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[Paradise] - [T-Max]

Even after arriving at the hotel, Iseul spent the entire day nestled in the sanctuary of her bed. The soft glow of her phone reflected off her pale face, her thumb lazily scrolling through TikTok as waves of melancholy washed over her. The rich gold and cream tones of the suite around her only served to mock her mood.

Chaeryoung paced near the door, her patience dwindling. She'd tried everything—gentle coaxing, joking, even bribes—but Iseul remained unmoved, a ghost of her usual self.

Finally, her frustration boiled over. She marched to the bed and yanked the duvet off. "Iseul, enough! Get up. Now."

Iseul shot her an annoyed look, her body barely shifting as she clung to her phone like a lifeline. "What do you want, Chaeryoung? Let me wallow in peace."

"No. We're going downstairs. You need to eat something that isn't junk, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

Before Iseul could resist, Chaeryoung grabbed her arm and practically dragged her to the restaurant. The clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation surrounded them as they settled into a small, secluded table.

Iseul picked at her food, her movements mechanical. When hunger finally overtook her apathy, she ate quickly, as though trying to escape the moment. She pushed her chair back abruptly, signaling her intent to leave.

"Okay, done. I'm going back upstairs now."

"No!" Chaeryoung's voice rang louder than she intended, drawing a few curious glances. She softened her tone but remained firm. "No, you're not."

"Why not? I just want to go back to my room, put on IU songs, and cry. What's wrong with that?"

Chaeryoung's eyes darted around the room, desperate for a lifeline. Then her gaze snagged on something—or someone—off to the side. Her lips twitched into a knowing smirk, but she quickly masked it before Iseul could notice.

She leaned forward with an almost conspiratorial energy. "Because I have a better idea," Chaeryoung said, gesturing toward the faint sound of music wafting in from another area of the hotel.

"I hear music. Let's check it out. Maybe hit the bar?"

Iseul blinked, her brows furrowing in suspicion. "The bar? Since when are you a fan of that?"

"Since now." Chaeryoung grinned, grabbing Iseul's hand and pulling her from her seat.

"Chaeryoung, I don't want to go! I'm not in the mood!" Iseul protested, her voice weak and weary.

"Trust me," Chaeryoung said, her determination unwavering. "You'll thank me later."

Iseul sighed, her resistance crumbling. The music grew louder as they walked, and for a fleeting moment, Iseul wondered if maybe, just maybe, the night wouldn't be as unbearable as the day had been.

Iseul swirled her drink idly, the cool condensation from the glass pooling at her fingertips. The dimly lit bar was alive with soft music, laughter, and the hum of conversation. She leaned back in her chair, exhaling softly.

"Good thing we came here," she admitted to Chaeryoung, her voice tinged with reluctant gratitude. "This place is... beautiful."

Chaeryoung smiled, satisfied, but her eyes kept darting around the room, looking for something—or someone.

Iseul, oblivious, let her gaze drift aimlessly. The amber glow of the lights blurred into the hazy ambiance of the bar, creating a warmth that momentarily soothed her battered heart. But then, her eyes landed on a figure in the distance.

The shape was unmistakable—tall, broad-shouldered, with a presence that commanded attention even in the most mundane of moments.

Her heart dropped.

Iseul's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the glass. Without thinking, she clutched Chaeryoung's hand as though anchoring herself to reality.

"My mind is playing tricks on me again," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why am I seeing a Sunghoon?"

Chaeryoung froze for a moment, her plan hanging precariously on the edge. She turned her head slowly, feigning surprise, before raising her hand in a wave toward someone.

Changbin.

As if on cue, Sunghoon, who had been sitting with Changbin at a table near the bar, followed the direction of his friend's gaze. When his eyes landed on Iseul, time seemed to slow.

His heart dropped too, a heavy, resounding thud that reverberated through his chest. He hadn't prepared for this—not for the sight of her here, her delicate features shadowed by the dim light, her expression a mix of shock and something that looked like pain.

Iseul's grip on Chaeryoung's hand tightened further, her nails digging into her friend's skin. "He's looking at me," she hissed, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar.

Chaeryoung, ever the orchestrator, leaned back in her chair, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Well, maybe he's seeing things too."

But for Sunghoon, it was no illusion. His chest tightened as memories surged forward unbidden—the way she used to laugh, the warmth of her presence, the ache that followed every word they'd exchanged during their last encounter. He wanted to look away, but his body betrayed him, his gaze locked onto hers like a magnet.

Both sat frozen in their respective worlds, as though the universe had conspired to put them in the same place, at the same time, with no warning.

Chaeryoung, with her usual mischievous smile, leaned toward Iseul, muttered something unintelligible, and suddenly walked off toward Changbin without a backward glance. Iseul almost cursed her best friend's very existence.

The urge to yell after Chaeryoung was smothered by a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Iseul felt it before she saw him—Sunghoon's presence, unmistakable, as heavy and consuming as a storm cloud. Her body tensed, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass until her knuckles turned white. Her cocktail trembled slightly in her hand, betraying the shakiness she couldn't suppress.

