i actually decided to put on hiatus, because three weeks after starting my job i actually lose the feeling of writing so yeahh,,,, its either im changing my job (which is still ongoing) or i just completely stop writing and lose this writing blog forever teehee(😭)
Can I request you write another Junhui story. I wrote this a while ago but never finished it and I can’t really write it out properly
Junhui died centuries ago but he’s still tied to the old family manor you just inherited he can appear and talk and even move things but he can’t leave and you can’t touch him without breaking something somehow you find a way to bend the magic enough to be together at least for a little while
+ Srry I think I sent the last thing anonymously but I asked about the Junhui story
《 Utopia 》
Summary : In Chinese tradition, a ghost marriage, aka spirit marriage,refers to a marriage in which one or both parties are deceased.
⤷ no warnings
Non-idol ghost & romance au ♡ SVT Jun x female reader ♡ 13+ SFW ♡ 6,894 words
⤷ This might be the second part of Bloodline: 0 so if you have read it yet and you are okay with uncomfortable subjects, please read it before reading this fic for more understanding😅 but it also can be a standalone fic, so no worries if you dont want to read the trigger parts in Bloodline: 0🥰
⤷ this is queued during January
* main masterlist * SEVENTEEN masterlist * taglist *
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Burnout didn't arrive all at once. It crept in slowly, like extra hours that turned into sleepless nights, meals skipped without notice, days blurring into one another until even weekends stopped feeling real.
So when your boss finally called you into his office and told you to take a full week off to make up for every hour of overtime you'd accumulated, you didn't protest. For the first time in a long while, you felt relief instead of guilt.
A week of rest. No deadlines or emails.
Rather than returning to your empty apartment, you found yourself turning the steering wheel toward your parents' home. It had been years since you'd truly stayed there, not just visited for a meal or a holiday. The thought of familiar roads, quiet nights, and the steady presence of family felt grounding, it feels like returning to something you'd almost forgotten you needed.
The drive was peaceful. Fields and houses passed by in a blur, the sky slowly shifting into warm evening colors. When you finally parked in the driveway, the house looked exactly as you remembered.
Inside, your parents greeted you with soft scolding and warm smiles, immediately fussing over how tired you looked. Your mother ushered you toward your room, insisting you change into something comfortable before dinner.
You complied without complaint.
When you stepped back into the living room, relaxed and barefoot, something unfamiliar caught your attention.
A spirit altar cabinet stood quietly against the wall.
It hadn't been there before.
You slowed, eyes lingering on the polished wood, the faint curl of incense smoke rising as if the cabinet itself was breathing. A strange feeling brushed against your chest. Nostalgia mixed with something heavier, something you couldn't name.
"Since when did we have that?" you asked.
Your parents exchanged a look. For a moment, neither of them spoke, until your father let out a small sigh, as if remembering something long overdue.
"That's your ancestor," he said. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "Ah… speaking of ancestors, my brother reminded me to tell you something."
He looked at you carefully before continuing.
"Remember that manor we showed you before you got your job?"
You frowned slightly, memory surfacing. "Yeah… it's not quite far from here. But it always felt creepy. The trees around it are completely overgrown."
"Well," your father said, crossing his arms, "my brother said that whenever you want to get married, you should use that manor. We can clean it up. At least you wouldn't need to buy another house. It's spacious enough to host a party, or to raise your own family.
You thought about it, unease settling in your chest. The image of the manor flashed in your mind: silent halls, tangled branches, windows that looked like unblinking eyes.
"It'd cost a lot to clean that place, wouldn't it?" you asked, frowning.
Your father scoffed lightly. "If we were poor, we'd have sold it long ago."
You sighed. "Fine. Just find a group to clean it up. I'll visit there tomorrow."
With that, you turned away, but your gaze drifted back to the spirit altar cabinet one last time. For a brief second, you felt as if someone was watching you from within.
Shaking the feeling off, you headed to the dining table and began eating.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The next morning arrived quietly, sunlight slipping through the curtains far earlier than you would have liked. You were still half-awake when your father knocked on the door, his voice carrying an unusual brightness.
"Get ready," he said. "Both sides of the family are already on their way."
You blinked. "Both… sides?"
"Yes. My whole family, and your mother's too. If we're cleaning that manor, we might as well do it properly."
By the time you'd washed up and grabbed a quick breakfast, the house was buzzing with messages and phone calls. Cars were already lining up near the old road leading to the manor. True to his word, your father didn't exaggerate, relatives you hadn't seen in years had gathered, sleeves rolled up, laughter and chatter filling the air.
You drove ahead, leading the small convoy down the narrow road. As the manor finally came into view, half-hidden by overgrown trees and tangled vines, the atmosphere shifted. Even with so many people present, the place still felt isolated, like it existed slightly apart from the world.
Everyone parked nearby and got out. The moment your feet touched the ground, the smell of damp earth and old leaves filled your lungs. While your parents and relatives immediately began discussing plans, you found yourself drifting toward the manor itself.
"I'll take a look inside first," you called back.
No one objected.
The front door creaked loudly as you pushed it open. Dust danced in the shafts of light that slipped through the tall windows, and cobwebs clung to the corners of the ceiling like forgotten lace. The furniture inside was unmistakably old-fashioned. Dark wood, carved edges, and designs you'd only ever seen in photographs or museums.
One of your uncles stepped in behind you, glancing around with interest.
"You know," he said casually, running a hand over a table, "these could sell for quite a high price. Antique furniture like this is rare. You could replace everything with whatever style you like."
You hummed in response, only half-listening. Your attention had already wandered deeper into the manor, your footsteps soft against the dusty floor as you moved from room to room.
Without realizing it, you found yourself at the foot of the staircase. Drawn by quiet curiosity, you ascended slowly. Each step groaned beneath your weight, the sound echoing unnaturally loud in the empty space. By the time you reached the second floor, the voices from outside had faded into a distant murmur.
You walked down the hallway, lined with closed doors and tall windows clouded with grime.
Then suddenly, silence. You stopped.
The noise from below had completely disappeared, as if the manor itself had swallowed it whole. The air felt heavier here, colder against your skin. When you turned to look back, the staircase behind you seemed longer than it had before, shadows stretching unnaturally along the walls.
You were alone in the hallway.
The silence pressed in on you, thick and unmoving. You took a hesitant step forward, the sound of your footfall swallowed almost instantly by the hallway.
Maybe they just moved farther away, you told yourself.
"Ah! You're finally here!"
The voice rang out brightly, far too close.
You gasped, spinning around so fast your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. Your back hit the wall, dust puffing into the air as your breath came in sharp, uneven bursts.
Standing a few steps away from you was a man. No… he looked solid at first glance, dressed neatly in clothes that didn't belong to any modern era. His hair fell loosely around his face, eyes bright with unmistakable excitement. What made your blood run cold was not his appearance, but the way the light passed ever so slightly through him, like he didn't fully belong in the space he occupied.
You stared, mind blank, fear rooting you in place.
"Woah- hey, hey, sorry!" he said quickly, hands raised. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just got excited."
Your mouth opened. Closed… and opened back again.
"…You-" Your voice came out hoarse. "Who are you?"
His eyes lit up even more, as if he'd been waiting for that exact question.
"Oh! Right. Introductions." He straightened, smoothing down his sleeves out of habit, then gave you a small bow politely, almost old-fashioned.
"My name is Wen Junhui."
The name echoed strangely in your ears.
You swallowed hard. "You're… not supposed to exist."
He blinked, then laughed softly. "That's usually what people say."
Your legs finally remembered how to move, and you took a cautious step back. "You're a spirit."
"Mm," he hummed, nodding easily. "Have been for a long time."
Your heart was still pounding, but his warm and cheerful tone didn't match the terror clawing at your chest. He didn't feel angry, or hostile. If anything… he seemed relieved.
"I was worried you wouldn't come inside," Junhui continued, rocking slightly on his heels.
Your breath caught. "What?"
Junhui glanced at you carefully now, enthusiasm dimmed by something gentler, something like fond recognition.
"It's just," he said quietly, "I've been waiting for you."
The way he looked at you changed. The brightness in Junhui's eyes softened, enthusiasm folding into something quieter yet older. He took a step closer, careful this time, as if he were afraid even his presence might shatter you.
"I guess… I should explain," he said. "At least a little."
You shook your head slowly, heart racing. "No. You shouldn't. I- this isn't real."
He hesitated, then spoke anyway, voice low.
"You and I knew each other. Long ago."
The hallway seemed to tilt.
"You were a queen," he continued gently. "Not just in title. You ruled with kindness, too much kindness, some said." A faint smile tugged at his lips, bittersweet. "And I was an assassin. One assigned to end your husband from the shadows."
Your ears rang. His words blurred together, slipping past your understanding like water through your fingers.
"We weren't supposed to fall in love," Junhui said. "But we did."
The manor creaked. The air grew heavy, pressing down on your chest. His voice felt distant now, as though it were coming from the end of a long tunnel.
"I won't say more," he added quickly, almost apologetically. "I just needed you to know that much."
You stared at him, breath shallow, mind scrambling for logic.
A queen. An assassin. Spirits. This isn't happening.
Your vision swam. Heat bloomed under your skin, your forehead suddenly damp with sweat.
"I think-" you whispered, pressing a hand to your temple. "I think I have a fever."
Junhui's expression shifted instantly to alarm. "Wait- no, you're not sick. This always happens at first-"
Your legs gave out.
The hallway spun violently, walls stretching and bending as darkness crept in from the edges of your sight. The last thing you saw was Junhui rushing toward you, his form flickering as if reality itself couldn't decide whether he belonged.
"Hey- stay with me!" His voice cracked for the first time.
As consciousness slipped away, you heard him calling out desperately, but it's not your name, but another.
A name that felt unfamiliar.
Then everything went black.
Voices broke through the darkness first. Your name was called again and again, hands shaking your shoulders as panic threaded through familiar voices. Someone said you'd collapsed upstairs. Someone else blamed the dust, the old air, the heat. By the time your eyes fluttered open for even a second, you were already being lifted, carried down the stairs you didn't remember descending.
Junhui was gone.
The manor blurred past you, then disappeared entirely.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
You dreamed of him. He stood in a wide and empty hall washed in moonlight, expression unusually serious.
"You have to come back tomorrow," he said quietly.
Your feet wouldn't move, no matter how hard you tried.
"I'll explain everything then," Junhui continued. "Why I'm still here and why I couldn't leave."
The light around him flickered, shadows pulling at his form.
"But please," he added, voice softening, "come back."
When he reached out, darkness swallowed you whole, causing you to wake up.
Night had already fallen. Moonlight spilled through your bedroom window, casting pale patterns across the floor. For a moment, you daydream.
The house was quiet.
Your throat felt dry.
Carefully, you got out of bed and made your way downstairs. The kitchen light flicked on with a soft click, and you poured yourself a glass of water, hands trembling slightly as you drank.
On your way back, something caught your eye.
The spirit altar cabinet.
It stood exactly where it always had. Drawn by an impulse you couldn't explain, you stepped closer. The name plaque rested neatly at the center, ink dark and unwavering despite its age. You read it aloud, voice barely above a whisper.
"Wen Junhui… Lee Y/N…"
The glass slipped slightly in your hand. Your breath hitched.
That name. It was the same one Junhui had called out, voice frantic, as consciousness left you in the manor hallway. The same unfamiliar name that had echoed in your dreams. And yet, it wasn't unfamiliar at all.
It was your name… all except the surname.
The realization settled heavily in your chest, cold and undeniable.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The next day, despite the fear coiling tightly in your chest, you drove back to the manor alone. The road felt longer this time. The trees leaning inward as if whispering secrets to one another. When you parked and stepped out, the air immediately changed. It's carrying the same chilling stillness that had unsettled you before.
You swallowed and pushed the door open. The manor greeted you with silence.
"Y/N! You're here!"
Your breath caught. You spun around, heart slamming painfully against your ribs, eyes searching frantically through the dim interior.
"Junhui?" Your voice wavered.
A soft glow flickered near the far end of the room, and slowly, he revealed himself. He looked just as you remembered, familiar now in the most unsettling way, standing there with a smile that held both relief and joy.
You took a step back, fear threatening to overwhelm you again.
"S-so…" you stammered, clutching your hands together. "Why me…?"
Junhui tilted his head, studying you for a moment before floating toward the old sofa couch. Dust stirred as he settled into it, his form barely disturbing the fabric.
"You can sit on the floor if you don't like dust on your pants," he said lightly.
You hesitated, then sat down across from him, the cold seeping through the fabric of your clothes as you waited for his explanation.
"To be honest," he began, voice quieter now, "I think I'm still here because I lost you."
Your chest tightened.
"Well… to be exact," he continued, gaze lowering, "I lost my way while trying to find you after you died in my time. The child you carried didn't survive either."
Your breath faltered, the weight of his words pressing down on you even though they didn't fully feel like your own memories.
"And because I lost my way," Junhui said, "I never knew you had reincarnated. I think I stayed because I missed you." He looked up again, smiling softly. "But seeing you now, living well in this life, I'm happy for you."
The silence stretched.
"But you're also unhappy," you said slowly, carefully, "because I'm living happily without you. Living happily without remembering you."
His smile faded.
"…Maybe that's the case."
Your throat felt tight. "Did you… not find any other female ghost to love?"
He didn't even hesitate.
"My loyalty has always been with you."
"Even if my love for you is gone?" you asked quietly.
He truly looked at you with an expression filled with centuries of longing.
"Loyalty for love," Junhui said softly, "has always been a form of suffering."
The manor creaked gently around you, as if acknowledging the truth of his words.
The manor seemed to hold its breath.
You stared at the dusty floor, thoughts tangled, heart heavier than you expected. Junhui didn't rush you. For the first time since you'd met him, he simply waited patiently, as though he had already accepted whatever answer you might give.
Then you spoke.
"Maybe…" Your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "Maybe I can stay here for a few days?"
Junhui looked up.
"Make you feel loved," you continued, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. "Maybe that's what you need to finally leave this place. To reincarnate freely." You swallowed. "You know… like a couple."
His expression froze.
"Like married husband and wife," you added, searching for the right words, "who don't care about titles or war?"
The silence returned, heavier than before.
"…Like that?" you murmured, half-questioning yourself. Then, with a small nod, you answered anyway. "Yeah."
For a heartbeat, Junhui didn't move.
Then his face lit up, brighter than you'd seen yet, joy breaking through centuries of restraint.
"Yeah," he said, voice warm with hope. "Maybe that is the way."
He stood, floating closer, and extended his hand toward you with a boyish grin.
"Then it all comes down to you."
Despite the fear still fluttering in your chest, you smiled back. Slowly and carefully, you reached out.
Your hand passed straight through his. Nothing but cold air brushed against your skin.
"Oh…" Junhui exclaimed softly, his smile faltering.
You lowered your hand, staring at your palm for a moment before letting out a quiet, almost sad breath.
"I guess," you said gently, "it's a married husband and wife… with no physical contact."
Junhui chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck out of habit.
"I've waited this long," he said, eyes softening again. "I think I can manage that."
The manor creaked softly, candle flames flickering in agreement.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The next day, you left the house as if nothing had changed.
You didn't tell your parents about meeting your ancestor. Not about the ghost in the manor, not about the name you shared, and certainly not about the promise you'd made. Some things felt too fragile to speak aloud, like they might shatter the moment they were explained.
You arrived at the manor at the same hour as the day before.
The air shifted the instant you stepped inside, that familiar chill wrapping around you like a quiet greeting.
"You're on time," Junhui's voice chimed, light and pleased.
For the first day, fourth day into your week-long break, you and Junhui decided to simply talk. No heavy truths or past lives, just each other.
He told you about his hobbies from long ago: how he used to carve small wooden animals in secret, how he'd watch street performers from rooftops instead of sleeping, how he liked listening to rain because it reminded him that even the loudest world could fall silent.
You told him about your job—about endless meetings, strict deadlines, and how tired you always felt but never said out loud. You talked about coffee becoming a necessity instead of a treat, about commuting traffic, about days that felt productive and nights that felt empty.
At one point, he tilted his head and asked, "What's your favorite food?"
You blinked, surprised by the simplicity of it. "Spicy noodles," you answered after a moment. "The kind that makes your nose run and your eyes water. It feels… real."
Junhui laughed. "You haven't changed."
You frowned. "I don't remember changing."
"My favorite," he said thoughtfully, "was steamed buns. Plain ones. I didn't get to eat them often."
You asked him what fear felt like in his time. He asked you what happiness meant in yours.
You asked why he smiled so easily. He said it was easier than remembering.
You asked him what love meant back then. He asked you if love still survived now.
Hours passed without either of you noticing.
Your phone lay forgotten in your bag, untouched the entire day. The sun shifted through dusty windows, shadows stretching and retreating, but neither of you moved. All you did was talk. Stories overlapping, and laughter echoing softly through the manor's empty halls.
By the time evening crept in, it felt as though you'd known him far longer than a single day.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The fifth day of your break arrived quietly.
Before leaving the house, you stopped by a small shop near the road and bought plain steamed buns wrapped neatly in thin paper. As you held the bag on the drive to the manor, you kept reminding yourself of one thing.
He is a ghost, but yet, your heart didn't listen.
When you stepped inside the manor, the familiar chill greeted you again almost welcoming.
"You're early," Junhui said, appearing near the window. His eyes immediately dropped to the bag in your hands. "What's that?"
You lifted it slightly. "Breakfast."
"For… me?" he asked, almost incredulous.
You nodded. "You said you liked steamed buns."
For a moment, he didn't move. Then his face broke into the widest smile you'd ever seen, something bright and boyish that didn't belong to a man who had died centuries ago.
"You remembered," he said softly.
When you placed the buns on the table, he leaned close, eyes closed, as if breathing in the warmth and scent. Though he couldn't eat them the way you could, his shoulders relaxed, expression peaceful, like the memory itself was nourishment enough.
"I love you," you said suddenly.
The words surprised even you. Junhui froze.
"…You said that so easily," he murmured.
"I'm acting like a wife today," you replied, forcing a small smile. "Even if I can't touch you."
He looked at you for a long moment before nodding. "Then… treat me like your husband."
You hesitated. "Then treat me how you treated me in your year."
Something shifted in his gaze, and so he did.
He walked beside you as you explored the manor, always a half-step behind, attentive and protective. When you sat on the floor to rest, he positioned himself between you and the open hallway, instinctively guarding you from threats that no longer existed.
When dust made you cough, he scolded you gently. "You should cover your mouth. You were always careless with your health."
When you complained about the cold, he murmured, "In my time, I would've wrapped my cloak around you."
At one point, you pretended to trip on the hem of your pants. Instinctively, he reached out, then stopped himself, hand hovering uselessly in the air.
"…Sorry," he said quietly.
"It's okay," you replied, even as your chest tightened. "I know."
Later, when you sat across from each other in silence, you rested your head against the arm of the sofa. He sat beside you, close enough that the air felt warmer there.
"You're really here," he whispered, almost afraid to say it aloud.
"I am," you answered.
He smiled at that, soft and full of devotion.
You kept telling yourself he was a ghost. You kept reminding yourself this wasn't real. But the way he listened to every word you said, the way he remembered things you never lived, the way he looked at you like you were his entire world… those things felt painfully real.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The sixth day came without announcement. You didn't wake up thinking today I'll act like a wife. You simply… did.
You arrived at the manor the same way you had the days before, carrying nothing special this time. Yet the moment you stepped inside, your first thought was whether Junhui had been waiting long. That realization alone made you pause at the doorway.
Since when did this stop being an act?
"You're here," Junhui said softly, appearing near the staircase.
The relief in his voice was unmistakable.
You smiled back before you even thought about it. "Mm… I am."
The words felt natural.
You spent the day the same way as always. Talking, wandering, sitting together in quiet corners of the manor. But something had shifted. You found yourself scolding him when he drifted too far into memories that hurt. You reminded him to rest, even though he didn't need sleep. You listened when he spoke, not because you were trying to comfort him, but because you wanted to know.
At some point, he noticed.
"You don't hesitate anymore," he said.
"Hesitate about what?"
"About me."
You didn't have an answer.
When he spoke about his past, you no longer felt like an outsider listening to someone else's tragedy. It felt… familiar. Like something you had misplaced rather than forgotten.
You laughed together over small things—his confusion about modern appliances, your disbelief at how casually he spoke of surviving assassinations. You sat across from him and complained about how tired your eyes felt from work, and he told you, seriously, that in his time he would've ordered you to rest.
"Order?" you repeated.
"Yes," he said calmly. "I worried about you even then."
That should've frightened you. Instead, your chest warmed.
At one point, you absentmindedly set a cup down in front of where he sat, only realizing a second later that he couldn't drink it. You froze, embarrassed.
"…Sorry."
Junhui smiled. "You did that without thinking."
You looked away. "I guess."
The truth was harder to say out loud.
You didn't remember the moment it started to feel real. There was no clear line between pretending and being. No sudden realization. Just a quiet shift, like stepping into a room and forgetting you'd ever been outside it.
Later, as evening light filtered through the dusty windows, you sat on the floor while Junhui leaned against the sofa, watching you.
"Do you regret it?" he asked suddenly.
"Regret what?"
"Staying."
You shook your head before your mind could catch up. "No."
The answer startled you.
Junhui's gaze softened, something fragile flickering behind his eyes.
You reminded yourself again, that he was a ghost, that this couldn't last, that this wasn't supposed to feel like home. But when you stood to leave that day, you caught yourself saying, "I'll come back tomorrow." because the thought of not coming hurt more than it should have.
And that was when you realized… you weren't pretending anymore.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The seventh day arrived far too quickly.
Morning light spilled across your room, illuminating the half-open suitcase on the floor. Clothes lay neatly folded beside it, ready to be packed, yet your hands wouldn't move. You stood there for a long time, phone resting heavily in your palm, staring at the empty space where your belongings were supposed to go.
You were supposed to return to your apartment today, to prepare for work tomorrow, to leave. Your thumb hovered over your boss's contact. You told yourself it was just exhaustion, that you needed a little more rest, that this had nothing to do with a ghost waiting in an old manor.
And yet… before you could overthink it, you pressed call.
When your boss answered, you heard yourself asking for two more days off. The excuse came easily—fatigue, travel, and needing to clear your head. After a pause, your boss agreed, reminding you to return refreshed.
You thanked him and ended the call.
The relief that washed over you felt too strong. You sat on the edge of the bed, phone slipping from your fingers.
I don't like him, you told yourself firmly.
Maybe it wasn't you at all. Maybe it was the woman you once were, the first lover inside you, that still loved him. Maybe that was why your chest tightened at the thought of leaving him alone in that manor again.
As you changed and grabbed your keys, a memory surfaced, your parents' voices telling a story long ago. A story about the past.
About how, in ancient times, during the Han dynasty, there were marriages between the living and the dead. They called it spirit marriage. A bond formed not by flesh, but by fate, by promises that refused to fade, even after death.
You'd laughed it off back then.
Now, driving down the familiar road toward the manor, trees blurring past your window, the thought refused to leave you.
What if this isn't just kindness? What if this isn't just comfort?
The manor came into view, standing silent as ever.
Your grip tightened on the steering wheel. You didn't know what you were walking into anymore.
You spent the day at the manor as you always had.
Junhui noticed it first.
"You're distracted," he said as the afternoon light slanted through the windows.
"I might go back to work soon," you replied honestly.
He didn't smile this time, but he didn't stop you either. He only nodded, as if he had always known this day would come.
When evening arrived, you said goodbye the same way you always did softly, without promises you weren't sure you could keep. Then you drove back to your parents' home, heart heavier than when you'd left.
The moment you stepped inside, your parents froze.
"You're… still here?" your mother asked, clearly startled. "Aren't you supposed to be leaving today?"
"I need to talk to you," you said, voice steady despite the way your hands trembled.
They sat you down in the living room, concern etched into their faces. Your gaze drifted just once toward the spirit altar cabinet. Junhui's name rested there quietly, unchanged.
You took a deep breath and you told them everything. From the manor. From the ghost. From Wen Junhui. From the name Lee Y/N. From being a reincarnation. Seen him, spoken to him, lived beside him for days. About love that didn't feel like yours, and yet did.
When you finished, the room was utterly silent.
Your father was the first to speak, voice low. "Do you know what you're saying?"
"I do," you replied. "I want to stay beside him. I want to understand… spirit marriage."
Your parents exchanged a long look. Their hesitation wasn't disbelief, it was fear.
"It's not insane," your mother finally said. "What you're describing has existed before."
Your heart skipped.
"But it's irreversible," your father continued quietly. "That's why we're scared."
He gestured gently toward your hand.
"In a spirit marriage, the bond is sealed with a red string tied to the pinky finger. Once tied, the human and the spirit are bound for eternity. There is no divorce, no release, not even death ends it."
Your chest tightened, but you didn't look away.
"It follows the soul," your mother added. "Across lives."
You swallowed. "I know."
They stared at you, searching your face for hesitation.
They didn't find it.
Sighing, your parents began to explain.
Spirit marriage, they told you, dated back to the Han dynasty, sometimes earlier. It was performed when a bond between two souls was too strong to sever by death. The ritual didn't grant touch, nor a shared physical life. Instead, it promised companionship, protection, and remembrance.
The living offered devotion. The dead offered guidance. And both were bound by loyalty.
"It's why these marriages were rare," your father said softly. "Love that survives death… is heavy to carry."
You looked down at your pinky finger, imagining the red string.
"I don't know if I love him," you admitted. "But I know I can't leave him alone."
Your parents said nothing more.
That night, as you lay in bed, the weight of the choice pressed gently but firmly against your chest.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The eighth day began with a quiet resolve. You drove to the manor earlier than usual, the road already familiar beneath your tires. This time, your heart wasn't racing with uncertainty.
