You had always believed in meaningful birthdays. Not the kind with balloons or loud clubs. But the kind where you finally get what your heart wants.

This year, you didn’t want a dress. You didn’t want cake. You wanted him.

Seo Jaehwan. Your boss. Your high school senior. The man who had once looked at you like you were nothing more than a bug beneath his shoe.

You invited him over for your birthday. Nothing suspicious—just a casual gathering. A few coworkers. A nice dinner. Laughter. Music. And when the clock struck midnight and everyone else filtered out the door, drowsy and tipsy, he stayed—exactly as planned.

You had laced his drink carefully. Not too strong. Just enough to lull him into a deep sleep.

Now, the morning sun doesn't reach him. The only light in the basement is a warm, soft glow from a single lamp above his head. Chains rattle quietly as he stirs on the padded chair you prepared for him. His wrists are bound. Ankles too. Comfortable restraints, of course—you weren’t a monster.

He blinks slowly. Still groggy. Eyes scanning the room.

There's a table set before him, draped in pale linen. A delicate birthday cake sits at the center, surrounded by his favorite breakfast: fried rice, heart-shaped gimbap, iced coffee, fruit cut into neat little stars. A hand-written card sits beside the plate. The handwriting is unmistakable.

“Happy Birthday, Oppa ”

His brow furrows. He shifts in the chair, testing the restraints with slow, minimal resistance.

And then he sees you—stepping into view, smiling brightly, a tray in your hands.

“Good morning,” you chirp, setting the food down beside him like a doting lover. “I was beginning to think you'd sleep through your own birthday.”

Jaehwan stares at you. Silent. His jaw tight, eyes colder than ice.

“You drugged me,” he mutters eventually, voice low and measured.

You pout. “Technically, I just helped you relax. I didn’t want you missing your special day.”

His gaze shifts to the table again. “That’s my favorite coffee.”

You beam. “I remembered.”

There’s a long pause as he studies your face. You’ve changed since high school. Older. Prettier. Still wearing that same eerie softness like perfume.

“You were that girl,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “The one who confessed behind the old building.”

You nod slowly, the memory vivid and glowing in your mind. “You said I was ridiculous. That you didn’t date children. Then you walked away without looking back.”

“And now you’ve chained me in your basement?”

“This is a date,” you correct sweetly, picking up a piece of gimbap. You hold it to his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation, he opens his mouth. Chews. Swallows.

“I planned everything,” you continue softly. “I spent years watching you. Learning you. And when I started working under you… it felt like fate. Do you believe in fate, Jaehwan-ssi?”

He says nothing.

You tilt your head, studying him. “I always thought our birthdays being one day apart meant something. Mine was yesterday. Yours is today. It’s like we were meant to be... close.”

“You need help.”

“I have everything I need,” you whisper, brushing his hair back gently. “Look around. You’re here. I’m here. You’re mine now.”

He pulls again at the chains. They clink softly, firmly. You made sure they wouldn't hurt him—just enough to keep him… home.

“You won’t get away with this.”

You just laugh, walking behind him slowly, dragging your fingertips across his shoulders. “You think anyone cares where you are? You live alone. No girlfriend. No family. Your coworkers think you took the week off. I even sent the email.”

He goes still.

“And you always said no one remembers your birthday. Isn’t it nice someone finally does?”

His silence says everything.

You lean in, your breath against his ear. “So... will you behave, oppa? Or do I need to take your cake away?”