The morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse was completely different from any dawn I had ever witnessed. It wasn't just the bright, crisp Seoul sunshine reflecting off the Han River; it was a warm, heavy, and deeply golden hue that seemed to sink directly into my skin.
I stirred slowly, the rustle of the luxurious silk duvet sounding unnervingly loud in the quiet room. My eyes fluttered open, heavy with a profound, thoroughly exhausted kind of satisfaction. I blinked against the sunlight, stretching my limbs out across the massive expanse of the mattress.
My hand immediately reached out toward the other side of the bed, my fingers blindly seeking the solid, blazing warmth that had anchored me throughout the entire night. But my fingertips only brushed against cool, empty sheets.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as my tangled, dark hair cascaded over my shoulders. I looked down at myself, and instantly, a violent, burning heat rushed straight to my cheeks.
I was currently swimming in a massive, black silk button-down shirt—the exact same designer shirt Woonseok had been wearing the night before. It was ridiculously oversized on my frame, the hem slipping precariously off one shoulder and ending just barely past my mid-thigh, leaving my legs completely bare save for a tiny pair of sleep shorts. The soft fabric still carried his signature scent—a dizzying, intoxicating blend of cedarwood, expensive cologne, and the distinct, warm musk of his skin.
As the faint aroma hit my senses, a sudden, vivid avalanche of memories from the previous night crashed through my mind. The absolute, unyielding intensity in his dark eyes. The way his large hands had worshipped every single inch of my body. The breathless whispers, the desperate, tangled sheets, and the profound, beautiful way he had made me feel utterly, completely cherished until the very early hours of the morning.
My face turned the color of a ripe tomato. I practically buried my face in my hands, a giddy, embarrassed squeak escaping my lips as I rolled over onto my back.
Oh my god... I thought, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I can't believe we actually...
I took a deep, shaky breath, I was entirely reduced to a blushing, flustered mess.
Where was he?
I strained my ears, picking up the faint, rhythmic sound of metal gently clinking against ceramic coming from down the corridor. The tantalizing, rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling butter began to drift into the master bedroom.
He was cooking.
I carefully slid out of the massive bed, my bare feet hitting the cool hardwood floor. I tugged the oversized black shirt down a little further, trying to achieve some semblance of modesty, though it was a completely lost cause.
I tiptoed quietly down the sleek, sunlit hallway, holding my breath as I approached the massive, open-concept kitchen. I peeked my head around the corner of the heavy architectural archway, fully intending to just check if he was decent before making my presence known.
What I saw completely froze me in my tracks, my jaw literally dropping slightly.
Woonseok was standing in front of the marble kitchen island, skillfully flipping something in a frying pan. But he was not wearing the sharp, intimidating corporate suit of a global superstar.
He was wearing absolutely nothing but a low-slung pair of incredibly soft, grey cotton pajama pants that hung dangerously low on his hips. He was completely shirtless.
The morning sunlight spilled across his broad, heavily muscled back, illuminating the sharp, powerful lines of his shoulders and the taper of his waist. It was an incredibly distracting, utterly flawless view. But that wasn't what made the blood entirely drain from my face before rushing back with the force of a tidal wave.
Running down the center of his sculpted shoulder blades, highly visible against his smooth, pale skin, were four distinct, raw, red scratch marks.
My scratch marks.
My eyes widened to the size of saucers. My hands instantly flew up to cover my burning cheeks.
Oh no... I panicked internally, my heart dropping into my stomach as the exact memory of when I had made those marks flashed violently behind my eyes. No, no, no. This is way too embarrassing. I cannot face him right now. Absolutely not. I need to get back to the bathroom. I need to brush my teeth, change into a heavy turtleneck, and pretend none of this happened.
I immediately spun around on my heel, intending to execute a stealthy, highly tactical retreat back to the safety of the master bedroom. I took one agonizingly slow step backward.
"Leaving so soon, Butterfly?"
The deep, incredibly raspy voice froze the blood in my veins.
Before I could even take another step, I heard the soft, rapid pad of his bare feet against the hardwood. Within a fraction of a second, a massive, blazing hot chest pressed firmly against my back. Two strong, heavily muscled arms smoothly wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him with a terrifying, effortless strength.
"W-Woon!" I gasped, my entire body going rigid as the heat of his bare skin seeped directly through the thin silk of his shirt.
He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His damp hair brushed against my skin, and I felt his lips curve into a wicked, deeply satisfied smirk against my collarbone.
