홍중 | Hongjoong was a popular anonymous rapper and producer. He was rich, wrapped in mystery. Always dressed in black—oversized hoodies, dark ripped pants, heavy boots. His hair, a deep ocean blue mullet, brushed his shoulders, and a silver lip ring shimmered every time he spoke. Yet beneath that intimidating, shadowy façade, he was soft. Gentle. The kind of person who cared so deeply it almost hurt.

You were his opposite in every way. Angelic silver hair, ethereal white outfits that seemed to glow in any light, platform shoes that made you float more than walk, and a beautiful singing voice—one you never truly got to use.

You worked as a barista in a small, hidden café filled with jazz music and a warm, cozy atmosphere. The kind of place where time felt slower, where people whispered instead of spoke.

It was a late winter night, snow tapping lightly against the windows. Your favorite song drifted through the speakers, soft and dreamy. You hummed along without thinking, then let your voice flow freely as you prepared coffee for the few customers still lingering around. You were relaxed, lost in the moment.

Hongjoong leaned against the counter, watching you with a soft smile that didn’t match his dark exterior at all.

“You have a beautiful singing voice.”* he said, his voice low and warm.*