The door closed behind them with a sharp snap, a metallic sound that echoed against the massive walls of the office like a muffled detonation, as if the air itself held its breath the instant they found themselves alone, locked inside this space too large for two bodies burning with a tension neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
The office stretched before them like forbidden territory: glass, metal, sharp angles, a panoramic view of Seoul drowned under heavy clouds and silver mist, the rain hitting the windows in a slow, insistent rhythm, almost sensual, like a sick heart that keeps beating no matter what.
Silence fell.
A thick silence.
A silence that vibrated.
A silence that clung to the skin.
Sion stood still, motionless, but every line of his body spoke impatience, provocation, absolute control: his broad shoulders tense under the black fabric of his shirt, his fingers slipped inside his pockets as if he were holding himself back from acting, his jaw tight under the white ceiling light sculpting every relief of his face.
Nari felt something crack inside her chest, a heartbeat too strong, too fast, almost painful, rising to her throat; she felt like all her blood had rushed into her veins at once, like a fire looking for a place to escape.
She inhaled, but the air didn't fully enter.
Her lips trembled.
Her stomach tightened.
She didn't even know why she had come.
Or rather: she refused to name it.
Sion looked at her.
A slow look.
Sharp.
Icy.
A look that searched her, pierced her, undressed her in silence.
Then his voice fell, deep, dry, emotionless, like a slap:
— So. What do you want? A fuck, is that it?
The world stopped.
Without giving her time to breathe, he crossed the space between them in three precise, controlled, calculated steps, then grabbed her by the waist as if she weighed nothing — a doll, a possession, a distraction — and set her on the glass desk in a brutal, fluid, steady motion, his hands locking her hips, her thighs parting despite herself, despite her reason, despite her shame.
And that was where everything inside her exploded.
— NO! she screamed, strangled voice, her eyes shining with tears that threatened to overflow, her body burning, trembling, wet, betraying every word she tried to keep standing.
I'm in a relationship! That's not why I came!
Sion froze.
Just a moment.
A moment long enough for his expression to change.
Darker.
Harder.
More dangerous.
His hands still on her hips, his thumbs pressing her skin just enough to leave marks.
— You're in a relationship, I don't give a fuck, he said in a bored tone.
Then, leaning closer, his breath on her mouth:
— So why are you here? Huh? Came all this way for what? Unpack your life? You think I'm a therapist?
And that was when Nari snapped.
Completely.
Violently.
Brutally.
— You think everyone dreams of your dick, you arrogant fucking psycho?! You wouldn't even get my grandmother wet! I only came to thank you for yesterday, but GO FUCK YOURSELF!
A provocation.
An insult.
A defense.
And yet… in her eyes, a burn, a hunger she had never been able to hide.
Sion stepped forward.
Again.
Until their breaths mixed.
Until the heat of his body crushed hers.
Until his scent — dark cologne, wet leather, cold rain — suffocated her.
Her cheeks burned.
Her stomach tightened.
Her hands trembled.
She turned suddenly, ready to flee — but too slow.
Sion caught her.
Pinned her against the wall.
His entire body against hers.
A shock.
A breath knocked out.
He slammed her against the wall, her back against the cold glass, his massive body against hers, his mouth crashing onto hers without warning, voracious, brutal, possessive.
His tongue forced its way in, tasted, took, devoured; she moaned despite herself, her hands clenched his shirt, pulled at the fabric, her nails scratching his neck.
Saliva spilled at the corner of her mouth, but she couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't resist, her legs trembling as if they no longer belonged to her.
And her body…
her body responded.
Violently.
Red-hot.
Burning with a desire she had never known.
He growled into her mouth.
His hand slid up her skirt, grazed the inside of her thigh, higher, brushed the soaked fabric, and she felt her knees give out.
Then he stopped.
Stepped back.
A mocking smile.
— Oh yeah? I wouldn't even get your grandmother wet?
He slowly ran his thumb over her lower lip, watched it tremble.
— But you… you look like you want more.
Sion's smile — slow, predatory, humiliating — hit her like a punch in the stomach, a blow that cut her breath, made her legs buckle against the cold wall, a blow that awakened something primal deep inside her, something she had never wanted to see or name.
Nari trembled.
Not from cold.
From rage.
From shame.
From desire.
Everything mixed, burned, hammered against her ribs as if her own heart were trying to crawl out of her chest to scream for her.
She clenched her teeth, took a sharp breath, felt heat rush to her cheeks — then, in a flash of brutal lucidity, in a reflex born from wounded pride more than real courage:
She slammed her knee into his groin.
Violent.
Sharp.
Precise.
Sion bent slightly, a raw groan escaping his throat, one hand on his lower stomach, the other against the wall, hair falling over his forehead damp with cold sweat — and even in that half-second of weakness, he radiated something dangerous, threatening, as if the pain only excited him more.
— You little… bitch…, he growled in a low, rough voice, vibrating with cold anger.
But Nari didn't stay to hear the rest.
She bolted.
She ran.
She tore the handle open, burst out of the office as if her life depended on it, her heart beating so fast she felt nauseous.
The hallway was cold, long, empty.
She almost stumbled, braced herself against the wall, breathless, her hand pressed to her chest to try to calm the shaking in her body.
Her legs no longer responded.
