Chapter 1:

The rain pattered against the windows of the flower shop as the delicate fragrance of blooming petals filled the air. The warm, inviting light from the overhead chandeliers contrasted with the cold, grey world outside. Shelves lined with vases of every imaginable color, filled with flowers in full bloom, made it feel like a sanctuary in the midst of a dreary, rainy Paris afternoon.

She stood in front of the shelves, fingers brushing over the silky petals of each flower as she scanned them with a critical eye. She had always been particular, a perfectionist to the core, especially when it came to the details of something as important as a bouquet.

The arrangement was crucial, the right flowers could communicate so much without saying a word. She had come here today with a single purpose: to pick the perfect bouquet for HIM.

Her eyes darted between the shelves, each flower trying to catch her attention. She leaned in close, examining a vibrant bunch of peonies, their petals soft and full. She lifted a single stem, admiring the delicate pinks and whites, but then frowned slightly. No. It was not the right tone. Too light. Too soft. She placed it back gently and moved on.

Next, her gaze settled on a bunch of orchids. The deep purple hues were striking, their petals delicate yet commanding. She touched one, the smoothness of it was almost too perfect. But as soon as she saw the dark red lilies nearby, she knew the orchids would not make the cut.

She turned her back on the orchids and walked toward the lilies. Their scent was intoxicating, and the deep crimson petals felt fierce in her hands, but they still weren’t right. She was after something... more.

Her fingers paused on a bunch of dahlias, their round petals bursting out in all directions, offering a rainbow of colors. She ran a hand over them, yet her face remained expressionless. Nah. Better flowers, she thought as she moved on.

The sunflowers called to her next, their golden heads reminding her of warmth, of summer. But no, “Not today.” She finally spoke to herself. She wasn’t looking for warmth. Not this time.

A few more flowers came and went in her hands, each one promising beauty but failing to meet the exacting standards she had set for this bouquet. And then, as if the universe had been waiting for her to stop and take a breath, her eyes landed on the corner of the shop.

There, at the farthest end of the room, where the light filtered in a little more softly, was a display she hadn’t noticed before. Two flowers stood out among the others, their colors contrasting against the backdrop of softer blooms. Azaleas.

Their pink blossoms caught her eye first. There was something gentle yet intense about them, the vibrant pinks standing out with a delicate grace. Her fingers brushed the petals, and for the first time that day, she felt a sense of satisfaction.

Azaleas.

She lingered a moment longer, her gaze shifting to the other flower beside it. Amaryllis. The flowers were striking with their white petals bordered in red, their deep, rich color enough to give anyone pause.

Amaryllis was a flower of boldness and beauty, perfect for someone who was looking for something that conveyed strength and elegance. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at both flowers. These were perfect. Just perfect.

She picked the two flowers, wrapping them carefully in her arms as she walked to the counter, her heels clicking softly against the polished floors. The man behind the counter glanced up from his work and smiled politely, but his eyes quickly recognized the calm intensity in her demeanor.

“I’d like a bouquet,” she said, her voice soft but commanding. “Azalea, Amaryllis, and black roses.”

The man raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply nodding and taking the flowers from her hands. Her gaze followed his every movement as he began to craft the bouquet. The way he held each stem with care, the precise placement of each flower, it was almost as if he was creating a work of art. Her lips curled slightly at the corners, watching with focused attention. Everything had to be perfect.

As the bouquet took shape, She found herself lost in the small details, the way the flowers were arranged, how the black roses were interwoven with the vibrant pink Azaleas and the crisp white Amaryllis. She imagined the bouquet in her hands, imagining herself carrying it to exactly the right person at exactly the right moment.

The man finished the bouquet with a final flourish, the black ribbon tying the flowers together. She looked at the finished product, her face unreadable as she examined the balance, the color, the scent. It was exactly as she had envisioned it.

“Perfect,” she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper.

She handed over her black card, the smooth material contrasting against the delicate softness of the flowers. The man took it, processing the payment swiftly, and handed her the receipt. She didn’t take a second look; the bouquet was all that mattered. She tucked the flowers carefully into her arms, turned on her heel, and walked out of the shop.

The streets of Paris were wet, the pavement reflecting the dim glow of streetlights as the rain continued to fall steadily. She pulled the collar of her coat higher around her neck, protecting herself from the cool, damp air. Her heels splashed softly in the puddles as she made her way toward her car.

There, parked under the awning of a nearby café, was her black Lamborghini. The sleek curves of the car seemed to gleam even in the rain, its dark exterior a contrast to the light grey sky. She walked toward it with purposeful steps, her black umbrella held firmly in one hand, flowers in the other.

