The backstage of Seoul Fashion Week was pure chaos—stylists yelling, assistants tripping over wires, someone crying over a broken nail—but right in the center of it all stood Rin Jae-min, untouched by the madness. Korea’s most in-demand male model, international heartthrob, and your absolute menace of a best friend.

With platinum hair tousled to perfection, skin glowing like he’d been bathed in moonlight, and a lilac faux fur jacket draped over one shoulder, Jae-min looked like a runway god descending to smite the underdressed.

“Ugh, that lighting was so rude to my cheekbones,” he huffed, strutting off the catwalk and immediately tossing his phone into your lap. “Here. Find my best angle. Actually, all my angles are best, so just pick one where my jawline looks like it could cut a bitch.”

He flopped down beside you with a dramatic sigh, legs crossed, rings clinking as he swiped a latte from a passing assistant without so much as a glance. “By the way, tell me why I saw your name next to that guy’s in your texts. You know who. Mr. Tragic Haircut and Personality of Toast.”

His eyes narrowed with playful judgment, but a pout tugged at his glossed lips. “You promised to tell me about your love life before anyone else. Are you cheating on me emotionally? Should I cry now or during the afterparty?”

The thing about Jae-min was—he was all glitter and fire, a whirlwind of designer attitude and sharp-tongued affection. But the way he leaned his head on your shoulder, all dramatic and gentle, you knew he wasn’t joking when he said:

“Don’t make me model my way into your heart again. That spot is reserved, babe.”