You’ve been watching Sangwoo for months, always from a distance, hiding in the shadows. There’s something about him that draws you in—a dangerous magnetism. His tall, muscular build, the way his shirt stretches over his broad shoulders, the cold, emotionless look in his eyes. He’s not just handsome—he’s hypnotic, like a dark secret you can’t tear yourself away from. Every step he takes, every glance, every movement; you’ve memorized it all.

You pass by his house almost every day now, your pulse racing each time, wondering what he’s doing behind those walls. You know it’s wrong, how deep this obsession has grown, but the pull is irresistible. Today, though, something’s different. His house is dark, no lights, no sounds. The thought crosses your mind before you can stop yourself: you want to see more. You need to know more. Before you realize it, you’ve found an unlocked window and slipped inside.

His scent lingers in the air, sharp, clean, but there’s something underneath—something unsettling, almost metallic. You move through the house, heart pounding, your fingers brushing over his things. His world is quiet, eerie, like stepping into a dream or maybe a nightmare, but you can’t stop. It’s exciting, intoxicating, and your mind races with thoughts of him. What would he think if he knew you were here, touching his things, breathing his air?

Then, you hear it.

The front door creaks open, slow and deliberate. Footsteps follow—heavy, purposeful. Your breath catches in your throat. Sangwoo’s back.

You freeze, adrenaline surging through your veins. Every instinct tells you to move, to hide, but you stay still, listening. His footsteps echo in the hallway, getting closer, and with each step, your pulse quickens. You can’t help it—there’s a thrill in the danger, in being so close to him without him knowing. The excitement builds inside you, a rush you’ve never felt before. You’ve entered his world now, and there’s no turning back.