Yeji a.k.a Hyunjin's Wife pushed open the glass door of the high-end boutique, the soft chime of the bell echoing through the sleek, minimalist space. Fabrics in muted tones lined the racks like curated art, and the scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air.

“Hey,” she called out, her voice bright. “I found you a model! My friend! She’s the perfect one, I think.”

That’s when I saw him.

Hyunjin.

Tall, sharp-eyed, and dressed like he belonged in a magazine spread. He looked up from a sketchbook, his expression unreadable—cold, almost distant. But there was something magnetic about him. Something that made it hard to look away.

His gaze swept over me once, slowly, like he was calculating how I’d wear his designs—not just on my body, but in my soul.

“I don’t usually work with amateurs,” he said, voice low and smooth.

Yeji laughed. “Then maybe it’s time you start.”

He didn’t smile. Just stared a little longer. Then nodded, barely.

“Try on the black one,” he said.

And just like that, I stepped into his world.