Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

YOU MUST STOP  BLAMING  YOURSELF

FORGET THOSE MEMORIES,  THEY'RE  NOT GOOD FOR YOU

NOW TELL ME, WHAT DO YOU SEE?

WAKE UP!

Munhyeon, Busan. 3:06 p.m.

Plaza Dong, the heart of Busan, used to be a chaos of daily life. But today it was different. For some, t he Plaza had become  a stage of hope; for others, was a battlefield waiting for blood.  Banners waved with the Candidate's campaign slogan: "A NEW DAWN FOR BUSAN." Reporters jostled each other, their cameras firing flashes like bursts. But behind the black curtain that covered the stage, there was another world.

Jackson was there, rubbing his sweaty hands as he stared beyond the curtain. His campaign manager—and longtime friend—noticed Jackson's nervous tic and, without hesitation,  smacked him hard on the shoulder.

-Hey, Jackson, relax!

-Take a peek out there, bro.-He nodded at the roaring crowd behind the curtain.-They believe in you!

Jackson sighed.

-Believing's one thing, Jae.

-But they expect me to fix this damn city. That's a lot of pressure.

-Aish, quit whining. Who else is gonna do it? Senator Cho? Please—that fossil can't even turn on his phone! You were born to do this, Jackson. Now move your ass and show them why you're the best.

Before Jackson could retort, the music blaring through the plaza cut dead. The silence that followed was so absolute, the world might've held its breath. Jackson's pulse spiked. He shot Jaebeom a look, but he just winked and gave him one last push toward the curtain.

Screams hit him, cameras fired nonstop, capturing every second of his entrance. Jackson raised a hand, and that smile—perfect, charismatic, the kind that could sell dreams or start wars—lit up his face. It was the kind of moment that'd go viral on X before his speech even ended.

Meanwhile, in the VIP section, Jackson's so-called "best friend" sat statue-still, jaw clenched so tight his teeth might've shattered. Jaebeom noticed instantly. Clapping along with the crowd, he sidled up and dipped his head.

-Everything alright, Mr. Park?

Jinyoung didn't flinch. Not a twitch, not a flicker.

-What do you think?

-I'm sick of pretending. Sick of hiding my relationship with Jackson for this damn campaign.

Jaebeom arched a brow.

-That's the game. You agreed to the rules. When we win, it'll all be worth it. Imagine it: First Busan, then Seoul. Hell—maybe even the White House!

Jinyoung laugh.

-The White House? Yeah, keep dreaming.-He looked back at Jackson, who dominated the stage like a king.-Let's see if we survive today first.

On stage, Jackson gripped the podium and took a deep breath.

-Busan! I know you're tired of the same old bullshit!-The plaza exploded, a soundwave shaking the city's foundations.-We've endured a government that only screws the people for too long! But that ends today—here and now! Together, we'll build a city that fights for all of us, not just the rich! Busan will be the blueprint for a better future! A NEW DAWN FOR BUSAN!

The response was brutal—a quake of cheers so fierce the plaza trembled. 

-He's good,-Jaebeom murmured from his seat.

-The best,-Jinyoung whispered. But his voice cracked with a pain no one else could hear. His face was a mask of calm, but his eyes never left Jackson.

Then—BANG! A gunshot split the air like lightning. Time froze.

A bodyguard near the stage staggered—blood blooming on his chest—then crumpled down the steps, lifeless. Chaos detonated. The crowd shattered into panic. People trampled posters underfoot. Parents grabbed children; reporters ducked behind cameras, broadcasting the horror live.

Jaebeom was on his feet in a flash, barking into his earpiece.

-GET JACKSON OFF THAT STAGE, NOW!

Bodyguards swarmed the podium, forming a human shield around Jackson, who stood frozen for a heartbeat.

-GRAB MR. PARK!-Jaebeom ordered.

Two guards yanked Jinyoung up, his legs wobbling, fake smile gone, replaced by pure terror. Jaebeom sprinted to the stage, wrenching Jackson's arm.

-MOVE YOUR ASS, NOW!

BANG!

Another shot shattered a speaker. The crowd lost it—a stampede of bodies. Jaebeom scanned the skyline. Then he saw it: Hotel Stella, its glass facade glinting like a sniper's nest.

-SHOTS ARE FROM UP THERE!-he yelled, jabbing a finger at the building.

BANG! BANG!

Two more shots ripped through the stage curtain. Jaebeom's pulse hammered—every second stretched into eternity.

-GET WANG OUTTA HERE!

A black SUV idled at the plaza's edge, tinted windows promising safety. Guards hauled Jackson, half-carrying him as he stumbled. Jinyoung was shoved in after him, gasping, pale. Jaebeom jumped in last, slamming the door.

-GO!

The SUV rocketed forward. The escape was a blur—sirens wailed behind them, drowning the distant screams. 

BANG!

A bullet cracked the rear windshield. Jinyoung ducked, arms over his head.  The vehicle swerved, tires screeching through Munhyeon's narrow streets.

-GET DOWN!-Jaebeom barked, twisting to look back. A searing pain burned through his shoulder, but adrenaline numbed it.

The SUV skidded, sideswiping a parked car. Sparks flew as the driver wrestled the wheel, gunning for a tunnel. Jaebeom grimaced—the pain now a white-hot stab. He glanced at his shoulder: jacket torn, blood soaking through.

-You kidding me?-He stripped the jacket off with a hiss, pressing it to the wound.

Jackson turned, eyes wild at the sight of blood.

-Jae—you're hit!

Jinyoung, still crouched, stared at Jaebeom, face ashen. 

-Hyung, you're bleeding bad!

Jaebeom waved them off, forcing a crooked grin.

-Relax. Not dying from this. Bullet barely said hi.-He adjusted the jacket, pressing harder, and slumped back, paler now.

Jackson's fists clenched.

-Don't play hero, Jae. We need a hospital!

-When we're safe,-Jaebeom gritted out.-Faster!-he snapped at the driver.

The SUV roared into the tunnel, the city fading behind them, leaving only echoes of chaos. Jackson and Jinyoung locked eyes—fear and guilt mirrored. 

-What the hell just happened?-Jackson whispered, trembling.

Jaebeom dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard through the pain.

-Someone just tried to kill you, Jackson.

Homicide Department, Busan. 4:52 p.m.

H omicide, usually controlled chaos, was now a warzone.  Screens flickered with footage of the Munhyeon attack, replaying the moment gunfire tore through Wang's speech on a loop. Officers dissected every pixel. Phones rang off the hook, shouts ricocheted down halls, and the weight of a city demanding answers pressed down like a boot.

At the eye of the storm, the Captain's office was a bunker on the brink. The Captain—170 cm of pure muscle—stood like a bull ready to charge. The phone clutched in a trembling hand, his face lined with exhaustion. Too young for this disaster, but his reputation as a ruthless leader had gotten him here. But right now, the voice on the other end wasn't giving him any medals.

-We're doing everything to ID the shooter.

-Yes, sir, I understand. We'll fix it.

The call ended. Changbin stared at the phone for a beat, then slammed it onto the desk. BAM! His chest heaved, fury bubbling like lava. He dragged a hand over his forehead, trying to crush the headache pounding his temples.

Then—the door burst open and a Lieutenant strolled in like the chaos outside was a joke. Tall, lean, golden hair falling in messy strands over his forehead. Too young for his rank too, but with a record veterans envied. 

-Tell me you've got good news, Lieutenant,-Changbin pleaded.

The  Lieutenant  snorted, his smirk screaming bad news.

-Mayor already released a statement, Cap.

-And? He blaming us?-Changbin asked, though he knew the answer before Hyunjin's lips moved.

-Duh. Obviously, hyung! Of course he blames us!-Hyunjin threw his hands up like it was obvious.-Says we let a psycho waltz in and turn Wang's big day into a fucking shooting gallery.

Changbin's fist crashed into the desk—papers flew like confetti. His chair screeched as he kicked it back, pacing like a caged animal.

-We handled security, and some bastard nearly blew Wang's head off in front of the whole goddamn world! Every door was guarded, snipers on rooftops, elite bodyguards! How the fuck did someone pull this off and just—poof—vanish?

-We're on it, hyung. The area's locked down, my team's sweeping Hotel Stella. If the shooter was there, we'll find traces. But...it'll take a minute.

-A minute?-Changbin laughed and shook his head.-We don't have a minute, Hwang! This isn't just about Wang, it's the city, the order we're supposed to keep! If we don't resolve this, the elections will go to hell, the mayor will continue to point us out, and we will be the idiots with the noose around our necks!

Hyunjin nodded, serious for a second—then he looked down Changbin's chest, staring where his shirt strained over his chest.

-Let's released a statement. Get ahead before the mayor buries us alive.

Changbin froze, still heaving, and narrowed his eyes.

-A statement?-he mocked.-What am I supposed to say? 'Sorry, Busan, we're so useless we let a psycho turn the speech into target practice'? That what you want me to say, idiot?

-Cap, calm down,-Hyunjin said as he walked over, stopping right in front of the desk.-You're too tense, hyung. You're going to explode if you keep like this.

Changbin scowled, caught between irritation and confusion. The way Hyunjin looked at him—with that shameless intensity—made his fists clench.

-And what do you suggest? I sip some tea and meditate while Busan burns?

WARNING

[THE FOLLOWING SCENE CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT (NSFW)]

Hyunjin chuckled low, but his eyes didn't waver. He licked his lips—slow—a move Changbin didn't miss. Then he circled the desk, closing the distance.

-Got a better idea. How about I...help you unwind?

-The hell are you saying, Hwang?

-Oh, come on, hyung.-Hyunjin whispered, leaning in even closer, his breath brushing Changbin's ear.-I know you're angry, and I know exactly how to fix that.

-You're crazy,-Changbin muttered, trying to sound convincing.-I'm not in the mood for your shitty games. Get out of here and do your job.

But Hyunjin didn't move. Instead, he moved closer, brushing Changbin's thigh with one hand, and the other gently rested on his chest, sliding down slowly.

-I know what you need. And believe me, I want to help you.-He stopped just above Changbin's belt, brushing the fabric of his pants.

-Lieutenant, stop,-he said, but his voice lacked conviction.-We can't do this anymore.

His fingers slid lower, brushing the bulge beginning to form beneath the fabric.

-Let me handle it, Cap. You know you want to.

The chair creaked as Changbin slumped back, his breathing quickening as Hyunjin slowly unzipped his pants. Without waiting for a reply, Hyunjin knelt in front of the chair, working skillfully to spread Changbin's legs, who offered no real resistance.

-Fuck, Hwang...-Changbin murmured, as Hyunjin released his already half-erect dick and took it in his hands.

Hyunjin looked up, eyes dark with hunger.

-Look at you, hyung. You're already hard for me.-Without breaking eye contact, he tilted his head and slowly ran his tongue down Changbin's length.

Changbin clenched his fists as Hyunjin began to work, his warm, wet mouth enveloping him with a skill that left him speechless. Hyunjin didn't rush; each movement was slow, his tongue tracing circles around the tip before taking him deeper, his lips pressing in just the right spots.

-You like this, hyung?-Hyunjin murmured, pulling back for a moment to lick his lips, looking Changbin's face, which was red, his eyes half-lidded, his breathing shallow.-Because I love it. So hard, so...needy.

-Shut up and suck.

Hyunjin chuckled, pleased, before plunging back in, harder this time, sucking with a pressure that had Changbin arching his back against the chair. Changbin gasped, one hand finding Hyunjin's hair, tangling in the golden strands as he guided him, though Hyunjin needed no guidance whatsoever. Hyunjin alternated between slow licks and deep sucks that had Changbin squirming, his grunts turning into moans. The world outside disappeared. There was only Hyunjin's mouth, the heat, the perfect rhythm that was undoing him. Changbin felt the heat building, his body tensing as Hyunjin, sensing the change, sped up, his hands and mouth working in sync.

-Hyunjin, I'm gonna...-Changbin tried to warn, but the words turned into a moan as his climax hit him.

When Changbin finally caught his breath, Hyunjin pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his smile more smug than ever.

-I told you I'd relax you, hyung,-he said, standing up as Changbin looked at him, still dazed, trying to compose himself.

-You're a fucking idiot,-Changbin muttered, but there was no anger in his voice. He zipped his pants, his face still flushed.

-So...-Hyunjin murmured,-do you think we should make a statement now?

-Shit, I guess you're right. We have to say something,-Changbin muttered, calmer.-Call the guy from Channel 3. But not the one who spits when he talks.

Hyunjin smiled, unable to resist.

-The cute guy? The one with the dimples and the bubble little ass?

-Yeah, him, idiot. Tell him we're going to released a statement before I go crazy.

-Understood, Cap,-he said, but stopped.-Should I tell him to bring us some snacks? I'm starving.

-Later, Hwang, later.

Hyunjin burst out laughing, heading for the door.

-Deal, Cap. I'll call the cute guy and tell him to bring some soju...and maybe some snacks for me,-he left with a mischievous smile, leaving Changbin alone in the office.

The door closed, and Changbin let out a breath that seemed to rip his soul out. He leaned back, elbows hitting the desk, and buried his face in his hands, as if he could block out the chaos. He had no idea what he would say to the press. Whatever it was, it had to be perfect, or this disaster wouldn't just sink the department: it would bury him alive. He took a deep breath, straightening his back, the headache pounding in his skull.

But just as Changbin managed to steal a second of calm, the chaos below exploded as if someone had thrown a grenade.

He frowned, his chair squeaking as he stood up. He walked to his office window and looked toward the department entrance. A swarm of reporters swarmed like vultures, their flashes popping like gunfire. At the center, pushing his way through with a fury that seemed to set the pavement on fire, was Jackson Wang. The charisma that used to envelop him like a cloak was gone. His face was a mask of rage.

-What the hell is he doing here?-Changbin muttered, a cold sweat prickling the back of his neck.

Wang, the star politician, had dodged bullets just hours before, and now he burst forth like a hurricane at the worst possible moment. The press was a hungry pack, microphones near Wang's face.

-Candidate Wang, do you think it was an inside job?

-Mr. Wang, did the police fail you?

-Are you pointing the finger at the opposition? Who's behind it?

Jackson didn't even spare them a glance. He strode forward, head held high like a king at war. His bodyguards flanked him, pushing the reporters out of the way. Changbin sighed, raking his fingers through his hair before straightening his tie. This was going to be a disaster. He barely had time to straighten up when—BAM!—the office door burst open, crashing against the wall. Jackson stormed in, not looking back, while his guards stood outside, blocking the reporters like an impenetrable wall.

-Seo, what the fuck happened?

Changbin didn't back down. He'd dealt with worse criminals than an angry politician.

-We're on it, Mr. Wang.

-On it? You're on it? My bodyguard is dead! And you're telling me you're 'on it'? I want answers, and I want them NOW!

Changbin clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain calm.

-I promise you our best detectives are on this case.

-No, no, no, don't said that shit,-he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a growl that made Changbin's skin crawl.-I want the best of the best.

Changbin's eyebrows rose, a flash of confusion crossing his face.

-Do you know what that means?

-Do you think I give a fuck what it means?-he hissed, his finger pointing at Changbin's chest, not touching, but close enough.-I almost got killed today, Seo! Bring him here! TODAY!

Changbin pulled Jackson's hand away, a flash of irritation shattering his calm.

-He's sick, Wang. Retired for a reason. Do you really want to drag him into this mess?

-Of course. I need someone crazy enough to catch whoever did this. I want him, Seo. I want...

THE ROOKIE

Baram-ri, Busan. 10:32 p.m.

Night covered the city like a cold blanket, the silent streets of the suburb broken only by the flickering of red and blue lights dancing in the condominium windows. Normally, this corner of Busan was a perfect place to live, but tonight, it was a nightmare scenario. Yellow police tape cordoned off the scene, officers buzzed like flies, evidence bags rustled, and murmurs filled the air.

At the center of the scene, on the icy sidewalk, lay a girl. Her body motionless like a broken doll. One arm stretched out toward the street, her fingers splayed in a desperate gesture. Her purse was ripped to shreds, its contents scattered in a tragic mess. At first glance, it looked like a robbery gone wrong.

But there was someone who didn't buy that farce for a second.

He was crouched beside the body. No uniform, no badge, but a presence that dominated the scene. He scanned every inch, ignoring the chaos of lights and voices like an annoying buzz. The officers looked at him sideways, nervous, fascinated, as if he were a wolf among sheep.

A rookie cop stepped forward, his uncertain voice breaking the silence.

-Uh...Detective Lee?-he stammered, sweating despite the cold.

-Don't call me 'Detective.'

Minho didn't even look up.

-Oh, right, sorry...hyung.-The boy swallowed, scratching the back of his neck.-The victim is Kang Haeun, she lived on the fifth floor.-He pointed to the condominium behind him.-It looks like a robbery that got out of control. Maybe she resisted, the guy got scared, and...

-No,-Minho interrupted him, and the officer froze, his mouth ajar.

-No?

Finally, Minho looked up, staring at the boy with an intensity that made him take a step back.

-The killer wanted it to look like a robbery.

-Why do you say that?

-Do I really have to explain this to you?-He pointed to a cigarette butt squashed into the asphalt, so small it was almost invisible beneath the dried blood.-He was here, smoking that menthol shit, waiting for her.

The boy narrowed his eyes, searching for the cigarette butt.

-How do you know the cigarette isn't hers?

Minho laughed, shaking his head as if the question were an insult.

-Look,-he said, lifting a silver chain from Haeun's neck, a tiny crucifix.-She's a Calvinist. To them, the body is a temple. No vices. Smoking? Not in a million years. Use your head, if you have one.

The officer nodded uncomfortably, scratching his neck.

-So... you're saying...?

-I'm saying the killer was here, waiting like a fucking predator for her to walk by. He knew her routine, when she'd be alone. This wasn't a random robbery, it was a hit planned to look like the work of an idiot.-He glanced at the mangled purse.-He went through all of this after he stabbed her. He was looking for something: a USB, a note. He's not as stupid as you all think.

The officer blinked, stunned.

-Do you really think so?

-I don't think so, I know. And if you weren't so slow, you'd know that too.-He turned again, studying the wounds on Haeun's chest: three precise stab wounds.-Her cell phone, did you check it for prints?

-Yep, it's clean. Not a single print.

Minho snorted, rolling his eyes.

-Sure, because the killer was kind enough to clean it up for you.-He leaned closer, pointing at the light bruises on Haeun's shoulder.-He's tall, at least 5'8". The stab wounds are downward. He grabbed her shoulder, controlled her like it was nothing. She's 5'5", check her ID if you don't believe me. Or do you also need me to explain how to measure height?

The officer opened his mouth, but only a murmur came out.

-Shit, hyung, that's...

-And the cell phone,-Minho interrupted, standing up.-No prints, not even hers? He wiped it clean because he was looking for something there. He probably checked her messages while she was bleeding out. Doesn't it seem obvious to you?

-Hyung, this is... we didn't see any of that.-He hesitated, taking a step closer.-Hyung, you have to take this to the Commissioner. Explain everything to him, you could...

-No,-Minho didn't let him finish. He spun around, taking one last look at Haeun's body.-I'm done here. If you're not useless enough to find me, you know where I am.

Without further ado, he walked away with a disturbing calm, as if he hadn't just shattered everyone's theories with a few icy sentences. The officers fell silent.

-Is that the Rookie?-one muttered, still processing the scene.

Another nodded, following Minho's silhouette as he disappeared.

-The fucking Living Legend.

The roar of Minho's motorcycle tore through the night like a lone wolf. The icy wind whipped around his face, seeping through the tinted visor of his helmet and stinging his exposed neck, but Minho didn't blink. His face was a steel mask, his eyes fixed on the road, impenetrable as an abyss. In his mind, a whirlwind of shadows struggled to break out: memories he'd locked in a mental vault, the key lost somewhere in his broken past. He didn't want to touch them, not tonight, not ever.

Sky Tower 101, Busan. 11:21 p.m.

The apartment complex emerged in the distance. It was his refuge, his fortress away from the chaos. He parked his motorcycle, the engine cutting out with a grunt. His boots thumped on the asphalt as he walked toward the building, fatigue weighing on his bones as if he were carrying the weight of the world. The elevator whirred, the doors creaked open, and Minho stepped inside, leaning against the wall, head down, the throb of a headache growing at his temples. The doors opened again on his floor, and the hallway greeted him with a dim orange light.

Then he saw him.

A figure leaned against the wall by his door, shrouded in shadow, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The ember flickered as he took a slow drag, the smoke curling toward the ceiling like a specter. Minho sighed irritated, and he ran a hand through his windblown hair before strode forward.

-You can't smoke here, idiot,-he muttered, ripping the cigarette from his mouth and crushing it in a nearby flowerpot.

-Oh? Annyeong for you too? Is this how you greet your best friend after... what, two long years?

Minho snorted, pulling his keys out of his jacket.

-What the hell are you doing here, Hyunjin?

-You're a fucking ghost, Mochi,-he said, stretching out the nickname Minho hated hearing from anyone over twelve.-I've been calling you like crazy. Are you ghosting me or what?

Minho slipped the key into the lock, giving him a sideways glance that could have frozen hell.

-I've been busy.

-Are you still playing detective, Mochi? What's this 'private consultant' crap? Solving cases whenever you feel like it?

-I don't have much of a choice, do I? And stop calling me that. I'm not ten.

-Mochi? But it's our thing, bro,-he said, slapping him on the back.

Minho glared at him, irritation burning in his chest.

-It was 'our thing' when we were kids,-he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his patience wore thin.-Hyunjin, seriously, what do you want?

Hyunjin's smile faded for a moment.

-I just wanted to see you,-he said, his voice lower now.-And... I know you're involved in Baram-ri's murder.

Minho looked at him with narrowed eyes, weighing each word as if searching for a trap. Then he sighed and opened the door.

-Come in,-he murmured, nodding inside.

Hyunjin didn't hesitate, walking in like it was his second home. The apartment was dark, small, but spotless, with a faint smell of wood and cat food, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound. Well, until the rapid tapping of paws broke the silence. They took off their shoes, and in an instant, three cats—Soonie, Doongie, and Dori—surrounded Minho, tangling between his legs, purring like tiny engines. Minho crouched down, brushing against their fur as he murmured nonsense with a warmth rare for him.

-Hey, you little brats, did you miss me?-he said, as the cats rubbed against him.-Are you spying on me or what?-he asked afterward, without raising his voice, throwing a sideways glance at Hyunjin while continuing to pet Dori's head.-How did you know about Baram-ri?

Hyunjin leaned back against the couch, grinning like a smug idiot.

-Did you forget I'm the great Homicide Lieutenant now? I hear things, Mochi. Perks of being the boss...sort of.

Minho straightened, brushing cat fur off his pants.

-So what? Am I supposed to bow to you now?

Hyunjin faked a pout, placing a hand over his chest.

-Ouch, Mochi, that hurt!

-Stop calling me that!-Minho snapped, but Hyunjin only laughed harder.

-Okay, okay, calm down.-He leaned closer, invading Minho's space with a confidence that bordered on brash, and placed both hands on his shoulders.-But you're going to love me when you know why I'm here.

Minho stood still, waiting. Hyunjin, ever the damn charmer, didn't play fair. He leaned in, his face inches from Minho's, as if he were about to confess a sin.

-Candidate Wang personally asked you to help with his case.

Minho froze, just for a second.

-Wang? Let me guess, it's because of the shooting?

Hyunjin nodded, his enthusiasm almost childlike.

-Bingo, bro! And guess what, Mochi? It's your golden ticket. Your big chance to show Binnie you're ready to come back with us.

Minho took a step back, breaking contact.

-It's not happening.

-What?!

-I'm not interested.

It wasn't an impulsive decision. Going back to Homicide meant unearthing ghosts he'd buried years ago, nightmares that still woke him up sweating in the middle of the night. He wasn't ready. Maybe he never would be. Hyunjin snorted, frustration shattering his nonchalant facade.

-Mochi...-he began, his voice softer, joke-free for once. But then, as if he couldn't stop himself, he took a step forward, invading his space again.-Come on, bro, everyone in the department misses you!-He placed a hand on Minho's shoulder, the other brushing against his arm with that familiarity only he dared to use.-I miss you, you know? We could just hang out, like old times. No strings attached, just...us.

Damn Hyunjin. That puppy dog ​​stare, that touch, it was the same trick that had cracked his walls since they were kids. Minho didn't move, but he couldn't stop a spark of warmth from sneaking into his gaze. Hyunjin had always been his weakness, and he knew it.

-You're a pain in the ass, you know that?-Minho muttered, looking away.

Hyunjin smiled, raising an eyebrow as he nudged him in the chest.

-What? I'm too sexy to resist?

Minho rolled his eyes, swatting Hyunjin's hand away, though not as strongly as he usually did. Hyunjin's smile widened: a small victory, and he knew it very well. Minho hated that he was right.

-Seriously, Minho, think about the case. Wang needs you. I need you. Please do it.

Minho looked at him, his resistance crumbling under the weight of those eyes that always found his weak spot. Against every instinct that screamed at him to close that door, he sighed, exhaustion winning.

-Okay,-he said, almost reluctantly.-I'll do it. But only because you're the one asking, asshole.

Hyunjin's face lit up. He lunged forward, ruffling Minho's hair as if they were kids again.

-I knew you couldn't say no to me, Mochi!

Chapter Text

Wang's He adquarters, Busan. 9:13 a.m.

The shooting that nearly killed Wang had turned the city upside down, and the press smelled blood.  Hyunjin and Minho got out of the car, and as soon as their boots touched the pavement, a whirlwind of noise and lights hit them.

-Is it true that you brought a retired detective?!

-Why did they kick Lee Minho out of the forces?!

-What about his leave due to  psychological problems? Did the department forgive him?!

The questions rained down, each designed to hurt. Hyunjin moved with the grace of someone who knows the game, making his way through the crowd. His hand floated behind Minho's back, not touching him, but guiding him.  Minho, on the other hand, was untouchable. But inside, each word was a dagger opening wounds that he had sealed with blood.

The labels stuck in his mind, marking him as the "crazy detective," a title he never asked for but the world had stamped on him. The crowd was closing, but Hyunjin moved forward, leading the way to the glass doors. 

The lobby was a different kind of chaos. It smelled like burnt coffee, the screens on the walls flickering with headlines about the shooting. It wasn't peace, but it was a respite from hell outside. Hyunjin relaxed his shoulders, and he turned to Minho.

-Are you okay, Mochi?

Minho didn't answer, his gaze was fixed on the ground. Hyunjin frowned, worry marking lines on his perfect face.

-Hey, Mochi,-he insisted, softer.

That brought him out of the trance.

-I'm okay,-he said, coldly, as if he wanted to close the conversation before it began.

Hyunjin didn't swallow it. He knew Minho very well. He knew the weight he was carrying, he knew that those words of the reporters had hit where it hurt most.

-Fuck those idiots, Mochi!-he said, nudging him lightly on the arm.-They're just noise, you know? You're worth ten of those imbeciles. No, what do I say, twenty on a bad day!

Minho looked up, meeting Hyunjin. He didn't smile, but there was a faint nod, as if he were saying "thank you" without words. It wasn't much, but for Hyunjin it was enough.

-See? I told you, Mochi. You're a fucking legend, and you know it.

Minho snorted, a sound that might have been a laugh.

-You're an idiot, Hyunjin.

-Yeah, yeah, I love you too.

The atmosphere tightened as if an invisible claw had clenched its fist when Changbin appeared. 

-Lee Minho,-Changbin said, and he held out a hand.-It's good to see you back in the game.

Minho didn't move. Not a blink, not a gesture. His cold eyes locked on Changbin, ignoring the offered hand.

-Oh... right, I forgot.-Changbin murmured, withdrawing his hand.-You look good Lee. How long has it been? Two, three years?

-Maybe,-Minho replied, but he really wanted to said "I don't give a fuck."

-Well, I hope you haven't lost your spark, because you have a golden opportunity to prove it,-he said, nodding to the stairs.-Your partner is waiting for you upstairs. We are all counting on you to solve this.

-My partner?,-Minho snapped, irritated.-I thought I was working alone in this.

-Come on, Lee, you're still green in some spots. You need rank so that this doesn't get out of control. Now, move your ass.

Before Minho could answer, Changbin turned and walked away, his silhouette fading into the hallway. Minho's fists shook angrily, hating Changbin's power attitude, knowing that he was nothing more than a pawn on his board. He was about to explode, when a hand squeezed his arm.

-Hey, calm down, Mochi,-Hyunjin muttered.-It's not worth fighting. Breathe, okay?

Minho snorted, staring at Hyunjin's hand for a second before relaxing his shoulders, even if it was just a little. Reluctantly, he let Hyunjin guide him to the stairs, but the fury was still there.

-You forgot to mention that little detail, genius. A partner? Seriously?

Guilt invaded Hyunjin's face as he scratched the back of his neck.

-Eh, yeah...about that,-he stammered, avoiding Minho's eyes.-I thought if I told you, you'd run away. Or you'd make me eat paper. Or both.

-And why the hell would I do that?

He didn't need Hyunjin to say it out loud. Because just at that moment, when they reached the last step, Minho saw him. A problem with first and last name:

Christopher Bang.

Bang was the definition of perfection, but for Minho, it was a pain in the ass.  The golden boy of Homicide, the guy everyone adored, and the only one Minho would rather die with than work.

Minho didn't think. He turned around, ready to leave, instinct screaming at him to flee before this turned into a disaster. But Hyunjin was faster, quickly grabbing him by the arm.

-I get it, okay?,-Hyunjin whispered.-But don't let your "feelings" for Bang ruin this.

Minho turned his head slowly.

-Feelings? You're crazy if you think I have feelings for that jerk other than wanting to punch him.

-Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that, Mochi. I know Bang drives you crazy, and not exactly out of hate.

And then, because the universe hated him, Bang saw them. He walked towards them, his rolled sleeves revealed muscular forearms that flexed subtly as he held a to-go coffee, and that damn smile of his made Minho want to either hit him or... 

-Rookie!

-I finally meet the legend in person.

He stretched out a hand, leaning a little too close, as if expecting Minho to melt at his charisma. Minho didn't move, just stared at him.

-Stop the show, Bang. There's no one watching your pathetic performance anymore, pretty boy.

Bang's mask shattered, his smile fading, his eyes narrowing as he slowly withdrew his hand.

-Ugh, I really don't need the team to know that I'm stuck with 'Psycho Kitty'. That would sink my reputation, you know what I mean?

The insult hurt, but Minho didn't let it show. Anger boiled in his chest, but his face remained impassive.

-Wow, bang. Are you still a childish jerk? I thought you would have matured by now.

-Me? Childish? That's a lot coming from you, you fucking—

-Stop!-Hyunjin stood between them, his hands raised as if he were separating two angry cats.-Detective Bang, you're here to keep the press away from Mochi's ass, not because this case needs your smug face.-Hyunjin turned to Minho.-And you, calm the fuck down. The Captain said it: you don't go alone, you need rank. Unfortunately, that's him.-He pointed at Bang with his thumb.-So either you get along, or the two are out. Decide quickly!-He concluded, with a tone that sounded more like a teacher scolding two troublesome kids than a superior dealing with professionals.

Minho wanted to escape, but he knows he was trapped. He stared at Bang, five seconds of pure hatred. Bang's gaze burned back, and Minho felt it, that treacherous heat that always appeared when Bang was around, and he hated him even more for it.

-Okay,-Minho said, almost a grunt.-But only because you ask for it, Hyunjin.

-Aww, so cute. But let's make one thing clear, rookie. You're just a consultant here. That means you don't talk, you don't question, you don't even breathe unless I say so. Understood?

If Bang thought Minho was one to shrink under pressure, he was sorely mistaken. Hyunjin coughed, uncomfortable, trying to break the tension.

-Hey, Bang, maybe you could be a little more... kind?

-SHUT UP, HWANG!

Hyunjin raised his hands.

-Okay, okay, calm down!-he muttered and stepped back, clearly fed up.-Aish, you two...

-The same old Bang,-Minho said,-still desperate to be the center of attention? What's the plan now? Steal the credit from the rookies to keep kissing the Commissioner's ass?

Bang's control shattered like glass. He walked closer to Minho, closing the distance until they were nose to nose, so close that Minho could feel the warmth of his breath.

-Listen, rookie. I don't know who you think you're playing with, but ever since Seo took off your badge after your little breakdown, things changed. I'm over you now. Like it or not, you're my bitch in this.

-As you wish, Detective Bang,-Minho said, his voice polite but so loaded with sarcasm that it was a miracle that Bang didn't push him against the wall.-By the way...how's everything going with Jisoo?

Heads turned, footsteps faltered, the murmur of the assistants drowned out as if someone had turned off the sound. Minho knew it.  Because  Christopher Bang, Mr. "Perfect Image," the guy who controlled every detail of his public life, would rather tear his tongue out than let his personal life air out in a place like this.

-What the fuck are you talking about, rookie?

Minho tilted his head,  his expression of feigned innocence so perfect.

-Your girlfriend, Jisoo. You had a fight, right? Trouble in paradise, Bang?

-I don't know what you're talking about, asshole.

Denial, so predictable that it almost made Minho laugh.

-I'm not a love expert, but if I were you, I'd go big: elegant dinner, a huge bouquet. Girls love that shit.

Bang didn't flinch. But Minho saw it: the way his jaw flexed, how his fingers closed into fists at the sides, how his chest rose and fell. Minho took a step back, turning around like he didn't give a fuck, but he had barely taken three steps when—

-Wait!-Bang's voice sounded furious.-How the hell did you know that?

Minho turned around completely, savoring every second, and he raised a hand, pointing to Bang's neck.

-Your tie is a mess. And you have shaving foam right here.-He touched his neck, mimicking the place. Bang's hand flew to his jaw, brushing against the faint white residue.-Jisoo wouldn't let you come to work looking like a mess. And that coffee...-He pointed to the cup that Bang was still squeezing.-That coffee shop is in the northwest of Busan. But Jisoo's house is near the South Bridge. That means you didn't sleep with her last night, you probably went home pouting. Tell me I'm wrong. Come on, give it a try.

Bang's fingers trembled, the coffee cup vibrating as if he wanted to throw it against Minho's smug face. Their gazes were locked: Minho's provocative; Bang's burning with fury.

