked too innocently. “You’ve had half a glass.” “Emotionally, it was strong.” “That’s not how alcohol works.” “It is tonight.”

She laughed into her sleeve, and honestly, that sound probably ruined the last usable piece of my professionalism. After dinner, she leaned closer across the table, eyes clearer than she wanted me to believe. “When this is over tomorrow…” she paused, then corrected herself softly, “No. It is over now.” I stayed quiet. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her sleeve. “Can I choose something selfish again?” the room seemed to narrow around the question. Because I understood “Yeji”.

“I’m not falling apart tonight,” she said quietly. “I’m not asking because I need saving.” That mattered more than she knew “I know” I could only mutter acknowledgement “Then don’t treat me like I don’t know what I want”. For a second, I didn’t answer. Then I exhaled, defeated by the one thing I could never argue against properly. A conscious choice “…Okay.” Her smile came slowly. Soft. Relieved. Certain. And when she reached for my hand under the table, I let her.

By the time they left the restaurant, Seoul had already settled into the quieter side of the night. The streets weren’t empty— just calmer now. Yeji walked beside me with her hands tucked halfway into the sleeves of her oversized hoodie while the cold air carried the leftover exhaustion of the day out of both of us little by little. For the first time since this entire situation began, neither of us was talking about anything work related— just about normal and pointless things. She complained about one of the stage outfits. I informed her professionally that fashion was an organized crime syndicate. She laughed hard enough at that to nearly miss a step off the curb afterward. Somewhere during the drive back, the emotional atmosphere between us shifted again. Like both of us understood something irreversible had already happened emotionally and neither person particularly wanted to pretend otherwise anymore.

When we finally reached her residence building, I parked the car but didn’t immediately move to unbuckle my seatbelt. Neither did she. The city lights outside reflected softly across the windshield while silence settled between us again. Just aware. Yeji eventually leaned her head lightly back against the seat before exhaling quietly “…I really did almost quit.” an honest sentence. I looked toward her carefully afterward.

“I know.” “And somehow that feels unreal now.” “That’s usually how surviving emotional collapse feels afterward.” she smiled faintly beneath her breath “You make everything sound psychological.” “That’s because unfortunately I am psychological.” “That sounded medically concerning.” “It probably is.”

Another laugh. Smaller this time. Sleepier. Then eventually the silence returned again. But this time neither of us seemed interested in escaping it. Yeji slowly turned toward me afterward. No uncertainty, not emotionally spiraling. Just plain clarity that never yielded. That probably affected me more than alcohol had to. Because this wasn’t exhaustion choosing closeness, not desperation, or emotional dependency clawing for comfort— this was simply her choosing. “…You’re thinking too hard,” she said quietly. “Can’t help it, occupational hazard” I exhaled softly through my nose afterward before finally admitting “I’m trying very hard to be responsible right now.” Yeji’s expression softened immediately “…You’ve been responsible this entire time” This was especially because she sounded so certain about it.

She shifted slightly closer afterward. Slow enough to stop if I wanted her to. I didn’t, the moment I realized that— I already knew professionalism had lost this fight a long time ago. Yeji’s fingers lightly curled against my hand first. Then her shoulder against mine “…Ben” that careful tone again, the one that was going to psychologically destroy me someday “Yeah?” Her eyes met mine quietly in the dim lighting inside the car. A warmth that showed no hesitation or second thoughts. She pressed her pressed her lips softly on mine, and this time I gave up on resisting and hiding behind that professional hurdle because I knew I would just be lying to the both of us. The silence afterward didn’t feel uncertain anymore. It felt inevitable. Yeji slowly pulled back just enough for both of us to breathe properly again, though judging from the way her fingers still lingered lightly against my hand, neither of us was particularly interested in creating real distance anymore “…Come upstairs.”

I should’ve probably still thought harder about it. Instead, I reached for the door handle first. That alone made Yeji laugh quietly beneath her breath while following beside me out of the car. The night air felt colder now or maybe that was just the adrenaline finally catching up. Neither of us spoke much while walking toward the entrance of her residence building. Not because there was tension. Because there was a lack of it along with the lack of uncertainty— just two people very aware of each other now. The elevator ride upward felt significantly smaller than before. Yeji stood beside me quietly with her hands partially hidden inside the sleeves of her hoodie again while the dim lighting reflected softly against the mirrored walls around us.

“You’re thinking again.” I glanced sideways toward her. “You say that like it’s a disease.” she smiled “I’m beginning to think it is.” I mirrored her grin “That’s medically offensive to psychologists everywhere” another smile. God those were becoming genuinely dangerous to my self-control. The elevator doors opened a second later toward her floor. Then suddenly we were walking down the quieter hallway toward her unit while Seoul’s city lights glowed faintly through the larger windows farther behind us. Yeji slowed slightly once she reached the door. Keys in hand then a pause while unlocking it. Something about the normalcy of that moment broke the last surviving piece of restraint I still had left.

Maybe it was the realization that she chose this— she chose me, or maybe I was simply tired of pretending I didn’t want her back just as badly anymore. Probably both. Yeji barely got the door unlocked before I reached for her first. The moment she turned toward me again, I kissed her properly this time. No hesitation. None of that careful emotional distance. Just accumulated restraint finally giving out all at once.

She made the softest surprised sound against my lips before immediately kissing me back just as hard, one hand instinctively catching against my jacket while the other still struggled half-successfully with the door handle behind her. The door finally opened behind her a second later, but neither of us immediately cared enough to separate first as we walked into the hall. My leg slowly kicked the door closed shut and her hand reached around my body to lock it back in place.

Neither of us stopped kissing long enough to breathe properly— I lifted her up against the narrow walls of her home, she proceeded to wrap her legs around me for stability as her both of her hands reached for my face before finally letting go the kiss. She took a moment to watch my face as I met her gaze as in return “Wow, what… happened to… all that… restraint?” she said in between her panting. I laughed softly beneath my breath afterward while keeping her pinned lightly against the wall, one hand still firm against her waist as if letting go now would somehow be physically impossible.

“Honestly?” I muttered while brushing another slower kiss against the corner of her mouth. “I think you psychologically wore it down over time.” Yeji laughed breathlessly at that, though it immediately dissolved into breathless sounds when I kissed her again before she could properly recover. “That sounds irresponsible for a psychologist” as she slowly took off her the jacket that hid the frames of her body, leaving her sleeveless top to expose the skin of her neck and collarbone. “It probably violates every professional guideline to ever exist.” I told her as I drew my face closer to her. “That should concern me more.” “It really should.” And yet neither of us sounded particularly interested in stopping anymore. This time my mouth the crevice of her collar, she started cooing when I led my tongue all the way to the side of her neck.

I didn't let her go. I carried her from the wall all the way to her room, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her waist while my tongue traced the sensitive line of her jaw. The air in the small entryway felt thick, charged with a static that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. Every breath she took was a jagged, uneven thing, echoing the frantic rhythm of my own heart. I shifted my weight, sliding one hand from her waist to the hem of her sleeveless top. I didn't ask. I didn't have to. The way she arched her back, pressing her chest into me, was the only answer I needed. I pulled the fabric over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it blindly into the hall.

She stood there in the dim light, her skin glowing like polished pearl. Her breasts were small, firm, with nipples already peaked and hard, straining against the cool air. I took a moment, just a second, to map her. I let my eyes travel from the delicate slope of her shoulders down to the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. She was lean, a dancer's body, all hidden strength and supple grace. Yeji reached for the buttons of my shirt, her fingers trembling. She fumbled with the second one, a small huff of frustration escaping her lips. "Let me," I whispered.

I stripped out of my clothes with a haste that bordered on desperation, my eyes never leaving hers. When my pants hit the floor, my cock sprang free, fully erect and pulsing with a heavy, aching need.

Yeji stopped. Her gaze dropped, her eyes widening as she stared at me. She didn't move for a long moment, her breath hitching in her throat. Slowly, as if drawn by a magnet, she reached out. Her fingers were cool as they wrapped around the base of my shaft. She didn't know how to grip it—her hold was loose, tentative, her thumb brushing awkwardly against the underside. "Ben," she breathed, her voice a fragile thread. "Yeah?" She slid her hand up, her palm grazing the velvet heat of my glans. She let out a soft, shaky exhale, her eyes flickering back up to mine.

"I didn't expect... this." "Too much?"

She shook her head quickly, though her brow furrowed with a flicker of genuine concern. She tightened her grip slightly, trying to encompass the girth, but her fingers didn't even come close to meeting on the other side. "It's just... you're so large. I think... this is the largest I've ever seen.” I felt a surge of possessive heat hit my gut. I stepped closer, the tip of my cock brushing against her thigh.

"Does it scare you?" "No," she whispered, her gaze intensifying. "Not with you. I want it. I want all of it."

I didn't waste another second. I scooped her up, her legs locking around my waist instinctively, and carried her toward the bedroom. I dropped her onto the mattress, the springs creaking under the sudden weight. I hovered over her, my body a heavy shadow against her light. I spent the next twenty minutes mapping every inch of her. I wanted her skin memorized. I kissed the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts, and the soft skin of her stomach. I moved lower, my tongue tracing the line of her hip before diving between her thighs.

Yeji gasped, her hips jerking upward as I found her. She was already drenched, her pussy dripping a thick, sweet musk that filled my senses. I used my tongue to part her lips, tasting the salt and the heat. I focused on her clit, circling it with a precision that had her clawing at the sheets, her head tossing from side to side.

"Ben, please," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "I can't... I don't know what's happening." "Just feel it, Yeji. Don't think. Just feel."

I moved back up, positioning myself between her legs. I reached down, guiding the head of my cock to her entrance. She was tight—terrifyingly tight—and as I pushed in, I felt her muscles stretch and protest. I stopped, letting her adjust, my breath hot against her ear.

"You okay?" "Yes," she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut. "Just... keep going. Please."

I pushed deeper, my cock started to feel like a slow invasion within Yeji. I felt the friction of her walls hugging me, the heat of her internal muscles clamping down on my shaft. A wet, squelching sound filled the quiet of the room as I slid fully home, my pelvis slamming against her with a heavy thud.

Yeji let out a strangled cry, her eyes snapping open. She looked shocked, her chest heaving. "You're... you're actually all the way in," she whispered, her voice sounding distant. "Every inch," I reached in to give her a kiss.

I started to move. I kept it slow at first, pulling back until only the tip remained before slamming back in. The sound of our bodies colliding—a rhythmic, fleshy slapping—became the only thing in the world. I watched her face, the way her eyebrows knit together, the way her lips parted in a silent plea. I increased the pace, the friction building into a searing heat. I could feel her getting wetter, the lubrication making every thrust a sliding, shlicking mess. I shifted my angle, driving my cock upward to grind against her G-spot.

Yeji's reaction was instantaneous. Her back arched, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her nails were definitely going to leave some marks later.

"Something is... something is happening," she cried out, her voice rising in pitch. "Ben, I feel... it's too much!" "Ride it, Yeji. Give in to it."

I didn't stop. I hammered into her, my movements becoming primal and uncoordinated. I could feel her insides beginning to quiver. Then, it happened.

Yeji's entire body stiffened. Her internal walls suddenly contracted, squeezing my shaft in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses. A loud, guttural moan tore from her throat, her eyes rolling back as her first-ever orgasm ripped through her.

For me, it was electric. The sensation of her clenching around me was an overwhelming pressure, a vacuum that pulled me deeper into her. The feeling of her climaxing while I was still buried inside her pushed me over the edge. I let out a soft moan, my muscles locking as I surged forward one last time, burying myself as deep as possible.

I felt the hot, thick jets of my cum flooding her, filling her to the brim. I stayed there, pinned to her, our hearts hammering in unison, the only sound the heavy, ragged breathing of two people who had just discovered a new language. Yeji lay limp beneath me, her eyes slowly fluttering open. She looked dazed, a small, bewildered smile on her lips.

"What... was that?" she whispered. "That," I panted, kissing her forehead, "was an orgasm, Yeji."

She let out a soft, breathless laugh, her hand coming up to rest on my chest. "I didn't know... I didn't know it could feel like that. I feel like I just woke up for the first time in my life."

I rolled off her, pulling her into my arms. We lay there in the aftermath, the smell of sex and sweat clinging to the sheets. But as the minutes passed, the silence didn't feel like an end. It felt like a bridge. I looked down at her, seeing the flush still lingering on her cheeks, the way her eyes looked wider, clearer. The desire returned, not as a frantic need, but as a slow, simmering hunger. I shifted, my cock already stirring again, reacting to the proximity of her warmth. "Round two?" I murmured. Yeji didn't answer with words. She simply flipped over, presenting her backside to me, her hips tilted up in an invitation that made my blood boil.

I didn't waste time with foreplay this time, she was already wet again— I guess the thought of going another round was enough to flip a switch. I knelt behind her, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her toward the edge of the bed. I rubbed dick around the folds of her pussy, lubricating the head of my cock before sliding back into her from behind.

The angle was different, deeper. I felt the tip of my shaft kiss the entrance of her cervix, and Yeji let out a sharp, high-pitched gasp. "Oh god," she whimpered, her face pressed into the pillow. "That's... that's even deeper." "You like it?" I asked, my voice a low rasp. "Yes... please, Ben... more… no one has ever… reached that far." she was trying to speak in between her moans.

I began to move, my thrusts becoming more vigorous, more aggressive. I wasn't being gentle anymore. I wanted her to feel every bit of the size she had been worried about. I drove into her with a rhythmic intensity, the sound of my skin slapping against her skin echoing in the room. The friction was intense, the squelching sounds of our interaction becoming louder as we both became drenched in sweat. I reached around, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in sync with every thrust.

Yeji was losing it. She was sobbing now, not from pain, but from a sensory overload that was stripping away every last bit of her composure.

"I'm going again!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the apartment. "I can feel it! Ben, please don't stop!"

I didn't. I pushed her harder, my movements becoming a blur of heat and friction. I felt her build up again, the tension in her legs shaking, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Then, the wave hit her. It wasn't just one orgasm this time. It was a cascade. Her internals clamped down on me in a series of prolonged, rolling contractions. I felt her body shudder beneath me, her voice dissolving into a series of incoherent whimpers as she experienced multiple, overlapping peaks of pleasure.

The sensation was intoxicating. Having her unravel beneath me, feeling her body completely surrender to the pleasure I was providing, sent me spiraling. I felt my own climax building, a pressure in my loins that felt like it was about to explode. I let out a choked sound, my grip tightening on her hips as I delivered a final, powerful thrust. I felt my cock pulse violently inside her, sending another massive load of cum deep into her womb. I groaned, my forehead resting against her back, my entire body vibrating with the force of the release.

We collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and damp skin. I pulled her back against my chest, my arm draped over her waist. The room was silent again, save for the sound of our breathing. Yeji turned her head, looking at me with eyes that were soft, exhausted, and entirely content. "I think," she whispered, her voice sounding raw, "that I might actually be able to sleep tonight." I chuckled, kissing the back of her neck. "Mission accomplished."

She shifted, snuggling closer into my warmth, her hand finding mine and interlocking our fingers. For the first time in years, the weight of the world—the schedules, the expectations, the crushing pressure of leadership—felt light. It felt irrelevant.

"Ben?" "Yeah?" "Don't ever leave me alone in a dark rehearsal room again." I smiled, closing my eyes. "Deal."

Morning arrived significantly softer than either of us expected. There was a lack of emotional panic, regret, or awkward distance. Just quiet. Yeji stood barefoot in her kitchen wearing one of her oversized shirts while scrolling through fan reactions on her phone with visible concentration the same way I was working on my doctoral thesis when I was still getting my master’s degree. That piqued my interest “Okay this one’s lying,” she muttered while reading another comment. I glanced up briefly from the coffee I was making “Which one?”

“‘Yeji looked calm and relaxed on stage.’” She looked toward me suspiciously. “I was fighting for my life internally.” She let out a laugh. God, the domestic normalcy of this morning was affecting me significantly more than the sex itself had. Which honestly felt medically concerning. Yeji eventually walked closer afterward before silently leaning against my side while continuing to scroll through her phone letting the moment soak in before looking back at me “…We should probably talk to them.”

I already knew who she meant immediately. Jihyo. John. God, I wish we could skip John. The atmosphere softened slightly afterward. The both of us understood the same thing now without needing to say it aloud first. Last night changed something permanently— professionally and emotionally and neither of us regretted it. I handed Yeji her coffee afterward before answering honestly. “We crossed a line we can’t really uncross anymore”. Yeji nodded once quietly. “…Yeah” I didn’t sense any fear or second thoughts in her voice “…Are you okay with that?” A careful question, an important one to boot. I looked toward her properly afterward “I think I stopped pretending this was professionally salvageable somewhere around the second time you kissed me.” That immediately made her laugh quietly into the rim of the coffee mug she was holding. Then eventually she lowered the mug slightly again “…Good.”

It was a simple answer full of certainty. But certain enough that something in my chest settled instead of tightening afterward. A dangerous development for me honestly. A little while later, I was sitting beside her on the couch while absentmindedly scrolling through my phone when Yeji suddenly shifted closer again. I glanced toward her briefly before realizing she was staring directly at my shoulder with visible concentration.

“…What?” “You have a lot of tattoos.” as she was looking around me, observing every detail of my body. “That sounds judgmental.” “It’s observational.” Yeji tried to sound like me. “That’s just judgment with better marketing.”

Yeji laughed softly before setting her phone aside completely now. Her fingers lightly brushed against the ink near my shoulder almost absentmindedly. The contact nearly short-circuited my nervous system significantly more than expected. “This one looks older,” she murmured quietly while tracing one of the darker faded lines near my collarbone. “It is.”

“What’s it supposed to be?” “You say that like you don’t recognize a snake.” “It looked philosophical.” “It’s literally just a snake.” “That somehow feels disappointing.”

I let out a quieter laugh afterward while Yeji continued studying the tattoos scattered across my arms and shoulders with visible curiosity now. The fact she looked this interested in something as mundane as my tattoos was affecting me more emotionally than it reasonably should’ve. Then suddenly her expression shifted slightly “…Wait”. Her eyes narrowed briefly toward my shoulder “…Are those scratch marks?” I blinked once. Then immediately looked down. Ah. Right. Yeji followed the realization almost instantly before covering her mouth while trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

“Oh my god.” “That feels slightly accusatory.” “You look like you survived a wildlife attack.” “In my defense, somebody became significantly less emotionally stable after midnight.” “That sounds like deflection.” “That sounds like accountability avoidance from YOU.”

Yeji immediately folded into laughter again while I rubbed lightly at my forehead in defeat. Watching her laugh this freely after everything she went through emotionally over the past several months was beginning to affect me in ways I was not psychologically prepared for. Then eventually her eyes shifted downward again. “…You’re surprisingly fit.” I looked toward her slowly afterward.

“That sounded more offended than complimentary.” “I just didn’t expect it.” “What exactly did you think psychologists looked like physically?” “I don’t know.” She tried unsuccessfully not to smile again. “Slightly weaker.” “That’s devastating.” “It’s true.” “I carried you against a wall yesterday.” “That sentence sounds significantly more threatening in daylight.” “Fair.”

Yeji laughed softly again before eventually leaning more comfortably against my side afterward. Then quietly

“…I still can’t believe you have this many tattoos.” I glanced down briefly toward the ink across my arms before shrugging lightly again “Grad school was psychologically difficult.” “That explains absolutely nothing.” “It explains enough.”

Another smaller silence settled comfortably afterward. Then eventually I looked toward her again before speaking casually. “If you want, I can always add a portrait tattoo of you somewhere.” Yeji stared at me for exactly two seconds “…What?”

“I’m committed to emotionally terrible decision-making now.” “That is NOT a normal thing to say after sleeping with someone.” “I think it would add professionalism to the workplace.” “You’re insane.” “Clinically functional.” “That’s debatable.”

I laughed softly afterward while Yeji shook her head in disbelief beside me, though the faint redness lingering across her face betrayed her significantly. Then eventually she leaned lightly against my shoulder again afterward while still smiling quietly to herself. A little while later, Yeji sat beside me on the couch while the phone rang through speaker mode. John answered first “…Hello children.” I immediately narrowed my eyes “You’re trying to sound emotionally intelligent again” it was too early for John to give me a headache “I’ve evolved psychologically” I could feel the smug from the phone “The hell you have”.

Yeji immediately folded into laughter beside me. Terrible start already. Then somewhere farther away from the call “John stop making things weird,” Jihyo’s voice cut in immediately “I’m helping”. I rubbed lightly at my forehead afterward “…How do nine people emotionally survive you?” That quickly blew a hole in his whole act “That sounded targeted,” John muttered. Yeji was still laughing quietly beside me by the time Jihyo finally spoke again “…Do you two want to meet later?” There it was, a calm tone— too calm. Yeah,” Yeji answered first this time, her voice quieter afterward. “We should probably talk properly”. A brief silence followed “…Okay,” Jihyo answered simply. “Come by later this afternoon”. That somehow made the entire thing feel significantly more serious.

The drive later that afternoon felt strangely calmer than it probably should’ve. Maybe because the difficult part had already happened last night or maybe because neither of us was particularly interested in pretending this was some catastrophic mistake that needed undoing. Yeji sat beside me scrolling idly through her phone while soft music played quietly through the speakers. At one point she looked over briefly “You’re thinking again” I gave her a look at her as the stoplight was still red “That accusation has become emotionally abusive” she instantly retorted “Well you’re making it easy” that was fair. I kept my glance toward her “Nervous?” Yeji considered the question honestly “…A little”. By the time we arrived, John was already waiting near the café entrance wearing sunglasses despite being indoors like somebody trying very hard to look mysterious and failing catastrophically.

“Oh good, the emotional support golden retriever is here” I muttered while stepping out of the car “That’s hurtful”. I waved him off “It wasn’t inaccurate, that’s what matters”. John looked deeply offended for almost three seconds before immediately shaking Yeji’s hand “Congratulations by the way. You killed it yesterday” Yeji smiled softly afterward “…Thanks”. Then John turned toward me dramatically afterward “And you, you look suspiciously emotionally fulfilled.” I immediately pointed toward him “See? THIS is why you can’t pretend to sound like me. You overcommit to the bit emotionally”. Yeji laughed quietly beside me while John looked personally attacked. Before he could retaliate, the café door opened behind him, and there she was. Jihyo stepped outside holding a folder beneath one arm while looking significantly calmer than everybody else present. Which honestly felt threatening somehow.

“Why are you holding paperwork?” I asked immediately. Jihyo glanced down briefly toward the folder “…Preparation.” that answer garnered a horrified expression from me “That answer psychologically upset me, the one with a Master’s Degree in Psychology— that should account for something”. John immediately pointed toward her. “SEE? I TOLD YOU.” Jihyo showed visible confusion for a while “Told me WHAT exactly?” Neither of them answered.

We eventually settled into one of the quieter private rooms farther inside the café afterward. The atmosphere wasn’t hostile. Serious, yes. But not condemning. Yeji sat beside me while Jihyo calmly placed the folder onto the table between us. Then finally “I’m going to ask one question first,” Jihyo said quietly “Was last night emotionally impulsive?” a direct question. I answered first “No”. Yeji nodded immediately afterward beside me “No regrets either”. Jihyo watched both of us silently for a second longer afterward. Assessing. Leader mode, then finally— she exhaled softly through her nose before leaning back slightly in her chair “Okay”.

That was it. no explosion. No dramatic lecture. No accusation… Just okay. Yet that somehow felt heavier than anger would’ve. John, meanwhile, looked between all three of us like somebody trying very hard not to interrupt emotionally important adult conversation with stupidity. Predictably unsuccessful. “So,” he muttered carefully, “are we all pretending this isn’t horrifyingly predictable in hindsight?”

“John,” Jihyo warned immediately without even looking at him. “I’m contributing emotionally.” I didn’t even look at him “You’re making it worse emotionally, for me at least.” “That’s subjective.” “It’s really not.” Yeji nearly laughed beside me while I rubbed lightly at my forehead. Strangely enough the fact that this somehow already felt less like damage control and more like some sort of relationship ecosystem maintenance, and it was deeply concerning. Jihyo eventually opened the folder afterward before sliding two documents calmly across the table toward Yeji and me.

NDAs. Of course they were. I stared at them for a few seconds before slowly looking back up at her “You had these prepared already?” Jihyo took a sip from her drink first. Calm. Composed. Terrifying “I prepared them after realizing emotional attachment between managers and idols was probably inevitable eventually.” then simultaneously “That should not be a normal sentence,” I said. “SEE?” John pointed aggressively toward me. “I SAID THAT TOO.” Jihyo ignored both of us professionally. Psychologically she was a horrifying woman honestly. Yeji picked up the NDA quietly beside me afterward while scanning through it briefly. Then paused “…Wait.” even I felt the danger in that word. Jihyo blinked once “What?”

Yeji looked between Jihyo, John, and then back toward the paperwork and I physically watched the realization happen in real time “…Hold on” Yeji narrowed her eyes slightly afterward. “John isn’t just sleeping with one of the TWICE members, is he?” That made Jihyo choked violently on her drink. I folded forward laughing almost instantly while John looked like his soul briefly exited his body. “Oh my GOD,” I wheezed while trying unsuccessfully to recover. “SHE FIGURED IT OUT IMMEDIATELY.” John muttered in genuine horror “That was FAST”. Yeji blinked once slowly afterward while looking increasingly alarmed “Wait seriously?” Jihyo was still coughing and John looked ready to fake his own death. And genuinely I hadn’t laughed this hard in years.

“You people are INSANE,” I finally managed through laughter while wiping briefly at my eyes. “I thought this was like… one emotionally complicated relationship.” John pointed toward me immediately. “In my defense—” I didn’t even let him finish that statement “You have NO defense.” John continued regardless “Actually I have several.” that somehow made it worse. Yeji looked between everyone again like she’d accidentally walked into the middle of an emotionally unstable cult and her reaction was completely valid. Eventually Jihyo recovered enough to speak again “…To be fair,” she muttered weakly afterward, “it didn’t exactly happen the way you think it did.”

“That sentence also should not be normal,” I answered immediately. John leaned back dramatically in his chair afterward. “You adjust eventually.” hearing that is the opposite of reassuring. Yeji was still visibly trying to process the scale of what she apparently just uncovered. Then quietly “…Wait. ALL of them?” John closed his eyes in defeat. Jihyo covered her face. And I completely lost composure again. “I cannot BELIEVE this is a real conversation I’m having right now,” I managed through laughter while John looked spiritually exhausted across the table. “In my defense—”

“You need to stop starting sentences like that,” Jihyo interrupted immediately. “It implies there’s a defense,” I added “You’re dating an entire nationally beloved girl group.” trying to compose myself “That sounds worse when YOU say it.”

