Chapter Text
Kim Dokja sat alone in his dressing room, the soft hum of fluorescent lights filling the quiet space. His reflection stared back at him from the vanity mirror, a faint glimmer of anticipation in his eyes as he waited for his makeup artist to arrive. He had just inked his name on a new contract for an upcoming silver screen production—a script whispered to be extraordinary. Industry insiders claimed it was the kind of project that turned stars into legends, a sure ticket to awards and acclaim.
Behind this ambitious venture stood none other than Yoo Joonghyuk, the enigmatic CEO of N’Gai Enterprise, the country’s most powerful entertainment empire. Known as the wealthiest man in the industry, Yoo Joonghyuk’s involvement was a golden seal of success. Every project under his patronage became a phenomenon, and for the actors fortunate enough to catch his discerning eye, it often meant a career gilded with opportunities.
Kim Dokja was one of those rare talents. It was no longer a secret—Yoo Joonghyuk’s open endorsement of him had been the subject of countless rumors and headlines. The world believed it was a stroke of fortune, but he knew better than anyone that every spotlight came with its price.
At the dawn of his career, Kim Dokja had faced the sharp edge of envy and spite. Rumors swirled like wildfire, fueled by those who begrudged his rapid rise. Whispers claimed that his success was built not on talent but on something far less noble—that he had sold his body to Yoo Joonghyuk, the CEO of N’Gai, to secure his roles.
To his credit, Kim Dokja had never flinched at the gossip. Why should he? It wasn’t entirely untrue. His connection to Yoo Joonghyuk had indeed opened doors that might have remained closed to others. But those doors led only to opportunity, not the unwavering professionalism and skill that Kim Dokja brought to every role.
Maintaining his position in the spotlight was another story altogether. Kim Dokja worked relentlessly to prove he was more than just a name whispered in rumors. His punctuality, dedication, and ability to breathe life into every character spoke volumes louder than the chatter of his detractors. A year after his debut, he silenced many with a couple of awards for his acting—a triumph earned not through influence, but through sheer talent and hard work.
Yet, even such achievements could not quell the envy of those who watched him from the shadows. For every accolade he earned, there were always those who refused to see the man behind the rumors—the actor who had fought tooth and nail to carve out his place on the silver screen.
They always found a way—another rumor, another shard of malice—to try and tarnish him. When his talent proved untouchable, they turned their sights on his personal life, aiming their barbs at the secrets he kept hidden. His love life became their favorite weapon.
Yes, he didn’t deny it. He and Yoo Joonghyuk shared something special, though neither had ever defined it or sought to make it official. They simply existed in the space they’d carved out for themselves, a quiet arrangement that didn’t need the world’s validation.
Perhaps, it was undeniable that their relationship was one of mutual convenience. They fulfilled each other’s physical needs, and the perks Kim Dokja received as a result balanced the scales. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked—for them, at least. Yet, others couldn’t seem to accept it. Too many people, far too many, seemed determined to tear them apart. Perhaps out of envy. Perhaps out of a desire to claim a piece of what Kim Dokja had.
Just like… now.
A notification broke the silence of Kim Dokja's moment, drawing his attention to a video sent anonymously to his phone. Hesitantly, he pressed play, and his chest tightened as the scene unfolded.
In the grainy footage, a tall man stood outside a hotel room, his silhouette unmistakable even in the dim lighting. Moments later, the door opened, revealing a striking woman with long blonde hair. Without hesitation, she threw herself into his arms, their kiss passionate and unrestrained. The video ended abruptly, lasting less than two minutes, but it was more than enough for Kim Dokja to recognize the pair.
The man was Yoo Joonghyuk. There was no mistaking it. And the woman? Anna Croft—his co-star in the very movie Kim Dokja had recently signed on for. Her name had floated through industry gossip for weeks, tied to whispers that her acting skills were subpar, that she had no place in such a high-profile project. Yet somehow, she had landed a role.
Now, the video provided an answer that hit like a punch to the gut.
Yoo Joonghyuk had been the one supporting her, paving her way where talent alone had fallen short. The implications were clear, painfully so.
Kim Dokja picked up the shirt laid out for him, only to notice something was wrong. Turning it over, his heart sank. A jagged tear ran across the back, the fabric shredded as if by scissors. Someone had deliberately sabotaged his outfit, leaving him without proper attire for the upcoming press conference. It was a crucial event, marking the official start of the movie’s production, and now, his preparations were in disarray.
As he stood there, weighing his options, the door burst open.
Han Sooyoung, his manager, and Uriel, his personal assistant, stormed in. Their expressions were thunderous, their anger obvious as they saw what had happened with the shirt in his hands. Kim Dokja didn’t need to ask; he already knew what—or rather, who—had fueled their fury.
“I swear, Anna Croft's team is out of their minds! Using such disgusting tricks against you!” Han Sooyoung’s voice rang out, sharp and indignant, as she slammed the door shut behind her.
Kim Dokja sighed and set the ruined shirt down. “Don’t jump to conclusions,” he said calmly. “We don’t have any proof it was her or her team.”
“No proof?” Uriel’s voice rose, her frustration bubbling over. “I checked the hotel surveillance from yesterday’s pre-production party. Anna’s assistant was there. She came back to the hotel after everyone had left—straight to our room while the janitor was cleaning!”
Kim Dokja’s brows furrowed, but he remained silent. The evidence was damning, yet he wasn’t ready to point fingers. In this industry, he had learned, accusations without certainty could lead to ruin—for everyone involved. He didn’t lift his gaze from his phone, his expression as still as a porcelain mask. “Do you think the surveillance footage from a five-star hotel will mysteriously go missing by tomorrow?” he said, his voice calm but heavy with implication.
Han Sooyoung froze for a moment before realization struck. She understood exactly what Kim Dokja meant. Anna Croft, as everyone in the industry whispered, had Yoo Joonghyuk behind her. It wasn’t a secret, not to those who paid attention. Without that powerful support, someone of Anna’s middling talent would never have achieved such stardom—let alone the cascade of awards she had collected recently.
Han Sooyoung exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Forget it. I figured her team might try to stir up trouble during today’s launch conference, so I prepared a backup shirt.”
