The Scandal Queen

Episode Nineteen

Iseul

Juggling my schedule has become an art form. Between meetings, rehearsals, and my own projects, I've somehow managed to carve out time for both Jaewook and Seonho without them ever crossing paths. It’s a delicate balance, like walking a tightrope with no safety net. Each date, each stolen moment, is meticulously planned to avoid overlap or suspicion.

But as the days go by, I'm growing more attached to both men. Jaewook’s calm, steady presence is a balm to my often chaotic life. Seonho’s electric energy and charisma make me both dizzy with want and on my toes for everything he's going to do next. Despite my initial reservations, my feelings for them deepen.

Tonight, as I’m closing up Dynamix Dance Academy, the echo of my footsteps on the polished floor is the only sound in the studio. The lights flicker off one by one, leaving just the dim glow from the streetlights outside. I’m about to lock the front doors when I notice a figure in dark clothes and a ballcap standing outside.

The figure knocks sharply on the glass doors, making me jump.

My heart skips a beat, and my first instinct is to call the police. But as I get closer, I recognize the cheeky smile beneath the cap.

“Seonho?” I unlock the door and let him in. “You scared me half to death!”

“Sorry,” he says, stepping inside quickly and pulling his cap lower over his eyes. “Had to dodge the paparazzi.”

I shake my head, still feeling the adrenaline rush from the scare. “You could’ve called.”

“And ruin the surprise?” He grins, that boyish charm impossible to resist.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as I lock the door behind him.

“I wanted to see you,” he says simply. “And maybe get a tour?”

I roll my eyes but lead him through the studio, anyway. We walk past empty practice rooms until we reach one of my favorites—the one with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and state-of-the-art sound system.

“This is where the magic happens,” I say, gesturing around.

“Show me,” he says, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

I raise an eyebrow. “Show you what?”

“Your new choreography.”

I hesitate for a moment, but then decide why not? I queue up the music and start moving through the routine. To my surprise, Seonho watches intently and starts mimicking my movements with impressive accuracy.

“You’re pretty good,” I say, slightly breathless as we finish a sequence.

He shrugs modestly. “Not a natural dancer, but I love challenges. Took extra classes and worked hard to get good.”

“Well,” I say thoughtfully, “maybe you weren’t born a dancer, but you’re definitely a born performer. You’ve got charisma and stage presence that you can’t teach.”

He smiles at that, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve got it too. Maybe we should perform together sometime.”

I laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Yeah right! Like your label would ever agree to that.”

He shrugs again, nonchalant as ever. “I have more pull in my agency than most people think.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “But if we can’t have a public dance … we can always have one in private.”

Before I can respond, he pulls me into another duet. This time, our movements are slower, more intimate. The air between us thickens with tension as our bodies move in sync—close enough to feel each other’s warmth, but not quite touching.

As we dance under the dim lights of the studio, everything else fades away—the stress of juggling schedules, the uncertainty of where things are headed with Jaewook or Seonho—it all disappears in this moment of shared rhythm and unspoken connection.

The dance becomes less about steps and more about feeling—our breaths synchronizing as our bodies move closer together until there’s no space left between us.

I spin through a circle and Seonho's hands lift naturally to hold me. Hot palms graze the bare skin below my crop top. I lean into the touch, the front of my body presses against his and I look up, seeing the glitter in his dark eyes and the small naughty smile curving his lips. He reaches down and fits a hand around the back of my thigh, lifting my leg so that it's hooked over his hip, bringing us even closer so and so that I can feel the unmistakable bulge now pressed against my center.

“The way you move is magic,” he says as he leans in close and bends toward my ear. His breath on my skin makes me shiver slightly as he continues, “It reminds me of the way you move when I'm inside you.”

I let out a stuttering breath as he moves his hand from my thigh and fits it between us, holding still and sucking in much-needed air when he uses those long expert fingers to trace the seam of my p***y through my leggings. Seonho lifts his gaze to something over my shoulder. I follow his line of sight to the wall-to-wall mirrors behind us. I stare at our reflection, me with my back to the mirrors, one leg hitched around Seonho's hips. Him towering over me, one hand on my lower back, his eyes hooded and swirling with intent.

“Have you ever watched yourself being f****d in that mirror?” he wonders.

I shake my head and lick my lips. “No.”

*NSFW CONTENT EDITED OUT*

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