Wanted to talk a little about them, so I'll just list three main reasons why I like them otherwise this post will be endless. There are a lot of other ships I like, but these are the main ones
It's a little unhinged, but that shouldn't be new
1. ChoiBaek
This shouldn't be a surprise
They are aware of the other's intentions without needing to tell each other. They both read other people and each other very well. The only reason they don't get along is because when both of them want the same thing (recruiting Sung Jin-Woo, a gate in the area, etc), they are both very willing to fight for what they want and use their perceptiveness to their advantage. One of them doesn't mind having his thoughts being known while the other minds a lot
They both want their guild become stronger but not at the expense of their members. They have the same morals, but the actions they take because of their morals are different. Baek Yoon-Ho wants to make his guild stronger by focusing on what his members need as individuals (paying them more, training new recruits with stronger and more experienced members, etc). Choi Jong-In wants to make his guild stronger by focusing on improving how the teams work together (hunting in a orderly way to minimize injuries as much as possible, taking a leadership role to make sure none of the members are falling behind, making sure the teams are adequately prepared, etc). Both of them care a lot about other people, though they don’t make it obvious to others
Both know the other is strong (Choi Jong-In defends Baek Yoon-Ho when Sung Jin-Woo thinks Yoon-Ho is struggling during the Jeju sparring match while Baek Yoon-Ho is aware of Choi Jong-In's strength during the Jeju Raid) but tend to underestimate themselves (Baek Yoon-Ho believing he wouldn't have been able to win against the Japanese S-Ranks when he held out for a while on his own against two of them, and Choi Jong-In seeing his title as "a joke" after comparing himself to Sung Jin-Woo when he always has to limit how much of his powers he actually uses because of the people around him or the environment he is in)
This got long anyways... sorry. The others are shorter
2. SungPark
I wanted to see them more than the main couple
They are both selfless to the point where they make sure others are alright before taking care of themselves
They both want their family to be safe and happy and make taking care of their children their priority. Park Kyung-Hye tells her son it's okay for him to be a hunter, even though it's the reason why Sung Il-Hwan is gone, and she understands that it's something both her husband and son feel like they need to do
The way Kyung-Hye kept waiting for her husband to return home and knew the exact moment when he wouldn't be coming back Ripped my heart to SHREDS-
They were so in love laskdjfasdlf
3. MinLee
AKA younger!SungPark
Both of them have similar trauma, so they're able to help each other, especially since they're both retired
Even they have trauma, they have put their fears aside to help people more. Both participate in the last Jeju raid despite Min Byung-Gyu being traumatized from the last one and Lee Ju-Hee being traumatized from her previous raids
The way Lee Ju-Hee hardly showed up after she told Sung Jin-Woo she was retiring and Min Byung-Gyu barely being mentioned besides his trip to Japan before the Jeju Raid? There's so much potential for them to actually meet-
I see them as the "bunny couple"
4. ChulWoo
This was actually one of the first ships I really got into
The way Woo Jin-Chul knew Sung Jin-Woo from the beginning and was watching Sung Jin-Woo get stronger without realizing it at first
The way Woo Jin-Chul looked at Sung Jin-Woo in the new timeline when he remembered the previous timeline-
Honestly, in my opinion, Sung Jin-Woo had more potential with Woo Jin-Chul than Cha Hae-in. Like, Sung Jin-Woo avenging Go Gun-Hee not just for his sake but for Woo Jin-Chul? Sung Jin-Woo actually trying to not give Jin-Chul a headache but failing? I love their dynamic
5. HeeSeok
This is probably the most cracked ship out of these, but it's cute
Both of them have a caring, almost parent-like nature (Park Hee-Jin looking after Han Song-Yi during the Red Gate and Eun-Seok looking after and warning Min Byung-Gyu during the third Jeju Raid)
It's actually possible for them to have known each other despite it not being stated in canon (Eun-Seok was a member of the Fiend Guild, and Park Hee-Jin could have been a member of the Fiend Guild as well before leaving for White Tiger. The game might change this part about Park Hee-Jin, but I'll stick with it for now)
The way Eun-Seok wears a scarf with his hunter's outfit, and then Park Hee-Jin gets stuck in a frost Red Gate? And Park Hee-Jin looks somewhat okay despite it being cold, so it seems like both are fine in cold environments
Actually, in my monarch/ruler AU, Frost Monarch!Eun-Seok could be the reason Park Hee-Jin gets stuck there in that Red Gate...hmm
Feel free to ask for more of my thoughts and talk about your own below
This is a long chapter because I didn't want to split it in the middle. This should also be the end of the plot. 🥹 (But there will be one more chapter with "plot".)
