Chapter 25.1

Miran lay on her side, hugging the quilt that had been pulled up to her neck. Her disheveled appearance revealed the soft curves of her back, reminiscent of elegant, flowing numbers written in cursive. Her long, slender legs reflected the dim lamp light, glowing pale.

Long eyelashes cast deep shadows on her rounded, rosy cheeks. The delicate breaths escaping from her slightly parted, moist red lips tickled his ears.

André swallowed hard. She looked like a nymph from mythology—a mischievous kind that lured men into the forest with enchantments and cursed those who saw her true form, driving them mad.

Unconsciously, André reached out to her. As he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips brushed against the soft, downy skin of her cheek. He hesitated, then clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Straightening up, he turned sharply and left the attic room without looking back.

—

By the time the bus crossed the Hannam Bridge, Seoul was fully awake, greeting the morning.

‘Has she woken up?’

Would Miran’s expression upon realizing he was gone be one of disappointment or relief?

The sudden desire to see her face, which couldn’t hide her emotions, stemmed from pure curiosity and a tinge of guilt.

‘Isn’t this how all one-night stands end?’

He brushed off the guilt as one would brush off a white thread from black clothing. In fact, last night couldn’t even be considered a one-night stand. He had been her script practice partner and had received compensation for it.

An innocent woman who knew nothing, who didn’t even understand what seduction was, yet she seduced. That made her even more dangerous. Dangerous enough for him to lose his self-control and do things he normally wouldn’t.

Her reckless bravery, wearing her emotions on her sleeve, was also a problem. What would she do if someone took advantage of those dangling emotions and tore them apart?

André shrugged. It wasn’t his concern. With a cold gaze and a bitter smile, he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

It was a connection that was meant to end after one night. There was no need for regret or contemplation.

「This stop is Itaewon. The next stop is Noksapyeong. This stop is Itaewon.」

Stepping off the bus, André took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Having reached a conclusion, he felt much lighter.

—-

No matter how much Miran thought about it, it felt like her eyelids were glued to her eyes.

“Ugh…”

Miran let out a hoarse, thick groan and turned away from the cruel sunlight piercing through the translucent window. Her head throbbed, and the faint smell of alcohol lingered in her breath—undeniable signs of a hangover.

‘D@mn it, another hangover. If I drink again, I’m not even human. I’m a pill bug, a pill bug.’

Blaming the alcohol out of habit, Miran curled up into a ball, hugging the quilt tightly. As she rubbed her thigh against the blanket, she felt a soreness between her legs. Why does it hurt there…?

Miran’s eyes snapped open.

‘André!’

The events of the previous night flooded back like a broken dam. Miran froze, holding her breath. The room was deathly silent. She wanted to look behind her, but she couldn’t muster the courage. Rolling her eyes nervously, she strained her ears for any sign of movement.

「Buying broken TVs, refrigerators, and washing machines! Buying broken TVs, refrigerators, and washing machines!」

“Oh my gosh!”

The melodious voice from the junk truck’s loudspeaker suddenly echoed through the air. Startled, Miran clamped her hand over her mouth. However, her small attic room remained silent, with no sign of movement.

After a moment of hesitation, Miran groggily sat up and glanced behind her. Confirming that no one was there, she slowly turned around. The room was so small that there was no need to look around extensively.

Seeing that the duffel bag and shoes were gone, it seemed André had left while she was asleep. She got off the bed, supporting her stiff back with both hands and moving her shaky legs.

Just in case, she knocked on the bathroom door and opened it, but the only trace of him was a towel thrown into the laundry basket.

On impulse, Miran cracked open the front door and looked around the rooftop. The small rooftop, with a single low table and the landlord’s scattered junk, was desolate and empty.

The morning air was quite chilly, making her bare skin break out in goosebumps, signaling that autumn had truly arrived.

“How rude. He left without even saying goodbye,” Miran muttered resentfully as she closed the door.

“I guess I’ll never see him again…”