His runaway bride-3

The city pulsed with life outside the towering glass facade of the studio, but Yume felt detached, as if encased in a bubble of silence. The lobby's opulence—gleaming marble floors, gold-trimmed ceilings, and cascading chandeliers—did little to soothe her frayed nerves. She adjusted the strap of her handbag, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Come on, Yume," her manager, Kaede, urged gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "This audition is crucial. Let's get you ready before the director arrives."

Yume nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Alright."

As they turned toward the dressing rooms, a deep, authoritative voice halted them.

"No need."

Kaede spun around, her eyes widening. "Director Hoshino! You're early—"

Yume turned slowly, her gaze meeting the director's. He was a tall man in his mid-forties, with silver streaks in his jet-black hair and piercing eyes that seemed to assess everything and nothing all at once.

Kaede quickly composed herself. "This is Yume, our top model. She's incredibly talented and punctual. Isn't she beautiful? She's very serious about her work."

Hoshino's gaze lingered on Yume, scanning her from head to toe. The silence stretched uncomfortably before he finally spoke.

"No. She's not my type. You can leave."

Kaede blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Hoshino replied, his tone dismissive as he turned away.

"Wait—" Kaede stepped forward. "May I ask the reason?"

Hoshino raised a hand, signaling the conversation's end, and disappeared behind the door.

Yume stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The rejection wasn't what hurt—it was the cold, impersonal manner in which it was delivered.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Kaede sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Don't apologize. He's going to regret this. What a fool. Go home, Yume. Get some rest."

She nodded slowly and walked toward the elevator. Her limbs felt heavy, her chest even heavier. As the doors closed, she could still feel the director's cold eyes on her.

Outside, the world continued unabated—traffic hummed, people chatted, the sun blazed overhead. Yume stepped onto the sidewalk, her phone vibrating in her hand. The caller ID made her stomach twist.

Felix's Father.

She exhaled sharply. "Just what I needed."

She hesitated before answering.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was thunderous. "WHERE IS MY SON?!"

Yume's brows furrowed. "What—?"

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO FELIX?!"

She pulled the phone away from her ear, trying to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"HE'S NOT PICKING UP HIS PHONE!"

"He left the house yesterday and didn't come back," Yume replied flatly. "I don't know where he is."

"AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO CALL HIM?!"

Yume clenched her jaw. "I don't care. It's not my business. He's not a child anymore."

"You ungrateful little—"

She cut him off. "Please don't call me at my workplace again."

Without waiting for a response, she ended the call and stared at the screen.

"When is this all going to end?" she muttered.

She began walking, her steps aimless. Her fingers tightened around her handbag strap.

Suddenly, she collided with someone.

"Ah—sorry!" she said quickly, bowing slightly but not looking up.

The man she bumped into turned to watch her leave.

Tall. Lean. A long black coat brushing against his legs. His face was calm, almost too calm, but his eyes gleamed like a predator in the dark.

He inhaled deeply.

Her scent.

He smiled to himself, lips curling upward like a secret only he knew.

"Don't worry, baby," he whispered to the air, watching her figure melt into the crowd. "I'll end it all soon."

Kris.