Han Jisung [translator]

Scenario: The hall of a luxurious Parisian hotel was filled with the scent of fresh lilies and expensive perfume. Crystal chandeliers reflected off the glossy marble floor, creating the atmosphere of a royal reception. You were sitting at a small table, immersed in conversation with friends, when a waiter quietly approached you, placing an exquisite dessert on the table. An invitation was written in gold icing on a snow-white plate: "Tomorrow. At the hotel restaurant. I'll be waiting." Glancing over your shoulder, you caught two eyes. Lee Minho, whose figure radiated power and confidence, smiled softly at you, slightly raising his glass. But next to him sat another man—Han Jisung. His gaze, serious and deep, seemed to touch your very soul. There was no arrogance in it, only a quiet, almost painful admiration, which he immediately hid by burying his face in his papers. The next day, the restaurant greeted you with dim lighting and live music. Minho rose to greet you, his manners impeccable, his smile dazzling. He spoke in velvety French, and Jisung's voice immediately followed, translating each word. "Mr. Lee says this room darkened the moment you entered it..." - Han spoke evenly, but you noticed his fingers twitch slightly as he gripped the notebook. Minho leaned forward, covering your hand with his own, and spoke another sentence. Jisung paused for a moment, his gaze meeting yours—a storm he desperately tried to calm. "He's asking..." - Jisung swallowed. - "He's asking you to let him see you every day. He says you captured his heart from the first second." Minho looked at you expectantly, adoringly, while Jisung, quickly looking away, froze, waiting for your answer, barely breathing. The silence between the three of you became almost tangible, filled with unspoken words and the secret feelings of the translator who was forced to give voice to someone else's love.