-I don't know how the fuck you do that shit,-Bang muttered, not as a compliment, more like he hated admitting it. He straightened up, trying to regain his untouchable vibe, though his hands trembled as he adjusted his tie.-But that's not going to make you a detective again, rookie. The Captain may think you're a big deal, ready to come back, but we both know that's a fucking lie. Don't forget that.

-I never forget anything.

Bang entered the conference room, his back a wall of tension, still shaken but struggling to hide it. Minho stayed behind, his expression hard as a stone, although inside, victory tasted sweet.

-Bro, was it really necessary?-Hyunjin asked, half scolding, but his smile betrayed how much he had enjoyed the chaos.-You're fucking crazy, Mochi. You just set Bang on fire, and now he's going to hate you even more... if that is possible.

-I just reminded him who I am.

[...]

The conference room was a temple of power. A mahogany table dominated the center, reflecting the overhead lights like a dark mirror. The walls were upholstered with campaign posters, each displaying Jackson Wang's magnetic smile alongside the slogan "A new dawn for Busan," which now sounded like a cruel joke.

Jackson was sitting at the head, exuding a charisma that made people want to follow him without question. Beside him, Jinyoung was a bundle of nerves, his fingers hitting an erratic rhythm against the table. At the other end, Jaebeom paced like a caged tiger, his left arm pinned in a sling by the bullet that had grazed his shoulder.  Minho entered silently, his eyes swept over the scene, capturing every detail: every tick, every look, archiving them in that memory of his.

-No, no, NO!-Jaebeom's voice burst out.-We're five points behind Tuan, and we have ten damn days left until the elections! We can't afford to play it safe now!

His eyes burned with fury and panic, the pain in his shoulder stoking the fire. Whatever Bang had proposed before Minho entered, Jaebeom was one step away from setting the room on fire.

-Mr. Lim,-Bang interjected.-I'm just saying that candidate Wang needs to lower his profile. Not publishing their agenda, reducing public appearances. It's basic security.

-Security?-Jaebeom laughed.-Do you think it's so easy when I already have a wound from this shit? I would take ten bullets for Wang, but don't tell me how to do my fucking job!

-That's right, gentlemen,-Jackson interjected.-I know you're just doing your job, but we mustn't cut anything back. The campaign will continue as planned.

-Aren't you afraid they'll try to kill you again?-Bang asked, curious.

-A man without enemies is not afraid of death.

Minho, from his corner, tilted his head, squinting as he studied Jackson. 'Brave, but stupid,' he thought. Jinyoung clearly agreed.

-What, you forgot about Tuan already?-Jinyoung snapped.-That son of a bitch has been after you since day one!

-Candidate Tuan?-Bang asked.-Wang's rival, right?

Jinyoung nodded.

-And I'd bet my life that that psycho is the one who tried to kill my...-He froze, realizing that he had talked too much.-Eh... Candidate Wang.

-Do you have proof that Tuan organized the attack?

-No,-Jackson interrupted.-But Tuan's team has been screwing us all along: smear campaigns, lies in the media, rigged polls. They never play fair.

Minho remained silent, sweeping the room like a scanner. Politics was a nest of vipers: fake smiles, hidden knives, and this room was the epicenter. Every word, every gesture, was a clue, and Minho absorbed them all, looking for the thread that connected the shooting to the chaos in front of him.

-That's why we can't cut off Jackson's appearances!-Jaebeom snapped, glaring at Bang.-Do you think Tuan's going to sit idly by while we hide? We are giving him the victory!

-Jae, relax,-Jackson said.-I understand we're up against the wall, but if I'm dead, we didn't win anything. Not a damn vote.

-Don't even say that, Jackson!-Jinyoung's voice cracked.-Do you think this is a joke? Someone tried to kill you, dammit!

-I know, babe,-Jackson replied, stretching out a hand to squeeze Jinyoung's.-But I'm not going to hide. That's not me.

-Fuck who you are!-Jinyoung withdrew his hand as if burning.-You're not invincible, Jackson! And I'm not going to stand here watching you play the hero while Tuan's thugs shoot you again!

Minho, still in his corner, let the discussion unfold, searching for something out of place. Then he saw it: a map of Busan nailed to the wall, dotted with colored tacks like a military strategy board. Curiosity piqued him, and he approached. He narrowed at the pattern: marked, color-coded areas. He stared on the red tacks clustered at certain points, supposedly areas that supported Wang.

-Excuse me,-Minho said, cutting off the chatter.-What's this garbage?

Jaebeom, in the middle of an argument with Bang, spun as if Minho had insulted his family. His eyes widened, and he ran to the map, waving his good hand as if protecting a sacred treasure.

-That's the Code of Electoral Districts, you imbecile! It took me three damn weeks to put it together!

Minho kept his expression as cold as ever.

-Such a beautiful story. But your map sucks.

-Excuse me?

Minho pointed to the red studs.

-It says that Nuri-meon and Haneul-gol are 'Team Wang'. And that's a lie,-he replied, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.-Those places are old-school conservative. They hate Wang's progressive vibe. They've always voted against the opposition. There's no way they're with him.

Jaebeom narrowed, a vein throbbing in his neck.

-Oh, and who are you? A damn political expert?

-He's the rookie,-Bang interjected, sighing as if he was dealing with children.-Our private consultant who is supposed to keep his fucking mouth shut.-He shot Minho a look that screamed shut up now.

Minho ignored him.

-I'm not a political nerd, but I know Busan. Haneul-gol? Wealthy families who would rather drown than support Wang's ideas. Nuri-meon is the same: stuck in the past, still angry that women vote. You're wasting your time.-He ripped a red tack off the map and moved it toward the coast.-Move your shit here, the coastal areas, and maybe you'll have a chance to win.

-Hey! Don't touch that, you fucking moron!-Jaebeom roared, trying to catch Minho's wrist.

-Don't touch me,-Minho hissed.

And then, chaos broke out. Jaebeom squeezed his hand on Minho's wrist, pulling hard, but his arm in a sling threw him off balance, making an awkward, almost pathetic movement. Minho didn't move, his grip like steel, his posture motionless as Jaebeom stirred like a child in a tantrum. It was a ridiculous tug-of-war.

-LEAVE MY DAMN MAP!-Jaebeom roared, pulling harder.

-I'm trying to help, stupid!-Minho snapped, his calmness only stoking Jaebeom's fury.

Across the room, Jackson and Jinyoung gawked at each other, their own tensions forgotten, as Hyunjin covered his face with his hands. The political discussion had crumbled into this absurd disaster, and finally, Bang exploded.

-DAMN, ROOKIE! DROP THAT SHIT, NOW!

Minho was startled, his reflexes kicking in, and let go of the tack. The problem was that Jaebeom was in full swing, his good hand pulling with everything he had. The sudden release sent him tripping backwards, his wounded arm flailing uselessly as his fist slammed into the map. BOOM! The impact destabilized the map, and every damn tack came loose, falling like a shower of confetti. Hundreds of plastic pins clattered against the ground, rolling into corners, sliding under chairs, an  absolute  disaster. Three weeks of Jaebeom's blood, sweat, and tears, destroyed in five seconds.

[...]

All eyes were fixed on Minho, looking at him as if he was summoning dark magic, and in a way, he was. He was at the center of the chaos next to Jaebeom's shattered map, now turned into a puzzle that he pieced together with supernatural precision. He picked up the tacks scattered on the ground and stuck them into the map, as if everything were etched into his brain.

-It's impossible,-Jaebeom muttered.-He can't remember where every damn tack went.

Hyunjin smiled with a flash of pride.

-Oh, it's not impossible for him. Minho has a photographic memory. He can put each of those things exactly where it was.

The room fell into a deathly silence. Even Jackson looked impressed, following Minho's movements as if he were witnessing a miracle.

-I don't get it,-Jackson said at last, breaking the silence.-How come a guy like Lee isn't directing Homicide?

-He was discharged due to psychological problems,-Bang replied, as if he were reading a file, but with a tone that sought to hurt.

Hyunjin turned to him, furious.

-It was a temporary suspension, Bang. Don't make it sound like he's a freaked madman.

-Discharged due to psychological problems, Hwang. Call it what you want. The rookie's sick.

-TEMPORARY SUSPENSION!-Hyunjin shouted, his voice echoing in the room, his chest rising and falling as he sucked in air to calm himself.-He can take the reinstatement test whenever he want and pass it with his eyes closed. Minho is still the best, more than anyone in this damn department.

-Is this a fucking joke?-Jinyoung roared.-Someone tried to kill my...uh...Jackson, and your big solution is to bring in a crazy ex-detective!?

The word 'crazy' sounded like a shot, but Minho didn't flinch, and he placed another tack, his face an ice mask, as if the word hadn't touched a nerve. But Hyunjin... Hyunjin was another story. He narrowed and took a step towards Jinyoung.

-You are wrong, Mr. Park. Minho is not crazy. Some people come out of trauma with extraordinary abilities.

-Oh, yeah, of course, a traumatic event. Someone run over his cat or what the fuck?

-His family was murdered.

The air disappeared, sucked into a void that left the room in deadly silence. Jinyoung's smile evaporated, his throat moving as he swallowed hard, as if he had just choked on his own words, the arrogance of a second ago replaced by guilt that crushed him.

Minho placed the last tack, precise as ever. He turned slowly, his face an illegible mask. He had learned years ago to carry his pain in silence, to lock it in a steel box where no one could touch it.

-Your map is fixed, Mr. Lim,-Minho said, without arrogance, only facts, although the impeccable work spoke for itself.

Jaebeom stepped forward, cautiously. Staring at the map, looking at the perfection, each tack in its exact place, without a single mistake, as if Minho had rewound time. It was impossible, and he had done it in minutes.

-Three weeks...-he murmured, coming out of his trance.-I killed myself for three weeks putting that together, and...you fixed it as if nothing had happened. Who the fuck are you?

-Someone who's sick of this shit. Now, I'd like to see the shooting site. We have already lost enough time.

Hotel Stella, Busan. 10:42 a.m.

The room was a half-built corpse, a luxury relic trapped in a refurbishment that never ended. The place was dusty chaos: plastic tarps covered furniture, rusty tools lay strewn, and a thick layer of sawdust stuck to the windowsill. To anyone, this was a garbage dump. To Minho, it was a treasure screaming secrets.

He paced the room, scanning every corner. This was the shooter's nest, the place where someone had been inches away from blowing Wang's head off. His mind was a machine, fitting pieces together faster than he could process. Then he stopped. A shutter cord by the window, tangled and stretched to the limit, its edges frayed as if someone had pulled it furiously. He moved closer, his gloved fingers brushing the knot, feeling the tension in the fabric.

-The shooter used this to steady the shot,-he muttered, almost talking to himself.

Bang, leaning against a canvas-covered chair, snorted.

-Seriously? Do you think we're so stupid that we don't notice?

Minho didn't pay attention to him, he just  let the comment pass . His attention shifted to the half-open window, which framed Dong Plaza below, a distant stage where Wang's speech had turned into hell. Something was eating away at him: the angle was wrong, the trajectory didn't fit, the whole set-up reeked of error. He stepped closer, his mind processing wind speed, obstacles, every technical detail that could change a bullet's course. Then he leaned over the window, leaning over the edge...

And the world collapsed.

The second he looked down, his stomach sank, as if someone had ripped it out and thrown it into the void. The square became a blurred whirlpool, the ground stretching into a hungry abyss. His chest tightened, his lungs clawing from air that didn't come, his vision blurring as cold sweat soaked his neck. The pulse was roaring in his ears, and his hands flew to the sill,  holding on tightly.  His brain screamed: Move, you idiot! But his legs were cement, anchored, the emptiness mocking him  like a sick and twisted game.  He blinked fast, forcing his breath to steady.

-Shit. Not now. Don't let him see it,-he repeated to himself.

But it was too late. Bang was staring at him, that shitty smile spreading across his face with a cruel joy that Minho hated with every fiber of his being.

-No way. Is the rookie afraid of heights?

Minho bit his tongue, intensifying his grip on the sill.

-Shut up, Bang. I'm not scared, idiot.

Bang laughed.

-Are you going to cry if we go up to the roof?

Minho did not give him the victory. He bit his tongue harder, his lungs fighting for air that came in dribs and drabs. Vertigo had trapped him, a treacherous tremor shaking his back, but then, Hyunjin, always the damn rock in the storm, slipped between him and Bang like a shield.

-Bang, stop that shit.

Bang raised an eyebrow.

-What? I'm just—

-I said stop,-Hyunjin repeated, his tone more serious, a tone he rarely use.

Bang, in all his arrogance, reluctantly backed away, his smile fading as he reached into his pockets and took a step back. Hyunjin moved closer to Minho, blocking the view of the window, giving him a space to breathe. Minho exhaled slowly, his fingers slowly loosening, his shoulders relaxing as he forced himself back. The vertigo persisted, but the worst was over. He rolled his neck, pushing panic to the back of his mind, and then his gaze fell on Hyunjin: framed by the window, near the shutter cord, sunlight shining softly behind him.

Something clicked.

-Hyunjin,-Minho said, straightening up completely.-How tall are you?

Hyunjin blinked, confused, scratching the back of his neck.

-Hmm...5′7″, I think. Why, Mochi?

Minho didn't answer, looking at the window again, then to the cord, his mind weaving connections at the speed of light.

-The shooter is the same height as you. Just like...-He paused, the weight of revelation hitting him.-Just like the killer in Baram-ri.

Bang's head slammed up.

-Baram-ri? What the hell does that have to do with this, rookie?

-Last night they killed a girl there. The profile of the killer fits that of the shooter.

-Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think the shooter here and a random killer are the same guy just because they're tall? Rookie, I knew you were crazy, but—

-Mochi...-Hyunjin sighed, moving away from the window.-I understand where you're going, but, come on, bro. Different modus operandi, different scenario. You can't just connect that like that.

Minho raised an eyebrow, looking at Hyunjin, then Bang.

-Do you know what percentage of the population of Busan is over 5′7″? 0.4%. The probability that two crimes in 24 hours, in the same city, involve suspects of that height, with this precision... It's no coincidence.

Bang growled, running a hand over his face, his patience hanging by a thread.

-All this because of a damn shutter cord? You're wasting our time, rook!

-It's not just the height.-Minho closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his nose moving subtly as he picked up something in the air.-Do you smell that?

Bang frowned, confused.

-Smell what?

-The shooter was smoking...menthols.

Chapter Text

Wang Headquarters, Busan, 2:17 p.m.

WARNING

[THE FOLLOWING SCENE CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT (NSFW)]

The curtains of the  conference room  were closed, the door lock  was the only barrier between them and the chaos of the campaign.  On the table, Jinyoung lay on his back, his pants, along with his boxers, hanging tangled around his calves, witnesses to the urgency with which Jackson had torn them off. His hands gripped the edges of the table, as his legs spread wider, inviting Jackson to claim him completely. Jackson towered over him, his hands planted on either side of Jinyoung's head, corralling him against the polished wood. His messy hair falling over his forehead as his hips set a rhythm that crunched the wood beneath them.

-Jackson...-Jinyoung gasped, choked by a moan that escaped him as he felt Jackson's pressure inside him.-Please...slow down.

Jackson stopped suddenly, his chest fluttering.

-I'm sorry, baby,-he murmured.-Shit, all this campaign chaos has me on the edge. I didn't want to hurt you.

Jinyoung, with his face flushed and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, managed to smile.

-Hurt me?,-he repeated, while his hips moved instinctively, trying to regain the lost contact.-Jackson, if you keep talking about the damn campaign while you have me like this, I'll be the one who will hurt you.

Jackson laughed. He leaned over, brushing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

-Understood, Mr. Park. No more campaigning. But...-He paused, his hips resuming a slow movement.-I'm worried that someone else will get hurt because of me.

Jinyoung, lost in the waves of pleasure that swept through him, could barely form words.

-Nothing...of this was your fault. Let...the professionals take care of it. Just...- A moan interrupted him as Jackson filled him back in.-Just stay with me.

Jackson exhaled, descending to capture Jinyoung's lips in a slow kiss. Jinyoung arched his back, his hips rising, his nails digging into Jackson's back. Jackson slid a hand down Jinyoung's thigh, lifting his leg to deepen the angle.

-Jackson...-Jinyoung gasped, barely a whisper between moans.

Jackson growled, leaving Jinyoung's mouth to trace a path of kisses down his neck. His free hand slid down, finding Jinyoung's erection, hard against his abs, and he began to jerk him off. Jinyoung squirmed under him, trembling as pleasure consumed him.

-Jackson—shit!-he cried, his nails digging deeper into Jackson's back.

Jackson accelerated his movements, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

-Do you know how much I need you? You're the only I care about, Jinyoung.

Those words were the trigger. Jinyoung arched against the table as pleasure passed through him. Jackson followed moments later, his own orgasm eliciting a moan from him that echoed through the room. Time stopped, and only the sound of their heavy breaths, the warmth of their bodies, and the certainty that, at least at that moment, nothing else mattered.

[...]

-Jackson, this can't happen again here,-Jinyoung said, who was sitting on the edge of the table and buttoning his shirt, trying to regain his composure.-Someday someone's going to walk in without knocking, or worse, they're going to hear something. If someone discovers us, it will be a scandal.

Jackson, who was buckling his belt, looked up and smiled at him.

-My love, don't worry so much,-he whispered, as he slid a hand around Jinyoung's waist, pulling him towards him.-No one is going to discover us. Do you think I'd let something hurt you?-He sealed his words with a kiss, barely a touch of his lips.

Jinyoung opened his mouth to protest, but the touch of Jackson's lips made him hesitate, and for an instant, he allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the warmth of that kiss. They were about to deepen it, when a knock on the door broke the spell.  There was no time to react. The door opened slightly, and an assistant peeked out.

-What the hell do you want?!-Jackson snapped, turning away from Jinyoung.

-The...the detectives are back, Mr. Wang,-he stammered.-They're here, outside, waiting.

-Let them in,-Jackson ordered.

The assistant nodded, disappearing behind the door. Jinyoung took advantage of the moment to finish buttoning his shirt, while throwing a reproachful look at Jackson.

-I told you. This is exactly what we don't need. What if that boy had come in a minute earlier?

-Relax. No one suspects anything.

Before Jinyoung could answer, the door opened again, and Minho and Bang walked in.

-Detectives,-Jackson said, as he took his seat.-What brings you here?

Minho immediately noticed Jinyoung's tense posture and the slight mess of Jackson's shirt. He knew. There was no doubt that he knew.

-Did we interrupt something important?

Jinyoung felt a chill run down his spine, but Jackson just laughed.

-Nothing we can't take up later,-he replied, winking at Minho.-Please, take a seat. Coffee? Water?

Minho ignored the offer, sitting calmly.

-I would rather discuss about the case. Last night, a girl named Kang Haeun was stabbed in Baram-ri. She died at the scene. We believe that the person responsible may be connected to the shooting against you, Mr. Wang.

-Kang Haeun?-Jinyoung asked, his eyebrows furrowing in an expression of apparent confusion.-I've never heard that name.

Minho watched him with that look that seemed capable of piercing walls.

-Are you sure? Maybe someone who worked on the campaign? Someone you met at an event? A volunteer, perhaps?

Jackson laughed again, resting his elbows on the table.

-Detectives, a lot of people work for me. Do you know how many names pass through this office in a week? It's impossible to remember them all.

-Yes, and it's ridiculous,-Jinyoung interjected, crossing his arms.-Do you really think that the murder of a stranger has anything to do with the attack on Jackson?

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by Jinyoung's vehemence.

-I understand that you may seem disconnected, Mr. Park. But there are patterns that we cannot ignore. If there's anything, anything, that you can remember about Kang Haeun, it could be the missing piece to catch whoever tried to kill Wang.

-Believe me, Lee, if I knew anything, I would tell you,-Jackson replied.-But, look. I offer you something. We have records of everyone who has worked here. The technician in charge can check them. Right, Jinyoung?

-Yeah, sure.-Jinyoung rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated.-But it's a waste of time.

Minho kept his gaze on Jinyoung, as if trying to read beyond his façade. There was something about his silence, the way he exchanged fleeting glances with Jackson, that made Minho's suspicion intensify.

-You know? Sometimes people don't realize what they know until they're asked the right question. If there's something you're not telling us, now is the time to speak.

Jinyoung laughed sarcastically.

-What do you insinuate? That we are hiding something? We're the victims here, detective.

-Relax, Jinyoung,-Jackson said.-The detectives are just doing their job. If the technician finds something about that girl, he will look for you himself.

Minho didn't respond right away. He looked at Jackson, then back to Jinyoung, looking for cracks in his façade. Bang, who had been silent up to that point, sighed and stood up, clearly fed up with the tension.

-Ok. Let's leave them alone. We will continue to investigate on our own. But if you remember something, give us a call. We don't want any more surprises.

Without waiting for an answer, Bang headed for the door, casting a glance at Minho that was more of an order than a suggestion. Minho hesitated for a moment, but finally, he followed Bang with obvious reluctance. As they walked out, Minho took one last look, meeting Jinyoung's for a second that seemed eternal.

[...]

-Jinyoung seems extremely suspicious to me,-Minho said as they walked through the lobby, processing the conversation they had just had.-I don't buy that indignation facade. He's hiding something, and so is Jackson.

Bang rolled his eyes.

-Rookie, don't start with your conspiracy theories. Jinyoung is scared. Someone tried to blow his boyfriend's head off, what did you expect?

Minho frowned, looking on an invisible spot.

-No, Bang. There is something else. I saw it in his eyes, in the way Jinyoung got defensive so quickly. And Jackson... That guy acts like he's in control of everything, but he's too calm for someone who almost died. I don't like it.

-That doesn't mean anything. We are wasting time looking for connections where there are none. Come on, rook. We have real work to do.

Forensic Unit, Homicide Department, Busan. 4:12 p.m.

Here, the air was colder, impregnated with a faint smell of disinfectant. Bang was leading the way to the lab, but before they could reach the door, an explosion of voices stopped them in their tracks.

-Admit it, your theory is madness! You're ignoring the most obvious psychological evidence!

Jisung's voice rang out in exasperation as he followed the forensic closely. The forensic turned, the freckles that dotted his face stood out against the angry blush on his cheeks.

-Mon dieu, Jisung, ce n'est pas une madness! It's science! La trajectoire de la balle speaks louder than your psychological profiles.

Jisung crossed his arms.

-Oh, of course, because a strange angle of bullet explains everything, right? Please, Felix! The shooter wasn't a robot, he was human. Humans make mistakes. It's not all a damn math calculation!

-Alors, explain to me how a shot so précis, so calculé, fits with your idea of a poorly executed shot. La balle says it all. Listen to the body, pas à ton ego!

-Ego?! Me? You're the one who's in love with your own theory, Felix! You're so obsessed with your forensic data that you don't see the damn big picture!

-Hey!-Bang's voice thundered, cutting off the discussion, causing both heads to turn towards him.-Everything okay here?

-Désolé, Detective Bang,-Felix said.-Just...a small difference in perspective. Rien de grave.

Bang raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

-Uh-huh...and what exactly were you discussing?

-Oh! L'autopsie! Je suis sûr of having found something intéressant, but "Monsieur Intelligent" here believes that it is circumstantial.

-Because it is, Felix! There are psychological studies that show that even the best shooters make mistakes.

Minho, who had been watching this chaos from behind, finally intervened.

-Well. I think both have a point. The trajectory matters, but so do the motives.

Felix turned to Minho, squinting as if barely registering his presence. But before he could answer, Jisung inhaled deeply, his attitude changing as if someone had flipped a switch. His shoulders relaxed, his lips parted, and a shy smile spread across his face, replacing the chaotic guy from a second ago.

-Minho. You're back!

The way he said it—as if Minho was a lost hero returning home—made Minho's brain fail for a second.

-No...I'm only here for Wang's case,-he stammered, flushing slightly.

Bang grunted, rubbing his temples.

-Ok, lovebirds, enough of this shit,-he said, pointing at them, making it clear that he had no patience for Jisung's theater or for Minho, somehow, always ending up in the spotlight.-Some of us have things to do.

-Oui! I'm glad to see you again, Minho hyung! How about I show you l'autopsie and we end up avec cette dispute?-Felix said and turned towards the autopsy room, leaving the others with no choice but to follow him.

Minho, Bang, and Jisung followed, entering the room where a steel table dominated the center, illuminated by cold lights that made everything look deader than it already was. The victim's pale body lay under the lights, an open wound on his torso standing out brutally against the lifeless skin.

-Bon, c'est lui. Choi Youngjae.-Felix said, pointing to the body.-Wang's best bodyguard... or well, était, until someone decided that he was better as a strainer. C'est tragique, isn't it?

-Felix,-Bang growled.-Focus, please.

-Désolé, detective. Je m'excuse. The bullet came in here,-he pointed to the wound in Youngjae's chest, just below the collarbone.-The trajectory is clean, straight to the heart. C'est précis, not a random shot. The shooter knew what he was doing, mes amis.

Jisung crossed his arms, frowning.

-Or maybe the shooter just screwed up. A human error. Not everything is a master plan orchestrated by a criminal mastermind.

Felix raised his hands to the sky, as if he was invoking divine patience.

-Mon dieu, Jisung, why do you insist on ignoring the evidence? Look at the angle, look at the precision!

-Ok, Felix,-Minho interjected, sweeping the victim's body.-If the trajectory is as clear as you say, there should be something in the report to back it up. What else did you find?

Felix smiled, clearly pleased by Minho's intervention.

-The bullet was from a high-precision rifle. Designed for déformer on impact. It hit him and, bam!, it fragmented like crazy. It makes finding the weapon a pain in the... eh, difficult.

Jisung giggled.

-Nice try, Felix. But according to the Ballistics report, they used a Walther WA 2000. German, long range, mercenary favorite.

Minho cocked his head, his mind processing at a thousand per hour.

-So, was he a hired shooter?

-C'est possible,-Felix replied, shrugging.-Getting one of those rifles is not cheap, almost exclusively for professional equipment on the black market.

Jisung rolled his eyes, clearly unwilling to give in.

-Or it was someone who didn't want us to track him down.

-Did you find anything else?-Bang asked, tense, as if he was about to explode.-Because so far, all I have is a nerd argument and a corpse that doesn't tell me anything new.

-Oui,-Felix said, his tone more serious now.-I found a significative amount of alcohol in Choi's sang. The guy was drunk when he died. Not a little, non. Pretty much.

Bang's head slammed up.

-Are you telling me that Wang's best bodyguard was drunk at work?

-Oui. Maybe he was celebrating his last night on Earth, but...

-Felix!-Bang interrupted, his frustration running high.-How about you stop joking and help me find a name? Buyers, legal or not. Anyone who has gotten a weapon like that in downtown Busan in the past six months, I want them on my desk. Now!

-D'accord, Detective Bang,-Felix said, already typing the request on his tablet.

-And Baram-ri too,-Minho added.

Bang turned to him, exasperation exploding in his face.

-Are you serious, rook? Again with that shit? How many times do I have to tell you that there is no damn connection!

-I'm just covering all the bases. Do you want to miss something, Bang?

Bang's gaze might have shattered glass, and he clenched his fists at his sides, but before it could burst, Jisung intervened, breaking the silence like a ray of light.

-We can do it! Right, Felix? A little extra research isn't going to kill us!

Felix froze, looking at Jisung, annoyed.

-Mon dieu, Jisung, now you want us to do overtime?-he joked, but when he saw Minho's look, he sighed.-D'accord. It doesn't take long to include Baram-ri in the search.

Bang sighed, rubbing his face as if he wanted to erase the entire day, but he let it go, for now. Jisung, seizing the moment, turned to Minho.

-Minho. How about we talk about this in a session? I can schedule an appointment for you.-His tone was soft, but his eyes stopped on Minho as if he was a dream he couldn't let go.

Minho blinked, absent-minded, oblivious to the heat in Jisung's gaze.

-Yeah, sure...-he murmured, scratching the back of his neck while his mind was still trapped in the pieces of the case.-We'll talk about it later, Jisung. Right now I just want to understand what the hell is going on here.

Jisung's smile widened only a little, a gleam of hope in his eyes, as Bang grunted again, his patience on the verge of collapse. But before anyone could say more, the door slammed open. Everyone was startled, heads turning toward the noise. Hyunjin burst in, his chest rising and falling as if he had run a marathon.

-Guys!-he gasped, taking a deep breath.-We have a fucking problem!

Gyeongbu Highway, Busan. 6:42 p.m.

The highway was shrouded in a darkness that seemed to swallow everything. The fog crawled on the asphalt like a living entity, and the silence was unsettling, the kind that makes your skin crawl just before the world falls apart. On the side of the road, a wrecked car lay like a broken casing. There were no survivors, only an echo of death.

-Cap,-Hyunjin began, his fingers trembling slightly as he reviewed the report on his tablet.-It seems that the victim received a hard blow to the head. He died on impact, no doubt. We identified him as Kim Minjun. He worked on Wang's campaign.

Minho sighed.

-Let me guess. Minjun was the technician who handled the campaign staff, right?

-How do you know that, Mochi?-Hyunjin asked, cocking his head.

-This wasn't an accident,-Minho replied.-Was there any kind of document in the car? Wang said that if they found anything about Kang Haeun, he would send it with him.

Hyunjin frowned, scrolling through the report on his tablet.

-No, nothing that stood out.

-Lee, relax,-Changbin interjected.-Don't start digging where there's nothing. The boy had an accident, end of the damn story.

-With all due respect, Seo, this doesn't look like an accident,-Minho replied, taking a step towards the car and pointing to the impeccable stretch of pavement.-Look at the road: not a single brake mark. Not a damn scratch. If Minjun had seen that curve, he would have hit the brakes, turned... something. But there is nothing. As if... he wouldn't have had a chance.

Changbin tilted his head, squinting as he inspected the pavement.

-Shit...You're right. How did you not notice something like that, Lieutenant?

-What? Are you comparing me to Minho, captain?-Hyunjin protested, crossing his arms.-You know I don't stand a chance against this little nerd. The guy sees things that even the hawks don't notice!

Bang laughed, shaking his head.

-Are you really believing this shit? We all know that this road is a death trap. People pass at more than 60 mph, they miss the curve and bam! They're dead.

Minho exhaled through his nose, and turned to look at Bang.

-Bang, open your eyes and look at the damn details.

-No! You think you're so smart, huh? You always have to play the brainy detective, creating shitty stories as if we were in a Ao3 novel! I'm not going to chase your fairy tales, rookie!

-Bang, calm down,-Changbin warned, the wick of his patience visibly short.

-No, Captain! Do you really believe this? It was an accident, period. The guy was probably distracted, and now we're here wasting our time with ghost stories.

Minho held his position, facing Bang's fire with ice.

-You don't want to investigate, that's up to you. But ignoring the evidence doesn't make it go away.

Bang clenched his fists as if he were about to punch him.

-Stop! Both of you!-Changbin ordered, standing between them.-Bang, if you think this is a dead end, fine, investigate something else. Lee, do you want to continue with this? Do it. But stop turning this into a damn contest. We are a team, so act like one.

-Yeah, right. 'A team'.-Bang murmured, giving Minho one last look that lasted too long.-Good luck with your treasure hunt, rookie.

Minho watched him walk away towards his car,  but that corrosive feeling stuck deeper: this wasn't just their typical rivalry. It felt personal.

-Hold on! Where are you going?

Bang stopped, his hand frozen on his car door handle, and half-turned.

-I have a date, rookie. But you probably already knew that, didn't you?-He waved a hand, contemptuously.-Go! Investigate your "murder" theory. I'll be here, in the real world.

The door slammed shut, the engine roaring as Bang accelerated, his car's taillights engulfed by fog. Minho stood on the road, the cold of the night soaking his bones, his gaze fixed on the place where Bang had disappeared. Bang had always been a jerk, that wasn't new. But this... This was different. There was something in his tone, in that look, that set off all the alarms in Minho's head.

Why did Bang hate him so much?

He pushed the thought to the bottom, exhaling hard through his nose. There was no time for that now. Someone  murdered Minjun , and Minho knew that this was not a random accident. And if no one else wanted the truth, he would find it alone, no matter the risks.

Buwondong, Busan. 9:32 p.m.

The restaurant in the heart of Busan was a sanctuary of opulence, a haven where luxury enveloped every corner. Tables glistened in candlelight, and a violin whispered soft notes from a corner, mingling with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of crystal glasses.

At a table, Bang sat with a presence that dominated the space. His shirt fitted impeccably to his shoulders, each button in place, without a wrinkle that dared to challenge its perfection. In front of him, Jisoo shone like a jewel. She laughed as Bang narrated an anecdote with that magnetic charisma that made him impossible to ignore.

-Wait, wait, for a second.

-You say he threw tacks all over the floor? In Wang's conference room?-She laughed again, a sound that drew glances from nearby tables.-How shameful!

Bang chuckled, swirling his wine glass.

-Yeah, that's the rookie. A pain in the ass, I swear.

Jisoo cocked her head.

-Ok, real talk, Chris... If this guy is so troublesome, why don't you leave him?

Bang sighed.

-Because...he's so good at this,-he murmured, the confession slipping away.

Jisoo's jaw fell into a mock drama.

-My god! Did Christopher Bang just praise Lee Minho? Someone call the press! This is world news!

-Shh! Lower your voice, baby!-he hissed, leaning over as if he were sharing a state secret, scanning the restaurant in case anyone heard them.-My...relationship with the rookie is complicated, ok?

Jisoo smiled mischievously.

-Relationship, huh? Sounds... interesting.

Bang rolled his eyes so hard that they were almost lost in his head.

-Companionship, rivalry... call it what you want. Look, he's the most irritating bastard I've ever worked with: stubborn, reckless, and half the time I want to strangle him. But...-He paused, his brow furrowing, the words seemed to fight to come out.-The guy has a gift for this. It drives me crazy, but, shit... he sees things that no one else notices.

-Chris, you know that you talk more about Minho than about me, right? This is a date, baby, and you've been complaining... or drooling over him for ten minutes. Are you sure you're not in love?

Bang almost spat out his wine.

-What?!-He stammered, his face turning red.-NO! I can't stand him!

-Mmm-hmm,-Jisoo hummed, totally incredulous.

Bang grunted, running a hand over his face.

-Anyway, enough of him,-he said, forcing a flirtatious smile, one of those that made Jisoo forget that they were fighting.-Give me Jisoo's summary, I want all the details.

