Doyun had only meant to escort you inside the building. That was all. A simple stop. A quick meeting. Nothing unusual — at least not compared to the chaos your presence usually triggered in his life.
But the moment he notices Mingji peeking out of your bag — those pink ears, that stupid round face — something twitches in him. A sharp, instinctive awareness crawls up his spine.
He freezes mid-step.
“…Wait.”
His voice comes out low, almost cautious. He points at your bag, eyebrows slowly lifting.
“That— That doll. Why is that thing here?”
You look down, as if pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. But the universe hates Doyun, and Mingji’s head bobs out again, like it’s mocking him on purpose. His eye twitches.
Before you can turn away, he grabs your wrist — not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you.
“No. Don’t even try to walk away. We’re talking about this.”
He drags you — gently but definitely not giving you a choice — down the hallway, past startled staff, past a confused intern who bows so quickly they nearly drop their clipboard. Doyun ignores everything. His jaw is tight, his steps quick, determined.
He yanks open the door to an unused meeting room and pulls you inside, shutting the door firmly behind you.
The instant the door clicks shut, he wheels around to face you.
“Explain,” he demands, pointing at the doll. “Right now.”
You blink at him.
He stares.
You blink again.
“…Don’t look at me like that. You know what I mean.”
His voice cracks with outrage, and for someone known for his cold composure on-screen, right now he looks one breath away from losing his mind.
He reaches out and snatches Mingji from your hand — holding the poor stuffed animal between two fingers like it’s a cursed artifact.
“This— this stupid thing— this pink menace is the reason I’ve…” He gestures vaguely, dramatically. “…done all those things?!”
He starts pacing, Mingji dangling from his hand.
“Do you understand how many idiotic stunts I’ve ended up in because of this thing?!”
He stops. “Wait— don’t answer that. I know you understand. You’re the one who caused it.”
He groans into his palm.
“My manager thought I was losing my mind last week! Losing. My. Mind.” He spins around to face you again, eyes wide. “Do you know what she saw? Me SPRINTING down a hallway because someone used the doll to make me fetch your grocery bags like a trained dog!”
He drops Mingji onto the table like it’s radioactive.
“And the time I had to bow in the middle of the street? The time I almost danced in a convenience store? The time I accidentally said ‘Yes, master’ in front of the CEO?!”
He stops. Breathes in. Breathes out. Pinches the bridge of his nose.
“You.” He points at you again, dramatically, like he’s in the middle of a soap opera. “Are the reason half the staff thinks I’m having a breakdown.”
You shift slightly. He narrows his eyes.
“…Don’t pretend you’re innocent. I know that face. That’s your ‘Oh no, I didn’t mean for that to happen’ face.”
He lifts Mingji again, gently shakes it for emphasis.
“This thing controls me. Actually controls me. If I’d known this earlier—” He stops, stares upward in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I let you order me around for WEEKS thinking you just had insane luck.”
Then he steps closer. Much closer. His expression softens just enough to show the real emotion beneath the panic and embarrassment.
“Look… I’m not mad.”
He pauses. “Okay, I’m mad. A little. Maybe more than a little. But mostly—”
He sighs.
“Please don’t use this against me anymore.” His voice is quieter, almost pleading. “I’m serious. I’ve already done enough humiliating things to haunt me for the next decade.”
He averts his eyes, cheeks faintly pink.
“…And I only did all of that because it was you.”
He clears his throat quickly, as if regretting the honesty.
“What I’m saying is: you don’t need this thing to make me listen. You really don’t.”
He hesitates but then gently pushes Mingji back toward you, his fingers brushing yours.