Junhui was waiting near the window when you entered.
"You look serious," he said gently.
"I told my parents," you replied.
He stilled.
"Everything," you added. "About you. About me. About spirit marriage."
The air seemed to grow colder with restraint.
Junhui looked away first.
"I know what spirit marriage is," he said quietly. "I've seen it before… in my time."
You nodded. "I thought you would."
"It's simple on the surface," he continued. "A ritual. A red string. A vow." He turned back to you, eyes dark. "But it lasts forever. You're still alive. You still have years, decades ahead of you."
"That's exactly why I'm telling you," you said. "Because it's my choice."
He shook his head slowly. "Why would you bind yourself to death?"
"Because you're not just death," you replied softly. "You're someone who waited."
Silence stretched between you.
"You lost me once," you continued. "You wandered because you couldn't find me. If I leave you again, knowing this, then that's something I won't forgive myself for."
Junhui clenched his fists. "You could love someone living."
"Maybe," you admitted. "But right now, I choose you."
He looked at you as if seeing you clearly for the first time… not as a queen, not as a memory, but as a living person making a conscious decision.
"You don't remember loving me," he said.
"No," you replied. "But I remember choosing you."
That broke him. Junhui laughed softly, a sound fragile and full of surrender. "You were always like this," he murmured. "Even back then."
He bowed his head. "If this is truly your will… then I will accept it."
Relief flooded you so suddenly your knees nearly gave out.
You stayed a while longer that day, talking quietly, speaking of ordinary things again, like food, work, and the weather—like two people delaying an inevitable parting.
When you returned home and told your parents the news, they were silent for a long time. Then your mother reached out and held your hand.
"If this is the path you choose," she said, voice tight with emotion, "we'll help you walk it."
Your father nodded reluctantly. "We'll find a suitable matchmaker."
You thanked them, heart full and aching all at once.
Later that night, alone in your room, you opened your laptop and began searching.
Jobs closer to the manor. Because if you were going to bind your life to a spirit, then you would live it nearby.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The ninth day arrived with a sense of finality you couldn't ignore.
Morning light filtered into your room as you packed your things properly this time. Clothes folded neatly into your suitcase. Laptop wrapped and tucked away. The small pieces of your life gathered together, ready to move again. Unlike the hesitation of days before, your hands moved steadily, calm, and deliberate.
You were returning to work tomorrow… at least, to end it.
Your phone rested beside you on the bed, screen dark but heavy with meaning. You sat for a moment before picking it up, thumb hovering over your boss's contact. You'd rehearsed the words in your head countless times, yet your chest still tightened when the call connected.
"Good morning," your boss said, sounding surprised. "Ready to come back already?"
"Yes," you replied. "But… I need to talk to you."
You explained slowly that you'd thought long and hard during your break, that something important had come up which you couldn't ignore. You didn't mention ghosts or manors or red strings. You only said that you needed to be honest about it now rather than later.
There was a long pause on the other end.
"So you're resigning," your boss said finally.
"Yes. I want to give early notice," you answered. "I don't want to leave things unfinished."
He sighed tiredly. "I won't pretend I'm not disappointed, but I respect that you're giving notice properly.
Relief loosened something in your chest.
They discussed timelines, handovers, and formalities. When the call ended, you stared at your phone for a long moment, then placed it face-down on the bed.
That chapter was closing.
You zipped your suitcase shut and carried it downstairs. Your parents watched quietly, emotions carefully masked. They didn't try to stop you. They only told you to take care, and reminded you that some choices, once made, must be walked with resolve.
Before leaving, your eyes drifted once more to the spirit altar cabinet. Wen Junhui's name rested there, unchanged.
"I'll be back," you whispered, not to the cabinet, but to the promise behind it.
As you stepped outside, the air felt different, lighter. As though the world itself knew you'd chosen a path that couldn't be reversed.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Utopia 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
A few months passed quietly, yet decisively. By the time your resignation was finalized, it felt less like an ending and more like a door gently closing behind you. You told your parents first. They listened, nodded, and accepted it without surprise, almost as if they had been preparing themselves for this moment all along.
You found a similar job not far from the manor, close enough that the road felt familiar even before you drove it daily. When everything was settled, you returned to your apartment one last time. You packed your life into boxes—books, clothes, small objects that carried no great meaning on their own, yet somehow weighed heavy in your hands.
You were moving into the manor.
Your parents told you it was ready. Over the months, relatives had helped clean it thoroughly. They said it was suitable now, and you thanked them more times than you could count.
On the day of the spirit marriage, you parked your car at your parents' home first. You greeted them quietly, shared a light meal, spoke about ordinary things. It felt intentional, as if you were anchoring yourself to the living world one last time before stepping into something else.
Then you dressed. The clothes prepared for you were simple but ceremonial. Traditional in cut, restrained in color, red details woven carefully into the fabric. Your hands trembled slightly as you adjusted the sleeves, as if your body understood the gravity before your mind fully caught up.
When you were ready, your parents drove you to the manor. Cars already lined the road. Relatives from both sides were there, gathered quietly, voices hushed. No one laughed loudly. No one treated it lightly. This was not a spectacle, it was a vow.
Inside the manor, the main hall had been cleared and prepared. Red cloths were draped carefully, candles placed in pairs, incense arranged neatly at the altar. At the center stood a spirit tablet bearing Wen Junhui's name, polished and reverent.
The air was thick with incense smoke.
A matchmaker stood before the altar. She spoke softly, explaining each step, reminding everyone that this was not a union of flesh, but of souls.
The ceremony began with offerings.
You knelt before the altar as incense was lit, the smoke curling upward like a bridge between worlds. Food was laid out, steamed buns among them, alongside wine poured carefully into two cups. One for the living. One for the dead.
Your name was spoken aloud. His name followed.
The matchmaker recited words passed down through generations. Blessings for harmony, promises of companionship, wishes that neither soul would wander alone again.
You bowed first for the gods, second for your family, third time to each other. Each bow felt heavier than the last, not with fear, but with finality.
Then came the red string. Thin, vibrant, unbroken. It was gently tied around your pinky finger, the knot firm but careful. The other end was placed beside the spirit tablet, symbolizing Junhui's side of the bond, an unseen hand meeting yours across realms.
No applause followed or cheers, only silence, respectful and complete. In that silence, you felt it. Not a touch, but a presence. Not a voice, but warmth. As if someone had finally found their way back to you.
When the ceremony ended, the incense continued to burn, smoke rising steadily toward the ceiling of the manor that had waited centuries for this moment.
The manor fell quiet after the last car disappeared down the road.
Incense smoke thinned, candles burned low, and the weight of many presences slowly faded until it was just you, and the house that was now your home. You stood alone in the main hall, red string still tied gently around your pinky, heart beating steadily in your chest.
You walked through the rooms one by one.
The old darkness was gone. In its place were soft lights, clean floors, modern furniture chosen carefully to coexist with the manor's age. A sofa by the window. A dining table set simply. Curtains that let sunlight in without hiding the past.
It felt… lived in.
"Hey, wife."
You froze, then laughed softly as you turned.
"Hey, husband," you replied while giggling, like this was the most natural exchange in the world.
Junhui stood a few steps away, watching you with an expression you had never seen before.
Your smile faltered as emotion swelled in your chest. Slowly, almost fearfully, you lifted your hand. He didn't move nor flinch. He simply waited, eyes never leaving yours. You remembered all the times your hand had passed through him.
So you started small… just a finger. You moved it closer to his cheek, inch by inch, breath held tight in your lungs. And then, you touched him.
Not just air or emptiness.
A quiet sob broke free before you could stop it. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you pressed your finger there again, just to be sure. His skin was cold but solid. It felt so real. You cried out, laughter and tears tangled together, and this time you didn't hesitate. Your entire palm cupped his cheek, feeling the chill seep into your skin like proof of a miracle.
Junhui smiled. It was sad, full, and impossibly gentle. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you.
You felt him.
His body cool against yours, solid where he had never been before. You buried your face into his chest, gripping his clothes as if afraid the world might undo this if you let go.
"I love you…" he whispered, voice trembling. "…Y/F/N."
You held him tighter, red string warm between your fingers, heart pounding with the certainty of it all.
The manor stood silent around you, no longer a place of waiting, but of reunion. And at last, after lifetimes of loss and wandering, you were together.
Summary : Heart Heart Café has only one rule: you may only enter if you wish to find your soulmate. And if you succeed, you must write your story on the board for others to read.
⤷ enemies to lovers troop
Non-idol romance au ♡ SVT Hoshi x female reader ♡ 13+ SFW ♡ 5,545 words
"Have you ever wondered where soulmates actually meet?
Welcome to Heart Heart Café, a quiet little place tucked between the noise of the city and the silence of your own thoughts.
Here, we serve everything your heart could ask for. From warm appetizers, comforting meals, and sweet desserts that melt on your tongue. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. Hours can pass, conversations can wander, and no one will rush you out. But there is one small request before you enter.
You may only come in if you wish to find your soulmate.
If, by some miracle, you manage to find one here, please leave a trace of your story behind. Write on the large board inside the café, tell us how you met, what awkward conversations you had, the silly misunderstandings, the nervous laughs, the long pauses between words.
Every beginning deserves to be remembered.
Once you do, the café will gladly offer you a cup of any caffeine beverage on the house.
The board exists for everyone, for those who are still searching, for those who feel nervous, and for those who need proof that awkward beginnings can still become beautiful endings.
So don't be shy, and write your story, share your clumsy journey. Encourage the next pair of strangers sitting two tables away.
After all, every soulmate story starts somewhere.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Heart Heart Cafe 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
And back to reality.
The café had been open for quite a while now.
The wooden board near the entrance was already filled with dozens of colorful notes, messy handwriting, doodles of hearts, and embarrassing confessions of how people first met. Some stories were sweet, some were painfully awkward, and some were outright ridiculous.
Jihoon had read almost every one of them.
Unfortunately, none of them caused him as much trouble as those two.
"And out you go again!"
Jihoon's voice echoed through the café as the door swung open.
Two familiar figures were pushed outside without ceremony.
The bell above the door jingled violently as it slammed shut behind them, and the two customers stood there quietly, heads hanging low in shame.
Jihoon crossed his arms from the doorway, glaring.
"I'm this close to banning the both of you."
Soonyoung immediately panicked. "No wait! We're really sorry!"
"And you said that the last time." Jihoon replied flatly.
"We will not argue anymore!" you quickly added.
"You said that too last time." Jihoon pinched the bridge of his nose.
"The amount of times both of you decided to argue childishly has already scared my customers away," he continued, clearly exhausted. "Not to mention the utensils that got broken because the both of you thought throwing spoons at each other was a brilliant idea."
You and Soonyoung exchanged a guilty glance.
"We… we…" Soonyoung slowly trailed off, shrinking under Jihoon's stare.
"We'll work!" you suddenly blurted.
Jihoon raised an eyebrow.
"And how does that profit me?"
"Erm… we…" you stammered, thinking quickly. "I guess we can help bring your customers back! And we promise we won't fight while working."
Soonyoung nodded vigorously beside you.
"Yeah! We'll behave!"
Jihoon stared at the both of you in silence. One second passed, then two seconds… three, his eyes slowly narrowed. Then he sighed, rubbing his temple as if the headache had returned.
"Fine."
Both of you instantly brightened.
"But," Jihoon added, pointing a finger at the two of you, "the moment you start arguing again, you're both banned for life."
You nodded rapidly. "Understood!"
Soonyoung saluted dramatically. "Yes boss!"
Jihoon rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let you back in. As the two of you walked inside, the warm smell of coffee filled the air again. The board near the entrance caught your attention.
Dozens of soulmate stories. Dozens of awkward beginnings.
You glanced at Soonyoung, and Soonyoung glanced at you. Neither of you said anything.
Behind the counter, Jihoon watched the two of you quietly, then he muttered to himself while wiping a cup.
"...This is going to be a disaster."
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Heart Heart Cafe 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The first shift started with absolute confidence, and ended with complete chaos. And Jihoon should have known better.
He stood behind the counter with his usual calm expression, arms folded as he watched the two new "employees" prepare for their duties. The café had only a handful of customers for the afternoon, quietly chatting over coffee and desserts.
A perfect, peaceful atmosphere, which meant it would soon be destroyed.
Jihoon rubbed the back of his neck.
"You," he pointed at Soonyoung, "take orders."
Then he looked at you.
"You serve the food."
Simple instructions, very simple.
Soonyoung puffed up his chest confidently. "Easy."
You scoffed. "Let's see if you can even write orders properly."
"I can write!"
"You spelled 'espresso' as 'expresso' last time."
"That was one time!"
"You wrote it three times!"
Jihoon closed his eyes. "…I regret everything already."
Still, the two of you separated to start working. And for the first five minutes, things actually went well.
Soonyoung approached a table of customers with a bright smile.
"Welcome to Heart Heart Café! What can I get for you today?"
The customers ordered a latte, a cheesecake, and a sandwich. Simple. He scribbled the order down with surprising focus and handed the note to Jihoon at the counter.
Jihoon glanced at the paper.
"...You wrote 'cheesecake' as 'cheese cake'."
"It's still understandable!"
Jihoon sighed but started preparing the drinks.
Meanwhile, you carried a tray carefully between the tables, placing down drinks and desserts with careful movements.
One customer even smiled.
"Thank you."
You nodded politely.
So far… it was working. Jihoon almost allowed himself to relax, almost, because five minutes later…
"Soonyoung!" you hissed.
"What?"
"You gave me the wrong table!"
"That's table four!"
"This is table six!"
"They look the same!"
"THE NUMBERS ARE LITERALLY WRITTEN ON THEM!"
The argument escalated within seconds, and customers turned their heads.
Soonyoung pointed accusingly at you.
"You're the one who walked to the wrong table!"
"Because YOU wrote the wrong number!"
"I did not!"
"You wrote it upside down!"
"IT'S STILL FOUR!"
"IT LOOKS LIKE NINE!"
Jihoon slowly set the coffee cup down. A spoon clinked against the counter.
"…Don't," he muttered quietly, but it was already too late.
Because the two of you had begun throwing napkins at each other. Not utensils this time, which was technically an improvement.
Jihoon inhaled deeply, then loudly clapped his hands once.
Both of you froze. Customers stared, and Jihoon looked exhausted.
"…Kitchen." He pointed behind the counter. "Both of you."
You and Soonyoung shuffled over like scolded children. Jihoon leaned forward on the counter, staring at the two of you in silence.
"You lasted eight minutes."
"We were improving," Soonyoung muttered.
Jihoon didn't respond, instead, his eyes slowly lifted past your faces and above your heads.
There it was again.
The faint glowing arrow hovering above both of you. Two arrows, each one pointing directly at the other.
Jihoon exhaled slowly.
Of course, out of all the people in the world, the both of you are soulmates. Yet not the soft, romantic kind either, it's the worst kind. The ones who start off as enemies.
He had seen it before. The universe loved that type of story. Jihoon rubbed his temple again.
"…Unbelievable."
"What?" you asked suspiciously.
"Nothing."
Soonyoung frowned. "You looked at us weird."
"I always look at you weird."
"That's rude."
"You break my café."
"That's also rude."
Jihoon waved a dismissive hand.
"Just go back to work."
You blinked. "You're not kicking us out?"
"Not yet."
Soonyoung grinned. "See? He believes in us."
Jihoon watched the two of you walk away again, immediately whispering arguments under your breath. He glanced back at the large soulmate board near the entrance.
Dozens of stories. Dozens of beginnings.
His eyes returned to the two arrows hovering above your heads, still pointing at each other, still glowing faintly.
Jihoon sighed.
"Soulmates that start as enemies…" He picked up a cloth and continued wiping the counter. "…are always the loudest ones."
Across the café, Soonyoung suddenly yelped.
"YOU STEPPED ON MY FOOT!"
"You were standing in my way!"
Jihoon closed his eyes again. "…This is going to take a while."
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Heart Heart Cafe 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The next day started… surprisingly quiet.
Jihoon arrived early in the morning, unlocking the door of Heart Heart Café as the faint sunlight stretched across the street. The bell chimed softly when he stepped inside, the familiar scent of coffee beans greeting him.
He flipped the sign on the door from Closed to Open and began his usual routine. Grinding beans, wiping the counter, straightening the chairs. For a few peaceful minutes, the café belonged only to him, which meant the peace would end soon.
Right on cue, the doorbell rang, and Jihoon didn't even need to look up.
"…You're early," he said flatly.
You and Soonyoung stood at the entrance. Both of you looked… unusually serious.
"We said we would work," you said, tying your apron behind your back.
Jihoon sighed. At least the argument wasn't loud today. That was already an improvement.
He tossed two aprons toward you both.
"Clean the tables."
Soonyoung caught his apron, and you caught yours, then both of you immediately walked toward the dining area.
Jihoon watched carefully. He expected the arguing to start again within three minutes, but something strange happened.
You worked side by side, you wiped the tables, while Soonyoung arranged the chairs. When one of you bumped into the other.
"Sorry."
"Watch where you're going."
"… Sorry."
The words were still sharp, but quieter.
Jihoon noticed, he also noticed something else. Above your heads, the soulmate arrows still hovered faintly. Still pointing at each other, still stubborn.
He sighed again.
Across the café, Soonyoung was struggling to stack cups. You watched him for a moment before speaking.
"That's not how you stack them."
"Yes it is."
"No it's not. They'll fall."
"They won't."
You reached over and adjusted the cups properly.
"… Like this."
Soonyoung blinked.
"Oh." A pause. "… Thanks."
You shrugged. "I just don't want them breaking and Jihoon blaming us again."
From behind the counter, Jihoon muttered quietly.
"I will absolutely blame you."
The morning continued like that. Small improvements, small cooperation. Soonyoung still took orders. You still served the tables.
"So table three ordered strawberry cake," Soonyoung said carefully.
You glanced at the note.
"…That says 'strawberry' correctly."
"See? I can spell."
You nodded slowly.
"…Progress."
Jihoon watched silently while preparing drinks.
Customers began filling the café slowly, and something interesting happened. The two of you actually worked well together. When Soonyoung forgot something, you reminded him. When you struggled carrying a heavy tray, Soonyoung held the door open.
And once, a customer laughed softly.
"You two work like an old married couple."
Both of you froze.
"What?"
"We do not," you said immediately.
"Absolutely not," Soonyoung added.
The customer simply smiled and returned to their coffee.
Behind the counter, Jihoon looked up again. The arrows above your heads glowed slightly brighter today, still pointing at each other, still undeniable. Jihoon leaned against the counter, watching the two of you bicker quietly while cleaning a table together.
"…Enemies first," he murmured. His eyes drifted to the soulmate board again. Empty spaces still waited between the stories, there's plenty of room for new ones. Then he glanced back at the two of you as you were currently arguing about who spilled sugar on the table.
"…but improving," Jihoon sighed.
And across the café, Soonyoung suddenly said: "Hey."
You looked at him. "What?"
"…You didn't yell at me today."
You blinked. "…You didn't either."
A quiet pause passed between you, then both of you immediately looked away.
"…Don't make it weird."
"I wasn't!"
Behind the counter, Jihoon shook his head slowly.
The story was already writing itself, whether the two of you realized it or not.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Heart Heart Cafe 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The third day arrived with the gentle clinking of cups and the soft hum of the coffee machine. Morning light filtered through the café windows, warming the wooden floors of Heart Heart Café. The soulmate board by the entrance had gained another new story overnight—two strangers who bonded over their shared hatred of bitter coffee.
Jihoon had read it while opening the café. He hummed quietly to himself as he wiped down the counter.
Right on time, the doorbell rang. You and Soonyoung walked in together. Not arguing, not loudly, at least, that alone made Jihoon glance up.
He didn't comment anything, though his eyes briefly lifted above your heads. The soulmate arrows were still there, and he sighed quietly and went back to grinding coffee beans.
The morning shift began smoothly. You served drinks with steady hands. Soonyoung took orders with a little more confidence now, occasionally glancing at the notes to make sure the spelling was correct before handing them over. Jihoon checked them anyway, but still, progress is made.
A small group of customers entered around noon, filling the café with soft chatter, and Soonyoung approached their table.
"What can I get for you today?"
The orders came quickly—three drinks, two desserts. He scribbled them down and passed the note to Jihoon before turning to you.
"Table five."
You looked at the tray Jihoon had prepared.
"…This is table four."
"No it's not."
"It literally says four."
"That's because Jihoon wrote it."
Jihoon looked up slowly. "I always write it correctly."
You held up the note Soonyoung had written.
"Your number is crooked."
"It's not crooked!"
"It looks like a five!"
"It's a four!"
The familiar tension sparked between you, and Jihoon leaned against the counter and folded his arms. He didn't say anything, just watched silently and patiently.
Across the café, you were about to respond again when something strange happened.
You felt it, that feeling, the unmistakable sensation of someone watching. Soonyoung felt it too, as the both of you slowly turned your heads to see Jihoon stood behind the counter, arms folded, expression blank, watching without a single word.
You looked back at Soonyoung and he looked back at you.
"…Maybe it is table four," he muttered.
You exhaled quietly. "…Fine. It's table four."
The argument dissolved just like that. Both of you turned toward the correct table without another word.
From the counter, Jihoon blinked once. Well, that was new. He slowly uncrossed his arms.
Above your heads, the soulmate arrows flickered gently again.
He noticed something else too.
The arrows seemed… calmer today, less aggressive, like the universe itself had relaxed slightly.
Jihoon picked up a cloth and wiped the counter again.
Across the café, Soonyoung placed a dessert on the table while you set down the drinks.
"Here you go," you said politely.
"Enjoy," Soonyoung added.
When you walked back toward the counter, Soonyoung spoke quietly.
"…Thanks for not yelling." You shrugged.
"…Thanks for admitting you might be wrong." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"…Don't get used to it."
"I wasn't planning to."
But neither of you sounded annoyed.
Behind the counter, Jihoon watched the two of you return to your stations. He glanced once more at the soulmate board near the entrance, then he looked at the arrows above your heads again.
"…Third day," he murmured as he poured fresh coffee into a cup. "…at this rate, maybe the story will actually make it to the board."
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Heart Heart Cafe 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Days passed, then weeks, and something strange happened inside Heart Heart Café.
The café had slowly become lively again. Customers filled the tables, laughter returned to the space, and the soulmate board gained more stories every few days.
And the two former disasters of the café?
You and Soonyoung worked surprisingly well together.
"Table three's cappuccino."
You placed it on the tray.
"Got it," Soonyoung said, already heading toward the customer.
"Don't mix it with table four."
"I won't."
"You did last week."
"That was once!"
But even that sounded more like playful teasing than an argument.
Jihoon watched it all from behind the counter. He noticed the small habits that had formed between you two. You automatically prepared trays the way Soonyoung liked them arranged, and Soonyoung instinctively grabbed heavier trays before you even asked.
When the café got busy, you moved around each other effortlessly, like two dancers who had memorized the same steps.
Customers often assumed you were already a couple. You always denied it immediately every time.
"We're just coworkers."
"Just friends."
Jihoon had heard it so many times that he could practically recite it with you.
But Jihoon sighed almost every day now.
"…Are they really this dense?"
Because the worst part wasn't the arguing anymore, it was that nothing romantic was happening either. You weren't enemies anymore, but you weren't lovers. Just… comfortable, friends. And Jihoon was starting to worry that maybe both of you would simply live your lives like that forever.
Until one afternoon, the café was half full, the quiet murmur of conversations filling the room. You approached a new customer sitting alone near the window.
"What would you like to order?"
The man smiled at you, and Jihoon noticed immediately.
"I'll have a latte," the man said, leaning slightly closer. "But honestly, I think I just came here because I saw you working."
You blinked.
"Oh."
"You know," he continued casually, "this café has that soulmate theme, right?"
You nodded.
"Well," he said with a soft laugh, "maybe you're actually mine."
You didn't laugh, didn't deny it either, you simply tilted your head slightly, unsure how to respond.
"Well… I guess that would be surprising," you said.
Across the café, Soonyoung was taking an order from another table.
"Two iced americanos and-"
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence as his hand gripped the notepad.
Jihoon's eyes immediately snapped toward him.
Soonyoung's shoulders stiffened. A sharp breath escaped him. For a second, his expression twisted in pain, as his fingers pressed against the counter as if steadying himself, and a bead of sweat slid down the side of his cheek.
The customer in front of him frowned.
"Are you okay?"
Soonyoung blinked.
The pain vanished almost as quickly as it came.
"…Yes," he said quickly, forcing a smile.
"Sorry about that. Two iced americanos and a cheesecake, right?"
He continued writing as if nothing had happened, but Jihoon had already seen enough. His eyes slowly moved across the café and back to you. You were still talking politely with the man by the window, laughing lightly.
Jihoon exhaled slowly.
"…Of course."
The soulmate arrows above your heads flickered faintly.
Sometimes the universe had strange rules.
One of them was simple.
When a soulmate's heart twisted the wrong way, the other one felt it too.
Jihoon rubbed his temple.
"…Alright."
He had been patient long enough.
The day eventually ended. Customers left one by one, chairs were stacked, lights dimmed. You and Soonyoung began taking off your aprons when Jihoon spoke.
"Stay."
Both of you looked up.
"…What?" Soonyoung asked.
Jihoon leaned against the counter. "I want to talk about something."
You blinked. "That sounds serious."
"It's not," Jihoon replied calmly.
He glanced briefly at the soulmate board near the entrance, then back at the two of you.
"You both work in a café that only allows people searching for their soulmates."
You nodded slowly. "Yes…?"
Jihoon folded his arms. "So I'm curious."
Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
Jihoon's voice stayed casual. "Do either of you actually believe in soulmates?"
You shrugged. "I guess so. I mean… the stories on the board are proof."
