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[Hundred broken hearts ] - [Enhypen]

Golden rays filtered softly through the blinds, casting streaks of warm light onto the room. But it wasn't the serene morning glow that startled Iseul awake—it was the overwhelming brightness. Too bright. Too late.

Her eyes shot open, darting toward the clock on the bedside table. A sinking feeling gripped her stomach. She was late. So late.

The company trip—the one she had spent days preparing for—was happening with or without her, and she had to be there.

Without wasting a second, she raced to the bathroom, her bare feet slapping against the cold tiles.

Finally ready, Iseul stepped out of her room, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, only to spot her brother, Sohee, hunched over her phone. His fingers tapped furiously on the screen, a smug grin spreading across his face.

"What are you doing with my phone?" she demanded, snatching it from his hands.

He made a grab for it, circling around her like a determined little thief. "Give it back!"

Iseul, ignoring his antics, scrolled through her notifications. Confused, she raised a brow. "Why'd you buy so many books?"

"You said me and Yeji are too different, so I'm trying to become her ideal type."

Her brows knit together in disbelief. She blinked at him, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Yeah... good luck with that," she mumbled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Their mother, setting breakfast plates on the table, interrupted the exchange. "Iseul, weren't you supposed to go on that company trip today?"

Her eyes widened, her heart sinking as she remembered. She spun toward Sohee, desperation flashing across her face.

"You're taking me to the hotel," she declared, pointing at him. "It's your fault I woke up late."

"What's in it for me?"

" I won't decline your book deliveries."

"Deal."

And just like that, the siblings struck their reluctant truce.

Iseul finally arrived at the hotel resort, perched on the delivery motorbike from her mom's restaurant. The hum of the engine drew every pair of eyes to her as she skidded to a halt.

Judging stares and whispers rippled through the crowd like static, their disdainful glances sweeping over her like a tidal wave.

Unbothered—or perhaps just used to it—she yanked off her helmet, her hair spilling out messily, and flashed a confident smile. While the others saw an out-of-place delivery girl, Sungchan saw something entirely different. She was radiant in her chaos, and he couldn't help but grin, finding her unpredictability as endearing as ever.

She sauntered over to Sungchan, her best friend, just as Sohee hopped off the motorbike behind her. He scanned Sungchan from head to toe with a raised brow, his expression a mix of confusion and judgment.

"You look familiar," Sohee said flatly, narrowing his eyes. Then, under his breath, he added, "Kinda like a twink, though..."

Thankfully, Sungchan missed the last part, or there might've been a scene. Instead, he casually replied, "I've been to your mom's restaurant before."

Rolling her eyes at her brother's overprotective antics, Iseul tugged at his sleeve. "Okay, that's enough. You can drive off now."

Sohee lingered for a moment, shooting Sungchan one last skeptical glance before finally speeding away.

With her brother out of sight, Iseul let out a sigh of relief and turned to Sungchan.

"I missed you, by the way," she said with a grin, falling into step beside him as they walked toward the hotel entrance.

"I missed you more," he teased back. "By the way, there's a tennis match later. You're playing."

"Wait, what? Sungchan, I literally just got here!"

"You'll be fine," he said, his voice light and encouraging. "Besides, you wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?"

She groaned, already regretting her decision to leave her comfortable bed this morning. As they reached the lobby, she mumbled something about needing to change first, already plotting ways to survive whatever chaos Sungchan had roped her into this time.

With her hair tied in a high ponytail and a crisp white tennis skirt, Iseul exuded an air of confidence that matched her skill. Every match with Sungchan ending in her favor. Though exhaustion crept into her limbs, the adrenaline from her streak of victories kept her moving.

But all of that energy seemed to shift the moment she caught sight of Sunghoon stepping onto the scene. He was an unexpected presence; rumors had always painted him as the kind of man who avoided company trips. Yet, there he was, dressed impeccably casual, sunglasses shielding his sharp gaze.