Words: 6045
<- Previous Chapter
---
The next day arrives and you're back at the office. Somehow, everyone is buried underneath mountains of work. Not gates this time—just emails, phone calls, and dull reports.
Your phone sits on your desk, chiming with a new message that you really can’t be bothered to read right now. It’s not from him, anyway.
The news media is unusually quiet about the memorial too, which you take as a sign that Baek didn’t end up murdering Mister Choi after all. Or if he did, they’re covering it up well. You didn’t see him anymore after he stormed off, which admittedly leaves an unwanted pang in your chest.
The phone chimes again—louder, somehow more annoyed this time.
You’d hoped to get a chance to visit Baek’s office today, just to see if he’s calmed down or how he’s feeling, but apparently he’s been holed up since dawn. Guild leader duties don’t exactly run themselves, especially after being away. Now he’s buried in work, too.
He can’t just punch his problems until they go away, unlike you. (Well. Most of the time.)
Except Hunter Choi. He could definitely punch that one.
Your phone vibrates for the third time. With an exasperated eyeroll, you pick it up—because honestly, the sound is starting to shatter what little focus you had left.
It’s from your mother.
Your already sullen mood takes a nosedive.
>> So about that engagement party? Your sister is expecting you and your boyfriend.
>> You haven’t even brought him to dinner.
>> You better be there tonight.
Fuck.
Everything has revolved around Jeju Island for so long that you’d completely forgotten about something as mundane as relatives. You nearly died, for god’s sake. Did you even tell your parents about that?
...It must’ve slipped your mind.
Regret spreads like mold in your stomach as the events of the past weeks play in your head like a car crash in slow motion:
You asked your boss to pretend to be your boyfriend.
Then you slept with him.
Desperately tried to pretend it never happened.
And almost died.
Got embarrassingly drunk.
Kissed him.
And now you’re stuck in a limbo—not knowing what you’re doing with… this.
So how could you ask Baek to pretend to be your boyfriend again, after all this? What if he’s still grieving his friend? What if you’re the last thing he wants to deal with?
You plant your face against your desk, smothered in hopelessness.
You could just tell your parents you broke up. That you’re coming alone. It would be easy. Clean.
Yet—
A tiny voice in the back of your head whispers:
You should ask him.
It might be the only chance you get to finish that conversation you started.
Without thinking, your fingers are already typing a message to him.
>> Do you have a moment? I need like 2 minutes of your time.
Send.
You release the breath you’d been holding and set your phone down. You’re not expecting a reply right away—there’s a mountain of work begging for your attention—but your thoughts are already scattered all over the office.
It doesn’t even take five minutes before your phone lights up. You snatch it instantly—your heart skipping when you see the familiar tiger emoji.
You glance around—just in case anyone is watching—but everyone is neck-deep in their own stress and haven’t noticed your brief break from typing furiously.
>> I can do five minutes if you come now.
That’s all it takes to launch you out of your chair like a spring-loaded trap. You grab a folder for show, just in case anyone is paying attention, and make your way to the biggest office in the building.
You knock.
“Come in,” Baek’s voice calls from inside.
His office is exactly as you remember—books, windows, and a sense of organized chaos—but now his desk is absolutely buried in paperwork. Baek looks like he hasn’t slept. Shadows under his eyes, hair tousled, collar loose. Somehow he still looks unfairly good.
That messy look stirs up memories—of him growling your name as he pins you to the mattress of your bed.
“Close the door,” he says without looking up. You obey, then take the chair opposite him, placing your fake work folder on your lap like a security blanket.
“I need to leave in ten minutes,” he informs, still reading. “So tell me what you want.”
You clear your throat, trying to steady your nerves—and extinguish the wildfire starting to burn in your core.
“I know you’re drowning in work… but I need a favor,” you begin, keeping your tone light. “Just a tiny one. Barely an inconvenience.”
