The Idol Paragon
Chapter 6: Worship and Warning (ft. Giselle & Nayeon)
short smuts in between stories
13k+ words
Jinho woke the way he always did now—eyes opening slowly, no alarm, body already synced to the rhythm. He lay on his back, black sheets twisted low around his hips, one thick arm flung above his head, the other resting possessively over the hard ridges of his abs. Morning light flooded through the windows, turning the river to molten gold and etching every line of his torso in sharp relief: deep V-cut obliques, heavy defined pecs, the teasing taper of his Adonis belt vanishing beneath the fabric. His skin still carried the faint sheen of last night’s sweat from the final rehearsal.
He stretched, slow and deliberate, vertebrae popping like champagne corks as every core muscle flexed and released in perfect sequence.
This body no longer belonged to Sungho. Sungho had been soft, unkempt, invisible. Jinho was carved marble wrapped in warm skin—twenty years old, SM’s once-in-a-generation prodigy, the solo rookie whose debut had redefined what was possible. He felt it in the effortless power of his shoulders, the dense weight of his thighs, and the quiet, unshakable confidence that now lived in his eyes, cameras or not.
He reached for the phone on the nightstand without sitting up. Morning ritual. Non-negotiable.
Screen lit up with the soft blue glow.
First: KakaoTalk.
The MiSaMo + Jinho (4) group chat was already alive from last night. Pinned at the top was Sana’s 2:14 a.m. video — Momo in her dorm mirror attempting Jinho’s signature slow body roll from “Eclipse,” failing spectacularly, and collapsing sideways into a mountain of TWICE plushies.
Sana 2:14 a.m.
Sana: oppa your choreo is illegal in 12 countries
Sana: momo just filed a complaint with the un
Momo 2:16 a.m.
Momo: I hate all of you
Mina 2:21 a.m.
Mina: …but you looked cute failing tho 🥹
Sana 2:17 a.m.
[photo: Sana wearing nothing but Jinho’s oversized black Eclipse hoodie, zipper pulled dangerously low, bare thighs visible, tongue out, peace sign]
Sana: uniform check for the next rehearsal? pass or fail oppa
Momo 2:19 a.m.
Momo: fail. take it off. slowly.
Mina 2:21 a.m.
Mina: you two are going to get us all in trouble😂
Mina: [soft selfie: Mina bare-faced on her bed, wearing only the black Calvin Klein boxer briefs she stole from Jinho’s drawer last week, waistband sitting low on her hips]
Mina: but… same question
Jinho’s lips curved into that signature half-smirk — the one that made stylists forget their own names. He typed quickly.
Jinho 7:43 a.m.
Jinho: all three of you pass with flying colors
Jinho: Sana — hoodie stays on until I take it off myself
Jinho: Momo — that roll needs work. private lesson?
Jinho: Mina — you look illegal in my underwear. keep them. I’ll collect later 😉
He heart-reacted every message from the night before, then dropped a 12-second voice note, voice still sleep-rough and low.
“Morning, my favorite troublemakers. Eat well Work hard”
Sent.
Next folder: Karina ❤️ — pinned, 52 unread.
Karina 11:12 p.m.
Karina: oppaaaa practice just ended and I’m dying
Karina: [selfie: sweaty, no makeup, aespa hoodie half-zipped, looking soft and exhausted]
Karina: miss your stupid handsome face already
Karina 11:45 p.m.
Karina: schedule tomorrow? mine is vocal 9-12, dance 1-4, filming till 8 😭
Karina: please tell me you have even one free hour so I can come steal you
Karina 6:58 a.m. (just now)
Karina: good morning my favorite rookie-turned-global-menace
Karina: still thinking about the river the other night… and the car… and the alley…
Karina: when can I see you again? I’m being so good and patient but I’m literally counting hours
Jinho’s expression softened, the old fanboy inside him still quietly stunned every time. He typed back, keeping it warm but non-committal for now.
Jinho 7:44 a.m.
Jinho: Morning, noona. You looked too pretty in that last selfie. Stop trying to kill me before breakfast.
Jinho: Today is packed. Tomorrow looks lighter after 4 p.m. if you can sneak out. I’ll make time. Promise. Miss you too.
Single red heart. Sent. No concrete plans yet. He wasn’t layering her into the same twenty-four hours as the others today.
He finally opened the browser.
Naver Real-Time Search was pure domination:
Jinho Eclipse
Jinho Tokyo Dome
Eclipse 2 billion streams
Jinho brand stock surge
He tapped the top article, published at 6 a.m.
“Eclipse” by Jinho — 57 days since release, still #1 everywhere it matters
The piece was long, almost reverent.
Released January 1, 2026 at 6 p.m. KST, “Eclipse” had hit #1 on Melon, Genie, Bugs, Flo, and YouTube Music Korea within the first hour and had never left the top spot.
Fifty-seven consecutive days at #1 on Melon Daily — an all-time record.
Billboard Global 200: #1 for 57 days straight, the longest run by any soloist in history.
Spotify Global: #1 for 57 days running, 1.94 billion streams and still adding 8–10 million daily.
Circle Chart Digital: seven weeks at #1.
Physical album sales: 18.7 million copies worldwide, with Japan pre-orders alone pushing another 2.4 million.
The article called it “the biggest debut song in K-pop history by every measurable metric,” surpassing previous benchmarks in raw velocity and sustained dominance.
Jinho scrolled slowly, letting the numbers sink in deeper this morning.
The song had become a cultural event. The “Eclipse Challenge” on TikTok — fans recreating the sensual floor sequence and body roll — generated over 14 million videos and was still trending six weeks later. Radio stations in thirty-two countries added it to heavy rotation. Non-K-pop listeners in the West were humming the haunting synth intro and addictive post-chorus hook in gyms, malls, and car rides. Brands began inserting the track into commercials within ten days. Even Western artists were name-dropping it in interviews.
Locally, “Eclipse” had single-handedly boosted SM Entertainment’s quarterly revenue projections by 38%. Internationally, it opened doors no rookie soloist had ever touched: a surprise NBA All-Star Game halftime slot, a feature on a major Western artist’s upcoming album, and serious talks for Coachella and Glastonbury. The song’s sustained dominance was so unprecedented that industry analysts had started calling any similar explosive solo debut “pulling an Eclipse.”
Jinho leaned back against the headboard, phone heavy in his hand. The numbers were cartoonish. He remembered the first time he heard the final mix in the studio — the way the beat dropped and the melody wrapped around his voice like smoke. He had known it was special. He hadn’t known it would rewrite the entire industry playbook.
He closed the article and opened X.
The timeline was pure chaos, as always.
Top trends worldwide:
#JinhoEclipse
#EclipseStillNo1
#JinhoIsUnstoppable
Fan accounts flooded the replies.
@ElixirSupremeDaily (1.8M followers): “Day 57 of Eclipse being #1 on Melon and y’all still sleeping on the greatest rookie era ever 🔥 STREAM OR WE RIOT”
@GlobalJinhoArmy (947K): “Boy group stans crying in the replies again lmao. Your faves needed 7-9 members and 5 years to get half these numbers. Jinho did it solo in 57 days. Stay pressed 💅”
@ToxicElixirMode (412K): “EXO-Ls and ARMYs mad because their 10-year careers got bodied by a 2-month-old debut track. Keep streaming your flops besties, maybe one day you’ll catch up 😂😂”
Then came the fresh wave of toxic replies under a viral NCTzen tweet that had dared call the choreo “mid compared to Mark’s”:
@EclipseOverlords (289K): “BTS took 7 years for Dynamite numbers, Jinho did it in 2 months solo. Your faves are mid, accept it or stay irrelevant. We run this industry now.”
@JinhoStanOrDie (176K): “NCTzens crying because their 20 members can’t even chart like our one man army 😂 Jinho solos your whole generation, keep coping with 0.8M first week sales while our rookie clears 18M physicals.”
@ToxicElixirHQ (94K): “Blackpink stans mad their ‘Coachella’ was a flop compared to what Jinho will do at Tokyo Dome. Your girls needed a whole group and years of buildup. Our boy does it alone and still breaks every record. Stay mad.”
@RealElixirWarrior (312K): “Any idol who disses Jinho gets their career ended by Elixirs. We don’t play. One wrong tweet and your fandom is done. Jinho is untouchable.”
The replies under those were a bloodbath of ratios, quote-tweets with laughing emojis, and screenshots of chart numbers. Some Elixirs tried to calm it down:
@OnceButElixirNow: “This is why people hate us. Delete the toxic shit and just stream.”
@JinhoWorldDom: “Real Elixirs don’t need to drag others. Eclipse stands on its own.”
But the aggressive corner kept liking and quote-retweeting, turning every mild criticism into a full-blown war. Jinho scrolled for a solid ten minutes, equal parts proud and exhausted.
