??????
Ji Ho’s Apartment.
Location: High-rise in Gangnam. The kind of place with a private elevator and no personality. Chrome and whiskey. Oversized art. A white couch too clean to ever be sat on.
Haneul didn’t bother buzzing the intercom. He’d finessed the building code from a distracted delivery guy, scaled three fire escapes to the wrong unit, and finally found the right floor by instinct—because of course Seungho’s brother smelled like bergamot, sin, and $400 cologne.
He banged once. Loud.
A pause. Then a voice inside groaned, “If you’re the food delivery guy, I specifically said no coriander—”
The door swung open.
Ji Ho stood there. Shirtless. In a towel. Hair a mess. A deep red lovebite fading on his collarbone. He looked like a walking scandal who’d never experienced consequences.
“What the fuck—?”
“You’re Seungho’s brother?” Haneul’s smile widened, teeth and challenge in one. “Can I keep you?”
Ji Ho blinked. “I will have you arrested.”
“Okay but you’re hot. Like… if a finance bro and a cabaret dancer had a son.”
Ji Ho froze. Then narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You’re him, aren’t you?”
“Define ‘him.’”
“The one causing my brother to work from home. Hye-jin’s been rage-texting me at 3AM. Our board’s on edge. Jaewan’s got eye bags. You're that chaotic ballerina brat, right?”
“Cheonsa,” Haneul said sweetly, and walked past him into the apartment like he owned it.
Ji Ho didn’t stop him. Mostly because he was too stunned. Also because Haneul smelled like frost, peppermint gum, and poor decisions. And the towel was not made for confrontations of this scale.
“You break in often?”
“Only when destiny calls.”
“You’re insane.”
“Wouldn’t you be, if you wanted to decode someone like your brother?”
That shut him up.
??????
Haneul raided the fridge. Took a spoon. Started eating leftover grapefruit jelly while standing.
Ji Ho: “What do you want from me?”
“To understand how to get close to him without flinching.”
Ji Ho: “Why me?”
“Because you’re the opposite of him,” Haneul said, licking the spoon. “You know where the cracks are.”
Ji Ho studied him—this unfiltered, too-beautiful 5ft7 feral menace in thrifted velvet, covered in rings and old bruises and glitter-smudged eyeliner. Everything about him screamed unhinged.
And everything about him screamed honest.