He pauses, then pinches the bridge of his nose like he already knows where this is going. “If this is about another fake relationship, I might need a moment.”
Your brain short-circuits. “Wait—how did you know?”
He finally looks at you. That unreadable expression again, the kind that sees through every layer of bullshit. You shrink a little under the weight of it. He looks exhausted—haunted, even—but still sharp as a tiger claw and he raises an eyebrow, like the answer should be obvious.
Right. Pretend relationship. That’s sort of been your brand lately.
“Okay,” you say, dragging out the syllable. “So I may have forgotten about this stupid party and my whole family really, really like you. So now they’re expecting me to come with you. Tonight.”
He straightens, setting the paper down. “Text me the details,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I’ll pick you up.”
You blink. “Really?”
“I need to finish these if I’m going to take you anywhere today,” he mutters, already reaching for another document.
You hesitate for a second—he had agreed to this so easily, didn’t even doubt you. You stand up, ready to let him return to work. But then his voice stops you cold.
“Wear that dress from the wedding,” he says suddenly—low, but matter-of-fact. You turn around and see him looking at you.
“You remember that?” you ask, blinking in disbelief.
His lips curl, just slightly and when his eyes meet yours, something flickers in them.
“Hard to forget.”
The silence that follows is heavy with something neither of you want to name—at least not here, not now. You nod slowly, heat climbing up your neck, making you feel almost naked under his gaze. Then you reach for the door handle.
But just before stepping out, you pause again. “Oh… are you alright? After yesterday, I mean.”
He turns to stare out one of the massive windows, sighing. “Not really,” he says, raking his fingers through his tousled, vermilion hair. “But maybe I will be.”
And that something in his voice makes your heart do something reckless. You flash him a small smile, bow politely, and close the door—before your heart completely betrays you.
Then you exhale in the hallway like it’ll somehow help. It doesn’t.
But you can’t help feeling both excited and terrified.
----
After you return to your desk and scream into the palms of your hands very quietly so it raises no questions, you're back and ready to work. And now you need to finish early too, so you can get ready for the stupid party.
Although… it doesn’t feel so stupid anymore, now that you have a fake boyfriend for the evening.
“Now that’s a face I haven’t seen in a while,” a familiar voice pipes up beside you, “actually, I’ve never seen that face before. It screams: ‘oh no, he’s hot,’ or ‘I walked on him shirtless.’”
You jump when Heejin suddenly drops her bag next to your chair, hands on her hips, a curious glint dancing in her eyes.
Unlike you, she’s been raiding a gate since morning—sparkling with leftover adrenaline and seems very pleased with herself.
“Heejin!” you gasp. “You’re back!”
“What? You think I’m going to spend weeks inside a gate? Please.”
She flips her long, black hair and settles on the empty desk beside yours.
“But you look like you’ve got something to tell me.”
You suck your cheeks in, as if that could erase the expression from your face— But she bursts out laughing at your pathetic attempt to play it cool.
“Did you do something? Without me?”
There’s no escaping the ravenous curiosity she has for your cursed excuse of a love life. You sigh and lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling like it might save you.
“I’m supposed to go to my sister’s engagement party today.”
Heejin squints, staying quiet—waiting. Already writing a battle plan in her brain.
“And… they want me to come with my boyfriend.”
She stares at you, mouth forming a silent “oh” as the pieces click into place.
“So you asked him?” she whispers, like she’s afraid a louder voice might break the spell.
You wait a beat. Then nod.
She explodes into a fit of muted screams, fist-pumping the air like she just hit a jackpot. You scoff at her over-the-top celebration.
“And he said yes?” Heejin whispers, breathing heavily out of excitement.
You nod again, but this time you feel heat blooming on your face.
“So wait,” she says between breaths, “you’re back to roleplaying again? What’s your safe word this time?”
You don’t respond. You just grab the nearest pen on your desk and lob it straight at her forehead.
----
The evening arrives faster than you’d like. At least choosing an outfit was easy—he wanted you to wear it, for whatever reason.
But now that you’re actually wearing the same dress from the wedding, you’re more self-conscious than you expected. Flashbacks from that night flood your mind, and you’re not sure if you can keep looking at him the same way you’ve been lately.