She glanced at Kim Dokja, expecting some reaction, but he remained motionless, still fixated on his phone. Annoyed by his indifference, she walked over, her curiosity piqued. “What are you even looking at? Are you texting some guy behind my back—”
Her voice trailed off as her eyes fell on the screen. She saw it. The video. Her breath hitched, her sharp wit temporarily failing her. “Is that… CEO Yoo? With Anna Croft—” The words spilled out before she could stop them, and regret struck her like a lightning bolt. She had said too much.
Kim Dokja lowered his eyes, his thumb hovering over the screen as though it weighed a thousand pounds. Every trace of emotion was buried beneath a carefully constructed wall of restraint. “I don’t know,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet filled with an ache that echoed louder than words ever could.
Uriel leaned over to peer at the screen, her expression shifting from shock to disbelief. “Where did you get this recording?” she asked, her voice tight with unease.
Kim Dokja didn’t look up. “An unknown account sent it to my number,” he replied flatly.
Han Sooyoung’s frown deepened, her mind racing. “How did they get your number? Someone’s clearly trying to stir the pot here. Considering the tension between you and Anna, they’re probably hoping you’ll leak this to the paparazzi.” She crossed her arms, her tone firm. “We should stay out of this mess.”
Kim Dokja said nothing, but the weight of her words lingered.
It was true. Although he and Anna Croft were co-stars in the upcoming movie, their strained relationship was no secret. Anyone with a modicum of insight could tell they were not on good terms. Anna’s team had consistently expressed dissatisfaction, lobbying to alter the script in her favor to give her an undeniable lead. But director Gong, a man known for his uncompromising principles, had held firm and refused to bow to their demands.
This video, with its potential to upend careers and reputations, felt like a ticking time bomb. And somehow, it had landed in Kim Dokja’s hands.
In the end, Anna’s team, too intimidated by the famous director Gong Pildu to confront him directly, chose to direct their fury at Kim Dokja instead. They launched a campaign of lies, throwing money at media outlets to discredit him. They painted him as the secret lover of CEO Yoo Joonghyuk, and even worse, as a mere stand-in for Yoo Joonghyuk’s ex-lover.
Kim Dokja didn’t deny it. He had always known the truth, even if it was unspoken. He was a stand-in. Another reason why Yoo Joonghyuk kept him close was because he resembled someone from his past—someone he had loved deeply. Kim Dokja had never heard Yoo Joonghyuk say her name directly, but he knew it wasn’t hard to figure out. Yoo Joonghyuk’s ‘dear’ friends—those who still lingered in his life—would mention her whenever they could, reminding Kim Dokja of his place in this strange, one-sided relationship. They would speak of her as if to force him to remember: he was nothing more than a placeholder, a lucky actor whose life had been touched by a man like Yoo Joonghyuk.
The woman was said to be a doctor, someone Yoo Joonghyuk had been engaged to before their relationship had dissolved. She had chosen her career over him, ultimately calling off their engagement. Kim Dokja often wondered which parts of himself resembled that woman, the one Yoo Joonghyuk had once been so enamored with. He didn’t have an answer to that question, nor did he know what he was supposed to see in her shadow. But he didn’t need to ask. Because Yoo Joonghyuk himself had confirmed it once, with cold indifference—he had kept Kim Dokja around because he reminded him of her.
“I met one of your colleagues today,” one day, he started, his voice quiet, as if testing the waters. “He was surprised I was still around.”
He watched Yoo Joonghyuk closely, searching for any hint of emotion in his expression, but found nothing. The man remained impassive, as always.
Kim Dokja’s voice dropped even lower. “Are you planning to get rid of me one day?”
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond immediately. His eyes flickered upwards, but instead of answering, he looked away. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice flat and unreadable. “What do you expect?”
The question hung in the air, a weight that pressed down on Kim Dokja’s chest. His brow furrowed as he felt the sharp sting of realization. Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t wrong. What had he really expected? A life with Yoo Joonghyuk, forever together, like the fairy tales he had once dreamt of? To walk beside him, as companions through life and death? It all seemed so beautiful, so impossible. Deep down, Kim Dokja knew better than to hope for such things. That kind of love, that kind of destiny—it wasn’t meant for him. He wasn’t destined for a happily-ever-after, no matter how much he longed for it.
Han Sooyoung’s hand lightly touched Kim Dokja’s shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie. “No matter what, let’s prepare for today’s launch conference first,” she said, her voice steady, though there was a trace of concern she couldn’t quite hide.
Kim Dokja only hummed in response, the room descending into a heavy silence. Han Sooyoung’s gaze slowly shifted to him. He stood there in a loose bathrobe, the fabric draping over his body carelessly, revealing the smooth, pale skin of his chest. His slender neck and the delicate features of his face made him striking in a way that seemed almost ethereal. But it was his eyes—those eyes, sparkling like a thousand stars—that drew her in the most. It was impossible to look at them and forget.
Han Sooyoung’s thoughts drifted to a memory, a photo that Kim Dokja had once shown her. In the image, Anna Croft sat in the same sideways pose as Kim Dokja, her face angled similarly. It was as if they were reflections of each other, the same hauntingly beautiful eyes staring back from both faces.
The realization hit her suddenly, a thought she had never entertained before now rushing forward. Those rumors, the ones that spoke of Kim Dokja being a 'stand-in', taking the place of someone from Yoo Joonghyuk’s past—could they be true? Was this really how things worked? That Yoo Joonghyuk, who had always been said to favor those who resembled his former lover, had chosen Kim Dokja for that very reason? Han Sooyoung couldn’t help but wonder, now that the pieces seemed to fit so clearly in her mind.
Meanwhile, Uriel suddenly noticed something was off. "Why are you here alone? Where's the other makeup artist?" Normally, there would be someone else to help apply Kim Dokja's makeup, especially since Uriel needed to gather accessories for him.
"Anna’s team borrowed her. They said they were too busy over there and needed extra help," Kim Dokja replied nonchalantly.
"Too busy?" Han Sooyoung scoffed, her anger reigniting. "The crew gave her three makeup artists, and now she comes over here to borrow ours? How BIG is her face?! So many makeup artists can’t make her look good?" It was clear Anna’s team was going out of their way to make Kim Dokja's day difficult. From cutting his dress to stealing his makeup artist, Anna didn’t seem interested in making things easy for him. "Forget it, I'll call the crew next door and borrow someone. Hopefully, I can make it in time."
"No need," Kim Dokja said, calmly closing his phone. "You don't need to replace the shirt either."
Han Sooyoung looked at him, confused. "Why? Aren't you going to attend the launch conference?"