"Where exactly do you think you are going?" Woonseok whispered, his voice dropping into a low, husky register that vibrated directly against my spine. "You don't like the view from the kitchen? Or... maybe you were just rushing back to the bed, waiting for me to come and show you the view of my back a little closer?"
My entire face felt like it was on fire. He absolutely knew I had seen the scratches.
"Oh, you absolute, shameless idol!" I squeaked, pushing weakly against his thick forearms, though my heart was completely fluttering in my chest. I couldn't look at him; I was too completely overwhelmed by the sheer, domestic intimacy of his bare embrace. "Just leave me alone! I was just... I was going to go get changed and freshen up!"
Woonseok chuckled, a beautiful, rich sound that rumbled through his chest and into my back. He didn't loosen his grip even a millimeter. Instead, he spun me around in his arms so I was forced to face his bare chest, his dark eyes instantly locking onto mine, blazing with a terrifying mixture of amusement and raw desire.
"Changed?" Woonseok asked, raising a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow as his gaze slowly, deliberately dragged down my body, taking in the sight of me drowning in his black silk shirt. "Why on earth would you change? I was just wondering where my clothes went."
"Well, maybe if you actually wore them to sleep, they wouldn't end up on me," I shot back, trying to summon a glare but failing miserably because I couldn't stop blushing. "Where are your actual clothes anyway? You have a walk-in closet the size of my entire house!"
Woonseok stepped closer, completely backing me up against the cool marble of the hallway wall. He braced his large hands on the wall on either side of my head, trapping me perfectly in his cage.
"I don't need them right now," he smirked, his eyes darkening beautifully. "Besides... I have to admit, that shirt looks infinitely better on you than it ever did on me. You should keep it. Forever."
"Woon, come on," I said, my voice softening into a completely shy, breathless whisper as I looked up at his handsome face. I reached up, my small hands resting flat against the hard, warm expanse of his bare chest in a weak attempt to keep some distance. "You literally have to get ready. You are leaving for your drama shoot in exactly one hour. Minho is going to have a heart attack if you are late on your very first day back."
At the mention of work, Woonseok let out a long, heavy, and incredibly dramatic sigh.
He suddenly dropped his head forward, burying his face directly into the crook of my neck, letting all of his heavy body weight rest slightly against me. His arms wrapped around my waist again, pulling me into a deeply affectionate, clingy hug that completely contrasted with his intimidating idol persona.
"How am I supposed to leave this apartment?" Woonseok mumbled against my skin, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss against my pulse point. "How am I supposed to concentrate on a script when I have a beautiful, dangerous Butterfly walking around my house wearing my clothes? You are completely distracting me, Sana. It's a workplace hazard."
Despite the frantic beating of my heart, a soft, incredibly fond smile broke across my lips. The fact that the nation's most disciplined, untouchable superstar was currently whining like a clingy teenager just to stay home with me was a reality I was still struggling to comprehend.
"Distracting you?" I scoffed playfully, my fingers instinctively curling into his messy, soft hair, gently scratching his scalp. "Woon, you are the one standing in the middle of the hallway half-naked. Just go get ready! Put some clothes on, please!"
Woonseok lifted his head, his dark eyes sparkling with absolute, unadulterated mischief.
"Oh, you want me to put some clothes on?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Okay. That seems fair. Give me my shirt back, then."
"Okay, fine!" I snapped, my logistical brain kicking in before my common sense did. "Take the shirt—"
I grabbed the collar of the silk shirt, fully intending to rip it off and shove it into his chest. I pulled it down an inch, exposing my bare shoulder, before the catastrophic reality of what I was doing suddenly hit me like a freight train.
I froze instantly, my eyes snapping up to meet his.
Woonseok was staring at me, his eyes entirely dark, a devastating, wicked smirk completely taking over his face as he waited for me to finish the action. He had perfectly, flawlessly trapped me in his logic.
"Ah!" I gasped, aggressively pulling the collar back up and slapping my hands firmly over my chest. I reached out and smacked his bare shoulder—not hard, but with enough righteous indignation to make a point. "You absolute pervert!"
Woonseok threw his head back and laughed, the sound loud, bright, and completely unrestrained. "What?! You are the one who told me to put clothes on! I'm just trying to follow your orders, Officer! Give it back, Butterfly!"
"You are impossible!" I yelled, my face burning as red as a chili pepper.
