The lights of Seoul sparkled beneath the high-rise office where Jung Hoseok, or “Hobi” as his friends called him, looked out into the city with a quiet sigh. The view was breathtaking, a panoramic sweep of skyscrapers, streets, and the occasional blip of a neon sign flickering in the distance. But to Hobi, the view only reminded him of the invisible chains wrapped around his life, anchoring him to this glass prison.
Hobi was heir to his family’s business empire—a title that brought admiration from others but filled him with dread. His life was meticulously curated, his every decision micromanaged by his parents, who envisioned him as the ideal CEO. And while he wore the tailored suits and attended the formal galas, he yearned for something else entirely. For Hobi, happiness existed in dance studios, late at night, when no one was watching, when he could shed the mask of a future executive and feel like himself.
But dancing was forbidden. His father had made it clear: “A CEO does not need to dance; he needs discipline.” And so, he danced in secrecy, hiding his passion from the world and most painfully from his parents.
Only one person saw the truth behind his polished exterior—Kim Taehyung, his bodyguard. Assigned to Hobi a year ago, Taehyung was his protector, his confidant, and perhaps something more, though neither dared to say it out loud.
---
The company headquarters was bustling as Hobi and Taehyung exited the private elevator, heading toward the car waiting to take Hobi to his parents’ estate. His father had planned a dinner party to announce Hobi’s “progress” to their elite circle of friends, a gathering where he would need to act like the perfect son.
As they walked, Hobi cast a sideways glance at Taehyung. His bodyguard was silent as always, walking a pace behind, eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. He was reliable, calm, and to Hobi’s surprise, understanding. Over the months, Taehyung had become more than just a shadow; he was a source of quiet strength. Hobi knew that Taehyung had seen his frustrations, sensed his longing to escape, yet he had never judged him for it.
“Do you enjoy this job, Tae?” Hobi asked abruptly as they reached the car. His voice was soft, almost afraid of the answer.
Taehyung blinked, caught off guard. His expression softened. “I think so. But it’s not about enjoyment for me, Hobi. It’s about keeping you safe.”
There was an intensity in his gaze that made Hobi’s heart skip a beat, though he quickly brushed it off. Taehyung had always been professional, but there was a warmth in his words that Hobi found himself clinging to on nights when the loneliness felt unbearable.
---
The dinner was as exhausting as he’d expected. Hobi moved through the crowd, answering polite questions, smiling in all the right places, and keeping his responses calculated and bland. It was a performance—a constant, exhausting act, and tonight, he felt his energy slipping.
In the middle of the crowd, he caught Taehyung’s eye. Taehyung’s gaze was steady, reassuring, and for a moment, Hobi felt grounded, anchored to something real amid the sea of hollow pleasantries.
When the night finally ended, he felt like collapsing. As the guests trickled out, Hobi made his way to the balcony, hoping for a few moments of solitude. He took a deep breath, savoring the cool air, letting it fill his lungs. Moments later, he heard footsteps behind him and glanced over his shoulder.
“Couldn’t stay away?” Hobi teased, his tone light, though his eyes were heavy with exhaustion.
Taehyung offered a small smile. “You looked like you needed the company.”
Hobi laughed softly. “I’m sorry you have to see all this. The real me is nothing like the version they’re trying to shape.” He looked down, as if embarrassed by the admission, but Taehyung’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.
