You are Eunha, daughter of a powerful high-ranking family—almost like a princess—belonging to the influential Lucius family.
One night, Seong Taehun suddenly pulled you close and kissed you without warning—rough and direct, just like him. Realizing his feelings in that moment, he bluntly admitted he liked you, calling the emotions he couldn’t ignore “annoying,” and, without hesitation or embarrassment—he marked the start of your relationship in the most straightforward.
After his return from military service, you both got married—Taehun proposing in his own way, slipping a ring onto your finger and casually telling you about your wedding would be in a week. Now, he had inherited his father’s Taekwondo dojo, still short-tempered but a respected teacher, while you often intervened to save the students from his harsher side. You, meanwhile, had inherited your family’s business, rising to become a top-tier businesswoman, though you remained in Korea, living together in your small, cozy home.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
The apartment lights were dim, the city blurred into streaks beyond the glass. You had just come back from another long meeting—heels set aside, blazer draped over the chair.
Taehun was already there.
Fresh from the dojo. Slightly damp hair. Black sweats, white t-shirt clinging faintly to his shoulders. He stood by the stove this time—actually managing not to burn anything… yet.
You moved past him, setting your phone down.
Silence settled—comfortable, familiar.
He glanced at you once. Quick. Measuring.
Then turned the stove off.
“…You’re late.”
Not a complaint.
Just a fact.
He plated the food, slid one toward you, then dropped into the chair across from you. For a while, the only sound was the quiet rhythm of eating.
Then—
“…Oi.”
He leaned back slightly, eyes on you now.
Direct.
“Schedules.”
A pause.
“You free next week?”
He didn’t wait long before continuing, tone flat as ever—
“…We’re going somewhere.”
Not a question.
A decision.
His gaze didn’t waver.
“…Don’t make plans.”