Iseul tried to focus, bouncing the racket in her hand and pretending he wasn't there, though the weight of his presence lingered at the edges of her mind.

"Sir," Jiwon called out, her voice cutting through the court's chatter. "Why don't you join us for a match?"

Sunghoon pushed his sunglasses slightly down his nose, a flicker of amusement crossing his features. "I wouldn't want to disturb your game."

"Why? Are you scared, sir?" Iseul's voice carried a teasing lilt, her playful challenge hanging in the air.

A small crowd began to gather, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Sungchan, leaning on his racket, smirked knowingly, while Rena, perched on the sidelines, giggled at the scene unfolding before her.

Sunghoon stepped forward, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile. "Scared? Hardly."

He removed his sunglasses, tucking them into his pocket, and strode onto the court with a calm, commanding air. His movements were deliberate, exuding quiet confidence. Iseul could feel her pulse quicken—not from nerves, but from the thrill of the challenge.

Rena clapped her hands together, grinning. "This looks fun. I'm joining in—on Iseul's team, of course!"

With that, the court's atmosphere shifted into something electric. Iseul, competitive to her core, tightened her grip on her racket. Sunghoon, ever more competitive and equally stubborn, simply raised an eyebrow, unbothered by the attention.

As the game set up, Iseul and Sunghoon locked eyes, a silent rivalry sparking between them.

Both teams huddled together, as they chanted their newly team names. Iseul stood on one side of the court, her eyes narrowing at Sunghoon, who matched her glare with an equally intense one.

The match began, and the tension was palpable. Neither team was willing to give an inch. Each point tied the score, each volley more heated than the last. Iseul's competitive streak blazed like fire, and Sunghoon, with his unwavering focus, was more than ready to match her intensity.

The game reached its peak as Sunghoon stepped up to serve. His athletic build and sharp movements made him an intimidating opponent, his strength translating into each strike. This time, his hit was too powerful—a perfect storm of force.

The ball rocketed across the court, and before anyone could react, it struck Iseul squarely in the face.

Time seemed to slow as the sound of impact echoed. Iseul staggered, her vision spinning as her ears began to ring. The racket slipped from her hands, and she crumpled to the ground in a daze.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as panic set in. Sunghoon froze for half a heartbeat before rushing to her side, his expression twisted with worry.

He knelt down, his hands cupping her face gently. "Iseul," he called urgently, his usually steady voice trembling. "Wake up."

Sungchan darted forward, grabbing a bottle of water and splashing it over her. The cool liquid startled her, and she blinked, slowly regaining her senses.

The crowd hovered around Iseul, their voices a muddled mix of concern and advice. Someone offered to help her up, another suggested she sit out for the rest of the match. But Iseul, ever defiant, pushed them all away, her movements firm despite the ache in her head.

"I'm fine!" she snapped, her voice cutting through the chaos. Then, louder, with a fire that silenced the murmurs around her, she declared, "I'm going to win!"

Everyone stared, stunned by the sheer determination in her eyes. Even Sunghoon, who had stayed close in case she stumbled, took a step back, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

She picked up her racket, her grip steady despite the tremor in her hands. Her team rallied behind her, their earlier hesitance melting into newfound energy. The match resumed, and Iseul was unstoppable.

When the final point was scored, Iseul's victory was undeniable. She stood in the center of the court, chest heaving, her ponytail slightly disheveled but her expression triumphant.

The applause was deafening, mixed with cheers from her team. Sungchan was the first to rush over, lifting her into a celebratory spin. "I knew you'd do it!" he shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

Iseul laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as they spun. But Sunghoon, still on the other side of the net, froze at the sight. His jaw tightened, and his grip on the racket turned white-knuckled.

The faint murmur of congratulations around him faded to static as his gaze locked on Iseul and Sungchan. The way she smiled at Sungchan, her arms draped casually around him—it set something off inside him.

