Meanwhile, Shin was finishing up in the gym. As he peeled off his shirt, Butler Hong popped in, all enthusiasm.
"Young Master, the young lady is waiting in the gazebo. Very lovely girl! Good taste too—she likes the rose garden. I'll go brew that rose tea now."
"You and your intuition," Shin muttered, grabbing a towel.
"What, am I wrong?" Butler Hong teased. "Or did you only bring her here because she's pretty?"
"I'm not Tristan."
Butler Hong stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Then it's time for the next step."
Shin raised an eyebrow. "Did I tell you she's eighteen?"
The butler gasped theatrically. "You scoundrel. Did you kidnap her in the night? Is this what we've come to? Following in the footsteps of Young Master Felan and his criminally romantic scandals?"
"Don't you have tea to brew?" Shin deadpanned.
"Right, right. Don't scare her off with that face," Butler Hong muttered as he left.
Shin headed for the shower—and emerged minutes later to discover his clothes were gone. Even the ones he had just used. The gym was clean. Too clean.
"…Old man," he growled.
Was this a setup? What was he supposed to do now—stroll out in a towel like a second-rate romance lead?
The sabotage was obvious. Butler Hong had spent too many years playing chess with mafia bosses and ex-commanders to not know exactly what he was doing.
Despite his innocent gardening façade, the old man was a former special ops tactician. He could kill with a pruning shear and brew tea at the same time.
With no other choice, Shin wrapped the towel tightly and headed out, plotting revenge.
Just as Yeri was enjoying the koi pond's tranquility, a rich, smooth voice interrupted her thoughts.
"No wonder Shin skipped work and ignored my calls. You're here."
She turned, startled. A man with windswept curls, sun-kissed skin, and an irritatingly charming smile strolled toward her. Dimples flashed like warning signs.
"And you are?" she asked cautiously.
"Tristan," he replied with a wink. "His best friend. And possibly his worst influence."
---
If Shin Keir was the mysterious, brooding night, then this man—Tristan Felan—was the shining embodiment of daylight. But unlike Shin, this walking sunbeam wasn't a stranger to Yeri.
She had heard of Tristan before. A name that echoed in the halls of her university, often accompanied by squeals and sighs. A well-known social butterfly and certified Casanova, Tristan Felan was the subject of many late-night dorm conversations. Girls traded pictures of him like prized Pokémon cards.
And while those photos already portrayed him as a devastatingly handsome man, seeing him in person was a whole different level of visual assault.
Too handsome, it should be illegal.
"Hello," Yeri greeted with a polite smile, "I troubled Young Master Keir last night so..."
Under last night's dazzle of headlights, she hadn't gotten a proper look at Shin Keir's cousin. But now, in full daylight, it was clear—the Keir bloodline could launch a thousand love triangles.
"Don't feel troubled! You're his girlfriend—it's only natural for him to take care of you." Tristan's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Wait, did you meet Hadi Keir this morning? Did that idiot cause you any grief?"
Yeri's smile faltered for a brief second. Wait, that peacock was also a Keir?
Alright, she took it back. The Keir bloodline wasn't as god-tier as she thought. Apparently, even genetically blessed families had their wildcards.
"I only saw him from a distance," Yeri said coolly. No need to worry about Shin Keir's relatives. She was just a placeholder girlfriend anyway.
"Good. And listen, whenever you're around and need help, my villa's just over there." Tristan pointed vaguely into the horizon.
Yeri blinked. All she could see were trees, maybe a bird, and a suspiciously judgmental squirrel.
Just as she was about to ask him about her brother, Jj Zhi, Tristan suddenly perked up and called out, "Shin!"
Yeri turned to follow his gaze—and froze.
A grandiose feast!
There stood Shin Keir, gloriously shirtless with just a towel draped around his waist, striding like a walking underwear billboard model. His skin glistened with leftover droplets from a recent shower, kissed by sunlight, and toned in all the places that made gym memberships suddenly sound worthwhile. Tattoos snaked intricately across his chest and upper arm, as though Michelangelo himself had gotten creative after a few shots of espresso.
'Where's my phone? Where is my damn phone?!'
Yeri's heart did a somersault. Her brain? It filed for temporary leave.
She had no memory of their night together—but if this was what she'd missed, then damn, amnesia was a cruel mistress.
