𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

• EPISODE:- 29

Yn’s POV

I hate him So Much. Like Every second around him feels like a slow, painful death. And yet… nothing pisses me off more than the way he acts..so unaffected, so detached..like he hasn’t done anything wrong.

First, he kidnapped me. Then, he forced himself into my life, into my space, and somehow had the audacity to make it my fault. And now? Now he’s walking around with that unreadable face, acting like he cares...as if he’s capable of that.

That motherfucking bastard.

I’m not stupid. Maybe reckless, maybe too impulsive for my own good—but not stupid. And I can see through his blank, empty stare better than he thinks.

And that conversation earlier with Paek Jimin? The moment I accused this jerk of sitting comfortably while everyone else panicked, Jimin’s face practically screamed amusement. Like I had no clue what I was talking about. That manipulative friend of his.

I know that psycho was madly looking for me. I know he didn’t sit still the entire night. That fucker stayed up all night, running around to find me, and when he did, he sat there—on that damn couch—watching me, making sure I was alive.

And I hate that. I hate knowing that he wasn’t indifferent. That he cared—or whatever twisted version of caring his messed-up brain thinks it is.

Because if he didn’t care… why the hell is his presence still lingering around me? Why does his shadow still feel heavy in my room, even when he isn’t here?

I threw my head back onto the pillow, shutting my eyes. But the moment I did, I regretted it.

Because all I saw was him.

That scarred back. The deep, merciless wounds carved into his skin. Proof that emotionless devil wasn’t as untouchable as he pretended to be.

"Stop dreaming about me now." A deep, hoarse voice shattered the silence, dragging me out of my thoughts like a slap to the face.

I nearly jumped, my head snapping toward the source, only to find him.

The one and only bastard himself. He stood there, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the damn world, his gaze sharp, unreadable—like he had been standing there for a while, just watching.

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "What’s there to dream about you?" I shot back. "And why the fuck are you here now? Something left earlier to—"

"Hush, Wifey." That one damn word.

"You’re too loud," he murmured, voice low, smooth, completely unbothered.

My hands clenched into fists. "You can talk standing there," I said, my tone sharp, making sure he knew I wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit.

But did he listen? Of course not.

"Nah," he drawled lazily, his steps slow, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to make my patience snap. "I don’t want you using that loud tone. Come closer, we’ll talk closely."

What the fuck did he just say!? I stared at him, absolutely appalled.

"You’ve lost your damn mind," I muttered, shaking my head. But he just smirked. That same infuriating smirk that made me want to throw a chair at him.

"Don't you, start with this dirtiest trick now," I scoffed, stepping back. But he sat down on couch like this conversation isn't going to end soon. fuck.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked onto mine "Am I?"His voice was smooth, dripping with mockery, and I hated how effortlessly he could twist the atmosphere with just two damn words.