"Yes, I’ll still go," Kim Dokja replied, his gaze meeting hers. "And I will go like this."
Han Sooyoung still didn’t understand, but then Kim Dokja spoke the five words that left her stunned: "Han Sooyoung, close your eyes."
***
The rain outside the venue came down in torrents, splattering against the windows as the launch conference buzzed with energy. Inside, the crowd was lively, swarming around Director Gong Pildu, showering him with praise for his latest project. People congratulated him on the film, claiming it was destined for greatness and sure to dominate major film festivals that year. Director Gong, an established figure in the industry, beamed with pleasure at their words.
At fifty-eight, he was one of the prominent directors of his generation, with two Best Director awards under his belt from the major domestic film festivals. He had longed for the prestigious third one, which had eluded him until now. This film, he hoped, would be his ticket to that elusive victory as a perfect gift to himself when he entered his sixties.
As his thoughts drifted toward his aspirations, his eyes swept over the main cast members. Anna had already arrived, early as usual. She was wearing a bold red tube top dress that accentuated her beauty and made her stand out among the crowd. Despite her controversial reputation for mediocre acting, Director Gong couldn't deny the fact that Anna had made a name for herself in the industry. With her six years of experience and ample financial backing, her commercial appeal was undeniable. He didn’t hold her lack of acting skills against her; after all, with the right training, she could be molded into a competent actress. The sponsorship money she brought in certainly helped soften his stance, and he had no intention of letting her shortcomings derail his plans. He would turn a blind eye to her flaws for the sake of the film's success.
Director Gong Pildu’s eyes locked on the figure that stepped into the venue from the side door, and for a moment, time seemed to slow down. It was Kim Dokja, the actor he had been eagerly anticipating.
Kim Dokja had entered the room wearing a stark white coat that flowed with each step, paired with matching white pants. But it was the lack of a shirt underneath that caught everyone’s attention, leaving his fair, slender chest exposed. A simple black choker rested delicately around his neck, the only accessory that added to the minimalism of his outfit. The simplicity of the wardrobe only accentuated the effect, amplifying his presence in a way that felt almost otherworldly.
His waist was slim, the lines of his body both delicate and alluring. He moved with an almost ethereal grace, yet there was something undeniably commanding about his posture. The more Director Gong studied him, the more he saw it—the quiet intensity that mirrored the character he was to play, the demon king who had once been an antagonist but would later find redemption. Kim Dokja’s eyes were sharp, his gaze cold yet full of a strange depth, as though a storm raged beneath the surface. He was mesmerizing, a living embodiment of the character.
As Kim Dokja stood there, calmly surveying the crowd, Director Gong couldn’t help but feel the excitement building in him. This was the actor he had been waiting for—the one who could make his vision come to life with just a look, without needing words to express the turmoil of his character. Anna had her beauty and charm, but Kim Dokja had something more. There was a raw energy in him, a haunting intensity that made it impossible to look away. He truly was the perfect choice for the role of the demon king.
For a moment, the director’s excitement waned, replaced by a strange unease. Kim Dokja wasn’t just the perfect choice for the role—he was the embodiment of something tragic, a soul too perfect for the world that had made him. And this film, with him in it, would be unforgettable—no matter how much it cost him.
"Hello, Director," Kim Dokja greeted quietly, his voice soft yet steady.
Director Gong Pildu’s eyes widened as he took in Kim Dokja’s appearance. "You look amazing!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine surprise.
"Really?" Kim Dokja chuckled lightly, a small, almost melancholic smile touching his lips. "Thank you, Director."
For a moment, Director Gong’s face lit up with warmth, a fleeting moment of admiration. But as his gaze flickered between Anna, who stood nearby, and Kim Dokja, the smile faltered, and the brightness in his expression dimmed. A shadow seemed to pass over his features, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the host on the stage began to introduce the guests one by one, cutting off the moment.
Director Gong straightened the collar of his suit, a quiet professionalism returning to his demeanor. He turned and began to walk toward the stage, his movements sharp and precise. Kim Dokja, with a calm that belied the tension in the air, followed closely behind.
According to the seating arrangement, Anna stood at the center, as the lead actress, with Director Gong Pildu to her left. To her right, Kim Dokja stood quietly, his presence understated yet undeniably captivating. He had no makeup on, and his natural beauty—his sharp eyebrows and piercing eyes—seemed to outshine everything around him, as though untouched by competition or comparison.
When the reporters began asking questions, Kim Dokja answered each one with a quiet dignity, his voice calm and assured. His responses were measured, precise, and even when the focus shifted momentarily to Anna, the reporters couldn’t help but be drawn back to him. However, they still had to gather more news on the leading actress, instead of the ‘villain’ role.
"Ms. Croft," a reporter called out, breaking the rhythm of the moment, "someone photographed you and the CEO of N’Gai riding in the same car last week. Are you two dating now?"
Anna Croft, with a flick of her hair, paused before responding. For some reason, she tilted her head to glance at Kim Dokja, her gaze sharp and filled with a subtle, almost knowing look, before she turned back to the crowd. "Today is a new movie press conference, not a new relationship press conference," she said, her voice smooth but firm. "I will not answer personal questions. I hope you can give us some private space. Thank you."
The emphasis on 'us' was unmistakable.
A ripple of shock spread through the reporters in the audience, as the word hung in the air. Anna had said 'us'—as if she and Yoo Joonghyuk, the CEO of N’Gai were a pair. The room fell into a stunned silence, the implications of her statement sinking in.
The reporter who had asked the question let out a light chuckle, "It seems that our news this month will be full of the stories about the two of you!"
The room filled with laughter, a mix of amusement and curiosity, as the reporters leaned in, eager for more. Anna, ever poised, turned once more to look at Kim Dokja. This time, she offered him a smile—a subtle one, but it carried an air of sympathy, as if she knew how brokenhearted Kim Dokja would be because of her words.
Amidst the flashing of cameras and the rising murmurs from the crowd, Kim Dokja remained unfazed. His expression was calm, his eyes steady. He parted his lips slightly, but instead of speaking, he mouthed the words clearly, “Congratulations.”
The effect was instantaneous. Anna’s smile faltered, then froze completely. It was as if she was hitting cotton. Kim Dokja didn’t look like he was offended at all.
A reporter’s hand shot up, eager to ask his question. “Your outfit today is stunning, Ms. Anna. It makes us wonder if Director Gong has finally decided to swap your role with Mr. Kim Dokja.”