Tristan blinked. He knew Shin wasn't the type to show off, and there were no female attendants in the estate, so… what in the world was going on?
Meanwhile, Shin seemed completely oblivious, moving in a hurry toward the side entrance. Sensing he was about to disappear, Tristan raised a hand to shout again—only to be interrupted by a sudden splash!
Tristan spun around and gaped. The woman who had been beside him just seconds ago was now bobbing up and down in the koi pond.
"What the—did you jump?!" he yelped.
"I lost my balance!" Yeri spluttered, goosebumps forming from the pond's icy chill.
Why is this pond so cold? Why is it so deep? Why is there no floor?!
Moments earlier, she had tried to stealthily hide behind Tristan to avoid gawking at Shin. Unfortunately, stealth did not mix well with spatial awareness. She hadn't realized she was teetering on the edge of the gazebo—and the edge had no mercy.
So now, she was wet, cold, embarrassed, and pond-scented. Very good.
Tristan, instead of playing gallant hero, cupped his hands and hollered, "Shin! Your girlfriend is drowning!"
Inside the villa, Shin had just exited the shower. The indoor gym had two entrances, but thanks to his compulsive neat-freak tendencies, he avoided the indoor route. Wet floors were his mortal enemy. Instead, he opted to wrap himself in a towel and take the outdoor path to his study, where he kept a fresh wardrobe.
He had no idea he was being watched. Or that his girlfriend unintentionally cleaned her messy brain with pond water.
Shin paused mid-step as Tristan's voice echoed across the garden.
"Shin, Yeri fell from the gazebo! I think that pond's pretty deep—"
Fell where?!
Panic replaced rational thought. Shin forgot about modesty, forgot about towels, forgot about everything except that someone he cared about might be in danger. He bolted.
"You didn't save her?!" he barked at Tristan.
Tristan huffed as he jogged beside him. "I'm not about to manhandle another guy's girlfriend in wet clothes!"
Shin shot a look at Tristan's pristine outfit—blue cotton pants, white silk shirt. Figures. He just didn't want to ruin his ensemble.
"I was kidding, actually. She's—"
SPLASH!
Shin dove into the pond without hesitation.
Tristan stood dumbstruck. Shin's OCD? Gone. His germaphobia? Nonexistent. His towel? Probably renegotiating its life choices underwater.
Even Yeri, who had just gotten her bearings, stared wide-eyed.
The fishes: "Praise be! The gods have delivered us a heaven-defying meal!"
Yeri stiffened as Shin swam towards her. She wasn't sure whether to scream or blush. He was half-naked and muscular and ridiculously heroic.
Was this real life? Or did someone drop her in a romance manhwa?
"Don't worry, I've got you." Shin's arm looped around her waist with ease, lifting her like a soaked cat.
Before she could protest, her face collided with his chest.
What is this scene?! Who wrote this?
She'd tried not to ogle. She'd tried to be decent. But now, she was being force-fed a front-row ticket to Shin Keir's anatomy class.
"How did you fall? Did Tristan push you?" Shin asked, eyes scanning her for injuries.
"I lost my balance," Yeri muttered, trying to remember where she was supposed to put her hands. Or eyes. Or sense of dignity.
Once, she could shamelessly admire hot guys without batting an eyelash. But Shin? Shin was like a cheat code to every daydream she'd ever had. Her brain screams fiesta!
"You two better dry off or the koi fish might claim you as their new roommates," Tristan called, grinning like the devil's PR manager.
As Yeri clambered up the edge, Shin's steady hand on her waist sent electricity down her spine. She avoided his gaze and tried to smell herself subtly, worried the pond stench had clung to her.
Then she glanced down—
Shalala~
WHY did she look down?!
A very visible V-line. Very clingy towel.
Very, very risky situation.
The towel slipped.
Splash!
Yeri, in an act of divine embarrassment, flailed backward and plunged back into the pond with a yelp.
Shin blinked. "Are you okay?!"
"No!" she gurgled, flailing.
Tristan burst out laughing. "I think she just scratched her eyes."
By the time Shin fished her out again, the towel had managed to stay mostly intact, but that didn't stop Yeri's imagination from galloping into forbidden pastures.
She sat on the edge, flushed red as a tomato, neck craned upward like a meerkat.
"You'll get a stiff neck like that," Tristan teased.
"It's cold!" she hissed.