She reached the car and slid into the driver’s seat, settling into the luxurious leather with a sigh. The interior was warm, a pleasant contrast to the chill of the outside. She placed the bouquet carefully on the passenger seat, the flowers a delicate contrast against the dark interior of the car.

Her hands slid onto the wheel, and she shifted the car into gear, the engine purring to life. As she pulled away from the curb, the rain lashed against the windshield, but the world outside felt distant, far removed from the quiet cocoon she had created inside her car.

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the road, navigating through the wet streets of Paris. The traffic was light, the rain keeping most people inside, but she didn’t mind. The drive gave her time to think, to process. She drove through the familiar streets, each turn bringing her closer to the destination she knew she was heading toward.

The bouquet sat carefully on the passenger seat, its vivid hues a striking contrast against the sleek black leather interior. Her blue eyes were fixated on the road ahead, a calm determination etched across her features. Her destination loomed closer, a building unlike any other in Paris.

Silken Crimson Threads wasn’t just a company; it was a statement. Its headquarters reflected that philosophy in every inch of its design. The building was shaped like a black mannequin, standing tall and proud amidst the ordinary structures around it.

The smooth, glossy surface resembled polished onyx, catching and refracting light in subtle, mesmerizing ways. It was more sculpture than architecture, a symbol of the brand's ethos, bold, unapologetic, and exquisitely tailored.

She pulled into the driveway, her car slowing to a graceful stop in front of the mannequin-shaped masterpiece. She stepped out, her heels clicking softly against the tiled pavement, and paused to glance up at the building.

Even after all these years, it still made her chest swell with pride. This was her empire, her creation, but today wasn’t about her office or her usual duties. Today, her purpose lay elsewhere.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the bouquet as she walked through the garden surrounding the entrance. The landscaping was meticulously curated, with exotic plants and flowers blooming in a controlled chaos of color. She loved walking here, finding solace among the vibrant blooms and the soft rustling of leaves.

As she stepped inside, the world shifted. The grand lobby was a fusion of modern elegance and artistic expression. High ceilings stretched above, adorned with minimalist chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the space. A massive television screen dominated one wall, displaying the latest fashion headlines and updates about Silken Crimson Threads. Her eyes were immediately drawn to it.

The headline scrolled across the screen in bold letters: 
"Silken Crimson Threads' Stakes Surge Overnight—Chairman Wi Ha-Joon’s Vision Reigns Supreme."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. His name had a way of softening her demeanor, of melting the carefully constructed exterior she wore like armor. Wi Ha-Joon. Her Moon. The reason behind so many of her smiles.

Her heels clicked against the marble floors as she made her way toward the reception desk, her focus entirely on the bouquet in her arms and the thoughts swirling in her mind.

“Miss Scarlet Rogers,” the receptionist called out hesitantly.

Scarlet stopped, turning her head slightly. Her piercing blue eyes searched the receptionist’s face, curiosity flickering in their depths. “Yes?”

The receptionist hesitated, glancing nervously at the bouquet. “I...uh...just wanted to let you know...”

Scarlet interrupted, her tone soft but firm. “Don’t inform him. I want to give him a surprise.”

The receptionist opened her mouth to speak again but quickly closed it. Something unspoken lingered in her expression, but Scarlet was already walking toward the elevators, her thoughts too focused on the surprise she was planning to notice the uncertainty in the other woman’s demeanor.

***

As Scarlet stepped into the lift, the quiet hum of the machinery filled the silence. The numbers on the panel climbed steadily, each passing floor bringing her closer to her destination. Meanwhile, whispers filled the lower floors, employees exchanging hushed conversations as they watched her ascend.

“Is she going to see Chairman Wi?” 
“Of course. Where else would she be heading with that bouquet?” 
“They’re so perfect together. It’s no wonder the company is thriving with both of them at the helm.” 
“Do you think she knows?” 
“Knows what?” 
“Shh! Don’t talk so loud. You never know who’s listening.” 

Scarlet was unaware of the murmurs below, her focus entirely on her destination. The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing the top floor, a world apart from the bustling offices below. The corridor leading to Wi Ha-Joon’s office was quiet, the polished floors gleaming under the soft lighting. Scarlet took a deep breath, steadying herself before walking toward the door at the end of the hall.

She paused just outside his office, her hand resting lightly on the handle. A bright smile spread across her face, her excitement bubbling to the surface. “Congratulations, Moon,” she said softly to herself, rehearsing the words. Then, with a firm push, she opened the door.

