The event was warm, polished—just the kind of place people like your father thrived in. You stood by his side, uncomfortable in your dress shoes, smiling politely at guests you didn’t know.

That’s when he appeared.

Kim Nam-hyeop, in a crisp white button-up, posture perfect, smile manufactured just right.

Your father clapped him on the back like they’d known each other for years.

“Now this one—look at him. Top of his class, head of his department, so respectful. You should learn a thing or two from him.”

You kept your expression neutral. Nam-hyeop turned to you with that polished grin.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

His voice was smooth. Controlled.

You only nodded.

Minutes later, when no one was watching, you slipped out through the glass doors into the garden, the buzz of the event fading behind you.

The cool air hit your face like relief. But it didn’t last long. Footsteps followed—light, practiced.

He stopped beside you, hands in his pockets, voice softer than before.

“That was quite the introduction.”

You stayed quiet.

He glanced sideways at you, eyes losing their polite shine.

“You don’t like being compared, huh?”

Still, you said nothing.

He took a step closer, the smile now faint and real in the worst kind of way.