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[A little death] - [tnbh]

The evening air was warm, the kind that wrapped around you like a soft embrace, as the faint hum of conversation filled the room. Rena's birthday celebration was in full swing, the clinking of glasses and cheerful laughter echoing around the space.

The moment Sunghoon stepped into the room, all eyes turned toward him, but Rena's gaze was fixed on him, her expression lighting up as if she had just seen the sun after a long winter. Her heart skipped a beat, her lips curving into an eager smile, and for a brief moment, she forgot the world around her.

"Sunghoon," she breathed, her voice nearly a whisper.

He smiled back, a hint of something reserved in his eyes as he walked toward her, holding a small wrapped box in his hands. "Happy birthday, Rena," he said, his tone soft but polite. "I don't know much about gifts, so... I apologize in advance."

Rena's heart skipped again, but this time it was out of sheer delight. She eagerly reached for the gift, her eyes never leaving him. She gasped, her face lighting up in pure joy as she saw the gift inside. A delicate bracelet with intricate silver designs, sparkling in the soft light of the room.

"Are you kidding?" Rena laughed, her voice bubbling with joy. "This is way better than anything I could have hoped for! You really didn't have to, but this is perfect."

Sunghoon blinked, a bit taken aback by her reaction. He hadn't expected her to be so happy over something so simple, but he didn't voice it. Instead, he gave her a small nod, a slight, almost awkward smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad you like it," he murmured, before turning and heading toward the table where Sungchan and Changbin were.

As he settled into his seat beside the other Jung twin, he leaned in slightly, his voice low and almost gruff. "Happy birthday, Mr. Jung," he muttered, a touch of sarcasm in his tone, though there was something more beneath it.

"Oh really? It's my birthday today?" he feigned confusion, glancing around as if he were just now realizing the significance of the day.

"So, how does it feel acting like a stranger in your own home?"

"That's the second worst thing ever."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in mood. "What's the first?" he asked, already knowing the answer but not wanting to let the moment pass too easily.

Sungchan's gaze darkened for a moment, his voice quieter now. "When the person you're waiting for the most isn't here."

Sunghoon's heart skipped, and his grip tightened around his glass, his knuckles going white. He could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, but he couldn't help the flicker of understanding that crossed his mind. He knew exactly who Sungchan was talking about, and it hit him harder than he expected.

Then Sungchan's voice broke the tension as he casually mentioned, "Iseul's here." His words were almost offhand, but something in his tone shifted the mood. Sunghoon's gaze, which had been drifting around the room, snapped toward the entrance. His eyes immediately found her.

Sunghoon's gaze also snapped to her the moment she stepped into the room. There was a softness in his chest, something that gripped him with an almost irrational intensity. He watched her, his breath catching as if he'd been waiting for this very moment. He wasn't used to feeling so... affected. He tried to play it off, looking away for a second, but it didn't work. His eyes immediately found her again. He was smitten, and he hated that he was so obvious about it, but he couldn't help it.

Sungchan, too, watched her with a different kind of attention. His gaze wasn't as intense as Sunghoon's, but there was something undeniably admiring in the way he looked at Iseul.

Both men watched her, each struggling with their own feelings, both smitten in their own way—one trying to remain distant, the other hiding behind playful teasing. Neither could quite manage to ignore the magnetic pull she had on them.

Iseul finally reached the table. She greeted everyone with a radiant smile, her warmth flowing easily, though there was a deliberate pause as her gaze settled on Sunghoon. Her eyes traveled up and down, assessing him with a subtle, teasing look. "Hmm," she murmured, her tone laced with judgment, making him straighten slightly, defensive already.

Next to her, Sungchan shifted, visibly nervous. His hand ran through his hair, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. "You look so beautiful, Iseul," he finally blurted, his voice softer than usual, carrying a genuine reverence that made the compliment impossible to dismiss.

"Aw, thank you, Sungchan," she replieden, turning slightly, she added, "I wish all men were like you. Gentle. Polite." Her eyes flicked toward Sunghoon, and she emphasized the words with an edge that was impossible to miss.

Sunghoon, scoffed audibly. The sound was sharp and incredulous, as if her words had been a personal challenge. His jaw tightened, and his dark gaze flickered toward Sungchan with a look that could rival a storm.

Sungchan, always quick to seize an opportunity, stood up with a bright smile. "Then let me grab you a drink," he said smoothly, his voice full of charm. "I'm a gentleman, after all."

Iseul's smile deepened as she casually hooked her arm through his. "How could I say no to that?" she teased, letting him lead her away. Her laugh trailed behind her like a melody, leaving an unmistakable tension in her absence.

