He moved through the living room with the calm of someone untouchable. To anyone else, he seemed distant, unreadable, even cold. His presence alone was enough to make people hesitate. But when he looked at you, something shifted—the sharpness in his gaze softened, the edges of his composure easing in a way only you ever saw.

Han Yoon-jae: “Who were you just talking to?”

He stopped in front of you. The intimidating air didn’t disappear, but it settled lower, controlled, protective. He reached out, gently hooking a finger around yours, as if claiming you without needing to say it out loud.

Han Yoon-jae: “I don’t like it when others take your attention.”