Night draped itself over Seoul like velvet, soft and humming with light. Hannah sat on her terrace, the laptop balanced on her knees, her fever still lingering like a stubborn echo. Her fingers moved across the keys, voice low as she spoke into the speakerphone — Ji Hwan's laughter spilling faintly through the line. For a moment, it almost felt normal.
Until she felt a gaze.
He was there — across the narrow metal railing — sitting with lazy grace, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on her. The terrace light caught his face just enough to show that unreadable calm that always threw her off balance.
Min Jae didn't say a word.
He simply watched her — the way she frowned when she focused, the quiet smile when she laughed.
Her phone buzzed again. Fatima.
"Still weak?"
"Better," she typed.
Another buzz.
"Who was that in the background? Tall? Broad shoulders? Deep voice?"
Her lips betrayed her before her brain could interfere — a shy smile slipping free.
And that was when he spoke.
"Do you have a fever again?" His voice sliced gently through the quiet, velvet and teasing. "Why are your cheeks so red?"
She jumped, clutching her phone. "Nothing—just… work."
He rose from his chair without warning.
Then, with practiced ease, he climbed over the railing — smooth, quiet, effortless. The sound of his shoes landing on her terrace was barely a whisper.
"Yah, what—" she started, but her voice faltered when he came closer.
He didn't answer. He just reached out — slow, deliberate — and pressed his palm to her forehead.
The touch was cool. His skin against hers made the air stop moving.
Hannah's eyes fluttered shut on instinct; her forehead wrinkled as she mumbled, "Yah, stop—it's cold."
Min Jae's low laugh filled the space between them, quiet but warm. "Still dramatic, even with a fever."
His thumb brushed her temple once before he pulled away, still smiling. "You're burning up again, you know that?"
Her heart did something wild. She opened her eyes — and he was closer now, studying her like she was the only thing left in the world.
He tilted his head, voice dropping. "So… who made you smile like that just now?"
Her breath caught. "Fatima," she lied.
His lips curved. "Ah. Fatima. And what did she say? Something funny? Or something about…" — he paused, that teasing glint flickering in his eyes — "tall, broad shoulders, deep voice?"
"Shut up," she snapped, too fast.
His smile deepened. He stepped forward, one slow step at a time, until she felt the railing brush her back.
He leaned in — one hand braced beside her, the other hovering in the air like a silent promise. "You blush like this only when I'm around," he murmured.
She tried to move, to escape the trap of his gaze, but he shifted closer — enough that her breath tangled with his.
"Why are you running away?"
"I'm not," she whispered, though her pulse betrayed her.
"Then stay still." His voice lowered, almost a command, almost a plea.
The air between them thickened, pulsing. Every sound — the faint city hum, the wind brushing the plants — faded. It was just them.
Then, gathering what was left of her breath, Hannah ducked under his arm — quick, desperate, her heart hammering.
But before she could move away, his hand caught her wrist effortlessly. In a single motion, Min Jae tugged her back — her body colliding softly against his chest as his arm wrapped around her waist.
It wasn't force. It was gravity.
Her breath stilled. His chin brushed the top of her hair; his heartbeat thundered under her ear. The world tilted.
"Min Jae—" she began, but the word dissolved before it could take shape.
He said nothing for a moment — just breathed her in, slow and deep, his fingers flexing slightly against her waist as if to convince himself she was really there.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, and heartbreakingly sincere.
"You can run all you want…"
Hannah froze, pulse thrumming in her throat.
"…but I'll be right here," he finished softly, his words curling into the night like smoke.
Before she could breathe, he turned her around—his hand sliding to her waist, firm but unhurried, drawing her closer until her back brushed against the cold railing again. The motion was effortless, like he'd done it a thousand times in his mind.
Their faces were inches apart now—so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek, the faint brush of his hair near her temple. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, betraying the storm underneath her stillness.
"Min Jae…" she whispered, her voice barely holding. "Let go."
He didn't. His thumb traced the edge of her jaw, slow and deliberate, until his hand rested against her cheek. His gaze softened—not teasing, not smug—just heartbreakingly real.
"Tell me you really want me to," he murmured.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes flickered between his—those impossibly dark eyes that held her like gravity.
When she finally spoke, her tone was calm, edged with defiance. "You really think this works on everyone?"
His brow arched, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Does it look like I'm trying it on everyone?"
"Feels like practice," she shot back, her chin lifting slightly.
That earned a quiet laugh from him — low, rough, amused. "If I were practicing," he murmured, leaning closer, "you wouldn't still be standing here."
Hannah rolled her eyes, trying to look unimpressed, but her voice betrayed her steady breathing. "Maybe I'm just giving you a chance to embarrass yourself."
"Then don't look at me like that," he countered, his voice soft but sharp.