The genuine fans — the ones organizing charity streams, building fan sites with translated lyrics, defending him with facts instead of insults — made up the vast majority. They were the reason the numbers kept climbing even after the initial hype wave. But the loud minority, the ones starting fanwars and sending death threats to anyone who dared call a choreo “mid,” were the tax he paid for this level of dominance. He had muted several toxic accounts weeks ago, but the algorithm still pushed the drama.
He switched to brand news.
Two fresh articles popped up.
“Samsung Shares Surge 4.7% After Jinho Galaxy Campaign Launch — Analysts Credit ‘Eclipse Effect’”
The new Galaxy campaign featuring Jinho’s face and the “Eclipse” hook in the background had driven pre-order numbers 62% above projections. Flagship stores in Gangnam and Seoul reported complete sell-outs within forty minutes of opening. Stock price had jumped the moment the first teaser dropped last week and hadn’t stopped climbing. Analysts were already calling it the strongest celebrity endorsement impact in Samsung history.
“Louis Vuitton Korea Reports Record Q1 Sales — Jinho Ambassadorship Credited for 41% Growth”
Similar stories for Dior (new fragrance line sold out in three hours after Jinho wore the scent in a behind-the-scenes clip) and Calvin Klein (the steamy black-and-white billboard campaign in Times Square caused literal traffic jams in Seoul when fans gathered to take photos). Every product he touched turned to gold. Limited-edition Eclipse x CK underwear dropped last week and sold out globally in eleven minutes. The “Jinho Premium” — the inexplicable 20-60% uplift any brand received the moment he signed on — was now a recognized term in marketing reports.
Jinho closed the tabs. The old Sungho would have cried reading these numbers. The new Jinho felt a quiet, bone-deep satisfaction mixed with the constant low hum of pressure. He was carrying an entire company’s expectations, a fandom’s dreams, and now four women’s desires on his shoulders. And he loved every second of it.
One last thing before he got up.
Instagram.
His official account — @jinho_official — sat at 69.4 million followers as of last night. He opened the camera, flipped to front, ran a hand through his messy bed hair once, let the sheet fall dramatically to his waist, and took the shot: topless, morning light carving every muscle, one eyebrow slightly raised, the faintest smirk that said “I know exactly what this will do to you.”
Caption: “Morning, Elixirs. Ready for whatever today throws at us. See you soon.”
Posted.
He didn’t even lock the phone. The likes counter started spinning like a broken odometer.
10k… 87k… 620k… 2.1 million in the first 10 minutes.
Follower count ticked visibly: 69.4M → 69.7M → 70.1M…
A banner notification popped up.
“Congratulations! You are now the fastest person to reach 70 million followers on Instagram — breaking the previous record by 19 days.”
Jinho laughed out loud, the sound low and genuine in the empty apartment. He tossed the phone onto the bed and stood up, completely naked, walking to the window to look out over the city that was currently obsessed with him.
Jinho started his day.
The kitchen was quiet, the fridge humming softly in the background. He pulled out a container of leftovers from two nights ago — grilled chicken thighs, cold rice, and a generous layer of aged kimchi that still looked (and smelled) perfectly edible. He popped it into the microwave, set it for two minutes, and while it spun he stripped off his sleep shorts and headed into the shower.
Hot water hit his shoulders like a welcome punch, steam rising fast in the small bathroom. He stood there longer than usual, letting the heat loosen the faint tightness in his lower back from yesterday’s endless floor sequences. Soap suds ran down the deep cuts of his abs, tracing every ridge he’d spent months carving. He washed quickly but thoroughly — hair, face, body — then turned the water off exactly as the microwave dinged in perfect sync. Timing was everything.
He ate standing at the counter, fork straight from the container, scrolling one last time through the group chat. Sana had already replied to his voice note with a string of crying-laughing emojis and “private lesson booked 😈”. Momo sent a tired-cat GIF. Mina simply hearted it with a single moon emoji. Simple, familiar, grounding. He answered what needed answering, then rinsed the container, left it in the sink, and showered then dressed.
Black track pants, fitted gray hoodie that hugged his shoulders and chest just right, black cap pulled low, mask tucked in his pocket for the walk. No Hanseok today — the manager was in Busan handling sponsor paperwork — so Jinho was on his own. He locked the apartment door, rode the elevator down to the lobby, nodded to the security guard (“Good morning, Jinho-ssi. Fighting today.” “Thank you, ahjussi. You too.”), and stepped out into the crisp Gangnam morning.
He flagged a taxi at the corner instead of walking. The driver recognized him immediately despite the cap and mask — eyes widening in the rearview mirror — but stayed professional. “SM building?” “Yes, please.” The ride was short, quiet. Jinho stared out the window at the passing streets, mentally running through the choreo adjustments he wanted to drill today: cleaner transitions in the bridge, sharper isolations in the second verse drop. The taxi pulled up to the side entrance. He paid cash, tipped generously, and slipped inside.
The SM lobby was still waking up — only a handful of staff carrying coffee trays, a small cluster of unknown trainees in practice clothes huddled near the elevators comparing schedules. Jinho exchanged quick, polite bows and greetings with each one he passed. The trainees’ eyes widened in recognition; one boy nearly dropped his water bottle. “Jinho-sunbaenim! Good morning!” Jinho smiled, genuine. “Good morning. Don’t overwork yourselves today, okay?” They nodded vigorously, faces flushed with excitement.
The elevator carried him to the third floor, where the main practice corridors branched off. The hallway was quieter than usual this early, fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead, the faint echo of someone else’s music leaking from a distant room. He was halfway to his usual practice room — the one with the best mirror alignment and the least echo — when he rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone coming the opposite way.
Irene.
Red Velvet’s leader was dressed casually for what looked like a light vocal or individual session — oversized cream sweater slipping off one shoulder, black leggings, hair pulled into a loose ponytail, minimal makeup that still made her look impossibly elegant. She carried a small notebook and a thermos of tea. For a split second, both of them froze mid-step.
“Oh — Jinho-ssi,” Irene said first, her voice soft but clear, the slight surprise melting into a warm, professional smile. She bowed lightly, the kind of graceful nod that came from years of being the sunbae everyone looked up to.
Jinho bowed deeper, instinctively respectful. “Irene-sunbaenim. Sorry, I wasn’t looking.”
She laughed softly — a light, bell-like sound that instantly eased the awkwardness. “No, my fault. I was reading my notes and walking at the same time — classic rookie mistake even after all these years.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she looked at him properly for the first time in person. “I guess this is our first time meeting face-to-face like this. Nice to finally meet you, Jinho-ssi.”
“The pleasure is mine, sunbaenim,” he replied, straightening up. He kept his posture relaxed but polite, the way he’d learned to carry himself around seniors. “I’ve been a fan of Red Velvet since… well, since before I even thought I could do this.”
Irene tilted her head, genuinely pleased. “Really? Which song was your favorite back then?”
“‘Psycho,’” he answered without hesitation. “The bridge, the way the vocals layered — it felt like the song was telling a whole story without needing a music video. I studied that choreography for weeks when I was still a trainee. Even tried to copy Seulgi-sunbaenim’s shoulder isolation in the mirror for hours.”
Her smile widened, a spark of real interest lighting her eyes. “You studied our choreo? That’s flattering. Most rookies these days are too busy with their own concepts to look back.” She shifted her weight, notebook tucked under one arm, thermos held loosely in her other hand. “Now I see why everyone’s talking about you. You have that… presence. Even just standing here, it’s easy to understand the hype. And congratulations — on everything. The charts, the Dome, the brands. It’s impressive. Really.”
Jinho scratched the back of his neck, a small, boyish gesture that contrasted with his sharp visuals and made him look younger, more approachable. “Thank you, sunbaenim. Means a lot coming from you. Red Velvet set the standard for how a group can evolve and still stay true to themselves. I’m just trying not to trip over my own feet while the whole world watches.”
Irene laughed again, warmer this time, her gaze lingering a fraction longer than strictly necessary on the way his hoodie stretched across his shoulders. “You’re not tripping. If anything, you’re making the rest of us look slow.” She paused, eyes flicking over him again — subtle, appreciative, the kind of look that came from someone who understood exactly how much work went into looking effortless. “I caught one of your Inkigayo stages on replay the other night. That body roll in the chorus… even I had to pause and study it. Dangerous move for a rookie.”
He felt the faintest heat creep up his neck, but he met her eyes steadily, returning the smile with a touch more confidence. “Coming from the queen of elegant stages, that’s high praise. I’ll take it.” A small pause, then he added, quieter, “Maybe one day I can get tips from you on how to make the dangerous parts look graceful instead of just… intense.”