Anna’s frown deepened as she glanced at her dress, then at Kim Dokja. The reporter did have a point. Her red gown, bold and fiery, carried an undeniable devilish allure, while Kim Dokja, dressed entirely in white, radiated an air of cold detachment. Despite the purity of his attire, his chilling demeanor only heightened the impression of a cunning demon—beautiful yet dangerous. In stark contrast to her, standing beside Kim Dokja on stage truly felt like the demon king accompanied by his subordinate.
The reporter, sensing Anna's hesitation, turned his attention to Kim Dokja. “What do you think, Mr. Kim Dokja?” he asked, clearly expecting an answer.
But Kim Dokja remained silent. His lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile, a quiet response that only amplified the otherworldly aura surrounding him. He gave no words, only his presence—a perfect reflection of the demon prince he was to play.
The launch conference concluded in a flurry of noise, leaving behind an air of unsettled tension, the questions still hanging in the room.
As they stepped down from the stage, Director Gong Pildu suddenly called out to Anna and Kim Dokja.
"Director Gong, is there anything else?" Anna asked, her voice calm but tinged with curiosity.
Director Gong’s gaze shifted between the two of them, a brief flicker of something unreadable crossing his eyes. His attention then settled on Kim Dokja, still dressed in his simple white suit and matching pants. After a moment of silence, he spoke.
"Anna, stay. We need to talk."
Kim Dokja, understanding the unspoken instruction, turned and left, quietly making his way backstage. But as he did, he couldn't help but glance back over his shoulder. He saw Director Gong speaking to Anna, and her face growing progressively darker. Whatever was being said, it clearly wasn’t something she was enjoying. Though Kim Dokja wasn't sure if Anna saw it, he smiled at her from a distance. It was a small, knowing smile, reminiscent of the one she had given him earlier on stage.
Han Sooyoung walked over, her eyes briefly flicking toward Anna and Director Gong Pildu in the distance, before settling on Kim Dokja. His demeanor was calm, collected, unaffected by the tensions that seemed to swirl around them before. She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, giving him a thumbs up.
"Good job," she said with genuine admiration. "Anna must have thought we’d rush around—borrow a new suit, scramble to find a makeup artist, and just make a mess of things. But she never expected that we’d just take advantage of her and walk straight on stage like we owned it!"
The more Han Sooyoung thought about it, the more she realized how clever Kim Dokja’s move had been. Her smile widened, and she couldn't stop praising him.
"Not putting up any resistance—that’s much better than us complaining or playing the victim. You made it look effortless."
Kim Dokja’s smile remained, but there was a touch of weariness in his eyes. "Don’t praise me too much," he said quietly. "I’m heading back to rest. We’ve got an early start with the act tomorrow."
Han Sooyoung nodded, her tone softening. "Alright, rest up. We’ll hit it hard tomorrow." She waved him off as he made his way out.
The rain continued to pour outside, the steady sound of droplets hitting the ground adding to the tension in the dimly lit underground parking lot. Kim Dokja stepped into the space, water dripping from his suit, when suddenly, without warning, he was yanked backward.
A familiar masculine scent enveloped him, overpowering and intoxicating. He was pulled tightly into the warmth of another body, his wet suit pressing against a firm chest. Large hands found his waist, the warmth from the palms seeping through the thin fabric, sending a rush of heat through Kim Dokja’s chilled body, still damp from the rain.
"Yoo Joonghyuk," Kim Dokja muttered softly, irritation lacing his voice, though there was something else there—a flicker of something deeper.
But that irritation only seemed to fuel Yoo Joonghyuk's desire. The sharp pinch of his chin lifted Kim Dokja’s head, forcing him to meet his gaze. In the dim light, Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes were dark, burning with an intensity that made Kim Dokja’s heart flutter uncontrollably, despite his annoyance.
Kim Dokja braced himself, expecting Yoo Joonghyuk's lips to land on his eyes, as they so often did. But this time, the kiss didn’t come. Instead, Yoo Joonghyuk's breath ghosted over his ear, his voice low and dangerous. “Dressing up like this, who are you trying to seduce?”
The words sent a shiver down Kim Dokja’s spine. There was an unmistakable edge to them, and Kim Dokja instinctively pulled back. “You should thank your beautiful pet then. She’s the one who forced me to dress like this.”
Yoo Joonghyuk's expression darkened, his voice barely a growl as he repeated, “My pet?” Then, in a tone full of confusion, he muttered a curse under his breath. “What are you even talking about? Anyway, don't you have anything to wear? Borrow someone else's.”
With that, he released his grip on Kim Dokja, pushing him away slightly. Kim Dokja, feeling the tension rise, didn’t back down. Instead, he reached up, hands sliding around Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck, pulling him closer as he stood on his toes. He pressed his lips gently to the man’s, his heart pounding, desperate to ease the tension.
Every time he made Yoo Joonghyuk unhappy, this seemed to be the only way to calm him. Pulling away just enough to speak, he whispered softly, "Don’t worry, I won’t be like this anymore."
Yoo Joonghyuk snorted, and his expression softened, though his eyes didn’t linger on Kim Dokja for long. With a swift motion, he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, almost like one would handle a cat, and began walking toward a sleek Rolls Royce parked nearby. The driver immediately stepped out and opened the door for them.
Yoo Joonghyuk glanced back at Kim Dokja, his gaze firm but not unkind. “Take your card and go buy some clothes in a few days,” he said, his tone brokering no argument. “Don’t let me see you wearing this again.”
Yoo Joonghyuk had never been stingy when it came to material things for Kim Dokja. The first night they spent together, he had handed him a card with an unlimited limit, offering him the world in his hands. Later, when his secretary mentioned that Kim Dokja hadn't touched the money, Yoo Joonghyuk didn't give it much thought. He assumed it was just a game—a show of resistance, as if Kim Dokja were playing hard to get. After all, there were so many people in his circle who pretended they weren’t after money, when in reality, they were just waiting for the right moment to catch the big fish.
But after almost two years together, Kim Dokja remained the same. Despite the mountains of luxury goods Yoo Joonghyuk bought for him, they just sat untouched in the closet, never worn unless absolutely necessary. Kim Dokja had never seemed interested in anything beyond the basics. It was as if the allure of wealth and status had no pull on him.
Yoo Joonghyuk couldn't help but think how patient Kim Dokja was with him, how he never asked for anything, not even when it was so clearly there for the taking.