Stay calm, act nonchalant, she chanted internally, though her resolve was splintering with every step he took closer.

She felt his proximity before she dared look up—the faint scent of his cologne stirring a thousand bittersweet memories. Her heart twisted painfully, an ache that settled deep in her chest. But she refused to show it. Not to him. Never to him.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was fighting his own battle. He had seen her trembling, though she tried to hide it behind a forced calm. He wanted to look at her—really look at her—but he couldn't risk it. He knew if he saw the emotion in her eyes, he'd crumble.

He'd forget everything he promised himself, every reason he had for keeping her at a distance.

He was supposed to hate her.

Instead, his voice betrayed him, low and uneven. "What are you doing here, Iseul?"

Iseul snapped her head toward him, momentarily stunned by the sound of his voice. It carried the weight of so much anger, so much confusion, and yet, she heard the trace of something else—something fragile.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to reply with her usual flippant tone, a shield she wore to protect herself. "Tch, can't I have fun anymore? Actually, what are you doing here?"

"Business," he replied curtly, his jaw tightening.

It was quiet now between them. Sunghoon's fists trembled at his sides, the tension in his chest suffocating him with every passing second. He wanted to reach out, to speak, to do something—anything—to ease the silence between them, but he couldn't. He had built this wall around himself, brick by brick, to keep from falling apart.

And then, finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He turned to her, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "Iseul, are you okay? You've been gone for two days."

Her response was a sharp laugh, one laced with bitterness. "I got permission," she said, her eyes glinting with something cold, almost cruel. She didn't look at him with the softness he once craved, instead choosing to rub salt into the wound. "Sungchan. I'm his assistant now. I wanted to take two days off to rest, and he, being the gentleman he is, gave me permission."

Sunghoon's jaw clenched so tightly it felt like his teeth might break. His heart stuttered painfully in his chest, but he couldn't let it show. She was no longer his concern, right? She had moved on, and so had he.

He nodded stiffly, his gaze falling to the table as if it could offer him solace. But nothing could.

Iseul giggled, the sound hollow, pretending to be carefree, her smile bright but forced. She put her drink down slowly, the motion deliberate, almost mockingly.

"And how are you, Sunghoon? You must be busy with all the wedding preparations, huh?"

Her words hit him like a slap, the mention of the wedding making his stomach twist painfully. "Rena is taking care of those things," he muttered, the words bitter in his mouth.

Iseul's eyes narrowed slightly, her fake cheer slipping for a moment. She took a sip of her drink, but the moment it touched her lips, she faltered.

Her smile faltered as she turned to him, her eyes darkening with a mix of frustration and bitterness. "I'm getting a new drink," she said, her voice laced with something venomous.

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. With deliberate steps, she walked past him, her shoulder brushing against his in an attempt to shove him aside.

But Sunghoon didn't budge. He was solid, unmoving, a wall she couldn't break through, no matter how hard she tried. Her breath hitched in frustration as she muttered under her breath, "Fucker," the word sharp and bitter, meant for him, but barely audible.

Sunghoon didn't react, didn't even look at her. He simply turned and walked away.

Chaeryoung, sensing the tension in the air, quickly moved toward Iseul, her eyes filled with concern. She rushed over, her voice gentle but urgent, "Iseul, are you alright?"

But Iseul's laughter sliced through the the room, sharp and unhinged, her eyes burning into Sunghoon like a hunter eyeing her prey.

Her voice carried, a cruel mockery of joy, "That motherfucker. He has the audacity to ask if I'm okay—can you believe it?" The words spilled from her mouth like venom, but the hollow tone betrayed the fragility of the act she was trying so desperately to pull off.

Chaeryoung, catching the drift, mirrored Iseul's manic energy, laughing along like a willing accomplice. "He's crazy! We need to beat his ass up," she said, the sarcasm in her voice so thick it was almost tangible.

Chaeryoung wasn't blind—she knew this wasn't just about Sunghoon anymore. It was Iseul's way of trying to claw back control over a situation that was slipping away, one cruel joke at a time.

Across the room, Sunghoon stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the two of them. He couldn't hear the words—didn't need to. The way Iseul's laughter twisted his insides, the way it grated against his very soul.

His jaw clenched, a wave of anger crashing over him like a tide he couldn't outrun. But it wasn't just anger—it was hurt. A raw, aching kind of hurt that made his heart bleed with every beat.

Turning away, he faced Changbin, his voice low and heavy with frustration, barely containing the rage bubbling up inside him. "See this? This is Iseul. She doesn't care about anyone but herself..." The words hit him like a slap, each one punctuated with the sharp sting of betrayal. "I'm leaving."

But before he could take a step, Changbin's hand shot out, gripping his arm firmly. The pressure was just enough to stop him, to force him to turn back. "Dude, you can't show her you're affected," Changbin said, he didn't agree with himself but anything to make Sunghoon stay.

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