It was hot. The world felt tilted to the left.
Kim Heon sat on his beat-up motorcycle, gasping for breath behind a fraying black cloth mask. Cold sweat trickled down his broad back. Although he wore a shabby windbreaker jacket that had faded in the sun, his physique could not be hidden. Broad, sturdy shoulders, long legs like a European model, and body proportions that made the mannequins in department store windows look defective.
But to Heon, this body was just a burden craving calories.
(Hungry... It hurts so much...)
His hands trembled as he gripped the handlebars. His sharp eyes—with deep double eyelids and curling lashes capable of catching snowflakes—were now glazed, half-closed.
(Mother said I'm a bastard child. Bastard children are ugly. Bastard children are dirty. That's why I have to cover my face. Don't let people see. They'll be disgusted. They'll throw stones at me like the kids at the orphanage used to.)
That doctrine had been embedded like a rusty nail in his brain since he was three years old. Every time he looked in the mirror, he didn't see a face sculpted by gods, but the reflection of his "sin."
TING!
A notification came in.
Pickup: Important Document.
Destination: Han-GROUP, 8th Floor (Special Strategy Division).
Recipient: Han Yuna.
Heon swallowed hard. His throat stung. He needed water. He needed money for water. He accepted the order with trembling fingers.
He gunned the engine. The wind hit his face. Because of the breathlessness caused by hunger and heat, Heon pulled his mask down, exposing his sharp jawline and naturally red, slightly pale lips. He forgot to put his mask back on when he got off at the Sangeon building parking lot. He was too focused on trying not to pass out.
He walked into the Han-GROUP building lobby.
His steps were unsteady. His gaze was empty, staring straight ahead, piercing through the crowd without really seeing. However, to others, those unsteady steps looked like a cold, effortless catwalk stride. That empty stare looked like a mysterious, sharp, chic gaze.
Instantly, the noisy lobby went silent. Heads turned.
"Hey, look at that..." whispered a receptionist, her eyes widening.
"Who is he? A new Han-Fashion model?"
"Omg, look at his nose. Look at his skin... so white like milk..."
"Kyaaaa! He's looking over here! He's looking over here!"
Several women took out their phones, trying to take photos secretly. A career woman plucked up the courage to approach, her face blushing bright red.
"Excuse me... Sir? May I have your phone number?"
Heon stopped. He heard the voice faintly, like it was coming from underwater. He bowed his head slightly—a movement that made him look polite and melancholic.
(Why are they looking at me like that? Does my jacket smell like trash? Is there a stain on my face? I'm sorry... sorry for polluting your view... I just want to pass...)
"Sorry..." Heon's voice came out, incredibly soft, like velvet. "I... have to work."
He didn't dare look the woman in the eye for fear of seeing disgust there. He pulled his cap lower, covering his beautiful eyes, then walked quickly toward the elevator, leaving the woman nearly fainting from hearing his soft baritone voice.
(Go up fast. Deliver fast. Leave fast. I don't belong here.)
Part 2: Seconds Into Darkness
The elevator dinged on the 8th floor.
The hallway was silent and luxurious. The walls were lined with dark mahogany. The carpet was maroon. Heon walked while holding onto the wall for support.
(One more step. Come on, Heon. Don't die now. If I die here, cremation costs are expensive. Who would want to take care of a bum's corpse?)
The world spun. The floor felt like jelly.
He arrived in front of a large set of double doors labeled: CEO - HAN YUNA.
Heon knocked on the door gently.
Knock. Knock.
No answer.
He tried pressing the intercom bell.
"Package... courier..." he whispered hoarsely.
A woman's voice came from the speaker, cold and curt. "Wait a moment. I'm on an important call. 5 minutes."
Five minutes.
A short time for the rich, but an eternity for someone whose blood sugar had hit zero.
Heon leaned against the wall beside the door. His legs went weak. Cold sweat soaked his temples, making a few strands of his jet-black hair stick to his white forehead.
(Five minutes... 300 seconds... One... Two... Three... Mother... my stomach hurts...)
His vision began to darken at the edges. Black spots danced before his eyes. His breath came in short gasps. He felt like he was suffocating. He loosened his jacket collar, but it didn't help.
(I can't make it... I'm sorry...)
Just as his consciousness hung by a thin thread, the door in front of him opened.
CLICK.
Bright light from inside the room spilled out. A figure of a woman stood there. Han Yuna. The only daughter of the owner of Sangeon Group. Beautiful, arrogant, with long wavy hair and a white Chanel suit.
Heon tried to straighten his body. He tried to hand over the envelope.
"Here..."
But his legs gave out. Gravity won.
Heon's tall, sturdy body lurched forward.
"Eh?" Yuna's eyes widened.
THUD!
Heon fell, crashing into Yuna. His sturdy arms accidentally wrapped around the slender woman's waist, and his face slumped onto Yuna's shoulder. Heon's sharp nose touched Yuna's scented neck.
