wow, a chapter where reader’s life isn’t going horrible. This is going great, but we still gotta kill mike that man is public enemy #1 I don’t care how he can blow up in space or die to a snail touching and i’ll be happy.
amazing chapter, excited to see what comes next <3
Popular, Boy
☆12: The first warning.
Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader
Genre: +18, smut, angst, slow burn, drama, dark academic, love triangle.
wc: 10k
Summary: Stepping back to your world and reclaiming your place with confidence and Hongjoong by your side, feeling that everything is better.
But some loyalties are bound by fear rather than choice.
Warnings: Cursing, manipulation, power dynamics, fluff.
Series masterlist Join the Taglist
☆11 ☆13: The first bliss. Coming soon
The sharp click of your heels echoes through the quiet hallway as you make your way toward your father’s office. The Clarke mansion is always pristine, always silent in places where it shouldn’t be.
It’s suffocating.
You pause outside the heavy wooden door, exhaling before knocking twice.
“Come in.”
You push the door open, stepping inside. Your father is at his desk, flipping through documents, while your mother sits on one of the velvet chairs across from him, sipping tea as if she has no real business here.
Both of them glance up at you, but it’s your mother who smiles first.
“Well, this is a surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure, darling?”
Your father doesn’t say anything. He just watches, waiting. You clear your throat, keeping your tone even.
“I need a favor.”
Your mother’s eyes gleam with interest “A favor? That’s rare.” She sets her teacup down gently. “What is it?”
You don’t hesitate “It’s about Hongjoong.”
At that, your father raises a brow, finally giving you his full attention. Your mother, on the other hand, practically lights up.
“Oh, Hongjoong! I was beginning to think you weren’t talking to him anymore after—” She pauses, tilting her head, eyes sharp. “After that day.”
You knew this was coming. Of course she’d ask.Your fingers tighten slightly at your sides, but your voice remains composed.
“It was a misunderstanding. Everything’s fine between us now.”
Your mother hums in approval, looking far too pleased. “I knew you wouldn’t throw away something special over a little argument.”
Your father clears his throat, his tone clipped “If this is about that boy, get to the point.”
You nod “It’s not about him, exactly. It’s about his father.”
Both your parents exchange a glance.
You continue, “His father lost his job recently, and their family is struggling. I wanted to know if you could offer him something here. A driver, security—anything.”
Your mother leans back slightly, considering. “His father lost his job?” A small frown tugs at her lips, but it isn’t one of disapproval—it’s concern. “That’s terrible.”
Your father leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “What does he do?”
“He was a chauffeur,” You answer. “For a private company, but they let him go.”
Your father exhales, glancing down at the papers on his desk as if debating whether this conversation is worth his time.
“A driver, huh?”
Your mother places a hand on his arm, smiling “Well, we do need another personal driver, don’t we?”
Your father gives her a pointed look, but you know him. He isn’t against the idea—he’s just pretending to be.
“It wouldn’t be a bad thing,” The woman continues, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle on her dress. “The boy is respectful, intelligent. If he’s anything like his son, I’m sure his father would be a good addition.”
Your father exhales through his nose before looking at you “You really want this?”
“Yes.”
A long pause. Then—
“Fine.”
Your mother claps her hands together lightly “Wonderful.” She turns back to you, a knowing smile on her lips. “Tell Hongjoong his father can start next week.”
Relief washes over you, but you keep your expression composed. You lean against the edge of your father’s desk, tilting your head just slightly, letting your voice soften into that sweet, spoiled tone you know they can’t resist.
“Thank you, Daddy,” You say, drawing out the last word just enough to sound affectionate, not excessive.
Your father exhales, shaking his head as if he’s already regretting agreeing to this. But you don’t miss the way the tension in his shoulders loosens. He likes it when you act like his perfect little girl—like you adore him.
Your mother watches the interaction with amusement, sipping her tea. “You should’ve just started with that, sweetheart. You know your father can’t say no to you when you ask nicely.”
Your father gives her a flat look “That’s not true.”
“Oh, please.” She waves a delicate hand in the air. “You’ve been wrapped around her little finger since she could talk.”
You flash a smug little smile, but before you can say anything, your mother’s expression brightens.
“Oh! That reminds me.” She sets her teacup down and turns to you expectantly. “You should invite Hongjoong over for dinner one day.”
Your father grunts “What?”
Your mother raises an eyebrow “What, what? I like him. He’s polite, intelligent, and much better company than some of your other friends.” She pauses, pressing a manicured finger to her lips in thought. “And he’s quite handsome, isn’t he?”
You scoff, rolling your eyes “Okay, calm down.”
She chuckles “I’m just saying, I want to see him again. And this time, without all the party noise.”
Your father mutters under his breath, flipping a page in his documents “I still don’t like the idea of my daughter wasting time with some scholarship kid.”
You pout dramatically, leaning toward him “But, Daddy,” You drawl, “I like him.”
He sighs, rubbing his temple “I swear, you only do this to torture me.”
You smile sweetly “That’s not true! I only do it when I want something.”
Your mother laughs, shaking her head “So? Will you invite him?”
You shrug, pushing off the desk “I’ll think about it.”
But you both know you’ll do it.
As you turn to leave, your mother calls after you, “And tell him I said hello!”
You wave a hand without looking back, already dreading Hongjoong’s reaction when you tell him.
Because if he agrees to dinner, you just know your mother is going to love embarrassing you.
✮ ⋆
Hongjoong opens the door, eyebrows raising slightly when he sees you standing on his porch, dressed effortlessly chic like you don’t belong in this neighborhood.
It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but it’s rare enough that the sight of you standing outside his house still feels surreal.
"Pretty?" He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a hint of amusement playing at his lips. "Did I forget we had a date or something?"
You roll your eyes, stepping past him like you own the place "Please, nerd. If we had a date, you’d be waiting for me."
He huffs a laugh, closing the door behind you "So, what’s up?"
You spin on your heel, hands clasped in front of you like you’re about to drop the biggest news of the century.
"Well, I just came back from a very interesting conversation with my parents." He tenses slightly at the mention of them, but he doesn’t interrupt. "And guess what?" You tilt your head, smiling. "Your dad just got a job."
Hongjoong blinks "What?"
Before you can answer, his mother’s voice comes from the kitchen "Joong, who’s at the—" She pauses as she steps into the living room, eyes widening when she sees you. "Oh! YN, dear!"
You smile "Hi, Mrs. Kim."
His father enters the room next, looking surprised but polite "It’s nice to see you again, YN."
"You too, Mr. Kim," You reply warmly. "Actually, I came to tell you something." You glance at Hongjoong, then back to his father. "My dad just hired you as a personal driver."
A beat of silence. Then the woman clasps her hands together, eyes shining. "Oh, that’s wonderful news!" She turns to her husband, already fussing. "You see? Everything is working out. I told you things would get better."
The man, though visibly relieved, remains composed "This… this is really unexpected," He says carefully, looking at you. "Your father doesn’t know me, so why would he—"
"It was my idea," You cut in. "I told them about your situation, and they agreed."
Hongjoong’s parents exchange a glance, something unspoken passing between them. Gratitude. Maybe even a little disbelief.
Hongjoong stays quiet beside you, his eyes unreadable.
His mother sighs, then smiles at you warmly "YN, that was really kind of you."
You shrug, like it’s nothing, like you don’t actually care as much as you do "It’s the least I could do."
Mrs. Kim beams "Well, in that case, you must stay for dinner."
"Oh, I—"
"No buts," She says, already ushering you toward the dining table. "It’s our way of saying thank you."
You glance at Hongjoong, who just smirks, as if to say you brought this on yourself.
Fine. You’ll stay.
✮ ⋆
Dinner is surprisingly… nice. Warm. Unlike the silent, performative meals at the Clarke mansion, this table is filled with actual conversation.
