32

The production floor is nearly empty. Most of the lights are off, except for the warm glow coming from one editing suite where Heyoung is hunched over her monitor, headphones on, eyes scanning through the footage frame by frame. She rubs her temple as the screen blurs for a second—her head clearly aching.

Just then, the door opens quietly. She doesn't look up.

"I thought I said I wasn't taking visitors unless they came with snacks," Heyoung said.

"Good thing, I brought dinner and not just snacks."

She turns, surprised to see Seungcheol standing there with a bag from their favorite Japanese spot. He's still in his black hoodie from the studio, hair slightly tousled from a long recording session.

Heyoung smiled, "You're supposed to be resting after your vocals."

"I was going to. But then I thought, 'Heyoung probably skipped dinner again.' And look, I was right." Scoups replied.

Heyoung pouted while gesturing at her screen, "I was just about to finish this scene..."

"You say that every night." Scoups said as he set the food down on the small table by the couch. "Five-minute break. I'll wait."

She gives in, reluctantly removing her headphones. They sit together on the small couch, the soft rustle of takeout bags filling the silence. He opens a bento box and hands her chopsticks.

"Thanks for this," Heyoung gently said.

"Really."

"Always."

They eat quietly for a few minutes.

Then, with a casual tone but a clear hint of something more, Heyoung glances at him.

"Hey... what do you want to do for your birthday?" Heyoung asked.

"Hmm? Honestly... I haven't even thought about it." Scoups replied.

Heyoung faintly smiled at him, "That's so you."

Scoups grinned, "Want to do something together?"

"I was thinking about it... but things have been so busy. I wasn't sure if you'd even have the time." Heyoung quietly replied to him.

"I'll make time. Especially if it's with you."

She looks down at her food for a moment, fidgeting slightly with the chopsticks. There's something on her mind—he can tell.

Scoups softly looked at Heyoung and asked her, "Hey. What's going on?"

Heyoung hesitates for a bit but later on, shakes her head.

"Nothing serious. Just... work stuff. I'll tell you soon."

"You sure?" Scoups worriedly asked her again.

"Promise," Heyoung said as she gave him a small smile.

He doesn't push. Instead, he leans back, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind her.

"Okay. But only if your birthday plan includes cake. And not one of those sad convenience store ones." Scoups teased her to lighten up the mood.

Heyoung laughed, "Fine. Full-sized, obnoxiously decorated cake. Got it."

Scoups smiled at her, "With your name next to mine?"

"Of course."

=====

The city blurs past them in glowing streaks of red and white. Inside the car, it's warm and quiet. Scoups drives one-handed, his other resting loosely between them.

Heyoung glances sideways at him, eyelids heavy.

"Thanks for coming tonight." Heyoung softly said.

"I'll always come. Even if you don't ask." Scoups replied without looking away from the road.

She smiles, then gently intertwines her fingers with his on the center console. His thumb brushes hers slowly. The silence between them is full—not empty.

The door closes behind them with a soft click. Heyoung immediately kicks off her shoes and walks in barefoot. Scoups follows, setting his keys and phone on the small table by the door.

Heyoung yawns as she walks to the kitchen.

"Do you want tea? Or are you just going to crash?"

"Tea sounds good. But I'll still crash after."

She smiles and begins boiling water.

Moments later, they sit on the couch again, this time in her small living room, sipping quietly. The lamp by the window is the only light in the room.

"I'm glad you asked me about my birthday." Scoups said to Heyoung.

"I'm glad you brought me dinner," Heyoung replied.

Scoups smirked, "I guess we're even."

After drinking her tea, Heyoung disappears into the bedroom to change.

When she returns in an oversized hoodie, he's already tucked under her blanket, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. He looks up at her.

Scoups playfully looked at her and said, "Took you long enough. I thought you abandoned me."

Heyoung laughed at him, "You're in my bed."

"Exactly."

She slips in beside him, and he immediately wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Her head rests against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. It's quiet again, peaceful.

"I wish we had more nights like this." Heyoung murmured.

"We will. Just say the word."

She doesn't answer. She just curls into him a little more as her eyes flutter shut. He kisses the top of her head, pulling the blanket higher over her shoulder.

=====

The office is quiet in the early hours, with most of the staff still trickling in. Aerum is seated at her desk near the production floor, eyes fixed on her screen—but she's not editing.

She's replaying last night's rooftop conversation in her head like a broken record.

"Promise us you'll talk to him."

"Don't forget you're still hiding it from the rest of the company."

Her jaw tightens. A part of her still doesn't want to believe it. But another part—cold and sharp—sees an opportunity.

They think they can just hide it forever? From HYBE? From fans? From the board? Aerum thought to herself.

Her eyes flick to the far side of the floor where Heyoung's desk sits empty. Then down to her keyboard.

Aerum quietly whispered, "If the company knew... if this got out..."

She opens an internal communications portal—used mainly by production staff to file reports, feedback, or anonymous concerns.

She hesitates... then clicks into the anonymous form section.

Subject: Internal Concern – Breach of Professional Conduct

Message:

I believe there may be an undisclosed romantic relationship between a member of the HYBE production staff and a HYBE artist (Scoups of SEVENTEEN).

This may raise issues of favoritism, confidentiality risks, and damage to the artist's public image if leaked.

It may be worth reviewing communication logs and internal studio footage to verify staff behavior and assess risk to brand integrity.

She reads it back to herself, her finger hovering over "submit." Her heartbeat pounds in her ears.

There's a flicker of guilt—one that quickly burns away under the sting of rejection, jealousy, and fear.

"This is for his protection. If it gets out the wrong way... it could ruin him."

She hesitates just one more second. Then—click.

SUBMITTED.

She closes the tab immediately and leans back in her chair, composing herself as the hum of the office begins to pick up. Footsteps echo in the hallway. Laughter from an intern. Normal morning energy resumes.

But something has already shifted.

Meanwhile in the Surveillance Office, Internal Monitoring Desk.

A junior compliance officer opens the newly flagged anonymous report. His eyes skim the text. His brow furrows.

"Scoups...? And... production staff?"

The employee clicks the internal employee logs.