Chapter 70.1

Chapter 70.1

Miran turned toward him as if in slow motion. The smile vanished from her face, her eyes widening as if they might spill over, her lips parting in shock.

André blinked, frozen in place. His mind went completely blank.

A dream.

That had to be it—because otherwise, there was no reason for Miran, who was supposed to be in Korea, to be standing right in front of him. He often dreamed of chasing after her, trying to catch her as she ran away. But in those dreams, she had never let herself be caught.

André’s gaze trailed down from her shoulder to the delicate fingers gripping the man’s wrist. A deep crack split open in his chest, like the fractured ice of a melting Arctic glacier. And from that fissure, molten, burning lava surged forth.

His ears rang with the erratic pounding of his own pulse.

You’re supposed to love me. Forever.

By the time he realized his legs were moving, he was already standing in front of her. His hand shot out, seizing her wrist.

Only then did Miran let go of the other man. Stumbling slightly, she was pulled toward André.

He gripped her shoulders tightly, needing to confirm—was the look in her eyes still the same?

Her trembling lips formed the start of a hesitant smile before the color drained from her face.

André had no idea what expression he was making. For once, he couldn’t control the muscles in his face. Part of him wanted to pull her into his arms, crush her against him, steal her breath with a kiss. Another part of him wanted to explode, to demand why she had looked at that man with those eyes.

He wanted to forbid her from ever looking at anyone that way.

Miran, visibly intimidated, glanced up at him anxiously, opening and closing her mouth as if searching for words. When he said nothing, just stared at her, her large eyes welled with tears. He could feel the faint tremor in her slender shoulders through his palms.

Then, someone snapped him back to reality.

“Miran… You know this guy, right?”

The man beside her spoke with wary suspicion.

…Miran?

André’s vision flared with white-hot rage.

He had once whispered that name over and over, while she writhed beneath him, begging him to say it again.

His jaw tensed.

How dare he—

The moment André lifted his head, his gaze collided with Concierge Harold’s.

He froze.

Only then did it fully register—he was standing in the middle of the apartment lobby.

Clenching his teeth, he forcibly smoothed out his expression and released Miran’s shoulders.

“…André?”

She murmured his name in a trembling whisper.

His thoughts ground to a halt. His heart lurched, just like that night—when he had left her behind in a hotel room.

Miran swallowed hard before steadying her voice and speaking again.

“You’re mad because I came unannounced, aren’t you? I’m sorry. I just—”

He lifted a hand, silencing her.

He could feel the curious stares from all around them.

He wasn’t about to turn her into their spectacle.

“Upstairs.”

His voice came out rough, strained—like something wrung dry.

André placed a hand on Miran’s back, ready to turn her around, when Harold suddenly hurried out from behind the concierge desk, extending something toward him.

Frowning, André turned his head, only for Harold to subtly gesture toward Miran.

“The young lady asked me to give this to you.”

At the sight of the envelope, Miran twisted her fingers together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She stumbled over her words, hurriedly offering an explanation.

“I-I mean, the reason I came here was to deliver that letter—”

“Shh, we’ll talk about that later.”

André snatched the letter from Harold’s hand, stuffing it carelessly into his inner pocket before urging her forward.

“Let’s go.”

But Miran didn’t move.

André arched a brow, looking down at her. She avoided his gaze like a guilty child caught red-handed.

“Um… I actually have other plans tonight.”

“…What?”

André’s eyes widened. His mouth fell slightly open.

Miran had never rejected him before.

He had never been slapped in his life, but at that moment, it felt like she had swung hard enough to make his head snap to the side.

She came all the way here, only to say she already has plans? With who? What kind of plans?

Then, the words she had spoken earlier in the lobby flashed through his mind.

“Oppa! Come on, let me buy dinner this time, okay?”

André’s head snapped around. His icy green eyes swept over the man standing there with a startled expression, scanning him from head to toe. Neatly dressed, good-looking, and quite tall for an East Asian.