Hongjoong’s father asks about school, his mother tells stories from work, and Hongjoong—well, he mostly watches you.
And under the table, his hand finds your thigh. You stiffen slightly at the unexpected touch, but when you glance at him, he’s focused on his plate like nothing’s happening.
His fingers, however, trace slow, lazy patterns against your skin, just under the hem of your skirt.
You shift slightly, your breath catching, but you don’t move his hand. His thumb presses lightly, and your nails dig into your fork.
Mrs. Kim suddenly laughs at something her husband says, then turns to you with a knowing look.
"YN, dear," She starts, voice full of something—something playful, something amused. "How long have you and my son been together?"
You nearly choke on your drink, Hongjoong finally looks up, biting back a smile.
"Excuse me?" You ask, feigning innocence.
His father smirks, shaking his head "You two think we don’t notice?" He nods toward his son. "You’ve been staring at her all night."
Hongjoong shrugs, far too casual "Can you blame me?"
You shoot him a look.
His mother giggles "And he’s been holding your hand under the table for the last ten minutes."
Oh.
You didn’t even realize. Somewhere between his teasing and the conversation, his hand had slipped into yours, fingers lazily intertwined.
Again, Hongjoong just smirks.
You clear your throat, quickly pulling your hand away "Anyway," You say, trying to steer the conversation anywhere else.
But his mother just hums, giving you both a knowing smile "Ah, young love."
Hongjoong leans in slightly, voice low enough for only you to hear "We could make it official, you know."
You gasp, eyes widening as you slap his arm lightly. "Hongjoong!"
His parents laugh at the interaction, clearly entertained, while Hongjoong just grins, absolutely unbothered.
“Oh, don’t act so surprised, pretty,” He teases, rubbing his arm dramatically like you actually hurt him.
You roll your eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up your neck. Idiot.
After dinner, Mrs. Kim insists on making tea, despite Hongjoong’s grumbles that ‘YN probably only drinks champagne, Mom.’ You roll your eyes but accept the tea anyway, sitting at the kitchen counter as his parents clear the table.
Hongjoong stands beside you, arms crossed, leaning slightly against the counter. He’s relaxed, comfortable in his home, but his eyes flicker toward you every few seconds.
You tap your nails against your mug “Your mom likes me.”
He snorts “Understatement. She’s already planning our wedding.”
You scoff, taking a sip of tea “I’d be a great addition to your family, let’s be honest.”
He tilts his head, considering “You do have expensive taste. My mom would love the gifts you’d bring her.”
You nudge him with your elbow “Oh, shut up.”
He grins, but before he can say something else, his mother calls from the living room. “Joong, come help your father with something!”
Hongjoong exhales through his nose, standing up straight “Be right back.” He pauses before heading off, leaning down just slightly so only you can hear. “Don’t miss me too much, pretty.”
You roll your eyes, but he catches the way your lips twitch.
Once he’s gone, you’re left in the quiet of the kitchen, staring down at your tea. It’s strange being here. The warmth, the ease—nothing like the cold, calculated world you come from.
And you hate how much you like it.
A few minutes later, you’re checking your phone when you feel it—gentle fingers trailing down your back. You shiver, looking up just as Hongjoong settles behind you, his presence warm, solid.
“They’re in the living room,” He murmurs. “We have a few minutes alone.”
You raise an eyebrow “And?”
“And…” He steps closer, his hand resting lightly against your hip. “I want to be with you without my mom watching like she’s this close to planning our honeymoon.”
You smirk, but before you can retort, he dips down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.
Your breath catches. His lips ghost over your skin, slow, deliberate. His hands find your waist, fingers tightening ever so slightly.
You’re still sitting on the stool, and he’s standing between your legs, close enough that you can feel his warmth against you.
“Joong—”
“Shhh,” He murmurs, placing another kiss just beneath your jaw. “I just like being near you.”
Your heart stutters. For all the teasing, all the flirting, this moment is different. It’s soft. Unrushed. His fingers brush over the fabric of your skirt, trailing lazily along your thigh like he’s memorizing the feel of you.
You don’t stop him. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, giving him more access.
He hums in approval, lips brushing your pulse before finally pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, but there’s something else in them—something real.
His thumb traces circles against your hip “You should come over more.”
You exhale a quiet laugh “Your mom would love that.”
“She would,” He agrees, smirking. “And maybe I would too.”
Your fingers find the collar of his sweater, tugging him closer until your lips are almost touching.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then he kisses you.
It’s slow, deliberate, nothing rushed or messy. Just the warmth of his lips, the way his fingers tighten against you, the quiet hum that vibrates against your mouth.
He’s holding back, you can tell. And maybe you like that.
Maybe you like all of it.
But before things can go any further, the sound of someone clearing their throat shatters the moment.
You both freeze.
Slowly, you turn your head—only to see Mrs. Kim standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.
Hongjoong immediately steps back, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Uh...”
She sighs, shaking her head “At least take her out on a proper date first, Kim Hongjoongl.”
You burst out laughing, while Hongjoong groans, burying his face in his hands.
✮ ⋆
After that awkward situation in the kitchen, you and Hongjoong make your way to his room, excusing yourselves with a vague, ‘We have things to do.’ His parents exchange a glance but don’t argue. If anything, they look downright amused.
His room is cleaner than you expected. Bookshelves filled with everything from fantasy novels to thick textbooks line the walls, and his desk is cluttered but organized.
As he digs through his drawers for fresh clothes, you skim over his bookshelf, fingers brushing over the spines until one catches your eye.
You plop onto his bed, flipping through the pages, completely lost in the book.
Then, the bathroom door clicks open.
You glance up—and immediately freeze.
Hongjoong stands in the doorway, fresh from the shower, steam still curling around him. His damp hair clings slightly to his forehead, droplets of water trailing down the sharp planes of his chest.
And the only thing he’s wearing? A towel.
Low on his hips.
Your throat runs dry.
He doesn’t notice at first—he’s too busy running a hand through his hair, sighing like he’s still processing everything that happened tonight. But then he looks at you, noticing your wide eyes, the way your fingers have frozen over the page.
His lips curve “Oh?” He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Something wrong, pretty?”
You snap the book shut. Hard.
“Why are you standing there like that?” You demand, clearing your throat, pretending that nothing about this is affecting you.
Hongjoong shrugs “It’s my room. Didn’t know I needed to be fully dressed to exist in it.”
You glare at him “You’re doing this on purpose.”
He tilts his head, looking far too pleased with himself “Doing what on purpose?”
Your jaw clenches. Fine. Two can play this game.
You set the book aside and stretch, tilting your head slightly, letting your gaze slowly trail down his torso.
Hongjoong’s smirk falters just a little. Then, as if completely unfazed, you lean back against his pillows, propping yourself up on your elbows.
“You know,” You say, feigning nonchalance, “For a nerd, you’re in surprisingly good shape.”
He blinks. Then—he laughs, shaking his head “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”
You raise an eyebrow “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” He steps closer, eyes darkening slightly, “That you are the biggest tease I’ve ever met.”
He’s right in front of you now, way too close, the scent of his shampoo still fresh. You can see the water droplets clinging to his collarbone, sliding down his skin, disappearing beneath the towel.
Your stomach flutters “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You say, voice way too even.
Hongjoong hums, unconvinced. And then his fingers graze your knee. You jolt slightly, but before you can react, he slides his hand up, slow, teasing. Over your thigh, pushing your skirt up just barely, his fingertips ghosting over sensitive skin.
Your breath hitches.
He leans in, voice low, taunting “Tell me, pretty…” His lips hover near your ear. “If I am doing this on purpose… is it working?”
Your pulse pounds.
God, you hate him. But you also don’t.
And maybe that’s the real problem.
Before you can make the very reckless decision to grab him by the towel and end his teasing yourself, Hongjoong grins—the cockiest grin you’ve ever seen—and pulls away completely, stepping back toward his dresser like nothing just happened.
