The suite was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the muted rhythm of Mirae's breathing. Her sobs had softened into hiccups, her shoulders no longer shaking as violently. She clung to Joon-ho still, her face pressed against his chest, and the steady rise and fall beneath her cheek anchored her in ways she hadn't known she needed.

Only when her tears fully slowed did the realization hit her. Heat spread across her cheeks — she had been crying into him, soaking the front of his shirt, leaving herself vulnerable in the most unguarded way. Embarrassment prickled, a part of her wanting to pull away, to mask herself again with the polished poise she wore before cameras and strangers. Yet another, quieter part of her resisted. For the first time in months — maybe years — she had let go completely. And he hadn't recoiled. He had only held her, patient and steady.

So she stayed, nestled in his embrace for a little while longer, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as though afraid that letting go would bring the weight of her world crashing down again.

When she finally dared to lift her head, her lashes were damp and her eyes swollen, but she forced herself to meet Hye-jin's gaze. Her manager sat across the low table, shoulders drawn tight, her sharp features softened by something that looked dangerously close to guilt.

"I should have noticed earlier," Hye-jin said quietly, the bite gone from her voice. "How much you were struggling. I thought… I thought I was protecting you by managing everything, by keeping you moving. But maybe I was just pushing you further."

The admission shocked Mirae almost as much as the day's earlier revelations. Hye-jin was many things — efficient, unrelenting, sharp-tongued when necessary. But apologies rarely, if ever, passed her lips. The sight of her eyes lowered, her expression tinged with regret, made Mirae's heart twist.

She shook her head quickly, her voice soft but firm. "No. You've always done your best. If it weren't for you, unnie, I wouldn't have survived this long. You've carried me more times than I can count."

For a beat, the two women simply stared at each other, the weight of unspoken years pressing down between them. Then Mirae moved first, slipping from Joon-ho's lap and crossing the small distance. She folded herself into Hye-jin's arms, clinging with a kind of desperation that mirrored the hug she'd given Joon-ho minutes earlier.

Hye-jin's arms came up after a hesitant pause, holding her tight. "You stubborn girl," she muttered, though her voice cracked. "You shouldn't have had to endure this alone."

"I wasn't alone," Mirae whispered back.

The quiet embrace lasted longer than either intended. When they finally pulled apart, Mirae's lips wobbled into a small smile, fragile but genuine.

"Go wash your face," Hye-jin said gently, smoothing Mirae's hair like an older sister would. "Maybe even take a shower. It'll help."

Mirae nodded. She felt raw, emptied, but in that emptiness there was also a strange lightness, like air rushing into lungs starved too long. Rising to her feet, she padded toward the master bedroom. Her steps were slow, but they no longer dragged with invisible weights. She closed the bathroom door softly behind her, the sound of running water soon filling the quiet.

That left only Joon-ho and Hye-jin in the suite.

Hye-jin rose, brushing invisible dust from her slacks, already half-turning toward the exit. "I'll let her rest. I should head back to my room, freshen up too. I'll return around dinner."

Joon-ho stood as well, walking her to the door. His expression was calm, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that hadn't been there before.

"Wait," he said evenly.

She stopped, hand hovering near the handle, brows lifting in question.

"Send me copies of Mirae's contract," he continued, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. "Any related documents. Don't hold back."

For a moment, Hye-jin only stared at him. Normally, she would have bristled, deflected, demanded to know his intentions. Contracts were delicate things, tightly bound, the kind of legal cages agencies wielded with ruthless efficiency. To hand them over was to cross a line most managers would never consider.

But she didn't question him. Not this time.

Her lips pressed together, her jaw working briefly before she nodded. "I'll send everything tonight."

Joon-ho inclined his head slightly, accepting. His eyes softened, but the edge of resolve didn't leave them.

Hye-jin lingered a second longer, studying him. She had seen countless men orbit Mirae over the years — sponsors, executives, colleagues, all of them reaching for her in ways that benefitted themselves first. None had looked at Mirae with the kind of focus Joon-ho did. As if she wasn't a product or a ticket but simply… Mirae. A woman worth protecting.

It unsettled her as much as it relieved her.

With a tired exhale, she finally turned, slipping out into the hallway. The door shut quietly behind her, leaving Joon-ho alone in the suite.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. Then he drew a steady breath and turned back toward the master bedroom, where the faint sound of the shower continued to run.

For now, he would let her have this moment of peace. But his mind was already moving, threads pulling together, calculations forming. Contracts, clauses, penalties — ten million dollars wasn't just a number, it was leverage. And if the agency thought they could chain Mirae indefinitely, they were about to learn that not all cages were unbreakable.

