Jake arrived at Jungwon's house in the dead of night, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across the quiet suburban street. His footsteps were nearly silent as he approached the front door, his face a mask of cold determination. The darkness around him seemed to echo the darkness within, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't fully control. His heart pounded, adrenaline surging through his veins as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

But before his knuckles could make contact with the wood, Jake hesitated. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to shift his expression. The hard, calculating look in his eyes softened, replaced by a facade of fear and vulnerability. The transformation was quick, practiced—Jake knew how to play the victim, how to make others believe he was helpless, even when the truth was far more sinister.

With his mask firmly in place, Jake knocked on the door, his fist trembling slightly to sell the illusion. A few moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a groggy and surprised Jungwon. He blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep as he took in the sight of Jake standing on his doorstep, looking disheveled and distressed.

"Jake? What are you doing here? It's so late..." Jungwon's voice was filled with concern, his brow furrowing as he quickly ushered Jake inside.

"I... I didn't know where else to go," Jake stammered, his voice shaky, as he stepped into the warmth of Jungwon's home. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering slightly for effect. "Something... something terrible happened, and I didn't know who else to turn to."

Jungwon's worry deepened as he led Jake to the living room, motioning for him to sit down on the couch. "What happened, Jake? Are you okay?"

Jake let out a shaky breath, sitting down with his head in his hands. He hesitated, as if trying to find the right words, then looked up at Jungwon with wide, pleading eyes. "I... I think I'm in serious trouble, Jungwon. I need your help. Please."

Jungwon sat beside him, his hand resting on Jake's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Of course, Jake. Whatever you need, I'm here for you. Just tell me what's going on."

Jake swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the room before finally meeting Jungwon's gaze. "There's this guy... Heeseung. He... he's been following me, and tonight, something happened... I think I might be in danger." His voice trembled as he spoke, each word carefully chosen to elicit the most sympathy.

Jungwon's expression turned serious, a protective instinct kicking in. "LEE fucking Heeseung? Following you? Did he do something to you? Should we call the police?"

"No!" Jake quickly interjected, his voice a little too sharp before he softened it again. "I mean... no, I don't think that's a good idea. I don't want to make things worse. I just... I need a place to stay, somewhere safe, just for tonight. Can I stay here?"

Jungwon didn't hesitate, nodding firmly. "Of course, Jake. You're welcome to stay as long as you need. We'll figure this out together, okay? You're not alone."

Jake gave a small, grateful smile, though the darkness in his eyes flickered briefly, hidden beneath the surface. "Thank you, Jungwon. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jungwon squeezed Jake's shoulder reassuringly, completely unaware of the storm brewing within the person he was trying to protect. As Jake leaned back against the couch, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He had planted the seeds, and now, all he had to do was wait. The game was far from over, and Jake was determined to come out on top—no matter the cost.

The next day, the atmosphere in the studio was tense. Jungwon and Riki were practicing a scene for the upcoming film, but things weren't going smoothly. Jake sat off to the side, watching intently as the two actors tried to get through their lines. The room was filled with the quiet hum of equipment and the occasional frustrated sigh from the crew.

Riki was visibly nervous. Every time he attempted to deliver his lines, his voice would falter, or he'd stumble over the words. His eyes kept darting toward Jungwon, who stood across from him, exuding a calm confidence. The contrast between them was stark, and it was clear that Riki's nerves were getting the better of him.

"Come on, Riki, focus!" the producer snapped, his frustration evident as he paced back and forth. "We don't have all day!"

Riki nodded, trying to steady himself, but it was obvious he was struggling. His gaze flicked over to Jake, who gave him an encouraging nod, but it did little to calm him. The pressure was mounting, and the producer's impatience only made things worse.

Jungwon, on the other hand, remained composed. He delivered his lines with ease, but every time Riki faltered, his expression softened, as if he was trying to silently reassure his co-star. Despite this, the tension in the room continued to build.

Jake watched the scene unfold, his mind elsewhere. The events of the previous night still lingered in his thoughts, but he kept a neutral expression, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He could see that Riki was struggling, but there was little he could do from the sidelines.

Finally, after another failed attempt, the producer threw his hands up in exasperation. "We're not going to get anywhere like this! Take five, everyone. Riki, get it together!"

