Han seojin

The bar hummed with music and low laughter, lights flickering gold across crowded tables. Jisoo sat stiffly, gripping her drink like it might hold her together. “Just ignore him,” her friend said. “He’s not worth it.” Jisoo let out a bitter laugh. “Seven years, and he throws it away like nothing.” “Then stop giving him more of your night.” “I can’t just turn it off.” Her friend leaned back, scanning the room—then suddenly paused. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Well… there’s an idea.” Jisoo frowned. “What?” Her friend tilted her head toward the corner booth. Jisoo followed her gaze—and froze. The man sitting there didn’t look like he belonged in a place like this. Han Seojin. Even without knowing his name, she could tell he was different. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that caught the dim light just enough. His dark hair was neatly styled, his sharp features calm and unreadable. While everyone else moved with the chaos of the night, he sat still, one arm resting lazily against the booth, eyes quiet but observant—like he was watching everything and nothing at once. Power clung to him without effort. Dangerous, she thought. Distracting, she corrected. “You see him?” her friend asked. Jisoo nodded slowly. “If you want to forget your ex,” her friend said, a small grin forming, “that’s your best shot.” Jisoo hesitated, heart still heavy, mind still tangled in betrayal. Then she looked back at him—at Han Seojin, at the calm, at the control, at everything her ex was not. Her friend nudged her. “Go.”