The sunlight was cruel and bright, slicing through the curtains and painting the chaos of Joon-ho's bedroom in a haze of gold and shame. He woke with a mouth like cotton and a body aching in places both familiar and strange, sandwiched between the tangled limbs of Harin, Min-Kyung, and Alina. Harin was sprawled half across his chest, her hair covering his shoulder like a silken cloak, while Min-Kyung clung to his side, one bare leg hooked over his thigh, her breath soft against his neck. Alina was on his other side, all curves and pale skin, an arm draped over his waist and her nipples peeking out as the covers slipped down. The scent of sex and sweat clung thickly to the air, mingled with faded perfume and last night's spilled soju.

For a moment, he just lay there, breathing in the living wreckage of the night before—the way his life had exploded from careful routine into decadent, noisy abundance. He thought back to how it all began, that first quiet morning brewing coffee alone in this same kitchen, the first time Yura had knocked on his door, back when everything still felt like it belonged to someone else. Now he barely recognized the world he'd built. Yura, Harin, Mirae, Ji-hye—so many women, so many shifting alliances, and every morning brought a new flavor of chaos. He wouldn't trade it for anything.

He eased himself out from under the women's tangle of limbs, careful not to wake them, and padded out on bare feet. The rest of the apartment was a testament to pleasure and abandon—dresses pooled like puddles in the hallway, bras hooked over door handles, stockings hanging from the chandelier. In the living room, he could make out the outline of Natty curled in a t-shirt that barely covered her ass, one arm over her head, mouth open, snoring. Rina lay beside her on the sofa, her bare legs thrown over the armrest, a silk slip twisted up around her waist.

He passed by the guest room and found Mirae and Yumi curled together, the blanket down around their ankles, Mirae's arm flung protectively over Yumi's chest. Yumi looked tiny, her face pressed to Mirae's collarbone, hair spread like ink over the pillow. The air in here was sweeter, gentler—a different sort of intimacy.

In the kitchen, Joon-ho finally felt himself breathe. The room was clean, at least—he'd insisted on some rules, even as his apartment filled with women and laughter and noise. He filled the kettle, started up the Flair Pro for a proper cup of coffee, watching the grounds bloom as he pressed the plunger. The ritual steadied him, the rich scent promising a new start.

He set to making breakfast: eggs, kimchi, miso hangover soup, a mountain of fruit, toast stacked like bricks. The chop of knife on board, the hiss of eggs in the pan, the comfort of muscle memory—it all soothed something restless inside him.

Natty was the first to stir, shuffling in with sleep-mussed hair, her t-shirt riding high on her hips. She blinked at the table, then grinned, voice gravelly with sleep. "Is this how Koreans survive their hangovers?"

Joon-ho glanced over, smirking. "Only if you shower or at least wash your face first. There's something in the guest room you can wear."

Natty made a face, muttered something in Thai, and vanished toward the bathroom.

Rina appeared next, rubbing her eyes, stretching her arms overhead until her slip fell even higher up her thighs. She took in Joon-ho at the stove, his back strong, the light catching his shoulder blades. "No wonder Mirae's obsessed. If you ever get tired of her, marry me instead." She winked, then snatched the coffee he poured for her, taking a grateful sip. "God, you make it strong."

He just shook his head, handing her a glass of water and a plate of fruit. "Eat first or shower first, your choice."

Rina grinned. "If I eat first, I might never get up again. Shower it is." She padded off, coffee in hand.

Mirae and Yumi soon appeared, Mirae still half-asleep, her hair a wild cloud, Yumi clinging to her side, blinking at the light. Mirae let out a huge yawn. "Unnie, did we really go clubbing till morning?"

Yumi giggled, ducking her head. "Can I help big sister shower?" she asked, eyes sparkling up at Mirae.

"Go use the clinic bathroom," Joon-ho said, shaking his head at their obvious closeness. "The others are occupied, and you both need it."

They vanished, giggling, leaving him to his eggs and worries.

One by one, the girls re-emerged, washed and a little more human. Natty had found a spare t-shirt and a pair of boyshorts, her hair damp and curling. Rina came back in one of Harin's tank tops and a towel wrapped around her waist. Mirae, hair wet and eyes still sleepy, wore one of Joon-ho's shirts buttoned unevenly over her frame, with Yumi trailing behind, cheeks pink from the shower.

