Snow White

You hated red carpets. Or whatever color they decided to roll out nowadays—gilded runways for the vain and validated. You snapped picture after picture, each flash capturing a carefully curated facade. You’d much rather be out in the wilderness, chasing the perfect sunrise over a frozen lake or capturing the quiet dignity of a wolf in the snow. But that kind of work didn’t pay—not like this.

Being a tabloid cameraman rarely had its perks, especially during award season. You were the bottom-feeder of the media world, treated with disdain by both the self-important celebrities and the “respectable” press. Annoyed glares, dismissive scoffs, publicists throwing up their hands in exasperation—it all blurred into the background noise of your job.

But tonight was different. Tonight was the last time you’d be stuck in this gaudy circus for a while. After this, you were off the grid for a month, trading suffocating crowds for the untouched vastness of the Alaskan wilderness. No more celebrities, no more PR handlers, no more fake smiles. Just you, your camera, and nature’s raw, untamed beauty.

You barely paid attention as you went through the motions, mechanically clicking away, phoning in your photographic performance. Then, you saw her.

Chaehyun.

She was fixing her hair, her fingers combing through sleek dark strands when her gaze flicked up and locked onto yours. You froze. Not behind the viewfinder, not peering through a lens—but with your actual eyes. And she noticed.

The barest hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she stepped toward you, the hem of her dress whispering against the floor.

Your throat went dry.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Her voice was a murmur, just for you. The warm brush of her breath against your skin sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. You weren’t used to being the one under scrutiny, the one caught staring.

Then, with an almost playful tilt of her head, she glanced downward—her gaze lingering just enough to make you second-guess yourself. When she looked back up, her eyes gleamed with something teasing, something deliberate.

“Oh, did I do that?” she asked, lips curling into a smirk as she bit down, just slightly, just enough to make your pulse stutter.

Before you could gather yourself, she leaned in, close enough that the scent of roasted marshmallows wrapped around you like a whispered secret.

“Meet me after the award show,” she murmured, her voice smooth, and confident—a command, not a question.

Then she was gone, leaving only the ghost of her presence behind.

And for the first time all night, you forgot about the cold Alaskan wilderness. You took quite a few pictures of Chaehyun though.

Throughout the award show, your eyes kept scanning the sea of glitz and artifice, searching for her—your angel in the white dress. But no matter how carefully you looked, how many stolen glances you cast between camera flashes, she remained elusive, slipping just beyond your reach.

You resigned yourself to the fact that maybe it had just been a fleeting moment, a trick of the night, the kind of encounter that lived and died under bright lights. That was until a routine trip to the restroom changed everything.

As you turned to leave, a whisper brushed against your ear, smooth as silk.

“Looking for me?”

Your breath hitched. You pivoted sharply, and there she was—Chaehyun, standing impossibly close, radiance wrapped in white. The dim lighting did nothing to dull her glow. She tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her gaze as if she already knew the answer before you even nodded.

A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. Without another word, she slipped something into your pants pocket—a quick, featherlight motion, gone almost before you registered it. Then, into the other pocket, she pressed something else, her fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

You swallowed hard as she stepped back, her smirk deepening before she disappeared into the throng of celebrities and flashing cameras.

Heart pounding, you fished out the items. A slip of paper in one pocket—her hotel address on one side and her phone number in the other. In the other, a pair of panties soaked with her essence.

You barely hesitated before saving her number in your phone. The moment she left, vanishing like a ghost between the glittering gowns and tailored suits, you texted her.