You stand in front of the mirror by the entrance to your apartment, smoothing the hem of your dress for the fifth time—even though it’s already perfect. Your mother would probably hunt you down faster than an S-rank boss if you showed up to a party in wrinkled clothes.
The thought alone sends a shiver of terror down your spine.
You shouldn’t care this much—about the dress, or the fake relationship—but your pulse hasn’t slowed since the moment you zipped it up.
Then, the doorbell rings.
You check your reflection one more time—your hair, your dress—before opening the door with robotic movements, like you’re secretly hoping it’ll be someone else. Even a lost pizza guy would do.
But it’s not.
It’s him.
Baek, who somehow looks devastatingly fresh despite showing up at work earlier like someone driven to the brink of exhaustion. His suit is the expensive kind—tailored, not like the cheap ones he wears to work. And his hair? Deliberately tousled—not the stressed, finger-raked mess from before.
You swallow and you swear your heart stops when you see him standing there, looking like he stepped straight out of a suit catalogue.
He takes you in as well, and something simmers behind that vermilion gaze. Something dangerous. Something you’d tried to will out of your memory.
His eyes drag slowly down your figure and back up again—far too slow to be appropriate. He lingers.
“What?” you ask, trying to sound casual, like this is just a regular Tuesday look for you. But your body’s too eager to fidget under that gaze.
“Nothing,” he says, voice low and edged with restraint. “You just look like trouble.”
With a scoff, you try to play off the heat scorching at your eartips. “Funny.” You pick up your clutch and move past him, leaving him rather stunned at the doorway. He closes the door after you and the two of you make way down to his car, parked in the same spot he left it when he was over the last time.
----
The ride to the restaurant where your sister’s engagement party is being held would be almost comfortable if it weren’t for the company. You feel like you’ve suddenly grown a completely new awareness of his presence next to you, and despite the shared silence between you both, you can’t help but steal a glance at his side of the car every once in a while.
You come up with silly excuses to do it—like checking how fast he’s driving or studying how he holds the steering wheel, while you push away any improper thoughts about those very same hands.
You should’ve just attended this party alone. You could’ve lied through your teeth about Baek being sick and unable to attend—this is pure torture.
“So,” you finally say, unable to bear the silence any longer—or maybe it's just the deafening sound of your own thoughts. “What did you mean by ‘trouble’?”
Baek keeps his eyes on the road, but you notice the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Exactly what I said.” He seems to wait for you to steer the conversation somewhere, deliberately enjoying making you squirm in the passenger seat.
“That could mean a lot of things,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I suppose,” he muses, “When I said ‘trouble’, I was thinking about how you tend to ask for tiny favors that turn into weeks-long ordeals.”
“You could’ve said no,” you huff. “But you agreed to this rather hurriedly. Are you sure you’re not actually enjoying it?”
He finally glances at you, something hungry flickering in his gaze. But instead of admitting anything, he responds: “Are you sure you’re not the one enjoying this? You’ve asked me twice now.”
The cinders dancing in the pit of your stomach flare. Yeah, the tiny voice in the back of your head keeps reminding you this shouldn’t be a fake relationship. It could very much be real.
“You’re annoying,” you say, biting back the giddiness his words make you feel.
“And you’re blushing.”
“I’m not—” you yelp, turning to look at him, earning a chuckle from him. His laughter is warmer than it was yesterday—healthier, more alive.
And just as if the universe itself had decided you’d been tortured enough, the navigator chimes: “The destination is to your left.”
----
“You know what to do?” you ask after he parks the car. He even holds the door open for you like a gentleman, which does nothing good for your composure.
You stare at the restaurant in the gentle evening breeze and think you recognize some familiar people sitting by a window.
“Let’s see,” he hums, and suddenly wraps his arm around your waist, making you squeak in surprise before pulling you closer to his body. “Like this?”
“Is this necessary?” you panic, your heart lodged in your throat.
“Isn’t this what boyfriends do?” he asks, feigning innocence.
“Yes, but we’re not actually—” you huff, heat searing across your face.
For a second, you almost swear you see a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it’s gone by the time you blink.
“Fine,” he sighs, letting you go. The spot on your waist where his hand rested feels warmer than anything else. “I’ll just look like I’d die for you and everyone will be happy.” There's a strange edge to his voice.
“And I shall do the same,” you say, your mouth suddenly dry.