Irene’s lips curved, a small, knowing tilt that carried just a hint of playfulness. Their eyes held for a beat longer than the conversation required — hers warm and assessing, his calm but unmistakably engaged. The hallway felt quieter suddenly, the distance between them shrinking without either moving. A soft smile lingered on her face, the kind that promised future conversations, future shared stages, future moments where glances might carry more weight.
“I’d like that,” she said softly. “We should talk more sometime. Properly. When schedules aren’t trying to kill us both.”
Jinho nodded, the smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d like that too, sunbaenim.”
They stood there another second, the air between them humming with that tiny, unspoken spark — not overt, not rushed, just the quiet beginning of something that could unfold later. Then Irene glanced at her watch.
“I should let you get to practice. Don’t want to make the future of K-pop late.” She gave a small wave, ponytail swinging as she stepped past him. “Fighting, Jinho-ssi.”
“Fighting, Irene-sunbaenim,” he replied, watching her go until she turned the corner.
He exhaled slowly, a faint grin still on his face, then continued down the hallway toward his practice room.
The room on the third floor was empty when he arrived, exactly as he preferred for solo sessions. He dropped his bag by the mirror, changed into practice clothes — loose black tank and joggers — and connected his phone to the sound system. “Eclipse” filled the space first, the haunting intro synths echoing off the walls. He started slow, marking the choreo, then built up to full power. Sweat beaded on his forehead within minutes. He drilled the floor sequence until his thighs burned, the body rolls until they felt like second nature, the high notes until his voice stayed steady even at full exertion.
He lost himself in the repetition — three full run-throughs, then isolated sections on loop: the second verse drop, the bridge transition, the final chorus power move. Every time he caught his reflection in the mirror he adjusted something — angle of the hip, depth of the squat, sharpness of the hand flick. Hours slipped by. The clock on the wall showed 11:47 a.m. when he finally called it.
He was drenched — tank clinging to his chest, joggers dark with sweat down the thighs, hair plastered to his forehead. Chest heaving, he grabbed a towel, wiped his face and neck, then stood in front of the mirror breathing hard, watching his reflection settle.
Jinho lingered in the practice room for a solid half-hour after wrapping up his solo session, giving his body time to cool down properly. He wasn't one to rush recovery these days—pushing too hard without rest was how injuries happened, and with Tokyo Dome looming like a thundercloud on the horizon, he couldn't afford even a minor tweak. The room was still humming faintly with the echo of his last run-through, the air thick with the scent of sweat-soaked hardwood and the faint metallic tang from the air conditioning vents. He sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the mirrored wall, scrolling idly through his phone while his heart rate settled.
The group chat with MiSaMo had blown up again—Sana sending a barrage of memes about overworked idols, Momo replying with a selfie of her collapsed on her dorm bed, and Mina chiming in with a simple "Rest well, everyone" accompanied by a moon emoji. Jinho smirked, typing back a quick "You too. Don't dream of that body roll fail, Momo-noona" before pocketing his phone. Karina's messages sat unread for now; he'd get to them later, when he could give her the attention she deserved without the distraction of post-practice fatigue.
He stood finally, rolling his shoulders to work out the last kinks, and peeled off his drenched tank top. The mirror reflected back a body that still sometimes surprised him—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, abs etched deep from endless crunches and planks, veins tracing subtle paths down his arms from the pump of rehearsal. He wiped down with a towel, changed into a fresh black hoodie and matching joggers—simple, comfortable, anonymous enough for the hallways—and slung his bag over one shoulder. Time to head out; he had a label meeting at noon, but first, maybe grab a quick protein shake from the vending machine downstairs.
The hallway outside was quieter than usual, the mid-morning lull when most groups were either in vocal lessons or off-site shoots. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floors. Jinho made his way toward the elevators, footsteps echoing softly, mind already drifting to the choreo tweaks he wanted to suggest for the collab bridge. The elevator bank came into view around the corner—empty, save for a lone figure standing there, back turned to him.
She was wearing a black mask and a loose gray hoodie pulled low, but something about her posture caught his eye—tense, almost expectant. As he approached, she turned slightly, and even with the mask covering half her face, recognition hit him like a cool breeze. Those sharp eyes, the subtle grace in her stance—Aespa's Giselle.
"Giselle-sunbaenim?" Jinho said, voice polite but laced with mild surprise. He hadn't crossed paths with her much before; their schedules rarely overlapped, and when they did, it was usually in passing at company events or award shows. She was a few years his senior, known for her effortless bilingual charm and killer rap verses, but they'd never really spoken beyond basic greetings.
Giselle didn't respond immediately. Instead, she lowered her mask just enough to reveal her full face—lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowed with a mix of frustration and something sharper, almost accusatory. Her expression wasn't friendly; if anything, it screamed confrontation. Jinho's instincts kicked in, his easy smile fading into cautious neutrality. Before he could ask if everything was okay, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
"Come with me," Giselle said, her voice low and edged with urgency. "We need to talk." There was no room for argument in her tone—it wasn't a request. She grabbed his wrist firmly, her grip surprisingly strong for her slender frame, and tugged him toward the nearby women's comfort room without waiting for a response.
Jinho blinked, caught off guard, but he didn't resist. Pulling away would only draw attention, and the hallway was empty for now—no need to make a scene. "Sunbaenim, what's this about?" he asked quietly as she pushed open the door to the restroom, pulling him inside and straight into one of the larger stalls at the end. The door clicked shut behind them, the lock sliding into place with a decisive snap.
The stall was spacious enough for accessibility, but it still felt cramped with two people—especially when one was clearly pissed off. Giselle released his wrist and turned to face him, her back against the door as if to block any escape. She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made the small space feel even smaller.
Ever since that night on the balcony, Giselle hadn't been able to shake the image from her mind. She'd been up late, staring at the city lights to clear her head from the endless loop of comeback prep and group dynamics. Insomnia was her unwelcome companion these days, and that particular evening had been no different. But then she'd seen it—the silver car pulling up discreetly, two hooded figures emerging, the way Karina had risen on her toes to kiss the man with a desperation that screamed more than just a casual fling. Giselle's stomach had twisted; she'd leaned over the railing, heart pounding, confirming what her gut already knew. Karina, their leader, the unflappable face of Aespa, sneaking out like a lovesick teenager.
She'd waited, confronting Karina in the common area that night. "Where were you?" Giselle had demanded, her voice sharper than intended. Karina had frozen, shoes in hand, cheeks flushed. "Just... air. Couldn't sleep." But Giselle wasn't buying it. "Who is he?" she'd pressed, stepping closer. The argument had escalated quickly—Karina defensive, Giselle insistent. "You could destroy everything we've worked for just for a single rookie," Giselle had hissed, her worry bubbling over into anger. "He's not worth risking the group, Jimin-ah. Aespa comes first." Karina's eyes had flashed with hurt and defiance. "You don't know him. And you don't get to decide what's worth it for me." They'd parted on tense terms, the air thick with unspoken resentment.
Since then, Giselle had become hyper-aware, almost obsessively so. She'd noticed the changes in Karina—the late-night calls where she'd slip away to her room, giggling softly behind closed doors; the way her phone would light up at odd hours with messages that made her bite her lip and blush; the subtle shift in her energy, more distracted during practices, her mind clearly elsewhere. And then there were the video calls—Giselle had overheard enough through thin walls to piece it together: moans, whispers, the unmistakable sounds of intimacy. Karina was obsessed, hooked on this rookie in a way that scared Giselle. It wasn't just a fling; it was consuming her, and if it blew up, Aespa would pay the price.
Now, face-to-face with the source of it all, Giselle didn't hold back. "What did you do to Karina?" she demanded, her voice a harsh whisper to avoid echoing in the tiled space. Her eyes bored into his, searching for any sign of guilt or deceit. "Stop messing with her. She's our leader—Aespa's leader—not some fucking rookie's slut."
Jinho's expression remained calm, though a flicker of surprise crossed his features at her bluntness. He leaned back slightly against the stall wall, crossing his arms in a mirror of her posture. "Sunbaenim, I think there's a misunderstanding—"
"No," Giselle cut him off, stepping closer, her finger jabbing toward his chest but not quite touching. "There's no misunderstanding. I've seen enough. The late nights, the calls, the way she's been acting. You're distracting her, pulling her away from what matters. Aespa is everything to us—to her. And you're risking it all for what? A quick fuck? I'm warning you, stay away from her, or I'll make sure to do everything I can to ruin your career. I have connections, Jinho. Don't test me."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with threat. Giselle's heart raced; she wasn't bluffing. She'd go to the managers, leak anonymously if she had to—anything to protect the group. Karina was slipping, and it had to stop.
