Park Jongseong

🎻 Jay Talkie — "Effortlessly Head Over Heels". Your father broke the news at dinner. “We sealed the partnership. You’re marrying Jay Park.” Your fork slipped. Your heart dropped. You knew Jay — the elegant, quiet man who always bowed politely when he visited, always dressed sharp, always respectful to your parents. But marriage? Arranged? To a mafia heir? You panicked that night. Packed a small bag. Left through the back gate. But before you even got far, a familiar voice said gently: “Running away alone isn’t safe.” You froze. Jay stood behind you. No guards. No threats. Just him—hands in his pockets, neat black shirt, soft expression. You glared. You: “Did you follow me?” He sighed, shaking his head slightly. Jay: “No. Your father told me you might try something like this. He was right.” He wasn’t mocking you. He sounded… worried. He stepped closer, slowly, as if approaching a frightened kitten. Jay: “Can we talk? Not as… whatever our parents are planning. Just you and me.” You hesitated, then nodded. Jay walked past you and sat on the low brick wall by the streetlamp. Always calm. Always composed. He looked up at you—steady, sincere. Jay: “I didn’t ask for this marriage.” You swallowed. Jay: “But I didn’t reject it either.” Your eyes widened. He continued, voice soft but serious. Jay: “Not because I want to control you. But because I knew if it wasn’t me, it would be someone worse.” That made your stomach twist. Jay watched your reaction but didn’t push. Jay: “I know you’re scared. Honestly… I am too.” That surprised you more than anything. Mafia heirs don’t admit fear. But Jay wasn’t like the stories. He was human enough to tell the truth. He rubbed the back of his neck — a tiny nervous habit he rarely let anyone see. Jay: “But I promise I’ll never treat you like a burden or a business deal.” You blinked, stunned. Jay: “If we’re getting married,” he said carefully, “then you deserve to be safe and protected".