For a moment, time stopped.
Yuna froze. The faint smell of sweat mixed with a masculine pheromone aroma that was strangely intoxicating pierced her nose. But her high-class brain translated this as an attack.
"KYAAAAA! LET GO!!"
Yuna screamed hysterically. She shoved Heon's broad chest with all her might.
"YOU PERVERTED COURIER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! HOW DARE YOU!"
Because Heon was already unconscious, the shove sent him flying backward. His body hit the thick carpet with a pitiful thud. His shabby cap flew off, rolling away.
Heon lay on his back. Silent. Motionless.
"Hah... hah... you lunatic! You wanted to attack me?!" Yuna was still shouting, clutching her pounding chest. She prepared to kick the man with her expensive stiletto.
But the man didn't wake up.
His eyes were shut tight. His breathing sounded heavy and labored. His face was deathly pale.
Yuna stopped. Her anger turned into confusion.
"Hey? Don't pretend to be dead!"
Silence.
Yuna gathered the courage to approach. She crouched down, still wary. She saw the man's chest rising and falling irregularly, as if he was struggling to breathe. His jacket was choking his neck.
"Damn, did he really pass out? Don't die in my office, you idiot!"
With panic but disgust, Yuna reached out her manicured hand. She pulled the shabby jacket's zipper down, opening the collar wide so the man could breathe.
And that was when Yuna saw it.
Jet-black hair falling messily over his forehead, now brushed aside by Yuna's movement.
Thick eyebrows, perfectly carved, sharp and masculine.
A nose so sharp and straight, as if sculpted by Michelangelo himself.
Long, curling eyelashes casting beautiful shadows on his gaunt but perfectly structured cheekbones.
His skin... though slightly dirty from street dust, was fundamentally clean, white, and smooth like European porcelain.
Yuna, a woman who had seen thousands of handsome actors, K-Pop idols, and business princes, felt her breath hitch.
Her hand, which was about to slap him, now stopped in mid-air, trembling, then slowly covered her own mouth.
(What... what is this?)
Yuna's heart beat not out of fear anymore, but due to a strange electric shock. She stared at the sleeping face intently.
(Is he... is he human? How can there be a human with a face like this? He's more handsome than my fiancé. No, he's more handsome than an Idol. He's more handsome than the paintings in the Louvre.)
Unconsciously, Yuna's index finger touched Heon's cheek. Cold.
"So handsome..." Yuna murmured without realizing it. Her eyes locked onto Heon's slightly parted lips. There was a crazy urge to keep staring at him, to possess him as a private collection.
Suddenly, the sound of running footsteps and the elevator opening was heard.
"Miss Yuna! We heard a scream!"
"Security! Get to the 8th floor, quick!"
The voices of security guards and staff echoed in the hallway.
Yuna jolted. Reality hit her again.
She turned toward the hallway, then looked back at the "god's" face lying helpless before her.
A strange and sudden possessive instinct rose in Yuna's chest. Selfishness.
(No. They can't see this. No one is allowed to see this face but me. If they see him, he'll become the center of attention. He'll be taken away.)
With lightning speed, Yuna grabbed the shabby cap lying on the floor.
She jammed the cap back onto Heon's head, pressing it down deep until it covered his eyes, nose, and most of that handsome face. She even pulled Heon's jacket collar back up, covering his long neck.
"Miss! Are you alright?!" The Head of Security appeared, panting, a stun baton in hand.
Yuna stood up straight, putting her cold and authoritative face back on, hiding her hands that were still trembling slightly. She stood in front of Heon's body, as if blocking him from everyone else's view.
"I'm fine," Yuna said flatly. "This courier fainted from exhaustion. Keep it down."
"Oh... we thought there was an attack. Let us drag him out," the guard said, about to move forward.
"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Yuna snapped suddenly. Her voice was shrill, startling the guards and making them take a step back.
Yuna realized her shout was too loud. She cleared her throat, smoothing her hair.
"I mean... he's sick. Don't be rough. Lift him gently. Bring him to the sofa in my office. Now."
"To... your office, Miss?" The guard was confused. "Not to the clinic or the lobby?"
Yuna glared sharply at the guard. Her chaebol aura radiated.
"Am I speaking alien? I said bring him to my office. I will interrogate him later about my package. And call my family's private doctor. Not a general practitioner."
The guards looked at each other, confused, but didn't dare to object. They lifted Heon's limp body. The cap slipped a little, almost revealing Heon's eyes.
Quickly, Yuna fixed the cap's position again while whispering very softly, barely audible.
"Cover your face, idiot. You're too dangerous."
As Heon's body was carried into her scented office, Yuna could still feel her fingertips burning where she had touched Heon's cheek. She knew, today her boring life had just changed completely.
And Heon, the sleeping prince who thought he was a nightmare, didn't know that he had just awakened a princess's obsession.