The Kim Mansion buzzed with warmth that evening. Laughter echoed down the hallways, servants moved briskly preparing dinner, and familiar fragrances of eucalyptus and sandalwood hung in the air—Aurora was home.
She padded down the polished wooden hallway barefoot, dressed in soft grey joggers and an oversized sweatshirt. Her long hair was loosely tied up, the image of cozy innocence.
"You're finally looking human again," a deep voice teased behind her.
She turned—and there he stood. Cha Eunwoo.
In a crisp button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows, leaning against the doorframe with that lazy, half-smile he always wore around her. He looked like something out of a tailored dream: sharp jaw, those damn eyes, and a presence that never tried too hard yet always made her heart skip in ways she refused to admit.
"Oppa," she greeted, grinning. “Didn’t expect to see you lounging around here.”
"I live two floors up, genius," he chuckled, walking over with two mugs in hand. “Green tea. Still your favorite, right?”
"Depends," she said, accepting the cup. "Is this before or after you started stealing my cookies at 3 a.m.?"
He laughed. “That was one time. And your baking skills were suspiciously good for someone claiming to ‘just be average.’”
She took a sip, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m not average.”
Something flickered in his gaze. Just for a second.
“I never thought you were.”
The words hung heavier than either of them intended. A small silence followed—comfortable but crackling underneath.
She broke it with a smirk. “You’ve gotten better at compliments. Japan must’ve made me soft.”
“You? Soft?” He arched a brow, amused. “You were literally a marshmallow in high school. Remember the time you cried over a drama character dying?”
“I was twelve!” she argued, pushing his arm playfully. “And he was poisoned!”
They both laughed, the kind that came from memories etched deep into their bones.
Eunwoo sat beside her on the lounge sofa in the sunroom, their shoulders barely touching. “It’s good to have you back, Aroua.”
Her smile faltered for half a second before recovering.
“It’s good to be back,” she said. But her voice was softer, like the words didn’t come easy.
He noticed. Of course, he did. Eunwoo always noticed.
But he didn’t press. Not yet.
Instead, he looked out at the garden through the glass. “Tae said you’ve changed. Grown sharper.”
She tilted her head, watching him. “Do you think I have?”
He turned back to her, their eyes locking for just a moment too long. “I think... you hide more now.”
A pause. Her heart slowed. Her fingers curled around the mug.
“Maybe I’ve learned some people are better at watching than asking.”
“Maybe,” he murmured. “But some people are better at waiting than chasing.”
She stared at him. He smiled softly, then bumped her shoulder with his.
> “So? Ready to lose to me at Uno again?”
“Only if you promise not to cry when I reverse+4 you.”
She giggled, rising with him, and in that moment—no secrets existed, no lies hovered, no blood or power or shadows.
Just two souls, brushing close in the eye of a storm neither of them could see coming.
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