Seoul’s vibrant energy pulsed beneath the night sky, a never-ending hum of life, laughter, and fleeting love affairs. The city was Jinwoo’s favorite escape. By day, he was the composed, reserved professional, playing his part in a world that seemed determined to place everyone in neatly labeled boxes. But at night, beneath the neon glow, he allowed himself to breathe.

It wasn’t that he felt oppressed in his day-to-day life; he had long since come out and was comfortable in his skin. Still, there was something about the nightlife in Seoul—the way the city came alive with strangers' laughter and the rhythm of clinking glasses—that gave him a sense of freedom. In the swirl of color and sound, Jinwoo didn’t need to play a role. He could just be.

As he walked through the crowded streets of Hongdae, weaving between groups of friends and couples, Jinwoo tugged his coat tighter around himself, feeling the bite of the cool autumn air. He liked the way the season turned in Seoul, how the crisp breeze signaled the slow descent into winter. The leaves had just started to change color, adding splashes of orange and yellow to the urban landscape. It was beautiful, in its own way.

He sighed, glancing up at the familiar neon sign of his usual haunt, a bar tucked away in a quieter corner of the district. To anyone passing by, it might have seemed nondescript—just another dimly lit establishment offering overpriced drinks and loud music. But for Jinwoo, it was more than that. It was a sanctuary, a place where the weight of the world could slip off his shoulders, even if just for a few hours.

Inside, the air was thick with conversation, laughter, and the faint scent of alcohol. Jinwoo let the familiar atmosphere wash over him as he made his way to the bar. The bartender, a friendly face he had come to know over the years, nodded at him, already pouring his usual drink.

“Rough day?” the bartender asked, sliding the glass toward him.

Jinwoo smiled faintly and took a sip of the whiskey, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. “Not particularly. Just needed a change of scenery.”

The bartender chuckled. “You and half of Seoul.”

Jinwoo let out a soft laugh, but his thoughts were already drifting. His gaze swept across the bar, taking in the usual mix of patrons—groups of friends huddled together in booths, couples leaning in close, and solitary drinkers nursing their own thoughts. It was a familiar scene, one that Jinwoo had observed countless times before.

But tonight, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

At the far end of the bar, standing with a drink in hand, was a man Jinwoo had never seen before. That alone was unusual; after so many nights spent in this place, Jinwoo had come to recognize most of the regulars. But this man was different. He had an air about him—something that made him stand out even in the crowded room.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and an easy confidence that seemed to radiate from him. His dark hair was tousled in that effortlessly messy way that suggested he didn’t care much about appearances, though Jinwoo suspected that was far from the truth. He wore a leather jacket, slightly worn but undeniably stylish, and the way he leaned against the bar spoke of someone who was used to being the center of attention.

And he was. Jinwoo wasn’t the only one watching him. Several women nearby were openly staring, giggling behind their hands as they whispered to each other. The man seemed to notice but didn’t react, his attention focused elsewhere—on his drink, on the music, or perhaps on some distant thought that only he could see.

Jinwoo found himself studying the man more closely, intrigued by the contradiction in his demeanor. There was something about him that screamed playboy—a casual, carefree attitude that suggested he was no stranger to fleeting encounters. And yet, beneath the surface, Jinwoo sensed something else. A restlessness, perhaps. Or maybe it was loneliness, buried deep beneath the confident exterior.

He frowned slightly, taking another sip of his drink. Why did this stranger interest him so much? He had seen plenty of men like him before—cocky, charming, and emotionally unavailable. Men who played games with hearts just because they could. Men Jinwoo knew better than to get involved with.

And yet…

The man’s gaze suddenly shifted, and for a brief moment, their eyes met across the bar. Jinwoo’s breath caught in his throat. There was something electric in that split second of connection, something that made his heart skip a beat. The man’s eyes were dark, intense, and filled with a quiet storm that Jinwoo hadn’t expected.

But just as quickly, the moment passed. The man broke eye contact, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he turned his attention back to his drink. Jinwoo exhaled slowly, realizing that he had been holding his breath.

What the hell was that?

Shaking his head, Jinwoo set his glass down a little harder than he intended. This was ridiculous. He didn’t know this man, didn’t need to know him. He was just another pretty face, another player in the endless game of attraction that played out in bars like this every night. Jinwoo wasn’t looking for that. He wanted something real, something more than the empty flirtations and hollow promises that so many people seemed to settle for.

Still, he couldn’t deny the pull he felt—the inexplicable magnetism that had him glancing back at the man even when he knew he shouldn’t. It was dangerous, and Jinwoo prided himself on staying far away from dangerous men. His past experiences had taught him that much.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

And yet…

The night wore on, and Jinwoo found himself sipping his drink more slowly, his eyes wandering back to the stranger more often than he cared to admit. He wasn’t the only one watching him. The man seemed to be aware of the attention he was drawing, but he didn’t seem to care. If anything, he seemed to thrive on it.

Jinwoo hated how easily the man exuded charm. He hated how, with just a smirk and a flick of his wrist, the man could command the room’s attention. Most of all, he hated that despite knowing better, he couldn’t look away.

