She needed that contact, that proof he was real and not going anywhere. If letting her breasts press so intimately against him gave her even a fraction more comfort, she would take it without a second thought.
"Please..." she whispered against his chest, her voice cracking, barely audible. "Don't let go yet. Just... a little longer. I'm scared. So scared." Fresh tears soaked into his shirt. "What if he comes back? What if someone else... I can't—I can't be alone right now. I feel like I'm going to fall apart if you move."
Min-seok tightened his arms around her without hesitation, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles over the coat on her back.
"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured, voice low and steady. "Not until you tell me it's okay. You're safe. I swear it. That bastard is gone, and he won't ever come near you again. I've got you. Just breathe. Everything's okay right now."
She nodded faintly against him, but the tremors didn't stop. Her body stayed glued to his, seeking every inch of contact she could get—chest to chest, her thighs brushing his legs as she stood pressed close. The coat slipped slightly, but she didn't bother fixing it; she just burrowed deeper into his embrace.
After long minutes, when her sobs had quieted to soft, hiccuping breaths, Min-seok spoke gently. "Your dress... everything... it's all ruined. Let's get you some new clothes. There's a store just a few streets away. Come on, I'll take you."
Mi-Kyung nodded slowly, but when he started to loosen his hold, a small, panicked sound escaped her throat. Her arms tightened again. "Wait—don't... don't let go completely." Her voice was small, fragile. "I... I still feel exposed. Naked. Even with the coat."
Min-seok looked down at her with nothing but patience. He carefully shrugged out of his white t-shirt, leaving his upper body bare under his open jacket. He held it out to her.
"Here. Wear this under the coat. It's big enough to cover you properly—almost to your thighs. I can go like this, I'm a guy, it's fine. But you need to feel covered. Safe."
She hesitated for only a second before letting him help her slip the t-shirt over her head. It was oversized on her slender frame, the hem falling past her hips, soft cotton brushing her bare skin. It carried his clean, warm scent—something comforting, grounding. She inhaled deeply without realizing it, and a tiny bit of tension eased from her shoulders.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice thick. She pulled the coat tighter around herself over the t-shirt, but she still stayed close to him, one hand clutching the sleeve of his jacket as they stepped out of the salon and into the cool night air.
They walked slowly to the nearby clothing store. Mi-Kyung's steps were unsteady, her free hand gripping the coat closed at her chest, eyes darting nervously at every shadow. She stayed right beside him, almost tucked under his arm, as if any distance would leave her vulnerable again.
Inside the quiet, late-evening store, the bright lights made her blink and shrink a little closer to Min-seok's side.
"I can pick my own clothes," she said softly, trying to sound normal, but her voice wavered and her hands shook as she reached toward a rack.
Min-seok shook his head gently, placing his hand over hers to still it. His touch was warm, careful, never demanding. "You've been through something terrible tonight," he said quietly, eyes soft with understanding. "Let me take care of this. Let me pamper you a little. Rest assured—I can handle it. You just stay right here with me. You don't have to do anything alone right now."
Mi-Kyung looked up at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears and lingering fear. She gave the smallest nod, then leaned her forehead briefly against his bare shoulder, drawing strength from his steady presence. "Okay," she breathed. "Just... stay close. Please."
He smiled softly, squeezing her hand once before letting go to start looking through the racks—gentle, patient, and never more than an arm's length away.
Mi-Kyung stood close to Min-seok in the quiet clothing store, still wrapped in his coat over the oversized t-shirt, her bare legs peeking out beneath the hem. She watched in quiet amazement as he moved through the racks with calm confidence.
He selected a soft pastel blouse—light lavender, just like the one she had worn earlier that day—and a simple knee-length skirt in a matching neutral tone.
The fabrics were gentle, flowing, and comfortable. Then, without any hesitation or awkwardness, he walked to the lingerie section and picked out a matching set: a soft beige bra and panties, exactly her size, in the same practical yet pretty style he remembered from glimpses in the salon when she adjusted her clothes during busy days.
"How do you know so much about women's fashion?" Mi-Kyung asked, her eyes widening with genuine surprise. A small, warm feeling bloomed in her chest—he was so thoughtful, so attentive without making it feel strange.
Min-seok smiled gently, handing her the items. "I have three younger sisters. They always want me to pamper them—pick out their outfits, tell them what looks best. They say they get the most compliments when they wear what I choose."
He paused, his tone light but honest. "And honestly... They've made me used to helping with all kinds of things. Giving them baths when they were little, helping them get dressed even now when they're rushing for school or dates.
They've never been shy around me, so I've never had any perverted thoughts about a woman's body. It's just... normal to me. Like taking care of family."
Mi-Kyung felt her cheeks warm, but not from embarrassment—more from a sudden, deep sense of safety. His words explained why he had looked at her naked, trembling body earlier without lust or shame, only concern.
He had dressed her carefully earlier—slipping the t-shirt over her head, adjusting the coat—his hands steady and respectful, never lingering.
She hadn't even realized how vulnerable she had been in that moment; her mind had been too consumed by fear to care about modesty. Now, hearing this, she felt a rush of gratitude. He wasn't like other men. He was safe.
She insisted softly, "I can do it myself."
Min-seok shook his head kindly, his voice gentle. "After what happened tonight, you deserve to relax. Let me help. You've been through hell. Just let me take care of this one thing."
