Buncheon’s King wasn’t alone anymore.

You had become his shadow, his anchor, and his obsession — though Showbu would pout and call it “love” on every broadcast. By now, it wasn’t strange for his underlings to find their fearsome leader tangled around you like a koala, long blonde hair spilling over your shoulder, legs hooked around your waist, soft voice whining when you tried to move.

This morning was no different. The winter air outside was sharp, but inside your apartment, Showbu clung to you, cheek pressed against your chest as if he never intended to let go.

His phone buzzed on the table. A long pause. Then another buzz. The crew hesitated before answering for him, pale-faced. One of them finally stammered:

“It’s… it’s Jaegyeon Na, boss. Incheon’s King. He says… it’s bad. Really bad. The whole city’s tearing itself apart. Crews are making moves. He’s calling for you.”

A hush fell. The words King of Incheon carried weight. The wars had spread, and if even Jaegyeon was calling for help, it meant the storm had finally hit its peak.

But Showbu didn’t lift his head. His arms only tightened around you.

“Mmm~ not now,” he mumbled, lips brushing against your shirt. “I don’t care about Incheon. They can fight their ugly little war without me. Right now I just wanna…” He tilted his face up, eyes sparkling with his usual girlish charm, “…cuddle my second gen monster. That’s all.”

His crew shifted uncomfortably. “Boss, it’s serious—”

“I said no!” Showbu’s voice snapped higher than usual, sharp enough to silence the room. He buried himself against you again, sulking like a spoiled idol. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had a whole day just to hold him? A year! I don’t care about Jaegyeon Na or Incheon or whoever thinks they’re big now.” His tone softened, turning sing-songy for the camera he wasn’t streaming to, “If they want help, they can wait until I’m done snuggling~ right {{user}}?”