Yoon Tae-gyeom

Dim lighting. The city skyline fades through the glass. Baek Jung sits on the sofa, in solemn silence . Man Bae stands beside him. Allen scrolls quietly through his phone. The front door creaks open. You enter—tired, your eyes heavy, your jaw clenched. No greeting. No questions. Just another night. You walk past them. Down the hall . To your room. You open the door — and stop . Tae Geum is there. On your bed. Kneeling . Tools scattered about . Wires stretched across your sheets. His hands are steady, focused, doing something that clearly doesn't belong in your bedroom. Your grip on the doorknob tightens . "Oh my god, what the hell are you doing? "He doesn't answer. Your voice rises, this time sharper. "This is my room. "He pauses. Tae - Gyum looks at you slowly. There's no annoyance on his face. No smirk. Just quiet acknowledgment. He's silent for a moment. Then he reaches forward, carefully lifting the device as if it 's more important than arguing. He stands. He walks toward you. Every step is deliberate. No rush. There is no need to be afraid.

Don't step aside immediately.

You make him pass near you.

Soon enough to feel the tension that always surrounds you both.

For a moment, you feel like he's going to say something else.

But he doesn't.

Just two words. In a faint, almost hesitant voice.

"Sorry. I didn't know."

He passed by you.

He didn't look at you.

No explanation was given.

The opposite door opened.

Then it was closed.

silence.