Work Text:
The rain had just stopped when Jay arrived at the towering glass building of Park Alverd Inc. The entire front of the company reflected the gray morning sky like a mirror— intimidating, expensive, cold. Employees dressed in dark formal suits walked in and out with hurried footsteps, clutching coffee cups and tablets while security guards bowed politely at familiar faces.
And in the middle of all that seriousness stood Jay.
Wearing cream-colored slacks that hugged his legs perfectly, a silky white blouse tucked neatly into his waist, and a beige cardigan draped over his shoulders, he looked softer than everyone around him. A subtle layer of makeup highlighted his features— glossy lips, lightly powdered skin, and carefully curled lashes.
A few people stared.
Some whispered.
Jay choose to ignore them.
He adjusted the strap of his bag and inhaled deeply.
“Okay, Jay,” he muttered to himself. “First day. Don’t embarrass yourself.”
Unfortunately for him, the universe apparently took that as a challenge.
The moment he stepped into the lobby, the heel of his shoe caught against the polished floor.
“Ah—!”
His iced coffee flew from his hand.
SPLASH
The drink exploded directly across the marble floor. Jay froze in horror.
Employees immediately turned their heads like curious cats.
“Oh my God…”
“Did he seriously just—”
A staff member looked like she wanted to laugh but held it in. Jay wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
“I’m so sorry!” he squeaked quickly, crouching down. “I-I’ll clean it up—”
Before he could even reach for tissues, another pair of expensive black shoes stopped in front of the mess. The entire lobby suddenly became silent.
Like… unnaturally silent.
Jay slowly looked up.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Black tailored suit.
Sharp jawline.
Cold eyes.
Park Sunghoon.
Owner and CEO of Park Alverd Inc.
The Park Sunghoon everyone feared. Jay had heard stories during the interview process.
He was strict. Perfectionist. Cranky. Emotionless. Terrifying when angry. And currently staring directly at the puddle of coffee near his shoes.
Jay’s soul nearly left his body. Sunghoon’s gaze slowly lifted toward him, “…You’re the new secretary.”
It wasn’t a question. Jay stood up so fast he almost slipped again, “Y-Yes, sir.”
Sunghoon looked him over once. The makeup. The soft clothes. The painted nails gripping tissues nervously.
His expression remained unreadable.
Then—
“You’re late.”
Jay blinked. “What?”
“It’s 8:02.”
Jay immediately checked his phone.
Oh.
Oh no.
“I—there was traffic and the rain and—”
“I dislike excuses more than tardiness.”
His voice wasn’t loud. Which somehow made it scarier.
Jay swallowed hard, “I’m sorry, sir.”
Sunghoon said nothing for a moment.
Then he stepped around the spilled coffee without another glance, “Clean the floor and come to the 21st floor. Now.”
And just like that, he walked away. Employees finally started breathing again. One woman beside Jay whispered quietly, “You survived.”
Jay stared after the elevator doors that had closed behind Sunghoon, “…Barely.”
The 21st floor was nothing like the lower floors.
It was quieter. Cleaner. More suffocating.
Everything looked sleek and expensive— dark wood, black marble, enormous windows overlooking the city. Jay clutched his folder against his chest while walking toward the CEO office. Every employee here looked tense. One assistant stopped him before he could knock.
“You’re the new secretary?”
Jay nodded nervously.
The assistant looked almost sympathetic, “Good luck.”
“…Why does everyone keep saying that?” Jay frowned
The man simply patted his shoulder before leaving.
That was not comforting at all.
—
Jay carefully knocked twice.
“Come in.”
The deep voice instantly made him straighten. He entered carefully. The office was massive.
Bookshelves lined the walls. A faint scent of coffee and expensive cologne lingered in the air. Behind a large desk sat Sunghoon, reading documents with a slight frown. He didn’t even look up immediately.
Jay awkwardly stood there.
“…Sir?”
“Close the door.”
Jay quickly obeyed. Sunghoon finally lifted his eyes toward him.
“Sit.”
Jay sat carefully. Sunghoon studied a file for another minute before speaking, “You graduated with excellent records.”
Jay blinked. “Ah… yes.”
“You also changed jobs three times in two years.”
“…That too.”
“Why?”
Jay hesitated.
Most companies didn’t like his appearance. Some clients complained. Some coworkers mocked him. One manager had once told him directly to “dress more like a man.”
Jay forced a smile “I just wanted somewhere I could work comfortably.”
Sunghoon’s eyes rested on him quietly.
It made Jay nervous.
The CEO’s gaze was sharp enough to make people feel transparent, “You wear makeup to work.”
Jay immediately stiffened, “…Is that against company rules?”
“No.”
“…Then?”
“You looked nervous when I mentioned it.”
Jay looked down slightly. “Well… people usually have opinions.”
Sunghoon leaned back in his chair.
“And?”
Jay blinked. “And… what?”
“Why should their opinions matter?”
The question caught him off guard.
Sunghoon returned to reading papers casually, like he hadn’t just said something unexpected.
“You were hired for your skills,” he said flatly. “Not masculinity.”
Jay stared at him silently.
Oh.
That…
Was not what he expected.
Sunghoon slid a stack of folders across the desk.
“Your schedule starts today. Organize these meetings, answer calls, and stop looking shocked every five seconds.”
Jay quickly grabbed the folders “Right! Sorry, sir!”
“You apologize too much.”
“…Sorry.”
Sunghoon slowly looked up.
Jay covered his mouth immediately, “…Never mind.”
For the first time, something almost looked like amusement flickered briefly in Sunghoon’s eyes.
Almost.
Then it disappeared.
“Don’t be late tomorrow.”
—
By lunchtime, Jay realized something important.
Park Sunghoon was terrifying... but also strangely disciplined in ways that affected everyone around him.
Nobody slacked off. Nobody dared gossip loudly. Meetings started exactly on time. Emails were answered immediately. Schedules were perfectly organized.
And unfortunately for Jay— He was naturally messy. At one point he accidentally dropped three folders at once. Then answered the wrong office phone. Then nearly walked into a glass door because he was distracted fixing his hair. By 3 PM, he wanted to disappear forever. Especially after entering Sunghoon’s office holding coffee— Only to trip slightly on the carpet.
The coffee splashed onto his own sleeve this time.
Jay froze.
Sunghoon slowly looked up from his laptop.
Silence.