“Because I’m emotionally framing it correctly.” Yeji looked genuinely stunned beside me. Not judgmental. Just deeply, profoundly confused “…How does that even work?” John immediately pointed toward Jihyo. “Leadership?” Jihyo answered while covering her eyes briefly “That is NOT the answer, JOHN.”

“It’s a little the answer,” he muttered. Interesting ecosystem honestly also very concerning too. Yeji slowly leaned back in her chair afterward while still processing everything. Then suddenly, another realization. Her eyes shifted slowly toward Jihyo “…You already knew this was probably going to happen with me and Ben?” Silence— even that question caught me off guard. Jihyo stayed calm for exactly three seconds too long “…I suspected emotional overlap was possible.” I answered immediately “That sounded PREPARED”.  Jihyo finally sighed softly afterward before resting her chin against one hand “You both spent months emotionally depending on each other during an extremely vulnerable period”.

“Okay but hearing it phrased clinically somehow made it worse,” John muttered. Jihyo ignored him professionally, what a terrifying woman. Then she looked toward me properly afterward “You stabilized her emotionally without isolating her from herself”. The room quieted slightly after that, less comedic now. More honest. “She didn’t become dependent on you,” Jihyo continued calmly “She became herself again around you”. That sentence hit harder than expected. Because somewhere deep down, I think part of me was still worried about that exact thing. Yeji looked toward me quietly afterward too. Warmly. Then Jihyo continued like she hadn’t just emotionally sniped me across the table.

“So no,” she finished calmly. “I wasn’t surprised this crossed into something personal eventually”. I leaned back slowly afterward while staring at the ceiling briefly “…That should not be an emotionally healthy intuition.” John pointed immediately. “SEE?”

“Stop validating each other,” Jihyo muttered tiredly. “No,” me and John answered instantly. Yeji laughed quietly beside me before eventually setting the NDA back onto the table again. Then softly “…I want Ben to officially manage ITZY.” The room stilled again afterward.

Yeji continued carefully. “I know what happened between us changes things.” She glanced briefly toward me first before continuing. “But I also know the others are struggling too.” that was Yeji’s leader instinct, and she was right on the bat. Even now. “I don’t want to go back to pretending everybody’s fine when they’re clearly not.” That quieted the table completely afterward. “You realize what that probably means long term, right?” Jihyo asked gently. Yeji nodded once slowly “…Yeah.” No hesitation. Then finally she glanced sideways toward me again before adding “And honestly? I already accepted that this might happen naturally with the others too eventually.”

I blinked once slowly “…I’m sorry WHAT?” Yeji blinked once afterward like she didn’t fully understand why that answer shocked me so much. “What?”

“You accepted that possibility WAY too calmly.” “Because I already thought about it.” “That sentence emotionally terrified me.” John immediately pointed toward Yeji across the table “See? That’s exactly how this starts.” “You are the LAST person qualified to say that,” I answered instantly. “Fair.”

A disturbingly self-aware ecosystem. Yeji looked toward me quietly afterward before speaking again “I’m not saying it has to happen.” She paused briefly. “I’m saying… I know how you are.” Dangerous statement especially because she sounded completely sincere. “You care deeply,” she continued softly. “And they’re important to me too.” Even now, she wasn’t viewing this possessively, true mark of a real leader. She was thinking about everybody else first too. I leaned back slowly afterward while rubbing lightly at my jaw “…You’re all emotionally abnormal.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” John muttered. “I’m at least aware I’m psychologically concerning.” “That somehow doesn’t help.”

Jihyo finally sighed softly before reaching for another document inside the folder. The fact she had MORE paperwork ready nearly made me leave on principle alone. “There’s also the updated management transfer proposal,” she said calmly. I stared at her “…You already prepared THAT too?” Jihyo blinked once. “You think slowly for someone with a Master’s Degree in Psychology.” I was beat from all angles, “I take it back. You’re the scariest person here.”

“Correct,” John answered immediately. Yeji looked visibly relieved afterward though as Jihyo slid the paperwork toward us. “The company already trusts your judgment after the solo debut,” Jihyo continued calmly. “Officially, the recommendation is expanded emotional and schedule management support for ITZY as a whole.” Emotionally dangerous wording. Professionally brilliant wording too. I skimmed briefly through the proposal afterward before immediately stopping at one section “This compensation package is ridiculous.” John snorted instantly “THAT’S the part bothering you?”

Yeji leaned slightly closer beside me afterward while trying to peek at the paperwork. “Wait, how much is—” “It’s not important.” “That means it’s horrifying,” John answered immediately. I set the paperwork back onto the table afterward. “Honestly, I don’t need the money.” The room quieted slightly. “That is NOT a normal sentence,” Jihyo said. “See?” John pointed aggressively toward me. “THIS is what I’ve been trying to explain.” I ignored him “What I DO need,” I continued calmly, “is a company-issued vehicle.” That finally shifted the atmosphere slightly back toward seriousness. “Security concerns?” Jihyo asked immediately. “Exactly.” I nodded once. “Using my personal car long-term around idol schedules is risky. You of all people know how some of those nutjob fans eventually identify patterns.” The room quieted again afterward. Because unfortunately? That concern was realistic.

“I’d rather not have somebody tracing ITZY’s movements through my license plate eventually.” Yeji looked toward me quietly after that. Warmly. Jihyo nodded slowly afterward. “That’s fair. We can arrange that.” Then Yeji tilted her head slightly. “Hold on, Ben.” she looked toward me carefully afterward. “Looking back your car actually IS expensive if you think it would be that easy to trace back, isn’t it?” I immediately narrowed my eyes toward John before he even opened his mouth. “You stay out of this.” “I didn’t even SAY anything yet.” “You looked financially enthusiastic.” “That’s profiling.”

Yeji laughed quietly beside me afterward. “But seriously,” she continued, “the brand wasn’t Korean. I didn’t recognize it.” John immediately folded his arms. “Oh it’s expensive-expensive.” This bloody traitor. “It’s custom-built too,” he added helpfully. “John” that didn’t make him stop. “What?” John looked immediately defensive. “What? I’m contributing context.”

“You’re contributing financial slander.” “That thing probably costs more than my apartment.” “That’s statistically possible.”

Silence. Then immediately “What?” Yeji stared at me now. Jihyo slowly lowered her drink afterward. And honestly? I could physically feel this conversation becoming more psychologically irritating by the second. “It’s just a car.”

“That is ABSOLUTELY not how rich people say ‘just a car,’” John answered immediately. Yeji narrowed her eyes slightly afterward. “Are you actually rich-rich?” I immediately leaned back in my chair. “We are not doing this conversation.”

“That means yes,” Yeji answered immediately. “Psychologically invasive behavior.” John added helpfully “Deflection”. I turned back at him “You traitorous asshole.” Jihyo looked mildly entertained now too. Concerning development. Then eventually Yeji glanced between me and John again “…Okay but how rich are we talking exactly?” I pointed toward John immediately “If he answers this incorrectly, I’m revoking his friendship privileges.”

“You can’t revoke those.” “Watch me.” John looked entirely too entertained now. “Well…” He leaned back slightly afterward. “You know how Mina is terrifyingly wealthy, right?” Yeji blinked once slowly. “How wealthy are we talking?” John and Jihyo exchanged a look first. That made the answer significantly worse already. Then eventually John sighed dramatically “Mina could probably buy JYPE herself if she genuinely wanted to.” Silence. Yeji stared. I rubbed lightly at my forehead. And somehow the fact nobody denied it probably answered enough already. “That should not be normal,” I muttered. “You’re not allowed to say that anymore,” John answered immediately.

Then Yeji slowly looked back toward me “Okay then, what about YOU?” Oh no. Absolutely not. I immediately stood up slightly from my chair “I’m leaving.” John answered instantly. “You signed paperwork already, you legally can’t.” Jihyo finally rubbed lightly at her temple afterward. “Sit down, Ben.” This was emotional abuse, but I sat back down anyway. “Theoretically” John began carefully while visibly trying not to laugh already, “if Ben liquidated and pooled most of his CURRENT resources together—”

“John.” “—he could probably buy enough shares to own majority control of JYPE. Something around 80 to 85% of the shares. I did the math already.” The silence was broken by singular “…What.” from Yeji who looked genuinely horrified now. I immediately pointed toward John again. “This is why rich people don’t tell people things.”

“That wasn’t even the weird part.” “There’s a WEIRDER PART?” John looked deeply entertained now. “He gets richer accidentally.” “That is not a real sentence,” Jihyo muttered. “It IS,” John continued. “I swear this man wakes up wealthier every six months without trying.” “That sounds villainous,” Yeji answered immediately. “I invest intelligently,” I defended calmly. “You bought a company once because you were annoyed at their customer service.” “That was strategically justified.” “That was psychotic.”

Jihyo covered her face briefly afterward while Yeji stared at me like she was reassessing every interaction we’d ever had. Then eventually Yeji looked toward me again. Much quieter this time “…You genuinely didn’t need this job financially, did you?” The room softened slightly afterward. I answered honestly “No.” Yeji watched me carefully afterward “Then why take it?” Honestly, answering that felt easier now than it probably ever had before “Because of the people mattered” a simple answer yet a true one too. The room stayed quiet afterward for a second longer than before.

“That was disgustingly sincere.” John immediately ruined the emotional atmosphere “Oh shut up.” “No seriously that sounded emotionally cinematic.” “Coming from the man who practiced confession lines in front of a mirror for three hours.”

Silence. Complete silence “YOU DID WHAT?” Yeji nearly folded forward laughing. John looked like his soul physically left his body. “You PROMISED never to bring that up again.” “Hey you made fun of my sincerity first, best buddy.” “That was DIFFERENT.” “It absolutely was not.” Jihyo was laughing hard enough now that she physically had to lower her head into one hand while Yeji looked seconds away from crying from laughter beside me. Watching John die internally across the table healed something inside me spiritually. “It gets WORSE,” I continued calmly while John looked ready to leap across the table and strangle me.

“BEN.” “He kept rejecting his own confession lines out loud because he thought he sounded manipulative.”

Yeji actually covered her face laughing now “No way.” John was red all over “I was trying to sound sincere!” I couldn’t hold a straight face anymore, “You sounded like somebody negotiating a hostage release emotionally.” Jihyo was openly crying laughing now while John looked deeply betrayed by everyone present. Then suddenly Yeji glanced sideways toward me again. The from the look of her terrified something in me. “…Benjie.”

Oh hell no. I immediately narrowed my eyes toward her “Nope.” Yeji looked entirely too pleased with herself now “Benjie.” John folded forward instantly laughing. “OH that’s sticking permanently.” My face was buried deep in my hand “I will leave.” John didn’t waste the chance to clap back “Remember, you legally can’t” John answered immediately. This traitorous golden retriever of a man. Yeji looked openly delighted now too— I guess I’ll let this slide for now. “…You look like a Benjie.” never mind, I take that back. “That sentence psychologically harmed me, Yeji.”

Jihyo finally wiped briefly beneath one eye afterward while still recovering from laughter. And somewhere between emotional collapse, NDAs, psychological intervention, accidental relationship ecosystems, billionaire allegations and John’s public humiliation. The atmosphere at the table stopped feeling heavy entirely. It just felt alive. Which might’ve been the healthiest thing about all of this.

By the time the four of us finally left the café, the sun had already started dipping lower across Seoul’s skyline. The conversation somehow never fully recovered afterward. Not professionally at least. John was still emotionally damaged from the mirror-confession incident. Jihyo looked one inconvenience away from revoking everybody’s speaking privileges permanently. And Yeji still looked entirely too pleased with herself every time she quietly muttered “Benjie”. This has got to be a psychological war crime somewhere.

John eventually stopped near his car first before trying say another smug thing I cut him off “Say one more thing and they’ll never find your body” I told him gave him a death glare. But this was cut short from what I could tell was Yeji muttering out her new favorite word “…Benjie.” I closed my eyes slowly “Yeji, I’ll admit I’m more than happy with you calling me that. But not in front of John, please?” this warranted more hysterical laughter from John.  Yeji looked genuinely delighted beside me while John nearly collapsed laughing against his car. Jihyo looked exhausted. Reasonable reaction honestly. Then eventually she glanced toward both of us properly afterward. And for the first time since this entire conversation started— her expression softened fully. “…Take care of each other,” Jihyo said quietly. Those were simple words. But heavy enough that neither Yeji nor I joked afterward. “We will,” Yeji answered softly beside me. The certainty in her voice affected me more than expected.

A few minutes later, the city lights blurred quietly outside the windows while I drove us back through the slower evening traffic. This time neither of us spoke much. Not because things were awkward. Because they weren’t anymore. Yeji eventually leaned slightly closer against my shoulder while absentmindedly scrolling through messages on her phone again. Then suddenly “Ryujin wants to meet you properly.” Well, there was the beginning of my downfall “What does ‘properly’ mean in this context?” “She added a shark emoji.” “That clarified absolutely nothing.” “It probably shouldn’t.” I sighed softly afterward while Yeji laughed quietly beside me again. For the first time in a very long time— the future no longer sounded exhausting anymore.

A/N: This story is part of the Underpaid & Overloved series that originally belongs to @electro469. I will be updating this story along with the planned Season 2 of Underpaid & Overloved as well since Electro has given me permission to continue the story

[afterhours37]

If It Were Me – Lia: The Life Where I Didn’t Have To Be Needed

Keywords: Reality Manipulation, Romance, Fluff, Emotional Intimacy

Word Count: 11,360

PRELUDE

The room was already quiet before she started playing. Not a silence in a sense of a lack in noise, but there was always something.

The faint hum of the air conditioning, the occasional shift of a chair from the next room, footsteps passing by outside. Small things that never asked to be noticed. Lia sat in front of the piano, fingers resting lightly on the keys. She didn’t start immediately.

There wasn’t an audience nor a cue to begin yet. So she stayed there for a moment longer than necessary, her hands hovering in place, not tense, just still.

Then she played, notes came easily. There wasn’t anything complicated about the piece, nothing that demanded too much attention, nothing that needed to be perfected. Just something steady. Familiar in structure, even if she hadn’t consciously chosen it. Her fingers moved without hesitation, each note falling exactly where it should. No mistakes. pauses, or the need to adjust. The sound filled the room gently, never rising beyond what it needed to be.

It wasn’t meant to impress anyone, only convey what her heart could not put into words. She didn’t look up while playing, no one was watching, there was no reaction to wait for— so she didn’t. She finished the piece the same way she started it.

Clean. Controlled. Complete.

And then it was back to nothing.

Her hands stayed on the keys. Not pressing anything or moving away. For a second, it felt like something should follow. A correction, a comment, a voice telling her to run it again. Or maybe to slow down— to fix something she didn’t notice.

The thought passed. Nothing came. “…Right,” Lia murmured softly. She pulled her hands away from the piano, placing them lightly on her lap. There wasn’t anything to fix. No one asking for more. The room stayed the same. Quiet.

She stood up slowly, adjusting the sheet music out of habit even though it didn’t need to be adjusted. The pages were already aligned, already set exactly where they should be. Her fingers lingered there for a second longer than necessary. Then moved away.

The door opened behind her. “Miss Lia?” She turned, her expression softening immediately into something familiar “Yeah?” A student stepped in, hesitant at the doorway. “Is it time to start?” Lia glanced briefly at the clock, it was still early. Earlier than it needed to be. “…We can,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Come in” Lia gestured the student over to her side.

The student moved quickly with eagerness, settling into place as Lia returned to the piano bench. The student fidgeted slightly, glancing at the keys. She sat in place, her hands hovering above the keys, she waited.

“…You can start,” Lia said in a warm voice.

The student began playing, slower, uneven in places. Lia listened carefully. Not to judge. Not to correct immediately. But only to listen, the piano to her was the same as speaking, it would have been rude to interrupt with a correction.

She noticed everything. Where the hesitation came in, where the timing slipped, where the student expected to be stopped. Her lips parted slightly. She could correct it. She knew exactly what to say. What to fix and where to guide. Yet she didn’t— it wasn’t the time for it so the student kept playing. Stumbling through the piece, then finishing with a small exhale.

She looked up at her, waiting. Lia held their gaze for a moment. Then smiled “That was good,” she said softly.

The student blinked “…Really?”

Lia nodded “You didn’t stop.”

A small pause. “If you want, we can go through it again.” She didn’t say “you should” or “let me fix it” it wasn’t how she taught her students. She left it open. The student hesitated, then nodded quickly. “Okay.”

Lia adjusted the sheet slightly, even though it didn’t need adjusting.

“Whenever you’re ready” she waited again. Patient, not hurrying anything. The student started over and Lia listened, still noticing everything. Still knowing exactly what to change.

Still not stepping in. Her hands rested lightly against her lap, fingers curling slightly before relaxing again. There was no urgency. No need to correct and no expectation that she had to.

And yet— her hands felt like they should be doing something. But they didn’t. Lia knows that there is a time and place for feedback, so she let them stay still.

The First Time He Noticed Her

I had heard the piano before I even stepped inside. It wasn’t clear and it wasn’t enough to follow the piece or recognize it, but enough to notice that it wasn’t background noise. It didn’t blend into the street the way most sounds did. It stayed just distinct enough to pull his attention for a second longer than necessary.

So I stopped to look, walking past the building first, like I hadn’t registered it, like it hadn’t caught my attention at all. Then something made me stop and turn back. The door wasn’t closed all the way.

I didn’t think about it long enough to question why I was starting to step in the room, I just did. The sound was softer inside, more contained. Less like something reaching outward, more like something that existed on its own. I just stood there, there was no need to get closer than I already was. From where I stood, I could already see enough.

A student at the piano, and her. I didn’t recognize her. Not in the way people usually recognize someone. There wasn’t anything immediately distinct about her presence. Nothing that stood out in a way that demanded my attention. If anything— she felt easy to overlook, and yet I found myself doing the exact opposite.

She wasn’t playing. That was the first thing I noticed. Her hands rested lightly in her lap, fingers relaxed, unmoving. She was watching. Listening without interrupting. Even when the student hesitated. Even when the timing slipped or when it would’ve been easier to step in and correct it before it went further off and she didn’t do any of that.

I stayed where he was, leaning slightly against the wall without making a sound. The student finished. She looked up at this woman and waited. I watched her expression shift. It wasn’t dramatic, but something else. Like something softened into place.

“That was good.” her voice carried just enough to reach him.

Soft, steady, and warm. I could tell that it was not rehearsed, the way she said it was too genuine to be faked by anyone.

The student hesitated.

“…Really?” the student was checking her face, as if it was hoping for more words of affirmation.

“You didn’t stop.” said the woman.

That was it. No breakdown, she didn’t give a list of corrections nor an explanation.

Just—that.

I exhaled quietly, more out of habit than anything else, and stayed to watch because she didn’t move. Even after the student started again. Even after the same mistakes came back. Even after the same points where most people would have stepped in— she didn’t. Her hands remained where they were. Still and patient, not forcing any restraint on herself, this was not an act. It was as if she was waiting for something, not from the student. That part stood out.

But she wasn’t waiting for them to get it right. She wasn’t waiting for them to ask for help. She wasn’t waiting at all. She just— wasn’t moving. My gaze dropped briefly to her hands. There was no tension or hesitation in them. Like they already knew what to do and chose not to. That was different. Most people either corrected too quickly— or waited because they weren’t sure. She didn’t look unsure. If anything— she looked like she had already decided not to.

The student finished again. This time with less hesitation. Not perfect, but steadier. She nodded lightly not approvingly or dismissingly, just acknowledging it. Then adjusted the sheet. Even though it didn’t need adjusting. I noticed that too. The movement was small. Almost automatic but unnecessary, maybe a habit?  It was like her hands needed something to do— and that was the closest thing available.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Same tone. Same calm. Same absence of pressure. I stayed for a few seconds longer. Then pushed myself off the wall quietly. No reason to linger or interrupt, it wasn’t my job to. I didn’t step further in, there was no need to make my presence known. Just turned— and left the same way I came in.

The door shifted slightly behind me, barely enough to make a sound. Inside, nothing changed. The student kept playing, but this time— something drew me back in.

I didn’t stop immediately, my steps were the first to slow down. I turned to look back at the slightly opened door and I noticed a change… it was the sound of the piano. The way the student played was different, not drastically but in a way most people would notice. It was subtle, the same piece, the same student. This time she played differently, it still had tiny mistakes, but you could notice in the way she played that she was no longer hesitating.

I turned back to listen, and this time I stepped inside to listen. The door didn’t make a sound or maybe I just didn’t notice. The student kept playing and I noticed the woman was still the same. Similar posture, her hands hadn’t moved, but there was a change in expression. She was watching in earnest to how her student improved. A sense of pride that the improvement happened without her interruption or correction.

I decided to stay near the entrance again, this wasn’t something I felt like I should join in. And from where I was staying, I watched the student finish the piece again. For a moment both of them didn’t look up, they just sat there for a second. Like they were waiting for something out of habit. Then the realization that nothing was coming hit them both.

It was fine for both of them as they exhaled. The woman acknowledging the improvement with the way she looked her student. There was no “better” or “see?” that followed up yet the student could understand what she was saying with her expression nonetheless. Most people would have pointed that out or gave their feedback at that point. But the only words that came out her next were “Again?”

The student looked at her with a proud smile “if you want to” before going back to repeat the same piece again. There was no push, no expectation, just the acknowledgement that the both of them wanted to keep going.

The student’s next attempt showed even better changes, more confidence, the hesitation at this point was gone. This made me stay to watch longer than I meant to, watching this wasn’t something groundbreaking or new. But it wasn’t easy to ignore either. My gaze dropped to her hands again, still the same— still resting like they had no intention of moving.

For the first time, this made me wonder if that was the point “Excuse me?” I managed to mutter out. My voice broke the moment between the mentor and student. Both of them faced back to look at me, not startled or questioning. Just aware that their lesson attracted a curious spectator— but the woman looked at me different, as if she knew I was already there watching from the beginning and didn’t acknowledge it until I interrupted.

“Sorry” I said straightening slightly “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” “Don’t worry, you didn’t” the woman said to me, her face showed a kindness. She didn’t ask what I was doing here or didn’t question to why I stayed. She just looked at me, patiently— not looking for an explanation, just giving space for one.

At first I hesitated, not because I had nothing to say, but because I wasn’t sure why I came to interrupt. “I-I heard the piano playing” I said finally “Well that tends to happen when someone plays the piano” she laughed as she told me while she pointed to her student in the piano. “I feel like you have more to say, why don’t we talk about it over some tea” she leaned her head to the corner where there was tea while telling her student to keep on going with the same piece.

The both of us went over to make some tea while listening to her student continue as she played the piano, her performance this was significantly different from how she started. I turned over to the woman “You didn’t correct her at all” questioning her with curiosity as I handed her a cup while making another one for myself.

“She didn’t need to” the woman told me as she sipped her tea. It was simple and direct.

“Right” I muttered “… I see what you mean” but I knew there was more to it.

She didn’t reply back to me, she just went back to observing her student like the conversation we had just ended.

I stayed for a while to listen too as I drank my tea “Thanks” I said. I wasn’t sure of what to thank her for, but it felt right. She acknowledged me with a simple nod “Mmhmm” while taking another sip. I decided not to stay any longer as I had something else to do. I thanked her for the tea saying “Thanks for the tea, I hope to see you around”.

“Same, my name is Choi Jisu. The Music Instructor. I just started a few weeks ago” she said before I moved to leave “…but you can just call me Lia” she smiled.

“My name is Han Ji-hoon, I’m with the College of Music… welcome to Seoul National University” I gestured my hand over “But I’m fine with just Ji-hoon”

Lia gave a small pause “… Then I assume our student here passed?” she said lightly.

“Well, I think she did. With flying colors” giving her a smile.

I didn’t plan on coming back, at least not consciously. There wasn’t anything unfinished, no reason to follow up on a conversation that hadn’t really gone anywhere. Yet I found myself passing by the same building again. The door was closed but the sound still made it through. It was faint but enough. I didn’t step in, not today. I just stood there for a second longer than necessary, then I went on with my day.

The next time it happened— I did. It wasn’t deliberate, or it didn’t feel like it. But the door was open this time. The same room, the same piano. It was still Lia but with a different student this time. She was the same, the only difference from last time was that she was standing. Leaning slightly against the piano, arms loosely crossed. Watching, listening, not interrupting. I didn’t announce myself, there wasn’t a need for it. I stayed near the entrance, same spot as the first instance as if it was my designated spot. 

This time, the student made a mistake, a clear one this time. It made him stop, looking up at Lia, waiting for a lecture for messing up. Most instructors would have, a correction, a breakdown of the mistake followed up with a repeat. But not Lia, she was more forgiving.

“You heard it, right?” she told the student The student blinked “… Yeah” followed by a nod. “Well, try again. Don’t be so tense” she gave the boy a smile, showing him that mistakes were a natural part of learning.

That was it. No explanation of how he could have prevented that, no instruction, just trust. The student hesitated but tried again. It wasn’t perfect, still a bit rough. But it was less unsure, like Lia had no intention of forcing change in the student. She wanted him to improve on his own terms, and some how that worked.

“So do you come here often, Ji-hoon?” that voice caught me off guard. Not because it was sudden, but because I hadn’t noticed when she turned to look at me.  I muttered “Not really, but I have been here before.” she nodded lightly, she didn’t press or follow up— just acceptance.

The student finished again and cleaner this time. They didn’t stop immediately, just kept his hands on the keys for a second longer. Lia gave him a small nod, nothing more, then the room settled again. Quiet. Complete. I stayed a little longer this time. Long enough to realize— I wasn’t just passing by anymore.

This time, it wasn’t the same student. That stood out immediately. Different posture, a different tempo. More certain in the way they started until they weren’t. The mistake came early. Not hesitation, not uncertainty, not an interruption of flow, it was just wrong. The kind that breaks the structure of the piece, the kind that usually gets stopped. The student froze, hands still on the keys, her eyes lifting— waiting.

I didn’t need to look at her to know what should happen next. Correction, interruption, probably adjustment. There was a long deliberate silence “… I messed up” the student exhaled quietly. What threw both the student and me off was what Lia said in response “Did you now?” she looked at him. “Yeah, I did” the student was looking up at Lia now, confused to why she wasn’t mad at the mistake “Then play it again, this time feel it with both your hands and soul” she told him. It was more of a suggestion than it was an order. There was no explanation that followed up or suggestions on how to not repeat the mistake. Just permission.

The student hesitated longer this time. Not because he didn’t know what to play, but because he didn’t know what to do without being told. Then he tried again, slower, more aware, listening. The mistake didn’t disappear, but it didn’t take over either. It adjusted, shifted, like they found space around it without being shown how.

I watched her, not the student, her. Same posture, same stillness, same hands resting where they had always been. She had heard it, that much was obvious, she understood it too. And still— she chose not to act. That was the part that stayed with me, not because it was wrong. But because it worked.

