Chapter 3: The Late Night Encounter

Namjoon stepped into his apartment, the remnants of his latest late-night escapade still buzzing through his veins. He had just dropped the girl off and barely gave her a second glance after their heated session. The night wasn’t over for him yet, though. Dropping his clothes in a careless heap on the floor, he headed for the shower, humming an off-key tune.

The hot water hit his skin, washing away the traces of sweat and the faint perfume of the girl who had clung to him earlier. Namjoon’s voice grew louder, turning the bathroom into his personal stage as he belted out his favourite song, complete with dramatic pauses and an exaggerated falsetto.

"Yeah, baby! This is what I'm talking about!" He grinned at his reflection, enjoying his mini-concert. A shower concert, to be exact. Namjoon threw in a few dance moves, nearly slipping on the wet floor but catching himself just in time. "Close one," he muttered, still laughing to himself as he rinsed off.

Stepping out of the shower, water dripping from his hair, he wrapped a towel loosely around his waist. Underneath, his boxers clung to his damp skin. He rubbed his hair roughly with another towel, still humming, as he headed to his closet. He yanked the door open and stared at the mess of clothes piled up.

"Seriously, I need to clean this," Namjoon muttered, though he knew he wouldn’t. Pulling out a black jacket, a crisp white t-shirt, and jeans, he sighed at the disaster his closet had become. "Next time, for sure."

Rubbing his wet hair back, he threw on the jacket and shirt, then quickly applied some of his skincare routine. He wasn’t just known for his athletic skills, after all; he had a reputation to maintain. His smooth skin and well-groomed look were just as famous as his fuck-boy reputation. Spraying his cologne a heady mix of cedarwood, amber, and a hint of musk that gave off an irresistible scent he smirked at his reflection in the mirror. The scent lingered in the air, adding to his signature charm.

"Perfect," he murmured, finishing the look with a silver pendant, his watch, and matching shoes. Namjoon admired himself for a moment before his phone buzzed.

His friends were waiting outside, the engine of their car revving impatiently. Grabbing his phone and wallet, Namjoon strutted out to join them.

As he approached the car, his friend Taeyang leaned out of the window, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Namjoon, we’ve got some pretty girls with us tonight," Taeyang teased, motioning to the backseat where two girls sat giggling.

Namjoon smirked. "Well, well, well… lucky me," he said, throwing a playful wink at the girls who immediately blushed at his flirtatious tone. "Let's set this night on fire."

They sped off toward the club, music blasting in the car as they laughed and joked. The girls were already vying for Namjoon’s attention, but he was in no rush. Not tonight.

At the club, Namjoon didn’t disappoint. He hit the dance floor with his boys, showing off his moves, his body in perfect sync with the pulsing beat. The girls around him couldn’t help but watch, their eyes glued to his flexing muscles, his v-line peeking out from under his shirt. He even caught the attention of a few girls already there with their boyfriends, but Namjoon wasn’t in the mood for more tonight. He danced, drank, and kept the party going, but something felt off. He couldn’t pinpoint it.

Hours later, after they had their fill of dancing and drinking, Namjoon’s crew decided to grab something to eat. They were starving, and one of the guys mentioned a nearby restaurant that served late-night food. Perfect.

As they entered the small restaurant, the place was almost empty, save for a lone maid cleaning up and the chef in the kitchen. Namjoon barely looked up, his focus still on the messages flooding his phone. But when they ordered their meals Bibimbap, Bulgogi, and jjajangmyeon, the scent of the food hit Namjoon’s senses, pulling his attention away from his phone for the first time that night.

Chef YN, who worked late shifts because her home was right beside the restaurant, came out to take their orders. She bowed politely and noted everything down, asking if they needed any drinks. Though she could tell they were drunk, they declined. She returned to the kitchen, moving with the same quiet grace she always did.

As Namjoon put his phone down, his friends continued their rowdy chatter. One of the boys, too drunk to control his movements, accidentally bumped into the table, knocking some of the food onto Namjoon’s lap. Sauces and rice spilled onto his white t-shirt.

"Ah, shit," Namjoon muttered, but his annoyance melted away when he realised it was just an accident.

"No problem, sir," YN said quietly, already at his side with tissues. She carefully dabbed at the mess on his shirt, her hands gentle as she wiped the stains away. For the first time, Namjoon really looked at her.

Her face was worn, her movements slow but precise. She showed him the washroom. "It’s just over there, sir."

Nodding, Namjoon got up to clean himself. But something strange tugged at him as he glanced back at her while walking away.

After finishing their meal, Namjoon and his friends paid their bill and left, but Namjoon’s mind was somewhere else.

As they walked out, one of his friends nudged him, smirking. "Namjoon, bro, don’t tell me you wanna fuck her too? Come on, she’s gotta be, what, 40? She probably has kids, man!"

Namjoon shrugged, brushing off his friend’s teasing. But inside, something wasn’t sitting right with him.

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