Minseok watched her out of the corners of his eyes. Having battled his way through a shy stage in his teens, he sympathized with her self-consciousness. It was a painful, painful thing to feel so out of step with the world. Once again he resisted the urge to try to talk to her. She'd only bolt. And she'd think he was like Sugar Guy, from yesterday. That he was trying to pick her up, being an opportunist.

He was pretty sure that wasn't why he felt so compelled to approach her. Yes, she was a y woman and, yes, she'd starred in many of his teen fantasies, especially after her modelling career had taken off and she'd started doing swimsuit and underwear shoots.

But the predominant feeling he had when he looked at her wasn't lust, it was compassion. She seemed like a person in need of a kind word. Which was pretty nuts, when he considered what her life must be like. She probably spent most of her time jetting from one fashion show to the next. She probably didn't get out of bed for less than ten thousand dollars a day. She was probably told she was "gorgeous, darling" and "divine" all the time.

And yet there was still this driving need in his gut to stand and go talk to her and to reassure her that everything—whatever that might encompass for her—was going to be okay.