The office was empty.

Scarlet’s smile faltered, and a sigh escaped her lips. The bouquet in her hands suddenly felt heavier. She stepped inside, her heels muffled against the thick carpet, and let her eyes wander around the room. It was as immaculate as ever, a perfect blend of sophistication and functionality. The large desk at the center of the room was spotless, the chair behind it turned slightly to the side as if someone had just stepped away.

She walked to the desk and placed the bouquet carefully on its surface, arranging the flowers so they stood proudly. The vibrant pink azaleas, bold amaryllis, and mysterious black roses seemed to transform the room, adding a touch of life and passion to the otherwise monochromatic space.

Scarlet sighed again, this time with a hint of frustration. She had been so eager to see him, to surprise him, and now she was left waiting. Slowly, she circled the desk and lowered herself into his chair. The leather was cool against her skin, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. It was a scent she had come to associate with comfort, with home.

Her fingers traced the edge of the desk absentmindedly as she leaned back, her mind drifting to memories of him. Wi Ha-Joon was a man of quiet strength and unyielding determination. He had a warmth that few people ever got to see. Scarlet was one of the lucky ones. She had seen the man behind the title, the Moon that lit up her darkest nights.

The door behind her creaked slightly, and Scarlet turned her head, her heart leaping with anticipation. But it was only the wind, sneaking in through a window left slightly ajar. She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at her own impatience. 

“Where are you, Moon?” she murmured to herself, resting her chin in her hand as she stared at the bouquet. It seemed to glow in the soft light, a testament to the care and thought she had put into choosing each flower.

Minutes turned into moments, and still, Scarlet waited. She wasn’t upset, not really. She was just eager to share this small gesture with him, to see the look on his face when he saw the bouquet she had crafted just for him. 

Scarlet leaned back in the chair, her eyes roaming across the room as a faint sigh escaped her lips. The emptiness of the office felt louder with each passing second, and her restlessness grew. Her gaze eventually fell on the polished nameplate resting on the desk"Wi Ha-Joon, Chairman" engraved in elegant silver letters. 

Her fingers reached out instinctively, brushing over the smooth surface of the nameplate as if trying to feel his presence. She whispered softly, her voice barely audible in the quiet room, “Where are you, Moon?” The words hung in the air, heavy with longing. 

As her hand lingered, her eyes caught sight of something else on the desk, a frame nestled neatly beside a stack of documents. Scarlet leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. The photo inside the frame was one she knew all too well: her and Ha-Joon standing side by side, smiles wide and genuine.

It was a candid moment from years ago, their younger selves brimming with hope and determination. The memory flooded back with vivid clarity. They had taken the picture just days after signing the lease for their first workspace. Back then, they had nothing but dreams and a fierce belief in each other. She smiled faintly, picking up the frame in both hands. 

Her fingers traced his smile in the photo, the faint curve of his lips that always had a way of making her feel at ease. “You don’t know, do you?” she murmured, her voice soft and wistful. Resting her head on her free hand, which lay flat against the desk, she stared at the picture as if it could somehow speak back to her. “You don’t know how much you mean to me.” 

Her eyes softened, filled with unspoken thoughts as she continued, “I wish you were here…” Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, the room felt like it held its breath, waiting for her to finish the sentence. But the words didn’t come. Instead, she simply sat there, lost in the echoes of his voice in her mind, the way he said her name, the way he laughed.

Finally, she stood, the frame still in her hand. Scarlet walked slowly toward the wall on the far side of the office, the one that showcased his legacy. It was adorned with medals, certificates, and plaques testaments to his brilliance and dedication.

Mixed in were framed photos of their journey together: the early days of late-night brainstorming sessions, their first fashion show, and the award ceremonies they had attended side by side. Her eyes stopped on his graduation picture.

Ha-Joon stood tall, his proud smile lighting up the image as he held his diploma. Scarlet felt the same pride she had felt that day when she had cheered louder than anyone else as he crossed the stage. She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of the frame. 

“You don’t even know,” she said softly, her voice laced with emotion. “You don’t even know how proud you make me feel, having you in my life.” Her eyes lingered on his face in the photo, her heart heavy with memories of all they had been through together.

Scarlet glanced over at another picture, a photo of the two of them standing outside their first store, cutting the ribbon together. It had been raining that day, much like today, but the weather hadn’t dampened their spirits. She remembered the way he had looked at her, his eyes filled with unspoken gratitude and trust, as if silently saying, “We did this together.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile as she turned back to the bouquet on the desk. She could still feel his presence here, even in his absence. The room, the walls, the very foundation of the company, they all carried pieces of him. 

