Sunlight gleamed through the drawn blinds, teasing her skin as she resisted waking against the sweet melody of birdsong filling the lazy winter morning. The night before had been incredible. A lingering ache pulsed through her body as she lay still on the king-sized bed—the same bed whose creaking wood had echoed their passion, carrying their sinful act through the room. Their fates were now intertwined, sealed by the intimacy they had shared, both bound by the moment of their mutual surrender.

A shy smile ghosted over her lips.

She nestled deeper into the blanket, clutching it to her bare torso. The sun was about to wash over her, but the warmth of the duvet held her in place, tempting her to stay. Yet what she craved more was the comfort of her partner’s embrace—his strong, tattooed chest pressed against her back, fulfilling her desire for quiet domesticity.

“I love how you smell like me,” she remembered him saying, his voice husky and raw from the night’s intensity. She had teased him about his obsession with the scent of her hair, but the memory of him burying his nose in the crook of her neck sent a spark of longing through her body.

Her heart silently thudded inside her cage, stirred by the thought of him.

Unknown to her, he had smiled at the evidence of her reaction. “You belong to me,” he’d whispered, his breath heavy and labored.

Though nine hours had passed since his declaration of claiming her, the imagery remained vivid, still driving her to the edge of reason. Flashes of how he had moved between her legs for the second time that night flooded her thoughts. Slow, deliberate, yet overwhelming. He had stolen her breath and replaced it with a bliss that unraveled her from the inside out. She wanted to feel that again.

Consciously, her fingers trailed down her stomach, pausing at her most intimate place. Her touch there was slow, teasing, until her bundle of nerves throbbed under the attention. If he were to catch her like this, she’d place the blame entirely on him. His insatiable hunger had ignited a fire in her, and now he had to deal with it. Sweet and simple.

She rubbed her fingers in delicate circles, her breath hitching as she drifted lower, teasing her nether lips before finally dipping a digit inside. A year ago, the thought of touching herself so shamelessly would have embarrassed her, but now, she didn’t care. The urge to soak the already ruined sheets was undeniable. She wanted nothing more than to chase that high again. 

Her eyes squeezed shut as she focused, seeking that sweet spot he had so effortlessly found on his first glide. How he had mastered the skill in a single night was beyond her imagination—but she wasn’t about to complain.

The tightness of her pussy clenched around her finger, and she understood why he had murmured, “So incredibly tight,” as his cock had nudged into her. But just as the missionary position hadn’t satisfied him, one finger wasn’t enough for her. She added another, stretching herself further. Her hips moved in sync, grinding against her palm, any sense of modesty long discarded.

If Hedone could witness the filthy scenarios playing in her mind, she would have flushed with embarrassment.

“You’re mine to devour, Aera. Only mine,” his voice had growled in her ear, dark and possessive, just as it had the night before.

She groaned in response, the sound escaping her lips—wanton and unrestrained. It was loud enough to stir the man beside her if he wasn’t already awake, silently enjoying her morning show. His fist gripped his throbbing erection, inflicting a sharp bite of pain on himself for a twisted pleasure as he held off his release, savoring the wet, obscene sounds she created.

The mere thought sent a surge of heat through her, arousing her to no end.

She imagined two wide, ravenous eyes burning holes into the back of her skull, their hunger infinitely bottomless. A shiver ran down her spine.

Another finger joined in, pushing her higher. Her thrusts quickened to a frenzied pace, and she let out a moan, her body tensing and trembling until violent spasms overtook her. The ring of muscle clenched and unclenched around her fingers in rhythm, her body gripping them with unrelenting pressure. Goosebumps erupted across her skin as the orgasm tore through her, leaving her breath in ragged, desperate gasps.

She panted, her chest rising and falling like a wild mare, nostrils flared and skin flushed. The strange comparison brought her back to reality. As a child, she had always dreamed of petting a horse. How innocent and foolish that dream seemed now, when the only thing she desired was to fuck Jungkook one more time.

Gradually, the sensitivity of her orgasm subsided, the strain in her brows smoothing into a relaxed, straight line. She blinked once, twice, exhaling slowly as the events of the past twenty-four hours settled heavily in her mind.

Look what you made me, Jungkook, she thought with a sarcastic smile.

As if summoned by her thoughts, his voice echoed in her memory, low and sinister, repeating the warning he had given her.

“I told you, Aera. This is just the beginning. I'm the devil you shouldn’t have danced with. But there’s no turning back now.”

The silence that followed was almost deafening, like a restless ring pulsing in her ears. Her throat felt dry, as if she had swallowed the desert air.

Aera licked her lips, preparing herself for what she knew she had to do next. She turned slowly to her left, her heart pounding as if it might burst from anticipation. She expected to see Jungkook’s familiar smirk, the menace always lurking in his dark eyes. But instead, her gaze landed on an empty spot where his body had been. The sheets were tousled, his presence lingering only in the faint imprint he had left behind.