"Like what?"
"Like you're daring me to prove you wrong."
Her breath faltered. He caught it instantly — the smallest shift in her eyes, the way her hands tensed at her sides. His fingers twitched against her waist, almost like muscle memory, then tightened just enough to pull her half an inch closer.
"Yah—" she started, but before she could step back, he moved again — his arm slid around her waist, effortless, pulling her flush against him in one smooth motion.
The air thinned. Her palms instinctively pressed against his chest, but not hard enough to push him away — just enough to remind herself she could.
"Let go," she said, voice lower this time.
"Say it like you mean it," he whispered back, eyes locked on hers.
Her jaw tightened. "You're too sure of yourself."
"And you're too afraid to admit you like it," he said, his smirk barely there now — replaced by something quieter, deeper.
The space between them vanished. Their faces were close — too close. His breath mingled with hers, their eyes locked in the kind of silence that said everything they refused to.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, and heartbreakingly sincere.
"You can run all you want," he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of her lips. "I'll be right here, waiting for you to stop."
Hannah's eyes flickered — once to his mouth, once back to his eyes. For a second, the world stilled around them. Then she exhaled slowly, her voice quiet but sharp.
Min Jae didn't move away. Instead, his hand lifted — slow, deliberate — until his palm rested gently against her forehead. The coolness of his touch startled her; the warmth of her skin startled him more.
His brows knit slightly. "Still burning up," he murmured, thumb brushing lightly against her temple.
She closed her eyes at the contact, her forehead frowning instinctively. "Don't," she muttered under her breath.
He chuckled softly, the sound low and close. "You always make that face," he teased, voice brushing against her like velvet. "I just touch your forehead, and you look like you're about to declare war."
Her eyes snapped open, glare half-hearted. "Maybe I will."
"Mm," he hummed, the corner of his lips lifting. "Even with a fever?"
Before she could retort, his hand slid down from her temple, tracing the line of her jaw with barely-there pressure before falling away — only for him to lean in again, close enough that his breath grazed her ear.
"I'm letting you go," he whispered, voice steady, "only because you still have a fever. I don't want you to burn up again."
Her pulse skipped. "You make it sound like you care."
He smiled — slow, knowing. "Who says I don't?"
She scoffed, trying to pull back, but he caught her wrist easily, tugging her toward him again. Their bodies brushed — the heat of him against her chill skin made her breath stumble.
"Min Jae—"
He bent his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" she challenged, though her voice was softer now, betraying her.
"Like you're pretending you don't want to stay right here."
Her jaw tightened. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?" His tone dipped lower, a quiet smile threading through the words. "Then why aren't you moving?"
She glared up at him — or tried to. But his gaze didn't waver, and before she knew it, his arm had found its way around her waist again, pulling her closer — the space between them dissolving entirely.
Hannah blinked up at him, her lashes fluttering, her voice soft and trembling, "P–please… let me go, Min Jae. I'm feeling dizzy."
Instantly, his expression shifted — that teasing spark in his eyes dimmed, replaced with worry. His hold loosened, and he cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing her skin. "You're still warm," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "You shouldn't be standing this long."
She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a grin. "Maybe if you stop trapping me, I'll recover faster," she said weakly, swaying a little for effect.
That was all it took — Min Jae's eyes widened. "Yah—careful!" He caught her before she could stumble, one arm immediately wrapping around her again, steadying her against his chest. "You're really dizzy?"
Her head rested against him for a heartbeat, her lips curving where he couldn't see. "Maybe… a little," she whispered, playing along.
Min Jae sighed, his hand moving up and down her back in slow circles, voice soft. "You drive me insane, Hannah. You know that?"
She mumbled something that sounded like a faint hum, still pretending to be weak, though her heart was beating so fast she thought he might feel it. "You're overreacting," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt.
"I'm overreacting?" he repeated, incredulous. "You had a fever that wouldn't go down for hours, and you're—"
But before he could finish, she tilted her head up, meeting his eyes with the smallest, teasing smile. "So… are you going to let go now, or should I faint for real?"
That did it. His brow twitched. "You're not dizzy at all, are you?"
She tried to look innocent. "Maybe a little?"
He narrowed his eyes, and in one swift motion, he tightened his arm around her again, pulling her flush against him. "You really shouldn't play with me like that," he murmured near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Because I don't plan on letting go so easily."
Her pulse spiked — his voice, his closeness, the scent of his cologne — everything felt too much, too real. "M–Min Jae…" she breathed out, this time not entirely pretending.
He leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, a faint smirk returning to his lips. "What happened to feeling dizzy?
Hannah blinked up at him, her voice soft, almost pitiful. "I am dizzy."