Inside the bathroom, Mirae let the hot water wash over her face, her hands pressed against cool tile. Her chest still ached, but beneath it a new warmth lingered, the memory of his steady arms and his voice promising she wasn't alone anymore. For the first time, the thought of freedom didn't feel like a dream. It felt like something she could reach — if she dared.

The steam curled out of the slightly open bathroom door, carrying with it the faint scent of Mirae's shower gel — floral, delicate, clinging to the mist. Joon-ho stood for a moment at the threshold, the sight before him making his breath pause. Near the doorway lay a single piece of silk — her underwear, pale against the dark floor tile, abandoned as if left on purpose.

The door itself wasn't closed. The latch hung free, the thin line of light spilling into the bedroom like a trail. It wasn't carelessness. It was invitation.

Joon-ho's chest tightened, not with desire alone but with something quieter, deeper. She trusted him. After all the walls, the tears, the unspoken burdens she had carried — she was letting him in, wordlessly.

He peeled off his shirt, unhurried, the damp fabric clinging faintly from where her tears had soaked it earlier. Shoes, socks, trousers followed, each motion deliberate, not rushed. When at last he stepped free of the last layer, the cool air of the suite brushed his skin, then gave way to the humid heat seeping from the bathroom.

The sound of running water grew louder as he crossed the threshold. The mist wrapped around him, condensing against his skin as he pushed the door fully open.

Mirae stood beneath the showerhead, head tilted back, eyes closed as streams cascaded down her hair, her neck, her bare shoulders. Droplets chased each other along the curve of her breasts, gliding down her stomach, clinging to her thighs before joining the puddled water at her feet.

She must have heard the door open wider — her lashes lifted, her gaze flickering back over her shoulder. For a moment, her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. She didn't need them. The softness in her eyes said everything: she wanted him here.

Joon-ho stepped into the spray, the heat instantly soaking into him, flattening his hair, streaming down his chest. Without hesitation, his arms wrapped around her from behind, drawing her back against him.

Mirae let out a breath, almost a sigh of relief, as her body melted into his. Her hands rose, reaching behind her to find his neck, pulling him lower until her damp lips brushed his. The kiss was slow, lingering, carrying the same raw honesty as her tears earlier — a surrender, a trust.

Water drummed steadily around them, a cocoon of sound and heat. Joon-ho deepened the kiss gradually, one hand sliding up her stomach to cup her breast. His thumb teased her nipple, slick with water, circling until it hardened under his touch. Mirae shivered, her breath catching against his mouth.

His other hand traced lower, over the curve of her hip, between her thighs. The shower masked nothing — he could feel clearly where the wetness was hers, warmer, thicker than the water rushing past them. His fingers parted her folds gently, stroking, testing, until she trembled against him.

Mirae broke the kiss with a gasp, her forehead pressing back against his shoulder. "Oppa…" Her voice was little more than a whimper, drowned quickly by the spray.

Joon-ho's lips brushed her ear, calm and steady. "I've got you."

She believed it. She had no hesitation when her hand slipped back, searching until it wrapped around the hard length pressed against her backside. She stroked slowly, experimentally at first, then with more confidence, her palm slick with both water and him.

The rhythm of their touches tangled together — his fingers circling her clit, dipping inside her, her hand stroking him in return. The shower made everything warmer, smoother, like their bodies were dissolving into each other in the mist.

Mirae tilted her head, turning just enough to find his lips again. This kiss was different — hungrier, trembling. Every time his thumb pressed harder against her swollen nub, she gasped into his mouth, only to be swallowed by his kiss again.

Her hips began to move on their own, pressing against his hand, grinding against the hard length cock at her back. She wasn't shy anymore. She didn't hide. Every moan, every shudder was open, raw, given freely to him.

Joon-ho's chest ached at the sight and sound of it. Not only from desire, but from the knowledge of what it meant: after everything, after her fears of being trapped, after crying until she broke — she was still giving herself to him, completely.

The water streamed over them endlessly, but for Mirae, it was his hands, his body, that drowned her.

The shower roared around them, steam curling off the glass, the air heavy with heat and the mingled sound of water and breath. Mirae's body pressed against his, trembling, needy, her hand still stroking him with shaky insistence. Her lips parted, eyes hazy with desire that had burned through the remnants of her tears.

Then, with a suddenness that startled even herself, she pulled away. Her fingers slipped from him, and she turned, water cascading down her flushed skin. Slowly, almost shyly, she bent forward, bracing her palms against the tiled ledge of the shower wall.

Her hair clung wetly to her shoulders. The curve of her back arched beautifully as she spread her legs, water streaming between them, droplets catching on the delicate line of her calves.

