Chapter 2

The next hour unfolded in a surprisingly cathartic stream of consciousness.

Yujin found herself pouring out every frustration—the client who stiffed her, the job market being absolute garbage, how she felt like a failure at twenty-three, how she missed her family but couldn't afford to visit them.

Jiji listened. Actually listened. He made tea and handed her a cup without interrupting, without trying to fix anything. He just let her talk.

"And then what happened?" He asked.

"I just... broke down," she admits, taking a sip from the mug. "I cried in front of my laptop because of the stress and burnout. I haven’t slept well in weeks.

"Weeks?!" his eyes widened.

"Probably closer to a month," she admitted, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sleeping pills don't work anymore. Stress about money kept me up at night."

"Girl, how are you still functioning?"

"Caffeine and adrenaline are hella drugs," she says with a weak laugh. "And occasionally napping between breaks. I've even become a master at sleeping upright in chairs." She pauses, looking down at her mug. "But truth be told... I'm exhausted. Physically and mentally.”

“No shit, baby girl. You need a break. A whole vacation, even,” Jiji commented.

She scoffed. "Who has the money for that? I can barely afford a bus ticket home," She bit her lip, realising she might have revealed too much.

“Well, you don’t have to travel or go anywhere. You can just chill at home. Sleep in. Watch a movie. Read a book. Or even take a walk around the neighbourhood. That’s way cheaper.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Well, doing something for yourself should be easy,” He answered, his expression sympathetic. Not judging her in any way.

It felt… nice.

“Bottom line is, you need to take it easy. A pretty girl like you deserves it," he added.

She blushed slightly at the compliment, ducking her head toward the mug to hide it. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she was being hit on. It felt just… genuine. A kind word from someone who had sat through an hour of her venting without running for the door.

"How about this?" Jiung leaned forward. "You take a long shower because you deserve it. I'll get us some snacks. And I'll ask one of our technicians to have a look at your car tomorrow morning."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "Wait. What? My car? But—" She stopped herself. "You don't have to do that. That's way too much. I can't—"

"Nope." He cut her off gently but firmly. "It's the least I can do to make up for this situation. Plus, the guy owes me a favour. Saves you money."

She bit her lip, torn between protesting and giving in to the unexpected kindness. The thought of not having to worry about car repairs right now was incredibly tempting.

"Okay," she finally whispered. "But… you're really doing all this for free? Just because I talked to you?"

"It's bare minimum kindness, sweetheart." He smiled.

Her eyes softened. Something warm spread through her chest at the endearment. No one had ever called her sweetheart like that before—without romantic or sexual undertones. Just warmth. Just care.

"Thank you," she said softly, meaning it more than she could express.

"No biggie." He waved it off. "Now take your pretty girlboss ass into the shower and pick out a movie. I'll get snacks and sort out your car issue. Oh, and the room comes with shower essentials. We make sure those are provided in the event our clients stay overnight."

She smiled—a real one, small but genuine and nodded. She got up from the bed and made her way to the bathroom.

She heard Jiji moving around outside, talking on the phone about her car. His voice was low, calm, and controlled. She turned on the shower and stripped off her clothes before stepping inside.

Wrapped in a plush towel, Yujin stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed and clean for the first time in weeks. Her hair was damp and messy, clinging to her neck and shoulders. She was surprised to find herself actually looking forward to picking out a movie and just… relaxing.

She spotted Jiung in the living room, surrounded by bags of snacks and drinks like he was preparing for a siege.

"Oh shit—" He quickly got up. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Wait," she called out, stopping him mid-motion. She looked down at herself, suddenly aware she was only wearing a towel. But instead of feeling self-conscious, she felt oddly… comfortable. Safe. "I'm decent. It's fine."

"Yeah, but you’ll still need to get dressed, though" His gaze was careful, respectful. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

He’s right, though, she thought, biting her lip.

He was giving her space without making it weird. Without making her feel weird.

"You're sweet," she said with a soft smile, clutching the towel a little tighter around herself. "But you don’t have to leave the room. I'll just go back to the bathroom and get dressed. I’ll be out in two minutes."

Later, Yujin was settled in bed, wrapped in a bathrobe she'd found hanging behind the door. Jiung had claimed the couch, lying on his side with a blanket draped over his legs. The movie played on the big screen, filling the room with bursts of light and sound.

Every time the screen flashed bright, Yujin found herself looking away from the plot and toward him instead.

