The ride back from dinner had been filled with light banter and the pleasant fog of soju. By the time they stepped inside the apartment, the air between them had shifted. The warmth of alcohol, the closeness of their shared meal, and the knowledge of what tomorrow would bring hung in the atmosphere like a slow-burning fuse.
Harin shut the door behind them, her eyes already glinting with mischief. She crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up as she leaned her weight to one hip. "Well," she said, voice sing-song but carrying steel beneath it, "you're not slipping away that easily, oppa. If you think you're leaving for Jeju tomorrow without satisfying us first—think again."
Joon-ho arched a brow at her, his jacket sliding from his shoulders as he placed it neatly over the back of the sofa. "That so?" His tone was calm, even playful, but there was weight to the way his eyes lingered on hers.
