Hunters and Foxes

psycho

"Just in time."

Song Jihyo watched Jo Insung from the shadows, her breath shallow and eyes wide with anticipation. He was a creature of habit, always leaving his condo at precisely 8:15 PM for a usual late dinner, always walking the same path to the underground parking garage. She had memorized every detail of his routine, every twitch of his fingers, every fleeting expression on his face. Her obsession was a living, breathing thing inside her, consuming her thoughts and driving her to the brink of madness.

It started innocently enough. A chance encounter, one that might have slipped by anyone else as a fleeting brush with fate. But for Jihyo, it was the start of something she couldn't explain.

They met at a charity gala, one of those meticulously crafted events that pulled in Seoul's most prominent actors, directors, and entertainment elites. It was Jihyo's fifth invitation to the annual event, and she arrived with her manager, not expecting much beyond the usual small talk and networking.

She wore a sleek, midnight-blue dress, understated yet elegant, which brought out the subtle gleam in her eyes and the soft waves of her hair, cascading over one shoulder. She was used to the attention, to admiring glances from strangers and friends alike, but that night, she was taken off guard by one glance in particular.

Jo Insung entered the room an hour into the event, and his presence was magnetic from the start. His reputation preceded him—one of South Korea's most sought-after actors, his talent and charm evident even from across a crowded room. Dressed in a tailored black suit, his height and stature drew attention effortlessly. The way he moved through the crowd with casual nods and polite smiles hinted at a quiet confidence that Jihyo found irresistible.

She watched him greet people with an easy charm, the kind that seemed genuine, unaffected by the glamour and the watchful eyes of the crowd.

The first time he glanced in her direction was nothing but a brief moment as he scanned the room. She felt a jolt in her as if she'd been pulled into his orbit, as if he'd somehow seen through the composed mask she wore for everyone else.

He's beautiful, she thought, caught off guard by the thought's intensity. She found herself turning away quickly, embarrassed by the unexpected rush of warmth in her chest.

Jihyo tried to ignore him, focusing instead on her conversation with a director she admired, but her gaze kept straying to where he stood. Insung's laughter, low and rich, floated over the room, stirring a curiosity in her that she couldn't seem to suppress. She wanted to know the source of that laughter, to understand the subtle smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

An hour later, their paths crossed again, this time at the refreshment table. Insung was pouring himself a drink, his expression thoughtful, almost distant. Jihyo hesitated, wondering if she should approach him or pretend she hadn't noticed him.

But fate seemed to have plans of its own. In the crowded space, someone nudged her shoulder, and she stumbled slightly, her hand brushing against Insung's arm. He turned, surprised, but his expression softened immediately when he recognized her.

"Song Jihyo, right?" His voice was smooth, with a warmth that made her pulse quicken.

She gave a small nod, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "Yes, that's me." She managed a smile, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze. "And you're Jo Insung."

He laughed softly, a sound that sent a thrill through her. "I guess I am. You look different than I expected but more like—"

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. "More like?"