He offers you his arm. “Last chance to run.”
Hearing those words sends a spark down your spine. You remember him saying those exact words back then, right before he buried himself in you.
You hook your arm with his, his warmth instantly spreading through you. He doesn't just look handsome, he even smells good, and you try not to think too much about that night with him.
“You wish,” you scoff under your breath.
“Then I’d have to hunt you down,” he teases, leading you toward the restaurant doors.
He holds it open for you and gives you one final glance.
You look back at him, a smile tugging at your lips.
“And I’d like to see you try.”
----
The restaurant bathes in warm, inviting light. The music is subtle, groovy, and maybe a little too smooth. All the customers feasting at their tables wear fine, sharp and certainly not cheap clothes. Your appearance fits right in.
At the entrance, you're greeted by a waitress who guides you away from the main area of the restaurant to a more secluded corner with reserved tables.
And your family.
Naturally, your sister is elated to see you and Baek together at her engagement party. The other relatives, already gathered, swarm around you like bees.
Everyone is just dying to meet you and Baek—almost acting like they didn’t already at the wedding. You’re even upgraded to "late bloomer" status instead of "future cat lady."
And you can feel how much it amuses Baek; he gives your hand the occasional, short-lived squeeze while keeping a casual expression, while the two of you answer politely to your nosy relatives.
“Did you know he’s the leader of the White Tiger Guild?”
“We watched that livestream of Jeju Island—good job out there!”
“What rank are you?”
Suddenly, your job has become fascinating to these people, which makes your shoulders tense. Fortunately, your relatives still don’t care enough to actually know more about your worklife.
“So what guild are you in?”
You hesitate—just a fraction of a second—then reach out instinctively toward Baek, whose hand still rests in yours.
“I’m a freelancer now,” you lie through your teeth, hoping the tiny fib won’t hurt anyone. Especially not Baek.
He doesn’t react in any way, much to your relief.
Once everyone's curiosity is satisfied, you finally get to sit at one of the reserved tables. But peace and quiet last exactly thirty seconds—just long enough for your mother to materialize out of nowhere and pull out a chair across from you.
She looks like she’s had to wait two minutes too long for your attention. She’s the final boss—the dragon—you need to defeat before you can enjoy the rest of the evening. Her eyes sweep over Baek with subtle approval glinting at the corners.
“Finally,” she gasps dramatically, like she has faced the ultimate betrayal. “It’s been weeks!”
“Mom, I’m a busy hunter,” you grumble.
She waves a dismissive hand, clearly uninterested in hearing your excuses this time.
“I’m just glad to see the two of you are still a thing,” she hums, satisfied.
You roll your eyes at the ceiling.
“So,” she continues, tone sharpening, “when are you getting married?”
She turns to you, expectant. “You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
You nearly choke on the drink you received after arriving. Baek reaches out under the table and places a hand on your thigh, his thumb brushing absentmindedly. For support or for fun—you’re not sure. But it certainly does nothing to calm your nerves.
“C-Can’t we celebrate one engagement at a time?” you stutter, taking another sip so your face won’t be the only thing burning.
You can feel Baek trying not to laugh beside you.
But the danger in your mother’s gaze doesn’t fade. “I was just hoping for some… news.”
Of course she can’t get enough now that you finally have a boyfriend.
“I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve,” Baek says smoothly before you can respond, his tone so disarmingly innocent it sounds like he might drop to one knee tonight.
You swallow hard, suddenly too scared to look at him.
Your mother leans in closer to you in a mock whisper, though Baek can still hear her easily. “You’d better not let this one go.”
All you can do is nod, because if you open your mouth, you just might scream.
After another round of interrogation, more guests arrive at the scene and your mother gets whisked away by the newly arrived relatives. Finally, you’re left alone with your almost-finished drink, a rapidly beating heart, and Baek—who sits beside you, somehow calm and composed, as if he didn’t just imply he’s planning to propose.
You shoot him a sidelong glare. “Surprises, huh?”
He shrugs innocently. “Thought we were supposed to make it look authentic.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you groan, burying your hot face into your palms.
Peeking through your fingers, you see a not-so-innocent smile curling his lips, and there’s mischief laced in his voice when he speaks: “Not denying it.”