“I should get dressed,” He muses, voice far too casual. “We have places to be, remember?”
You stare at him. He’s so lucky you like him.
You exhale sharply, crossing your arms as he rummages through his drawer “You are the most annoying person I know.”
He tosses a shirt over his head, grinning “And yet, here you are.”
You throw a pillow at him.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
Fifteen minutes later, you arrive at the café, the glow from the streetlights casting long shadows through the clear glass windows. Your steps slow as your eyes land on her.
Jina.
She’s behind the counter, casually wiping a glass, completely unaware of what’s coming.
Your lips press into a thin line, irritation bubbling to the surface.
Hongjoong notices immediately, chuckling under his breath as he reaches out, fingers tilting your chin so your eyes meet his instead.
"Stop frowning, pretty. You’ll get wrinkles."
You scoff “Joong, that slut tried to mess with me and you. Don’t expect me to act all nice and sweet around her.”
His lips twitch with amusement, but instead of scolding you, he leans down and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips.
"It’s okay, pretty. But please don’t punch her, or I’ll never bring you to a café again."
You roll your eyes “Whatever.”
Hongjoong sighs but laces his fingers through yours, leading you toward the entrance. The bell above the door jingles softly as you step inside, the warm scent of coffee and vanilla lingering in the air.
The second Jina hears the sound, she turns, already slipping into her customer-service smile.
"Welcome to—"
Her voice dies in her throat the moment she sees you.
You, standing next to him.
You, holding his hand like nothing had happened between you two.
A flicker of something—shock, unease—crosses her face before she quickly schools her expression.
Still, you catch it.
The hesitation.
The way she stiffens ever so slightly under your gaze.
She swallows, clearing her throat "Welcome to Café Aurora. How can I help you?"
Hongjoong doesn’t respond. Neither do you. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a neatly folded envelope, placing it on the counter.
"It’s my resignation. Thank Mr. Choi on my behalf."
Jina flinches slightly at the soft thud of the envelope hitting the polished wood.
"What?" Her voice comes out quieter than she intends.
He doesn’t repeat himself. He simply watches her, expression unreadable. A heavy silence settles between the three of you, thick with tension.
Then, he speaks again—his tone even, but firm.
"Before we go, I want to ask you something, Jina." She tenses. "Where do you know Park Seonghwa from?"
For the first time, true panic flashes across her face.
Her breath catches. Her fingers tighten around the rag she’s holding, knuckles turning white.
You don’t miss the way her eyes flick toward you—just for a second—before she quickly looks away, pretending to focus on something across the room.
Like she’s debating whether or not to lie.
Like she’s wondering if you remember.
Your own brows furrow slightly. Why would she—And then it hits you.
The familiarity in her gaze. The way she seems to know you, not just Hongjoong.
You narrow your eyes “Why do I feel like I’ve seen you before?”
Jina’s jaw tightens, lips pressing into a firm line.
Hongjoong shifts slightly beside you, glancing between the two of you “Wait. You know her?”
You blink, memories stirring in the back of your mind, hazy but persistent. You have seen her before.
Not here.
Not as Hongjoong’s coworker.
But years ago.
At Seonghwa’s house.
Your stomach drops, realization crashes into you like a tidal wave. Jina wasn’t just some random girl working at this café.
She worked for Seonghwa’s family.
She had been there. During the years you “dated” Hwa, when you spent countless afternoons at his house. And yet, back then, you never really noticed her.
She was just another staff member, someone in the background, someone who blended into the luxury of the Park estate.
But the way Jina looks at you now—Like she remembers everything.
Like she knows exactly who you are.
Your throat tightens, and Hongjoong notices the change in your expression immediately.
“YN?”
Jina exhales slowly, fingers still gripping the rag in her hands. Then—finally—she speaks. "So, you really don’t remember, huh?"
You meet her gaze, heart pounding “Remember what?”
Jina lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking her head “Figures.” She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. “You used to be in his house all the time, but you never even looked at me, did you?”
Your fingers curl into fists “What the hell are you talking about?”
Jina tilts her head, eyes glinting “You really don’t know, do you?”
Hongjoong stiffens beside you “Know what?”
She pauses, studying you both.
"Are you sure Seonghwa wanted something serious with you back then?"
A sharp, hollow ache settles in your chest, the weight of Jina’s words pressing into you like a slow, creeping poison.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Your voice is sharp, but there’s something beneath it—something raw.
Jina smirks, tapping her fingers against the counter, eyes flickering between you and Hongjoong.
“I mean exactly what I said. Are you sure Seonghwa ever really saw you as his?”
Hongjoong shifts beside you, his presence grounding you, but your pulse is hammering against your ribs.
“You’re lying.”
Jina raises a brow, clearly amused “Am I?”
Your jaw clenches. You want to ignore this. You want to roll your eyes, turn around, and walk out like none of this matters. Like he doesn’t matter. Like your past with Hwa was just that—past.
But something inside you twists.
You had liked him—really liked him. Back then, you had convinced yourself that the games you played with him meant something, that the tension, the lingering glances, the way he acted like you were the only girl in the room was real.
But if Jina’s words were true—if he had never really meant it, if you were just one of many—then what the hell had all of it been for?
Your stomach churns. Hongjoong, silent until now, finally steps in, his voice firm, protective.
“YN, we don’t have to listen to this.”
But you can’t move. You can’t breathe. Because the memories are flashing—the nights you waited for Seonghwa to call, the excuses he made, the moments that never quite added up.
Jina watches you, her smirk deepening “There it is.”
You snap your gaze back to hers, eyes burning “What do you want? Huh? What’s your goal here?”
Jina leans back, feigning innocence “I don’t want anything. I just think you deserve to know what kind of man Seonghwa really is.”
It shouldn’t hurt. Not anymore.
You have Hongjoong.
Hongjoong, who would never play with your feelings like that. Hongjoong, who looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world.
And suddenly, that’s enough.
The pain dulls.
You exhale, letting go of the sharp, bitter sting in your chest. You turn to him, and when your eyes meet, the warmth there is undeniable.
You have everything you need.
Seonghwa is just a name from your past. A mistake.
You look back at Jina, but this time, your lips curve—not into a smirk, not into anger, but into indifference.
“You know what, Jina?” You say smoothly, voice steady. “I don’t care.”
Jina blinks, her smirk faltering for the first time.
You step closer, tilting your head “You really thought this would break me?” A soft chuckle leaves your lips. “That’s pathetic.”
And with that, you turn to Hongjoong, grabbing his hand as you lace your fingers through his. His grip tightens, reassuring.
Without another word, you pull him toward the exit, leaving Jina behind.
Because for the first time, you realize—you’ve already won.
✮ ⋆
The low hum of the car engine fills the silence between you and Hongjoong as he drives through the dimly lit streets.
The city blurs past, neon lights reflecting against the windshield, but your mind is somewhere else—stuck in the past.
Hongjoong doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his eyes flicking toward you every few seconds, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
He can sense it—the shift in your mood, the way your shoulders are tense, the distant look in your eyes.
“You’re quiet,” He finally says, voice softer than usual.
You don’t answer right away. Instead, you sigh, shifting slightly in your seat.
“I’m just… thinking.”
Hongjoong hums in acknowledgment, giving you space to find the words. You exhale sharply, pressing your forehead against the window for a moment before turning to him.
“Did I ever tell you that I really liked Seonghwa?”
Hongjoong’s fingers twitch around the wheel, but he keeps his expression neutral.
“No, but I assumed it for the way you two used to act.” He says carefully.
A bitter chuckle leaves your lips “Well, I did. Or at least, I thought I did.” You shake your head, scoffing at yourself. “I was so sure that what we had was real. That if I played hard to get long enough, he’d actually make a move.”
He doesn’t interrupt, just listens.
Your fingers tighten into your lap “And now, to find out that he was screwing around with Jina the entire time…” You trail off, clenching your jaw. “I was an idiot.”