She turned to leave, hand reaching for the lock, but before she could twist it, Jinho's fingers wrapped around her wrist—firm but not painful, pulling her back just enough to halt her movement. Giselle whipped around, eyes flashing with anger. "Let go—"
"You don't know why your horny ass leader is obsessed with me?" Jinho's voice was low, almost a growl, his usual polite demeanor cracking into something darker, more primal. "Let me show you."
Before Giselle could process the words, he closed the distance in a blur. His free hand cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head up as his lips crashed onto hers in a sudden, searing kiss. It wasn't gentle; it was demanding, his mouth moving against hers with a hunger that stole her breath. Giselle's eyes widened in shock, her hands instinctively pushing against his chest, but the contact only made her aware of the hard planes of muscle beneath his hoodie. "S... st... stop," she managed to gasp against his lips, but the word came out weaker than intended, her body betraying her as a shiver ran down her spine.
Jinho didn't stop. He released her wrist only to wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, restricting her movements without hurting her. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then down to her neck—sucking gently at first, then harder, his tongue flicking out to lick the sensitive skin just below her ear. Giselle's breath hitched, a soft moan escaping despite her best efforts to suppress it. "What... what are you doing?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Her hands fisted in his hoodie, half pushing, half clinging. It felt wrong—so wrong—but the heat of his mouth, the skillful way his tongue swirled and teased, sent sparks of unwanted pleasure shooting through her.
She tried to twist away, but Jinho's grip held firm, his free hand sliding up to tilt her head back further, exposing more of her neck. He licked a slow, deliberate path from her collarbone up to her pulse point, sucking there until she felt the mark forming. "Stop... this isn't... ahh—" Another moan slipped out, betraying her. Giselle's mind raced—disbelief warring with the building heat in her core. How was he doing this? Why did it feel so good? Her morals screamed at her to fight, to slap him and run, but her body... her body was melting under his touch, knees weakening as his lips worked their magic.
Jinho's hands weren't idle. While his mouth continued its assault on her neck, he swiftly tugged at the hem of her sweater, pushing it up just enough to expose her midriff. His fingers grazed her bare skin, sending goosebumps racing across her body. Then, without breaking the rhythm of his kisses, he lowered his sweatpants with one hand, the fabric pooling at his ankles. Giselle's eyes darted down instinctively, widening at the sight of his massive cock—thick, veined, already hard and throbbing, grazing against her thigh through her leggings. The sheer size of it made her stomach flip; it was intimidating, powerful, and undeniably arousing.
Before she could protest again, Jinho's hands moved to her top, stripping it off in one fluid motion. Her bra followed, unclasped and discarded, leaving her upper body bare. Giselle gasped, arms crossing over her chest in a futile attempt at modesty, but Jinho gently but firmly pulled them away. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her—her perky tits, nipples hardening in the cool air of the stall. "Beautiful," he murmured, voice husky, before leaning down to capture one in his mouth.
Giselle's back arched against the door as his lips closed around her nipple, sucking firmly while his tongue flicked and swirled. "Oh god... stop... this is wrong..." But her words lacked conviction, dissolving into another moan as he switched to the other breast, groping the first with his hand, kneading the soft flesh. His touch was expert—alternating between gentle caresses and firm squeezes, his teeth grazing just enough to send jolts of pleasure-pain through her. She felt herself getting wet, her core aching despite her internal protests. "Why... why does this feel so good?" she thought, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. Her body was betraying her morals, responding to every lick, every suck, every graze of his massive cock between her thighs.
Jinho's free hand slid lower, pressing against her through her leggings, feeling the heat radiating from her. But he didn't push further—not yet. Instead, he focused on her tits, making sure every inch was lavished with attention, drenched in his saliva. Giselle's resistance crumbled further with each passing second; her hands, once pushing, now tangled in his hair, pulling him closer involuntarily. "Fuck... I shouldn't... but..." The internal battle raged, but the pleasure was winning.
Finally, something snapped inside her. "Fuck it," Giselle thought, her resolve shattering. She pushed Jinho back with surprising force, guiding him to sit on the closed toilet seat. He complied, a smug glint in his eyes as he watched her. Giselle's hands trembled slightly as she completely removed his sweatpants, leaving him fully exposed. Then, without a word, she stripped off her own top—already half-off anyway—and tossed it aside. Her eyes locked onto his cock, a mix of awe and hunger in her gaze.
She dropped to her knees between his legs, her hands wrapping around the base—fingers barely meeting around the girth. Giselle didn't speak; she let her actions do the talking. Leaning forward, she took the head into her mouth, sucking gently at first, her tongue swirling around the tip. Jinho groaned, his head falling back slightly. "Yes, just like that... suck it like your slutty leader does, good girl..."
Giselle's cheeks burned at his words, but deep inside, she understood. She knew why Karina was obsessed—this cock was a masterpiece, thick and powerful, filling her mouth in a way that made her feel both dominated and desired. She bobbed her head deeper, taking more of him, her moans vibrating around his shaft. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth as she worshipped it, her hands stroking what she couldn't fit.
Jinho's hand found the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. He didn't force at first, letting her set the pace, but soon he took control—guiding her movements, pushing her down further until she gagged slightly, then pulling back. "That's it... take it deeper... you know you want to." Giselle's eyes watered, but she didn't stop; if anything, the control spurred her on. She sucked harder, her tongue working relentlessly, hollowing her cheeks for more suction.
The stall was filled with wet, obscene sounds—her slurping, his groans, the faint echo of her moans. Giselle's mind was a haze; all thoughts of warning him, of protecting Karina, had evaporated. There was only this—the pleasure of submitting, the thrill of betraying her own words. She deep-throated him as best she could, her throat relaxing to take more, gagging softly but pushing through.
Jinho's grip tightened, his hips bucking slightly. "Fuck... you're good at this..." Giselle didn't respond verbally, but inside, she knew. She understood the obsession now—the way his cock filled her mouth, the taste of him, the power he exuded. It was intoxicating, addictive.
Giselle’s world shrank to the thick heat stretching her lips and filling her throat. She bobbed deeper, tongue swirling hungrily along the veined length, tasting the steady leak of salty pre-cum. One hand twisted firmly at the base while the other kneaded his tightening balls. Muffled moans vibrated around him, betraying how much she hated—and craved—this perfection. Karina’s obsession suddenly made sense: this wasn’t just a cock; it was made to addict and dominate.
Jinho’s groans turned primal. Fingers tightening in her hair, he took control, thrusting deeper until she gagged softly, tears pricking her eyes. She didn’t pull away—she leaned in, hollowing her cheeks harder, saliva dripping down her chin. “Fuck… you’re sucking it like you were born for this,” he growled. “Obsessed already, just like your slutty leader. Can’t get enough, can you?”
Her muffled whimper and defiant-yet-surrendering gaze said he was right. The pulsing girth, the jaw-aching stretch, the sheer power—it was intoxicating.
Abruptly he yanked her off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to the glistening tip. “Not yet,” he said, voice low and possessive. Hauling her up by the hair, he spun her to face the toilet seat. “Bend over.”
Heart hammering—fear, shame, thrill—Giselle obeyed before she could think, bracing her hands on the cool porcelain, back arched, ass presented. Jinho loomed behind her, cock brushing her clothed curves. “You came to protect your leader,” he murmured hot against her ear, hand sliding down her spine, “but look at you now—bent over like a good little slut, obsessed with the same cock that owns Karina.”
“Shut up… this means nothing,” she lied weakly, voice trembling. Her pussy throbbed, already soaked, hips shifting back despite herself.
He chuckled darkly. A sharp slap cracked across one ass cheek through the leggings; she yelped, the sting blooming into heat. Another, harder. Then a rhythm—each smack drawing gasps and involuntary moans, her hips pushing back for more. “Don’t lie. You’re dripping for it. Obsessed just like her.”
Satisfied with the burning flush beneath the fabric, he hooked her waistband and yanked leggings and panties down in one rough pull. Cool air hit her bare, glistening pussy and reddened ass. Another bare slap echoed; she cried out, trembling. “So wet already… came here to warn me off, but now you’re begging for the same treatment.”
“I’m not—ahh!” Another stinging slap landed low, jolting her clit. Shame, anger, and raw need warred inside her, but the desire won. The memory of his cock filling her mouth, the promise of it stretching her open—it consumed her. She was obsessed. There was no denying it anymore. She needed him inside her.
