Night fell over Seoul like a second skin—heavy, electric, saturated with that invisible tension that comes right before everything shifts.
Nari walked alone through the glowing streets, red and blue neon reflecting in dried rain puddles, painting vibrant shards of light across her skin that pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat.
Each step echoed against the asphalt with a slow, ceremonial energy, as if the city itself was escorting this new version of her she was still discovering—a version that breathed differently, saw the world with sharper, hungrier eyes, a version alive in ways she had never been before.
She had this strange, burning sensation of being reborn—
but not like the soft rebirths they show in movies.
No.
A brutal rebirth.
A carnal one.
Forged in disobedience… and in the bite of irreversible choices.
A vivid heat rolled in her chest, a fire spreading into her fingers, her lips, the tips of her lashes.
Pure adrenaline, vibrating through her veins like a drug.
She regretted nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
That docile woman no longer existed.
The real Nari was now walking through the cold streets of Seoul.
Then her phone vibrated, slicing through the hum of the city.
A message, short.
Sharp as a blade.
"We're expecting you tonight. 7:00 PM. At Black Orchid."
She froze for a few seconds, red neon reflected in her eyes.
The sentence vibrated in her mind—heavy, mysterious, almost sensual.
Black Orchid.
A name that sounded like a secret.
A veiled warning.
Or a dangerous invitation.
Her lips curved slowly.
A hungry, feral smile.
— Perfect… she murmured to herself.
The city kept living around her—yellow taxis, roaring motorcycles, bursts of laughter, music leaking from bars—
but she walked with a new certainty, as if each passing second pushed her further into an even darker version of herself.
A version that was free.
Untamable.
Alive.
And deep in her chest, her heart beat faster, harder—
as if it already knew the weight of that message,
as if it sensed, before she did,
that something was going to shift again tonight.
She tightened her grip on her phone, inhaled deeply, felt her new life pulsing beneath her skin—
and continued walking into the night.
The real story was beginning now.
⸻
The Black Orchid stood before her like a forbidden sanctuary—
a dark flower blooming in the nightlife, its tinted windows reflecting Seoul's neon in a hypnotic crimson glow.
The façade exuded a quiet luxury—
not the kind that begs to be admired,
but the kind that demands respect for what's hidden behind closed doors.
Nari inhaled deeply, resting her hand on the cold metal handle for a moment, feeling under her skin the faint tremor of her own heartbeat.
One pulse.
A second.
A third.
Then she stepped inside.
Warm air wrapped around her instantly, thick with polished wood, premium gin, heady perfumes, and low music vibrating in her ribs like a second breath.
The dim light glided over silhouettes at tables, amber glasses, elegant fingers stroking the rims of crystal cups, eyes heavy with secrets.
She didn't even get the chance to take a step forward before someone appeared in front of her—
as if the night had been waiting for her to begin.
A young woman.
Aera.
Her chestnut hair, pulled into a high ponytail that lightly brushed her back, caught the bar's warm lighting with golden softness.
Her eyes sparkled with a gentle, sincere energy—almost too pure for a place like this… and yet she fit perfectly into the dark atmosphere.
Her smile burst open—bright, open, disarming.
— You must be Nari?
Her voice was clear, crystalline—like a small bell rung delicately.
Nari nodded, despite herself her lips softened.
Aera radiated a warmth she hadn't felt from anyone in years—
an unforced kindness, a rare humanity.
— I'm Aera Lee, tonight's manager. Welcome to your new life, I guess?
She laughed softly, her perfume of vanilla and lemon wafting around her.
Something loosened in Nari's chest—
a knot she didn't even know she'd been carrying.
Aera wasn't like the women she had crossed paths with in recent months.
No jealousy in her eyes.
No arrogance.
No judgment.
Just… light.
— I think I'm really going to like you… Nari murmured, almost involuntarily.
Aera laughed—
a laugh that made a few heads turn.
— Of course! Everybody loves me. I'm adorable.
A man arrived exactly at that moment, completing the scene.
Ryo—black shirt open over an athletic chest, hair perfectly messy, easy smile.
