Joong lay sprawled on the leather couch of his penthouse in Bangkok, city lights glittering like diamonds beyond the glass walls. His phone screen glowed against the dark, the LinkVerse app open. It was his latest obsession—scrolling through people’s profiles, glimpses into lives far away from his own glitzy world.

That’s when he saw him.

A profile named Dunk. A quiet guy from Shanghai, whose page overflowed with photos of neon reflections in rain puddles, lonely bridges, and empty streets bathed in blue light. The shots felt… wistful.

Joong’s fingers hovered over the “Message” button. He usually didn’t do this. He wasn’t here to flirt—or so he told himself. But there was something in Dunk’s photos that made his chest tighten, like music he couldn’t quite hear.

He typed:

Joong: “Your photos look like secrets waiting to be told. Do you always wander the city alone at night?”

Minutes passed. Just as he was about to close the app, a new message appeared.

Dunk: “Mostly. The city feels safer when everyone’s asleep.”

Joong grinned, propping his head on his hand.

Joong: “Or lonelier.”

Dunk: “Loneliness can be beautiful.”

Joong paused. No one ever said things like that to him. Everyone else was either trying to impress him, please him, or use him.

Joong: “You should see Bangkok at night from the sky. The lights look like fallen stars.”

Dunk: “I’ve never been in a helicopter.”

Joong smirked.

Joong: “That’s a tragedy I feel personally responsible to fix.”

Dunk sent an emoji—a small, shy smile.

Dunk: “You don’t even know me.”

Joong leaned back, thumbs flying over the screen.

Joong: “Not yet.”

And that was how it started. A single message, turning into dozens. Nights blending into mornings as they shared stories of their worlds.

Joong learned Dunk hated crowds but loved street food. That he secretly dreamt of publishing a photography book under a fake name. That his laugh sounded like windchimes.

Dunk learned Joong flew his own helicopters just to escape Bangkok traffic. That he composed piano pieces nobody had ever heard. That sometimes, even in a penthouse overlooking the city, Joong felt completely alone.

Neither of them admitted how much they waited for each other’s messages.

Weeks turned into months. Joong found himself sneaking away during meetings, refreshing LinkVerse like a teenager.

Until one night, after a long day, he sat staring at Dunk’s latest photo—a shot of Shanghai in the rain. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he typed the words he’d been afraid to say.

Joong (texting): “Tell me… would you come with me if I flew all the way to Shanghai tomorrow?”