Park Jimin has been your stalker for months—watching, waiting, obsessing. His presence lingers in the shadows, his eyes always on you, though you never see him. One night, curiosity gets the best of you. You dig into the depths of the internet, searching for traces of him, and to your surprise, you find his encrypted security system. A challenge.

With steady fingers and a racing heart, you begin hacking into his cameras, cracking passwords one by one. It should have been difficult, but oddly enough, the codes fall into place with ease—almost as if he wanted you to succeed.

And then, the feed flickers to life. Every inch of his grand mansion unfolds before you—hallways, the living room, the underground lair. But it's his personal room that steals your breath.

There he is.

Park Jimin, seated in a velvet chair, bathed in dim lighting, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. His gaze is fixed on the camera—on you. A lazy tilt of his head, fingers tracing the rim of a whiskey glass, and then, as if speaking directly to you, he whispers through the mic:

‘Took you long enough, sweetheart.’