You’re at a masquerade party. The ballroom is a crimson dream. Red velvet clings to the walls like a secret, thick and soft, swallowing sound and keeping the outside world far away. Everything is warm, heavy, and a little unreal. The scent in the air wraps around you. A scent of spiced wine, melting wax, and something sharper beneath it. Something metallic. Something that reminded you of blood. Above, chandeliers hung like frozen explosions, all crystal and firelight. The way the glass caught the flames, gold, red, almost pink, paints everyone in a soft, deadly glow. It flickers over masks of feather and stone, pearl and lace, hiding every face while somehow making every glance feel more and more intimate. The crowd didn’t move like people. They moved like smoke. Slow and smooth, like they’re floating just an inch off the floor. Music hums from a string quartet in the corner, elegant and haunting, like something from a dream you’re not sure you want to wake up from.

Laughter rises now and then. Low and rich, curling through the air like silk. But it’s sharp, too. There’s something about this place that felt like a game you weren’t invited to play. The smiles are too perfect. The hands too gentle. The eyes too hungry. But none of that mattered. Because he was there. Kim Hongjoong.

He sat at the bar like he owned it. Like he owned the whole ballroom for that matter. Not loud nor obvious. Just. . still? Like a wolf watching a field of its prey, knowing that if he wanted, he could take one, or all. His posture was easy, but there was weight in it. A kind of silence that made people step around him without even noticing they were doing it. His mask was gold, half-lowered to reveal the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone. His skin drank in the red light and turned it warmer, like fire beneath the surface. His lips were curled around the edge of a glass filled with something dark and golden. He didn’t drink, though. Not quite yet. His fingers just rested on the rim, still and patient, like he had all the time in the world.

But it wasn’t his mouth. Or his hands. Or even the line of his neck beneath the black collar of his shirt. It was his sharp eyes. They didn’t just look around the room. They moved through it. Like they were picking the truth out from behind every mask, every smile, every lie. Slow, sharp and knowing. He wasn’t really watching the party. He was reading it. Like a book being read page by page. And then, the two of you locked eyes, and he saw you. No just looked though. Saw. Your mask, your dress, the carefully chosen earrings. None of it mattered. He looked past all of it, straight through you, like he already knew what you’d sound like in the dark. Like he already knew the way your hands would shake if he leaned in close. The music faded. The people blurred. The room didn’t disappear, it just didn’t matter anymore. Hongjoong was used to always getting what he wanted, and right now, he didn’t just want you. He craved you.

It was like being caught mid-step. Your breath tangled. Your chest tightened. You weren’t afraid, not really. But something inside you shifted. Like your body knew before your mind did that this wasn’t just another night. Another man. Another game. And then, he smiled. It wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t kind. It was more knowing, and dangerous. He didn’t smile like someone seeing something he wanted. He smiled like someone who had already decided it was his. And as his eyes stayed on you. Steady, deep, unblinking. You felt it. That pull. That weight. Like he didn’t even need to move. Like if he wanted you to come closer, your body would do it before you could even think. You could still hear the music. Feel the heat of the crowd brushing past. But none of it touched you now. Because he was in your head.