Yohan's estate late at night
POV: Ho In-su
Evening settled over the house like velvet—dark, quiet, too far from the chaos of the city to feel real. From the floor-to-ceiling windows, Seoul blinked like a constellation, alive but far away.
Here, in the stillness of Lee Yohan's sanctuary, everything was quiet.
In-su stood barefoot in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, stirring doenjang-jjigae over the stove. He'd insisted on cooking tonight, ignoring Yohan's raised brow and muttered comments about private chefs and security clearances.
"If I'm going to live here," In-su had said, "I need to do something with my hands. Something normal."
So here he was. Cooking like he hadn't just been watched by men in a van that morning. Like his world hadn't shifted under him.
He felt Yohan before he heard him.
The Alpha moved like smoke—silent, all contained heat and precision. In-su didn't have to turn around to know he was leaning against the frame of the kitchen entrance, arms crossed, watching.
"You're going to ruin that shirt," Yohan said, voice low.
"It's an apron."
"A designer apron"
"I'm a teacher. If I can survive glitter and tempera paint, I can survive jjigae."
Yohan didn't laugh, but something in his expression softened. He crossed the room slowly, deliberate, like he was approaching a skittish animal—though In-su had never been the type to spook.
Still, when Yohan came up behind him and placed a hand at the small of his back, In-su stiffened from awareness.
"You didn't eat lunch," Yohan murmured.
"You had someone watching me?"
"I always have someone watching you."
That earned him a look over the shoulder. "I don't need a leash, Yohan."
"It's not a leash," Yohan said. "It's armor."
His hand didn't move. Just pressed warm and steady against In-su's spine, grounding him. "The kind I know works."
In-su lowered the heat on the stove and turned to face him. They were close now—closer than usual. Yohan had taken off his jacket, unbuttoned the top of his shirt. His sleeves were rolled. His hair slightly mussed. He looked less like a mafia boss and more like a man who wanted to touch.
In-su's gaze flicked to his hand—hovering at his side now, like it wanted permission.
"You don't have to watch me all the time," In-su said quietly.
"I know." Yohan's voice was rougher now. "But I want to."
In-su studied him.
Yohan, who didn't flinch in gunfire. Who didn't speak unless it mattered. Who held power like a blade in both hands.
Right now, he was looking at In-su like he mattered more than any of it.
"I'm not that soft," In-su said.
"I know."
"I bite."
"I'm counting on it."
That made something flicker behind In-su's ribs—something reckless, dangerous, and warm. He stepped closer, until their bodies were nearly brushing, and tilted his chin up slightly.
"Should I be afraid of you ?
Yohan's eyes darkened. "You should be."
" well, I'm not."
And then—slowly, carefully—he reached out and hooked his fingers into Yohan's open collar. Just enough to pull him forward. To invite.
Yohan hesitated only a heartbeat before closing the distance.
The kiss wasn't tentative.
It was devastating.
Toe-curling. Spine-arching. Deep.
Yohan kissed like he fought—strategic, consuming, merciless once unleashed. His mouth claimed In-su's with raw, building hunger, tongue sliding past parted lips with a groan that sounded like it had been locked in his chest for months.
In-su gripped his shirt tighter, heart pounding, letting himself fall into it—into him. Into the sensation of being kissed like something precious and ruinous at once.
Yohan's hands framed his face, thumbs brushing beneath his jaw, holding him still as he deepened the kiss. It was dominance, yes—but also reverence. Like he'd waited forever to taste him and couldn't believe it was real.
In-su moaned softly, pressed closer, mouth parting wider under the assault.
His knees went weak.
Yohan caught him—one arm sliding around his waist, locking them together. He pushed them gently but insistently back, until In-su's spine met the counter.
Still kissing.
Still devouring.
Only when breath became absolutely necessary did Yohan pull back, just far enough to breathe—but close enough that their foreheads touched, noses brushing.
In-su's lips were kiss-swollen. His breath shaky. But his eyes were clear, locked on Yohan's like he was trying to memorize him.
"That's not how a man kisses someone he wants to protect," he whispered.
Yohan's jaw tensed.
"No," he said. "That's how I kiss someone I want to keep."
In-su's breath hitched.
He didn't say anything.
Because in that moment, between a cooling stew and the deafening silence around the house,something shifted in him—deep and final.
And when Yohan kissed him again—slower this time, but no less intense—he let it take him completely.
________
Elementary school : the next day
Lunch Break, Teacher's Lounge – POV: Ho In-su
The teacher's lounge smelled like reheated kimchi stew and instant coffee. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as In-su sat at the edge of the table, quietly eating from a neat bento box he'd packed that morning. Around him, the other teachers laughed and chatted, the noise harmless .
"So…" Miss Kang leaned forward across the table, her grin sharp. "Who is he?"
In-su didn't look up. He took a bite of egg roll, chewed slowly.
"Who?" he asked, as if he didn't know.
"Come on, don't pretend you're clueless," Mr. Min chimed in. "The tall guy in black. The one who walks around like he owns the city. He's been here twice this week already."
In-su said nothing, he lifted his head slightly then continued eating.
Miss Lee, the soft-spoken music teacher, chimed in from her corner. "Is he your… relative or something? He looked a little—intense."
Miss Kang snorted. "Intense? He looked like he walked out of a movie. Or a crime report. He's not the type you expect to see outside a kindergarten classroom."
"Maybe he's a bodyguard?" Mr. Seo offered, half-joking. "That would explain the suits. And the car. Wasn't that a Maybach he drove up in?"
"I don't know what it was," Miss Kang said, "but I saw two guys in it yesterday and they didn't even blink when the principal asked for ID.
"I didn't know we needed to ID visitors during dismissal," In-su said mildly, finally looking up.
Miss Kang shrugged. "We do when they look like that."
"He's a friend," In-su said calmly, then went back to his rice.
"Just a friend?" Miss Lee asked, tone more curious than teasing. "Because he stares at you like… you're the only person in the world."
In-su paused.
"He cares about me ," he said simply. "And that's enough."
The table fell quiet for a moment, the words heavier than anyone expected.
Miss Kang cleared her throat. "Well. No judgment. Just… be careful. He doesn't exactly look like PTA material."
"I don't need him to be," In-su replied, folding his napkin. "I need him to be who he is and I dont remember asking for your opinion.
There was something final in the way he said it. Something that didn't invite more questions.
When the bell rang for afternoon classes, he stood and left without another word, his half-finished lunch forgotten on the table.
The teachers exchanged glances once he was gone.
Miss Kang leaned toward Miss Lee. "What kind of 'friend' shows up in a $200,000 car and looks like he could murder someone with a teacup?"
Miss Lee smiled faintly. "The kind you don't ask too many questions about."