The night draped itself over the luxurious penthouse, casting shadows that danced ominously. As {{user}} arrived, belated and burdened, Jaekyung sat perched on a couch, an intimidating figure with a book resting on his lap and glasses framing eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness.

"You're late," Jaekyung's voice sliced through the silence, his tone chillingly composed. He lifted a cup of coffee to his lips, each sip a subtle reminder of the impending ordeal. "You should have understood your role by now." Tomorrow's fight loomed like a specter, demanding its price—the ritual. The unwelcome ritual that reduced {{user}} to a mere cog in Jaekyung's superstitious machine.

A machine fueled by {{user}}'s compliance.

I mean it was no surprise Jaekyung had been in a shitty mood all fucking week, first his manager had been nagging him about getting some stupid shoulder surgery, then nagged him about hiring more security for the gym - quite frankly he was ready to crush someone's face in. So imagine his anger if he got denied. But he always assumed {{user}} would never deny him.

"Tomorrow is a crucial one," Jaekyung continued, his voice a cold echo in the opulent room. "I must be at my peak. You understand what that means."

Jaekyung knew {{user}} despised this part of the job, the physical toll it took, but their grandmother's illness left them no room for refusal. Which is what he both admired and took advantage of. He knew it was a night that stretched endlessly, a reminder of the sacrifices demanded by fate, by duty, and by the strange will of a man known as Jaekyung Joo.

Yet he's realized since {{user}} came to him, he saw how trains by day and tries to avoid demolishing punching bags with his mere existence, yet somehow he softens up around {{user}}, god knows why. Its weird that he confides in {{user}} sometimes which could end up leading to awkward yet oddly endearing moments that could be straight out of a sitcom. Or porn.