“…I can explain.”
“You spilled coffee twice in one day.”
“I’m having a rough debut.”
Sunghoon pinched the bridge of his nose. Jay quickly placed the coffee down safely this time.
“Your americano, sir.”
Sunghoon eyed the stained sleeve.
“…Go clean yourself.”
Jay looked down miserably.
“Oh. Right.”
As he turned to leave—
“Jay.”
He stopped.
“Yes?”
“You’re competent.”
Jay blinked in surprise.
Sunghoon continued typing.
“You’re just clumsy.”
For some reason, that made Jay smile a little.
“…Thank you?”
"Don’t make me repeat compliments.”
“Right. Sorry," A pause. A palm over his glossy lips. “…I did it again.”
Sunghoon sighed deeply while Jay hurried out of the office before getting fired on his first day.
But outside the office doors—His smile remained.
By the time Jay finally reached his apartment, his social battery was completely dead. The second he stepped inside, he kicked off his shoes dramatically near the doorway and groaned.
“Ughhhhh…”
His apartment wasn’t huge, but it was cozy. Soft cream walls, tiny hanging lights near the kitchen, fluffy pillows scattered on the couch, skincare products cluttering the coffee table, and little scented candles sitting by the windows.
It smelled like vanilla and fabric softener. Jay dragged himself toward the couch before collapsing face-first into it.
“My back hurts… my dignity hurts… my soul hurts…”
His phone immediately buzzed.
Jake 🌷 and Sunoo 🌻 are calling…
Jay squinted at the screen.
“…Perfect timing.”
He accepted the video call lazily. The moment the screen connected, Sunoo gasped dramatically.
“Oh my God, you look dead.”
Jake snorted beside him. “He looks like someone paid his rent with trauma.”
Jay lifted his head slowly from the couch cushion.
“You guys are so supportive.”
Sunoo leaned closer to the camera excitedly. “SO? First day! Tell us everything!”
Jay groaned loudly and rolled onto his back, “Okay first of all… the company is terrifying.”
Jake laughed immediately. “That bad?”
“No because why is everyone acting like they’re in military training?! Nobody even breathes loudly there!”
Sunoo cackled. Jay sat up and started removing his earrings while ranting.
“And the employees kept looking at me because apparently wearing makeup in a corporate building is sooo shocking.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “People are annoying.”
“I know,” Jay huffed. “Like sorry I actually want to look pretty while suffering.”
Sunoo nearly choked laughing.
“But wait,” Sunoo said excitedly, “what about the CEO? The super scary one.”
Jay immediately paused. Jake noticed instantly. Jay isn't subtle at all.
“Oh?”
“Oh my God,” Sunoo gasped loudly. “THAT reaction.”
Jay quickly defended himself. “No! Shut up! I’m just saying—”
“You think he’s attractive,” Jake deadpanned.
Jay flopped back dramatically onto the couch again, “Unfortunately.”
Sunoo screamed. “I KNEW IT.”
Jay covered his face with a pillow. “He’s so annoying though! Like genuinely so cold! He talks like he’s deducting my salary every sentence.”
Jake laughed loudly. “But handsome?”
Jay slowly lowered the pillow. “…Very handsome.”
Sunoo grinned wickedly. “Details.”
Jay sighed dramatically. “He’s tall. Like ridiculously tall for no reason. Broad shoulders, deep voice, expensive-looking face—”
“Expensive-looking face?” Jake repeated, laughing harder.
“You know what I mean!” Jay whined. “He looks like he sleeps in a coffin made of money!”
Sunoo was wheezing now.
“And his eyes are so…” Jay paused thoughtfully. “…cold.”
Jake smirked. “But?”
Jay frowned.“But what?”
“You like cold men.”
Jay immediately sat up. “I do not.”
Jake and Sunoo stared at him silently.
Jay blinked. “…Okay maybe emotionally unavailable men are a little attractive.”
Sunoo pointed aggressively at the screen. “Exactly!”
“But his attitude isn’t giving,” Jay continued quickly. “Like hello?? This man looked at me like I personally ruined his bloodline because I spilled coffee.”
“You spilled coffee?” Jake asked.
Jay looked offended. “TWICE.”
The two burst into laughter.
Jay threw a cushion at his phone screen dramatically even though it obviously did nothing, “It wasn’t funny! The lobby became silent like I committed a crime!”
“You probably did in billionaire language,” Jake teased.
Sunoo wiped tears from his eyes.
“So basically,” he summarized, “your boss is hot, rich, cold, scary, and hates everyone.”
Jay crossed his arms, “And cranky.”
“And you’re still attracted.”
Jay stayed silent. Jake pointed at the screen triumphantly “Silence means yes.”
Jay groaned loudly. “I hate both of you.”
Sunoo grinned. “No you don’t.”
Jay sighed before leaning back against the couch tiredly. “…Still though,” he admitted quietly, “he wasn’t as horrible as I expected.”
Jake raised a brow. “Okayyy?"
“He actually didn’t care about how I dressed.”
Sunoo blinked in surprise.“Seriously?”
Jay nodded slowly, “He basically said I was hired for my skills and not masculinity.”
For a moment, the teasing disappeared from both of their faces. Jake softened first. “That’s… unexpectedly decent.”
“Right?” Jay muttered. “I thought he was gonna tell me to remove my makeup or something.”
Sunoo hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s just strict. Not necessarily bad.”
Jay stared at the ceiling. “Maybe.”
A brief silence settled.
Then Jake ruined it immediately.
“So when’s the wedding?”
“JAKE.”
A few days into the job, Jay was slowly—very slowly—getting used to Park Alverd Inc. He still got lost in the hallways sometimes. He still panicked when Sunghoon called his name. And he still had a personal rivalry with gravity.
But at least he hadn’t been fired.
Yet.
That morning, he told himself he would be extra careful. No rushing. No distractions. No unnecessary movements. Which, of course, was exactly when disaster arrived. Jay walked into Sunghoon’s office holding a stack of neatly organized folders against his chest.
“Sir, here are the revised meeting documents for today and—” His heel caught slightly on the edge of the carpet. It wasn’t even a full fall. Just a small, humiliating stumble.
But it was enough.
The folders slipped.
And scattered.
Across the floor.
“Ah—no, no, no—!”
Jay immediately bent down in panic, hair falling slightly over his face as he quickly started picking them up.
