Just A Few Numbers Away

Chapter 86

The Route That Led to You

The air in the studio on Sunday morning didn't carry the heavy, ancient scent of polished wood and history.

Instead, it held the sterile, climate-controlled silence and ozone hum of a high-end, HYBE-affiliated soundstage on the outskirts of Seoul.

Behind its nondescript exterior lay a fortress of privacy where ironclad NDAs kept the paparazzi at bay, and freight elevators were large enough to bring the Yakult mobile cart-which Aen had coordinated so carefully through her CEO-directly onto the floor.

​It was a sharp, modern departure from the regal silence of the Daonjae Hanok, buzzing with a light, industrial energy that bridged their two worlds.

To any other crew, it was a quirky prop.

To Aen and Yoongi, it was the vehicle that had carried them toward their collision.

Aen stood in the dressing room, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted the wide-brimmed visor.

Buttoning the beige-and-blue uniform felt like stepping back into a skin she had outgrown but never forgotten.

She remembered the sharp, branding-iron heat on her wrist as she pushed that cart toward the Gangnam-gu Office in the sweltering Seoul sun.

She remembered the weight of the delivery forms she had dropped when she first saw him.

​When she stepped onto the set, her breath hitched.

​Yoongi was waiting by the cart.

He had traded the charcoal silks of Saturday for a simple, dark button-down and slacks-the understated look of a man fulfilling his public service.

No stage presence, no "Suga" flash.

Just the man she had met in the lobby.

The "Model" Yoongi was gone.

In his place was the man who had sat across from her at Caffe Bene, clutching an iced Americano and trying to make sense of a universe that had just narrowed down to a single point.

As the photographer began to shoot, the dynamic from Saturday flipped.

Aen wasn't the "Nervous Bride" anymore.

She was back on her route.

She moved around the mobile cart with the fluid, practiced ease of a woman who had spent two years navigating the streets of Seocho-gu.

​"I remember those delivery forms hitting the floor," Yoongi murmured, his voice low as he leaned against the cart, watching her arrange the small probiotic bottles.

"I remember the sound they made. It was the only thing I could hear over the ringing in my ears."

​"I was so embarrassed," Aen admitted, a soft laugh escaping her as she adjusted his collar-a move so natural it made the photographer stop for a moment to capture the honesty of it.

"I wanted to disappear into the beige of my uniform. I kept thinking, 'Why did the universe pick me? He deserves someone better.'"

Yoongi reached out, his thumb pressing firmly against the skin of her inner wrist.

To the photographer's lens, it was just a tender, supportive gesture.

But to Aen, his touch was resting exactly over the "0" that only she could see-a secret confirmation of their bond that remained invisible to the rest of the world.