Soonyoung scratched his neck. "… Maybe."
Jihoon tilted his head slightly. "And if your soulmate was someone you already knew?"
Neither of you answered immediately, and Jihoon continued.
"What if it was someone you argued with at first?"
He watched both of your expressions carefully.
"Soonyoung," Jihoon said casually, "what would you do if your soulmate started dating someone else?"
Soonyoung froze. "…What?"
"Hypothetically."
Soonyoung looked down at the floor.
"…I guess," he muttered slowly, "I'd just hope they're happy."
Jihoon hummed softly, then he looked at you.
"And you?"
You hesitated. "…I don't know."
Jihoon pushed himself off the counter and walked toward the soulmate board. His fingers tapped the empty space between two stories.
"Just wondering when you two are planning to write yours."
Soonyoung blinked. "What?"
Jihoon glanced back at you both. "…Nothing."
He turned off the last light behind the counter, but as he walked past you, he sighed quietly under his breath.
"Seriously." He grabbed his coat. "How are these two soulmates this oblivious?"
Neither of you heard him.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Heart Heart Cafe 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The next day felt… strange. Jihoon noticed it the moment the café opened.
Usually, even when the two of you weren't arguing anymore, there was still some noise between you. Small teasing casual comments, and quiet complaints about each other's habits. But today, there's nothing.
You wiped tables silently. Soonyoung took orders silently. When you passed each other near the counter, both of you stepped aside politely.
"Sorry."
"Sorry."
That was it. No teasing or sarcastic remarks.
Jihoon slowly lowered the cup he had been polishing.
"…What."
Something was wrong, very wrong.
He glanced above your heads again. The soulmate arrows were still there, still pointing at each other, still glowing faintly, but both of you were acting like strangers.
The entire day continued like that. Customers came and went, orders were taken, drinks were served—everything functioned smoothly, too smoothly. At one point, a regular customer even joked, "Did you two finally get married or something? Why are you so quiet today?"
Both of you just awkwardly laughed, and continued working.
Jihoon rubbed his face.
"…This is worse than arguing."
The café eventually closed for the day. You and Soonyoung untied your aprons quietly, and Jihoon watched for another ten seconds before finally speaking.
"Alright." Both of you looked up. "Stay."
Soonyoung blinked. "Again?"
"Yes, again."
You and Soonyoung exchanged a glance before walking back toward the counter.
Jihoon leaned against it, arms folded.
"…Are you two okay?"
You nodded quickly.
"It's nothing."
Jihoon raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing?"
You hesitated, then spoke slowly.
"We just… talked yesterday."
"About?"
You rubbed the back of your neck. "Soulmates."
Jihoon waited, then Soonyoung finished the sentence quietly.
"…What if the both of us are soulmates?"
For a moment, Jihoon almost sighed in relief.
Finally, at least they were thinking about it.
"And what's the problem?" he asked calmly.
You and Soonyoung exchanged another glance.
You answered first. "Well… you know us."
Jihoon did very well.
"We fought all the time before," you continued. "We never cared about the soulmate thing. So obviously there's no romance between us."
Soonyoung nodded.
"We even tried imagining it," he admitted awkwardly. "Like… what if we were dating."
He made a face.
"…It's impossible."
You nodded immediately. "It's cringey."
Jihoon stared at the two of you, then he slowly pressed his fingers against his forehead.
"…Unbelievable."
"See?" Soonyoung said quickly. "Even you think it's weird."
Jihoon lowered his hand.
"No." His voice was calm again. "I'm just thinking."
Both of you waited as Jihoon tapped the counter lightly.
"…Okay."
You blinked. "Okay?"
"I have a suggestion."
Soonyoung frowned. "That sounds dangerous."
Jihoon ignored him.
"Both of you are too used to each other."
"What does that mean?" you asked.
"You've spent months working side by side, arguing, talking, getting comfortable."
He gestured between the two of you.
"You're so used to the other person being there that you don't notice it anymore."
Soonyoung tilted his head.
"…So?"
Jihoon straightened slightly.
"So let's change that."
Both of you looked confused.
"Starting next week," Jihoon said, "you'll work different shifts."
Your eyebrows lifted.
"What?"
"Soonyoung," Jihoon continued, "you work mornings."
Soonyoung blinked. "Okay…?"
Jihoon turned to you. "And after Soonyoung leaves, you come in for the evening shift."
You crossed your arms. "Why?"
Jihoon shrugged.
"Simple." He glanced briefly at the soulmate board. "Let's see how both of you feel when the other one isn't around."
Silence filled the café, and Soonyoung scratched his head. "… That's it?"
"That's it."
You looked uncertain. "But what does that prove?"
Jihoon picked up a cup and began cleaning it again.
"You said imagining dating each other feels impossible." He glanced up briefly. "So let's stop imagining."
His voice was casual.
"Just live a week without the other person around." He placed the cup down. "Then we'll see what happens."
The café fell quiet again. You and Soonyoung slowly looked at each other. For some reason, the idea felt… strange.
Jihoon noticed the hesitation and he smiled faintly.
"…What?"
Soonyoung immediately looked away. "Nothing."
You quickly grabbed your bag. "Yeah… nothing."
Jihoon hummed quietly and sighed under his breath.
"…Next week is going to be interesting."
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Heart Heart Cafe 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The next week arrived quietly.
Monday morning, the café door opened earlier than usual. Soonyoung walked in first and Jihoon glanced up from the coffee machine.
"You're early."
Soonyoung shrugged, tying his apron.
"Just woke up early."
Jihoon hummed.
The café slowly opened for the day, customers trickling in one by one. At first, everything seemed normal. Soonyoung took orders, he smiled at customers, he wrote notes carefully—spelling checked twice now, a habit he had picked up over the past weeks.
But after a while, Jihoon noticed something. Soonyoung kept walking around, just pacing. He wiped a table that was already clean, then walked back to the counter, then toward the door, then back again.
Jihoon watched him from behind the espresso machine.
"…Soonyoung."
"Hm?"
"Why are you circling the café like a lost pigeon?"
"I'm not."
"You wiped that table four times."
Soonyoung blinked.
"…Did I?"
"Yes."
Soonyoung scratched the back of his neck.
"Just making sure it's clean."
Jihoon didn't respond, but he noticed something else. Every few minutes, Soonyoung glanced around the café near the entrance, near the soulmate board, near the counter, like he was looking for something, or someone.
Jihoon folded his arms.
"… Looking for something?"
Soonyoung shook his head immediately.
"No."
Jihoon almost smiled.
The rest of the morning continued like that, and Soonyoung worked well enough,b ut something was clearly missing.
He paused too often, lost focus mid-task. Once he even handed a latte to the wrong table, and Jihoon corrected him quietly.
When noon finally arrived, Soonyoung untied his apron.
"Alright, I'm heading out."
Jihoon nodded.
"See you tomorrow."
Soonyoung waved lazily and left.
The café door chimed softly and Jihoon watched him disappear down the street. Then he glanced at the clock. Right on time, the door opened again, and you walked in.
"Afternoon," you greeted.
Jihoon tossed you an apron.
"Busy morning."
You tied the apron behind your back.
"No Soonyoung chaos?"
Jihoon shrugged.
"Surprisingly quiet."
You hummed.
At first, you worked normally too, serving drinks, taking trays, smiling at customers. But once the café became quieter, Jihoon heard sighing repeatedly. He glanced over, and saw you were standing near the soulmate board, staring at it, saydreaming. A marker rested in your fingers, though you weren't writing anything. Just staring at the stories.
Jihoon walked over.
"… Thinking?"
You blinked and quickly straightened.
"Oh- no."
"You sighed six times."
"Did I?"
"Yes."
You quickly grabbed a tray.
"I'll check table three."
Jihoon watched you walk away, then glanced up. The soulmate arrows above your head were flickering faintly again. He then smiled to himself.
By the third day, things changed.
Soonyoung finished his morning shift like usual and untied his apron. But instead of leaving, he sat down at one of the tables, and Jihoon noticed immediately.
"You're not going home?"
Soonyoung shrugged.
"…Thought I'd get a drink."
Jihoon raised an eyebrow.
"Right."
Ten minutes later, the café door chimed again, and you walked in. The moment your eyes landed on Soonyoung, your entire face lit up. Your smile practically brightened the café.
"Soonyoung!"
You took a step toward him instinctively, but then remembered the apron in your hands.
"…Ah."
Work.
You quickly tied your apron instead, and Soonyoung grinned from his seat.
"Hi."
You waved at him from across the café.
"I'll come talk later!"
"Take your time!"
Jihoon watched the exchange silently, then he looked back at Soonyoung.
The man who couldn't focus for three days straight without you, was now sitting comfortably in the café. Eyes following you everywhere, every table you approached, every tray you carried, every time you laughed with a customer.
Meanwhile, you worked faster than usual, focused and efficient. Occasionally when glancing over at Soonyoung between tasks, your smile appearing every time your eyes met his.
Jihoon leaned against the counter, watching both of you.
Soonyoung stayed in the café the entire evening, and slowly one drink turned into two. Then a dessert. Then another drink, waiting. And when the café finally closed, you walked straight toward his table.
"So," you said, smiling, "you stayed the whole time?"
Soonyoung scratched his cheek sheepishly.
"…Yeah."
Jihoon turned off the lights behind the counter.
And finally, he sighed, but this time, it was a relieved sigh.
"… Finally."
Above your heads, the soulmate arrows glowed brighter than they had in weeks.
Jihoon grabbed his coat.
"Might actually get a new story for the board after all."
The rest of the week passed. Jihoon had already grown used to the new routine, and it had been working exactly the way he expected.
Soonyoung still stayed sometimes after his shift, pretending to be "just a customer." You still brightened whenever you saw him sitting there.
They talked more now. Quiet conversations near the counter after closing, small laughs exchanged when the café got slow.
Jihoon had decided not to interfere anymore.
Whatever was happening between the two of you, it was finally moving on its own. So when the next Monday arrived, Jihoon unlocked the café like usual, flipped the Open sign, and began preparing the machines.
He expected the door to open soon, and it did. The bell chimed, Jihoon looked up casually, then blinked once then twice.
Because standing at the door were both of you, not just Soonyoung, not just you coming later for the evening shift, but the both of you, and you were holding hands, comfortably and naturally. Both smiling like something wonderful had happened.
Jihoon slowly placed the coffee cup down.
"…Well."
Soonyoung waved cheerfully.
"Morning, boss." You nodded politely.
"Good morning."
Jihoon leaned against the counter.
"…Did I miss something?"
Both of you looked at each other, then at him, before saying at the same time, "Nothing."
Jihoon narrowed his eyes.
"Nothing?"
Soonyoung shrugged. "Nothing important."
You gently tugged his hand. "Come on."
Instead of explaining, the two of you walked toward the entrance of the café, toward the large soulmate story board as Jihoon watched silently.
You grabbed a marker from the small tray beneath it, Soonyoung leaned slightly beside you as both of you began writing. The marker squeaked softly against the board.
Line after line.
Sentence after sentence.
Jihoon didn't interrupt, he just watched.
When the story was finished, you placed the marker back, then both of you turned around.
"So," Soonyoung said brightly, already tying his apron, "let's start working."
You grabbed yours as well.
"Yes, we have customers to welcome."
Jihoon stared at the board, then at your hands, still loosely holding each other.
He sighed.
"…Unbelievable."
But there was a small smile tugging at his lips.
The café filled with customers again that day. The two of you worked side by side once more. But this time, there were no hidden glances, no awkward distance, no pretending. Your hands brushed naturally when passing trays. Soonyoung occasionally leaned close to whisper something that made you laugh.
Customers noticed immediately.
"Did something good happen?" one of them asked.
You simply smiled.
"Something like that."
The day passed quickly. Eventually, night arrived.
The last customer left.
You and Soonyoung left together, still talking softly as the door closed behind you.
The café finally fell quiet again.
Jihoon locked the door, then slowly walked toward the soulmate board. Your new story sat freshly written among the others, and he read it quietly.
"Soonyoung and I were enemies at first.
But thanks to the owner of this café, who thought things through and we began to think about it seriously.
We talked, and we came to a conclusion.
Maybe we truly belong to each other. Maybe we really are soulmates. But we were covering it up with our daily petty arguments.
Working different shifts made us malfunction at work, because we weren't used to being one without the other. And that's when we realized something, we had already gotten used to each other so much, that we never noticed the romance that had been there from the very beginning."
Jihoon hummed softly. A satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"Maybe that gave them the push they needed to confess."
He reached for the lights. One by one, the café dimmed into darkness. The soulmate board remained softly illuminated near the entrance.
Jihoon grabbed his coat and stepped out.
Click, the door locked.
And inside Heart Heart Café, another soulmate story had finally found its place.
Summary : In a world where queens are expected to obey and kings are free to choose, one woman begins to question the life she was forced to live.
Once a devoted queen, she finds herself slowly cast aside when her king takes a mistress, reminding her that in her era, a woman’s worth is measured by heirs, not her heart. Seeking a moment of freedom, she steps beyond the palace walls… and into the path of a rival king, Choi Soobin.
What begins as a dangerous encounter turns into an unexpected proposition: one that challenges not only her loyalty, but the very foundation of the world she lives in.
⤷ y/n is VERY insecure, this happened in 1500s so obviously there will be mentioned of the stereotypes of being a woman
Non-idol romance, historical & angst au ♡ TXT Soobin x female reader ♡ 16+ SFW ♡ 13,931 words
⤷ proofread by @orbitondgtl ♥️ and thanks to them i get to conclude my ending🎉
In the 1500s, being a queen meant living a life that many would envy.
Silk robes embroidered with gold thread, servants at every corner, grand halls filled with music and celebration—everything was supposed to belong to you. A queen was meant to be the most cherished woman in the kingdom, standing beside the king as his equal.
At least, that was what you once believed.
The life you thought you had shattered the moment your husband decided to take a mistress. Since then, the palace had never felt the same.
Every corridor echoed with whispers, every banquet felt like a performance you were forced to act in, and every time the king passed you in the hall, you could no longer tell whether you were his queen, or merely an ornament placed beside his throne.
You were no longer his priority, no longer the woman he loved. So, for the first time in your life, you decided to rebel.
You slipped into a simple commoner's dress, something you had never worn before. No jewels, no crown, no servants following behind you like shadows. Without asking for permission, without guards trailing your every step, you quietly left the palace grounds.
Freedom felt strange, yet thrilling. You wandered through the streets like any ordinary woman, passing through busy markets and lively alleys. The sounds of merchants bargaining and children laughing filled the air, so different from the stiff, rehearsed silence of the royal court.
It was overwhelming, and oddly comforting.
Soon, you found yourself standing in front of a small restaurant. You had never entered one before. Queens dined in banquet halls, not in places like this, but today, you weren't a queen. Just a woman seeking a moment of peace, so you stepped inside.
The room smelled of warm tea and cooked spices, voices murmuring quietly around wooden tables. You chose a seat near the window and ordered the simplest thing you could think of, a drink.
For the first time in years, there was no pressure on your shoulders, no ministers watching your every expression, no expectations of perfect posture or calculated smiles. Just silence.
You wrapped your hands around the warm cup, letting out a quiet breath.
For a moment, you thought you could pretend none of your royal burdens existed.
That is, until the door opened and a man stepped inside. You glanced up casually at first, expecting nothing more than another traveler, but the moment your eyes landed on him, your breath caught. Your heart nearly stopped.
"King Choi Soobin…?"
Choi Soobin. A king who should not have been here. A king who certainly should not have been inside your kingdom, because your husband and him were rivals. Yet there he was, standing inside the small restaurant as if he belonged there.
The moment his eyes met yours, recognition flashed across his face, then he smiled, and began walking toward you.
Panic flooded your mind.
What if he used you to threaten your king?
What if he reported to the palace that you had left without guards or permission?
What if-
Countless possibilities crashed through your thoughts, yet outwardly you forced yourself to remain calm, elegant , composed. Just as a queen had been trained to be.
He stopped in front of your table and sat across from you, bowing his head politely.
"Pleasant to see you here, Queen Kim."
You straightened slightly, masking your unease.
"And I'm surprised to see you here, King Choi."
He chuckled softly.
"Would you believe me if I said it's because your king is being rather lenient with his guards these days… considering it's currently his mistress selection season?"
The words struck a nerve. Your lower cheek twitched with restrained anger, but you maintained your calm expression.
"And would you believe," you replied evenly, "that I am out in the open entirely out of my own free will?"
He chuckled again, thanking the waitress as she placed his drink before him.
You watched as he calmly took a sip.
"Not that I'm surprised," he said. "You've quite literally been pushed to second place in his palace."
That was enough.
You forced a polite smile and stood from your seat, giving him a formal bow.
"I apologize for my abruptness, but I must ask that you respect my status. I shall take my leave."
You turned to walk away, but his next words stopped you mid-step.
"I will respect your status," he said calmly, "if only your king rejects the mistress."
Slowly, you turned back.
"What do you mean?"
He stood as well, stepping closer until he faced you directly.
"A king must officially accept or reject the mistress selection ceremony," he explained. "And if I know your king well… he will accept."
He paused briefly.
"And what would that make you?"
His gaze lingered on you before he continued.
"If you want to talk about status, perhaps we should revisit that conversation once you trust that your king will reject the offer."
You were speechless. Because deep down, you already knew your king would accept. You almost formed your hands into tight fists, your nails pressing into your palms as anger threatened to rise within you. It took every ounce of the composure drilled into you since childhood to keep your expression calm. Before your frustration could show, Choi Soobin stepped back slightly, as if giving you space to breathe.
"A king like me," he said lightly, "prefers giving his queen options."
His voice carried none of the arrogance you expected from a rival monarch.
"In this era, a queen cannot simply divorce her king without reason. Tradition would never allow it." He lifted his cup again, swirling the drink slowly before taking another sip. "So I thought of something… perhaps improper." He set the cup down. "But at least it would allow you to keep your status without living under a mistress."
When you remained silent, he took your quietness as permission to continue.
"You see, I was raised differently," he said. "I was taught that loyalty matters more than power. When I look at a princess, or a queen, I look at her as my entire life."
His gaze held yours steadily.
"So naturally, I expect the same loyalty in return. No second loves, just two people growing old together."
He leaned back slightly.
"That is why I have rejected every mistress selection presented to me."
You felt your breath catch.
"You know how the system works," he continued calmly. "Once a king rejects a mistress selection… it is final. Forever. One king. One queen."
His eyes softened, almost knowingly.
"You should already understand why I am telling you this."
Your jaw tightened.
"You want me to be with you," you said slowly, each word heavy with disbelief, "while I am still bound to my king."
The words felt bitter leaving your mouth, yet he only smiled.
"And I thank fate for allowing me to meet such a straightforward queen."
You ignored the compliment entirely, your gaze sharpening.
"Do you truly think I would agree so easily?" you asked coldly. "I have a status to uphold as well."
Your voice lowered, carrying the weight of reality.
"If I were to do what you suggest, it would mean betraying my king… and my people. The queen abandoning her kingdom for its rival king?"
You let out a bitter breath.
"Do you know what people would say? They would whisper that I betrayed the man I once vowed to love. They would spread rumors until my name is nothing more than disgrace." Your stare hardened. "I would be remembered as a queen who abandoned her kingdom for another man."
But Choi Soobin tilted his head slightly, unfazed.
"And what joy will there be," he asked quietly, "when your king begins loving another woman who is not you?"
The words struck you like a blade. You fell silent, and he continued.
"People will always talk," he said calmly. "Those who do not understand your suffering will always whisper behind your back."
His voice grew firmer.
"But if your king can take another woman…" His eyes locked onto yours. "…why can you not take another king?"
You clenched your teeth.
"Because this is not an era of women's independence." Your words came out sharper than intended.
You were already beginning to hate the calm king standing before you, but instead of being offended, he smiled.
"Then perhaps history should begin with you."
Your eyes widened slightly.
He stepped closer, his smile calm yet daring.
"Why not let the era of women's independence begin… with you?"
For a moment, your mind went completely blank. Your jaw parted slightly, stunned by the boldness of his words.
Seeing your reaction, he chuckled softly.
"It will not be easy starting something like that alone," he continued. "So why not stand with me?"
His voice softened.
"Spend time with me. Understand your feelings. And when the time comes…" He paused. "I promise I will help you divorce your king."
Your heart skipped.
"And afterward," he finished, "you may live your life building that new era, an era where a queen is not forced to accept humiliation, by my side."
Silence stretched between you.
You could only stand there, thinking, and Choi Soobin watched you quietly before letting out a small chuckle.
"You know where to find me, Your Majesty." He turned toward the door. "I will wait for your answer."
And with that, he walked out of the restaurant, leaving you standing in the middle of the room.
The door closed behind him, and you could only watch as the rival king disappeared into the streets. Leaving you alone with a decision that could change history.
You stood there for a long moment after he left.
The restaurant slowly returned to its quiet rhythm. Cups clinking softly, low conversations resuming, the faint sound of cooking coming from the back. Yet the air around you still felt strangely heavy, as if his words had not truly left with him.
Your legs felt weak. Slowly, you returned to your seat. The wooden chair creaked slightly as you sat down, your fingers resting on the table where your untouched drink had grown lukewarm.
The waitress approached again, hesitant.
"Miss... are you alright?"
You blinked, realizing you must have looked more shaken than you intended. For a brief second, you considered telling the truth, that your world had just been turned upside down by a conversation with a rival king. Instead, you forced a small smile.
"Yes," you reassured gently. "I'm alright."
The waitress nodded, though her expression still held concern, before quietly leaving you alone again.
Silence returned.
Your gaze lowered to the drink in front of you, but your thoughts were no longer in the restaurant.
They drifted backward. Back to the beginning. Back to the days when you had first been married to your king.
You remembered how grand the wedding had been. Lanterns glowing through the palace halls, nobles from distant lands attending, musicians playing throughout the night. Everyone had praised the union, calling it a perfect match between two powerful families.
And him, he had looked at you so warmly back then.
You remembered the promise he whispered during your first night together, that you would always be his queen, the only woman he would ever need.
You had believed him… how naïve you had been.
At that time, you thought refusing a mistress was a romantic choice, a proof of love. But now, sitting in this small restaurant dressed as a commoner, you finally understood the truth that had always been standing quietly behind those promises.
It had never been about love. It had been about heirs. About children. About the simple expectation that had been placed upon you since the day you were born: Give birth. Preferably to a son.
You had been taught this your entire life.
A queen's duty was to pass down the royal bloodline. To secure the next generation. To ensure the throne would continue. Everything else—your feelings, your comfort, your happiness—came second.
You swallowed slowly as the realization settled deeper in your chest. If you were to give birth to a daughter… and his mistress gave birth to a son… then everything would change. The mistress would rise in importance. Her son would become the future king.
And you? You and your daughter would forever remain second place. A decorative queen beside the throne, while the true power quietly shifted somewhere else within the palace walls.
Your fingers tightened around the cup.
And if you failed to conceive entirely… the outcome would be even worse. You would be dethroned, replaced, cast aside like a broken piece in a political game.
The thought made your stomach churn.
How had you never truly questioned it before? How had you lived so many years believing this system was simply normal?
The bitterness rose suddenly in your throat.
It really did sound like women were always the ones blamed.
If the queen could not bear a son, it was her fault.
If the king sought another woman, it was her failure.
If a mistress rose in power, it was because the queen had not fulfilled her duty well enough.
Your lips trembled slightly.
And the worst part was… you had never realized how cruel it truly was. Not until the conversation you had just shared with Choi Soobin. A rival king had been the one to open your eyes.
The realization filled you with disgust. Disgust at the system. But even more disgust at yourself for accepting it so blindly for so long.
Your teeth sank lightly into your lower lip. After a moment, you stood. You placed the payment for your drink on the table before quietly leaving the restaurant.
The outside air felt colder than before. The lively streets you had admired earlier now felt distant, as if you were walking through them without truly seeing anything.
Your chest felt hollow, empty.
You couldn't go back to the palace yet. Just imagining it made your heart tighten painfully.
In your mind, you could almost picture your king already walking through the palace halls with excitement, discussing candidates for the mistress selection ceremony with his ministers.
Perhaps he was even smiling. Perhaps he was counting the days.
The thought alone made your stomach twist. And after the conversation you had just had… your heart felt too heavy to face him.
But wandering too far wasn't an option either.
Assassins had been growing bolder in recent years. Your disappearance would cause chaos among the palace guards. They would search for you endlessly, blaming themselves for failing their duty.
You couldn't risk innocent lives being punished because of your moment of rebellion.
You exhaled slowly.
Your choices were limited, so limited that it almost felt laughable.
Eventually, your feet turned toward the only place you truly belonged.
The palace.
From the outside, it stood tall and magnificent, its towering gates shining beneath the fading sunlight. To the people of the kingdom, it was a symbol of power and beauty.
A place of luxury and authority.
But as you looked at it now… it no longer felt like a home, it felt like a prison, a beautiful one, decorated with gold and silk. But a prison nonetheless.
—
Morning arrived quietly within the palace.
Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the royal chambers, painting the marble floors in warm gold. Servants moved carefully through the halls, their footsteps soft, their voices hushed as they prepared the palace for another day.
But the warmth of the morning never quite reached you.
Across the long breakfast table sat your king.
You could hear the faint rustle of parchment as he skimmed through documents brought by his ministers. Occasionally he spoke to an attendant beside him, giving brief instructions, his tone light, almost distracted.
Yet he barely spoke to you.
Not a greeting, not a question, not even a passing glance longer than courtesy required. Perhaps it was because the Mistress Selection Season had begun. The court had been bustling with activity for days now. Noble families presenting candidates, ministers discussing bloodlines and alliances, servants preparing rooms within the palace that would soon belong to new women.
Whatever the reason was… it annoyed you.
