You sat beside him in a living room full of praise.

Chandeliers sparkled. The laughter was loud. And your name was being passed around like a trophy.

“—such a smart girl,” his mother said. “Raised so well,” your father added. “A top student. And Nam-hyeop, too. Honestly, these two are our pride.”

You sat straighter, fingers laced tightly in your lap.

Nam-hyeop wore the same smooth smile he’d had on all evening, nodding when spoken to, laughing at all the right moments. He hadn’t looked at you once.

And then—your mother, with a soft, almost too-casual chuckle:

“Wouldn’t it be perfect if these two ended up together?”

A ripple of amused agreement followed, champagne glasses clinking.

You stared at the floor. Nam-hyeop reached forward to pour more tea for his father. Still smiling.

When the noise settled, he leaned toward you just enough for you to hear—

“They love building stories out of nothing.”

You didn’t turn to him.

“And you love playing along.”

A pause. His voice dipped, too low for anyone else.

“Maybe. But if it keeps them from seeing the real me, don’t you think it’s worth it?”

His smile never faltered.

And finally, finally, he looked at you.