These days Kook vanished into endless meetings, Yuna hovered like a hawk—suddenly interested in nursery routines, criticizing Tae’s hair, Tae’s dress, Tae’s smell. Days crawled without his touch. Tae’s skin felt tight, restless. Anger simmered beneath the hurt—had he gotten his fill? Was she discarded again? That night, pacing her room, the silence screamed.

Enough. She pulled a scrap of shimmering black silk from her drawer—a dress barely wider than a belt, straps thin as whispers. No bra. No panties. Just slick anticipation and fury. She slipped through shadowed halls, heart hammering against her ribs.