— Ryo Tanaka. Nice to meet you! You'll see—here we work, but we also have fun.
Nari smiled.
A real smile.
One she hadn't allowed herself in so long.
The evening opened into something new…
something gentle, unexpected, almost comforting.
But that softness was only a prelude.
A calm before the impact.
Because later, while she was preparing a cocktail with perfect precision, the light tilted slightly, the ambient noise grew heavier, the bass deeper—
a tiny shift, but visceral.
Aera leaned toward her, her warm breath brushing Nari's ear.
— Careful… you've got a visitor tonight.
She murmured softly, but the words vibrated inside Nari like a distant alarm.
— He's… a little scary at first. But don't worry. He's not dangerous.
Nari raised an eyebrow, focusing on the shaker clacking between her hands.
— Who is it?
Aera smiled, but her eyes shifted subtly toward the entrance.
— Kai Ryou.
— Owner of the Black Orchid. And probably… the most mysterious man in the whole city.
As if his name were a secret signal, something shifted in the room.
A silent wave.
A collective exhale.
Heads turned.
And Nari looked up.
The world tightened around her.
He had just entered.
A man in a dark, perfectly tailored suit—
tall, controlled, moving with slow, deliberate confidence,
a predator gliding through a field of prey.
His black hair, slicked back, revealed a face carved in cold marble.
His woody, smoky perfume reached her even before he crossed half the bar.
But it was his gaze…
Those obsidian eyes.
Black.
Deep.
Devouring.
They found her immediately.
Locked on her.
Chose her.
The noise of the bar—voices, music, laughter—
all vanished inside her skull.
Her breath caught.
A brutal shiver climbed up her spine,
like someone had slipped a live wire under her skin.
She looked away first.
Her cheeks burning.
Her lips dry.
Her throat tight.
He smiled—
barely, just a corner of his mouth—
as if her reaction amused him,
as if he already knew the power he had over her.
And he walked toward her.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
Each step thudded like a drumbeat beneath her sternum.
When he spoke, his voice caressed her skin like dark velvet.
— Pleasure to meet you. Kai Ryou. Owner of the bar. Settling in well?
She lifted her eyes.
Forced herself.
And met his gaze.
Mistake.
Or destiny.
Her heart exploded against her ribs.
— Han Nari, she murmured. Thank you. Yes, everything's going well.
He sat at the bar.
Directly in front of her.
Time stretched out—
or maybe it was just her breath, her pulse, her skin—
that slowed under the weight of Kai's stare.
Because as she kept serving, smiling, pouring, mixing, sliding glasses across the counter with mechanical precision…
He didn't move.
He stayed in the same spot.
Stillness.
Silence.
And his obsidian eyes never left her.
Not once.
Every time she lifted her gaze just a little, to check if she was imagining it…
He was still there.
Eyes locked on her.
Steady.
Smooth.
Unshakeable.
A presence heavier than all the conversations around them.
A heat under her skin made a thin line of sweat form behind her neck.
A soft, subtle oppression—yet impossible to ignore.
A disorienting mix of danger and fascination.
Aera passed behind her, a tray in her hands, and whispered very quietly:
— He hasn't taken his eyes off you for twenty minutes.
Her smile was playful, but her gaze… almost worried.
Nari felt her heart slam harder.
Too hard.
— Why is he looking at me like that? she murmured, as if speaking too loud could break something.
Aera shrugged, pretending not to notice how Kai tilted his head slightly to catch their whisper despite the music.
— He's like that.
She twirled a glass, amused.
— And he rarely chooses anyone. So… good luck.
Nari swallowed, painfully.
⸻
Whenever she bent down to grab a bottle, she felt his gaze slide down her legs.
Whenever she straightened up, she felt his gaze climb her spine.
Whenever she parted her lips to speak to a customer, she felt his gaze burn her mouth.
It wasn't discreet.
It wasn't polite.
It wasn't innocent.
It was deliberate.
Assumed.
Possessive.
As if he didn't care at all that the whole bar could see the way he was watching her.
As if she already belonged to him—
before they had even exchanged more than three sentences.
