Mist had been feeling a little... off lately. The moment she saw a man, her cheeks would flush, and her legs would go weak. After much internal struggle and hesitation, she finally decided to deal with this unspeakable physical urge of hers. She debated whether to have a one-night stand-preferably one that could turn into something long-term. But there was a catch: she was only attracted to the most stunning, top-tier men. As luck would have it, an unbelievably gorgeous man was right next door. So, she set her sights on her neighbor- A heartbreakingly handsome yet sharp-tongued heartthrob... with a broken leg. Charles, a well-known socialite recovering in seclusion after an injury, suddenly found himself facing the most peculiar romantic pursuit of his life. His actress neighbor, Mist, was very hands-on in expressing her interest in him. But the funniest part? She neither remembered that he was her brother's best friend nor noticed that his face was plastered all over billboards and magazines. To her, he was just another shameless flirt who would take the bait the moment she dangled it before him. How adorably naive.
Chapter 1 Charles, do you know about Hand Angels
It happened again.
Charles lifted his eyelids slightly, glancing at the hand that had deliberately brushed against his arm.
The girl's skin was fair and delicate. In the cool 17-18°C weather, her fragile fingertips were tinged with a soft pink. That faint pink was now grazing his bare arm from time to time as her arm swayed.
The combination of her slightly cool temperature and the softness of her fingertips felt like a feather brushing against his skin.
Charles had lost count of how many times this overly "enthusiastic" neighbor had taken advantage of him.
Just like before, the accumulating tingling sensation became impossible to ignore. Charles was about to move away, but this time, she wasn't satisfied with mere light touches. Before he could roll his wheelchair forward, she grabbed his hand...
His left hand was gently cradled by her cool hands. Charles tilted his chin slightly, finally shifting his gaze onto the girl's face.
She might act like a perverted little fiend, but she was undeniably attractive.
Her face, still carrying a hint of baby fat, was shaped like a delicate oval. Her innocent, deer-like eyes shimmered like mist on a summer morning, blending a soft docility with a damp, lingering allure.
It was precisely because her face was so much to his liking that he had yet to put his foot down and seriously reject her harassment.
But this time... Charles looked at the girl clutching his hand tightly. His lack of a clear refusal seemed to have emboldened her.
"Your hand is so cold. Let me warm it up."
Meeting Charles' amused yet unreadable gaze, Mist felt a little guilty. But the guilt only made her hold his gaze more persistently, as if doing so could prove her sincerity.
Sincere, my ass...
Charles tried to pull his hand away, only to find that Mist was holding on tightly. The corner of his lips curled beneath his mask. "Enough. My hand isn't cold. If you're so eager to touch my hand, why don't you read my palm instead?"
Mist blinked, as if she either hadn't caught onto his sarcasm or was playing dumb. "But your hand really is cold."
"Is it my hand that's cold or yours?"
"Then why don't you warm mine?"
"Let go."
Mist obediently released one of her hands-but with the other, she flipped his palm upward and said, "Then I'll read your fortune."
The soft pad of her fingertip glided lightly across his palm, sending an uncontrollable shiver through Charles' body. He swiftly pulled his hand away.
Seeing Mist's innocent expression, he couldn't tell if she was genuinely clumsy or just too skilled at playing the helpless little mouse trying to tease the cat.
Every time he thought her approach was too clumsy to be effective, she would do something next that somehow managed to fluster him.
But he was hardly that easy to win over.
Their gazes met. Charles, wearing his baseball cap low, exuded a cold and detached aura, slipping back into his usual aloof and world-weary demeanor.
His wheelchair began rolling forward, and Mist hurried to keep up. "Aren't you curious what I saw in your palm?"
"I don't need you to tell me. I already know."
Charles scoffed lightly.
"How could you know?"
Mist blinked, knowing full well that whatever he was about to say wouldn't be anything pleasant. But if she didn't continue the conversation, the topic would die, and their relationship wouldn't progress at all.
