: The Warning
I hadn't seen him in a week.
Not since my parents dropped the marriage bomb.
Not since I'd stopped going to class, trying to accept the fate handed to me like a business deal.
CEO Park Jihoon. Polished. Rich. Harvard-educated. Boring. A man who wore power like a custom-tailored suit—detached, pristine, empty.
I didn't want him.
But my parents did.
So I shut down. I packed my textbooks, erased my university schedule from my phone, and ghosted the world.
---
That night, I came home late after a "get-to-know-him" dinner with Jihoon. I was numb. Exhausted. I just wanted to melt into silence, into the safety of my own room.
But someone was already there.
In the dark.
Sitting on the edge of my bed like he belonged there.
Black shirt. No smile. Eyes unreadable.
I froze at the door. My fingers gripped the knob as if it were a lifeline.
"How did you get in?" I whispered, my voice trembling slightly despite my attempts at calm.
He looked up slowly, deliberate, his gaze scanning me like he already knew everything about me.
"You've been avoiding me."
"You broke into my room."
"You disappeared."
I tossed my bag on the floor, shoulders slumping.
"I had things to handle."
He stood, the shadows of the room framing him like a dark silhouette.
"Like your engagement?"
My breath caught.
"You know?"
He laughed once—low, bitter, almost a growl.
"Of course I know. You think someone like Jihoon makes a move without me hearing about it?"
"What does that mean?"
He stepped forward, and the air between us thickened.
"It means you don't know what kind of men you're dealing with."
"Including you?" I snapped, trying to sound strong but feeling my chest tighten.
That stopped him. His eyes darkened, jaw clenched.
"I never lied to you," he said quietly, almost a hiss.
"Bullshit. You were my professor. You stalked me around campus. You flirted. You played games. And now you're—what? Breaking into my house to warn me about my fiancé?"
He walked right up to me. Close. Too close. The warmth of his body brushed mine, and I felt my pulse spike.
"I'm warning you," he said quietly, voice low, controlled. "Because Jihoon isn't who your parents think he is."
"And what are you, then?" I shot back, trying to mask the tremor in my voice.
He didn't blink. Didn't hesitate.
"I'm the man who's been protecting you since the day you bumped into me at the mall."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"I knew who you were before that day," he said, voice low, almost dangerous. "I've known for a long time."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I whispered, stepping back instinctively.
He moved even closer, and the heat from his body made my breath hitch. His gaze burned into mine.
"Your family's not clean. And Jihoon—he's not marrying you because he wants a wife."
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
"Why then?"
His voice dropped to a whisper, the kind that pressed against my ear and sent shivers down my spine.
"Because he wants leverage."
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I tried to force myself to think, to argue, to push him away—but I couldn't.
"Why should I believe you?" I breathed, my eyes searching his face for any crack, any sign of deception.
He held my gaze like it was a vow, unwavering, possessive.
"Because I'm the only monster here who hasn't tried to use you."
I blinked. My heart thundered in my chest, a mixture of fear, confusion, and something darker I refused to name.
"You…" I swallowed hard. "You… what are you?"
He smirked, but it wasn't playful this time. It was the dangerous kind of smile that made me want to hate him and kiss him at the same time.
"The man who doesn't let anyone touch what's mine," he murmured.
"Yours?" I whispered, disbelief and panic battling in my chest.
"Yes," he said simply, stepping closer until the space between us vanished. "You. Always. Mine."
The room seemed to shrink. My pulse raced. My hoodie felt too tight. My glasses slid down my nose. My stomach churned with fear and something else I couldn't place.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, trying to sound brave but barely a whisper.
He leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted my skin.
"Refuse?" His lips curled into a dangerous half-smile. "You don't get to refuse when I've been watching over you from the shadows. When I've been waiting for this moment. When I've already decided you're mine."
I stepped back, shaking, heart hammering.
"You're insane," I said, voice cracking.
He tilted his head, amused and deadly calm at the same time.
"Maybe. Or maybe I just know what I want."
I swallowed hard, and the weight of his gaze pinned me to the spot.
"And what if I don't want you?" I challenged, though part of me, the part I refused to acknowledge, wished I did.
"Then I'll wait," he said simply. "Because everything else—you?—is worth the wait."
The shadows in my room stretched long, flickering against the walls. And I knew—I already did—that this was only the beginning.