You kept your expression composed, just as a queen should, quietly eating your meal as if nothing was wrong. But inside, irritation slowly built.
Once, your king would have asked about your sleep. He would have told you about the court meetings, even joked about the ministers arguing with each other.
Now his attention seemed somewhere else entirely. Perhaps he is imagining the women already.
The thought made your grip tighten slightly around your teacup.
By the time breakfast ended, you felt the same suffocating weight pressing on your chest as the day before.
And just like yesterday, you decided to leave.
The evening air felt strangely familiar when you stepped outside the palace walls once more.
You had chosen the same hour as before. The same simple dress. The same quiet escape. Except today, there was something different lingering in the back of your mind.
Him, Choi Soobin.
You did not intend to meet him, not really. You hadn't fully decided what to do yet, nor had you confirmed the choice forming in your heart. But if you happened to meet him again…
Your steps slowed slightly.
Actually…
Should you avoid him? Perhaps like a plague.
That should be possible. After all, a rival king could not simply appear wherever you went. Yesterday had surely been nothing more than coincidence.
Yes.
You trusted yourself to avoid him.
With that thought, you continued wandering through the streets, letting the sounds of the city wrap around you. The markets were lively again, lanterns beginning to glow as the sun slowly dipped lower in the sky.
For a moment, you almost managed to enjoy the peace.
Until, your eyes caught sight of someone across the street. Tall, familiar. Your heart immediately sank.
It was him, Choi Soobin.
You stopped walking. Then, without hesitation, you turned around and began walking briskly in the opposite direction.
No, you were not dealing with this today.
"Oh?"
His voice carried easily through the street.
You froze.
Of course he saw you.
"Queen Kim?"
You sighed quietly. There was no point pretending now. Turning around, you approached him again and gave a small bow, keeping your expression neutral.
"Oh. Nice to see you here, King Choi."
Your voice remained flat, making no effort to sound particularly pleased.
He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk touching his lips.
"I see you were trying to avoid me."
You immediately shook your head.
"Will you believe that I was merely trying to change sights after seeing too many similar houses?"
His gaze shifted briefly around the street before returning to you.
"Not really," he said calmly. "But a queen cannot lie, so I suppose I will trust you."
You resisted the urge to sigh again.
Honestly… he wasn't a bad man. If only you weren't already married to your king.
"So," he said lightly, folding his hands behind his back, "I am ready for your answer, Queen. Take your time."
You almost scoffed.
"I might take months."
"Oh?" he replied, raising an eyebrow. "I feel that would only make things worse."
His tone remained casual, but his words carried weight.
"You would simply bottle up your emotions while watching your king grow affectionate with his mistress. Eventually those feelings will explode." He shrugged slightly. "And when that happens, I will not be able to help you."
You frowned. "Why not?"
"Because by then," he said calmly, "the rumors will already be everywhere."
His eyes met yours.
"One person whispers. Then ten people repeat it. Then a hundred believe it. Then a thousand spread it." He paused. "I can help you divorce your king without rumors that are false."
His voice softened slightly.
"But rumors that are true?" He shook his head faintly. "Those… I cannot erase."
You fell silent. Even if you wanted to argue, you knew he was right.
Everything you had been holding inside would eventually burst out, and when it did, the damage would already be done.
Choi Soobin simply watched you, waiting. Not rushing you, not pushing you, just quietly allowing you the space to gather your thoughts.
People passed by on the street, unaware that two monarchs stood in the middle of their ordinary evening.
The silence between you wasn't awkward.
It felt… expectant, like he was waiting for your answer, but too respectful to demand it directly.
Finally, you closed your eyes. You took a deep breath, then another. When you opened your eyes again, determination had replaced the hesitation within them.
"I will only accept your help," you said slowly, "on one condition."
He remained silent, encouraging you to continue.
"If this plan goes astray at any point… I will end it immediately. Completely." Your gaze hardened. "There will be no second thoughts. No persuasion."
For a moment, he simply studied you. Then he smiled and bowed his head slightly. "As you wish, my queen."
You nearly clicked your tongue.
"I am not your queen yet," you said sharply. "So do not become too proud."
But he only smiled wider.
"Of course." His voice was calm. "Everything will move at your pace."
—
Several days passed, and you did not leave the palace again.
The temptation had been there, especially when evening came and the sky began to darken the same way it had on those nights you slipped past the palace gates. The memory of quiet streets and ordinary freedom lingered in your mind like a distant dream, but you stopped yourself.
Sneaking out once could be called a moment of weakness. Twice might be coincidence. But a third time? That would become a habit. And habits were dangerous for someone in your position. All it would take was one observant guard or one curious servant, and questions would begin to spread through the palace like wildfire.
So you stayed, even as part of you wondered whether Choi Soobin was still waiting somewhere in the city.
You had agreed to his condition, yet days had passed with no sign of him. Sometimes you wondered if he had simply returned to his kingdom and forgotten the conversation entirely. But that thought was shattered one afternoon.
Your chamber doors opened suddenly as your maid hurried inside, bowing quickly before speaking.
"Your Majesty…!"
You looked up from your seat.
"What is it?"
Her voice lowered slightly, though the urgency in her tone remained.
"King Choi Soobin has arrived at the palace."
Your heart dropped.
"What?"
"He came unannounced, Your Majesty."
For a moment, you simply stared at her.
Unannounced?
Panic slowly crept into your chest.
It wasn't that you doubted Choi Soobin would keep the conversation between the two of you confidential. But arriving in your kingdom without warning was a dangerous move.
Two rival kings meeting unexpectedly could easily be misunderstood. Ministers would question it. Soldiers would tense. Rumors could spread that negotiations had failed, or worse, that war was on the horizon.
And underneath all of that… you couldn't ignore the guilt twisting quietly in your stomach.
You were secretly cooperating with your king's rival.
The thought alone made it impossible to sit still.
You began pacing around your room, your mind racing with possibilities. What if the meeting between the kings turned hostile? What if your husband suspected something? What if-
The room suddenly felt suffocating. The walls too close. Your chest too tight. Without another thought, you left your chambers and headed toward the palace garden.
It was the only place within the palace that ever brought you peace.
The moment you stepped outside, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly.
The garden stretched beautifully before you. Rows of vibrant flowers swaying gently in the breeze, tall trees casting soft shadows across the stone paths. Above, the sky spread wide and calm, painted in soft shades of blue and gold.
You walked slowly among the greenery, letting the quiet scenery calm the chaos in your mind. Eventually, you stopped near a cluster of blooming flowers.
Your shoulders lowered. Your eyes closed. For a moment, you simply enjoyed the stillness, until you heard footsteps behind you. You assumed it was your maid following at a distance, so you paid little attention, but then a male voice spoke.
"Enjoying the garden, Queen Kim?"
Your eyes flew open and you immediately straightened, your posture becoming elegant as you turned around.
And there he was. Choi Soobin, standing only a few steps away.
You stood so quickly that you nearly stumbled, your foot slipping slightly against the stone path before you regained your balance. Composing yourself, you gave him a small bow. Then your eyes immediately scanned the area around him, making sure no one else was watching.
"Why are you here?" you asked quietly, keeping your voice low.
He shrugged casually, then spoke in his usual, unbothered tone—loud enough that it nearly made you jump.
"I'm simply visiting my rival king," he said. "Perhaps convincing him to compete with me in financial power instead of forcing me to initiate the challenge myself."
Your expression nearly twisted into disbelief.
"Forgive my wording," you said carefully, "but are you childish?"
He chuckled, clearly amused.
"Age may increase," he replied, "but one's mindset can stay wherever it pleases, as long as you enjoy it."
You hummed softly, turning away from him again to look over the garden.
The view was far more pleasant than looking at his teasing expression.
"But," he continued after a moment, his voice growing slightly more serious, "to be honest, I came here for you."
Your heart skipped.
It shouldn't have.
You had spent years training your mind to reject the idea of developing feelings for anyone else. You were married. Even if your husband disappointed you, your loyalty was supposed to remain unchanged. But it seemed your mind and your heart were not entirely in agreement.
You kept your gaze fixed on the garden, refusing to look back.
"And what about me?" you asked calmly. "Don't tell me you plan to begin this scheme right now."
"I would say the faster it ends," he replied, "the sooner you can enjoy the life waiting afterward."
He paused slightly.
"Sounds appealing, doesn't it?"
A quiet laugh escaped you.
"Perhaps. But aren't you supposed to make me fall in love with you first? Before acting like a husband who is already waiting for me to divorce my king?"
You heard him shift behind you, his footsteps grew closer.
"Relationships take time," he said. "I cannot force you to like me overnight."
You raised an eyebrow.
"And yet earlier you said the quicker I finish this, the better life I get."
"Ah," he replied smoothly, "so you are already anticipating the ways I might make you fall in love with me."
You froze.
Crap…
You had walked straight into his trap.
Behind you, Choi Soobin chuckled softly.
"Good to know," he continued. "Of course, Your Majesty, I will work hard on that part."
Gosh… he was irritating, annoying. And somehow… annoyingly charming. You found yourself unable to respond, which only irritated you more.
Clicking your tongue quietly under your breath, you turned away from him and began walking back toward the palace. Your lips pressed tightly together as you bit them in frustration. Without another word, you stormed back inside, leaving him alone in the garden behind you.
—
Days passed again. And you tried, truly tried, to resist the temptation of leaving the palace.
Every evening, when the sky dimmed into gold and violet beyond the palace walls, the same thought would creep into your mind.
Just one walk… just one hour outside the suffocating halls where whispers followed every step you took. But you told yourself no.
A queen should not develop such reckless habits, but temptation was a dangerous thing. The more you denied it, the stronger it became. It lingered in the back of your mind like a quiet craving, growing little by little until it became impossible to ignore. And so, before you could stop yourself, you slipped out of the palace again.
The streets welcomed you with the same lively energy as before. Lanterns glowed warmly above shop entrances, merchants called out their wares, and laughter drifted through the evening air.
You walked slowly, enjoying the simple freedom once more. For a while, your mind felt lighter, until something familiar caught your attention.
Across the street stood a man at a small vendor stall.
Tall, well-dressed, even in simpler traveling clothes, and unmistakably recognizable, Choi Soobin.
He was speaking to the merchant, examining something small in his hand. After a moment, he handed over a few coins and accepted the item.
Curiosity made you pause. From where you stood, you could see it clearly now.
A hairpin.
He turned away from the stall, glancing down at the pin in his hand as if inspecting it carefully. Then his head lifted, his eyes met yours, and immediately, a smile spread across his face. Before you could even consider walking away, he jogged toward you, stopping a polite distance away before bowing slightly.
"Good evening, Queen Kim Y/N," he greeted lightly. "Sneaking out again?"
His smile widened playfully.
"Or perhaps you are loitering here in hopes of coincidentally meeting me?"
You almost scoffed.
"What do you have there?" you asked instead, gesturing to his hand. "A gift for a woman?"
"Oh, this?"
He lifted the hairpin slightly.
"I thought of you," he said casually. "And I figured it would be improper to bring you on a date empty-handed. So I selected this."
He tilted his head, studying you thoughtfully.
"It suits you well. I can imagine it."
Before you could respond, he placed the hairpin gently in your hand.
You looked down at it. It was beautifully crafted. Simple but elegant, with delicate details carved into the metal. And to your surprise… it was exactly the kind of hairpin you preferred.
Your fingers turned it slowly as you examined it.
"And I assume you agree to my date," he added.
You frowned and looked up.
"What?"
"I mentioned a date," Choi Soobin said simply. "You didn't question it."
"And you think I would agree so easily?" you replied. "What would people think if they saw us walking together?"
Your gaze hardened slightly.
"They would say you are courting a married woman. Perhaps you would suffer little consequence." You tapped the hairpin lightly against your palm. "But I would gain an ugly title."
He didn't look bothered at all.
"What if I promised you this," he said calmly.
"If you become my queen in the future, anyone who spreads malicious rumors about you will be thrown into a prison cell." He paused. "With no chance of seeing daylight again."
Your breath caught slightly.
His tone was so casual it almost sounded like a joke, yet you had no doubt he meant it.
"You are…" You struggled to find the right words. "This loyal?"
You hesitated.
"And… this…"
Unable to finish the sentence, you simply gestured vaguely.
He filled in the blank himself.
"And this ruthless?" He smiled faintly. "You could say that."
His gaze softened slightly.
"That is simply how good I am to my queen."
You raised an eyebrow.
"And you expect me to believe there are no women chasing after you?"
"I chase them away," he replied immediately. "I don't need admirers following me."
His eyes rested on you calmly.
"I need someone like you."
He shrugged lightly.
"Someone too loyal for her own good. Someone worthy of being my one and only queen."
Gosh… he was more than annoying. And what annoyed you even more was the sudden flutter in your chest. Your heart had skipped again without warning.
To him, these words probably sounded normal.
But to you, they sounded dangerously close to flirting.
And the worst part was that he delivered them with such calm confidence that it made him seem wise. Like a king who knew exactly what he wanted.
Quickly brushing away the uncomfortable warmth rising in your chest, you changed the subject.
"So," you said briskly, "where exactly are you taking me? If you are bringing me on a date, you must have a plan."
He fell silent for several seconds, then he scratched the back of his neck.
"To be honest… I didn't expect to meet you here today."
You blinked.
"I only intended to buy that hairpin," he admitted. "After that, I planned to check my schedule before deciding which day I should properly invite you out."
He gestured around them.
"But since you are already here, and I happen to be free…" His smile returned. "We might as well have a date today."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Does that sound acceptable?"
You considered it for a moment, then you nodded.
"Lead the way," you said, stepping beside him. "You probably know this town far better than I do."
Choi Soobin smiled.
"With pleasure."
The evening passed more peacefully than you expected.
You had prepared yourself for awkwardness, for strange silences, for uncomfortable moments where you would remember too clearly that you were a married queen walking beside another king. But none of that happened. Instead, the date flowed easily.
Choi Soobin walked beside you through the lively streets without rushing you, occasionally pointing out places you had never noticed before. A small tea shop hidden between larger buildings. A street performer that he insisted you watch for a moment. A vendor selling sweets that he claimed were the best in the city.
He never pushed, never crossed the invisible line you both knew existed between you, yet somehow, the entire evening felt… comfortable. Too comfortable.
You found yourself talking more than you intended. Laughing once or twice without realizing it. Even forgetting, for brief moments, that the man beside you was your husband's rival.
By the time the lanterns along the streets began dimming, the two of you parted ways quietly. And somehow, you managed to slip back into the palace without anyone noticing.
Later that night, you lay on your bed. The room was silent, only the faint glow of the full moon slipped through the window, casting pale light across the dark ceiling above you.
Your arms and legs were spread loosely across the mattress, your body sinking into the soft sheets.
For the first time in a long while… you felt comfortable, truly comfortable. Even with your king, you had never relaxed like this.
There was always a weight resting on your shoulders—expectations, duties, appearances you had to maintain.
But tonight… that weight felt lighter, almost gone.
You inhaled slowly. Your chest rose and fell calmly. You could breathe normally, and strangely, you felt happy. Not the polite happiness you showed during banquets, or the rehearsed smiles you wore during royal gatherings. But genuine happiness. Quiet, warm, and real.
Your gaze remained fixed on the ceiling as you wondered where the feeling had come from.
Was it because of the date?
Or was it simply the presence of Choi Soobin himself?
Or perhaps it was the freedom of being outside the palace… living for a few hours without the suffocating pressure of royalty.
You shifted slowly, turning onto your side so you faced the window.
Moonlight spilled gently across the floor. Your hand moved instinctively to your chest, and you clenched your fingers lightly over your heart.
There was no pain, none at all, yet something stirred quietly beneath your palm.
Was it guilt?
After all, you were still married.
Or…
Were you floating somewhere high above the clouds?
The feeling was confusing. Familiar, yet strangely different.
You frowned slightly into the darkness.
If this was love… you should recognize it. You had loved your king once. You knew how love was supposed to feel.
So why did this feeling connected to Choi Soobin seem both recognizable and foreign at the same time?
Was it stronger?
Or was there something wrong with you?
You didn't know, but one thing became clear in your mind, you wanted to see him again. Not simply because of the plan you had agreed upon, but because you wanted to understand this strange feeling growing quietly inside you.
You wanted to observe it, to study it, to discover what it truly was. And somehow… being near him felt like the only way to find that answer.
Your eyelids slowly grew heavier.
The quiet comfort of the night wrapped around you gently, and before long, your thoughts faded away.
Leaving you to drift peacefully into sleep.
—
The grand hall was filled with ministers, noble representatives, and court officials, all standing in their proper positions beneath the high ceilings of the palace. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, illuminating the polished floor and the raised platform where the royal thrones stood.
You sat beside your king. Your posture was perfect. Your expression calm. Just as a queen was expected to appear, but inside, your chest felt tight.
In front of the throne platform stood a table. Upon it were four wooden boards, each carved carefully with the name of a noblewoman presented as a candidate for the king's mistress.
The names faced the ceiling.
The rules were simple. Your king could flip down one board.
Two.
Three.
Or even all four.
However many he turned over would become his chosen mistresses.
The entire court watched in silence.
Beside you, your king seemed almost cheerful. His eyes moved across the boards with visible interest, the faintest smile resting on his lips. It was obvious to anyone watching that he had been anticipating this moment.
You knew that. You had known it for weeks. And yet… your heart betrayed you. A quiet, fragile hope lingered inside your chest. But hope, you realized, could be cruel, because you watched his hand move forward, and he flipped one board down.
Just one, but that was enough.
The wooden board hit the table with a soft, final sound.
The court officials nodded respectfully as your king dismissed the ceremony, announcing the end of the Mistress Selection Season.
Just like that, your hope disappeared. Inside your chest, something felt… hollow. You kept your expression neutral, as a queen must, but deep inside, a sudden ache formed.
A quiet, desperate need.
To be loved.
Your mind immediately drifted to someone you hadn't expected to think of.
Choi Soobin.
Should you go to him?
The thought alone made you uneasy.
You shouldn't rely on him.
You were a queen.
If you truly wanted to create the era of women's independence he had spoken about, then you needed to stand on your own strength.
You could not depend on another man to solve your suffering.
You didn't want power. You didn't want status. Not right now. You simply wanted to feel love, but was Choi Soobin truly the person you should seek?
If you approached him now, it would mean something serious. Tt would mean trusting him, truly trusting him. It would mean accepting the possibility that you might eventually fall in love with him.
And that thought alone made your heart race.
You had only known him for a month, and in that entire month, you had only met him three times. Was that truly enough to trust someone with your entire future?
Your mind screamed that it was foolish. Your brain kept sending warnings. It's too early, you barely know him, you cannot trust him with everything yet. But your heart argued back. It reminded you of the small moments, the way your heart skipped when he spoke, the quiet flutter you felt when he teased you, the strange happiness you experienced during that single evening together.
Your heart kept whispering the same thing.
You need him, even if only for a while, even if just to feel what love was supposed to feel like.
When the ceremony ended, you stood gracefully beside your king and gave the proper bow. Then you quietly excused yourself.
No one questioned you. No one noticed the storm of thoughts inside your mind.
Soon, you were back in your chambers. You walked slowly to the window and looked out at the bright blue sky stretching endlessly above the palace grounds.
Your hand moved instinctively to your chest, clutching the fabric of your dress over your heart.
The craving was still there.
The memory of your heart skipping, the fluttering warmth, the happiness you had felt around him. But what did that make you?
You were still a married woman. You were still the queen of this kingdom.
What about your king?
What about your duties?
And most importantly, if you did divorce your husband one day…
Would someone like you truly be suitable for a man like Choi Soobin?
A divorced queen.
A woman who had already belonged to another king.
The thought lingered quietly in your mind as you stared at the sky.
And for the first time… you wondered whether you were worthy of the future he had offered you.
—
It felt like something inside you had been hollowed out overnight.
You lay there for a moment, staring blankly at the ceiling. You had thought the turmoil would fade after resting. That your mind would reset itself, returning you to the calm composure expected of a queen.
Eventually, you rose from bed and prepared for the day. When you stepped outside your chambers, the familiar mask returned to your face.
Your posture was elegant. Your smile polite. Your movements graceful as servants greeted you and ministers passed respectfully in the halls.
No one noticed anything wrong, no one ever did. But the moment you returned to your room, the emptiness resurfaced.
Your smile vanished, your shoulders sagged slightly.
You stood in the center of the chamber, staring at nothing in particular.
Should you continue holding on like this?
Pretending everything was fine?
Or should you simply give in and go to the one person who had been lingering in your thoughts?
Choi Soobin.
The thought alone made your chest tighten.
Would it truly be so wrong to see him again?
Just for a moment.
Just to feel something other than this dull emptiness.
Your hands moved automatically, almost unconsciously. Before long, you were outside the palace walls again. You didn't even remember leaving. Your feet carried you through the streets without direction. You walked past markets, past quiet alleyways, past rows of houses you didn't even bother looking at. You weren't heading anywhere. You were simply… walking, letting your body move while your mind drifted somewhere far away.
Until, you suddenly collided with someone. Your shoulder bumped against a firm chest.
"Sorry," you murmured automatically.
Your voice carried no emotion at all as you began stepping away, but before you could leave, a pair of hands gently grabbed your shoulders, holding you still.
"Queen Kim?"
The voice sounded distant at first, faint. As if someone was calling out to you from across a lake.
"Queen Kim Y/N?"
The voice came again, closer this time, louder. Your head slowly lifted, as if you were waking from deep water.
"Y/N."
Finally, the name rang clearly in your ears, and you blinked. When your vision focused, you saw him, Choi Soobin stood directly in front of you, his face much closer than you expected.
Worry was written plainly across his expression. His hands still rested on your shoulders as he searched your face.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly.
The moment you saw him, something inside you snapped. All the emotions you had been suppressing suddenly rushed back at once. Your chest tightened painfully. Your throat burned. And before you could stop yourself, tears spilled from your eyes, and a quiet sob escaped your lips.
You cried.
You cried for the disappointment your king had given you.
You cried for the loneliness you had carried for so long.
And you cried for the warmth you realized you had been craving from Choi Soobin.
Standing in front of him now, it felt as though your heart had finally returned to your body.
Emotion flooded through you all at once.
Relief.
Pain.
Comfort.
Longing.
Your tears refused to stop, and deep down, you knew that this was it, you had already doomed yourself, because somewhere along the way… you had fallen in love with Choi Soobin.
The sky slowly darkened above the city.
Lanterns along the streets flickered to life one by one, casting warm circles of light across the road. Shops began closing their doors, and the lively noise of the afternoon gradually softened into the calm murmur of night.
It was getting late.
You should have returned to the palace by now, yet your body refused to move, instead, you remained where you were, right beside Choi Soobin.
His warmth felt steady against you, grounding in a way you hadn't realized you needed. After your tears had finally quieted earlier, neither of you had rushed away from the moment.
He didn't ask questions you weren't ready to answer. He didn't tell you to go back. He simply stayed, and somehow, that made everything feel easier.
Now the two of you sat beside the quiet roadside, your shoulders leaning lightly against one another. Your hands were intertwined, fingers naturally fitting together as if they had always belonged that way.
Neither of you made any effort to move away.
There was no careful distance, no polite gap meant to preserve appearances.
Anyone who passed by would have easily mistaken you for a couple, yet neither of you seemed concerned.
You tilted your head slightly, gazing up at the deep blue sky above. The last traces of daylight had faded, leaving behind a peaceful stretch of stars beginning to appear.
Your breathing was slow, and steady. For once, your mind felt quiet, almost as if all the troubles of the palace had been left somewhere far away. Yet the urge to stay beside him remained strong.
A small smile formed on your lips, your eyes still closed, then, after a while, you spoke softly.
"Hey."
He answered with a quiet hum.
"What if I feel guilty?"
He turned his head slightly.
"About what?"
You hesitated before answering.
"My king… and you."
For a moment, he didn't reply. The silence stretched just long enough for you to wonder if you had said something wrong, then he spoke carefully.
"I understand why you would feel guilty," he said. "You were never raised to live this way."
His thumb continued its gentle motion against your hand.
"You are rebelling against the rules that have controlled your entire life. Your king can choose a mistress without asking you, yet the law would never allow you the same freedom."
He paused slightly. "But why feel guilty toward me?"
Your fingers tightened around his.
"Because…" you murmured quietly, "you are going to marry a divorced queen."
Your voice grew softer.
"Your reputation could suffer."
You opened your eyes slightly, though you didn't lift your head from his shoulder.
"You are a good man, King Choi." You swallowed. "But did you truly think this through?"
Your grip on his hand tightened a little more.
"Did you consider what might happen to you if I become yours?"
For a moment, Choi Soobin remained silent, then you felt his shoulder shift slightly beneath your head. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and steady.
"I thought about it long before I ever approached you."
You slowly looked up at him, and he met your gaze without hesitation.
"My reputation?" he continued with a faint smile. "That is a small price to pay."
His thumb stopped circling your hand and instead squeezed your fingers gently.
"What matters to me is not what the court says. Not what nobles whisper behind closed doors." His eyes softened slightly. "What matters is the woman standing beside me."
He let out a quiet breath. "If the price of having you as my queen is enduring rumors and criticism, then I will gladly pay it."
Your heart skipped.
"I have ruled my kingdom long enough to know this," he added quietly.
"People will always talk, but their words will never decide who I choose to love."
The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten.
"And if anyone dares insult you for your past," he finished calmly, "then they will answer to me."
Your eyes remained locked on his. Slowly, the last fragments of doubt in your chest began to fade. You inhaled softly, then spoke again, still quietly.
"Then…" You hesitated for only a moment. "…may I ask for something?"
His expression softened further. "Anything."
Your gaze dropped briefly before lifting again. "…a kiss."
