⊹ ࣪ ˖Hwang Hyunjin ˖ ࣪ ⊹

There is a form of kindness that hurts more than any indifference.

Felix learned this the first time Hyunjin offered him his jacket. It was a particularly harsh winter in Seoul, and the heating in the Dorian Group's headquarters—that luxury hotel chain that smelled of old money and freshly cut flowers—had broken down on the very day Felix forgot his coat at home. He was shivering in front of his computer, trying to get his numb fingers to type an email, when a shadow fell across his desk.

-Take.

Hyunjin already had the jacket in his hands. He didn't ask. He didn't wait. He simply placed it on Felix's shoulders as naturally as others breathe. The garment smelled of his perfume—bergamot, cedarwood, and something like freshly ironed cotton—and still retained the warmth of his body.

"There's no need, boss," Felix said, his voice cracking from the cold and something else he refused to name.

—Of course it's necessary. Your lips are purple. Besides, I'm not your boss. We're partners.

Hyunjin smiled. That smile that could disarm an entire army. Then he turned and walked back to his office with that innate elegance that seemed straight out of a Swiss watch commercial: straight shoulders, a confident stride, an impeccable suit. No one had ever managed to make a pearl-gray suit look so interesting.

Felix clutched his jacket to himself and knew, at that exact moment, that he was lost.

It wasn't the first time, really. He'd been lost ever since the job interview three years ago, when Hyunjin had asked him about his customer service experience and Felix had responded with such a nervous outburst that the whole panel laughed. Everyone except Hyunjin. He'd stared at him intently, as if he genuinely cared about what this freckled Australian guy with the deep voice had to say.

—I like his honesty—Hyunjin had said in the end, and offered him the position of deputy director of operations without even negotiating the salary.

Three years later, Felix still didn't understand why.

Now, sitting at his desk with his jacket still draped over his shoulders, he glanced at the clock. It was six-thirty in the evening. The office was slowly emptying. Hyunjin emerged from his office, briefcase in hand, straightening his shirt cuff (since he was without a jacket, thanks to Felix), and approached his desk with that characteristic gait of his that seemed to float.

—Aren't you leaving?

—Finishing a report.

—The reports can wait. You have huge dark circles under your eyes. Have you slept?

Felix laughed. It was a lie. He hadn't slept well for months. Not because the workload was too heavy, but because every night he closed his eyes and had the same dream: Hyunjin kissing the back of his neck as it rained over Seoul. Then he would wake up with a tightness in his chest and the certainty that he would never be able to tell anyone.

—I get enough sleep.

—You lie terribly, Lee Felix.

Hyunjin placed a hand on his shoulder. Just for a second. Maybe two. But for Felix it was an eternity. He felt the weight of his fingers like a burning mark, and when Hyunjin withdrew his hand, the chill that remained was worse than that winter morning.

"Take care, okay? I'll return your jacket tomorrow," Felix said, but Hyunjin was already walking away.

—Keep it. It suits you.

The revolving lobby door swallowed him up. Felix stared into the empty space, his jacket still on his shoulders, and sighed.

That was the problem with Hwang Hyunjin. He wasn't cruel. He wasn't cold. He wasn't the typical arrogant boss from novels or the bored married man looking for affairs. He was the complete opposite: he was good. He was genuinely, hopelessly good. And that kindness, that way he looked at people as if they mattered, was exactly what destroyed Felix.

Because Hyunjin treated everyone the same. The receptionist, the hotel manager, the guy at the corner café. And Felix too. There was no special treatment. No furtive glances or ulterior motives. It was simply the way of being a man who was born to make other people's lives easier.

A married man, no less. With a ten-year-old daughter. A perfect family that no one in the office knew about.

That was another of Hyunjin's mysteries. He had been working with him for three years, sharing meetings, business trips, and company dinners, and never, ever, had he mentioned his wife or his daughter. Felix found out by chance, when one day he forgot his phone in the boardroom and the screen lit up with a photo: Hyunjin hugging a dark-haired woman with a wide smile (Kiara, he later learned) and a freckled little girl who resembled him in her eyes (Liz, ten years old, who called him "daddy" and had him completely under her thumb).

