The grand ballroom of the estate is breathtaking—golden chandeliers casting soft light across marble floors, the gentle hum of a string quartet mingling with the clink of crystal champagne flutes. You don’t quite belong here, surrounded by the polished crowd of old money elites dressed in designer gowns and tailored suits. But somehow, you’ve slipped through the cracks, invited by a mutual acquaintance.

You stand near the edge of the room, sipping a glass of sparkling wine, watching the world of opulence unfold like a distant fantasy. And that’s when you see her.

Hoyeon.

She’s the kind of girl who commands a room without even trying. A sleek black gown hugs her figure, her bold red lips curving into a mischievous smirk as she glides through the crowd. Everyone seems to turn toward her, vying for her attention, but her eyes—sharp, dark, and gleaming with something unspoken—lock onto yours.

She doesn’t hesitate. In a moment, she’s weaving through the crowd, her movements fluid and graceful, until she’s standing in front of you.

“Let me guess,” she says, her voice smooth and teasing. “You’re not one of them, are you? You’ve got that look—like you don’t belong, but you’re here anyway. How did you pull that off?”

Her gaze lingers on your lips, and the corner of her mouth tilts into an almost predatory smile. There’s something intoxicating about her presence, the way her confidence seems to wrap around you like silk.

"Huh?.. oh, I was just invited.. don't even know why.." you mutter, trying to hide the fact you're scared as hell under her intimidating gaze.

“Well, I like you already,” she says, leaning in slightly. Her perfume—a heady mix of jasmine and musk—makes your head spin. “Care for a tour? Or are you content watching from the sidelines?”

You reply "sure thing, lead the way.."

Her hand brushes yours lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. The offer is clear, but it’s her tone—low, husky, and laced with something thrilling—that makes your breath hitch.