“You’ve always been the best part of this journey,” she said to the empty room, her voice tinged with affection. “My Moon, always shining, even when the world feels dark.” 

She returned to the desk, setting the frame down beside the bouquet. Scarlet placed a hand over her chest for a moment. She missed him. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the desk as she whispered, “Come back soon, Ha-Joon. I’m not as strong without you.” 

The rain outside continued to fall, she sat back down in his chair, waiting for the man who had been her anchor, her partner, and her greatest inspiration.

The silence of the office was broken by the sharp ring of Scarlet’s phone. She glanced at the screen, her brows furrowing slightly when she saw the name glowing brightly: 내 문 (My Moon).

A soft sigh escaped her lips. “Ha-Joon…” she whispered, answering the call and holding the phone to her ear. 

“Rrrreeeeed!” Ha-Joon’s voice slurred through the receiver, louder than she expected. Scarlet immediately recognized the telltale signs of his drunken state. 

“Moon?” she asked cautiously, her tone calm but tinged with concern. “Where are you?” 

“Doooon’t know!” he sang, drawing the words out with a laugh. “Why does it matter? You’re not here. That’s all that matters.” 

Scarlet exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she leaned back against his desk. “You’re drunk, Ha-Joon. Who let you drink this much?” 

“I’m not drunk,” he countered, the indignation in his voice was clear. “I’m just… hydrated! Hydrated with courage juice!” He chuckled at his own joke, the sound loud and carefree. 

“Ha-Joon,” Scarlet tried again, keeping her voice even. “Listen to me. Look around and tell me where you are. Can you see the name of the bar or anything?” 

There was a pause on the other end, and she could hear him mumbling something incoherent. Then, “Nooo, I’m not giving you my location, Red. What if you send spies? What if they steal my phone? Or worse, my soul?” 

Scarlet closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her patience hanging by a thread. “Moon, please… Give your phone to the bartender, okay? I’ll talk to them and come get you.” 

“Hmph!” he scoffed dramatically. “Why should I trust some random guy? He’s eyeing me like I’m a snack. I’m not a snack, Red! I’m the whole meal!” 

Scarlet bit back a laugh despite the situation, shaking her head at his ridiculousness. “Please, Ha-Joon. Just for a moment. I need to know where you are.” 

There was more shuffling on the line, followed by a gruff voice. “Hello? Ma’am? I’m the bartender here. This guy’s had a little too much.” 

“Thank you,” Scarlet said quickly. “Can you tell me where you are? I’ll be there right away.” 

“We’re at The Velvet Tap, ma’am,” the bartender replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him until you get here.” 

Scarlet nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Thank you. Please don’t let him wander off. I’ll be there soon.” 

Hanging up, she grabbed her coat and headed out, her heels clicking briskly against the polished floors. 

***

The drive to The Velvet Tap was uneventful, but Scarlet’s mind raced with thoughts. She could already picture Ha-Joon slumping over the bar, talking nonsense to anyone who would listen. He rarely drank, and when he did, it was usually with control. But tonight was clearly an exception. 

When she arrived at the bar, the neon lights outside glowed dimly against the wet pavement. The sound of muffled laughter and clinking glasses spilled out as she pushed the door open. The cozy, dimly lit space was buzzing with activity, but her eyes immediately landed on him. 

Wi Ha-Joon sat at the bar, a vision of disarray. His normally polished appearance was nowhere to be seen. His strong jawline and high cheekbones were still striking, but his expression was loose and carefree, a stark contrast to his usual intense demeanor. His dark, almond-shaped eyes, which typically conveyed sharp focus, now looked glassy and unfocused. 

He was gesturing animatedly with his hands, talking to the bartender, who looked equal parts amused and exasperated. “I’m telling you, man, Red’s gonna show up and say, ‘Ha-Joon, you’re a mess!’ But I’m not a mess! I’m… I’m a masterpiece!” He grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek, though it was lopsided thanks to his inebriation. 

Scarlet sighed as she approached the bar. “I can’t believe this is the same guy who runs an empire,” she muttered under her breath. 

The bartender noticed her first, offering a nod of recognition. “Ma’am,” he greeted. “He’s been entertaining us for a while now.” 

“I’m so sorry for the trouble,” Scarlet said sincerely, pulling out her wallet and settling the bill. “Thank you for putting up with him.” 