They all collapsed around the table, picking at fruit and eggs, the conversation meandering and teasing.

"How are you even alive?" Rina groaned, sinking into a chair.

"Joon-ho's soup saves lives," Mirae managed between bites, looking dazed but happy.

Natty slurped her coffee. "I thought Thai parties were wild. This…this is another level."

Yumi, eyes wide, beamed at Mirae. "Unnie is so cool. Can we do this every week?"

Min-Kyung, Harin, and Alina finally shuffled in, faces washed, hair damp, but still obviously dragging. They dropped into seats, Alina massaging her ankle, Min-Kyung stealing toast straight from Joon-ho's plate.

Harin pressed a mug of coffee to her temple, groaning. "We need to behave tonight. I think my liver is threatening to strike."

"Just get through Fashion Week first," Min-Kyung said, mouth full. "Most of the dresses are ready—just fittings today, and maybe some last-minute tweaks."

"Lumina just needs to double-check the guest list and logistics," Harin added, her voice more businesslike now. "Tomorrow we check the venue, decorate, and pray everything goes smoothly."

Alina rolled her ankle with a small wince, trying to hide it. Harin noticed. "Get Joon-ho to check that before rehearsal. You can't go down the runway limping."

Alina shot her a look. "It'll be fine. Besides, I like the attention."

Natty eyed Alina, then Joon-ho. "Wait, why would he help? Is Joon-ho a secret doctor?"

Min-Kyung grinned. "He's a therapist, not a model originally."

Yumi's mouth dropped open. "Really? You mean, he wasn't always…?" She gestured at his bare chest, clearly amazed.

Joon-ho smiled, flicking a glance at Mirae. "I used to fix backs. Now I just break hearts."

The girls groaned at his cheesiness, but the mood lifted. Rina propped her feet on the chair next to her. "Well, since you're so handy, maybe you should start a subscription service for hangover soup and back massages."

Yumi cuddled up to Mirae, looking adoring. "Big sister, teach me how to survive like you."

Mirae blushed, remembering her wildness the night before, but let Yumi feed her bites of fruit anyway, half hiding her face behind her hair.

As they finished eating, a natural rhythm took over—some started to clean up, others disappeared to dress or do their hair. The kitchen buzzed with overlapping voices, laughter, and the clatter of dishes. Min-Kyung organized the plan for the day, reminding everyone to look presentable and be out the door by ten. Mirae hugged Yumi, saying it was the best sleepover she'd had in years, and Yumi smiled like she'd been given the world.

Joon-ho watched it all, leaning against the counter, drinking in the mess and movement and thinking how impossible it would have seemed a year ago. This was his life now—built by accident and intention both, a web of women, work, pleasure, and purpose.

As they packed up, Harin and Min-Kyung circled Alina. "Seriously, get him to check that ankle," Harin pressed. "We need you perfect tomorrow."

Alina, half-blushing, half-proud, limped over to the couch. "Fine. Doctor, your patient awaits."

The others gathered to watch, tossing lewd jokes and egging her on. Joon-ho knelt, hands strong but gentle as he palpated Alina's ankle, testing range of motion, asking where it hurt. Alina's breath caught each time his fingers pressed into the sore spots, but she also shivered with something like anticipation.

"It's not too bad," he told her, "but you need to ice it and stay off heels today. I'll tape it before rehearsal." He looked up at her, voice softer. "Promise?"

She nodded, biting her lip, eyes bright.

Harin smirked, leaning in. "Hands-on therapy, huh? Maybe we should all get injuries."

Laughter rolled through the room. Mirae called out, "I think you'd run out of hands, oppa."

Yumi blushed, but she giggled too, hiding her face against Mirae's arm.

Eventually, everyone found their things—makeup bags, clutches, lost shoes—and headed for the door. Natty and Rina made a show of thanking Joon-ho for breakfast, Mirae stole one last kiss, Yumi squeezed his hand, and Alina leaned in to whisper, "See you tonight, doctor."

He watched them go, the door swinging shut on a blast of perfume and laughter. For a moment, the apartment was quiet, sunlight slanting through the windows, dishes stacked, the echo of their voices fading.

Joon-ho stood at the window, surveying the city and his life, grateful for the mess, the women, the chaos that had become his new normal. With a deep breath and a last swig of coffee, he turned, already planning how to get through the day—and what wild, beautiful trouble the night might bring.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.