The drive back to the hotel was a quiet, comfortable drift. We were wrapped in the warm, secure afterglow of the promises made by the river. Woonseok parked his sleek black car discreetly on the side of the road, just across from the glowing entrance of the hotel.
We stepped out into the freezing night air, my hand tucked safely into the crook of his elbow as we waited to cross the quiet street.
Suddenly, a man wearing a dark mask and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes sprinted past us. He was moving erratically, and as he shoved his way down the pavement, his shoulder slammed hard into my arm.
"Oh!" I stumbled slightly, the jarring impact breaking the peaceful spell of the night.
"Sorry!" the man mumbled quickly, not stopping or looking back as he bolted down the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner of the building.
Woonseok's entire body went instantly, terrifyingly rigid. His arm tightened around me like a steel band. While I only saw a clumsy, rushing stranger, Woonseok's razor-sharp peripheral vision—trained by years of dodging the press—had caught the unmistakable, heavy glint of a professional camera lens hidden beneath the man's oversized jacket.
"Butterfly," Woonseok asked, his voice suddenly sharp and tight, dropping an octave. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay," I said, rubbing my arm and looking up at him, slightly confused by the dark, lethal fury suddenly storming in his eyes. "Hey, what is with that look? It's okay, I'm fine! You look like you're about to hunt that person down."
He took a slow, controlled breath, the dangerous look vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a smooth, reassuring smile. "I'm just protective of you, Sana. Come on, let's get you inside."
We crossed the street and walked into the quiet lobby. When we reached my room, I unlocked the door and peeked inside. The lights were dim, and I could see the steady rise and fall of Anvi and Sanvi breathing under their covers, already deeply asleep.
I stepped back into the hallway, turning to Woonseok. "Okay, Woon. Good night," I whispered, stepping up onto my tiptoes to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Bye."
He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a deeper, desperately sweet kiss that made my toes curl. "Good night, my heart," he murmured against my mouth. He waited until I was safely inside with the door locked before he turned and headed back out into the Seoul night.
The moment Woonseok stepped out of the hotel lobby, the gentle, lovestruck boyfriend completely vanished.
The global idol, the man whose image was worth millions, took over. His face settled into a mask of pure, unadulterated ice. He didn't walk toward his car. Instead, he moved with deadly, silent purpose toward the thick decorative bushes lining the side alley of the hotel—exactly where he had seen the masked man retreat.
In the shadows, the paparazzi was crouching in the frosted grass, frantically scrolling through the digital display of his camera, muttering to himself.
He didn't hear the footsteps.
A heavy hand tapped him twice on the shoulder.
The man spun around in shock. Before he could even register the towering figure standing over him, Woonseok's fist flew forward. The sickening thud of knuckles connecting with a jaw echoed in the alleyway. The man gasped, stumbling backward into the brick wall, dropping his camera into the dirt.
Before the paparazzi could recover, Woonseok grabbed him violently by the collar of his jacket, hauling him up until his feet barely touched the ground.
"There are absolutely no paparazzi who know my location tonight," Woonseok snarled, his voice a lethal, vibrating threat in the dark. "I have taken a strict leave for two days. No one knows my schedule or where I am. So... how could you possibly know?"
The man stammered, his eyes wide with terror, struggling against Woonseok's iron grip.
Refusing to wait for an answer, Woonseok forcefully patted down the man's jacket with his free hand. He pulled out a sleek, black business card holder. Flipping it open, Woonseok's dark eyes scanned the embossed logo.
It wasn't a tabloid. It was the distinct corporate symbol of a rival entertainment company.
Woonseok let out a dark, terrifying smirk, the pieces instantly clicking into place. "Ah. Director Chang," Woonseok said smoothly, though his eyes promised absolute ruin. "Nice play, Mr. Chang."
Woonseok released the trembling man, letting him crumple to the ground. He pulled out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen to speed-dial his crisis manager.
"Min Hoo," Woonseok commanded the second the line connected. "I'm at the alleyway next to Rashi's hotel. There is a rat in the bushes. Come pick him up, confiscate the memory cards, and throw him in a holding cell. I don't care who you have to call to make it happend.
It was past midnight when Woonseok finally arrived back at his sprawling, minimalist penthouse. He didn't turn on the lights. He walked straight to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering skyline of Seoul, the city he ruled.