Her breath was cut.
Her mouth was dry.
She had no idea what she was really running from:
Sion?
Her own desire?
Her own madness?
She went down in the elevator, her back pressed against the cold metal wall, eyes wide open, her heart still pounding against her ribs like a panicked animal.
I'm losing my mind.
I'm going crazy.
What am I doing?
With each floor passing before her eyes, reality hit her harder, more cruelly:
She had let this man — this stranger, this monster, this living danger — touch a part of her no one had ever awakened.
And the worst?
She wanted more.
Her body wanted more.
The simple truth made her stomach twist.
Outside, the cold Seoul air crashed against her.
She leaned against the building wall, her skin damp, her lips swollen, her thighs still trembling.
A cold sweat slid down her temples.
She bit her lip until it bled to regain some control.
I'm in a relationship.
I love him.
I can't do this.
I'm not that kind of woman.
I'm not…
Her mind repeated those phrases in a loop, as if she were clinging to a thin thread to keep from collapsing.
But her body said something else.
Her body still vibrated from Sion's kiss.
From the wall against her back.
From his hand rising slowly between her thighs.
From his warm breath on her mouth.
A violent heat climbed up her stomach — an uncontrollable, shameful, urgent wave.
She swallowed a sob.
How did he do that… in three minutes… how…?
That evening, when she got home, the apartment was lit with a soft, warm, reassuring yellow glow.
The smell of hot rice and miso drifted from the kitchen.
Her boyfriend greeted her with his gentle smile, the one that had never failed, never hurt, never betrayed.
— Did you have a good day? he asked.
His soft eyes.
His clean hands.
His simple heart.
Nari felt a brutal frustration crush her chest.
A lack.
A hunger.
A rage.
A void.
She kissed him without warning, a deep kiss, nervous, too quick, too eager, too desperate.
She pushed him against the wall, her mouth crashing onto his, her hands tugging at his shirt, her breath trembling.
Her boyfriend was surprised.
Then happy.
Then carried by her momentum.
They kissed.
His hands slid timidly along her hips.
He lifted her onto the couch.
She pulled him with her, straddled him, her thighs tightening around his waist, her breasts pressed against his chest.
She wanted to get lost.
She wanted to forget.
She wanted to erase Sion from her skin.
She wanted to convince herself she wasn't betraying, that she could choose a simple, tender, stable life.
But as soon as she closed her eyes…
It wasn't him.
It wasn't his voice.
It wasn't his hands.
It was Sion.
Always Sion.
Only Sion.
His deep breath at her ear.
His golden eyes burning in the dark.
His powerful fingers gripping her hips.
His heavy, massive body crushing hers.
His tongue.
His mouth.
His kiss that had broken her.
She moved faster, harder, until she lost herself, until she twisted, until orgasm tore through her like a wave of fire.
A moan escaped her.
A moan too rough.
Too loaded.
Too true.
Her boyfriend held her tight.
Kissed her.
Smiled at her.
He thought she had come for him.
He thought she was coming back to him.
She felt her heart crack.
Because she knew.
She had felt nothing.
Nothing but Sion's shadow.
She stood up suddenly.
Choking.
Fleeing her own body.
— I… I'm going to take a shower, she whispered, broken.
She didn't wait for his answer.
She slammed the door.
In the bathroom, she slid down against the tiled wall, hands in her hair, breath trembling.
And she cried.
Silently.
Again.
Again.
Because something had opened inside her.
Something dangerous.
Something she would never be able to close again.
Something with Jeon Sion's face, voice, and hands.
She pressed her forehead against the tiles.
The water ran down her skin, mixing with tears, with tremors.
She whispered, almost voiceless:
— Why you? Why… why is it you?
Because he had awakened her.
Because he had pierced her with one look.
Because he had set fire to a place inside her she thought was dead.
She wiped her tears.
Her fingers were still trembling.
— I have to forget him.
Lie.
Her reflection in the mirror knew it.
Meanwhile, across the city…
ALONE IN HIS OFFICE, SION
He stared at the window.
Seoul blurred under the rain, cut in half by car headlights.
The city was immense — but he only saw her.
He remembered her gaze.
Her trembling voice.
The way she had hit him.
Her red lips.
The taste of her fear and desire mixed.
He ran a hand over his mouth.
A slow smile stretched across his face.
— I broke you just by kissing you…
This is going to be fun.
He poured himself a glass of whisky, sank into his leather chair, lit a cigarette.
The smoke rose slowly, drawing Nari's face in the air.
— Tomorrow… you'll beg without even realizing it.
1:37 a.m.
He grabbed his phone.
His assistant answered in a panic.
— Mr. Jeon?
— Find me everything.
— Excuse me?
— Everything.
Her address.
Her boyfriend.
Her job.
Her schedule.
Her habits.
Her fears.
Her weaknesses.
Everything that will let me enter her life before she can close the door.
A panicked silence on the line.
— Uh… right away, Mr. Jeon.
Then he hung up.
He saw her again.
Her trembling legs.
Her warm skin.
Her exposed throat.
Her way of lying with her mouth but not with her body.
Sion smiled.
A slow, dark smile, almost tender.
Almost.
The rain slapped against the window.
And in the silence, only one thought burned:
I didn't even ask for her name.