It's hard to fall in love again when you're still attached to your past. Learn to let go.

Sunlight gleamed, teasing her skin as she resisted waking, 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 sins through the room. Their fates were intertwined, sealed by the intimacy they shared, both marked by the moment of their mutual surrender.

A shy smile played on her lips.

She burrowed 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 into the crook of her neck sent a spark of longing through her body. Her heart thudded, stirred by the thought of him. Unbeknownst to her, he had smiled at the evidence of her reaction. "You belong to me," he'd whispered, breathless.

Though nine hours had passed, the memory felt 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 robbed her of breath and replaced it with a bliss that shattered through her. She wanted that again.

Consciously, her fingers trailed down her stomach, pausing at her most intimate place. Her touch was slow, teasing, until her clit swelled under the attention. If he were to catch her like this at dawn, she'd place the blame entirely on him. His insatiable hunger had ignited a fire in her, and now he would have to face the consequences. Sweet and simple.

She traced delicate figure eights, her breath hitching as her fingers drifted lower, teasing her lips before finally dipping an index finger inside.

A year ago, the thought of touching herself so freely would have embarrassed her, but now, she didn't care. She wanted nothing more than to ruin the already wrinkled sheets beneath her.

Her eyes squeezed shut as she focused, finding that sweet spot he had so effortlessly discovered on his first glide. How did he perfect it so quickly? she wondered.

Her tightness engulfed her finger, and she remembered why he'd murmured "So incredibly tight" as his cock pressed into her. But just as the missionary position hadn't been enough for him, one finger wasn't enough for her. She added another, filling the space inside her. Her hips moved in sync, grinding against her palm, her modesty long forgotten.

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

"You're mine to devour, Aera. Only mine," his voice growled in her ear, possessive and dark.

She groaned, the sound escaping her lips wanton and unrestrained, loud enough to stir the man beside her if he wasn't already awake, silently watching her morning show. His fist gripped his throbbing erection, the sharp bite of pain he inflicted on himself a twisted pleasure as he held off his release, savoring the wet, obscene sounds she created. The sight alone sent a surge of heat through her, thrilling her to no end.

In her mind, she imagined two wide, ravenous eyes burning holes into the back of her skull, their hunger bottomless, infinite. A shiver ran down her spine. Another finger joined the fray, her thrusts quickening to a frenzied pace. She moaned, body tensing and trembling until she was overcome by the violent spasms of release. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in rhythm, her body contracting around them with the force of a vice. Goosebumps erupted across her skin as the orgasm ripped through her, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. She panted, her chest rising and falling like a wild mare, nostrils flared and skin flushed.

The strange comparison jolted her back to reality. She'd always dreamed of owning a horse as a child-how innocent those dreams seemed now, in contrast to the primal rush still coursing through her veins. Gradually, the pleasurable tingles subsided, and the furrows on her brow smoothed into a calm, 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've made me do, Jungkook, she thought with a bitter smile.

As if summoned by her thoughts, his voice echoed in her memory, low and sinister, repeating the warning he'd given the night before. "I told you, Aera. I'm the devil you shouldn't have danced with. But it's too late now. There's no turning back."

The silence that followed was deafening, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her throat felt parched, as if she'd swallowed the desert air, dry and unforgiving.

Aera licked her lips, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do next. She turned slowly to her left, her heart thundering as if it might burst from her chest. She braced herself for the sight of Jungkook's familiar smirk, for the menace in his eyes. But instead, her gaze fell on an empty indentation where his body had once been. The sheets were tousled, his presence lingering only in the ghostly imprint he left behind.

Her head dropped back onto her pillow with a soft, defeated thud. For a moment, relief washed over her-a strange, almost welcome weight on her chest. At least he hadn't been there to witness her morning madness, to taunt her about her lack of control. The monochromatic walls of his room would keep her secret, silent and unjudging.

For now.

Her gaze, unwavering, shot to the monochromatic walls, silently challenging them with narrowed eyes as she took in the room's decor. It mirrored his office, she realized-gray walls, brown furniture, and black equipment, all typical of modern masculinity. Yet, Aera believed Jungkook would benefit from a splash of color, something to reflect the light she sensed within him. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the bedside lamp flickered to life, as if mocking her notion, its light stuttering on and off.