Hongjoong exhales, reaching over to take your hand in his. His thumb strokes slow, soothing circles against your skin.
“You weren’t an idiot,” He murmurs. “You just believed in someone who didn’t deserve it.”
Your chest tightens. You glance down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch spreading through you, grounding you.
He continues, his voice gentle but firm “Seoghwa never deserved you. And if he had even half a brain, he would’ve known that.”
You look at him then, your lips parting slightly. There’s no jealousy in his voice. No smugness. Just certainty. Like he’s always known your worth—even when you didn’t.
For the first time since leaving the café, the ache in your chest softens.
You squeeze his hand “Thank you, Joongie.” You say quietly.
Hongjoong offers you a small smile before focusing back on the road.
“Are you going to confront him?” He asks.
You nod, your gaze sharpening “Oh, absolutely. He owes me an apology, and he’s going to give it.”
He chuckles “Remind me never to piss you off.”
You smirk, feeling lighter than before “Oh, you already did. You’re just lucky I forgave you.”
By the time you pull into the long driveway of your mansion, the tension between you and Hongjoong has shifted into something else entirely.
Something heavier.
The moment the car stops, silence settles between you—thick, charged.
Hongjoong shifts in his seat, eyes flickering to yours, dark and hungry “You’re staring,” He murmurs.
Your lips curl into a slow smirk “So are you.”
He swallows hard. You know what he’s thinking. You feel it—the weight of weeks spent apart, of lingering touches that never went far enough, of all the things left unsaid.
And now, alone in the dim glow of the car, it finally snaps.
You reach for him first, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pull him in. Your lips crash against his, and the moment they do, he groans—low, needy, like he’s been starving for this.
Hongjoong kisses you like he’s making up for lost time—desperate, reckless, his hands sliding up your waist, gripping you tighter than he should.
You don’t care, you want it—want him.
A soft moan escapes you when his fingers slip beneath your dress, skimming along your thighs, his touch scorching against your skin.
“Fuck,” He breathes against your lips, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. “We should—go inside.”
You smirk, trailing your fingers down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath your palm.
“You sure you can wait that long?”
His jaw clenches, his hands tightening around you, and before you know it, he’s pulling you into his lap, his seat pushed back just enough.
The moment you straddle him, he loses it.
His hands roam greedily, his lips devour yours, his breath hitching every time you grind against him.
But then—
The sudden flash of headlights approaching the driveway snaps you both back to reality.
You jolt, your eyes widening “Shit.”
Hongjoong curses, gripping your waist as you scramble off him, both of you breathless, flushed, aching. You adjust your skirt, and Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
“You’re a menace,” He mutters, voice hoarse.
You grin, fixing your lipstick in the rearview mirror “And you love it.”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head “Yeah. I do.”
The moment you step out of the car, smoothing your dress and pretending you weren’t just grinding on your nerdy boy, you hear the hum of an approaching engine.
Hongjoong, still catching his breath, freezes beside you. His hair is a mess, his hoodie slightly disheveled—he looks guilty as hell. You turn your head just in time to see the sleek black car pulling into the driveway.
Your parents’ car, your heart drops.
He exhales sharply “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
You barely have time to compose yourself before the car door swings open and your mother steps out first, graceful as ever. Your father follows, adjusting his cufflinks, both completely unaware of what they just interrupted.
Yet.
“Sweetie!” Your mother’s voice is warm, delighted. “What a surprise to see you home early.”
Hongjoong tenses beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking like a kid caught sneaking out past curfew.
You, on the other hand, recover instantly, flipping your hair over your shoulder and flashing a perfectly practiced smile.
“Hi.” You greet smoothly, stepping forward like nothing is out of the ordinary. “Didn’t expect you two back so soon. How was dinner?”
Your father eyes Hongjoong for a second longer than necessary before answering.
“Productive,” He says, his tone measured. “We met with investors—secured another deal.”
“Oh, how lovely.” You nod, your voice syrupy sweet, desperately hoping they won’t notice the faint smudge of lipstick on Hongjoong’s jaw.
But your mother’s sharp gaze flickers between the two of you, taking in every detail. The way Hongjoong won’t meet her eyes, the slight flush on his face, the way your dress looks just a little more wrinkled than before.
Then—realization dawns.
Her lips twitch “Oh, honey,” She hums, amused. “We didn’t… interrupt anything, did we?”
Hongjoong chokes. Actually chokes.
You blink, keeping your expression perfectly neutral “Of course not,” You lie effortlessly.
Your mother tilts her head, clearly not believing a single word.
Your father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Darling, be discreet,” He mutters. “If you must do… this”—he waves a vague hand between you and Hongjoong—“At least have the decency to do it inside the house.”
Hongjoong turns bright red. his glasses covering the way his eyes shut with embarrassment.
You grin, looping your arm through his “Of course, Daddy. We’ll be very discreet.”
Your father groans. Your mother, meanwhile, just smirks, shaking her head.
“Hongjoong, dear,” She says smoothly, “Why don’t you come inside for a drink before you go?”
Hongjoong, still recovering, nods stiffly “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”
You pat his chest, whispering, “Relax, nerd. My mom likes you.”
He mutters under his breath “That’s not the one I’m worried about.”
And with that, you lead him inside—your parents following close behind, and your mother still very much amused.
The warmth of the mansion greets you as you step inside, but the atmosphere is anything but comfortable for Hongjoong.
Your mother glides in effortlessly, a small knowing smile still lingering on her lips, while your father sighs heavily, already loosening his tie like he doesn’t want to deal with this tonight.
Hongjoong, on the other hand?
He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.
You squeeze his hand reassuringly as the four of you step into the lounge, where the dim glow of the chandelier casts soft shadows across the room.
Your mother gestures toward the leather sofas “Sit, sit,” She says, her voice almost teasing.
He hesitates. You don’t.
Dragging him along with you, you plop down elegantly on one of the couches, crossing your legs, exuding nothing but confidence. Hongjoong, stiff as a board, lowers himself beside you—looking very out of place.
Your father pours himself a drink, running a tired hand through his hair before turning to him.
“Whiskey?” He asks.
Hongjoong blinks “Uh—no, sir. I’m good.”
Your mother hums, sitting gracefully across from you both “You don’t have to be so formal, Hongjoong. We already know you and YN are… close.”
He shifts uncomfortably “Right.”
You smirk, tapping your fingers against your knee “You don’t have to traumatize him, Mom.”
Your mother chuckles, tilting her head “I think it’s adorable. You’re the first boy YN has ever brought home in a serious way.”
Hongjoong freezes.
Your father scoffs “Serious?” He sips his drink, unimpressed. “This is the same girl who threw a designer shoe at my head when I suggested she attend a dinner instead of going out with friends.”
Your mother ignores him “Hongjoong, sweetheart, how is your family?”
He blinks, snapping out of his existential crisis “Oh—uh, good. My dad had his first day today. Thank you again for the opportunity, Mr. Clarke.”
Your father nods, dismissive “He did well.”
Your mother, however, smiles warmly “It was YN’s idea.”
Mike turns to you. “I know,” he says softly. “I still don’t know how to thank you.”
You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “You don’t have to.”
But your mother? She notices everything—the way Hongjoong looks at you, the way your fingers twitch like you’re stopping yourself from reaching for his hand, the way he makes you soft.
Her smile deepens “Well,” She hums, placing her glass down. “Since we’re all so comfortable, why don’t you join us for dinner sometime soon, Hongjoong?”
He stiffens, you grin. Your father sighs, already regretting everything.
Hongjoong clears his throat “That’s… really generous, Mrs. Clarke.”
“Oh, please,” She waves him off. “Call me Catherine.”
Hongjoong visibly swallows “That’s… really generous, Catherine.”
Your father nearly chokes on his drink, you snicker under your breath.
Your mother just beams “Perfect. I’ll set something up soon.”