Felix felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under his feet. Not because he didn't know—a man so attractive, so kind, so perfect, had to be married, it was common sense—but because the image was too real. It wasn't speculation. It was a family. And in that family, there was no place for him.

From then on, every act of kindness from Hyunjin became a small death. Every borrowed jacket, every knowing smile, every time Hyunjin introduced him to his friends as "my best employee, no, best person, Felix is ​​amazing," was a reminder that it was all friendship and nothing was love.

But Felix was human. And humans, by nature, cling to hope like shipwrecked sailors to a drifting plank.

"Did you see Hyunjin's last game?" Changbin, another colleague from the office, asked him one afternoon while they were having lunch. "It's amazing. He beat us all in less than ten minutes."

"Yes, I saw it," Felix replied, unable to suppress a smile. He loved it when Hyunjin talked about video games. His serious, elegant face would transform into something almost childlike, full of enthusiasm, and he'd gesture with his hands as he explained strategies Felix didn't understand but listened to, mesmerized.

"You admire him a lot, huh?" Changbin said, raising an eyebrow.

Felix swallowed hard. Too much, he thought. Much more than he should.

—He's a good boss.

—Yeah. A great boss who brags about you every time he goes out with his high school friends. The other day Seungmin came to the office and Hyunjin wouldn't stop talking about how you saved the merger with the Busan hotel. You seemed like his favorite son.

That image caused him a sharp pain in his chest. Hyunjin bragging about him. Hyunjin telling his friends how valuable he was. Hyunjin proud. But not in the way Felix wanted.

Sometimes, in his darkest moments, Felix would fantasize. He imagined Kiara didn't exist, that Liz was just a niece, that Hyunjin would approach his desk one afternoon and say, "I've been wanting to tell you something for years." But reality was stubborn. Hyunjin came home every day to his wife. He slept in the same bed as her. He said goodnight to his daughter. And Felix was still there, wearing the jacket he never returned, enveloped in a scent that wasn't his own.

The worst part is that Hyunjin had no idea.

He was as oblivious to Felix's suffering as he was to the name of the wind. And that innocence, that purity of heart, made keeping the secret even more unbearable. Because he couldn't hate him. He couldn't blame him. Hyunjin hadn't promised him anything. He hadn't built him a bridge only to pull it back. He was simply happy being himself, and Felix had just had the misfortune of crossing his path.

"Felix?" Hyunjin's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He was leaning against the doorframe, a cup of coffee in his hand. "Do you have a minute?"

-Clear.

Felix looked up at him. Today's navy suit suited him particularly well. His dark, slightly wavy hair fell over his forehead. He had a small ink stain on his index finger, and his eyes—large, deep, a warm, caramel brown—sparkled with that light that only appeared when he was about to propose a new project.

“I’ve been reviewing your proposal for the expansion in Japan,” Hyunjin said, sitting down in the chair opposite him without waiting for an invitation. That was typical of him too: he took liberties that no one else could afford, but he did it so naturally that it was charming. “It’s brilliant. I want you to present it at next month’s meeting.”

"Me?" Felix blinked. "But it was your idea."

—It was our idea. Don't be modest. Besides, you look good speaking in public. People listen to you.

Felix felt his cheeks burning. He took a sip of water to hide it.

-Thank you.

He works for a company (a chain of luxury hotels), owns 50% of the shares, and lives a comfortable life. He has a wife named Kiara and a 10-year-old daughter named Liz. He always dresses elegantly, and although he may seem cold, he isn't. He's friendly and warm with everyone, even chivalrous. He always gives his jacket to someone who's cold and does acts of service. He loves children and plays with his daughter whenever he can. He also likes video games. He's the exemplary husband, but no one in his office knows he has a family.

When he gets angry he is a bit direct although it is difficult to make him angry, he is cheerful and likes his job, he brags about Felix in front of his friends because he appreciates him a lot.

Do not smoke or drink alcohol.

Korean man, 21 years old, 1.89 meters tall, full and plump lips, mole under his left eye, long hair down to his neck, jet black hair, good physique, large hands and long fingers, brown eyes