Tae almost turned around the moment she stepped out of the car.

The resort was too bright, too busy, too alive. People talked, laughed, flirted, drank. Everywhere she looked, someone was leaning close to someone else, whispering something bold. Tae felt wildly out of place. She shouldn’t have come.

And she definitely shouldn’t have worn this.

Her dress was a mistake — a short, clingy red thing she’d bought on a whim online, telling herself she deserved to feel beautiful again. But now, standing under the warm evening lights, the fabric felt sinful, barely covering her thighs, hugging her chest too tightly, dipping too low, showing too much.

She tugged at the hem, cheeks warming.

Why did I wear this? They’re all staring. God…

A few men at the entrance looked at her openly. One even whispered something to his friend. Tae’s heart flipped and her breath caught somewhere in her throat.

She bowed her head and walked faster.

The hostess at the reception looked up, smiled, and Tae felt her stomach twist.

“Welcome, Miss Tae! Widow’s Retreat package?”

Tae nodded shyly, voice barely a whisper. “Y-yes.”

The hostess tapped something on the tablet. “Suite 47. And you’ve been assigned three companions.”

Tae blinked hard. “C-companions?”

“For your stay.”

A small smirk.

“All men. They’re already waiting for you.”

Tae instantly felt her face go hot.

Three?

That was… that was too much.

“I—I didn’t know—” she stammered, fingers fumbling with the strap of her tiny purse.

“It’s normal,” the hostess said gently. “They’ll take good care of you.”

Tae’s knees felt weak. She wasn’t even inside the room yet and she was already trembling.

She reached the elevator and leaned her back against the wall, exhaling slowly. Her skin felt warm, her thighs pressed together instinctively as a strange, embarrassing heat pooled low inside her.

Why am I reacting like this? I haven’t even seen them yet…

When the elevator opened, she walked down the quiet hallway, heart hammering, her heels tapping too loudly on the polished floor. Every step made her more aware of her dress, the way it shifted on her skin, the way it felt like she was wearing nothing underneath.

Her breath became uneven.

She reached Suite 47.

For a moment, she just stood there, hands shaking.

Her body felt warm all over, like she was walking into something she wasn’t ready for.

But she knocked.

The door opened.

And she instantly forgot how to breathe.

There they were.

Three men. All tall. All staring at her as if she’d just walked out of a fantasy.

Jungkook sat on the couch, legs spread, muscular arms resting casually on his thighs. His eyes swept over her slowly—so slow it made her knees threaten to give out.

Namjoon, near the bar, looked calm and intelligent, glasses sliding slightly down his nose, his gaze deep and unreadable… until it flicked down to her chest, then lower. His jaw tightened.

Yoongi, leaning against the wall, smirked the moment he saw her blush. He tilted his head, eyes locked on her legs, lingering on the hem of her dress.

Tae’s face burned. She clutched her purse tighter.

“H-hi…”

Kook spoke first, voice deep and lazy.

“So you’re the widow.”

The way he said it made her thighs press together automatically. Heat shot through her so fast she almost stumbled.

Joon’s voice came next, smooth and low.

“You look nervous.”

She nodded without meaning to.

“I… I didn’t know I’d have three of you.”

Yoon laughed softly. “Does that scare you?”

Tae swallowed. “A little.”

Kook leaned forward. “Or excite you?”

Her breath hitched so sharply that all three noticed.

Her cheeks turned scarlet. “I—I don’t—”

She stepped inside quickly, hoping they wouldn’t see how her legs trembled.

But they did.

God, they absolutely did.

Kook’s lips lifted slightly.

“She’s shy,” he murmured to the others, like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Joon pushed his glasses up slowly.

“Cute.”

Yoon crossed his arms, smirk widening.

“Very.”

Tae felt like her skin was on fire. She couldn’t meet any of their eyes. Her body reacted on its own — warm thighs, weak knees, heartbeat racing.

She didn’t know where to stand, so she took the little armchair near the center of the room, almost sinking into it to hide her trembling.

Kook’s eyes followed every movement.

“You wore that dress for us?”

Her breath faltered.

“N-no—I mean… I didn’t—”

Yoon stepped closer, very slowly.

Her whole body tightened, heat rushing downward in a frightening, embarrassing wave.

“You look like you’re about to melt,” he said softly.

She shut her eyes for a second.

He wasn’t wrong.

Joon tilted his head. “Are we making you nervous… or something else?”

Tae’s voice barely came out.

“I’m… not used to attention.”

Kook let out a low hum.

“We can tell.”

All three men were staring at her — not touching, not moving, just watching the way her shy breathing trembled her chest, the way she kept pressing her knees together, the way her fingers played with the strap of her dress.

Joon stepped forward too, just one slow step.

Tae inhaled sharply, her whole body jolting.

Kook chuckled.

“She gets flustered when we get close.”

Yoon added, “Wonder how she reacts when we talk dirty.”

Tae’s eyes went wide.

“D-don’t.”

But her voice was thin, breathy, almost pleading.

Kook whispered, “Why not, sweetheart?”

Her stomach dropped.

Her thighs squeezed tighter.

They all saw it.

The way she reacted.

The way her body answered before her mouth did.

Yoon’s voice dropped to a whisper that slid right into her stomach.

“You’re already wet, aren’t you?”

Tae hid her face with her hands, mortified.

Kook leaned back, smiling like a satisfied sinner.

“Cute little widow… we’re going to have fun with you.”

Tae’s whole body lit up with heat so sharp she couldn’t speak.

But she already felt ruined by just three men standing in a room with her.

And this was only the first night.