⸻
Later, she was shaking a shaker between her hands, the ice hitting the metal with a rhythm that vibrated all the way up her wrist.
Her skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat under the warm lights, her hair sticking slightly to her temple.
She felt his gaze travel slowly along her arm—
like a caress without touching.
She lifted her eyes—
and was trapped.
This time, he didn't look away.
He watched her as if she had just done something intimate only for him.
Her breath caught.
The shaker nearly slipped from her hands.
He smiled.
Barely.
A smile that said:
I saw that.
I understood.
I know what it does to you.
She hated him for that.
For one second.
Because he was right.
Then she hated him even more…
for the way her body reacted despite herself.
A low heat.
A deep tension.
A shiver rising along her panties.
Fuck.
⸻
He suddenly disappeared for almost an hour, swallowed by a hidden door in the back of the bar.
Like an elegant ghost.
As if he had never been there.
And just when Nari thought she could breathe a little…
He returned.
Sat again in the exact same spot.
And resumed.
The same stillness.
The same silence.
The same slow, methodical, almost scientific observation.
She served two drinks.
Three customers.
An entire group.
Ryo passed by, joked, imitated a drunk customer.
She laughed.
A light, freeing laugh.
Night moved on, and the last customers left one by one, their steps gliding over the polished wood in a soft rustle of fabric and mingled perfumes.
The lights dimmed, growing warmer, yellower, almost intimate, until the Black Orchid became a dark cocoon where even breaths seemed louder.
Aera was putting glasses away while humming softly, Ryo wiping the counter with an easy rhythm…
And Kai, still, did not move.
He sat in the same spot, same posture, his empty glass in front of him.
He hadn't drunk in a while.
He was simply… there.
Watching.
Breathing in that strange calm wrapping around him like a second skin.
Nari felt the tension tighten around her throat, that electric heaviness sending shivers down her spine and making her heart beat a little too fast.
She wiped a glass with a damp cloth, but her fingers trembled slightly—
not enough for others to notice,
but enough for him to see.
And of course…
he saw.
His gaze slid slowly down to her hands, then back up to her mouth, before locking onto her eyes with almost painful intensity.
She looked away.
Breathed.
Tried to focus on her tasks.
But it was impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Because Kai's presence swallowed the air in the room, as if every molecule aligned itself around him.
Because he looked the way only dangerous men know how to look—
without shame, without detour, without mask.
With silent hunger.
With a mute promise.
With something almost… predatory.
And yet, nothing in his posture was aggressive.
Just… stable.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
The kind of control that hides a volcano.
⸻
Aera came closer, shaking two empty bottles.
— We close after this! I vote we celebrate Nari's first day properly!
Ryo raised a glass.
— Excellent idea!
Nari gave them a sincere smile—
she had gotten used to them in a single night, as if she had known them for months.
Aera poured for Ryo first, then herself.
Then she filled Nari's glass.
And then…
She paused.
Hesitated.
Then, very slowly, lifted her eyes to Kai.
— Mr. Kai? Want one too?
He stared at her for a moment… a long moment… before answering in a low voice that vibrated in the air:
— If that's what you want.
A simple sentence.
But said with that tone…
That tone that made it sound like he wasn't talking about the drink.
Aera blushed despite herself, surprised by the intensity of that single glance.
— Alright… she muttered, placing a glass in front of him.
Kai didn't thank her.
He didn't even touch the drink at first.
He waited for Nari to take hers.
And only when their fingers brushed their glasses at the same time…
did he lift his.
A coordinated gesture.
Precise.
Almost ritualistic.
Nari felt a shiver crawl up her nape.
They toasted, Aera laughing like a child, Ryo telling a stupid story about a drunk customer who fell asleep in the bathroom.
Everyone laughed.
Everyone talked.
Everyone moved, gestured, fidgeted—
Except Kai.
He remained silent.
His hands resting on the wood.
His glass raised halfway.
His eyes on Nari—again, still, always—without a single blink too many.
To the others, he looked like he was part of the celebration.
Nari knew he wasn't part of it at all.
He was watching.
Listening.
Analyzing.
