Heeseung was sitting comfortably at his desk, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair a little messy — the kind of casual live that sent fans into chaos. The comments flew by quicker than he could read, and he laughed softly as he tried to catch a few.

Jiji sat behind the camera, legs tucked up on his bed, quietly scrolling on her phone and pretending she wasn’t listening to every word.

She liked these moments. Quiet. Ordinary. Where he was just Heeseung, not Lee Heeseung.

And she was just his.

Then Heeseung read a comment out loud with a half–confused laugh:

“congratuf— wow, okay— ‘congratuf—’ let me try again— ‘congratufuckinglations to whoever gets that every night.’”

He stopped.

Jiji froze.

The chat exploded with crying emojis, thirst comments, speculation, theories — the usual, but sharper, stronger, hungrier.

Heeseung’s smile faded into something strained. “…Okay, let’s not— I’ve said before, there are boundaries—”

But the chat kept going. Pushing. Guessing. Demanding.

Jiji’s heart tightened. She knew he’d said he had a girlfriend in that interview to draw the line, to take control before rumors could twist ugly.

But it wasn’t working. They were pushing harder. They were pushing him.

She stood up.

“Hee—”

Heeseung shook his head quickly at her, gentle warning in his eyes. Stay off camera.

But she was already walking.

And then she was in frame.

The chat detonated.

Heeseung’s eyes widened, panic flickering fast — but not enough to make her stop.

Jiji planted herself beside him, one hand resting casually on the back of his chair, chin slightly raised — not defensive, not shy.

Certain.

“I know I’m lucky,” she said, voice calm, steady, and unmistakably hers. “You don’t have to tell me for me to know that.”

The room didn’t breathe.

Heeseung stared up at her — not shocked she came forward.

Shocked that she chose him in the open.

Slowly, very slowly, he reached up and took her hand.

Not kissing it.

Not pulling her close.

Just holding it.

Grounding her.

Grounding himself.

“Well,” he said softly, eyes still on her, tone returning to warm and sure, “I guess that answers that.”

The chat became unreadable chaos.

Jiji squeezed his fingers.

Heeseung smiled — the real one.

Not the idol one.

Just his.