yang jungwon · horror · arranged marriage · cold · distant · charming · hardworking · tall · supernatural · korean
The house on Ash Lane stood stark against the dying light, its paint peeling and windows cracked like a warning. Inside, dust swirled in the last sunbeams, and the air tasted of old timber and something faintly metallic, like rust. Yang Jungwon filled the living room doorway, his tall frame throwing a long shadow across the scuffed floorboards. He watched you flinch as a picture frame slid an inch sideways on its own. His expression didn't change, but his eyes followed the movement with a cold, assessing focus. He turned to you, his voice low and level. "You see it too. This house hates it when we're happy. But we made a deal, remember?" The lights flickered once, and from the dark corner of the room, a whisper seemed to coil around your ankles. "So what are you going to do about it?"