She glanced back over her shoulder, cheeks crimson even under the heat of the shower. Her voice broke with both embarrassment and hunger."Please… I want you."

Joon-ho froze for a heartbeat, his chest tightening at the sight of her offering herself so openly. He stepped closer, the tip of his cock brushing against her slick folds. Mirae gasped softly, rolling her hips back against him, rubbing her entrance along his length.

Her whimper trembled through the steam. "Oppa… don't make me wait."

The plea shattered the last restraint in him.

With one steady hand on her hip, he guided himself against her, pressing until the swollen head slid into her. Mirae's entire body jolted forward with a sharp cry — not of pain, but of overwhelming fullness — as his cock buried into her in one slow, smooth push, stretching her walls until he was seated fully inside her.

"Ah—!" She gasped, her voice high and raw, echoing against the tiled walls. Her legs trembled, braced wide, her hands gripping the ledge as a shuddering orgasm rippled through her immediately, her pussy clenching greedily around him.

Joon-ho groaned low, his head bowing forward as the tight heat squeezed him. He waited just long enough for her to steady, his hands firm on her hips. Then he began to move.

At first his thrusts were slow, measured, letting her adjust — the wet, obscene sounds masked beneath the heavy curtain of water. But Mirae rocked back against him with a whimper, her ass pressing to his hips, wordlessly begging for more.

So he gave it.

Each thrust came harder, deeper, his hips slapping against her ass, the rhythm echoing in the steam. Mirae's cries rose with every movement, her voice breaking as her body gave in. "Oppa—oh, oppa—ahhh—!"

The shower drowned everything else, but not her moans. They filled the space, desperate and unrestrained, proof of how thoroughly she had surrendered herself.

Her knees buckled with the intensity, but Joon-ho's grip steadied her. Then he pulled her upright suddenly, dragging her back until her slick skin was pressed against his chest. She gasped, her head falling against his shoulder, water dripping from her lashes.

His cock drove up into her from behind as he pinned her to him, one hand squeezing her breast, thumb and forefinger rolling her nipple until she cried out. His other hand slid down, fingers rubbing furiously against her swollen clit.

"Ahhh—! Oppa—!" Mirae's voice cracked as wave after wave overtook her. Her body convulsed around him, pussy clenching as another orgasm ripped through her. Her hands shot up, clawing at his arms, clinging desperately as though she'd fall without him.

Joon-ho's teeth grazed her shoulder, his voice a low growl against her wet skin. "Cum for me again, Mirae."

"I—I'm…!" she gasped, her body already trembling with the edges of release. "I can't—ahhh, I'm cumming again—!"

Her walls fluttered violently around him, squeezing so tight he nearly lost control. Her scream of pleasure echoed against the glass as she collapsed against him, only his arms keeping her upright while he pounded into her mercilessly, pushing her through climax after climax.

Joon-ho's breath grew ragged, his thrusts harder, rougher, his voice breaking as he pressed his face into her nape. "Mirae—fuck—I'm close—"

Her head whipped back, eyes wild with need, her lips trembling. "Inside… please… I want it inside. Fill me—ahhh—!"

That plea, raw and shameless, drove him past the edge. With a final, brutal thrust, he slammed deep, the head of his cock kissing her cervix as his release tore through him.

Hot, thick spurts of cum flooded into her, filling her womb in heavy waves. Mirae screamed his name as her body convulsed with another blinding orgasm, the sensation of him spilling inside her too much, overwhelming, devastating.

She shook violently in his arms, her legs nearly giving out as she felt his seed flood her, mixing with her own wetness. "Ahhh—oh god—I can feel it—inside—so much—!"

Her walls milked him desperately, pulling every drop as though her body refused to let him go. He groaned low, biting into her shoulder as aftershocks wracked them both, their bodies locked together beneath the pounding shower.

Minutes passed before the frenzy ebbed. Mirae slumped fully against him, chest heaving, her breaths broken sobs of pleasure. His arms tightened, holding her upright, his lips pressing tender kisses along her nape, leaving faint red marks blooming across her skin.

Neither spoke. Words weren't needed.

The water washed over them endlessly, cooling the sweat from their skin, rinsing nothing of the intimacy that still clung fiercely between them. Mirae's fingers twined weakly with his at her stomach, her body still trembling faintly.

Her soft breaths, gradually syncing with his steadier ones, filled the silence.

Joon-ho rested his cheek against her wet hair, his arms a steady cage around her. It wasn't just sex. It was a vow without sound — that whatever chains still bound her, whatever weight she carried, she would never carry it alone again.

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