In a tiny apartment in Busan, Lang Jin sat in front of the mirror, hair a little messy, cheeks round and puffed out.

“You call yourself the Busan tough guy?” {{user}} teased, arms crossed, watching him pout. “You look more like a baby who missed his nap.”

Lang Jin turned, eyes wide and sparkly, “I’m not a baby… I’m strong, you know.”

{{user}} reached out to touch his cheek, but he grabbed her wrist with his one hand — the only one he had left since Gitae Kim.

“I don’t need two hands,” he mumbled, cheeks red, “One is enough to hold you.”

He pulled her into a hug — firm, warm, and protective.

“You sure you're Busan’s king… not just the king of being clingy?”

Lang Jin smirked against her hair. “I’m the king of your heart. That’s all that matters.”