----
Eventually, more guests join in and soon the secluded corner of the restaurant is full of your relatives and your sister’s and her fiancé’s friends. Speeches are held, drinks flow, and someone even spills some across the floor.
After the dinner is served, you find yourself poking rather than eating the items on your plate. Maybe you’ve lost your appetite after being teased on so many fronts throughout the day, when even your favorite dish doesn’t feel appealing anymore.
Soon, the party is in full swing: more speeches—both embarrassing and heartfelt—tears of joy on your mother’s face, laughter, and toasts for the couple. You juggle champagne and awkward conversations. Baek talks too, and performs his role as a doting boyfriend almost too well.
It’s so easy to buy into the lie.
At some point, people start moving around, dragging chairs to other tables for deeper conversations that don’t need to be shouted across the room. And when you return from the restroom, you’re met with chaos.
You glance around, helpless. Not a single free chair in sight.
Baek catches your eye across the room—sitting comfortably in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, sipping water. At least you hope it’s water.
When his eyes flick toward you, he notices the obvious distress on your face. He sighs, but doesn’t look displeased in the least. No. Instead, he pats his thigh, inviting you to sit on him.
You walk over, biting your cheek.
“Looks like I’m your best—and only—option,” he says.
“You think I’m going to sit on you while the rest of my family is just right there—” you protest, but no one is really paying attention; everyone’s too busy fussing over your sister and that cute little nephew of yours.
Baek arches a brow in disbelief. Then his hand finds yours, the warmth of it making you feel even more self-conscious.
“And you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” He asks quietly. “Isn’t that what girlfriends do?”
“This has to be some kind of payback for something I did,” you mutter, but you still let him gently pull you into his lap.
You hear him hum low into your ear—sending shivers straight down your spine.
“Maybe.”
You settle in his lap, perching on his thighs just a tad more hesitantly than you intended. You haven’t been this close to him in—you don’t even want to think about it. You try to calm the pulse in your chest, afraid your heart might explode at this rate.
It doesn’t help when his hand comes to rest on your waist. So easily, so naturally—it burns right through your dress.
Neither of you speak at first, but something in the air between you shifts. Or vanishes. It feels harder to breathe, knowing he’s just inches away, his scent clouding your senses.
“You’re tense,” he murmurs softly, and his voice brushing your ear makes you shudder.
“You would be too if you were sitting in your boss’s lap,” you hiss, keeping your voice low in case anyone’s listening. But that’s not really the reason why you're unraveling. Not even close.
Baek has been different all day. Looser. Bolder. Teasing you with a steady, deliberate edge that feels almost dangerous. Something’s changed, but you don’t know what.
He chuckles—low and rough—and shifts his leg beneath you, pulling you just slightly closer to his chest. You bite back a startled sound.
“You did that on purpose,” you hiss.
“Did what?” he asks with faux innocence, but his eyes are anything but. His hand lingers at your waist before gliding lower, settling on your hip. The touch feels both casual and intimate, and your nerves trip over themselves trying to catch up.
Your dress has ridden up your thighs, and now there’s hardly anything between your skin and his fingers now.
You hope he doesn’t notice.
He does.
And somehow… you don’t want to pull away.
It would be so easy.
But you don’t.
And neither does he.
His thumb begins to move—just a slow, absentminded stroke against your hip. The room buzzes with voices, laughter, clinking glasses. No one notices the two of you. To everyone else, you’re just a couple sharing a quiet moment.
Then Baek leans in—closer. His breath grazes your cheek as he speaks, voice barely a whisper: “You know… I’d kiss you right now if this wasn’t pretend.”
Your breath hitches and your head snaps toward him.
“W–what do you mean?”
He is silent for a beat, then his eyes flicker to you. “Exactly what I said.”
You bite your lip, and your hand resting on his shoulder digs in just a tad harder. Somehow, the way he looks at you feels too real.
“You’ve been acting differently today,” you finally say, gaze drifting to the side.
The caress of his thumb pauses—like he needs the stillness to think. “I guess I just realized something,” he says softly.
“Like what?” you ask, your heart thundering so hard it shakes through your bones.
He doesn’t answer right away, and when you return your eyes to him, he’s staring at you with this odd, soft gaze—like his whole world sits in front of him. You wait, almost desperately, for him to say something. Even a joke would do at this point. The silence is driving you insane.