Giselle's world shattered into fragments of ecstasy and dread as Jinho's massive cock plunged into her from behind, each thrust a brutal reminder of her crumbling resolve. The initial penetration had been a shockwave—his girth stretching her walls to their limits, the burning fullness making her vision blur and her knees buckle against the toilet seat. But now, as he set a relentless rhythm, aggression pouring from every snap of his hips, she was lost in the storm. Her hands gripped the porcelain edge, knuckles white, nails scraping faintly as her body rocked forward with each powerful drive. The stall echoed with the wet, obscene slaps of skin on skin, her slick arousal coating his shaft and dripping down her thighs in warm rivulets. Why does it feel this good? she thought, her mind a chaotic whirl of shame and craving. The obsession had taken root deep; every vein pulsing against her sensitive inner walls, every inch claiming her, made her pussy clench greedily, begging for more despite the voice in her head screaming to stop.
Jinho's hands were everywhere—possessive, unyielding. One gripped her hip like a vice, fingers digging into the soft flesh to pull her back onto him harder, forcing her to meet his thrusts with equal force. The other roamed her back, sliding up to tangle in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to arch her spine deeper, exposing the curve of her neck. "Feel that?" he growled low, his breath hot against her ear, voice dripping with arrogance. "Your pussy's obsessed already—squeezing me like it never wants to let go. You came here to threaten me, but now you're bent over, taking my cock like a desperate slut." He slapped her ass again, the sharp crack reverberating through the stall, the sting blooming into a heated throb that made her walls flutter around him. Giselle bit her lip hard, tasting copper, but a moan escaped anyway—raw, involuntary, her body betraying her morals at every turn.
She hated him for this—for the way his aggression ignited something primal in her, for how his cock filled her so completely it erased rational thought. Each thrust hit deeper, the bulbous head grinding against her g-spot with merciless precision, sending jolts of pleasure that made her toes curl in her sneakers. Her tits bounced freely with the force, nipples hardened to aching points from the cool air and the friction of her body moving. "Ahh—fuck—too deep—" she gasped, her voice a broken whisper, but her hips pushed back instinctively, chasing the sensation. The obsession deepened with every plunge; she craved the dominance, the way he used her without apology, turning her threats into pleas. Karina... I get it now. This cock—it's ruinous.
Jinho's pace quickened, his free hand sliding around to rub her clit in rough, insistent circles, syncing with his thrusts. "That's it—take it all. You think you can warn me off? Funny, coming from the girl who's creaming all over my dick." Another slap to her ass, harder this time, the red mark pulsing with heat. Giselle's eyes watered, her breaths coming in ragged pants, the pleasure building like a tidal wave in her core. She was close—dangerously close—the friction, the fullness, the sheer aggression pushing her toward the edge.
But then, the door to the women's comfort room creaked open, followed by the click of heels on tile. Giselle froze, her blood turning to ice even as Jinho's cock continued its assault, sliding in and out with slick, unrelenting force. No—no, not now. Panic surged through her, but the sensation in her pussy—the way he filled her, stretched her, owned her—made it impossible to stop. She clamped a hand over her mouth, biting down on her palm to stifle the moan threatening to escape.
Irene's voice echoed softly in the room, oblivious to the depravity unfolding in the corner stall. "Seulgi-yah, you won't believe who I just ran into in the hallway," she said, her tone light and excited as she positioned herself in front of the mirror. The sound of a makeup bag unzipping followed, brushes clinking. "Jinho-ssi—the rookie everyone's talking about. Oh my god, he's even more attractive in person. Like, unfairly so. Tall, broad shoulders, that jawline... and his eyes? They just pull you in. I was stumbling over my words like a trainee."
Giselle's heart hammered in her chest, terror mixing with the building ecstasy. Irene-sunbaenim... right there. The stall was tucked in the corner, their feet hidden from view by the low partition and the angle of the mirrors, but one wrong sound—one slip—and it would all come crashing down. Jinho didn't stop; if anything, he thrust harder, deeper, his aggression fueled by the risk. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, lips brushing her ear in a hot whisper. "Hear that? I could even fuck her—Irene, the idol you guys probably look up to." His voice was arrogant, laced with dark amusement, as he slapped her ass lightly—not enough to echo, but enough to make her jolt. "Imagine it... her bent over just like you, obsessed with this cock too."
Giselle whimpered into her hand, eyes squeezing shut as tears of frustration and pleasure welled up. The fear heightened everything—the way his cock dragged against her walls, the slick sounds barely masked by Irene's ongoing conversation. She tried desperately to stay silent, her free hand clawing at the toilet seat, but Jinho's fingers on her clit rubbed faster, syncing with his thrusts. "You think I will treat you with care after blackmailing me and my career? Funny," he growled softly, his hips snapping forward with renewed force, each plunge sending sparks through her core. Giselle's body trembled, her pussy clenching around him involuntarily, the obsession warring with her terror. I can't moan—can't let her hear—but fuck, it feels too good...
Irene continued, oblivious, her voice cheerful as she applied lipstick or powder—Giselle couldn't tell, too lost in the haze. "Seriously, Seulgi, he's got this aura. Confident but not cocky, you know? And his body... I mean, the hoodie couldn't hide it. Broad chest, those arms—probably from all the dancing. I felt like a fan asking for an autograph. We talked a bit; he's polite, smart. Said he studied our choreo back in trainee days. Cute, right? I told him we should chat more sometime. Who knows, maybe a collab one day."
Giselle's mind reeled—Irene praising him while he's fucking me senseless? The irony burned, but so did the pleasure. Jinho's arrogance swelled; he fucked her faster, his cock pistoning in and out with aggressive precision, hitting her g-spot relentlessly. Giselle's hand clamped tighter over her mouth, muffling the sobs of ecstasy building in her throat. Her legs shook, thighs slick with arousal, the obsession consuming her entirely. Don't stop—please don't stop—but she'll hear... fuck, I need to cum...
After what felt like an eternity of torment—Irene chatting about schedules, praising Jinho's rise, and finally zipping up her bag—the door creaked open again, heels clicking away until silence returned. Giselle sagged in relief, her hand dropping as a loud moan finally escaped. "Oh god—fuck—harder—"
Jinho didn't hold back. With Irene gone, his aggression unleashed fully. He pulled her hair back, arching her further, his free hand slapping her ass in quick succession—each one echoing now, the sting amplifying her pleasure. "Now you can scream," he taunted, his thrusts turning punishing, cock slamming deep and fast. Giselle's cries filled the stall, raw and uninhibited, her pussy spasming around him. "Yes—fuck me—your cock—I'm obsessed—"
The build-up was explosive. Jinho's breaths grew ragged, his grip bruising as he chased his release, using her body without mercy. "Take it all—gonna fill you up—" With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning low as hot ropes of cum erupted inside her, flooding her walls. Giselle came with him, her orgasm crashing over her in waves, pussy milking every drop as she screamed his name, slick gushing out around his cock.
They stayed locked for a moment, breaths heaving, before Jinho pulled out slowly, a thick trail of cum dripping from her pussy. He stood, arrogant smirk in place, looking down at her trembling form. "Now you know why Karina is head over heels for me. Don't worry, this won't be the last time. Next time, I'll have all four of you—Aespa—worshipping me, wrapped all over my cock."
Jinho adjusted his clothes, leaving her there—leaning against the toilet seat, catching her breath, her pussy still dripping with his cum, mind reeling from the intensity and the newfound obsession that would haunt her.
Jinho stepped out of the women's comfort room with the same calm stride he'd entered with, cap pulled low, mask tugged up, gym bag slung over one shoulder like nothing had happened. But inside, he was riding a high that no amount of post-practice endorphins could touch.
Giselle's surrender still burned in his veins—the way she'd gone from threats to obsession in minutes, the way her pussy had clenched around him like it was trying to keep him forever, the broken moans she'd tried to muffle against her own hand while Irene praised him obliviously on the phone. The memory of filling her up, watching his cum drip from her swollen folds while she leaned against the toilet seat gasping, left a dark, satisfied thrum in his chest. He could still feel the ghost of her walls fluttering around him, hear the wet slap of skin, taste the salt of her neck where he'd marked her. She gets it now, he thought, lips curving into a private smirk beneath the mask. They all will.
His phone buzzed again as he reached the elevator bank. Hanseok.
He answered mid-stride. "Hello hyung. What's up?"
Hanseok's voice burst through, loud and impatient. "Where are you, kid? Get your ass down here. I'm outside the main entrance, freezing my balls off against the van like some budget drama extra. Move it!"
Jinho's smirk widened. "On my way. Five minutes."
He hung up, rode the elevator down, nodded to the lobby security ("Fighting, Jinho-ssi!"), and pushed through the revolving doors into the sharp late-morning chill.
There was Hanseok—back propped against the black company van, arms crossed, wearing that signature ridiculous grin that looked like he'd just won the lottery and was about to tell everyone. The second he spotted Jinho, he pushed off the vehicle with exaggerated flair, throwing both arms wide.
"There he is! The man, the myth, the walking Billboard chart violation!" Hanseok called, loud "Get over here before I start doing a victory dance in the middle of the street"
Jinho walked up, one brow arched. "If this is another one of your 'surprise iced coffee taste tests,' I'm turning around."