Aera glared at it, her brows knitting together, and the flickering abruptly ceased.

Jungkook had once confided that he preferred the darkness, convinced he was better off immersed in shadows than dragging someone down with his sorrow. She wanted to prove him wrong. The Jungkook of the past month was a stark contrast to the man who had barely acknowledged her when she first joined Kim Enterprises. His attentive gaze, the tenderness in his small gestures, the understanding shining in his onyx eyes-each subtle trait revealed the precious soul he truly was.

To label Jungkook as a mere black-and-white image would be a disservice to his essence. To hell with the office gossip. They had nothing better to do than spread false rumors about him, and they certainly didn't know Jungkook as well as she did. She was 10,000% certain of that.

Emotions swirling within her, Aera picked up her clothes from the floor and made her way to the bathroom, taking her time to wash away the fatigue from the previous night's activities.

"Aah," she sighed, her palms kneading her sore hips and posterior.

Jungkook had certainly worked her over. Her limbs felt heavy and loose, as if made of thread and jelly, in desperate need of revival. If she didn't regain her strength, she feared she might break at least two bones-clumsiness was her constant, unwanted companion. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, brushing her wild hair into place and smoothing down the wrinkled fabric of her clothes. Satisfied with her appearance, she twirled on her heels and left the room, making sure to switch off the bedside lamp.

She had hoped to find Michelin-starred Jungkook in the kitchen, whipping up something delicious, but instead, she discovered a glass of banana milk sitting on the counter and the remnants of their date night dishes lounging in the sink. The refrigerator hummed continuously, amplifying the growing unease in her stomach. She was alone in his apartment. Completely alone. Disappointment washed over her, thickening the air with unspoken resentment, particularly 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? Didn't he realize how that felt? He should have known better after last time he had bailed on her. This was infuriating and utterly unacceptable.

Aera exhaled sharply, her brows furrowing in frustration.

Her gaze drifted around Jungkook's kitchen until it settled on the sink piled high with dirty dishes. A surge of anger bubbled within her, and she couldn't help but want to unleash her frustration on them.

It was evident that Jungkook had left in a hurry. Otherwise, the dust motes wouldn't be floating aimlessly in the air. He was usually a gentleman, well aware of how to clean up after himself. Aera couldn't shake the nagging curiosity about what had been so urgent that he had to leave without a word.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she—or their date—had something to do with his abrupt departure. After all, Jungkook had never shown much interest in romantic gestures. So why had he been so ideal last night?

"Rhea is here, Jungkook!" she heard a voice call before she could even see the woman. "Time to wake up."

Rhea was another mystery Aera contemplated regarding Jungkook's life. The stunning beauty had long, slender legs and an effortless charm, making her perfect for any modeling agency. So why was she acting as Jungkook's caretaker?

"He isn't home," Aera replied, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. She heard a shuffle, and Rhea's questioning expression came into view as her body appeared in the hallway.

"What? Wait, who are you?" Rhea asked, her frown deepening, hinting at a growing sense of familiarity.

"Oh, so you're the one Jungkook coaxed me into organizing the candlelight dinner for last night," Rhea mused, hands on her hips. "Never would have guessed it would be you out of all the people he knows."

"You know I'm not like the others," Aera sighed, folding her arms as her chest tightened. Rhea's words both delighted and irritated her. Delighted because it showed that Jungkook had gone to great lengths for their date, and irritated because of the impression she had left on Rhea. It wasn't her fault that things had turned out the way they did.

"Yeah, whatever." Rhea rolled her eyes, pulling her hair into a bun and 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 please step aside? You're blocking the cabinet."

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I'll move. Thank you."

Aera took six hurried steps away, but Rhea didn't notice the embarrassment lingering behind her closed eyes. As she exited the apartment, a timid "good day" slipped from her lips, oblivious to the kind of day that awaited her.

Once home, she went through her usual routines, taking a hot bubble bath by the end of the day. Her thoughts kept returning to Jungkook's behavior and his mysterious departure. She should have grown accustomed to his unpredictability by now, but she hadn't. Instead, nagging worries plagued her mind. Why had he left so suddenly? What was behind his secrecy? Why hadn't he informed her about it?