He nods, and just when he thinks the interrogation is over your mother’s eyes flicker between the two of you, her smirk returning.
“So,” She leans forward slightly, voice dangerously amused. “Where exactly were you two before we arrived?”
Hongjoong stops breathing.
Your father sighs into his whiskey “Jesus Christ, Catherine.”
You, completely unbothered, just smirk “Nowhere interesting.”
Your mother laughs, sipping her wine.
Hongjoong? He’s never been more stressed in his life.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The school hallways are alive with chatter as you step through the entrance, the silence parting for you like the sea parting for royalty.
It’s been three weeks since you last walked these halls. Three long weeks, spent hiding in the shadows of your own house, nursing wounds both physical and emotional.
But today, you're back.
Your heels click against the floor with each confident step, and you feel the eyes of the students on you—some of them staring in awe, some in jealousy, and others in pure admiration.
Whispers ripple through the crowd as you walk past them, and you can’t help but smirk. You know what they’re saying.
The Queen Bee has returned.
You walk with your head held high, shoulders squared, and a smile that borders on smug. Your friends are all there, surrounding you like the loyal subjects they are. Mindy and Wooyoung are by your side, smiling at the attention you're getting, the flashes of admiration in their eyes mirroring your own.
But even as you drink in the attention, there’s something in the air that you can’t ignore. The familiar pressure of someone’s gaze—the feeling of eyes on you from across the room.
You know who it is before you even see him.
Seonghwa.
You turn your head, catching sight of him standing near his locker, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watches you approach. He straightens as you get closer, the friendly expression in his eyes barely masking the sharpness beneath.
"Sweetheart," He says, his voice smooth, warm, and filled with an almost brotherly concern. "Where have you been? Haven't seen you around for a while. Everything okay?"
You smile, perfectly poised, the kind of smile that looks warm but never quite reaches your eyes.
“Seonghwa,” You greet, stopping just short of where he stands. “How sweet of you to notice.”
He chuckles, leaning against his locker with the kind of casual arrogance that once made your stomach flutter.
Now? It makes you sick.
“Of course I noticed,” He says smoothly, eyes flickering over your face, your stance—always analyzing, always calculating. “Three weeks is a long time to go without seeing you.”
Mindy and Wooyoung exchange glances behind you, but they say nothing. They know better than to interrupt.
You tilt your head, feigning curiosity “Did you miss me?”
Hwa smirks, and there it is—that infuriating, cocky confidence, the belief that you’ll always fall into his hands, just like you used to.
“I think the better question is,” He steps closer, voice lowering, “Did you miss me?”
You laugh, the sound light and dismissive, like the very thought is entertaining.
“Hwa,” You purr, tapping a manicured nail against your chin, “I’ve had… so much to think about these past few weeks.” Your gaze drags over him, slow, assessing—letting him think he still has a chance. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve learned.”
His smirk falters for half a second, but you see it.
You see everything.
You step closer, close enough that only he can hear you when you murmur, “You and I have so much to catch up on.”
Seonghwa studies you, trying to gauge if you’re being playful or if there’s something more dangerous beneath your words.
You don’t let him figure it out.
Instead, you brush past him, letting your perfume linger in the air between you, a lingering reminder that you are no longer the fool who once loved him blindly.
Mindy falls into step beside you, waiting until you’re out of earshot before whispering, “That was fucking terrifying.”
Wooyoung just whistles “Damn, babydoll. He’s gonna suffer.”
You smile.
He has no idea.
✮ ⋆
The cafeteria is alive with energy, students laughing, chatting, living in their own little worlds. But at your table? The air is thick, heavy with tension, the kind that turns heads and makes people pay attention.
You sit at your usual spot, sipping your drink as Mindy and Wooyoung throw teasing comments back and forth.
Across from you, San and Mingi lounge comfortably, more entertained than anything as Seonghwa takes his seat, acting as if he owns the space.
And he might have before.
Before he started working against you. Before he thought he could outplay you. Before you learned the truth.
Seonghwa leans forward, flashing you a smirk, his presence demanding your attention "So, baby—"
“Hey, pretty.”
The entire table shifts, your smirk grows before you even turn to look. Because you already know who that voice belongs to.
Hongjoong.
He slides into the seat beside you like he’s been doing it for years, like this is exactly where he belongs. And then—he does it. He leans in, presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, his hand resting against your thigh like it’s his right.
Seonghwa goes still.
Mindy bites her lip to keep from grinning. Wooyoung? He’s barely containing a laugh.
San and Mingi glance at each other, picking up on something dangerous.
But Seonghwa?
He’s frozen, staring at you and Hongjoong like the world just tilted off its axis.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” His voice is low, tight with something uglier than frustration.
You tilt your head, eyes dancing with amusement “Something wrong?”
Hwa’s jaw clenches “I thought…” He stops himself, recalculating, but the damage is already done. You see it in his eyes.
He thought he still had a chance.
And now? He doesn’t.
Hongjoong doesn’t even glance at him. He just shrugs, completely at ease “I think he thought we weren’t on good terms, pretty.”
Seonghwa’s eyes snap to him, burning with fury.
You smirk.
“Oh, Hwa,” Mindy sighs dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You should’ve kept up with the gossip.”
Seonghwa stares at you, as if waiting for some kind of explanation, some confirmation that this is all a joke.
But you don’t give him one. Instead, you lean into Hongjoong’s touch, fingers grazing over his wrist in an intimate, deliberate move.
The weight of his glare is suffocating, burning into you and Hongjoong, but neither of you react. You just smile, the picture of ease, while Hongjoong—calm, collected, unbothered—takes a sip of his drink like this is just another normal day.
San and Mingi exchange a look, sensing the storm brewing, but Wooyoung and Mindy? They’re thriving in the chaos.
Seonghwa finally speaks, his voice tight, controlled, but just barely.
“So, what? You two just—got back together?” His fingers drum against the table, a nervous tick he can’t quite suppress.
You lean back, feigning surprise “Why wouldn’t we?”
His eyes darken, his lips part like he’s about to argue, but he stops himself. He’s realizing things, piecing together all the lies he swallowed as truth.
Mindy hums, propping her chin on her hand “Did you really think they broke up, Hwa?”
Seonghwa doesn’t look at her. He looks at you and you hold his gaze, refusing to be the first to break. He hated that about you—how you never wavered, never bent to his will.
His tongue clicks, irritation flashing across his face “It’s just funny, that’s all.” His smirk returns, but it’s weaker now, forced. “Considering the rumors.”
You feign innocence “Rumors?”
He leans in, dropping his voice so only you can hear “That this nerd was using you.”
Hongjoong tenses beside you.
You grin, slow and deliberate “Oh, that.”
Hwa’s smirk twitches. You place a hand on Hongjoong’s thigh, casual, effortless—a claim.
“If that were true,” You murmur, “Do you really think I’d still be with him?”
Seonghwa hates the way Hongjoong doesn’t even have to say anything. Hates the way you’re looking at him like he’s the one who’s pathetic.
His jaw tightens, and for a brief second, you can see it—the fury, the frustration, the realization that he played himself.
And then—he laughs. Shakes his head, leaning back, drumming his fingers on the table again, pretending this doesn’t bother him.
“Guess not,” He mutters, eyes flicking toward Wooyoung and Mindy. “Guess someone’s been feeding me bullshit.”
Mindy gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest “Oh no, Hwa. Were you misled?”
Wooyoung grins, wrapping an arm around her “Damn, man. That’s rough.”
Hwa’s eyes narrow. He knows.
He knows they set him up.
And when he looks at you one last time, you don’t have to say it out loud.
You played the game better.
And he lost.
For the first time, he has no control.
For the first time, you won.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The final bell rings, signaling the end of another school day. Students spill into the hallways, laughter and chatter filling the air as everyone heads off to do whatever rich, privileged, private-school kids do after class.