Riki looked down, clearly embarrassed. He mumbled an apology before stepping off to the side, trying to collect himself. Jungwon followed, his gaze concerned as he approached Riki, offering a few quiet words of encouragement.

As the crew took their break, Jungwon approached Riki, who was standing off to the side, visibly frustrated with himself. Riki's shoulders were slumped, and he kept running a hand through his hair, a clear sign of his anxiety.

"Hey, you're doing fine," Jungwon said softly, trying to comfort him. "It's just a rough day. We all have them."

Riki shook his head, avoiding Jungwon's gaze. "No, I'm messing up everything. I can't get it right, and I'm just making everyone mad."

Jungwon stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Riki could hear. "You're too hard on yourself. We've been through worse, remember? Just take a deep breath, focus on the character, and forget about everything else."

Riki looked up at Jungwon, his eyes filled with frustration and a hint of desperation. "It's just... I don't know. Every time I look at you, I just... I get nervous, and I can't think straight."

Jungwon's expression softened even more, and he placed a reassuring hand on Riki's shoulder. "You're thinking too much about it. Just focus on the scene, not on me or anyone else watching. You can do this, Riki."

Riki nodded, but it was clear he was still struggling internally. "I'm trying, I really am. But it's like my brain just freezes up when I'm around you. I don't want to let everyone down."

Jungwon gave him a small smile, squeezing his shoulder gently. "You're not letting anyone down. We're in this together, okay? If you mess up, we'll work through it. Just trust yourself a bit more."

Riki glanced over at Jake, who was sitting quietly in the corner, observing the interaction. Jake's expression was unreadable, but Riki couldn't help but feel even more pressure knowing that Jake was watching them. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair again.

"I'll try," Riki finally said, though his voice lacked confidence. "I just need to get out of my head."

Jungwon nodded, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. "Exactly. We'll get through this."

Jake, from his seat, watched the exchange with a sense of detachment. He could see the desperation in Riki's eyes, the way he seemed almost lost in his own self-doubt. The dynamic between the two was clear—Jungwon was the calm anchor, while Riki was adrift in a sea of nerves.

Jake couldn't help but feel a mix of pity and indifference. He had his own demons to deal with, and seeing Riki struggle only reminded him of the facade he was putting up. While Jungwon and Riki were battling their own issues in the studio, Jake was wrestling with much darker thoughts, hiding them behind a carefully constructed mask.

Jake sat in the studio, watching Jungwon and Riki fumble through their scene. It was painful to watch. Riki was a ball of nerves, missing cues, forgetting lines, and it was visibly wearing down the patience of everyone in the room. Jungwon, on the other hand, handled it well—at least better than Jake would've expected. But Jake wasn't here to critique acting. He was here because Jungwon had asked for him. That fact alone was enough to keep him from walking out, even as the tension in the studio thickened.

"Jake, could you grab me some water?" Jungwon's voice was light, barely cutting through Jake's thoughts, but it was enough to break the monotony of watching the scene fall apart. Jake turned to Jungwon, nodded, and stood up. As he walked toward the exit, something shifted inside him. A deep, simmering irritation bubbled under his skin, something dark he had learned to suppress most of the time but couldn't entirely ignore.

His footsteps were slow, deliberate as he made his way down the narrow hall toward the vending machine. Every step felt heavier than the last, his mind unraveling from the performance he'd been putting on for everyone. The harmless, passive Jake was just an act, a mask he wore for convenience. In truth, something much more dangerous lurked beneath the surface, and moments like this—when he was asked to do something as mundane as fetching water—peeled back the mask just enough for that darker side to breathe.

The machine whirred as Jake selected a water bottle, his fingers drumming against the metal as he waited for it to drop. But then someone else entered the room—one of the production crew members, oblivious to the storm brewing in Jake's head.

"You taking your sweet time there, Jake?" the guy asked, half-joking. But the tone, the casual familiarity in it, grated on Jake's nerves. Jake glanced at him, and his eyes narrowed, the playful expression he wore earlier disappearing. He could feel the cold, calculated part of himself slipping to the surface.

Jake didn't respond at first, just let the tension linger. Then he stepped closer to the man, his movements almost predatory. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low, measured. "You really want to do this right now?"

The crew member blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Jake's demeanor. "Uh... what?"