The student finished. Not clean, not perfect, but complete with distinguishable improvement. He looked up at Lia again, less tense, less unsure “That felt… better” a small nod from Lia “Then it probably was”. Again, nothing was added. No claim over the improvement, no ownership of the result, just acknowledgement.

I exhaled slowly, didn’t realize I had been holding it “You’re not going to tell him what he did wrong there?” I asked Lia. It wasn’t challenging, just curious as she glanced at me. It was brief and measured like the question had already been waiting “They already know”. It was simple and direct. I frowned slightly “…Most people wouldn’t leave it at that.” then a pause “I’m not most people” Lia responded. There was no emphasis, no edge, no need to defend her answer or her teaching methods. Just fact. I looked back at the student, then at her, then to her hands. It was still, always still. Like they were never meant to interrupt.

And for the first time, I wasn’t just noticing it. I was trying to understand it. “You trust them a lot” I said. Lia didn’t answer me immediately, her gaze stayed where it had always been— at the student. “…I trust that they’ll hear it. That’s usually enough” she told me. I didn’t fully agree, didn’t fully understand it. But I didn’t dismiss it either.

The student started again. Stronger, more certain this time. it didn’t feel like improvement. It felt like something had shifted, without being touched. I stayed not because I needed to, but because I wanted to see if it would happen again.

I stayed not because I needed to, but because I wanted to see if it would happen again. The student didn’t stop this time. Not after the mistake, not after the hesitation. They just continued like they had already accepted it, worked around it, let it exist without letting it take over. And through all of it, Lia still hadn’t moved, she still hasn’t said anything more. Just watching and listening, letting it all happen. I let out a quiet breath “You always teach like this?” the question came out softer than I expected. A small pause “…Most of the time” she told me without looking back towards me, she didn’t need to. “And that works?” I asked her back. She nodded while telling me “Usually”. I looked back to the student in acknowledgement, not because I fully understood it. But because I didn’t need to. That was the part that both didn’t make sense and at the same time it did.  I looked at her then back to the student “…I get it”. The words came out quieter than I meant them to, but they stayed. Because I did, not everything, not completely, but just enough.

“I… I should get going” there wasn’t anything else to add, nothing else to ask. Nothing that needed to be said out loud. She nodded once, same as before. It was enough, it always was. I turned towards the door, my hand resting briefly against it before pushing it open. The sound of the piano followed me again. Clearer this time, not louder, it was easier to hear. I closed the door softly behind me as I stepped out, and for the first time, I didn’t stop. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I already knew I would come back. Not out of curiosity, not anymore. It was because of Lia. I exhaled quietly “…Right”.

I didn’t come back the next day. Not because I didn’t want to. Because I didn’t need to prove it to myself. The few days after that, I did. The door was open again, it usually was. I didn’t stop this time, I didn’t stand outside trying to decide if I should. I stepped in like I had already decided. Like it had already been decided for me. It was a different student, same room, same piano, and the same her. Nothing changed and yet it didn’t feel the same. I didn’t stay by the entrance, not intentionally, I just didn’t stop there. There was an empty chair near the wall, I took it without thinking. Lia didn’t look at me, not immediately, not like she hadn’t noticed. Just didn’t acknowledge it. The student was halfway through a piece, less hesitation this time, still imperfect, still learning, but she still played without holding back. I leaned back slightly, my arms resting loosely, not trying to stay out of the way anymore.

The student stopped, not from a mistake, just finished. She looked up at Lia, waiting. A small nod from her “That felt better”. The student smiled at her, then a pause “Again?”. Lia tilted her head slightly “If you want”. She didn’t hesitate, she started again. I let out a quiet breath before asking “You always let them decide that?” it wasn’t directed at her specifically, but she was the one who answered “Yes, I do”. There was no need to explain or elaborate. I nodded to myself, going back to watching the student perform her piece over and over again.

“You came back” Lia’s voice said to me which made me look up towards her. She wasn’t looking directly at me, but the way she said it acknowledges the observation. “…Yeah” I didn’t add anything else, there was no need for it. A small pause, “Why?” that one was quieter, not pressing, just there. I exhaled lightly, looked towards the piano, then back to Lia “I wanted to see if it would still work” I said with a light smile on my face “And?” she followed up. I hesitated, not cause I didn’t have an answer, but because I wasn’t sure of how much of it I was supposed to say “…It does” I gave her my response. It was simple yet true. She nodded in acknowledgement, that was answer enough for her.

The student was finally done with her piece, satisfied with the progress she had with today’s session with Lia. The room settled into the quietness again. Lia didn’t react any different. The same nod, the same silent acknowledgement. But she turned slightly to me. Not curiosity or evaluation, just awareness. That was new, and I didn’t look away. The moment didn’t stretch, it didn’t become anything more than it was, but it stayed. I leaned back, not leaving, not planning to. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like I was waiting for something to happen. It felt like something already had.

The student thanking Lia for the lesson and shifted towards me “Thank you for watching, sir”. I told her “I should thank you for letting me listen” before I waved her goodbye.  And for the first time, it felt like I wasn’t outside of it. I didn’t move, not immediately. There wasn’t a reason for me to. As for Lia, she didn’t return to the piano, she didn’t start resetting the room, she didn’t signal that the moment was over. She just stood there “You’re not in a hurry” not a question, but an observation “Not really” I told her. A small pause. She glanced toward the corner of the room “…There’s still tea”. I followed her gaze and then back to her “I would love some tea”.

The tea didn’t change much at first, it stayed what it was. A pause after the lesson. A reason not to leave immediately.  We didn’t talk much, not in the way most people would expect, no introductions beyond what was already said.  No questions that needed answers. Just conversation when it happened and silence when it didn’t. Somehow that was enough. The next time, I didn’t wait for her to mention it. I went to the corner before she did, poured two cups— she didn’t react, didn’t thank me, just took the one I handed her “I see that your teaching approach still works” I said and Lia gave me a nod “It usually does”.

It became easier after that. Not because anything changed. But because nothing needed to. I stayed after sessions, sometimes longer, sometimes just enough. She never asked me to, never told me to go either, that was our pattern. We didn’t always stay in the room. That changed without being decided. The first time it was because the door was locked earlier than expected— or maybe we just didn’t want to stay inside.

There was a path just outside the building. Not particularly quiet, not particularly busy either. We walked it once, without saying why. Then again, and again. It didn’t become routine, it just happened. “You don’t correct them” I said while we were walking. Not a question, just a statement. A small pause “I do” I glanced at her “…You don’t” she exhaled softly “I just don’t do it immediately” she looked back at me. That was the first time she added something, not much but more than before. I nodded “that makes sense” but it didn’t fully, but I stopped needing it to. We ended up somewhere else without planning it, a café.

It wasn’t unfamiliar, not to me. But it didn’t feel like my space. Not the way it used to. She looked around once. Not searching, just noticing “Do you come here often?” she asked me “Sometimes”, that wasn’t entirely untrue, but it was enough. We sat, ordered without thinking too much about it. She didn’t try to fill the silence, didn’t reach for conversation to make it feel complete and neither did I.

“You’re different here” I looked up. She was watching me “How?” I asked. “You listen less” she told me. I let out a quiet “…That’s not a good thing.” “It’s not a bad one either” she let out a giggle. That was it, no explanation or follow-up, but it stayed.

Time passed, not in a way I kept track of. Just in the way things started repeating without feeling the same. Different students, same room, same tea, same walks, same quiet conversations. And somewhere in between— something shifted. Not suddenly, but enough. “You don’t leave early anymore” she told me. I glanced back at her “…You noticed”. She looked away for a second “I always notice” and that didn’t sound like a statement or a claim. Just truth. I didn’t answer right away, the was no sense of urgency “There’s no reason to”. She nodded once, like that always made sense to her.

The tea was still warm in my hand, the room quieter than before. The space between us— unchanged, yet not the same. I set the cup down slowly “…Lia”. She looked at me, fully this time, not questioning or waiting. Just there. I held her gaze for a second longer than I usually would have, then— “…Do you want to keep doing this?” a pause, not hesitation. “We already are” that was her answer and somehow that was enough.

The tea stopped being something we thought about. It stayed where it always was, but it wasn’t the reason anymore. We didn’t always stay in the room, that changed without either of us saying it. Sometimes we walked, sometimes we didn’t. It depended on nothing in particular. The café wasn’t my idea, not entirely. We were already walking, already past the point where going back made any sense “…There’s somewhere nearby” I said without thinking too much about it. “Is there now?” she glanced at me “Yeah…” that was enough, she didn’t question it further.

The door opened with a sound I recognized before I even saw anything inside, it was a familiar voice, not in the way something new becomes interesting— but in the way something old stops asking for attention.

“Ji-hoon?” I turned to the voice It was Si-woo looking at me, surprised but not overly so. “It’s been a while!” he stepped closer, then glanced past me, at Lia. “…You’re not alone this time, huh” a hint of shock from Si-woo. “No…” I didn’t elaborate. He nodded, that was enough for him. “Dean Han, you disappeared after the last event. I thought we lost you to paperwork.” The worlds landed without weight, familiar and casual. “…Something like that.” I remember that was the day I left early to go watch Lia teach the piano, the paperwork was a lie. I glanced at Lia, not directly, just enough. She hadn’t reacted, just registered it. “I see” that was all she said.

There was no shift or change, that stood out more than anything else. “Come in” Si-woo said, stepping aside “Yeji’s around— she just started recently.” We went inside, not as guests, not as anyone important, just normal customers. She was working the counter, focused, moving with quiet efficiency. “Yeji” Si-woo called out to the lady in the counter. “This is Dean Han, and his friend—” he paused because he forgot to ask the lady her name. “…Lia” she said simply. Yeji nodded “Hi, welcome to the café”. “Hello” Lia nodded back.

That was it, no introductions beyond that. No reactions that meant anything more than they needed to. We sat without deciding where and ordered without thinking too much about it. The space filled itself conversations came when it did, and for once— neither of us tried to hold onto it.

She noticed it before I did, the Piano. It sat in the corner, not hidden, not highlighted, just there. Her gaze lingered on it for a second longer than everything else, then she stood. No announcement, no explanation, she walked towards it and sat down to play. The first few notes didn’t draw attention, not immediately. But they stayed clear and graceful. People noticed gradually, not because they were told to— but because they wanted to. I didn’t move, I heard her play in quieter rooms, in smaller spaces. But this was different, not louder, not more impressive, it was Lia unrestricted. There was no holding back, no adjustment, she wasn’t playing for anyone, and because of that everyone listened. I let out a quiet breath “Amazing…” and that was it. I didn’t need to understand it anymore, not completely, I just recognized it.

She finished the same way she always did. Clean and controlled, no reaction, no expectation of one. She stood, walked back, and sat down across from me. “That was different” I said. In a small voice she said “…It wasn’t” as she reached for her cup “I just did the same thing…” I nodded once “…Yeah” and that was enough for the both of us. We didn’t stay longer than we needed to. But we didn’t leave early either. That became our dynamic.

Time moved normally, not that I usually counted, just in ways I noticed. We sat somewhere without deciding where, not talking, doing nothing in particular. “You’re quiet today” I said “Am I?” “…More than usual” “I don’t feel like I have to say anything” that was new. I leaned back slightly “That’s not a bad thing.” “I know” she leaned back as well then a quick pause— “…Hey Ji-hoon” I glanced at her, she didn’t look like she noticed that she said it. “Yeah?” 

She didn’t answer immediately. Not because she had nothing to say, she didn’t need to. The silenced stayed, unchanged and for some reason it felt different. Our hands brushed once, not by accident, not entirely on purpose either. She didn’t pull away and neither did I. That was enough for us. But this time— we didn’t move away from it. The space between our hands stayed, closer than before. I shifted slightly, not enough to close the distance. Just enough to change it. She noticed, of course she did. But she didn’t pull away. Her gaze lifted, meeting mine and holding it. There wasn’t anything to say. Nothing that needed to be. I leaned in slowly, giving her time. She didn’t stop me, didn’t hesitate, didn’t look away. And when our lips met— it wasn’t sudden, it wasn’t uncertain. She stayed and that was the only thing that mattered.

When I pulled back slightly, she didn’t move. Her eyes still on mine. A small shift— then her forehead rested lightly against mine “Hey…” I held her gaze “…Yeah?” her breath softer now “Nothing…” She didn’t move away, there was no need to. The space between us stayed, closer than before. And after that, nothing changed. That was the part that mattered. No distance or awkwardness. No shift in how we spoke. Everything stayed the same, and for once— that felt right.

“…Lia?” I looked towards her. She looked at me this time, fully “…Should we make this official?” No emphasis, no hidden meaning behind it, just a question. She didn’t react immediately, but I didn’t sense any unsureness from her, I understood she didn’t need to rush the answer. A small breath, then she leaned a bit on me “…We already are”. I nodded once and that was enough.

Nothing changed after that, that was the first thing I noticed. There wasn’t a shift in how we spoke, no difference in how we sat across from each other, no adjustment in the space we left between us. If anything— it felt like we had removed something, not added.

The world didn’t move in ways a I kept track of, it settled. The room stayed the same, the piano, the quiet, the way she let things happen without stepping in. Students came and went. Different faces, same patterns. And somewhere along the way— I stopped watching for change.

“You’re doing it again” she said without looking at me. “…What?” “Listening” I let out a quiet breath “That’s not new”. “…No it's not” a small pause “But you don’t need to anymore”. That lingered longer than it should have. “…True, but I want to.”

We stopped walking the same paths. Not because we chose new ones. But because we didn’t need to repeat the old ones. Sometimes we stayed inside. Sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes we spoke, and sometimes we didn’t— and none of it felt incomplete.

There were moments that stood out. A hand resting where it hadn’t before, not moving away, not questioning it. Her leaning into me without noticing when it started. Or maybe, without caring. A silence that didn’t feel like space anymore. Just— presence. “…Ji-hoon” she called out to me. I glanced at her, she was already looking at me “…yeah?” I looked back at her “It’s nothing…” that would have meant something before. An unfinished thought, something waiting to be said. But now, it didn’t. “Okay” I nodded once.

The café didn’t feel like somewhere we went to anymore. It felt like somewhere we ended up. Si-woo stopped asking questions, not because he lost interest in my life— but because there was nothing left to clarify to him. Yeji greeted us the same way each time. Not curious or distant, just consistent. And honestly, I wish Si-woo was like that sometimes.

“You stopped holding back” I said without thinking. She didn’t react immediately “…I never did”. I looked at her “…You did.” “Well, I just don’t anymore” that was the first time she corrected herself.

Not for me, or for anything else. Just because it was true. That was when I understood it. Not her, not completely. But what had changed. She wasn’t waiting anymore, not for direction, permission, or anything. She just was. “…Jisu” she looked at me with surprise, I rarely used that name on her. “Should we make this permanent?” a question that had been there longer than either of us acknowledged. She didn’t answer immediately.

“…It feels like it already is.” She didn’t look away when she said it. Didn’t soften it. But there was a small pause after— like she was deciding to leave it there or not. “But—” her fingers shifted slightly against mine. Not pulling away, not holding tighter “—if you’re asking me that question… then yes” a quiet breath “I want to… with you… Ji-hoon.”

The café had settled into its usual rhythm. Conversations layered over each other without needing to be understood. Cups shifting, footsteps passing, the kind of noise that didn’t ask for attention. She didn’t say anything when her cup was empty, just turned it slightly in place. Not signaling anything, just done. I glanced at it and then back at her “Do you want another?” a small pause “…No”. We didn’t leave immediately, there wasn’t a reason to rush, there rarely was. But eventually— we stood. Not at the same time, just one after the other.

“Heading out?” Si-woo called from behind the counter “…Yeah” I told him, “See you around, dean Han.” I didn’t respond to that, he knows I rather be called by my name. Lia didn’t react either, she knew Si-woo was just messing with me.

The air outside felt different, not colder, just less contained. We walked without deciding where, same as before, same pace, same space between us but this time I reached out for her hand and she met mine in-between, our fingers interlocking the entire walk.

“…You don’t have anything to do after this?” I asked. “No” she responded normally “You?” “Not really”

With that, we didn’t turn toward the usual path. The route shifted slightly, Familiar streets, just approached differently. At some point, I slowed down. She matched my pace and without looking “You can come by, if you want” the words came out quieter than I expected. She didn’t answer immediately, but after a short silence “…Okay.” The rest of the walk stayed quiet, not empty, but we were satisfied with each other’s company. Then we arrived to my house.

The door closed behind us without a sound, the room inside undisturbed. She stepped in first, not hesitating, not looking around. Like she wasn’t unfamiliar with it, even if she hadn’t been to my house before. I set my keys down, more out of habit than anything else. Neither of us moved to fill the space, didn’t turn anything on or start anything. It stayed quiet, the kind that didn’t need to be broken.

She walked a few steps further in, then stopped. Not to turn, or to leave. Just there. “Ji-hoon…” she called out to but she wasn’t facing me. “What is it, Lia?” “…Nothing”

That should have meant something before, but now— it didn’t need to. I stepped closer, not all the way, just enough. She didn’t move or step back either. The space between us shifted. Not closed. But no longer distant.

I reached for her hand, slowly, not testing, or asking. She let it happen, like she already had. Her fingers settled against mine, she didn’t pull away from me, just fitting her fingers between the spaces of mine. She turned slightly towards me, not fully— and for the first time since we stepped inside. She looked at me, the redness and flustering of her face as she tried looked at me blushing was also a first time for me to see. She was as beautiful as the day I saw her inside that room, back when I never truly realized it. I had fallen in love with her and the thought didn’t feel like something I needed to say. Not now, not like this. Because it wasn’t something that needed to be proven or answered. It was just there.

My other hand went around her waist. Not enough to pull her closer just enough to let her feel it. She didn’t move away, didn’t try to hide it. The warm expression in her face stayed, unfiltered, unpracticed. That was new. And for once— she didn’t try to hold it back. I gave her a kiss, she wasn't against it, Lia even kissed me back afterwards.

I pulled her body closer to mine. Just enough for the space between us to change. Her fingers shifted slightly in mine, like she already decided. And in that moment— I realized it wasn’t just me. She felt it too, not in words, not in anything that needed to be explained, but in the way she stayed. The room stayed quiet, uninterrupted. And there wasn’t anything left to hold back.

I slowly moved my hand which was still interlocked with hers towards me. I wasn’t rushing it, just enough for her to notice. Her fingers paused slightly against mine, she didn’t pull away from me and that told me all that I needed to know. My lips brushed lightly against the back of her hand, her skin soft— unfamiliar only in the way something new always was. She didn’t react immediately, but I could hear it in her subtle breaths, it wasn’t enough to interrupt the moment, just enough to exist in it. As I moved slowly along her forearm, my touch lingering— her gazed dropped for a moment. Not hiding or avoiding… only noticing. When I moved closer, Lia didn’t step back. She didn’t shift away from me, her shoulder stayed where they were.

I shifted once more towards her neck, my pace still slow— slow enough for her to stop it if she wanted to… but she didn’t. Her eyes lifted again, meeting mine this time holding it. When I leaned in, letting my lips brush lightly against her neck, she exhaled softly.  Not sharp, not startled, just there. Then she turned her head towards me. Her gaze steady “Ji-hoon” her voice was softer this time. Not asking, not stopping “…Yeah?” a small pause, her fingers shifted slightly in mine “You’re different”. I let out a quiet breath “…You are too”. That wasn’t something I planned to say, and she didn’t respond right away, not with words. And this time when I leaned in, she didn’t just stay. She met me halfway. The second kiss was deeper this time, our tongues making contact against each other. Her hand slowly slipped from mine— finding its place against my shoulder, then higher resting gently near my neck. By the moment our lips parted a second time, she murmured softly "That felt... nice” and I look back to her “…it did”.

At some point, the distance shifted again, not farther— just somewhere else. I stepped back slightly. She followed. Not because I led her, just because she didn’t stop. The edge of the bed met the back of her knees before either of us noticed. She sat without thinking about it and I stayed close.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Not because we didn’t know what came next— but because there wasn’t any reason to rush it. She looked up at me, the same way she always had. Steady and present, but without the distance that used to be there. My hand found hers again. Not searching, just returning. Her fingers settled into mine like they had before, familiar now. I lowered myself slightly, enough to close the space between us without breaking it. She didn’t lean back. Didn’t create distance. Her hand slipped from mine. Not pulling away— just moving.

Her hand remained where it was, resting against me, but this time it didn’t stay still. It moved slowly feeling until her fingers traced lightly along the fabric as if noticing it for the first time. Then continuing, I watched her no longer holding back as my hand followed the same path, from her shoulder down to her back. She didn’t stop me. Instead, her hand tightened on my clothes unbuttoning my shirt at the same pace I unhooked her bra. And when I did, she leaned forward— her body deciding before she did. Our foreheads met again for a brief second, her breath warm and steady. The room stayed quiet, the only sound was the shift of our movements and her breath meeting mine. The light from the window traced along her body, clearer now. For a moment this made me pause, not because I needed to, but because I saw her. Fully— without anything between us. My eyes met her gaze, the way she looked at me made me understand “Ji-hoon… stay” she said with a gentle voice as I nodded once, “I am”. Our hands led each other as I got closer, this time she leaned back— the bed gave way beneath her as she settled into it naturally.

I followed on top of her, giving her another passionate kiss as I slowly cupped her supple breast with one hand. My free hand continued to explore her body once again. As I went to release the kiss, slowly going down from her neck to her navel— the cooing sound Lia made from me exploring every crevice of her as my other hand was still on her breast was feeling her nipple getting harder. I could tell there was a mutual desire we shared, I wanted her in the moment same way she wanted me.

She wanted me to explore more of her as much as I wanted to. My touch lingered at her hips then to her thighs before I carefully slid the fabric away, revealing her in a way that felt less like discovery and more like being trusted with something delicate. “May I?” I asked without looking back at her as she could only nod in approval since words could not form from the whimpering she let out in response to how I caressed her body.

I leaned in to and started planting kisses towards her core between her thighs, until I could feel the heat and moisture coming from her. The scent of her musk was intoxicating. Her inner lips were glistening and covered in her nectar from the kisses I gave it, I kept going as she started to hold my head in place, this time my tongue kept on exploring her folds as my fingers played around her slit until found the pearl of her clit which gave her an even louder reaction. The moaning became more frantic telling me she was close as I kept going. But before she could reach her climax, Lia mustered enough strength to let out a few words. “I-I want it… Ji-hoon”.

I raised my body up with the intention of giving her what she wanted. My hand guiding my dick around her folds and started rubbing it against her slit, drenching it in her fluids before making one swift motion. Lia squirmed a bit, holding her voice in and gripping on the sheets as I finally discovered what it felt to be inside of her. The feelings was tight— warm and slick. Her moans were starting to escape in small and subtle noises from her mouth as she started to feel me inch by inch. I kept my pace the same until she started to adjust to it herself, expressing the jolts of pleasure I gave her in patterns the matched my movements inside her.

I was in the same situation. I could feel Lia's warmth of her inner walls constricting my dick as it moved inside of her, hugging my cock as if it was scared that every time I would move outwards that it would leave. “Lia…” I managed to let out a few words “You feel so amazing” I told her as I was trying to keep my pace. My eyes met hers, she was flustered, but her eyes never left mine “I c-can feel every part of you inside me too, Ji-hoon… You feel great too” she told me as her arms wrapped around my body.

Neither of us held back, she met the pace of my thrusting, the way her breast bounced along with our motions, the way her legs wrapped around my waist. The feeling being one with Lia was too much for me to bear. And for the first time she started picking up the pace— taking the lead away from me, pulling my torso closer to her as she reached in for a passionate kiss. I could only match her, my hips thrusting to meet hers during the downward motion.

I didn’t know how long I could hold my orgasm, but I could feel how Lia's movements became more erratic, I could feel the way her walls was pulsing more around my dick and becoming tighter— she was also reaching her climax.

“Lia… I’m close.” I told her. “Keep going” she managed to whimper “I’m close too.”

I paused for a bit, my shaft was outside of her, only the tip left inside. Then I went for one last powerful thrust, going deeper inside her as I gave in to my orgasm. I groaned her name as I flooded her insides with my cum— the feeling of my seed pumping inside her causing her to climax as well. We stayed still together for while after that, I didn't pull outside of Lia yet— both of us out of breath from earlier. Eventually my legs lost all strength as I laid beside her in the bed, both of us still trying to catch our breath, neither of us moved away.

The room had gone quiet again. Not the same as before— but not different either. Lia’s eyes were half-lidded now, not from exhaustion alone, but from the absence of anything left to hold back. My hand shifted slightly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face giving her forehead a quick peck. For a moment neither of us said anything, then her fingers found my wrist “Ji-hoon” her voice soft, slower than before “…Yes, Lia?” I looked back towards to her, Lia's half-lidded gaze was already on me “Y-you really didn’t… hold back”. I let out a quiet breath “No… holding back would have been impossible.” her gaze softened slightly with understanding as her hand shifted slightly settling more comfortably against me. And without thinking about it— I moved closer. Her head rested lightly against me, her hand hugged my chest, and her breathing slowed matching mine without effort. The light fading just enough, softening everything around us. At some point without noticing when we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The light came in gradually. Not enough to wake us, just enough to be noticed. I shifted slightly, only waking up just now. Lia’s eyes opened slowly, finding me almost immediately “Good morning, Ji-hoon” her soft voice more unfiltered “…You’re still here” I let out a soft smile “I wouldn't be anywhere else” not surprised, just relieved. And instead of creating distance, she stayed closer— like it wasn’t something she needed to think about anymore.

The kitchen was quiet, it felt unfamiliar with company this early in the morning. I watched her move slowly, noticing the same things I always had. She set something down the table along with some coffee. Simple, nothing elaborate. Then she went to look at me cooking “Ji-hoon?” I paused a bit “Yes?” looking back at her handing me a mug of coffee. Her fingers wrapping around the mug, still “Last night…” she didn’t continue immediately “You didn’t… stop, at all”. I held her gaze, realizing what she meant “I…didn’t”. A quiet moment passed between us. She didn’t look away, didn’t retreat from it. Her face blushing a bit “Okay…” and just like that— it wasn’t something that needed to be revisited.

I checked the time after finishing our breakfast, it was a habit more than anything else “… I have to head in early today.” She looked at me, not with a hint of surprise or disappointment, just awareness “You got important dean things today?” I let out a small chuckle “Yup, dean things.” She nodded once “Alright” no attempt to stop me. I stepped closer to give her a kiss in the cheek, not out of obligation or to say goodbye, it just felt right. She didn’t move away or step back, she went for a peck in my lips, unsatisfied with just a cheek kiss. “I’ll come by later” I told her with a flustered expression, she said softly “I’ll be there” I nodded and that was enough.