Unfortunately, no matter what Kim Dokja was—no matter how much Yoo Joonghyuk meant to him— he realized that it was only his face that Yoo Joonghyuk truly cared about.
A bitter thought lingered, and in a moment of helplessness, Yoo Joonghyuk turned to the person beside him, his voice soft but insistent. "Close your eyes."
Kim Dokja, as if conditioned to obey, closed his eyes without question. Yoo Joonghyuk leaned in, his kiss gently landing on the corner of Kim Dokja’s eye, a fleeting gesture of affection. But just as the moment seemed to hold its breath, the sound of a phone vibrating shattered the quiet air between them.
Yoo Joonghyuk sighed, irritation flashing through him, and reached for his phone. A carefree voice came through, breaking the silence like an unwelcome guest. "Hey, CEO Yoo, I heard you went to the press conference today to meet your beloved Anna Croft. Did you manage to get her autograph for me? I promised my cousin—"
Anna’s name hung in the air, clear and sharp, cutting through the stillness of the car.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze flickered to Kim Dokja, who sat beside him, distant and unreadable. For a moment, he considered hanging up, silencing the call entirely. But then, he reminded himself that it didn’t matter if Kim Dokja knew. Kim Dokja was so devoted, so attached to him, that nothing could change that.
"No," Yoo Joonghyuk replied curtly.
Kim Dokja didn’t ask any questions, didn't press him. He simply lowered his lashes further, his gaze fixed on the window, as if he could see through the glass into a world that wasn’t his own. He didn't ask why Yoo Joonghyuk had gone to see Anna, didn’t ask for explanations. It was clear he didn’t care to hear them.
They drove back to the mansion in silence, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words. The mansion, Yoo Joonghyuk’s private property, stood in the affluent western part of City G. It was nestled in the most expensive area, where every inch of land carried an exorbitant price tag. The cost per square meter was in six figures, and the higher the building, the more it commanded. Yet, despite the grandeur and the wealth this place represented, it was not truly Yoo Joonghyuk's home.
His home, the place where his roots lay, was the old house of the Yoo family in the east of City H. It wasn’t just a mansion; it was a symbol of power and legacy, where money alone couldn’t explain the significance. There, family tradition reigned supreme. Unless Yoo Joonghyuk was away on business, he would return every Sunday to greet his parents, a ritual he never missed.
Kim Dokja thought back to the first time he had spent the night with Yoo Joonghyuk. It had been on a Sunday. They had checked into a hotel, and in the haze of exhaustion and desire, they had made love three times. Yoo Joonghyuk had been relentless, he didn't care that it was Kim Dokja’s first time, and Yoo Joonghyuk did it very hard, as if he was competing with something. By the time they had finally collapsed into bed, it was well past three in the morning. Kim Dokja, exhausted, lay motionless, his body still pulsing from the intensity of it all.
But Yoo Joonghyuk had gotten up as if he hadn’t exerted any energy at all, pulling on his clothes with a casual efficiency that only seemed to highlight the difference between them.
Kim Dokja had asked, quietly, “Won’t you stay and keep me company?”
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t hesitate. His eyes briefly softened, but his voice remained firm as he replied, “No, I have to return home.”
Then, as if it were just another routine, Yoo Joonghyuk kissed the corner of Kim Dokja’s eyes, and left without a second thought, without any sense of longing or regret. It was a moment that lingered, aching in its finality, but it was a part of the pattern that Kim Dokja had grown to accept. Apart from the black card left on the bedside table, a key to the riverside villa, and the faint bruises on his skin, it was as though Yoo Joonghyuk had never been there.
At first, Kim Dokja felt a small pang of disappointment. But the thought of Yoo Joonghyuk, sneaking into the family estate like a thief in the dead of night only to rise at seven the next morning, dressed impeccably to greet his stern parents, brought a wry smile to his lips. The image was absurd, almost laughable, and Kim Dokja couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself.
The car came to a smooth stop, and Yoo Joonghyuk turned his gaze to Kim Dokja, his expression unreadable. “We’re home. What are you laughing at?”
Kim Dokja tilted his head slightly, deliberately meeting his gaze. “Can’t I laugh?”
“Fine,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied with a faint curl of his lips, though his tone carried a hint of warning. “You’ll be crying later anyway.” He said, his lips curling into a faint smirk.
But the night did not unfold as Yoo Joonghyuk predicted.
When they stepped into the house, the usual glow of lights and the faint bustle of the live-in maid’s presence were absent. The house was completely dark, eerily silent except for the muffled sound of rain outside.
Yoo Joonghyuk entered first, flicking the light switch to no avail. His irritation was immediate. “Call the property management. How—”
His words cut off mid-sentence as the dim outline of a figure emerged from the shadows.
“Happy birthday.”
Kim Dokja interrupted him softly, stepping forward with a cake cradled in his hands. The faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the windows made the scene surreal, painting Kim Dokja in silvery hues. The cake was simple, adorned with unlit candles, and the faint sweetness of frosting lingered in the air.
“I have to start filming tomorrow and won’t be able to celebrate your birthday with you,” Kim Dokja murmured. His voice was almost shy, yet steady. “So, I wanted to celebrate it in advance.”
He stepped closer, the glow in his eyes captivating. Under the dim light, they seemed to shimmer, reflecting a warmth that Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t look away from—like they held the moonlight itself.
And then, leaning even closer, Kim Dokja’s soft voice carried through the stillness. “Happy birthday, Hyung.”
Just those three words, so simple yet intimate, stoked something in Yoo Joonghyuk. A nameless fire ignited in his chest, burning hotter than he could have imagined.
Kim Dokja stood before Yoo Joonghyuk, oblivious to the subtle shift in the air between them, his gaze earnest as he asked, "Do you have a lighter? Let’s make a wish."
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand grazed Kim Dokja’s back, his voice roughened, laced with something unspoken. “I have it. It’s in my trouser pocket. Take it out yourself.”
Kim Dokja hesitated before reaching into the pocket, his fingers brushing against a cold metal object. But before he could retrieve it, Yoo Joonghyuk clasped his hand, trapping it firmly. His thumb moved slowly over the back of Kim Dokja’s hand through the fabric, a deliberate and measured gesture that sent a wave of heat creeping up Kim Dokja’s neck.
Realization dawned on Kim Dokja, his ears flushing red as he tried to deflect the moment. “Light the candles and make a wish first,” he urged, his voice faltering.
