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Lumiere Noir was the kind of club you might expect to see in a horror movie where a group of unsuspecting young adults got tricked into making a deal with the devil. All that to say it was dramatic, enthusiastically gothic and very much leaning into the catacomb aesthetic. If the catacombs served Grey Goose and Dom Pérignon.

The group members were all cordoned off in a private area, a balcony overlooking the dance floor and up a staircase guarded by several bouncers and a velvet rope. I hadn’t expected to be let up the stairs, but Lee and Ace bookended me and walked me up the stairs like prison guards while Mr Yoon stayed at the bottom, not looking at the other security already there. I wondered if it felt like a sort of challenge. A competition for who could look the most stoic, the most intimidating.

My money was on Mr Yoon.

None of the group members looked especially enthused to be there. They were tired, stifling yawns behind their hands, and none of them were drinking anything but water or juice. I couldn’t think of another opportunity where I’d have unlimited access to five-hundred-dollar bottles of Champagne, so I was less reserved.

Jihoon was on a couch on the other side of the area, not even trying to pretend he wasn’t staring at me, despite the people around us. He held my gaze every time I looked in his direction, and though the younger members never mentioned it, I knew they must have noticed. My face flamed, making me very glad of the dim, atmospheric lighting of the club.

Lee yawned again, and Ace looked down at his watch.

“Nearly midnight,” he said wearily. “We must leave soon or we will turn into pumpkins.”

Lee snorted and corrected his version of the story in Korean, which demonstrated just how tired he was, because he was normally so militant about speaking in English.

“Same thing,” Ace waved him off, and for some reason I found it unreasonably funny.

Maybe it was how tired I was, or maybe it was some combination of the stress of the past few days, but I could not stop laughing. Tears ran down my cheeks, and I tried to cover my face, but I was falling about like a wobbly policeman toy.

“I’m going to go explore,” I declared after I’d pulled myself together.

“Don’t get lost in the tunnels,” Ace said with a wave, already laying his head back against the sofa, and closing his eyes.

I didn’t look at Jihoon as I got up. I already knew he was watching, but there were too many eyes on him for me to draw more attention by looking back. Although I wanted to. I always wanted to. I felt his attention like fingertips running up my spine as I turned and headed down the stairs. Mr Yoon gave me a look as he unclipped the velvet rope for me to step past.

“Just going to dance,” I assured him.

He didn’t respond, just slid his eyes into the crowd.

The club was somehow both cavernous and cave-like. Textured walls gave the appearance of rough-hewn rock, yet carved columns seemed to hold up the painted ceilings like in a cathedral.

Thumping bass vibrated through the soles of my shoes as I made my way around the club, content to explore, swaying to the beat of the music as I took it all in. There were crew members threaded throughout the crowd, most notably the dance crew.

I stayed on the fringes of the main crowds, wishing fiercely that Becka was here, because while I wanted to dance, I was not nearly buzzed enough, or brave enough to do so on my own.

The VIP balcony overlooked the entire dance floor, but through the pulsing lights and haze rising above the crowd it was impossible to make out anything distinct. Or anyone, though I caught myself looking upwards regularly, and once or twice I caught movement, but it could have been anyone.

It was well after midnight by the time I’d done a circle of the club, and I headed back to the VIP staircase. Behind it was another cordoned off area – a dark corridor that housed private bathrooms for the more exclusive clientele, but more importantly it led to the parking lot at the back of the club. It was the route the group would use to discreetly exit the building. I hesitated by the dark corridor for a moment, looking down at my watch. The group was set to leave any minute.

I lowered my arm, but it didn’t hit my side before a hand wrapped around my wrist. I gasped, head tilting back to follow the line of the body pressed so close to me I felt the heat of them against my skin.

His eyes looked nearly black in the dim light. My breath caught in my throat as he pulled me towards the darkened corridor, pushing aside the velvet rope. I didn’t speak, could hardly breathe until the lights from the dance floor barely stretched towards us, multicoloured tendrils swirling across the floor as if trying to ensnare us.

He spun me around with his hands on my hips, and walked me back until my shoulders hit the wall. His chest pressed against mine, both of us heaving like we’d run a marathon instead of walking the few metres down the corridor. We were so close it was like we breathed for each other.

“I need to kiss you. Please,” he whined, running his nose up the column of my throat, pressing his lips to that sensitive spot beneath my ear, and I shivered.

He remembered my body, knew what I liked.

He slid a leg in between mine, and I inhaled sharply at the sudden pressure at my core as he pressed against me with a dizzying kind of friction that was somehow both too much and absolutely not enough.

“Joon,” I gasped, winding my arms around his neck, clutching at his shirt.

He moved his hands from my hips, sliding them upwards in a drag that made my eyes slide shut before his hands spread wide across my ribs, holding me in a way that was both proprietary and gentle. His thumbs teased the underside of my breasts, and even through my clothes, it sparked fire across my nerve endings.

“Are you still angry at me, jagiya?” he asked roughly, ghosting his lips against my neck and pressing a kiss over my thundering pulse.

For a moment, I was too dazed to understand what he was saying, but then my mind flashed back to the conversation we’d had, lying in bed. Here though, pressed up against a wall in an unlit, deserted corridor, it took on a different flavour. A darker one.