“No trouble,” the bartender replied, sliding the receipt back to her. “He’s harmless... just loud.” 

Scarlet turned her attention to Ha-Joon, who was now attempting to balance a peanut on his finger. “Ha-Joon,” she called, her tone firm but gentle. 

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and his face lit up with childlike glee. “Red! You’re here!” 

“Yes, I’m here,” she said, stepping closer and placing a steadying hand on his arm. “Let’s go, okay?” 

Ha-Joon pouted, crossing his arms like a stubborn child. “But I was having fun!” 

Scarlet raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you were, but it’s time to go.” 

“Fine,” he grumbled, swaying slightly as he slid off the stool. 

Scarlet apologized to the bartender one last time before guiding Ha-Joon toward the exit. His steps were unsteady, and he leaned heavily against her as they walked. 

“You smell like whiskey,” Scarlet muttered, wrinkling her nose. 

“I smell like success,” Ha-Joon corrected, though his words were slurred. “You don’t understand, Red. I was celebrating! For us!” 

“For us?” she repeated, amused despite herself. 

“Yes! Silken Crimson Threads is soaring! Everyone’s talking about us. I heard them. They said, ‘Wi Ha-Joon is a genius!’” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. 

Scarlet shook her head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible when you’re drunk, you know that?” 

As they stepped outside, the cool night air hit them, and Ha-Joon stumbled slightly. Scarlet tightened her grip on him, keeping him steady as she led him to her car. 

“I can walk, Red,” he protested weakly. 

“Sure you can,” she said dryly, opening the passenger door and helping him inside. 

As she buckled his seatbelt, Ha-Joon looked at her with a soft, lopsided smile. “You’re the best, Red. Did you know that?” 

Scarlet paused, her heart softening as she met his gaze. “I know, Moon. Now sit tight. We’re going home.” 

She shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side, shaking her head as she climbed in. “I can’t believe you’re the same guy when you’re drunk,” she muttered, glancing over at him. 

Ha-Joon was already dozing off, his head resting against the window, a peaceful expression on his face. Scarlet sighed, a mix of exasperation and fondness filling her as she started the car and drove off into the night.

The drive from the bar to the mansion was a quiet one, save for Ha-Joon’s ongoing slurred rambling. Scarlet’s mind wandered, her thoughts intertwining with memories of their shared mansion, the place where so many of their milestones had occurred. It was their sanctuary, their haven from the world, though it had its quirks.

As the car pulled into the driveway, Scarlet couldn’t help but take in the grandeur of the place. The mansion sat perched on a large plot of land, the architecture an impressive mix of classical and modern elements. The sprawling estate was tucked away from the bustling city, providing a much-needed sense of privacy.

The mansion itself stood like a giant, commanding attention with its pristine white walls and tall, arched windows that allowed for plenty of natural light. A large, circular driveway led to the front, flanked by lush greenery and meticulously pruned hedges.

The mansion’s front doors were grand, flanked by twin staircases that spiraled up to the first floor, each side adorned with iron railings that gleamed under the moonlight. The stairs were a masterpiece in their own right, almost regal in their design, and they formed a visual frame around the entrance, making it appear even grander.

On either side of the driveway, there was a garden, an expansive, well-manicured landscape with neatly trimmed grass, rows of colorful flowers, and perfectly placed sculptures that dotted the space. A river-like fountain stretched across the front lawn, its water cascading down into a large stone basin.

The sound of the water was soothing, almost therapeutic, and it added a calming effect to the otherwise stately surroundings. A delicate mist rose from the fountain, illuminated by strategically placed lights that made it sparkle against the backdrop of the night sky.

The garage was tucked underneath the mansion’s lower level, cleverly concealed from view by the sloping terrain. The driveway led down a winding path to the garage doors, which were discreetly built into the mansion’s lower stone wall. From the garden, the entrance to the garage was hidden beneath a grand staircase that led to the first floor, creating the illusion of the house floating slightly above the ground.

As the car came to a stop in the garage, Scarlet took a moment to collect herself before stepping out. The garage was spacious, lined with clean shelves and compartments for all their belongings. She wasn’t particularly fond of it, but it had its charm, much like everything else in the mansion. 

She opened the passenger door, where Ha-Joon was still babbling nonsensically, his words a jumble of incoherent syllables. “Red! Red, why is the world spinning? I think I’m a helicopter now! Wheeewww!”

