The Uninvited guest 

Jeonghan's POV

The morning carried an unsettling chill, the rain tapping at the window like a warning. I woke up in my bed, unsure how I'd gotten there, the weight of unease already settling in. Dressing quickly, I made my way to the kitchen, finding comfort in helping Mrs. Kim, though the mansion felt heavier than usual.

From the dining room, muffled murmurs reached my ears. I glanced in to see Hoshi, Jun, and Wonwoo speaking in hushed tones, Hansol silent and distant, and Dino absorbed in his laptop. S.Coups entered with a sharp air of authority, his voice low and commanding.

"Jun, update me. Wonwoo, keep tabs. Hoshi, be ready by evening," he ordered.

Their seriousness pressed down on me. Something was happening—something they wouldn't share.

"I'll take this to my room," I said, clutching my plate, avoiding their gazes.

S.Coups looked at me briefly, his expression softening for a moment. "Alright," he said.

As I walked away, the air felt colder, and questions filled my mind. What were they planning, and how much longer could I stay in this house surrounded by secrets?

The Night (8.00 PM) 

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the house settling around them. I sat on the edge of the bed, knees pulled close, feeling the coolness of the sheets beneath me. The dim light from the hallway spilled into the room, casting long shadows on the floor as S.Coups stood by the door. His presence was as imposing as always, but tonight, there was something off about him—something I couldn't quite place.

"You're leaving?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. It felt like the question had been hanging in the air for too long before I finally let it slip out. I couldn't mask the confusion that was creeping up on me, nor the thin thread of worry that tugged at my chest. "This late?"

He nodded, and I watched as his eyes flicked away for just a moment, as though he was avoiding something—something I couldn't see but could almost feel. "Work," he replied, his tone sharp, like he was closing the door on something I wasn't meant to know.

I frowned, something in my gut twisting. "What kind of work is this, at this hour?" I pressed, my voice softer now, trying to reach him. "Is everything okay?" The words felt fragile as they left my lips, as though they were too much, too personal. But I needed to know. I needed to understand what was happening, what was wrong.

"Everything's fine," he said, his voice almost clipped, more defensive than I was used to. The slight crack in his tone only deepened my unease. He sighed then, stepping closer to me, but the distance between us felt wider than ever. "Just do what I said, Jeonghan."

I opened my mouth, but the words stuck in my throat. I studied him—really studied him—trying to read the unreadable. His face, as usual, was set in that cold, stoic expression, but there was something different about the way he held himself tonight. Something tight.

I swallowed hard, the weight of my own thoughts pressing on me. "I... If something's wrong, you can tell me," I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I didn't know why I said it, but I couldn't bear the thought of him carrying whatever this was alone. My chest felt tight with the need to reach out, to pull him closer, but I couldn't find the courage to do so.

For a brief moment, he looked like he might say something—something important, something that would finally make all of this make sense. But instead, his jaw tightened, and he crouched down in front of me, his gaze leveling with mine. There was something in his eyes, something that made me feel even more distant from him than before.

He reached up then, ruffling my hair gently, in a way that felt almost... tender. His touch lingered just a moment longer than necessary, and I froze, the unexpected gesture sending a jolt through me. I wasn't sure what to make of it—his actions, his words. It felt out of place, like it didn't belong in this cold, distant world we'd created.

"Don't worry about me," he said quietly, his voice dropping to something softer, but still just as distant. It felt final, though, like a wall going up between us. His hand dropped away, and he stood up, his expression unreadable once more. "Goodnight, Jeonghan."

I blinked, staring at him as he moved toward the door. A strange emptiness settled in my chest, a hollow ache that hadn't been there before. I wasn't ready to be left alone with this—whatever this was.

"Wait," I called out, my voice rising slightly in protest. My heart hammered in my chest as I looked up at him, hoping—no, needing—him to stay.

But he didn't turn around. He paused, his back to me, and for a fleeting second, I thought he might finally say something, anything. But instead, his voice, colder than before, filtered through the silence between us.

"Go to sleep, Jeonghan," he said, the words sharp and final, as though there was nothing more to be said. The door clicked softly behind him as he left, leaving me sitting there, staring at the empty space where he had been, a strange mix of confusion, longing, and dread swirling inside me.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. that his departure, his words, had been laced with something I couldn't quite understand. My fingers brushed against my hair where he had touched it, and I tried to make sense of the feeling that still lingered in the air, thick with unspoken things.

As the silence settled back in, I was left with only my thoughts and the gnawing sense that something wasn't right. That something was about to change.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that something was about to happen—something I wasn't ready for.

Time passed 

It was 9:30 at night, and the rain hammered against the windows like it was trying to get in. The living room felt cavernous, the usual warmth of the mansion replaced with an eerie stillness. Even the maids, who typically stayed late, had gone home for reasons I didn't know. That only made everything worse too quiet, too empty.

I curled up on the couch, staring at the flickering fire, the unease in my chest refusing to settle. I told myself I was overthinking things. S.Coups had said he'd be back late, and it was just work. But something about the way he'd ruffled my hair before leaving, the distant look in his eyes, had planted a seed of doubt that I couldn't shake.

The rain's rhythm grew louder, a relentless reminder of how alone I was. I clutched the blanket tighter, glancing at the clock. Too early to sleep, too restless to stay still. I thought about getting up to make tea when I heard it—the unmistakable sound of the front doors opening.

Relief flooded me for a split second. He's back. But then came the heavy thud of boots on the floor, each step slow and deliberate, carrying with it a presence that made my stomach twist. My breath hitched, and I stayed frozen, unable to will myself to turn around.

He stepped into the living room, tall and imposing, his dark coat dripping rain onto the polished floor. His face was sharp, almost unnaturally so, with piercing eyes that locked onto me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

"Good evening," he said, his voice smooth but cold, like a blade cloaked in silk.

I swallowed hard, gripping the armrest as if it could somehow ground me. "Who are you?" I managed, though my voice came out shaky.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair, moving further into the room like he owned it. His eyes never left me, and I felt like a rabbit caught in a predator's sights.

"Daniel Park," he finally said, his lips curling into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. He settled into the armchair opposite me, leaning back with a casual air that felt utterly out of place in this room.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice trembling as I tried to mask my growing fear.

His gaze swept over me, slow and deliberate, making my stomach churn. "You're just as stunning as they said," he remarked, ignoring my question entirely. "No wonder he's so obsessed with you."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. My hands gripped the blanket tighter as my mind scrambled to understand. Obsessed? What did he mean?

"I don't understand," I said softly, my voice barely audible.

He chuckled, a low, unsettling sound that made the room feel even smaller. "Of course, you don't," he said, almost pitying. "You're too pure, too... innocent for all of this." His smirk widened, his gaze never wavering from me.

I tried to shrink into the couch, every fiber of my being screaming to run, but my legs felt like lead. The firelight cast long shadows across his face, exaggerating the sharpness of his features, making him look almost inhuman.

"What are you talking about?" I finally asked, though the words felt foreign in my mouth.

He leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes narrowing. "Let's just say," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "your presence here... it's not as accidental as you might think."

His words hung heavy in the air, the silence between us deafening. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He sat back again, seemingly satisfied with my reaction, his smirk deepening as he watched me squirm.

"You should get some rest," he said after a moment, his tone light but laced with mockery. "Big days are coming."

He didn't leave. He stayed there, lounging in the chair as if he belonged, his presence suffocating. The rain outside continued to pound against the windows, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside me.

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