Hana
My phone wouldn't stop vibrating. I groaned, yanking the blanket over my head. It was Saturday. I deserved at least one morning of peace after having my life destroyed by the internet.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
"Fine!" I snapped, fumbling blindly for the phone. My vision cleared just enough to see two names glowing on the screen: Mina and Jisoo.
Oh no. I hit accept and instantly regretted it.
"YAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Mina's voice nearly blew out my speaker.
"Traitor!" Jisoo shrieked right after, her face popping up beside Mina's on the split-screen.
Both of them were glaring at me like I'd committed a war crime. I rubbed my eyes and muttered, "Good morning to you too."
"Good morning? GOOD MORNING?!" Mina screeched, waving her manicured hand at the camera. "My best friend is front-page news with Busan's sexiest CEO and I had to find out from TWITTER?!"
"Do you even love us?" Jisoo added dramatically, clutching her chest. "We were supposed to be the first to know if you started dating a chaebol!"
I sat up in bed, hair sticking out in every direction. "Okay, first of all he is not Busan's sexiest anything. He's an arrogant jerk. Second of all I am NOT dating him!"
"Then explain THIS." Mina flipped her phone camera around to show a screenshot of an online article.
Seo Junho Leaves Kang Hana's Apartment at Midnight
Exclusive Photos
I choked on air. "WHAT?!"
The photo was grainy but unmistakable: Junho walking out of my building last night, hands in his pockets, looking maddeningly perfect for someone who had just invaded my apartment.
Jisoo gasped theatrically. "So it's true. The Golden Boy spent the night with you."
"He did NOT!" I shouted. "He was there for five minutes, maybe ten! And he just—he just left!"
"Uh-huh," Mina said, clearly unconvinced. "That's what they all say."
I buried my face in my hands. "Kill me. Just kill me now."
The second I hung up on Mina and Jisoo, I threw my phone across the bed.
Deep breaths, Hana. Deep breaths. Five seconds later, I grabbed it again. Because apparently I hate myself.
The homepage of every gossip site was plastered with the same photos Junho in his immaculate suit, leaving my rundown building like it was the Shangri-La.
Headlines screamed at me:
Golden Boy Spotted at Mystery Girl's Apartment!
Is Kang Hana the New First Lady of Seo Group?
Romance or Scandal? Netizens Debate
I scrolled, stomach twisting tighter with every word.
"Omg they're dating. He wouldn't visit her apartment otherwise "
"Our Golden Boy is finally off the market, rip me "
"No way. She's not even pretty. Look at her building so tacky."
"Gold digger vibes. I give it a week."
"Plot twist: PR stunt. No chaebol CEO would lower himself to THAT level."
My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles whitened.
Then came the fan edits Junho's flawless press conference smile cut together with my dumb shocked face, hearts floating between us, BabyMonster's "Love in My Heart" blasting in the background.
"NOOOO!" I groaned, burying my face into my pillow. "Leave BabyMonster out of this!"
And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, someone had posted my old high school yearbook photo with the caption: 'This?? Is who stole THE Seo Junho??'
My soul left my body. I shot up in bed, hair wild, eyes blazing. Enough. I was done being the internet's chew toy.
Before I could second-guess myself, I jabbed Junho's contact number, the one I'd saved against my better judgment. The line rang once. Twice.
Then his voice, smooth and maddeningly calm: "Miss Kang. I was wondering when you'd call."
My rage boiled over. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I practically screamed into the phone, pacing my apartment like a deranged animal.
On the other end, Junho chuckled softly. "Good morning to you too, Miss Kang."
"Don't you dare—don't you dare act casual right now! The entire internet thinks you spent the night here! There are pictures! Headlines! People are digging up my yearbook photos!"
"Ah," he murmured, like I'd just told him the weather report. "I did notice the coverage. Quite… thorough."
"Thorough?! They called me a peasant! A gold digger! Someone compared me to a raccoon!"
Silence. Then—was that a laugh? Low, muffled, but definitely there.
"Are you laughing?!" I screeched.
"A raccoon, hm?" His voice warmed with amusement. "I suppose they can be clever creatures."
I was going to commit murder. Actual homicide.
"Junho, listen to me very carefully," I hissed. "You need to shut this down. Right now. Call your PR people, release a statement, say it was nothing—say you came here to… to check the water pressure, I don't care! Just fix it!"
"Mmm." He sounded like he was sipping wine instead of listening to me unravel. "And why should I?"
My jaw dropped. "What do you mean why should you? Because this is your fault! You showed up at my place in the middle of the night like some—some chaebol Dracula! Now my life is ruined!"
"You exaggerate," he said smoothly. "Your life is… colorful at the moment, yes. But ruined? Hardly."
"Colorful?!" My voice cracked. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the entire internet dissecting your pores?!"
"Of course," he said softly, and for a moment the teasing edge was gone. His tone carried something else—something sharp, almost lonely. "I've lived with it for years."
That silenced me. For half a beat.
Then the anger came roaring back. "Well, congratulations, Mr. Perfect! Some of us didn't sign up for this circus. So either you fix it, or I swear—"
"You swear what?" he interrupted, voice low and dangerous.
My throat went dry.
Damn him.
"You swear what?" Junho's voice dropped lower, silk over steel, daring me to finish.
My pulse hammered. My palms were slick against the phone. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to hang up—to escape before he coiled me tighter in his words.
Instead, I snapped, "I swear I'll—"
But the words caught. What could I threaten him with? He had power, money, an army of lawyers. I had… a leaky faucet and a broken rice cooker.
I heard the smirk in his silence.
My fury surged higher. "You think you've won, don't you? You think this is some kind of game? Well newsflash, Mr. Seo—I'm not your pawn."
He let out a low hum. Not denial. Not agreement. Just that maddening, knowing hum. That was it. That was the final straw.
"Go to hell," I spat, and jabbed the red button so hard I nearly cracked the screen.
The silence afterward roared in my ears. My chest heaved. My phone trembled in my grip.
I hurled it onto the couch and stormed across the room, pacing like a caged tiger. But no matter how many laps I made, the image wouldn't leave me—the way his voice slid into my veins, the way he said you interest me like it was fact carved in stone.
And worse—the headlines, the comments, the grainy photo of him walking out of my building.
This wasn't going away. Not anytime soon. And I hated him for it.