(The theme of this story is dark)
Ziyan's hands rested loosely on the steering wheel, but his mind was nowhere near the road ahead. The city lights blurred past him, melting into streaks of gold and white, yet he barely noticed. His thoughts were tangled caught, replaying a single moment over and over again like a broken record.
Roselia…
A faint smile touched his lips, soft and unguarded, something rare for a man like him.
"How do you manage to remember my name, huh… Roselia?" he murmured to himself, a quiet chuckle escaping his throat. There was something strangely comforting about the way she had said it like his name wasn't just a name, but something she had held onto, something she had remembered.
And for some reason, that thought alone made him… happy.
Inside another car, moving through the same quiet night, Roselia sat by the window, her fingers lightly clutching the edge of her dress. The passing streetlights reflected in her eyes, but her gaze was distant, unfocused.
She, too, was lost in memories.
The first time she had seen him… the way he had looked at her… and today—how effortlessly he had helped her, how he had chosen a dress for her as if it mattered to him.
Her heart felt strangely restless.
"Mrs. Roselia!"
Neel's voice broke through her thoughts like a sudden knock on a closed door.
She blinked, turning her head slightly. "What?"
Neel glanced at her through the rearview mirror, curiosity evident in his eyes.
"How do you know Mr. Ziyan?" he asked carefully.
Roselia tilted her head slightly, as if the question itself confused her. "How do I know him?" she repeated softly.
"He lives in my neighborhood… but I don't know exactly where."
Neel's eyes widened in shock.
"What?! He lives in the same neighborhood?"
She nodded simply, as if it were nothing unusual.
"Yeah… but how do you know him?"
"Huh?" Neel hesitated, clearly caught off guard.
Roselia's gaze sharpened slightly. "Mrs. Roselia, don't you know who he is?" he asked, his tone lowering.
She shook her head without hesitation. "No… I don't."
For a moment, silence filled the car.
Neel exhaled slowly, choosing his words with care. "He's… just a famous guy. There's nothing much I can say."
"Oh…" she murmured, though something about his hesitation didn't sit right with her.
After a brief pause, Neel spoke again. "Does Sir Hayuel know that you know him?"
Her expression changed instantly.
"No!" she said quickly, almost too quickly. Then her voice softened, tinged with something fragile. "And… don't tell him. Please."
"Why?" Neel asked, genuinely confused.
Roselia lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening slightly.
"It's just… I think he wouldn't like it. Me talking to people without his permission… and don't tell him we met him today either."
There was a quiet sadness in her voice—something that didn't need explanation.
Neel watched her for a moment… then nodded.
"Okay, Mrs. Roselia."
Elsewhere, under the glow of chandeliers and golden lights, laughter echoed through a grand, luxurious mansion.
The air was thick with perfume, alcohol, and the careless joy of the wealthy.
Yejin stood among the crowd, a glass of wine in his hand. He approached a man whose presence seemed to draw attention effortlessly—Andrew.
"Mr. Andrew, congratulations," Yejin said, clinking his glass lightly.
Andrew laughed loudly, his movements slightly unsteady. "Hey! Say that on my engagement day, not now!"
His voice carried the unmistakable slur of someone far too drunk.
At that moment, two figures entered the mansion—Ziyan and Ryu.
Andrew's eyes lit up the moment he spotted Ryu.
"Ryu, my boy!" he exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "It's been so long! Where's your brother?"
"He couldn't make it," Ryu replied calmly.
"But congratulations, Mr. Andrew."
"Mr. Andrew?" Andrew scoffed playfully. "Call me big brother!"
Then his gaze shifted to Ziyan.
"Oh! Mr. Ziyan… it's been a while."
Ziyan smiled politely, shaking his hand. "Congratulations."
The party continued, loud and careless, filled with people who had everything—except restraint.
Meanwhile, in the quiet of her room, Roselia stood by the window, her eyes fixed on a distant house.
Ziyan's house.
"I guess… he has a girlfriend," she whispered to herself, though the thought felt oddly heavy in her chest.
Downstairs, Hayuel sat on the couch, his laptop open, fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard.
"Did Roselia buy a dress?" he asked without looking up.
"Yes, sir," Neel replied.
"From where?"
"Ms. Aru's boutique."
Hayuel paused briefly. "Hmm."
After a moment, Neel spoke again. "Today is Mr. Andrew's bachelor party."
"So?" Hayuel replied coldly, eyes still glued to the screen.
"Why don't you go?"
"I'm busy," he said simply. "I sent a gift."
Silence followed… until Hayuel suddenly stopped typing.
His gaze shifted to Neel—sharp, calculating.
"Did she talk to anyone today?"
Neel hesitated.
"No…"
Hayuel studied him for a moment… then returned to his work.
But suspicion lingered in his eyes.
02:57 AM
The night was quiet. Almost too quiet.
Ziyan sat by his window, the moonlight casting a pale glow across his face.
The curtains fluttered gently as the cool breeze slipped inside.
His gaze was fixed on one place.
Roselia's house.
"Roselia…" he whispered, his voice low and steady. "I want to save you… from that hell."
His eyes slowly closed.
A sudden shift.
Darkness.
Blood.
A man lay at the bottom of a staircase, his body trembling, his breaths uneven and fading.
His eyes were wide—filled with terror—as they stared upward.
At the top of the stairs stood a boy.
Dressed in black.
His clothes… stained with blood.
His face… emotionless.
Cold.
The man struggled to speak. "Y-you… k-killed—"
His voice died with him.
The boy didn't move.
Didn't react.
As if life… meant nothing.
Ziyan jolted awake.
"Ah—!" he groaned, clutching his head. "I drank too much…"
He checked his phone.
09:46 AM
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
Then, almost instinctively, he walked to the window.
"Roselia…" he said softly, a faint smile appearing. "I wish I could say good morning to you."
Afternoon sunlight poured into a room filled with paintings.
Ryu sat on a stool, brush in hand, completely absorbed in his work.
The painting—a woman.
Dark hair. Pale skin. Red lips. Eyes like the ocean.
"Beautiful…" a voice said.
A woman stood behind him, wearing a long white skirt and a white off the shoulder top. Her hair was reached her shoulders.
A woman with sharp eyes and a hour glass body.
"Is she your type?" she teased.
Ryu glanced at her. "No. I prefer women with short hair."
They both laughed.
He gently held her hand. "You look gorgeous today. Your boyfriend will love it. Miss. Suai"
She smirked. "I don't have one."
Their eyes met.
The air shifted.
"So when are you going to date?" he asked.
She leaned closer, her voice a whisper.
"That's what I want to ask you."
Silence.
Tension.
Unspoken words.
Their gazes dropped… to each other's lips.
And in that quiet moment
Everything seemed to pause.
To be continued…