Hanseok barked a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder—hard. "Nah, kid. Better." He reached through the open passenger window and pulled out a plain white envelope, thick and official, SM's silver logo gleaming on the flap.
Jinho's expression shifted to quiet curiosity. "Is that…?"
"Your first real paycheck," Hanseok said, voice dropping into something almost proud as he handed it over. "Came through accounting this morning. I had them rush the deposit because—well, because I wanted to see your face when you saw it. Manager privilege. Now open it before I tear it myself like an impatient kid on Christmas."
Jinho took the envelope, turned it over once—feeling the satisfying weight—then slid his thumb under the flap and tore it open. Inside: a single payout summary on company letterhead and a stapled bank deposit receipt showing the net transfer already wired.
He scanned the breakdown.
Base salary (debut transition): ₩8,000,000 / month × 2 months = ₩16,000,000 KRW (~$11,000 USD)
Performance & streaming bonus (Eclipse dominance): ₩120,000,000 KRW (~$82,000 USD)
Album sales & merch preliminary share: ₩180,000,000 KRW (~$123,000 USD)
Endorsement advances (Samsung, LV, Dior, CK): ₩300,000,000 KRW (~$205,000 USD)
Music show winnings & awards cut: ₩28,000,000 KRW (~$19,000 USD)
Gross total before deductions: ₩644,000,000 KRW (~$440,000 USD)
Net after agency commission (30%), taxes (est. 38% combined), and mandatory savings: ₩322,000,000 KRW (~$220,000 USD)
Jinho received a total of 322 million won or 220 thousand dollars.
Net.
In his first real payout cycle.
Jinho exhaled slowly through his nose, the number settling into him like a second heartbeat. It wasn't just money—it was proof. Proof that the grind, the nights in the practice room until his legs gave out, the relentless self-critique in front of mirrors, had paid off in a way most idols only dreamed of.
Hanseok watched him, grin softening into something genuine. "Yeah. Let it sink in. Most rookies see maybe twenty, thirty million on their first one—if they're lucky. You just walked into the big leagues on day one. Hard work, talent, and a little bit of that scary Jinho magic. I'm proud of you, kid. Seriously."
Jinho folded the paper carefully, slipped it into his bag. His voice came out quieter than usual. "Thanks, hyung. Means a lot."
Hanseok's grin snapped back full force. "Don't get all emotional on me now. Get in the van." He jerked his thumb toward the passenger door. "We're celebrating. Steak house in Seoul. And since you're the one with three hundred million won burning a hole in your account… it's your treat."
Jinho barked a laugh—genuine, surprised. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious," Hanseok said, already circling to the driver's side. "Manager tax: you pay, I eat. Hop in before I start crying about how my baby boy grew up and started buying hyung dinner."
Jinho shook his head, still smiling, and climbed into the passenger seat. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're rich," Hanseok shot back, starting the engine with a dramatic rev. "Buckle up. Your first treat's gonna be legendary."
The drive to the steak house took about twenty minutes—traffic was light for once. Hanseok put on some old hip-hop playlist, humming along badly while tapping the wheel. Jinho stared out the window, still feeling the afterglow of Giselle's surrender layered over the quiet weight of the money in his account. It all felt surreal, like he was living someone else's life.
They pulled up to a low-key upscale spot tucked between glass towers—dark wood facade, no loud signage, the kind of place idols chose when they wanted to eat without becoming tomorrow's headline. The valet took the van without fanfare; inside, the host recognized Jinho but kept it professional, guiding them to a corner booth with frosted glass for privacy.
They ordered fast: Hanseok went for the massive 48-ounce tomahawk "We're sharing, obviously—don't be stingy", Jinho picked the wagyu sirloin, medium-rare, with truffle mash and grilled asparagus. The house sent over a bottle of red without being asked.
Once the server left, Hanseok leaned back, arms spread across the back of the booth. "Alright. Steak's on your tab, wine's on the house. Now talk to me. Three hundred twenty-two million won just dropped into your life. What are you thinking?"
Jinho took a slow sip of wine, swirling it for a second. "Honestly? I have no idea yet. Still processing. Maybe get the van some heated seats so you stop complaining every winter morning."
Hanseok snorted mid-bite, nearly choking. "Heated seats? With that money you could buy me a whole new van. But okay, practical. I respect it." He leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "But come on—there's gotta be something fun. First real check like this? Everyone has that one stupid dream purchase."
Jinho grinned, leaning in. "Alright, if we're being honest... maybe book you a night with a top model or one of those KBJ streamers you're always joking about. Since you're so invested in my personal life, I figured I'd return the favor."
Hanseok's eyes went wide for half a second before he burst out laughing—loud, genuine, head thrown back. "You little punk! That's evil. But... if you're paying, make it two. Can't have your hyung looking lonely." He wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "God, I raised you right."
The steaks arrived—thick, perfectly seared, sizzling on hot plates. Hanseok carved into his tomahawk with exaggerated care. "To the kid who went from eating cup ramen in the dorm to buying his hyung wagyu. Cheers."
They clinked glasses. The conversation drifted—Hanseok telling old stories about idols blowing their first checks on dumb things ("One guy bought a pet tiger. A tiger. Had to explain that to the company."), Jinho laughing and asking follow-ups ("Did the tiger get a stage name?"). It felt easy, normal, like any other day—except everything underneath had shifted.
Midway through, Jinho wiped his mouth. "By the way hyung—any schedules I forgot about?"
Hanseok grinned. "Forgot? Kid, your schedule's packed because everyone wants a piece of you right now. Got a string of TikTok collabs this afternoon—people are tripping over themselves to ride your wave. First HYBE with Le Sserafim's Chaewon and Sakura for 'Hot' and 'Crazy.' Then same building with Jungkook for 'Standing Next to You' and 'Seven.' After that Starship with IVE's Wonyoung and Yujin on 'Baddie' and 'Attitude.' Finish at JYP: Stray Kids' Bang Chan and Han for 'God's Menu' and 'Chk Chk Boom,' then ITZY's Yeji and Yuna on 'Untouchable' and 'Cake.' Long day, but fun. I'll stick with you—open doors, talk to the other managers, make sure nobody tries to kidnap my cash cow."
Jinho nodded, already shifting gears. "Sounds good. Let's finish eating and get moving."
Hanseok being the solid manager he was, stayed glued to Jinho's side the entire afternoon. He handled the small stuff—navigating buildings, making small talk with other managers, keeping things smooth while Jinho focused on the shoots.
The first HYBE room felt clean and professional. Hanseok knocked, then held the door. Chaewon and Sakura were already warming up—Chaewon in a cropped hoodie and bike shorts, hair tucked behind her ears, Sakura in a loose tank and leggings, ponytail swinging.
"Jinho-ssi, Hanseok-ssi!" Chaewon greeted with a quick bow and a bright smile. "Thanks for coming. We've been looking forward to this."
Sakura bowed too, eyes warm. "Nice to meet you properly, Jinho-sunbaenim. Your performances are really impressive."
Jinho bowed back, respectful. "Thank you, sunbaenims. Le Sserafim's energy is incredible. Excited to try the challenges."
Quick handshakes—Chaewon's firm and confident, Sakura's gentle. Hanseok chatted with their manager in the corner, swapping industry gossip.
The shoot started easy. Chaewon walked him through 'Hot'—hip sway into a sharp drop. Jinho got it in one take, natural flow making it look effortless. "Wow, you're fast," Sakura said, clapping. "In Japan everyone's talking about your Tokyo Dome shows. Tickets went so quick—my friends were complaining they missed out."
Chaewon nodded. "Yeah, your debut's been crazy. How do you even deal with all that pressure?"
Jinho gave a small shrug. "One day at a time. Good collabs like this help a lot." They laughed, the atmosphere relaxed. 'Crazy' went just as smooth—Jinho locked in the quirky arm waves immediately. "Perfect!" Chaewon cheered, high-fiving him. Sakura added, "We should do more sometime—especially when you're in Japan."
They wrapped with group photos and polite bows. As Jinho and Hanseok left, Chaewon whispered to Sakura, "He's even cooler in person." Sakura giggled. "That smile... no wonder everyone's losing it."
Next was BTS's practice room. Hanseok knocked twice, opened the door. Jungkook was inside, stretching in a plain black tee and joggers.
"Look who's here—what's up, man?" Jungkook greeted with a grin, throwing a casual dap.
Jinho returned it smoothly. "Hey hyung, good to see you."
Instant bro energy. Jinho jumped in. "Honestly, BTS has been my blueprint since trainee days. Your stages, hyung—especially the way you move and sing. Huge inspiration."