Her head fell back onto the pillow with a soft, defeated thud.

For a moment, relief washed over her—a strange but welcome weight on her chest. At least he hadn’t been there to see her morning madness and tease her about losing control. For now, the silent and unjudging monochrome walls of his room would keep her secret, she thought.

Her gaze shifted to the walls, narrowing her eyes as she took in the room’s decor. It was just like his office: gray walls, brown furniture, and black equipment—all typical of modern masculinity. Aera thought Jungkook could use a splash of color, something to reflect the light she sensed in him. But just as the thought crossed her mind, the bedside lamp flickered to life, its light stuttering on and off, almost as if mocking her.

Aera glared at it, and the flickering abruptly stopped.

Jungkook had once confided that he preferred the darkness, believing he was better off in the shadows than dragging someone down with his sorrow. She wanted to prove him wrong. The Jungkook of the past month was nothing like the man who barely acknowledged her when she first joined Kim Enterprises. His attentive gaze, the tenderness in his small gestures, the understanding in his onyx eyes were all traits that revealed the true, precious soul he was.

To label Jungkook as a simple black-and-white figure would be unfair. To hell with the office gossip. They had nothing better to do than spread false rumors about him, and they didn’t know him as well as she did. She was 10,000% sure of that.

Emotions swirled within her as Aera picked up her clothes from the floor and headed to the bathroom. She took her time washing away the exhaustion of yesterday’s events.

“Aah,” she hissed, kneading her sore hips and lower back.

Jungkook had certainly worked her over. Her limbs felt frail and weak, like thread and jelly, desperately in need of revival. If she didn’t regain her strength, she feared she might break at least two bones—clumsiness had always been her unwelcome companion. When she was done, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and smoothed down her wild hair and wrinkled clothes.

Once satisfied with her appearance, she spun on her heels and left the room, making sure to switch off the bedside lamp.

She had hoped to find a world-class Jungkook in the kitchen, whipping up something delicious for her. Instead, she was met with a glass of banana milk on the counter and the remnants of their date night dishes piled in the sink. The steady hum of the refrigerator only heightened the unease settling in her stomach.

She was alone in his apartment. Completely alone.

Disappointment washed over her, thick and unspoken, clinging to the air like resentment, especially when her eyes landed on a note tucked beneath the glass.

I’ll be gone. Don’t wait for me.
Your Devil,
JK.

What. The. Hell, Jungkook?

Starting the day with an unexpected disappearance after such an eventful night wasn’t ideal. Didn’t he realize that? He should have known better, especially after the last time he had bailed on her. This habit of his was becoming infuriating and utterly unacceptable. Aera exhaled sharply, her brows knitting in frustration.

Her gaze wandered around Jungkook’s kitchen until it landed on the sink, piled high with dirty dishes. A surge of irritation bubbled up inside her, and for a brief moment, she considered taking it out on them.

It was obvious he had left in a hurry. If he hadn’t, the dust motes wouldn’t still be floating lazily in the air. Jungkook was usually meticulous, always cleaning up after himself. So what had been so urgent that he’d vanished without a word?

For a fleeting moment, Aera wondered if she—or their date—had anything to do with Jungkook’s sudden departure. He had never been one for romantic gestures, so why had he been so perfect last night?

Before she could dwell on it, a voice rang out.

“Rhea is here, Jungkook! Time to wake up.”

The name sent a ripple of curiosity through her. Rhea was another enigma in Jungkook’s life. With her long, slender legs and effortless charm, she looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine. So why was she acting as Jungkook’s caretaker?

“He isn’t home,” Aera called out, drying her hands on a kitchen towel.

A soft shuffle echoed down the hallway before Rhea finally came into view, her expression shifting into one of surprise—and something else. Recognition.

“What? Wait, why are you here?” Rhea asked, her frown deepening as suspicion crept into her gaze. Then, suddenly, realization flickered across her face.

“Oh... so you’re the one Jungkook coaxed me into setting up the candlelight dinner for last night.” She placed her hands on her hips, her tone thoughtful. “Never would have guessed it would be you of all people.”

Aera folded her arms, feeling a tightness in her chest. “You know I’m not like the others,” she sighed.

Rhea’s words stirred a mix of emotions—delight at the lengths Jungkook had gone to for their date, and irritation at whatever impression she had left on Rhea. It wasn’t as if she had planned for things to turn out this way.

“Yeah, whatever.” Rhea rolled her eyes, gathering her hair into a bun before slipping on an apron. “If you’re done doing half my job, let me handle the rest, okay? I assume you have somewhere to be... Can you step aside? You’re blocking the cabinet.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’ll go. Thank you.”

With six hurried steps, Aera was already at the door. Rhea failed to notice the embarrassment flickering behind her closed eyes.

As she stepped out of the apartment, a timid “Goodbye” slipped from her lips—unaware of the kind of day that awaited her.