You glance at Hongjoong as you walk beside him, nudging his arm lightly.
“So, what’s the plan, nerd? Are you free?”
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck “Actually… Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang need me for something in the library.”
“You’re ditching me to do nerd things?”
He chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets “Not ditching. I did say you could come.”
You stop walking, turning to him with a slow, dramatic smirk “You want me to do nerd stuff… with your nerd friends… nerd?”
Hongjoong grins “Basically.”
You scoff, crossing your arms “I should say no on principle.”
“But you won’t,” He counters easily, smug.
You narrow your eyes at him, then sigh in exaggerated defeat “Fine. I’ll grace you all with my presence. But if I get bored, I’m leaving.”
Hongjoong nudges your waist playfully “You won’t.”
You roll your eyes but let him lead the way.
The library is quiet, dimly lit by the late afternoon sun filtering through the tall, arched windows. Shelves of books stretch high, the scent of old paper and wood polish lingering in the air.
At a far table, three familiar faces sit, already setting up their things—Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang. You and Hongjoong approach, and Yunho looks up first, his face brightening in surprise.
“Oh, hey, man. You actually brought her?”
Jongho smirks “I thought she’d be too busy shopping or making people cry.”
Hongjoong shrugs “She wanted to come.”
You snort, sliding into a chair “Let’s not lie to ourselves, Kim.”
Yeosang laughs, shaking his head before glancing toward the bookshelves “We should probably get started. Dann’s already here.”
“Wait—Dann’s here?” The moment Hongjoong says it, you stiffen too.
You turn your head slowly—too slowly—until your gaze locks onto her.
Dann.
She stands a few feet away, a book clutched tightly in her hands, her entire body tense.
Your presence here? She wasn’t expecting it.
You and Hongjoong sit down at the table, but there's an undeniable awkwardness that hangs in the air. Dann’s presence is almost suffocating—you can feel her gaze on you, but you pretend you don't notice.
Instead, you lean in toward Hongjoong, your hand finding its way to his thigh under the table.
His fingers graze your wrist as you smile at him, brushing your lips against his ear “Ready to work, nerd?” You murmur, your breath warm against his skin.
He smiles back, that familiar look of adoration in his eyes “Always, but first—”
He leans in and kisses you, slow and teasing, the kind of kiss that makes you feel like the world just stops for a moment.
You pull away just slightly, eyes meeting his “You really need to stop distracting me,” You tease.
Hongjoong grins, not one bit sorry “I can’t help it when you're so distracting.”
The others at the table shift uncomfortably, and you feel the heat of their awkward glances. Yunho, trying to break the tension, clears his throat loudly.
“So, Queen Bee, you gonna help us with this or what?”
You blink “How quaint.”
“Yeah, we're gonna need someone with that attitude to get through this,” Jongho jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully. “And since Joong’s clearly already distracted—”
You roll your eyes but don’t resist “Fine, fine. What are we doing?”
From the corner of your eye, you catch Dann standing slightly apart from the group, fidgeting with the book in her hands. She’s trying to act like she’s not watching, but you feel it—her stare, the weight of her presence, the discomfort written all over her face.
Hongjoong, oblivious to everything but you, leans in slightly “We’re creating study guides for other students. Wanna help?”
You scoff, crossing your arms “Study guides? I didn’t know school nerds were running that kind of operation.”
Jongho laughs, tilting his head at you “Really? I didn’t know you even knew about the study guides. I thought you just paid nerds to take your exams for you.”
Your jaw drops slightly in mock offense, but in reality, you find the comment hilarious.
“Excuse you,” You huff, flipping your hair dramatically. “I am more than a pretty face, you nerd.” You snatch a textbook from the stack in front of you. “Now, give me those fucking books.”
Hongjoong grins at you, shaking his head “See? She’s a fast learner.”
“I was always smart,” You correct, flipping open the book and pretending to scan the page.
“That’s up for debate,” Jongho quips.
“You better watch it,” You warn, smirking.
Yunho chuckles, nudging Dann, who still stands awkwardly on the sidelines “Come on, don’t just stand there. You’re supposed to be the real nerd here.”
Dann startles slightly, caught off guard “H-Huh?”
Yeosang shoots her a knowing look, his voice light but careful “Don’t act like you haven’t done this a million times before. You’re always the one fixing our answers.”
Jongho nods in agreement “Yeah, sit down, Dann.”
Dann hesitates, but the warmth in their voices, the familiarity, makes her shift awkwardly. “I—yeah.”
“You in?” Yeosang asks.
Her heart clenches. Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? She was never really in. Not the way you are.
Not the way she wanted to be.
But despite the sting, she forces a smile, nodding “Yeah. I’m in.”
She pretends it doesn’t hurt when she sees Hongjoong’s hand absently squeeze your thigh under the table.
She pretends that being included still means something.
Even if it’s too late.
——
As the study session progresses, the library fills with the quiet hum of flipping pages, hushed discussions, and the occasional laughter from your table.
You're flipping through one of the books, trying to make sense of the notes when Hongjoong leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“You sure you’re not just pretending to read?” He murmurs.
You scoff, shoving his face away lightly “Shut up, nerd.”
Jongho snorts “That’s literally what we said—she just sits here to look smart.”
You glare at him, tossing a pencil in his direction “I will end you.”
Yeosang smirks, tapping his pen against his notebook “I mean, to be fair, YN, we are impressed. Usually, you’d be terrorizing the halls, not… doing actual schoolwork.”
Yunho grins “And she hasn’t threatened to quit yet. Growth.”
“Yet,” You emphasize, pointing your pen at him. “Don't get ahead of yourselves.”
Hongjoong chuckles, sliding an arm over the back of your chair, his fingers lightly grazing your shoulder.
“Nah, she’s too competitive to quit now. She’s gotta prove us all wrong.”
You huff but don’t deny it. Meanwhile, Dann barely hears the conversation.
She keeps her head down, scribbling mindlessly in the margins of her notebook, pretending to be focused. But in reality, she’s distracted—by the way Hongjoong leans into you, how effortlessly you fall into place among his friends.
She should be used to this feeling by now, but it still stings.
Yunho nudges her again, voice lighthearted “Dann, you good? You haven’t called me an idiot yet, and I know I’ve messed up at least three times.”
Dann blinks, forcing a weak chuckle “Oh—uh, yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?”
Yeosang tilts his head, studying her a little too carefully, but doesn’t press.
“Was just asking if I should format this section like the last one or break it into smaller parts,” Yunho says, handing her a sheet of notes.
She takes it with trembling fingers, trying to focus. But then—
Soft laughter.
She glances up just in time to see Hongjoong kissing your cheek, his hand resting way too comfortably on your lap.
Her stomach twists.
She did this.
She made a deal with Seonghwa. She fed Mike information. She helped spread rumors about you.
And for what?
To watch Hongjoong fall for someone else anyway? To watch you win again?
Her grip on the pen tightens. But… it’s not jealousy that eats at her this time.
It’s guilt.
Because if she had just stayed out of it, if she hadn’t let her petty resentment and heartbreak drive her, maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.
Maybe Mike wouldn’t have gone that far.
Maybe Hongjoong wouldn’t hate her if he knew.
But now, it’s too late.
She can’t undo what she’s done.
And soon, she’ll have no choice but to face it.
✮ ⋆
The library session lasts longer than expected. By the time you all wrap up, the school halls are mostly empty, bathed in the dim glow of the evening lights.
Hongjoong stretches beside you, cracking his neck "Alright, nerd squad, mission accomplished."
Jongho groans, rubbing his eyes "Barely. I swear, if one more person asks me to explain quadratic equations, I'm quitting school."
Yeosang chuckles, stuffing his papers into his bag "You'll survive. Probably."
"Yeah, yeah," Jongho mutters. Then he smirks. "Still can't believe YN actually helped."
"I told you," Hongjoong says proudly, pulling you close with an arm around your waist. "She's not just a pretty face."