“I don’t believe in empty promises,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied, his tone deep and unwavering. “If I have to make a promise... it would only be to you now.”
Kim Dokja stepped back instinctively, his heart racing. “Let’s eat the cake first,” he insisted, his words almost pleading.
“No,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmured, leaning closer so that his breath warmed Kim Dokja’s ear. His next words were spoken in a low, intimate whisper, their meaning unmistakable.
Before Kim Dokja could protest, strong hands slid under his shirt, firm and possessive. In one seamless motion, Yoo Joonghyuk swept him into his arms, carrying him effortlessly toward the sofa, the cake momentarily forgotten.
The room was shrouded in dim moonlight as Yoo Joonghyuk leaned closer, his breath warm against Kim Dokja’s ear. His voice dropped to a low whisper, laced with heat. “Don’t blame me. You’re the one who provoked me by wearing so little.”
Kim Dokja shivered at the words, his breath hitching as the last barrier of fabric fell away, leaving his fair skin exposed to the cool air and Yoo Joonghyuk’s smoldering gaze.
When Yoo Joonghyuk reached the edge of restraint, Kim Dokja’s hand instinctively pressed against his chest. His voice, soft and disoriented, broke the moment. “No, we haven’t turned on the lights yet.”
Yoo Joonghyuk chuckled, a rare and indulgent sound. He knew this quirk of Kim Dokja’s well. Every time they came together, Kim Dokja insisted on turning the lights on. Yoo Joonghyuk had always found it curious—while most would seek the cover of darkness or hide beneath blankets in shyness, Kim Dokja wanted everything illuminated.
The brightness revealed every detail, every fleeting expression. Yoo Joonghyuk had come to understand why. Kim Dokja’s gaze would roam over him, drinking in his features as if memorizing them. There was a devotion in those eyes, a love that seemed to grow fiercer each time. It was a love so intense that it felt as though they might drown together in its tide.
When Kim Dokja finally came, his head tilted back, and his voice broke free, calling out, “Hyung.”
It was a single word, yet it carried an ambiguity that lingered between them, stirring something deep within Yoo Joonghyuk. He didn’t need to say it aloud—he loved hearing it, loved the way Kim Dokja’s voice wrapped around it with both need and reverence.
Later, Yoo Joonghyuk finally lit the candles with the lighter. The soft flicker of flames illuminated the room, but he didn’t make a wish. Wishes felt pointless to him now—everything he wanted was already here, beneath his gaze.
The night stretched on, the wind brushing against the villa as the wavering candlelight danced across the walls. Somewhere amidst the quiet, the weeping of emotion and the trembling of light carried them into the early hours, leaving the echoes of love and yearning hanging in the air like a tender, unspoken promise.
* * *
Kim Dokja woke at five the next morning, the faint light of dawn barely filtering through the curtains. Han Sooyoung had sent him a reminder last night, leaving him no choice but to drag his sore body out of bed. Beside him, Yoo Joonghyuk was still sleeping, his features softened in a rare moment of peace.
Unable to resist, Kim Dokja leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. Then, without a sound, he slipped out of bed, got dressed, and stood by the door.
On his way out, his gaze landed on the cake left on the table. The candles had melted into puddles of wax, the once-pristine cream smeared and ruined. There was no way anyone could eat a single bite. He hesitated only briefly before scooping it up and throwing it into the trash.
"Happy 30th," he murmured softly, the words falling into the stillness of the room like a farewell.
Outside, the world had been washed clean by the heavy rain from the day before, the air crisp and cool. Yet, his car was still parked at the underground garage of the launch conference, far out of reach. With no taxis in sight and no other option, Kim Dokja wandered into Yoo Joonghyuk’s garage.
He surveyed the vehicles, rows of sleek, extravagant machines gleaming under the dim overhead lights. Ignoring them all, he reached for the key to the cheapest car he could find—a modest Land Rover—and drove off into the fading shadows of the early morning.
Halfway through the drive, Kim Dokja’s phone buzzed with an incoming call from Han Sooyoung. He picked up, her familiar voice filling the quiet cabin.
"Have you set off yet? Director Gong is a stickler for time. He doesn’t tolerate tardiness from anyone on his team."
Kim Dokja nodded instinctively, even though she couldn’t see him. "Yes, I’m driving now."
"Good," she replied, a hint of approval in her tone. "By the way, did you check Twitter yesterday?"
He frowned slightly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I was too tired last night and didn’t look at my phone. Why? Did something happen?"
"You’re unbelievable," Han Sooyoung laughed, the sound bright and carefree. "That move of yours—absolute brilliance. It evened the playing field between us and Anna’s team. Do you have any idea what people are saying about you online?"
Her excitement was palpable, and before he could respond, a notification pinged on his phone. She had sent him a link.
"Check it out when you’re parked," she said, her tone teasing. "You’re a trending topic. Enjoy the fame while it lasts."
Kim Dokja sighed softly but couldn’t help the small, tired smile tugging at his lips. "I’ll take a look later," he replied, though he wasn’t sure if he was ready for whatever the internet had to say about him now.
Kim Dokja arrived at the set roughly half an hour later. After parking the car, he sat for a moment, his fingers hesitating over his phone. Curiosity eventually won over his fatigue, and he opened the link Han Sooyoung had sent him. It led to a single post—a group photo from the previous night’s launch conference.
Anna stood in the center, adorned in a dramatic red dress that commanded attention, while Kim Dokja, understated in his modest attire, stood quietly by her side. The caption read: [Anna, wearing a flamboyant red dress, stood in the middle, while the mesmerizing Kim Dokja stood beside.]
He scrolled through the replies, his eyes skimming the words:
- [The newcomer, Kim Dokja, is wearing no makeup! But why can’t I take my eyes off his face?? Even his clothes are actually very modest. As expected, if one is pretty, he will look good even if he wears a sack...]
- [Kim Dokja is really good-looking, he really looks a bit like Anna, but obviously smarter than her. I can tell from the way he answers the question, and that choice of fashion! High fashion! Rather than wearing obviously obnoxious colors to attract attention, Anna, go learn!]
- [There are probably few people in the industry who are less smart than Anna, hahahaha, she’s like a pretty wooden block. I don’t know how she got all those fake awards.]
- [As everyone knows, she is the secret lover of a certain nobleman.]