I ducked under his massive arm, completely abandoning my dignity, and sprinted down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
"Hey!" Woonseok laughed, spinning around with terrifying speed.
Before I could even make it three steps, his long legs closed the distance. He grabbed me securely by the waist, yanking me backward until my back slammed perfectly against his chest. He spun me around, lifting my feet completely off the floor as I shrieked with laughter, slapping weakly at his thick arms.
"Okay, okay!" he laughed breathlessly, burying his face in my hair as he peppered hot, rapid kisses all over my flushed cheeks and my neck. "I surrender! I'll stop teasing you, I promise! But honestly, Sana... you can't blame a man for wanting anot..
My eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock at his boldness.
I instantly slapped my hand directly over his mouth, effectively cutting off his wicked laughter.
"Stop it right now!" I demanded, my voice trembling between extreme embarrassment and uncontrollable affection as I looked into his bright, crinkling eyes. "Jang Woonseok, stop teasing me! That is completely enough for one morning! Please, for the love of God, go get ready before Minho breaches the door with a SWAT team!"
Woonseok's eyes softened, his lips curving into a warm, beautiful smile against my palm. He gently reached up, peeling my hand away from his mouth, and pressed a deep, incredibly tender kiss to the center of my palm.
"Okay, Butterfly," he agreed softly, his teasing nature finally retreating, replaced by that profound, heavy adoration that always made my knees weak. He slowly set my feet back down on the floor, though his hands lingered on my waist for a few seconds longer. "I will go get dressed."
He turned and began walking slowly toward the massive master bathroom, his broad, scratched back facing me. Just as he reached the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder with a devastating, lazy wink.
"But just so you know..." he whispered loudly, his voice echoing perfectly down the hall. "By tonight... I will absolutely be waiting for another."
"SHUT UP, JANG WOONSEOK!" I shrieked, my face burning. I grabbed a decorative throw pillow off the nearby armchair and hurled it down the corridor with all my strength.
Woonseok caught the pillow effortlessly with one hand without even looking back, a booming, triumphant laugh echoing through the penthouse as he stepped into the bathroom and shut the heavy door behind him.
Fifteen minutes later, the chaotic, blushing tension of the morning had settled into a beautiful, comfortable domestic tranquility.
I had managed to retreat to the guest bathroom, splash freezing cold water on my burning face, and change into a comfortable, oversized grey hoodie and soft leggings. By the time I walked back out into the kitchen, the dining table was fully set.
Woonseok emerged from the hallway looking like an entirely different person. He was dressed in his full, intimidating idol armor—a sleek, perfectly tailored black turtleneck paired with dark designer trousers that made his legs look impossibly long. His dark hair was perfectly styled, swept back slightly to reveal his sharp, devastating jawline.
It was a staggering transition. One minute, he was the teasing, shirtless boy in grey pajamas who was driving me crazy; the next, he was the untouchable Sovereign of the South Korean entertainment industry. But as he sat down across from me at the marble island and pushed a plate of perfectly rolled Korean egg omelets and crisp toast toward me, his eyes were exactly the same—soft, incredibly warm, and entirely mine.
"Yumm," I hummed, taking a small bite of the omelet. My eyes widened slightly at the rich, savory flavor. "Mr. Idol, this is actually incredibly tasty. When did you get so good at this?"
Woonseok smiled, taking a sip of his black coffee as he watched me eat with a look of intense, quiet satisfaction. "I had a lot of free time over the last month to practice. I figured if I was going to lock you in a penthouse, I should probably learn how to feed you properly."
I rolled my eyes playfully, taking another bite. The casual, easy rhythm of eating breakfast together felt so incredibly foreign, yet so profoundly right. It was a stark contrast to the rigid, silent breakfasts of my childhood home, where my father's strict rules had governed every single bite.
"So," I asked softly, wiping my mouth with a napkin and leaning forward slightly. "Are you excited to finally go back on set? It's been weeks since you stood in front of a camera."
Woonseok paused, lowering his coffee mug slowly to the marble counter. He looked down for a fraction of a second before his dark, intense gaze locked onto mine.
"I am," Woonseok answered, his voice completely serious, entirely stripped of the morning's playful banter. "But not for the reasons I used to be, Sana. Before, I was just desperate to protect my position. I was working to survive the industry."
He reached across the smooth marble, his large, warm fingers finding my hand and lacing tightly through mine.
