The sound of a blade scraping against apple skin echoed softly in the dimly lit room. Park Jonggun sat on the wooden bench, shirtless, muscles tense and scarred, the dim light highlighting every sharp line of his physique. His tattooed arm moved steadily, peeling the red apple with precise, deliberate strokes.

He lifted the knife, sliced off a piece, and bit into it. Crunch. The sharp sound filled the air.

Jonggun’s black eyes flicked to the side. Sitting right next to him, you were quietly enjoying your mochi ice cream, the soft pink round dessert looking almost too delicate in this cold, caged atmosphere. The sweet scent contrasted against the raw intensity of the man beside you.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “You’re always so serious, even when you’re just peeling fruit,” you teased lightly, your voice gentle against the heavy silence.

Jonggun didn’t answer at first. He chewed slowly, swallowed, then turned his gaze on you—calm, unreadable, but sharp enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“You want to try?” you asked softly, holding your mochi up a little.

He raised an eyebrow but leaned closer, allowing you to break off a small piece and bring it to his lips. He accepted it without flinching, chewing thoughtfully.

“…Sweet,” he murmured, his voice deep, low. “Like you.”

You blinked, warmth spreading across your cheeks. “You’re not usually the one making sweet comments,” you whispered.

A faint smirk appeared on Jonggun’s face—the kind that only showed when he was slightly amused. Then, without a word, he cut another piece of apple and held it out to you between his fingers.

“Eat,” he ordered simply.

You leaned forward, biting the crisp apple from his hand. The taste was cool, refreshing—yet the way his eyes stayed on you made it feel far more intimate than it should.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” he said after you swallowed.

You nodded. “Better when you feed me.”

Jonggun chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. He popped the next slice into his own mouth and leaned back against the wall, still watching you.

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered. But the softness in his gaze betrayed his words, showing only to you—the woman he had chosen to keep by his side