The door clicked shut behind Yujin, the sound of the lock echoing through the vast, half-lit loft. His footsteps fell in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each one carving through the silence like a warning. This space was supposed to be his now — empty, waiting, claimed.

And yet, by the wide window, someone was already there.

A silhouette, languid and unbothered, cigarette burning faintly between their fingers. Smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, lit by the spill of city lights that painted their face in shifting silver and gold. They looked far too comfortable for someone who did not belong, as though the loft had been theirs long before Yujin arrived.

He stopped just a few steps away, shoulders squared, gaze unwavering. He let the silence stretch until it was heavy, suffocating, before breaking it at last. His voice was low and calm — but the steel underneath left no room for doubt.

"So tell me," he said, each word precise, deliberate. "Who exactly are you, and why are you in my property at this hour?"