"Now," he continued, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles, "I am excited to go back out there because I finally have something real to come home to. I am infinitely more excited today because you are with me. You changed the entire equation, Butterfly."
My breath hitched slightly in my chest, a profound, overwhelming wave of emotion completely washing away the last remnants of my morning embarrassment. I looked at the man who had completely derailed my life in the most beautiful way possible, feeling a surge of fierce, protective loyalty.
"Forever, Mr. Idol," I swore softly, squeezing his hand tightly, a bright, unshakeable smile breaking across my face. "Don't you ever forget, even if you are out there conquering the world... I am your biggest fan, too."
By the time we finished breakfast, the harsh reality of the clock finally caught up with us. Minho's car was idling in the secure underground parking garage, and Woonseok's phone had already buzzed three times with rapid-fire production updates.
We walked to the heavy front door together. Woonseok slipped into his long, dark trench coat, his broad shoulders instantly carrying the heavy, invisible weight of his massive public persona.
He stood in the entryway, looking down at me as I adjusted the collar of his coat, my fingers smoothing out a tiny, invisible wrinkle on his lapel with practiced, domestic efficiency.
"Okay," I said, stepping back and looking him up and down with an authoritative, approving nod. "You look perfect. Go out there and completely destroy those camera lenses, Woon. Don't let the director push you around on the script revisions."
Woonseok didn't move toward the door. Instead, he reached out, his strong hands gently wrapping around my waist, pulling me firmly flush against his chest one last time.
He looked down at me, his eyes entirely soft, a sudden, heavy reluctance completely settling over his sharp features.
"I want to go," Woonseok murmured, his voice dropping into a low, slightly ragged whisper as he leaned his forehead against mine. "But looking at you right now... I just want to stay. I don't want to leave this apartment, Sana."
He leaned down, capturing my lips in a deep, incredibly tight, and desperately sweet kiss. It wasn't teasing or possessive; it was a kiss full of profound, grounding love, a silent plea for reassurance before he stepped back into the chaotic, brutal arena of the media.
I kissed him back fiercely, rising up slightly on my tiptoes to wrap my arms securely around his neck, pouring all of my strength, my gratitude, and my absolute belief into him.
When we finally broke apart, we were both slightly breathless. I looked into his heavy, reluctant eyes and let out a soft, affectionate laugh.
I placed my hands flat against his solid chest and gave him a firm, definitive push toward the door.
"Go!" I commanded, my voice infused with the strict, unyielding tone of an Officer sending a soldier to the front lines. "Woon, enough now! You are going to be late, and I am not dealing with Minho's panic attacks! Get out of here!"
Woonseok stumbled backward a half-step, a brilliant, dazzling smile completely breaking through his reluctance. He laughed, the sound echoing warmly in the entryway as he finally reached behind him and grabbed the heavy iron door handle.
"Okay, okay! I'm going, Commander!" he surrendered, opening the door and stepping out into the private elevator lobby.
He turned around one last time as the elevator doors chimed open behind him. The nation's most intimidating, untouchable superstar raised his hand, offering me a soft, slightly goofy wave that was reserved entirely, exclusively for me.
"Bye, Butterfly," he said, his eyes crinkling with absolute joy. "I'll be home soon."
"Bye, Mr. Idol," I smiled, leaning against the doorframe.
I watched him step into the elevator, his dark eyes never leaving mine until the metal doors finally slid shut, completely sealing him away into the world.
The penthouse instantly fell into a deep, quiet stillness. But as I turned around and looked at the empty coffee mugs on the counter and the oversized black shirt still draped over my shoulders, the silence didn't feel cold or isolating anymore.
It just felt like a temporary pause, a brief, beautiful interlude, waiting for the king to return home.
Oh my goodness, my face is officially as red as Sana's right now! 🥵❤️ Chapter 94 gave us the absolute sweetest, funniest, and most domestic morning-after ever!
Can we just talk about Sana drowning in Woonseok's black silk shirt?! It is an absolute classic trope and she looked so cute, but then she walked into the kitchen and saw the scratches on his bare back... I literally screamed! 🫣💅🏽 The fact that she tried to do a tactical retreat and failed miserably because he's too fast is just peak Sana.
I am absolutely obsessed with "Clingy Woonseok." Seeing this massive, untouchable global icon whining on her shoulder because he doesn't want to go to work is everything. And her throwing a pillow at him? Iconic. 😭😂