- [It’s good to know that she must be a rich girl then. How dare a poor newcomer come and try to cheat a rich girl wearing just a simple suit? Take her away. Sarcasm at its best.]
- [I’m in charge of backstage. It is said that the newcomer had prepared a suit, but it was “accidentally” ripped by Anna’s assistant, so they asked their agent to give him another outfit.]
Kim Dokja’s lips curved faintly at the first few comments, a momentary flicker of amusement quickly extinguished by the sharp edges of the rest. The remarks about Anna, laced with scorn and mockery, left a sour taste in his mouth. He hadn’t intended for things to escalate into a spectacle, let alone spark a comparison that would fan the flames of malice.
The note about his ripped suit gave him pause. He’d brushed off the incident as a mishap, never questioning the motives behind it. Now, a quiet unease settled in his chest, the kind that made the air feel heavier.
Locking his phone, he leaned back in the driver’s seat, exhaling slowly. This wasn’t the kind of attention he’d ever wanted. Fame, as fleeting and unbidden as it was, seemed to cast a shadow larger than its light.
After a moment, he stepped out of the car, smoothing down his plain outfit and casting a glance at the brightened horizon. The day loomed ahead, indifferent to his turmoil. He adjusted his coat, murmuring to himself, “Next time, I’ll keep a spare suit in the car.”
Han Sooyoung was the first to greet him on set, her energetic footsteps echoing as she rushed over. Kim Dokja could easily read the gleam in her eyes—it was clear she wanted to discuss the flurry of comments that had erupted about him online.
He gave a small, knowing smile and, with a hint of teasing, asked, "Did you buy all of them?"
The comment section he’d seen earlier had included posts from a variety of voices—some genuine fans, some clever marketing accounts. There were also whispers and rumors, but most of the comments leaned in his favor, even if they weren’t overtly praising.
Han Sooyoung, her expression unreadable, shot back with a quick retort. "You're overthinking it. A trending search spot costs seven figures, I can't afford it." She paused for a moment, then added, "It was Director Gong who instructed the publicity and distribution company to buy it."
Kim Dokja blinked, surprised. Director Gong was rarely so hands-on with things like this, and it was unusual for him to push so hard behind the scenes for something like publicity. "Should I thank the Director, then?"
Han Sooyoung grinned, clearly enjoying herself. "Yes, you should! Director Gong was already unhappy with Anna's decision to change the script. Then she didn't show up to the crew shoot, and we all saw her blunder at the press conference. This trending search? It’s Director Gong’s warning to her. It’s like karma finally catching up with her. God has eyes, and Anna got caught this time. Just thinking about it makes me feel good."
Kim Dokja’s smile faltered as he shook his head. "Don’t feel too good about it. If she was so easily fooled, how could she have stayed on top for six years?"
Han Sooyoung’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she shrugged. "Who cares? As long as I can annoy her for a while, the better."
They started walking, but before Kim Dokja could fully move on from the conversation, Han Sooyoung’s voice cut through the air again, this time a little more serious. "I was wondering—check Twitter. No wonder Anna didn’t control the comments on the photo with you. Turns out she was holding back on a big move!"
Kim Dokja paused mid-step, a knot forming in his stomach. There was something about Han Sooyoung’s tone that suggested this would not be a harmless post or simple PR stunt. He took out his phone with a sigh, already bracing for what he might find.
He scrolled through the trending search on Twitter, his eyes narrowing at the headline: #Anna Croft and CEO’s Love Affair Exposed. His heart sank as he clicked on the post, revealing an interview clip from the launch conference where Anna had given a deliberately vague answer. The attached image showed Anna and a man getting into a car together. The man, with his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and wavy long hair, was clearly not just anyone—he looked imposing, mysterious.
Even Han Sooyoung, who rarely showed much concern for others, sighed heavily. "Is this guy really the CEO of N'Gai? I heard he's a very powerful person, but he looks so—" She hesitated for a moment, clearly struggling to find the right word.
Desired, Kim Dokja thought to himself, though he didn’t say it aloud.
Han Sooyoung’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts. "But this trending search is weird. It didn’t appear after the press conference yesterday, but suddenly it’s 'exploded' in the early hours of this morning. Could it be that Anna's team faked this somehow?"
"This person is indeed the CEO of N'Gai," Kim Dokja murmured, “As for why he's showing up today—" He hesitated, the weight of the realization pressing against his chest. "He should be willing to publicly acknowledge their relationship."
Han Sooyoung seemed to accept his explanation, though a teasing note slipped into her voice. "How do you know he’s the CEO of N'Gai? Have you met him?"
The question lingered, echoing in Kim Dokja's mind like a reminder of something he desperately wished to forget.
He knew. Of course, he knew.
How could he not?
The black shirt—the one worn by the man in the photo—was given to him by Kim Dokja himself. A small, seemingly insignificant act, but one that now felt like a mark he couldn’t erase. He had never wanted to be part of their world, yet here he was, tangled in it by something as simple as a piece of clothing.
Kim Dokja could only offer a hollow smile in response, the weight of that memory pressing down on him. "I just have a feeling," he muttered, a poor excuse for something far deeper and more painful.
Han Sooyoung’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more. Perhaps she didn’t press further because she saw something in his face—a flicker of sadness, something unspoken that she couldn’t place. She simply let the matter drop, but Kim Dokja felt that weight settle even more firmly in his chest, suffocating him in a way that words could never describe.
However, he kept his face neutral, the sadness inside him hidden behind a carefully crafted mask. He offered a weak smile and replied with a hint of humor, "Who do you think would dare pretend to be the CEO of N'Gai?"
Han Sooyoung, momentarily distracted by the absurdity of his words, chuckled. "That's right," she agreed, before quickly shifting the tone back to business. "Alright, enough of the gossip. Let’s get moving. This is your first movie. Make it count, got it?"
"I know," Kim Dokja answered, his voice steady but empty, the weight of his unspoken thoughts pressing against him.
Once Han Sooyoung had left, Kim Dokja found himself staring at the image again. Anna, tall and graceful, stood beside someone who seemed to match her perfectly. Yoo Joonghyuk. The two of them, their figures framed by the photo, were a stunning pair. He couldn't deny it. There was a certain beauty to the way they looked together, a perfect match. But the realization made a hollow ache surge in his chest.
For a moment, he lingered on the thought of it—of them.
No, he told himself. It’s fine. It’s just fine.