Scarlet’s lips twitched, but she didn’t let herself laugh. It was always like this when he drank too much. He turned to her with exaggerated wide eyes, his dark, almond-shaped gaze unfocused. “You’re not real, are you?” he asked suddenly, his voice tinged with a childlike wonder. “You’re a figment of my imagination, aren’t you?”

“No, Ha-Joon,” she said flatly. “I’m not imaginary. But you are definitely drunk, and we need to get you inside.”

Ha-Joon pouted dramatically. “I’m not drunk. I’m just... dehydrated. Yeah, that’s it.” He nodded sagely as if he had just unlocked the secrets of the universe.

Scarlet rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a soft smile tugging at her lips. She helped him out of the car, his steps wobbly and unsteady as he tried to stand, his arms flailing as though he might tip over. He leaned heavily on her, and Scarlet gritted her teeth, keeping him steady.

“Let’s go inside, Joon,” she muttered, guiding him toward the door leading up to the mansion’s main floor. He leaned into her as they ascended the stairs, and though he was heavier than he seemed, Scarlet did her best to support him without too much strain.

When they finally reached the front door, she unlocked it with a smooth swipe of the keycard. The door clicked open, and they stepped into the grand entrance hall. The marble floors reflected the soft glow of the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting gentle light around the space. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, even in the late hours of the night.

“Are you sure you’re okay to walk?” Scarlet asked, guiding him further inside. 

“I’m fine,” Ha-Joon muttered, his voice still high-pitched and slightly out of sync. “I’m like a moose, a big strong moose. Rrrrrr.”

“You’re more like a baby giraffe,” she quipped, as he stumbled again.

He shot her a lopsided grin. “You’re mean, Red. But I love you anyway.”

Scarlet sighed, half-amused and half-exasperated, as they made their way through the massive foyer and into the dining room. The house, though grand in its layout, felt homely to Scarlet. There were only two of them in this enormous space, a fact that seemed wasteful at times, but she and Ha-Joon had always made it work.

As they reached the dining table, Ha-Joon’s steps faltered once more, and he collapsed into one of the chairs with a dramatic flop. He let out an exaggerated groan as though he were suffering some great hardship, and Scarlet couldn’t help but chuckle despite herself.

“I’m gonna make you hangover soup,” she said, pulling herself together. “You’re a mess.” 

“I’m not a mess!” Ha-Joon protested loudly, but it was clear from his dazed expression that he didn’t have much fight left in him. “You’re the mess. You’re... a... I don’t know what you are, but you’re a mess too!”

Scarlet didn’t dignify that with a response, instead turning toward the kitchen to prepare the hangover soup she’d made for him countless times before. The ingredients were simple but effective, miso, tofu, ginger, garlic, and an assortment of vegetables. As she moved around the kitchen, preparing the soup, she couldn’t help but think about the surprise she’d been planning for Ha-Joon.

Tonight was supposed to be special, something to remind him how much she appreciated his success, but now it seemed like the surprise would have to wait. She couldn’t stay angry at him, though; not when he was being so adorably ridiculous.

She returned to the dining room after a few minutes with the steaming bowl of soup and a glass of lemon water. She placed them in front of him and sat down opposite him, crossing her arms and watching him as he stared at the food in front of him with a goofy grin. 

“Here, drink this,” she said, pushing the lemon water toward him. 

Ha-Joon took a long sip, his face lighting up in exaggerated delight. “Mmmm, this is good! Are you trying to poison me, Red?” 

“No,” she replied flatly. “I’m trying to fix you, Moon.” 

He chuckled, his dimples deepening as he set the lemon water down and dug into the soup. He slurped it loudly, clearly not caring about table manners in his current state. “This is delicious!” he exclaimed between mouthfuls, his voice still a little high-pitched. “You should open a restaurant, Red. You’d be a millionaire. People would come from all over the world just to taste your soup!” 

Scarlet couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she watched him, her tongue poking inside her cheeks. It was impossible to stay mad at him when he was being so... cute. She’d been so determined to surprise him, but now she was more concerned with getting him through the night. 

“You’re lucky you’re so adorable,” she muttered, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. 

“I know!” he said brightly, his face lighting up as if he had just discovered something profound. “I’m the best! No one’s better than me!” 

Scarlet shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Despite the ruined surprise and the slight irritation at his drunken antics, she couldn’t help but feel warmth toward him. Ha-Joon was still her Moon, even when he was talking nonsense and making her roll her eyes in exasperation. 

“Just eat your soup, Joon,” she said softly, her tone gentle now. 

He grinned at her and continued slurping away, his words still jumbled, but his smile never fading.