Jiung was casually munching on popcorn, completely relaxed, legs stretched out, eyes half-lidded in that comfortable way people get when they're exactly where they want to be. He was just… good. 

She caught herself staring a little too long and snapped her head back to the TV, cheeks burning.

Stop it. Stop it right now.

She tried to focus on the movie. Some action flick he'd picked. Explosions. Gunfire. Very manly, very safe, very not romantic.

But her eyes kept betraying her, drifting back to his side profile. The slope of his nose. His buzzcut. His lean, muscular build. The way his jaw relaxed when he laughed at something on screen. He was so comfortable. So unbothered. 

It was confusingly attractive.

She grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed her face, using the chewing as a distraction. And to hide the fact that she was definitely checking him out.

Then the scene changed.

The music softened. The lighting went warm and amber. Two characters on screen drifted toward each other, and Yujin's heart dropped into her stomach.

Oh no….

A kiss. Then another. Then clothes started coming off.

She froze, he cheeks burning instantly and the heat spreading through her body—and between her legs. And it wasn’t the good kind. It was the ‘Oh God, why us this happening right now,’ kind.

The actors' moans filled the room.

Her heart raced.

And then—

"Question." Jiji's voice cut through the tension like a knife. Completely casual. "Do you think the actors actually have sex when they're shooting these scenes? Or what?"

She nearly choked on her popcorn, and a violent coughing fit seized her. She waved her hand dismissively, pounding her chest with the other. "Most of the time? No," she managed between coughs, face burning. "They have intimacy coordinators."

"What are those?" he asked, completely unbothered. Still munching popcorn. Still half-distracted by the screen like he'd just asked about the weather.

"They're like… professionals who make sure everything stays consensual and comfortable during intimate scenes." She was grateful for the darkness of the room hiding her red face. "They choreograph the moves and make sure nothing goes too far."

"How, though?"

"Well, they plan out the movements. Where hands go. What positions look good on camera. They make sure there's no actual penetration or anything too… real." She shifted uncomfortably, rubbed her thighs together.

"You seem to know your stuff," he said, sounding like genuine praise.

"I used to work in TV and film production," she admitted quickly, trying to sound casual. "It's fascinating how they make those scenes look realistic without actually… you know." She waved her hand vaguely, avoiding saying having sex out loud like it was a curse word.

He chuckled. "Come on. You're a big girl. You won't melt if you say sex."

She glares at him playfully but can't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "Shut up. I know what sex is," 

"So why are you making it seem like saying the word is taboo? You literally just gave me a breakdown of a profession dedicated to fake fucking on camera."

"That's—I mean—technically, yes, but that's not—" She sputtered, completely lost. "Why are you making it sound so clinical?"

"Isn't it, though?" He turned to look at her, and there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Choreographed movements. Planned positions. No actual penetration." He tilted his head. "Sounds like a very expensive way to fake intimacy."

Yujin buried her face in her hands. "Oh, my God! Shut up! Can we please just watch the movie?"

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he teased.

“You’re a dick.”

“Well, I have one. But it’s good being reminded that I am what’s between my legs."

She chokes on air, her entire face going crimson as she whips her head around to stare at him. "What— what did you just—" 

He was smirking now, looking entirely too pleased with himself for dropping that bomb casually. The smugness radiating from him was infuriatingly attractive. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

He caught it effortlessly, laughing. "That's not a denial, sweetheart."

"I'm not dignifying that with a response."

"You just did."

"Jiji."

"Yujin."

She grabbed another pillow.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay. Truce. Movie. I'll behave."

"Will you, though?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Probably not."

She threw the second pillow anyway.

He ducked, and it sailed past him. Both of them stared at where it landed. Then back at each other.

And then they both burst out laughing.

Yujin was wide awake.

She couldn't sleep.

She tossed and turned in bed, her mind racing with thoughts. The pillow felt too fluffy. The blankets too warm. She sat up, running a hand through her messy hair in frustration. She glanced at the clock—3:00 AM.

Great.

Her eyes drifted to the couch, where Jiji was sprawled comfortably, breathing steady and even. The ambient light from the streetlamp outside cast soft shadows across his face. He looked… peaceful. Less guarded. Almost soft.

She didn't realise she was staring until he shifted onto his side.

And slowly opened his eyes.

She froze. Her heart pounded suddenly in her chest. His sleepy eyes met hers through the dim light, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. He blinked slowly—once, twice—and then his lips curled into a soft smile.

Completely unguarded.

Completely adorable.

"Can't sleep?" His voice was rough with sleep, low and quiet.

