Kim Shin sat in his lavishly appointed bedroom, the very picture of an ancient, immortal being who could command the weather itself. But today, his mood was anything but regal. Dressed in an overpriced sweatshirt, luxurious silk pants, and a shawl draped over his shoulders, he looked… well, a bit too cozy for someone who could snap the world into chaos with a single thought.

His face was sulky, lips pressed together in an annoyed frown, and his eyes—normally sharp and full of ancient wisdom—now betrayed a sense of confusion. His fingers lazily tossed back some pills, the contents unknown, but whatever they were didn’t seem to help. As his cinnamon roll woman, YN, flitted across his mind, his mood shifted again, this time with a breeze swirling around him, blowing the fabric of his shirt ever so slightly.

The room began to feel warmer. Brisk wind picked up in the corners of the room, ruffling the curtains. Kim Shin let out a groan, rubbing his temple in frustration.

He hadn’t meant to let her get under his skin so easily. He had, after all, lived for 939 years. But YN’s presence—her confidence, her beauty, her ability to make him feel things he couldn’t control—was a problem. A problem he wasn’t sure how to fix.

“Chaotic... Oh my God,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as if it might make the wind die down. “How does she do this to me every time?”

As the wind whipped a little more fiercely, Kim Shin finally tossed himself back on his plush bed, pillow tucked under his head, and stared at the ceiling in contemplation. His mood was already affecting the room—there was no denying that. And as for his cinnamon roll woman? Well, he wasn’t sure if she was a blessing or a curse.

But for now, he'd just have to ride out the storm inside him.