Jake's lips curved into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was no warmth in it, just the faintest hint of menace. "Because if you keep talking to me like that, you're going to regret it." He took another step closer, his body language shifting from relaxed to something more intimidating, more calculated. His voice dropped even lower. "You have no idea who I really am, do you? Maybe you think I'm just the guy who gets water. But if you cross me..." Jake let the sentence hang, the unspoken threat heavier than anything he could have said outright.

The man swallowed hard, clearly unnerved by Jake's tone. "Hey, man, I was just joking."

"Yeah? Funny joke," Jake replied coldly, his eyes locked onto the man's. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the low hum of the vending machine and the suffocating tension between them. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the dark expression on Jake's face vanished. He took a step back, his posture relaxing, and his tone lightened. "Forget it," he said, the mask slipping back into place. "I'll get back to the set."

The man nodded, looking relieved but still unsettled, and quickly left the room. Jake grabbed the water bottle, but as he walked back toward the studio, his thoughts continued to churn.

His mind was a battlefield. On the outside, he was Jake—the quiet, sometimes awkward guy who stuck to the background. But inside, there was something far more chaotic, far more dangerous lurking. He could feel it in moments like these when his control slipped, even if just for a second. A part of him liked it—liked the power, the control he could exert over others when he allowed that darker side to surface. It was thrilling, in a way, knowing he could switch between the harmless persona everyone thought he was and the cold, calculated force he truly was underneath.

As Jake walked back into the studio, the room was just as tense as before, but no one seemed to notice the change in him. He slipped back into his role easily, handing Jungwon the water with a calm smile. Jungwon took it without a second thought, grateful, oblivious to the brief interaction that had just happened in the hallway. No one saw it. No one ever did.

Jake sat down again, his eyes flicking between Riki and Jungwon as they continued their scene. Jungwon delivered his lines with confidence, while Riki struggled, fumbling nervously over his words. Jake could see the frustration building in the room, especially from the director, who was growing impatient with Riki's constant mistakes. But Jake wasn't focused on the acting anymore.

His mind was elsewhere, replaying the encounter from the hallway, the way his words had cut through the crew member's facade, the way it felt to exert that power. He could have done more. He wanted to do more. But not yet. There would be a time for that.

For now, he would wait, watch, and let them all believe he was still the quiet, harmless guy sitting in the corner. They had no idea who they were really dealing with.

Jay sat at his polished oak desk, staring at the endless stream of documents laid out in front of him. The room was dim, the soft glow of his desk lamp illuminating the papers he was supposed to be reviewing. The muffled sound of rain hitting the window added a dull rhythm to the quietness of the office. He tried to focus on the legislation in front of him—budget allocations, healthcare reforms, public policy—but his mind kept wandering.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the thoughts of Jungwon. His eyes skimmed the document he was supposed to sign, but the words blurred together, meaningless in the haze of his distractions. He was supposed to be making decisions that would impact the lives of countless citizens, decisions that required precision, foresight, and focus. Yet, all he could think about was the fact that Jungwon was working on that film with Riki.

The sharp click of a pen dropping on the desk broke the silence, and Jay leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. How had he ended up here, in this headspace, worrying about someone like Jungwon? He had bullied the kid, pushed him around, always keeping him at arm's length. They weren't close, they had never been. But now, the thought of Jungwon in a film with Riki, someone he had his own history with, was eating at him.

What were they like together? Was Jungwon comfortable on set? Were they laughing, bonding, growing close in ways Jay couldn't imagine?

He scoffed at himself, the ridiculousness of it all. Why should he care? He wasn't supposed to. But even as he told himself that, the questions lingered, gnawing at the back of his mind. Every time he tried to redirect his thoughts to the pressing matters on his desk, Jungwon's face would pop back into his head. It was infuriating.

His phone buzzed with a notification, and for a moment, he hoped it was something urgent enough to pull him fully back into the political arena. But it wasn't—it was just another message about tomorrow's meeting with the education committee. He glanced at it briefly before tossing the phone aside, his attention wavering once more.

Jay stood up, pacing the length of his office, trying to shake the unease. He needed to focus. People were counting on him—his advisors, the party, the public. He couldn't afford to be distracted, not when there was so much at stake. But no matter how many times he told himself that, the intrusive thoughts remained.