"No," she admitted softly, pulling her knees up to her chest. She felt suddenly vulnerable, sitting there in the dark, talking to him like this. "You?" Her voice was barely a whisper, almost afraid to break the peaceful silence.

"I'll live," he answered.

She let out a soft huff of laughter, resting her chin on her knees. "Cryptic," she whispered.

She watched him shift again, getting comfortable. The silence settled back between them—heavy, but not uncomfortable. The kind of silence that felt like a held breath.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Nothing really important, anyway."

"Are you curious about something?"

Her eyes widened. Panic fluttered in her chest. "I am not curious," she denied, even though her flushed cheeks said otherwise. "What's there to be curious about?"

He shrugged, still half-buried in the blanket. "The look you were giving me just a few minutes ago says otherwise."

"You're imagining things," she lied, avoiding eye contact. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her throat went dry.

"I won't judge you if you're curious."

The words hung in the dark air between them.

Yujin swallowed hard. Her fingers curled into the blanket draped over her legs. She should say something. Deflect. Make a joke. Throw a pillow at him again.

But she didn't.

Because the truth was—she was curious.

About him. His job. His life outside being an escort. Why he made her feel safe when she barely knew him. Why her heart was racing at 3 AM while a near-stranger looked at her like he had all the time in the world.

"I guess… I'm curious about you," she finally spoke.

The words hung in the dark, fragile and honest.

"What about me?" he asked, his voice still soft, still sleep-rough.

"I mean… given your job, I can imagine you must have explored plenty."

He had a thoughtful expression, his brow furrowing slightly. "You can say that. Though it was mostly helping my clients explore. But I will say… BDSM is not for me." He paused, as if weighing his next words. "I am a lover, not a hurter. Chains and whips don't excite me." A small smirk tugged at his lips. "Rihanna lied."

A surprised laugh escaped her."Did you seriously just quote Rihanna?" She hadn't expected that—his honest answer, his sense of humor showing through in the most unexpected way. It made her relax slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing. "So no whips and chains, then?" she teased softly.

"Heeeeeeeell naw." He dragged out the word, grinning now. "I'm all about that TLC, baby."

"TLC?" she echoed, tilting her head. A smile tugged at her lips despite herself. "Like… tender loving care?"

"Exactly." He grinned, leaning back into the couch cushions. "Soft touches. Long cuddling. Making love for hours." He said it so casually. "That's my jam."

Her heart did that stupid flip again.

"That's…" She paused, searching for the right word. Unexpected. Sweet. Ridiculously attractive. "That's actually really nice. Romantic, even."

"Well, I'm a hopeless romantic," he said with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But what does that mean for you? In this kind of job, I mean."

"It can mean whatever it means for the client."

"Yeah, but what about you? As a person?"

That made him pause.

Yujin watched his eyebrows knit together, his gaze drifting somewhere beyond the dimly lit room. He was pondering her question—really pondering it, not just brushing it off with a joke or a deflection.

"I've never thought about that, to be honest," he admitted quietly. "I guess I grew used to being what my clients want me to be."

The honesty in his voice settled over her like a blanket.

She hadn't expected that either.

Here was this man—confident, teasing, seemingly so sure of himself—admitting that he hadn't stopped to ask what he wanted. That he had poured himself into so many different versions of what other people needed that he might have lost track of the original.

"That's… kind of sad," she said softly, before she could stop herself.

He looked at her. Really looked at her. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "Maybe it is."

The silence that followed wasn't heavy. It wasn't awkward. It was the kind of silence that happens when two people see each other a little more clearly than they expected to.

"Would you like to show me?" she asked.

Jiji blinked. “Show you what?”

“The version of yourself you show your clients.”

His eyes widened. "Are… are you sure?"

"I'm asking, aren't I?" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He studied her, checking for any signs of hesitation. Searching her face for the doubt she might not have admitted aloud. When he saw none, he got up from the couch and walked over to the bed.

Her breath hitched as he sat on the edge, the mattress dipping under his weight. She could smell faint traces of his cologne—warm and clean, something woodsy and soft. He was close now. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin.

She looked up at him, heart pounding wildly.

"I've never—" she started, then stopped, shaking her head.

"It's okay." His voice was low, steady. "We'll take things slow. You're in charge of your pace."

A sense of relief washed over her, and she found herself relaxing. She watched as he slowly reached out, his hand hovering near her cheek before gently cupping it. The touch was soft. Tender.

"Okay," she whispered