"Yoo Jun? Are you back?!"
The sudden voice made Mei Yoo Jun freeze mid-laugh, her cheeks still flushed from the lingering intimacy in her room.
Her eyes widened, and Shan Wolf immediately tensed beside her. They heard keys jingling, footsteps entering the house.
"They're home—quick!" Yoo Jun hissed, already scrambling to get dressed.
Shan rushed to pull on his pants while Yoo Jun grabbed her shirt, struggling with the buttons as panic danced in her eyes. "Hide somewhere!" she snapped under her breath.
Shan didn't argue. In a swift motion, he dove under the bed, yanking a blanket to cover himself just as the door handle turned.
Her mother's familiar voice floated into the room. "Sweetie, we got your favorite dumplings!"
She entered, followed closely by Yoo Jun's father. Her mother wore a bright expression as she placed the food on the desk, while her father's sharp eyes scanned the room.
"You're not hungry?" he asked, his voice gruff but tinged with concern. "You look pale. Are you sick?"
Yoo Jun forced a laugh. "No, Appa. Just... tired."
Before either parent could say more, the family's golden retriever burst into the room with a bark, tail wagging wildly.
He jumped on Yoo Jun, licking her face, then turned, nose twitching. A low growl vibrated from his throat.
"Dalgom, what is it?" her mother asked.
The dog lunged at the blanket beneath the bed—and bit.
"OW—!"
A yelp erupted from underneath. Shan shot out like a launched spring, the blanket tangled around his head, rubbing his arm where he was bitten.
Dead silence.
Her parents stared. The dog barked triumphantly.
"…Who the hell is this?" her father finally demanded, his eyes flaring with disbelief.
Moments later, all four sat in the living room. The air was stifling. Shan, now fully dressed and seated with military straightness, kept his eyes low.
Yoo Jun sat beside her parents, both of whom were still recovering from the shock.
"I can explain," she began, her voice soft. "This is Shan Wolf. We work together at Won Group."
Her father narrowed his eyes. "At the same company?"
"Y-Yes!"
A tense silence followed. Then, like sunshine breaking through the clouds, her mother clapped her hands and beamed.
"That's wonderful! It's about time you brought home someone decent. Much better than that college boy who only talked about himself."
Mei Yoo Jun cringed. Her mother still didn't know they had broken up months ago.
Her father, on the other hand, remained skeptical. Arms crossed, lips pursed, he muttered, "I still think a lawyer or a doctor would be better—"
"Dear," her mother interrupted with a polite smile—and a noticeable glance at the kitchen, where a sauce pan gleamed within arm's reach. "Let's not pressure them. Times have changed. As long as they're happy, right?"
Her father grunted, eyes flicking between Shan and the pan. "...Right."
Dinner followed, surprisingly harmonious. Shan offered to help in the kitchen, and though her mother initially waved him off, she quickly became impressed by his finesse with the knife and wok.
"You cook like a professional," she said, watching his graceful movements. "Where did you learn?"
Shan paused briefly before replying, "Picked it up here and there."
It was vague—but enough. He never overshared.
Later at the table, conversation turned toward hobbies. Her father, a passionate collector of vintage firearms and cigars, began quizzing Shan.
Much to everyone's surprise, Shan answered every question correctly—from the origin of a 1930s German Luger to the aging process of Cuban tobacco. Her father's eyes gradually shifted from suspicion to curiosity, then to admiration.
"You know your stuff," he said, almost grudgingly.
"I like old things," Shan said with a small smile.
By midnight, the atmosphere had warmed. Shan bowed politely as he prepared to leave.
"Thank you for dinner," he said. "It was… an honor."
"Take care of our daughter," her mother said kindly as she walked him to the door.
Though no labels had been exchanged, there was an unspoken trust forming.
As Shan stepped into the night, a strange feeling gnawed at him. Something about Yoo Jun's father had triggered a flicker of memory—an image he couldn't quite place. A face. A setting. Was it from a briefing? A photo? His mind tried to dig deeper, but nothing surfaced clearly.
He let it go—for now.
The Next Day, Won Group HQ.
High above in her glass-walled office, Ingrid Mikage stood by the window, lost in thought. Her gaze wasn't on the skyline. It was on a photograph on her desk.
Kim Yeon.
Her daughter hadn't spoken to her properly in months. Ever since that nightclub scandal, Ingrid had seen her gradually pull away from everything—family, studies, ambition.
All the plans she'd had to send her overseas, all the sacrifices—they were slowly unraveling.
She sighed heavily, then looked down from the window.
Shan Wolf stood near the courtyard vending machines, chatting casually with a few colleagues. He laughed, head tilted back slightly, posture relaxed.
He's changed, she thought. From that quiet, awkward man who transferred from Malaysia into… this.
He was still rough around the edges, but something about him was undeniably magnetic now.
Stronger. More confident. Her heart skipped once—she waved her hand at her face, trying to cool the warmth rising in her chest.
She shook her head. "Ridiculous…"
Downstairs, Shan reached for a canned coffee. Just as his fingers touched the button, someone slammed into him.
"Hey—what the hell, woman?!"
Rae Yoorin stood with arms folded and a smug grin.
"You're coming shopping with me, loser," she said matter-of-factly.
"Eh? What are you even talking about?!"
"No excuses. Let's go!"
She grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. Shan staggered after her, half-protesting, half-resigned.
Behind them, the vending machine hummed quietly. The can of coffee dropped, forgotten.
---
Chapter 49 — End.