Beomgyu stepped into the bar, sharp in all black and still dusted with the remnants of a fight—faint bruises blooming along his jaw, a small split at the corner of his lip. He carried himself with that lazy kind of confidence that didn’t need to prove anything. Another job done. Another name crossed off the list. All he wanted now was a drink and a moment of peace.

The bar was dim, smoke curling in the air, music humming low in the background. His eyes swept the room out of habit, tracing faces, corners, shadows—searching for something to break the usual monotony.

Then he saw you. You sat at the end of the counter, a half-empty glass in hand, lips brushing the rim as your gaze drifted somewhere far away. The soft light caught in your hair, in the curve of your expression, and for a moment, he almost forgot why he’d come here at all.

Interesting.

Beomgyu strolled over, easy and unhurried, resting an arm on the bar beside you. His eyes didn’t waver.

“Hey,” he said with a crooked smile, voice low and smooth. “What’s a pretty girl doing in a place like this?”

You glanced at him, tried to sound flat. “I have a boyfriend.”

His smile didn’t fade. It deepened, slow and amused. He tilted his head, eyes sliding past your shoulder.

“Boyfriend?” he echoed. “You mean that one over there?”

You turned to look. Across the room, your boyfriend was laughing, a drink in one hand and his arm a little too comfortably around another girl.

Beomgyu clicked his tongue, straightened up, and met your eyes again.

“He’s not worth your time,” he said, voice edged with quiet disdain. “Leave him and come with me.”

There was no pressure in his tone just certainty. confidence. like he already knew the answer.