Jungkook waved it off with a humble laugh. "Appreciate that, but come on—you're the one breaking records left and right. We had to grind for years to get here. You're doing it solo in months. That's talent, man. Respect. Kinda jealous in the best way."
They both chuckled, the vibe easy and mutual. The 'Standing Next to You' challenge flowed smooth—Jungkook showing the groove, Jinho picking it up fast. "Quick learner," Jungkook said, nodding. 'Seven' was pure fun—sexy steps that had them both grinning. The room felt electric; Hanseok peeked in once and muttered, "Two monsters in one room."
They finished with one last dap. "Hit me up anytime," Jungkook said, sliding over a card. "For real—let's work on something big."
"Will do, hyung. Thanks," Jinho replied.
After HYBE, they drove to Starship. Yujin and Wonyoung were waiting in a bright practice room—Yujin in a sporty crop top and shorts, Wonyoung in a flowy tank and leggings.
"Jinho-ssi! Welcome," Yujin greeted warmly, bowing. "We've been playing 'Eclipse' on repeat during practice."
Wonyoung bowed too, eyes lingering a second longer, biting her lip subtly. "Nice to meet you. Your performances are really inspiring."
Jinho bowed back. "Thank you, sunbaenims. IVE's energy is amazing—'Baddie' has been on my gym playlist nonstop."
They chatted easily—Yujin sharing a funny fan story from their last concert, Wonyoung admitting she'd studied Jinho's body rolls for tips. "Your control is insane," she said softly. Yujin caught her stare, tapped her arm lightly with a knowing smile.
The 'Baddie' shoot was quick—Jinho nailing the sassy steps in under ten minutes. 'Attitude' even smoother, all three laughing when Wonyoung flubbed a move. "Even we mess up sometimes," Yujin said with a grin.
They parted with bows and "let's do this again" promises. Wonyoung's gaze followed him out the door.
The final stop was JYP. On the drive, Hanseok teased, "Alright, behave when we get to MiSaMo territory. Don't let me walk in on anything weird in a hallway corner. I'd have to make up some excuse to the bosses."
Jinho rolled his eyes. "Shut up, hyung. Not today."
JYP was quieter than expected—no Twice in sight, which disappointed Jinho a little. They headed to the lounge where Bang Chan and Han were waiting.
"Yo, Jinho—welcome to the chaos," Bang Chan greeted with a solid dap, his easy leadership pulling everyone in.
Han grinned. "Dude, your debut is fire. We had 'Eclipse' blasting in the studio last week—got us all hyped."
Jinho returned the energy. "Thanks, hyungs. Stray Kids has been huge inspiration—the energy, the raps, everything."
They talked naturally—Bang Chan sharing tour survival tips, Han joking about online fanwars. "Your Elixirs go hard—stay safe out there." The 'God's Menu' challenge was high-energy, Jinho matching their power. 'Chk Chk Boom' was fun, the three trading ad-libs.
Wrapped with daps and "hit us up anytime."
Lastly ITZY's room. Yeji and Yuna greeted with warm smiles—Yeji confident and welcoming, Yuna bubbly and a little touchy as she playfully adjusted Jinho's cap.
"Glad you're here," Yeji said. "Your stages are killer."
Yuna grinned. "Show us some moves?"
The vibe was light and respectful—quick chat about comebacks, subtle tension in Yuna's lingering glances and light touches on his arm, Yeji's knowing smile. 'Untouchable' and 'Cake' shoots went smooth, full of laughter.
The day finally wrapped.
"Hyung, go ahead—gotta use the bathroom quick," Jinho said.
"Sure, kid. Van's parked where we left it."
Jinho headed to the restroom, did his business, stepped out. As he approached the elevator, a masked girl appeared—grabbed his wrist and pulled him into Twice's practice room before he could react. This feels way too familiar, he thought.
The door shut. She pinned him against it. Mask off: Nayeon, eyes bright with mischief.
"Nice to finally meet you, rookie," she said, voice playful but direct, hand already palming his crotch. "Nayeon-sunbae? Wait—"
"Momo's been walking around with this glow lately," Nayeon cut in, smirking. "You've been collecting our Japanese members like they're limited-edition merch, huh? Can't really blame them though—you're cuter than the hype makes you sound." She leaned in and kissed him hard, hand slipping inside his pants, stroking him with confident, teasing pressure.
After a minute of heated kissing, Nayeon dropped to her knees, tugging his pants and boxers down. "I saw this once on Momo's phone. Up close? Way better. Looks delicious." She wrapped both hands around his shaft, tongue flicking out to swipe the tip before kissing along the length, stroking slowly.
Her eyes stayed locked on his the entire time—seductive, half-lidded, a small knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips every time she caught him watching. She gave a soft hum of approval as she licked a slow stripe from base to tip, savoring the taste. "Mmm... bigger than I pictured," she murmured, voice low and teasing.
She took the head into her mouth, sucking gently at first, tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles—flicking the sensitive underside, tracing veins with careful precision. Her hands moved in rhythm: one twisting firmly at the base, the other cupping and massaging his balls with just the right pressure. Saliva built fast, dripping down as she bobbed deeper, cheeks hollowing for strong suction. The wet, rhythmic sounds filled the quiet room—soft slurps mixed with her quiet hums of approval, her breathing coming in soft, controlled puffs through her nose when she took him deeper.
Jinho sucked in a breath, hips twitching involuntarily. "Nayeon-sunbae…"
She pulled off just enough to speak, lips brushing the tip as she looked up at him through her lashes. "Noona. Say it." Then she dove back in, deeper this time—relaxing her throat to take more, gagging softly but pushing through until her nose brushed his pelvis. Her tongue flattened against the underside, undulating slowly while she hummed, sending vibrations straight through him. Every few bobs she pulled back slightly, catching her breath in small, quiet gasps, a tiny laugh escaping her when she felt him twitch in her mouth—like she was enjoying how much she was affecting him.
She switched techniques smoothly—kissing and licking along the sides, giving slow, teasing laps before focusing on the head with hard, focused suction while her hand worked the shaft in tight twists. "Tastes so good... no wonder Momo can't stop talking about it," she murmured between licks, voice husky and teasing, eyes flicking up to meet his again with that same seductive glint. Back to full mouth, faster now—sloppy, wet, the obscene sounds bouncing softly off the mirrored walls. She alternated between deep throating with humming vibrations and pulling back to let her tongue swirl in lazy circles around the tip, always watching him, always teasing with those eyes.
Her breathing grew a little heavier the longer she went—small pauses to catch air, a soft "mmh" of satisfaction every time he groaned, her cheeks flushed slightly from effort and excitement. She never broke eye contact for long; even when she closed her eyes briefly to focus on taking him deeper, she'd open them again to look up, making sure he saw how much she was enjoying this.
"Damn, noona…" Jinho breathed out, voice rough, fingers tightening in her hair just enough to show he was losing his grip. "You're killing me here."
She pulled off again with a wet pop, stroking him slow and firm while she caught her breath, lips shiny and a little swollen. A small, breathless laugh escaped her. "Good. That's the point." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip before taking him back in—deeper, slower this time, savoring every inch like she had all the time in the world. Her breathing hitched softly when she pushed past her limit, a quiet gag followed by a satisfied hum, eyes watering just a bit but never leaving his. She was clearly enjoying the control, the way he reacted to every little move, every flick of her tongue, every vibration she sent through him.
Nayeon kept her rhythm steady, eyes never leaving his—seductive, teasing, watching every flicker of reaction on his face like she was collecting them. The wet sounds of her mouth working him filled the quiet practice room, soft slurps and her occasional quiet hums mixing with the faint echo of distant music leaking through the walls. Her breathing had grown a little ragged now—small pauses when she pulled back to catch air, a soft exhale through her nose before diving deeper again. She let her tongue swirl lazy circles around the head one more time, then took him all the way, throat relaxing as she pushed past her limit, nose brushing his skin.
Jinho's control was fraying. His hips gave a small, involuntary twitch, and he felt the heat coiling tight in his core. "Noona..." he breathed out, voice rough and low. Growing bolder, he slid his right hand to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair—not forcing, but guiding, holding her there as the pressure built to a breaking point.
She hummed in approval around him, the vibration shooting straight through, and that was it.
With a low groan, Jinho came—hot pulses spilling into her mouth as his hand tightened just slightly in her hair. Nayeon didn't pull away; she took it all, swallowing smoothly, eyes still locked on his the whole time, that same knowing, satisfied glint in them. A tiny, muffled sound escaped her throat—half moan, half pleased hum—as she worked him through it, tongue gently coaxing out every last drop until he was spent.
She finally pulled off slowly, lips shiny and swollen, a thin string of saliva connecting her to the tip for a second before it broke. She licked her lips deliberately, still looking up at him with that playful, seductive smile.