Waiting.
The night went on for about ten more minutes—
books, laughter, empty glasses, Ryo's stories, Aera's bright voice—
The night of alcohol and dim lights died slowly, replaced by the metallic blue of dawn filtering through the windows of the Black Orchid.
The laughter faded.
The glasses were empty.
Footsteps dragged, less sure, less precise.
Aera collapsed onto a booth, laughing at her own exhaustion, her cheeks warm with alcohol.
Ryo was putting away bottles while whistling, his movements slightly clumsy, a bit too loose to still be sober.
Time stretched another few minutes.
Dawn grew clearer.
Aera yawned, Ryo packed up his things.
— Alright… kids… I'm going to die if I stay standing another thirty seconds, Aera said, stretching.
Ryo nodded, clapping Nari's shoulder.
— You killed it for your first shift. Rest up, you're gonna need it.
He headed to the exit.
Aera kissed Nari's cheek, gave her one last conspiratorial wink.
Then she left too, stumbling slightly.
The door closed behind them.
And suddenly…
The bar became enormous.
Empty.
Silent.
Only two glasses on the counter.
Two chairs.
Two silhouettes.
Nari.
And Kai.
⸻
He finally stood.
Slowly.
Without haste, without noise, without any agitation.
Like a predator who knows he doesn't need to run to catch what he wants.
His steps on the wooden floor were so quiet she couldn't hear anything—
she only perceived the vibration of his approach, that heavy tension that made the air denser.
He stopped right in front of her.
Close enough for her to feel the heat of his body.
Close enough for his scent—woody, dark, sharp—to brush against her throat.
Close enough for his shadow to blend with hers.
He lowered his head slightly, his eyes fixed on her, on her lips, on her throat, on the little tension in her jaw.
He observed everything.
Absolutely everything.
Then he murmured, in a voice so deep it seemed to resonate in her stomach:
— Get some rest.
His voice turned into a whisper.
An order.
A verbal touch.
— We'll see each other again very soon.
Then he walked around her, headed toward the exit.
He didn't look back.
He didn't need to.
Because every step he took echoed through Nari's body.
And when he walked through the door…
a shiver ran through her entire body.
She knew—deep inside—that a new danger had entered her life.
And that she had absolutely no intention of escaping it.
The drive back home was strange.
The streetlights cast a tired yellow light on the sidewalks.
The tires slid softly over the wet asphalt.
The buildings went by like blurry silhouettes.
She drove fast.
Too fast.
Because she wanted to get home.
Because she wanted to sleep.
Because she wanted to forget that obsidian gaze.
⸻
She parked the car.
The parking lot was quiet, almost too quiet.
The cold morning air bit at her cheeks as she closed the door.
She went up the stairs slowly, keys clenched in her hand, her heart pounding against her chest.
When she slid the key into the lock…
her breath caught.
The door wasn't locked.
She felt an electric jolt at the base of her neck.
A cold sweat slid down her spine.
She pushed it open slowly.
⸻
The living room was plunged into semi-darkness.
A single source of light: the TV, on with the sound muted, casting a bluish glow across the room.
And in that glow…
a seated silhouette, motionless.
Sion.
He was there, his back slightly hunched, his hands clasped between his knees, his eyes fixed on her from the moment she opened the door.
He didn't speak.
He didn't move.
He barely breathed.
Like a predator waiting for its prey to step into the cage.
Nari blinked, surprised—then annoyed.
— What the hell are you doing here? You scared me, for fuck's sake!
Sion lifted his head.
His golden eyes shone in the shadows.
No anger.
No aggression.
No.
Something worse.
A worry too big.
An obsession too heavy.
A possession spilling over.
He stood up slowly, as if every movement were an effort not to explode.
— Where were you? he asked in a low, deep, muffled voice.
She frowned.
— At work. I had a long shift, that's all—
— You said three hours. It's six.
His voice rose half a pitch.
Just enough to betray the panic beneath the anger.
Nari sighed, ran a hand through her hair, exasperated.
— They wanted to celebrate my first day. I wasn't going to just walk out in the middle of it, calm down, seriously—
He closed the distance so fast she didn't have time to step back.