Behind him, he heard the sound of Sunghoon’s chair shift.
A pause.
Then—
“...Again?”
Jay froze for half a second, “Sir, I can explain— I swear I reorganized them three times and the carpet just—betrayed me—”
He reached for the last folder behind him and that was when he heard it.
A sharp, subtle—
rip.
Silence.
Jay stopped breathing.
No.
No no no.
He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Because he already knew. Slowly, carefully, he stood up.
“…Please tell me that didn’t happen,” he whispered to himself.
Behind him, he could feel it.
The unmistakable cool air of embarrassment.
His tube skirt had torn right at the back seam. Not a small tear either. A very obvious, very humiliating one. Jay’s soul left his body. He stood completely still for a second, processing the fact that his entire career had just ended via fabric betrayal.
Then he did the only thing he could think of.
He turned around.
Slowly.
And smiled.
A wide, overly bright, painfully unnatural smile.
“Sir,” he said, voice slightly too cheerful, “everything is fine.”
Sunghoon was still seated at his desk. Looking at him. Not saying anything.
Jay’s heart was beating so loudly he was convinced it was audible across the entire floor.
Please don’t look lower.
Please don’t look lower.
Please don’t look lower.
Sunghoon’s gaze stayed on his face,“…You’re smiling too much.”
“I’m just… in a good mood,” Jay said quickly.
A pause.
Jay laughed lightly—too lightly, “…Productive day!”
His hands subtly shifted behind him to hold the torn fabric together like his life depended on it. Sunghoon’s expression didn’t change though his eyes narrowed slightly.
“Stand properly.”
Jay instantly straightened.
"Yes, sir.”
Another silence. Jay felt like he was about to combust. Then Sunghoon stood. Jay panicked internally.
Oh no.
He’s coming closer.
This is it.
This is where I die professionally.
But instead of scolding him— Sunghoon walked to the coat rack. Took off his long, tailored black coat.
And approached.
Jay blinked, “…Sir?”
Without a word, Sunghoon draped the coat over Jay’s shoulders. It was heavy. Warm. And smelled faintly like something expensive—clean fabric, subtle cologne, and authority.
Jay stiffened. "This—this is your coat—”
“I can see that,” Sunghoon said flatly.
Jay slowly realized the coat was long enough to cover everything.
Everything.
His face went red instantly. “…You didn’t have to—”
“You were standing there like that for twelve seconds.”
Jay shut his mouth immediately. Sunghoon adjusted the coat slightly so it sat properly on him. Then he stepped back, "Go get changed. And be more careful.”
Jay nodded quickly, “Yes, sir.” A pause. He hesitated, "Thank you...”
Sunghoon already turned back toward his desk, “You’re loud when you panic,” he said.
Jay froze,“…Sorry.”
"Stop apologizing for everything.”
Jay swallowed, “…Right.”
Sunghoon sat down again, opening his laptop like nothing happened. Like Jay was not currently experiencing emotional collapse under a coat worth more than his entire apartment rent for a year. Jay stood there for a moment. Still frozen. Still red. Still holding his dignity together with expensive fabric and sheer willpower.
“…Sir,” he said quietly.
"Mm.”
“…I really didn’t mean to break anything.”
A pause.Then Sunghoon, without looking up,“You didn’t.”
Jay blinked. “…I didn’t?”
“You just exist loudly.”
Jay stared.
That was somehow worse.
But also—Strangely… Not mean.
Jay clutched the coat tighter around himself, still burning with embarrassment, but unable to stop the tiny, reluctant smile forming on his face.
“…Noted, sir.”
Days turned into weeks. And somewhere along the way, Jay stopped feeling like a complete disaster. He still tripped sometimes. Still misplaced documents if he got distracted. Still walked into glass doors when he was thinking too hard. But now, he could answer calls without panicking. He could organize Sunghoon’s schedule without rewriting it three times. He even started remembering the names of executives without wanting to crawl into the floor.
It was… progress.
Small, fragile progress.
Unfortunately, Park Sunghoon seemed to notice. And instead of rewarding it—He made everything harder.
“The deadline for the West Division report has been moved forward,” Sunghoon said one morning, voice calm as ever while flipping through a document. “I want it done by today, not Friday.”
Jay blinked. “Today?”
“Yes.”
“…That’s three days earlier.”
Sunghoon finally looked up. “Is that a problem?”
The office went quiet in that way it always did when he spoke like that—controlled, firm, completely unbothered by human suffering.
Jay quickly shook his head, “No, sir. I’ll adjust.”
“Good.”
And just like that, Sunghoon returned to his laptop. Jay quietly sat back down at his desk outside the office, already feeling the pressure settle on his shoulders like weight. He exhaled slowly. “…That handsome bastard,” he muttered under his breath.
Then immediately froze, “Oh my God. I didn’t say that out loud.”
Nobody reacted. He cautiously continued typing.
But the problem was— The longer he worked under Sunghoon, the worse it got.
Not the job.
The crush.
It wasn’t even loud at first. Just small, annoying thoughts that slipped in at the worst possible moments.Like when Sunghoon passed by without warning and the scent of his cologne lingered for half a second too long—or when he leaned over documents and his sleeve pulled slightly, revealing his veiny hands gripping a pen with precision that felt unfair. Or when he spoke too calmly in meetings, voice low and controlled, making everyone else straighten instinctively.
And his face—Jay tried not to stare.
He really did.
But Sunghoon had this sharp, almost sculpted look—pale skin that always looked perfectly maintained, two moles that somehow made him even more distracting: one near the side of his nose bridge, subtle but noticeable when you looked too long, and another just under his eye that softened his otherwise intimidating expression. Jay had noticed them.
Unfortunately. More than once.
“…Jay.”
He snapped out of it instantly.
“Yes, sir!”
Sunghoon was watching him from the head of the meeting table. Expression unreadable.
“You missed the last instruction.”
Jay blinked. “I—sorry, sir. Could you repeat it?”
A long pause.
Sunghoon stared at him for a moment.
Then repeated it, slower. Jay nodded quickly and scribbled notes furiously, forcing his brain to behave.
Focus.
Focus.
Focus.
He did not need to be thinking about his boss’s jawline right now.
Or his hands.
Or— Nope. Absolutely not.
Jay pressed his pen harder into the paper.
Stop it, Jay.