Once home, Aera went through her usual routine—finishing her chores and ending the day with a long, hot bubble bath. Yet, no matter how much she tried to unwind, her thoughts kept circling back to Jungkook, his behavior, and his sudden departure.

By now, she should have been used to his unpredictability. But she wasn’t.

Instead, nagging worries gnawed at her. Why had he left so abruptly? What was he hiding? Why hadn’t he at least told her?

Any explanation—any hint—would have been better than the two measly sentences he’d left behind. The least he could have done was make a phone call, show some basic decency. But no. He had vanished without a word, leaving her alone with nothing but her spiraling thoughts.

Her patience was wearing thin. And she was dangerously close to the breaking point.

Aera sank deeper into the bathtub, frustration knitting her brow. Tomorrow at work, Jungkook had better have some answers.

But to her growing dismay, the days passed with no sign of him. Her patience, once unwavering, slowly eroded into doubt. Pessimism gnawed at her as she strode toward the office of the one person who knew Jungkook better than anyone—Kim Seokjin.

“Aera!” Seokjin greeted her warmly, but his eyes betrayed his unease. “Take a seat. What brings you here?”

“Jungkook.”

Just one word. One name. Yet it was enough to make Seokjin pause. The ever-composed CEO, the man who could charm his way through any situation, faltered at the mere mention of him. That was the kind of hold Jungkook had—on all of them.

Seokjin forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What did that troublemaker do this time?” He flipped through the pages of a file, though it was clear his focus had shifted.

“He disappeared. Again.” Aera’s voice was tight with frustration. “And I thought maybe you’d know where he went.”

Seokjin exhaled slowly, setting the file aside. “I wish I did, Aera. Trust me, I’m just as annoyed as you are. But. . . it’s possible he took some time off after the Jeju Project. It was exhausting for all of us. You know how he is—he values his solitude.”

It wasn’t the answer she had come for, but it made sense. Jungkook had always retreated into silence when things became overwhelming. After the whirlwind of the past month—and the intensity of last night—maybe he needed that solitude more than ever.

“I’ll let you know if he contacts me,” Seokjin said, his voice softer now.

Aera swallowed hard. “Okay,” she whispered, though the lump in her throat said otherwise.

Seokjin offered a sympathetic smile. “Anything else I can help with?”

She shook her head, not wanting to linger longer than necessary. “Thank you, Mr. Kim. Have a nice day.”

Seokjin wished her the same, watching as she left. The door clicked shut behind her, and after a brief hesitation, he pulled out his phone.

Seokjin:

Aera came looking for you. I had to lie.

He expected silence, like so many times before. But to his surprise, three dots appeared. Seokjin straightened in his seat.

Jungkook:

Good.

Seokjin’s heart pounded. He started to type a question—Are you okay?—but before he could hit send, Jungkook’s “online” status vanished. Just like he had.

“Shit,” Seokjin muttered, pressing his palms to his face as a dull headache pulsed behind his eyes. He hunched over his desk, peeking through his fingers when a knock sounded.

“Did I just hear you curse, Jinnie?”

“Not now, Namjoon,” Seokjin grumbled. “I’m stressed.”

“Hmmm, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“My morning was fine until you interrupted it with your amazing BJ skills.”

Namjoon’s footsteps drew closer, warmth radiating off him.

“You know,” he murmured, voice teasing, “I could demonstrate those skills right now if you’d like.”

“Fuck you.”

“You have my permission.”

Seokjin shot him a mock glare. “How dare you suggest that in our workplace?”

“Says the one who ate my ass on my thirteenth day of employment.” Namjoon’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “That was so nice of you. Did your last assistant get the same luxury?”

Seokjin exhaled, shoulders loosening. He stepped closer, cupping Namjoon’s face before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “No. That’s strictly reserved for my husband.”

Namjoon’s grin widened as he pulled Seokjin into a warm embrace, planting a kiss on his raven hair. “I love you.”

“Love you too, dear husband.” Seokjin squeezed Namjoon’s ass, earning a laugh.

“Naughty.”

For a brief moment, peace settled between them. Namjoon traced slow circles on Seokjin’s back, grounding him. But then—

“He’ll be okay, Seokjin,” Namjoon murmured. “Jungkook knows how to handle himself. Don’t worry too much.”

Seokjin stiffened. His concern was painfully obvious, wasn’t it? But how could he not worry? Even now, he still saw the broken boy he had met years ago in the Daegu Psychiatric Ward.

“I’m fine, Jin,” Jungkook always insisted.

But Seokjin had long since learned to see past that facade, the quiet agony behind those innocent eyes.

He took a slow breath, tightening his hold on Namjoon. Then, he nodded.

Seokjin surrendered to the moment, knowing it wouldn’t last. Because any second now, a notification could appear on his phone—one that would steal his breath away.

“Everything okay, baby?” Namjoon asked, sensing the shift in his posture. “What is it?”

Seokjin’s stomach twisted. His phone screen lit up.

“He did what he said,” he whispered.

Then, heart pounding, he broke the embrace and bolted from the office.