The world outside his windows could have burned and Ji-hye wouldn't have noticed. The city was nothing but distant neon and silence, all the pressure and poison of the last weeks falling away, just for tonight, just for this room. She was raw—skinless, trembling, cracked open after pouring herself out in his arms—and she wanted to fill herself with something new, something wild, something that would drown out every echo of shame and leave her gasping, alive, human.
She felt it in the way Joon-ho's hands lingered at her jaw, thumbs stroking her cheeks after the last of her tears dried. In the silence, their breaths tangled. He leaned in, searching her face, giving her space to run or fall. She didn't hesitate. She caught his mouth with hers, urgent, hungry, her fingers sliding into his hair and yanking him closer, harder, needing to taste, to bite, to bruise and be bruised.
