The cherry blossoms in Seoul always felt too bright for Haru's liking. To everyone else, they symbolized new beginnings, but to eighteen-year-old Haru, they were just a reminder of how fragile everything was.
Haru adjusted his oversized school sweater, his fingers pale and slender against the dark fabric. With his soft features, wide doe-eyes, and a natural innocence that made people want to protect him, he was the definition of "pure." But Haru didn't want protection; he just wanted to disappear into his books.
"Haru-ya! You're late again!" his sister, Min-ah, called out from the living room.
Haru stepped into the house, dropping his bag. "The library was crowded, Noona."
"Excuses, excuses," she teased, ruffling his hair. "Hurry up and change. My boyfriend is coming over for dinner. I want you to finally meet him properly. He's been dying to see you."
Haru froze. He had heard about Min-ah's boyfriend for months. Jin-woo. A successful, handsome, and charismatic man. But every time Min-ah talked about him, Haru felt a strange chill, as if someone was watching him from a distance he couldn't see.
An hour later, the doorbell rang. It wasn't just a sound; it felt like a warning.
When the door opened, a man stepped in who seemed to swallow all the light in the room. Jin-woo was tall, dressed in a sharp black coat that screamed power. His eyes were dark, cold, and calculated—until they landed on Haru.
"Jin-woo, this is my little brother, Haru," Min-ah said, beaming with pride as she clung to Jin-woo's arm.
Haru bowed politely, his heart suddenly racing for no reason. "Hello, Jin-woo-ssi."
Jin-woo didn't speak immediately. He stepped closer, stepping into Haru's personal space. The scent of expensive cologne and something metallic—like old coins—filled Haru's lungs.
"Haru," Jin-woo whispered. The way he said the name wasn't like a stranger. It sounded like a man claiming a lost treasure.
Jin-woo reached out, his hand large and warm, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Haru's ear. His thumb lingered on Haru's skin for a second too long, a slow, deliberate graze that made Haru shiver.
"You're even more... delicate than the photos," Jin-woo said, his voice dropping to a low, vibrato hum.
Dinner was a blur of terror. While Min-ah laughed and talked about their future wedding, Haru felt Jin-woo's gaze burning into him. Under the table, Haru felt something. A foot. Jin-woo's shoe was pressing against Haru's ankle, slowly moving up his calf.
Haru gasped, dropping his spoon.
"Is something wrong, Haru?" Jin-woo asked, his expression perfectly calm, a predatory smile dancing on his lips.
"I... I'm not feeling well," Haru stammered, standing up so fast his chair screeched. "Excuse me."
He ran to his room and locked the door. His breath came in ragged gasps. He felt tainted, marked. He looked at his reflection—the innocent boy everyone loved. He felt like a lamb that had just met a wolf.
He reached into his pocket to grab his phone, but instead, he felt a piece of paper. He pulled it out. It was a polaroid photo.
His heart nearly stopped.
It was a photo of him sleeping in his bed, taken from inside his own room. On the back, written in bold, aggressive ink, were four words:
"You belong to me."
At that moment, the door handle turned. Slowly. Deliberately.
Click. Click.
"Haru-ya," Jin-woo's voice came from the other side of the wood, dark and suffocating. "You forgot to say goodbye to your brother-in-law."