"Obviously," You say, flipping your hair.
Yunho stretches, groaning "That’s enough brainpower for today."
Hongjoong grins "You sure? Thought nerd stuff was your hobby."
Linda scoffs, leaning into his side "Yeah, yeah, this was cute and all, but next time, I’m making you all do my homework instead."
Hongjoong chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger on your cheek for just a second longer than necessary, and the small gesture makes your heart flutter.
Across the table, Dann watches.
Everyone is grabbing their things, chatting casually about the day as they prepare to leave.
And then—
"You already know Hongjoong is using you, right?"
The words hang in the air, cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere like a blade.
Hongjoong freezes.
You do too.
Slowly, you turn your head, eyes locking onto Dann.
She looks like she immediately regrets it.
Yunho lets out a low whistle "Damn."
Yeosang glances between the three of you, eyebrows raised.
Jongho exhales sharply, his grip tightening around the strap of his backpack "What the hell did you just say?"
Dann’s mouth parts, but no words come out.
"I—"
"You know what?" Your voice is eerily calm, dangerously calm. "Let me make sure I heard you right." You tilt your head. "You think Joong is using me?"
Dann’s heart pounds, she didn’t mean to say it.
It just slipped.
She was so lost in her own thoughts, so lost in the pain of seeing you two together that the words just fell out.
But now it’s too late.
Hongjoong scoffs, running a hand down his face "That’s actually insane."
"You know what’s more insane?" You fold your arms. "The fact that you even thought that, Dann."
"I—" She tries again, her voice wavering. "I didn’t mean… It was just—"
"Just what?" Your voice is sharper now. "Something you just casually thought? Or did someone put that idea in your head?" Dann’s stomach drops. You let out a bitter chuckle. "Unbelievable."
Yunho and Jongho exchange glances, watching the scene unfold in tense silence.
Yeosang clears his throat "Uh, maybe we should—"
"No." Hongjoong shakes his head. "I wanna hear this." His voice lowers, but it’s sharp—cutting. "You really think that little of me?"
Dann panics.
"I didn’t— I mean, I don’t know!" She blurts out, shaking her head. "I just.. I heard—" She stops herself.
But it’s already too late.
Your expression doesn’t change, but the slightest flicker in your gaze tells Hongjoong everything. You know exactly what’s happening.
But you can’t let on, so you do what you do best.
You smirk "You heard what?" You ask smoothly, tilting your head. "Come on, Dann. Don’t get shy on me now."
Dann feels trapped. Every fiber in her being is screaming at her to fix this.
To lie.
To say anything to make it go away.
But she can’t.
She can only stand there, feeling the weight of her own betrayal crushing down on her.
Hongjoong exhales sharply, shaking his head "I really thought we were cool, Dann."
That makes it worse.
He doesn’t sound angry.
He sounds disappointed.
Dann swallows hard, staring at the floor "I… I should go."
Nobody stops her.
Not even Yunho, Jongho, or Yeosang.
She grabs her things and rushes out, leaving behind the suffocating tension she created.
The second she’s gone, Jongho exhales, shaking his head "What the fuck was that?"
"That was crazy."
Hongjoong is still staring at the door Dann disappeared through.
You touch his arm, voice soft "You okay?"
He looks down at you, searching your face for a moment before sighing "Yeah," He mutters. "I’m just— I don’t know. I was really hoping that she wasn't involved with Park and Mike."
You squeeze his hand, your voice steady "Well, she is."
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The dining room is bathed in warm, golden light, the soft clinking of silverware against fine china the only sound filling the space.
The Clarke family dinners are always a performance—elegance, poise, and surface-level pleasantries hiding the rot underneath.
You push your food around your plate, only half-listening as your mother hums approvingly, sipping her wine.
“Well,” She says, a pleased smile on her lips. “I must say, Hongjoong’s father has been a wonderful addition to the household staff.”
Your fork pauses midair.
Mike’s does too.
Your father nods in agreement, setting his glass down “Punctual, respectful, efficient—everything we could ask for. He’s handling the job well.”
You relax slightly, about to take a bite when Mike speaks.
“I’m sorry, but what?”
The room stiffens. You glance up just in time to catch his expression shift—from confusion to realization to rage.
Your mother, ever the graceful hostess, waves a hand delicately “Oh, we didn’t mention it, did we?” She chuckles lightly, as if it were a minor oversight. “YN came to us with the idea. Hongjoong’s father was out of work, so we hired him.”
Mike’s jaw tightens, his grip on his knife turns white-knuckled. You feel the tension roll off him in waves.
Your father—oblivious or simply uninterested in Mike’s growing fury—adds, “And truthfully, it was a great decision. The man is trustworthy. If he keeps it up, he might even stay with us long-term.”
Mike’s fork clatters against his plate. Your mother flinches.
“I see,” He says, voice icy. His gaze cuts straight through you. “And no one thought to tell me?”
“Didn’t seem necessary,” Your father replies simply.
Mike’s anger shifts, redirecting itself entirely onto you “Of course,” He mutters. “It was your idea.”
You meet his gaze, keeping your posture calm, collected, untouchable “Yes,” You say, taking a sip of your wine. “It was.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it “Unbelievable.”
Your mother sighs, setting down her fork “Mike, don’t start.”
“Don’t start?” Mike echoes, leaning back in his chair. “So, let me get this straight—you let her bring some random lower-class worker into our home, let him drive us around like some pet project, and I’m just supposed to accept it?”
“He’s not random,” You say, voice sharp. “He’s Hongjoong’s father.”
“Oh, right.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Hongjoong.” His gaze darkens. “The same guy who’s using you?”
You hold a smile, he still believes it.
Mike leans forward, elbows resting on the table, his eyes glinting with something cruel. “What, did he guilt you into this? Make you feel bad for his pathetic little family?”
You set your wine glass down a little too hard.
Your mother tenses. “Mike—”
But you cut her off “You don’t know a damn thing about him.” Your voice is cold, final.
He smirks “Oh, but I do.” He tilts his head, eyes flickering with mock sympathy. “You just don’t want to hear it.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” You agree, voice like steel. “Because it’s bullshit.”
Mike’s smirk drops.
Your father sighs “Enough.”
But Mike isn’t finished “You can dress him up however you want, YN,” he sneers. “But at the end of the day? He’s just a pathetic loser clinging to your last name.”
Your hands curl into fists.
“And you,” He continues, voice lowering, “Are a complete idiot for falling for it.”
The air is thick with silence.
Your mother exhales, rubbing her temples “Mike, we’re eating.”
Your father levels him with a stare “Your attitude is getting out of hand.”
He laughs, pushing his plate away “Yeah? Well, so is hers.” He stands, chair scraping against the floor. “You can let yourself get used like a fucking idiot if you want,” He says, voice dripping with disgust. “Just don’t expect me to sit here and watch.”
He storms off, leaving the room in tense silence. Your parents exchange a tired look. You take another sip of wine, heartbeat hammering in your chest.
From the hallway, someone is listening.
Dann.
And her guilt grows.
✮ ⋆
The Clarke mansion is quiet, the weight of dinner’s tension still lingering in the air. The staff moves about their business in silence, avoiding eye contact, as if sensing that something dark is simmering beneath the surface.
Dann, however, isn’t moving.
She’s frozen just outside the dining room, her mind replaying everything she just overheard. The way Mike spat his words at you, the venom in his voice, the sheer hatred he had for her—all because she had helped someone he despised.
Because you had made a choice that wasn’t about him.
Dann swallows hard, guilt gnawing at her insides like a slow poison. She should feel relieved that you had fought back—that for once, someone had shut Mike down. But all she feels is fear.
Because if he could talk to his own sister like that, what was stopping him from turning on her?
The thought chills her. She should leave. She should go to her room and pretend none of this is her problem. But before she can move a hand grabs her wrist.