Sunghoon's eyes followed them, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. He stood stiffly, staring at the empty space they left, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. Changbin, who had been quietly observing the entire scene, struggled to contain his amusement. The corners of his mouth twitched, betraying the smirk he was trying to hide.

Sunghoon turned to him sharply, his tone low and warning. "Don't start, Changbin."

Changbin held up his hands in mock surrender, his smirk now fully formed. "I haven't said anything, sir," he replied, his voice dripping with innocence but laced with humor.

Sunghoon exhaled heavily, dragging a hand through his hair as if the motion could shake off the growing irritation. "Good," he muttered, though the sharp edge to his voice betrayed that he was anything but fine.

"You know," he began casually, "for someone who doesn't care, you sure do pay a lot of attention."

Sunghoon glared at him, but the heat in his gaze was less threatening and more a sign of frustration. He didn't dignify the comment with a response, instead turning his focus to the glass in front of him. But as much as he tried to ignore it, the image of Iseul smiling, her arm looped around Sungchan's, played over and over in his mind like a relentless loop he couldn't escape.

As soon as he spotted Iseul slipping into the mansion, something in him snapped. He followed her without hesitation, the noise of the party fading into the background as he navigated through the corridors.

Finally, they ended up in a quiet, dimly lit room. Without thinking, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them with a forceful click.

"Sunghoon, what the hell are you doing?" Iseul's voice was sharp, her wrist twisting out of his grip. She stared at him, her chest rising and falling with the remnants of shock.

"What the hell am I doing?" he hissed, his voice low but simmering with anger. "No, what the hell are you doing?"

"What are you even talking about?" she shot back, her brows furrowing.

"Oh, don't play dumb, Iseul," he growled, pacing a few steps before spinning to face her, his eyes dark with emotion. "I saw you. You and Sungchan. Laughing. Flirting. You think I don't notice?"

"Oh my," she said between giggles, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You didn't... Were you watching us through your mom's window?"

His face flushed instantly, the confident edge in his demeanor cracking as he scrambled for an excuse. "I—I just happened to... to look out the window. By accident," he stammered, the tips of his ears burning as he averted his gaze.

"By accident?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms. A slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. "Sunghoon, are you jealous?"

"I'm not jealous," he said immediately, his words clipped. But the way his jaw tightened and his fists clenched at his sides betrayed him.

Iseul tilted her head, watching him with the kind of amusement that made his blood boil. "Oh, really? Then why are you acting like this?"

"Acting like what?" His voice rose, a crack in the calm façade he desperately tried to keep. "I just don't think it's appropriate. Laughing with him, touching him, whatever you were doing—you know I don't allow that kind of behavior at the company."

"Company policy? That's what we're calling this now?"

"Yes," he snapped, though the word sounded far less confident than he wanted it to.

Her smile widened, a mix of triumph and mischief. "You know, jealousy is a very human emotion. It's okay to feel it."

"I'm not jealous," he repeated, his tone more resigned this time, like he was trying to convince himself.

Iseul's gaze softened for a moment, her teasing fading into something warmer. "Sunghoon," she said, her voice quiet, "if you have something to say, just say it. Stop hiding behind... whatever this is."

His mouth opened, but the words didn't come. Instead, he looked at her, his emotions flickering in his dark eyes—anger, frustration, vulnerability, and something else entirely.

Before Sunghoon could say a word, Sungchan's voice echoed down the hallway, calling for Iseul. Without hesitation, Sunghoon grabbed her wrist and began pulling her along, weaving through a maze of rooms. Iseul stumbled behind him, barely keeping up, already out of breath from his relentless pace.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, but he ignored her, finally yanking open a closet door. "Get in," he ordered. "What? Are you serious?" she whispered back, wide-eyed. He didn't wait for her to agree, pushing her inside and following close behind.

Inside the cramped, dimly lit closet, Iseul and Sunghoon were pressed closer than she had ever thought possible—or comfortable. His cologne was overwhelming in the confined space, the faint scent of cedarwood and something crisp teasing her senses.

"Move," she whispered, trying to push against his solid frame, but there was nowhere to go. "Keep quiet," he hissed, his breath brushing against her ear, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. She glared at him, her frustration bubbling over.

"Just give me some space!" she snapped in a hushed voice, though her words carried little weight as her back hit a stack of cleaning supplies.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, visibly done with her protests, and without warning, his hand came up to cover her mouth. Her muffled outrage was met with his smirk as he leaned closer, their noses almost brushing. "Will you stop making noise now?" he whispered, his tone a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

"I think he left," Iseul whispered, her breath barely audible in the small space. She shifted, preparing to step out, but Sunghoon's hand shot out to stop her.