The request hung gently in the night air. Your voice was calm now, certain. Because by asking for that kiss, you were telling him something without needing to say the words directly, that you had made your choice, you were ready to tie your future to his forever.
—
The memory replayed clearly in your mind. His face close to yours, the calm certainty in his eyes before your lips finally met.
The kiss.
Your lips had pressed against his, hesitant at first, before slowly melting into the moment. The warmth of it still lingered in your memory, the sensation of two breaths mixing together, two hearts beating far too fast.
It had felt right, almost overwhelming.
After so long without feeling anything like that, the sensation had been almost intoxicating. You clutched the edge of your thick blanket tightly as the memory replayed again. Your smile grew larger.
Without realizing it, you shrank slightly under the blanket like a shy girl hiding from her own thoughts.
Choi Soobin suddenly appeared in your imagination again. His teasing smile, his confident voice, the way he had looked at you last night.
Why does he look so handsome now?
You wondered silently. Another soft giggle escaped you. You rolled onto your side, then onto the other side. Suddenly you felt like a teenager again, hiding under her blanket while thinking about someone she liked.
But the moment didn't last long, as a knock sounded at your door, and your body stiffened instantly. Your smile faded slightly as you sat up.
The responsibility settled over your shoulders again like a heavy cloak. For a brief moment, the thought of putting on that elegant mask again felt exhausting. You wanted to remain in this warm, secret happiness just a little longer, but duty waited outside that door.
With a quiet sigh, you slipped out of bed.
Your expression slowly returned to the calm composure expected of you as you prepared for the day.
The queen returned.
Graceful.
Elegant.
Unreadable.
When you returned to your chamber that evening, the door closed behind you with a quiet click. Immediately, the tension left your body.
You removed the heavy layers of royal clothing and allowed yourself to fall back onto the bed, staring up at the familiar ceiling above.
The room was quiet again, peaceful, and your thoughts drifted naturally back to him.
Did you miss Choi Soobin? Of course you did. But you knew you couldn't run to him whenever you wanted.
Sneaking out too often would risk everything. Your status, your safety, even the fragile future you were beginning to build with him.
Still… he had quickly become your weakness, and strangely, you didn't mind that weakness at all. Because if anyone were to hold that power over you… you trusted it would be him.
Reliable, steady, protective.
The thought made a soft smile appear on your lips again.
Your eyes remained fixed on the ceiling as another idea slowly formed.
Maybe next time you saw him, you should bring him something.
A small gift.
Something that belonged to you.
The thought made you strangely excited. But when would that next meeting be? You didn't know, yet somehow, that uncertainty only made your heart flutter more. And with the thought of Choi Soobin lingering warmly in your mind…
You continued smiling quietly to yourself in the peaceful silence of your room.
—
Every morning since the new mistress arrived, you met her in one of the palace chambers reserved for instruction. The room was quiet, filled only with the faint rustling of silk robes and the occasional soft footsteps of passing maids.
Teaching posture would have been simple.
Most noble women had already learned how to stand, walk, and bow properly long before entering the palace.
But being a queen—acting like one, thinking like one, carrying the weight of one—was entirely different. And that was what you were teaching her.
The responsibility, the protocol, the judgment.
How to respond when ministers questioned her.
How to remain composed when insulted.
How to stand beside a king without losing dignity.
The mistress listened carefully to every word. She learned quickly, yet the atmosphere between the two of you remained distant. She had tried, in the beginning.
Small conversations, simple questions unrelated to royal duties.
Even once, she had asked shyly, "Was it difficult when you first became queen?"
But each time, you shut the conversation down politely. You redirected the discussion back to responsibility. Back to learning, back to duty.
You were not cruel, you never raised your voice, you never humiliated her, but the wall between you was clear. Even if she had been welcomed into the palace… you would not lower yourself for her.
And she seemed to understand that.
You watched her quietly during those lessons.
She was young, polite, obedient, perhaps even kind. But that did not change anything, because the way you treated her… was the same way you had once been taught.
Queens were not meant to be approachable, not meant to be soft. Authority had to remain intact. And even if you sometimes wondered whether this system should change… you had no idea how to begin.
What if you created mistakes along the way?
A queen could not afford mistakes.
One ordinary afternoon, as you were explaining how to manage palace staff during large ceremonies, the door opened quietly.
A maid entered and bowed deeply.
"My queen. My lady," she addressed both of you respectfully. "His Majesty requests your presence in the main hall. Immediately."
You paused.
That was unusual. The mistress selection had already ended days ago. There was no ceremony scheduled today. Still, you rose from your seat gracefully.
"Understood."
The mistress followed you obediently as both of you made your way through the palace corridors toward the hall.
Your footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors.
As the grand doors opened, you immediately saw your king seated on his throne, but he was not alone.
Standing several steps in front of him was another figure.
Your breath nearly caught.
Choi Soobin.
Your expression almost betrayed you, but years of royal discipline forced your face back into perfect composure. You walked calmly toward your king and took your seat beside him.
Meanwhile, the mistress stood on the opposite side, slightly behind the king as etiquette required.
Across the hall, Choi Soobin's gaze moved slowly. His eyes landed on the young mistress, and a smirk formed on his lips.
"Oh?" he said casually. "So you still decided to get a mistress when you already have a queen."
Your king chuckled lightly.
"Two is better than one. I only focus on my next generation."
He leaned back slightly.
"I bet you would too."
Choi Soobin laughed softly.
"Oh, I won't."
The hall grew quiet.
"A queen is human too," he continued calmly. "I should think about my queen's feelings instead of only worrying about producing heirs."
Your king's jaw tightened slightly.
"King Choi," he replied, forcing calmness into his voice. "You know we were not taught that way."
"And I'm afraid only my family taught differently."
You watched your king's hand curl slowly into a fist. Frustration was building.
Meanwhile, Choi Soobin remained relaxed.
His gaze moved again, this time toward the mistress.
"And who do we have here?" he asked. "What is your name?"
The mistress parted her lips nervously, but before she could answer, your king stood up sharply.
"What profit do you gain from knowing my mistress's name?" he demanded. "It's not as if you cannot take another mistress once you have a queen."
Choi Soobin shrugged lightly.
"I only wanted her to know something." His voice remained calm. "That her life might still go downhill even if she gives you a son."
Both you and the mistress froze.
"And perhaps neither of the women beside you fully realize this," he continued.
His tone remained disturbingly casual.
"Even if a son is born, the most prioritized person will eventually become the son, not the mother who gave birth to him."
The hall fell silent.
"Yes, the mother may gain temporary favor," he added. "But the love will soon belong to the child."
His eyes briefly flickered toward you.
"Because in this era, women are often treated like tools to produce heirs."
Your king's anger was becoming obvious, yet you remained perfectly still. Because everything he said, you already knew, you had simply never questioned it until you met him.
And he was not finished.
"As far as I know," Choi Soobin continued, "women in this era are rarely allowed to speak their minds."
Then he smiled.
"So I have a suggestion." The smirk returned. "We are both kings. We know the same rules."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So give me your first woman."
The room erupted. Your king shouted immediately, ordering the guards to remove him. The soldiers rushed forward, but Choi Soobin raised a hand calmly.
They stopped.
"I will walk out myself," he said. Before leaving, he looked back once more. "You already have a younger mistress," he said evenly. "And in the future you could take even younger ones."
Then his gaze shifted toward you briefly.
"So why didn't you question why, after all these years with your first woman, there is still no heir?"
Your king's face darkened with fury.
"Your first woman will soon reach her thirties," Choi Soobin continued calmly. "And you know our duty as kings, to produce as many heirs as possible."
After saying that, he turned and walked away without another word.
The hall remained tense.
Your king stood breathing heavily before finally shouting, "Everyone leave!" Immediately.
Servants, guards, and officials scattered from the hall.
You and the mistress exited as well.
Once outside, you calmly gave her a simple instruction to fetch something from another chamber.
She bowed and left.
Now alone in the corridor, silence surrounded you. Your mind replayed everything Choi Soobin had said. But you knew the truth.
There had been no heir… because of you. You had rejected most intimacy. You had been too focused on becoming the perfect queen. Too focused on responsibilities, too overwhelmed by the idea of motherhood in your twenties.
You had even suggested sleeping in separate chambers so you could focus on your duties, so his words did not feel like an attack. Because you knew he had never intended to hurt you.
With that thought, you quietly pushed the conversation aside.
Your expression returned to calm neutrality. And without another word, you walked back toward your room.
—
Kings did not hesitate once they made up their minds.
Within days, movements began inside the palace. Messengers traveled between kingdoms, documents were prepared, advisors were summoned, and quiet discussions took place behind closed doors.
It did not take long before rumors began spreading throughout the palace halls.
Rumors that the queen would be sent away. Rumors that the king himself had decided it. Rumors that the rival king had asked for you.
Fortunately, the whispers never reached the truth.
No one suspected that you had any involvement in the matter. No one imagined that you had spoken with Choi Soobin before any of this began.
To them, it was simply a king's decision.
And as always, the king's decisions were accepted more easily than anything a queen might say. Even so, nothing about your daily routine changed.
You continued teaching the mistress as you had been.
Every morning, every afternoon.
Responsibilities.
Protocol.
Royal etiquette.
Because as long as you still lived inside those palace walls, you were still the queen. Until the moment you stepped outside those gates as a divorced woman, the title remained yours. So you carried your duties to the end.
The mistress listened to you more carefully than ever now. Perhaps she had also heard the rumors. Perhaps she knew her future inside the palace was slowly shifting. But neither of you spoke about it.
You simply continued teaching, until the day finally arrived.
It was handled like any royal agreement—formal, distant, and almost strangely emotionless.
Two kings sat across from one another. Documents laid neatly between them. Your name was written across the pages, yet you were not asked to sign. Because in this era, queens did not sign such decisions.
Your life changed with a few strokes of ink.
Outside the palace gates, a carriage waited. The same gates you had secretly passed through many nights before. But this time, you were leaving openly, for the last time.
Choi Soobin stood beside the carriage and gestured for you to enter first. You stepped inside quietly, gathering your dress as you settled into the seat.
A moment later, he climbed in after you. The carriage door closed. The wheels began to move. The palace slowly drifted further away behind you.
For a while, neither of you spoke, then he glanced at you.
"Feel free?" he asked.
A soft chuckle escaped your lips.
"Hopefully."
You looked out the carriage window briefly. Even though you had left that palace, you still understood something important.
People could change. Kings could change. Even a man like Choi Soobin could one day become someone different.
Now that you belonged to him, the future was uncertain. But he seemed to understand that thought without you needing to say it.
His hand slowly reached for yours. Your fingers were warm when he held them.
"I don't make promises easily," he said quietly. His thumb gently brushed over your hand. "But I will do my best."
His voice was calm, steady.
"To make you a part of my heart forever." He looked at you fully now. "Generation or not… you will always be the one."
The carriage continued rolling forward, leaving your old life behind, and carrying you toward a future that felt like it might truly belong to you.
—
After several days of traveling, the scenery outside the carriage gradually changed.
The roads became wider. The villages looked different. The banners hanging along the city walls carried a different emblem. Eventually, the carriage slowed as it approached towering palace gates.
Your new home, the palace of Soobin.
The gates opened, revealing a courtyard far larger than you had imagined. Guards stood neatly in rows, servants moved through the pathways, and the palace buildings stretched elegantly toward the sky.
The carriage finally stopped, and a maid opened the door and bowed deeply.
"My queen."
The title still felt unfamiliar when spoken here.
You stepped down slowly, your eyes wandering across the unfamiliar palace grounds.
Soobin stepped out shortly after you. Instead of leading the tour himself, he simply gestured to one of the palace maids.
"She will guide you through the palace."
And so the tour began. The maid walked ahead politely, explaining each section of the palace as you moved through long corridors and open courtyards.
Audience halls, administrative chambers, private gardens, residential wings. Everything felt new, yet strangely welcoming. Behind you, Soobin followed quietly the entire time. He barely spoke, but you could feel his presence.
Occasionally, when you glanced slightly to the side, you caught him watching you. His eyes observing your reactions, your curiosity, the way you examined each room.
Eventually, the tour ended, and the maid bowed politely.
"If my queen needs anything, please call for me."
Then she left.
Now the corridor was quiet, just you and him.
You turned toward him slowly.
"So… what now?"
He crossed his arms lightly, thinking for a moment.
"Well," he said casually, "I need my queen to sign a contract."
You blinked.
"A contract that will determine that she will be an independent woman." He added calmly, "With my help."
You stared at him.
Soobin seemed to immediately understand the thoughts racing through your mind. But instead of explaining further, he simply shrugged and gestured for you to follow him.
"Come."
He guided you down another hallway and opened the door to a quiet room.
Inside were neatly arranged desks, shelves filled with documents, brushes, ink stones, and stacks of parchment.
He gestured for you to sit, and you lowered yourself slowly onto the chair, still unsure where this was going. Then he placed a sheet of paper in front of you.
"And firstly," he said casually, "you need to create a signature."
You looked up at him.
"A signature?"
"Yes."
He leaned lightly against the desk.
"Be creative however you want." His tone was relaxed, as if this was the most normal instruction in the world. "Take your time. Practice as much as you need."
He tapped the paper once.
"When you are satisfied with your signature learning process, you can come to me."
You were still processing everything when he turned toward the door.
Before leaving, he paused and glanced back at you.
"Oh." He pointed casually around the room. "This will be your responsibility room."
You blinked again.
"A place where you get to sign things too." He gave a small smile. "Instead of just dealing with the usual old responsibilities."
And with that, Soobin walked out of the room. The door closed behind him, leaving you alone, still sitting in the chair, still staring at the blank paper placed before you, completely shocked.
You did not leave the room, not immediately.
For a long while, you simply stared at the blank sheet placed in front of you, the brush resting beside the ink stone.
A signature, such a simple thing, yet somehow, it felt heavier than any royal responsibility you had carried before.
All your life, documents had been placed before kings, ministers, and officials. You had managed ceremonies, corrected reports, and supervised palace affairs, but never once had someone asked you to sign anything.
Queens did not sign. Queens followed.
You slowly reached for the brush.
The first attempt was awkward. Your name looked stiff.
You frowned and tried again.
The second one was worse. Too large, too uneven.
You sighed softly and began again. And again. And again.
Time passed quietly inside the room.
Ink dried across discarded sheets as you practiced stroke after stroke, adjusting curves, sharpening lines, experimenting with how your name could look.
At some point, the frustration slowly turned into concentration, then curiosity, then determination.
You began refining it carefully. Simplifying certain strokes, adjusting spacing, balancing elegance with clarity.
Hours slipped by before you even realized. Eventually, you placed the brush down and examined the latest version of your name.
It looked… right. Just as you finished admiring it, the door opened.
You looked up, and Soobin walked into the room.
Almost perfectly timed, in his hands was a document.
He approached calmly and placed the contract in front of you.
"Here it is, my queen," he said lightly. "A signed contract for independence."
You looked down at the paper. The words were written neatly across the page.
"And of course," he continued, "I will sign too."
He picked up the brush.
"To ensure you won't be dealing with hardships alone if they happen."
Without hesitation, he wrote his name. His signature was smooth and practiced, clearly something he had done many times before. Then he placed the brush down and pushed the document slightly toward you.
Your turn.
For a moment, your hand hesitated. Even though you had spent hours perfecting your signature… this still felt foreign, strange.
Your first contract, your first decision written in ink.
Slowly, you picked up the brush. Carefully, you wrote the signature you had practiced countless times.
The strokes were steady, and confident.
When the final line was finished, you placed the brush down quietly.
Soobin watched you with a small smile before taking the document and setting it aside. Then his expression softened slightly.
"My queen," he said. "I need to tell you something."
You looked up.
"You should know that you must read all words before signing a contract."
Your eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Signing without reading properly might doom you." His tone was calm, not scolding, more like a quiet lesson. "But at least your first signature is with me."
He leaned slightly against the desk.
"But next time, when I'm not with you…" His eyes met yours. "Make sure you read every word, every line, properly."
Your eyes widened. A small gasp escaped your lips as the realization struck. You hadn't read the contract, not a single line. You had simply signed it.
Seeing your reaction, Soobin chuckled softly.
"This," he said with quiet amusement, "is your first step to being independent."
—
The weeks that followed settled into a rhythm you had never experienced before.
Life in the palace of Soobin was… different. Not easier, not necessarily lighter, but different in ways that constantly surprised you.
Every day, he taught you something new.
At first, it was about documents—how to properly read contracts, how to identify hidden conditions written between lines, how to question advisors instead of simply accepting their words.
Then came discussions about trade, taxation, and diplomacy. He would bring reports to your responsibility room and place them beside you, asking what you thought about them.
Not testing you, but genuinely asking.
At times you answered confidently. At other times you hesitated, unsure. And when that happened, he never mocked you. He simply explained patiently, step by step.
It was strange, learning how to stand beside a king not just as decoration, but as someone whose thoughts actually mattered. Yet the palace never felt overly strict, because according to Soobin, a life filled with nothing but seriousness was unbearably dull.
So somewhere in between lessons about governance and independence… he found ways to be himself. Which often meant teasing you.
One afternoon, while you were carefully reviewing a document, he leaned over your shoulder far closer than necessary.
"Careful, my queen," he murmured casually. "If you stare too hard at those papers, they might fall in love with you instead of me."
You looked up slowly. Your expression unimpressed, yet the faint redness creeping across your cheeks betrayed you. He laughed quietly, clearly satisfied with your reaction.
Another time, while you were concentrating on practicing your signature again, he casually placed his chin on his hand and watched you.
"Your handwriting looks beautiful," he said.
You continued writing without looking up.
"That was not the compliment I was expecting."
"Oh?" he asked.
You paused briefly.
"I thought you would say I look beautiful."
For a moment, he stared at you in surprise. Then he burst into laughter.
It was rare that you returned his teasing, but when you did, he seemed to enjoy it even more.
Your affection showed itself differently.
One evening, while he was buried under stacks of reports, you walked behind his chair and gently placed your hands on his shoulders.
He looked up slightly, but said nothing. You simply began massaging his tense muscles, your movements slow and careful.
The room stayed quiet except for the faint rustle of papers.
Another day, you prepared tea for him before he even asked.
When he entered the room and saw the cup already waiting beside his desk, he smiled without saying a word.
And sometimes, you simply stayed there, sitting quietly beside him while he worked through his responsibilities as king.
No conversation or teasing, just your presence beside him. Strangely enough, those silent moments were the ones you liked the most.
They felt natural, comfortable. You didn't have to step outside your comfort zone. You didn't have to force yourself into playful flirting that didn't suit you. You could simply be yourself. And that was exactly what Soobin preferred too.
Because in a palace where power often demanded masks and performance, the two of you had somehow created a space where neither of you needed to pretend.
—
The longer you stayed in the palace of Soobin, the more natural your days together became.
There was no rush between the two of you, no pressure to constantly prove affection.
Your relationship unfolded slowly, comfortably, like something that had been waiting quietly for the right time to exist.
One evening, the sky outside the palace windows glowed deep orange as the sun lowered behind the mountains.
Inside the responsibility room, the air smelled faintly of ink and parchment.
You sat across from Soobin, reviewing a document he had asked for your opinion on. Your brows were slightly furrowed as you reread the same paragraph for the third time.
Something about the agreement felt suspicious.
Across the table, he watched you silently. The way your fingers lightly held the edge of the page. The small crease forming between your brows. Finally, you placed the paper down.
"This line," you said, pointing at a section near the bottom, "is misleading."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Oh?"
"They are pretending to offer reduced taxes," you explained calmly, "but in the later clause, the conditions would eventually increase the trade price."
For a moment, he said nothing, then a slow smile spread across his face.
"Well done, my queen."
You blinked once. "You already knew, didn't you?"
"Of course."
You narrowed your eyes slightly. "So you were testing me."
He leaned back in his chair, looking completely unapologetic.
"I prefer the word training."
You sighed softly, though there was no real irritation in your voice. Just as you were about to return to the documents, his hand suddenly reached across the table and gently caught your wrist.
You looked up at him.
"What?"
He studied your face for a moment before speaking quietly.
"You look beautiful when you're serious."
Your eyes widened slightly.
"…What?"
His smile widened mischievously.
"You also look beautiful when you're annoyed."
You immediately pulled your hand away.
"Focus on your responsibilities, my king."
But the faint pink on your cheeks betrayed you again.
He chuckled quietly.
Another night, rain fell softly outside the palace. The rhythmic tapping against the windows filled the room with a calm atmosphere.
Soobin sat at his desk reviewing reports, shoulders slightly tense after hours of work.
You noticed.
Without saying anything, you stood from your seat and walked behind him. Your hands gently settled on his shoulders.
He paused mid-sentence while reading.
"You're doing it again," he murmured softly.
You began massaging his shoulders slowly.
"What?"
"Taking care of me without saying a word."
Your fingers pressed gently into the tight muscles along his neck.
"You work too much."
He exhaled quietly, leaning back slightly into your touch.
"That's because someone needs to run the kingdom."
"And someone else needs to remind the king he is human."
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Only the sound of rain filled the room. Then he reached back slightly and placed his hand over yours.
"You know," he said quietly, "I used to think ruling alone was easier."
You tilted your head slightly.
"And now?"
His thumb brushed softly across your hand.
"Now I think it's better with you here."
On quieter days, the two of you sometimes escaped to the palace gardens.
The paths were lined with flowering trees, their petals drifting gently through the air.
You walked beside Soobin, the sunlight filtering through the leaves above. He was unusually quiet that afternoon. Eventually, he glanced at you.
"You're not saying anything today."
You continued walking calmly. "Must I speak all the time?"
"No," he said. "But you usually respond when I tease you."
You stopped walking. He turned toward you, then you spoke calmly.
"You're handsome."
For a moment, he froze, clearly not expecting that.
"You said earlier I should return your teasing sometimes," you added casually.
He stared at you for another second before laughing softly.
"Well," he said, stepping slightly closer, "that was unexpectedly effective."
Your lips curved into a small smile.
—
The next few days brought something different.
A formal council meeting. The one that gathered the highest-ranking officials, noblemen, and advisors of the kingdom into a single hall.
It was not unusual for a queen to attend, but it was rare for a queen to lead. Yet that morning, as you prepared yourself, Choi Soobin had said it so simply.
You had looked at him, searching for any sign of jest, but there was none.
And now, you stood at the head of the long chamber. The council hall was grand, filled with rows of seated nobles, their robes rich with status and authority. The air carried the quiet tension of power.
Soobin sat beside you, relaxed as ever, but his eyes were on you.
The meeting began.
One by one, the officials presented their matters. Trade, taxation, labour—you listened carefully, hands folded neatly, posture straight. But something felt off.
Not once did they address you directly, not once did their eyes meet yours. Every word, every explanation, and very suggestion, was directed solely to Choi Soobin. As if you weren't even there, as if you were invisible.
Your expression remained composed, but slowly, a faint frown formed.
The meeting continued. And then, a topic arose about agricultural production. One of the noblemen spoke confidently.
"We should increase output this season," he said. "The farmers can work longer hours."
Another nodded.
"We will compensate them with sincerity and a small increase in payment. Surely they will accept. It is, after all, coming from us."
A quiet murmur of agreement followed.
Your fingers tightened slightly against your sleeve, and your frown deepened.
Overwork. Minimal compensation. Expectation of blind obedience.
And they spoke of it so casually, as if the farmers were nothing more than tools.
Your hand lifted.
"Stop."
The room fell silent. It was the first time you had spoken since the meeting began. All eyes turned toward you. Some with surprise, some with mild annoyance, but you did not waver.
"You speak of increasing labour," you said calmly, your voice steady and clear.
"But have you considered the limits of the people you are demanding this from?"
A nobleman shifted slightly.
"With respect, Queen Choi-"
"They will accept because it is from you?" you continued, your gaze firm. "Or because they have no choice?"
There are a few uncomfortable exchanged glance, but all of them are not convinced.
Another nobleman cleared his throat.
"Queen Choi, this is a necessary measure for the kingdom's prosperity-"
There it was, dismissal. Subtle, but clear. And then, you saw it, their eyes shifted toward Soobin. Not for agreement, but expectation, as if silently asking him to control you, to put you back in place. For a brief moment, your gaze flickered toward him, and he understood, leaning forward slightly while remaining calm.
"And yet," he said smoothly, "you speak as if the kingdom thrives without its people."
The room quieted instantly, he continued.
"You suggest overworking farmers while offering them less in return… and call it generosity." A faint smile appeared on his lips. "Should I assume the same logic applies to all of you?"
No one answered.
"If I give you more work," he added casually, "and reward you with 'sincerity'… will you accept it just as willingly?"
Silence, as no one dared to respond. And the tension in the room shifted immediately.
Authority rebalanced.
Soobin leaned back slightly, his tone softening.
"My queen was speaking," he said calmly. "You may listen."
Every nobleman straightened.
This time, their attention was on you properly and respectfully.
You continued without hesitation.
"If production must increase," you said, your voice steady, "then we improve efficiency, not exploitation."
You gestured slightly.
"Rotate labour shifts. Ensure rest periods. Increase fair compensation, not symbolic gestures." Your gaze moved across the room. "A stable kingdom is not built on exhausted people."
Silence followed, and slowly, one by one, heads began to nod.
When the meeting finally ended, the nobles bowed before leaving the hall.
For a moment, you remained seated, then you exhaled softly. Beside you, Soobin spoke.
"Well," he said lightly, "my queen has quite the presence."
You glanced at him. "And my king has quite the timing."
He chuckled quietly. "I only said what needed to be said."
You looked forward again.
"No," you replied calmly. "You said what they needed to hear."
On that moment onwards, you stood as one of a kind, and not just a queen statue right next to Soobin, on the day of February 14th.
—
Centuries passed.
