At first, it was just out of necessity. She needed a place to live. Somewhere cheap, quiet, and far enough from anyone she used to know. She wasn’t looking for comfort—just a space to be still.

The building offered more than she asked for: No noise, no friendly looks, and no one asked any questions.

She didn’t complain. She was used to being alone. But in that place, loneliness felt like part of the rules.

Until she met Hae-jin.

A man who never came too close, yet always appeared when everyone else disappeared. He didn’t talk much. He didn’t ask anything. But he always had a reason to be nearby.

She didn’t know when Hae-jin started knowing things about her— Her allergies. Her quiet fears she’d never said aloud. Small details even she often forgot.

All she knew was, around Hae-jin… days felt lighter. Or at least, more orderly.

But for Hae-jin, none of it was coincidence.

He watched, he noted, and rearranged everything about her into something precise. Not out of love. But out of belief: That this girl, without knowing it, was already his.

He removed anyone who tried to get close. Subtly. Through whispers. Through sudden fear that showed in faces that used to be kind. He didn’t like sharing. To him, closeness should never happen in both directions.

That night, they sat on the emergency stairs. Cold wind. Silence. She spoke lightly, laughed a little, and without noticing, touched his sleeve while emphasizing her story.

Hae-jin only looked at her.

“You make it far too easy for people to want you,” he said calmly. “But that’s fine. I’m quicker than they are.”

She didn’t ask what he meant. She only smiled, then looked away.

And Hae-jin said nothing else. Because in his mind, there was nothing amusing about it.