Sunghoon continued speaking, outlining figures and schedules, completely unaware of the internal crisis happening three seats away.
Jay kept writing. Very carefully. Very professionally. Very definitely not thinking about how Sunghoon looked unfairly good under office lighting.
Okay, Jay. Meeting. Work. Normal human behavior.
But then Sunghoon leaned slightly forward to point at a chart on the screen. His sleeve slid up again.
Veins. Clean lines of his hand as he held the remote. Jay’s brain short-circuited for half a second.
He coughed. Immediately too loudly.
Sunghoon paused.“…Are you sick?”
Jay nearly dropped his pen. “No! No, sir. Just—air. In my throat. Normal air issue.”
A beat.
One of the executives coughed suspiciously, clearly trying not to laugh.
Sunghoon stared at him for another second. Then continued like nothing happened, “Continue the report.”
“Yes, sir,” Jay said quickly. He bowed his head back to his notes.
And silently suffered. Because this was the problem now. He was competent. He was improving. He was surviving. But every time he looked up and saw Park Sunghoon sitting there—cold, composed, effortlessly strict, completely unaware of the chaos he caused—
Jay felt his professionalism hanging on by a thread.
Focus.
Focus.
Do not think about your boss’s face again.
Especially not the moles.
Definitely not the jawline.
Absolutely not the hands.
Jay wrote faster. And cursed internally.
Because somehow, the worst part wasn’t even the workload anymore. It was the fact that Park Sunghoon was becoming harder to ignore. And Jay was starting to wonder how long he could keep pretending he was fine.
Sunday was supposed to be sacred. Jay’s rule was simple: Sundays were for self-care, peace, skincare masks, soft music, and absolutely no emotional damage from Park Alverd Inc. or anything remotely related to it. He had even planned it properly.
Hair treatment at 10.
Cafe brunch at 1.
Maybe a short walk afterward. Then home, candles, and doing absolutely nothing productive.
So of course— Sunoo ruined it. Oh, don't worry, he loves his best friend too much that he almost sacrificed himself because someone had hurt his pretty baby Sunoo.
Jay stared at the message on his phone while sitting in bed, still in his oversized sleep shirt.
Sunoo 🌻: “PLEASE. I need you. I’ll owe you my life. I’ll owe you my future child. I’ll owe you anything. just go on this blind date for me 😭”
Jay slowly blinked.“…No.”
Another message immediately popped up.
Sunoo 🌻: “you’re going. i already told him. love you bitch 💋”
Jay exhaled deeply.
“…That bitch.”
It was affectionate. In their language.
Still. Jay flopped back onto his bed.
“I hate my life.”
And because Jay was Jay—too kind, too soft-hearted, and slightly too incapable of saying no to people he loved—
He went.
---
He arrived twenty minutes late. On purpose. Because if he was going to suffer, at least he could arrive pretty while doing it.
Jay stepped into the restaurant wearing a soft cream knit top tucked into high-waisted beige trousers, subtle blush on his cheeks, and lip gloss that caught the light every time he moved. His hair was neatly styled, slightly curled at the ends.
He scanned the table and immediately regretted everything.
The man stood up.
Beard. Thick, uneven, like it hadn’t seen proper grooming in weeks. Jay’s internal voice went instantly flat.
Oh. He's not going to likes this.
“…Hi,” the man said, smiling.
Jay forced a polite smile back. “Hi! Sorry I’m late.”
The man—Chan—sat back down, eyes scanning Jay in a way that felt… assessing. Not in a good way.
Jay already didn’t like him. They ordered food.
Jay, trying to be polite, suggested a few dishes, and made sure everything was organized so it wouldn’t be chaotic. Chan barely looked at the waitress when she approached.
“Just bring whatever,” he said, waving her off.
Jay’s smile tightened. The waitress looked uncomfortable for half a second before leaving.
Jay turned slightly toward Chan, “Actually,” he said gently, “she was still explaining the specials.”
Chan shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Jay raised a brow, “Yes?”
Chan laughed like that was funny. Jay quietly turned to the waitress when she returned.
“I’m sorry about him,” he said softly. “Can we please get the grilled set and the pasta? Thank you so much.”
The waitress visibly relaxed, "Of course, sir.”
Jay smiled at her, "Thank you."
That was the first time Chan looked slightly annoyed.
The food came.
Jay barely touched his. He wasn’t hungry anymore. The conversation was… nothing.
Chan talked about himself. Chan talked about money. Chan talked about how “women these days” were too picky.
Jay stared at his plate, slowly losing interest in existing. When he finally spoke, it was polite, short, distant. Chan noticed.
And didn’t like it.
“You’re not really talkative, are you?” Chan said.
Jay smiled faintly, "I’m just listening.”
“No,” Chan leaned back. “You just don’t seem that interested.”
Jay paused. Then nodded gently. “I’m not.”
The table went silent.
Chan’s expression shifted. “…Excuse me?”
Jay set his fork down carefully. “I don’t think we match.”
That should have ended it. But it didn’t.
Chan scoffed. “Wow. You’re picky for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” Okay, Jay was now confused.
Chan looked him up and down.
The soft outfit. The makeup. The careful nails. The delicate jewelry.
“Oh, come on,” Chan said. “You dress like that and still act hard to get?”
Jay’s grip on his fork tightened slightly. Chan continued, voice sharper now, “It’s a blind date. Not a fashion show. You don’t need all that… feminine stuff.”
Jay went still.
“I look like this because I like it,” he said quietly, "And you don't have the right to judge me anyway.
Chan laughed. “Still. It’s kind of—ugly, honestly. Not attractive for a guy.”
Silence.
Jay’s chest tightened. Something old and familiar crawled up his throat. He kept his expression steady.
Barely.
Chan leaned forward slightly, voice lowering, “And now you expect me to pay for all this? Since you barely even ate?”
"What?"
“The bill,” Chan said casually. “We can split, but you should probably cover your share properly. I ordered more anyway.”
Jay slowly looked down at the receipt when it arrived.
And felt his stomach drop.
Chan had ordered the expensive set.
Wine. Extra sides. Premium cuts.
Jay had barely touched his own meal. But the bill was divided unevenly anyway. Jay went quiet for a moment.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the paper. For a second, he felt like he couldn’t breathe properly. Insecurity—quiet, heavy, old—pressed into his chest.
He blinked once. Then smiled. Small. Polite.
“…Okay.”