She whirls around, heart slamming against her ribs, only to come face to face with him.
Mike.
The air leaves her lungs. His grip isn’t tight—not yet—but it’s firm enough to send pure terror coursing through her veins.
“You,” He murmurs, his voice dangerously low. His eyes are sharp, scanning her face like she’s something rotten beneath his shoe.
Dann tries to pull away, but his fingers tighten, his hold turning bruising.
“M-Mike,” She stammers, forcing a nervous laugh. “What’s—what’s wrong?”
His lips curl into a cold smirk “You tell me.”
Dann swallows, willing herself to stay calm “I don’t—”
“Did you know?” His voice cuts through the air like a blade.
Dann stiffens “Know… what?”
Mike leans in, his breath hot against her skin. “About Hongjoong’s father working for my family.”
“I—”
His grip tightens “Don’t fucking lie to me, Dann.”
“I didn’t know!” She blurts out, panic creeping into her voice. “I swear, I—I had no idea—”
His jaw ticks. He’s not buying it “You’ve been avoiding me,” He murmurs, his tone almost thoughtful. “Ever since that night.”
Dann goes rigid.
That night.
The night he put his hands on you.
The night she realized just how much of a monster he truly was.
“I haven’t—”
His fingers suddenly clamp around her arm, and he pulls her forward, dragging her through the hallway. Dann yelps, stumbling after him, fear clawing at her throat.
“Where are we—?”
“Somewhere private,” He cuts her off smoothly.
Her stomach twists. The deeper into the house they go, the quieter it becomes. The staff is gone. There’s no one to see them. No one to stop him.
No one to help her.
Mike finally shoves open a door that leads to the back garden, a secluded area far from the main house. The night air is cold, but the way he looks at her sends a different kind of chill through her bones.
Dann stumbles back, chest heaving, trying to create space. “Mike, I—”
“You think I don’t see it?” He says, voice eerily calm. “You think I don’t know you’re hiding something from me?”
Dann shakes her head, heart pounding “I swear I didn’t know about it. I would have told you!”
And it was true, she didn't know about Hongjoong’s father working for your family. But Mike just stares at her. Studying her.
Then he laughs.
A low, quiet chuckle that makes her skin crawl.
“Look at you,” He murmurs. “Fucking shaking.”
Dann flinches.
Mike steps closer, towering over her “I don’t like when people keep secrets from me, Dann,” He murmurs, voice like poison.
Dann’s chest tightens.
This is it.
This is the moment.
She can keep playing his game. Keep letting him control her. Keep living in fear.
Or she can do what she should have done weeks ago.
Her fingers curl into fists. She lifts her head, her cheek still burning, and looks him dead in the eyes.
“You’re a fucking coward.”
Mike freezes.
Dann’s pulse roars in her ears. Her own words shock her. But once they’re out, she can’t stop.
“You think you’re so powerful,” She breathes, voice shaking but growing stronger. “You think everyone should be afraid of you. But deep down, you’re just pathetic.”
Mike’s jaw clenches. Dann forces herself to smile. It’s small, shaky, but it’s there.
And for the first time in weeks, she feels powerful. Because she can see it.
For just a fraction of a second, his smirk drops and before she can react—
His hand swings.
The impact is sharp, brutal. Dann’s head snaps to the side, a gasp catches in her throat. The sting spreads across her cheek like fire, her vision blurring from the sheer shock.
Her body locks up.
She can’t breathe.
She can’t move.
Dann’s heart is pounding so loudly it drowns out the quiet.
Mike’s handprint burns on her cheek, the sting radiating through her skull, but the real pain isn’t physical.
It’s the terror.
The realization that she pushed him too far. The garden is empty, secluded—the perfect place for a nightmare. And Mike?
He looks like he’s enjoying it.
His lips curve into a slow smirk as he watches her struggle to catch her breath, her fingers trembling at her sides.
‘You’re a fucking coward.’
The words still hang in the air, and Dann knows she’s signed her own death sentence.
Mike’s expression darkens. His posture stiffens. And then he laughs.
Low. Amused. Cruel.
“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” His voice is quiet, almost mocking.
Dann stays silent. She knows better than to answer. But he doesn’t need her to. He steps forward, closing the space between them, and she flinches instinctively.
His smirk widens “Cute. You think you’re brave now, don’t you?”
Dann swallows hard “I—”
“Shut up,” He cuts her off. The amusement vanishes, replaced with something far colder.
His gaze sweeps over her, calculating, dissecting—like he’s deciding exactly how to break her.
“I bet you think you have nothing to lose,” He murmurs. “That you can just walk away from this and be fine.”
Dann’s breathing falters.
That tone. That deadly calm.
It’s worse than when he’s yelling. Because when Mike speaks like this—he means it.
“I could ruin your mother in a second,” He continues, voice smooth, effortless. “She works for my family. She needs this job. And you?” His head tilts slightly. “You need her to keep it. To pay for your father’s hospital bills.”
Dann’s stomach twists violently.
He knows.
He knows.
“How did you—?” Her voice catches.
Mike chuckles “You think I don’t do my research?” His expression turns mocking. “Your poor, pitiful father, lying there in a hospital bed, while your mother slaves away to keep him alive. And you? You run around playing spy for me, all because you wanted some nerd to look your way.”
Dann feels sick. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.
“Leave them out of this,” She whispers.
“Oh? Now you care?” Mike exhales sharply, like he’s bored. “I mean, your mother’s getting old, isn’t she? I doubt she’d find another job if something were to… happen to her position.”
Dann’s lungs seize. And then, the final nail in the coffin.
“Oh, and your father?” Mike clicks his tongue. “A vegetable in a hospital bed, wasting away.” His tone is almost mocking. “How long has it been? Three years?”
Dann’s entire body locks up. Because he’s right.
Three years.
Three years of her mother breaking her back to keep him alive. Three years of Dann doing everything she could to ease the burden.
Three years of hoping. That maybe, one day, her father would wake up.
Mike’s voice cuts through the fog of her fear “I could make that bed disappear, you know.”
Dann stares at him, eyes wide.
“I mean, think about it.” He shrugs. “What’s the point of keeping someone around who isn’t even awake? The doctors must be tired of keeping him alive. And your mother? Imagine how relieved she’d be if she didn’t have to worry about hospital bills anymore.”
Dann’s breathing turns shallow. Her fingers dig into her skin so hard they might leave bruises. Mike leans back, watching her come undone.
Then he smiles “And as for you?” He leans in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. “I can make sure you don’t even finish school.”
Dann’s heart drops, his smirk is gone now, his eyes cold and merciless.
“You think my family doesn’t have connections in the education system?” He scoffs. “All it takes is one phone call. One simple request. And suddenly, your scholarship? Gone. Your grades? Suspiciously altered. Your teachers? Unwilling to recommend you for any other school.”
Dann freezes, because he’s not bluffing. This isn’t an empty threat.
This is real.
Her entire future—her mother’s future—her father’s life—all hanging by a single thread. And Mike?
He’s holding the scissors.
“You don’t want that, do you? So, tell me, Dann.” His voice softens, but the cruelty behind it only makes it worse. “Are you still on my side?”
Dann’s lips part, but no words come out.
She should scream. She should fight back.
She should run.
But instead—She nods.
Because she has no choice.
Because she’s afraid.
Because her father’s life is hanging in the balance.
And because she’s not ready to lose everything.
Mike’s smirk returns “Good girl.”
And just like that—it’s over. He pats her cheek mockingly before stepping back.
“You know what to do.” His voice is smooth, assured, like he’s never once considered the possibility of her betraying him.
Because why would he?
She’s trapped.
Dann watches as he walks away, leaving her frozen in the garden, hands trembling, chest tight.
Her father, her mother, her entire life.
Mike owns all of it.
Tears blur her vision as she wraps her arms around herself, body wracked with silent shame.
She wants to do the right thing.
But survival?
It comes first
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
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