He dialed a private number he hadn't used in years. It rang three times before a slick, arrogant voice answered.
"Well, well. Woonseok," Director Chang said smoothly.
"Listen to me very carefully, Chang," Woonseok interrupted, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm, deadly whisper. "You are famous for your dirty work. But tonight, you crossed a line you will not survive crossing twice."
"I have no idea what you—"
"If you ever try to sneak into my private life again," Woonseok continued, his voice vibrating with pure, unyielding venom, "you know exactly what happens. But let me make this exceptionally clear: if you try to leak a single photo your man took tonight... especially any photo involving my lady... I will make it my absolute life's mission to burn your entire world to the ground. I will dismantle your company piece by piece. Do you understand me?"
There was a heavy, terrified silence on the other end of the line.
Woonseok hung up, plunging the room back into silence.
THE BITTERSWEET MORNING
The alarm went off promptly at 9:00 AM, sharp and insistent. I reached out from beneath the heavy hotel duvet and slapped the snooze button, immediately regretting the sudden intrusion of reality.
I opened my eyes, staring up at the white ceiling. The room was bright with morning sunlight. The last day of my incredible, spontaneous trip was already underway. Across the room, Anvi and Sanvi were already stirring, the quiet, comforting sound of their morning routine filling the space.
A massive wave of conflicting emotions washed over my chest.
There was a deep, soothing sense of calm radiating from the certainty Woonseok had given me last night—the memory of his vows by the freezing river, his total acceptance of my chaotic life, his ridiculous, beautiful jealousy over our hypothetical children.
But right beneath that calm, a distinct, heavy pang of sadness began to settle in my throat. Last day. Last day of waking up in the same city as him. Last day of being able to grab a cab and run straight to his side.
I felt a listless, bittersweet longing, yet beneath that, a profound, steady happiness.
I am sad to leave him, I thought, pulling the sheets tighter around me, a small smile touching my lips. But I am happy to go home.
I was going home not as the stressed, hesitant officer who had left India, but as a woman who was fiercely loved, deeply understood, and confidently committed to a future that felt terrifyingly, wonderfully real.
I sat up, aggressively pushing the covers away.
"Okay, ladies," I announced, clapping my hands once, my voice laced with determination. "Let's not waste a single second of this final day. We have a demon hunter exhibition to attend, and a future to plan. Let's make this last one count."
Thirty minutes later, I stepped out of the hot shower. The warmth of the steam still clung to my skin, making me feel refreshed and entirely energized for our final day. I quickly wrapped myself in a large, fluffy white hotel bathrobe, securing the belt tightly around my waist.
Anvi, still yawning in her pajamas, rushed past me into the now-free bathroom. Sanvi was sitting cross-legged on the edge of her bed, deeply absorbed in sorting through a massive pile of scarves.
Then, a sharp, rhythmic knock echoed at the heavy wooden door.
"Oh, that must be our breakfast," I murmured, toweling my wet hair dry. We had placed a large room service order—we needed fuel for a full day of K-Pop demon hunters. Thinking only of the uniformed hotel staff, I hurried to the door, not bothering to check the peephole.
I yanked the door open, a polite smile on my face, ready to sign for the tray.
But it wasn't the bellhop.
Framed in the doorway was Woonseok. He was dressed casually but impeccably in a fitted black sweater that hugged his broad shoulders and dark jeans. In his hands, he was holding a single, flawless white orchid. He was early, and he was entirely alone.
My mind went completely blank.
My mouth fell open slightly in a silent 'O.' The horrifying realization that I was standing in front of the most famous man in Asia, wrapped only in a damp hotel bathrobe with wet hair, sent a furious, blinding wave of heat rushing straight to my cheeks. My face went from startled white to a deep, agonizing red in an instant.
Woonseok, for his part, managed to maintain his polite composure for exactly two seconds. His dark eyes widened a fraction as they swept over me, and then instantly softened. A slow, utterly delighted, thoroughly wicked smile stretched across his handsome face.
"Good morning, Butterfly," he said, his voice a low, husky rumble of pure admiration that made my stomach flip. "That is a... very effective disguise. But I'm afraid I'm not here for your signature."
My brain finally rebooted.