Eventually, Jinwoo forced himself to leave the bar, slipping out into the cool night air. He walked for a few blocks, letting the fresh breeze clear his head. But even as he put distance between himself and the bar, he couldn’t shake the image of the man—the stranger with the storm in his eyes and the smirk that seemed to see right through him.

It wasn’t until Jinwoo was halfway home that he realized something important: the man hadn’t flirted with anyone. He had been surrounded by people—by women, by admirers—but he hadn’t flirted. Not once. He had been alone, even in a crowded room.

Jinwoo wasn’t sure why that thought stuck with him. But as he climbed into bed that night, the image of the stranger lingered in his mind, haunting him long after the city lights had faded.

As Jinwoo lay in bed, the city outside his window continued to buzz with life. The sound of laughter and distant music filtered through the glass, a reminder that the night was still young for most. But for him, it was a time for reflection, a time to sift through the emotions that had stirred within him just a few hours earlier.

His heart raced as he replayed the events of the night. The bar had been a familiar comfort, a place where he could relax, but tonight had felt different. The energy in the air was charged, electric, and it had all centered around that man—Minjae, if he remembered correctly, a name that seemed to fit the persona he had observed.

Jinwoo turned over in his bed, pulling the covers closer. He could almost feel the heat radiating from the stranger’s smile, the confident way he had leaned against the bar as if he owned the place. Jinwoo’s heart fluttered uncomfortably at the memory. It was absurd. He had been with men like Minjae before, and it had never ended well.

His thoughts drifted to his last relationship, one that had left him with scars that had yet to fully heal. He had loved deeply, perhaps too deeply, and had learned the hard way that not everyone approached love with the same sincerity. Jinwoo had given his heart freely, only to watch it shatter as the man he had trusted slipped away, leaving nothing but empty promises and lingering doubt in his wake.

That experience had instilled a wariness in him. Jinwoo had sworn off casual relationships, vowing to pursue only what felt genuine. He wanted depth, a connection that ran deeper than fleeting attraction. Yet here he was, captivated by someone who epitomized everything he had learned to avoid.

“Ugh, what is wrong with me?” he muttered to the empty room, burying his face in his pillow. It was maddening, this inexplicable pull toward someone like Minjae. The kind of man who seemed destined to break hearts without a second thought.

As he closed his eyes, Jinwoo found himself imagining Minjae in greater detail—the way his laughter had filled the room, how it seemed to draw everyone closer, and the brief flicker of vulnerability he had glimpsed behind the playboy facade. He was a contradiction wrapped in charm, and Jinwoo couldn’t help but wonder what lay beneath the surface.

The longer he pondered, the more he felt the familiar sense of longing rise within him. It was a feeling he had tried to suppress, a desire for something—someone—who could make him feel alive again. But with Minjae, it was different. The thought of stepping into that world, of getting entangled with someone who thrived on casual encounters, sent shivers of apprehension down his spine.

In the days that followed, Jinwoo attempted to shake off the memories of that night. He buried himself in work, focusing on his projects and meeting deadlines with a diligence that bordered on obsessive. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t rid himself of the lingering curiosity about Minjae. Every time he stepped into a bar or a café, he half-expected to see that confident figure, that mischievous smile waiting just for him.

One afternoon, while walking through a busy shopping district, Jinwoo spotted a familiar leather jacket among the throngs of people. His heart raced as he recognized Minjae standing outside a trendy boutique, talking animatedly with a group of friends. Jinwoo hesitated, unsure whether to approach or turn back. Part of him wanted to remain hidden, to observe the man from a distance and understand why he was so captivated.

Minjae’s laughter carried over the chatter of the crowd, bright and infectious. Jinwoo felt an inexplicable tug in his chest, a mix of intrigue and apprehension. He couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly Minjae fit into this world, a social butterfly flitting from one group to another, drawing people in without a care.

As Jinwoo walked closer, he caught snippets of their conversation. Minjae was animated, recounting a story that had everyone around him in stitches. Jinwoo could see the way his friends leaned in, enraptured by his every word, and he felt a pang of longing to be part of that circle.

But just as quickly as the thought came, it was dashed by the stark reality of who Minjae was—a man who thrived on superficial connections, who wore his heart like a shield against anyone who dared to get too close. Jinwoo knew he would never be the kind of man Minjae sought; he didn’t have the carefree attitude or the ability to float through life without a thought for tomorrow.

So, he lingered in the shadows, observing from a distance. The way Minjae tossed his head back in laughter, the glimmer in his eye that hinted at untold stories. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once. Jinwoo wanted to dive deeper, to learn what lay beneath the surface, but he feared the fallout.

As the group began to disperse, Jinwoo’s heart raced. He had an opportunity to approach Minjae, to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away, the thrill of the encounter mingling with a sense of disappointment.

What was he doing? This wasn’t him. He didn’t chase after men like Minjae, and yet here he was, feeling like a moth drawn to a flame. Jinwoo took a deep breath, trying to center himself. He had always prided himself on being grounded, on making smart choices, yet the more he thought about Minjae, the more he felt his resolve waver.

It was a dangerous game he was playing, and one he had no intention of losing.