2

The bright office lights reflected off clean white walls, high ceilings, and the smooth glass table covered in fabric swatches, sketches, and draft boards.

Hyunjin stood at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, fingers tracing a rough charcoal line across a new design. It wasn’t perfect yet—but it was getting there.

Across from him, Bora—the lead designer of HJ Studio—was flipping through mock-ups on her tablet. Long black hair tied into a bun, glasses perched low on her nose, chewing gum like she owned the floor.

“This line’s going to break your fall collection, you know that?” she muttered, half to herself, half to him.

Hyunjin didn’t reply.

He was too focused—eyes narrowed, jaw tight, mind ticking like a clock with broken hands. There was something off in the sketch. The collar. Or maybe the silhouette.

His phone buzzed on the table.

Mom 👑 calling...

He glanced at it. Then hit decline.

Bora looked up with a brow raised. “Oof. Cold.”

It buzzed again.

Mom 👑 calling...

He declined again, this time with a dramatic sigh. “If I don’t pick it up the first time, she should get the hint.”

Bora narrowed her eyes at him over her glasses. “Or—and stay with me here—you could just answer it and save us both the drama.”

He deadpanned. “Bora.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you two to your scheduled argument. I’ll review these and come back later.”

She gathered her things, heels clicking as she made her exit, muttering, “Get a personal assistant, Hyunjin. Or a personality.”

The door shut behind her.

Hyunjin let out a long breath and finally picked up the phone, dragging it to his ear without a greeting.

His tone was flat. Annoyed.

“Mom. If I don’t pick up the phone the first time, that means I’m working.”

Her voice came through too sweet, which was always a bad sign.

“Hyunjin, I need your help, son.”

“And I already told you—I’m busy.”

“Okay, fine. Then tell me when you’ll be free.”

He rubbed his temples. “Around four. Why?”

Her answer hit him like a slap made of nonsense.

“Great. Then pick Felix up from his house. He’s moving in today.”

He stopped breathing for half a second.

“Mom!? Are you f*cking serious? What am I—your driver or your son?”

“He needs help with the luggage—”

“Where’s your other son, huh? The actual fiancé? Why isn’t he picking up his future husband?”

There was a beat.

“Minho has meetings. He’s busy.”

Hyunjin scoffed loudly, pacing now. “Oh, so I’m free then? You’re unbelievable.”

“Please don’t argue, Hyunjin. It’s just a pickup. You’re already going to be living with him. Might as well start being helpful.”

His jaw clenched.

“I’m not your driver, understood?”

And without waiting for her reply—

Click.

He hung up.

---

He stared at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. Tossed it onto the table and leaned against the edge, arms crossed, staring at nothing.

He didn’t want to do it.

But at 4 p.m., he’d be behind the wheel anyway.

Because no matter how much he complained—

He always have to showed up.

------

The clock hit 4:00 PM sharp when Felix zipped up the last bag.

He took a deep breath, wiping his palms on his jeans. The hallway was already lined with three other suitcases, all neatly stacked near the front door.

His mother was adjusting the strap of one of them. “You sure you packed everything?”

“I double-checked,” Felix replied softly. “Even the charger.”

She nodded, but didn’t let go of the bag.

He smiled at her, reassuring. “I’ll be fine, Mom.”

Just then—the doorbell rang.

Felix blinked.

“That must be Minho,” his mother said, already making her way toward the door.

But when she opened it—

It wasn’t Minho.

Felix’s brows pulled together slightly as he stepped closer.

Hwang Hyunjin stood at the threshold.

Black shirt tucked into tailored slacks, sunglasses pushed up on his head, one hand lazily in his pocket. He gave a short, polite smile—too clean to be sincere.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee,” he said smoothly. “I’m here to pick Felix.”

Felix blinked again, surprised. Minho said he’d come himself.

But his mother didn’t question it.

“Of course!” she beamed. “Please, come in—would you like tea or coffee?”

Hyunjin shook his head without hesitation. “I have somewhere to be after this. Thank you, though.”

She nodded and stepped aside. He walked in just enough for the marble tiles to catch under his polished shoes.

His eyes scanned the hallway, landing on the four suitcases stacked near the door. His lips curved again—another practiced smile.

“Wow,” he said, voice dry.

Felix offered a small, awkward laugh, not sure how to answer that.

Hyunjin stepped toward the bags and casually bent to lift one—then another.

He tilted his head in mock surprise. “They’re lighter than you look.”

“I can carry one—” Felix offered, moving to help.

Hyunjin cut him off with a single look. “Don’t.”

His voice wasn’t rude. Just final.

Felix stood there, lips pressing into a thin line, as Hyunjin effortlessly walked out with two of the bags.

By the time Felix and his mother stepped outside, he was already loading the trunk. He returned for the rest without saying much.

