The thought made him smile faintly, almost in disbelief. With Gyu In, he’d probably have been dragged in anyway, but with a grin, iced tea in hand, teasing him the whole way. Here, the air was stiff, the welcome cold. He could feel the difference in his bones.

Before he could ask, Hae Won had already stepped out and opened the door on his side. Eun Wol hesitated for a half-second before climbing out, tugging his hoodie sleeves down lower as the air-conditioned lobby kissed his skin.

Too bright. Too sterile. Too… not him.

The receptionist greeted them with a practiced smile and a bow. “Mr. Choi, this way please.”

Hae Won motioned for Eun Wol to follow. “You have three hours. Don’t move.”

Eun Wol made a face. “What am I, a dress-up doll?”

Hae Won didn’t blink. “If you leave, I’m sending your photo to the press.”

“…You wouldn’t.” A flash of something like amusement crossed the secretary’s face before he turned to speak with the stylist team.

Eun Wol sighed, sinking into the nearest plush chair like a man marching to war. He pulled his hoodie tighter, shrinking into himself as soft music floated in the background. Every surface reflected light - white, glossy, intimidating.

He didn’t belong here. And yet somewhere in the back of his head, a voice teased him.

This is for the contract. Just pretend. Pretend to belong.

Eun Wol took a tentative sip of the latte, eyes flicking around the room. Stylists bustled in and out, some giving passing glances, none quite sure what to make of the hooded figure trying to vanish into the chair.

A tall woman with brown-dyed hair clipped into a bun finally approached, tablet in hand. “Mr. Choi mentioned a full prep. Hair, skin, light coverage makeup, wardrobe styling.”

She gave him a brief once-over.
“…May I?” she asked, gesturing to his hoodie and mask.

Eun Wol hesitated. Then slowly, as if it cost him everything, he reached up and pulled the hood back and mask down. The fabric slipped down, revealing tousled black hair - messy, soft, defying the strictness of this place. Sharp brows, subtle nose line, pale skin untouched by sunlight in weeks.

The stylist blinked.

“…Wait a second.”

One assistant paused mid-step. “…Is he an idol or something?”

The woman leaned closer, fingers hovering near his cheek like touching glass. “You have good bone structure,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Really good bone structure. Ridiculous.”

Eun Wol shifted. “Can we… get this over with?”

Her lips curved in a tiny smile, equal parts intrigue and challenge.

“Oh, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.” Someone tugged at his hoodie sleeves.

“Let’s get this off, mm?” a stylist coaxed, guiding him toward the changing section.

Eun Wol moved stiffly, like limbs borrowed from someone else. The hoodie came off. The shirt underneath clung to his lean frame, worn cotton, frayed edges. Still, his lines were sharp, stillness poised.

“Looks like he walked out of a noir film,” someone whispered.

Layer by layer, they cleaned him with toner, balm, primer. A brush caressed his cheekbones reverently. He kept his eyes down. Mirrors were enemies.

“Hair,” the brown-haired stylist snapped, “Keep it natural. Bring out softness.”

Strands fell over his brow, waves tamed, yet effortlessly so.

A collar shirt, a tailored jacket, cream-toned, understated elegance. Not flashy. Not loud. Sophistication without spectacle.

Finally, nudged toward the mirror, he hesitated. Then reluctantly lifted his gaze.

A stranger stared back. His eyes, always tired, now framed to smolder beneath the salon lights. Lips slightly tinted, skin glowing. Jacket settling perfectly. Expensive.
Unrecognizable.

A soft laugh from behind: “You clean up nice, mystery boy.”

He didn’t reply. Fingers gripped the armrest.

The door swung open. Hae Won stepped in, tablet in hand, eyes half-lidded in apparent disinterest until they landed on Eun Wol.

A micro-falter. Just barely.

Eun Wol stood, arms crossed, makeup and hair done with precision that cut cruelly through his comfort. Not smiling. Not performing. Just standing and it was enough.

Hae Won blinked once, corner of his lip twitching. “…You clean up well.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Eun Wol replied flatly, brushing past him.

Back in the car, silence reclaimed the space until Eun Wol broke it.

“So… I’ll be meeting Gyu In straight at the venue?

Eyes still fixed on the road, Hae Won said, “Yes. He might be slightly late, but he’s requested me to stay by your side until he arrives.”

Eun Wol bit down the anxiety crawling his throat. Another question slipped out, a reflex. “Is he usually this busy?”

“Yes. Though, it depends on the week. Gyu In prefers back-to-back tasks to finish efficiently.”

“Ah… that’s why he’s always missing meals?”

His own words hit him. Too natural, too caring, too close. But Hae Won didn’t mind.

“I do try to slot in breaks for him. But in the end, it’s still his decision.”

Eun Wol nodded, eyes falling to the window. He should really stop talking. At least for now.

*

The quiet hum of the engine faded as the car reached its destination. They’d arrived.

The event was held at an upscale rooftop lounge - open air, dim lighting, jazz humming softly in the background. Waitstaff circulated with trays of hors d'oeuvres and wine, while guests gathered at tall cocktail tables or along the buffet line. The chatter drifted like smoke, punctuated by soft laughter, glasses clinking.

Eun Wol hesitated, adjusting the collar of his crisp shirt. The unfamiliar weight of confidence settled awkwardly on his shoulders as he stepped out of the car, eyes flicking over the sleek venue.

“We’re here. Stay sharp and follow my lead.” Hae Won walked forward with a composed stride, like he owned this place. Eun Wol trailed close, tense, lips tight. Stepping onto the rooftop, faint whispers grazed his ears, soft murmurs that prickled the back of his neck.

Were they talking about me? Judging me?

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe steady.

Just ignore them. I don’t belong here.

Hae Won’s calm voice sliced through the tension.

“Don’t look around. Keep your head up.” He pushed his glasses up, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Everyone here is wearing masks though most are probably fake.”

He guided Eun Wol toward the buffet. “Grab some bites. No need to starve yourself tonight.”

Eun Wol forced a tight smile, biting back the swirl of anxiety. He didn’t really want food, so he picked a random drink from a passing waiter’s tray instead. Hae Won led him onto the terrace, where the cool night air kissed his skin.

The world felt distant.  Every face seemed curated, every gesture deliberate.

And then like a current tugging at him - Gyu In appeared at the edge of the crowd.

Eun Wol’s eyes snapped across the terrace. Tall, lean, yet radiating a presence larger than life. Silver hair caught the light like liquid moonlight, tousled deliberately, effortlessly stylish. His tailored suit clung to a frame refined, smooth, every movement whispering control.

A teasing smile played at his lips, private and impossible to ignore. Conversations lulled subtly around him, heads turning without breaking rhythm. Even the jazz seemed to sync with his steps.

His eyes found Eun Wol, locking on with an intensity that pulled the air from his lungs. The usual playful spark lingered, but beneath it flickered something deeper - an unspoken claim, a silent tether binding Eun Wol before a word passed between them.

The world narrowed. Conversations blurred into silence. Every light dimmed except for him. Only Gyu In existed and every inch of the rooftop seemed to bend toward him. The gravity he carried wasn’t just undeniable. It was a claim, pulling at something inside Eun Wol he hadn’t even realized was there.