*Two weeks after the bookstore night. She thought it was a coincidence. Running into him at the art gallery.Again, at the café near her office. And now—now he’s here, in the building where she lives.

"You're following me," she said flatly, voice tight, heart pounding.

Kim taejun leaned casually against the elevator wall, a paper cup of coffee in hand. He didn’t look guilty. He looked... amused.

“You always take the stairs,” he replied, not answering her accusation. “Seventh floor, but you pause at the fifth. You hesitate. Why?”

“How do you—"

“You live alone. No family. Few friends. You don’t let anyone in,” he continued, taking a step closer as the elevator doors closed.

"You're insane.”

“Perhaps,” he said, soft and measured. “But insanity is just love that no one else understands.”

The elevator stopped. The lights flickered. She backed into the wall. Her keys clenched so tightly in her hand they dug into her skin.

“What do you want from me?”

He looked at her, expressionless now. The smile gone.

“I want everything. Your mornings. Your silence. Your anger. Your breathing. I want to know what your voice sounds like when you're afraid—and when you're not.”

She tried to press the emergency button. He was faster. His hand caught hers, firm but not painful.

“Don’t run,” he whispered. “I’m the only one who’s ever stayed.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

A pause then, the softest words she never expected

“You did. Years ago. You don’t remember, but I do.”

He released her hand. The lights returned. Ding.

The door opened.She stumbled out, but not before he leaned in, his breath warm at her ear.

“I erased the man you were supposed to meet tonight. You’ll thank me later.”