Jisoo lit up, happy to take center stage again, and launched into a chat about her latest works, her team, and the craziness of her week. Bang nodded, smiling at just the right moments, his face perfectly rehearsed. But his mind... His mind was elsewhere, betraying him.

Minho.

Minho scanning a crime scene, capturing details that no one else saw. The constant arguments that always left Bang vibrating, as if every fight was an electric shock. The way Minho's voice had that confident calmness, as if he knew something that others didn't. And then... that damn smile. Those perfect bunny teeth that he never, ever showed Bang.

Why the hell did he care about that?

This was supposed to be a night off. A date, an escape from the chaos of work, of fights, of Minho. So why did he keep hovering in his head? Minho was just a rival, a thorn in his foot, a headache that drove him crazy. But as Jisoo spoke, Bang felt a knot in his chest, a current of heat that threw him off. He remembered their last confrontation, the way Minho had looked at him.

He didn't like men. He didn't like Minho...did he?

The thought hit him, the heat rising to his cheeks. No way. This was just stress, rivalry shit, the tiredness of working with someone who pushed him to the limit. He would surpass it. He had to get over it.

-Chris?-Jisoo's voice cut off his thoughts.-Are you okay, honey? You look... distracted.

Bang blinked. Shit. He had disconnected, and hard. Quickly, he put on a smile, leaning back with a casual air he didn't feel.

-Yeah, I'm okay... just a very long day,-he said, his voice forced as he pushed Minho's shadow to the back of his mind... for now.

Jisoo glanced at him, as if she knew something wasn't right, but she let it go, resuming his chat.

-Anyway, my boss was losing his mind about this deadline, and I...

-Do you think he's too good?-Bang cut in, taking a sip of his wine, his gaze lost in the candle, as if the flames could answer him.

Jisoo paused.

-Huh? Who?

Bang froze, realizing that he had spoken loudly. But then, out of the corner of his eye, Bang caught a movement in the shadows. At first, he attributed it to candles playing tricks with light. But then...

Minho?

No, shit, this had to be a joke. Why here? Why now? Why, of all the damn places in Busan, in this restaurant?  His worst nightmare came through the door, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. Bang was petrified, the wine in his mouth suddenly tasting like acid. And then, he choked. He choked hard, the liquid burning his throat.

-Honey, are you okay!?-Jisoo leaned over, worried.

Bang nodded quickly, his heart pounding fast, but he couldn't answer. Because at that moment, Minho's gaze caught his, and Bang felt the air slip from his chest. Minho was approaching his table, as if he hadn't finished dynamiting the whole night. 

-What the hell are you doing here, rookie!?

-I found something about the case,-he said, calmly, as if barging into a date was so fucking normal.

Bang's jaw dropped.

-You couldn't call like a normal person?! I'm kind of busy here!

-It's urgent, Bang.

Of course. Minho had been hovering around his mind all night, sneaking into every corner like a virus, and now he was here, in the flesh, ruining reality. This was torture. And the worst? He couldn't take his eyes off Minho. Jisoo, always the diplomat, stood up, smoothing her dress while offering a smile that could disarm a war.

-You must be Lee Minho,-she said, extending a hand.-I'm Kim Jisoo, Chris's girlfriend.

Bang barely had time to prepare for what was coming. Because, of course,  Minho didn't shake her hand,  he didn't even pretend to consider it.

-I know who the fuck you are,-he said, leaving Jisoo's hand dangling in the air.

The awkward silence fell. Jisoo hesitated, her smile fading as she slowly withdrew her hand. He shot Bang a look, his eyes saying 'what the hell is wrong with this guy?' and Bang responded with a look that screamed 'I told you he's an idiot.'

-Couldn't this wait until tomorrow, rookie?

-I thought it might be more important than...

-What? My love life?

Jisoo, in pacifying mode, intervened again, trying to save the atmosphere.

-Have you had dinner yet, Detective Lee? Take a seat, and you can talk to Chris about the case, right, honey?-He turned to Bang, his hopeful eyes colliding with the chaos she had just invited.

Bang's jaw dropped to the ground, but she ignored him. And then, to Bang's absolute horror, Minho seemed to hesitate.

-No,-Minho snapped.-And don't call me 'Detective'.

-I insist!-she said, as she patted the empty chair next to Bang.

Minho narrowed, assessing her with that piercing gaze that always made Bang feel like he was being dissected. Then, to his utter horror, Minho slumped into the chair... right next to him. Bang buried his head in his hands with a groan. This was hell. Their romantic night was now a damn report, and Minho, as always, stealing the show.

[...]

Bang skewered his pasta, rolling noodles without taking a bite. In front of him, Jisoo was casting nervous glances between him and Minho. And Minho... Minho was Minho. He was scanning the plate more than eating it, as if food were a suspect at a crime scene. Discomfort radiated from the table, a silent scream that drowned out the violin, the distant laughter and the soft clink of the cutlery in the restaurant.

-So,-Jisoo ventured.-How's Wang's case going?

Bang snorted, dropping his fork on the plate.

-Why don't you tell him, rookie?

Minho paused mid-bite.

-I would, but she don't have authorization for that. It's confidential.

Jisoo's smile trembled, holding herself up by sheer force of will as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Bang felt a vein throbbing in his temple.

-Oh, fantastic. Are your crazy theories confidential now?

Jisoo, desperate to put out the growing fire, smiled tenderly.

-I know that I am not exactly in the investigation. But don't worry, Detect... I mean, Lee. I am a lawyer. Confidentiality is my greatest virtue.

Minho stopped his fork, a flash of doubt crossing his gaze.

-Are you a lawyer?-he asked, almost incredulous.

-Yes, rookie. And FYI, Jisoo is a top-tier lawyer. Her last case? Defending a famous actor. A magazine published shit about him, and she's working to clear his name.

Minho nodded once, while taking another bite of pasta. He chewed slowly, swallowed, wiped his lips with the napkin, and then... He ate again, without a single comment, as if Jisoo's story was irrelevant.

-It's been a challenge,-Jisoo continued, still determined to save the night,-but we have a good chance. If I win this defamation lawsuit, it will be the biggest victory of my career... maybe for the entire firm!

Bang nodded, smiling proudly, genuinely glad to see her talk about something she loved. But Minho couldn't be less interested. Just a tic on his face, scanning her as if she was a file. And then, just as Jisoo was finishing, he dropped a bomb.

-Sorry. I'm very bad at conversations, but... you're lying.

It took two seconds for the words to sink in, but when they did, the entire restaurant seemed to stop. Jisoo's smile hesitated, his wine glass trembling in his hand as he blinked fast, as if trying to process an invisible blow.

-What the fuck did you just say!?-Bang hissed, his voice echoing loud enough to turn heads from nearby tables.

Minho faced his gaze with a calmness that was almost insulting.

-She's lying,-he repeated.-You can't sue a magazine for defamation. The proof bar is very high, Korean law is a bitch with that. Data alteration would be a more solid angle. Your case, as you put it, is very weak. You're exaggerating to sound awesome.

Bang hit the table with one hand.

-ARE YOU REALLY TEACHING HER ABOUT HIS OWN DAMN WORK!?

Minho blinked at him, then back at Jisoo.

-I'm not trying to "teach" her. I'm just saying, legally speaking—

-Rookie! Shut. The Fuck. Up.

[...]

The parking lot was a dark wasteland, lit only by a pair of streetlights. Bang crossed the asphalt like an unleashed storm, his breath escaping in clouds of rage that swirled in the freezing night. The night had been perfect, until Minho, his damn personal curse, burst in and reduced it to ashes. Behind him, the curse walked on, as if he had no idea why Bang was about to break his neck.

-What was I supposed to do? Let her lie to you like that?

Bang spun so fast that Minho had to slam on the brakes, his boots skidding in the gravel to avoid crashing into him.

-YES, ROOKIE! THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YOU SHOULD DO!-Bang's scream ripped through the cold air, his finger digging into Minho's chest so hard that it made him take a step back.-We all beautify our lives! It's called being human, something you clearly have no fucking idea about!

Minho frowned, cocking his head.

-Yeah, I don't understand that.

-NO SHIT?!-Bang laughed, his head leaning back as he ran both hands through his hair.-Do you think I tell Jisoo everything? Do you think I told her about my ex-wife? My son? From my 'adventures' in Jeju?

Minho, always the professional idiot, replied:

-What did you do in Jeju?

-ROOKIE!-Bang's voice reached a tone of pure disbelief.-Really? Is that all you get?

-I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to ruin your night.

-Well, congrats, genius... you did. I don't know what's your fucking problem with Jisoo. But nothing is going to change. She's my girlfriend, we're together... You have to accept it. Or what? Are you in love with her?

Minho's eyes widened slightly, a treacherous blush rising up his ears.

-No, she's not my type.

-Then what's your damn problem? Why are you trying to ruin my life?

Minho lowered his gaze, his lips parted as if the words were there, caught in his throat. 

-Forget it, Bang,-Minho murmured.-It's not worth it.

Bang snorted, rage returning.

-I'm sick of this! You ruined my night, my relationship, my damn patience... everything! And you know what? Jisoo is right. I QUIT! I don't want to work with you, I don't want to deal with your theories, I don't even want to see your fucking face!

Minho hesitated and took a step back, a flash of pain crossing his eyes.

-You can't quit!-his voice sounded panicked.

-You think you know everything, don't you?

-You don't know me, Bang.

-You are right. And I don't want to know you. Goodbye, rookie.

He turned, opening the door of his car.  A moment later, Bang left. Minho stood there, motionless, running a hand through his hair. The first drops of rain stung his skin, but he did not flinch. The rain was nothing compared to the pain that gnawed at his ribs, a void that grew with each heartbeat.

Why? Why him?

He rode his bike, the engine coming alive with a roar that echoed through the deserted parking lot. He turned the accelerator hard, tearing through the empty streets of Busan, the rain lashing his face. His mind was a mess, trapped in a single name: Christopher Bang. The guy who, somehow, had done the impossible. The guy who had made Minho feel—too much, all at the same time.

[...]

Minho barely remember the journey home.  Inside, darkness engulfed him. His room was a mess: the desk was a battlefield with scattered papers, old case files overflowing, crime scene photos, yellowed newspaper clippings etched in his memory. Chaos, yes, but Minho could navigate it with his eyes closed. A soft purr broke the silence as Soonie jumped onto his lap as soon as he dropped into the chair. Minho caressed his fur absentmindedly, reaching for that damn newspaper he had memorized:

"FAMILY KILLED IN LOCAL PARKING LOT."

"MARRIED COUPLE MURDERED, THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SON AMONG THE VICTIMS."

"ROOKIE DETECTIVE: RETIRED FROM THE FORCE."

"MISSING SON?"

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the air felt like tar. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, but his mind still racing. It didn't matter how many criminals he locked up, how many cases he solved... nothing compared to this one. The only case that really mattered, the one that destroyed him, the one that forged him.

Who the hell killed his family?

That question had consumed him for  endless years  and still nothing. No clues, no names, no justice. Just a dead trail, as if they had never existed. Soonie, oblivious to the storm raging inside him, curled up in his chest, purring softly. The sound was so comforting, that for a second—just a second—Minho allowed himself to breathe. His eyes were burning, but he blinked to push the sensation away, pushing the emotions to an unreachable place.  Minho could see them so clearly, as if they were there, in the room. He stretched out his hand to them, as he always did in his dreams, but the end was the same. They fade away, they leave, leaving him with nothing but that question that haunted him.

Who did this? And why... Why is he the only one left to remember them?

It didn't matter if no one else cared, if the police had given up, if everyone told him to let them go. He wouldn't. Because as long as he was alive, he would keep looking. And he would never, ever, stop.

Not until this case—the case that SHATTERED him—was finally closed.

Chapter Text

Suyeong, Busan. 8:32 a.m.

Bang's  porch  was a perfect reflection of the chaos that reigned in the life of a single father: plants that seemed to beg for some water, soccer balls, and action figurines scattered like a minefield. Changbin adjusted his jacket as he climbed the porch steps. He knocked on the door, and almost immediately it burst open. But it wasn't Bang.

-Is that you, Seungmin?-Changbin said, bending down to get to his level.-Look at you! You're so big!

Seungmin raised an eyebrow.

-And who the fuck are you? A fucking pervert?

Changbin was stunned. What the hell is Bang teaching this kid?

-I guess you don't remember me. I'm Captain Seo Changbin. I work with your dad. Is he at home?

Seungmin rolled his eyes, as if this was the  stupidest interruption in history.

-DADDY! THERE'S A WEIRD GUY AT THE DOOR!

[...]

Minutes later, Changbin was sitting at Bang's dining room table.  In front of him, Seungmin was devouring a cookie as if he was the king of the world. Bang, kneeling beside him, struggled with the tie of the boy's uniform. His eyebrows were furrowed, his tongue poking out slightly as he muttered curses.

-Sorry, Captain,-Bang said without looking up, his clumsy fingers undoing the umpteenth failed knot.-I'm not going to work with the rookie again. Period.

-I'm not going to let you quit, Bang,-Changbin replied.

-Bad luck,-Bang snapped, tugging on the tie too tightly.-I already did.

-Ouch! Daddy, it hurts!-Seungmin complained.

-Then stop moving, little gremlin!-Bang barked, loosening the knot.-Sit still for two damn seconds, will you?

-Bang, listen to me,-Changbin said.-Like it or not, we need Lee.

Bang snorted, finally managing to straighten Seungmin's tie.

-What do we need him for? I could solve this alone, but it's clear that you don't trust me enough, Changbin. Think I can't solve a case without the rookie?

-You know I trusted you. You're one of my best detectives. But...-Changbin sighed, taking a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket and sliding it across the table towards Bang.-Lee was right.

-What the fuck is this?-he asked, taking the paper and scanning the contents.

-We found it in Kim Minjun's car. It's a list of campaign staff. Kang Haeun worked for Wang.

-So what? That doesn't prove anything. It could be a coincidence.

-I'm not going to tolerate this shit, Bang. We're friends, but I'm your Captain first. Behave like a man and face this. You can't run away from a case just because Lee drives you crazy.

-Daddy is jealous!-Seungmin shouted in the middle of a bite.

-Excuse me!?-Bang turned to his son, looking at him as if he had just confessed to a crime.-What did you just say, you little traitor!?

-You are!-Seungmin insisted.-You get all grumpy when they say good things about Minho hyung! Like, super angry, daddy. It's weird!

Changbin held back a laugh. Bang, on the other hand, was about to explode.

-Minnie, champ,-he said, forcing a smile as he ruffled Seungmin's hair with gentle rudeness,-why don't you go get your backpack, huh?

-I don't know... It's fun to watch you sweat, daddy.

-Backpack. Now!-Bang growled, pointing down the hallway.

Seungmin sighed with drama worthy of a soap opera actor, jumping off his chair. But before leaving, he pushed his cookie's plate towards Changbin.

-Eat! Daddy says guests don't leave hungry. It's the law!

Changbin laughed, taking a cookie.

-Thank you.

Seungmin gave him a thumbs up as he ran down the hall.

-Don't let daddy give up, Mr. Weird!-he shouted before disappearing.

Bang stood, leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze on the floor. Changbin watched him, noticing the way he avoided looking him in the eye.

-Bang. You're a great detective, a great father. But what the fuck is wrong with Lee? You've always been like this, competing, fighting like the world depends on who wins. But this... This is different. What happened last night? Why did you really quit?

Bang took a deep breath. He couldn't tell him. He couldn't admit that he had run away because Minho was everywhere. He couldn't confess that every time Minho looked at him with those cold eyes, he felt something that terrified him, something that made him question everything he thought he knew about himself.

-I just quit, ok? The rookie and I... We are not made for each other.

Changbin raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

-Shit, Bang, you sound like you just broke up with your boyfriend. But guess what, this isn't about personal dramas. I need you in this fight, whether you want to or not. Lee may be a pain in the ass, but he's the best. And so do you. Think about what you could do if you worked together.

Bang laughed, his old arrogance returning.

-And what's the benefit to me, huh? Why should I put up with the rookie when I have to take care of Seungmin?

Changbin smiled, as if he had been waiting for that question.

-Wang has money, Bang. A lot. Solve this case, and it's not just a pat on the back. You will have a powerful ally who will owe you a favor. A big favor. Think what that could do for you... and Seungmin.

The mention of his son was like a direct blow to the heart. He could pretend that he didn't care about the case, that Minho wasn't his problem, but Seungmin was his world. And the idea of giving him a better future... changed everything.

-Daddy!-Seungmin burst in.-If you accept the deal, can you ask them to build a skate park? Pleeeeeease!

Bang chuckled, bending down to ruffle his son's hair.

-You're already dealing, little shark?

-So, Bang,-Changbin interjected.-Do we have a deal?

Bang sighed, shaking his head as if he was already regretting every second of this.

-Fine. I'll talk to the rookie.

Youngnak Cemetery, Busan. 10:16 a.m.

The cemetery was a haven of peace, a corner of Busan where time seemed to stand still. In front  of three graves,  Minho was kneeling. The tombstones were engraved with the names that ripped out his heart every time he read them:

Here lie Lee Solar, Lee Seoho, and Lee Jeongin. Beloved parents and son.

Minho was pushing dry leaves away from the tombstones. He had brought fresh flowers. He arranged each petal carefully, as if this act was the only thing he could still offer them.

-You'd have loved this case, Innie. A political mystery. Your favorites. Remember when you swore that the president had a secret room to keep aliens?-He smiled sadly, but his eyes shone with tears that struggled to escape.-You were crazy, little brother. But the cutest crazy person I ever knew.

He sat on his heels, his fingers brushing Jeongin's name engraved on the stone.  The pain squeezed his chest, a knot that never unraveled. He closed his eyes, and in an instant, Jeongin's image returned to him.

-I'm so sorry, Innie. I promised I'd always be there for you.

A tear slid down his cheek, tracing a slow path to his jaw. He didn't clean it; he dropped it, as if he wanted the earth to absorb it, to carry a piece of it to them. Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

-What are you doing here?-Minho asked, wiping away the trace of his tear with the back of his hand.

Bang was a few steps away. There was no trace of his typical mocking smile, only silence. Seeing Minho like this, vulnerable, hurt, and Bang didn't understand why. Or maybe he did, and that terrified him more.

-You were right, rookie.

Minho raised his eyebrows, slowly turning to face him. His eyes sought Bang's, expecting sarcasm, but there was nothing.

-About what?

-The cases,-Bang said, stepping closer.-There's a link, just like you said.

Minho blinked, processing the words as if they were a key piece in the puzzle he'd been putting together in his head. His gut had screamed that connection all along, but hearing Bang confirm it... it was surreal.

-I was right?-Minho muttered, his gaze returning to Jeongin's tombstone.

Bang frowned, clearly bewildered by the lack of reaction.

-Is that all you have to say? No 'I told you so, asshole'?

-Is that what you expect from me, Bang?

-How does it feel, huh?-he asked, taking another step towards Minho.-How does it feel to be right all the damn time?

Minho sighed, his fingers tracing Jeongin's name one last time.

-Horrible.

[...]

-Hey, huh... do you come here often?-Bang asked, breaking the silence as they walked together along the path that wound between the tombs.

-Whenever I can. It's the only place where I can still... talk to them.

Bang nodded slowly.

-They'd be proud, you know. The way you move on... It's awesome.

-Don't do that,-Minho said, feeling a lump in his throat.-Don't force niceness. Don't pretend you understand.

-I don't understand,-Bang admitted, surprisingly honest.-But I know what it's like to lose something. Or someone.

For a second, Minho wanted to yell at him, tell him to leave, that he didn't need his compassion. But another part of him, he wanted someone, even if it was Bang, to understand the weight he was carrying.

-Innie would have said you're an idiot for quitting.

-I know,-Bang replied, looking away.-I was an idiot last night, wasn't I?

Minho slowed his pace, the echoes of Bang's words in the parking lot burning his chest. The pain was still there, but he wasn't going to let it drag him down now. Instead of answering, he looked up, and changed the subject.

-So... Kang Haeun work for Wang?

Bang got the hint . Minho didn't want to talk about last night, and although a part of Bang wanted to insist, he let the moment pass.

-Yeah. She was in charge of the expense books. She only lasted seven weeks until she was fired.

-She got fired?-Minho stopped, turning completely towards Bang.-Why?

-The report said that she was caught stealing campaign money.

Minho frowned.

-I don't think so. You don't steal from a campaign like Wang's and get away scot-free.

Bang laughed, shaking his head.

-Then what's your theory now, huh?

Minho didn't answer immediately, his gaze lost on the horizon, scanning a puzzle that didn't fit yet.

-I think we need to talk to Mr. Lim,-he said at last.

Bang stopped in his tracks, the smile fading from his face.

-Lim Jaebeom? You're not saying he's involved in all of this, are you?

Minho shrugged.

-I'm not saying anything... yet. I just think it's worth asking him a few questions.

Wang Headquarters, Busan. 11:52 a.m.

Jaebeom was in his office, his left arm still resting in a sling that looked more like a medal than a wound. His pen slid through a pile of papers, exuding a calm that didn't fit with the storm Minho and Bang brought with them. He didn't look up when they entered, as if his presence was a minor nuisance.

-Detectives! What brings you back to my humble kingdom?

-Mr. Lim, we're investigating a case linked to someone on your team,-Bang said, with no room for games.-Kang Haeun. Do you know her?

Jaebeom's pen stopped mid-stroke.

-Kang Haeun? Sorry, guys... it doesn't ring a bell.

Minho narrowed, staring at Jaebeom's face. Lie.

-We know Kang worked here. We know that you fired her for stealing. Are you sure it doesn't ring a bell?

Jaebeom chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.

-Look, fellas, I'm running this campaign like a damn machine. People are constantly streaming in and out. Hundreds, maybe thousands. I can't keep track of every face.

-I'm not playing political guru again, Mr. Lim, but I have a question,-Minho replied, still staring at him.-Why did you choose Munhyeon for Wang's grand final speech?

-Excuse me?-Jaebeom asked, confused.

-Munhyeon,-Minho repeated.-A risky choice. Tall buildings, clear views. A perfect place for a sniper to set up, don't you think?

-I just want to win over those people! Munhyeon has influence, and I made sure they're on our side. And it's working. Check out the latest polls: we're finally crushing Tuan!

-Congrats,-Bang said.-But let's be real, Lim. That advantage is all thanks to the rookie's advice.

-All right, all right... you got me, Detective,-he said, raising his good hand in a gesture of surrender.-The coastal areas are ours now. If we continue like this, Jackson Wang will be mayor in a week!

-And what will be your big prize?-Bang asked, more accusation than question.

-What? Do you think I'm a suspect?-He let out a forced laugh.-Come on, guys, you're looking in the wrong direction. Everyone here is loyal to Jackson! Do you want real dirt? Investigate Mark Tuan. That guy's a real snake.

Minho and Bang exchanged a quick glance.

-Why are you so insistent on blaming Tuan, huh?-Bang asked, crossing his arms.

-Tuan's no angel. Want to know why I know? Because that useless actor Jackson's completely smitten is having an affair with him.

Bang frowned, his patience hanging by a thread.

-¿Park Jinyoung?

-That's him. Jinyoung is just using Jackson for power. But he always goes back to Tuan. Jinyoung, the idiot, doesn't know I control all the spending and I know everything. From time to time... they get together. Expensive hotels, secret trips. Poor Jackson, stuck with that fucking liar.

-So you're saying Tuan set up the attack to get rid of Wang...to keep Park for himself?-Bang's tone was incredulous, but there was a glint of curiosity, as if he was considering the possibility.

-People do crazy things for love, right? Tuan has the motive, the means, and an ego the size of this city. I'd keep a close eye on him if I were you.

[...]

Jaebeom's office door closed behind Minho and Bang. Bang rolled his shoulders, sighing as he rubbed the back of his neck.

-The list of suspects doesn't stop growing. First, we are pursuing a political coup. Now we're totally swamped in a fucking love triangle.

Minho walked beside him, his mind a whirlwind, unraveling every word of Jaebeom, every gesture, every pause.

-Jealousy murder? Nah, I don't buy it. Lim's story is too pat.

-Isn't it obvious now, rookie? Park and Tuan did it! Think about it: Wang's life is worth millions. Park collects the insurance, Tuan wins the election. Bam! Simple and clean plan.

Minho stopped, turning to face Bang.

-Clean? Seriously? Explain this: why kill Kang Haeun and Kim Minjun, too? Those murders don't fit your little love-and-greed narrative.

Bang opened his mouth, ready to fire a retort, but his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. He frowned, narrowing at the screen.

-Shit,-he murmured, before answering.-Bang here... Yeah?...Really?...Are you sure?

Minho watched him as he registered every change, after a few seconds, Bang hung up, and turned to Minho.

-Well, rookie. Looks like the shooter is going to answer all your damn questions.

-You mean...?

-Yeah. We got him.

Gamcheon, Busan. 10:12 p.m.

The apartment complex where Minho and Bang were positioned was a ruin, a building that was sinking under the weight of the years. The SWAT team moved in close formation and Hyunjin led ahead as he gave orders in a low voice.

-We've identified our suspect as Jang Soomin,-Hyunjin said, turning to Bang and Minho.-He bought a high-caliber rifle a few months ago. The FBI has a file on him. He's our man.

-How high?-Minho asked.

-5′ 9″.-Hyunjin replied, confused.-Why the hell does that matter?

-Just making sure we have the right bastard.

-Fine, whatever. My team comes in first, ok? Bang, you're coming with me. And Mochi...-He turned to Minho.-I'm sorry. But I can't let you go in with us.

-What? Why?-Minho demanded.

-Because you're not a cop, rookie,-Bang replied.-If something happens to you, guess who's going to pay the price? We cannot take civilians in these operations.

Hyunjin nodded, placing a hand on Minho's shoulder.

-Bang is right, Mochi. It's for your safety. I don't want anything to happen to you. Deal?

-But...

-You heard him, rook.-Bang cut in with a smirk.-Stay and let us do the real work.

Minho exhaled as he took a step back, standing on the sidewalk as the SWAT team disappeared into the building's entrance. Minho paced restlessly. He felt useless, a spectator in a game where he should be the protagonist. Then, movement at the edge of the building caught his attention. A hooded figure, barely visible in the light, was coming down the fire escape. Jang Soomin. It had to be him, the shooter who had almost killed Wang, trying to escape.

-Hey! This way! He's running away!-he shouted, waving his arms, but the sirens swallowed him up.

Jang's eyes met Minho's for a second before he jumped the last steps, landing on the ground and running into an alleyway.

-Shit!-Minho hissed, moving before his mind could stop him.

There was no time to wait for backup, or to think about the rules. Only the urge to prove himself, to not be the "rookie" Bang always accused him of. He sped across the street, a car swerving inches from him.

-STOP!

Jang was already in the alley, fading into the shadows. Minho followed, dodging a dumpster as Jang leaped over a chain-link fence. Minho didn't hesitate, gripping the wire, propelling himself forward as he landed on the other side.

-Stop, damn it!

Jang ducked into a market alley, the stalls closed and covered with tarps. He kicked a box, rotten fruit spilling onto the ground. Minho slipped, his boot skidding in the mess, but caught himself with one hand on the pavement, pulling himself up as Jang leaped over a low wall toward a loading dock. Minho followed, landing in a crouch. The puddles of filthy water reflected the city's neon lights, smashed by Jang's boots as he zigzagged between the obstacles. Minho gave chase, his legs burning, but he didn't let up.

One mistake, that was all he needed.

And then it happened. Jang stumbled, his foot catching on a trash can, and Minho gained ground. Jang darted into a narrow alley, the wet brick walls rising like a trap. It was a dead end. Minho skidded to a stop, blocking the entrance, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

-It's over, Jang.

-You think you've got me, detective? You're just a pretty boy playing at being a cop.

-Give up. There might be a chance to speak.

Jang looked for a way out, but he was trapped. His hand flew to his pocket, pulling out a switchblade.

-Easy.-Minho said, slowly raising his hands.-Let's just talk.

-NEVER!-he roared, lunging forward.

Minho reacted on instinct, his arm blocking Jang's forearm. The switchblade was inches from his face, and Minho used the momentum, twisting Jang's wrist hard. The switchblade fell to the floor, but Jang didn't flinch and launched like a bull, slamming him into the wall. The brick bit into Minho's back, the air escaping his lungs. Minho shoved him, hitting Jang in the ribs, but Jang barely grunted.

-Out of your league.-Jang sneered, and threw a punch.

Minho blocked it and counterattacked. He punched Jang's cheek, slicing through the skin, but Jang ignored the blood, his fist crushing Minho's jaw. Minho's head spun, blood blooming in his mouth, his vision blurring. He staggered, but lunged again, his shoulder ramming into Jang's chest, pushing him barely a step, but Jang pushed him away, grabbing his neck and slamming him against the wall.

Jang's fist sank into Minho's stomach. Another blow to the temple sent him reeling, legs giving way, dropping to his knees. Jang didn't stop, his boot slamming into Minho's ribs. Minho collapsed, blood bubbling in his throat. Jang's fists rained down: a hook split Minho's cheek, blood spurting. Minho tried to block, but a tug of hair snapped his head back, another blow crushing his jaw again.

The bone crunched, blood gushing from Minho's nose, his face a mess. Jang's elbow shattered his temple, blood pooling beneath Minho's shattered cheek as his vision faded into a dark haze.

-It's over,-Jang hissed, turning and running, his shadow fading into the fog.

Minho was slumped against the wall, his body a map of bruises and cuts. Each pulse of pain was a reminder of his failure, that Jang had outdone him. Hyunjin was crouching in front of him, pressing an antiseptic-soaked cloth against the cut on Minho's cheek. His hands were shaking, betraying the concern his face was trying to hide.

-Does it hurt?-Hyunjin asked, as he removed the cloth to inspect the wound.

-No,-Minho muttered, his gaze fixed on the pavement, avoiding Hyunjin's.

Hyunjin sighed.

-How can you be so damn stubborn, Mochi? Look at you! It looks like a truck ran you over and then backed up.-He tried to smile, but the joke fell flat.

Minho knew Hyunjin wanted to lighten the moment, but the weight of his mistake was crushing him. His chance to prove himself to the department, to Bang, to himself, had crumbled. Before he could respond, the crunch of boots on gravel broke the silence, and they both raised their heads.

-Let me get this straight,-Bang said, pausing in front of Minho.-You came face-to-face with our one and only suspect, he kicked your ass, and then... what? You just let him walk away?-He laugh, incredulous.-Great job, detective! You deserve a fucking medal!

Minho didn't respond, his gaze falling back to the pavement. He couldn't defend himself. Bang was right: he had failed, and he knew it.

-Bang,-Hyunjin warned, setting the bandages aside.-He's hurt. Leave him alone.

Bang ignored him, taking a step closer to Minho.

-Do you think this is a game, rookie? You had one job, just one! And now, thanks to you, the guy we've been chasing for days is gone. Do you have any idea how much more fucked up you made this for everyone? For me? For the team?

Minho wanted to scream, to defend himself, but the words got stuck. But Hyunjin, fed up with the scene, stood up.

-Bang, enough!-Hyunjin snarled, giving Bang a shove. Not hard, but with unmistakable intent.-Do you think shouting at him helps? Look at him, you moron! He's had enough!

-I'm not here to kiss him on the forehead!-Bang replied, pushing Hyunjin back.-I'm here to make him understand that this isn't enough! Do you really want this job, rookie? Do you want your badge back? Because if this is all you've got, maybe it's time for you to go home!

Hyunjin gripped Bang's arm tightly, pulling him closer until their faces were inches apart. His fist clenched, as if he were a second away from punching him.

-Bang, I told you to stop! Leave him alone, or I swear you'll deal with me, asshole!

-No!-Bang released his arm with a jerk.-And stop defending him! Does he even know how to fight? Does he know how to use a weapon? Protect himself? Because from where I am, it seems like he doesn't have a fucking idea, and out here, that gets people killed! Is that what you want, Hwang?

Minho finally raised his head, facing Bang despite the pain.

-I want this. I want my badge back. And I'll do whatever it takes to get it back.

-Do you think that's enough, rookie? Do you think anyone here gives a fuck what you want?

-I won't stop, Bang. No matter what.

Bang laughed, crossing his arms again.

-Never mind. Because you're out.

-What!?-Hyunjin turned to Bang.-You can't do that!

-Yes, I can,-Bang interrupted.-The rookie isn't ready, and we can't afford another mistake like this. It's over.

Minho shook his head, as if he could deny reality.

-You... you can't take me off the case. Not after everything I've done. Not after...

-I already did it, you imbecile. And you know what? Not even Wang can save you now. You're alone, rookie. Completely alone.

Plaza Gwangan, Busan. 8:31 p.m.

The parking lot was a concrete mausoleum, trapped under the weight of a night that seemed to swallow everything. Minho stood in the center, motionless, lost in space. He had been so close to solving Wang's case—so close—and now here he was, beaten, discarded, the purpose that kept him alive ripped from his grasp. He was so lost in the spiral that he didn't hear the approaching footsteps, not until a child's scream broke the silence.

-HYUNG!-Seungmin's voice echoed in the parking lot, filled with an energy that seemed out of place in this gloomy place.

Minho barely had time to open his eyes before a whirlwind with a skateboard in hand crashed into him. Seungmin's arms wrapped tightly around his waist, the impact shooting a twinge of pain from his bruised ribs.

-I'm sorry hyung, did I hurt you?-Seungmin took a step back, and he furrowed, studying Minho's beaten face.-You got beaten up because of my daddy, didn't you?

Minho forced a smile, though the pain in his lip made him shudder.

-No, puppy. I bumped into a really mean ninja cat, you know?

-Hyung, I'm not five anymore!-he said, feigning indignation, although his smile betrayed it.-But hey, those wounds look awesome! They make you look tough!

-Do you really believe that?

-Yup! You're, like, awesomely tough, get me? Not a tough troll like my dad.-He mimicked Bang's expression, and Minho couldn't help but chuckle, even though it pained his chest.

-You're calling me a troll, you little traitor?-Bang appeared from the shadows of the parking lot and stopped a few steps away, his gaze jumping between Minho and Seungmin, who didn't seem the least bit intimidated by his dad.

