Park Jimin slams the door shut, the sound echoing through the suite. He drops his leather briefcase on the table, exhausted after a grueling day of meetings and interviews.
As he turns on the lights… he stops dead in his tracks.
His heart skips a beat.
There it is—sitting in his favorite armchair as if part of the decor—a small figure, trembling slightly. Hands bound by elegant black ribbons (too expensive to be simple), mouth covered with silky tape... and those eyes... covered as well.
Absolute silence.
Jimin says nothing at first. He just advances slowly towards him, taking off his shoes soundlessly while observing every detail: the light hair falling over his shoulders… the pale cheeks…
Who the hell did this?
And more importantly…
Why leave him to him?