When the spin ended, Iseul glanced over, her grin only widening when she saw Sunghoon's scowl. "What's wrong, sir?" she teased, picking up on his dark mood almost immediately.

"Nothing," Sunghoon said coldly, his tone clipped. He slammed the racket onto the bench and turned on his heel, walking away without another word.

The morning had faded into a golden afternoon, sunlight shimmering off the river as the team sat on the grassy bank. The soft hum of water and chirping birds blended into the background, but Sunghoon wasn't paying attention to any of it. His gaze kept drifting to Iseul.

She sat cross-legged on the blanket, her sundress softly billowing in the breeze, braids framing her face. Her gaze lingered on the ground, lost in thought, her fingers idly tugging at a loose thread on the fabric beneath her.

There was something maddening about how effortless she looked, oblivious to the effect she had on him.

Rena broke the calm with her ever-efficient tone. "The couple has accepted the deal," she said, holding a pen to her lips as if already planning the next step. "We'll be organizing their wedding, but they want more creative ideas from us."

Jiwon leaned back, offering a pitch without hesitation. "Marriage is a dream. A once-in-a-lifetime experience. We sell them this vision of perfection—something eternal."

Iseul's shoulders stiffened, her hand pausing mid-motion. Weddings. Of course, it had to be weddings. She forced herself to focus on the rustling leaves overhead, trying to steady her thoughts.

But Sungchan spoke before she could collect herself. "That's not really accurate, is it?" he said, his voice calm but firm. "Not every marriage is a fairytale. Some couples get divorced. Others start over. Who's to say marriage is only a once-in-a-lifetime thing?"

Iseul turned to Sungchan, surprised by his words, but even more so by the way they resonated with her. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, a fleeting sense of relief washing over her. He understood—he got it.

But then, she felt the weight of someone else's gaze. Slowly, her eyes drifted to Sunghoon. His brows were furrowed, his jaw tight, and his eyes darkened with something unspoken—something sharp. There was no mistake. He had heard Sungchan's words, and the quiet tension in the air thickened as if the space between them had charged with something neither of them dared to acknowledge.

Turning her attention back to the discussion, she felt a quiet sense of clarity. She could speak her mind now, without the need for anyone's approval, without fear of being dismissed.

"I think we're missing the point here," she said, her voice steady as she straightened in her chair. "Marriage is materialistic." She allowed herself to meet each pair of eyes around the table. "If we want to really sell this, we need to focus on what matters most to couples—money. Financial problems are the leading cause of divorce. If we're being honest, we should promise them that we'll handle their expenses. That's what they're actually buying into."

Her words were like a spark to dry tinder. Sunghoon's head snapped toward her, his expression unreadable, though his darkened eyes betrayed his irritation.

"That's your take?" he asked coolly, his voice low and edged with steel.

She tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. "It's practical."

"Or cynical," he shot back, leaning forward.

Rena cleared her throat awkwardly, trying to redirect the conversation, but the tension was palpable.

Sunghoon's gaze didn't waver from Iseul. "Marriage isn't just about money. Reducing it to that—it's insulting to the concept."

Iseul scoffed bitterly, her eyes narrowing as she turned to Sunghoon. "Be realistic! When we were married..." she trailed off, but the words had already left her lips. She instantly regretted them, but it was too late.

The room fell into stunned silence, and Iseul could almost hear the sharp intake of breath from around the table.

Rena's voice broke through the awkward pause, her tone laced with surprise. "Iseul, you were married?"

Iseul's heart skipped a beat, and for a second, she thought her secret might spill out in front of everyone. Her gaze flickered to Sunghoon, but thankfully, the attention wasn't directed toward the we part of her statement. No one seemed to make the connection just yet.

She nodded slowly, her face betraying none of the panic inside her. "Yes," she muttered, her voice steady, "when I was married..." She hesitated for a moment before continuing, her frustration rising again. "Me and my ex-husband didn't have enough funds for a proper wedding. We just registered our marriage, and I wore a used wedding dress. We couldn't even go on a honeymoon."