Then his lips part.
“That I can’t keep pretending—because I don’t have to.”
You blink, ears ringing with the sound of static.
“And because what I want is—” his voice drops lower, almost reverent “—you.”
The whole restaurant fades. You don’t dare blink. You barely breathe. He’s still looking at you, gaze unwavering. You can feel the tension in his body beneath you—like he’s bracing for you to bolt.
Because you don’t say anything—not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t—he continues:
“After what happened on Jeju… I decided I don’t want to forget you. Or let you go.” He swallows, his jaw tightening.
“I wish I didn’t have to stop myself every time I want to touch you. Even like this.”
Someone scrapes a chair across the floor in the background, but it feels distant. Unimportant.
Your skin prickles with goosebumps. You’re stunned—not because this is something you didn’t want to hear, but because you’d convinced yourself you never would.
Somehow, you’d believed that what he felt was long gone. That he’d forgotten.
“And I wish you’d stop looking at me like you want the same damn thing,” he breathes, “if you don’t.”
You stare at him, eyes wide from everything, and your breath gets stuck in your throat. You blink, unsure if you heard him correctly.
And he looks like he already regrets saying everything out loud. Ready to take it all back. Call it a joke.
So you speak before he can undo everything.
“I do,” your voice is weak and thick, like speaking has suddenly become a challenge.
He squints, like he just misheard you. Like what you said is impossible.
“I’ve been looking at you like that because I—” you feel strength return to your limbs and lungs, but you still keep your voice low, careful not to share this conversation with the rest of the restaurant. “I do want the same thing.”
And then you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
Now you have his attention — and silence. But he stares at you curiously, his fingers on your hip twitching.
“I— it was easier to will myself into believing something else.” You still remember how adamant you were about not having feelings for him when you went to that one gate with Heejin. You thought it would be easy to ignore the way your heart yearns for him. “But after that one night when you came to the office, drunk— and then during Jeju…” you swallow, feeling the intensity of his gaze on your face, “I wanted you to come back. More than anything.”
Your voice wavers, and you let out a soft chuckle, like you’re in disbelief yourself. His grip on your hip tightens — not enough to hurt, but enough to feel.
“You’ve been so annoying and sweet all day— I even forgot that we’re pretending,” you murmur, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt like you need something to anchor you to this moment, to him. “I don’t want to unfeel this any longer.”
Your words come out more determined, and for the first time in forever, it feels real.
Baek stares at you like you’ve rewritten gravity. You feel the tips of his fingers dig into your hip, like he’s afraid of waking up from a dream. A shiver runs down his spine — and you feel the tiny tremble.
“You—,” he begins, breathless, but falls silent— like he doesn’t have the words.
Instead, he leans in and closes the tiny distance between you. And you meet him halfway, like he’s magnetic.
His lips find yours so easily it makes your heart ache. He kisses you — but not out of greed or hunger. There’s no rush, no drama. Not even fireworks.
The kiss is full of everything neither of you have dared to speak out loud. It’s quiet and gentle. And everything about it feels right.
His lips move against yours with reverence, like you’re something precious he doesn’t want to break. And you’re not just something he wants — he chooses you. When his hand slides to the back of your neck to hold you, you realise you’ve been waiting for this far longer than you dared admit.
And it’s not a performance you’re trying to uphold. Not a lie for your family to believe.
Because it’s finally real.
When you finally break from the kiss — just enough to feel the glowing heat of his face — you’re both breathless. Stunned, even. He rests his forehead against yours, humming softly.
Then, silence.
Because you don’t need words right now.
You feel at peace in his embrace, close enough to count his eyelashes.
And you stay like that for some time, not caring what happens around you.
It almost feels like waking up from a dream when the muted sounds of the party start to seep back in. Yoon-Ho’s forehead is still resting against yours, and he looks at you with such warmth it makes your heart squirm.
The warm haze of the kiss still lingers on your lips, but slowly, panic begins to simmer from within. What does this even mean now?
You pull back just enough to look him in the eye. You’re still breathless — but you fear you might faint if you stay that close to his face for the rest of the evening.
“We… we just did that,” you say, stating the obvious.
He lets out a quiet half-bark, half-chuckle, and his lips curl into a soft, sweet smile. The kind that would make your legs go numb if you were standing.