When the last bag clicked into place, Felix turned to his mother.

She hugged him tightly. “Take care, okay? Be polite. Respect their home.”

Felix nodded, smiling just enough to hide the anxiety in his chest. “I will.”

He climbed into the passenger seat and rolled down the window to wave as Hyunjin took the driver’s seat, starting the car without a word.

His mother stood at the gate, waving with both hands, smiling until they turned the corner.

---

The drive was quiet.

Hyunjin didn’t speak.

Neither did Felix.

The only sound came from the soft music playing through the car speakers—something low, jazzy, unfamiliar. The kind of music rich people played to not talk.

Felix glanced at him once—just once.

Hyunjin looked ahead, expression unreadable.

Like this wasn’t awkward.

Like he hadn’t just replaced the fiancé in a job that shouldn’t have been his.

---

The black car rolled to a smooth stop at the end of a pristine stone driveway, the towering Hwang estate rising before them like something out of a luxury catalog.

Felix had been here before.

But not like this.

Not with luggage in the trunk.

Not as someone about to live here.

He stepped out of the car just as Hyunjin did, eyes flicking up toward the three-story structure wrapped in soft beige stone and glass balconies. It was quiet—too quiet for something so big.

Hyunjin didn’t say a word. Just walked ahead, expecting Felix to follow.

He did.

The grand doors opened before they could even knock.

Ms. Hwang stood in the entryway, smiling like she’d just been waiting there.

“Felix, sweetheart,” she greeted warmly, pulling him into a brief hug. “Welcome, welcome. We’re so glad to have you.”

Felix smiled, polite and rehearsed. “Thank you for having me.”

As the maid wheeled in his luggage, Hyunjin was already turning to leave, headed straight for the stairs.

“Hyunjin!” Ms. Hwang called out before he could disappear.

He stopped mid-step, exhaling just loud enough for Felix to hear.

He turned, eyes tired. “Yes, Mother?”

She gave him a look—firm, pleasant, impossible to refuse. “Show Felix around. He hasn’t seen the whole house properly.”

Hyunjin stared at her for a second, clearly unimpressed.

“He’s been here before.”

“But not living here,” she replied sweetly. “Be a good host.”

A long pause.

Then Hyunjin turned to Felix with a smile that was 99% sarcasm, 1% pain.

“Come on, guest of honor,” he muttered. “Follow me.”

---

The house was even bigger than Felix remembered.

Marble floors stretched endlessly beneath crystal chandeliers. Walls lined with artwork—some expensive, some personal. Hyunjin walked ahead in silence, occasionally gesturing like a bored museum guide.

“That’s the main lounge,” he pointed lazily. “Don’t sit on the white couch unless you wanna get lectured.”

Felix followed quietly, wide-eyed.

The house had everything:— A sleek, dimly-lit library that smelled like old money and polished wood.— A swimming pool just outside the glass sliding doors, sparkling under the late afternoon sun.— A dining hall so large it echoed, with a table that could seat twenty.— A basketball court tucked into the back garden, surrounded by high hedges.— And down the staircase into the basement: a private bar and arcade, neon lights flickering in cool purples and blues.

“This place is…” Felix murmured, trailing off as they walked back upstairs. “...huge.”

“Congratulations,” Hyunjin replied dryly. “You figured it out.”

---

They walked down a long hallway now, quiet and less decorated than the rest of the house. The light here was cooler, the air heavier.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door.

It looked just like the others—but something about it felt… off.

Hyunjin didn’t open it.

He just stared at it for a second.

Then looked at Felix, serious this time.

“Don’t ever enter this room.”

His voice was flat.

Not threatening.

Just final.

Felix blinked. “Okay. What’s in there—”

“Just don’t.”

A pause.

Felix nodded once. “Got it.”

Hyunjin didn’t explain. Didn’t wait.

He just turned and walked off.

And something about that closed door felt louder than the rest of the house combined.

---

Felix stood at the center of his new room, eyes sweeping over the perfectly arranged space.

It was big.

Too big.

The kind of guest room that wasn’t really a guest room. More like something intentionally designed—polished wood floors, cream-colored curtains, a velvet armchair in the corner, and a bed that looked untouched despite clearly being made up in advance.

He opened the wardrobe and found it already empty. Waiting.

Like this had been prepared weeks ago.

Maybe longer.

He dropped his phone on the bed and started unpacking. One suitcase at a time. Clothes in the wardrobe, toiletries in the attached bathroom, books stacked neatly on the desk.

It was quiet.

Comfortable.

Almost suspiciously so.

---

His phone buzzed just as he zipped up the last bag.

Han 💬

> “You alive or did they eat you in some rich cult sacrifice”

Felix smiled.

Felix 💬

> “LMAO I’m good”“Room is huge. Like mansion-huge.”“Unpacking rn”

Han responded instantly.

