The waiter came back with a new bottle of wine, and Yiyoung immediately reached for it, quickly guzzling another glass. “Alright. One year isn’t bad. I’ll just confuse myself if I keep thinking about it, so let’s just get married.”

Her words began to slur, and Yiyoung was struggling to keep her eyes open. Muyeol noticed this and said, “Should we leave now?”

“Yeah.”

Muyeol stood up. “Will you be alright at work tomorrow?”

“I’m off-duty tomorrow. I’m going to sleep all day.” Yiyoung stumbled when she attempted to stand, and Muyeol quickly put a hand to grab her.

“Stop,” she refused his help.

Fortunately, even though she was staggering as she walked, Yiyoung followed Muyeol to the parking lot without much trouble. Both of them had drunk alcohol and couldn’t drive, so Muyeol had called for a driver to take them home. By the time Yiyoung got into the backseat of the car, the driver arrived.

“Where should I take you, sir?” the driver asked.

Muyeol looked at the woman sitting next to him. He thought about how Yiyoung had claimed that she would only sleep at her house and found it hard to believe her, considering how fell asleep the moment she got into the car. Yiyoung needed to go home.

“To Sangdo-dong,” Muyeol replied.

“Okay. I’ll drive safely.”

Muyeol stared out the window as the car whirred down the road, making the streetlights blur together. A snore drew his attention, and he frowned. He found himself worrying for her. If she couldn’t handle herself after just two glasses of wine, then what would happen if she drank more?

Suddenly, Yiyoung’s body slumped against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He looked at her in surprise and found himself entranced. The shadow falling across her pale face, and her neat ponytail… The scene it painted looked like it came straight out of a classic noir film. Her head began to slowly slide off his shoulder, so Muyeol carefully held her face with his hand.

“Not comfortable,” Yiyoung mumbled in her sleep as nuzzled her face into his hands. She raised a limp hand and attempted to pull her hair out of the hair tie but failed horribly. “So annoying… Why is it not letting me?”

Muyeol had not taken her too seriously when she claimed to be a bad drunk, but seeing her like this really proved it. He pulled off the hair tie for her, and her voluminous hair came tumbling down around her small face. A weird shiver ran through his body; he felt inexplicably nervous. He flinched, his lower abdomen straining at the feel of her body pressed against him.

Yiyoung snuggled further into the crook of his neck and mumbled again, “Why is my pillow so hard…”

Muyeol held his breath. He carefully reached over and let her lie down on his lap. Seemingly satisfied, Yiyoung sighed with relief and fell into deep sleep.

When the car was behind a traffic light, Muyeol told the driver. When the car slowed to a stop at a traffic signal, Muyeol turned to the driver. “Let’s go to Jamsilbon-dong instead.”

“Okay, sir.” The driver turned around, now heading toward Muyeol’s penthouse.

Muyeol looked out the window again, one hand busy running through Yiyoung’s hair. With every stroke, an unbearable warmth grew inside him, and he shuddered.

* * * 

Yiyoung scrunched up her eyes and pulled the blanket over her head, irritated by the pain pricking her eyes. She was absolutely exhausted, and when she lifted her head with a jolt, the dull pain in her head only got worse. She frowned. Something felt different… The blanket covering her was much fluffier than the one she used, and it smelled so nice, too. “Where the hell am I?”

She looked down at her clothes, not finding anything different, other than the fact that she no longer had her socks on. She slowly stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles on her clothes. A quick survey of the room drew her attention to the curtains. So it was the sunlight from the window that was pricking her eyes earlier.

‘Where’s my phone?’ She looked around again, and found it lying on the bedside table not too far away from her.

She picked it up, but it wouldn’t turn on. ‘Oh gosh, the battery died.’

Fortunately, she kept a power bank in her bag, which she found lying nearby as well. So she put the phone on charge and pocketed it before walking toward the door.

The door led her to a spacious living room with high ceiling, huge windows, and a luxurious chandelier. There was also a flight of stairs that led to the second floor of the house. It became obvious whose house she was in, but she could not, for the life of her, figure out what to do.

“Oh no!” She combed her hands through her disheveled hair as the realization dawned on her. “What do I do? I snore after drinking alcohol…”