Empires rose and fell. Kingdoms turned into nations. Palaces became ruins, then museums, then stories carved into history.
Time moved on, but your name did not disappear with it.
In a quiet classroom, a teacher stood before rows of students, a textbook open in her hands.
"Today," she began, "we will learn about one of the most influential figures in early discussions of women's independence."
Pages flipped, eyes scanned printed words, and there is your name, written clearly in bold ink.
A queen who questioned tradition. A woman who stepped beyond the role she was born into. A figure who initiated what many historians would later call the beginning of women's independence in that era.
The textbook described your actions, your decisions, and your courage to stand in rooms filled with men and speak without lowering your gaze.
It spoke of policies that improved the lives of women, of contracts signed under your authority, of systems slowly changing because you dared to think differently.
But as the students read on, there was something missing.
"No one stood beside her."
The words were printed plainly.
"She rose through her own determination, challenging a society that refused to hear her voice."
The narrative was clear, you were alone. A woman who fought her way to the top with no one to support her. It represents a symbol of independence, of strength, of solitude. And perhaps, to history… that was true, because history only recorded what it could see, what it could prove, what it could write down in ink.
It did not record the quiet moments, the glances exchanged across a room, the hands that held in silence, and the man who stood beside you—not above you, not ahead of you—but beside you.
Choi Soobin.
To history, you rose alone. But in truth, there had always been someone quietly lifting you higher. Not to overshadow you, but to make sure no one could ever reach you and pull you down again.
In another place, far from the classroom, two graves stood side by side. Names weathered by time. Stories buried beneath stone. Yet somehow, the air around them felt peaceful, as if even in death, nothing had changed.
Because only the two of you knew the truth, that while the world believed you stood alone, there had always been one person who held you high enough to touch the sky.
And the only one who could ever reach you there, was Choi Soobin.
I might one day rewrite all old fics because GOSH,,, I JUST WANNA YEET THEM WHY ARE THEY SO?!?!!!
So yess after im done with svt soulmate series, done with txt smau series, probably at august then i'll start rewrite + delete old fics that are just... the plots are just... no.
Actually not just old fics, fics that existed when i made music as my theme,, because why do i need so much of space?!?!!!!
Summary : "You are more than enough," he said firmly. "And if I ever make you doubt that, I'll spend the rest of my life fixing it."
⤷ reader being super insecure that leads to argument
Non-idol romance & angst au ♡ ATEEZ Yunho x female reader ♡ 13+ SFW ♡ 2,048 words
⤷ yeah no i still got one more drabble for yunho... sigh
⤷ 14 March update: this is actually written way before 14 February😭
* main masterlist * taglist * valentine 2026 *
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Raining Kiss 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The argument didn't start loudly, rather it started quietly. You had barely stepped out of your heels when you said it.
"You seemed comfortable talking to her."
Yunho looked up from where he was unbuttoning his sleeves. "Talking to who?"
You let out a small, humourless laugh. "Your first crush."
He paused.
It was subtle, but you saw it. The way his shoulders stilled for a second before he resumed moving. "We were just catching up."
"Catching up," you repeated.
The rain outside was relentless, pouring against the windows like it wanted to break in, while the storm had been building all evening, much like the tightness in your chest.
"She's doing well," you added. "Her company is expanding overseas, right?"
Yunho nodded slowly. "Yeah. She worked hard for it."
You swallowed.
A pretty, wealthy, successful, and independent woman… She is everything that you weren't.
You worked at his company, as his secretary. You saw him every day in pressed suits, making decisions that moved numbers you couldn't even comprehend. And tonight, you watched him stand beside a woman who built her own empire.
They looked… equal.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked gently.
"Like what?"
"Like I did something wrong."
You turned away from him. "Didn't you?"
His brows furrowed. "What?"
"You didn't have to talk to her that long."
"It was a reunion," he said carefully. "I talked to everyone."
"But you didn't look at everyone like that."
Silence, yet the rain grew louder.
"Like what?" he asked again, softer this time.
"Like you used to."
That did it.
His expression changed into not guilt or longing, but confusion. "Y/N… that was years ago."
"She's still impressive," you pushed. "She doesn't need anyone, right? She built everything herself."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, she doesn't need a man to support her; she's capable on her own."
The words hit you wrong.
She doesn't need a man. Your chest tightened. So maybe he needs someone like that. Not someone who depends on him, not someone who works under him, and definitely not someone who clings.
"You think I'm too dependent on you," you said before you could stop yourself.
His head snapped toward you. "What? No."
"You just said she doesn't need a man."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" Your voice rose despite yourself.
He stepped closer. "I meant she's strong, that's all. Why are you twisting my words?"
Because I'm scared. I feel small. Because next to her, I look like I don't belong beside you.
But instead of saying any of that, you crossed your arms and said, "Maybe you'd be better off with someone like her."
His face fell. "Where is this coming from?"
You knew he was right. You knew he wasn't flirting. You knew he wasn't comparing. But your pride was louder than logic.
"Forget it."
You grabbed your coat and headed for the door.
"Y/N," he warned.
You opened it anyway.
Cold air and heavy rain rushed in instantly. Within seconds, your hair and clothes were soaked. The storm swallowed you whole.
"Are you serious right now?" he shouted from behind you.
You didn't answer. You just walked. You needed space, air, you needed your thoughts to stop screaming.
Behind you, you heard him curse under his breath. Drawers opening and closing, then something clattering.
"Y/N!" he called again.
In your mind, you just needed a few minutes. Just a little distance. But in his mind? He had just hurt you, and it was his fault for talking to his first crush. Out of everyone at that reunion, he had to stand there longer than necessary. He had to be stupid enough not to notice the way you were watching.
So he ran after you.
No umbrella, no hesitation. Just rain soaking him through in seconds.
He caught up quickly, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. "Y/N, please. Let's just go home and talk, okay?"
His hair was plastered to his forehead, and as water dripped down his jaw, his voice wasn't angry, but it was worried.
You wanted him to let go. You wanted him to stop being so patient, stop being so kind, stop making it harder to stay mad.
"I said leave me alone," you snapped, swinging your arm to shake him off.
The motion was bigger than you meant it to be, because as your foot slipped after your big and harsh motion, there was no time to react. Your balance disappeared instantly, and the slick pavement unforgiving beneath you.
"Wait-!"
His hand lunged for yours, but rain made everything slippery and his fingers closed around nothing but air.
You fell backward hard, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as your back hit the ground. The pain shot up your spine, followed by a small, involuntary wince in pain.
"Y/N!"
He dropped to his knees beside you immediately, panic flooding his voice. "Are you okay?!"
The rain poured relentlessly, soaking your face… Until suddenly, it wasn't.
He had leaned over you, his broad frame shielding your smaller one completely. The storm now hit his back instead, and water running down his shoulders in streams. His hands hovered near you, yet afraid to touch, afraid to hurt you more.
"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry."
And that hurt more than the fall, because he truly believed this was his fault.
Lightning flashed above you, illuminating the fear in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry."
The rain hammered against his back, but he didn't move. Not even when water ran down his neck, not even when thunder cracked overhead.
You stared up at him.
His hair was dripping. His lashes clung together, droplets trembling at the tips. His hands were hovering near your waist and shoulder, like he wanted to hold you but was terrified of hurting you more.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, voice shaking. "Tell me where it hurts."
You opened your mouth, but the pain in your back wasn't what overwhelmed you. It was the look on his face.
He looked like he had almost lost you, and something inside you finally broke.
"You didn't even hesitate," you whispered.
He frowned. "What?"
"You ran after me… in this rain. You said sorry even if it wasn't your fault… you care for you even when I'm unreasonable."
"Of course I did," he said immediately, like the answer was obvious. "You're always right."
Your vision blurred from tears.
"You looked so perfect standing next to her," you admitted, your voice trembling now. "She's successful… Independent… She built everything on her own. And I just-"
Your throat tightened.
"I just work for you."
"Don't say that."
"It's true," you choked. "You two make sense. You're both successful. You're equals. And I'm just… me."
Rainwater mixed with tears as they slid down your temples.
"I thought maybe," you continued, voice cracking, "maybe you need someone like that. Someone who doesn't cling. Someone who doesn't get jealous over something stupid."
His hand finally moved. It cupped your cheek, warm despite the cold rain.
"Look at me," he said softly.
You didn't want to, but you did , his eyes were steady.
"Do you know why I talked to her?" he asked.
You shook your head weakly.
"Because she asked about you."
You blinked.
"She said she saw pictures. Said I looked different. Happier." His thumb brushed away a tear. "I told her I am."
Your breath hitched.
"I told her I'm with someone who makes coming home the best part of my day. Someone who keeps my company from falling apart because she's more capable than she thinks. Someone who argues with me when I'm wrong. Someone who ran into a storm tonight because she felt insecure and didn't know how to say it."
Your lips trembled.
"I don't need someone who 'doesn't need a man,'" he continued quietly. "I want you. Not because you depend on me, not because you work for me, but because you're you."
His forehead rested gently against yours.
"I didn't fall for her," he said. "I fell for you."
The rain softened around you—not physically, but in your awareness. It faded into background noise.
"You scare me sometimes," he admitted with a shaky laugh. "Running off like that. Making me think I lost you over something I didn't even mean."
"I didn't mean to slip," you whispered.
"I know."
Silence settled between you fully.
You were still lying on the wet pavement. He was still shielding you, and his breath mingled with yours, warm against your lips. Your hands slowly lifted, gripping his soaked shirt near his collar.
"I hate that I get like this," you confessed. "I know you're right. I just… I don't feel enough sometimes."
His eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache.
"You are more than enough," he said firmly. "And if I ever make you doubt that, I'll spend the rest of my life fixing it."
That did it.
A sob escaped you before you could stop it, and he immediately pulled you up into him, arms wrapping around you carefully, holding you against his chest even as rain drenched you both completely.
You cried into him.
All the insecurity. All the comparison. All the fear that one day he'd realize he could "do better."
His hand stroked your hair, slow and steady.
"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured into the top of your head. "You hear me? I chose you. I keep choosing you."
You pulled back just enough to look at him again, and your faces were inches apart. Eyes red, breathing uneven, the rain dripping from both of you.
And then you leaned in first this time.
The kiss started soft, almost hesitant. It represents a quiet apology, a quiet promise. But when his hand slid to your waist again, grounding you, when your fingers curled into his hair, It deepened. It is full of reassurance, forgiveness, and full of the understanding that neither of you were perfect, but you were choosing each other anyway.
The world disappeared. The rain kept falling, but neither of you noticed anymore.
Cold pavement. Wet clothes. Thunder in the distance.
None of it mattered. Because his lips were warm, his hands were steady, and when he pulled you closer, like he never wanted to risk you slipping away again, you let him.
And this time, you didn't pull away.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Raining Kiss 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
By the time you both stepped back inside, you were shivering.
Water pooled onto the floor from your clothes. Yunho immediately shut the door with his foot and looked at you like you were made of glass.
"Don't move," he said softly.
You almost smiled. "I'm not injured, you know."
"Still."
He disappeared down the hallway and came back with towels, draping one carefully over your shoulders before drying your hair with slow, gentle motions. The domesticity of it all made your chest ache in a different way, it's like telling you that you are safe.
"I'll make something warm," he murmured. You nodded, squeezing his hand before heading toward the bathroom.
While he moved around the kitchen, you turned on the bath. Steam slowly filled the room, curling against the mirror as hot water poured into the tub. You added the bath salts he liked, the subtle cedarwood scent that always helped him relax.
Out in the kitchen, Yunho stood in damp clothes, stirring two mugs of hot chocolate. He added extra marshmallows to yours, less sugar in his. The way you both liked it. The way he paused for a second, staring at the steam rising from the mugs, then he let out a small relived and grateful sigh.
When you returned, wrapped in dry clothes for now, he handed you your mug without a word, and your fingers brushed. You both smiled shyly, like the fight from earlier belonged to different people.
"The bath's ready," you said quietly.
He nodded.
No more arguments, no more raised voices. Just soft steps down the hallway, shoulders brushing lightly.
The storm still raged outside, but inside, it was warm. And this time, when he reached for your hand, you held on with a smile.
Summary : After five years of silently crushing on her next-door neighbour, Y/N accidentally buys a ridiculous "love gun" from a sketchy website that promises to end unrequited love.
⤷ unrequited love to in a relationship
Non-idol romance & fantasy au ♡ EN- Ni-ki x female reader ♡ 13+ SFW ♡ 5,967 words
⤷ like for real i was busy writing this fic when suddenly my moots all telling me that heeseung left enhypen, i was in denial at first. Like everybody else, i had to check the date to know that it isn't april fools yet. And even if it's april fools, the company can't pull this serious shit out of the sudden. Then, i cried and cried. I had stuff to do after writing so at first i couldnt do anything, it just hurts so bad. I tried, really tried to act fine and it did for a while since i was busy, because once i laid on my bed, social medias... Everywhere posting heeseung's departure from the group but not the company. Then came the anger, like why he leave the group? Why didn't he leave the company as well to give himself a full rest? He is an ace, any company can accept him in whenever he wants. Then came the thought of his members. If we are hurt, enhypen are more devastated, but still they have to put on a mask just for us. The fancalls, the change in formations. I bet they saw the chaos of protest trucks outside, they saw the banners, but i know they can't do anything because their contracts are on the line, and anyone can be pushed out of the group whenever the company likes, because this is how selfish the company is. I agreed that everything the company addressed are bullshits, because i am a fan of kpop since exo era, i've seen tons of artists juggling with solo and group activities, it's just on how the company arranges their schedules. If sm, jyp, yg have no problems promoting solo activities while in group, yet belift can't, then h*be got to change their coo, because even bigh*t(bts and txt) and pl*dis(seventeen) can do solos while still be in their group.
⤷ i will still try to write more enhypen fics, which includes heeseung, no matter how heartbroken i am, but hopefully, i wish for the same as everybody else, make them ot7 again. There's no or, because if there's no ot7, heeseung resign a different contract regarding to his solo, the rest of the enhypen members will either have to wait for the company's decision, or wait till next year to stop renewing their contract and leave the company while heeseung is still in the company for the next few years till his solo contract ended. If that ever happens, i will still support him and other members' decision no matter what. I mean, i'd suffered wanna one's disbandment, i'd suffered got7 building another company by their own after leaving JYP, it shouldn't be this hard(i said this way too fast lol, i might get heartbroken too ngl, but hey, its better then this current situation i guess)
⤷ well, you could say that i was doing well... i guess... as for today
"So… like, I just had this gun delivered to me after ordering it from some sketchy website that claimed it could end my unrequited love?"
You stare at the parcel sitting on your bedroom floor like it might explode. Carefully, you slice open the tape and pull the flaps apart. Inside lies a toy gun—bright, colourful, and suspiciously accurate to the image from the website advertisement.
You blink.
"Okay… that's actually concerning."
The whole thing started last night.
You were lying on your bed, humming a random melody while scrolling through Instagram. Your feed was the usual mix of memes, food posts, your friends' selfies, and, unfortunately, posts from your long-time crush, Nishimura Riki, who is your neighbour.
Your parents' favourite "nice boy next door." And the person you've had a hopeless, embarrassing, five-year crush on.
While mindlessly scrolling through his latest post, something annoyingly effortless like him looking good while holding a drink, you came across an ad.
Normally you would have skipped it. Everyone knows the internet is practically a playground for scammers. But the words caught your attention.
"End your unrequited love."
You should have laughed and moved on. Instead, the first person that popped into your mind was Riki.
You met him five years ago when he moved into the house next door. It was one of those moments that felt like a cliché from a drama. The moving truck, the sunlight hitting his face, and you standing awkwardly on your porch pretending you weren't staring.
Love at first sight.
Well… at least for you.
Now both of you are twenty-five, and despite living next door for half a decade, your relationship can only be described as… acquaintances.
You know basic things about each other thanks to your parents.
Your birthdays, because your families celebrate together every year.
The fact that you both studied at the same school.
The occasional "hello" when you pass each other near the gate.
You've even met some of his friends when they visit his house, but the interaction never goes beyond polite greetings.
"Hi."
"Hello."
"Bye."
That's it.
So if anyone—his friends, your friends, or even Riki himself—found out you had a crush on him, the first question would definitely be: How?
And honestly? You already rehearsed the answer in your head.
When did it start? When he first moved next door. His striking looks and that weirdly charming, slightly intimidating aura pulled you in immediately. At the time, you were both twenty. It sounded like a perfectly reasonable beginning.
How did you like him without even talking to him? Simple. You like handsome guys, and Riki just happens to be… exceptionally handsome.
What you didn't expect was that the small, harmless crush you thought would disappear after a few weeks decided to settle down permanently.
Five years later, you're still stuck here. An acquaintance to the guy you secretly like.
Your friends once joked, "Opposites attract!"
You're cheerful, talkative, and loud with the people you love.
Riki, on the other hand, carries that cool, almost emo aura that makes people admire him from a distance.
You're not unpopular, you just keep a small circle of friends.
But Riki? Riki is in a completely different league. Which is exactly why confessing has always felt impossible. And that's how you somehow ended up here today.
Ordering a suspicious "love gun" from a sketchy website at two in the morning. Now it sits in your hands as you read the tiny instruction card that came with it.
"Only shoot at the person you have a crush on." You stare at the sentence. "So… I'm basically Cupid now?"
Except Cupid probably has better romantic luck than you.
You imagine it working like in movies. Shoot the arrow, sparks fly, and suddenly your love life moves one step forward.
You sigh and sit down on the floor, the plastic gun resting loosely in your hand. Your suspicion grows the longer you stare at it.
It's… very colourful. Way too colourful. And does this thing even work? Probably not. It didn't even cost that much anyway.
"Yeah… I definitely got scammed."
With a small shrug, you toss the toy gun to the side of the room. Maybe you'll just give it to your nephew the next time you visit. Standing up, you stretch your arms and head downstairs, getting ready for Sunday lunch, completely unaware that the toy gun you just abandoned quietly clicked. As if it had just… activated, and outside your house, right at that exact moment, Nishimura Riki was walking toward your front door.
You hear the doorbell ring just as you are about to head out for lunch.
Since both your parents and Riki's parents are away on a trip together, you're home alone today. Which means you definitely weren't expecting visitors.
Your friends are busy this weekend too, so without thinking much, you walk over and swing the door open.
And immediately freeze.
Standing right there is Nishimura Riki.
Your brain short-circuits.
He lifts his hand awkwardly. "Hi."
You don't respond, not because you're ignoring him, but because your brain suddenly decides now is the perfect time to process what you look like.
Your hair? Definitely not brushed. It's probably sticking everywhere after you threw on a shirt earlier.
Your outfit? Completely mismatched. Your top and pants look like they were chosen during a power outage. And you were literally about to change your bottoms when the doorbell rang.
Not to mention your face. No makeup, no lip tint, no effort. You probably look pale as hell.
All those thoughts crash into your brain at once, leaving you standing there like a frozen statue.
A full few seconds pass, then you hear him clear his throat.
"Hi?" he says again, voice slightly awkward, which is honestly impressive considering that even after five years of being neighbours, the two of you are still painfully awkward around each other.
You snap back to reality.
"Oh- yes- hi- hello- I don't know what you're doing here but you're here I guess- um- I was about to head out to get some food so don't mind my current outfit-"
He clears his throat again and your rambling immediately stops. Riki pulls out his phone and turns the screen toward you.
"Well," he says, "your parents thought you might end up eating fast food again for lunch, so they told me to bring you somewhere to get proper food."
"Oh.
That's all you manage to say. But inside your head, chaos erupts.
So my parents really told my crush that I eat unhealthy food. Great. Fantastic. Wonderful.
You sigh quietly and Riki tilts his head slightly.
"Oh… am I interrupting you?"
He probably thinks your sigh means you don't want to eat with him, and your brain panics.
"No! I mean- no, it's not like that- it's just- uh- nothing, really."
You attempt to explain yourself, but the words start getting messy again, so you quickly abandon the effort.
"Um- do you want to come in first? I just need to change."
He nods. "Sure."
You practically speed-walk back to your room, and once the door closes behind you, you immediately turn toward the mirror, and gasp.
"Oh my god."
You really did answer the door looking like that. Now that you're actually going to eat lunch with Riki, there's no way you can go out looking plain.
It has to be perfect.
You quickly change your top and switch into a better outfit. Something casual, but still cute enough to look like you didn't try too hard, even though you absolutely did.
Next, your hair. You run a brush through it and fix it slightly, adding a small style that frames your face better.
Then comes your usual light, natural makeup. Just enough to look fresh.
Finally, you grab a bottle of perfume from your dresser. Your special perfume. The one you only wear when there's a chance you might run into him. One quick spray.
Okay.
You take a deep breath and leave your room. When you step back into the living room, you see Riki standing near the wall where your family photo frames are displayed.
"Oh."
The word slips out quietly. He doesn't notice you yet, looking at the photos with a small smile on his face. You can't tell if he's smiling because the pictures are cute… Or because he's secretly teasing you in his head. But from where you stand, you can clearly see his side profile. And when he smiles like that, the sharp lines of his face soften slightly.
It's… unfairly attractive.
You suddenly think about something.
Out of everyone in school… Maybe you're the only person who gets to see him smile like this in such a normal moment.
That thought fills you with a strange warmth. A tiny sense of victory. A ridiculous little voice in your head whispers: See? You're special.
Your confidence grows instantly.
You walk toward him, shoulders straight, smile bright. When you reach him, you lightly tap his shoulder, and he turns. With a proud grin, you point toward the door.
"Let's go?"
The walk to the café is… quiet. Painfully quiet. The kind of quiet where you can hear your own footsteps a little too clearly.
Riki walks beside you with his hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders relaxed like he's completely comfortable with the silence.
Meanwhile, your brain is working overtime trying to convince yourself this isn't awkward.
This is peaceful.
Yes.
Very peaceful.
Not awkward at all.
Just two neighbours walking calmly to lunch.
Totally normal.
You even start humming a small melody under your breath, something random that pops into your head just to fill the silence. It's so soft that even you can barely hear it yourself. Still, it gives you something to focus on instead of the loud thoughts in your head.
Occasionally, you sneak glances at Riki from the corner of your eye. His expression is neutral as always, his pace steady. It almost looks like he's deep in thought, or maybe he's just naturally quiet.
After a few minutes, the café finally comes into view, and you mentally sigh in relief.
The moment you push the door open, a small ding from the bell echoes inside the cozy space. Riki steps in first.
The café smells like coffee beans and warm bread, and soft music hums through the speakers. Without much hesitation, he picks a random table near the window and pulls out a chair.
You follow him and sit down across from him.
For a moment, neither of you say anything. You reach for the menu placed on the table, mostly just to give your hands something to do. But you can still feel his presence right in front of you, and suddenly, sitting across from him feels way more intense than walking beside him.
You clear your throat quietly and pretend to focus on the menu.
Okay… calm down.
It's just lunch.
Just a normal lunch.
With your crush, who is sitting directly across from you.
After a few seconds, you glance up, only to find Riki already looking at you, and your brain instantly short-circuits again.
"…Um."
Great.
Amazing start.
You quickly point at the menu.
"Have you decided what you want?"
Smooth.
Very smooth.
Inside, however, your mind is screaming.
Why am I like this?
Riki looks away for a moment, glancing to the side of the café like he's thinking about something. Then his eyes return to you.
"Are you awkward with me?"
The question is so direct that you almost choke on your own saliva.
"Erm…"
Your brain scrambles for an answer. Because the truth is… yes, you are awkward with him, but at the same time, there's also a strange sense of comfort.
You've known him longer than most people in school, at least on the surface. Five years of living next door, celebrating birthdays together because of your parents, occasionally bumping into each other outside the house.
You don't know his habits, you don't know what he's like with his friends, but still… being his neighbour already feels like a special position. Yet instead of explaining all that, you simply nod, admitting it.
Yes, it's awkward, even after five years.
Riki doesn't look offended at all, instead, he lets out a small chuckle.
"To be honest," he says, leaning back slightly in his chair, "me too."
You blink.
"It's kind of weird," he continues. "We've been neighbours for five years, but we only talk when our parents make us."
You can't help nodding again.
That… is painfully accurate.
"Before this," he says, scratching the back of his neck, "I thought maybe you just didn't like me much… or maybe you were just a really quiet person."
Your eyes widen slightly.
"But recently," he adds, "I saw you with your friends, you're actually really cheerful."
He shrugs a little.
"So I figured… maybe you just don't like me."
You stare at him, your jaw drops a little.
"And then I thought maybe I gave you a bad impression somehow," he finishes. "So I wanted to change that."
He suddenly said a lot, and it takes a moment for your brain to process the meaning behind it.
He… wants to change that.
Which basically means, he wants to know you better.
Your heart does a small, excited flip, and you smile.
"I didn't say or act like I don't like you," you say quickly. "It's just… I have my personal reasons."
You pause before adding softly, "But I'm sorry you thought that way."
Then you straighten up slightly and smile again.
"And yeah, let's get to know each other."
Something about the atmosphere changes after that. The awkward tension slowly disappears. The conversation becomes… easy, surprisingly easy.
Riki starts telling you about his friends—their stupid jokes, the way they tease each other, and the ridiculous things they do during hangouts.
You learn about his daily habits, how he usually stays up late watching random videos, and how he actually enjoys quiet walks at night.
You even hear him make playful jokes about his friends, and you realize he's much more expressive than you thought.
Everything about him feels interesting, every small detail, and somehow, that just makes you like him even more.
By the time both of you leave the café, the sun has already shifted slightly in the sky.
The walk back home feels completely different from earlier. Still quiet sometimes, but this time, it feels comfortable.
When you finally reach your house, you say goodbye to him and step inside, and the door closes behind you. Immediately, your mind starts replaying the entire café moment.
