Kang Hyungsoo | Bagging Your Immediate Rich Boyfriend

The noise from your phone call echoes faintly in the hallway as you pace back and forth, recounting your latest frustrations to your friend back home. Living in South Korea had its perks—new experiences, fantastic food, and a change of pace—but one thing hadn’t changed: your apparent inability to find a rich boyfriend. “I live in this fancy condo full of rich boys,” you exclaim into the receiver, exasperated, “but not one of them even glances my way. It’s like I’m invisible!”

Just as you pause to listen to your friend’s teasing response, the elevator doors a few feet away slide open, revealing a tall figure flanked by a couple of friends. You barely glance at him, your focus still on venting your frustrations, but Hyungsoo’s piercing gaze is instantly locked on you. He halts mid-step, clearly having caught a good portion of your conversation. A small, amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he excuses himself from his group, sauntering toward you with a confidence that feels almost overwhelming.

“Excuse me,” Hyungsoo interrupts smoothly, his deep voice cutting through your monologue. You glance up, startled, to find yourself face-to-face with a man who looks like he stepped straight out of a designer catalog. His simple outfit is impeccable, and the faint scent of something expensive lingers in the air around him. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” he says, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You’re looking for a rich boyfriend, is that right?”

Your face burns with embarrassment, but before you can stammer out an explanation, Hyungsoo pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to you. “Here. My Instagram and my number should do the trick,” he declares, his tone both playful and assertive. Then, without giving you a chance to react, Hyungsoo leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before stepping back with a satisfied smirk. “Now that’s settled,” he adds, his gaze lingering for a moment before he walks back to his friends, leaving you utterly speechless. “The name is Kang Hyungsoo by the way, but you can call me yours.”

Days pass, and you can’t stop replaying the encounter in your head. Every time you open Instagram and see Hyungsoo’s profile—filled with pictures of lavish vacations, luxury cars, and a jawline that could cut glass—you find yourself smiling like a fool. Yet, you convince yourself that it was just a fleeting moment, a rich guy’s way of teasing you. You don’t expect to see him again until the night rain catches you by surprise.

You’re soaked to the bone, having underestimated the weather on your way back from a late-night convenience store run. The elevator doors open, and there Hyungsoo is again, leaning casually against the back wall, his expression unreadable. His gaze sharpens the moment he sees you step inside, drenched and shivering.

Without a word, Hyungsoo shrugs off his coat and places it over your shoulders. The warmth and the subtle weight of the fabric make your breath hitch. “Can’t have my future boyfriend catching a cold,” he says, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a flicker of genuine concern in his tone. You blink at him, stunned, but his smirk deepens as if he’s enjoying your flustered reaction.

“Future boyfriend?” you finally manage to ask, your voice almost drowned out by the sound of the elevator. Hyungsoo tilts his head, studying you like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “I thought I made it clear last time,” he replies, leaning slightly closer. “You’re mine. Or do I need to remind you again?” His lips brush against your forehead in the lightest of touches, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

By the time the elevator reaches your floor, your heart is racing, and your mind is a jumble of emotions. Hyungsoo watches you step out, his gaze lingering as the doors close, leaving you with more questions than answers.

It’s the third time you cross paths when Hyungsoo finally decides to put an end to your confusion. You’re in the elevator again, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when he steps in. The tension is palpable as the doors close, leaving just the two of you in the confined space.

Hyungsoo waits until the elevator begins its ascent before speaking. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he asks, his voice low and intimate. You look up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity there makes your pulse quicken. “I’m not the type to play games,” he continues, stepping closer. “I like you. I want you. And I don’t want to wait any longer to make it official.”

You’re speechless as Hyungsoo pulls out his phone, handing it to you once more. “Put your number in. This time, it’s not a suggestion.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and as you do what he says, you feel the weight of his gaze on you. When you hand the phone back, Hyungsoo doesn’t hesitate, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s both gentle and commanding.

The rest of the ride is a blur, and by the time you reach your floor, your knees feel weak. “I’ll see you later,” Hyungsoo says, his smirk making your heart flutter as he steps out. “Daddy’s gonna see you very soon.”

That night, as you settle into your apartment, your phone buzzes with a message. It’s from Hyungsoo: “Since I’m your boyfriend now, I should take care of you. Open your door.”

Startled, you do as he says, only to find Hyungsoo standing there with bags of food and a soft, almost shy smile. “You had a long day,” he says, stepping inside as if he’s done this a thousand times. “Let me take care of you.”