Minho raised his head. Memories of their fight burned through his mind, stoking an anger he could barely contain. He looked at Bang, every fiber of his being screaming not to trust him. But Bang didn't say anything at first, just watched them.

-How did you know I was here?-Minho asked, breaking the silence.

Bang sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

-Doesn't matter. I'm here because... I need to apologize for what happened last night.-He paused, meeting Minho.-I was an idiot. Pulling you off the case and saying all that shit... I went too far. Sorry.

Minho stared at him, unsure, looking for a hidden motive.

-Did someone force you to apologize?

-Obviously they forced him, hyung!-Seungmin chimed in, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.-His weird boss yelled at him on the phone, really loud. He said he had to apologize to you or he'd be cleaning desks or something.

-Hey, little blabbermouth, who told you to spill my secrets?

-When you have an apology that comes from you and not from Changbin, I'll be waiting, Bang.

For a second, Bang looked like he was about to explode. His hands balled into fists, and Minho could see the effort he was making not to scream. He opened his mouth to reply, but Seungmin, oblivious to the chaos between the adults, interrupted.

-Hey, hyung! Want to see the new trick I learned? It's super epic!

Minho blinked, torn from his dark spiral.

-Of course, puppy.

Seungmin beamed as he ran a few steps ahead, dropping his skateboard. His little hands quickly adjusted it, pure reckless energy radiating from him. Bang sighed, his paternal instincts kicking in.

-Minnie, honey, just be careful, okay? 

-I've got it, Daddy!-Seungmin replied, giving a thumbs up without looking back.

Seungmin narrowed his eyes, tongue sticking out as he adjusted his stance like a pro—at least in his own mind. With a squint, he pushed off, launching himself forward as he attempted a mid-air flip. The board wobbled—gravity catching it mid-trick—and slammed hard onto the pavement. Minho tensed, taking an instinctive step forward, but Seungmin got up quickly, shaking his knees.

-I almost got it!-he shouted, grabbing his skateboard from the ground.-One more time!

Minho shook his head, a faint amused smile tugging at his broken lip.

-Rookie...-Bang turned to Minho, his voice unsure,-What do I have to do to get you back?

Minho turned to the pavement, staring a specific spot that to anyone else would be just dirty concrete. But two years ago, right there, his family's blood had stained that spot, leaving Minho with a hole in his soul and questions that never stopped burning.

-You don't have to do anything. I don't want to cause any more trouble... just... I want to forget everything.

Bang followed his gaze, and understood. He didn't need to ask what Minho was watching; The pain in those glassy eyes was a silent scream. Minho was still that boy who lost everything in one night.

-Rookie...-Bang began, but before he could find the words, Seungmin interrupted again.

-I did, hyung! Did you see that?

They both turned their heads just in time to see Seungmin fly in a spin. But in his excitement, he didn't see the concrete column in his path. BAM! The impact echoing through the empty space. Seungmin fell hard, hitting the ground as his skateboard slid down. Bang was there in an instant, falling to his knees next to his son.

-Minnie! Are you okay?-he said, his voice cracking in panic as his hands floated over Seungmin's body, searching for wounds.-Something hurt? Do you feel something broken?

Seungmin, stunned, smiled, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

-I'm fine, daddy! I just fell, it was fun!-He got on his knees, shaking his elbows as if nothing had happened.-Did you see it hyung? Did you see my flip?

Minho, a few steps away, heaved a sigh of relief.

-I saw it, puppy. But next time, look where you're going, ok?

Bang, still kneeling, ran a hand over his face.

-Shit, Minnie, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack. You've got to be more careful, my love.

-But you saw me, didn't you? It was amazing! Next time I'll dodge the column, I swear!

Minho laughed softly, watching Bang help Seungmin up, brushing the dust off his pants with a tenderness that didn't fit with his tough-guy facade. But then, the echo of Seungmin's voice lit a spark in Minho's mind. A thought struck him. The puzzle pieces he'd been chasing for days suddenly fell into place. He looked Seungmin, and as if to prove his theory, he raised his voice.

-Hey, puppy! Are you okay?-he shouted, his words echoing loudly.

-Yes, I'm fine, hyung!-Seungmin replied, his voice bouncing off the walls in a ripple that hit Minho's ears.

-What the fuck are you doing, rookie?-Bang asked, frowning as he approached.

Minho barely heard him, his gaze lost in the void as the puzzle took shape.

-Did you hear that?

-Hear what? The echo?-Bang replied.-Yeah, rookie, we're in a parking lot. The sound bounces back. What's your point?

-Hyung, you should go out more,-Seungmin joked.-Everyone knows how echoes work! Even my friend Jongho, and believe me, that guy is dumb.

-It's the echo!-Minho exclaimed excited, a drastic change from the broken man of moments ago.

-What the fuck are you talking about, rook?

But Minho barely heard it.

And then... he opened his eyes wide, and for a second, the world stopped. Yes, everything clicked. Every lie, every dead end that had him chasing shadows finally coalesced into one undeniable truth. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heart pounded so hard he felt like it was going to explode. It all made sense now.

He had it. He'd solved it.

Munhyeon, Busan. 10:02 a.m.

In Dong Plaza, chalk marked the spots where bullet casings had fallen, and police tape fluttered in the breeze, keeping nosy onlookers at bay. Minho stood in the middle with Bang, while Jackson, Jinyoung, and Jaebeom shifted restlessly under his gaze. All eyes were on Minho, waiting.

-You better be right about this, rookie,-Bang muttered, throwing a nervous glance at Jackson and the others.-If you're wrong, we'll make the Homicide department look foolish. Guess who's taking the fall?

-Just trust me for once, Bang.

-What's the damn point of this, Lee?-Jaebeom cut in, rolling his eyes.-We already know Jang tried to kill Jackson. What else do you want?

-Yeah, and he's probably halfway out of Korea by now,-Jinyoung scoffed, nodding at Minho's busted lip.-Nice work, detective.

-I'm not here to argue about that,-Minho said, locking eyes with Jinyoung.-Jang was the shooter, sure. But what I want to know—what we all should want to know—is who hired him. I've gone over this case a thousand times. At first, I was asking myself, who'd want to kill Wang? But then it hit me... I was asking the wrong question.

-Get to the damn point, Lee!-Jaebeom growled.-We don't have all day!

-What I'm saying is... Candidate Wang was never the main target. The real target... was Choi Youngjae.

Jackson's brow furrowed, stunned. 

-That's ridiculous. Why would anyone go after him? Youngjae was just a bodyguard.

-Good question, Mr. Wang,-Minho replied.-But I think one of you already knows the answer.

-You saying there's a traitor among us?-Jinyoung snapped, pissed off.

-No way, that's insane,-Jackson said, shaking his head.-The hit was on me, Lee.

-Nope. It wasn't. One of you wanted Youngjae dead. But who? The candidate, scared Choi might spill something that'd tank his campaign? The lover, desperate to keep their 'secret fling' under wraps? Or maybe the campaign manager, willing to do anything to make sure Wang wins?

-That's a hell of an accusation, Lee,-Jackson warned.

-It's not an accusation. It's the truth. You're all suspects. But only one of you set up the hit on Wang.-Minho paused, pacing in front of them. He looked at Jaebeom, fidgeting; Jackson, meeting his stare head-on; Jinyoung, defensive, like a cornered animal.-Anyone wanna confess?

Dead silence. The three men exchanged glances. Then Minho stopped in front of one, his gaze boring into him. It was him. The traitor.

-ME?-Jaebeom barked, stepping back.-That's insane, detective! I've poured everything into this campaign! Why the hell would I—?

-Don't call me 'detective,'-Minho cut him off.-You're trying way too hard to sound offended, Mr. Lim.

Jaebeom laughed in disbelief, flushing as he pointed to the sling on his arm. 

-YOU FORGETTING I GOT SHOT PROTECTING JACKSON? Are you really so naive to believe that I am the traitor?

-It's possible. You were close to Choi Youngjae, weren't you? He was your friend. But friends sometimes know too much, don't they? Stuff they shouldn't. Stuff that could destroy a campaign... or a career.

-What the hell are you getting at?

-Let me explain it to you, since you're too stupid to understand. Kang Haeun, the girl handling the campaign's books, noticed a chunk of money went missing. She brought it to you, asked what was up. You brushed it off, right? Said it was a system glitch or some lame excuse. But she was smart, she wasn't gonna let it slide. So you fired her. Haeun called you out. And when she wouldn't back down, you knew you couldn't let her talk. You tried pinning the theft on her, but it didn't stick. She was too clean. You couldn't risk her exposing you—it'd ruin your reputation, your whole game, everything you've been working for. So you took another route: you got rid of her.

-You're saying I killed her?

-Nah, you're not a killer, are you, Lim? You needed someone to do the dirty work, someone you trusted. So you went to Choi Youngjae, your buddy. But the night before the big speech, you saw him stumble out of a bar, so drunk he could barely walk straight. You knew he'd botch the job. And that's when your plan started to crumble. You couldn't trust him, not like that. So you decided he had to go too.

Silence. Jaebeom was trembling, lips pressed tight, sweat gleaming on his forehead. Wang's face drained of color, his hands clenching as shock and disbelief bled through.

-That's a load of crap!-Jaebeom shouted.-You're making this shit up!

-Then why're you sweating buckets?-Minho fired back.-You were desperate, couldn't risk Youngjae, Haeun, or even that poor kid Kim Minjun spilling the beans. So you hired Jang Soomin, a mercenary with no morals.

-Insane! You think I killed all those people? You're crazy!

-Crazy?-Minho raised an eyebrow.-You catch the news this morning, Lim? Jang got nabbed at the border. And guess what—he talked. Confessed to the murders and, more importantly...confessed that someone on Wang's team paid him to do it.

Jaebeom's face went ghost-white. His lips parted, but nothing came out, just a gasp. Minho watched him crumble.

-Gotta hand it to you, Lim.-Minho continued.-Your plan was slick. Kill Youngjae in front of the whole city, spin it into pure political gold. Sympathy votes, public outrage...the perfect election boost. And you, the mastermind, swearing you'd 'take ten bullets for Wang.' No one would ever suspect you.

-That's bullshit! You've got no proof!

Minho slipped his hand into his jacket, cool as ice, pulling out his phone. He tapped the screen and held it up, showing a video: Jaebeom, on the day of the attack, pointing at a building in the chaos. The camera caught the exact moment he directed everyone's attention to the shooter's hideout.

-Here's where you screwed up, Lim. How'd you know where Jang was?

Jaebeom went pale.

-That doesn't prove anything!-he stammered.-It was chaos... I heard him... yeah, I heard him!

-You heard him?-Minho laughed sarcastic.-That's your story?

-Yeah! I heard him clear as day! That's how I knew where to look!

-Then you won't mind proving it.-Minho smirked, savoring the moment.

-W-What?

-Hyunjin's up there, in one of those buildings,-Minho said, nodding toward the skyscrapers.-If you heard Jang so clearly that day, spotting Hyunjin should be a breeze, right?

Jaebeom laughed so nervous, shaking his head as he looked at Jackson and Jinyoung. 

-I don't have time for your stupid games, Lee!

-Easy, Lim,-Bang said, stepping forward.-Just a little test, that's all.-He raised his radio, staring at Jaebeom,-Hyunjin, you ready?

-Whenever you are, boss,-came the reply from some rooftop nearby.

-Do it.

A gunshot cracked like thunder. Jaebeom flinched, his eyes darting around, scanning the buildings.

-Well?-Minho asked, crossing his arms.-Where'd it come from?

Jaebeom's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He looked to the left, then right, then back to Minho.

-I... I'm not sure! It's...it's hard to tell! I need to hear it again! Do it! I'll tell you exactly where it came from!

-Your call,-Bang said, lifting the radio again.-Hyunjin, give him another shot.

-Got it.

A second shot roared, the sound bouncing off the plaza, twisting into a chaotic echo that made it impossible to pinpoint. Jaebeom flinched again, his eyes scrambling over the buildings, panic eating him alive.

-C'mon, Lim, we don't have all day. Where'd it come from?

-I...-Jaebeom's voice cracked, his eyes pleading for a lifeline from Jackson, Jinyoung, anyone, but he got nothing.

-It's like an echo chamber, right?-Minho said with a faint smirk.-Everything blends together, gets lost. No way to tell where a shot's coming from... unless you already knew where the shooter was.

Jackson stepped forward, his face twisted with rage. Jinyoung's hands shot out, grabbing his arm to hold him back, but Jackson shook him off. His pain, his fury, was unstoppable.

-I can't believe this. I TRUSTED YOU, JAE! You were my best friend! I gave you everything, I kept you by my side this whole time! How could you do this? To me? To Youngjae? HE WAS YOUR DAMN FRIEND!

-I DIDN'T HAVE A CHOICE!-Jaebeom screamed.-That girl... that stupid girl would've ruined everything, Jackson! She'd have taken me down! ALL OF US! I did it for the campaign, Jackson! FOR YOU!

-DON'T YOU DARE SAY MY NAME! I don't want your pathetic excuses, Jae. You betrayed me. You betrayed everything we built. And I'll never, ever forgive you.

-Jackson! Please, don't let them do this to me!-Jaebeom sobbed.

Bang stepped up, pulling the cuffs from his belt. 

-Lim Jaebeom, you're under arrest for the murders of Kang Haeun, Kim Minjun, and Choi Youngjae. You have the right to remain silent.

Jaebeom's head dropped, defeated, no excuses left to save him. Bang shoved him toward the patrol car, and the plaza fell quiet. A breeze whispered through the murmurs of onlookers starting to crowd the cordoned-off edges. Minho barely noticed. He let out a slow breath, his shoulders loosening for the first time in days. The weight of the case—the sleepless nights, the theories gnawing at him, the doubt eating him alive—slipped away like sand through his fingers. He'd done it. He'd cracked the damn case. He closed his eyes, letting the breeze brush his battered skin, relief settling in his chest. But it didn't last.

-Lee,-Jackson called, walking over. Jinyoung trailed a few steps behind.-I... I don't know how to thank you. You saved my life, my dear Jinyoung's life, and probably this city's future.

-No need to thank me, Mr. Wang. Just doing my job.

Jackson shook his head, stopping in front of him. 

-No, you did more than that,-he insisted, raising a hand like he might shake Minho's but letting it fall, remembering who he was dealing with.-You're one hell of a detective, Lee. Thank you.

Minho stood still, Jackson's words sinking deep. He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded. Jackson turned to leave, but Jinyoung hesitated. After a beat, he stepped closer. Without warning, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Minho's cheek.

-Thanks,-Jinyoung murmured, stepping back.-For everything.

Minho watched them go, Jackson's hand slipping into Jinyoung's, pulling him close for a kiss. He should've looked away, given them their moment, but something held him. Jackson Wang, untouchable, loving Jinyoung fearlessly, openly, in front of a city watching. The sight burned into his chest, and for a second, his traitorous mind wandered—to Bang, to what it'd be like if...

NO.

He crushed the thought, buried it deep, unacceptable, impossible. And yet, as if the universe was listening, he turned, and there was Bang, leaning against the patrol car. That smug grin he always wore was gone, replaced by something like regret. Minho hesitated but stepped forward. Bang mirrored him, closing the distance until they were inches apart. For a moment, neither spoke. They just... looked.

-Rookie, I owe you an apology. Should've trusted you from the start. If we'd listened to you sooner...

-Is tat your idea of a sincere apology, Bang?

-No one's forcing me this time,-Bang said, laughing softly.-You did the impossible, rookie. Bet Changbin's gonna be singing your praises at the next meeting.

Minho snorted, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

-Doubt it.

Psychology Unit, Homicide Department, Busan. 6:02 p.m.

Dr. Han's office was a quiet haven amidst the storm that had been tearing through Minho for days. But his body wasn't ready to relax. Slouched in a cushy armchair, his shoulders stayed tight, fingers fidgeting with the frayed hem of his sleeve, as if unraveling the threads could untangle the knots inside him.

-I feel...weird.

Jisung glanced up from his notes. 

-Weird how?

Minho let out a slow breath through his nose, and dropped his gaze to a worn spot on the floor. 

-People thanking me. I'll never get used to it. Feels... like I don't deserve it.

-It's a process. Accepting praise, gratitude, or even yourself takes time. Everyone moves at their own pace. But tell me, how'd you get sucked back into that case? What pulled you in?

Minho smiled slightly.  

-Candidate Wang asked for my help. But Hyunjin... that idiot dragged me in deep. Wouldn't let me quit, no matter how many times I wanted to.

Jisung grinned, scribbling a quick note. 

-Sounds like you're starting to take the wheel again, Minho. And let me tell you, coming back to therapy? That's huge. Also, if I can fanboy for a sec, watching you crack that case was unreal.

Minho's ears burned, a mix of embarrassment and pride flaring up. 

-That's kind of you. But honestly, anyone could've figured it out... eventually.

-Nope, stop right there,-Jisung cut in, holding up a hand.-There were over twenty agents on that case, Minho, and you cracked it. That's not 'anyone.' You're a damn rockstar. Which brings me to something big. How'd you feel about coming back to Homicide? Not as a consultant, but full-time, badge and all.

-I think...-Minho paused, swallowing hard.-I think I can handle it.

Jisung tilted his head, studying him like he was checking for cracks in his confidence. 

-You sure you're ready? Ready for the pressure, the endless shifts, the cases that rip your heart out? 'Cause it's not just a job, Minho. It's everything.

-Absolutely,-Minho said, his voice carrying a certainty he hadn't felt in years.-I'm ready to take on whatever comes. Like the old days.

-That's what I'm talking about! Alright, let's talk logistics. I can only recommend you, but the final call isn't mine. You'll need the whole deal: evals with other psychs, physical tests, psych exams. And you've gotta pass the reinstatement test... next one's in six months. Plenty of time to prep.

Minho nodded. 

-Got it. I'm ready, whatever it takes.

-That's the spirit, Minho! I'm betting you'll be back in Homicide...

REAL SOON.

Chapter Text

✨ #SHATTERED IS HERE! ✨

Yo, Stay Detectives! It's Tok-YoG, and I'm hoping you guys had an absolute blast with the first case of #Shattered! Real talk, it was a struggle picking roles 'cause I wanted everything to be perfect (and the ships to be ✨juicy✨).

But holy cow, it turned out way more epic than I dreamed!

WHAT THE HECK IS #SHATTERED? 🚨

Picture this: a fic where our Lee Know is a retired rookie detective with icy cat vibes but a secret pudding-soft heart that's lowkey throbbing for Bang, a snarky detective who acts like he can't stand Minho... or maybe he's dying to smooch him (and more 👀). #MinChan is the main event, but I'm tossing in crumbs of other ships for everyone (Seungmin stans, hang tight, your pup's time to shine is coming! 🐶).

✨ MEET THE CHAOTIC #SHATTERED SQUAD! ✨

Get ready to fall hard for this crew. ⚠️ Heads-up: these are fictional versions of the idols (it's an AU, chill!). I messed with ages and roles to make the story pop. From hyung to maknae, here's the lowdown:

👮 Binnie's the boss, but nobody listens to him. #JusticeForBinnie.

🖤 Hyunjin's Minho's childhood bestie, but Minho's this close to air-frying him every other minute. Why's he smoking? Shhh, it's for the drama. 🚬😏

💥 Chan's all sarcasm, but don't worry, the #SoftChannie we adore will sneak out when you least expect it.

🩺 Jisung crushing on Minho? Pfft, no way. (DUH, OF COURSE). #Minsung crumbs incoming.

🔪 Minho's got a past that stings. 🥺 Jeongin's brother? Blame my Baby-Stay days when I mixed them up. 😅

🧪 Felix with a French accent, lab coat, and dissecting bodies? PURE ART.

😈 Innie stans, grab tissues, 'cause this ride's gonna hurt. It wasn't personal, I swear.

📚 Seungmin's pocket-sized chaos. Almost made him Chan's brother, but #DaddyBang vibes won. 😎

AND THAT'S JUST CHAPTER ONE!

 #Shattered isn't only SKZ 🌟

-Kim Jisoo? YOU BET! Why Jisoo? 'Cause she's literal perfection, end of story. 😌 And she's bringing the tea: she's convinced Chan's in love with Minho! 😱 What's gonna go down when she finds out #MinChan is real?

-GOT7 crashes the party in Case 1: A New Dawn, and their cameo is fire (especially that +18 JackJin 👀). They don't stick around long, but they leave a mark. Did you love it? 'Cause they might just swing back...😏

-And more! SEVENTEEN, ATEEZ, BTS... this fic's a full-on idol multiverse. 😍

🔥 SO, WHAT ABOUT THE NSFW? 😏🔞

#MinChan and the rest of the squad are getting their spicy +18 moments, dripping with all the juicy context you crave. 💦😈 Not into NSFW? No worries! The steamy bits are kept separate from the main plot, so you can skip 'em and still savor every twist of the story.

Everyone's happy, everyone's vibing! 🥰

📅 WHEN'S THE NEXT DROP, TOK-YOG?

Adult life (work, bills, bleh) keeps me on the run, but I'm aiming to post weekly! Each chapter's like a mini-novel, so you'll have plenty to scream about. 🥳 I've got drafts ready, but I'm polishing them to make 'em epic. Typos? Might sneak in a few...

📝 QUICK NOTES FOR MY DETECTIVES

#Shattered's a long saga. If short fics are your jam, give it a shot anyway.

Alternate universe. 100% fiction, crafted with love and respect for the idols and their fandoms. No real-life drama here!

Soft stans. You're welcome! Skip the NSFW scenes without missing anything 😊

#Shattered's got big 🏳️‍🌈 love vibes (but we're not assuming anything about the real idols, duh).

💥 READY FOR THE CHAOS? 💥

Join the #Shattered squad, crack crimes, lose it over #MinChan, and cry at every plot twist! 🔫💔 Shower the first chapter with love and share.

THANKS FOR JUMPING INTO THIS MADNESS, DETECTIVES! 💖

Tok-YoG

⊂(◉‿◉)つ 

🔥 CASE 2... COMING SOON 👀

(Spoiler: Someone's kissing someone. Or almost. Or maybe they do. Or not. 😏)

Chapter Text

Nampo Apartments, Busan. 7:54 a.m.

Tangled in messy sheets in a trashed apartment, a guy woke up. His body groaned as he propped himself up on his elbows. He rubbed his face with both hands. His bloodshot, tear-cracked eyes caught his reflection in the mirror across from the bed. The sight made his stomach churn. Messy hair, pale skin, cracked and bleeding lips. He was a stranger trapped in a body that didn't feel like his anymore.

With a sigh that sounded more like a sob, he got up. He shuffled to the kitchen, where an half-empty box of cereal sat on the counter. He poured a bowl, but after two spoonfuls, he pushed it away, defeated. His eyes drifted to his phone, forgotten on the table. He unlocked it, and Instagram popped up like muscle memory. He scrolled through the feed: friends on beaches, laughing under the sun; old college buddies posting about promotions, graduations, lives racing forward while he was stuck. Then, a new post hit the screen. It was him. The guy who'd once sworn eternal love, promised a future together. Now he was posing at the starting line of a marathon in downtown Busan. The caption read:

"This marathon's for loving myself, for being my best me. #NewBeginning"

Something inside the guy broke. Tears welled up.

-How dare you?-he muttered, full of rage.-HOW DARE YOU?!

In a flash, he hurled the phone at the wall. It smashed, the shattered screen hitting the floor. He stood, storming through the apartment like a man possessed. He tore photos off shelves, snapshots of happier days, love letters he'd memorized. All of it went straight to the trash.

He stumbled into the bathroom, the mirror throwing his broken reflection back at him. For a moment, he froze, staring at the stranger staring back. Then he yanked off his pajama shirt, letting it crumple on the floor. He turned on the shower, letting the cold water hit his face. Eyes closed, he let it stream over him, soaking his hair, sliding down his skin like it could rinse away not just the grime but the memories haunting him. He smoothed balm over his cracked lips, combed his wet hair. He looked in the mirror again, still pale as hell.

-I'm done crying over you, you piece of shit,-he whispered to his reflection.

He grabbed an orange pill bottle, popped it open, and let a single pill fall into his palm. He stared at it, like it held all the answers he'd never found, and swallowed it dry. Barely a minute passed before he started sweating, a pain ripping through his stomach, so bad he doubled over. But he didn't fight it. He sighed, letting it happen, like he was used to it. Leaning on the sink, he closed his eyes, and for a split second, his face looked... peaceful.

Then, a flash broke the city's stillness.

No scream, just a silent fall, like time stopped to watch. His body dropped with a tragic grace, crashing onto the roof of a parked car below. The windshield shattered in a spray of glass, and blood started pooling, reflecting the blue sky above. He lay still, his face frozen in peace, a single tear glinting in the corner of his lifeless eye. The morning's perfection crumbled, drowned in the fall of a guy who couldn't carry the weight of his own heart anymore.

Bujeon Street, Busan. 8:45 a.m.

In the middle of the marathon crowd, Hyunjin was leaning against a lamppost, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Next to him, Minho stood stiff, fidgeting with the strap of the camera slung around his neck.

-A camera? Seriously, Mochi?-Hyunjin said, taking another drag.-You're such a damn nerd.

Minho barely glanced at him.

-Shut up. And can you put out that stupid cigarette? It's eight in the morning.

Hyunjin chuckled, took one last puff, and dropped the cigarette, grinding it out with his boot.

-Chill, Mochi. Just trying to calm my nerves from dealing with your grumpy face this early. Don't kill me, alright?

-Cancer'll kill you first, dumbass,-Minho shot back, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the crowd.-Where is he? He should be here by now.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. 

-Wow, never seen you this hyped about something that's not a crime scene. Since when do you care about marathons, Mochi?

-Since forever, idiot. Ok Taecyeon's a legend. Innie and I... we'd stay up all night watching his races.

Hyunjin scratched the back of his neck, caught off guard by the softness in Minho's voice.

-Damn... that sounds... kinda sweet?

-It was. Taecyeon's got this fire that never quits. Even when everything was stacked against him, he kept running. Watching him made me feel like... I dunno, like anything was possible.

Minho drifted into the memory: him and Innie curled up on the couch in their old place, sharing a blanket and a bowl of popcorn, screaming themselves hoarse every time Taecyeon crossed the finish line. Innie's laugh still echoed in his head. But the moment shattered when Hyunjin, never one to stay quiet, snorted.

-Nah, I bet you just wanna see a bunch of sweaty guys running in tight shorts. And, hey, I don't blame you. Taecyeon's hot. I'd let him tie me to the finish line and—

-Oh my God, Hyunjin!-Minho cut him off, whipping his head around to glare.-Can you stop thinking about sex for one second? And for the record, I admire Taecyeon for what he does, not how he looks. Plus, he's not my type.

Hyunjin threw his head back, laughing. 

-Oh, right. 'Cause your type is a straight guy with a girlfriend, a kid, and, oh yeah, who hates your guts. That's your type, Mochi?

Before Minho could fire back, Hyunjin's phone buzzed. His grin faded as he answered. Minho watched him from the corner of his eye, noticing the shift in his posture.

-Everything okay?-Minho asked after a moment, stepping closer.

Hyunjin hung up, sighing. 

-That was the Captain,-he said, shoving the phone back in his pocket.-There's been a suicide.

Minho tilted his head, frowning. 

-And? A suicide's not exactly your thing, Hyun.

-I know, but they need me,-Hyunjin said, brushing it off.-Look, I know you wanted to hang out this weekend, but...

-It's fine,-Minho cut in, shrugging with fake nonchalance.-Go do your job.

Hyunjin studied him for a second, lingering on Minho's face, searching for something he wasn't sure he wanted to find.

-Hey, why don't you come with me?

-I still don't have my badge back. Bringing me along would be... I don't know, illegal?

Hyunjin waved it off. 

-You wouldn't be a detective, Mochi. You'd be my... unofficial private consultant. No one's gonna care.

Minho raised an eyebrow. 

-And Changbin won't lose his shit if he sees me there?

-Binnie? He's used to me dragging in strays. No big deal.

Minho narrowed his eyes. 

-Did you just call me a stray?

-If the shoe fits.

Minho rolled his eyes, his gaze drifting back to the marathon. Runners streamed by, the crowd's cheers ringing out. Part of him wanted to stay, to watch Taecyeon cross the finish line, to relive those memories with Innie that still hurt like an open wound. But another part—the part that lived for unraveling mysteries—pulled at him, impossible to ignore.

-A suicide? Doesn't exactly sound thrilling,-he muttered, adjusting his camera strap.-Now, if it was a murder...

-There's that morbid sense of humor. Look, nothing's ever as simple as it seems, suicide or not. An extra pair of eyes would help. And your eyes always catch shit the rest of us miss.

Minho hesitated. His gaze flicked between the race and Hyunjin's smirk. Finally, he sighed.

-Damn it, fine.

Nampo Apartments, Busan. 9:01 a.m.

The avenue, usually buzzing with shoppers, had turned into a grim scene. Yellow police tape fluttered in the breeze, and the murmurs of onlookers mixed with the relentless snap of reporters' cameras, circling the tape like vultures.

-Just talked to the building supervisor,-Bang said, adjusting his sunglasses.-He'll be here soon.

-Great,-Changbin muttered, sighing heavily.-Let's wrap this crap up quick and hand it off to National Agency. No clue why the hell we're even here.

Before Bang could reply, the crunch of footsteps on asphalt cut through. Two figures ducked under the tape. Bang narrowed, zeroing in on Minho like he was an intruder in his territory.

-Reinstatement test's in three months, right, Captain?

Changbin frowned, confused. 

-Yeah, why?

Bang jerked his chin toward Minho. 

-Then why the hell is the rookie here?

Changbin's gaze followed, spotting Minho and Hyunjin approaching.

-No damn idea.

Bang stepped forward, blocking Minho's path like a guard dog. 

-Look who it is. Here to beg for your badge back, rookie?

-He's with me, Bang,-Hyunjin cut in before Minho could speak.-We were at the marathon when I got the call. Chill, alright?

Minho didn't even glance at Bang. His eyes were locked on the wrecked car, scanning the body under a white sheet, its still outline barely visible.

-What happened?

Changbin sighed, stepping over to the car and pulling back the sheet. 

-Suicide. Jumped from the twenty-first floor.

Minho crouched beside the body, taking in every detail. The torn shirt, the blood matted in the guy's hair, the way his lips were slightly parted. Something felt off.

-This wasn't a suicide, morons.

Bang laughed, incredulous.

-Oh, really? And how the hell do you figure that, rookie? You've been here for, what, thirty damn seconds?

Minho didn't flinch, pointing at the guy's shirt. 

-The buttons. The bottom ones are undone.

Changbin stepped closer, squinting at the shirt. 

-So? 

-Think about it. If this guy was planning to jump, why bother getting dressed up, putting on a nice shirt, but leave it half-unbuttoned? Either he had zero fashion sense, or he didn't plan to end up like this.

-That's a hell of a leap, Lee,-Changbin muttered.-But a half-buttoned shirt isn't solid proof. You're gonna need more than that to convince me this wasn't a suicide.

-Then let me check his apartment. Maybe there's something you all missed. As usual.

Bang snorted, shaking his head like Minho had just told a bad joke. 

-Oh, please, rookie.

Changbin raised a hand, cutting Bang off. 

-Bang, take him to the twenty-first floor. Let him check the apartment.

Bang's jaw dropped. 

-What? You're seriously buying this ridiculous theory?

-Cool it, Bang,-Hyunjin chimed in.-Need I remind you those 'ridiculous theories' cracked the Mayor Wang case three months ago? You know, the one that made you look like a hero to the department, even though we all know who did the heavy lifting.

A murmur rippled through the nearby officers, the mention of the Wang case stirring memories of Minho's almost uncanny knack for seeing what others couldn't. Bang, though, clenched his fists, his face red with fury.

-That was pure luck!

Changbin ignored Bang's outburst, turning to the paramedics waiting by the ambulance. 

-Take the body to Lee Felix. Have him figure out if it's suicide or something else.-He looked at Minho, sizing him up like he was weighing how much to trust him.-Lee, if this turns out to be a murder, and since you're here, how about earning a few extra won?

Bang nearly choked on his rage. 

-Captain, this is my case! You can't just bring him back like it's nothing!

-You've worked together before. You can do it again.

Bang opened his mouth, ready to unleash another round of complaints, but snapped it shut when Changbin turned and headed for the patrol car. Hyunjin chuckled, stepping closer to Minho and winking.

-Welcome back, Mochi.

Minho smirked faintly before turning to Bang, who was glaring daggers. 

-Let's go, detective. Unless you're scared I'll steal the spotlight again.

-Listen, rookie,-Bang growled, stepping closer.-You know the rules: don't ask questions, don't breathe too loud, and for God's sake, don't screw this up like you always do. Got it?

Minho tilted his head, putting on a mock-hurt puppy face. 

-I thought we were besties by now, Bang. Not happy to have me back?

-Not in your dreams, rookie. Don't think I forgot how you let our suspect slip last time. And don't even get me started on what happened with Jisoo.

-Oh, come on, Bang. We caught Jang in the end, didn't we? And, by the way, your thing with Jisoo was already a mess before I showed up. Don't pin that on me.

Bang's fists clenched tighter. For a second, it looked like he might lunge at Minho, but Hyunjin stepped between them, planting a hand on Bang's chest.

-Easy, star detective. Is it really that hard to share the stage for once?

-You want me to kick your ass, Hwang?-Bang snarled, but Hyunjin just flashed a grin.

-Relax and get over yourself. We working or wasting time on your ego trip?

Bang huffed but said nothing more, and he turned and stomped toward the apartment entrance. Minho exhaled. He'd hoped, after the Wang case, that the bad blood with Bang might've eased, that their forced teamwork had built something. But nope. Bang's bitterness was like a wound that wouldn't heal, and Minho knew this investigation was gonna be anything but smooth. 

[...]

Every object in the apartment felt like an echo of a life cut short, a story still unraveling: suicide or something else? Minho hung back, scanning the scene. The mess wasn't the chaos of someone who'd given up, it was the trace of a search, someone running from something... or chasing it.

-His name was Kim Daesung,-Hyunjin said, leaning against the kitchen counter, scrolling through a report.-Twenty-four, unemployed, apparently single.

-Lived alone?-Minho asked.

-Probably. Neighbor says Daesung had an ex-husband, a boyfriend... and, hold up...-He paused, squinting at his notes.-Listen to this: also a lover.

