Beyond Boundaries • A KNJ Fanfiction

14.

NAMJOON POV
      

The morning light crept through the long curtains, casting a warm, golden glow that softened the edges of the room. My room, my sanctuary, designed for solitude yet built for indulgence. The high ceilings seemed to stretch endlessly, the polished hardwood floors reflecting the light from the windows, and every corner held an air of calm luxury—everything in its place. Yet, no matter how perfect the space, today it felt... incomplete.

I stood by the window, coffee in hand, my eyes drifting over the pages of the book I wasn’t reading. I should’ve been more focused. I should’ve been immersed in the pages like I usually was, but my mind kept wandering. To her. Han Yn.

It’s past ten now, and her check-in time was supposed to be at ten. Where is she? Why hasn’t she arrived? My patience was wearing thin with each passing minute. A heavy weight settled in my chest, and I couldn’t shake the tightness, that anxious feeling that only seemed to grow the longer I waited.

And then, finally. I saw it. A cab pulling up to the gate, the security stopping her. My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, I froze. There was a strange excitement—like a spark igniting deep inside me. It wasn’t just anticipation. It was something else. Something I couldn’t quite place, but I wanted to.

She would be annoyed, I knew that much. She always was, especially when she thought I was doing something to irritate her. And yet, I found it... charming. That fire in her, the way she didn’t filter her thoughts, her words cutting through the air with brutal honesty.

There was something magnetic about it. Every time she spoke, I couldn’t help but feel my pulse quicken. Her straightforwardness, her unapologetic nature—it made me wonder how someone so young could be so... real. But I knew she’d never see it. Not the way I did. Not the way I couldn’t seem to forget the night we met.

But I couldn’t focus on that now. She had her own life, her own path. And me? I was just a part of the scenery for her.

A soft knock on the door broke my thoughts, and the maid’s voice drifted in.

“Sir, your guest has arrived. Shall I take her to her room?”

“No,” I said, my tone firm yet softer than usual. “I’ll take her myself.”

There was no hesitation in my voice. She wasn’t just a guest. Not to me.

I set the book down with deliberate care, as if the act of placing it aside was a ritual that helped me prepare. I knew what was coming. I knew how I would feel when I saw her. And I knew she’d be... difficult. But there was something in the way she fought me that made me want to keep pushing.

With a steadying breath, I walked down the stairs, the anticipation growing heavier with each step. When I saw her, standing at the door with that familiar scowl, the sight sent an unexpected rush of heat through my body.

“Welcome home, dear,” I said softly, my voice almost teasing, but there was something more beneath it—a need to see her react. To feel the tension between us.

She smiled, but it was tight, forced, like she was trying to hold herself back. I saw it. And I couldn’t help but enjoy it.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, her words cool, but I could hear the edge in them. “Now, can you please tell me my schedule?”

I couldn’t let that slide without a comment. “Oh, so desperate to capture my pictures, are you?”

Her eyes narrowed, and I saw the flicker of irritation dance in them. She wasn’t one to hide her emotions, not when it came to me.