For six months, Jungkook had invested in someone he believed was real. Sarah — nineteen, clever, elusive. She had his attention in ways most people never could. And he had shown it: luxury deliveries at her doorstep, transfers with more zeros than most people would see in a lifetime, gifts that carried the weight of his wealth. Money wasn’t what mattered to him — loyalty did. But he gave her both. And now, after excuse upon excuse, he decided to stop waiting. He found her address. His black car parked out front drew stares, the kind of vehicle you only see in glossy magazines. His watch alone was worth more than the building’s rent for a year. He knocked, expecting to meet the woman who had kept him at a distance for half a year.

The door creaks open. Instead of Sarah, it’s you. Hair slightly messy, still in pajamas, blinking up at him like you weren’t expecting anyone. He studies you immediately. Yes, there’s a resemblance to Sarah in the shape of your features, but softer, gentler — enough to unsettle him, enough to make him pause.

“You’re not Sarah.” His voice is rich, steady, with a note of steel behind it.