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Iseul blinked rapidly, her mind refusing to process what she was seeing. Her pulse quickened as if the world had flipped upside down. Surely, this was some twisted dream.

Maybe she had fallen asleep waiting, and any moment now, she would wake up. But no—Sunghoon was there, impossibly real.

"This is Sungchan's seat," she said, her voice flat, her eyes narrowing as if daring reality to change before her.

Feigning confusion, Sunghoon raised his ticket, holding it between two fingers like a card player about to reveal his winning hand. "This is my seat," he said, with a deliberate calm that only made her blood boil.

She snatched the ticket from his hand and scanned it, her heart sinking as she confirmed it. The numbers were right. It was his seat. Her stomach twisted into a knot.

"What is this?" she mumbled under her breath, her mind racing with suspicion.

She snapped her fingers at the flight attendant as if summoning a lifeline. "Excuse me! Can I change my seat?"

The hostess smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but all seats are taken."

Iseul clenched her jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface. She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, turning back toward Sunghoon, who was now lounging as if he owned the entire plane.

His lips quirked into a smirk that dripped with mockery. "Would you like a drink before we take off?" His voice was smooth, infuriatingly pleasant.

She narrowed her eyes to slits. "Sunghoon, shut up. I don't want to hear your voice at all."

His smirk widened, leaning in just enough to invade her space without touching her, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear. "You'll be hearing it all the way to Daejeon, Iseul. Might as well get comfortable."

Iseul glanced nervously out the window, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on her. Where is Sungchan? she thought, her fingers curling into fists on her lap. He should have been there by now—he had promised to make it in time.

Meanwhile, Sungchan had just arrived at the airport, skidding to a halt as he watched the plane taxiing down the runway. His heart dropped. He had missed the flight.

Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his phone and barked into it, "Book me the first flight out, now."

The secretary's voice came back hesitantly, "There are no available seats until tomorrow morning."

"Then find the earliest one," he snapped, ending the call abruptly, his mind racing with frustration.

As soon as he hung up, his phone buzzed again. He frowned at the unfamiliar number but answered out of habit, still caught up in the mess of missed connections and tight schedules.

"Yeah, she's my mother," he said curtly. "Why are you calling?"

The voice on the other end spoke just a few words, but they were enough to chill the air around him. His grip on the phone tightened, his heart hammering in his chest.

His expression darkened as he whispered, "What happened?"

The answer sent him into motion, his feet moving before his mind could catch up. His breath quickened as he shoved through the crowd, his only thought now fixed on one destination: the hospital.

The silence between Iseul and Sunghoon weighed heavier than the storm outside. Neither spoke, but the tension wrapped around them like a string pulled taut. The crackling of the speakers startled them both.

"Due to weather conditions, please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated."

Iseul's fingers moved quickly, but her hands shook as she fumbled with the belt. Her breaths came shallow, betraying her rising panic. She hated turbulence, hated not being in control.

Sunghoon, well aware of her little tells—her clenched jaw, her darting eyes—shifted his gaze to her.

"You're fine," he murmured, leaning slightly closer so only she could hear. His voice, low and calm, held a steadiness she'd forgotten she used to lean on. "Nothing's going to happen."

Iseul didn't look at him. Her hands gripped the armrests tightly.

He added with a teasing smirk, hoping to ease her nerves, "If you're that scared, you can hold my hand."

Her eyes snapped to his, sharp as a blade. "I'd rather die than hold your hand," she hissed.

The plane jolted suddenly, shaking violently with a loud creak. Iseul gasped, her instincts overriding her pride. Her hand shot out—and clasped his.

She didn't even realize what she had done.

Sunghoon felt her hand trembling, small and soft in his own, and something deep inside him twisted. He knew the rhythm of her fear, how easily she unraveled when things didn't go as planned. It was second nature to him, as familiar as breathing. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze, threading their hands together as if they had never been apart.

"You're okay," he whispered gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Iseul blinked, the warmth of his hand sinking into her skin, grounding her. And then—mortification.

Her eyes widened as she realized where her hand was. She yanked it back so fast it was a wonder she didn't dislocate her shoulder. "You planned this," she accused, her voice a flustered mix of outrage and embarrassment. "Did you pay the pilot?!"

Sunghoon let out a low, rich laugh that felt like warmth on a cold day. "I didn't," he said, his lips quirking into a grin. "But that's a great idea. I'll think about it for next time."

"Next time?" she sputtered, smacking her forehead in frustration as if that would erase the moment from existence.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon's eyes never left her. He watched with a quiet, fond smile, seeing every flicker of emotion she tried to hide.

And long after her hand had left his, his fingers still felt the shape of hers, as though they were made to fit together—whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Iseul, still reeling from the warmth of his hand, her skin tingling as if his touch lingered, cleared her throat and forced herself to focus on anything but him. She glanced sideways, her voice light with forced indifference.

"Sunghoon, once the plane lands, what are you going to do?"

Sunghoon didn't hesitate. His voice came soft, but the words carried a weight that felt like a whisper of truth. "We'll take a small walk in the street together."

Her head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing in a glare. "In your dreams."

He chuckled lowly, and the sound wrapped around her like a familiar song she didn't want to hear.

With that, Iseul turned fully away from him, resting her head against the window in defiance. Yet, without meaning to, her legs remained angled toward him.

Sunghoon leaned back in his seat, tilting his head just enough to admire her profile. The curve of her cheek, the slight furrow of her brows as she tried so hard to act unaffected—it was a sight he had burned into his memory, but seeing her now, like this, with the soft light casting shadows across her face, made it feel new all over again.