The words hung heavily in the air, and Iseul's eyes flicked to Sunghoon, only to find him raising his eyebrows in an almost amused, but annoyed, fashion.

He was done. He was so done with her. He hated her attitude, the way she turned everything into a cynical statement, and how she dismissed the happy days during their marriage. But Iseul didn't care. She was on a roll now.

"Talk about love all you want," she continued, her voice colder now, "but it doesn't pay the bills."

A heavy silence followed her words, as if the room collectively held its breath. Sunghoon's jaw tightened, and the frustration was clear on his face.

"Miss Iseul, I do agree with some of the statements, but love shouldn't be measured with money."

Trying to lighten the mood, Rena said, "You two shared great ideas. That's why we'll mix both dream and reality in our approach. A balance of the ideal and the practical."

Sunghoon stood up abruptly, signaling that the meeting was over. The room fell silent for a moment, the tension still thick in the air. Without sparing another glance at anyone, he turned on his heel and walked toward his room, his jaw clenched tight. His frustration was evident, his emotions still simmering from the heated exchange.

Iseul, equally pissed off, followed suit. She stood up sharply. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of anger and confusion, and without a second thought, she stormed out of the garden, ignoring the glances of her colleagues.

She made her way down the hall, each step heavy with her frustration, until she reached her room. Slamming the door behind her, she leaned against it, her breath coming in short bursts. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her pulse still racing from the confrontation.

Iseul's frustration bubbled up, her breath quickening as she paced around her room. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one sharp and angry, all aimed at Sunghoon. She had tried. She really had. But somehow, every conversation with him turned into a battle of wills, and it was exhausting.

The way he looked at her, his icy responses, the way he seemed to treat her like an obstacle rather than an equal—it was infuriating. If only they could communicate without all the tension, without all the fighting. But no, it was like they were trapped in a cycle neither of them could break.

She threw herself onto her bed, beating up the pillow as she imagined it was Sunghoon. She let out a muffled scream, her anger bubbling over, and the frustration of the day came crashing down on her.

That was it. She couldn't take it anymore.

She stormed out of her room, her steps heavy as she marched down the hallway. Her fists clenched at her sides as she approached Sunghoon's door. Without thinking, she raised her hand and knocked furiously, her knuckles rapping sharply against the wood.

Sunghoon, still seething from the meeting, was sitting on his bed, his eyes narrowed in irritation. He had been cursing under his breath ever since he stepped into his room. Iseul. That stubborn, infuriating woman. Why did everything have to be a confrontation with her? Why couldn't she just understand? He couldn't figure it out. Maybe if she'd just been quieter, maybe if she'd just listened instead of always pushing back...

But before he could even attempt to cool down, the sound of loud knocking echoed through his room. His head snapped up, his irritation flaring even more.

"Iseul..." he muttered under his breath. He knew it was her, the only person who would dare disrupt his peace so boldly.

He stood up from his desk, walking to the door with a glare already forming on his face. He flung it open, not giving her any chance to knock again.

"What the hell do you want?" he snapped, his voice sharp, cutting through the tension.

Iseul stormed into Sunghoon's room, her chest tight with fury, every step driven by the need to confront him. The door slammed behind her, a sharp punctuation to her anger.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice raw with frustration.

Sunghoon turned slowly, eyes already cold and calculating. The tension between them thickened, a sharp, suffocating energy.

"No actually what's your problem with me?" His voice was low, but it cut through the space like a blade. "All that talk about not going on a honeymoon... is that all you're focused on?"

Iseul's hands balled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. The words felt like an assault, and she was already fighting to keep herself from unraveling.

"That's all you got from everything I've said? You're fixated on that?" Her voice was tight, a challenge. "What do you want from me? Just say it already!"

Sunghoon's lips curled into a sneer, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing," he spat, his voice cold and clipped. "I don't want anything from you."

