“You titled it ‘GRUMPY MOUNTAIN’S SURPRISE DEATHDAY’?”
Haneul grinned, berry juice glistening on his bottom lip. “I stand by the branding.”
Another beat.
Then, Seungho scrolled slowly, like reviewing battle footage. He let the silence stretch until Haneul shifted, just slightly—off-balance, unsure.Good, he thought.Let the fox twitch a little.
And then—
He set the phone down.
Crossed the room.
Poured himself a drink.
Downed it in one go.
“You’re lucky I didn’t set up facial recognition,” he muttered, voice edged with dry ice. “It would’ve registered you as a security breach and triggered the silent alarm.”
Haneul’s eyes flicked to him.
A slow smirk spread over his face. “And yet here I stand. Unsilenced. Unalarmed. Still adorable.”
Seungho turned, glass in hand. Leaned against the counter. His gaze flicked over the boy—braid loose, lip stained, smugness barely masking his nerves.
“You invited drag queens,” he said flatly.
“Representation matters,” Haneul said sweetly.
A pause.
Then, unexpectedly—Seungho’s mouth twitched. A fraction. Dangerous.
“I haven’t had a birthday party since I was twelve.”
That stopped Haneul.
He blinked. “What?”
Seungho didn’t elaborate. Just reached into a drawer. Pulled out a small box. Tossed it lightly onto the counter.
“Candles,”he said. “Gold foil. You bought them last month. Said everything else was ‘austerity cosplay.’”
Haneul stared at the box. Then at him.
“You kept them?”
Seungho’s eyes met his. Steady. Unreadable. But warmer now—just barely.
“I kept you,” he said, voice like smoothed flint. “Don’t be surprised the candles made it too.”
Haneul blinked. A flush rose to his cheeks.
Then he smiled.
He grabbed the box and fled to the other room, muttering something about logistics and frosting, like he hadn’t just hijacked a CEO’s entire birthday
Seungho watched him go.