"Oh—no—!" I stammered frantically. My hand flew to the collar of the bathrobe, which suddenly felt woefully inadequate.
I slammed the door shut right in his face with a loud, muffled thud.
"What happened?" Sanvi called out, looking up from her scarves in alarm.
I pressed my back flat against the wood of the door, fighting for breath, my eyes wide. "It's—it's him," I hissed, my face burning so hot it felt like it was glowing. "It's Woonseok! Why is he here so early?!"
"Well, let him in, you idiot!" Sanvi exclaimed, scrambling off the bed and gesturing wildly at the door.
I didn't wait. I ripped the bathrobe off and scrambled frantically into the very first clothes my hands found in my open suitcase: a simple, clean white t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. It was comfortable, quick, and, most thankfully, opaque.
Taking a deep breath, I threw the door open again.
Woonseok was standing exactly where I'd left him, perfectly still. The smile on his face was now bordering on a suppressed, highly amused laugh.
"I apologize," he said, stepping smoothly into the room with an air of easy, devastating confidence. "My manager is keeping me on a very tight schedule today to make up for my sudden cancellations, and he demanded I deliver this," he held out the delicate white orchid, "personally."
He stepped closer, his dark eyes dancing with mirth as he looked at my rushed, out-of-breath ensemble. "Though I must say, Sana, I now have a much better appreciation for why you need two hours to get ready. It's an absolute tragedy to rush perfection."
He handed me the orchid, his eyes turning warm and entirely filled with adoration.
"Don't worry," he whispered, a teasing, arrogant smirk playing on his lips. "That was the most wonderful surprise greeting. And just so you know: I am incredibly good at forgetting things that might compromise your professional reputation."
I accepted the flower, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, entirely unable to do anything but laugh out loud at his total, delightful lack of shame.
"She was chaotic, rushed, and blushing furiously; he was steady, amused, and entirely captivated. It was the mundane reality of a morning routine, yet it felt like the most profound romance either of them had ever known."
As I took the orchid from him, my fingers brushed against his. My eyes naturally dropped to his hand.
I froze. Across the knuckles of his right hand, the skin was split, bruised, and an angry, mottled purple.
"Woon," I breathed, instantly stepping closer and gently taking his large hand in mine. I ran my thumb softly over the bruised skin. "How did you get this? You definitely didn't have this last night when you dropped me off. Did you... I mean, did something happen when you left?"
Woonseok's mind instantly flashed to the dark alleyway, the sickening crunch of the paparazzi's jaw, and the furious phone call to Director Chang. But looking down at my worried, beautiful face, he quickly masked the memory.
He offered a smooth, dismissive smirk, bringing his free hand up to gently cup my cheek.
"Nothing, Butterfly," he lied smoothly, his thumb stroking my skin. "I just clumsily bumped into something in the dark. It's nothing. Nothing happened."
I narrowed my eyes slightly, but the warm sincerity in his touch softened my suspicion. "Oh, thank God," I sighed in relief. "I got so worried for a second. Oh, wait! I have my first aid kit in my bag!"
"Butterfly, it's really nothing," he protested with a soft laugh. "Just a small thing."
I turned around, pointing a strict finger at him. "Don't you forget, Mr. Idol," I said firmly, marching over to my suitcase to dig out the small white box. "You said im yours sanctuary, But dont forget your are my sanctuary too. And sanctuaries don't let their idols walk around with bruised knuckles."
Woonseok watched me march back over to him, a look of utter, profound surrender crossing his features. He smiled, a genuine, blinding expression of happiness.
"So," he murmured, his voice dropping into a tender tease as I unscrewed a tube of antiseptic cream. "I think you are getting quite a habit of taking care of me, Officer."
"Sit," I commanded playfully, pointing to the small armchair in the corner of the room.
He immediately obeyed, dropping into the chair and offering me his injured hand. I stood between his knees, carefully and gently dabbing the medicine onto his bruised skin.
"There you go," I said softly, blowing lightly on the cream to cool the sting. "Now, you sit right here and behave while we guys finish getting ready. Okay?" The hotel room quickly transformed into a whirlwind of organized morning chaos. With Woonseok banished to the small armchair in the corner—his freshly treated hand resting on his knee—Anvi and Sanvi moved efficiently, claiming the mirrors and finalizing their makeup.
I grabbed my garment bag and slipped back into the bathroom to finally get ready.