The café hadn’t changed, the same quiet hum beneath everything, cups shifting, low conversations blending into something indistinct. The kind of noise that didn’t ask to be noticed. I stepped in without thinking like I always had. Si-woo glanced up, immediate recognition “You’re early” he mentioned the obvious “I had time” I told him as he didn’t pry any deeper. That’s how we usually interacted. I took my seat, the space across from me stayed empty for now. I didn’t check the door, didn’t look at the time. The cup was already there before I asked for it, set down quietly. It was routine, just then— the door opened, a soft, barely noticeable voice “You got here first” I looked up. Same as always, unchanged “I had time” I said as she sat across from me like she always did. Nothing about it felt new “You didn’t leave yet” I mentioned “I said I’d come by” Lia gave me a small smile. Si-woo passed by without stopping, leaving Lia’s drink at the table, he didn’t comment, he didn’t linger. We didn’t question it.

The moment settled into place, naturally. “You’re a little quieter today” I said “…Am I?” she asked out of curiosity “Just a little” she considered it “I don’t feel like I have to say anything”. I nodded “You don’t”. That was it, no shift or need to fill in the silence. The shared space was enough. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like something passing through, it felt like something that stayed.  

Life didn’t move in a way I kept track of. Things didn’t change all at once, they just continued. The café, the walks, the quiet, her. Everything remained— just deeper. The mornings came easier, not because they were quieter, but because nothing felt uncertain anymore. Lia didn’t hesitate to stay, didn’t question where she belonged. The space we lived in changed slowly, not through intention or planning.

“Jian…” her voiced carried the same way it always had, gentle and steady. The child stirred slightly in her arms. She carefully adjusted him without thinking, the same way she did everything. I stood by the doorway for a moment, not interrupting— only watching. Nothing about her had changed, not the way she moved, not the way she spoke, only what those things meant. “Ji-hoon” she called out to me “Yeah?” a small pause, then she shifted closer to me. Jian’s small hand curled instinctively, then reached outward. I stepped closer letting him hold onto my finger. There wasn’t anything dramatic about it. I gave Jian a kiss in the head and Lia in the cheek before heading out.

The café stayed the same, most of the time. Same table, same ambiance, but sometimes it felt lighter. Like it felt like it was missing something that no one seemed to notice, Si-woo didn’t question it and neither did I. There were moments, small ones that didn’t last long enough to hold onto. A figure passing by the window, a pause at the door. Someone unfamiliar, but not entirely. And then the figure would be gone. No one reacted, no one followed it. And whatever it was, it didn’t stay long enough to matter. The days continued, the same as always, only fuller— somewhere along the way, I stopped wondering if any of it would change. Because nothing about it felt temporary anymore.

It was a normal day, same routine, same café, same table, same seat. But something about felt… different. Not wrong, just still. I sat there with Lia longer than usual. She was holding Jian in her arms, a book resting lightly in her other hand. He had settled against her without effort, quiet, and content. She turned a page slowly, nothing about the moment stood out. It wasn’t quiet in a way that felt empty, it wasn’t slow in a way that needed to move.

Jian shifted slightly in her arms, a small movement— barely noticeable. She just adjusted him without looking, the same way she did everything. “Ji-hoon” she called to me “What is it?” I looked up at her “Jian’s getting heavier”. I let out a soft chuckle “Babies tend to do that when they grow, dear.” A faint shift in her expression. Not quite a smile, but it was close. Jian’s hand moved slightly, reaching. He found the edge of the table first, then to mine. Lia let her book down as I let Jian hold my finger. For a moment, everything felt serene. Then the door opened. Soft yet unremarkable. Someone stepped in, an unfamiliar figure.

The figure had a cap pulled low, face partially hidden. The person didn’t hesitate or look around— just walked in. Si-woo glanced up, it was routine “What can I get you?” he asked with a smile. The figure took a second to look at Si-woo “…Anything’s fine” the voice felt familiar, but not something that could be placed. Si-woo nodded and didn’t question it. The person moved toward the window, taking a seat. For a moment the figure looked up. Not at anything in particular, just through the room. I met that gaze for a moment, there was no recognition or reaction, just a brief pause. Like something almost aligned but didn’t. Then it passed as quickly as it arrived, the person looked away like nothing happened.

Jian shifted again in her arms, and then he didn’t. The movement didn’t finish. It simply stopped where it was. The page in her hand remained half-turned. The sound of the café held in place. Not silenced, just unmoving. Lia didn’t react immediately. Not because she didn’t notice. Because it wasn’t sudden. It was wrong in a way that took a second to settle. Her gaze lifted slowly, not alarmed— just aware.

“Ji-hoon?” no response. Not because he ignored her, because he couldn't. That was when she understood. A voice was heard, not from a direction, not from a presence she could locate “Time has reached its limit.” No emphasis, no change in tone. Lia didn’t move, her arms remained around Jian. “…You’re stopping it.” Lia responded. “Only temporarily” the voice told her. “It cannot continue on like this” the voice belonged to Unmyeong. Lia looked down at Jian, his hand still resting against her mid-motion. “Is it because I stayed?” “Because you remained” A short pause this time “None have remained as long as you have” Her gaze lifted again, steady “And now?” A fraction of a pause, the first hint of constraint in the answer “There is no time left to extend” Unmyeong told Lia. “Everyone else has already made their choice”. No names, no explanation. “You are the one who remains.”

Lia didn’t respond immediately. Not because she didn’t understand. But she already did “And this is where I have to choose, correct?” Unmyeong’s silence was the only response she needed to hear. The space within her shifted. Not as a memory, not at first. It was a feeling. A stage beneath her feet, lights above, voices that carried farther than this room ever could. It was familiar. Her fingers tightened slightly around Jian. Not in fear, but in recognition. Then more returned to her. Faces, laughter, a life that had never stopped existing. And suddenly it was all there. Not in fragments or pieces. Everything. The years she lived here. The life she had built. And the life she had come from. Both complete.

She didn’t move, didn’t reject what came back either. She simply stood in both. “You cannot have both” there was no shift in Unmyeong’s tone. No hesitation. “One continues” a pause “One ends— you will not remember the other”. Lia’s gaze went back to Jian, then to Ji-hoon. Both still, unaware, unmoving, unreachable. “If you choose—” Unmyeong told her in a measured tone “Choose without obligation.” “Not for them, not for this, only for yourself.” Nothing pressed her, nothing pulled her, for the first time there was nothing left to weigh. A quiet breath left her, it was steady “…I know” she didn’t hesitate. Her hold on Jian remained exactly the same “This is enough, I am staying.” Unmyeong’s silence once again answered for her, not in reaction— but in completion.

The sound returned first. Not all at once, just enough to notice. A cup set down somewhere behind her, a chair shifting. Jian moved in her arms— a small, quiet sound following. Lia blinked, she didn’t remember doing it. For a moment, something felt off and then it passed. “Ji-hoon?” Lia’s voice was clear. I looked at her she was already watching me, the same way she always had. “Yes, dear?” a small pause. “For a second I thought you stopped moving” she was looking at me more than usual. “D-did I?” I let out a confused sound. “It was just probably me” she brushed it off.

I glanced down at my hand, the hand Jian was holding onto. It was light and steady “You must have been tired from last night.” I said without giving it thought “…Maybe” Lia no longer pressed it. She adjusted Jian in her arms, careful, natural, the same way she always did. I watched her for a moment longer than I needed to. Not because something was different. It felt settled, more than usual “We should head back soon” Lia agreed. She shifted slightly closer to me, and it felt right for all three of us.

Jian stirred again, fitting between us without effort. Nothing about it felt new. That was the part that stayed with me. Not the moment. Just how natural it all felt. Like it had always been this way and how it always would be.

EPILOGUE

The café door opened, a familiar figure moved in again, same cap, same way the face was partially hidden. The figure didn’t hesitate this time— just walked in towards the counter. Si-woo gave the same question “What can I get you?” as he does with all his customers “…Something warm” different this time, not dismissive. Si-woo nodded, still not questioning anything. That was how it always went. The figure was enjoying her drink in the corner of the café, that’s when Ji-hoon and Lia walked in towards the counter, Jian with them as usual.

Jian reached toward something unseen, and Lia caught his hand instinctively “Careful, little one” her voiced carried a warm tone. Ji-hoon glanced at her “He gets that from you” Lia looked back at me “… I doubt that, he takes his curiosity from you” she chuckled.

The figure by the corner watched, not intruding or holding onto it. Just witnessing. Their fingers tightened slightly around the cup. Not out of tension— but out of memory “…You chose to stay too.” it was barely a whisper, not meant for them or for anyone. A small breath left her, steadily. Not regret or sadness, just acceptance “I’m glad for you.” she took a sip from her drink this time before going back to observe in silence.

Everything kept on moving the way it always had, quietly. Nothing changed all at once. It never did. But something settled. The mornings came easier. Not because they were different, but because they felt right, “Ji-hoon, honey” I looked up. From across the room “Something wrong?” I pondered at Lia “You’re going to be late” I looked at my watch “You’re right,” then she approached me with a pouting expression “Then why aren’t you moving?” I let out a breath “Because you haven’t told me to yet.” a faint shift in Lia’s expression. Something lighter “…Go” but she didn’t turn away when she said it. And when I passed by— she reached for me. She took a quick peck on my lips and patted me down. Jian ran around in small steps, unsteady “Jian, slow down. You’re going to trip.” she caught him mid-step, lifting him up slightly. She took Jian close to me “Say bye-bye to daddy before he leaves for work.” It was a normal routine before I left for work. But the only difference this time was with Jian, his mouth slowly uttered the word “A… a… appa”.

I didn’t move immediately. Not because I didn’t hear him, but because I did. “Did you hear that? Did he just—” I glanced at Lia, she was already looking at me. Not surprised, but jealous “He did, and it was supposed to be ‘Eomma’ first” she kept pouting “It’s fine, the next one we have, we’ll make sure she calls out ‘Eomma’ first, then our third one will be the tie breaker” I laughed at her. Hearing this made Lia blush red like a tomato, this was the first time I brought up giving Jian siblings to her “Seriously, Ji-hoon” her voice dropped slightly, not scolding, just caught. I raised my hand slightly “…I’m just saying.” She looked away for a moment, not avoiding— just collecting herself “You’re definitely going to be late.”

“I know” a small smile found its way into Lia’s face “Seriously… get going” she leaned in with Jian in her hands— another quick kiss. Softer this time, less playful. Then she pulled back just enough “Alright, I’ll get going” I said a bit flustered “Be good for mom, Jian” I said before leaving. He didn’t answer, just held on to Lia. She shifted Jian in her arms again, a soft voice coming from her “Jian… We’ll let him win this one for now” a giggle leaving Jian’s face hearing that from his mother.

Outside the day continued. the day continued, and inside so did everything else. And for the first time it wasn’t something she had to hold onto. It was simply… hers.

Author's Note:

I took my time with this one for three reasons: 1. I was in a writing slump for a few days 2. This was the story I originally had for Yeji (she is my ult), but I had to be honest and give it to the member who I believed deserved it the most 3. I had to pause cause I ran out of ideas when I was writing this story, but a certain other author reminded me the reason I started to write.

[afterhours37]

If It Were Me – Ryujin: The Life Where I Didn’t Look Back

Keywords: Smut, Choice-Based, Romance, Emotional Aftermat, What-If

Word Count: 7,800

She didn’t hate it, that was the strange part. Nothing felt wrong or out of place. The music hit where it was supposed to, the timing lined up the way it always did, and every movement followed through exactly how it was practiced. It was clean and right, but it also felt empty. Ryujin caught her reflection mid-turn, her body finishing the motion before her thoughts did. There was nothing off about it. No mistakes to fix. No reason to stop. Yet, she did.

“…Again?” someone asked from behind her. She didn’t answer right away. Just stood there, staring at herself like she was expecting something to change if she waited long enough. “No,” she said finally, stepping back from the mirror.

It wasn’t exhaustion. She wasn’t tired. If anything, her body still felt ready to go again, like it always did. Like it was trained to. That was the problem, everything felt automatic. “Unnie?” She glanced to the side, someone waiting, expecting her to lead like she always did. Fix something. To say something, to do something.

Ryujin just shrugged lightly. “Take five,” she said. No one questioned it. They never did. She grabbed her jacket without thinking too much about it, slipping it on as she walked out before anyone could say anything else. The door shut behind her with a soft click, cutting off the music like it didn’t matter anymore.

The hallway was quieter, too quiet. Ryujin just kept on walking. She didn’t have anywhere to go. No plan. No reason. Her steps just carried her forward, hands tucked into her pockets as she moved like she’d done this a hundred times before. The air outside felt colder than she expected. She didn’t stop.

The streets weren’t busy. Not empty either. Just… there. People passed by without looking twice, conversations blending into the background in a way that didn’t ask for attention. It was easy to disappear into it. Ryujin let out a quiet breath, her shoulders relaxing without her noticing. “…This is better,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t know why she said that.

There wasn’t anything better about it. Nothing had changed. It was just a different place, same night, same her and yet— it felt lighter. Ryujin slowed her pace slightly, glancing around like she was expecting something to stand out. Nothing did. Just buildings, dim lights, the usual late-night quiet settling into the city.

For no reason, she stopped walking; or maybe there was one. “Have I been here before?” The question came out without much thought, her gaze drifting across the street like something was supposed to answer her.

Ryujin tilted her head slightly, “…Huh, weird.” She should’ve turned back. There was practice. Schedules. People waiting. Things she was supposed to do. She didn’t move. A second passed and then another, nothing pulled her back. Ryujin exhaled softly, shifting her weight before turning—not toward where she came from, but further down the street instead “Whatever.” It wasn’t a decision. Not yet but it was enough.

She kept on walking. She didn’t know how long she’d been walking. It wasn’t far. It just felt like it.

The streets got quieter the further she went. Fewer people. Fewer lights. The kind of place no one really paid attention to unless they were already looking for it. Ryujin slowed when she noticed the sound. Not music. It wasn’t loud enough for that. Just… something steady.

A faint rhythm slipped through a partially open door along the side of a building. It wasn’t meant to be heard from outside, but it was just enough to catch her attention. She stopped, not because she was curious. Just because she didn’t feel like moving yet. Her eyes lingered on the door for a second longer before she reached for the handle and pushed it open without thinking too much about it.

The air inside felt different and the sound became clearer. The sound of footsteps moving in a rhythm, but it was only from one person. Ryujin stepped in quietly, the door shutting behind her with a soft click that barely echoed through the space. It wasn’t big. Just an open floor, mirrors lining one wall, dim lights overhead that made everything feel a little more distant than it actually was.

And in the middle of it— someone moved. It didn’t look rehearsed nor did it look like the movements were being polished. It was just movement. Ryujin didn’t say anything. Didn’t step forward either. She just stood there near the entrance, watching without announcing herself. There wasn’t anything special about it. No sharp precision. No need to impress. But it didn’t feel empty— that was the part she noticed. The movement didn’t look like it was trying to be anything, it just was.

The music cut off before she realized it had been playing at all. The room went quiet. “You’re blocking the door.” The voice came without much reaction behind it. Ryujin didn’t move right away “then tell me to move,” she replied, just as flat. A beat of silence passed. “…Move.” She huffed a quiet breath through her nose, not quite a laugh, before finally stepping further in and letting the door clear behind her. “Better,” she said. He didn’t respond to that. Just walked past her without much thought, reaching for his phone to replay the track. The screen lit up briefly before the same rhythm filled the room again. Ryujin leaned back lightly against the wall, arms folding as her gaze drifted back to him.

He didn’t ask why she was there, didn’t tell her to leave either. Just kept moving like she wasn’t something that needed to be acknowledged. “You always dance like that?” The question slipped out before she thought about it. He didn’t even stop to look at her. “Like what?” he asked. She tilted her head slightly, watching him finish a turn before answering. “Like no one’s watching.” Another pause.

“Did it look like that to you?”  No change in tone or reaction. Ryujin let out a quiet breath, her head leaning back against the wall as she stared at the ceiling for a second. “…Yeah.” That didn’t feel like the right answer, but she didn’t correct it. The music kept going. So did he and for some reason— she didn’t leave.

The music looped again. Ryujin didn’t keep track of how many times. At some point, she stopped pretending she was just passing through. Her arms dropped from where they were folded, pushing herself off the wall to get a closer look, just close enough to become an observer.

He didn’t acknowledge it. Keeping the same rhythm and movement from how he started. the same pace and still unbothered. “So do you come here often?” She didn’t look at him when she asked it. “Sometimes”. Ryujin glanced over, watching him finish a sequence like it didn’t require any effort at all. “That doesn’t answer anything.”

“It wasn’t supposed to.” he responded quickly without intention to keep the conversation going, Ryujin huffed softly through her nose, something close to amusement this time. “Right.” Silence settled again— not awkward. It was the kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled. Ryujin shifted her weight slightly, eyes tracing the mirror without really focusing on her reflection this time. “You’re not very talkative.” He slowed just slightly, not stopping.

“You’re still here.” That made her pause. “…So?” “So you don’t seem to mind.” he replied without thinking. She stared at him for a second longer than necessary. “You always this annoying?” “Sometimes.” Hearing him say that almost made her laugh, almost. Ryujin looked away again, letting out a quiet breath as her shoulders relaxed without her noticing. “Weird.” “What is?” She didn’t answer right away. Because she didn’t really have one. The music cut again this time he actually stopped, but not because of her. Just because he was done.

He walked over to the side without looking at her, grabbing a towel and running it lightly over the back of his neck before reaching for a water bottle. Ryujin watched him from where she stood, head tilting slightly “You don’t ask questions.” He took a sip before answering “No”. Curiosity getting the better of her “Are you this anti-social or do pretty girls like me leave you breathless?”

He lowered the bottle, glancing at her briefly for the first time since she walked in. Not curious. Just acknowledging.

“You’d answer if I did?” eyeing Ryujin out from head to toe, stopping at her eyes. She held his gaze for a second before looking away. “…Probably not.” she smirked. “Then there’s no need to ask” he went back to drinking his water.

Ryujin exhaled softly, shifting her stance before approaching center of the room Her steps were slow, unhurried as she moved toward the spot. He didn’t stop her, yet he didn’t move either. He just watched her approach him. She didn’t say anything before stepping into the open space.

The music wasn’t playing anymore. Still— she moved, not clean or sharp like any of the choreographies she spent hours drilling into her body. She just moved in a different from the dance she practiced earlier, less controlled but more primal. Her reflection caught in the mirror again, but she didn’t focus on it this time. No correction or checking any of her movements— she just kept going.

A step, a turn, something slightly off— she didn’t fix it. That was new. The movement slowed on its own before stopping completely, her breathing steady as she stood there for a second longer than she needed to. “Something tells me you haven’t let loose like this in a long time.” His voice cut through the quiet. Ryujin glanced over her shoulder “You were watching?” She turned fully this time, one brow lifting slightly “Thought you said you don’t ask questions.”

“I didn’t.” “…Then what was that?” “A statement.”

She stared at him for a second “You’re annoying.” He could only smirk “Only when I want to be.” There it was again. Ryujin let out a quiet breath, shaking her head slightly before stepping back toward the edge of the room.

“…You got a name?” “Kang Min-jae.” She nodded once. “Shin Ryujin.”

Both acknowledged the name, no reaction or recognition. Acknowledgement was enough. Then music started again. And this time— She didn’t stand by the wall to wait or watch. The music settled into the space again, softer this time. Ryujin didn’t rush into it. She just stood there for a second, letting the sound sit before moving. No counting. No markers to hit. Just instinct.

A step forward, a shift in weight. Nothing precise and it didn’t bother her. Min-jae didn’t say anything either. He just leaned back slightly against the wall this time, watching without looking like he was paying attention.

During her show of movements, Ryujin was caught of balance with a simple question, “You always do that?” His voice cut in, casual. Ryujin didn’t stop moving “Do what?”. Min-jae leaning on the wall this time “Walk into places like you belong there.” That almost threw her off. Almost. “I didn’t say I belong here.” she replied. Min-jae “You didn’t have to, and I never said that you never belonged here.”

She slowed, glancing at him briefly before turning away again “…You’re assuming a lot.” A brief silence before telling her “Not really.” The kind that lingered just long enough to feel intentional. Ryujin exhaled quietly, her movements losing even more structure the longer she kept going. It wasn’t better. Just easier. Her foot dragged slightly off-beat. She didn’t fix it. “You don’t correct yourself.” She stopped this time “…What?” Min-jae pointed out “You messed up.”

Ryujin stared at him for a second. “And?” “Nothing. You kept going.” Min-jae shrugged.

That didn’t sit right. “You’re not gonna say anything?” He shrugged his shoulders, “I just did.”

“That wasn’t—” she stopped herself, exhaling softly through her nose. “…You’re annoying.” “Only when I want to be.” There it was again. Ryujin shook her head slightly, stepping back and running a hand through her hair. “You always dance like that too?” He tilted his head slightly “Like what?” “Like it doesn’t matter.” A beat passed. “It doesn’t.” She frowned slightly at that “Then why even do it?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just pushed himself off the wall and stepped back into the space, the music still playing low in the background. “Same reason you walked in.” That— she didn’t have an answer for that. Her gaze followed him as he moved again, slower this time. Not performing. Not practicing, just existing in the moment.

Ryujin leaned back slightly, watching without realizing she had stopped thinking about leaving completely. No checking the time, her phone sat in her pocket— untouched. There was probably something on it. Messages. Schedules. Something she was supposed to do. She didn’t reach for it.

“You always this quiet?” She didn’t look at him when she asked “Sometimes.” “That’s not an answer.” ““Didn’t say it was supposed to be.” She let out a small breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. “…Right.” Another pause. Longer this time.

Ryujin pushed herself off the wall again, stepping forward without saying anything this time. Her movements weren’t mirroring his nor following. He didn’t stop her. They moved in the same space without syncing, without clashing. Separate but not disconnected— it was a new feeling. Ryujin slowed after a while, her breathing steady as she came to a stop again. She didn’t look at the mirror this time.

You’re not going back, are you?” The question slipped out before she thought about it. He stopped. Not abruptly, he just paused. “To what?” She opened her mouth but there were no words that followed. For a second, something flickered. A room, music, movement— gone just as quickly. “Nothing,” she said instead. Min-jae didn’t press. Ryujin looked away, her jaw tightening just slightly before she exhaled again. It didn’t feel wrong. That was the part she couldn’t figure out and for some reason— she didn’t try to fix that either.

The music faded out again, but this time neither of them moved to restart it. The room stayed quiet, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty—just settled. Ryujin didn’t step back, and Min-jae didn’t move either. Not watching, not avoiding, just… there. A second passed, then another, and even when she shifted her weight slightly like she was about to move, she didn’t.

“You always stop like that?” Ryujin asked, her voice quieter than before. Min-jae glanced at her briefly before answering, “Only when there’s nothing to follow.” That answer lingered longer than it should’ve, enough for her to tilt her head slightly as she studied him again.

“You don’t try to fix anything,” she said, not as a complaint—just something she noticed. Min-jae shrugged lightly. “Does it look like it needs fixing?” She didn’t answer right away, because for once… it didn’t. That was new. Ryujin exhaled quietly, something in her shoulders loosening without her realizing it. “Huh… Strange.”

She didn’t step away. If anything, she stepped closer—just enough to make the space between them feel smaller, not enough to call attention to it. Min-jae noticed but didn’t move to close it or create distance. He just let it be.

“You’re not going to say anything?” she asked. “About what?” She gestured vaguely between them. “This.” A brief pause settled between them before his gaze met hers properly this time—steady, not questioning. “You’re still here.” That again. But this time, it landed differently. Ryujin held his gaze a second longer than she meant to before answering, “…Yeah, I am.” No follow-up, no reason—just that.

Her hand moved before she thought about it, not reaching fully—just brushing against his wrist again. Testing. Waiting. Min-jae didn’t pull away, didn’t react like it was something new. His hand shifted slightly, not grabbing—just meeting hers where it was.  Her fingers settled properly this time. No hesitation. No second guessing. “You always like this?” she asked quietly. “Like what?” “…Like nothing bothers you.” Min-jae following her gaze. “That’s not it.” She waited, and he didn’t rush to explain. Then— “You just don’t do anything that needs reacting to.”

That made her pause. Not because it surprised her—but because it made sense. Ryujin let out a quiet breath, her grip shifting slightly—not tighter, just more certain. “…That’s better,” she murmured under her breath, but the words stayed. Min-jae didn’t ask what she meant, he already understood.

The silence returned, heavier this time—not empty, just… settled. Ryujin stepped closer again, and this time there wasn’t really any space left. She didn’t stop herself, didn’t look away. Her gaze stayed on his, steady—like she had already decided something she didn’t feel the need to explain. “You’re sure about this” he said. Not challenging, just checking. Ryujin huffed softly through her nose. “…You’re still asking?” A beat passed before he leaned his head slightly. “…No.” That was it. Her hand slid from his wrist, slower this time—not leaving, just changing where it rested. Closer. More intentional. The distance between them disappeared without either of them acknowledging it, no buildup, no hesitation—just movement. And for once, Ryujin didn’t stop to think about it. She didn’t need to.

Ryujin hadn’t noticed how close she’d gotten until she didn’t step back. Min-jae didn’t move either, but he could feel it now—the heat, the shift in her breathing, the way her presence wasn’t just near anymore.

“…You’re warm,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a tease. Just an observation. Ryujin let out a soft breath, something between a scoff and a laugh. “…And you’re not?” His hand shifted slightly where hers had settled earlier, not pulling away—just adjusting to the contact. “You’re the one who didn’t stop moving,” he replied. She tilted her head just slightly, her gaze dropping for a second before returning to his. “…Didn’t seem like you were paying attention.”

“I was.” That answer came too easily. It lingered. Ryujin held his gaze for a second longer than she meant to, then reached for his hand again—this time without testing it first. Her fingers slid into his, interlocking naturally. Calloused. She noticed that but didn’t comment on it. Just tightened her grip slightly—not enough to hold, just enough to confirm it was real. “…You always like this?” she murmured. “Like what?” Her thumb brushed faintly against his knuckles, slow, absent-minded. “…Like you don’t react to anything.” Min-jae shook his head slightly. “That’s not it.” She waited. “You just don’t do anything that needs reacting to.”

That same reaction again. Ryujin exhaled quietly, her grip shifting just a little more, not hesitant anymore.

Ryujin didn’t let go. Her fingers stayed interlocked with his, steady now—no testing, no hesitation. The space between them had already closed; neither of them acknowledged it, but neither of them moved to fix it either.

Min-jae’s gaze dropped briefly but not avoiding, just tracking the shift. The way her grip changed. The way she didn’t pull back this time. “You always do that too?” he asked quietly. “Do what?” “Decide something and not say it.”

