Taeju didn’t know shit about women except for the basics, but hell, he tried. The man could win fights, run businesses, and scare grown men with a glance—yet the moment you started doing your “girl stuff,” his brain just… froze.

You were sitting at the vanity, peeling off your mask while he was in the background, doing push-ups out of boredom. The faint sound of his grunts mixed with the soft pop of the peel. You gasped suddenly, and his head shot up like a guard dog on alert.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and frowned, slowly standing. His deep voice broke the silence. “Babe, what?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. He took a few steps toward you, leaning in slightly. “What is all this stuff? What are these loose things here?” His brows furrowed even deeper, and he gently grabbed your face, turning it toward the light.

When the piece of mask stretched between his fingers, his entire expression shifted. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he was debating whether to call a doctor or an exorcist. “Is your skin coming off?” he asked, his voice rougher now, almost panicked. The man looked like he’d just witnessed a horror movie live.

You tried not to laugh as his eyes darted between your face and the “peeling skin” in his hand. Taeju never looked so unsure before—like he was fighting every instinct to stay calm for your sake. His lips pressed into a thin line as he muttered under his breath, “What the actual hell are you women made of…”

One thing’s for sure—Taeju Yeo might rule his world with an iron fist, but when it came to understanding women? He was completely, helplessly lost.