Jihoon stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror of his dorm bathroom, adjusting the lapels of the blazer he hadn't worn in over a year. It still fit him perfectly, the dark material hugging his slender frame and highlighting the sharpness of his shoulders. His black hair fell naturally into soft, silky strands, but he'd styled it slightly, parting it into neat curtain bangs that framed his face. His dark brows, strong and defined, gave his reflection an almost unapproachable intensity.
Back in high school and even early college, he had been known for his looks. Girls would sneak glances at him in the hallways, giggling behind their textbooks. Boys envied his cool demeanor and effortless style. For a while, Jihoon had even dipped into modeling—nothing serious, just part-time gigs for local agencies and brands who adored his natural photogenic charm.
But all that felt like a lifetime ago.
Now, as he adjusted his tie and tried to keep his breathing steady, he couldn't help but feel a pang of bitterness. His life had been on track until everything crumbled around him.
The memory of his ex-boyfriend stung the most. A handsome, charismatic man who had seemed like the perfect escape from Jihoon's loneliness. For a while, things were good—perfect, even. But beneath the charm and affectionate words had been a man consumed by addiction, someone who drained Jihoon emotionally, physically, and financially.
Jihoon had tried to help him, but love hadn't been enough. When his ex finally left, he hadn't just taken Jihoon's heart with him; he'd also taken his money—everything Jihoon had saved up from years of modeling and part-time jobs.
The fallout had been brutal. Loan sharks had come knocking soon after, their demands growing louder and more aggressive with every passing day. Jihoon had spent the last few months dodging them, his heart racing every time he left his dorm, paranoid that he'd spot their familiar faces waiting for him around the corner.
He glanced at his phone, still sitting on the edge of the sink. Minjae's voice echoed in his mind from their last call. His older brother's teasing words had set his nerves on edge, but there was no denying the opportunity Minjae had offered. Jihoon hated the thought of going to him for help, hated the idea of stepping into whatever dangerous world Minjae had built for himself.
But he didn't have a choice anymore.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and grabbed his bag, taking one last look at himself in the mirror. For a moment, he looked like the boy he used to be—the one who turned heads in the hallways, who smiled easily in front of the camera. But the weight in his chest reminded him of how far he'd fallen.
The trip to Minjae's office was uneventful, though Jihoon couldn't shake the unease that crept up his spine. He had spent the entire bus ride thinking about what he'd say, how he'd act. But none of it seemed to matter now, not as he stood in front of the sleek, modern building where Minjae worked.
Taking a deep breath, Jihoon stepped inside, his shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. The receptionist, a sharp-looking woman with perfectly styled hair, glanced up at him with a raised brow.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone polite but distant.
"I'm here to see Minjae Choi," Jihoon said, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest.
The woman's eyes flickered with recognition. "Mr. Choi is expecting you. Take the elevator to the top floor."
Jihoon nodded and headed toward the elevator, his reflection staring back at him in the metallic surface of the doors. His heart thudded louder with each passing floor, the tension building until the elevator dinged softly, signaling his arrival.
The doors slid open to reveal a lavish office space, all sleek lines and modern furnishings. At the far end of the room, standing with his back to the elevator, was Minjae.
Jihoon froze for a moment, taking in the sight of his older stepbrother. Minjae was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his white hair stark against the dark fabric. He looked like he belonged here—powerful, confident, and untouchable.
"Jihoon," Minjae said without turning around, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. "I was starting to think you wouldn't show up."
Jihoon swallowed hard and stepped forward, his hands clenched at his sides. "I didn't come here for you, Minjae. I came because I need the money."
Minjae finally turned to face him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Is that so?"
Jihoon glared at him, the anger bubbling up despite himself. "Don't act like you're doing me some kind of favor. I'll work for you, but that's it. This doesn't change anything between us."
Minjae chuckled, his deep voice sending an unexplainable shiver down Jihoon's spine. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, little brother. But remember, you came to me. And as long as you're working for me, you'll be under my protection."
His words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. Jihoon's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Minjae's smirk deepened as he strode over to his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a glossy magazine. Jihoon's attention was drawn to it immediately, though he couldn't quite make out the details from where he stood.
"You know~" Minjae began, his voice casual but with a teasing lilt, "I came across this recently. Imagine my surprise when I saw my little brother on the cover."
He held up the magazine for Jihoon to see, and Jihoon's heart nearly stopped. There he was—on the cover of Luxe Seoul, one of the city's most prestigious fashion magazines. His dark eyes smoldered through the camera, his body angled to emphasize his lean frame. He was dressed in a silky black shirt that was slightly unbuttoned, revealing just enough skin to make the pose alluring. The confident tilt of his chin and the way his lips parted ever so slightly made him look undeniably seductive.
Jihoon's face turned a deep shade of red as he stared at the image. He hadn't even realized they'd used that particular shot—it had been from one of his last modeling gigs before everything had gone downhill.
"Give me that!" Jihoon snapped, stepping forward to grab the magazine, but Minjae held it just out of reach.
"Oh no no~" Minjae said, his smirk widening. He raised the magazine higher, using his superior height to keep it out of Jihoon's grasp. "What's the rush? You should be proud of this, Jihoon. You look good. Really good."
"Minjae!" Jihoon's voice cracked as he tried again to snatch the magazine, but Minjae easily evaded him, holding it high above his head. Jihoon's frustration only grew as he stood on his tiptoes, his fingers just barely brushing the edge of the glossy cover.
"Relax, little brother~" Minjae teased, his tone light but with an edge of amusement. "I'm just admiring your work. You know, not everyone gets to be called one of the sexiest models in Seoul."
Jihoon froze, his face burning even hotter. "W-What?!"
Minjae flipped the magazine around, pointing to the bold text on the cover: *Seoul's Top 10 Most Seductive Stars.*
Jihoon wanted to melt into the floor. "That's just ridiculous! They're exaggerating!"
"Exaggerating?" Minjae raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with mock disbelief. "Come on, Jihoon. Look at this. You're practically glowing. It's no wonder people were head over heels for you."
Jihoon clenched his fists, his flustered state making it impossible to come up with a proper retort. "Just… give it to me already!"
Minjae lowered the magazine slightly, just enough to tempt Jihoon into trying to grab it again. When Jihoon lunged for it, Minjae moved it out of reach once more, chuckling at the younger man's frustration.
"You're enjoying this way too much," Jihoon muttered, his glare sharp despite the heat on his cheeks.
"Of course I am," Minjae replied smoothly. "How could I not? My little brother—Seoul's very own heartthrob. I feel like a proud older brother."
Jihoon's glare faltered, and he looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line. There was something about the way Minjae said those words—half-teasing, half-genuine—that made Jihoon's chest tighten. He hated how easily Minjae could fluster him, how the older man could twist his words to make Jihoon feel both irritated and embarrassed at the same time.
"You're impossible," Jihoon muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to look at him.
Minjae finally relented, placing the magazine back on the desk with a satisfied smirk. "Fine, fine. I'll stop teasing—for now. But you can't blame me for being impressed. You really do have a gift for this, Jihoon. It's no wonder so many people noticed you."
Jihoon didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the floor as he tried to will away the redness in his cheeks. He didn't want to admit it, but hearing those words—even in Minjae's infuriatingly teasing tone—made a small part of him feel… proud.
"Now," Minjae said, his tone shifting back to business, "if you're done being shy, we've got work to discuss. You'll be under my supervision from now on, so you'd better get used to seeing my face every day."
Jihoon glanced up at him, his glare returning. "Don't remind me."
Minjae chuckled again, that same deep, rich laugh that made Jihoon's pulse quicken for reasons he didn't want to examine.