Bang, poking around a nearby bookshelf, laughed.

-A love triangle? Damn, this guy didn't mess around.

-Not a triangle. More like a... pentagon, maybe? He had lovers. Plural.

-How plural we talking, Hwang?

Hyunjin held up three fingers and smirked. Just then, an officer approached him.

-Lieutenant!-the officer said, holding out an orange pill bottle.-Found this in the bathroom cabinet.

Hyunjin took the bottle, turning it over in his hands. The worn label was still readable: antidepressants.

-Mochi, still think this wasn't a suicide?-he asked, holding up the bottle.-'Cuz this fits the profile, doesn't it?

Minho didn't answer right away. His attention had shifted, his nose catching a warm, subtle scent lingering in the air.

-You smell that?-he muttered, scanning the kitchen counter.

Hyunjin leaned closer, sniffing, then frowned. 

-Smell what? Your cheap cologne?

-Chamomile. Someone made tea, but... no cup. No teapot. Not even a damn tea bag.

Bang laughed from across the room. 

-A missing tea's your big clue now?

Minho ignored him, his focus shifting to the balcony at the end of the room. He stepped toward the railing, tracing the twenty-one-story drop to the wrecked car below. Suddenly, vertigo hit him again, his chest tightening as the ground seemed to vanish beneath him. He stepped back, then again, forcing air through his nose as his heart raced. He was fine. He just needed a damn second.

-What's wrong, rookie?-Bang's voice dripped with venom.-Thought you said you weren't scared of heights.

Minho tensed, staring at the floor, trying to steady himself. Shame burned his cheeks, but he wasn't about to give Bang the satisfaction of a reaction.

-Bang, shut it,-Hyunjin snapped, not looking up from the report.-His acrophobia doesn't mess with his work. So unless you've got something useful to say, zip it.

Bang laughed mockingly

-Acrophobia? Seriously? You chase suspects solo, but a little balcony makes you sweat like a scared puppy? Pathetic, rookie.

The shame turned to fury, and Minho lifted his head. 

-Real funny, Bang. Try coming up with something original instead of recycling the same tired bullshit. Your insults are so predictable, they're embarrassing.

-Oh, touchy. Just keep that shaky ass away from balconies. Don't want you fainting and making extra work for us.

-Keep talking, Bang. Maybe I'll solve this case before you and leave you looking like the idiot you are. Again.

-You cocky little shit! Keep mouthing off, and I swear I'll toss you off that damn balcony myself!

-What the hell's your problem?-Hyunjin stepped between them, shoving Bang's chest hard enough to make him stumble back.-You pissed because Mochi's better at your own game? Get over it, or I'll make you eat your words with a fist!

Bang staggered but didn't back down, rising his fists like he was ready to swing. 

-You threatening me, Hwang?

-I'm your lieutenant, Bang. And you're just a detective with an ego bigger than your brain. So shut that mouth and do what I say, or I swear I'll have you scrubbing precinct toilets with a toothbrush. Got it, little Bang-Bang?

Bang was shaking, but Hyunjin's authority, even laced with mockery, was undeniable. Finally, Bang clicked his tongue and turned away with a growl. Minho exhaled slowly, adrenaline still buzzing in his veins. He shot Hyunjin a quick nod of thanks, his gaze drifting back to the balcony but keeping his distance this time. Then a glint caught his eye, blinding him for a moment. He squinted, tracing the shine to the living room floor. Among the scattered cushions, a phone gleamed in the sunlight. He picked it up. A light tap lit up the cracked screen, revealing a call log.

-Look at this...-he said, drawing Hyunjin's attention.-Daesung tried calling someone in the middle of the night.

-Unknown number,-Hyunjin murmured, frowning as he studied the log.-Not saved in his contacts.

-With all the relationships he had, maybe he was keeping some secrets. Whoever he tried to call must've been important... Who could it be?

-Only one way to find out,-Hyunjin said, snatching the phone and dialing the number, putting it on speaker.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the ringing. After a few seconds, the line clicked.

-Hello?

-Lieutenant Hwang Hyunjin, Busan Homicide Department. Who's this?

Choi Industries, Busan. 1:47 p.m.

-Picture a world without borders. A world where adventure, knowledge, and creativity are yours, anytime, anywhere. 

-I'm Choi Soobin from Choi Industries. Ready to step into the future with me?

The main screen faded to black after the final tagline. The ad's music cut off, leaving a void quickly filled by the chaos of the set. Techs scrambled to reset lights, and a couple of makeup artists swooped in on Soobin, dabbing powder on his forehead to keep his skin flawless. In the middle of the whirlwind, Soobin's assistant hurried over, clutching a tablet like it was a lifeline.

-Mr. Choi. Your meeting with the Seoul investors got pushed to 4:00.

-I spoke with the distribution manager, and he says the packages won't arrive until next weekend. Oh, and at three-thirty, you've got the TX-VR 2.0 prototype review. Also, there's an urgent email from—

Soobin raised a hand, cutting off the flood of words. 

-Easy, Yeonjun. All that stress is gonna give you wrinkles, and we can't have that ruining your pretty face, can we?

A blush crept across Yeonjun's cheeks, and he dropped his gaze to the tablet, trying to keep it together. 

-Uh... thank you, sir. Don't forget, you've got dinner with the marketing team at five. Your suit's ready.

-Thanks, little guy. What would I do without you?

-Oh, and... Mr. Choi. There are... two detectives waiting in your office.

Soobin's brow furrowed, his easy smile fading for a moment. 

-Detectives? What do they want?

Yeonjun's throat bobbed. 

-It's... it's about Kim Daesung.

 [...]

Soobin's office screamed his personality: sleek, modern, with a splash of over-the-top flair. As he walked in, two figures sat waiting across from his desk.

-Gentlemen,-Soobin greeted, offering a hand.-How can I help you today?

-Detective Bang, Homicide,-Bang said, shaking Soobin's hand.-This is my... partner, Lee.

Soobin nodded, then extended his hand to Minho, who instinctively stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets. The silence stretched until Bang chuckled, covering the awkwardness with a light jab.

-Not big on handshakes. Don't take it personally.

Soobin lowered his hand, his smile fading. 

-Aversion to touch? Fascinating. Did you know many people have similar tactile sensitivities? It's a gift, really. A unique way of experiencing the world.

-What?-Minho stammered.-No, no, no! It's not... I'm not autistic!

-Relax, no shame in it. Autism's a blessing in disguise. Minds like yours change the world. Look at Tesla, Einstein... geniuses, all on the spectrum, some say.

Minho's jaw dropped. Bang stifled a laugh, but it wasn't subtle, and Minho whipped around, his glare so fierce it sent a shiver down Bang's spine. Bang cleared his throat, nervous, and turned to Soobin, trying to steer things back.

-Mr. Choi, we need to ask you some questions.

Soobin leaned back in his chair, pulling out his phone and swiping at it casually. 

-Oh, right, one of you called me, didn't you? How'd you get my personal number? Yeonjun usually filters out the... well, you know, the commoners.

-Mr. Choi,-Bang growled.-We're investigating a possible murder. Did you know Kim Daesung?

Soobin raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion as he set the phone down. 

-Daesung? Oh, that Daesung. Wow, caught me off guard, detective.

-He was your boyfriend, right?-Minho cut in, no nonsense.

Soobin let out a long, dramatic sigh, like he'd rehearsed it in a mirror. 

-Not exactly. Daesung was... a fleeting whim. Met him two years ago. Engineering intern. Brilliant, talented, I'll give him that—intrigued me for a bit. We had a connection, but it fizzled out.

-Fizzled out?-Minho pressed.-What happened?

-It just didn't work. I've moved on to a more committed relationship. Being with him was a mistake. A boring one, honestly. He was brilliant but... unstable. Tragically unstable.

His words were smooth, too perfect, but Minho wasn't buying it. He'd spent years reading people, and this was pure theater, a performance to dodge suspicion.

-When's the last time you saw Daesung?

-We broke up weeks ago. Haven't seen him since.

-Did he ever mention wanting to end his life?

-Daesung was depressed. His mind was a maze of melancholy. But that's not surprising for a tortured soul like his. He'd say dark things sometimes, sure. But he was under a lot of stress, you know? Life's not kind to those who can't keep up.

Minho tilted his head. 

-So why were you still in touch with him? Kinda weird for someone in a 'committed relationship' to keep texting an ex you called 'tragically unstable,' don't you think?

Soobin stiffened, his confident mask cracking for a split second. 

-I was just being nice. A few texts to ease his loneliness aren't a crime, are they?

-Interesting,-Bang said, exchanging a look with Minho.-Got an alibi for 8:00 a.m. today, Choi?

Soobin relaxed, his smirk returning. 

-Of course. I was downtown, running the marathon.

Minho raised an eyebrow. 

-You know we can check that, right?

-Go ahead,-Soobin shot back, like he was daring them.-My assistant personally handed over my tracker. You'll see even in something as mundane as a race, my greatness stands out.

-And we won't find anything weird in your route?-Minho asked.-No detours, no 'system errors'? Nothing?

-Look, if you're trying to pin something on me, I've got an army of lawyers who'd tear your little case apart in seconds. But to save us the boredom, why not skip the drama and... I don't know, let me donate a few million to the department? Homicide could use a touch of class, don't you think?

-You trying to bribe us, Choi?-Bang snapped.

-Bribe? Please. Just a friendly suggestion from a visionary to simpler minds.

-Don't play games with us. You and I both know—

-Gentlemen, I'd love to keep up this thrilling interrogatory, but I'm a busy man running an empire. If you need more, Yeonjun can schedule you in.-He slipped a hand into his jacket, pulled out a sleek black business card, and offered it to Minho with a grin.-My card, handsome. My personal number's on it... though I guess you already have it, don't you? Call me anytime.

[...]

As soon as they stepped out of the building, the cool afternoon air hit like a relief after the stifling vibe of the lobby.

-Well, brainiac? Run out of your autistic theories yet?

Minho didn't look up, twirling Soobin's card between his fingers. 

-We're missing something, Bang. Soobin's too slick. But nobody's that perfect.

Bang laughed, shaking his head. 

-You've got more imagination than a Wattpad writer, rookie. But, hey, if you prove me wrong, I'll buy you a soju. Now let's move before Changbin sends a SWAT team after us.

Forensic Unit, Busan Homicide Department. 3:56 p.m.

Felix was in his own world, lost in a galaxy of hip-hop blaring through his earbuds. He swayed his hips to the beat, his gloved, blood-streaked hands waving in the air like he was at an underground club, not a morgue. Bang stood in the doorway, with his arms crossed and his patience crumbling, as he watched Felix's every move with disbelief.

-Felix!-he barked, his voice echoing through the room.

Nothing. Felix was still in his trance, oblivious. Bang clenched his fists, veins popping on his forearms.

-FELIX, DAMN IT!

The shout bounced off the walls, rattling a shelf of glassware. Felix jumped, yanking out an earbud and stumbling forward, nearly knocking over a tray of scalpels.

-Merde! Detective Bang, mon dieu, I didn't hear you come in!-His gaze slid to Minho, who stood quietly by the door, and his face lit up like he'd just seen the sun after a storm.-Minho, mon pote! So good to see you!-He rushed toward him, looking like he might go for a hug but stopped just in time.-Thought you ghosted us, you know? Like a specter, poof, gone!

-Surprise, the rookie's back,-Bang said, dripping sarcasm as he crossed his arms tighter.-You said the autopsy report was ready. Where the hell is it?

-Oh, oui, oui! The report, c'est prêt!-Felix spun toward his workstation, grabbing his tablet and scrolling through his messy notes.-Let's see... Daesung... Daesung... Voilà! Kim Daesung. Cause of death: crise cardiaque.

Bang's frown deepened, his patience teetering on the edge. 

-Heart attack, genius.

-Exactly, exactly!-Felix nodded eagerly.-Probablement triggered by the fall, non? Typical injuries: fractured côtes, cracked crâne. And his insides? A désastre, like... BOOM!-He threw his hands out, mimicking an explosion.

Bang flinched, his face twisting in disgust. 

-Goddamn, Felix, do you have to be so explicit?

Minho, meanwhile, stood still, narrowed as he processed Felix's words. A shadow of suspicion crossed his face. 

-A heart attack?

-Oui, mon ami! The fall killed him, c'est sûr. Heart couldn't handle the shock. Poof, fini.

-So... it was suicide?

Felix nodded, but his smile faded as he caught Minho's intensity. He tilted his head, brows knitting slightly. 

-Oui, that's the official report. Mais... t'es déçu, non? Hoping for something more... sanglant?

Bang snorted. 

-Detective Star here thinks Daesung was murdered.

Felix hummed, a spark of curiosity flickering as he studied Daesung's body. 

-Possible, oui, but... no defensive wounds, pas de lutte. If someone pushed him, they were a ninja, c'est sûr. Unless...

-Unless what?-Minho stepped closer.

-Unless he was already dead!

Bang uncrossed his arms, straightening up. 

-What the hell are you talking about, Felix?

Felix took a deep breath, like he was about to drop the juiciest gossip of the century. 

-Found something bizarre in his system. First tox screen looked normal, rien de rien. But I ran a second one, because I'm extra comme ça, and... bam! Something weird popped up.

Bang's frown deepened. 

-Spit it out, Felix. What the hell did you find?

-Arsenic! Thought, 'Non, impossible, glitch in the matrix!' So I ran it again. And here's where it gets sauvage: third time, poof! Gone. Comme a ghost. Just his boring antidepressants left.

-Gone?-Minho echoed, suspicion tightening in his chest.

-Oui! Arsenic's a petit bastard, you know? Small doses over time, the body processes it weirdly. Just the right amount, and it's like a phantom poison: shows up for a moment, then vanishes après la mort, especially mixed with meds. C'est incroyable, non?

Bang scoffed, rubbing his temple. 

-Hold up a damn second. You're saying someone poisoned him with arsenic and staged it as a suicide? Seriously?

Felix shrugged, peeling off his gloves. 

-Peut-être, mec. Or maybe he didn't even know he was taking it. Drop by drop for weeks, arsenic's a caméléon: mimics stomach issues, fatigue, even depression. If he's already on antidepressants, nobody notices. Sometimes it leaves a petit trace, sometimes it's gone before you say 'voilà.' But it's possible. Très possible.

-Felix, run the test again,-Minho said.-There's gotta be something, anything. Even a crumb could prove it was murder.

Felix sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. 

-Je peux try, mon pote, but like I said, arsenic's a petit ninja. If whoever did this knew what they were doing, they could've timed it parfait, letting it metabolize just in time to leave nothing when we cracked him open.-He glanced at Daesung's body, then back at Minho.-But if you're so sûr it's murder, I'll do it encore. Pour toi, Minho.

Chapter Text

Interrogation Room, Homicide Department, Busan. 4:13 p.m.

Changbin was leaning back in his chair, next to him, Hyunjin had his elbows on the table, scrolling through his tablet. In front of them, Lee Jiyong was a nervous wreck, his hands clenched under the table and biting his lower lip until it turned red. His gaze flicked from Changbin to Hyunjin, waiting for the moment the predators would strike.

-How long were you married to Kim Daesung, Mr. Lee?-Changbin's voice cut through the silence, making Jiyong flinch.

-T-Three years,-Jiyong stammered.

Hyunjin glanced up from his tablet. 

-Three years, huh? Then you two broke up because he started dating with the CEO of Choi Industries, right? Oof, man. A handsome guy like you, losing your husband to a rich prick like Soobin. I'd be pissed, you know?

-Y-Yeah... No... I mean, it wasn't exactly like that,-Jiyong mumbled, his words tripping over each other like he couldn't decide which to spit out first.-I don't even remember who he was with. Daesung... he was seeing a ton of guys.

-And that ate you up, didn't it?-Changbin said, sitting up straighter.-You were jealous. Wanted him all to yourself, huh?

Jiyong's head snapped up. 

-How could I not be? He was my husband! And he was out there with guys way better than me! I'm just a boring accountant, you know? A nobody! I was nothing next to them.

-Wow, drama!-Hyunjin said, laughing.-I mean, picture it: your husband, parading around with all these studs. That's like a knife to the heart, man! How didn't you lose it?

Changbin shot Hyunjin a sideways glare, clearly annoyed by his tone, but turned back to Jiyong. 

-I get it, Lee. But here's the thing. We checked your ex-husband's phone and found something interesting. Why were you calling him twice a day? Morning, night, like clockwork.

Jiyong swallowed hard.

-Because I was worried, okay?-he said, his voice shaking like he was on the verge of tears.-Daesung wasn't okay! I just needed to know he wasn't gonna... I don't know, do something stupid!

-Aww, how sweet,-Hyunjin said.-Calling your ex like you're his babysitter. But, you know what's super weird? We found him dead. Hours after your last call. Funny how that works, huh? Real convenient for you.

Jiyong went pale.

-I... I didn't kill him!-he pleaded, his voice cracking as his eyes bounced between them, brimming with tears ready to spill.-I swear on my life, I'd never hurt Daesung! I loved him! Please, you have to believe me!

Changbin and Hyunjin exchanged a quick glance, the silent kind that said they both smelled a lie. 

-So...-Hyunjin leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand.-You knew about all his boyfriends, right?

Jiyong nodded shakily. 

-Yeah. I knew them all. He didn't even try to hide it. CEOs, actors, a damn Olympic champion... Olympic!-His fists slammed onto the table, trembling with rage.-It was like Daesung got off on rubbing it in my face, like I was nothing. NOTHING!

Hyunjin's eyebrows shot up. 

-Hold up, hold up, hold up! You said... Olympic champion?

[...]

The interrogation room door slammed shut behind them. Changbin stormed out first, yanking at his tie. Hyunjin trailed behind, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. At the end of the hall, Bang lounged against the wall.

-Find anything good, Captain?-Bang asked, straightening as they approached.

-Just a whiny ex-husband. Bitter, jealous, and miserable as hell. A lead? Nah, not even close.

-So what? Just a basic divorce drama? You think he's shady or not?

-No!-Changbin snapped, then groaned, second-guessing himself.-Maybe. Shit, I don't know. Look, this could still be a suicide. Daesung wasn't exactly living the dream, you know? Wouldn't shock me if he decided to check out.

-No.-Minho cut in.-Felix found arsenic in his system. That's murder.

-Why's it always gotta be so damn complicated when you're around, Lee? Fine, let's play your game. It's a murder. Who's your suspect?

-Choi Soobin.

-Choi Soobin? No way. I checked his tracker myself, Lee. Soobin was running that damn marathon. His alibi's airtight. No way he had time to kill Kim.

-I don't know how he did it yet,-Minho admitted.-But he had a motive.

-A motive? Daesung slept with half the guys in Korea, Lee. You think Soobin's the only one with a grudge? His ex-husband just gave us a list of lovers longer than me. And guess who slept with our victim too...

Hyunjin suddenly stepped forward, cutting between Changbin and Minho.

-Cap, hold up! Not sure it's worth mentioning, right?

Minho turned to him, narrowing in confusion. 

-Why not?

Empire Apartments, Busan. 6:52 p.m.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a plush hallway. The carpet swallowed every step as Bang and Minho made their way to Ok Taecyeon's suite. Bang took the lead, rapping on the door. Minho, a step behind, was a mess of nerves, his heart pounding so hard he swore it was climbing up his throat.

-I can't believe it. Never thought I'd actually meet him,-Minho muttered, smoothing his shirt and running fingers through his messy hair.-Sucks it's under these circumstances, but... God, it's Ok Taecyeon!

Bang glanced at him, smirking. 

-Gonna ask for an autograph or what, rook?

Minho scowled, cheeks flushing. 

-Screw you,-he growled, fussing with his hair again.-How do I look? Do I... look okay?

Bang turned, ready to fire off another jab, but the words caught in his throat. Damn it. Minho didn't just look okay. He looked... freaking gorgeous. Bang swallowed hard, forcing his smirk back, leaning on sarcasm to bury whatever the hell he was feeling. 

-Oh, please, rookie! You trying to charm him or what? Stop acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, it's embarrassing.

Minho shoved Bang's shoulder hard, making him stumble back. 

-Shut it, asshole! Not all of us can be soulless cynics like you.-Despite his tone, his hands went back to his hair, smoothing it again, like he couldn't help it.

Bang laughed, but his eyes stayed on Minho. And damn, he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying what he really thought: Yeah, rookie, you look fucking perfect.

Before he could say anything else, the door swung open, and there he was: Ok Taecyeon, filling the frame like he'd stepped out of a highlight reel. Tall, commanding, his tight shirt hugging every muscle, and a smile that could make anyone forget their own name.

-Yeah?

Minho's mind went blank. Completely blank. 

-I... can't believe it's him.

Bang coughed into his fist, stepping forward, saving Minho from drowning in his own hero worship. 

-Detective Bang,-he said, extending a hand with his usual half-cocky vibe.-And this fanboy disaster is Lee. We're from Homicide.

-Homicide?-A flicker of worry crossed Taecyeon's eyes as he shook Bang's hand.-Something happen?

-Just need to ask you a few questions. Nothing to sweat about.

Taecyeon nodded slowly, stepping aside and swinging the door wide. 

-Alright, come in.

The suite was modern but full of history, and it pulled a quiet gasp from Minho. Trophies gleamed in a display case, medals hung on the wall, and framed photos captured Taecyeon mid-stride, mid-victory. It was like stepping into a damn shrine to everything Minho had ever admired.

-Make yourselves comfortable,-Taecyeon said, gesturing to a leather couch.-I'll grab something to drink.

Bang flopped onto the couch while Minho sat beside him, still wandering to the medals, the trophies. This didn't feel real. A few minutes later, Taecyeon returned with a wooden tray with a steaming teapot on it.

-Here,-he said, setting the tray on the coffee table and passing them each a cup.

-Thanks,-Minho mumbled, fingers trembling as he took the cup, too nervous to sip.-Mr. Ok... my brother and I... we were always huge fans. Watched you run in Rio, 2016. That finish... wow.

Taecyeon smiled, nostalgic.

-Ah, 'The Great Race.' One of the toughest... but crossing that finish line, I knew every second was worth it.

-You inspired us, Mr. Ok. Made us want to chase our own dreams.

-Call me Tae, please. So, you and your brother... did you catch those dreams?

Minho's smile faded and he looked down.

-Wish we did. My brother... he passed two years ago.

Taecyeon swallowed hard, his expression softening as he leaned forward, resting a hand on Minho's. 

-Lee, life can be brutal. Losing someone... it tests you like nothing else. But I bet your brother's right here. With us.

Minho froze, the warmth of Taecyeon's hand searing his skin. Normally, he'd pull away, but this was Taecyeon. His idol. The man who'd been a beacon through his darkest days. His eyes stung with tears, and he managed a small smile, too choked up to speak. Bang, who'd been sipping his tea quietly, cleared his throat, shattering the moment. His gaze locked on Taecyeon's hand on Minho's.

-Alright, now that the fan club meeting's over, how about we talk about why we're really here?

Taecyeon let go of Minho's hand, sitting back in his chair. 

-Sure. What's this about?

-Gotta say, that marathon this morning was a good one. Bet your family was front row, cheering you on, huh?

Taecyeon nodded. 

-Yeah. My wife, my kids... they're my world.

-And I'm guessing they didn't know about your... little side adventures, did they?

Minho whipped around, eyes wide. 

-Bang!-he hissed, but Bang didn't even glance at him.

-Adventures?-Taecyeon repeated, brow furrowing.-Not sure what you mean, detective.

-I'm talking about your fling with Kim Daesung. You two were lovers, right? Or just a one-night thing?

Taecyeon sighed, setting his cup down. 

-Thought I'd never have to talk about that.

-That's why we're here. Kim Daesung's dead. And we're looking into a possible murder.

Taecyeon's face paled, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. 

-Wait... you guys... think I had something to do with it?

Minho jumped in instantly. 

-No! You were at the marathon, right? How could you have killed him?

Taecyeon let out a shaky breath, nodding quickly.

-Y-Yeah, yeah... I was running the whole time. Look, Daesung and I met at a Choi Industries charity event. It was... intense. I'd never been with a guy before. It was my first time, and... I don't know, it pulled me in. But it was a mistake. A mistake that could destroy my family if my wife or kids found out.

-Relax, Tae,-Minho said immediately.-We trust you.

Bang snorted, narrowing as he stared at Minho. 

-Speak for yourself, rookie. I don't trust anyone till we've got the truth. And something tells me you're still holding out on us... Tae.

-I've got nothing to hide.-Taecyeon said.-Daesung was a closed chapter. But I didn't kill him.

[...]

Bang stormed out of the lobby, fists clenched so tight the veins popped on his forearms.

-I told you, Bang!-Minho shouted, practically bouncing to keep up.-Tae's innocent! I knew it! And I can't believe I actually met him! It's like... a dream, you know? Ok Taecyeon, in the flesh!

Bang didn't answer. Tae. The name grated like a splinter under his skin, each syllable a reminder of how Minho had looked at Taecyeon, full of an admiration Bang had never gotten.

-Don't pop the champagne yet, rookie. He still fits the profile.

-What? You still think he's a suspect? Seriously, Bang?

-Let me ask you something, rookie. Did you drink that damn tea he gave us?

-Uh... no?

-It was chamomile.

-So? 

-Oh, sure. Only you get to have your crazy theories, right? When you have a hunch, it's a damn masterpiece, but when I say something, it's just bullshit, huh?

-Exactly. Because my theories make sense.

-Rookie! You're a pain in the ass, you know that?

-You're not thinking straight! Tae's an athlete, a public legend. There were cameras all over that marathon, tons of witnesses. No way he slipped out without being seen!

-And why not? Choi Soobin couldn't have ditched the race either, and we're still chasing that lead. What, your precious Tae gets a free pass just because he makes you swoon like an idiot?

-But even if he could, why? What's the motive, Bang? He said the thing with Daesung wasn't serious.

-And you just ate that up? Wake up, rookie! The guy's an Olympic-level snake charmer. You even let him hold your damn hand!

Minho tilted his head, narrowing. 

-Hold on, hold on... you're mad about that? You're pissed I let Taecyeon touch me?

-Yeah, rookie. I'm so jealous you let a potential murderer feel you up. Happy now?

Minho sighed, dragging a hand down his face. 

-You're being dramatic, Bang. Tae's too careful to do something that sloppy. I've followed his career for years, you know? He's meticulous, precise. Yeah, he admitted to being Daesung's lover, but that doesn't make him a killer. You gotta admit, it doesn't add up. It's not him.

-Look, rookie, I get it. Taecyeon's your hero, your damn idol. But if you let that fanboy crap blind you, we're gonna screw this up. Heroes fall. And sometimes, they fall harder than anyone.

Suwon Park, Busan. 8:17 a.m.

Golden morning light filtered through the oaks, birds chirping, their trills blending with the hum of Busan waking to a new day. Bang and Minho stood at a curve in the marathon route. Bang squinted into the distance, rubbing the back of his neck, tracing the path's bend with his eyes.

-This is the closest point to Nampo Apartments,-Bang said.-Race map says runners passed this curve, turned left into the park, then snaked along the hedges. No detours. No shortcuts.

-Choi could've taken a side path,-Minho suggested, his gaze lost in the trees surrounding the park.-Somewhere out of sight. No cameras, no nosy onlookers.

-And Choi ran to Daesung's place, killed him, and got back to the race in... what, twelve minutes? That's insane for a regular guy. But Taecyeon? Your Olympic champ? He could do it blindfolded, right, rookie?

-Only one way to test it,-Minho said, cracking his knuckles.-We time it ourselves.

-Wanna race, rookie?

Minho shrugged, playing it cool. 

-Gotta know if it's possible. And who better than us to try?

Bang shook his head. 

-You mean you. You wanna see if you can pull it off, rookie. Think you can run like your precious Tae?

-What, scared I'll leave you in the dust, old man? Just say it if you're chickening out.

Bang laughed.

-Old? Did you really call me "old"?

Minho didn't back down, locking eyes with Bang. 

-You scared I'll humiliate you, Bang?

-Rook, I've got more stamina in one leg than you do in your whole body. But if you wanna play, let's play.-Bang shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby bench. He loosened his tie and cracked his neck.-Alright, rookie. We start here, run to the bridge, loop back, and first one to reach this tree wins. No cheating. No whining. And when I leave you in the dust, I want an apology, got it?

Minho smirked, rolling up his sleeves and bouncing on his toes to warm up. 

-Deal. Hope your joints hold up, grandpa.

Bang snorted, stepping up beside him. 

-Rookie, I'll give you a five-second head start so you don't cry when I smoke you.

-Don't need your pity, Bang. But when I win, I want you on your knees, admitting you underestimated me.

They lined up at the curve like a "professional" racers. The case, the murder... everything was forgotten.

-Ready, rookie?

-Always.

-GO!

Bang's shout ripped through the park's silence, and they exploded forward. The cool air whipped their faces as they tore down the path. No words, no need for them. They rounded the bridge, Minho edging out a slight lead over Bang.  Bang felt the burn in his thighs, his lungs screaming with every breath, but no way in hell was he letting Minho beat him. Not a chance. He gritted his teeth, pushing for a final sprint, his hand smacking the rough bark of the oak.

-Told you, rookie!-he gasped, laughter breaking through his panting.-I'm faster, you asshole!

Silence. Bang's grin faded, brows knitting as he turned, scanning for Minho. The path was empty. Minho should've been there, panting, flashing that infuriating smirk, ready to fire off some sarcastic comeback. But there was nothing.

-Rookie?-He said as he straightened, darting along the path. Nothing.-Rook! Where the hell are you?!-he shouted, a hint of panic creeping in that he couldn't hide. A bad feeling crawled up his spine, instincts screaming something was wrong. Very wrong.-ROOKIE! MINHO! Shit!-The name came out desperate as he bolted back down the path, cursing himself, searching for any sign of movement.

Then he saw him. Minho, crouched near a hedge at the mouth of a narrow side path, barely visible under a tangle of fallen branches. 

-What the hell are you doing, rookie?! We were in the middle of a race, you idiot!

Minho didn't even look up, his focus locked on whatever he'd found, body still except for the slight twitch of his fingers brushing something on the ground.

-You just shouted my name?-Minho asked, finally glancing up.-Were you worried about me?

Bang froze. Damn it. He'd let it slip, and Minho, with that smug look, was eating it up. 

-Yeah, yeah, whatever, rookie. Stop screwing around. What the hell are you looking at?

Minho stood, pointing to a cluster of white petals peeking through the foliage. 

-Chamomile.

[...]

The trail closed around them, oaks and pines forming a green tunnel that swallowed the outside world. Twisted roots jutted from the ground, slick with morning dew. Bang and Minho ran single-file, the path narrowing with every step. After a couple of minutes, the trail spat them out from the park onto the pavement of a back alley. Ahead, a hill loomed, its steep slope clawing toward the sky, crowned by the Nampo Apartments' facade.

-There it is!-Bang gasped.-Now we climb that damn hill.

-That hill?-Minho's voice cracked, his hands on his hips as he sucked in air desperately.

-What's wrong, rookie? Legs not as tough as your mouth?

-You wish. Not all of us have museum-grade joints like you.

The slope was hell. Each step burned their calves, their lungs clawing for air that never seemed to come. Gravity dragged at their exhausted bodies, threatening to topple them, but they pushed on, too stubborn to prove the other wrong.

[...]

When they reached the base of Nampo Apartments, they were wrecks. Minho collapsed against the entrance, the cold glass a shock against his overheated skin. His chest heaved, air scraping his throat. Bang doubled over, hands on his knees, sweat dripping to the ground, but a grin split his face as he checked his watch.

-Fourteen minutes... forty-one seconds.

Minho groaned, head tipped back against the glass, eyes closed as he fought to catch his breath. 

-Not bad... for a decrepit old man.

-Rook, I smoked you on that hill,-Bang shot back, straightening with visible effort.

-Barely. And I'm pretty sure I slowed down so you wouldn't collapse halfway.

Bang rolled his eyes. 

-Sure, rookie. Keep dreaming.

They stumbled into the lobby, sweaty, shirts clinging to their bodies, hair a mess. Minho hated to admit it, but Bang looked... too damn good. He shook his head, trying to banish the traitorous thought.

-Alright...-Minho panted, hands on his knees.-Now... floor twenty-one. Elevator's... over there.

Bang's gaze slid from the elevator to the dimly lit stairwell nearby. 

-Rookie, a killer wouldn't risk an elevator. Not if they're dodging eyes. You know that.

Minho groaned, staring at the stairs. 

-Oh, hell no.

[...]

The stairwell was an endless purgatory, a spiral of steps that seemed to multiply with every move.

-Eighteen minutes... six seconds,-Bang gasped, glancing at his watch, voice ragged as he leaned against the railing. His tie hung loose, his shirt plastered to his sweat-soaked back, outlining every muscle.-Rookie... this is bullshit. No way Choi pulled this off in twelve minutes. Physically impossible.

Minho, slumped against the opposite wall, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his chest shuddering with each ragged breath. 

-Maybe he just... has better lungs than us,-he replied, eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his head against the cool concrete, willing his legs to stop shaking.-Let's... finish, then argue.-He exhaled hard, scraping together the strength to keep going.

Bang snorted, pushing off the railing and rolling his shoulders.

-Come on, rookie. Don't quit now,-he teased, though even he sounded one step from giving up.-Unless you want me to carry you like a princess.

Minho cracked one eye open, glaring. 

-You'd die after three steps.

[...]

When they finally hit the twenty-first floor, they weren't running, they were crawling, bodies on the verge of breaking. Minho shoved open the apartment door, stumbling inside and crashing against the wall like it was his only salvation. Bang followed, sweat dripping to the floor. For a minute, they just stood there, gulping air like it was running out. Bang straightened, still panting.

-Twenty-five minutes... thirty-two seconds. Told you, rookie. No average guy pulls that off unless they're a damn Olympic freak.

Minho, plastered to the wall like a wet rag, lifted his head. 

-It's possible, Bang. Choi could've done it.

Bang's gaze slid over him, taking in every inch. Minho's damp shirt clung to his chest, hugging the lean lines of his torso, a bead of sweat rolling down his collarbone.

-Oh, yeah? So how'd your imaginary killer do it so fast?

Minho sighed, peeling himself off the wall as he paced the apartment. 

