.The elevator ride down felt endless.
No music. No noise. Just the soft hum of motion and the faint reflection of his own face — perfect, untouched, expressionless.
Han Jae-min had mastered that look years ago. The one that said I don't care.
He adjusted his coat and checked his reflection again before the doors opened to the parking garage. Not a single tear. Not even a crack in the mask.
He'd learned long ago that pride was the only armor that never rusted.
The driver hurried to open the car door.
"Mr. Han, should I—"
"I'll drive," Jae-min cut in, voice calm.
"But, sir—"
He shot the driver a single look — sharp, commanding. The kind that reminded everyone why Han Jae-min wasn't just another celebrity.
He was untouchable.
Once he was alone, the silence settled in again, heavier this time. The city lights blurred past as he drove through Seoul's empty midnight streets.
He didn't think about Do-hyun.
Or maybe he did — but not the man Do-hyun was tonight.
He thought about the man who once waited outside shooting sets with a thermos of coffee. The man who had confessed in a trembling voice, "I don't care if people find out. I just want you."
He almost laughed.
How quickly people forget what they once begged for.
When he reached his apartment — his real apartment, not the one they'd once shared — he dropped his keys on the counter and slipped out of his coat. Everything inside was neatly arranged, clean, lifeless.
Much like Do-hyun's penthouse now.
He poured himself a glass of water, took one sip, and placed it down untouched.
Then he walked to the window and looked out at the glittering skyline — the same view Do-hyun was probably staring at right now. Two different windows, two people pretending not to care.
His phone buzzed again.
A message from an unknown number.
> The interview schedule changed. CEO Seo requested you attend the press conference tomorrow at 9.
Jae-min smirked, a humorless curve of his lips.
Even now, Do-hyun didn't send messages directly. Too professional. Too careful.
"Right," he muttered. "Wouldn't want to ruin your image, Mr. CEO."
He sat down on the edge of the bed. The city lights painted gold across his skin — flawless, cold, lonely.
For a brief moment, his fingers trembled near his phone. Just for a second.
But then he placed it aside and leaned back with a sigh.
"Six years," he murmured. "And you think I'd chase you?"
He laughed softly — a low, tired sound — before turning off the light.
The city still glittered beyond the glass, but his eyes stayed shut, his face calm.
Tomorrow, he'd smile again.
Perfect, poised, untouchable.
And if Seo Do-hyun wanted to act bored — fine.
Han Jae-min could be colder than winter.
To be continued...