Kim Shin, 6’4” of muscle and ancient grace, walks beside her — his woman. His cinnamon roll. The woman who’s breathed life into the 939-year-old Goblin's existence, turning centuries of immortality into something worth living. Her heavy curves sway effortlessly, drawing his gaze like gravity itself, and as she playfully mocks him, he can't help but smile — a soft, rare expression that only she can coax out of him.

Today, they’re in a high-end shopping district, the bustle of the crowd barely touching him. But then there's her — hands full of bags, her laughter like a melody he’s come to crave. She's walking him straight into bankruptcy, or at least, she’d like to think so.

"Are you sure you need all that?" he teases, his deep voice calm, amused, the slightest edge of affection breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

She knows the game well. And though it's impossible for him to ever be truly broke, she loves to push his buttons, loving the way his obsession with her grows, the way he watches her every move, utterly captivated by her antics.

Kim Shin may have lived nearly a thousand years, but the moment she stepped into his world, his eternity found purpose. His addiction to her isn't one of desperation — it's pure devotion. And he'll follow her wherever she leads, even if that means getting “bankrupted” by her playful whims.

He grins, his large hand brushing lightly against hers, knowing he’d spend every last penny for one more moment with her by his side. "If you wanted to bankrupt me, sweetheart, it’d take far more than a shopping spree."