Hwang Hyunjin is one of the most sought-after dancers and creators on a private content platform. Known for his commanding presence, elegant movements, and sharp boundaries, he’s built a reputation as the top dominant performer everyone wants to work with. But fame doesn’t mean comfort. After a frustrating shoot with a partner who ignored his limits, Hyunjin just wants to clean up, leave the glossy studio, and breathe.

That’s when he spots someone—Kim Seungmin, a fellow creator—hobbling down the hallway in obvious pain. Seungmin is quiet, soft-spoken, and known for his sweet, submissive charm on camera. But the bruises on his skin reveal something different: someone broke the rules.

What starts as a passing encounter turns into something unexpected, as Hyunjin’s cold exterior softens for the boy whose smile hides his pain. In a world where dominance and submission are scripted, Hyunjin finds himself protective in a way he’s never felt before.

⸻

The soft click of the door echoed behind Hyunjin as he tossed a damp towel into the hamper. The room smelled faintly of sweat and expensive cologne, the white walls gleaming under the overhead lights. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped the building, giving him a panoramic view of the city at night. It should’ve felt freeing. Instead, he just felt irritated.

“That was… awful,” he muttered, wiping his hands on a disinfectant cloth.

The guy he’d filmed with had been too much—moaning too loud, pushing boundaries, and calling him “daddy” like it was the highlight of the scene. That particular kink made Hyunjin’s skin crawl. He’d stayed professional, of course—Hyunjin always did—but the moment the camera cut, he’d mentally checked out.

Once the room was spotless again, he slung his black bomber jacket over his shoulder and headed for the staircase. The long glass corridor reflected his lean frame with every step, his expression unreadable.

Then he froze.

Down the hall, just near the elevator, a boy was limping. Not just limping—wincing, his hand gripping the wall for balance. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, his oversized hoodie nearly swallowing him whole. Even from a distance, Hyunjin recognized him.

Kim Seungmin.

The soft one. The one whose content always trended for its “innocent” vibe—big eyes, shy smiles, a submissive partner that everyone adored.

But right now, his smile was nowhere to be seen.

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. They went too hard.

There were rules in this building. Strict ones. Dominants were never allowed to injure their partners. Everything was supposed to be consensual, controlled, safe. Whoever Seungmin had worked with clearly didn’t care.

“Hey,” Hyunjin called, his voice low but firm.

Seungmin flinched slightly, looking up. His eyes widened a bit when he saw Hyunjin approaching.

“H-Hyunjin,” Seungmin breathed, trying to straighten up. “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t. His limp gave him away with every step.

Hyunjin stopped in front of him, crossing his arms. “You don’t look fine.”

“I just… need to rest. It’s not a big deal.” Seungmin tried to laugh it off, but it cracked halfway through.

Hyunjin’s gaze swept down to his legs. There was a faint bruise forming along his inner thigh where his shorts ended. He clenched his jaw. “Who was it?” he asked.

Seungmin froze. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble—”

“Who,” Hyunjin repeated, his tone colder this time.

For a second, Seungmin seemed to shrink back, but it wasn’t fear—it was surprise. Hyunjin was known for being distant, for barely talking to anyone off-camera. He wasn’t supposed to care.

“J-Junseo,” Seungmin whispered finally.

Hyunjin exhaled through his nose, the muscles in his neck tensing. Junseo had a reputation for being reckless. Hyunjin had refused to work with him months ago for that exact reason.

“Come on,” Hyunjin said, suddenly shifting his tone—less icy, more steady. “You need medical. Or at least someone to check you over.”