Annyeongz One-shots

24. Almost Real

The Clover Room pulsed with golden light and soft shadows, a gentle haze of music and conversation weaving around the patrons like silk. On a normal night, the bar brimmed with playful chaos — the clink of glasses, laughter melting into flirtation, the low buzz of stories being spilled over half-empty drinks. But not tonight. Tonight, the storm walked in quietly.

Hitomi, tall and effortlessly relaxed, was already drying a glass when he spotted her.

“Yujin,” he said, nudging the man beside him who was lining up rows of polished shot glasses with mechanical precision.

Yujin didn’t glance up. “Hm?”

“Third booth. Burgundy dress. Looks like her world just shattered.”

Yujin’s hands paused briefly, a faint twitch in his jaw. He lifted his head, and there she was—again.

He’d seen her before. Several times. Always quiet, always alone, always wrapped in an aura that dared people not to look too long. She came in, ordered something soft, sat in the shadows like a ghost wrapped in silk, and left before the bar could ruin her mood. He never spoke to her. Never needed to.

But tonight, she was different.

Her eyes were rimmed red, glittering with tears that hadn’t dried yet. Her hands shook slightly as she clutched a napkin, her chest rising and falling too quickly. Her phone screen flashed once — a message — and her entire body flinched like she’d been slapped.

Yujin reached for the whiskey.

Hitomi raised an eyebrow. “So you are looking.”

“She’s crying.”

“Yeah, people do that here sometimes.”

“She’s not trying to hide it this time.”

Yujin poured the shot, precise and clean, then stepped back from the bar.

Hitomi smirked, calling after him just loud enough to tease. “You’re single now. Maybe the universe’s throwing you a sign.”

Yujin turned, brows drawn. “I’m not here to prey on women when they’re in pain.”

“Pfft. Says the guy who’s rejected every girl that’s ever tried to flirt with him here,” Hitomi laughed. “One even cried in the bathroom after you turned her down, remember?”

“I’m not interested in casual games.”

“So what, you’re waiting for someone to bleed in front of you before you give a damn?”

Yujin didn’t answer. He walked off, drink in hand.

Across the bar, Wonyoung was trying to steady her breathing. She didn’t even notice him approaching. She was too focused on the way her chest ached, the betrayal gnawing at her throat. She’d never felt more humiliated—seeing the man she once loved, now engaged to someone else, and the world painting her as the villain. They whispered that her own cousin stole him, that Wonyoung had driven him away.

They were wrong.

Her cousin had done nothing. She was innocent in all this. But it didn’t matter—truth never made it past gossip.

Just as Wonyoung stood up from the booth, her legs gave out beneath her. Her vision spun, and for a moment, her knees simply folded.

But she didn’t hit the floor.

Strong arms caught her just in time.

Yujin reacted fast—faster than he’d moved in weeks. One arm around her back, the other gripping her waist to hold her steady. He gently helped her back down to the seat, eyes locked on her trembling face.