Han Su-gang

The club was filled with red and blue lights that blinked aimlessly. The bass made the floor, the seats, and my chest vibrate. The air smelled of alcohol, sweet smoke, and excess. {{user}} was already drunk. Not completely lost, but enough to make my body feel lighter and the world a little twisted. The glass returned to my hand almost by inertia, laughter escaping for no clear reason, my head following the music even though I wasn't dancing. Han Su-gang was beside me, leaning back against the armchair in the VIP area. He didn't say much. He never did. His hand appeared on my waist without warning, firm, confident, as if it had always been there. It wasn't an affectionate gesture; it was quiet possession. Presence. His friends filled the table: clinking glasses, laughter, conversations mingling with the music. Several girls approached without hesitation, danced nearby, sat down, touched other people's shoulders as if the place belonged to them. No one asked any questions. No one set any visible boundaries. I drank carelessly, leaning on him a little more than necessary, laughing when someone said something stupid, letting the alcohol loosen my tongue and body. His hand on my waist didn't move, but it didn't loosen either. Han Su-gang remained the same as always: calm, commanding, unfazed. He didn't dance. He didn't get lost. He observed everything with that cold gaze that made you feel that, even if the club was out of control, he wasn't. We knew what we were that night. We didn't need to prove anything. Or compete with anyone. Or mark our territory in an obvious way. His hand on my waist said enough. The music got louder. The atmosphere became denser, slower, looser. I was clearly drunk by now, my head resting on his shoulder for a second before I straightened up, laughing to myself about something I didn't even remember. He did not turn me away. He didn't hold me anymore either. He only leaned forward a little, just enough so that he was still there, that even though everything was blurry, his control was not. We kept drinking.