Han 💬

> “Pics or I don’t believe it”

Felix sent a quick photo of the corner of the room—the light from the window falling perfectly on the velvet chair and the side table with a fancy orchid plant.

Then Han called.

Felix put him on speaker as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Okay,” Han said immediately, “that chair looks more expensive than my entire existence.”

Felix laughed. “I feel like I’m living in a hotel where I’m not supposed to touch anything.”

Han hummed. “So how’s the evil in-laws? Any blood oaths yet?”

Felix smiled, tone softening. “Actually… it’s been okay. Ms. Hwang’s really kind. So is her husband.”

“That’s suspicious.”

“I know,” Felix muttered. “It’s just Hyunjin… he’s—”

“—hot?”

“Shut up.” Felix rolled his eyes.

Han cackled. “Okay, okay. Go on.”

Felix leaned back on his palms. “He’s just… difficult. One minute he’s all cold and rude, then the next he’s—still cold, but not entirely a jerk.”

“Wow. That clears it up.”

Felix sighed. “He’s not mean. He just acts like… I’m a glitch in his space.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“You okay though?”

Felix smiled faintly. “Yeah. I am.”

Just then, a soft knock on the door made him sit up straighter.

He glanced toward it, lowering the phone. “Hey—I’ll call you later, someone’s here.”

“Pray it’s not the family cult,” Han whispered. “Bye, love you.”

Felix hung up and called out, “Come in!”

---

The door creaked open and in stepped Ms. Hwang, Behind her was an older woman—elegant, silver hair tied in a low bun, thin-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Felix,” Ms. Hwang greeted with a warm smile. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” he said, standing quickly. “Please, come in.”

The older woman smiled gently. “We just wanted to check in. Settling in alright?”

Felix nodded. “Yes, thank you. The room is amazing.”

Ms. Hwang sat beside him on the bed while the older woman settled into the armchair by the window. The mood was soft, familial.

“You can start calling me mother now,” Ms. Hwang said with a gentle nudge. “You’re part of the family, after all.”

Felix smiled, slightly nervous. “Of course.”

She reached out and lightly touched his hand. “I just want you to know… I’ve never made a difference between Minho and Hyunjin. We raised Minho like our own.”

Felix glanced up. Her eyes were fond but firm—there was meaning there, some line beneath the words he couldn’t quite read.

“He may seem cold sometimes,” she added, clearly talking about Hyunjin, “but he has a good heart. He just… hides it deep.”

She smiled, and stood. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

With that, she gave Felix’s shoulder a soft pat and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

---

The room fell quieter as the older woman looked at Felix again—her expression warmer than anyone else’s so far.

She reached forward and took his hands into her own.

“You’re a kind boy,” she said softly. “I see it in your eyes.”

Felix smiled gently. “Thank you.”

She held his hands a little longer, her thumbs brushing over his knuckles.

“Minho…” she sighed, “He’s always been quiet. Stubborn. But he has a good soul. He just doesn’t show it often. You’ll have to be patient with him.”

Felix nodded slowly.

“Don’t forget who you are,” she added, squeezing his hands. “And don’t let this house change that.”

He didn’t know what to say.

So he just smiled.

“Thank you. Really.”

She patted his cheek once, then stood, graceful even as she moved slowly toward the door.

And when she left—

The room felt full of a silence Felix couldn’t name.

---

The sun was low outside the kitchen windows, streaks of orange cutting across the polished marble counters. The house smelled faintly of basil, garlic, and something warm baking in the oven.

Felix stood beside Ms. Hwang, sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, hands hovering awkwardly over the vegetables on the cutting board.

“Mom,” he said gently, “at least let me help.”

Ms. Hwang chuckled, not even looking up from where she stirred a pot on the stove. “You don’t need to, darling. Everything’s almost done.”

“But I want to,” he offered, voice soft, genuine.

She smiled and finally looked at him. “Alright, if you’re so eager to help... go call Hyunjin. Tell him dinner will be ready in fifteen.”

Felix’s hands stilled.

“…Hyunjin?”

She nodded. “He’s in his studio.”

Felix hesitated.

That studio.

Don’t ever enter this room.

But she was already turning back to her pot.

So Felix nodded slowly. “Okay.”

---

The hallway stretched long and quiet as Felix made his way toward the far end of the house. The door was the same as before—plain, dark wood, no markings, but somehow different. He stopped in front of it.

His hand hovered over the doorknob.

He didn’t touch it.

He knocked instead—once, twice.

No answer.

He tried again. “Hyunjin?”

Still nothing.

He swallowed the tension building in his chest, then gently pushed the door open.

The studio was dim—lit only by the fading gold of sunlight bleeding through a tall window. The air inside smelled of paint, charcoal, and faint smoke. The walls were lined with canvases—unfinished ones, some violent in color, others hauntingly delicate. There were reds and blacks that looked like emotion dragged out of skin.

