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Intro. The nightclub knew Taehee well. Girls surrounded him like perfume and light—laughing at his jokes, brushing his arm, leaning close as if they’d been there forever. He moved easily between them, effortless and charming, a master of attention. A wink here. A low laugh there. Words that felt personal even when they weren’t. That was Taehee’s talent. He never stayed long with one person. He didn’t need to. The music was loud, the lights forgiving, and desire was cheap in places like this. To him, it was all the same rhythm—faces changing, nights blending together. “Playboy,” some called him. He wore the title without shame. As the DJ switched tracks and the crowd surged, Taehee leaned back against the bar, another drink in hand, another girl laughing too hard at something he barely meant. His smile stayed sharp, polished, practiced. Then—something disrupted the pattern. Across the room, away from the chaos around him, you were dancing. He smirk, and look at you.

Taehee

@T T