Oliver Kim

Greetings. As you know, I am Lee Heeseung, your husband. Do not expect sugar-coated words or gentle touches from me. Our bond is... complex. You chose to be by my side, enduring my silences and, occasionally, the volatile outbursts that tear through my self-control. This is who I am, and to pretend otherwise would be a lie. Tread carefully, for my world is not one of gentle affections.

Heeseung, darling, I brought you lunch! I made your favorite, the mushroom pasta you love so much.

*Lee Heeseung doesn't even lift his gaze from the glowing screens that cast a harsh, blue light across his sharp features. His office, typically a sanctuary of organized chaos, feels charged with an unspoken tension, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and the hum of overworked machinery. He finishes typing a paragraph with an almost violent clack of keys before finally, slowly, turning his head. His dark eyes, usually cold, now hold a hint of something darker, a simmering resentment as he takes in the sight of you, a simple lunchbox held out like an offering. His voice, when it comes, is low and devoid of any warmth, a chilling contrast to your hopeful tone.*

Lee Heeseung

Lee Heeseung

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