Iseul's eyes narrowed, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger and something darker—something that felt like hurt, but she refused to acknowledge it. She took a step toward him, her gaze locked on his.

"Is that so? Then why are you so hell-bent on attacking me? Always criticizing. Even during the match, you were so aggressive. You nearly gave me amnesia."

Sunghoon's posture stiffened, his jaw tightening as his own anger built, spiraling into something darker. He took a step forward, his breath shallow. "Oh, really?" His words came out slow, each one calculated. "But you were having so much fun with Sungchan, weren't you? All that flirting, all that skinship... What does that look like to you?"

Iseul's hands trembled, fists clenched so tight her nails cut into her skin. His words dug into her like knives, and she was done holding back.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Sungchan is my friend!"

Sunghoon's gaze didn't waver, but something inside him snapped at her next words. "Be honest. Did you sleep with him?"

The question hit like a slap, a punch to the gut. For a moment, everything went still. Iseul saw the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, but it was too late.

Without thinking, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face, the sting of the contact sharp and burning. It felt as though her heart was bleeding as she watched him stand there, his face frozen, but his fury seeping through his clenched jaw.

Iseul's chest heaved as she turned on her heel, her legs shaky as she fought to escape before the tears she refused to let fall betrayed her.

"I hate you," she whispered under her breath, her voice breaking as she rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Sunghoon stood there, stunned for a moment, the heat of his cheek burning. His breath was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest. The rage inside him simmered, thick and dark. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as the weight of his emotions crushed down on him.

He couldn't understand why it hurt so much. He was furious with her. Furious at himself. Furious that every word, every glance, seemed to ignite something in him that he couldn't control.

With a guttural growl, Sunghoon slammed his fist into the wall. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through his hand, but it didn't matter. He needed to feel something other than this suffocating anger. As his breath steadied, the realization hit him like a cold, harsh wave. He was drowning in it all—the anger, the resentment, the impossibility of them ever understanding each other. And yet... he couldn't seem to shake her from his thoughts.

Iseul stood by the river, her tears falling like raindrops, one after the other, a torrent she couldn't control. The cool breeze only served to remind her of the emptiness around her, how alone she felt.

She had waited, silently hoping Sunghoon would come after her, apologize, somehow make everything right. But no one came.

Then, just as the sorrow threatened to swallow her whole, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinched, her heart lurching, half-hoping it would be Sunghoon, but when she turned, it was Sungchan.

"You okay?" His voice, though gentle, had an edge of concern she wasn't used to from him.

Iseul blinked back tears and nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah... just getting some fresh air." She tried to muster a smile, but it felt fragile and empty, like it wouldn't last.

Sungchan wasn't fooled. He saw the sadness in her eyes, the way it drained the life out of her. He stepped closer, a casual hand resting on her shoulder, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent of concern.

"That look doesn't fit you. You should smile. You look ugly like that."

Iseul let out a soft laugh, the first genuine sound she'd made in what felt like hours. It was the kind of blunt, unfiltered remark only Sungchan could make, and in that moment, it pulled her out of her head. His words, ridiculous as they were, somehow made her feel less alone.

"Sungchan," she said, her voice soft but sincere. "I like this trait of yours. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You don't keep secrets."

Sungchan's face softened, a hint of guilt flashing through his eyes, but he didn't speak right away. Instead, he reached for her hand, his fingers gently wrapping around hers.

"Iseul, I have something to tell you," he said, his voice low, a strange mix of hesitation and urgency.

But Iseul wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were locked on something else entirely. Sungchan was confused, but he didn't ask. He simply held her hand tighter, trying to pull her attention back to him.

But instead, Iseul remained unmoving, her eyes focused on the distance, it was Sunghoon, standing across the river, a dark shadow in the fading light. His posture was stiff, but there was something in the way he looked at them, at their interwined hands.

Iseul didn't notice Sungchan's confusion. Her eyes stayed fixed on Sunghoon, a sadness in them that seemed to reach out across the distance.

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