I sigh.
I look out to the window, everything's dark. My bed is cold. Everything is dead quiet. I toss and turn around constantly, unable to sleep.
"Mystery is definitely part of the charm,"
Her voice echoes in my head.
A voice so tender and exquisitely feminine, floating through the air; a sweet timbre, not too high nor too low, but a perfect, melodious mid-range that wrapped around you like a warm, gentle breeze. I can even picture her small smile as she said those words.
Fuck.
I shut my eyes closed, trying not to think about... her.
Trying not to think about how her smile unfolds slowly when I said something that amused her, lingering at the edges of her lips as if she's holding onto the moment.
I should have never agreed to go up her place.
"I spend a lot of time in my little studio upstairs, painting. My favorite thing in the world..."
Each word she spoke lingered in the air, leaving a trail of sweetness that resonated in the quiet moments that followed. She spoke with such interest to me, and with such passion to those things she loves.
"I wonder what else you're hiding behind that serious facade."
I don't think anyone has ever spoke to me the way she has. With such care, with such interest and attention. Her eyes, how they'd look at me.
How her warm laughter filled the space between us with comfort and an unspoken promise of more shared moments like that.
It's disarming...
Her straightforwardness is wrapped in such gentle gestures, making even simple conversations feel layered with something more deeper.
I feel like I'm being gently prodded into deeper waters.
Yet, this is precisely why I need to pull back.
Her presence, somehow, is becoming a sweet torment, the details of her etched sharply in my mind.
The light dancing in her eyes, the graceful movements of her hands as she talks about her art.
"Why did I let myself get so close?" I mutter to myself, a mix of regret and yearning tightening in my chest.
I mean, nothing has happened obviously, it's just me getting carried away with these thoughts. Might be the loneliness.
Falling for her isn't just a breach of professional ethics; it's dangerous. Mr. Kang, my employer, a man as powerful as he is mysterious, would destroy anything—or anyone—he views as a threat.
What could be more threatening than someone getting close to her?
The room feels even colder as I consider her smile again, the kind that seems to understand and accept parts of me no one else does. But remembering the cold, calculating potential responses of my boss, I know I have to stay away.
For both our sakes.
Because in our world, a moment of weakness could be fatal.
•
I look from the rear view mirror the limousine parked in front of Minji's place. Great timing, I slide my finger to answer.
"Min, talk to me, how's everything over there? How's Minji?" Mr. Kang speaks over the phone, he sounds eager for my response. Minji and her friends are all dressed up.
"Nothing problematic, sir, but she did realize that she's being followed. I've managed the situation, and she seems to understand it's for her safety."
"I see... Make sure she feels secure, not monitored. It's a delicate balance, Min." Six or seven other girls join her, their laughter echoing in the street, their movements a little unsteady. Damn, this is going to be a long night.
"Of course, sir." And I have done that, I haven't parked near her place since last week.
"Any signs of her being with someone else? Any men visiting her or... anything?" He asks, curious. I glance back at her house, noticing the girls, already tipsy, clutching each other for support as they totter toward the limo, their high heels clacking against the pavement.
I decide not to mention the incident with that douche bag last week, trying to safeguard Minji from any harm that could arise from misunderstandings or potential dangerous implications of Mr. Kang's jealousy and possessiveness.
Besides, I have plans for him. I'll take care of him on my own.
"I've been keeping a close watch as you instructed. Since my surveillance began, she hasn't met with any men in that context. She's been very public about her movements, mostly galleries, cafes, a studio for work
and home."
A week has passed since we last shared those moments in her home. Since then, our exchanges have dwindled to nothing more than the occasional greetings 'good morning' or 'good afternoon' as she heads out for her daily walks with Waffles. I've noticed her retreating more into herself, spending long hours at home, went twice to a photography studio in Gangnam for work and occasionally venturing out to meet friends or to wander through the local art galleries.
"Make sure it stays that way. You know I don't tolerate disloyalty."
"Understood, sir. You'll be the first to know if anything changes."
"Do what you need to do, Yoongi. Just keep me in the loop, and ensure Minji stays out of any trouble." I see everyone piling into the limo, their laughter growing louder, the girls clearly ready for a wild night.
"Will do, sir." I start the engine, ready to follow them.
"And Yoongi—stay sharp. You know how important she is."
"Absolutely, sir." The line goes dead.
Watching from the rearview mirror, I can't help but feel the thrill of the forbidden, mingled with a potent fear of the consequences.
Tonight could go in multiple ways, but for now, all I can do is wait and see.
🌫🌪🚬