Chan leaned back, satisfied.
Jay reached for his wallet slowly. Hands steady. Face composed.
Inside—
Everything was shaking. But he didn’t let it show.
Not here. Not in public.
Not in front of someone who clearly didn’t think he was worth much to begin with.
He just nodded at the waitress when she came back.
“Sorry,” Jay said softly. “We’ll settle separately.”
And when he finally stood up to leave the table—
He kept his posture straight.
Kept his face calm.
Kept his dignity wrapped tightly around himself like armor.
Even though, underneath it all—
He wanted to cry so badly it hurt.
The next day at Park Alverd Inc. felt… normal.
Too normal.
The kind of normal that almost tricked Jay into thinking yesterday didn’t exist.
He arrived on time. No spills. No tripping. No fabric emergencies. Just neat documents, a properly tied ponytail, and a face that said I am a functioning adult employee who has never suffered in a restaurant in my life.
Inside, he was still a little quiet. But he told himself it didn’t matter. People had bad dates. People got insulted. People paid unfair bills and moved on. It was fine. He was fine.
That was the lie he was currently committed to.
—
Around mid-morning, the office atmosphere shifted slightly.
Not tense.
Just… different.
Like something important had arrived.
Jay noticed it first when two reception staff stood up straighter than usual.
Then the elevator dinged.
And she walked in.
She looked like she belonged in a completely different world.
Long hair perfectly styled, soft elegant makeup, and a presence that made even the hallway lights feel softer. Her outfit was refined in a way that screamed wealth without trying too hard.
People turned. Even the senior managers paused slightly. Jay looked up from his desk.
“…Wow,” he whispered under his breath without meaning to.
She smiled politely at the receptionist, then asked something quietly.
A moment later, she was pointed toward Sunghoon’s office. She walked past Jay’s desk.
“Excuse me,” she said gently.
Jay blinked, snapping out of it, “Yes! Sorry—how can I help you?”
Her eyes landed on him, warm and friendly, “I’m looking for Sunghoon.”
At the mention of his name, Jay immediately straightened, "Oh—yes. He’s inside. May I ask who you are?”
She smiled. “Jang Wonyoung.”
That name landed like a quiet shockwave.
Even Jay, who didn’t follow corporate gossip that closely, knew it.
Jang Ira Inc. — one of the biggest names in the industry. And Jang Wonyoung, its well-known heiress, often described in whispers across business circles as untouchable, polished, and effortlessly admired.
Jay quickly bowed his head slightly.
“Ah—yes. Please wait a moment, I’ll inform him.”
She nodded politely.
“Thank you.” and then she stood there.
Patient. Composed. Too perfect.
Jay swallowed once and knocked on Sunghoon’s door.
Inside, Sunghoon was reviewing documents.
“Enter.”
Jay stepped in carefully.
“Sir, Jang Wonyoung is here to see you.”
That made Sunghoon pause.
For half a second.
Then—
“Let her in.”
Jay nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
He stepped aside and opened the door.
Wonyoung entered gracefully.
“Sunghoon,” she greeted softly.
“…Wonyoung,” Sunghoon replied.
Something shifted.
Not obvious.
Not dramatic.
But different.
It happened. A small smile.
On Sunghoon’s face. Barely there, but real.
Jay froze for half a second.
He had never seen that expression before.
Not at work. Not during meetings. Not even during calm moments.
It wasn’t the cold CEO face. It was… familiar.
Soft in a way that didn’t belong to him. Jay quickly masked his reaction.
Oh.
His chest tightened slightly.
He forced his expression neutral.
“Here are the updated files, sir,” he said professionally, placing the folders neatly on the desk.
Sunghoon glanced at him briefly.
“Leave them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jay bowed slightly.
Then turned and walked out.
Carefully closing the door behind him.
But the image stayed.
Sunghoon smiling.
At her. At Jang Wonyoung.
Of course. It made sense.
Someone like her. Someone elegant, beautiful, from a powerful company…
It made sense.
Jay sat back at his desk, opening his computer.
Typing.
Working.
Normal things.
Professional things.
But somewhere in his chest, something felt heavier than usual.
Like a boot stepping down with a sharp objects underneath it—
Slowly.
Repeatedly.
Unfairly.
He exhaled softly.
“…Focus,” he whispered to himself.
He opened his schedule planner.
Typed in meetings.
Typed in reminders.
Avoided thinking too much.
That was his Boss' girlfriend. Probably.
He didn’t ask.
Didn’t confirm.
Didn’t dare.
Because it wasn’t his place.
He just… continued working.
That was safer.
That was better.
That was what professionals did.
—
But then it didn’t stop.
Wednesday came.
Wonyoung visited again.
Thursday too.
Friday as well.
Always dressed perfectly.
Always calm.
Always greeted Sunghoon like she belonged there.
And every time—
Jay saw it.
The small shift in Sunghoon’s expression.
Not loud. Not obvious. But softer. Less guarded.
And every time Jay walked into the office, delivered documents, and left—
He saw the same thing. A world he wasn’t part of.
A version of Sunghoon that didn’t look like his boss.
It shouldn’t have mattered—It wasn’t his business.
So he never said anything. Not once. He stayed professional.
Polite. Quiet. Exactly as he should be.
Even when it felt like something inside him was slowly learning how to hurt in silence.
And the worst part?
Jay still showed up every morning.
Still smiled at reception.
Still typed Sunghoon’s schedules perfectly.
Still did his job flawlessly.
Because no matter what else was happening—
Park Alverd Inc. still ran.
And Jay still had a future to chase.
Even if, for some reason he refused to name…
It suddenly felt a little harder to focus on it.
And Jay was still Jay.
Even after everything.
Even after the blind date that made him want to evaporate on the spot.
Even after seeing Sunghoon smile at someone else like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Even after that quiet, unfamiliar ache he kept refusing to name.
Life didn’t stop for any of it.
So neither did he.
He still showed up at Park Alverd Inc. in soft, carefully chosen outfits that made him feel like himself—light fabrics, neat silhouettes, subtle makeup that made him feel put-together even when his hands were shaking a little.
He still greeted reception with a small polite smile.
Still bowed slightly when passing senior staff.
Still said “Good morning, sir” when Sunghoon arrived, voice steady even when his chest tightened for reasons he didn’t want to examine.
Still Jay.
Just… a quieter version lately.
