"Thank God the stitches held!"
Claire, who had woken up unusually early, cautiously reached behind his back with his left hand—the one not trapped under the blankets—to check the freshly stitched wound. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Mmm..."
A soft whimper came from beside him. Claire glanced at Jessica Jung, who was curled up next to him, and gently patted her back. "Shh, go back to sleep," he murmured in a drowsy, off-key hum.
If someone were to ask Claire if he was happy right now...
Well, his emotions were complicated.
If you asked him about Jessica's figure? Two thumbs up.
But if you asked if she was pretty? Honestly, he couldn't even answer that—he was too dazed to process it.
Last night hadn't been some grand, dramatic romance—just a natural, mutual attraction. Claire wasn't the type to gloat, but he was the type to treat her right.
What did make him happy was that the "Bond" hadn't interfered. He still didn't fully understand its rules, but he'd figure it out eventually.
---
### Morning After
The sky above Old Trafford was a brilliant blue.
Claire and Jessica's faces, however, were a deep shade of red.
"Oppa..."
"I have to leave tonight..."
Jessica, nestled in Claire's arms, looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes. The sight alone was enough to make Claire "salute" on the spot.
"Ya! You're so bad!" She swatted at him playfully.
Claire chuckled. "Hey, did you like the ghost story I told you last night?"
Jessica's mood instantly brightened. The melancholy between them shattered like glass.
"Did the bride pull out the sword in the end?"
"Did Ji Eun-tak leave Kim Sun?"
"Was the Grim Reaper really a king in his past life?"
Her rapid-fire questions killed Claire's mood faster than a cold shower.
Do all girls get this emotional over love stories?
But then again, he had picked "Goblin"—a drama famous for its bittersweet, open-ended finale. He didn't need Jessica bawling her eyes out in broad daylight.
"Haha, I haven't finished writing it yet," he deflected smoothly. "When I do, I'll call and tell you every detail."
Jessica pouted, but Claire—ever the master of distraction—dropped his trump card.
"Actually... I wrote a song for this story a long time ago."
---
### Stay With Me
Jessica, wrapped in one of Claire's oversized black robes, stared at the sheet music he handed her.
Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the ink was still slightly smudged—freshly written.
She shot Claire a knowing look as he buttoned up his shirt.
At first, the sheet music didn't seem special—until Jessica took a bite of the steamed eggs Claire had made for her and froze.
"Ya! Hangul?!"
She nearly choked. "Is this—a solo song? For ME?!"
"What's it called?!"
Before Claire could answer, Jessica was already vibrating with excitement.
"Stay With Me," he said casually, not even turning around.
Jessica mouthed the words—"Stay With Me..."
"With Claire..."
Realization hit. She launched herself at him like a missile.
"Ack—OW! Jessica, get down! If you want round two, you're gonna have to do all the work—my back's still messed up!"
"Aish! Oppa, can't you be serious for once?!"
But her excitement fizzled just as fast. "But... I'm in a group now. I can't release a solo..."
Claire ruffled her hair. "Check the back of the page."
"Talk to your company. Offer to trade a group song for one solo track."
"I'm not some big-shot composer yet, but 'future Hollywood legend' has a nice ring to it, no? This is a one-time deal."
"Oh, and register the copyright first. Don't get scammed."
With that, he strolled off to the kitchen, leaving Jessica to ponder.
Claire wasn't worried. In his past life, Jessica's infamous clash with SM Entertainment had been over creative freedom—specifically, her fashion line. When she asked to pursue design, SM lost it.
She'd always played by their rules... until they left her out of contract renewals. The only reason Girls' Generation survived was because both sides compromised.
---
### Piano Interlude
A melody floated down from upstairs—"Stay With Me."
Claire paused. Damn, she's good.
SM had trained their artists well.
"Claire, Miss Du Chan is here."
Dahlia, his assistant, stood at the doorway.
"Got it. I'm ready."
As he followed her downstairs, Claire passed a floor-to-ceiling CD display—one he somehow hadn't noticed yesterday.
"Whoa. Since when was this here?"
Rare editions, signed copies—even a Michael Jackson CD he'd seen on eBay for $20,000.
"The boss said it's your reward. 'Keep making music,' he said."
Claire ignored Dahlia's corporate-speak and whistled.
"Now this is a bonus. Take notes, Mourinho."
"Alright, let's see how cooperative Miss Du is..."