"Yoojin, here."
"What's this?"
In Dongha's hand lay a small, darkened silver cross necklace.
"A silver cross necklace. I used to carry it around when things were really bad. I thought… maybe it might give you some strength."
But the moment Yoojin saw the cross, a conflicted expression crossed her face.
Even in her most desperate moments in her previous life, she never once turned to religion.
Choi Hyun-oh had been the god who ruled her entire world back then.
"Dongha… I don't have a religion."
"I don't either."
He gave a small, awkward laugh—realizing how odd it must seem to hand someone a cross when he himself wasn't religious.
He hurried to explain.
"I know, it's weird. But when I was a kid, I had really bad nightmares. They felt like… a curse, almost. So I kept this with me to help me sleep. You know, in horror movies they always use crosses for exorcisms."
Dongha shrugged as if it were nothing and gently held the necklace out again.
The cross meant a lot to him.
When he quit ballet and the nightmares came back, this tiny piece of metal was what kept him grounded.
Back when he dropped out of high school and drifted, he would grip it so tightly his palms tingled.
He looked down at the cross for a moment.
Now that Yoojin was here—he was never going to lose her again.
He wanted something of him to stay beside her, even when he couldn't.
So naturally, he ended up giving her the necklace.
"I'm fine now. So… you take it. It'll protect you."
Dongha reached forward and clasped the necklace around her neck.
The delicately crafted cross settled gently at the base of her throat.
"Thank you."
Yoojin traced the pendant with her fingers, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
But she still couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye—receiving so much from Dongha made her feel strangely guilty.
He studied her silently.
The sight of the cross on Yoojin—someone he'd always revered—with the relic of his own wounded past settling against her porcelain skin…
It carved a strange, overwhelming fullness into his chest.
His gaze moved to her tear-stained face.
He reached out, brushing the damp skin with the tips of his fingers.
Her skin, tender and flushed from crying, reddened under his touch.
He worried the touch might sting her, yet he couldn't pull his hand away.
He watched the faint bloom of heat spreading over her cheeks.
Even that flush looked as fragile as something that might shatter under his touch—and it made his chest ache.
Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of her eye—soft, warm, comforting.
As if trying to heal her with the gentlest part of himself.
With his lips lingering against her skin, he closed his eyes and traced the swollen corners of her eyes with featherlight kisses.
Yoojin froze at the unexpected touch.
His face was so close.
And the way he kissed her—careful, almost reverent—felt holy.
It was so unbearably gentle that Yoojin couldn't move, couldn't speak.
When she blinked in shock, her fluttering lashes brushed his cheek, tickling him, but he didn't stop.
His high nose bridge and soft lips moved from eye to eye, scattering warm kisses across her sensitive skin.
Only then did Yoojin push lightly against his chest.
It was a weak attempt, barely a nudge—but Dongha immediately pulled back.
His dark eyes held a violet sheen again, glowing like a storm behind glass.
Yoojin stared at him, wide-eyed.
Yes—she had left the office because of exhaustion, crushed confidence, and the dread of starting another week.
Yes—she had wandered aimlessly, ended up at the studio without realizing, ready to make some excuse just to see him.
And now she had been kissed.
A real kiss—one meant only for her.
Memories of Choi Hyun-oh crashed heavily over her. She had never once received a kiss like this.
The ones she had endured were nothing like this—forced, biting, devouring, a warning of violence to come.
Shame washed over her, bitter and suffocating. Too many nights of silent violation flashed behind her eyelids.
I can't stay by Dongha's side. Someone like him… someone bright… If he stays close to me, my darkness, my curse, will swallow him whole.
Tears welled again, her lips trembling.
But Dongha watched her quietly—as if searching for every small hurt inside her.
She didn't deserve that gaze.
Yoojin bit down hard on her lower lip before forcing the words out.
"Dongha… I don't deserve to be next to you. We're just friends."
It was the same line she'd practiced the night before—but this time, it wasn't a lie. It was what she believed.
Dongha said nothing.
His eyes were fixed on her lower lip—now red and torn from being bitten too hard.
A small drop of blood welled up.
He focused on nothing else.
"When did it get this bad…"
He lifted his thumb, brushing lightly across her lip.
A smear of bright red stained the pad of his finger.
He exhaled sharply.
Then he cupped her face with both hands, tilting her gently toward him.
Yoojin stared, terrified and frozen.
She knew—if she lifted a finger, he would stop immediately. But like before, she couldn't move. As if some invisible thread held her still.
Dongha's lips touched hers—soft, warm—cradling her wounded lip with unbearable tenderness.
He wrapped her torn lower lip in a gentle kiss. Warmth spread through her skin.
Yoojin squeezed her eyes shut.
He kissed her as if tending to an injury—so tender, so careful it made her chest tighten.
Then a faint, sweet scent bloomed.
Like the red dahlias she once received after a childhood ballet competition.
Her lips tasted like that memory.
Her lips remained closed, yet he slowly cupped her lower lip again—then her upper lip—drawing her into a soft, lingering kiss.
It was enough to make him dizzy.
But he forced himself to pull away before he hurt her swollen lips any further.
Dongha looked at her openly—passion, affection, longing—everything laid bare. His violet-tinted gaze held nothing back.
"Yoojin… why would you say you don't deserve me? Don't say things like that. And I can't… I can't just be your friend. But if being near you means being just a friend, then I'll take it. Just… let me stay by your side."
The plea cracked something inside her.
"Dongha… you quit ballet because of me. Being with someone like me will ruin you. Someone's going to hurt you because of me."
"No, Yoojin. If it's because of you… I think I'd be grateful. They're all marks you left on me.And no one can ruin us. I won't let them."
He said it slowly, like a vow carved with conviction.
Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
Yoojin sank into him, enveloped by the warm citrus scent she hadn't noticed earlier.
She inhaled deeply—filling her lungs with his warmth—feeling something tender bloom inside her chest.
I shouldn't be here. I'll only drag him into my darkness. Dongha… I'm sorry. I'm selfish. Just for a moment… let me stay like this.
Yoojin raised her arms and held him, clutching the fabric of his shirt.
She needed this warmth more desperately than she could admit.
No words of refusal left her lips.
And seeing that, Dongha slowly lowered his face toward hers again.