That made her pause. Not because she disagreed. Because he was right. Ryujin let out a quiet breath, her thumb brushing once against his knuckles before she looked back up at him. “…Yet you’re still here.”

But now it sounded different. Min-jae didn’t answer. Her gaze lingered longer than before, steady—no flicker, no hesitation. For a moment, it felt like she was waiting for something to interrupt it. Nothing did, so she didn’t stop. Her free hand lifted slightly, slower this time—not testing, not unsure. Just… moving. It hovered for a second near his shoulder before settling there, light but deliberate.

Min-jae’s hand shifted in response, not pulling her closer—just adjusting, grounding himself where she had already closed the distance.

“You’re not going to stop me?” she asked quietly. “Do you want me to?” A beat. Ryujin huffed softly, almost amused. “…No.” That was enough.

The rest of the distance disappeared without either of them deciding it out loud. She leaned in first. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Min-jae didn’t meet her halfway. He stayed where he was— and let her reach him. Like it had already happened before either of them acknowledged it. Ryujin didn’t pull away immediately.

That was the difference.

Her hand on his shoulder tightened just slightly, her fingers in his shifting again—not holding him there, just anchoring herself in the moment. Min-jae responded then—not taking over, not rushing it—just matching her, steady and grounded. The second contact wasn’t shorter. It wasn’t hesitant either. It settled. And for the first time since she stepped into that room— Ryujin didn’t feel the need to step back.

The moment their eyes met in that instant, they’re lips locked. Ryujiin’s body moving with a fire that desired to consume and Min-jae was something that refused to be swallowed whole— their whole bodies holding each other to the beat of their breathing, like a dance that needed no practice.

Min-jae picked Ryujin up from her thighs and she reacted by locking her legs around his waist. Little by little Ryujin started to take her clothes off and throwing them away without regard while refusing to let go of the kiss. The only thing left now was her underwear— she finally decided to let go, she held both hands on Min-jae’s face; a sliver of saliva connecting their lips, her face looking in-front of his showing off a wide grin “let’s see” she said before going back to kiss him. This time it was more assertive, her tongue trying to invade his mouth— this sudden attack caused Min-jae to fall sitting down with Ryujin on top of him.  He matched her with his own tongue not wanting to give in.

Ryujin this time was going for his pants, Min-jae helped her by removing his boxers— Ryujin’s hand was already on his hard cock, surprised with feeling it’s length.

Min-jae was already licking her neck while removing her bra to cup her firm breasts. This gave Ryujin enough time to get her underwear off, guiding herself over him, already slick, already ready—like she’d decided this long before she said it out loud. Her eyes were full of lust as she rubbed the tip of his cock around her flaps “Time for the main ev—" Min-jae didn’t even let her finish before he grabbed her waist and rammed his entire length inside her.

“Oh— Fuck” Ryujin could only yell “You’re bigger than I expected” she moaned as she placed her on his chest. “But I’m the one doing the riding here”. She pushed him down moving her ass up until only the tip was left inside before shoving her entire weight down to taking him fully, like she wasn’t easing into it—just committing.

“You’re so tight” Min-jae can only groan in the pleasure he was feeling as he felt Ryujin’s walls wrap around his cock. Ryujin was one to take the lead but the size of Min-jae’s dick was too much for her to keep her composure, this gave him the opening to flip her— this time it was Min-jae who was on top her “My turn now” he whispered in her ear before giving it a nimble and proceeding to stand up while his entire length was inside Ryujin.

Her own body betraying her as her own weight along with the pressure of Min-jae’s cock was sending waves of pleasure to her body. This time Min-jae grabbed her legs to turned her around while standing, causing Ryujin to be in a full nelson— making her see her reflection in the mirrors of the studio.

“Do you like it like this? Look at yourself” this made Ryujin look at her reflection in the mirror, she could clearly see her cunt drown Min-jae’s cock with her juices— the rush of excitement caused her to use her hands to fondle her clit and breast. And Min-jae could feel it from how Ryujin’s cunt got tighter.

“I’m not stopping—so don’t tell me to.” “Keep going! Fuck you’re in so deep” she started to fondle herself aggressively trying to catch her own orgasm too.”

Min-jae couldn’t hold it any longer, with one fluid motion he pumped all his cum deep inside Ryujin’s cunt as it refused to let him go. The hot feeling of being bred caused Ryujin to hit her orgasm too, causing her head to jerk back towards Min-jae and whimper as her pussy was dripping the floor with a mixture of his seed and her nectar.

The music was still playing. Neither of them moved to turn it off. It had changed at some point—slower now, softer. Something distant, almost weightless. It didn’t interrupt anything. It just… stayed. Ryujin didn’t move right away. Her breathing had settled, not rushed, not uneven, it was quieter than before. Her body hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t reset like it usually would.

That was the difference. For once, she didn’t feel the need to. Min-jae’s hand shifted slightly where it rested against her, not pulling her closer, not letting go either. Just there. Present in a way that didn’t ask anything from her. “You’re still here,” he said quietly. Ryujin let out a small breath, something almost like a laugh under it “…Yeah.”

The room stayed quiet again, the music blending into it without taking over. It wasn’t something she focused on. Just something she noticed—and didn’t bother changing. Ryujin shifted slightly, not to move away, just enough to settle more comfortably where she was. Her hand found his again without thinking, fingers brushing lightly before resting there. Min-jae glanced at her briefly—not checking, not questioning—just noticing. His grip adjusted slightly in response, steadying where her hand had settled.  No questions. No need to fill the silence.

That made it easier. “…You’re not going to say anything?” she asked after a while. “About what?” A pause. Ryujin huffed softly, her grip shifting just slightly. “…Nothing.” That was enough. The silence came back again, not empty. Just… settled and for once— Ryujin didn’t feel the need to break it.

The silence settled again, the kind that didn’t ask for anything. Ryujin didn’t move and Min-jae didn’t either. The music continued in the background—slow, distant, almost blending into the air itself. It wasn’t something she focused on. Just something that existed, like everything else in the room. Her fingers shifted slightly in his, not pulling away.

For a moment, it felt steady. Then something slipped. Not around her. Not in the room. Just— off. Ryujin’s gaze drifted slightly, not toward anything specific. Just enough to break from the stillness for a second. “Did you—” she started, then stopped. Min-jae glanced at her. “What?” She didn’t answer right away. Because she didn’t know.

It wasn’t a sound or any movement. It wasn’t anything she could point to. Just a shift. Like something had passed through the moment without touching it. Her grip on his hand tightened slightly—not out of fear, just instinct. “…Nothing,” she said after a second. Min-jae didn’t press. Of course he didn’t, his hand adjusted again where hers had shifted, steadying it without pulling her back into anything. That helped a little.

Ryujin exhaled quietly, her gaze settling again, forcing herself back into the moment. Back into something she could feel. But it lingered. That slight disconnect. Like the silence had stretched just a little too far. “…You feel that?” she asked, quieter this time. Min-jae shook his head slightly “No.” That made her pause. Not because she didn’t believe him. But because she still did. Ryujin let out a soft breath, her shoulders loosening just slightly as if brushing it off. “Weird,” she muttered. But she didn’t move away. Her hand stayed in his. Her body stayed where it was. Because whatever that was— it didn’t feel like something she needed to run from.

Ryujin let out a slow breath, her fingers still loosely intertwined with his. The warmth hadn’t faded. Neither had the stillness. It should’ve been enough and for a moment it was. Then it happened again.

Not a shift this time, it was something sharper. Her gaze stilled then a flash— too quick to follow but clearer than before, a light. Not soft like the room. Bright. Harsh in a way that didn’t belong here.

Her fingers tightened instinctively. Min-jae noticed. “Something wrong?” he asked, quieter this time. Ryujin didn’t answer immediately. Because for a second— she almost had it. A shape, movement. Not a random one, it wasn’t unfamiliar either. Just— gone before it could settle. She exhaled slowly, her grip loosening again “No… it’s nothing”. But that wasn’t as convincing this time. Min-jae didn’t push, his hand shifted slightly where hers had tensed—not pulling, not correcting—just steadying the contact again. That helped.

Ryujin leaned back just slightly, not enough to create distance, just enough to think. “…Weird,” she muttered again, quieter this time. But it didn’t feel the same as before. It wasn’t something she could brush off as easily. Her gaze drifted again—not searching, just… checking.

The room hadn’t changed. The music was still there. Min-jae was still there. Everything was exactly where it should be. So why did it feel like something didn’t belong? Her fingers moved again, absent-minded now, tracing lightly against his hand like she was grounding herself in something real. “Has this always been here?” she asked suddenly. Min-jae glanced at her “What?” Ryujin frowned slightly—not confused, just… unsure of the question itself “…This place.” Another beat. Min-jae shrugged lightly “Does it matter?”

That answer should’ve been enough. And for a second it almost was. Ryujin huffed quietly, her grip settling again, forcing herself to relax. “…No.” It didn’t. Not right now. She leaned back into the moment again, closing whatever distance she had created without thinking about it. Because whatever that was— it still hadn’t changed the one thing that mattered. She was still here. And she wasn’t leaving.

The quiet didn’t break. It stretched. Not uncomfortable. Just long enough to notice. Ryujin stayed where she was, her hand still loosely in his. The warmth was still there. The grounding. But something didn’t settle the same way it did before.

Her gaze drifted again. Not aimless this time. Stopping— like something caught it. There was a flicker. It was longer, clearer. Not the music behind them. Something louder. Sharpened. Layered voices— not speaking. It was calling her. Her fingers tightened again.

Min-jae felt it immediately. “Hey.” Softer this time. Ryujin didn’t respond. Because this time— it didn’t disappear right away. Light flooded her vision for a split second. Too bright. Shapes moving in sync. Not random. It was precise. Familiar—

“…Ryujin.” Her name but it was not his voice. Not here. Her breath caught slightly. That— that wasn’t nothing. The moment snapped. Gone. Just like that. The room came back into place without shifting at all. The music still playing. Min-jae still there. Her hand still in his. Everything exactly the same. Except— it wasn’t.

“…You heard that?” she asked, quieter now. Min-jae frowned slightly. “Heard what?” a pause. Ryujin stared at him for a second longer than she meant to. Then exhaled “It’s… nothing.” But this time— she didn’t believe it. Her grip loosened, then tightened again, like she hadn’t decided what to do with it yet. “…That’s new,” she muttered under her breath.

Min-jae didn’t react to that either. And that— that was starting to stand out more than it should have. Ryujin leaned back slightly, not pulling away, just enough to look at him properly. Really look this time. He hadn’t changed. Not in the way everything else seemed to. Not in the way that feeling kept creeping in. It was steady and unaffected. Like he didn’t belong to whatever that was. “…You’re not going to ask?” she said. “About what?” Same answer in the same tone, unchanged. Ryujin let out a quiet breath, something between a scoff and a sigh “…right.”

Her gaze dropped for a second, her fingers brushing lightly against his again—grounding herself, testing something she couldn’t explain. The warmth was still real. That part hadn’t changed. “…Does my name sound familiar to you?” she asked suddenly. That made him pause— just for a second “…It’s your name”. That wasn’t what she meant. She knew that. But she didn’t correct him. Instead, she looked away slightly, her jaw tightening just enough to feel it. Because now— it wasn’t just a feeling anymore. It wasn’t just something “off.”

It was something real. Something she almost recognized. Something that felt like it belonged to her— but wasn’t here. Her fingers tightened again around his. Not out of fear or panic. Just— holding onto something she knew was still real.

“It’s strange,” she muttered again. But this time— it didn’t sound like something she could ignore. And still, she didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t leave. Because whatever that was— it still hadn’t changed the one thing she had already decided. She was still here.

The silence lingered longer than it should have.

Not enough to feel uncomfortable, but enough for Ryujin to notice that it wasn’t moving forward the way moments usually did. Everything around her remained exactly where it was, as if nothing had shifted at all. Her fingers adjusted slightly in Min-jae’s hand, a small, natural movement. The warmth stayed the same. Unchanged… but too unchanged.

Ryujin’s gaze dropped briefly, following the contact between them. The position hadn’t shifted in the way it should have. Even the smallest adjustments felt… absorbed, like they never disrupted the moment at all.

That made her pause.

“…Hold on,” she muttered quietly.

Min-jae glanced at her. “What?”

Same tone. Steady. Unaffected.

Ryujin didn’t answer right away. Instead, she moved her hand slightly, just enough to create space between their fingers. The separation lasted a second. Then his hand followed. Not quickly. Not forcefully. Just naturally. Settling back into place like it belonged there.

Ryujin stilled. That wasn’t strange on its own. But something about it felt… expected. Like the moment had already accounted for it. Her gaze lifted to him, sharper now. “You didn’t think about that,” she said. Min-jae tilted his head slightly. “About what?”

There it was again. No hesitation. No pause. Just the same answer, delivered the same way.

Ryujin exhaled slowly, her shoulders loosening just slightly—not in comfort, but in recognition. It wasn’t repeating. It wasn’t looping. It just… didn’t break. Nothing in the moment resisted anything else. Everything adjusted.

Perfectly. Too perfectly.

Her eyes drifted briefly around the room. The music was still playing. Soft. Steady. Uninterrupted. It hadn’t changed tempo. Hadn’t shifted tracks. It hadn’t ended. It just continued, like it wasn’t following time—just existing alongside it “…Do things ever change here?” she asked quietly. Min-jae frowned slightly. “They are changing.”

Ryujin looked back at him “…Are they?” A pause. Not from him but from her.

Because now she could feel it. Not something repeating. Something stabilizing. Every movement she made settled into place too easily. Every reaction matched too cleanly. Every moment held itself together without friction. Her fingers tightened slightly again. The warmth was still real. That part hadn’t changed. “…Right,” she murmured. Not convinced. But not resisting either.

Because even if something about this world didn’t behave the way it should— the one thing that mattered hadn’t shifted. She was still here. And she still hadn’t left.

The moment didn’t break. It should have. Ryujin stayed where she was, her hand still loosely in his, but her focus wasn’t on him anymore. Not fully. Something had shifted—not around her, not in the room—but in the way everything held together. It felt… watched. Not in a way that made her tense. Not in a way that made her pull away. Just— noticed.

Her gaze lifted slightly, not toward anything specific. Just enough to acknowledge what she couldn’t see. “…You’re there,” she said quietly. Min-jae didn’t react. This wasn’t for him. The silence that followed was different. It responded—without sound, without movement. Just a subtle shift in the way the moment held itself together. Ryujin exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening slightly in Min-jae’s hand, grounding herself before continuing. “…This isn’t random.”

It wasn’t a question. She already knew that much. The stillness deepened. Not confirming. Not denying. Just… present. Ryujin tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing just a fraction. “It was you… you built this.” Another statement. Another pause. No voice answered her. But something about the space felt… acknowledged; as if she wasn’t speaking into nothing.

Her eyes dropped briefly, her thumb brushing lightly against Min-jae’s hand before she spoke again “…So what is this supposed to be?” This time, the shift came differently. Not around her but through her.

A thought— not hers. Not unfamiliar either. Just… placed.

“A path.”

Ryujin stilled. Her expression didn’t change much, but her grip tightened slightly, just enough to feel it.

“…A path to what?”

The answer didn’t come right away. It lingered, like it didn’t need to be rushed.

“To what you would choose.”

That— that made her pause. Not confused. Not overwhelmed. It only placed her in deep thought.

Her gaze drifted slightly, not searching, just processing “…And this is one of them,” she said. Another statement. Another quiet confirmation without words. Ryujin let out a small breath, something almost like a huff of amusement under it.

“You’re not even going to pretend I have control over this.” The response came just as quietly.

“You do.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly “Doesn’t feel like it.”

A pause.

Then— “You are still here.”

That landed. Because it was true.

Ryujin’s fingers shifted again in Min-jae’s hand, grounding herself in something she knew wasn’t fabricated. Warm. Real. Unchanged.

“…And if I leave?” she asked.

This time, the silence stretched longer. Not avoiding. Not hiding. It just— gave her the space to ask it properly. The answer, when it came, was softer.

“Then you leave.”

No consequence. No warning. No persuasion.

Ryujin exhaled slowly, her shoulders loosening just slightly. That was enough. Not everything. But enough. Her gaze lowered again, settling back into the moment she hadn’t stepped out of. Min-jae was still there— unaffected. Like none of this existed for him.

That part was real. Ryujin let out a quiet breath, her grip settling again.

“…Yeah,” she murmured softly. Not to him. Not to whatever was listening, just to herself. Because now she understood something she didn’t before. This wasn’t something she had to figure out. It was something she had to choose.

The moment didn’t change. Even after everything she noticed—after the way the silence lingered too long, the way every movement settled too perfectly—nothing around her broke.

The music was still playing. Min-jae’s hand was still in hers, warm in the same way it had always been. Not shifting, not pulling, not forcing anything. Just there.

Unchanged.

Ryujin exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping briefly to their hands before lifting again “…So this is it,” she said quietly.

The space around her didn’t respond the way a person would. But it listened. She could feel that now “…It doesn’t break,” she continued, her voice even, more certain than before. “It just… adjusts.”

Ryujin tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a fraction—not in frustration, not in confusion. Just… clarity settling in “…And that’s on purpose.” The answer didn’t come as a voice this time. It didn’t need to. She already understood. Her fingers shifted slightly in Min-jae’s hand, testing the contact one last time. It was still warm… still real. That part hadn’t changed.

Ryujin let out a quiet breath, something almost like a soft laugh under it.

“…You made it easy,” she said.

Not accusing— just stating it. Because that’s what it was.

No pressure or consequence laid out in front of her. Just a path. And the choice to stay on it. Her gaze drifted slightly, not searching anymore, just acknowledging the presence she couldn’t see.

“…What happens if I leave?” she asked.

The answer came the same way it had before. Quiet. Placed.

“Then you leave.”

No warning. No loss described. No attempt to persuade her either way.

Ryujin’s lips pressed together briefly, her expression still calm.

“…And this?” she asked, glancing down slightly—toward him, toward the space, toward everything around her.

A pause.

“It will no longer be yours.”

That was the closest thing to an answer she needed. Ryujin nodded slightly, more to herself than anything else. She didn’t ask what she would lose. She didn’t ask what was waiting outside this place. Because she already knew. Or at least— she knew enough. Her grip on Min-jae’s hand tightened just slightly before settling again. He hadn’t changed. Not in the way everything else had. Not in the way this world adjusted itself.

He felt— consistent. Not because he couldn’t change, but because he didn’t need to. That was the difference. Ryujin exhaled slowly, her shoulders loosening just a fraction.

“…You didn’t build him,” she said quietly.

Not a question. A realization.

This time— the answer came.

“No.”

Ryujin didn’t react right away.

Her gaze stayed where it was, her fingers still loosely wrapped around his, like she didn’t need to check anymore.

“…He was already there,” she continued.

Another pause.

“You met him here. You found him”

That mattered more than anything else. Her gaze lowered again, settling fully back into the moment she had never stepped out of. Min-jae was still there. Unaffected by anything she had just said.

Her fingers tightened around his hand again, not testing it anymore, not grounding herself out of uncertainty.

Just holding it.

Because she wanted to. Because she chose to.

Her gaze lifted slightly, not toward him—but toward the presence she could feel lingering in the space.

“…If I stay,” she said quietly, her voice steady, “I don’t get to take anything else with me, do I.”

Not a question. Just… confirming what she already understood.

The silence didn’t hesitate this time.

“No.”

That was it. No elaboration or deep explanation.

Just— truth.

Ryujin exhaled slowly. Her grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it settled. Because that answered everything she didn’t need to ask out loud. What she was leaving behind. What wouldn’t follow her here. What would no longer exist—for her.

She didn’t say it or name it, she didn’t need to. Because whatever that life was— it wasn’t here. And this— this was.

“…Yeah,” she murmured softly.

This time, it wasn’t uncertain. It wasn’t questioning. It was a steeled resolve.

Her fingers tightened around his hand again, not testing it anymore. Just holding it.

For a second, something tried to surface. Not a thought. Not a memory she could name. Just— something that felt like it belonged to her. Something that should’ve mattered. Her fingers tightened slightly.

Then it passed. Not forcefully. Not taken; just… gone.

Ryujin didn’t chase it.

“I’m staying.”

“…I choose him.”

It wasn’t loud or dramatic. Just clear. The moment didn’t shift. The world didn’t react. Nothing changed. And that— that was the answer. Ryujin didn’t look away. She didn’t wait for anything else to happen. Because she already understood. This wasn’t something that would be confirmed for her. It was something she had already decided.

Her grip softened slightly, settling into something more natural. More permanent.

And for the first time since she started noticing the cracks— Ryujin didn’t feel the need to question anything. Not the silence. Not the consistency. Not even what she might have left behind. Because whatever that was— it wasn’t here. And this was.

Morning came without anything unusual. Ryujin woke up to a faint sound in the background—something low, distant. She didn’t think much of it at first, just lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling without really focusing on anything. It felt normal.

She exhaled quietly before sitting up, brushing her hair back. The room looked the same as it always did. Nothing out of place. Nothing missing in a way she could point to. And yet—something felt… lighter.

She didn’t question it.

When she stepped out into the main space, the TV was already on. She paused for a second, glancing at it briefly, like she was trying to remember if she had left it like that the night before. Nothing came to mind, so she moved on.

Min-jae was already there, leaning back casually, his attention half on the screen, half on her. “You’re up.”

“Yeah.” No hesitation. No unfamiliarity. Ryujin walked past him, reaching for something to drink. The motion came naturally. Easy like it had always been this way. The sound from the TV filled the space quietly—not loud enough to demand attention, just present enough to exist.

Music. It was rhythmic and structured. Her movements slowed. Just slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice. She glanced back at the screen without meaning to. A stage, bright lights. people moving in sync.

It looked… polished.

Like it should have been hers. Her brows pulled together just a fraction “…What is that?” she muttered. Min-jae glanced over. “Some performance thing, I think.” She didn’t respond right away. Her gaze lingered for a second longer than it should have. Not because she recognized it. But because— something about it felt like it should mean more. A voice carried through the speakers. It was clear, confident, and familiar— she blinked. The feeling slipped. Gone before it could settle.

Ryujin looked away, reaching for her drink again like nothing had happened “…Too early for that,” she muttered under her breath. Min-jae let out a quiet huff, not questioning it. “Then don’t watch it.” She took a sip of her drink, “wasn’t planning to.”

Her tone was unbothered. She leaned back slightly against the counter, taking another sip before letting her gaze settle somewhere else entirely.

The moment passed. Just like that, but something lingered. Not enough to matter. Not enough to stay. Just something she didn’t have anymore— but didn’t remember losing. Her fingers tapped lightly against the surface before stilling. For a second, something flickered again. It was a feeling, like there was something she used to hold onto. Something important, something that should have stayed. Her fingers curled slightly. Then relaxed. It passed.

“…You spacing out?” Min-jae asked.

Ryujin glanced at him, then shook her head “No.”

A small pause “I’m good.”

This time, she didn’t hesitate.

She pushed herself off the counter, brushing past him lightly, her hand grazing his without thinking. He didn’t react, there was no need for Min-jae to.

Ryujin didn’t look back. Didn’t think about the TV. Didn’t question the feeling that had already faded. Because whatever that was— it wasn’t here and this was.

(Author's Note: I had to reupload since there was an issue with the first upload)

[afterhours37]

If It Were Me - Yeji: The Life Where I Let Go

Keywords: Romance, Smut, Slice of Life, “What-if”, Choice and Consequence

Word Count: 7,500

Prelude:

There are lives we never question. Paths we follow because they were always there, laid out clearly, step by step, until we forget we ever had a choice. And there are the ones we never got to live.

The quieter versions of ourselves. The ones who said something different. Choose something else. Stayed when we were supposed to leave.

Sometimes, they feel close enough to touch. In the way a moment lingers a little too long. In the way a stranger feels strangely familiar. In the way a feeling settles in your chest— like it’s been there before.

Maybe they exist somewhere or maybe they’re just the parts of us that wonder what would’ve happened if we did.

Mornings weren’t supposed to feel this quiet. Yeji stood by the counter, watching the coffee drip slower than she expected, like the machine itself wasn’t in any rush to start the day. She checked the time out of habit. Still early. Earlier than she needed to be. She had arrived twenty minutes before opening. No one had told her to, no one expected her to. But it felt wrong not to.

So she wiped the counter for the second time, adjusted the chairs that were already straight, and checked the shelves like something might’ve changed in the last five minutes, even if it hadn’t.

“Do you usually come in this early?” I asked after a while, still leaning against the doorframe, watching her move like she was already behind on something that hadn’t even started yet.

“Usually,” Yeji replied, glancing at me for a second before going back to what she was doing.

“And you stay late too?”

She hesitated just a bit. “…Sometimes.”

I let out a quiet sigh. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It’s not,” she answered quickly. Too quickly.

I pushed myself off the doorframe and walked toward her, flicking her forehead and reaching past to grab a cup of coffee from her brew. One sip in and I already regretted it. “Maybe for you,” I muttered, making a face, “but watching you work this early is exhausting to me.”

She frowned slightly, a small pout forming. “It’s just how I work.”

I shook my head lightly. “Figures.” I took another sip anyway before glancing back at her. “What about you? You’re not the type to clock in early. Why are you here?”

“You’re right,” I said, shrugging. “Couldn’t sleep.”

That part wasn’t a lie.

I pulled out a sandwich from the plastic bag I brought and held it out to her. “I made it. Your favorite.”

She blinked, then took it without much resistance. “…Thanks.”

“You keep moving around,” I added, watching her already shift like she was about to start cleaning again. “Sit still for five minutes and eat.”

“That’s unproductive.”

I sighed. “See? That’s the problem.”

She looked at me, clearly not convinced. “How is that a problem?”

I raised a finger like I was about to make a serious point. “First of all, you’re going to upstage me at this rate.” She stared at me, unimpressed. I couldn’t help but grin. “And second—you stayed late yesterday to close the shop. You’re not even giving yourself a break.”

“It’s better to be prepared,” she muttered.

I tilted my head slightly. “Prepared for what?”

She opened her mouth, then stopped. No answer.

I didn’t press. Instead, I took another sip of the coffee and made a face again. “Aish… your brew is still too strong for me, Yeji.”

“But I made it the usual way,” she said, watching me.

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “Still too strong.”

“Then why drink it?”

The answer came out before I could think about it. “Because you made it.” I took another sip anyway.

When I looked back at her, she had already turned away slightly, avoiding my eyes. “Pabo…” she muttered softly. “You could’ve said something.”

I just huffed a quiet laugh. “Alright,” I said after a moment, setting the cup down. “Compromise.”

She looked at me again.

“If you take it easy today,” I continued, “I’ll handle things if something actually comes up. Deal?”