The wheelchair stopped by the lakeside. Charles leaned lazily against the headrest, watching a black swan fearlessly flap its wings and snatch up a bug nearby, all while moving in his direction.
"I'm experiencing a wave of romantic luck lately. My admirer is a pervert."
After he said that, there was a long silence.
Hearing nothing from Mist, Charles pulled down his mask slightly and glanced at her-only to find her staring blankly at the lake.
Was she hurt by his words?
Charles frowned. He didn't think she was that thin-skinned.
Besides, calling her a pervert wasn't wrong.
He had only moved here recently, and during his strolls, he had noticed her a few times. Since she never tried to interact with him, he hadn't bothered to strike up any polite conversations just because she was his friend's little sister.
They wouldn't even make eye contact when they passed each other.
Everything changed a week ago.
His dear neighbor-this very Mist-had either been suddenly overwhelmed by his irresistible charm or had simply been suppressing herself for too long and finally exploded, becoming unbelievably eager to get close to him.
At first, he found it amusing. She wasn't particularly good at socializing, yet she made an effort to talk to him.
But within days, she started getting handsy, and he realized her intentions.
This pretty, harmless-looking girl was very interested in him. And after setting her sights on him, she had apparently learned some unreliable seduction tactics.
The first time she kept touching him, he thought he was imagining things.
Then, she "accidentally" tripped and sat on his lap for half a minute.
Then, she offered to push his wheelchair, pressing her body so closely against the backrest that the back of his head felt something it really shouldn't have felt.
If that wasn't perverted, what was?
Charles recalled the moment he realized what was pressing against his head yesterday. His expression had darkened immediately, and he had told Mist to keep her distance. Mist, of course, had put on an innocent yet guilty look.
He had assumed she'd tone it down for a while.
Yet today, she was already back at it, trying to warm his hands.
How much was she into him?
How badly did she want to touch him?
At first, he had found her sudden interest a little odd. He had known her since she was thirteen or fourteen, trailing behind her brother with a sweet, obedient smile.
But the oddness quickly turned into entertainment.
Life was too boring, she was too much his type, and, well-his mother had never given him an 18-year-old sister.
Since she was someone else's sister, why should he hold back?
Mist wasn't silent because she was hurt by his words. She was just thinking about the term "pervert."
A month ago, she would've never imagined that such a title would be associated with her.
But from the age of fifteen or sixteen, whenever she saw ambiguous scenes in dramas, novels, or comics, her reaction was... excessive.
Her friends called her "innocent" because her face would turn red, but she alone knew whether it was innocence or something else entirely.
Still, it wasn't a big deal.
The real problem started after her college entrance exams. Whether it was adulthood, newfound freedom, or the natural consequences of maturity, she found herself reacting intensely to any attractive man she saw.
Her heart remained calm, but her body...
It was terrifying.
She had tried isolating herself, but that wasn't a long-term solution.
She even considered seeing a doctor-but what if it was a male doctor? Wouldn't that turn into one of those adult stories where the patient ends up being examined too thoroughly?
So, she had made up her mind. If her body wanted something, she would give it what it wanted.
But who?
She had hesitated for a long time until her gaze landed on her neighbor-
A stunningly handsome, sharp-tongued, disabled heartthrob.
(...)
"Charles, do you know about 'Hand Angels'?"
Charles, who had been focused on Mist clinging to his back, felt both amused and exasperated.
"What kind of angel?"
Mist covered his eyes with her hands. "A kind-hearted angel who can make you feel very, very good."
Chapter 1 Charles, do you know about Hand Angels
11/03/2025
Chapter 2 Breaking the Deadlock with a Backhand
11/03/2025
Chapter 3 Do You Think Having Ulterior Motives is a Compliment
11/03/2025
Chapter 4 With your endurance, you still dare to provoke me
11/03/2025
Chapter 5 I'm Innocent
11/03/2025
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