He smiled to himself.

And though he didn't speak, his eyes held her as if he could keep her here just a little longer, even if all he had was this flight, this fleeting moment before she slipped away again.

An hour later, they arrived in Daejeon.

Iseul sat in the back seat of the car, her phone pressed to her ear. The streetlights painted soft golden streaks across her profile, but tension weighed her shoulders down. Sunghoon lounged next to her like he belonged there—composed, amused, and far too close.

"I arrived, Mom," she said, her tone light but her expression sharp. "We're heading to the hotel."

Her mother's voice floated through the phone, warm and sweet. "How was your flight, sweetie?"

Iseul's eyes cut to Sunghoon, narrowed with venomous precision. Her lips curled as she spoke slowly, savoring each word. "It was fine... except for a few unpleasant surprises."

Sunghoon turned his head, his smirk as lazy as the warmth in his eyes was sharp. He looked as if her disdain were a gift.

"Well, my Iseul, you must be tired. I'll call you later," her mother chirped happily.

Iseul ended the call with a sigh and immediately picked up her shoulder bag, placing it between them like a fortress. The bag leaned dangerously to one side, but she didn't care.

Sunghoon tilted his head, his grin widening. "What's that for? Afraid of me?"

"Don't flatter yourself." She glared, venomous but beautiful in her annoyance. "You couldn't scare me if you tried."

He laughed, the sound rich and maddening. "There's plenty of space. No need to run away."

Iseul clenched her jaw. "Who do you think you are for me to run away from you?" She gave the armrest between them a sharp push, letting it fall with a satisfying thud. "God, I can't even breathe in peace."

Sunghoon didn't even blink at her hostility. Instead, he calmly draped his arm over the divider, his fingers grazing just close enough to make her pulse thrum in annoyance.

"Breathe," he whispered, his tone laced with a wicked tease. "I'm not going anywhere."

Iseul stared at his hand for a second too long before jerking her gaze away, retreating further into her corner. "You're insufferable."

"I know." His voice dropped, softer now, almost as if he were talking to himself. "But you used to like that about me."

The silence between them thickened. She turned her head away sharply, her legs still angled ever so slightly toward him again despite her best efforts.

She broke the quiet first, her voice colder than the night air. "I'm wondering what you'll do when Sungchan finds out."

The smirk vanished from Sunghoon's lips. His eyes darkened as he leaned forward, every muscle tensing with irritation. "Who the hell is Sungchan?" he bit out with arrogance.

Iseul's heart sank as realization hit her. She fumbled with her phone, her fingers trembling while she dialed. When the line finally connected, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Sungchan! Where are you?"

There was a heavy sigh on the other end before his voice came through, low and strained. "I'm so sorry, Iseul. I couldn't call you earlier. First, I missed the plane... and now... my mom was taken to the hospital. She's sick."

Her chest tightened, panic rising in her throat. "What? Is she okay? What happened?"

"She relapsed," he said quietly, his exhaustion evident. "You know how she is. My usual mom."

"Oh my God... Sungchan, I'm so sorry." Her voice softened, guilt layering her words. "Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?"

There was a pause before he spoke, the warmth in his tone not quite masking his pain. "Thank you, Iseul. I mean it. But... once my mom stabilizes, I'll be in Daejeon. I'll see you soon."

The call ended with a click, the silence in the car now deafening.

Sunghoon watched her, a flicker of genuine concern replacing his usual smirk. His brows furrowed slightly as he asked, "What's going on?"

She inhaled deeply before answering, her voice steady despite the weight behind her words. "Sungchan's mom was sent to the hospital."

His jaw tightened as he absorbed the news. After a pause, he muttered, "I hope it's nothing serious."

There was no mockery in his tone, only quiet sincerity.

Finally, they arrived at the hotel. Iseul stepped out of the car first, walking briskly toward the entrance with Sunghoon trailing behind her like a loyal shadow—well, until his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He sighed, already annoyed as he saw Rena's name on the screen. He answered with an eye roll, his frustration palpable.

"Sunghoon!" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the line before he could even speak. "Where have you been? I've been calling you since morning! My mom was taken to the hospital, and I'm here waiting for updates—alone!"

He leaned against a column, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, I know. Iseul told me."

There was a stunned silence. Then: "Iseul?" Her voice dropped, incredulous. "Where are you, Sunghoon?"

"Daejeon." His tone was deliberately calm, almost amused. "You didn't think I'd leave something this important in your brother's untrained hands, did you?"

The silence stretched a beat too long. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you call me?!"

"Rena," he said, his voice cooling to a low murmur, "we'll talk later. I hope your mother's condition improves."

And before she could throw another word at him, he hung up.

He turned to Iseul, who handed him a room card without so much as a glance. She had made sure they were separate rooms.

Holding the key card between his fingers, he smirked. "We won't be resting long. I just organized a meeting here at 2 p.m. Be there on time."

Iseul arched a brow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Mr. Park, why are you making decisions without Sungchan's approval? You know he's in charge of this project."

Sunghoon leaned a little closer, his tone slow and deliberate, like a cat toying with its prey. "Have you forgotten who I am? I am the boss. The founder of this company. Sungchan works under me."

She sighed dramatically, already tired of his games. "Whatever you say, Mr. Park Sunghoon, sir." She gave him a mock salute, her eyes rolling as she turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall toward her room.

Sunghoon stood there, watching her go with a soft chuckle. The corner of his mouth lifted into a rare, genuine smile—because teasing Iseul had always been his favorite kind of sport.

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