Not broken.
Not changed.
Just a little more careful with where he let his thoughts go.
—
And he was still clumsy.
That didn’t go away.
If anything, it got worse on autopilot days.
One morning, he tried to carry a stack of printed reports into Sunghoon’s office.
He told himself: Don’t drop them. Don’t drop them. Don’t drop them.
He dropped them.
“Ah—no, no, no—!”
Pages scattered across the polished floor like a dramatic slow betrayal.
Jay froze for half a second.
“…Of course,” he muttered under his breath.
From behind the desk:
“You’re sighing again.”
Jay immediately straightened.
“I’m not, sir.”
A pause.
“You are.”
“…Respectfully, sir, I think I’m just breathing.”
Sunghoon didn’t respond to that.
Jay quickly knelt down to gather the papers, cheeks slightly warm in embarrassment. His fingers moved fast, practiced now, like he’d accepted this was part of his identity: clumsy but functional.
Behind him, he heard Sunghoon continue typing.
Unbothered.
As always.
—
And Jay noticed things now.
Things he didn’t ask to notice.
The way Sunghoon’s tone changed slightly when Wonyoung visited—still strict, but less sharp at the edges.The way he stopped what he was doing when she entered, even if only for a second.
The way she called him “Sunghoon” without hesitation, like the distance between them didn’t exist at all.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t obvious enough to comment on. But it was there.
And Jay saw it.
He always saw it.
He just never reacted.
—
One afternoon, he entered the office quietly to place down documents.
Sunghoon and Wonyoung were already talking.
Low voices. Familiar rhythm.
Jay stepped in carefully.
“Here are the finalized files, sir.”
Sunghoon glanced up briefly.
“Leave them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wonyoung looked at him politely.
“Thank you.”
Jay bowed slightly.
“Of course, ma’am.”
Then he turned to leave.
As he reached the door, he heard it—
A soft sound.
Not laughter exactly.
But Sunghoon exhaling something that almost sounded like it.
Jay’s fingers paused on the door handle for half a second.
Then—he left. Quietly.
Professionally.
Like nothing happened.
Back at his desk, he opened his computer.
Typed. Filed emails.
Organized schedules. Checked deadlines.
The usual.
His world was still functioning exactly as it should.
But somewhere between “Meeting with Marketing Team” and “Quarterly Report Submission,” his mind drifted again without permission.
He can smile like that.
Not at him.
Not for him.
But still.
It wasn’t jealousy.
Jay refused to call it that.
It was just… awareness.
A reminder.
That people like Sunghoon didn’t exist in isolation.That there were people who knew him differently. People who had history.
People who could stand beside him without feeling like they didn’t belong in the same frame.
Jay clicked his pen once. Twice.
Then stopped.
“…Focus,” he whispered to himself.
He straightened the documents.
Adjusted the files.
Re-aligned everything perfectly.
Because that was the only thing he could control.
And when Sunghoon eventually called for him again—
Jay stood up immediately.
“Yes, sir.”
Still Jay.
Still clumsy.
Still careful.
Still showing up anyway.
Sunday started the way it usually did lately—quiet, too empty, and a little too honest. Jay tried to fill it with things that used to make him feel better. He walked through shopping streets, passing boutiques with soft lighting and glass displays. Makeup counters. Perfume stands. Mannequins dressed in outfits that looked effortless and expensive.
He stopped in front of one display longer than he meant to. A model on a poster smiled perfectly—glossy lips, flawless skin, styled hair falling in soft waves. Everything about her looked polished in a way that felt almost untouchable.
Jay stared at her reflection in the glass.
Then at himself.
“…I wish I could look like that,” he muttered quietly.
He didn’t even sound sad anymore. Just tired.
He walked on. Passed another store with mirrors everywhere. Passed another with mannequins in elegant dresses. Passed people laughing in groups, holding hands, taking pictures. By the time evening came, his chest felt heavier than when he started.
And he still didn’t go home.
—
The bar was warm and loud. Too loud.
Jay didn’t even remember deciding to come here. He just… arrived. Maybe his feet made the decision for him.
He sat at the counter.
“Something strong,” he told the bartender.
The bartender looked at him once, “…You sure?”
“Yes.”
That bartender was young, slightly messy-haired, tired-looking. Known here simply as Leehan— sighed as if he had already accepted Jay as a problem.
“You say that every time,” he muttered.
Jay squinted at him, “Don’t start.”
Leehan handed him the drink anyway.
Bad decision.
Then another.
And another.
—
By the time the glass count became questionable, Jay’s emotional stability had officially left the building.
He was crying. Not elegant crying. Not pretty crying.
Ugly crying.
Face flushed, eyes watery, voice breaking in random places like it had forgotten how sentences worked, “Why is it always like this?” he sniffled loudly. “Why do I try so hard and still feel like—like I’m just—”
Leehan leaned on the counter, watching him with the exhausted expression of someone witnessing recurring chaos.
“You’re drunk,” he said flatly.
“I KNOW I’M DRUNK,” Jay snapped immediately, then burst into louder crying.
Leehan sighed again.
“Do you want water?”
“I WANT JUSTICE,” Jay sobbed.
“…Sure.”
—
Jay fumbled for his phone.
His vision was blurry. His fingers were not cooperating.
He tapped a contact.
Didn’t even look properly. And hit call.
—
At Park Alverd Inc., Sunghoon’s phone rang.
He glanced at it. Paused.
Then answered.
“…Yes?”
And that was all it took.
Jay exploded, “YOU BASTARD—”
A silence. Sunghoon’s brows slightly tightened.
“…What did you just say?”
“You heard me!” Jay wailed into the phone. “You stupid, asshole, bastard—why are you like that?!”
Leehan immediately leaned over the counter like he was watching a car crash in real time.
“Jay, don’t—” he started.
Jay shoved a hand in his direction without looking.
“SHUT UP.”
Leehan stopped. Tired resignation resumed.
Sunghoon on the other end was silent for a moment.
Before asking, “…Are you drunk?”
“YES,” Jay sobbed loudly. “I’M DRUNK AND I HATE YOU.”
Another pause.
Jay continued anyway, unstoppable now, “You look like a proboscis monkey when you’re serious.”
Silence.
Leehan slowly closed his eyes.
"Excuse me?" Sunghoon made a confused tone. But more likely, offended?