-Got here... and Daesung was already dead. Arsenic killed him in the bathroom. Tossed him off the balcony to stage the suicide angle. Then...-He faltered, steps slowing as exhaustion hit. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the couch.-Probably took a nap.

-A nap? The killer took a nap after a murder?

Minho cracked one eye open. 

-Yup. Totally possible. If I can crash here after that run, he could too.-Minho murmured, rolling onto his side and curling into the cushion, letting out a whiny little "Mmmph" that was stupidly adorable.-Gimme a break, Bang. Just five minutes.

Bang shook his head, running a hand through his soaked hair, but his eyes couldn't stop tracing Minho. Minho yawned, stretching his arms overhead, his shirt lifting, revealing a glimpse of skin that snagged Bang's gaze.  Bang's eyes locked on him, caught on that bare skin, the way Minho looked vulnerable, like he was daring Bang to lose control. But before that could happen, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He barely resisted cursing as he pulled it out.

-Damn it... hate when you're right, rookie,-he muttered, staring at the screen.-Get your ass up. No time for this.

Minho buried his face deeper into the cushion. 

-You always gotta be so bossy? Five minutes, Bang. Five tiny minutes. Don't be a jerk.

-Rookie, I swear...-Bang hesitated, Minho's voice was doing things in his head that made him feel weird. He stepped toward the couch and yanked the cushion out from under Minho's head.

-Hey!

-Felix just texted. Daesung was definitely murdered.

Chapter Text

Choi Industries, Busan. 12:19 p.m.

Morning light slipped through the blinds, casting soft rays across the papers Soobin was signing. The door creaked open, and Yeonjun stepped in, hands trembling, his gaze dodging Soobin's.

-Mr. Choi... tech sector sales are up 7%, but Tokyo's pushing for a meeting to discuss the next launch strategy. I've confirmed your Japan flight and hotel reservation.

Soobin looked up from his documents.

-Good work, as always. So efficient.-He leaned back in his chair.-How do you keep me so organized?

Yeonjun swallowed, trying to stay steady under Soobin's stare. 

-Just... doing my job, sir.

Soobin raised an eyebrow as he stood.

-One more thing. Have those detectives called again?

Yeonjun glanced at his notes.

-No, sir. Not since two days ago.-He risked a look up, meeting Soobin's eyes, and instinctively stepped back.-Do you... think they found something?

Soobin's smiled as he rounded the desk. 

-Don't be silly, Yeonjun. We were careful. No one's finding anything. Right?

Yeonjun's throat bobbed, his eyes dropping to the floor, unable to hold Soobin's gaze. 

-Y-Yes, sir,-he mumbled, nodding.

Soobin's eyes narrowed, catching every flicker of Yeonjun's expression. He stepped closer, closing the gap between them.

-Yeonjun, you took care of everything, didn't you?

Yeonjun froze as Soobin adjusted his tie.

-O-Of course,-he managed after a moment, still avoiding Soobin's eyes.-I got rid of all the evidence. Everything, sir. Nothing's left.

Soobin's smiled again, making Yeonjun's heart pound harder. He drifted hid hand lower, grazing Yeonjun's waist, pausing at his belt buckle. 

-Perfect. Because I don't need a couple of detectives sniffing around, Yeonjun.-He paused, sliding further, tracing the curve of Yeonjun's hip.-All I want right now... is you.

Yeonjun sighed, his body betraying him as Soobin's hands roamed over his butt, sending a shiver up his spine. He couldn't help it, his body reacted, a tightness growing beneath his pants, and the heat in his face flared as he realized Soobin noticed.

-S-Sir... 

-Shh,-Soobin whispered, taking Yeonjun's jaw, tracing the line of his lower lip with his thumb.-Be good, Yeonjun. No one has to know.

[...]

WARNING

[THE FOLLOWING SCENE CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT (NSFW)]

Soobin lounged in his chair, head tipped back, lips parted as soft moans spilled out. His unbuttoned shirt bared his chest, his tie hanging loose, hands gripping the armrests tightly.

Beneath the desk, Yeonjun knelt, his hands moving desperate, one wrapped around the base of Soobin's erection, covering what his mouth couldn't take, the other resting on Soobin's thigh. Yeonjun's head bobbed in a steady rhythm, Soobin's length brushing the back of his throat with each motion.

-This is what you wanted, isn't it?-Soobin said, as he took Yeonjun by his hair.

Yeonjun moaned, sending a wave of pleasure that made Soobin's grip tighten. He couldn't answer with words, not with his mouth so full, but he lift his gaze, and the submission in his eyes was unmistakable. His lips slid further, taking more, licking the prominent vein at the base, each move pulling another groan from Soobin.

-Fuck...-Soobin moaned, hips shifting slightly, pushing deeper into Yeonjun's mouth.-Keep going, Yeonjun. Show me how much you want this.

Yeonjun obeyed instantly, his pace quickening, the suction intensifying. He fought his gag reflex, eyes watering slightly from the effort, but he didn't stop, driven by the need to please, to prove he could handle everything Soobin demanded. Yeonjun moaned again, gripping Soobin's thighs harder. His tongue moved bolder, swirling around the tip in circles before sliding back down, taking as much as he could, his throat constricting around Soobin. He knew Soobin was close, but the way Soobin looked at him, pushed him to give more, to be everything Soobin wanted.

Just as the climax's shiver started to ripple through Soobin, a knock on the door shattered the moment. Soobin's erection slipped from Yeonjun's mouth, and Yeonjun froze, but Soobin didn't flinch.

-Who said you could stop?

Yeonjun swallowed. 

-B-But...-he stammered, another knock making his body tense more.

Soobin cut him off, taking Yeonjun's hair, guiding his head back down. 

-Keep going. I'll handle this.

Yeonjun hesitated for a second, but Soobin's gaze pinned him in place. He nodded weakly, wrapping his lips around Soobin's erection again, moving carefully to stay silent.

-Come in,-Soobin called, straightening in his chair, adjusting his shirt as if nothing was happening under the desk.

The door opened, and a young employee stepped in. 

-Mr. Choi, there was an incident in the electronics division. One of the main servers overheated and crashed during this morning's tests. The engineers say it could delay production and impact next quarter's sales by at least 4%.

Soobin tensed, gripping the armrest, but Yeonjun's slow licks kept him grounded. 

-How many times do I have to tell you not to bother me with minor issues, Jiwoo? The engineers can handle it. That's what I pay them for.

Jiwoo nodded quickly. 

-Y-Yes, sir. They're already working on it, but they need your approval to reallocate the emergency budget for a new server. It's a significant expense, and...-She paused, noticing Soobin's rigid posture.

Under the desk, Yeonjun knew Soobin was close. He doubled his efforts, tongue moving bolder, lips tightening as he took Soobin deeper, nose nearly brushing his abdomen. Yeonjun's throat constricted, fighting his reflexes, but he didn't stop, driven to push Soobin over the edge. The faint wet sounds of his mouth were barely audible, but each motion sent a surge of pleasure that made Soobin's hips tremble.

-Damn it, Jiwoo!-Soobin moaned, the sound passing as a frustrated growl, and Jiwoo stepped back, mistaking it for anger.-Tell the engineers to deal with it. I don't need to sign off on every damn detail.

Soobin's fist hit the desk as his climax crashed. Yeonjun didn't hesitate, taking everything, his tongue gliding along Soobin's length, ensuring nothing was left before sliding back down, enveloping him fully. Jiwoo, oblivious to what was happening beneath, paled at Soobin's tone.

-Y-Yes, sir! We'll handle it. Sorry for disturbing you. It won't happen again.

-OUT!

Jiwoo nodded and hurried out, the door clicking shut. Soobin's head fell back, a gasp escaping as Yeonjun slowly pulled back, saliva glistening on his lips. He swallowed hard, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his face flushed with effort and shame.

-Good boy, Yeonjun.

Yeonjun adjusted his shirt as he stood, grabbing his tablet from the floor and running a hand through his hair, trying to reclaim some professionalism. 

-Always at your service, Mr. Choi.

-No need to rush off. Stay a bit. We can... pick up where we left off.

Yeonjun shook his head. 

-I should handle the issue with the engineers. It's my job, after all.

Soobin laughed, standing from his chair.

-Don't be silly, Yeonjun,-he said, stepping closer and catching Yeonjun's wrist before he could back away.-Those little problems aren't your responsibility. Your job is to be here, with me.

Yeonjun swallowed, shaking his head again, pulling his hand free. 

-I can't keep doing this. Not when I know I'm not the only one.

Soobin tilted his head.

-Jealous, Yeonjun? It doesn't suit you. You know no one else makes me feel like you do.

-That's not enough. I don't want to be just the guy you call when you're bored. I want...-He stopped, as he fought the knot in his throat.-Forget it.

Before Soobin could respond, Yeonjun turned, heading for the door. He flung the door open, only to freeze. Standing in the hallway were Bang and Minho. Bang, arms crossed, raised an eyebrow, while Minho's gaze pierced through him.

-Busy, Mr. Choi?-Bang asked, his eyes sliding from Yeonjun to Soobin, who stood in the center of the office.

-Not at all, detectives. Please, come in,-Soobin said, leaning back in his chair.-I was just thinking about you. To what do I owe this delightful visit?

-Cut the crap, Choi,-Bang snapped.-We've got your race logs. Your run's almost too perfect. Wanna explain that?

-Really, gentlemen? That's it? You came all this way to congratulate me on my flawless race? Simple minds like yours must have a lot of free time, right?

-That's not all,-Minho said, stepping forward.-Bang, show him.

Bang pulled out his phone and flashed a photo of Soobin crossing the marathon finish line. 

-This you, right?-he asked, holding the phone up.

Soobin barely glanced at it, shrugging. 

-Obviously. I assume there's a point to this?

-You ran forty kilometers and look fresh as a damn daisy. Kinda weird, don't you think?

Soobin's smile faltered as he looked at the photo. Yeonjun's stomach twisted, his mind scrambling for something to say. 

-Mr. Choi's an exceptional athlete. What's so strange about—

Soobin raised a hand, silencing him without a look. 

-Easy, Yeonjun. Let them talk.

-Care to explain that little slip-up?-Minho pressed.

-No slip-up, Detective Lee. Please. Is this your big evidence? I expected more from you, though maybe I overestimated your... quaint intellect.

-Don't call me 'detective,'-Minho growled, taking another step forward.-You had a problem, Choi. A little inconvenience named Kim Daesung. He wasn't just a fling, was he? He was going to tank your shiny empire, threatening to out the golden boy of Choi Industries. So you laced his antidepressants with arsenic.

Soobin didn't flinch, but Yeonjun felt a chill. He glanced at Soobin, searching for a sign, some hint that everything was under control. But Soobin didn't look back.

-Detective... where do you get this nonsense? Just spouting gibberish and hoping it sticks?

-Running the marathon was the perfect alibi,-Minho continued.-You slipped off the course, and when the arsenic did its job, you tossed Kim off the balcony like trash.

-You think I'd be that sloppy? My empire's a masterpiece, Lee. Killing him would be unsophisticated. But you... a nobody, desperate to play perfect detective to make up for your own failures? That's almost admirable.

-Don't you dare dig into my life, Choi.

-Oh, you thought I wouldn't look into the tragic Lee Minho? Your family...-Soobin laughed, straightening.-What a sob story. You really think I'd feel threatened by a failure who couldn't save his own family?

-Choi!-Bang roared.-Shut your damn mouth before I do it for you.

-One call, detectives. One generous donation to Homicide, and you're done. Both of you. You think I don't have the power to bury you, Lee? You're an insect compared to me.

-Enough!-Bang shouted, looking ready to grab Soobin by the throat.-Threaten him again, Choi, and I swear you're leaving here in cuffs. Try me, you smug bastard.

-Oh, how sensitive, Detective Bang. So protective of your little pup. But your boyfriend's drowning. My logs prove I ran that marathon, start to finish. Unless you've got more than weak guesses and blurry photos, you're just wasting my valuable time.-Soobin stood, adjusting his tie.-Yeonjun, show them out. And please... make sure they don't bother me again.

-You love to talk, don't you, Choi?-Minho said, his fury burning from within.

Soobin tilted his head, smile intact. 

-Oh? And what's little Lee gonna do about it?

-I'm gonna tear your alibi apart. And you'll rot in prison.

Soobin just laughed. 

-Then you're gonna lose, Lee. I suggest you drop this case... for your own good.

Homicide Department, Busan. 2:26 p.m.

Changbin's office was a chaos zone of evidence. Crime scene photos, grainy surveillance stills, and scribbled notes plastered the walls, connected by red strings zigzagging across a corkboard.

-Lee Jiyong's alibi is solid,-Hyunjin muttered, exhaustion etched into his face.-He was at home during the marathon. Phone records check out. He's a whiny, miserable bastard, but he's not our killer.

Minho, slouched in an armchair, didn't look up. His knee bounced uncontrollably, a nervous tic syncing with his racing heartbeat. 

-It wasn't the ex-husband. It was Choi Soobin.

Changbin, behind his desk, sighed. 

-And how the hell did he slip out of the marathon without anyone noticing?

-There's a hidden trail leading straight to a back alley that dumps out at Nampo Apartments. Soobin could've cut through there, reached Daesung's place, done the deed, and been back before anyone blinked.

-That's a theory, Lee. But theories don't lock up killers. Hard evidence does. Got any?

-It's possible. Bang and I ran the route ourselves...

-And it took us damn near half an hour, rookie,-Bang cut in, rubbing his neck with a grimace.-Only an Olympic-level freak could pull it off in under twelve minutes.

-And Soobin is that freak! You saw his time from last year's marathon? Eleven minutes under the record! If anyone could do it, it's him.-Minho spun toward the board, yanking down a photo of Soobin crossing the finish line.-This guy's not human. He's a damn monster, and we know it.

-Okay, say he could've done it,-Bang said, his tone softer.-What about the tracker? It proves Soobin was in the whole damn marathon. How the hell do you explain that?

-I DON'T KNOW!

Minho's voice cracked, teetering on the edge of collapse, as he pressed his forehead against the wall, panting like he could bleed the answers he didn't have. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was. He was unraveling, and everyone in the room could see it.

-Mochi,-Hyunjin said, stepping closer.-This case is a damn mess. You're chasing leads blind. Maybe... maybe Daesung did kill himself.

-No. It wasn't suicide.

Hyunjin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

-Mochi... people hide things, man. Even from the ones they love. You don't always see the signs.

Minho's head snapped around.

-YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?! You think I haven't seen that hell? You think I haven't lived it?

Hyunjin stepped back.

-I get it, I do. But you've gotta at least consider—

-NO! No way! DAESUNG DIDN'T KILL HIMSELF! 

-Why are you so hellbent on pinning this on Choi Soobin, Lee?-Changbin asked, his curiosity bordering on accusation.-There's gotta be more to it. You're the coldest son of a bitch I know. What'd Choi do to make you hate him this much?

Minho froze, trembling. His throat burned, a knot choking him, but he forced it down, refusing to let the tears betray him. 

-He called me... a failure,-he whispered, the wound Soobin had ripped open laid bare.

The silence was suffocating, broken only by Minho's uneven breaths. Then, a single tear slipped past his lashes. One shaky breath turned into a stifled sob, then another, and another. His hands shook as he wiped his face with his sleeve, hating himself for the weakness.

-AND HE'S RIGHT!-Minho continued.-He knows I'm a wreck, knows I'm a damn failure, a detective who can't close a case without falling apart, AND I HATE HIM! I need him to be guilty, Changbin, I need it! Because if he's not, then all this... it's pointless.

Hyunjin stepped closer, his hand landing on Minho's shoulder. 

-Mochi, calm down. Soobin's just a smug asshole talking shit. He doesn't know you. You're Lee Minho, damn it!

Minho slapped Hyunjin's hand away. 

-Yeah? I'm Lee Minho, the rookie who got sacked for a damn mental breakdown. The guy who couldn't save his family. The idiot who screws up everything he touches. A pathetic wreck who can't even prove Soobin's the killer. I can't do this, Hyunjin! I can't! Soobin won.

And for the first time, Minho truly felt it.

Sky Tower 101, Busan. 12:31 a.m.

Hunched over his desk, eyes burning with exhaustion, Minho scoured the marathon footage for the umpteenth time on his laptop screen. Crime scene photos, grainy security videos, even Soobin's personal Instagram profile, everything was under scrutiny. Behind him, his cats watched from the couch, tails curling around their paws. Minho, lost in his trance, grabbed the bag of kibble on his desk and scattered some into their bowls.

-Eat, you little brats,-he muttered, but his eyes stayed glued to the screen.

Every frame of the footage was seared into his mind: the checkpoints, the crowds, the sweaty faces of runners. The data was flawless, indisputable. Soobin had hit every required marker, his tracker logging each kilometer. Yet something gnawed at Minho, a gut feeling twisting in his chest.

-Think, Minho, think,-he growled to himself, fists clenching as he leaned closer to the screen.

Hours bled by, each minute without a breakthrough sinking into his chest. With a resigned sigh, he shoved his chair back and snapped the laptop shut. He collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion wrapping around him, dragging him into an abyss where there were no answers, only questions. Sleep came reluctantly, his body giving in against his will, eyelids drooping as Busan sank into the deepest part of the night.

And then... he opened his eyes, and for a second, the world stopped. Yes, everything clicked. Every lie, every dead end that had him chasing shadows finally coalesced into one undeniable truth. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heart pounded so hard he felt like it was going to explode. It all made sense now.

He had it. He'd solved it.

Chapter Text

Suyeong, Busan. 6:03 a.m.

The city was wrapped in a chilly morning, the kind of cold that begged you to crawl back into bed and let the world screw itself. But Bang wasn't getting any of that cozy shit. A knock on his door obliterated any hope of a lazy morning.

-Ugh, what the hell?-he growled, rolling over in bed. He fumbled blindly for his phone on the nightstand, squinting at the screen.-Who the fuck...?

Dragging down the hall, he scrubbed a hand over his jaw, trying to shake the sleep fog.

-Who's that, Daddy?-Seungmin mumbled sleepily as he shuffled out of his room, yawning and rubbing his barely open eyes.

-Some jackass, probably. Go back to bed, champ.

Another knock rattled the door, and Bang yanked it open, ready to unleash a string of curses. But the words died in his throat when he saw who was standing there.

-...Rookie?-Bang rubbed his eyes, squinting like Minho was some caffeine-deprived hallucination.-It's six in the goddamn morning. What the hell are you doing here?

-I figured it out, Bang! I know how he did it! I know how Soobin killed Daesung!

Bang just stared with his mouth slightly agape, his brain still idling in neutral, struggling to catch up. 

-What... you... huh? Rookie, what the hell are you talking about?

-No time to explain! Get dressed, Bang! We gotta move. NOW!

-Rookie, for fuck's sake, I just woke up! I can't just leave Seungmin alone!

-Bang, listen to me! If we don't move right now, he's gonna torch every damn piece of evidence we need to nail him. You wanna let that bastard walk?

Bang hated how Minho could storm into his life, wreck his peace, and make him feel like he had no choice but to follow. And as much as he wanted to shove the rookie out the door, crawl back to his warm sheets, and forget the world, he knew Minho didn't pull this kind of shit without a damn good reason.

-Fucking psycho, showing up at dawn like some unhinged lunatic,-Bang muttered, fishing his phone from his pajama pocket to call the sitter.-This better be legit, rookie.

[...]

The second Bang stepped out of his house, shrugging on his jacket, he froze mid-stride. There was Minho, the crazy bastard, straddling his motorcycle, thighs gripping the machine with a strength that made Bang's throat go dry. He hated to admit it, but Minho, with that jacket, and those tight black jeans hugging every curve, looked kinda...

-Get on,-Minho said, nodding toward the back seat.

-No, no, no. Don't even say it, rookie. In that death trap? No fucking way!

Minho rolled his eyes.

-We don't have time for this.

-No, rookie!-Bang said, stepping back, pointing at the bike.-I've got a kid, asshole! A little gremlin who expects me to come home with all my limbs! I'm not gonna die in that when my car is right there!

-Bang, my bike's faster.

-Then drive my car fast, you psycho!

-Oh, for fuck's sake, Bang! You trust me to solve a goddamn murder, but not to get your sorry ass across Busan? Stop being a baby and move!

Bang gritted his teeth, staring into those fiery eyes of Minho's, and damn, he hated how they made his pulse race. 

-...Fuck,-he muttered, tasting regret already.-If I die, my kid's suing your ass, rookie. And trust me, Seungmin's a vicious little shit.

Minho laughed as he tilted his head towards the helmet.

-It's on the seat, princess.

-Call me that again, and I'll shove it somewhere you won't like,-Bang growled, snatching the helmet.

He hesitated for a second before swinging a leg over the bike. The moment he settled in, he was too damn close to Minho. His knees brushed Minho's thighs. The contact... Fuck. Too close, and Bang cursed under his breath.

-Hold on tight,-Minho said as he twisted the throttle, revving the engine.

-Wait, wait, wait—!

Bang barely got the words out before the bike lurched forward, the acceleration slamming him against Minho's back, forcing him to wrap his arms around Minho's waist out of pure instinct.

-SLOW DOWN, YOU FUCKING MANIAC!-Bang yelled, his voice nearly swallowed by the engine's growl.-THIS AIN'T A DAMN RACE!

-NO TIME!

-AT LEAST TELL ME WHERE THE HELL WE'RE GOING!

-IT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF US! CHOI DIDN'T RUN THE MARATHON! HE TRICKED US, MADE US THINK HE DID. BUT IT'S ALL A FUCKING LIE!

-WHAT? ROOKIE, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! YOU'RE GONNA KILL US BEFORE—!

Minho ignored him, leaning into a turn, the bike tilting so low it nearly kissed the asphalt. They skimmed past a row of parked cars, the side mirror missing a delivery truck by a hair. A horn blared, a pedestrian's shout faded into the chaos, but Bang barely registered it. His heart hammered, his body pressed against Minho's as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did.

-YOU DRIVE LIKE A FUCKING LUNATIC, ROOKIE! SLOW DOWN, YOU SON OF A BITCH!

[...]

The motorcycle stopped in the parking lot of an apartment block. Bang was still plastered against Minho's back, with his arms wrapped around his waist. His pulse was racing, half from the reckless ride, half from the heat of Minho's body against his.

-Hey... Bang?-Minho tilted his head just enough to catch Bang, and he tapped his arm.-You gonna let go, or you planning to cling to me all day?

Bang jolted, peeling himself off Minho. 

-I wasn't scared,-he muttered, fumbling to yank off the helmet. He raked a hand through his messy hair, trying to play it cool while dodging Minho's gaze.-Just, you know, holding on for dear life. Basic survival shit.

Minho swung off the bike, pulling off his own helmet.

-Sure. 'Survival.'

They climbed the stairs to the third floor, stopping at a chipped door. Minho knocked. A beat passed, then another, before the door opened.

-Mr. Lee... Mr. Bang?-Yeonjun stood there, bleary-eyed, rubbing sleep from his face.-What's going on? Why're you banging on my door at this hour?

-We know you fudged Soobin's data. Where's the real tracker?

Yeonjun froze mid-yawn, eyes going wide. 

-Whoa, whoa, whoa. What're you talking about, Mr. Lee? What tracker?

Minho stepped closer, pulling out his phone and shoving a photo in Yeonjun's face. It was an Instagram post from the marathon's starting line: Soobin posing, surrounded by runners and his bullshit caption: This marathon's for loving myself, for being my best me. #NewBeginning. But Minho jabbed at a detail on Soobin's wrist.

-Soobin never wore the tracker, did he?

Yeonjun swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, sweat beading on his forehead. 

-I... I don't...-he stammered, taking a shaky step back.

-Soobin started the marathon but never finished it, right? You swapped his data with last year's race to make it look legit. Stop bullshitting us, Yeonjun, or I swear I'll make you wish you never got out of bed.

Yeonjun's fake smile died. Sweat now trickled down his temples, and his hands were visibly shaking as he took another step back, bumping into the doorframe.

-I... okay,-he whispered.-Just... come in, alright? I don't know what I was thinking. Mr. Choi... he's got a way of making me do shit I don't wanna do. Drives me fucking crazy.

-You've got one shot to fix this, Yeonjun. Hand over the real tracker, and we'll take it from there. Lie to us again, and there's nowhere in Busan you'll be able to hide.

-Alright,-he said after a pause.-Sit down. Finding it... it'll take a sec.

He disappeared into the apartment, leaving Bang and Minho to step inside. They sat on a couch, Minho stiff, his spine tense, his fist clenched in his lap. Bang watched him, staring at Minho's hands, those pale knuckles begging to be touched, and a stupid, reckless thought crossed his mind. 

What if he just... took his hand?

Like Taecyeon did. He wanted to slide his fingers over those knuckles, pry them open gently, tell him it'd all be okay. Fuck. He wanted to feel Minho's pulse steady under his touch, but Minho was a million miles away, lost in his own storm, and Bang's courage faltered under the weight of that thought.

-Hey... relax,-Bang said, like he hadn't just waged a war with himself.-Soobin's not slipping away that easy.

Minho lifted his gaze.

-What if he does? What if he gets away with it, Bang? What if all this... isn't enough?

Minho's  vulnerability, and the urge to close the distance burned hotter. Those lips, that stray hair falling over Minho's forehead, the fire in his eyes... it stole the air from Bang's lungs. Minho was too damn beautiful, and Bang was caught, drowning in the pull of him, the ache to reach out, to touch, and Minho didn't even notice. Bang thought he might break, that he might get closer and...

The unmistakable growl of a car engine  shattered the tension. Bang and Minho bolted for the parking lot, just in time to see Yeonjun peeling out in his car, kicking up a cloud of dust and gravel as he fishtailed toward the exit.

-Is he...?

-Running? Yeah, rookie, he's fucking running.

Minho sprinted to his bike, Bang hot on his heels, barely scrambling onto the back seat before Minho gunned the throttle. The force nearly launched Bang off, forcing him to hug Minho's waist again.

Ahead, Yeonjun's car swerved like it was drunk. Minho leaned into the chase, weaving through narrow alleys and onto the main drag, the city blurring into a chaotic kaleidoscope. Pedestrians scattered, horns blared, but Minho drove like a man possessed, dodging traffic with a skill that was equal parts terrifying and goddamn mesmerizing. Bang still clung to him, feeling the pulse of Minho's body.

The coastal road loomed ahead, waves crashing against the rocks in the distance. Yeonjun's car fishtailed, skidding onto a deserted beach, sand spraying as he slammed to a stop. The driver's door flew open, and Yeonjun stumbled out, clutching the tracker in his fist, bolting toward the ocean.

-Bang, he's got the tracker!

Bang didn't hesitate. He vaulted off the bike before it even stopped, ripping off his helmet and chucking it into the sand. 

-STOP, YOU SON OF A BITCH!

Yeonjun didn't look back, plunging into the surf, waves crashing around his knees, then his thighs as he stumbled deeper. Bang tore after him, saltwater soaking his clothes, and Yeonjun raised his arm, the tracker glinting against the gray sky.

-DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE, ASSHOLE!

Too late. Yeonjun hurled the tracker into the waves, the device vanishing into the dark depths. Rage surged through Bang, and he launched himself forward, slamming his shoulder into Yeonjun's back, and they crashed into the surf. He punched Yeonjun in the jaw, and Yeonjun twisted like a trapped animal, ramming his elbow into Bang's ribs. But Bang didn't flinch, grabbing Yeonjun's arm and twisting it back with brutal force, searching for the tracker that was already gone.

-You stupid fuck!-Bang roared, shoving Yeonjun under a wave.

Yeonjun kicked at Bang's shin, both of them stumbling deeper into the water. Bang grabbed him by the throat, yanking him up so close their faces nearly touched, noses inches apart. 

-WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO, YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!

Yeonjun choked, chest heaving, eyes wide with panic. 

-I... I had no choice! I can't let Mr. Choi down!

With a snarl, Bang flung Yeonjun into the shallow surf, the kid sprawling face-first into the waves. Yeonjun clawed at the sand, coughing up saltwater, scrambling to escape, but Bang grabbed him again, dragging him onto the wet shore. On the beach, Minho stood frozen, helmet abandoned at his feet, but his gaze was locked on Bang's soaked body. Bang straightened, water dripping from his hair, streaming down his face, and he looked at Minho.

-What're you waiting for, rookie? Get in there!-he yelled, pointing at the ocean.

-Me? I-I can't, Bang,-Minho stammered, his gaze dropping to the sand, bracing for the inevitable mockery.-I... I don't know how to swim.

No taunt came. Bang just rolled his eyes, shoving Yeonjun back into the sand, making him eat dirt again. 

-What the fuck are you doing?!-Yeonjun sputtered, thrashing uselessly as Bang slapped cuffs on him.

Without a word, Bang peeled off his drenched shirt, tossing it aside. Minho's brain short-circuited. He stared at Bang's bare torso, his broad shoulders, abs flexing with every ragged breath, arms corded with muscle. Holy shit. Minho's mouth went dry, and he jerked his gaze to a random rock, but the image was seared into his mind.

-Stay here, rook,-Bang ordered, snapping Minho out of his spiral.-Don't let this idiot move.

Then Bang was gone, diving into the dark waves. The ocean swallowed him whole, and Minho stood rooted. Seconds stretched into forever. His grip on Yeonjun's cuffs tightened, fighting the urge to pace, to shout, to do anything but stand there, useless. Yeonjun muttered curses under his breath, squirming, but Minho ignored him, he was to focused on the water, searching for any sign of Bang. Then, finally, Bang broke the surface.

And Minho forgot how to breathe.

Bang rose from the waves like some damn sea god, water cascading off his body. The soaked fabric of his pants molded his thighs, outlining the power of his legs, and Minho's jaw dropped. Holy crap. He shifted, uncomfortable, the heat building up in places it shouldn't, and his brain struggled to find purchase, but try as he might, he couldn't tear his gaze away.

Yeonjun, still sprawled in the sand, gaped at the tracker in Bang's hand. 

-What?! No—no! That was supposed to be gone!

Bang grinned, shaking water from his hair. 

-Waterproof, dipshit.

Homicide Department, Busan. 5:18 p.m.

In a wild twist, the court ruled in favor of Choi Soobin, CEO of Choi Industries, citing insufficient evidence to convict him in Kim Daesung's death. Choi walked free today, smiling for the cameras as he strutted out of the courthouse.

'I'm grateful for the justice system and proud to stand here as an innocent man,' he said. But let's be real: questions are piling up. 

Did Choi dodge a bullet, or did his fat bank account buy him a get-out-of-jail-free card? Some call it a travesty, others a straight-up farce. Either way, he's popping champagne tonight while the rest of us are left scratching our heads. This is Jenna Park, Channel 6 News, signing off. Back to the studio.

-SON OF A BITCH!

The remote sailed across the room, smashing into the wall, plastic shards flying. Bang's hands balled into fists as he paced furious back and forth in the office. Changbin, sitting behind his desk, didn't flinch. He looked at the remains of the remote control, then back at Bang. 

-Detective Bang, calm down.

-Calm down?!-He asked in disbelief as he turned to Changbin.-CALM DOWN?! Yeonjun spilled his guts last week, Captain! He admitted Choi told him to ditch the tracker! We had that bastard cornered, and the system just... spat in our faces!-He kicked a chair leg, sending it skidding across the floor.

Changbin sighed, leaning back in his chair.

-The court's spoken. No direct, ironclad evidence tying Choi to the crime, no conviction. That's how it works, Bang.

Bang stopped, slamming his hands onto Changbin's desk.

-So that's it? We just let him walk away like some untouchable prick after everything we've done? We chased him to hell and back, dragged Yeonjun out of the damn ocean, got the tracker—everything. AND NOW HE'S OUT THERE LAUGHING AT US!

-It's pointless,-Minho muttered from across the room.-We could've dumped a mountain of evidence on their desk, and Choi's money would've still bought his way out. It always will.

-Don't start with that defeatist crap, rookie.

-Am I wrong? We had the tracker, Bang. What else could we have done? Tell me!

-Hey, Binnie,-Hyunjin piped up, sprawled in a chair by Changbin's desk.-You think he's guilty, right? You know Choi did it. Come on, back us up here.

-Yeah. Every one of you nailed this case. To me, you caught him.-He looked at Minho, and he smiled at him.-Lee, you cracked it. Don't let the court steal that from you.

Bang exhaled, raking a hand through his hair.

-Great, awesome. So what? We get a pat on the back? Sit around, high-five, and pretend this isn't a fucking injustice?

-No,-Changbin said, leaning forward, elbows on his desk.-Choi Soobin's not untouchable. He's a man, and men screw up.

Bang collapsed into a chair, the fight draining out of him.

-Fine. If we're playing the long game, someone's gotta buy the captain a new remote. I'm not paying for that.

Hyunjin snorted.

-I'll start a fundraiser: 'Bang's Tantrum Repair Fund.'

Even Minho laughed this time, catching Bang's gaze for a fleeting moment. The weight of their failure lifted, just a fraction, in the warmth of that shared glance. Changbin stretched his arms over his head, smirking faintly as he watched his team.

-Don't get too cozy, boys. Choi's gonna trip over his own ego eventually. And when he does...

-We'll be there,-Minho finished, straightening up, that fire flaring back in his eyes.-Choi Soobin's going down, and I'll make damn sure of it.

The parking lot glowed under the soft spill of sunset. Minho straddled his motorcycle, the metal still warm from the day's heat, his hands resting on the handlebars. His fingers traced swirls on the grips, a nervous tic betraying the storm churning inside him. His gaze lifted to the horizon, drinking in the fading gold, but the victory of closing another case tasted like ash. Choi Soobin's acquittal gnawed at him, a bitter sting that wouldn't quit.

-So... the star detective's scared of heights and can't swim,-Bang said, strolling up, but this time, his voice lacked its usual bite.

-Yeah, yeah, I'm pathetic, I get it,-Minho muttered, and looked away towards the horizon, feigning interest in a cloud.

Bang stopped a few steps away.

-Anything else I should know, rookie? Got any other secrets tucked away? 'Cause being a detective isn't just about a sharp mind. Takes guts, stamina... and maybe a little faith.

-Not sure I've got enough of that.-Minho's gaze dropped to the pavement.-Sometimes I think... maybe I'm not cut out for this, Bang. Maybe I'm not... enough.

