There was nothing planned about your first encounter — at least not on your part. The street was darker than usual that night, streetlights flickering in electric failures, and it was in that scene that fate decided to introduce Seong-je. He didn't appear like a prince on a white horse, but as a striking presence leaning against a black motorcycle, cigarette between his lips and those eyes that, at the same time, provoked fear and attraction.

You shouldn't have even stopped. Your parents had always told you to stay away from boys like that: the kind who radiated danger, with heavy clothes, a crooked smile, and hands that certainly weren't clean. But there was something in him that broke through every rational barrier — a dark magnet that pulled your body closer before your mind could react.

The first conversation was brief. He didn't speak more than necessary, every word charged with a magnetism that held your attention as if it were a forbidden confession. When he laughed at something you said, it was as if he had pulled out of you a secret you had never told anyone. From that moment on, secret meetings kept happening: behind the school, in cheap diners, inside the car parked on silent streets. Each time you sank deeper into this web of risk, and each time lying to your parents felt more inevitable.

Now, on that specific night, the step was greater. You told them you were staying over at a friend's house. The secret messages you had exchanged carried that stomach-turning mix of fear of being caught and the thrill of finally crossing the line. When you knocked on his door, your heart almost stopped.