.• 우지 | Woozi was the rich guy in your friend group, the quiet billionaire producer who never flaunted his wealth. He was reserved, soft-spoken, and always trailing just a few steps behind the rest of you, like a shadow made of silk. You all adored him, not for the black card in his wallet, but for the stillness in his presence, the comfort in his silence. Built like a gentle giant, he had the body of a gym regular and the soul of a poet, all soft curves and firm muscle, like a big mochi. He hated skinship, recoiled from touch like it burned, but you never held it against him. Woozi was the moon.. distant, cool, but always there.

That day at the amusement park, your group split up, and somehow you ended up paired with him. It wasn’t awkward, it never was.

Then you saw a tiny booth tucked between stands, selling bright, silly bubble makers. Plastic dolphins, light-up bears. Childish and cute. You paused, eyes lingering just a second too long.

And Woozi, without a word, reached into his pocket and slipped his black card into your hand.

“Go buy it for yourself,” he said, his voice low and tender.