I bypassed my usual practical jeans and reached for the outfit we had picked out together just yesterday. It was the stunning, perfectly tailored blue co-ord set Woonseok had bought for me. The fabric was luxurious, a deep, rich sapphire that complimented my skin tone beautifully. The high-waisted skirt elongated my legs, and the matching cropped top was elegant yet effortlessly stylish.
I decided to leave my hair completely open, letting the dark, heavy waves cascade down my back. I added a pair of delicate silver drop earrings, a thin silver bracelet, and finally, stepped into a pair of sleek, heels that gave me an extra boost of confidence.
Taking one last look in the mirror, I took a deep breath. I felt radiant.
When I finally opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the main room, the chatter instantly died down.
Woonseok, who had been quietly scrolling through his phone with his good hand, looked up. The device practically slipped from his fingers. His dark eyes widened, sweeping over me from the tips of my heels to the soft waves of my hair. The heavy, breathless look of pure, unadulterated devotion that settled on his face made my stomach execute a perfect flip.
"Wow," Woonseok breathed out, his voice dropping to a husky, reverent whisper. He stood up slowly, entirely ignoring Anvi and Sanvi's knowing giggles. "Butterfly... that color. I knew it would look perfect on you, but this... you are breathtaking."
I felt the familiar, warm blush rise to my cheeks, but I held my head high, smiling brightly at him. "Thank you," I said softly. "You have excellent taste, Mr. Idol."
"She wore the blue not just as a piece of clothing, but as a silent testament to the life they were building—a fabric woven with his care and worn with her absolute confidence."
A sharp knock at the door broke the spell.
"Guys, the breakfast has arrived!" I announced, quickly shifting back into my practical, commanding mode. I moved to open the door for the room service cart, letting the rich scent of coffee and warm pastries fill the room. "Let's eat up quickly, and then we have to leave. The exhibition waits for no one!"
As we gathered around the small table, buttering croissants and pouring coffee, I looked directly at Woonseok. The officer inside me was already calculating the risks of the day.
"Okay, listen to me," I said, pointing a strictly buttered piece of toast at him. "We are not taking your private agency car today. We are taking a regular city taxi."
Woonseok paused, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. He arched an amused eyebrow. "A taxi? Sana, my car has tinted windows and a security partition. It is significantly safer."
"Exactly," I countered smoothly. "And an ultra-luxury, blacked-out SUV pulling up to a crowded fan exhibition for Shadow Hunters is basically screaming 'Look at me, a celebrity is inside!' It will attract far too much attention."
I set my toast down, looking at him with absolute seriousness.
"Today, there will be massive crowds, Woonseok. Thousands of fans, cameras everywhere, people looking for details. I absolutely do not want anyone catching us together, and I definitely don't want you getting swarmed." I leaned forward, tapping the table. "So, when we leave this room, you are going into full stealth mode. I want the black mask pulled up, the baseball cap pulled low, and your dark goggles on properly. No slipping up. No one can recognize you today. Understood?"
Anvi and Sanvi exchanged highly amused looks, clearly enjoying watching the biggest pop star in Asia get ruthlessly bossed around by their best friend.
Woonseok stared at me for a long moment. Instead of looking annoyed by my strict orders, his eyes crinkled at the corners with deep, overwhelming affection. He loved it when I took charge. He loved that I was protecting him just as fiercely as he protected me.
He offered a crisp, perfectly executed mock-salute.
"Understood, Commander," Woonseok said smoothly, a devastating smirk playing on his lips. "Full stealth mode. The idol does not exist today. I am simply the invisible bodyguard to a very beautiful woman in a blue co-ord set."
"Good," I said, satisfied, picking my toast back up. "Now eat your eggs. We have demons to hunt."
We quickly finished our breakfast in high spirits. True to his word, before we stepped out into the hotel hallway, Woonseok transformed. The cap went on, pulling shadows over his eyes; the dark sunglasses hid his gaze, and the black mask covered the rest of his famous features. He looked like any other tall, stylish local on the streets of Seoul.
We rode the elevator down in excited silence, slipped out through the busy lobby without drawing a single second glance, and hailed a bright orange city taxi. With the four of us piling in, the driver pulled away from the curb, carrying us straight toward our final, unforgettable adventure.