Jungwon had more power over you than you’d ever admit—more than you’d ever given anyone in your life. You worked for him. Well, for him and the other members. You were the quiet constant in their dorm: cleaning up after them when they were gone, cooking their meals because none of them could survive a kitchen on their own.

You were older than all of them, if only by a few years. Still, Jungwon never seemed to care. The way he looked at you was unmistakable—like longing lived behind his eyes, like he needed you the way lungs needed air.

He wasn’t bad-looking. He wasn’t even a bad person. Just young. Reckless. And you refused to risk your job over Jungwon being in love with you.

“I don’t see the issue,” he says casually. “You don’t have a ring on your finger.”

Of course you’d be alone with him. Of course it would be four in the morning. Apparently, he was awake. “The issue,” you sigh, “is that you’re too young for me.”

He steps closer anyway. His black jacket does nothing to hide the fact that he’s shirtless beneath it, and you force yourself not to look.

“Too young?” He recoils like you’ve insulted him. “I’m twenty-two. You’re twenty-six. Four years isn’t some crime—we’re both adults. We both know what we want.”

A dimple appears when he speaks, softening him just enough to make him less intimidating. “I’m only the caretaker,” you insist. “You shouldn’t feel this way.”

He shakes his head, already dismissing your words. Stubborn—predictably so.

“I see no problem with it, {{user}}.”

You flinch at the sound of your name. God. He didn’t care about formalities at all.