??????
The villa emerged through frost-kissed branches like a house from a dream.
Wide windows. Stone and cedar. A dark roof under new snow. Chimney already exhaling quiet warmth. Haneul blinked at it like it might vanish.
“You brought me to Yeol’s villa,” he said slowly. “The one from the photos.”
“I was going to surprise you with it on your birthday,” Seungho said. “Before everything happened.”
“And now?”
“Now felt like the right time.”
Haneul stepped out of the car, boots crunching. Looked around.
Took it in—the lake behind the house, half-frozen and silver; the quiet hum of trees; the curl of smoke from the chimney like the house was breathing.
And then he kicked off his boots.
One landed directly in a potted plant by the stairs.
Seungho stared.
Haneul gave him a look. “Don’t tell me how to enter my own surprise villa.”
He waltzed through the front door, threw his coat over a wingback chair, and turned a slow circle.
His hair was sharper now, with the braid gone—shaved close at the sides, longer on top, messy in a way that looked accidental and wasn’t. It made him look younger. Less war-god, more boy-next-door with a switchblade under his tongue. Dangerous in a different way.
Less bite, maybe.
But then he turned, smirk crooked, lip already twitching with some insult half-loaded, and yeah—
The bite was still there. Just tucked under silk instead of steel.
The color palette—warm woods, greys, soft golds.
He tilted his head. “You picked the paint.”
“Yes.”
“Ofcourse you did.” He made a face. “Charcoal and pine? You really are a control freak.”
“You’re the one who’s standing here barefoot, judging the walls.”
“I’m multi-talented.”
Seungho laughed, but it was low. Close to reverent.
He walked over. Stopped behind him.
Slid his arms around Haneul’s impossible waist. Just stood there, head bowed slightly, lips grazing the crown of pale hair still damp with snow.
“Happy birthday,” he said softly.
“It’s two months late.”
“I was busy.”