She narrowed her eyes a little. “Si-woo… you always do this, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Act like everything’s going to be fine.”

I smiled without thinking. “That’s because you’re here. I can relax a bit when it comes to work.”

The words came out more honestly than I meant them to.

She didn’t respond right away. Just looked at me for a second longer than usual before glancing away again.

The teasing should’ve annoyed her. But with Yeji… it didn’t. If anything, she looked a little lighter. Like being depended on—even in small ways—meant something to her.

She glanced toward the window, where the morning light had started to settle in. Soft. Unbothered. Like the day wasn’t asking anything from her yet. It should’ve felt good. But something in her expression didn’t quite match that. Like there was still something sitting in her chest she couldn’t explain.

“I’m taking you up on that offer,” she said after a while, finally unwrapping the sandwich. “And if the shift ends without anything happening…” She glanced at me with a small grin.

“You’re buying me snacks.”

I smirked. “Deal.”

It should’ve ended there, nothing serious. Just one of those conversations that didn’t really mean anything at the time, but somehow stuck longer than it should’ve.

But it didn’t, it became a habit afterward. I didn’t say I’d come early again but I did. More often than I should. At some point, Yeji stopped asking why and she would just glance at me when I walked in through the door— as if she was expecting me, then goes back to whatever she was doing.

Some days I brought food. Other days I didn’t, either way she always had something set aside for me— “just extra” she says. But it never felt extra.

“You’re doing it again” I pointed out, this time she didn’t even look back at me “Doing what?”

“Acting like this place would fall apart if I stopped moving around.”

“It’s not” she told me while adjusting something that didn’t even need adjustment. “I’m just making sure everything’s ready”.

“It is ready” I told her in assurance only to be told “…You don’t know that.”

I did, but arguing with her about it never really went anywhere. So I just took the her by the hand and leaned back against the counter. “Break time”

“That isn’t how this works.” she frowned at me. “That’s exactly how it works” I told her refusing to back down.

She puffed her face in defeat knowing that I wouldn’t let this go. It stayed like this for a while. Mornings where I stopped her, conversations that didn’t mean anything but lasted longer than it should’ve. And somewhere in between she started slowing down. Not completely, not even enough for anyone to notice. But I did.

But one day it actually got busy.

Not the usual steady flow, not manageable at all. Orders stacked faster than they could be made, voices overlapping, machines running nonstop. Someone got an order wrong, the customer complained, then suddenly everything that was suppose to be simple no longer was.

I saw it happen before she even moved, a shift that happened as if something finally clicked. Yeji stepped in without even saying anything. She fixed the wrong order, took the next one. Answered before anyone else could. She moved faster, sharper, more efficient— as if she was waiting for this moment. Like this all made sense to her.

“Yeji, I’ve got this—“ someone tried to intervene. Without hesitation she responded “It’s fine, I’ll handle it.” Of course she would. I stayed back at first, not wanting to get in her way only able to watch. Because I know that this wasn’t about the rush, it was about her. She didn’t stop, she didn’t slow down, she didn’t as for help, she never needed it.

One order turned to three. Then three turned into everything. She was everywhere at once— taking, fixing, moving, she was carrying the entire rush hour on her back— as if it would all fall apart if she took a moment to pause. But nothing was falling apart, not without her.

“Yeji…” she didn’t even respond to me calling out to her. Another order, another fix, another step, then it happened. A pause, barely a second but it was enough. A cup slipped for her hand, not enough to fall, but enough for me to notice. Her grip tightened immediately, she was already correcting herself before anyone could notice see.

But I saw it. I always noticed the small shifts when it came to Yeji. She kept going on like it never happened. Like she didn’t even feel it, like she didn’t have to stop.

This time I didn’t wait, I went in to block her next step, stopping her next movement. “Hey.” I protested, this wasn’t up for debate this time. “Move.” she didn’t even wait for my response trying to move around me.

“No.” I told her, she knew the seriousness in my voice. “Si-woo Oppa—“ she talked back at me. “You’re not even letting anyone help you!”

That made her stop. Not completely, but enough. “I’m fine” she tried to regain her pacing. “No the hell you’re not.” I was not budging. “I said I’m fine.” She stood her ground against me this time. “And I say you’re not.”

We were at a stalemate, neither refusing to budge. The noise around us didn’t stop, orders were still piling, people kept moving. But right there— she hesitated for a second. Her shoulders dropped barely noticeable, she finally started to breathe. “… It’s really busy.” she muttered, not being defensive— just stating the obvious.

“I know.” I could only acknowledge the fact.

“Then I need to—“ she tried to plead.

“No you don’t” not even letting her finish. She frowned at me “Someone has to do it”. I pointed back to the rest of the staff “Did you forget we exist?” She wouldn’t let it go arguing “They’re also busy” but they weren’t as busy as her.

“So are you”

“I can handle it, I promise”

“I know you can” but that wasn’t the problem here.

Her hands curled to her sides, she didn’t know what to do with them if it’s wasn’t work. And that was the problem. “If I stop then I slow everything and everyone down” she tried to plead one last time. “Or,” I replied quietly trying not cause a scene “you just don’t trust anyone else to do it.”

That hit her hard, I could see it. The way she looked at me— she wanted to argue but she could find the words for it. Because it wasn’t wrong. She looked away at first. “… I’m just used to it.” she admitted under her breath. “Yeah, I know” pausing to tell her “Take a break” reaching out to her hand to move her away from the counter before she could turn back.

“I can’t” she refused the idea of a break.

“You can, this isn’t a suggestion.” still not budging.

“There’s still—“ I cut her off again “It’ll get done”

“You don’t know that.” she was protesting again.

“I do” trying to assure her, but it wasn’t working

Of course it wouldn’t, but she also didn’t pull away. For a second she just stood there caught between moving and stopping, like both felt wrong in different ways. For the first time since the rush started, she didn’t move.

It didn’t stop the café. Orders still came in, voices still overlapped, machines still kept humming, nothing has changed. Nothing except Yeji. It was a slight change but I felt it. Her hand was still in mine, not tight but she didn’t pull away either. It was just there, like she hasn’t decided what to do with it yet.

“You’re thinking too much again” I said quietly. “… I’m not” she tried to convince me. “You are” I was only stating the fact. She didn’t argue back this time, this was new of her. For a second she just stood there, her eyes drifted past me, as if she was trying to keep track of everything around us. It was an old habit of hers, a hard one to break.

“They’re handling it” I pointed back to the others at the counter behind me “See?”

She followed my gaze, someone else had taken over the register, another on drinks. Sure it was slower than the pace she was at, but it was still getting done and nothing was falling apart.

Her fingers shifted slightly in my hand, as if she finally noticed I was still holding it. “It’s not as fast…” she could only critique. “Doesn’t have to be.” I said. “They’re going to get overwhelmed without me” she looked back at me with concern. “They wont” I assured her. “You don’t know that, oppa” she wasn’t convinced. “Well neither do you”. I could only retort, we were both right… we never didn’t know.

That was enough to make her go quiet. Her shoulders slumped even more “I’m just so used to it…” she sighed “I know.” and I did, that was her flaw. I loosened my grip on her hand, not enough to let go but enough for her to. Yet she didn’t, instead she took a step back like she was teasing something. We were causing quite a scene so I had to retake control and bring her to the break room to dodge the scene. “Haesol, take over—we’re going on a break.”

I didn’t wait for a response, just pulled her along with me toward the back. The noise of the café faded the moment the door shut behind us, replaced by something quieter. Smaller.

For a second, neither of us said anything. Yeji leaned back slightly against the counter, like her body finally remembered it was allowed to stop moving. Her hand was still in mine. Loose now. Not tense like before.

“…You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered.

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

I shrugged. “Because you wouldn’t.” That made her look at me. Not defensive this time. Just… tired.

It got quiet. The kind of quiet she didn’t let anyone see out there. “…I don’t know how to stop,” she admitted after a while. I figured. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” I said, a little softer this time. “Just don’t do anything for a minute.”

“…A minute,” she repeated, like even that sounded like too much. “Yeah.” I nodded.

Another pause. Her fingers shifted slightly in my hand before she finally let go on her own. Not pulling away—just… adjusting. Like she didn’t need to hold on to stay grounded anymore.

“You always make it sound easy,” she said, looking down.

“It is easy.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” I replied, stepping a little closer. “You just don’t like it.”

She let out a quiet breath at that, something between a sigh and a laugh.

“…You’re annoying.”

“I know.”

That almost made her smile, almost. The space between us didn’t feel the same anymore. Not like before. Not like the café. There wasn’t anything to fix here. Nothing to prepare for.

Just… us. She looked up again, and this time she didn’t look away immediately.

“…Thank you,” she said, softer than I expected.

“For what?”

“For…” she hesitated. “…stopping me.”

I didn’t answer right away. Didn’t need to. I just stayed there, close enough that I could see the way her expression changed when she wasn’t trying to hold it together. That was new.

“…You don’t have to thank me for that,” I said eventually.

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” she insisted, a little more firmly this time. “Because no one else would’ve.”

That— I didn’t have a good response for that. So I didn’t try. Instead, I reached up without thinking, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull back. If anything, she leaned into it just slightly. That was new too.

“…You should take care of yourself more,” I muttered.

“You say that like it’s easy.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“Then let someone else do it for you.”

She stilled at that. Her eyes met mine again, slower this time. “… You mean you?” I replied with a simple “Yeah…”

The answer came out too easily. But I didn’t take it back. For a second, neither of us moved. Then she took a small step closer. Not enough to close the distance completely.

“…You’re serious,” she said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“… Why?”

I hesitated. Because I could’ve said anything. Something casual. Something easy. But instead—

“Because I want to.” That was it. No explanation. No joke to cover it up, just that. Something shifted. I felt it before I understood it. The room didn’t change. Nothing moved. But everything felt a little too still. Like the moment had stretched longer than it should have. Like something was… off.

Yeji’s expression faltered slightly. “…Did you—“ she stopped. I frowned. “What?”

“…Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. I could see it. The way her focus drifted for just a second, like she was trying to listen to something that wasn’t there. Or feel something she couldn’t explain.

“…Did you feel that?” she asked quietly.

“Feel what?”

She hesitated.

Then shook her head.

“…I don’t know.”

The silence came back, heavier this time. Not uncomfortable. Just… different. Like something had interrupted the moment without actually touching it. I stepped back slightly, just enough to give her space again.

“You’re probably just tired,” I said.

“…Yeah,” she murmured, though it didn’t sound like she believed it.

Neither of us moved after that. Just standing there—like whatever was about to happen had decided to wait.

“…We should probably head back,” I said after a while. “Yeah.” said immediately but she didn’t move away. Neither of us did.

Another second passed before she finally pushed herself off the counter, brushing her hands lightly against her sides like she was resetting herself. I stepped aside, letting her move first. The moment we stepped out, the noise came back just enough to fill the space again, nothing dramatic. Just… normal.

We slipped back into it like nothing had happened. Orders. Small talk. Routine. But something was off, not wrong just slower. She still worked. Still moved the same way. But there were pauses now. Small ones. The kind no one else would notice, but it was something I would notice.

SW: You’re spacing out.

YJ: I’m not.

SW: You are.

YJ: I’m working.

SW: Barely.

She shot me a look, but there wasn’t much bite to it “…You’re annoying,” she muttered. “Yeah.” That was enough to end it.

The rest of the shift went by like that. Nothing else went wrong. No rush. No mistakes. Just the usual. And before I realized it— we were closing. “You good?” I asked, flipping the sign.

YJ: Yeah.

SW: You don’t look like it.

YJ: I’m fine.

Same answer in a different tone. I didn’t push it. We cleaned up in silence. Not awkward. Just… quieter than before. Like both of us were still somewhere else, trying to catch up. By the time everything was done, the place felt too still again. Familiar “You heading out?” I asked, grabbing my things.

“Yeah.” She didn’t move. I noticed.

“You waiting for something?” I added.

“…No.”

Still didn’t move. I walked over anyway, stopping just close enough to see her expression properly. Not stressed. Not tense just thinking. “You sure?” I asked. She nodded then shook her head right after. “I-I don’t know,” she admitted. That was new. I glanced toward the door, then back at her. “You want me to walk you?”

“…It’s fine.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

She hesitated. Then gave a small nod.

“Yeah.”

That was enough. We didn’t say much on the way out. Didn’t need to. The air felt different outside—cooler, quieter. The kind of quiet that doesn’t ask anything from you. I walked beside her, hands in my pockets, glancing over every now and then just to make sure she was still there. She was, but she was quiet; as if she would be gone the next time I looked for her. When we reached her place, she stopped first.

“So… this is me,” she said.

“Yeah.”

I didn’t move. Neither did she. A second passed. Then another.

“You should go,” she said.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“…You’re really leaving?” she asked, quieter this time.

I tilted my head slightly. “You want me to?”

She looked at me, not unsure… just honest “…No.”

That was it. No buildup. No hesitation. Just one word that landed heavier than it should’ve. I exhaled softly, stepping a little closer without thinking “Okay.”

She didn’t step back. Didn’t look away. If anything, she leaned into the space between us just slightly, like she had already made up her mind. “Don’t go yet,” she said, barely above a whisper. I didn’t answer right away. I just reached for the door behind her, pushing it open slowly.

“Then I won’t.”

The door clicked shut behind us, softer than it should’ve been. For a second, neither of us moved. It wasn’t the same as before. Back in the café, the moment had felt like it was waiting. Here it felt like it had already decided.

Yeji stayed near the door, fingers still lightly resting against it like she needed something to ground herself. I stepped in just enough to give her space to move if she wanted to.

She didn’t.

“…You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” she said, even though she was the one who asked.

SW: I know.

YJ: Then why are you?

I let out a small breath, glancing at her before answering. “Because you asked.” She looked at me then. “That’s not a good reason,” she said quietly. “It’s enough.” That seemed to land somewhere she wasn’t expecting.

Her hand slipped from the door, falling to her side as she took a small step further in. I followed without thinking, closing the distance just enough that the space between us didn’t feel empty anymore.

YJ: You always do that

SW: Do what?

YJ: Make things sound simple

SW: It is simple

“It’s not” she said, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing about this is simple.” She wasn’t talking about the moment. Not just the moment. I could tell. “Then what is it?” I asked. She didn’t answer right away. She just stood there, looking at me like she was trying to figure something out she didn’t have the words for. “I don’t know,” she admitted. That made two of us.

Another second passed then she stepped closer. It was close enough now that I could feel the shift in her breathing again. Slower than before. Still uneven, but not from exhaustion this time. Something else.

“…Si-woo,” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I want this to stop.”

That was it. Not a confession l, but it was just something she needed to say out loud.

My hand moved before I could think about it, brushing lightly against her arm, slow enough that she had time to pull away if she wanted to. She never did, if anything, she leaned into it, just slightly. I stepped closer, closing what little space was left between us. She didn’t move back. Didn’t look away. Her gaze stayed on mine, steady now, like whatever she had been unsure about earlier didn’t matter anymore.

“You sure?” I asked, quieter this time. She nodded then, softer— “Yeah.” That was all I needed. My hand moved from her arm to her waist, slow, deliberate. Not pulling her in—just resting there, waiting. She closed that distance herself. And just like that there wasn’t any space left between us anymore.

She leaned in to give me a kiss, it wasn’t full of lust or desire. It felt passionate, a passion inside her that was finally allowed to takeover her every conscious decision.

I tried to move to catch my breath, but she didn’t let me go. A hint of desperation and fear as if the moment she did, I would be gone. All I could do was lean back to Yeji, kissing her with the same passion she had.

She didn’t hesitate anymore, rushing to remove each other’s clothes with our tops remaining as Yeji still refused to part away from our kiss, this time she started to move her tongue inside my mouth.

She slowly moved our bodies towards her bedroom, our mouths danced with the same intensity as our hands discovering each other’s bodies in detail. Yeji finally managed to let go of the kiss as I lay her down, but her eyes never once leaving my gaze.

She looked at me taking the last bits of my clothes off. My body bare in-front of her, my cock already hard and throbbing letting her know that this was because of her. She undid her top revealing a see-through bra that matched her underwear. I led her hand towards my already throbbing shaft while I leaned closer to her, she was shocked to feel it, but the movements of her hand holding my dick instantly betrayed the innocence her face tried to hide.

“You don’t even realize what you’re doing to me right now.” I whispered in her ear, giving it a nibble after telling her “I’m going to take these off now”. She could only moan and nod at the same time.

I gave her a quick peck in the lips before going to her neck and cupping her modest breast with my hands. I left a hickey on her neck as proof we belong to each other. At first she to let go of dick as I went lower to explore her body with my tongue. She didn’t fight it as she was already moaning louder every time I got lower.

From her breast to her nipples to the midriff of her body. My tongue explored everything about her. Only pausing as my face was in front of her pussy. The glistening folds telling me how incredibly wet she was already was and how it was because of me.

But before I could even welcome it with my mouth, she managed to bring out her voice “I can’t wait anymore” her voice loud and weak at the same time “I want to feel you inside me, Si-woo oppa.” And as much as I wanted to eat her out and have a taste of her nectar for myself, I could only go back to her while the tip of my cock was already kissing her folds. The way our mouths were doing the same.

The moment I went inside Yeji, a moan tried to escape her mouth. It wasn’t that hard to get in but it was really tight inside her. I could sense how her insides were adjusting to fit the shape of my cock, every constriction and movement forcing me to shift my focus or else I might cum before I could even start moving.

After a lot of incoherent moaning, she could only look at me saying “Fuck, Si-woo I can every part of you throbbing inside of me. I love it”

I couldn’t contain myself anymore and started moving, it felt so good that both of were moaning so hard. It felt amazing inside her, the walls of her pussy would loosen the grip every time my tip would touch her cervix only to tighten up the moment I pull back as if telling me she doesn’t want me to “Oh God you’re so deep inside me” she said in-between moans, that made me closer to finishing than I thought I would.

“Yeji, I’m going to cum soon” I told her. I thought that would slow her down but she started to move faster. “I’m close too, let cum together oppa, fill me up with your seed.”

I wanted to but I was closer to my limit than she was and I didn’t want to finish first. Out of desperation I managed to feel her clit while I didn’t stop moving my cock on her insides. That was pretty much it. It cause her to orgasm which made her even tighter than before.

“Oppa I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Look at me, you’re making me cum so hard.” She had let go of any inhibitions at this point and that I couldn’t contain myself either. With all of my remaining strength, I gave her one last final thrust before I emptied my seed inside the deepest parts of her pussy.

For a while, neither of us said anything. Just the sound of our breathing slowly settling, the weight of everything that just happened still lingering between us. I hadn’t moved yet, and neither had she.

“…Don’t, not yet,” Yeji murmured softly. I paused. “What?”

“Don’t pull out yet.” I didn’t argue.

Her arms wrapped around me a little tighter, not desperate like before—just… holding on. Like she didn’t need to rush anymore, but didn’t want to lose it either.

“…You okay?” I asked quietly. She nodded against me. “…Yeah.” I let out a small breath at that, shifting just enough so she was more comfortable without breaking the contact. She didn’t complain. If anything, she leaned into it more.

“…You always do that,” she said after a while. “Do what?” I asked “Show up when I need you.” I huffed lightly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She looked at me and gave me a soft kiss “It’s not… It’s just new.”

That made me glance down at her. She wasn’t looking at me—just staring somewhere past my shoulder, like she was still thinking about something she hadn’t figured out yet.

“You don’t like new?” I asked. “I don’t know, but I don’t hate this…” She shifted slightly, finally looking up this time. Her expression was softer now. Not tired. Not tense.

“It just feels…” she hesitated.

“Feels what?”

“…Too easy.”

I frowned slightly. “That’s a problem?”

“It shouldn’t be,” she said quietly.

That— That didn’t sit right. Before I could say anything, she moved again, resting her head more comfortably against me, like she was trying to settle into the moment instead of overthinking it.

“…Can we stay like this a little longer?” she asked. “Yeah.” That was easy. Too easy, apparently. I didn’t think much of it at first. Just held her there, letting the quiet stretch out naturally. Her breathing slowed more, evening out, her body finally relaxing in a way I hadn’t seen all day.

And for a second— everything felt… right. Too right.

“…Si-woo,” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

She didn’t answer right away. I felt it before I understood it. That same pause. That same stillness. Not the quiet from before, something else.

“Do you ever feel like…” she started, then stopped.

“Like what?”

“…Like something’s going to change, even if everything feels fine?”

I blinked. “That’s… kind of random.”

I shifted slightly, trying to catch her gaze again. “You overthinking again?”

“…Maybe.”

That answer came too quickly. I frowned a little. “Hey.” She looked at me. “You’re here,” I said simply. “Nothing’s happening.” She held my gaze for a second longer than usual. Like she wanted to believe that.

“…Yeah,” she said quietly. But this time— it didn’t sound like she did. The silence came back again. Heavier now. Not uncomfortable. Like something had settled into the room without asking. I didn’t notice anything. Nothing changed. Nothing moved. But Yeji did.

Her fingers tightened against me—not enough to hurt, just enough that I noticed.

SW: You’re doing it again

YJ: Doing what?

SW:That thing.

YJ: What thing?

SW: Like you’re somewhere else.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it this time either.

Her gaze drifted slightly, just past me, like she was trying to focus on something that wasn’t there. And for a second I felt it too. Not the same way. Not… whatever she was feeling. Just— the way the moment stretched longer than it should have.

“Yeji.” That seemed to pull her back. She blinked, refocusing on me. “…Sorry.” I asked her “For what?” She stopped. Then shook her head. “It’s nothing.” It wasn’t. I could tell but I didn’t push it. She shifted again, closer this time, like she was trying to ground herself back into the moment. Back into me. “…Stay with me,” she said quietly. “I am.” She murmured, almost to herself. “Like… really stay.”

That sounded different. I didn’t question it. Just tightened my hold slightly, letting her settle again. But this time the quiet didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t just peaceful anymore. It felt like something was waiting. And whatever it was— she could feel it. Even if I couldn’t.

I couldn’t explain it. Nothing around us had changed. Same room. Same silence. Same weight of her resting against me. But the way she held onto me—it felt different. Not tighter. Not desperate. Just… like she was trying to remember something.

“Yeji.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against my arm like she needed to make sure I was still there. When she finally looked up at me, there was something in her expression I hadn’t seen before. Not fear. Not confusion. Something closer to hesitation.

“If something changes,” she said quietly, “don’t think it’s because I wanted it to.” I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

She shook her head almost immediately, like she regretted saying it. “Nothing. I’m just… tired.”

“That didn’t sound like nothing.”

“I know.”

That wasn’t reassuring. I pushed myself up slightly, enough to look at her properly. “Hey. What’s going on?” For a second, she didn’t answer. Just stared at me like she was trying to figure out how much she could say without actually saying anything.

“…Do you trust me?” she asked instead. That caught me off guard. “Yeah. Of course I do.” Her lips pressed together for a moment, like that answer meant more than it should have. “Then just stay with me tonight,” she said. “No questions. Just… stay.”

There was something about the way she said it. Not rushed. Not desperate. But final. Like she had already decided something and this was the only part she could still control.

“…You’re acting weird,” I admitted.

“I know.”

“Then explain it.”

“I can’t.”

She didn’t hesitate when she said that. That was the part that didn’t sit right. I watched her for a second longer, waiting for her to take it back. To laugh it off. To say she was joking. She didn’t. “…Is something wrong?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“…Can I fix it?”

She looked at me then. Really looked. And for a second, I thought she was going to say yes.

“…No.”

That answer came out softer. But it hit harder. I let out a quiet breath, running a hand through my hair before looking back at her. “You’re not making this easy, you know.”

“I’m not trying to.”

That almost sounded like an apology. The room fell quiet again after that. Not the same quiet from before. This one felt heavier. Like something was sitting just outside of reach, waiting for something neither of us could see yet. She moved closer again, resting against me like she had earlier, but this time it felt more intentional. Like she was choosing it or holding onto it. “…Just stay,” she murmured.

I didn’t understand what was happening. Didn’t understand what she wasn’t telling me. But I stayed anyway. Because whatever it was— it felt like this mattered more than anything else right now.

I didn’t know how much time passed.

At some point, the room had gone completely quiet again. Not the kind of quiet you notice right away. The kind that settles in slowly, until it’s all there is. Yeji hadn’t moved much. Still close. Still holding onto me like before. But something about it felt different now. Less like she needed it. More like she didn’t want to let it go.

“…You’re still here,” she said softly.

I let out a small breath. “Yeah. You told me to stay.”

She shifted slightly, just enough to look at me properly. There was a faint smile there, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“…Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For staying.”

That felt like more than it should’ve been. I frowned a little, studying her expression. “You keep saying things like that. Like this is the last time.” She didn’t answer. That was answer enough. Something in my chest tightened, but I didn’t know why. Nothing had happened. Nothing was happening. She was right here. But it didn’t feel like it was going to stay that way.

“…Yeji,” I started, quieter this time. “What aren’t you telling me?” She held my gaze for a second. Just long enough to make it feel like she might actually say it. Then she shook her head “…I wish I could,” she said.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair again before looking back at her. “You’re really bad at reassuring people, you know that?” A small huff of laughter escaped her. “I know.” At least that sounded like her. For a second. Then it faded again. She moved closer after that, resting her forehead lightly against mine. Not rushed. Not unsure. Just… deliberate.

“…Can you do something for me?” she asked “Depends.” She didn’t smile at that. “Just answer honestly.” I nodded. “Okay.”

Her hands tightened slightly against my chest, like she was grounding herself before saying it. “If I’m not here one day,” she said slowly, “will you be okay?” I froze.

SW: What kind of question is that?

YJ: Just answer it.

SW: That’s not something you just ask, where is this even coming from?

YJ: I just want to know.

SW: That doesn’t make it any less weird.

She didn’t argue. Didn’t explain. Just waited. That was the part that got to me. “…No,” I said finally. She blinked. “No?”

“No. I wouldn’t be okay.” That answer came out easier than I expected. Because it was true. Her grip tightened again, just for a second, before she looked away. “You’d figure it out,” she murmured. “Yeah. Eventually. But it would hurt.” I frowned. “Of course it would.”

Another pause. “Good,” she said softly. I didn’t know how to respond to that. Before I could even try, she leaned in again, pressing her forehead back against mine like she had before. Closer this time. Like she was memorizing something she didn’t want to forget. “Then don’t,” she added quietly.

“Don’t what?” I asked

“Don’t be okay right away.”

She placed her head closely to my chest as I let out a small breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “You’re really not making this easy.” She closed her eyes as if she was trying to remember the feeling of my heartbeat. “I know.” There was no apology in it. Just acceptance. The room fell quiet again after that. Heavier than before and for the first time since all of this started— I didn’t try to fill it. I just stayed there with her. Because whatever this was it felt like it mattered more than anything I didn’t understand, and even if I didn’t know why it felt like I was about to lose it anyway.