“Yeah, we did.”
You blink, still trying to convince yourself this isn’t some dream. “So, uh… what does this mean now? For us?”
He arches a brow. “You mean… work?”
You nod slowly. “You’re still my boss. And I’m still in your guild—” you place your hand on his chest, where you can feel his heartbeat almost as fast as yours. Somehow, that knowledge soothes you. “It’s not nothing, but at the same time… it’s complicated.”
Yoon-Ho goes quiet for a beat, his fingers gently caressing your hip — each stroke warmer than the last. His eyes never leave yours, but he looks like he’s calculating something. Like he’s charting a new path now that the map has changed.
“You’re right,” he finally says. Quiet — but with a thread of steel under it. “That does sound complicated.”
Your heart sinks a little.
But then his hand squeezes your hip just slightly — and your heart jumps instead.
“But I’m not backing away from this,” he says, low and fierce. “Not unless you want me to.”
You shake your head, and you see the relief bloom across his face like sunlight.
“I don’t,” you say. “I just… I don’t want to mess everything up. Not for you, not for me, not for the guild. And I… I want this to be right.”
He exhales through his nose and leans back, lifting his free hand to brush a knuckle across your cheek. You have to fight the urge to lean into it.
“Then we’ll figure it out. Together.” He promises.
You search his face for any flicker of hesitation, doubt, or regret — but all you find is resolve. And something so tender it makes your heart swell.
“Okay,” you whisper, unable to stop your smile.
He rests his forehead against yours once more. “Okay,” he echoes.
----
After spending a little more time at the party, you decide it’s best to head home. Your mother notices how you’re suddenly beaming much more, like you just found a wish-granting treasure. She even tries — not so subtly — to find a ring on your finger, but nods when she realizes there’s been no development on that front.
But you don’t care about any of that. There’s really nothing that can bring you down from this high.
The ride back to your place is mostly quiet, but this time, it’s anything but awkward. The hum of the engine and the soft music playing on the radio feel distant enough to let you stay inside your thoughts — or rather, your feelings.
Occasionally, you catch him glancing your way when he thinks you’re not looking, and you can’t help but smile to yourself.
When you eventually pull into the familiar parking lot next to your building, you realize you haven’t really thought about anything on the way home — you’ve just been feeling.
Yoon-Ho parks the car, but doesn’t turn off the engine. One hand stays on the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh, fingers fidgeting in a way that doesn’t suit his usual composure. Then he turns to you, his gaze tender — but unsure.
“I could come upstairs,” he says suddenly, though there’s hesitation behind his voice. This is a familiar scene now.
And then, with a heavy sigh — like it costs him something to continue — he adds, “But I’m not going to. Not tonight.”
Your heart stumbles, and you can’t tell if what you feel is disappointment or something else entirely. “You’re not?” you ask, brows gently knit.
His vermilion gaze finds yours, and this time there’s no mischief, no teasing — just sincerity. “I want to do this properly,” he murmurs.
“Properly,” you echo, slowly, trying to piece the puzzle together.
He smiles — a soft, almost shy thing. “No pretending. No relatives. Just us. A date. A real one.”
A wave of warmth washes over you, making your heart flutter. The tension that’s been coiled in your chest since the moment his lips touched yours finally begins to ease. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is something that shouldn’t be rushed.
You nod, unable to hide your smile. “I’d like that.”
He lets out a low chuckle, full of relief. “Good.”
Then he leans in slightly, eyes trailing down to your lips. “But I’d still like to kiss you one more time.”
Your breath catches. A spark shoots down your spine and settles somewhere much lower, making you far too aware of every inch of yourself — and him. But you don’t hesitate. You lean in, meeting him halfway across the center console.
The kiss isn’t gentle this time. It’s a little hungrier — a little more desperate. Like neither of you want to let go. Like you’re fighting something primal. Your heart skips a beat. And when you part, you’re breathless and dizzy in the best possible way.
His forehead comes to rest against yours once again, and you catch the hint of pink on his cheeks. The sight makes something melt inside you.
You could get used to this.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he murmurs.
You bite your lip, smiling. “You better.”
And with a final lingering look — one that feels like more than a promise — he waits until you’ve made it safely inside your building before driving off into the night.