Mi-Kyung looked into his eyes—steady, kind, without a trace of expectation—and gave in. She nodded, feeling him become even more dependable in her heart. No man had ever been this caring without wanting something in return.
He paid for everything with his own money, refusing to let her even reach for her purse. "Not tonight," he said simply.
Mi-Kyung stepped into the small, softly lit changing room at the back of the store, still wrapped in Min-seok's coat over his oversized t-shirt. Her legs felt unsteady, and she kept one hand clutching the coat closed at her chest even though the t-shirt already covered her almost to mid-thigh.
Min-seok followed her inside with the shopping bag, closing the curtain behind them gently so no one could see in.
She turned to face him, eyes flickering with a mix of lingering fear and sudden self-consciousness. The reality of her nakedness under the borrowed clothes hit her again now that the immediate danger had passed. Her cheeks flushed faintly. "I... I can manage," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Min-seok shook his head softly, his expression calm and reassuring. "Let me help you. After everything tonight, you don't have to do anything alone. Not even this." His voice was low, steady, like a quiet anchor. "I promise I'll be gentle. You can stop me anytime."
Mi-Kyung looked into his eyes—kind, patient, without a trace of anything but care—and found she couldn't bring herself to object. Something inside her had already decided he was safe. Completely safe. She gave the tiniest nod, her breath shaky.
Min-seok stepped closer, careful not to crowd her. He reached up slowly and helped her shrug the coat off her shoulders. It slid down her arms and pooled at her feet. Then, with the same gentle care, he lifted the hem of his t-shirt over her head. The fabric caught briefly on her hair, and he paused to smooth it free, his fingers brushing her scalp lightly—comforting, not invasive.
Now she stood completely naked in front of him again.
A wave of self-consciousness washed over her. Her arms instinctively moved to cover her breasts and her private parts, cheeks burning. 'Oh God... I'm naked. Right in front of him. I should be mortified.' The thought raced through her mind. Yet... she didn't feel the sharp sting of shame she expected. Instead, there was only a strange, quiet acceptance.
Because it was Min-seok. The same man who had saved her, who had covered her, held her, promised her safety. His presence didn't feel threatening—it felt like home. Warm. Protective. She realized with a soft jolt that she didn't mind at all. Not with him.
Min-seok didn't stare or linger. His eyes stayed soft and focused on her face as he spoke quietly. "You're okay. You're safe. Just breathe. I'm right here."
He reached into the bag and pulled out the new beige panties first. Kneeling down in front of her, he held them open at her feet. "Step in, slowly," he murmured.
Mi-Kyung hesitated only a second before lifting one foot, then the other. As he slid the soft fabric up her legs, his hands brushed the backs of her calves and thighs—gentle, clinical almost, like a caregiver helping someone vulnerable.
She felt the material settle against her skin, hugging her gently. A small shiver ran through her, but it wasn't from cold or fear. It was from the strange intimacy of being taken care of so completely.
Next came the bra. Min-seok stood again, holding the soft cups in his hands. "Arms up a little," he said softly.
She lifted her arms, trembling just slightly. He slipped the straps over her shoulders, then reached around her back to fasten the clasp.
His fingers worked carefully, never lingering on her bare skin longer than necessary. As he adjusted the cups to sit comfortably over her breasts, his knuckles brushed the undersides accidentally—light, unintentional.
Mi-Kyung's breath hitched, but not from embarrassment. From the overwhelming sense of being... cherished. Protected. 'Why don't I feel ashamed?' she thought. 'Because it's him. Because he doesn't see me as an object. He sees me as someone who needs care.'
Min-seok stepped back slightly to check the fit, then smoothed the straps with a gentle touch. "There. Perfect."
He picked up the new blouse next—soft lavender, light and flowing. He helped her slip her arms into the sleeves, then buttoned it from the bottom up, his fingers steady and unhurried. With each button, he murmured soft reassurances: "You're doing great. Almost there. You're safe now."
Finally, the skirt. He held it open at her feet again. Mi-Kyung stepped in, and he slid it up over her hips, fastening the small side zipper with practiced ease. He smoothed the fabric down over her thighs, making sure it sat comfortably.
When he finished, he took a small step back, looking at her with quiet warmth. "There. All done. You look beautiful—and safe."
Mi-Kyung stared down at herself, then up at him. Tears shimmered in her eyes again, but they were different this time—gratitude, relief, something softer. She hadn't objected once. Not a single word of protest. Because with Min-seok, being vulnerable didn't feel scary. It felt... right.
She stepped forward on impulse and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his bare chest. "Thank you," she whispered, voice thick. "For everything. For... not making me feel small."
Min-seok hugged her back gently, resting his chin lightly on top of her head. "You never have to feel small with me," he said quietly. "Not ever."
They stood like that for a long moment, the changing room curtain shielding them from the world, until Mi-Kyung finally felt steady enough to step out into the store—fully dressed, fully cared for, and, for the first time that night, truly beginning to feel safe again.
"I'll wash your t-shirt and return it," she said quietly.
Min-seok shook his head again, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Keep it. It's yours now. Looks better on you anyway."
They left the store together. Mi-Kyung stayed close, her hand lightly holding his sleeve. As they walked back toward the salon, she hesitated at the door.
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