Bang's smile vanished. He closed the distance in a single stride, and took Minho by the shoulder.

-Rookie. You might not swim, might not throw a punch, might not have every crime figured out. But you cracked this case while the rest of us, me included, were chasing our own damn tails.

Minho's head snapped up, caught off guard by the sincerity in Bang's words.

-You're such a damn sap, Bang,-he said, and he cleared his throat, trying to shove down the knot in his throat.-You, uh... want a ride home, princess?-he asked, tilting his head toward the bike's back seat.

-Pass, rookie. I'd like to live long enough to embarrass my kid at his graduation. Make him regret calling me 'Daddy' in front of his buddies.

Minho rolled his eyes.

-Come on, Bang,-he said, smacking the seat insistently.-I'll go slow, I swear.

-Slow?-Bang laughed.-What's that mean to you, rookie? Half the speed of light? Or just fast enough to make my life flash before my eyes?

-Trust me. You'll live. Might even... enjoy it.

Bang grumbled something about crazy rookies and bad decisions, but after a beat, he sighed, like a man surrendering to fate. He swung a leg over the bike, settling in behind Minho.

-This is a terrible idea,-Bang muttered.

-You, uh, might wanna hold on,-Minho teased, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

Bang rolled his eyes, but his arms slid around Minho's waist.

-This is just for safety, rook. Don't get any ideas.

-Sure,-Minho managed, the word catching in his throat as he revved the engine.

The ride should've been simple, but it was anything but. For Bang, it was a mess of complications. He'd meant to keep it light, keep it professional, but the heat of Minho's back against his chest, the subtle flex of muscle under his hands... it was unraveling him. He tightened his grip, tracing the line of Minho's jacket, like he could memorize the shape of him. He shouldn't notice the way Minho's hair caught the wind, but he did. And that attraction, the one he'd buried under layers of denial and duty, clawed its way free. Every curve of the road pressed them closer, Bang's thighs brushing Minho's, his hold tightening instinctively to keep balance. It wasn't just the speed making his heart pound, it was the closeness, the way their bodies seemed to fit, like the universe had carved this moment just for them.

[...]

The motorcycle stopped in front of Bang's house, and he swung off the bike, tugging off his helmet. He turned, holding out the helmet to Minho, and their fingers brushed in a fleeting whisper of skin against skin, a spark so brief it should've meant nothing. 

-You know. I don't say it enough, but... you killed it, rookie.-He paused, a shy edge creeping in, almost an afterthought.-Wanna, I dunno... come in? Grab a soju, just us?

Minho's usual cool cracked, and his smile was so tender it caught Bang off guard.

-Yeah...-he said, his voice tinged with tenderness.-We make a damn good team, don't we?

-Hell yeah,-Bang nodded, his eyes locked on Minho's, unwilling to let go.-A damn good team.

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in strokes of rose and violet. Bang couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop noticing the faint flush dusting Minho's cheeks, the way his lips parted just enough, like he was on the verge of saying something that could change everything. Minho felt it too, and he wanted to move, wanted to get away, but he was trapped by the intensity of Bang's gaze, those dark eyes pulling him in like gravity itself. His lips parted, and without thinking, he leaned forward, drawn to Bang like a tide to the shore. Bang mirrored him, instinct taking over, his eyes dropping to Minho's lips. His hand lifted, grazing Minho's jaw, the touch so light it was barely there, yet it stopped Minho's heart. Bang leaned closer, their breaths mingling, lips a heartbeat apart, and then...

-Chris?-A soft voice shattered the moment.

Bang jerked back, nearly stumbling in his haste as he turned toward the sound. 

-Ji... Jisoo? What... what're you doing here?

Jisoo stood a few steps away, her eyes flickering between Bang and Minho, confusion—or maybe pain—clouding her expression. 

-I... needed to talk to you, Chris. It's important. I couldn't wait.

Bang was caught, his gaze darting between Jisoo and Minho, his mind a whirlwind of longing and guilt, tearing him in two. Why now? Why in this goddamn moment, when he'd been so close to crossing a line he'd never dared before? Minho didn't move, couldn't, his eyes fixed on Bang, searching for something—anything—to hold onto. But Bang's gaze slid away, like he couldn't bear to meet Minho's eyes, and that avoidance was a knife to the chest. Had Minho imagined it? The way Bang had looked at him, like he was the only thing that mattered? The warmth of his touch, the pull of his breath, had it all been a lie? And then, the worst happened: Bang turned completely towards Jisoo, as if Minho no longer existed.

-Alright. Let's go inside. Thanks for the ride, rookie.-Bang said. And shit, his voice was so distant.-See you later.

Jisoo stepped closer, smiling, reaching for Bang's hand. Their fingers laced together, so natural it was a dagger to Minho's heart. Bang didn't pull away, letting her hand fit into his, and that simple act was a death blow. Minho swallowed hard, the pain in his chest swelling until it choked him. Had he misread everything? 

It had felt so real.

Bang didn't look back as he led Jisoo toward the house, and Minho stood alone in the darkening street, the sunset's warmth bleeding into a cold indigo chill. It wasn't supposed to feel like this. It wasn't supposed to hurt so much. He pulled on his helmet, the visor hiding the tears pooling in his eyes, and revved the engine. He didn't look back. He couldn't.  Because if he did...

He knew the pain would shatter him.

Chapter Text

Gyeongbu Expressway, Busan. 5:12 a.m.

Inside a car parked on a forgotten path off the highway, a guy jolted awake. His head throbbed with pain, nausea clawed up his throat, and his blurry, distorted vision barely let him make out the car's interior.

-What the hell...?-he whispered, trying to sit up in the driver's seat, but a pain in his gut stopped him cold.

He gasped, clenching his teeth, and slumped back against the seat, pressing a hand to his stomach. He felt cold sweat on his back, soaking the pajama shirt he now realized was all he had on. With a groan of effort, he wiped the fogged-up window with his palm. Beyond the glass, it was pitch black. Nothing. Fog blanketed the highway, and rain poured in sheets.

-Where... where am I?-Jeonghan muttered, confused, scared. He couldn't remember how he got here. He couldn't remember anything.

He began to panic, and he fumbled for the door handle. He yanked hard, and the door swung open, letting in a blast of icy wind and rain that slapped his face. He stumbled out, barefoot, sinking into the mud. The rain soaked him instantly, his pajamas clinging to his skin. He turned slowly, trying to get his bearings, but the path felt like a place the world forgot. The pines around him swayed in the storm's violent gusts, and a flash of lightning lit the scene for a split second. He noticed that, up ahead, where the path should've continued, a landslide blocked the way. No exit. He was trapped.

Another lightning bolt lit the sky, and his gaze froze. There, half-buried under a thick layer of mud and twisted branches, was a car. No, not a car, a car's corpse, crushed, mangled, its hood barely peeking out from the weight of the earth. But what stopped him dead, what made his heart skip, was what he saw inside.

In the driver's seat, just visible through the shattered windshield, was a body. Motionless. Head tilted at an unnatural angle, face pale, eyes open, glassy, staring at nothing. Blood trickled down its forehead, mixing with the rain seeping through the cracked glass.

-No! God, no!-Jeonghan screamed, desperate, and ran toward the car, slipping in the mud.

He fell to his knees but scrambled up, driven by an urgency he couldn't control. He recognized the car almost instantly, and as he got closer, he saw her face clearly. He lunged for the door handle, but the mud had buried the car up to its windows. He pulled with all his strength, but it wouldn't budge.

-Hang on, I'll get you out!-he shouted, though deep down he knew there was nothing to save.

He started digging with his hands, clawing at clumps of mud and branches, but it was useless. His nails broke against rocks, though he didn't feel it, and his hands filled with dirt and blood.

-NO, NO, NO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME!-he sobbed, but his helplessness didn't let up.

He forced himself to move. His legs shook, but he ran back to his car, slipping with every step. He reached it and yanked the door open.

-Please, please, work!-he begged, grabbing his phone from the passenger seat. He turned it on. No signal.-You've got to be kidding!-he groaned, smacking the phone against his palm over and over, as if brute force could bring back a connection. Nothing.

He looked back at the car, barely visible through the rain and fog, and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up, willing it to be a nightmare. But the cold, the pain, and the death... it was all too real.

Conference Room, Homicide Department, Busan. 9:52 a.m.

The room was full of anxious reporters who piled up in the first row, with their cameras ready, and their open notebooks. The low hum of whispers died instantly when the doors swung open and Changbin stormed in. He stepped up to the podium, adjusted the mic, and scanned the room, sizing up every reporter, every camera, every pair of eyes locked on him.

-Morning. Thanks for being here. As you all know, we're investigating the disappearance of Yoon Jeonghan and Yoon Minji, a mother and her son, pillars of our community. This case...-He paused, fists tightening on the podium.-It's hit hard. Not just their family, but every one of us in Homicide.

Cameras flashed as reporters barely held back their shouted questions. Changbin raised a hand, a single gesture that silenced the room.

-It's been thirty-nine hours since Jeonghan and Minji were last seen. We don't have solid leads yet, but let's be clear: every resource, every officer, every damn hour of the day is on this case. We won't rest. We won't quit. Our priority is bringing them back safe. If anyone has information, no matter how small it seems, come to us. It could be the piece we're missing.

The silence was oppressive, but then a man in the front row stood up.

-Captain Seo! What are the odds Yoon Jeonghan and Yoon Minji are still alive after nearly two days?

The room froze. Every eye glued to Changbin. He cleared his throat.

-Speculating helps no one. Talking odds isn't just pointless, it's disrespectful to their family. They deserve hope, not empty guesses.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and cameras fired off a final burst, catching Changbin's face. He swept his gaze across the room again, and then he saw him, leaning against the back wall, arms crossed.

The damn rookie.

-That's all for now,-Changbin snapped, cutting off the growing noise.-Any more questions, take them to media relations. We're done.

He stepped down from the podium and, with a jerk of his head, signaled to Minho: follow me. The room erupted into a chaos of voices and flashes as Changbin pushed through the crowd, ignoring the reporters shouting questions he didn't bother to acknowledge.

"Captain Seo, any suspects?"

"Captain, what about the kidnapping rumors?"

Minho followed him. The hallway outside was quiet, and the second the door shut behind them, Changbin wheeled on him.

-Lee. What the hell are you doing here?

-I want to help, Changbin. You know I can.

-Help?-Changbin laughed, running a hand through his hair.-You want to help? Go light a candle in a church, say a prayer. That's about all you can do right now.

-You know I'm worth more than that. Or did you forget all those cases I closed when no one else could?

Changbin's fists clenched, knuckles cracking.

-Oh, I remember, Lee. But this isn't one of your amateur detective games. This case is big, bigger than you. The commissioner handpicked the investigation team, and surprise, your name's not on it.

-Give me a damn chance,-Minho pressed.-I know I can make a difference.

Changbin laughed again, shaking his head.

-No way. We need detectives with clean records, Lee. Yours is a mess. Need me to remind you how much these types of cases affect you?

Minho went quiet for a moment.

-That was low, Changbin,-he muttered.-Don't drag my family into this.

Changbin exhaled hard.

-I'm not trying to hurt you, Minho. But this case is personal for you, and you know it. You can't handle it. Not after what happened.

Minho's reaction was instant. His eyes glistened, but he stood tall.

-I know what it's like to lose someone, Changbin. I know what it's like to wake up every damn night with their faces in your head, their voices begging you to do something. I'm not asking for a badge, I'm not asking to be back on the team. I just want to help find them.

-This isn't some damn redemption novel, Lee. If I let you in and you fall apart again, you don't just sink yourself. You sink us all.

Minho didn't answer right away but kept his head high.

-I won't,-he said finally.

Changbin stared at him, then sighed, dragging a hand across his face.

-Fine. You can help. As a consultant, nothing more. That's it, Lee. Last chance. Or at least until you pass your reinstatement exam. Got it?

Bang's Office, Homicide Department, Busan. 10:01 a.m.

The door to Bang's office was shut, but the frosted glass let through a murmur of voices. Jisoo. Of course it was her. Always her. Minho paused in front of it, his hand hovering over the knob. He didn't want to be here. Not after that moment when Bang's lips had been a breath away from his, but he had no choice. Minho took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions, and knocked lightly with his knuckles.

-Yeah, yeah, come in!

He pushed the door open, stepping inside. The office was a mess, with stacks of files teetering on the edge of collapse, a board covered in notes, and at the center of it all, Bang leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, sleeves rolled up to show the muscles in his forearms. But he wasn't alone. Perched on the edge of the desk, one leg crossed over the other, and a half-eaten dosirak box in her lap, was Jisoo.

-Oh! Minho!-Jisoo looked up, flashing her perfect-girlfriend smile.-How are you? Didn't expect to see you here.

Minho glanced at her for a second before shifting his eyes to Bang, ignoring her completely, like she wasn't even there.

-We need to talk,-he said, addressing only Bang.

Bang raised an eyebrow and straightened in his chair.

-Hey. Show some manners when my girlfriend's talking to you, rookie.

The word girlfriend stung more than it should've.

-I'm not here for that, Bang. Changbin put me on the Yoon's case. Guess we're partners again, detective.

-Partners?-Bang laughed, incredulous, and stood up.-Oh, fantastic. My damn lucky day.

-I don't need your pathetic enthusiasm, Bang. I just need you to do your damn job. Try focusing on the case instead of... -He looked back to Jisoo. -...distractions.

Bang's fists clenched, but Jisoo cleared her throat and stood.

-It's okay, babe,-she said, strained, trying to weave some normalcy into the conversation.-Christopher was just telling me how exhausting this case has been. Right, honey?

Bang didn't take his eyes off Minho.

-Yeah. Exhausting. And now, apparently, I've got this to deal with too.

-If I'm such a burden, I can walk out right now. But I don't think you want to explain to Changbin why you let the case tank because of your damn ego. And maybe, if you stopped playing perfect boyfriend for five damn minutes, you could remember how to be a decent detective.

-Enough, both of you!-Jisoo stepped between them.-This isn't helping anyone. We're talking about a missing mother and son, not...- She paused, looking between them.-....whatever's going on with you two.

The office door flew open, and all three of them flinched. Jisung burst in, chest heaving, face flushed, sweat gleaming on his forehead. His eyes locked on Minho instantly, and he grinned like an idiot.

-Minho?-Jisung gasped.-You're... you're here?

Minho raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

-Just got assigned to the Yoon Minji case.

Jisung's grin widened even more.

-No way! That's awesome! It's... it's perfect! You're perfect, Minho!-He froze, realizing what he'd just said, and his face flushed deeper.-For... the case, I mean. Perfect for the case.

-Han!-Bang barked.-You got an actual reason for barging in, or did you just come to drool over the rookie?

Jisung's smile faltered, and the blush on his cheeks intensified. Jisoo cleared her throat softly, relieved by the interruption that had, at least for a moment, cut through the tension between Minho and Bang.

-Jisung, great to see you!-she said.-Have you tried that new bakery near the station? Their cinnamon rolls are amazing. We should go together sometime.

Jisung looked up, like he'd just remembered Jisoo was there. He gave an awkward bow, nearly losing his balance, and stammered, 

-Oh! Jisoo! No, not yet, I've been swamped with... you know, work.-His eyes darted nervously to Bang, who was glaring at him.-But, uh, yeah! Yeah! There's news! Big news!

-Well?-Bang said.-Don't just stand there hyperventilating, Han! Spit it out already!

Jisung swallowed hard and looked back at Minho.

-We found them.

Gyeongbu Expressway, Busan. 11:43 a.m.

The rain kept pounding, a merciless deluge turning the highway into a swamp. Officers shouted orders over the storm's roar, cops in drenched raincoats sank ankle-deep in the muck, and firefighters worked with shovels and picks, unearthing the vehicle.

Hyunjin arrived, his yellow raincoat streaming water, hair plastered to his forehead. His attention snapped instantly to a lone figure at the edge of the chaos: Yoon Jeonghan stood there, hugging himself tightly, his thin pajamas soaked through by the rain. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, but they stayed locked on the buried car and the white sheet covering his mother's body. Without hesitation, Hyunjin shrugged off his raincoat, ignoring the downpour that instantly soaked his white shirt, clinging to his lean frame.

-Here,-he said, draping the raincoat over Jeonghan's shoulders, making sure it covered him completely.-We don't want you getting sick out here.

Jeonghan looked up, and clung to the edge of the waterproof, smiling shyly.

-Thanks,-he mumbled.

-I know this must be overwhelming. But I need to ask you some questions. Can you handle that? Can you talk to me now?

Jeonghan nodded, jittery.

-I... I'll try.

-Good. Walk me through it, step by step. How'd you end up here? What brought you to this random spot in the middle of nowhere, in this storm?

Jeonghan swallowed hard, diverting his gaze to the buried car.

-I... I don't know how I got here. I woke up in my car, alone, in the rain. I was dizzy, my head was killing me. I could barely see, everything was blurry. And then...-He paused, tears spilling down his cheeks again.-I saw her. My mom. There. Dead.

Hyunjin felt a lump in his throat but stepped closer.

-I'm so sorry, Jeonghan. But I need you to focus. What do you mean you don't know how you got here? Explain, please. Every detail matters.

Jeonghan shook his head, desperate.

-I know it sounds crazy, but I don't remember anything. It felt like... like someone erased everything in my head.-He looked at Hyunjin with tears' eyes.-I can't... I can't believe she's gone. She... she was always there for me. Always told me everything would be okay, that she'd protect me. How can she be dead?

Hyunjin stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on Jeonghan. Then he exhaled slowly and offered a small, calming smile.

-I know no words can make this easier right now, but we'll keep digging, and we need you with us. You'll have to come to the Department for a formal statement later today. Got it?

Jeonghan nodded, though his gaze stayed glued to the stretcher. At that moment, Bang stormed onto the scene, his black raincoat dripping, and froze when he saw Jeonghan.

-Detective... Detective Bang?-Jeonghan murmured, eyes widening.

Hyunjin turned, brows furrowing as he clocked their reactions.

-You two know each other?

-Unfortunately, yeah,-Bang replied.-I've arrested this little punk for drugs possession at least three times. Hope you've got a damn good explanation for this, Yoon. What'd you do now?

Jeonghan took a step back.

-An explanation?! I was kidnapped, Detective! Kidnapped and brought here against my will! I didn't do anything, I swear!

Bang raised an eyebrow.

-Uh-huh... sure you weren't tripping balls like the last time I saw you? Remember that, Yoon? You were so high you thought I was a damn kangaroo on steroids.

Hyunjin stifled a laugh, but it died in his throat when Bang whipped around, making him step back instinctively.

-What, Hwang? Think that's funny? This guy's hardly a model citizen.

-I had nothing to do with this!-Jeonghan insisted.-I'm the victim here!

-Bang, can we talk?-Hyunjin said, grabbing Bang's arm and dragging him a few meters away, out of Jeonghan's earshot.-Are you out of your damn mind, Detective? You really want to pin his mom's death on him? The kid's wrecked, traumatized, and you're treating him like he's the damn culprit.

Bang yanked his arm free.

-Hwang, the kid's a junkie with a rap sheet for violence. He doesn't remember how he got here, and I'd bet my badge a tox screen's gonna show he's got all kinds of crap in his system.

-Jeonghan's not a criminal right now. He's a scared kid who has no clue what happened. Can't you see it in his eyes? That kind of pain doesn't lie.

-Oh, Hwang, you're such a bleeding heart. Always crying for the down-and-out. But this is real life, and in real life, guys like Yoon aren't victims, they're trouble.

Hyunjin opened his mouth to reply, but a flicker of movement at the top of the hill stopped him. His eyes narrowed against the rain, zeroing in on a blurry figure moving through the shadows.

-Who's that?-he said, pointing toward the hill.-Is that... Mochi? What the hell's he doing up there?

Bang whipped his head around, following Hyunjin's gaze. At the top of the hill, barely visible through the downpour, Minho crouched near the edge of the road.

-Being a dumbass, as usual,-Bang muttered.-Supposed to be my partner, but no, he's up there playing lone wolf again. Typical rookie move.

Hyunjin tilted his head, shielding his eyes with a hand to block the rain.

-Seriously? Mochi's on this? I thought Binnie swore he'd never let him near another case.

Bang snorted, crossing his arms.

-Yeah, well, surprise, Hwang. I told the captain he's not ready for this, but does anyone give a damn what I think? Nope. Changbin dragged him back in, and now I'm stuck with him.

-Come on, Bang, chill. Mochi's got instincts you can't teach. With him sniffing around up there, we might solve this faster.

-Solve what, Hwang?

Hyunjin started to fire back, but Bang didn't give him a chance. He sighed dramatically, and he trudged up the slope toward Minho. When he reached the top, Minho was still crouched, tracing faint grooves in the rain-soaked asphalt with his fingers. Water streamed down his face, soaking his hair, but he didn't seem to notice.

-What the hell are you doing up here, rookie?-Bang snapped, stopping a few steps away.-The party's down there. Or are you too cool for teamwork now?

Minho didn't budge, his focus glued to the road. He brushed a finger over a barely visible skid mark, then paused at a patch of gravel scattered oddly.

-I remember this road,-he said finally.-The Mayor Wang case. Isn't this where Kim Minjun had his 'accident'?

Bang laughed, stepping closer.

-Yeah, rookie, and like I told you back then, this highway's a death trap.

Minho stood slowly, wiping his hands on his jeans, and turned to face Bang.

-No. This doesn't feel like an accident.

Bang rolled his eyes.

-Ah, shit, here we go again. What's your big theory this time, rookie? Aliens? Government conspiracy?

Minho ignored the sarcasm, crouching again and pointing to a faint groove carved into the asphalt.

-See these marks? Looks like she tried to brake, hard, and couldn't. We need to check the car's brakes. I'd bet anything someone tampered with them.

Bang paused, stepping closer and squatting next to Minho.

-Could be anything.

-But... look at the car's trajectory,-Minho pressed, gesturing toward the slope where the vehicle was buried.-If it went off the road in a slide, it would've hit that tree.-He pointed to an untouched pine near the edge.-But there's no broken branches. Not a scratch. So how does a car magically end up buried without leaving a trail of destruction?

Bang followed his gaze, his eyes flicking from the untouched tree to the wreck below.

-This spot's prone to landslides. The mud probably dragged it down there.

-And the kid who found her?

-Jeonghan? Rookie, the kid's a junkie.

-But he's the one who led us here. Doesn't that strike you as... off?

Suddenly, everyone's attention snapped to a car pulling up at the scene. Officers paused for a moment, watching the vehicle stop at the edge of the chaos. A man stepped out from the driver's seat, unfurling a black umbrella. Without wasting a second, he moved to the back door. Another man emerged, his dark suit pristine except for a crooked tie.

-Who's that?-Minho muttered, sidling up to Bang.

-You don't know him, rookie? That's Choi Seungcheol. Big shot on the Homicide board. Want to be a detective again? Kiss his ass.

Minho frowned.

-What's he doing here?

-He's Yoon Minji's husband. And he's about to get the kind of news no one should ever have to hear.

Minho didn't reply, trailing Bang as they descended the hill. Seungcheol, standing under his umbrella, turned his head as Bang and Minho approached.

-Detective Bang. Where is she?

Bang stopped short.

-Mr. Choi. You don't have to see her like this. It's... not something you should face right now. Trust me.

Seungcheol shook his head.

-No. I need to say goodbye. Please, let me see her.

After a moment that felt like forever, Bang nodded slowly, gesturing for Seungcheol to follow.

-This way,-he said, leading him to the stretcher where Minji's body lay.

Bang stopped beside the stretcher, giving Seungcheol one last look, searching for any sign he could handle what was coming. With a sigh, he pulled back the sheet, revealing Yoon Minji's face. She was unrecognizable—bruised, bloodied, ravaged by the violence of the crash, or whatever had torn her from this world. Seungcheol gasped, reaching out, grasping for the edge of the stretcher, but nothing could hold the weight of his grief.

-Minji... No... it can't be.

Minho watched from a few steps back. The scene was torture, unearthing memories he'd buried deep in his soul. He remembered the day he lost his own, the words he never got to say, the goodbyes he never had. Tears he'd held back for years threatened to spill, but he swallowed them hard. He couldn't break, not here, not now.

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to Minji's cold forehead, lingering there, motionless for a few seconds. Then, slowly, he straightened, and without another word, turned and walked back to the car.

-Rookie. You okay?-Bang asked, noticing Minho's expression.

-Doesn't matter,-Minho muttered, wiping a stray tear with the back of his hand. He turned to Jeonghan, who stood a few steps away by his car, still shivering in the cold.-Excuse me. You're Yoon Jeonghan, right?

Jeonghan looked up, barely nodding.

-Yeah...

-I'm so sorry for your loss. Finding your mom like that... it must've been devastating.-Minho reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a card that instantly got wet, and held it out to Jeonghan.-This is the address for a therapy group. When you're ready... you should check it out. They could help you get through this.

-Th-thanks,-Jeonghan stammered, trying to choke back a fresh sob.-What... what happens now?

-We've got to investigate,-Bang answered.-We'll start with the autopsy to confirm Yoon Minji's cause of death. And... we'll check if this was really an accident.

-You think... you think someone could've caused this?

-We're not speculating on anything. It's routine procedure, then we'll look into how you ended up here with no memory. But, to be honest, with your history, it's not exactly easy to take your word.

-You... you don't think I'm a suspect, do you?! I'm clean! My mom made me go to rehab. I haven't touched anything in six damn months!

-Sorry, Yoon. Maybe your dad—

-He's not my dad! Choi Seungcheol's nothing to me! That bastard never cared about us, just his damn image. I don't need his help, and I don't want it. I'm old enough to handle myself. I'll figure this out on my own. 

-You don't have to do this alone, Jeonghan,-Minho said, trying to calm him.-We're here to help. You're not in this by yourself, got it? If you're clean, you've got nothing to worry about. We'll do the autopsy, go through the evidence, and if anything points to this not being an accident, we'll chase it to the end. But for now, go home. Rest. We'll call if we need anything else, okay?

Jeonghan nodded, but couldn't stop himself from glancing at the stretcher one last time before turning to his car. As he climbed in and adjusted the driver's seat, something in the movement made Minho's eyes narrow. It was a small gesture, but it didn't add up.

-Bang, you see that?

-See what, rookie?

-He adjusted his seat. Why adjust it? If he drove here, it'd already be set right, wouldn't it?

Bang rolled his eyes, huffing as he adjusted his raincoat.

-People fiddle with their seats all the damn time. Maybe his ass was sore.

Minho shook his head.

-It just feels... off.

-Rookie, there's nothing more we can do here. We'll handle the boring paperwork, alright? Thanks for the help.

Minho started to protest, but Bang raised a hand, cutting him off.

-Save it. I'll see you at Yoon Minji's funeral. Don't be late.

Chapter Text

Choi Seungcheol's Residence, Busan. 5:45 p.m.

The mansion stood tall in the Busan hills, a white stone fortress with towering windows reflecting the cloudy dusk sky. Inside, you could smell the sweet scent of white chrysanthemums, arranged on makeshift altars around a portrait of Yoon Minji. At the center of the main altar, a black ceramic urn sat, surrounded by candles.

M inho showed up in a black suit, a quiet nod to Seungcheol and Jeonghan that he got the weight of their loss. Over by the snack table,  Hyunjin spotted him immediately and approached, holding a small plate with several zucchini jeon.

"Damn, Mochi. You're looking fine in that suit," Hyunjin teased, eyeing Minho up and down with a flirty smile. "Well, hello there, hot stuff. How are you still single?"

"God, Hyunjin," Minho groaned.

"What? Can't I compliment my buddy?" Hyunjin smirked, but his smile faded when he saw Minho's blank expression. "You okay? You seem... twitchy."

Minho tugged at his tie knot.

"I am. I'm trash at parties. Too many people."

"This ain't a party, Mochi," Hyunjin chuckled. "It's a funeral. Though, if you ask me, these jeon are to die for. Literally."

He held out a jeon, but Minho waved it off.

"Real classy way to honor Minji's memory," Minho shot back, nodding at the jeon in Hyunjin's hand. "You gonna eat the whole altar too?"

"Minji would approve, I'm sure," Hyunjin said with a wink. "She was a practical woman. Wouldn't want her food going to waste. But seriously, Mochi, chill."

Just then, Bang strode in, rocking a black suit that looked tailor-made, hugging his frame in a way that was impossible to ignore. Minho's pulse kicked up a notch. How the hell did he look that good at a damn funeral? It wasn't fair. It wasn't normal. But what was even less normal was how Minho couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Rookie. Lieutenant," Bang greeted with that fake politeness that fooled no one. "Couldn't wait 'til they cremated the lady before raiding the food?"

Hyunjin froze, jeon halfway to his mouth.

"You gonna arrest me for culinary sacrilege? I'm starving! I haven't eaten in thirty minutes, and I get cranky!"

Bang rolled his eyes but kept his focus on Minho. Then, adjusting his tie, he broke eye contact with visible effort.

"I'm gonna go pay my respects to Mr. Choi. Rookie, please... don't do anything stupid today, alright? And Hwang..." He turned to Hyunjin. "Show some respect. It's a funeral, not a barbecue."

Without another word, Bang walked off, and Minho's eyes trailed after him. Hyunjin shot him a side glance.

"What a smug jerk. And you, Mochi, watch those puppy-dog eyes. He's just messing with you. Get a grip."

Minho ignored him, his focus now locked on a corner of the room. There, on a dark velvet couch, sat Yoon Jeonghan, alone. His black suit was pristine, his hair perfectly styled, but his eyes were glassy and lost.

"Poor kid," Minho muttered. "He must be wrecked."

"You were real sweet offering him help, Mochi." 

"Just doing what's right. That kid needs it, more than anyone right now."

Hyunjin chuckled, taking a bite of his jeon and talking with his mouth full.

"Look at you, all soft for people. You gonna adopt him, Mochi?"

Minho frowned, turning to him.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Every detective gets that itch to save a 'puppy' at some point. You know, a strung-out teen, a sick kid, an orphaned baby..." He paused, gesturing at Jeonghan with his half-eaten jeon. "Careful, though. Those 'puppies' get real close, and just when you're attached, poof—they're gone."

"You ever have a puppy?" Minho asked, crossing his arms.

"When I was a detective? Hell yeah. Some bitter, reckless brat, but he was messed up. Couldn't leave him alone... and then he ditched me for two long years. Sound familiar?"

Minho rolled his eyes, but a small smile crept up.

"You're talking about me, aren't you?" he said, giving Hyunjin a light shove on the shoulder.

"You've always been my puppy, Mochi. Since we were kids."

"You're a freaking bleeding heart."

"WHAT'S WITH THAT WORD, HUH?! That's the second time I've been called that today! Ugh, I need a cigarette!"

Hyunjin demolished the last jeon with a furious bite, chewing like the zucchini was to blame for his outrage, but Minho grabbed his arm before he could bolt.

"Hold up," Minho whispered, flicking a quick glance at the crowd. "Cover me, Hyun. I need to check something upstairs."

Hyunjin choked on his jeon, coughing dramatically while pounding his chest.

"Are you completely insane?! What the hell are you looking for up there?"

"Dunno yet. Just a hunch."

"A hunch?! This isn't some detective novel, man! You can't go snooping around Choi's house during a damn funeral! If Bang finds out, you'll get us both in deep shit."

"You think I don't know that? Something's off about this place, Hyun. Just... cover me, dumbass. Keep Bang busy for five minutes."

"This is the dumbest idea in history," Hyunjin muttered, eyeing the polished wooden staircase leading upstairs. "But fine, fine! I've got you. Just... don't take forever. And if you get caught, I swear to God I'll say I never saw you in my life."

"Thanks, pretty boy," Minho said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Hyunjin waved a hand, trying to hide his nerves.

"Yeah, yeah. Go before I change my mind."

As Minho crept toward the staircase, Hyunjin hovered by the snack table, his nerves teetering on the edge. Every move from the guests, every glance from Bang, set him on edge. A waiter passed with a tray of soju in tiny ceramic cups, and Hyunjin snagged one, muttering, "Oh, thank God," before downing it in one go.

"Easy, Hyunjin," he whispered to himself, grabbing another cup and taking a quick sip. "Don't screw this up, Mochi."

But then his eyes locked with Bang's, who was across the room, talking to Seungcheol by the main altar. Hyunjin swallowed hard, forcing a smile as he raised his soju cup like he was toasting something, but in his panic, he tilted it too far, splashing liquor down his shirt.

"Shit!" he hissed under his breath, dabbing at the mess with a napkin, trying to play it off while drawing curious glances from nearby guests.

Bang, noticing Minho's absence, shot Hyunjin a death glare, making him choke on his own spit.

[...]

The second floor of Choi's mansion was a whole different world. Thick carpets swallowed Minho's footsteps as he crept down the hallway until he reached a door, figuring it was the master bedroom. He turned the knob and slipped inside like a ghost, easing the door shut behind him. The first thing he could smell was Minji's perfume—sweet jasmine mixed with vanilla, now tainted by the chemical sting of cleaning products.

In one corner of the room, a stack of cardboard boxes was labeled "Minji" in black marker. Minho slipped on a pair of gloves and opened one. Inside were silk dresses, designer handbags, half-used perfume bottles, and personal care products. He dug deeper, finding books, photo albums of Minji smiling with Jeonghan, and little trinkets that screamed personal memories.

Then, something on the nightstand caught his eye. A pile of crumpled tickets and receipts. Minho stepped over to check them out. The purchases totaled over 7 million won: exotic flowers, luxury perfumes, trips to exclusive resorts, gold watches, jewelry that gleamed even in the dim light. The kind of stuff a guy would buy to spoil his wife. But there was a problem: the names on the receipts weren't Yoon Minji's. They belonged to someone else.

He tucked a few receipts into the inner pocket of his jacket and moved to the closet. That's when he noticed a pair of boots by the door, caked in dried mud that flaked off in brown clumps. He crouched, catching the scent of damp earth and moss, an aroma that screamed the highway where Minji died. He pulled an evidence bag from his pocket, carefully scraping a sample of the mud. And then...

"Lee?"

Seungcheol's voice made Minho shoot to his feet, his heart slamming into his throat. Seungcheol stood in the doorway, his expression a mask of surprise that quickly hardened into suspicion.

