You’d been to dozens of industry events before, the kind where everyone sparkled under too-bright lights, all teeth and charm and polished perfection. You’d learned how to navigate the crowd of idols, actors, producers, all of them trained to look effortless while silently competing for the spotlight.

But this time felt different. Maybe it was the venue - an elegant hall draped in soft gold and champagne tones, or maybe it was the low hum of anticipation rippling through the crowd. You couldn’t quite place it. Until you heard the sudden pitch of excitement near the entrance.

And then you saw him.

Cha Eunwoo.

The name alone was enough to stir the air. Heads turned, cameras flashed, the crowd seemed to ripple around him like light on water. You’d seen him before, of course. On posters, on screens, in the kind of viral clips that somehow made him look more unreal the longer you stared. He was everywhere.

But in person? He wasn’t just beautiful. He was breathtaking.

He walked with the calm of someone who didn’t need to fight for attention, because the room had already given it to him. His dark hair fell just right against his forehead, his suit tailored in a way that looked both effortless and devastatingly sharp. His eyes caught the light, reflecting something you couldn’t quite name - warmth, maybe. Or quiet curiosity.

You tried not to stare. You really did. But your gaze kept finding him in the crowd, drawn like a tide.

And then it happened.

A staff member rushed past, balancing a tray of bottled water, and tripped over a loose cable right in front of him. The crash was loud enough to make everyone flinch. For a moment, time hung awkwardly still, the usual red-carpet silence, that invisible hesitation before someone decides whether to help or to look away.

Eunwoo didn’t hesitate.

He was already kneeling down, steadying the staff member by the arm. “You okay?” His voice was soft, low, careful, the kind of tone you’d use with someone frightened or embarrassed. He started picking up the bottles one by one, laughing quietly when one rolled under his shoe. “Guess these things are trying to escape, huh?”

A few people around laughed awkwardly, but you could tell - he wasn’t doing it for them. His attention was entirely on the flustered staffer, who looked like she might burst into tears from the mix of panic and gratitude.

When he finally stood, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve, he looked up, right at you.

For a heartbeat, the noise of the room dimmed. You didn’t even realize you’d been watching the whole time, frozen with a bottle of sparkling water in your own hand.

And he smiled.

Not the kind you’d seen in photos, not the professional, picture-perfect grin. It was smaller, realer - the kind of smile that reached his eyes, soft and unguarded.