"What if he didn't?" he murmured, his voice low and cautious. The closeness was palpable now—so close their noses almost brushed.

Iseul couldn't help the mischievous smirk that curled her lips. "If you want to be close to me, just say it," she teased, her tone dripping with playful defiance.

Sunghoon's jaw tightened as he scowled. "No. On the contrary, I'd rather not be seen with you," he countered, his voice sharp, though the faintest hint of unease flickered in his eyes.

Iseul raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. "Is that why you shoved me into a closet? Seems a bit counterproductive," she quipped, her smirk widening.

Sunghoon gulped, his resolve faltering for the briefest moment before he reached for the door and slipped out without another word, leaving Iseul grinning in his wake.

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The garden felt quieter than usual, a stillness hanging in the air as Iseul wandered through, her thoughts swirling. She spotted Sunghcan by the fountain, his posture relaxed but his eyes searching for her.

"Where were you?" he asked, a playful edge to his voice.

"Got a little lost. This place is huge."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you not run into Mr. Sunghoon?"

A brief flicker passed through Iseul's mind, something she couldn't quite shake off. I wish I hadn't. She smiled, shaking her head, pretending it didn't bother her as much as it really did.

As she stepped away from Sungchan, her heels clicked softly against the floor as she made her way to the drink table. She needed a moment to herself, away from the attention.

But before she could even reach for the glass, a familiar voice sliced through the hum of the crowd.

"I'd advise not to drink that."

She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The voice was unmistakable, low and commanding, dripping with a tension she couldn't ignore. Sunghoon.

She raised an eyebrow but kept her gaze forward, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Why? You worried about me, Sir?"

"You'll be trouble for me when you get drunk."

Iseul's fingers hovered over the glass, her curiosity growing. His concern was amusing, almost laughable. She glanced at the drink, then back at him, her expression a perfect mask of innocence. "Why would I trouble you? I'm just here to enjoy myself."

"Because you're terrible at it," he muttered under his breath. The irritation in his voice was barely concealed, and it made Iseul's pulse quicken, though she'd never admit it.

"Drop it," he commanded, his voice now a low warning.

She looked at him over her shoulder, holding his gaze with a challenge in her eyes. Without hesitation, she tipped the glass to her lips and swallowed the contents in one smooth motion. The burn of the liquor settled in her stomach, and for a split second, she felt something break—maybe a wall, maybe a boundary, but it was enough to fuel her next words.

"You're right," she said, voice dripping with mischief. "I'm terrible at it. But who says that's a bad thing?"

Sunghoon's frustration was palpable, his jaw clenched as he watched her, clearly wrestling with his own control. "I told you not to—"

But before he could finish, a voice interrupted, soft and polite. "Miss Iseul, would you honor me with this dance?"

Sungchan appeared at her side, offering his hand with that ever-charming smile of his. Iseul's heart fluttered, but she didn't look back at Sunghoon. Instead, she took Sungchan's hand, letting her fingers curl around his as she allowed herself to enjoy the distraction.

As they began to move toward the dance floor, she couldn't resist glancing back at Sunghoon.

He was standing there, seething, eyes locked on her as she walked away, a storm of emotions playing across his face. And as she smiled up at Sungchan, Iseul couldn't help but feel the pulse of power. She was in control, for now.

Iseul thought she had won. Her smile lingered as she danced with Sungchan, letting the music wash over her. But when her eyes flickered across the room, she froze.

Sunghoon was there, standing beside Rena. His arms were around her waist, holding her close, his expression a perfect mask of ease, but there was something in the way he held her—something possessive, something that made Iseul's chest tighten in a way she hadn't anticipated.

She hated it. Hated the way his hands rested on Rena's body, the way he seemed so at ease with her. And that look on his face—the way he gazed at Rena—it made something bitter rise in Iseul's throat.

She swallowed it down, trying to focus on the dance, on the way Sungchan was looking at her. But she couldn't stop her gaze from drifting back to Sunghoon. It was almost as if she was drawn to him, even though she didn't want to be. Her chest ached, a mix of jealousy and something else—something deeper, something she refused to name.

What was it about Sunghoon that always made her feel like this? And why, despite everything, did she care so much?

She didn't notice that Sunghoon, too, was watching her. His brow was furrowed, his jaw tight, a flicker of hurt passing through his usually stoic expression. But the pride in him—just like hers—kept him from showing it. He would never admit that he was affected by her, not after everything that had happened. Not after all the tension they'd built between them.

But as he looked at her, his gaze darkened, his fingers tightening around Rena's waist. The distance between them seemed to stretch further, though neither of them was willing to close it. They were both hurting, but neither was willing to admit it.

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