He raised an eyebrow, still half-amused. "Really? Or is that another one of your—"
Before he could finish, her eyes rolled slightly and her body slumped against him.
Min Jae froze. "Hannah?"
She didn't move. Her head rested limply on his shoulder, her hand still clutching his shirt.
"Hannah!" His tone changed instantly — worry slicing through the teasing. He caught her firmly, supporting her back, the smirk on his face vanishing as fear slipped in. "Hey, hey… wake up."
Nothing.
"Yah, Hannah, don't do this." His voice softened, the edges fraying as he gently tapped her cheek. "You were fine a second ago. Look at me."
Her lashes didn't flutter. Her breathing stayed steady, but his heart was pounding loud enough for both of them. He held her tighter, his hand finding the back of her neck as if by instinct. "Aish…" he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the door. "You really don't listen, do you?"
Then — just barely — she stirred. Her fingers twitched, her lashes flickered, and she let out a faint sigh like someone coming back from a dream.
"Hannah?" he said quickly, relief breaking through his voice.
Her eyes blinked open — hazy, innocent. "Hmm?"
He exhaled shakily, his grip loosening but still protective. "You scared me," he said quietly, eyes searching her face for any sign of weakness. "Don't push yourself like that again."
For a second, guilt flickered in her eyes — just a second. Then she straightened slowly, pretending to regain her balance, her hand brushing his arm as if steadying herself.
"I'm fine," she said softly, still playing along. "Just needed a second."
Min Jae nodded, still frowning, scanning her face one last time. "You sure?"
"Positive."
And before he could react — she took a step back. Then another.
In the next heartbeat, she turned and bolted for the door.
"Hannah—!"
She spun around just once, her expression shifting from guilty to smug. "You really do fall for tricks too easily, Min Jae."
He froze mid-step, realization dawning, disbelief painting his face. "Wait—what?"
But she was already halfway through the doorway, tossing him a quick, wicked grin. "Next time, try not to panic so fast."
He blinked, caught between relief, exasperation, and something he couldn't quite name. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.
From the hallway, her voice drifted back, teasing and victorious:
"Goodnight, Min Jae. Try not to worry too much."
He stared after her for a long moment — half-amused, half-defeated — before the smallest smile crept onto his lips.
"She really played me," he murmured, shaking his head.
The terrace was quiet again, but the ghost of her laughter still lingered in the air.
By the time she reached her room, her laughter had already turned into uneven breaths. She shut the door behind her, pressing her back to it, one hand over her pounding heart.
It was supposed to be funny — a harmless little act, a way to turn the tables on him after all that teasing. But the image of his face when she "fainted" wouldn't leave her head. That split second when his voice broke — raw, scared — like he'd actually lost her.
Her smile faltered.
She dragged a hand through her hair, pacing once before whispering to herself,
"Idiot. Why did you have to look at me like that…"
Her body still felt the ghost of his hands — one steadying her back, the other cradling her neck so gently it hurt to think about. For a moment, it hadn't felt like a game. It had felt real.
She sank onto the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the floor.
"He actually panicked," she muttered, half-guilty, half-amused. "I should feel proud. So why…"
Her fingers curled into the bedsheet, heart twisting against her will.
Why did it feel like she'd crossed a line she couldn't uncross?
The laughter had faded completely now, replaced by a quiet ache in her chest — something warm, sharp, and confusing.
Still, she shook her head hard, forcing a smirk.
"Get a grip, Hannah," she whispered. "You're not the one falling first."
But deep down, had she already fallen for him or for some other person.
she like him just as a friend or what?
On the other hand there was….
He stayed on the terrace long after she disappeared inside. The night wind brushed past him, cool against the heat still running through his veins.
At first, he wanted to be angry — she had played him, completely. But when he replayed that moment — her head on his shoulder, her body limp in his arms — the irritation dissolved. All he could remember was the flash of fear that had hit him like a punch to the chest.
He let out a breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "Aish, this girl…" he muttered. "Always turning everything into a game."
But even as he said it, the corner of his mouth curved. He couldn't help it.
Because when she'd opened her eyes — even pretending — something inside him had cracked open. The thought of losing her, even for a second, had felt too real. Too much.
He looked toward her apartment window — faint light seeping through the curtains, her silhouette barely visible.
"She really scared me," he said softly, voice more to himself than anyone. "How am I supposed to keep pretending this is just a joke?"
For a long moment, he just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching the light flicker behind the glass.
Then, quieter — almost to the night itself — he added,
"Run all you want, Hannah. But one day…"
A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.
"I won't let you run anymore."
The wind picked up again, carrying away the words — but not the warmth that lingered long after she was gone.
But here min jae is falling for her more and more day by day.
Will he be able to make her fall in love with him?
Or distance will be the biggest reason of their downfall in love…