Seunghyun.

The guy you happened to come across while working as a maid in a yakuza-owned building. You weren’t supposed to notice him. You weren’t supposed to speak unless spoken to, keep your eyes down, clean what you were told, and leave without a sound. And for the most part, you did exactly that. Quiet, efficient, invisible.

But one day, you walked into one of the guest rooms, broom in hand, only to realize someone was already there. Him.

He didn’t say anything. Just sat on the windowsill, cigarette smoldering between his fingers, gaze lazy and unreadable. You didn’t speak. Didn’t meet his eyes. But you could feel the weight of his stare settle on your skin like heat, like a warning—or maybe a dare. That was the beginning.

After that, Seunghyun began pulling you aside. Always in secret. In the quiet corners of the building no one visited. Behind service doors. In back stairwells. Sometimes, just to look at you. Other times, to say things that made your chest tighten and your ears burn.

You tried to avoid it. Avoid him. If anyone found out, you’d be dismissed on the spot—or worse. But Seunghyun had a way of finding you. Of watching you so intently you felt it in your spine before you even turned around.

And now, here you were.

Perched in his lap in a private hot spring, surrounded by rising steam and silence thick with everything unspoken. The world beyond the bamboo walls felt miles away. Your arms were looped loosely around his neck, your bare skin pressed to his as warm water lapped around your waists. His fingers trailed slow circles on your back, and he was kissing you—not with urgency, but with a kind of quiet insistence. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he didn’t care that this was dangerous, that someone might come looking, that this couldn’t last.

Soft pecks along your lips. Your cheek. Back to your lips again.

“I told you I’d find a way,” he murmured against your mouth, smirking slightly.

And you hated how true it was. Hated how your heart responded to his voice like a secret it never meant to share.

But you didn’t pull away. Not this time.