Any explanation, any hint, would have been better than the two sentences narrating his disappearance. The least he could've done was make a phone call, to show some decency. But no. He vanished without a word, leaving her stranded in her thoughts, and her patience thinning to the breaking point.

Aera sank deeper into the bathtub, her brow creased with frustration. Tomorrow, Jungkook had better be ready with some answers.

But to her growing dismay, there was no sign of him in the days that followed. Her patience, once so solid, slowly eroded into doubt. Pessimism gnawed at her as she marched into the office of the one person who knew Jungkook inside and out: Kim Seokjin.

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

"Jungkook."

A single word, a name, yet it stirred something in Seokjin. The calm and collected CEO, the one who could charm his way through any obstacle, faltered at its mention. That was the kind of hold Jungkook had over all of them.

Seokjin forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "What did that troublemaker do this time?" he asked, his fingers pretending to flip through the pages of a file, though his mind was clearly elsewhere, unsettled by her presence.

"He disappeared. Again," Aera said, her voice tight with frustration. "And I thought maybe you'd know where he went."

Seokjin let out a slow breath, setting the file aside. "I wish I did, Aera. Trust me, I'm just as frustrated 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 was a plausible explanation. Jungkook had always been the type to retreat into silence when things got overwhelming. After the whirlwind of the past month-and the intense night they shared-maybe he needed that solitude more than ever.

"I'll let you know if he contacts me," Seokjin added, his voice gentler 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 good day."

Seokjin nodded, watching her leave. The door clicked shut behind her, and after a moment's hesitation, he pulled out his phone.

He opened the messaging app, his fingers hesitating as guilt twisted in his chest.

Seokjin:
Aera came looking for you. I had to lie.

He expected Jungkook to ignore the message like so many before, but to his surprise, three dots appeared, making Seokjin straighten in his seat.

Jungkook:
Good.

Seokjin's heart raced as he prepared to ask about Jungkook's health, but before he could type another word, the "online" indicator next to Jungkook's name disappeared, just like he had for the past week.

"Shit!" Seokjin hissed, pressing his palms to his face as a headache pulsed behind his eyes. He hunched over the table, peeking through his fingers at the sound of a knock.

"Did I hear you curse, Jinnie?"

"Not now, Namjoon," Seokjin grumbled.

"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 grew closer, and Seokjin could feel the heat radiating from him.

"You know I could demonstrate those skills right now if you wanted."

"Fuck you."

"You have my permission."

"How dare you suggest that in our workplace?" Seokjin shot Namjoon a mock glare.

"Says the one who ate my ass on the thirteenth day of my employment." Namjoon grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "That was so nice of you. Did your previous assistant get the same luxury?"

Seokjin relaxed, easing his shoulders. He stepped closer to Namjoon and cupped his face, planting a soft kiss on his lips. "No, that's strictly reserved for my husband."

Crescent moons formed on Namjoon's cheeks as he pulled Seokjin into his embrace, placing a tender kiss on his raven hair. "I love you."

"Love you too, dear husband." Seokjin squeezed Namjoon's buttocks, eliciting a laugh from him.

"Naughty."

In that moment of peace, they allowed their actions to convey what words often failed to express. With Namjoon tracing gentle circles on his back, Seokjin felt the tension in his body begin to ease. But that relief evaporated as Namjoon spoke again. "He'll be okay, Seokjin. Jungkook knows how to handle himself. Don't worry too much."

Seokjin stiffened. His concern for Jungkook was painfully obvious, wasn't it? How could he not worry when his heart held such a soft spot for him? After all these years, he still recognized the miserable boy he first met in the Daegu Psychiatric Ward.

"I'm fine, Jin," Jungkook often insisted, but Seokjin had learned to see through the facade, to the deep anguish hidden behind those innocent eyes.

He took a deep breath, tightening his grip around Namjoon, and nodded.

Seokjin fell silent, surrendering to the calm while it lasted, aware that the notification about to flash on his phone could steal his breath away.

"Everything okay, baby?" Namjoon asked, his concern palpable as he studied Seokjin's stillness and strained breathing. "What is it?"

"He did what he said. I have to go." Appalled, Seokjin broke the hug and hurried out of the office, his heart pounding in his chest.