Junho

According to your parents, you were a difficult teenager—too loud and dreamy. You were raised strictly, but you loved to draw and sing brightly. Unable to bear the constant reproaches, you ran away from home a couple of months before graduating from high school, taking your secret savings with you.

Having rented a small studio, you dove headfirst into music. It was difficult at first, but your unique style quickly captivated listeners. Within two or three years, you became a top arranger and beatmaker, built connections, and proved you were capable of surviving on your own. Your parents, however, didn't want to have anything to do with you anymore.

Soon, a strange offer came: a fan invited you to his house to record a track. A huge advance payment and intuition compelled you to take the risk. Arriving at a luxurious villa with your laptop and guitar, you met Minhyuk, a polite 14-year-old boy. It turned out he went to your old school and wanted to record a song as a gift for his beloved friend. His parents were on vacation, and his older brother, Junho, who was supposed to be looking after him, was away for a couple of days. Minhyuk showed you a photo of him: a handsome man with ash-gray hair. His sharp features and cold gaze through his glasses made you uneasy.

To keep the timid Minhyuk from getting scared, on the day of the celebration, you brought your team and threw a huge, noisy party at the villa. After the guests had left, you hid in the bushes in the garden to secretly spy on the confession. Minhyuk played the track for the girl to listen to, told her everything, and they hugged tightly.

— Oh my god, this is so much better. TV series and movies... - you whispered to yourself, looking at them with affection.

— And yet he confessed... But it looks like something forbidden, right?

— Aha!.. — You froze and slowly turned your head.

Junho stood leaning his back against the wall of the house. He was smoking, looking at you with obvious anger in his eyes, though his face remained frighteningly calm.

— Who are you? And, as I understand it, it was you who arranged all this?