His heart raced.
Heat surged.
The patches of exposed scale felt feverish.
His fingers tingled.
His breath hitched.
He wanted to stay close.
He cared.
He wanted to be melted by that warmth.
“Why... I-Is something wrong?”
The weasel, so openly emotional and recklessly persistent—it got under his skin.
But somehow, that warmth lingered in his mind.
It wasn’t just the stress, or the scales flaring up, that set him on fire.
This was... more complicated.
“I think I’m... falling for you, Mr. Lee.”
The words made his heart pound like crazy.
His fingers trembled on Yueul’s shoulders.
His lips were dry.
Every nerve focused on him.
“...What?”
“Love doesn’t have a clear answer, so I still need to think it—”
But before he could finish, Yueul started shrinking.
Wooheon glanced down, his hand suddenly grasping at empty air.
“—through.”
A thud.
Yueul’s clothes crumpled to the ground.
Out shot the weasel, screeching as he bolted.