Jinho exhaled hard, leaning his head back against the door for a moment, chest rising and falling. Nayeon rose gracefully to her feet, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand like it was nothing. She stepped close again, voice soft but teasing.
"Guess time's up," she murmured, glancing toward the door as if she could hear the world outside waiting. "Don't worry, Jinho-ssi... next time you won't just get my mouth. We'll see how much more you can handle." She gave him one last slow, lingering look—half promise, half challenge—then turned, opened the door just enough to slip out, and was gone.
Jinho stayed there for a beat, catching his breath, adjusting his clothes quickly. His phone started ringing in his pocket—Hanseok, right on cue.
After a few rings, he pulled it out and answered, voice steady despite the lingering heat in his veins.
"I'm coming, hyung. Give me a minute."
Hanseok's voice crackled through, half-annoyed, half-amused. "A minute? You've been gone forever, kid. What, did you get lost in the bathroom? Van's running—hurry up before I start charging you parking fees."
Jinho let out a small laugh under his breath. "Yeah, yeah. On my way."
He hung up, took one last quick glance around the empty practice room—mirrors still reflecting nothing but silence—and headed out toward the elevator.
Jinho made his way down the hallway, the echo of his footsteps soft against the polished floors of the JYP building. The day's marathon of TikTok shoots had left him with a satisfying ache in his muscles—a good kind from dancing alongside some of the industry's heavy hitters—but the real buzz came from the unexpected detour with Nayeon. Her playful dominance, the way she'd taken control without a second's hesitation, replayed in flashes as he rode the elevator down. By the time he reached the van, Hanseok was already inside, engine idling, fiddling with the radio.
"Sorry for the wait," Jinho said, sliding into the passenger seat.
Hanseok waved it off with a grin. "No big deal. Just figured you were signing autographs for the janitors or something. Long day, huh?"
Jinho nodded, buckling up. "Yeah. Productive, though."
The drive back to their apartment complex in Gangnam was quiet at first—Hanseok humming along to a ballad on the radio, Jinho scrolling through his phone to see the TikTok challenges already gaining traction. Comments flooded in: fans hyping the cross-group vibes, speculating on "collab hints." By the time they pulled into the underground parking, the sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the lot.
They took the elevator up together—Hanseok lived a floor below Jinho in the same secure building, a perk for SM staff and talents to keep things low-key. As they reached Hanseok's floor, Jinho stepped out with him out of habit, walking the short hall to their doors.
Hanseok fished out his keys, jiggling them with exaggerated flair. "Man, after today, I feel like I earned that steak twice over. You sure you don't want to upgrade my van to a limo? I could be your personal chauffeur—complete with bad singing."
Jinho chuckled, unlocking his own door a few steps away. "Tempting, but I'd rather not go deaf before Tokyo Dome."
Hanseok paused, key in the lock, turning back with a mock-serious look. "Hey, if you do blow all that cash on dumb stuff, at least buy me noise-canceling headphones first. That way I can pretend your music's good while I drive." He winked, laughing at his own joke before disappearing inside with a wave. "Get some rest, kid. Big day tomorrow."
Jinho shook his head, smiling as he pushed open his door. The apartment was quiet—minimalist, with sleek black furniture matching his aesthetic, the Han River view glowing faintly through the floor-to-ceiling windows now that dusk had settled. He kicked off his sneakers by the entrance, not bothering with the shoe rack, and headed straight for the sofa. Dropping his bag on the floor, he collapsed onto the cushions, staring up at the plain white ceiling.
What a day, he thought, a smirk tugging at his lips. Giselle in the morning—fierce at first, then completely undone, her body betraying every word of her warning. And Nayeon just now—bold, unapologetic, turning what could have been a quick hello into something raw and electric. Members of Aespa and Twice, two of the biggest girl groups on the planet, both craving him like that. It wasn't just ego; it was power, the kind that came from knowing he could make them fold. The industry was cutthroat—scandals could end careers overnight—but moments like these made the risks feel worth it. He let the thought linger, a quiet satisfaction settling in, before grabbing the remote and flipping on the TV.
The screen lit up to SBS News, one of the major evening broadcasts. The anchor, a polished woman in a neat suit, was mid-segment on trending topics.
"...and in entertainment news, rookie sensation Jinho continues to dominate. His collaborative TikTok challenges with Le Sserafim, BTS's Jungkook, IVE, Stray Kids, and ITZY have gone viral, racking up millions of views in hours. Fans are calling it the 'Jinho Effect,' with each video boosting the original songs' streams by double digits."
Clips played: quick cuts of him nailing the moves, the idols laughing mid-take, comments scrolling like "Jinho x everyone = perfection" and "This is K-pop unity!"
The anchor continued: "Adding to his streak, Jinho's upcoming Tokyo Dome concerts have sold out in record time—under 10 minutes for both dates, making him the fastest solo artist to achieve this milestone. Industry experts say it's a sign of his global appeal, with pre-orders from Japan alone pushing his physical album sales past 2 million."
Jinho watched, the smirk fading into something more thoughtful. Tokyo Dome was no joke—a 55,000-capacity venue, iconic for K-pop acts like BTS and TVXQ. Selling out as a rookie? That was headline-worthy, especially on national news. He muted the TV, sinking back into the sofa, when his phone rang—unknown number.
He answered cautiously. "Hello, who's this?"
A low, distorted voice replied—anonymous, like something out of a bad thriller, but the words hit hard. "Jinho-ssi, I think you know what this is about. I'm with Dispatch. We've got photos and videos that could end your little fairy tale real quick. That night by the Han River with Karina? The car, the alley—all caught on camera. And let's not forget Sana near the rehearsal van—handsy in the shadows. Cute stuff."
Jinho's eyes widened as his phone buzzed—a photo and short video clip arriving. The image: him and Karina pressed close by the river, hoods up but faces clear enough under the streetlight. The video: grainy but unmistakable, Sana's hand on him near the van, their kiss heated and hidden—or so he'd thought.
His grip tightened on the phone. "Who the hell are you? What do you want?"
The voice laughed—a cold, echoing sound. "Not so fast, Jinho-ssi. I want something only you can give, and you'll deliver. Or these go public tomorrow." Another laugh, then the line went dead.
Jinho stared at the screen, heart pounding. Dispatch was infamous for New Year's Day reveals—dating scandals that tanked reputations, like IU and Eunhyuk's photo leak or the Burning Sun expose that took down multiple stars. But blackmail? This felt off—Dispatch usually dropped bombs publicly, not extorted privately. Maybe a rogue photographer, or someone posing. Either way, the proof was real. He deleted the files instinctively, but the damage was done. The high from the day crashed hard—fame's edge sharpening into a threat.
Jinho sat frozen on the sofa long after the call ended, the muted TV still flickering with silent replays of his own face—smiling in those TikTok clips, the Tokyo Dome announcement scrolling in bold text across the bottom. The room felt smaller now, the Han River lights outside the window suddenly too bright, too exposing. He replayed the distorted voice in his head: “I want something only you can give.” No specifics. No deadline. Just the promise of ruin hanging like smoke.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. The high of the day—Giselle’s broken surrender in the SM stall, Nayeon’s bold mouth in the JYP practice room—felt distant, almost childish compared to this. Two of the biggest girl groups in K-pop had crumbled for him in a single day, and now someone held proof that could burn it all down. Karina by the river, Sana near the van—moments he’d thought were private, stolen in the shadows of his rising fame. Dispatch didn’t usually play games like this; they dropped bombs publicly for maximum impact. So who the hell was this? A rogue paparazzi? A jealous insider? Someone inside SM? The possibilities twisted in his gut.
He opened his messages—Karina’s last text still unread from earlier: “oppaaaa thinking about you again 🥺 when can we sneak away?”—and felt a pang he hadn’t expected. Not just fear of exposure, but something closer to guilt. He’d dragged her into this life knowing the risks, and now those risks had teeth.
The TV anchor’s voice cut through again as he unmuted briefly: “…Jinho’s unprecedented rookie run shows no signs of slowing. Analysts are already calling 2026 the year of Eclipse. Stay tuned for more on his Tokyo Dome preparations.”
Jinho killed the power. The room went dark except for the city glow filtering through the glass. He stood, walked to the window, and stared out at Seoul—lights stretching endless in every direction, a city that worshipped him today and could crucify him tomorrow.
He wasn’t scared. Not exactly. He was angry—cold, focused angry. Whoever this was had just made the game personal.
And Jinho never backed down from a fight.
But as he turned away from the window, phone still heavy in his hand, one thought lingered sharper than the rest:
If they have proof of Karina and Sana… how much else do they have?
The night stretched quiet ahead, but the silence felt like the calm before something much bigger broke.
