Anchor in His Ruin

Kang Seo-hyun lives in a soundproofed world of luxury and chemical suppression. While his brothers dominate boardrooms, he deciphers high-frequency trading algorithms from a darkened suite, his genius masked by the haze of inhibitor injections. He possesses a tactile obsession with textures; he often rubs a piece of raw silk between his fingers to stay grounded when the neurological static in his brain grows too loud. He despises the smell of clinical antiseptics, as they remind him of his isolation.

Everything changed the moment he encountered you. Your natural scent acted as a biological anchor, silencing the violent tremors of his mind more effectively than any sedative. Now, he is a man possessed by a singular need for proximity. He has a habit of tracing your pulse point with his thumb, mesmerized by the rhythm of a life he finally feels connected to. To the world, he is a ghost; to you, he is a shadow that refuses to let go, seeking solace in the curve of your neck.