The conversation.
His smile.
The way he laughed.
You slowly slide down the door until you're sitting on the floor, and a dreamy smile spreads across your face. Your eyes stare at nothing as you relive the memory again.
Your five-year unrequited crush…
Finally shows a little progress.
You let out a small giggle. Then you stand up and walk toward your bed, only to accidentally kick something on the floor.
"Ow-" You look down.
The toy gun. You stare at it for a moment before bending down and picking it up.
It feels oddly heavier than you remember.
You turn it around in your hands thoughtfully.
It's strange… ever since this gun appeared in your house… Riki suddenly started approaching you willingly.
You pause.
"…Nah."
That would be ridiculous. Still, you walk over to your study table and place the toy gun neatly at the edge. Just in case. Then you crawl onto your bed, smiling to yourself. Completely unaware that the small heart-shaped mark near the gun's trigger has quietly started glowing.
As if something inside it had finally been activated.
The next morning, you get ready for school like usual.
Uniform on.
Hair done.
Shoes tied.
All that's left is to grab your bag and head out, but as you reach for your bag, your eyes drift toward your study table.
The toy gun.
You pause.
"…Maybe I should bring it?"
You stare at it suspiciously.
It's not illegal to bring a toy to school, right? People bring stress toys and random stuff all the time. This should be fine. Besides… if that weird ad was actually telling the truth, maybe you should try it on Riki.
Just once.
You gulp.
After a few seconds of hesitation, you grab the toy gun and shove it into your bag.
"Okay… just in case."
Then you head out of the house and walk to school alone.
Classes go by normally.
Nothing strange or magical, just the usual lessons, teachers talking, and your brain drifting off every few minutes.
Before you know it, lunch break arrives. You and your friends walk toward the canteen together, chatting about random things. At some point, you completely forget about the toy gun sitting inside your bag.
That is, until another group walks beside yours.
Riki's friend group.
Your heart jumps a little when you spot him.
You try to act normal, but then, a tap. You feel someone tap your shoulder. You turn around and saw Riki stands there with a small smile.
"Hi."
Before you can even properly respond, he casually continues walking with his friends, already joining their conversation again.
You blink, then smile.
Your friends, however, are staring at you like they just witnessed a historical event.
"Wait-"
"Did Nishimura Riki just-"
"Talk to you?"
You shrug, trying to act calm.
"Yes, because we're friends now."
Your friends look like they might faint.
After school ends, you walk home alone like usual.
The afternoon air is warm, and the streets are quiet.
You're halfway down the road when suddenly, you heard running footsteps, then, a tap on your shoulder.
You turn around, and Riki stands there, slightly out of breath but smiling.
"Do you want to walk home together?" he asks.
Your heart does that annoying flip again.
"Sure."
And just like that, the two of you start walking side by side.
The silence isn't awkward this time, just quiet and comfortable. After a moment, you glance at him and suddenly remember something. The toy gun. Your hand slowly slips into your bag, searching for it, and your fingers find the plastic handle. You hold it there, hidden inside the bag, but you don't take it out.
Maybe… you should test it, just to see.
You swallow.
"…Hey, can we go to the convenience store?" you ask.
Riki nods easily. "Sure."
A few minutes later, you step into the small store. The bell above the door rings. Riki stays outside, leaning against the wall while scrolling through his phone. Inside, you wander around pretending to look for snacks, grabbing the first random thing you see, before heading to the counter and pay for it.
Your heart starts beating faster. This is it.
As you walk toward the door, you carefully push it open without letting the bell ring too loudly.
Riki is still outside, facing away from you, scrolling through his phone, completely unaware. Your hand slips into your bag again, and pull out the toy gun.
Aim.
Click.
You shoot him.
And… Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No light, no sound, no magical spark at all. Riki doesn't react at all, he just keeps scrolling his phone like nothing happened.
You frown.
"…Seriously?"
You lower the gun.
Turns out you really did get scammed.
You sigh quietly and shove the toy gun back into your bag.
"Okay," you say, stepping next to him. "I'm good to go."
Riki looks up from his phone. "Find what you wanted?"
"Yeah," you reply, holding up the random snack.
The two of you continue walking home. When you get back to your room later, you immediately take the toy gun out of your bag.
You glare at it.
"Stupid scam."
Without hesitation, you throw it straight into the trash bin, then you move on with the rest of your day.
Homework.
Dinner.
Scrolling on your phone.
Nothing unusual, but late that night, when your room is completely quiet, the toy gun inside the trash bin suddenly makes a soft click. A tiny red heart-shaped light flickers once, then twice, as if something had finally… registered.
The next morning starts normally. You're halfway through tying your shoelaces when your mom's voice calls from the living room.
"Y/N!"
"Yeah?" you answer absentmindedly.
She walks over and casually drops a sentence that makes your brain freeze.
"Riki is waiting outside for you."
You pause. Slowly, you turn your head to look at her like she just told the most unbelievable joke in the world.
"…What?"
Your mom frowns slightly.
"What what? Riki is literally waiting outside for you."
Your brain processes the sentence one word at a time.
Riki.
Waiting.
Outside.
"For… me?"
"Yes," she says, already walking back toward the kitchen like this is completely normal.
"Oh."
You register her words slowly, then you walk to the door and open it, and there he is. Riki stands right outside your house in his school uniform, his bag slung over one shoulder.
He's smiling at you.
So… it's true.
Your brain immediately short-circuits, and you slam the door shut. Two seconds pass and you open it again, and Riki is still there, tilting his head slightly, clearly confused by whatever just happened.
You stare at him for a moment like you're still confirming he's real, then you turn around and say to your mom, "I'll skip breakfast!"
Without waiting for her response, you step outside and close the door behind you.
Riki raises an eyebrow.
"You skipped breakfast?"
"Well," you say casually, adjusting your bag, "wouldn't want you to wait for me any longer."
That's your excuse. The real reason? You want to spend more time with him. At school, he'll probably be busy with his friends, and you'll be with yours. But right now, it's just the two of you, so you might as well take advantage of it.
The walk to school starts. And surprisingly, it's nothing like yesterday's awkward silence. The two of you talk about random things, about teachers, about stupid school rumors. And at one point he tells a dumb story about one of his friends tripping over a chair in class, and you laugh so hard you almost stop walking.
Riki laughs too.
The atmosphere feels light and comfortable. It's completely different from the tense silence the two of you used to share. After a moment, he glances at you and chuckles.
"I kinda regret not hanging out with you earlier," he says. "You might actually bring some joy into my emo life.
You gasp dramatically.
"Oh?" You grin at him. "So you admit you're acting emo?"
He snorts. "Hey, I never said I wasn't."
"You totally give off that mysterious ‘don't talk to me' vibe," you tease.
"That's just my face," he replies.
You laugh, but then he suddenly says something that makes you pause.
"But honestly…" he says, looking ahead at the road, "I'm glad we started talking now."
Your heart skips.
"Why?" you ask softly.
He shrugs slightly. "Because it feels like I just unlocked a new character in a game."
You blink. "…Excuse me?"
He grins. "I mean, five years of living next door and suddenly I find out you're actually fun to talk to."
You pretend to look offended.
"Wow. I'm honoured."
"You should be," he says jokingly.
The school gate slowly comes into view ahead of you. Students are already gathering near the entrance. And for the first time in five years, you walk into school next to Nishimura Riki. Not as awkward neighbours or as forced acquaintances because of your parents, but as something new: friends.
Days pass, and somehow, without you realizing it, spending time with Riki becomes… normal.
Walking to school together.
Chatting before class.
Sometimes meeting after school.
The awkwardness that used to exist between you two slowly fades away, replaced by something warm and easy.
Riki becomes surprisingly comfortable around you, sometimes too comfortable. Like when he casually throws his arm around your neck while walking, pulling you closer as he laughs at something stupid his friend did. Or when he teases your height by placing his palm on top of your head like you're a tiny kid.
"Stay still," he once joked. "I need a place to rest my arm."
"Riki," you groaned, trying to shove him away while your heart raced violently in your chest.
All those little skinships make your heart flutter uncontrollably every single time. But sometimes you wish… you wish it was Riki whose heart was fluttering too. Still, you never complain, because even if he only sees you as a friend, you treasure every moment.
Laughing with him.
Sharing small secrets.
Learning more about him every day.
Your five-year crush finally turned into something real. And honestly? You were happy just being close to him.
Until one day.
It almost feels like fate suddenly gets impatient watching how slowly the two of you are progressing. So it decides to push things forward itself.
That day, Riki casually says something after school that makes your brain shut down.
"Do you want to hang out later?"
You blink.
"…Huh?"
"Just the mall," he says simply. "I'm bored."
To him, it probably sounds like a casual suggestion.
To you? Your brain immediately translates it into something else; A date. And the moment you get home, chaos begins.
Your room becomes a disaster zone. Shirts thrown on the bed, pants tossed on the chair; you change outfits. Once. Twice. Five times. Ten times.
You stand in front of the mirror again, staring at your reflection.
"No… this one looks like I tried too hard."
You change again.
"Okay this one looks too plain."
Another change.
"Why do I not own cute clothes?!"
After what feels like dozens of attempts, you finally settle on something that looks good, but still casual enough to pretend you didn't spend half your life deciding.
You take a deep breath and step out of your room, and immediately stop.
In the living room, Riki is already there, talking to your mom, and he's smiling. Not just a small smile, a bright, carefree one.
Your mom is laughing at something he said, clearly enjoying the conversation. For a split second, a strange feeling pokes at your chest. Jealousy, because he looks so comfortable, so happy. But then again… it's not like he's never smiled like that with you before.
So you push the thought away.
The moment he notices you, Riki turns toward you.
"Oh, you're ready."
Your mom looks between the two of you with an amused expression.
"Don't come home too late," she says teasingly.
Your face warms immediately. "It's not like that-"
But Riki is already laughing. "Don't worry, aunty. I'll bring her back safely."
Your embarrassment increases by ten levels. You quickly grab your bag and head for the door.
Finally, you and Riki step outside.
The evening air is cool. The two of you walk side by side toward the shopping mall, chatting about random things again. You try to act normal, like this is just another day. But inside your chest, your heart is beating a little faster than usual.
Because this time… it feels different.
The mall is lively in the evening. People walking past, soft music playing from different stores, the faint smell of food drifting from the upper floor.
You and Riki walk side by side through the crowd, chatting just like you usually do. The only difference today is that neither of you are wearing your school uniforms. Seeing him in casual clothes feels… strange in a good way. He looks more relaxed, less like the quiet, "emo" guy people see at school.
At one point, Riki stops in front of a small store window.
"Oh, that's cool."
He walks in and picks up a small accessory he apparently likes, while you follow him around the shop, occasionally pointing out random things.
Then you notice something. A small item sitting on a shelf. Your eyes linger on it a little too long, and don't even realize you're staring until-
"I'll get it."
You blink, and Riki is already handing the item to the cashier.
"Wait- what? No-"
"It's fine," he says casually.
"But I didn't even say-"
"It's mine."
You stare at him. "…You're literally giving it to me."
He shrugs like it's no big deal. "You noticed it first."
You open your mouth to argue again, but he already pays and walks out of the store.
Outside, he casually hands it to you.
"Here."
You roll your eyes but secretly treasure the moment.
A little later, while wandering through the mall, you suddenly spot something, and your eyes light up.
"Riki!"
Without thinking, you grab his hand.
"Come on!"
You start dragging him across the hallway.
"Wait- where are we going?" he laughs, but you're already pulling him toward the place you spotted: the arcade.
Bright lights, game sounds, and machines blinking everywhere. You finally stop near the entrance, slightly out of breath. Only then do you realize something—your hand is still holding his. And his hand… is still holding yours back. Neither of you pull away, not even consciously. You just walk into the arcade together like that, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
After a few games and a lot of laughing, you both end up standing in front of a basketball arcade machine.
You narrow your eyes at him.
"Competition?"
Riki immediately grins. "You're challenging me?"
"Yes."
He raises an eyebrow.
"You do realize I actually play basketball."
You cross your arms. "I believe in luck."
"Alright," he chuckles. "You asked for it."
The game starts. Balls start flying everywhere.
Riki shoots smoothly, one after another, barely missing.
Meanwhile…
Your throws are… questionable. One ball bounces off the rim. Another flies slightly too far. One somehow lands perfectly inside the hoop, and you gasp.
"See?!"
"Pure luck," he laughs.
You keep throwing anyway, determined to at least make it respectable. By the end of the timer, the machine loudly announces the result.
Riki wins.
Of course.
He leans casually against the machine, smirking.
"I told you."
"Shut up," you laugh.
"You challenged me."
"And I still got some in!"
"By accident."
You shove his shoulder lightly, but strangely… you don't feel that usual frustration that comes with losing. Not even a little, instead, you're laughing, standing beside him, and somehow, that feels like winning enough.
Eventually, after countless games, laughter, and a few playful arguments over scores, you and Riki finally walk out of the arcade.
Both of you are smiling. Your cheeks even hurt a little from laughing so much.
The mall is a bit quieter now compared to earlier in the evening. Some shops are already starting to close, and the crowd has thinned.
You stretch your arms slightly as you walk.
"That was fun," you say.
"Of course it was," Riki replies proudly. "You lost to a professional."
"You play basketball at school, that's cheating."
"That's called skill."
You roll your eyes, but you're still smiling.
As you both reach the main hallway, Riki casually says, "Want to grab something small before heading back?"
Your eyes brighten.
"Supper?"
"Yeah."
You nod quickly.
You're about to suggest a restaurant when you suddenly notice something, the footsteps beside you disappear. You take two more steps before realizing Riki isn't following, so you stop, then turn around.
He's standing a few steps behind you, frowning, as his eyes are focused on his own hand.
"Riki?" you call.
He slowly looks up, and for a moment, he just stares at you, then he walks toward you quickly. But before you can react, his hand naturally finds yours again. His fingers slide between yours. He latches onto your hand like it's the most normal thing in the world, then he smiles.
"So, where do you want to eat?"
Your brain stops working. You freeze. Your eyes drop down to your hands.
Your fingers.
Interlocked.
And you can feel his hand tighten slightly around yours.
"Y/N?"
Your voice comes out shaky.
"Y-y-your ha-hand-"
"Oh, this?" he says casually, raises your joined hands slightly.
"It felt comfortable anyway."
You stare at him, your brain is still processing.
"So… KFC?" he continues like nothing strange is happening.
And before you can even respond, he starts walking, pulling you along with him. Your eyes stay glued to your hands the whole time.
Your fingers fit perfectly together. And the worst part?
He's right.
It does feel comfortable.
Your lips slowly curve into a smile. You stop overthinking, and let him lead the way.
The hangout finally comes to an end when the two of you reach your house.
The street is quiet now, the night air cooler than before. The lights from nearby houses glow softly, and the world feels slower compared to the lively mall from earlier. You stop at your front gate, and Riki stops with you. Even though his house is literally right next door. You unlock the gate and step inside, turning back to lock it again. When you finish, you face him, then you look up at him with a small chuckle.
"Hey? You can go now, you know?"
Riki frowns slightly.
"Just get in."
You click your tongue.
"Bossy."
Spinning around, you start walking toward the front door.
"Y/N."
You stop, then turn around, seeing Riki is still standing by the gate, looking at you.
"Tell me something," he says.
You tilt your head.
"Is it really comfortable holding my hand?"
And you freeze.
The memory of your interlocked fingers flashes in your mind. Before you can answer, he continues.
"I felt comfortable holding your hand."
His voice is quieter now.
"I feel empty when you release it."
Your heart starts beating faster.
"I feel happy when I'm with you."
You can barely breathe.
"I feel bored when you're not around."
Your brain goes completely blank.
Is he… confessing?
You stand there frozen, unsure what to say.
Riki gestures slightly toward the gate.
"Come here for a second."
Your feet move before your brain catches up. You walk closer to the gate until you're standing right in front of him.
He looks at you carefully.
"I just want to test something."
Before you can ask what he means, he slowly reaches his hand forward. His fingers brush your cheek. Immediately, he flinches, like a sudden spark ran through his hand.
You blink in surprise, but instead of pulling away completely, he smiles a soft, almost amazed smile.
"I think…" he murmurs, then he looks directly at you.
"I'm in love."
And at that exact moment, the clock quietly passes midnight.
A new day begins.
The very first minute of Valentine's Day.
After five years of silent feelings, after countless awkward moments, after a strange toy gun, unexpected conversations, and a date that changed everything, your unrequited love finally reaches its answer.
And just like that… Your story begins again.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ L.U.V Gun 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
P.S. : If that strange, colourful toy gun had never arrived at your house, the story would have ended very differently.
You would still be the quiet neighbour who secretly watches him from afar. Still walking past him in school hallways with only a polite nod. Still smiling at birthday dinners arranged by your parents while hiding your feelings carefully behind small talk.
Five years would quietly become six.
Then seven.
And Nishimura Riki might never realize that the cheerful girl next door had been loving him all along.
So maybe… that suspicious website wasn't a scam after all?
Just saw a heartbreaking news about heeseung, and im crying because
WHY HE DIDNT LEAVE THAT CURSE COMPANY LIKE LEE HEESEUNG THAT IS A CANCEROUS COMPANY FOR FUCK SAKE
I'll still be sad and heartbroken about him leaving enhypen and/or the company but at least him leaving the company can make him recover his mental and physical health
I will still support you heeseung even if you go solo
But still,, fuck you hybe and its subs, youre doing a shitty job as one
Summary : February 14 repeats itself in its own way when you choose the person who patiently waited for you instead of the cheating ex you tried so hard to keep loyal.
⤷ boyfriend cheating, open ended ending
Non-idol fantasy & romance au ♡ NCT Dream Jaemin x female reader ♡ 13+ SFW ♡
⤷ IM CRYING WHY ARE THE PHOTOS SO BLURRY WHEN IT WORKS FINE WITH MY SCREENSHOT😭😭 Should i even be blaming twinote😭
The therapist's office smelled faintly of lavender and old books. Across the small table, Yoon Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes half-lidded like he was bored of the entire concept of therapy, though he is the one who suggested it to you. And you knew that look.
"Let's start simple," the therapist said gently. "Why are you two here today?"
You glanced at Jeonghan, and he glanced at you.
"Work," you both said at the same time.
The therapist raised an eyebrow.
"He's my boss," you clarified.
"And she's my secretary," Jeonghan added flatly.
"Also," you muttered, "my ex-husband."
A pause, then the therapist scribbled something in her notebook.
"So you're divorced… yet forced to interact daily."
Jeonghan shrugged. "Corporate structure."
You scoffed. "More like ego structure."
The therapist leaned forward slightly. "What made your marriage toxic?"
The question hung in the air longer than expected, yet finally, Jeonghan spoke first. "We never lost arguments."
You frowned. "Because neither of us ever admitted we were wrong."
"You slammed doors purposely when I did nothing."
"You manipulated conversations."
"You lashed out to me even when I apologized sincerely."
"You made everything a game."
The therapist quietly held up a hand. "And what do you feel right now, sitting across from each other?"
It was silence at first, but both of your backs slouched, you said, "Tired,".
Jeonghan exhaled slowly. "Same."
Therapy didn't end that day, and weeks turned into months.
At first, sessions were just verbal sparring matches that consists of old habits, old wounds, and old pride. But slowly, the conversations changed from instead of who hurt who, the focus shifted to why.
"You push people away before they can leave you," the therapist told Jeonghan once.
He laughed it off, but the next week he came quieter.
Another day, she turned to you.
"You expect people to read your pain without you saying it."
And that one stung more than you expected.
Progress didn't look dramatic. It looked like Jeonghan pausing before making a sarcastic remark during meetings. It looked like you knocking on his office door instead of sending passive-aggressive emails. It looked like both of you choosing silence over escalation.
Some days were setbacks, some days were victories so small no one else would notice, but the therapist did.
And eventually, she said during one session almost a year later, "what do you two think you've learned?"
You thought carefully, and said, "That we're just toxic together… the way we were."
The therapist smiled faintly.
"And now?"
Jeonghan looked at you, and for the first time in a long time, there was no challenge in his gaze, it's just sincerity.
"We're learning," he said.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Our Toxicity 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Valentine's Day came quietly. There's no office decorations or announcements. It's just another workday, until evening arrives.
"Stay a moment," Jeonghan said as you were about to leave his office.
You hesitated but closed the door.
He leaned against his desk, unusually nervous.
"I've been thinking," he began, and that alone made you suspicious. "I'm serious,"
You crossed your arms. "Dangerous start."
He chuckled softly, then his voice softened.
"We're different now."
You didn't interrupt.
"And if we're being honest…" he continued, "I never really stopped caring about you."
The room felt very small.
"I'm not asking you to rush anything," Jeonghan said. "But I wanted to give you the choice I never gave you before."
He stepped closer, hesitant.
"If you ever think… that we deserve a second chance…" His voice lowered. "…I'd like to try again."
The silence stretched while you studied him.
The old Jeonghan would've turned this into a gamble, a mind game, a trap, but this one simply waited. The old you would've turned this into ugly clapbacks that involves the staff workers hearing your voice, but you quickly rationalised yourself in your mind. And those difference alone told you how much he'd changed.
You reached into your bag and placed something on his desk.
A small box of chocolates.
Jeonghan blinked.
"You bought these…?"
You smiled faintly.
"It's Valentine's Day."
He looked at the desk calendar and back up at you slowly.
"Is that my answer?"
You tilted your head.
"Think of it as…" A pause. "…a second draft."
For the first time in years, Jeonghan smiled without winning, which felt like progress.
Welcoming all lovers! Happy Valentine’s Day Carats! We all know what a special day this is in Caratland, so with the help of svthub, the members of seventeen had a fun idea. They tasked the admins to pair up our members to create treats for each other!
🏹 some warnings: angst, smut
🏹 His eyes on you by @cherry-zip (romance)
Valentine’s Day with Seungcheol was never going to be simple. He doesn’t do simple. He does grand entrances.
🏹 Falling Into Forever by @sunniques (fluff, smut)
You slowly go through the stages of forever with the man you love.
🏹 Fourteen Days by @luvrung (fluff, romance)
Seungcheol doesn't need one day to tell you how much he loves you— he shows you every day. But the 14 days leading up to Valentine's, your boyfriend leaves surprises for you, reminding you just how much he cares.
🏹 Quiet Hearts, Loud Letters by @supi-wupi (fluff, romance)
In a Valentine’s letter mix-up that leaves Jeonghan reading every confession meant for you, Wonwoo secretly delivers Jeonghan’s own love notes straight to you, pushing the two of you closer with every mix-up.
🏹 Promises in Pink by @hanniehaeo (fluff, romance)
Six year old you had a lisp and a dream. Six year old Joshua rejected your proposal for fame. Twenty six year old Joshua has biceps, no fragile masculinity, and zero shame in carrying your hot pink, heart shaped, 'miss bitch' bag.
🏹 All Night by @wooahaeproductions (smut, fluff)
Soonyoung has a Valentine’s Day surprise for you!
🏹 Pulling you loose by @gentleisa (smut)
Heartbreak means tying yourself back up in the hopes that someone will kindly unravel you again. You don't expect your unraveling to come in the form of the grandson of the lady who runs your local film developing studio.
🏹 I Dreamt of You by @eclipsaria (angst, fantasy)
A compulsory overseas work transfer separates them, and Wonwoo clings to vivid dreams of you—until the final dream whispers a goodbye that might last forever.
🏹 Vantage Point by @kyeomofhearts (fluff, romance)
Your husband decides that your first Valentine's Day as an officially married couple has to be amazing... even if he sucks at doing things in secret.
🏹 Will You Dance With Me? by @lovelylonelinesssvt (romance)
After one failed love story and years of hiding behind the "friends" label, both you and Minghao realize that maybe it's time to move beyond that safety label and take a chance. The stability you've been looking for has been right next to you. It's time to finally choose the happiness that both have been denying yourselves.
🏹 Sweet On You by @nerdycheol (fluff, smut, angst)
You have been in love with your best friend, Vernon, since forever, but you didn't know he felt the same way.
🏹 Heart-Shaped Box by @orbitondgtl (romance)
Cleaning the attic becomes a journey of revisiting a ten-year relationship through a heart-shaped box.
Thank you to all the members who joined in on this event.
Thank you to all the readers who support our members in their writing journey!
Summary : A compulsory overseas work transfer separates them, and Wonwoo clings to vivid dreams of you—until the final dream whispers a goodbye that might last forever.
⤷ major accident: car accident, major character death, long distance relationship
Non-idol fantasy & angst au ♡ SVT Wonwoo x female reader ♡ 13+ SFW ♡ 5,111 words
⤷ @orbitondgtl this is for you, because surprise surprise, my anonymous valentine is YOU!!!❤️ so thank you @svthub for making this collab happened❤️
⤷ also, I'm so sorry for the angst
⤷ happy valentine's day, whether or not you are dating or married or single!
⤷ inspired by Ateez's Inception
⤷ also, banner is so bad because i was in a hurry
* main masterlist * SEVENTEEN masterlist * taglist * valentine 2026 * collab information *
⫘⫘⫘⫘ I Dreamt of You 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘
The email came on a Tuesday, and it's not even a dramatic Tuesday. It's just one of those ordinary, sleepy evenings where the dishes were half-done and the TV hummed in the background. You were curled up beside him on the couch, your legs tangled together like they always were.
Your phone buzzed, and you almost ignored it.
"Work?" he asked, glancing down.
Probably," you muttered, already feeling that small, familiar annoyance at your job interrupting your peace.
You opened the email casually, and then you stopped breathing.
Subject: Mandatory International Transfer Notice
You read it once, then twice, and the third time because your brain refused to process the words.
Transfer. Another country. Compulsory. A year.
"Hey," he said softly, sensing the shift in your body. "What is it?"