His hands slapped against the wall on either side of her head.
His chest pressed against her.
His warm breath brushed her cheek.
His scent—wood, whiskey, rain—wrapped around her completely.
— Who's "they"? he breathed, his jaw clenched.
She could feel the raw jealousy in his voice.
A jealousy that came from so far inside him it made her tremble.
— My coworkers, for fuck's sake! What is your problem?
He lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers.
His hands were shaking.
— You weren't answering… I thought something had happened to you.
A silence.
Heavy.
Thick.
Vibrating.
Nari felt a knot in her chest.
The way he talked.
The way he breathed.
The way he looked at her.
It was panic.
Pure.
Raw.
Animal.
He pulled back a little, as if ashamed of having let it slip.
— I'm sorry.
His voice sounded almost childlike again, fragile.
— I just wanted… to see you. To know you were okay.
So she gently placed her hand on his cheek, her voice dropping a tone.
— I'm here now. It's okay, Sion. I'm here.
Nari didn't know how to react to that vulnerability, but after all, he had worried, his heart beating for her.
She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his, feeling his warmth, his scent.
— I'm sorry I worried you, I'll let you know next time.
— Next time? So you're planning on there being a next time? Sion responded, his voice starting to get upset again, his hands tightening on her waist.
— Well yeah, I get along with them. For once I actually made a friend.
He closed his eyes for a second, a shaky breath slipping past his lips, before pulling her against him so hard she felt her ribs strain.
— You're only mine, Nari, you know that?
She didn't have time to answer.
His lips crashed against hers with desperate violence, his hands sliding under her clothes, lifting her, carrying her toward the bedroom without even breaking the kiss.
They fell onto the bed, their bodies caught fire, their breaths mingled, their hands searching for each other with urgency, until there was nothing left but sweat, muffled moans, and raw desire.
⸻
**But when she fell asleep…
Sion stayed awake.**
He watched her for a long time.
Like a man who doesn't believe anyone will actually let him keep something.
Like a man afraid someone will steal it from him.
Then he got up.
Silent.
Implacable.
He grabbed his phone.
Dialed a number.
Daewon answered immediately, despite the hour.
Sion's voice was calm.
Too calm.
— Find me everything you can about Nari's workplace. The employees. The coworkers. The regular customers. The boss. Their lives, their accounts, their records. Everything.
He took a few steps into the living room, his jaw tight.
— I want to know who touches her. Who talks to her. Who thinks they can get close to her.
I want names, faces, schedules. Nothing slips past me.
A short silence.
Daewon replied at once:
— I'll take care of it. You'll have a full file by the end of the day.
— Good.
He hung up.
Walked back toward the bedroom.
Sion stood still.
He watched her for a long time—
too long—
as if her very breath had become the only thing capable of keeping him whole.
His gaze slid along the curve of her shoulder, the line of her back, the way her fingers had loosened around the sheet.
A dangerous softness crossed his eyes—
that softness he showed to no one,
ever,
except her.
Slowly, as if pulled by a force he couldn't control, he moved closer, letting his hand glide along her waist, brushing her warm skin, soft and still marked by their earlier embraces.
He pulled her against him, her body fitting perfectly against his, as if she had been created for that exact place.
He kissed her bare shoulder with a slowness that bordered on religious devotion, his lips leaving a warm, possessive, silent trace.
Then, in a voice so low she wouldn't have been sure she heard it even awake, he murmured against her skin:
— You don't understand yet…
But I'm never letting you go again.
His fingers tightened around her waist a little more—
a little too much—
as if that single gesture could seal both a promise
and a threat.
He stayed like that for a few seconds,
his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades,
his breathing short, almost trembling.
Then he inhaled deeply,
pulled himself back together the way one puts a mask back on,
and straightened slightly.
His hand slid up her arm with a gentleness that contrasted violently with the intensity of his previous whisper.
He placed another kiss on her neck.
— Nari… wake up, he murmured softly, as if nothing—absolutely nothing—had just happened.
— Do you want to come with me to meet my mother today?