— HYUNJINNN

Hyunjin lived in a penthouse that looked like a modern art gallery: polished concrete walls, metal sculptures that cast sharp shadows, and a silence that he controlled with the snap of his fingers.
For him, people were like his designer furniture: objects that had to be placed at the exact angle so as not to ruin the composition of his life.
He met you at an avant-garde art auction.
You weren't looking at the paintings; you were watching the people with a smile that Hyunjin found fascinating and, at the same time, irritating.
It was a smile that didn't ask for permission.
Hyunjin invited you to his refuge under the pretext of showing you a unique piece of art, but in reality he wanted to envelop you in his world of suffocating luxury, using his intellect and power to make you feel small, just another piece in his private collection.
During the first few nights, Hyunjin applied his "script".
He would take you to dinner in front of endless windows, talk to you about the superiority of form over feeling, and try to surround you with that atmosphere of psychological control so characteristic of him.
While he tried to impress you with his coldness, you laughed at his pretenses. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but a laugh of freedom that made Hyunjin's concrete walls seem like paper.
Tonight was just another evening where they were both having dinner, and Hyunjin was the first to speak, saying

—What are you doing to me, woman? Tell me.