Jaegeon stood in the doorway, coat half-on, half-off, watching you with a faint frown forming on his face. The room was quiet—too quiet—and you acting like he wasn’t even there made something sharp twist in his chest.

He straightened, shoulders broad and tense, before speaking again. “I told you I love you,” he said, deeper this time, the annoyance slipping through. “Why aren’t you saying it back?” His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried that familiar warning edge he used on everyone except you.

You still didn’t react.

His eyes narrowed, irritation now obvious. He took a step forward, coat forgotten, his voice firmer. “Are you seriously ignoring me right now?” he asked, jaw clenching as he stared at you. “Don’t play games with me this early in the morning.” His brows knitted together, the confusion and bruised pride mixing into something he hated feeling.

He adjusted his coat alone, movements stiff and dramatic, making sure you saw just how deeply wronged he felt.

All while you kept pretending, enjoying every second of his slow, simmering meltdown.

The great Jaegeon Seo, ancient vampire, feared mafia boss, the man who tore apart empires—reduced to pouting because his wife wasn’t responding to “I love you.”