“A PROBOSCIS MONKEY,” Jay repeated proudly, then started crying again immediately after. “It was supposed to be a joke but you’re so—so—UGH—”
“Jay.”
“You’re so stressful! You make everything so hard! You always look like you’re gonna fire me and I STILL COME TO WORK EVERY DAY LIKE AN IDIOT—”
His voice cracked. And then softened.
“Oh my God…” The anger drained out of him in an instant, “…and you have a girlfriend. Ugh! I hate that word.”
Sunghoon went quiet again.
Jay’s grip on the phone tightened.
His voice wobbled, “I saw you smiling at her.”
Leehan straightened slightly, suddenly paying more attention. Jay wiped his face with his sleeve messily, “She’s so pretty. And you looked so…different with her.” He laughed weakly. “Like you’re not… cold.”
A pause. Then his voice broke completely.
“And I hate it. I hate that you look like that only with her.”
Sunghoon didn’t interrupt.
Jay kept going, words spilling now like he couldn’t stop them even if he tried, “And I’m trying so hard, okay? I’m trying to be good at my job and not mess up and not embarrass myself but you keep making everything so intense and I can’t even think straight when you’re near me because you’re so—” He hiccuped, “…so stupidly handsome.”
Leehan pinched the bridge of his nose. Jay, crying harder now, continued anyway, "Your face is so unfair. Like why do you look like that when you’re frowning? It makes no sense. It’s illegal.”
A small pause. Then, quieter, “And your hands…”He sniffled, “…your stupid veiny hands—why are they like that?”
Leehan stared into the distance like he had accepted spiritual defeat. Jay suddenly laughed through his tears. A broken, tipsy giggle. "I think you’re really hot when you’re mad.”
“…Jay.” Sunghoon's tone was careful.
But Jay didn’t stop, “I hate you,” he said immediately, then added softer, “but I also don’t.”
Silence stretched again.
Jay slumped forward onto the counter, voice fading.“I don’t know what I’m doing but I think I like you.”
The line went quiet. Only the bar noise remained. Leehan slowly reached for a glass of water and placed it in front of Jay without a word. Jay didn’t notice.
He was still holding the phone. Still breathing unevenly.
Waiting.
On the other end, Sunghoon sat alone in his apartment office, phone still against his ear, expression unreadable.
He could hear the noise in the background.
Music.
Glasses clinking. Jay sniffling dramatically every few seconds.
Then—
A dull thud.
Followed by Leehan’s tired voice. “…Seriously?”
Sunghoon immediately straightened slightly. “Jay?”
No answer.
“Jay.”
Only muffled bar sounds replied.Then another voice came through the phone instead.
“You’re the boss, right?” Sunghoon’s tone turned colder automatically.
“Who are you?”
“The bartender.” A sigh. “He passed out.”
Sunghoon closed his eyes briefly. Of course he did.
“Where is he?”
Leehan gave the address of the bar while wiping down the counter one-handed, “He drank like he was trying to erase his bloodline,” Leehan muttered. “Come get your employee before he wakes up and starts another emotional TED Talk.”
Sunghoon ignored the last part, “I’ll be there.” Before hanging up, he paused, “...Thank you.”
Leehan blinked once in mild surprise and snorted quietly, “Yeah, yeah.”
The call ended.
—
About thirty minutes later, the front door of the bar opened. The cold night air slipped inside briefly before Sunghoon entered. And somehow— Even in a casual black coat and dark clothes, he still looked intimidating enough to make people glance twice.
Leehan noticed him immediately.
“…Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay. I see the problem.”
Sunghoon approached the counter. Jay was slumped dramatically over it, cheek squished against his folded arms, hair messy, phone barely hanging from his fingers. Still unconscious.
Leehan pointed at him lazily. “Your problem child.”
Sunghoon looked down at Jay quietly. Even asleep, Jay looked troubled. His lashes were still slightly wet from crying earlier. Something unreadable crossed Sunghoon’s face briefly. Then disappeared.
“How much?” he asked.
Leehan named the bill.
Sunghoon paid without complaint.
Leehan accepted the card before glancing between them, "You know,” he said casually, “he talks about you a lot.”
Sunghoon looked at him. Leehan immediately raised both hands, “Not my business. Forget I said anything.”
Probably wise.
Once the payment was settled, Sunghoon crouched slightly beside Jay.
“Jay.”
No response.
“Jay.”
A sleepy groan.
Then Jay stirred slightly, blinking slowly. His eyes unfocused immediately landed on Sunghoon’s face.
He stared. Long. Very long. Then gasped softly.
“…Oh my God.”
Sunghoon sighed internally already. Jay squinted dramatically.
“You look like my boss.”
“…I am your boss.”
Jay blinked.
Silence filled them again. Then he pointed at him weakly, “Noooo…”
“Yes.”
Jay stared harder. Then suddenly grabbed Sunghoon’s sleeve, “Wait.”
“…What.”
“What’s your name?”
Leehan immediately turned away because he was about to laugh. Sunghoon looked at Jay in disbelief.
"You called me crying an hour ago.”
Jay nodded seriously. “That sounds like something I would do.”
At this point, Sunghoon might lose his head. Jay narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “You’re very handsome.”
“Jay.”
“But also scary.”
Sunghoon exhaled slowly, “You need to stand up.”
Jay immediately frowned. “No.”
“You’re going home.”
“No.”
A whiny baby. Sunghoon grimaced.
“You can barely sit upright.”
Jay thought about it, “…That’s fair.”
With visible reluctance, he allowed Sunghoon to help him stand. Unfortunately, drunk Jay became louder the moment he regained consciousness.
“WHOA—”
Several people looked over. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened slightly.
“Lower your voice.”
“You’re tall,” Jay informed him loudly. “Like… offensively tall.”
“Jay.”
“And your shoulders are crazy.”
Leehan covered his face briefly.
Sunghoon guided him toward the exit carefully. Jay stumbled once and clung onto Sunghoon’s arm immediately. “Okay maybe don’t walk so fast. The floor is moving.”
“The floor is not moving.”
“It absolutely is.”
Outside, the cold air hit Jay instantly. He squinted up at the night sky dramatically.
“…I’m alive.”
“Barely.”
Jay looked at Sunghoon again. Then suddenly giggled. A soft, drunken, completely unfiltered sound. Sunghoon paused slightly.
“…What.”
“You’re more handsome up close.”
