The morning after the rooftop encounter felt too still.
Choen stirred in her bed, her hand wrapped in a clean bandage, the faint ache from the crow's scratch pulsing gently. She could still feel the softness of the scarf he had tied around her—the warmth of a memory she thought she had buried.
But there was no time to linger.
She had a meeting today, and work on her new business had just picked up speed. As she dressed, her phone buzzed again—messages, reposts, tags.
#VisualCouple
#ScarletRooftop
#ChoenXGlitter
The photos had gone viral overnight. Choen's face was clearly visible, and the sight of her holding the idol's hand—blood and all—had stirred the internet. But instead of backlash, something strange happened.
They were being shipped.
"They look cinematic!"
"I'm crying, someone put them in a drama already!"
"She's beautiful and mysterious… fits our oppa perfectly!"
Choen chuckled faintly under her breath, but her heart was uneasy. This wasn't just some photo scandal. Someone had taken the picture intentionally, from a hidden angle. It wasn't a random fan—it felt planned.
Meanwhile, in a sleek black car parked in front of a tall glass building, Dokkaebi sat frozen.
The post glowed from his phone. His thumb hovered over the call button, her name right there—Choen.
He wanted to hear her voice. Ask her what happened. If she was okay. If the blood was real. But he didn't.
Instead, he just stared.
Bora entered his office with two iced coffees, humming a tune until she saw the look on his face. She followed his gaze to the screen—and froze.
"…You were going to call her?" Her voice cracked.
Dokkaebi didn't respond.
Back at Choen's house, Joon scrolled through his feed, mouth agape. "What the hell…" he muttered, dropping his phone. "Noona?!"
He rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of what he saw. The past few days, Choen had changed. She wasn't her usual self. And now this?
Later that day, Choen walked into her secret investigation room, locking the door behind her. The monitors blinked to life. She stared at the bulletin board covered in notes, symbols, and photos—Professor Gabrielle, the hospital, the spider leg, and now... the scarf with blood.
She pinned the latest headline to the wall.
"Top Idol in Rooftop Mystery: Who's the Girl?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Someone's watching," she whispered. "And they want me to know."
The office was quiet now.
Bora had long left after sensing Dokkaebi's silence wasn't something she could shatter. The iced coffee sat untouched on the table, the condensation pooling around it like forgotten time.
Dokkaebi stood by the tall window of his office, staring out at the city lights, but seeing none of it.
All he could see… was her.
Choen.
The rooftop photo had been everywhere for the past twenty-four hours. Her hand—wounded, red. His scarf—tied around her wrist. The way she looked at him, that second male lead, like they shared something unspoken.
It broke him.
He leaned back against the cold glass, sliding his hands into his coat pocket, where his fingers wrapped around something small—worn-out, old, and folded like a secret.
A middle school class photo.
They were just kids back then, but she was already Choen—bright, sharp, untouchably kind.
He remembered her in Class 2-B, sitting near the window with her head buried in books and her hair always slightly messy from running late. She rarely spoke unless spoken to, and yet… she was the only one who noticed when he didn't show up for class.
"Are you okay?"
She'd asked him that once when he had come in late, his eyes tired from staying up all night suffering from fever.
No one else had asked. Not even the teacher.
She had.
That was the day he first fell for her.
But life wasn't fair. He was a Dokkaebi—a name forged by power, deals, and shadows. His family had a reputation, and their futures were already inked into agreements. He was never supposed to love someone freely. Least of all her.
Yet he did.
She didn't even know it was him until just days ago.
The boy who sat behind her, who used to leave candy on her desk during exam week.
The boy who had once scribbled her name into the back of his notebook a hundred times, only to tear the page out when someone got close.
The boy who kept a distance even when all he wanted was to sit beside her.
And now she knew.
Now everything was real.
The agreement between their families, the masked identity, the secrets he buried so deep they hurt.
But this photo…
That man wasn't supposed to be by her side.
Dokkaebi gripped the windowsill tighter. He hated the way it made him feel—jealous, helpless, and worst of all, terrified.
Terrified that he'd waited too long. That maybe the girl from Class 2-B had already forgotten the boy behind her.
He whispered her name under his breath, barely audible. "Choen…"
He wanted to protect her—not just from the world, but from the pain his world could cause her.
But he also wanted something he'd never admitted out loud.
He wanted her to choose him.
Not because of any agreement. Not because of their families. But because he had loved her quietly for so long it had become the rhythm of his life.
Maybe it was time.
Time to confess.
Time to tell her that she had never been alone in any chapter of her story.
Because somewhere, in the shadows, he had always been watching her with the heart of a boy who just wanted her to smile.
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