Hwanung could see every detail perfectly, the distance between them irrelevant when rage sharpened your vision to a blade.
Daegon lifted his glass in a slow, mocking toast, the kind of smirk pulling at his mouth that you only saw in villains who knew they were winning. As if the universe decided that dying wasn't humiliating enough — no, he had to watch this shit, too.
And then, like a final nail hammered straight through his pride, a woman emerged from behind Daegon — tall, wicked, stunning in a way that didn't feel entirely human — sliding her arms around Daegon's bare waist and pressing her lips against the nape of his neck, lingering in a kiss that dragged slow and deliberate like a knife. Hwanung's jaw tightened the second he recognized her.
It wasn't just any random girl.
It was Yuna.