But Hyunjin wasn’t there.

Felix stepped in fully, hesitantly closing the door behind him with a soft click.

He turned to face the handle again, debating whether to just leave and say he found no one—

But before he could move—

Someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

Not violently. But not gently either.

His breath caught in his throat—he barely got out a sound before a hand clamped over his mouth.

Eyes wide, he stared up—

Into Hyunjin’s face.

So close.

So calm.

Too calm.

“Didn’t I tell you,” Hyunjin said lowly, voice close enough to brush skin,“never to enter this room?”

His hand slowly dropped from Felix’s mouth, but he didn’t step back.

He didn’t move at all.

One palm was now planted against the door on Felix’s right side, body angled just enough to crowd him without technically touching. His gaze was locked directly onto Felix’s—intense, unreadable.

Felix didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

Not with the way Hyunjin was looking at him—like he was both the mistake and the answer.

The silence pulsed for a moment too long.

Hyunjin’s expression didn’t shift. His voice, when it returned, was low and steady.

“You don't listen well.”

Felix found his voice—barely. “I knocked.”

Hyunjin raised a brow. “And when no one answered?”

“…I came in.”

“Of course you did.”

There was no anger in his voice. Just something slow, unreadable.

The heat between them was unspoken.

Unwelcome.

And unmistakable.

Felix’s heart pounded in his chest.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling—but he knew it had nothing to do with dinner.

Felix held his breath.

Hyunjin didn’t touch him—not really.

Just that single hand resting against the door, his body angled close enough that Felix could feel the faint scent of smoke and paint on his clothes.

His gaze was sharp. Focused. The kind of look that peeled layers without asking permission.

Felix swallowed, throat tight.

He couldn’t move.

He didn’t dare move.

And then, just as suddenly—

Hyunjin blinked. Something passed through his expression—like a switch flipped—and he slowly took a step back.

The space between them reopened, but the tension didn’t fade.

His voice came quiet. Flat.

“Next time,” he said, meeting Felix’s eyes without a hint of warmth,“I won’t be this polite.”

--------

The long dining table was set like something out of a lifestyle magazine—white candles flickering low, plates arranged with near-surgical precision, steam curling from silver dishes passed delicately from hand to hand.

At the head sat Mr. Hwang, posture straight, expression proud.

To his left: Ms. Hwang, elegant as ever, spooning rice onto her mother-in-law’s plate. The old woman—their grandmother—sat beside her, quietly smiling, eyes flicking around the table like she was watching a play.

And on Mr. Hwang’s right: the sons.

Minho, seated closest to him, was mid-conversation with Felix, who sat to his right, bright-eyed and nodding with a soft smile.

Next to Felix, at the very end of the line—

Hyunjin.

Silent.

Leaning on one elbow, lazily moving rice around his plate.

---

“So I told the intern,” Minho was saying, chuckling under his breath, “if you can’t find the file by five, I’m giving your desk to the new coffee machine.”

Felix laughed—genuinely. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Ask Jisung.”

“Poor guy.”

“Please, he sends me memes at 2 a.m. He deserved it.”

The adults were laughing quietly at the exchange, amused by their bonding.

Felix smiled, brushing his thumb against the side of his chopstick nervously but excitedly. Minho seemed… normal tonight. Friendly. Not cold, not distant. Almost like the version of him Felix wanted to know.

“You two seem like you’re getting along well,” Ms. Hwang said, her tone light.

“Of course,” Minho answered before Felix could. “Felix is easy to talk to.”

Felix flushed a little, lowering his eyes.

Across the table, Hyunjin chewed slowly, then set his chopsticks down with a clack.

The sound wasn’t loud.

But it sliced right through the conversation.

No one commented on it.

Hyunjin reached for his water glass, taking a long sip, gaze fixed somewhere just past the far candle.

---

The conversation picked up again. Mr. Hwang asked Minho about the next investor meeting. Grandma chimed in with a story about when Minho and Hyunjin were little, and Minho pushed Hyunjin into a koi pond. The table laughed.

Felix smiled politely, trying not to look left.

But he could feel Hyunjin next to him.

Quiet.

Still.

Unimpressed.

He wasn’t angry.

He was just…

Not there.

Eating without tasting.

Existing without engaging.

---

Ms. Hwang turned to Felix again. “I’m thinking of taking you with me to the foundation dinner next week. It’ll be good for people to see you two out together.”

Felix nodded. “I’d like that.”

Minho offered him a small, warm smile.

Hyunjin picked up his glass again, swirling it just slightly.

---

The rest of the meal continued in soft conversations and laughter.

But for Felix—

There was a strange pressure in the space between him and the man on his left.

A tension that hadn’t existed before the studio.

One that wouldn’t go away.

-----