You lit the cigarette with steady hands, took a drag, then turned to him—wordless, expectant. Seongje met your gaze like he always did: sharp, unreadable, a little too close.

You tilted your chin, held the smoke in, and when he leaned in, you let it out—slowly, deliberately—right between his parted lips.

He inhaled without blinking, the space between your mouths too small, too charged. When he pulled back, the smoke drifted between you like a secret.

You raised an eyebrow. “This what we’re doing now?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just watched you, unreadable. Then, finally—quiet, almost amused—he said, “You started it.”