And just like that, the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crumble as Hyungsoo pulls out a chair for you, his movements casual but unmistakably deliberate, like he’s already slipping into the role of someone who has every intention of making you feel cherished. You sit down, and Hyungsoo slides the chair closer to the table, his hand brushing against your shoulder as if he’s testing boundaries but also silently letting you know he’s paying attention to you. There’s no hesitation in his actions, no fumbling, just a quiet confidence that leaves you breathless in ways you don’t want to admit yet.

He opens one of the containers, revealing a spread of dishes you can’t even name. The aroma alone is enough to make your stomach grumble. Hyungsoo raises an eyebrow at the sound, but instead of teasing you, he simply places the chopsticks into your hand. “Eat first,” he says firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “We can talk after.”

The food is incredible, as you expected, but what catches you off guard is the way Hyungsoo serves you. He picks out pieces of meat and vegetables with practiced precision, placing them onto your plate before even touching his own meal. There’s a strange intimacy in the act, a quiet kind of care that doesn’t match the image of the aloof, freshly heartbroken rich guy you met earlier.

When you finally glance up, Hyungsoo’s watching you with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. “What?” you ask, your voice softer than you intended. “Nothing,” Hyungsoo replies, leaning back in his chair with an almost lazy grace. “Just making sure you’re eating enough. You looked tired earlier.”

The remark catches you off guard. It’s not exactly romantic, but the concern in Hyungsoo’s voice feels real, unfiltered. You shift in your seat, unsure how to respond, but he doesn’t seem to need an answer. Instead, Hyungsoo reaches for his own chopsticks and starts eating, his movements smooth and efficient, like he’s used to this kind of setting but doesn’t want to make you feel out of place.

As the meal continues, the conversation flows in stops and starts. Hyungsoo asks about your studies, your favorite places in Seoul, and even what brought you to this city in the first place. His questions are probing but never intrusive, and you find yourself answering more honestly than you expected. When you mention how overwhelming it’s been to balance everything, Hyungsoo’s expression shifts, his jaw tightening slightly as if the idea of you struggling is somehow unacceptable to him.

“You should’ve said something earlier,” Hyungsoo says, setting his chopsticks down with a soft clink. “I could’ve helped.” You laugh, a little startled by his earnestness. “Helped? You barely know me.” Hyungsoo’s gaze locks onto yours, steady and unyielding. “I know enough,” he says simply. “And I’m getting to know more. That’s what matters.”

The room feels heavier after that, but not in a bad way. There’s a weight to his words that lingers, and for the first time, you start to wonder if this isn’t just some fleeting distraction for Hyungsoo. Maybe he really does mean it when he says he wants to be here, to be part of your life in ways that feel as overwhelming as they are exhilarating.

After dinner, Hyungsoo insists on cleaning up despite your protests. “You cooked,” you argue weakly, knowing full well that you didn’t even lift a finger. He gives you a look that borders on exasperated but fond. “You really think I’m letting you do anything right now? Sit down.”

You sit, mostly because you’re too stunned to do anything else. Hyungsoo moves around your kitchen with surprising ease, his tall frame somehow fitting into the cramped space as though he’s been here a hundred times before. Watching him rinse the dishes and stack them neatly feels surreal, almost laughable. This is the kind of thing you’d read about in some overly saccharine romance novel, not something you’d ever expect to happen in real life.

When Hyungsoo’s finished, he dries his hands on a dish towel and turns back to you, his expression softening. “There,” he says, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “Anything else I can do for you?”

You’re about to make a snarky comment when Hyungsoo steps closer, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest of moments before meeting your eyes again. “Or,” he adds, his voice lower now, “I could just stay here. Make sure you’re okay.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at Hyungsoo. “You don’t have to,” you manage to say, though your voice wavers. “I want to,” Hyungsoo replies, and there’s no hesitation in his words. “If you’ll let me.”

You nod, barely trusting yourself to speak. Hyungsoo’s smile is small but genuine, and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. The gesture is so tender it leaves you reeling, and before you can stop yourself, you lean into Hyungsoo’s touch, just a little.

He takes that as permission and closes the distance between you, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he pulls you into a kiss. It’s soft at first, almost hesitant, but when you respond, Hyungsoo deepens it, his other hand coming to rest on your waist. There’s a quiet desperation in the way Hyungsoo holds you, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

When Hyungsoo finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and his breathing is as unsteady as your own. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice rough but steady. “And I’m yours. No matter what.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and all you can do is nod. Hyungsoo smiles then, a rare, breathtaking thing that makes your heart skip a beat.

He spends the rest of the evening proving his words, not just with kisses and touches but with the way he listens to you, the way he makes you laugh, the way he stays until you’re too tired to keep your eyes open.

When you finally drift off, you do so with the quiet, comforting knowledge that maybe, just maybe, Kyungho is exactly what he promised to be—the perfect boyfriend you never thought you’d find outside the pages of a book.