—-

I didn’t remember falling asleep. I just knew she was there, and the next morning she wasn’t. The room felt the same. Nothing out of place. Nothing missing in a way I could point to.

But something was.

I stood there for a while, staring at nothing, trying to piece together something I couldn’t even name. It didn’t feel like she left. It didn’t feel like anything ended. Like something slipped past me while I wasn’t looking. I let out a quiet breath, grabbing my things without thinking too much about it. There wasn’t anything to figure out. Not right now.

But as I stepped out— that feeling stayed. Not heavy or painful it was just… there. Like I had forgotten something important. And didn’t know what it was.

—-

The world shifted without making a sound. No light. No voice. No visible change. Just stillness, and Yeji stood alone.

The space around her didn’t look like anything she could name. It wasn’t the room. Wasn’t the café. Wasn’t anywhere she had been before.

But she understood. “…So this is it,” she said quietly. No answer came. It didn’t need to. She could feel it now. The same presence from before. The thing that lingered between moments. That stretched time just enough to be noticed.

Unmyeong.

It didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But it was there “I get it,” she continued, her voice softer now. “You don’t have to explain.”

Silence answered her.

Her hands curled slightly at her sides before relaxing again. There was no tension left. No confusion. Just… acceptance. “I’m finally going back, aren’t I.” It wasn’t a question. The stillness around her deepened just slightly. She let out a slow breath, closing her eyes for a second before opening them again. “Then I have one thing to ask.”

Nothing changed.

But she knew it was listening. “…Don’t take this from me,” she said, her voice steady despite how quiet it was. “Let me remember him.”

The silence held. For a moment, she thought that was the answer. Then something shifted. Not around her, but within her. Like something that was about to be taken… wasn’t. Her breath caught slightly as she understood.

“…Thank you.”

No confirmation came. But she didn’t need one. She closed her eyes again, and this time when she exhaled, and the world moved again.

—-

The broadcast played in the background. I hadn’t planned on watching it. It just happened to be on, the sound low, barely enough to catch my attention. Some performance. Some stage. I didn’t care, until I heard a familiar voice

I don’t know when I started paying attention. Just that I couldn’t look away after that. There was something about her. Something familiar. Not in a way that made sense, and certainly not in a way I could explain.

Just familiar.

I leaned forward slightly, frowning without realizing it as the camera focused on her. The way she moved, the way she held herself, the way her voice carried through the screen— it felt like I had seen it before, that I felt it before “What is this,” I muttered under my breath. The name appeared briefly on the screen.

Hwang Yeji.

The moment I read it— something in my chest tightened. Like it meant something. Like it was supposed to mean more. “…Yeji,” I repeated quietly. The name didn’t feel new. That was the part that didn’t sit right. I stared at the screen a little longer than I meant to, trying to figure out why. Trying to place it.

Trying to remember something that wouldn’t come back. But nothing did, only that feeling. That same, quiet feeling like something important had slipped past me. And I was too late to catch it.

—-

The lights were too bright, but Yeji didn’t flinch. She stood where she was supposed to be, the weight of the stage settling naturally beneath her feet. The sound, the space, the presence of everything around her—it all felt familiar.

Unchanged.

She took a breath. It came easy. That part hadn’t changed either, but she had.

The music began, soft but certain, filling the silence the way it always did. Her voice followed without hesitation, steady and controlled, exactly how it was meant to be.

Every note landed. Every step aligned. Every movement perfect.

Just like before, and yet— there was something else beneath it. No confusion, no hesitation. But something quieter. Something she carried.

She didn’t search for it. Didn’t question it. She already knew.

Her gaze lifted slightly as she moved across the stage, not toward anything specific, not looking for something she had lost. She wasn’t lost. She remembered everything— not fragments. Not feelings she couldn’t explain. The way he looked at her, the way he stayed without asking for more, the way his voice softened when he didn’t understand, but stayed anyway.

All of it.

Still there. Still hers. Her expression didn’t change. Didn’t break. But there were moments—small, almost invisible—where something deeper settled into her voice. Where a note carried just a little more weight than it needed to.

Because she knew what it meant, what she chose. The lights hit just right as she turned, her movements fluid, controlled, untouched by anything that didn’t belong there. But something did. Not on the stage, not in this world. Just— with her.

She didn’t hold onto it tightly. Didn’t let it consume her. But she didn’t let it go either— she couldn’t and she wouldn’t.

And as the music carried her forward, as everything continued exactly the way it was supposed to— she let herself breath. Not because she had to. Because she could. Because somewhere, in a life that no longer existed the way this one did—

Someone had taught her how.

[afterhours37]

UNDERPAID & OVERLOVED

Book 10: A MiChaeng Special

Wordcount: 21k (Combining All 3 Parts) Keywords: poly relationship, polyamory, harem dynamic, MiChaeng, Mina x Chaeyoung, threesome, romantic smut, emotional intimacy, explicit content

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Special Thanks to @electro469 for allowing me to continue the series

[afterhours37]

UNDERPAID & OVERLOVED

Book 10: A MiChaeng Special Part 3 (D-Day)

Morning came a little harsher this time.

I woke up first, look at the still sleeping Dahyun beside me, curled up still with hints of satisfaction from last night.

Still with her eyes closed, “I can feel your erection, you know.” She giggled.

“I feel like I should be concerned.” I muttered.

“You should be proud,” she finally opened her eyes, correcting me. “That was the best experience I’ve had my entire life.”

I let out a quiet laugh. “So no regrets?”

“Only that it didn’t lasted more times than I wanted.” without a sign of embarrassment as I finally started to stretch.

We should get up,” I said after a moment.

She groaned immediately. “…Five more minutes.”

I looked at her “you said that last time too.”

“And I meant it both times” as she protested.

Against her wishes, she sat up anyways.

Looking back at Dahyun I managed to joke around, “You’re walking funny”

She froze to turn to me, “and whose fault is that now?” sarcastically smiling.

“And that was my half of the plan.” referencing her spunk from yesterday.

She grabbed a pillow to hit me with.

“I didn’t know you were such a smartass, John.”

The moment we stepped out— absolute silence.

Everyone was already there, again…

Coffee, again…

And—

Headphones, actual noise cancelling headphones.

Dahyun looked at me, “So this is what it feels to be on the other side of the table.”

I stared at all of them in the table “… You’re kidding.”

Nayeon slowly pulled one side off her ear. “We took your advice.”

 “Best sleep we’ve had all week.” Jeongyeon raised her cup.

Dahyun froze beside me “…You actually wore them?”

Tzuyu nodded calmly. “Full volume.”

Dahyun straightened herself, confidence returning.

“Good”

That’s when they all really looked at her.

Nayeon’s eyes narrowed. “…Wow.”

Jeongyeon leaned forward slightly “Now that’s a glow.”

“Excuse me?” Dahyun blinked.

Instinctively, she touched her hair, then her neck, and then she stop with realization.

But it was too late.

Dahyun: Don’t say anything

Nayeon: I didn’t say anything

Jeongyeon: You didn’t have to

Tzuyu tilted her head slightly “You look… happy”

“I am not discussing this” Dahyun’s confidence was blown away.

Chaeyoung looked up from her phone, took one glance, then smirked.

“Worth it?”

Dahyun paused for a second. “Find out for yourself.”

That was definitely a “yes”.

The room finally erupted.

“OH MY GOD—” Nayeon leaned back laughing

“I KNEW IT—” Jeongyeon slapped the table

“I TOLD YOU—”

Even Jihyo was trying not to laugh, failing without effort.

I rubbed my face, “this is my life.”

Dahyun walked past them, grabbing her coffee like nothing happened, composed and unbothered.

“Anyway,” she casually said while taking a sip. “He’s ready.”

Silence as everyone turned to look at me.

“For what?” I asked. Dahyun slowly made a satisfied smile “For the weekend, of course.” Chaeyoung’s leaned back a relaxed “good” audible to everyone.

“Then we should leave soon.” Tzuyu added.

“They should arrive at 10 am.” Jihyo stood up, clapping once. Leader mode.

“Everyone finish your coffee, and grab something to eat and meet me downstairs.”

“And Dahyun” she looked over to her with a smile. “Good job.”  

Dahyun raised her coffee mug smirking to Jihyo, only muttering the words “I know.” After the morning noise settled and the coffee cups were left half-finished on the table, things moved faster than usual. A hint of excitement from everyone in the air.

“Car’s outside,” Jihyo said, checking her phone. Pausing real quick “We aren’t taking the van?”

“No need” she told me, not even looking up. There was indeed a car outside, more like a limousine that could fit all of us comfortably. Black, clean, and the driver already in position, greeting all of us with a professional acknowledgement. “Did you set this up?” I asked Jihyo

“Nope, not me.” wanting to take all the credit but not wanting to lie she “you know I’m stingy with money”. But I had a hunch who was behind this.

At the airport there was no cameras this time, no press, no crowd.

Because we didn’t go through the terminal as we normally would have, we didn’t even go near it. The limo drove past, towards a restricted section of the airport. Security didn’t even stop to question us, they just opened the gate.

“You pulled some strings didn’t you?” as I looked at Jihyo. Jihyo smirked slightly, “Leader privileges and a little help from someone.”

We stopped in a hangar and there it was, PD-nims private jet with the door already open. Momo was the first to step out “…Why are we here?” she asked, looking around. Sana followed behind her— Then froze. “Wait a minute.”

Mina stepped out last, her usual calm telling me that she was behind all of this. We all walked out of the limo being met with Mina’s smile to all of us.

“You made it.” she said softly. Looking around still in awe I managed to say “Looks like it.”

Sana looked around as well, at the jet, and then back to Mina. “Mitang?” was the only word she can mutter followed with “What did you do?”

“Just returning a favor.” she tilted her head.

“I expected something, but this was beyond what I could imagine, Mina unnie” Chaeyoung said.

Mina turned slightly toward the rest of the members. “I made plans with John and Chaeyoung, and I plan on going all out.”

The members envious in their anticipation to what Mina had planned.

“I also arranged something for the rest of you too.” she added, to which got everyone’s attention. “A weekend booking to the Banyan Tree Club & Spa”

Everyone stopped in their tracks for a moment. “You’re joking.” Jongyeon broke the silence “I’m not” Mina smiled. Nayeon blinking in disbelief “That place is impossible to book last minute, even for celebrities.”

“Not for me” Mina smirked

Momo looked at Mina all confused “Wait— when did you even?” Sana laughed “You’re scary when you want to be, Mitang”.

“I didn’t want anyone to feel left out” she simply said. Before anyone could even properly thank Mina for her generous gift. A second vehicle pulled arrived in a loud manner

“Ahhh.” Mina clapped her hand imitating how Jihyo does it.  “Oppa, Chaeyoung, our ride is here”.  That was not the sound of any car, cars don’t have rotors.

“A helicopter?” I looked back to Mina “Are you for real?” She met my gaze just smiling knowing that we couldn’t hear her with all the noise. Chaeyoung just looked up just as speechless as I was.

“Where are you taking us?” I managed to write on phone showing it to her. She grabbed it and typed in something herself “Somewhere quieter~” she held it back to me.

The helicopter lifted us away from the rest of them. Seoul shrinking beneath us. The view was breathtaking. With the help of the intercom inside the helicopter, we finally managed to converse.

“You planned all of this within a few days?” I asked.

“I recalled the efforts you made for me on our first day together when I was still planning.”

She said in the intercom letting Chaeyoung hear our conversation as well.

“The way you made everything so private made me feel… seen.” her fidgeting brought back a familiar feeling to the Mina I am used to. “So I wanted our weekend to be private too.”

“—You mean secret.” Chaeyoung said smiling at the both of us.

Mina’s lips curved just slightly “… That too” she added.

After a while, Chaeyoung noticed that we we’re going somewhere remote.

“Unnie, where are we exactly?” she asked really pressing Mina to give us an insight into everything.

“There are places” she continued “that don’t appear on maps.”

That got my attention. Somewhere completely off the grid. I’ve only seen this in movies and fiction, never would I believe they actually existed let alone be able to go to one.

“They only accept bookings one at a time.” Mina continued having the full attention of us both. “No records, no risks, no leaks.”

Chaeyoung let out a low whistle “sounds expensive.”

“It is” Mina glanced at her.

The pilot called our attention, telling us that we’re almost there.

The mountains were beautiful, but what caught my attention was the traditional estate that was hidden between them.

“We’re here” Mina said “The Estate”

“That’s a very bland name, don’t you think?” I told her.

“It’s not like the people go here for the name, John.” Mina laughed at my obvious remark.

Stepping out of the helicopter after the descent, I took my time to take in the serenity.

The wind moving gently through the trees.

Water somewhere nearby.

And the faint creak of wood beneath our steps.

No traffic, no schedules, and importantly no cameras.

Chaeyoung follow out of the helicopter stretching her arms above her head.

“Woah” she muttered out “This is actually insane.”

“You know me Chae, I don’t do anything halfway”

Mina didn’t respond immediately, taking everything in with a vibe that she had been here before.

“But I also didn’t want to force you into something you didn’t want to do”.

I remembered this from our conversation before. Chaeyoung was starting to get the hint but before she could say anything, Mina shared a fact to throw the tension off course—

“I stayed here for a while when I went on hiatus, actually.” Mina managed to share.

“No wonder we couldn’t contact you for a while.” Chaeyoung finally realizing.

There was no person in Korea that doesn’t remember when Mina went on her hiatus.

But what she just said answered a long question to how no one was able to get an update about her during that time, despite the infamy of how well the Korean paparazzi stalks idols from every corner of Korea.

Trying not to kill the mood. I looked between them.

“So,” I said, exhaling slowly, “what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” both Mina and Chaeyoung looked at me.

“We finally get you for two days straight” Chaeyoung said, a hint of malice in that voice.

“Why would we rush anything?” Mina added with a tone I only heard her say once.

Mina gave me and Chaeyoung a small pamphlet “There is no fixed schedule here, but there are a few thing you can do.”

Looking at the pamphlet, a lot of these things are sounded really luxurious.

A private bath overlooking the valley.

A Tea Room with the options listed out, but I never heard of any of these before as they sound too luxurious for my own personal budget.

A Garden displaying numerous Bonsai Trees that are at least 450 years old.

Some other leisure activities that didn’t catch my fancy, and then a special dinner prepared by Private Chef from a 3 Michelin Star Restaurant.

My hand was trembling “Mina-ah… isn’t this a bit of overkill?”

“Not really, it’s pretty much pocket change to me” Mina said, no signs of exaggeration. Because to her, she was only stating the truth.

“Oppa, they didn’t tell you?” Chaeyoung caught me off guard “Mina’s family is wealthy enough to buy every idol company in all of Korea, it’s a secret all the members know.”

“Then why is Mina even an idol if she’s that wealthy?” I genuinely wanted to know the answer.

“I like being an idol, John.” Mina pouted at me “It’s an experience money can’t buy”

Chaeyoung added jokingly “It’s for the love of the game at this point, oppa”.

Yeah that makes complete sense.

Walking around, the path of the estate was surprisingly narrow.

Chaeyoung walked ahead of us kicking at the small pebbles as she moved.

She stopped in the middle of her track—

“So… who’s going to pretend this isn’t awkward?” she asked not even softening the blow.

“Weird?” I looked confused.

Mina met her gaze, “It’s not weird. Just new”

Trying to break the tension I suggested we all go for some tea.

The girls didn’t bother to contest, Chaeyoung was equally curious of the place and Mina knew not to push anything to ruin the weekend.

After trying to deescalate the situation in the Tea Room, I decided to go on ahead to the private bath, I mean it’s not everyday I get to experience something like this.

Relaxing with some tea I brought from the tea room to the nice hot bath, I noticed a door open on the other side, the women’s side of the open bath.

It was Mina and Chaeyoung taking a bath together, unaware I was still here on the other side.

I didn’t bother letting them know of my presence.

Both of them let out a relaxed sigh—

“Oh my God this is amazing I never want to leave.” Chaeyoung said out loud,

Mina teased back to her “If you really don’t want to leave, we can always go on hiatus. The both of us”

This was a dangerous thing to hear as the manager, if Jihyo was around to hear that she would have definitely gone ballistic.

But right now, I am their boyfriend, not the manager so I’ll let it slide.

The water shifted softly as they moved.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Chaeyoung let out a quiet breath “You really stayed here?”

“Yes” Mina hummed softly.

“Alone?” Chaeyoung’s voice filled with concern.

Mina didn’t answer immediately but the words she spoke next made Chaeyoung look at her.

“…Not exactly” even I was shocked wondering what Mina meant.

“The staff was tending to me, but I still felt like I was alone.”

Even from where I was, I felt the weight of her words.

“Was it that bad?” Chaeyoung pressed on.

“No… it was peaceful” Mina shook her head “that’s what made it harder.”

Chaeyoung frowned “… harder?”

Mina turned to her, just slightly. “I had time to think.”

Chaeyoung didn’t need further explanation.

“That sounds dangerous.”

“And it was” Mina could only smile.

After a brief pause, Mina continued. “That’s when I realized something”

Chaeyoung didn’t interrupt, she could only listen.

Mina’s voice softened, “I don’t like not knowing where I stand with people I care about.”

“People? I’m pretty sure we all love John in our own way.”

Chaeyoung tried to act oblivious.

Mina looked at Chaeyoung, holding her gaze. “… and what about with you?”

The air shifted.

Chaeyoung couldn’t look Mina in the eyes anymore.

“Th—that’s not fair” she muttered.

Mina didn’t react, she didn’t push anything “… I know”.

Chaeyoung shifted towards Mina, her hand running through her hair

“You make things sound simple” she muttered in frustration.

“They are not.” Mina said without hesitation.

“Then why do you say it like that?” leaning her forehead against Mina’s

Mina welcoming her approach a faint whimper “Because I’ve already thought about it.”

This made Chaeyoung pause “… And I haven’t”.

Now tearing up in front of Mina.

Mina’s hands guiding Chaeyoung’s head to her chest, a warm hug affirming her

“It’s okay… you don’t have to figure everything out right now.” her voice full of warmth.

Feeling Mina’s heart flutter, Chaeyoung couldn’t help but ask

“So we just pretend that everything is fine?”

Mina just shook her head. “No.”

Her heart beating faster, almost audible. “we stop pretending.”

For a moment, Chaeyoung smiled in Mina’s embrace. Feeling everything at once;

The sunset, the sound of the water, the warmth of the water not even comparing the warmth of Mina.

They stayed like that for a brief moment, Mina only breaking the silence with 3 simple words;

“I love you”

After hearing her say that, Chaeyoung leaned closer to Mina— and she didn’t even try to fight it, giving herself to Chaeyoung’s passion and accepting her kiss.

Then Mina made a muffled whimper, Chaeyoung’s hands were discovering Mina’s body with an eagerness despite already sharing a bed with her many times in the past.

But this was indeed the first time,

The first time that she responded in acknowledgement of Mina’s feelings. Letting her feel Chaeyoung’s desire with her touch.

Her hands were everywhere, cupping Mina’s breasts and nubbing on both nipples.

Mina didn’t even fight back, she wanted this to happen.

But she knew she couldn’t keep quiet, she didn’t care.

“You said we can finally stop pretending right? I can finally stop acting composed around you”. Chaeyoung voice showing now restraint in her greed as one hand slowly went down towards Mina’s abs—

“Oh God your abs make me really hot, I just can’t stop myself anymore.” Chaeyoung’s hand kept going lower.

“I don’t want you to stop” Mina stated right before letting her moans stop words from forming.

A sudden ripple of water from the other side, not loud nor subtle. Just enough to stop Mina and Chaeyoung from whatever was happening.

“OH MY, I MUST HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP IN THE BATH. IT’S ALREADY SUNDOWN, I SHOULD GET OUT AND LOOK FOR MINA AND CHAEYOUNG. THEY MUST BE STARVING.”

I could only say that as loud as I can without yelling, walking out the men’s side of the bath as fast as I could.

It would have been rude to listen to that escalate.

Both of them froze, like a deer in headlights.

Then they both giggled.

“That jackass was definitely listening.” Chaeyoung snorted.

Mina couldn’t stop laughing at all.

There she was laying her heart, soul, and literal body bare in front of Chaeyoung, and she didn’t know she had an audience listening to her.

“He’s going to pay for that later.” Mina could only say while continuing to laugh.

Chaeyoung reached in for a kiss, Mina could feel her passion.

“He’s right you know, I am actually starving for some actual food.” Chaeyoung said as she let go of the kiss; a trace of saliva the only thing connecting their now parted lips.

“Let’s head out too.” Mina suggested while standing up from the bath, offering Chaeyoung her hand.

Dinner was already prepared by the time I was there, Mina and Chaeyoung where nowhere to be found but I did leave a note for them telling them I would be waiting in the dining room.

Then the both of them walked in to greet me.

They were wearing Yukatas— loose but not careless.

Chaeyoung’s was slightly uneven leaving one of her shoulders exposed.

Mina’s on the other hand, was perfect… until I noticed how it framed her body just a little too well.

They knew what they were doing.

They sat down immediately, with me in the middle.

“You started without us?” Chaeyoung asked, though her eyes were already on the table.

“I was waiting.”

For a moment, no one spoke; not because of the tension.

But because the food was too damn good.

It was a lacquered tray placed in front of each of us.

Small dishes arranged like a painting.

Seared wagyu slices—lightly glazed, still warm.

Seasonal vegetables, cut so clean they looked unreal.

A clear broth, steaming gently, carrying a delicate aroma.

Fresh sashimi, arranged with quiet confidence.

“You weren’t joking, Mina” I barely muttered as I was trying to hold back my drool.

 Chaeyoung leaned forward slightly “…I don’t even know where to start.”

Mina didn’t rush, she picked up her chopsticks slowly.

“You don’t start, you take your time.” she said calmly while giving us both a warm smile.

Chaeyoung didn’t hold back, she started to eat some of the food.

“This is insane” she was in awe of how delicious everything is.

“Yeah it is.” I just nodded in agreement, lost for words.

I glanced at Mina, “you really planned all of this?”

“I told you I would.” she acknowledged.

“I didn’t think you meant it like this,” Chaeyoung admitted.

Mina met Chaeyoung’s gaze this time. “I always mean what I say.”

Chaeyoung’s mood shifted a bit.

“You’ve been planning this longer than you let on.”

Mina didn’t deny or admit it. “I had time to think”

Chaeyoung couldn’t help but exhale “You keep saying that you know.”

“And I still don’t know how to respond to it.”

Mina gave her another soft smile. “You don’t have to, just take your time.”

Chaeyoung frowned. “That’s the problem.”

“You make it sound like I can take my time.”

Mina tilted her head in confusion “Can’t you?” she followed up with that question.

I couldn’t just sit there in the middle of this.

Setting my chopsticks down, squeezing myself into the conversation—

“You don’t have to figure everything out tonight”

Both of them looked at me, Mina not surprised, letting me continue.

“I mean this doesn’t feel like something that needs to be rushed.”

Mina watched me carefully “… You’re okay with that?”

I nodded. Then a pause.

“So what, we just sit here like this?” Chaeyoung breaking her silence

I just shrugged “We eat”

That made both of them laugh.

“That’s your solution?” Mina pouted at me.

“It is not a bad one” I could only retort while reaching for another serving.

Chaeyoung followed my lead and reached for more meat— then she paused.

“You know what? This no longer feels like a rotation.”

I look to her, “Does it now?” trying to speak with a full mouth.

“It isn’t.” Mina added while reaching for a bottle of sake that I didn’t know was there.

“Then what is it?” Chaeyoung just stared as I signaled Mina my cup asking for some sake too.

Mina took a sip before answering her “This is just us”

Silence loomed over for a while.

“You said we can be ourselves for the time being right?” I broke the silence.

“Then I am going to be myself by asking the chef to cook up another batch of meat”.

I was still hungry.

That made everyone laugh—

Mina pouring herself another cup.

Me reaching out for more food.

Chaeyoung just enjoying our presence.

For the first time since we arrived, everything felt steady.

I excused myself from the both of them walk out for some fresh air, I needed it after eating too much.

Sitting outside, contemplating how far my life was from being rock bottom to spending a night in a place that technically doesn’t exist.

Then Chaeyoung approached to sit next to me.

“Hey”

I could only acknowledge her as I kept watching the bright moonlight shine on the mountain view.

But I couldn’t stop myself from taking glances at Chaeyoung, I’ve never seen her like this before.

“Need something?” I tell her while I held her hand across mine.

“Actually when you left, me and Mina kept on talking.” she added.

Then I told her “well you didn’t need me for that didn’t you?”

“You already know where I stand, with the both of you. Right?” I added.

Chaeyoung could only lean on me, “That’s exactly it.” she sighed in relief.

“I am still new to all of this— I don’t even know how the logistics of this would work.” she was talking to herself at this point. I was just there to listen.

“Do me and Mina unnie start acting like a couple now? What happens on the next rotation? We can’t keep running away to the Estate with you every time—”

I gave her a pat on the head “You don’t have to think about it, just let it happen. You’re not alone. Heck, you have the numbers advantage against everyone else.” I let out a laugh.

Chaeyoung just pouted at my subtle tease.

“Well you’re right about letting it happen, I told Mina I wanted nothing more than to give me and her a try.” she told me “I know she told me to take my time but I want to take my time dating with her, that I am sure of.”

I look back to the view of the moonlight, leaning my head on Chaeyoung who already leaning on my shoulder.

“Well if that’s the case, I don’t know why you came out alone to tell me. I sure Mina wanted to tell me that too.”

She looked up to me meeting my gaze “That’s exactly why I’m here. Unnie is a bit preoccupied with something and I have to bring you back with me.”

She insisted to bring me inside with her “She has a surprise waiting for you”

I was clueless to what she meant, but as I stepped into the room—

And stopped.

The lighting was different, softer… lower…

The space felt prepared.

Then I saw her.

I should have known something was up, the way she grinned at me should have given it away.

There was Mina in the bed—

Tied up, blindfolded, and her ears covered.

Chaeyoung pressed herself against me, “Don’t you realize it, oppa. You’ve seen this side of her too, right?”

Chaeyoung’s voice softer now, but full of lust.

A small pause

“She doesn’t just show this to anyone.”

And she was right. That realization alone was enough to keep me still.

“You see, she wanted to explore with me how far we can take her kinks”. She said as she whispered in my ear, letting me feel the heat of her breath.

“You know how I get when I don’t hold back.” a small smile

“…She wanted to experience that too.”

For a second—

I didn’t see it as something wild.

Or reckless. I saw it for what it was.

--- Trust.

I finally had enough in me to slowly turn my head towards Chaeyoung.

“You’re damn insane you know that.” I managed a smirk at her

She started to lick my neck, “You’re damn right I am.” desire completely taking over her eyes.