He clicked off the screen, pushing the thoughts away as best as he could. But deep down, a quiet, heavy part of him wanted to be free of the turmoil that image stirred.
He wasn’t sad, not exactly. It was something far worse. The unacknowledged pain of seeing someone he once held so close, so cherished, shared with another. The worst part, though, was that he knew what would have made it hurt even more.
If Yoo Joonghyuk’s face had been photographed.
The thought almost made him shiver. The image of Yoo Joonghyuk standing next to another woman with that face— was too much to bear. Kim Dokja didn’t want to imagine it, and more than that, he didn’t dare.
Better to shut it out completely than to face that unbearable truth.
* * *
When Yoo Joonghyuk woke up, his first instinct was to reach out, his arms searching for the familiar warmth beside him. But all he found was emptiness. The bed was cold, the spot where Kim Dokja should have been still untouched. His eyes caught sight of a few dark strands of hair left on the pillow, and in that quiet moment, he remembered—Kim Dokja had said he was filming today.
It was always the same, wasn't it? On Yoo Joonghyuk's birthday, Kim Dokja always had something else to do. And, as if it were some kind of unspoken rule, he would always find a way to celebrate the day a little early. The year before, it had been a friend’s wedding. Last year, it was the defense of his graduation thesis. And this year, it was filming.
Yoo Joonghyuk chuckled softly to himself, picking up the two strands of black hair from the pillow, holding them gently between his fingers. The trick of playing hard to get... he thought with a hint of affection. It was something Kim Dokja had perfected, and somehow, Yoo Joonghyuk had gotten used to it.
His phone vibrated in his hand, interrupting his thoughts.
Without glancing at the screen, Yoo Joonghyuk answered the call. It was Kim Namwoon. "Hyung, come to the club. We’ve booked the place and prepared a top-notch 'gift' for you. Hyunsung-Hyung also wants to announce something big to you. You have to come today."
Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice was indifferent as he replied, "No need for the ultimate gift, just keep it for yourself."
He could already guess what 'top-notch' meant. Kim Namwoon, just a young master caught up in the pleasures of the secular world, would think a bottle of expensive alcohol or some flashy show would suffice. Even with his eyes closed, Yoo Joonghyuk knew what kind of shallow things would be on offer.
"For Hyunsung’s sake, I’ll come over and have a drink with you. He’s more reliable than you," he added, his tone carrying a hint of finality.
Kim Namwoon immediately deflated, sounding wounded. "Hyung, you really look down on me, huh?"
Yoo Joonghyuk, too tired to indulge in any further conversation, muttered a curse under his breath. "Shut up." Without waiting for another word, he hung up the phone, his mind already elsewhere, more focused on the empty space beside him than on the nonsense of the call.
* * *
Starstream Club.
Despite the bright daylight outside, the club’s interior was shrouded in darkness, its air heavy with the blend of cigarettes and alcohol. The atmosphere was thick, almost oppressive.
As Yoo Joonghyuk stepped inside, Lee Hyunsung flashed him a smile. “You have another place to stay besides your family home?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze flickered over to him, but he said nothing. With a practiced nonchalance, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a lighter, and lit a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his sharp features. He exhaled slowly and asked, “What news do you want to tell me?”
Lee Hyunsung, unfazed, leaned in. “I found out about your brother. He’s been staying in D district, down south, for many years.”
“That area?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes darkened slightly as he processed the information. A fleeting thought brushed past him, but he couldn't grasp it.
Lee Hyunsung studied him for a moment before asking, “Are you trying to rekindle your relationship with him, or is it to stop him from coming back to take control?”
Yoo Joonghyuk said nothing. His silence stretched, almost unbearable.
Before he could respond, Kim Namwoon piped in, eager to please. “Of course, it’s for Hyung’s peace of mind. He only has this one brother.” His voice trailed off when he saw the cold, unreadable look in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned over to the ashtray, snuffing out the cigarette with a quiet finality. The room seemed to grow colder, and the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air.
“Anyway, I know your brother best, Hyung,” Kim Namwoon chuckled. “He’s indifferent and has never cared about anything except his own life. Honestly, I’d believe he came back to take your lover from you rather than to snatch power.”
The words suddenly brought an unexpected memory to the surface. Yoo Joonghyuk's mind flashed to Kim Dokja, holding the cake, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he called him "brother." The tenderness of that moment almost caught him off guard.
Yoo Joonghyuk responded quietly, “Of course, he can’t take my lover away from me.” His voice held a sense of finality. Kim Dokja likes me too much. He’s so well-behaved, so obedient... No one else could take him from me.
Kim Namwoon, completely unaware of Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind, laughed in awe. “Hyung, are you really settling down with Anna-ssi this time? That Twitter trending search was all over today. Should we start calling her sister-in-law?”
Yoo Joonghyuk froze, the question hitting harder than he expected. Memories of late last night came rushing back—Anna had called him, her voice shaking with tears. She'd complained that Director Gong had bought the trending search to suppress her, that the industry was tough, that the drama she was shooting was difficult, and she asked him to help her just this once.
The last thing she’d said lingered in his mind: “If my sister knew, she would be sad, too.”
He looked at Kim Dokja, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed, the quiet rhythm of his breath a small comfort. Yoo Joonghyuk gently pressed his forehead against his own, before murmuring to Anna on the phone, “For the last time.”
It was a promise to Anna that he would keep.
Yoo Joonghyuk chuckled softly, the sound almost distant, as if the weight of his thoughts was just out of reach. "When it's time to call someone 'sister-in-law,' I'll let you do that."
Kim Namwoon, easily swayed by his words, grinned and filled Yoo Joonghyuk's glass with wine, his voice loud and celebratory. "Come on, happy 28th, Hyung."
Twenty-eight.
Yoo Joonghyuk raised his glass, the weight of the number settling in his chest. He had long since stopped counting birthdays with the same enthusiasm as before. But as he thought about it, his brother was turning thirty this year. It was strange—so close in age, yet so far apart in everything else. Their birthdays were only one day apart—his brother’s yesterday, his today. A small, ironic coincidence that didn't escape him.
"It's time to invite my brother back," Yoo Joonghyuk murmured, his voice laced with something unreadable.
He laughed softly, the sound mingling with the clink of their glasses, the light bubbling of hops rising from the wine as they toasted. The laughter filled the room, but out there, beyond the walls, the strings of fate began to unwind, slowly pulling together what had once been torn apart.
TO BE CONTINUED~