The night air was still and cold, but Jin sat by the window in his study, unmoving, lost in thought. The city lights flickered below like restless stars, but his mind was elsewhere.
"What did you get?" he asked without turning, his voice low and calm.
His bodyguard, standing silently behind him, stepped forward and delivered the information he'd dug up. "Miss Mian couldn't finish her schooling due to her mother's illness. She tried several jobs—waitressing, cleaning, working in stores… but none paid enough to cover the hospital bills. She had to quit them all eventually."
Jin didn't respond right away. He closed his eyes briefly, a sigh escaping him. I see why your smile doesn't reach your eyes…
There was more to her than her soft voice and quiet steps. There was weight in her eyes, depth behind her calm. She had endured—and kept going.
The next morning, Mian arrived at the estate early as usual. The air still carried a trace of dawn mist, and the household was just beginning to stir. She slipped through the halls quietly, heading straight to the master suite. Today, she had been asked to prepare the bathtub for Jin before he woke up.
She pushed open the door to his room softly and peeked inside.
He was still fast asleep, the heavy curtains filtering the sunlight into lazy golden streams that danced across the floor. Jin lay still, one arm draped above his head, the other across his chest, his dark lashes resting against high cheekbones. The peace on his face made her pause for a second before she continued quietly into the bathroom.
She ran the hot water, poured in a lavender-infused soak, and folded a fresh towel neatly by the side of the tub. When everything was perfect, she stepped out of the bathroom—and nearly jumped in surprise.
A little girl, no older than seven or eight, had crept into the room. She had pigtails bouncing with each sneaky step and a mischief-filled smile tugging at her lips. Before Mian could say a word, the girl pressed a finger to her lips and motioned for silence.
Mian blinked, confused but curious.
The girl tiptoed over to the bed, pulled a small makeup kit from her pocket, and began painting Jin's face with surprising skill and determination. With each stroke, her tiny hands turned the sleeping man into a vivid masterpiece of childlike revenge—blue eyelids, a red nose, hearts on his cheeks.
Mian covered her mouth, barely holding in her laughter. What is happening? she thought, eyes wide.
After finishing her mischievous work, the little girl tiptoed back to Mian, grinning proudly. "I just wanted to teach him a small lesson. You can wake him now," she whispered with a wink and darted out before Mian could ask anything.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Mian turned back to the bed and approached Jin cautiously. His face—his famously perfect, sharp, handsome face—was now a canvas of chaotic colors. She nearly burst into laughter.
Her voice wavered as she tried to keep a straight tone. "Sir… the bathtub is ready."
"Thanks," Jin mumbled groggily, sitting up.
But as he sat up, he caught the flicker of amusement on her face. Her lips twitched, her eyes shimmered with mischief.
"What?" he asked, eyebrows raising in suspicion. "What's wrong?"
She coughed, fighting the laugh that bubbled in her chest. "Oh… nothing, sir. I just… I think… there's something on your face."
He frowned and turned toward the full-length mirror near the shelf.
"Oh my God—" he shouted. "What the hell?!"
Mian bit her lip hard to stop from laughing out loud.
"Who did this to me?" he demanded, pointing to his reflection.
"A little girl came in while you were asleep, sir," Mian said, offering him a wet towel.
His eyes narrowed. "So my little sister snuck in here. Why didn't you stop her?"
"I'm sorry, sir. She said she wanted to teach you a lesson and… I found it funny. It was harmless."
Jin shot her a sharp look. "So you found it funny enough to just let her keep going?"
She bowed her head, guilt and amusement mixing in her voice. "It won't happen again, sir."
He sighed and tossed the towel toward her. "Then take this and wipe it off properly."
She hesitated, but stepped closer, dabbing gently at his cheek. He watched her through the mirror, her eyes focused, her touch careful.
But he wasn't satisfied.
Without a word, Jin turned, took her by the wrist gently, and moved her so she was now standing between him and the mirror shelf—her back inches from the wooden frame, his broad frame in front of her.
The space was too small. Too close.
Mian looked up, startled, her breath catching. He's… really close.
She raised her hand again, continuing to wipe his cheek, her head tilted up, her face mere inches from his. Her soft breath brushed against his collarbone.
Jin didn't move.
He scanned her face—her flawless skin, the delicate way her lashes curled, the soft pink tint of her lips. There was something innocent about her. Something unguarded.
"Next time," he said, his voice low, "don't let her in."
His arms were braced on either side of her against the mirror shelf, boxing her in.
"Y-Yes, sir," she whispered, eyes still downcast.
Jin leaned just a little closer, enough that she could feel his breath on her forehead. Then, without another word, he stepped away and headed toward the bathroom.
Mian stayed there, frozen, her heart beating wildly in her chest.
She pressed her palm against her cheek, her skin still warm from the moment. She didn't know what just happened.
But it felt like something had shifted.
And she wasn't sure how to feel about it.