He poured himself a glass of water, staring out the window at the rain-soaked streets below. The soft patter of droplets on the glass mirrored the noise in his head, a steady, dull throb. Every few minutes, he'd catch himself drifting, his thoughts circling back to Jungwon and Riki, the film set, and the conversations they must be having.

He picked up the stack of papers again, determined to force himself back to the task at hand. He scanned the budget proposal, attempting to calculate the adjustments he needed to make to avoid any backlash. But his mind was already slipping away, back to imagining what Jungwon was doing right now. Was he on set? Was Riki making him laugh? Was he nervous, or confident in his role?

Jay rubbed his temples, frustrated with himself. This wasn't like him—he was always composed, always in control. But now, with the weight of his political responsibilities and the unexpected distraction of Jungwon, he felt the edges of his control fraying. He couldn't afford this, not now. Yet the harder he tried to focus, the more distant his work seemed, as if the world of politics was fading into the background while his thoughts about Jungwon loomed larger and larger.

Another hour passed, the papers still untouched, the decisions still unmade. Jay was drowning in his own mind, unable to pull himself out of the spiral of distraction. He knew he had to find a way to refocus, to push Jungwon out of his head, but the harder he tried, the more impossible it seemed.

Jay sat in his office, pretending to read through yet another policy report. The numbers, the language, it was all a blur to him at this point. His phone buzzed with a message from his boss, the head of the party, reminding him about the upcoming meeting. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, still feeling the tug of distraction from earlier.

"Jay, we need to talk," came a voice from the doorway.

It was his assistant, Minjun, standing with a folder in his hand, looking at him expectantly. Jay nodded, gesturing for Minjun to come in, but his thoughts were still miles away.

"Yeah, what's up?" Jay asked, trying to pull himself back to the present, forcing some semblance of professionalism into his voice.

Minjun flipped open the folder, glancing at Jay over the top of his glasses. "The education budget proposal needs your final approval before the meeting tomorrow, and the press release for the transportation bill is still pending. You haven't made any amendments yet, and the party's getting antsy. They're expecting your revisions by the end of the day."

Jay waved his hand dismissively. "I'll get to it. Just leave it on the desk."

Minjun hesitated, his brow furrowing as he closed the folder and placed it on the pile of documents already stacked on Jay's desk. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice cautious.

Jay rubbed his temples. "Yeah, just... a lot going on right now." He couldn't help it—his mind drifted back to Jungwon, to Riki, and the stupid film set. It made no sense, but there he was, consumed by thoughts that had no place in his professional life.

"You don't seem like yourself," Minjun said, his tone more curious now. "You're usually on top of everything, but you've been distracted lately. Is something wrong?"

Jay looked up sharply. "No, nothing's wrong." The words came out harsher than he intended, but he couldn't stand being questioned right now, especially not about something he couldn't explain.

Minjun raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, no need to bite my head off. Just... people are noticing. The boss is noticing."

Jay clenched his jaw, his frustration rising. Of course, everyone was noticing. He wasn't being himself, and it was showing. "I'll handle it," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"You're running out of time," Minjun pressed, folding his arms. "The boss is already annoyed that you haven't finalized the amendments. And if you don't show up prepared tomorrow, it's going to be bad for you. You know that."

"I said I'll handle it," Jay snapped, his patience wearing thin. His eyes darted back to the papers, but he wasn't seeing them. He was seeing Jungwon again, wondering if he'd wrapped up shooting for the day, if he and Riki were out grabbing dinner together, laughing, bonding. The idea made him grit his teeth in frustration.

Minjun let out a soft sigh, clearly picking up on Jay's mood. "Fine. Just... don't let this get out of hand, okay? You've worked too hard to let distractions ruin it now."

Jay nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to say anything more. Minjun turned to leave, but paused at the door.

"If you need help... don't be afraid to ask," he added, giving Jay a pointed look before slipping out of the room.

Jay exhaled, slumping in his chair as the door clicked shut behind Minjun. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated beyond belief. Why was this happening now? Why was he obsessing over something so pointless, letting it affect his work, his career? He needed to get his head straight.

A moment later, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from his boss.

Boss: "Jay, I need your amendments by 6 PM. We're already behind schedule. Don't make me come down there."

Jay groaned, tossing the phone onto his desk. He should've been thinking about the budget, the bills, and the public image he was supposed to be maintaining. But instead, he was consumed by thoughts of Jungwon, and it was pulling him deeper into distraction.