“Mina unnie told us to let go, to be ourselves and I plan to.”

This wasn’t Mina losing control or being reckless. This was her giving it away, her own unique way for choosing Chaeyoung.

And Chaeyoung didn’t wait, she saw that I was already very excited, my cock’s erection outlining my yukata along with a stain of pre-cum.

Her hand reached for it while the other one went to touching herself.

“Courtesy of Dahyun, I assume? I’ll have to thank her properly soon.” she was saying what was on her mind.

And despite all that I wasn’t able to take my eyes off of Mina.

“Cold Feet?” Chaeyoung moaned into my ears. “You already see me and unnie let loose, what’s holding you back?”

I was still speechless, this was too much for me to process.

Normally Chaeyoung’s provocations were enough for me. But seeing Mina like this made my brain froze.

“I know what will have you starting” Chaeyoung stopped using me like a toy and slowly walked towards Mina.

Her fingers tracing her Mina’s body from the foot, slowly rising towards her nape and then to her mouth.

Mina could only whimper and moan, and it was loud, this kind of loudness isn’t something she would do when she was composed,

Not even when we made love in my room.

Chaeyoung took out Mina’s blindfold right at that moment.

Mina saw me instantly, standing still in shock.

Chaeyoung’s voice filled the room

“Oppa, look.” her head slowly heading towards Mina’s pussy.

“The moment she saw you staring at her, she started oozing out love juices.”

She started to lick it from the source, making Mina moan even louder.

“Unnie, I need your help here, it seems our dear oppa is just standing there ignoring his boyfriend duties.”

Chaeyoung got up to Mina’s face to give her a kiss, letting her taste her own nectar in Chaeyoung’s tongue.

“J-John” Mina barely held her voice together. “… you don’t have to hold back anymore, not with us.”

Those were the last words Mina could say before she lost herself in the pleasure Chaeyoung was giving her.

 That was it, not the words. The way she said it.

Like she had already chosen.

Like they both had.

And I was the only one still pretending I hadn’t.

I exhaled slowly “right.” as I walked to them stripping myself from my clothes.

If they wanted me to let go, then I would.

I closed the distance, reaching for Chaeyoung—

Not to take control, but to stop holding back.

She felt it immediately, the shift.

Even Chaeyoung felt it, not dominance, just certainty.

She didn’t resist, there was no need to.

Because she understood that it wasn’t me taking over.

This was me finally stepping in with the both of them.

I was always the one who followed. Being guided, teased, and waiting.

But tonight? There was no lead, nor following.

Just the three of us— meeting in the same place.

Exactly what they had been waiting for.

Chaeyoung was already more than ready to being, excited actually.

“On your knees, now. Be a good girl for oppa” I firmly whispered in her ear, my voice demanding her obedience.

She complied easily looking back at me with an eager look, I can see her drool escaping from a lustful grin.

Showing no resistance, she easily took my entire length down to the base of cock.

I was savoring the moment and enjoying the bare view of Mina tied up in front of me, her bare pussy which was free of any hair and overflowing with her juices.

“Oppa, you’re cruel” Chaeyoung cried, “why aren’t you moving”

I forgot about that, I was too enchanted by the view of Mina’s pussy, only snapping out of it because of Chaeyoung’s whimpers.

I continued to pound into Chaeyoung from behind, but every now and then I would glance at Mina looking powerless and feeling neglected.

Her eyes full of envy at the sight of her beloved Chaeyoung lost in the feeling; her body giving in completely, chasing every single jolt of pleasure from my movements.

The look of face as her eyes rolling towards the back of her head drowning in pleasure.

I wasn’t going to let the pass, I pulled hair towards me leaning in as she arched her back to me.

“Look at you, drowning in bliss without working for it.”  I grunted

“You really forget everything when it feels this good, don’t you?”

As I guided her head to look at what’s in front of her.

There she saw Mina being tied up as how she left her, “Look at her.”

A breath

“You were just telling me earlier how much she means to you."

Something in her expression shifted, not just from the intensity.

But from being made to see it, to see Mina.

That was all it took.

Tears slipped from her eyes— not just from the intensity

But from realizing it.

Mina…

She desperately crawled to Mina, her pussy’s grip on me forcing me to walk on my knees to follow.

This startled even me for a moment, and when I looked up to meet Mina’s gaze

Mina stilled for a moment; there was a flicker of surprise in her expression—

She had heard stories before. Bits and pieces.

How I could get… rough, when asked.

But hearing it and seeing it— those were two completely different things.

For a second, her gaze searched mine.

Not uncertain, just… confirming.

That was enough, the tension in her shoulders eased, just slightly.

A quiet breath leaving her lips.

Not discomfort or doubt but something else, understanding.

And with it— a growing curiosity.

Chaeyoung could only get as far as the end of the bed before I gave her a loud slap in the butt.

“Don’t move!” I gave the command, her mind too clouded to protest it.

At the point she stopped her face was already next to Mina’s pussy.

Even through the haze she could feel it.

The warmth, the closeness.

“Mina unnie…” she whimpered as her tongue reached out, responding to a thirst.

Her tongue started exploring Mina’s beautiful folds.

Unlike me, she didn’t study Mina’s reactions. She knew by heart where her weak spots were.

With the relentless attacks from Chaeyoung’s mouth along with the build up of excitement she felt from earlier, it didn’t take much to make Mina reach an orgasm.

Her moans started to become frantic, as she came.

I was about to reach my limit as well.

I didn’t need to tell Chaeyoung she always wanted to take my load deep inside her every chance she could get.

I buried myself deeper into Chaeyoung pumping all my cum deep inside her.

That pushed her face deeper into Mina.

The forced  made her tongue go deeper inside Mina’s walls and the overflowing nectar of her orgasm only had one direction to flow towards—

Down Chaeyoung’s throat.

The feeling of having both holes in her body filled with the orgasms of her two lovers drove her to have an orgasm of her own.

Even after cumming the way Chaeyoung’s walls contracted around my dick was enough to get me hard again.

With how sensitive I still was, I needed to pull out or else I would have had a second orgasm right there.

Chaeyoung’s pussy dripping a mixture of her own nectar and my seed, but she didn’t seem to notice me pulling out as mouth hasn’t let go of Mina’s pussy ever since she started.

I moved to Mina to untie her legs, and then her arms.

After freeing the first hand she suddenly grabbed the back of my head and pulled me in for a kiss.

Her tongue violently entering my mouth, not waiting for me to kiss her back.

“You took your time, John.” she smiled at me after letting go.

Her eyes started to fill with a lust similar to Chaeyoung’s.

As I pulled back to go untie her other hand,

Mina leaned closer to devour my cock, this woman had ran out of patience.

Her tongue exploring every single detail of my penis, savoring the taste of my cock which bathed Chaeyoung’s nectar not too long ago.

Looking up at me to comment

“The taste of Chaeyoung’s juices and your seed… I could get addicted to this.”

Mina gently raised Chaeyoung towards her from her cunt—she hadn’t stopped at after all this time.

 “Love, you’ve been to greedy. Let John have a turn.” she said with a gentle smile.

It was the complete opposite to how I treated Chaeyoung.

But I knew better, Mina wasn’t just being gentle.

She was easing Chaeyoung away.

It had been far too long, for the both of us.

10 days since she last felt my touch, and since I last felt Mina—

She was as hungry for as I was for her.

She stayed on her back, she wanted to see what I would do to her.

“You waited.” I stared at her for a moment, admiring her beauty. “… still holding back.”

Mina didn’t answer right away.

Her gaze stayed on me. Steady.

Then softer—

“I wasn’t holding back,” a pause. “…I was waiting.”

Without missing a beat, Mina opened her arms towards me “O-kae-ri~” with a warm smile.

As if she was asking for a hug.

I stepped into her embrace— closing the distance first.

Letting the moment settle between us, before finally giving in to her.

“…Tadaima” I whispered into her ear.

It was always different with Mina—

I was never rough with her. It’s not that I couldn’t, it was because I didn’t need to be.

She could take control when she wanted to, I’ve seen that side of her.

But this? This was different.

This was her choosing to let go and give all of her to me.

I got lost in the moment too much with Mina that I didn’t even notice Chaeyoung at the side of the bed looking at both of us, despite the fact that she was in her own world of pleasure earlier.

Her cheek resting on her hand, hesitant for once.

Not asking, just there.

Mina’s hand found hers almost immediately, no hesitation.

A quiet pull drawing her closer.

Not away from me but into us.

"Unnie… Oppa...” barely above a whisper.

Different from before, more… wanting.

Mina's hand shifted, reaching for Chaeyoung—

Pulling her close into the space between us.

She leaned in, pressing a brief, lingering kiss to Mina’s lips.

Turning back to me, her smile softened "… you can be gentle with me too, you know."

Then she pressed her forehead gently against mine.

Surrendering herself to me as well.

She didn’t rush, didn’t push. She just stayed close.

And that alone felt different.

This completely out of character for her but it's not that bad to see this side of her.

Mina then proceeded to take Chaeyoung’s waist closer to her face—

She wanted a taste of her while being filled up by me.

Mina indeed loved the taste of Chaeyoung’s nectar and my seed combined—

The proof of love between the two people she cherished the most, it was hers and hers alone.

Chaeyoung was moaning right close to me, her arms wrapped around my shoulders looking for support.

I leaned in to give her a kiss, and she kissed me back her tongue entering my mouth—

There mine passionately danced with hers.

I let out a voice… “Mina… Chaeyoung… I’m close.”

Mina can confirm, as she felt me twitching desperately inside her.

Chaeyoung looked back to Mina, a grin plastered on her face.

“Just like we talked about unnie?” Mina nodded.

Not knowing what they meant— Mina pulled away from me and Chaeyoung flipped me over to the bed, now it was me laying down.

Without even letting me know what they were doing, Mina and Chaeyoung intertwined their legs and hips together.

Their folds rubbing each other between my cock—

The sensation new to me.

I tried holding in as much as I can to savor the feeling but both Mina and Chaeyoung’s moaning filled the room making it hard to focus.

“Oppa, Unnie… I love both you so much.” Chaeyoung tried whimpered as she began chasing her orgasm.

Mina just smiled at me “John… I’m close too.” and gave in to her moans.

I couldn’t keep it in anymore. The moment I felt the gust from both Chaeyoung and Mina’s pussies—

I put all the strength I had left into my hips and let go.

A trail of my cum went everywhere...

Some fell into Mina’s sweaty abs, small traces were able to reach Chaeyoung’s face.

All three of us collapsed in the bed, the only sound left was the heavy panting from all three of us.

Mina couldn’t help herself she managed to use her fingers to wipe traces of my cum and the both their fluids from the orgasm we all shared just now.

Mina didn’t say anything at first. She just watched us—

Then smiled to herself.

“This is proof that all three of us became one, body and heart.” she said as the took the mixture to her mouth, giving it a taste.

“Oppa, I think we awakened a new kink in Mina.” Chaeyoung let out a quiet laugh.

I was still catching my breath, but I could only acknowledge it with a small laugh.

Leading both Chaeyoung and Mina to a proper position in the bed to get comfy—

Mina cuddled up to my right side and Chaeyoung followed taking my left.

For the first time, this didn’t’ feel complicated.

It just felt right.

We all slowly drifted to sleep, a warm feeling in all of us.

It wasn’t the sunlight that woke me. It was the weight, one on each side. Warm and still. For a second, I didn’t move— I didn’t want to.

Mina was already awake, she didn’t say anything. Just looked at me— like she was checking if I was still there. Chaeyoung shifted, pulling closer without opening her eyes.

“…Don’t move,” she murmured. Like I was the one who might disappear. I gave both of them a peck in the cheek "Don't worry I'm not going anywhere."

"But I do need to take a shower." I protested.

Walking out of bathroom I was about to call out on who wants to take a shower next—

But I was greeted with a different scene.

Mina was there, on top of Chaeyoung. She was exploring every nook and crevice of her body. Then she looked up at me-- she crawled to the edge of the bed, on her hand and knees, "You know, John... I never had my fill yet." realizing what this meant.

"So instead you were bullying poor Chaeyoung who was still tired while you waited for me?" I met her her gaze half way, closing in for a kiss. Chaeyoung looked at both of us, feeling giddy "It's fine, I enjoyed keeping her warm for you."

Mina nudged her leg at Chaeyoung at that comment while refusing to let go of my kiss. "Hey oppa, don't forget I'm still here." she looked at me grinning. "But don't worry, I'm satisfied. So give Mina unnie your full attention, I'm just here to watch." she playfully winked. I let go of Mina's kiss while both of my hands cupped her breasts.

"Don't worry Chae-- you’re getting front row seats." I grinned back at her. Pulling Mina towards my body, causing her to stand up. My hands were greedily feeling her body, giving her the same treatment she gave Chaeyoung.

Before Mina could wrap her hands around me, I spun her around. She was now facing Chaeyoung in the bed, enjoying the view. I raised her left leg while my right hand was stimulating her folds and clit.

“J-john, what is this—” a moan prevented her from finishing her sentence. I my cock inside her pussy. She realized that in this position, Chaeyoung could see everything. Her face was red with embarrassment, but she didn’t fight it.

On the contrary, she loved it. She enjoyed Chaeyoung watching her becoming one with the lover that they share. I could feel it with how her walls were gripping me.

It didn’t take long for Mina to near her climax. There was too much stimulation around her, both physically and emotionally. “I’m going to cum” she muttered between her panting.

I grabbed Mina’s neck, whispering to her “Let Chaeyoung see you cum, show her what you look like when I pump my seed deep inside you.”

That was it, she came harder than she did last night. The sensation of her pussy gripping me made me cum after her. The increased sensitivity of her walls made her feel my seed flow inside of her along with every pulse and throb of my cock.

I signaled Chaeyoung to come and catch Mina when I pulled out of her. She was out of breath yet very happy to as why she was like that.

Caressing Mina’s cheek as she rested her head on Chaeyoung’s lap, she muttered lazily “What if… we just didn’t go back?” Mina looking up at her with curiosity “Mina unnie, we could have John put a baby in both of us,” the suggestion had her blush and then look towards me as I choked on my water hearing the idea.

“W-w-what on earth are you saying?” I was equally curious to another one of her crazy propositions. “Me, Mina unnie, and you. We can run away to somewhere no one even knows exists.”

“No more schedules, cameras, or rotations” she kept going. “Hmmm, running away huh? Tempting but that sounds expensive” I said in a joking manner, humoring her suggestion.

Mina laughed “… That part isn’t a problem.” Chaeyoung giggled, “We’d be fine. Mina unnie would fund everything.”

“You know I hate how you’re not wrong.” I muttered. Chaeyoung added “We could even start our own family, the three of us.” Mina giggled, “that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” I let out a quiet laugh, “Jihyo would go ballistic and track us down in less than a week.”

“Less than a day actually.” Mina corrected. Chaeyoung dropped to the pillows “Yeah… she would”. We all laughed in unison.

Grabbing their attention, I pointed to the clock “Yeah, we missed breakfast. Want me to call them and prepare a brunch?” Both of them agreed. “But you two need a shower and I need to take another one.”

“We’re all hungry, Chaeyoung. So don’t try to pull anything there while we’re bathing.” I pinched her butt. “Why me?” She groaned out. “Because Mina wouldn’t do anything in here.” I retorted.

“Too much of a slipping hazard” Mina said without even looking back at us.

The three of them didn’t return at the same time.

Chaeyoung came out first—hair still damp, oversized shirt hanging loosely over her frame, dragging her feet like she hadn’t fully woken up yet.

Mina followed not long after, composed as always, though the softness in her expression hadn’t left since the morning.

By the time I stepped out, they were already seated—waiting.

Brunch arrived quickly, simple, but deliberate. Warm rice, grilled fish, a light soup, and fresh fruit on the side. Nothing extravagant.

No one spoke at first. Not because it was awkward— but because it wasn’t.

Chaeyoung broke it first.

“…This is way better than the dorm food.”

“Because you didn’t cook it,” Mina replied calmly.

“That’s exactly my point.”

I laughed quietly, watching the two of them fall back into their usual rhythm. The difference now was how close they stayed.

After brunch, they didn’t rush. There was no schedule, no pressure, all the time they needed. Mina was the one who stood first. "Come on,” she said softly, already knowing they’d follow. Chaeyoung didn’t even ask where. She just got up and grabbed my hand.

The estate grounds stretched further than expected. Stone paths winding through carefully maintained greenery. Old trees, sculpted and deliberate. Bonsai displays placed like quiet centerpieces of time. All three of us walking together with me in the middle.

“You think these are older than us?” Chaeyoung asked.

“By a few centuries,” Mina answered.

At one point, Chaeyoung slowed down. Without saying anything she reached back to grab Mina’s hand. Mina didn’t react, she just let it happen. And for a while, they walked like that.

The tea room was quieter than everything else, minimal. Mina handled most of it. Preparing the tea with a kind of familiarity that made it feel practiced. Chaeyoung leaned against the table, watching.

“…You’ve definitely done this before.”

“A few times.” Mina replied “Rich people hobbies.”

Mina didn’t deny it. I took the cup she handed me.

“…About earlier,” Chaeyoung started, then stopped.

Mina looked at her, not pressing, just waiting.

“I meant what I said,” Chaeyoung added.

Quiet this time. Mina nodded “…I know.”

“If it’s worth much, I would have agreed if it was just the three of us.” I added “but everyone back home is waiting for us to comeback, you know?

“That is true, it wouldn’t be fair to them.” Mina agreed.

“And the part of Jihyo hunting us down if we did was true too.” Chaeyoung added

That was it. No big declaration or over-explanation, just understanding.

They didn’t fill every hour, some of it was spent back in the room.

Windows open.

Wind moving through the curtains.

Chaeyoung laid across the bed, scrolling through nothing, Mina beside her, reading something she hadn’t turned the page of in a while, and I just sat nearby.

By late afternoon, reality started creeping back in, “…We should head back soon,” I said. Neither of them argued. “I’ll let them know we’re heading back,” Mina said with a small smile.

The car pulled into the resort entrance just as the sun started to dip, definitely much livelier than the estate. Voices and laughter could be heard. They spotted us first. Of course they did.

“YAHHH—LOOK WHO DECIDED TO COME BACK.” Nayeon’s voice carried across the space.

Chaeyoung winced immediately, “…We should’ve stayed”

“I regret not accepting your suggestion to run away already.” I nudged at Chaeyoung.

“That offer stand indefinitely, you know” Mina muttered.

The others closed in quickly. Flooding us with questions, teasing, and suspicion.

“Why do you both look like that?” Jeongyeon asked, narrowing her eyes.

“…Like what?” Chaeyoung shot back.

“Tired. Suspiciously tired.”

Mina just smiled but she didn’t answer.

Dahyun leaned in slightly “Well… was it worth it?”

“Absolutely!” Chaeyoung didn’t hesitate.

“I want to hear all the details” Jihyo told me.

I just raised my hands “Sorry. Signed an NDA”

“EHHHH?” everyone turned to Mina and Chaeyoung who just giggled.

The ride back felt different. Louder, more familiar. But when things settled and the noise faded just enough— Chaeyoung leaned against my shoulder, Mina resting quietly on the other side.

The room felt different that night. Not like the Estate—quiet and untouched. This was familiar. Messier, warmer, real. Chaeyoung was the first to drop onto the bed, arms stretched out like she had claimed it.

“…I missed this,” she muttered.

Mina followed more slowly, sitting at the edge before easing herself down beside her.

“You mean John's bed?” she asked.

“No,” Chaeyoung replied without hesitation.

A small pause. “…This.”

I didn’t say anything at first, I just watched the two of them settle. Then I moved in between them, the same way it had naturally happened earlier like there wasn’t any other place I was supposed to be.

For a while, no one spoke, just the quiet hum of the room. Then Chaeyoung broke the silence.

“…Oppa,” Chaeyoung said suddenly.

“Yeah?” I wondered what crazy idea Chaeyoung had this time.

She turned her head slightly, looking at the ceiling instead of me.

“…What do you think happens after all this?” I already knew what she meant, but still…

“After what?”

She huffed quietly. “You know what I mean.” she didn’t even look back at me

“…After TWICE.”

That word hung heavier than anything we’d said all day. Mina shifted beside me. Not uncomfortable— only aware.

“…I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it seriously,” she admitted.

Her voice was calm, but softer than usual.

“That’s a lie,” Chaeyoung said immediately.

Mina let out a small breath “…Okay. I’ve thought about it.”

“And?” Chaeyoung pressed.

Mina didn’t answer right away. Her fingers lightly traced the fabric near my sleeve.

A habit, her way of showing that she was thinking.

“…I think I’d finally get to live slower,” she said.

Chaeyoung turned her head toward her now “…That’s it?”

Mina glanced at her “That’s a lot, coming from me.”

That made Chaeyoung smile “Fair.”

Mina turned to me this time “What about you?” Mina asked.

Chaeyoung didn’t hesitate this time.

“I’d still make art. Probably more, actually.”

“Without schedules?” I pondered.

“Without people telling me what to do.” A small grin.

“Maybe I’d actually finish something for once.”

Mina let out a quiet laugh “I’d like to see that.”

“You will,” Chaeyoung said, almost too naturally.

That line lingered.

I exhaled softly “You two would still be together.”

They both looked at me this time.

“You sound pretty sure,” Chaeyoung said.

I smiled at her, my expression full of assurance “I am.”

Mina’s gaze didn’t leave mine “and you?” she asked.

That one caught me off guard. Not the question, just how directly she asked it.

“I don’t know, I’m just trying not to get fired at the moment.” I admitted.

“I feel like don’t know what I’d do if I was separated from all of you.”

Chaeyoung frowned slightly “That’s a stupid answer.”

“I didn’t say I’d disappear,” I added “good,” she muttered.

Mina shifted again, a little closer this time.

“You wouldn’t,” she said quietly. There was no hesitation in her voice. No doubt.

“…You sound even more sure than me,” I said.

Mina smile. “I am.” a giggle followed “If they did fire you, I would just buy the company myself and hire you back.

“Wow, that’s reassuring. I appreciate it” I laughed at her trying to assure me… knowing full well that she’d definitely do that if JYP fired me.

That was the end of that.

The room fell quiet again—

“So what does this make us?” Chaeyoung asked after a while.

I let out a breath.

“Complicated.”

“Coward answer,” she shot back immediately.

I laughed “Okay, then you define it.”

She paused, actually paused.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Mina spoke before I could “It doesn’t need a name.”

Chaeyoung looked at her “That doesn’t bother you?” she asked.

Mina shook her head slightly “No.”

“Because it doesn’t feel uncertain.” That line landed.

“Yeah,” Chaeyoung said quietly. “It doesn’t.”

I leaned back slightly, letting the silence sit.

“…So we’re just… this?” I asked. Mina nodded “For now.”

Chaeyoung added— “And we’ll figure it out later.”

“Together?” I asked.

This time—they both answered “Together.”

No hesitation or second guessing.

Chaeyoung shifted again, resting her head on my shoulder, Mina mirrored it on the other side.

“You know,” Chaeyoung mumbled after a while,“we really could’ve run away.”

“You’re still on that?” I laughed.

Mina didn’t even open her eyes “It’s still an option.”

“Jihyo would find us,” I said.

“She would,” Mina agreed calmly.

Chaeyoung groaned “Yeah, we’d be dead.”

“Within the week,” I added.

“…Day,” Mina corrected.

We all laughed. And just like that everything felt normal again. Not before, not like it used to be, but something new, something that didn’t need to be explained. For once— there was nothing left to prove. Only time and each other.

The morning didn’t start quietly. It never did. By the time we stepped out of the room everyone was already at the table.

Coffee in hand.

Watching.

Waiting.

“Wow,” Nayeon said slowly “they actually came out together.”

Jeongyeon leaned back in her chair, arms crossed “and alive.”

Dahyun was trying—and failing—to look subtle. “Good morning~”

Chaeyoung didn’t even hesitate “Morning.”

Mina just nodded once... calm and composed. Too composed.

That’s what gave it away.

“Okay,” Jeongyeon said, pointing between the three of us. “Who’s talking first?”

“No one,” Mina answered immediately.

“Yeah, that’s not how this works,” Nayeon shot back.

Dahyun leaned forward slightly. “At least give us something.”

A pause.

Chaeyoung glanced at Mina.

Mina didn’t stop her.

“We’re dating,” Chaeyoung said simply.

I spat my coffee out immediately “WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SECRET?”

WHAT?” Nayeon also choked on her coffee.

Momo blinked. “Wait, like—actually?”

“Yeah,” Chaeyoung shrugged “like actually.”

Jeongyeon let out a low whistle “That explains a lot.”

Dahyun nodded slowly “That explains everything.”

Jihyo, surprisingly, didn’t react right away. She just watched Mina.

“And?” she asked.

Mina met her gaze calmly “and nothing.”

Then she added “We’re not changing anything.”

That caught everyone’s attention.

“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” Jeongyeon asked.

Mina didn’t even blink “I mean the arrangement still stands.” She gestured lightly—toward me, toward everyone.

“We’re not giving him up.” Mina said

Chaeyoung snorted. “Yeah, nice try.”

“Wait—so nothing changes?” Momo asked, tilting her head.

“Nothing changes,” Mina repeated.

Dahyun leaned back, clearly impressed. “That’s kind of terrifying.”

“Right?” Jeongyeon added “She just upgraded her relationship status and still kept everything else.”

Nayeon shook her head “Rich and efficient. That’s dangerous.”

“You’re all exaggerating,” Mina said calmly.

No one believed her.

Jihyo finally spoke again. “As long as it doesn’t mess with the schedule.”

“Leader-nim,” Chaeyoung grinned, “we just made things more efficient.”

“That’s not how that works,” Jihyo sighed.

“But the agreement still stands,” Mina added. “No one’s losing anything.”

A beat

“Except maybe sleep,” Dahyun muttered.

“That’s already gone,” Jeongyeon said.

Light laughter spread across the table. The tension broke just enough. Not completely, but just enough.

Tzuyu, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke “…So it’s my turn today, right?”

Everyone turned to her.

“Yes,” Jihyo answered cautiously.

“Damn, direct to business. Huh?” Sana taking a sip of coffee.

Tzuyu nodded once.

Then looked at me. “Good.”

A small pause.

“It’s also my day off and I don’t plan on sharing him with anyone today.”

Silence.

“Of course you don’t,” Jeongyeon muttered.

Jihyo closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. “I can already feel the headache.”

“Unnie, you’ll survive,” Chaeyoung teased.

“Barely,” Jihyo replied.

Tzuyu stood up, calm as ever. “Come on.”

That was it. there was no hesitation, just a quiet claim. I glanced back once, Mina was already sipping her coffee again. Calm and unbothered. Chaeyoung gave me a small grin.

“Have fun.”

“…I will,” I said.