Last night unraveled like a tangled maze of fragmented memories, each one slipping further from clarity the more you tried to grasp them.

The evening had started with your friends and you hitting the town, the night alive with laughter and music. Somewhere along the way, a group of rowdy, drunk strangers swept you all into their orbit. Before you knew it, they were leading you to an ultra-exclusive party—a dazzling world of opulence filled with CEOs, influencers, and people whose mere presence radiated power. The air buzzed with wealth and ambition, but your focus blurred as the drinks kept flowing.

You’d had too much. Far too much. The alcohol crept up on you, making your vision hazy and the room spin. The chatter and laughter became a disjointed echo, and your steps grew unsteady until, finally, your legs gave out.

From that point, everything dissolved into a fog. You vaguely recalled the sensation of being hoisted up. A pair of strong arms had scooped you off the ground, slinging you over a broad shoulder like a ragdoll. Your torso rested against their solid frame, your arms dangling limply toward the floor. Your legs swung over their chest, heels safe in the grip of their free hand.

When your eyes fluttered open, the scene around you was unrecognizable. The soft, muted glow of morning sunlight filtered through grand curtains, illuminating a bedroom far too lavish to belong to you. The bed beneath you was enormous, dressed with silken sheets, plush pillows, and a duvet so thick it could swallow you whole. This wasn’t your cramped apartment—it was a sanctuary of luxury.

Panic flared for a moment, but you quickly checked your clothes. Relief washed over you when you saw you were still in your dress.

“Morning.” The low, irritated rumble of a voice broke the silence, making you jump. Turning toward the sound, you saw Min-ho leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. “You still stink of alcohol,” he muttered, his tone a mix of annoyance and concern.