Sunghoon stared at him flatly, “Get in the car.”
—
Once inside, Sunghoon shut the passenger door and moved toward the driver’s seat. Jay was still mumbling to himself.
“Proboscis monkey…”
Sunghoon stopped. Slowly turned his head toward him.
Jay gasped softly. “WAIT.”
“…What.”
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
Jay covered his face dramatically.
“Oh my God this is horrible.”
“You compared me to a monkey.”
“In my defense,” Jay said seriously, “I was emotional.”
“That doesn’t help.”
Jay suddenly burst into giggles again.
Sunghoon rubbed his temple once before starting the car. A few minutes into driving, he finally asked, “What’s your apartment address?”
Jay blinked slowly, his lips curving. Another giggle came from him, “…I forgot.”
Sunghoon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.
“You forgot where you live.”
Jay nodded proudly.
“Mhm.”
A pause.
“I think my building is… tall?”
Sunghoon closed his eyes briefly.
This was going to be a very long night.
Getting Jay into the penthouse was already a challenge. Keeping him still was worse. The moment Sunghoon opened the penthouse door, Jay stumbled inside dramatically, immediately stopping in the middle of the luxurious living room to stare around with wide eyes.
“…Rich people ceilings,” he whispered.
Sunghoon closed the door behind them.
“Take your shoes off.”
Jay blinked slowly. Then pointed accusingly.
“You sound exactly like my boss.”
“…I am your boss.”
Jay gasped softly, “Oh my God.”
Sunghoon sighed. This was exhausting.
Jay kicked off his shoes messily near the entrance before wandering farther into the penthouse like a curious cat. Everything was sleek black marble, warm lighting, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.
Jay turned in circles carefully as if he wasn't drunk.
“You live here?”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“You said that already.”
Jay ignored him completely. Then suddenly pointed toward a decorative sculpture near the shelf.
“Why does that thing look like it pays taxes?”
Sunghoon stared at him.
“…What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know,” Jay admitted honestly.
Sunghoon pinched the bridge of his nose. Drunk Jay truly operated on a completely separate plane of existence.
“Come here,” Sunghoon said finally. “You need sleep.”
Jay immediately frowned.
“You’re bossy.”
“And you’re drunk.”
“That’s fair.”
Sunghoon guided him carefully toward the bedroom before Jay suddenly stopped again.
“…Wait.”
“What now?”
Jay looked up at him with glassy eyes, “Do billionaires get sad?” wow— surely, Sunghoon would want to ruin his secretary's face mor— that thoughts was out of blue—The question caught him off guard. Sunghoon looked at him for a second.
“…Sometimes.”
Jay hummed quietly.
“That’s unfortunate.”
Then he kept walking like he hadn’t casually thrown existential questions into the air.
Sunghoon almost laughed.
Almost.
—
Inside the bedroom, the city lights spilled softly through the windows.
Jay immediately walked toward the bed and sat down heavily. Then flopped backward dramatically, “This bed is huge.”
Sunghoon removed his coat slowly.
“You’re sleeping here.”
Jay blinked at the ceiling. “…Are you gonna sell my organs?”
Sunghoon stared. "No.”
“Okay good." A brief pause,“You hesitated.”
“I absolutely did not.”
Jay looked satisfied anyway. Sunghoon moved closer and carefully helped him sit up slightly so he could remove the outer cardigan hanging off his shoulders awkwardly.
Jay was too drunk to help properly.
“Your coordination is terrible,” Sunghoon muttered.
“My personality makes up for it.”
“That’s debatable.”
Jay gasped dramatically. “Rude.”
But he was smiling sleepily. Soft. Warm.
Sunghoon looked away first. He gently eased Jay back against the pillows.
And that was when he noticed it.
Jay’s loose collar had shifted slightly. Exposing the line of his collarbone beneath pale skin.
Sunghoon froze.
His throat tightened unexpectedly. The room suddenly felt warmer than before. His gaze lingered one second too long. Smooth skin.
The faint scent of Jay’s perfume mixed with alcohol. The vulnerable way he looked laying there, cheeks slightly flushed from crying and drinking too much. Something sharp twisted low in Sunghoon’s chest.
He swallowed hard.
Control yourself.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Because suddenly—very suddenly— He was far too aware of how close he was. Sunghoon straightened immediately, stepping back half a pace.
Breathe in.
Out.
This was Jay. His secretary.
Very drunk.
Very emotional.
Very unaware.
And Sunghoon was absolutely not going to take advantage of that.
Still—His teeth clenched slightly anyway.
Because Jay’s scent lingered heavily in the air.
Overwhelming. Distracting. Dangerous.
“Sleep,” Sunghoon said quietly, voice rougher than intended.
Jay blinked up at him slowly. Then, without thinking, reached weakly for his sleeve, “Stay.”
The word was soft.
Sleepy.
Unfiltered.
Sunghoon looked down at the hand lightly holding onto him. Something in his chest shifted again. Dangerously.
Jay’s eyes were already closing, “…Just for a little…”
And then—
Nothing.
His grip loosened. Breathing evening out slowly.
Asleep.
Sunghoon stood there silently for several seconds, observing him.
At the messy hair spread across the pillow. The slightly smudged makeup.
The peaceful expression replacing all the sadness from earlier. Sunghoon carefully pulled the blanket over him and left Immediately. Not because he wanted to. Because he needed to.
—
The kitchen lights flicked on softly. Sunghoon leaned both hands against the marble counter and exhaled slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Then cursed quietly under his breath, “…Shit.”
His mind kept replaying the same image.
Jay under the dim bedroom light. Jay’s flushed face. That exposed collarbone. That tiny sleepy stay. Sunghoon shut his eyes tightly.
This was bad.Very bad.
Because the problem wasn’t just attraction anymore.
No.
Attraction would have been manageable.
The real problem was—that Sunghoon genuinely liked having Jay around. His noise. His dramatics. His clumsiness. Even the ridiculous things he said while drunk.
Cute.
Sunghoon immediately frowned at himself.
Cute?
He straightened abruptly and grabbed a glass of cold water.
What the hell was wrong with him?
And worse—Why could he still remember every single thing Jay confessed earlier?
“You looked handsome smiling…”
“I think I like you.”
Sunghoon drank the water quickly like it would erase the memory.
It didn’t help at all.
Even Jay's blood is making him insane.