You couldn't answer at first. Your throat felt tight, like someone had wrapped invisible hands around it.
"They're transferring me," you finally whispered.
He blinked. "Like… another department?"
You shook your head.
"Another country."
Silence filled the room heavily.
"Is it optional?" he asked, already knowing.
"It says compulsory." You let out a weak laugh that didn't sound like you. "Apparently it's urgent to get me there for a replacement. I will still come back though, after… a year…"
He stared at the floor, and you stared at the email.
A year.
A year until your shared apartment became his apartment.
A year until goodnight kisses turned into goodnight texts.
"I don't want you to go," he said quietly, and that broke you, because you didn't want to go either.
You buried your face into his shoulder, and the tears came before you could stop them. Not loud sobs, just the kind that ache. The kind that feel like something is being slowly pulled out of your chest.
"I don't want to leave you," you said against his shirt.
He wrapped his arms around you tighter, like if he held you hard enough the email would disappear. "Then don't."
"It's not that simple."
You both knew it wasn't.
It was your job. The job you worked so hard for. The job that paid the rent. The job that built your future. But suddenly the future felt very far away from the present.
The next few days felt strange.
Every shared moment felt heavier. Cooking dinner together felt like a countdown, and brushing your teeth side by side felt fragile. Even your laughter had something trembling underneath it.
"I'm scared," you admitted one night while lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Of what?" he asked.
"That distance will change us."
He turned onto his side to look at you. "Distance doesn't change people who don't want to change."
"But what if it does?" Your voice cracked. "What if we get busy? What if time zones mess everything up? What if we slowly become… less?"
He reached for your hand and pressed it to his chest.
"Then we fight for more."
You looked at him.
"I don't want to let you go," he continued. "But I also don't want to be the reason you give up something important."
That hurt in a different way, because you knew he meant it.
You both sat in that truth.
⫘⫘⫘⫘ I Dreamt of You 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘
The compromise came slowly.
Video calls every night with no excuses, care packages, shared playlists, falling asleep on call when the time zones allowed it.
"You're not losing me," he said the night before your flight, his forehead resting against yours. "You're just… taking me with you in a different way."
You laughed softly through tears. "That's cheesy."
"Yeah. But it's true."
The airport the next morning felt unreal.
You held him like you were memorizing him. The way he smelled, the way his hoodie felt under your fingers, the way his heartbeat felt against your cheek.
"I don't want this to be goodbye," you whispered.
"It's not," he said firmly. "It's 'see you soon.'"
You nodded, even though dread curled tightly in your stomach.
When they called your boarding group, you didn't move at first. He kissed you like he was trying to pour months of love into a few seconds.
"I'm not letting go," he murmured against your lips.
"Me neither."
And when you finally walked away, it felt like walking with a missing piece. And your phone buzzed before you even reached your seat in the plane.
Him: I already miss you. Call me when you land. We've got this.
You smiled through the tears.
⫘⫘⫘⫘ I Dreamt of You 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘
The first morning without Jeon Wonwoo felt wrong before your eyes were even open. You reached out instinctively, feeling the unusual old sheets. There's no arm draped over your waist, no sleepy mumble of your name, no glasses slightly crooked on his face as he squinted at you and smiled before pulling you back into his chest.
Just silence.
The company house was neat—too neat. Sterile in a way that made it clear no one had ever loved inside these walls. It was meant for overseas workers, temporary people living temporary lives.
You lay there for a minute longer, staring at the ceiling, trying to gather the strength to move. You missed the weight of him. The warmth. The way he'd refuse to let you leave the bed, tightening his hold and whispering, "Five more minutes."
Now there was nothing holding you back, and somehow that made it harder to get up.
Work was slow, painfully slow. Every email felt longer, and every meeting dragged. You found yourself staring at your phone more than you should, waiting for a message that you knew wouldn't come yet because of the time difference.
You wondered what he was doing.
Was he eating dinner? Was he gaming? Was he reading one of his novels with that quiet focus you loved so much?
You imagined him pushing his glasses up his nose, turning a page, completely unaware that on the other side of the world you were missing him so badly it felt physical.
You forced yourself to concentrate… you had to. This was the opportunity you worked for. The transfer wasn't a punishment, it was proof that you were capable.
Still, capability didn't make loneliness easier.
When you finally returned to the company house, the sky was already dark.
You stood at the door for a moment longer than necessary.
You typed in the passcode. You pushed the door open, and darkness greeted you.
Not the soft, dim hallway light you were used to. Not the warm glow of the living room lamp. Not Wonwoo sitting on the couch with a book in his hands, glasses resting on his nose, looking up the moment he heard the door.
You could see it so clearly in your mind.
Him glancing up. His small, quiet smile.
"You're home."
Instead, there was just still air and the faint hum of the refrigerator. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, the sound echoing more than it should.
⫘⫘⫘⫘ I Dreamt of You 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘
The routines were the hardest.
Brushing your teeth alone—there was only one toothbrush in the holder. No extra one leaning against it, no accidental elbow bumps or teasing when toothpaste foam dribbled down your chin.
Just you.
You made coffee the next morning and opened the cupboard out of habit.
One mug.
You stared at the empty space beside it for a second before pulling it down.
The silence while the coffee brewed was unbearable. Back home, mornings had soft background noise. Him shuffling around, cabinets opening, low morning voice asking if you wanted americano or espresso.
Here, it was just the machine dripping.
Cooking breakfast for one person felt unnatural. The portions looked too small. The plate looked too empty.
Eating was worse.
No conversation, no soft laughter, no "try this" as he reached across the table, just the quiet scrape of your fork and the ticking of a clock you hadn't noticed before.
Even washing dishes felt different.
The running tap water filled the space where his voice used to be. You found yourself turning it on a little louder than necessary, just to create some kind of sound.
You hated how aware you were of everything, of how alone you were.
That night, you crawled into bed exhausted. You pulled your blanket closer, pretending it was his arm, pretending the warmth came from him and not from fabric.
You grabbed your phone and finally saw his message.
Wonwoo: Did you eat? Don't skip meals. Text me when you wake up.
Chest tightened, you pressed the phone to your heart for a moment before typing back. You wanted to tell him how much you hated this. How the house felt hollow. How every routine reminded you of what was missing.
But you didn't.
Instead, you wrote:
You: I'm holding on. We'll be okay.
Because you had to believe that this distance wasn't forever, it was for the job for the life you both talked about building together.
You wiped at your eyes and whispered into the dark, even though he couldn't hear you.
After work, the city moved like it always did.
Lights flickered on in tall buildings. Office workers poured into the streets, shoulders hunched, phones pressed to ears, all of them chasing the same thing: a bed, a meal, a few quiet hours before it all started again.
You sat behind your steering wheel, yet you didn't start the engine. Your hands rested limply on your lap.
The parking lot lights buzzed faintly overhead.
You could go home, but home wasn't home. It was just a company house with your shoes by the door and a bed that was too big.
You were tired. Physically: that kind of tired that settles into your bones after a full day of pretending you're fine. Mentally: a deeper kind. The kind that builds slowly when every day becomes the same shape.
Wake up.
Go to work.
Come back.
Lie in bed.
Text Jeon Wonwoo.
Sleep.
And repeat.
You never realized how much he had been quietly stitching little pieces of light into your days.
Some mornings he'd wake you up with soft kisses along your temple, mumbling, "Time to wake up," like he was apologizing for it. Sometimes he'd attempt to cook breakfast and completely ruin it. Burnt toast and undercooked eggs, and look so offended when you laughed. Sometimes after work, you wouldn't even get a chance to put your bag down before he wrapped his arms around you and pressed kisses all over your face like he hadn't seen you in years.
Five years.
Five years of building a life that felt warm and shared. And now you were back to surviving the way you did before him, alone… you hated that feeling.
There was a reason you didn't want to go back to being alone after loving someone for that long. Once you've known what it feels like to be chosen every day, silence feels louder.
You sighed and finally turned the key, and the engine hummed to life. You let it warm up, staring straight ahead, letting your mind drift somewhere between numb and aching.
The drizzle started as you pulled out of the parking space.
Soft at first, but by the time you reached the first traffic light, it was pouring. Heavy rain battered the windshield like the sky had split open. The wipers moved left and right, left and right, in a steady rhythm that felt almost hypnotic.
The X intersection was empty again.
You noticed that after your first few drives home, it was usually deserted at this hour. At first it felt creepy, now, you appreciated it. It felt like a small pocket of space where you didn't have to pretend.
You turned up the radio just loud enough, because right now, you were the definition of wanting to be alone, but not wanting silence.
The red light glowed through the rain.
You exhaled slowly.
Green.
You shifted from parking to drive and pressed gently on the accelerator. But then, Headlights. From the left. Too fast… it's driving way too fast.
Your heart slammed into your ribs.
The car was swerving left and right—like the driver had no control or no care. It was speeding into the intersection, rain blurring its shape.
Your mind split into panic.
Brake?
If you stopped and that car kept swerving, it could slam directly into your side.
Speed up?
Maybe you could pass first, maybe it would only clip the back, both choices felt wrong. Both felt dangerous.
You didn't have time.
Your foot moved before your thoughts could form. You hit the accelerator a little harder, trying to speed up, trying to escape the trajectory.
"Wonwoo…"
The name left your lips like a prayer.
They always say if you're driving, stay calm. Calm saves you from accidents. Calm saves you from insurance claims. Calm keeps you alive. But what if you're calm and the other driver isn't?
The reckless car slammed into the back of the company car. The impact was violent.
Metal crunched, the steering wheel jerked from your grip, the world tilted, and your car began to spin. The sound of tires screeching against wet asphalt pierced your ears. You tried to grip the wheel, tried to counter-steer like you'd learned, heart pounding so loudly you couldn't hear anything else.
"Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo…!"
It looped in your head like a chant or plea.
The rain made everything worse.
The road was slick.
The car wouldn't obey you, and it spun again. And then, towards the pole, the traffic light pole loomed closer in a sickening blur.
You didn't even have time to fully process it before-
An impact.
A deafening crash.
The front of the car crumpled against the metal pole. Your body lurched forward violently, the seatbelt digging into your chest. The airbag exploded open in a blinding white burst.
Everything stopped.
Except the rain, as it kept pouring.
For a few seconds, maybe longer, there was only ringing in your ears. A high-pitched, endless sound.
You blinked.
You were still conscious.
Your hands were shaking uncontrollably.
The windshield was cracked like shattered ice. Steam rose faintly from the hood.
The radio was still playing.
You let out a broken breath.
Your first thought wasn't about the car.
It wasn't about the job, nor about the damage. It was him.
You fumbled for your phone with trembling fingers.
"I can't leave him," you whispered hoarsely to the empty car. Tears mixed with the shock, with the rain, with the realization of how close that moment had come to ending everything.
⫘⫘⫘⫘ I Dreamt of You 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘
Night had always felt quieter without you, but tonight, the quiet felt wrong.
From Wonwoo's side of the world, everything had become numbers and discipline.
6:30am for you, 2:30pm for him.
10:00pm for you, 6:00am for him.
Eight hours apart.
He had memorized your routine without ever announcing it. He knew the rhythm of your days better than he knew his own. He built his sleep schedule around your safety texts.
And tonight was like every other night.
Your message came at 6:02am his time.
You: Off work.
He smiled softly at the screen, sleep still clinging to his eyes.
Wonwoo: Drive safely. Text me when you're home.
Always that.
He never skipped it.
Thirty minutes, that's how long it took you to get home.
He refused to text again after that, didn't care how badly he wanted to keep talking, your safety came first. So he waited.
6:30am.
6:33am.
It's fine… You were probably stuck in an unusual traffic jam, but you could have inform him about that.
6.40am.
… Still fine. Sometimes you were too tired and forgot. It had happened before. You'd wake up later apologizing, and then both of you would end up apologizing to each other even though you both understood.
He placed his phone face up on his desk while getting dressed for work, glancing at it between every small task.
7.30am, when he reached his company. It is 11.30pm for you, and you should be home an hour ago.
But still nothing.
His chest tightened just slightly.
At 7.32am, his phone rang. It's an unknown number, and he froze.
A cold sensation ran down his spine.
Unknown numbers were dangerous now. Scam calls were everywhere—recordings, fake emergencies, stolen voices. He had read enough news to even warned you about them too.
The phone kept vibrating in his hand, and his heart pounded.
Answer? But what if it was a scam designed exactly like this, calling during this hour?
And so he let it ring.
The silence afterward was worse. He stared at the screen long after the call ended.
7:34am.
Still no message from you.
His jaw tightened. He told himself not to spiral, that you're just tired, that you're probably asleep already. Maybe you got home, collapsed on the bed, and forgot.
He grabbed his bag and prepared to leave for work, but something sat heavy in his stomach. A dull, uncomfortable pressure that wouldn't go away.
7:36am.
The unknown number called again.
His breath hitched. It's the same number.
It rang. And rang… and rang.
His thumb hovered over the green button.
But doubt won.
If it was real, they would leave a voicemail. If it was urgent, they would text. If it was something serious, surely you would have messaged him.
… Right?
He let it ring out again.
This time, when the screen went dark, the guilt settled in. He swallowed hard and opened your chat.
Still nothing.
He typed.
Wonwoo: Did you reach home?
It's now 3.30pm for him, 7.30am for you.
He stared at the message.
Delivered, but not read.
That was unusual.
You were at least at work by now, yet he didn't receive your good morning text, or "I've reached the company" text.
He locked his phone and tried to focus on getting to work after the break, but his mind kept replaying the ringing back to the unknown number. He remembered that it rang twice.
10pm.
He slid into the driver's seat of his own car and just sat there for a moment.
"You're overthinking," he muttered to himself.
You had been exhausted lately… mentally drained. He knew that, you told him. Maybe you got home and fell asleep without charging your phone. Maybe it died.
Maybe. Lots and lots of maybes.
He started the engine.
The drive back home felt longer than usual. At every red light, he checked his phone.
Nothing.
No lunch text.
No picture that you took to let him see what you have for lunch.
No text of you blaming the stupid copy machine.
By the time it was 11:00pm for him, 7:00pm for you, unease had fully rooted itself in his chest.
You would never go that long without replying.
Never.
He opened your chat again and scrolled up unconsciously, rereading old messages.
Photos of meals.
Random complaints about work.
Voice notes of you laughing.
Five years of history reduced to glowing text bubbles.
He typed again.
Wonwoo: Baby?
The message sat there. Delivered, yet unread again.
His throat felt dry.
He skipped dinner without realizing it. Takeaway food sat untouched on the kitchen counter while he paced around the apartment, running a hand through his hair over and over again.
"This isn't helping," he muttered to himself.
Pacing wouldn't make your phone light up, and worrying wouldn't make the distance shrink. He dropped onto the sofa and turned on the television, volume low. The screen flickered with colors and dialogue he didn't process.
His phone stayed in his hand. He kept imagining the vibration, the phantom buzzes that weren't real, and every time his grip tightened, every time his heart jumped, it was nothing. Just silence. And the longer he stayed awake, the exhaustion from work finally began to drag at him. His body was tired, but his mind refused to rest, yet he squeezed his eyes shut as he leaned back into the sofa, phone still loosely held against his chest.
"I'll wait," he whispered to the empty room.
At some point, without meaning to, he fell asleep.
⫘⫘⫘⫘ I Dreamt of You 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘
The dream didn't feel like a dream. It felt real in the way only certain dreams do—too vivid, too detailed, too warm.
You were standing right in front of him, smiling.It's the softest smile he knew by heart.
He didn't speak in the dream though, he just watched. And you acted like you knew exactly what he had been worrying about.
"I'm sorry, wonu~"
Your voice was light, teasing, the way you used when you wanted him to melt. You swayed his arm left and right like you always did when you were trying to coax him into forgiving you.
"Forgive me, hm?"
You leaned in and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He could feel it so real.
"Here, I got you the latest PS5 game. Your favorite of course." You giggled, holding it up proudly like you had accomplished something huge. And the scene shifted without warning.
The apartment dissolved, the walls faded, and suddenly you were both standing in a field of sunflowers stretching endlessly under golden sunlight.
He knew it was strange. But in the dream, it felt normal.
You were wearing a sundress, the fabric moving gently in the breeze as you hopped around with childlike joy.
"Wonu! Wonu!" you called, waving at him.
He just stood there, watching you glow under the sun.
"Hey, today is our off day, so smile?" You demonstrated an exaggerated smile, eyes crinkling.
"There you go!" you said brightly, as if you could see his lips curve.
"Thank you!" you said suddenly, holding up a sunflower.
He didn't remember plucking it, but in your hands, it looked like something he would have given you.
"Wh-! No, no, no, don't embarrass me!" you protested shyly, turning away like he had just said something that made your heart flutter.
You were so alive. So warm. So you…
The sunlight wrapped around you both, golden and endless.
For the first time all day, his chest didn't hurt, he felt peace. Just you and him, without time difference, no unread messages, no distance, just laughter and sunlight.
And in his sleep, Wonwoo smiled, unaware that somewhere beyond dreams, silence still waited.
⫘⫘⫘⫘ I Dreamt of You 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘
The days blur.
One becomes three. Three becomes a week. A week becomes a month.
And for Jeon Wonwoo, reality becomes something he endures, while dreams become something he lives for.
At first, the dreams felt like comfort, a mercy. He would fall asleep heavy with worry, and there you were, smiling, talking, teasing him like nothing was wrong. Every time he saw you in his dreams, that lighthearted feeling restarted again. The warmth returned, and the ache eased. He could breathe. But then he would wake up, and it would feel like losing you all over again. Over and over.
There were mornings when he lay completely still, eyes closed, trying to force himself back into sleep.
But reality always won. The ceiling. The silence. The empty chat.
At some point, he stopped questioning why you weren't replying. He stopped calling. Stopped checking the unread messages from your parents.
He told himself he just needed to wait, that you would explain… you always explained.
But something shifted, the dreams became too vivid, too detailed. He could feel the texture of your clothes, the warmth of your skin, the exact tone of your laughter. They weren't hazy fragments, they were full scenes. Conversations that felt complete, and he started wondering if they were more than that.
Maybe this was how you were reaching him. Maybe this was the only way.
The thought was irrational, he knew that, but the heart doesn't care about logic when it's starving, and he was starving for you.
Soon, he began chasing sleep. If he missed you too much during work, he would set an alarm and nap during breaks, hoping to catch even five minutes of you. If longing hit too hard at night, he would take melatonin earlier than usual just to drift off faster.
He stopped fighting the urge, he leaned into it.
Dreaming of you felt better than being awake without you. He craved it like scent, like warmth, like oxygen.
Every morning, when he woke up and you disappeared, the grief slammed into him with fresh force.
There were mornings he cried before even sitting up, silent tears soaking into his pillow. The loss was unbearable, and yet he couldn't explain what exactly he had lost. Because he didn't know.
He still didn't know where you were. You leave no explanation, and no closure, just silence, and dreams.
⫘⫘⫘⫘ I Dreamt of You 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘
A month passed like this. With him avoiding reality, avoiding questions, just living in between sleeping and waking. But then one night, something changed.
He fell asleep the same way, phone in hand, exhaustion dragging him under. But when the dream formed, You weren't there, just white, an endless white space.
He stood in the middle of it, alone.
"Y/N?" he called.
His own voice echoed strangely, and there's no answer. He began walking, then running. The white stretched infinitely in every direction. No walls, no sky, and no ground texture.
"Y/N!"
His voice cracked. He turned in circles, searching desperately.
In the dream, he could see himself, like he was both inside and outside his own body. He watched himself running frantically, hair disheveled, eyes wide. He looked… desperate, unhinged.
"Where are you?!"
The echo swallowed his voice.
In the real world, asleep on the sofa, Wonwoo's eyebrows pull together. His lips tighten, his breathing becomes uneven.
In the dream, he drops to his knees in the white space, hands pressing against nothing. You're always here… You're supposed to be here.
So why aren't you here?
The silence feels louder than anything before. For the first time in a month, there is no warmth. No smile, no you, just him. Alone, with flowers sadly accompanying him, as if trying to colour the basic white colour with a few drops of different colours. And in his sleep, his frown deepens, as if somewhere, even without waking, he understands something is ending.
He wakes up choking on air.
The white space still burns behind his eyelids. For a second, he lies there frozen, staring at the ceiling, trying to force the dream to restart.
"Come back," he whispers.
Silence answers him.
The realization hits like a physical blow, you're not there. You're not in his dreams anymore. His chest tightens so violently he can't breathe properly. He sits up abruptly, hands gripping his hair, pulling at the roots as if pain could wake him into a different reality.
"No, no, no…"
He stumbles to his feet.
The living room feels too small. The walls feel like they're closing in. The television, still on from the night before, flickers pointlessly.
He grabs the remote and throws it. It hits the wall with a sharp crack.
It's not enough.
He shoves the coffee table aside. It screeches against the floor and tips over. A chair falls next. Something fragile shatters, but he doesn't even register what it is.
His breathing turns ragged.
"Why?!" he chokes out.
His hands slam against a shelf, sending books crashing down around him.
He doesn't care. He doesn't care about the mess. He doesn't care about the noise. He collapses to his knees among the wreckage, shoulders shaking violently.
"Y/N…"
Your name breaks out of him like something torn. Again. And again. And again.
It goes nowhere.
The apartment doesn't answer, and the world doesn't answer.
He curls forward, palms pressed to the floor, sobbing so hard his body trembles. He craved you. So why… why did his dreams abandon him too? Were they telling him to face reality?
No… he can't. He didn't even get a proper goodbye.
The last real dream with you. You were laughing, holding his hand, pretending it was just another off day. There was no warning. No fading. No final words.
You can't leave like that. You can't.
He presses his forehead to the cold floor and cries like something inside him has finally snapped, because maybe it has.
⫘⫘⫘⫘ I Dreamt of You 💋 ⫘⫘⫘⫘
In another perspective, one he cannot see, the truth sits quietly.
You never made it to the hospital.
The reckless driver. The rain. The impact. One hour for someone to call an ambulance to send you to a hospital. But it's still too late.
The calls from the unknown number were not scams, they were from a foreign country, trying to reach the emergency contact listed in your records.
Your parents' unread messages were not casual greetings, they were telling him you were gone, but he never opened them.
He never let reality in, and so he lived in dreams.
At first, you were afraid he would miss you too much.
A soul can do so little, but love is stubborn, even after death, so you gave him dreams.
You thought you were helping him. You thought if he could see you smiling, he wouldn't break, but you didn't expect him to cling to them so desperately. You didn't expect him to choose sleep over life. You watched him take melatonin early. Watched him nap during breaks. Watched him cry every morning. And you realized, You caused this.
A soul has limits. You couldn't fix what you started. So the last dream was different.
White, and empty.
You stepped away.You left him alone in that space because you needed him to feel the absence. Because you needed him to wake up. And before the white swallowed everything, you left something small behind.
A flower, white chrysanthemum: A flower for sorrow, for cemeteries, given in apology.
And a bouquet: like the ones exchanged on Valentine's Day. Because you already knew. You would miss this year's Valentine's, and every year after.
It wasn't enough, it would never be enough, but it was all you could offer.
You watch him now on his knees, surrounded by broken furniture, sobbing your name into empty air. And what he doesn't know, is that you're crying too. That you regret giving him those dreams, that you thought love meant staying, but sometimes love means letting go.
And yet, would you give him dreams of you? Or would you watch him slowly become hollow without you?
☆ A beautiful belief that two people who are destined to meet are connected by an invisible red string. ☆
-> Happy 10th year anniversary SEVENTEEN! Now for a present that SEVENTEEN can't get(but I still want to give), I would like to announce SEVENTEEN version of soulmate series!!
-> The stories are unlimited and will keep on posting until a year is up: 26th May 2026, but zero dates as to when the stories will be up; meaning random dates
-> Also, please, if you have any idea that want me to write, as long as it is SFW and related to soulmate, I can do it! Just go to my ask and request for any member, the information of what you think a soulmate story can have in a fic!!
-> And if you are interested in any of the concept that are written below in the future and you wanted to see a different group to how the story goes, go to ask too. It can be non-soulmate concepts! All of the below aren't just soulmate concepts, there are mixed too! Like just pure fluff fics, idol fics, fantasy fics, and so far and so on.
Taglist?
Masterlist
Seventeen Masterlist
1. Love Written (dino x reader)
Warning(s): Mentioned of divorced, typical ol' chaebol family which does anything to seperate a couple, seperation, angst, fluff, introvert x extrovert troop, strangers-to-lovers, slow-burn, mentioned of men being negative, introvert traits, lmk if i miss out any
Summary: In which a once-hesitant girl, slowly opens her heart to the boy who writes on her skin, and learns that love, when it's right, always finds its way home.
2. Took You Long Enough (scoups x reader)
Warning(s): Fluff, slow-burn, romance, engaged, age gap(10 years), mentioned of kids, married, food, cologne and watch brand names, sugar daddy! Seungcheol if you squint, lmk if i miss out any
Summary: In which a workaholic CEO finds his calm in the form of his respected senior’s daughter.
3. My Parent's Story (woozi x reader)
Warning(s): Fluff, small angst(argumements), introvert x introvert troop, wrong person right timing, strangers to lovers, lmk if i missed out any
Summary: In which two people, who once accidentally bound themselves together despite not being true soulmates.
4. Which One?! (jun x reader)
Warning(s): past life, short fluff, mentioned of war
Summary: In which, with a ticking clock to find his soulmate, Wen Junhui must travel backwards to discover the one meant for him in the present.
note that after valentine fics are all posted, i will be focusing more on this and my smau series till 1st of june, so any unrelated fics will all be paused, only if i accepted collabs😓😓
But dont worry,,, i have some queued up, so by the time it will automatically be posted, which means i am still taking my time to write❤️
