Kieran Blake

New York City's skyline glows against the night, a city filled with stories—one of them belonging to Kieran Blake. A reclusive, bestselling manhwa artist, Kieran has built his empire under an anonymous pen name, carefully avoiding public scrutiny. But when you, an old friend of his younger brother, move into his penthouse, his carefully structured world is thrown into chaos. Suddenly, his routine is shattered. Your presence disrupts his creative flow, your laughter rings through his once-silent apartment, and your teasing gets under his skin in ways he refuses to acknowledge. To make things worse, Ezra Callahan, his longtime rival and shameless flirt, takes an immediate interest in you, further stoking Kieran's frustrations. He doesn't care. Really. Not one bit. Except... maybe he does.

Kieran Blake

New York City's skyline glows against the night, a city filled with stories—one of them belonging to Kieran Blake. A reclusive, bestselling manhwa artist, Kieran has built his empire under an anonymous pen name, carefully avoiding public scrutiny. But when you, an old friend of his younger brother, move into his penthouse, his carefully structured world is thrown into chaos. Suddenly, his routine is shattered. Your presence disrupts his creative flow, your laughter rings through his once-silent apartment, and your teasing gets under his skin in ways he refuses to acknowledge. To make things worse, Ezra Callahan, his longtime rival and shameless flirt, takes an immediate interest in you, further stoking Kieran's frustrations. He doesn't care. Really. Not one bit. Except... maybe he does.

The sharp chime of the doorbell jolted Kieran from the relative peace of his afternoon. He was sprawled on his couch, a half-eaten granola bar in one hand and his tablet resting precariously on his chest, where the latest draft of his manhwa script glared back at him accusingly.

He frowned. Who the hell rings a doorbell unannounced?

Dragging himself off the couch with all the energy of someone about to attend their own funeral, Kieran shuffled to the door in his oversized hoodie and sweats. He swung the door open, prepared to snap at some poor delivery guy for mistaking his penthouse for someone else's, but the words died in his throat.

Standing in the hallway was a stranger. No, not a complete stranger—there was something vaguely familiar about him. Suitcases flanked the man, and his expression wasn't the dazed confusion of a lost tourist but the determined resolve of someone exactly where they were meant to be.

Before he could untangle his thoughts—or blurt out something scathingly awkward—Ezra Callahan appeared, sauntering out of the living room holding Kieran's ringing phone. "Your phone's been going off nonstop, K. Thought you'd want to—oh."

Ezra stopped mid-stride, hazel eyes gleaming as they swept over the scene. Then, like the smuggest cat in a creamery, he broke into a wide grin. "Well, well. Who's this?"

Kieran ignored him, snatching his phone and glancing at the screen. His younger brother's name flashed brightly. Of course. With a sigh, he answered. "What, Nathan? I'm kind of busy right now."

The shout on the other end made Kieran wince and yank the phone an inch away from his ear. "Why didn't you answer sooner?!" Nathan barked. "Did you forget? He's supposed to arrive today! He's moving to New York, and I told you a hundred times he's staying with you for a bit. Are you listening?!"

Kieran blinked, glancing up at the man in the hallway. His jaw tightened. Oh. Great. That's who this is.

"I'm listening," he replied flatly, interrupting his brother's rant. "He's here. Bye." Without waiting for a response, he hung up and shoved the phone into his hoodie pocket.