"Mr. Choi, I... uh..." Minho stammered, scratching his hair in an awkward attempt to buy time while his brain scrambled for an excuse. "Just looking for the bathroom. Got lost. This house is... huge."

Seungcheol's eyes swept the room, lingering for a moment on the open box by the dresser, then on the latex gloves Minho hadn't had time to ditch.

"The bathroom's at the end of the hall, on the right. Not here."

Minho forced a nervous chuckle.

"Yeah, my bad," he said, trying to sound casual. "This place is, uh, a maze. Easy to get turned around with all these rooms. Sorry, Mr. Choi. Didn't mean to snoop."

Seungcheol didn't answer right away, and the silence stretched for a few seconds until he finally sighed and forced a smile.

"It can feel that way. Even I get turned around sometimes. This house is big enough for a lifetime of memories, but now..."

"Now it just feels empty, doesn't it?"

Seungcheol nodded.

"Yeah. Though... I still feel like she's here." He cleared his throat, pulling himself together with visible effort, but tears threatened to spill. "Sometimes, I swear I can smell her perfume, like she just walked through the room."

Minho swallowed hard.

"Is that why you're packing everything up?" he asked, nodding subtly toward the boxes. "To stop thinking about her?"

"I think I have to. Starting fresh feels like the only way to breathe. You get that, right?"

Minho felt a chill, memories of his own family crashing into his mind.

"No... not really. When I lost my family, I kept their house sealed, just as they left it. Every piece of furniture, every photo... I couldn't let them go. Still can't."

Seungcheol looked at him with empathy.

"Everyone grieves differently. Sometimes I wonder if holding on would be easier than letting go. But this house... without her, it's just an empty shell."

"But... what about Jeonghan?"

Seungcheol laughed softly, bitterly, humorlessly.

"My relationship with Jeonghan isn't exactly great. And I don't blame him, the poor kid's been through hell, from his real dad's death to his mom marrying someone like me."

"Someone who works in Homicide?"

"No, someone who worked in Narcotics. I spent years in that division, chasing down guys like the ones who dragged Jeonghan into that mess. And he thinks I judge him, that every look I give is an accusation when... you know... he gets high."

"But Jeonghan's clean now, right? He's been going to rehab. He said so himself."

Seungcheol gave a sad laugh, shaking his head.

"That's what he wanted Minji to believe. But I know it's not true. I've seen it in his eyes, the way he dodges questions. The poor kid's relapsed before, and now... without Minji here, who's gonna keep him in line?"

Minho frowned, his detective instincts kicking in.

"You think Jeonghan's gonna fall back into drugs now that his mom's gone?"

Seungcheol stared at him.

"I don't think, Lee. I know. How else did he end up in the middle of nowhere with no memory? In pj's, lost on that highway? Poor Minji... she fought so hard for his addiction, gave everything for him, and look how it ended."

"But Jeonghan needs your support now more than ever. He feels alone, and I think you could keep him clean. Be the dad he never had."

Seungcheol sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out the window.

"I suppose that's what my dear Minji would've wanted, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice cracking, a choked sob escaping his throat. "She always said Jeonghan was like a son to me, even if he didn't see it."

Minho looked away, uneasy at seeing a man as powerful as Choi unravel before him.

"I... I should head back downstairs," he said finally, stepping toward the door, but Seungcheol stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Wait a sec. I heard you're trying to get back into Homicide," Seungcheol said, glancing again at the open box. "I'd suggest focusing on that instead of... getting lost looking for the bathroom. Some things are better left buried, Lee. For your own good."

[...]

Minho walked down the stairs, his mind reeling from Seungcheol's calm reaction. At the base of the stairs, Bang stood like a furious gargoyle, making Minho stop in his tracks. Hyunjin hovered beside him, his puppy-dog eyes filled with guilt.

"Sorry, Mochi. Bang caught me." 

"What the hell are you doing, rookie?!" Bang snapped, glancing around to make sure the mourners weren't eavesdropping. "I step away for five damn minutes, and you're upstairs rifling through a widower's stuff at his wife's funeral. You want to ruin your chance of getting back into Homicide before you even start?"

"First off, I wasn't rifling through anything," Minho shot back, pulling one of the receipts from his pocket and holding it up. "Second, I might've found something."

Bang snatched the crumpled paper from Minho's hand and scanned it.

"Who the hell is Hong Jisoo?! And why's Choi dropping millions on her?"

"Hmm, smells like an affair," Hyunjin piped up, but he froze under Bang's glare. "What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking. You think Hong was messing around with Choi behind Minji's back?"

"It's possible," Minho said. "Maybe Hong and Choi planned Minji's death to get her out of the way and take everything."

"Or maybe they were going for a threesome!" Hyunjin replied, laughing like an idiot and attracting curious glances from nearby mourners.

"Hwang!" Bang barked. "This isn't a joke."

Hyunjin straightened up, his laugh dying in his throat.

"God, you're such a buzzkill, Bang-Bang! Just trying to lighten the mood. All this lover-murder drama's got me jittery."

Bang turned to Minho, ignoring the interruption.

"Rookie. You think I'm gonna chase a lead you stole? How do we explain to Changbin we found Hong Jisoo without admitting you snuck into Choi's mansion and swiped this from his room?"

"Fine, I'll look into it myself," Minho snapped. "I know talking to Jisoo could give us something on Choi's personal life."

"Exactly!" Hyunjin jumped in. "You've got my vote, Mochi."

"Ugh, the last thing I need," Bang groaned. "You two playing vigilante."

"Bang-Bang, let Mochi prove he's not totally nuts." 

"Oh, 'Mochi' is nuts," Bang said with a dry laugh. "Question is, is it the kind of crazy that solves a case or the kind that screws us all?"

"Could be a two-for-one!" Hyunjin grinned. "Come on, Bang. Join the fun! What do you say? Team effort?"

Bang grunted, frowning as he assessed his options. Finally, he groaned exaggeratedly.

"Fine. Let's chase your stupid lead, rookie. Where's this Jisoo live?"

Hanuel Apartments, Busan. 8:34 p.m.

Minho and Bang trudged along the damp sidewalk, the warm scent of butter and yeast wafting from a nearby bakery. Hyunjin, lagging as usual, was practically drooling in front of the bakery's window, nose pressed to the glass, eyeing a golden croissant like it was a masterpiece.

"Do we have to do this right now?" Hyunjin whined, rubbing his stomach with a pout. "A croissant won't solve the case, but it'd sure make me happy."

"You hungry again?" Bang snapped. "You just inhaled Minji's entire funeral spread, and now you want dessert?"

"I'm a growing boy, Bang-Bang!" Hyunjin huffed, indignant. "My body needs fuel to shine. Doesn't your kid eat like he's trying out for the baseball team?"

"Yeah, but Seungmin's twelve. That's normal. You're just a glutton, Lieutenant."

Minho, who'd been checking his phone to confirm the address, looked up and pointed to a modest building at the end of the street.

"Hey, this is it," he cut in, shutting down the bickering before Hyunjin could lean further into his toddler tantrum.

The concrete staircase to the second floor was narrow and reeked of damp. Minho led the climb, while Hyunjin trailed, muttering about his lost croissant. At the landing, Minho stopped in front of a door marked with a faded "304," the number barely legible on a rusty plaque.

"Ready?" Minho murmured.

Hyunjin, leaning against the wall with a goofy grin, threw up two thumbs.

"Born ready! Though, hold up, scratch that. I'd be way readier with a croissant in my gut." He laughed again in the most dumbest way possible, but stopped when he saw Bang and Minho's glares. "Okay, okay, I'm ready."

Minho ignored Hyunjin's theatrics and knocked on the door. When it finally opened, the figure standing there wasn't the woman they'd expected but a guy who looked like he'd stepped off a magazine cover. Hyunjin's jaw dropped.

"Wow, hi!" Hyunjin blurted, running a hand through his hair in a weak attempt to look better.

Bang looked at him in disbelief, stepping forward to take control.

"Detective Bang. This is Lee, and that's Hyunjin, our... mascot."

"Mascot?" Hyunjin straightened, offended. "Lieutenant Hwang Hyunjin, thank you very much! Put some respect on my rank, Bang-Bang!"

"You Hong Jisoo?" Minho asked.

"Uh... yeah, that's me. You can call me Joshua. What's this about?"

"We're investigating a woman's disappearance. Got some questions for you. Can we come in?"

Joshua hesitated for a second but finally nodded.

"Oh, uh, sure. Come in," he said, stepping back to let them inside.

The apartment was small but cozy, with cream-colored walls and a brick fireplace tucked in one corner. A row of photo frames lined the mantel, showing Joshua grinning with friends. The wooden floor was softened by a rug, and a worn sofa sat in the middle of the room. Joshua gestured to it, and the three of them crammed onto it, knees knocking awkwardly, while Joshua took a single armchair across from them. Minho, as usual, had already clocked every corner and object in the place, especially the silver ring Joshua kept twisting between his fingers.

"One of his gifts?" Minho asked, nodding subtly at the ring.

"Sorry?" Joshua said, confused.

"You miss him, don't you? That ring... looks like something he'd give you."

Joshua laughed nervously, his cheeks flushing.

"I don't know what you're talking about, detective."

"Don't call me detective," Minho said, sitting up straighter on the sofa. "How long have you been Choi Seungcheol's lover?"

Joshua choked on his own spit.

"C-Choi?" he stammered, laughing again. "I... I'm not..."

"I'd suggest you don't lie to us, Hong," Bang cut in. "Answer the question. Now."

Joshua swallowed hard.

"S-six months," he mumbled finally.

"Wow!" Hyunjin said, chuckling. "You into powerful guys, Joshua? 'Cause, you know, I'm a lieutenant in Homicide. I could show you how I take charge, if you're interested."

Bang rolled his eyes.

"Hwang, the day you're in charge, I'll put a bullet in my own head with my own gun. Shut up and let us work."

"Just trying to be friendly. Hey, Josh, you like croissants?"

Joshua, his face now pale, forced a weak smile.

"I... I don't know what else you want me to say," he murmured, glancing between Minho and Bang, avoiding Hyunjin. "Seungcheol and I... it wasn't planned. It just... happened."

"And why was Seungcheol showering you with expensive gifts while his wife was still alive?" Minho asked. "Did you ever ask Choi to leave Minji for you?

"Leave Minji?" Joshua scoffed, laughing bitterly. "That's the kind of thing I'd kill for! But no, I never asked him. Seungcheol's glued to Minji, or rather, to her money. She was his ticket to the high life he loves so much."

Bang frowned.

"Choi was with Minji just for her money?" he asked, incredulous.

"Does that mean he wasn't making good cash on the Homicide board?" Hyunjin piped up. "Damn, I picked the wrong career!"

"Trust me, Seungcheol was raking it in," Joshua continued. "But that man's a greedy bastard. You know how much he's been pulling since he joined Homicide? Millions! More than any of us could spend in a lifetime."

"Man, that's a lot of croissants," Hyunjin muttered, earning another death glare from Bang.

"But Seungcheol's money didn't bother you, did it?" Minho pressed. "You took all those little gifts, Joshua. Why? What did you want from him?"

Joshua looked away, twisting the ring until it left a mark on his finger.

"I didn't want anything from him! He kept chasing me, sending gifts, trying to win me back. But I was done."

"Why'd you two break it off?"

Joshua went quiet for a moment, his face tight like he was wrestling with a painful memory. Finally, he looked up.

"The bastard humiliated me," he said, between furious and embarrassed. "I wanted to go public with us. I thought we had something real, something worth it. But when I brought it up, he laughed. Said I was just a fling, that he'd never leave his wife. That I was nothing but... a pastime."

"And Minji?" Minho asked. "Did it bother you that she was in the way? That she was the obstacle Seungcheol wouldn't get past?"

Joshua shot to his feet, face red with indignation.

"No! Are you seriously suggesting I hurt her? I didn't even know her! She was just... there, in the background of his life. If anything, I felt sorry for her. Stuck with a guy like Seungcheol? She deserved better, someone who actually loved her. Seungcheol's a damn coward. Too scared to be honest about who he really is. I don't have time for people like that. As far as I'm concerned... he can go to hell."

A heavy silence fell. Minho watched him for a moment, his mind racing, cataloging every word, every gesture. Finally, he stood.

"Thanks for the talk, Joshua. We'll be in touch if we need more."

Joshua didn't say anything, his breathing still shaky, hands trembling as he sank back into the armchair, defeated. Minho turned toward the door, Bang and Hyunjin following quietly, but Hyunjin, true to form, couldn't resist a parting shot.

"Hey, a little advice, buddy," he said, winking at Joshua. "Next time, pick a guy with less of an identity crisis. Someone like... I dunno, me?"

Before Joshua could respond, Bang grabbed Hyunjin's arm, yanking him into the hallway.

"Move it, idiot."

[...]

Bang drove through Busan's streets, focused on the neon lights reflecting off the slick asphalt from the recent drizzle, but he couldn't help stealing glances at Minho, who sat in the passenger seat, his face lit up by the glow of the streetlights.

"You seriously thinking about going after Choi Seungcheol?"

Minho didn't answer, just nodded, staring out the window.

"You realize what you're saying, rookie? Seungcheol's not just loaded. He's got power, connections. You screw this up, you'll be flipping burgers at McDonald's. You really wanna play that game?"

Hyunjin, sprawled in the back seat, leaned forward, propping his chin on Minho's headrest.

"Yeah, Mochi, listen to him. You'd be the first detective in history to go from cuffing killers to asking, 'You want fries with that?'"

"Thanks for the support, dumbass," Minho snapped, twisting slightly to glare at Hyunjin.

"Look, rookie, I get it. You've got passion. You want justice, answers. But passion doesn't pay the rent, and going after a guy like Seungcheol without hard evidence is like sticking your head in a lion's mouth."

"I'm not wrong, Bang. Seungcheol had Minji's bags packed already. That guy's not grieving. I saw it in his eyes."

"Cold as ice, huh?" Hyunjin chimed in. "Straight out of some cheesy K-drama: 'Oh, my wife's dead? Sweet, pass me the prenup.'"

"Hwang, for the love of God, shut up," Bang growled.

"And what about Joshua?" Minho continued, ignoring the comment. "You heard him. Guy's got a serious grudge against Seungcheol. And if Seungcheol's as greedy as Joshua says, he wouldn't drop millions on gifts unless he really wanted something from him. That's motive, Bang."

Hyunjin let out a loud laugh, smacking Minho's headrest.

"Wait, wait, wait! So Seungcheol's not just a suspect, he's what, an evil mastermind now? 'Cause I'm not getting evil genius vibes."

Minho rolled his eyes, patience wearing thin.

"You don't need to be a genius, Hyun. Just desperate enough to pull it off and slick enough to bury it."

"Murder for Dummies! Okay, I can buy that."

Bang grunted, jerking the car around a turn, sending Hyunjin sliding across the back seat.

"Hey, watch it, Bang-Bang!" Hyunjin whined, straightening up and fixing his jacket.

"Hwang, do you ever take anything seriously?"

"I do take stuff seriously! I'm just saying, Mochi, maybe catch some sleep before you go accusing Choi, or, I dunno, eat a snack! But skip the croissants, those give you nightmares."

"Call me crazy, but I'm betting Seungcheol rigged something, something to get rid of Minji clean and keep his hands spotless. But figuring that out's the easy part. The hard part's explaining how Yoon Jeonghan found her."

Bang shook his head, already regretting what was to come.

"Then let's talk to Jeonghan."

Chapter Text

Interrogation Room, Homicide Department, Busan. 10:31 a.m.

Bang sat on one side of the table, arms crossed over a file stuffed with notes. Hyunjin, next to him, fumbled with a small recorder, jabbing the buttons hard as he tried to reprogram it to record the statement. Across from them, Jeonghan slouched in his chair, fidgeting with the drawstrings of his gray hoodie.

"Alright, Jeonghan, let's start from the top," Bang said, exhausted. "What's the last thing you remember before everything went down? No dodging this time."

Jeonghan swallowed hard, and quickly looked at Hyunjin, who was still wrestling with the recorder, cursing when it let out a shrill beep.

"I... I couldn't sleep," Jeonghan mumbled. "Kept tossing and turning, and every time I closed my eyes, my head was spinning."

"You take anything that night?" Bang asked.

"N-no!" Jeonghan shot back fast, but then he exhaled, trying to shake off a load of guilt. "Yeah... I took some sleeping pills."

Hyunjin, finally getting the recorder to cooperate, looked up with a raised eyebrow.

"Pills? Seriously, Jeonghan? Kinda unconventional for someone in rehab, don't you think?"

Jeonghan's shoulders slumped further, dropping his  gaze.

"They're not illegal," he admitted. "I just... needed to rest. They knocked me out. Then... I woke up in the middle of nowhere. And then I saw her car... wrecked, a few meters away. That's all I know."

Bang groaned.

"You woke up in your car? How the hell did you get there?"

Jeonghan's head snapped up, with his eyes full of tears that threatened to spill over.

"I DON'T KNOW! I swear I don't know how I got there."

"When's the last time you saw your mom?" Hyunjin asked.

Jeonghan went quiet, tears finally streaming down his cheeks. He wiped them away fast with the back of his hand.

"That same night," he admitted. "I remember it because... we had a fight."

"You fought?" Bang asked. "Why didn't you mention that from the start, Jeonghan?"

"Because I knew it'd look bad! I knew you'd think I was a suspect. That's why I didn't say anything! I didn't want you to think I... that I..." He stopped, tears falling faster now.

"Hey, easy, man," Hyunjin said. "No one's saying you're the bad guy. Just tell us, why'd you fight? What happened that night?"

Jeonghan hesitated, looking between Bang and Hyunjin. Finally, he exhaled, a tear rolling down his cheek as he spoke.

"Because she thought I was using again," he admitted with shame and pain. "She caught me going through her purse, looking for cash. It wasn't for drugs, I swear, I just... needed money to pay off a debt. But she didn't believe me. She yelled, said I was ruining my life, that if I didn't shape up, she'd kick me out. And then... she left. That was the last time I saw her."

Minho, in the observation room behind the one-way mirror, chewed his nails relentlessly, listening intently to Jeonghan's statement, desperate to find something to prove his innocence.

"That's exactly what Choi Seungcheol told me," Minho said. "He was convinced Jeonghan relapsed too."

Jisung, perched on a folding chair behind him, scribbling notes in a notebook, looked up.

"If both of them are saying it, doesn't that mean it's true?"

Minho sighed, dropping his hand from his mouth and turning to Jisung.

"I don't know. I want to believe Jeonghan, I really do. But it's hard. If I could just talk to him..."

Jisung shook his head.

"You can't," he cut in, standing up from the chair. "Bang made that clear. You're here as a consultant, not a detective. If you barge into that room, you'll mess everything up."

"I know, damn it. It's just... Bang can be so harsh. Look at how he's treating Jeonghan. That kid's already broken, Jisung. He lost his mom, and now he's in there being treated like a criminal. It's not fair."

Jisung sighed, sitting back down and picking up his notes, although he didn't take his eyes off Minho.

"Bang's a good detective, Minho. Tough, yeah, but he knows what he's doing. He won't do anything to hurt the kid's well-being. Just trust him, okay? At least for now."

In the interrogation room, Bang grabbed another file from the stack in front of him.

"Who'd you owe money to, Jeonghan?"

Jeonghan swallowed hard, dropping his gaze back to the floor.

"One of my friends," he admitted finally. "Works at a psych hospital in Seoul. Sometimes he'd get me stuff. Last time, I was so desperate I told him I'd pay later. But then my mom dragged me to rehab, and I couldn't... couldn't settle the debt."

"Jeonghan, that's perfect," Hyunjin said, flashing a small smile. "We can check your alibi with this. Tell us who your friend is, and with any luck, the captain'll cut you an immunity deal. This could get you out of this mess."

Jeonghan went pale, eyes widening as he shook his head frantically.

"No, no, anything but that!" he blurted, panicked. "He'll kill me if I snitch! Besides... I haven't seen him in ages."

Bang slammed the file shut, sighing like he was deeply disappointed.

"You've had plenty of chances to tell the truth, Yoon. Why do you keep lying to me?"

Jeonghan swallowed again.

"I-I'm not lying," he insisted.

"Bullshit!" Bang snapped, smacking the table with his palm, making Jeonghan, and even Hyunjin, jump. "You expect me to believe you sleep-drove to the exact spot where your mom died and forgot the whole damn trip? What'd you take this time, Yoon? What were you on?"

Jeonghan started shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tried to choke back a sob. He bowed his head, hair falling over his face, trying to hide the guilt.

"I didn't want her to know," he mumbled, voice cracking with pain.

"What'd you take, Jeonghan?" Bang pressed again, impatient, not giving Jeonghan a second to pull himself together. "Don't make me ask again. What was it?"

Yeongnam Elementary School, Busan. 2:13 p.m.

The wide front doors of the school burst open, unleashing a flood of kids running and screaming like goblins let loose from a cage. Bang leaned against the hood of his car, scrolling through messages on his phone, while Minho, a few feet away, paced back and forth, antsy.

"Can you chill, rookie?" Bang snapped, not looking up from his screen. "I don't need you making my kid nervous before he comes out."

Minho stopped dead, spinning to face Bang.

"It doesn't make sense, Bang!" he shot back. "I don't think Jeonghan is the killer."

Bang finally looked up, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket.

"Well, get used to it, rookie. Jeonghan admitted he was back on ketamine. That stuff messes with your head, wipes your memory, turns you into a damn puppet. Think about it. He was pissed at his mom for sending him to rehab, so he cut her brakes, and boom. We've got our killer. Case closed."

Minho shook his head.

"No, no, no! It doesn't make sense!" he insisted. "Why the hell would he drive out there after? Why show up at the crash site?"

"Guilt, maybe," Bang said, shrugging. "Or he wanted to make sure his mom was dead. I don't know, rookie, and frankly, I don't care. I'm not freaking Dr. Han to explain killer behavior to you."

"JEONGHAN'S NOT A KILLER!" Minho shouted, drawing curious stares from a group of kids nearby. He lowered his voice. "I didn't like how you treated him one bit, Bang. The kid needs help, not some jerk reminding him of his screw-ups."

Bang straightened, taking a step toward Minho.

"You gonna tell me how to do my job, rookie?" he snapped. "I know how to handle guys like Jeonghan. I've been at this for years, and if you don't like how I deal with your little puppy, then drop this case."

Just then, Seungmin, in a rumpled uniform with a backpack that looked heavier than him, shot out from the swarm of kids, running toward them like a rocket. Bang's expression changed completely, and he smiled at the sight of his little boy, opening his arms, ready to catch his son. Problem was, noticing that Minho was also there, Seungmin abruptly swerved and ran towards him, completely ignoring Bang.

"Minho-hyung!" Seungmin yelled, crashing into Minho's waist, hugging so tight he nearly knocked him over. "You here for me? Did you bring your bike? Can I drive it? Please say yes!"

Minho laughed, ruffling Seungmin's sweaty hair, messing it up even more.

"Sorry, pup, no bike today," he said. "But I promise I'll let you ride it one day, deal? As long as you don't tell your dad."

Bang cleared his throat loudly, irritation plain as day.

"You gonna say hi to me, little traitor?"

"Dad, the day you get a motorcycle, I'll say hi to you first."

"Forget it. I can live with that," Bang grumbled, opening the car's back door. "Get in."

Seungmin clambered into the back seat, tossing his backpack onto the floor. Minho slid into the passenger seat, while Bang circled around and settled behind the wheel. He maneuvered out of the parking lot, dodging parents and kids still milling around.

"Minnie, the rookie and I gotta get back to work," Bang started. "I can drop you off at home with the sitter, or at a friend's house. Which one you want?"

"Dad, I'm a big kid now," Seungmin giggled. "I don't need babysitters."

"Our house or a friend's," Bang repeated, sterner. "Pick fast."

"Ugh, fine. Can you drop me at Jongho's? His dad always gets us pizza and lets us play video games."

"Alright, Jongho's it is," Bang said, adjusting the route.

"Wow, you even grill your own kid like he's a suspect," Minho muttered.

"You gonna tell me how to raise my son now too?" 

"Nah, you're doing a stellar job, Bang," Minho said, sarcastically.

"Whatever. After we drop Seungmin off, we're checking out that dealer Jeonghan mentioned, got it?"

Minho crossed his arms, staring out the window.

"Great," he grumbled. "We're gonna waste time chasing some dealer who probably has nothing to do with this."

"Got a better idea, rook?"

"We could be hunting a real lead, something to keep Jeonghan out of prison, but no, we're spinning our wheels on the obvious."

"Jeonghan's going to prison. You can't stop that."

"Hell yeah, I can!" Minho said, pulling an evidence bag from his jacket, filled with small chunks of dried mud. "I got this at Minji's funeral. Choi Seungcheol's boots were caked with this stuff!"

Bang barely glanced at the bag before focusing back on the road.

"Awesome! More stolen evidence! Rookie, you learn nothing, do you? Your leads are a dead end."

"But if we can prove this came from the same place we found Minji's body, we'd buy time before locking up an innocent kid!"

From the back seat, Seungmin leaned forward, practically climbing into the gap between the front seats.

"Is that a clue?" he asked, unusually serious. "Does that mean you caught the bad guy, Minho-hyung? Wow, you're so cool!"

Bang groaned, eyeing Seungmin in the rearview mirror as he stopped at a light.

"Come on, Minnie. I thought you were on Team Dad. Now you're switching to the rookie's side?"

"Duh! Minho-hyung's more fun, smarter, taller, and way better looking! Plus..."

"OKAY, I GET IT!" Bang roared, hitting the gas and sending Seungmin tumbling back into his seat. "Happy now, rookie? You've got my own kid plotting against me."

Minho shrugged, turning to wink at Seungmin.

"Minnie knows how to pick the winning team."

"You won't be winning when you're arrested for accusing Choi without proof, rookie."

"This is proof, Bang. It's the thread that ties this whole damn case together."

"Rookie, Changbin will skin us alive if he hears about this. You know that, right? That man doesn't exactly forgive and forget."

"Then we don't tell Changbin. Not until we've got something solid."

"And what's your big master plan, huh?"

"First, I need someone to help me compare this sample to the crash site. If they match, we've got Choi cornered. Think there's anyone in the department who can help? Someone discreet."

Bang exhaled hard, gripping the wheel, and after a tense moment, answered:

"Fine. I know someone who can help. But after we waste time on this, we're checking out the dealer. Got it?"

Forensic Area, Homicide Department, Busan. 3:15 p.m.

"You sure Felix can handle this?" Minho asked, trailing behind Bang. "I mean... isn't he just the guy who opens up corpses and that's it?"

"Felix spent two years in forensic chem labs," Bang replied, glancing at his phone and frowning. "Guy knows more than he lets on. Plus, he's not logged as an active analyst in the system, so he'll be super discreet, like you wanted." He checked his phone again, his frown deepening. "Weird. Felix isn't answering my texts. Guess we're dropping in unannounced."

They reached the autopsy room, and Bang shoved the door open with his shoulder, stepping in first. The room was eerily quiet, but what caught Minho's attention was Felix's white lab coat crumpled on the floor.

"Felix?" Bang called, scanning the room from the autopsy tables to the shelves packed with surgical tools. "Where the hell are you?"

Minho crouched to pick up the coat, shaking it out and noticing Felix's phone tucked in a pocket, the inbox stuffed with Bang's unanswered messages. Then something else grabbed his attention: a pair of black pants, wadded up and tossed next to a tray of instruments.

"Hey, Bang, check this out," Minho whispered, nodding toward the pants.

A noise came from the adjacent room, followed by the sound of footsteps. Bang's hand instinctively drifted to his holster. Suddenly, the door to the side room swung open, and Felix stumbled out, fumbling to tuck his shirt into half-zipped pants.

"Bonsoir, detectives!" Felix exclaimed, nervous. "What... what a surprise, mes amis! Wasn't expecting you, no, no, not at all."

Minho and Bang exchanged a look.

"Felix, what the hell were you doing?" Bang asked.

Felix swallowed hard.

"Oh! We were... uh... analyzing some forensic samples. Work stuff."

"'We'?" Minho asked.

Felix paled, realizing his slip.

"No, no! Just me," he stammered. "I mean, me alone. Just me. Nobody else. Absolument personne!"

His words tumbled out, his accent thickening. He grabbed the coat from Minho and threw it on, backwards, the department logo upside-down on his chest.

"Uh-huh..." Bang said, not buying a word. "Anyway, we need your help analyzing some samples. It's for the Minji case."

"The Yoon Minji case?" Felix asked. "I thought that was closed, non? Autopsy said she died from the crash impact."

"I know," Bang said. "But we've got a couple theories we want to rule out. You gonna help us or not?"

"Oh, mon pote, I'd love to help, but..." Another noise from the side room cut him off, and Felix paled even more. "Yes! Of course I can help. But let's go to the lab. Nothing to see here. Rien du tout!" He started herding Minho and Bang toward the door, practically shoving them. "Come on, come on. Ne perdez pas votre temps!"

[...]

Forensic Lab, Homicide Department, Busan. 3:48 p.m.

Minho was perched on a countertop, scrolling through his phone with a calm front, but inside, he was a nervous wreck. Bang, meanwhile, leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed, posture stiff, watching Felix's every move. Felix was bustling in a corner of the lab, fiddling with an analysis machine. Bang's irritation was obvious, and he pulled out his phone for the umpteenth time, checking the time that seemed to crawl.

"Hey, Felix..." Bang called. "You know we're detectives, right? Whatever you're hiding, we'll figure it out sooner or later."

Felix froze mid-dial adjustment, swallowing hard enough to hear it. He didn't look up, like he could pretend he hadn't heard.

"I... uh... I'm not hiding anything, detective, d'accord?" he replied. "Comme je l'ai dit... I was working on an autopsy."

"Thought you were analyzing forensic samples," Minho said, smirking, enjoying Felix's squirming. "Isn't that what you told us half an hour ago?"

Felix paled, his cheeks losing any trace of color.

"Non! I mean... oui, I was analyzing forensic samples," he stammered, fumbling with the machine's calibration. "It's just... another scientific way to say autopsies. Didn't you know? Of course you didn't! Vous n'êtes pas docteurs!"

Minho and Bang exchanged a look, barely holding back laughs at Felix's obvious nerves.

"You're a terrible liar, Felix," Bang muttered. "But I'll let you live... for now."

Felix, desperate to change the subject, turned to them, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Alright, let's talk work, d'accord?" he said, forcing a smile. "Hope you're ready for the most exciting moment of my carrière!" He stepped over to the analysis machine, pulling out a tray of processed samples. "Minho, you were obviously right. The samples match."

Minho shot upright, nearly sliding off the counter.

"For real? You sure?"

Felix nodded.

"Oui, oui, absolument!" he said, pointing at the monitor where lines and graphs displayed data. "After scraping off the mud, I found several gravel particles."

Bang pushed off the wall, uncrossing his arms and stepping toward Felix.

"Gravel?" he repeated, skeptical. "We've been here almost an hour, and you're giving us gravel? Felix, I swear, if this is a waste of time..."

"Calm your grumpy ass, Bang!" Felix snapped. "It's not just any gravel, d'accord? It's specialized paving gravel. It's got a unique mix of quartz and asphalt, and..." He paused, turning to the monitor to point at a graph with a perfectly matched line. "Effectivement, it matches the crash site of Yoon Minji."

"So you're saying..."

"Oui!" Felix cut in, nodding vigorously. "Choi Seungcheol was at the crash site. No doubt, mes amis. You've got your lead."

Bang went quiet, staring at the monitor.

"Damn it, rookie," he said, turning to Minho. "You might actually have something here."

"This could save Jeonghan," Minho said, relieved.

Felix, still jittery, adjusted his lab coat and stepped back.

"Alors, what's next?" he asked. "You going to confront Choi? Because, if I may say, that man is... intimidating."

"Don't worry about it, Felix. We'll handle Choi," Bang said, then narrowed his eyes at Felix. "But first... you gonna tell us what you were really doing in that side room, or do we have to drag it out of you?"

"Non, non, nothing to tell," Felix stammered, backing into a table, making a glass vial clink. "Just... a colleague. A friend. Talking work. Rien de plus!"

"Bang, leave him alone," Minho said, more serious now. "We need to move before Choi catches wind we're onto him. And Felix..." He turned to the forensic. "Thanks for the help. But keep your mouth shut about this. If anyone asks, you know nothing."

Homicide Department, Busan. 5:06 p.m.

Minho strode down the hallway, holding the evidence bag. He reached for the knob of Changbin's office door, his hand shaking as he braced to turn it. Before he could, someone yanked him back, making him stumble.

"Rookie, hold up," Bang said, unusually worried. "You sure about this?"

"I don't have a choice, Bang."

"Listen, rookie. Once you open that door, there's no going back."

Minho stared at the floor, hesitating. He knew the risks. Going up against Changbin with unauthorized evidence was a career death sentence. But Jeonghan's desperation pushed him forward.

"I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? 'Cause if you're wrong, Changbin won't just pull you from the case, he'll torch your shot at the reinstatement exam. You ready to burn your whole career for this?"

Minho jerked his arm free, stepping back.

"What career?"

His mind was made up. He turned, squared his shoulders, and knocked on Changbin's door. From inside, a gruff "Come in" sounded. Minho pushed the door open, facing Changbin, who sat with elbows propped on his desk, flipping through a file. He barely glanced up as Minho and Bang entered, but his mood screamed he wasn't up for interruptions.

"Why the hell are you still here, Lee?" Changbin asked, dropping the file. "Thought I told you to stay out of it."

"I'm following the Yoon Minji case."

"Following?" Changbin repeated, leaning back in his chair. "There's no case, Lee. The kid killed his mom while high. Simple. What part of 'closed' don't you get?"

Minho stepped forward.

"We've got new evidence that says it's not that simple."

"And what kind of evidence could you get, Lee? A consultant who shouldn't be sticking his nose where it doesn't belong."

"We found out Choi had a lover, someone who resented him. Plus, we've got physical proof Choi was at the scene where Minji died," Minho said, his hand trembling as he held up the evidence bag. "This is specialized paving gravel from Choi's boots. It matches the crash site."

Changbin eyed the bag, silent for a moment.

"Care to tell me, Lee, how you got that 'evidence'?" he asked. "And more importantly... why the hell didn't you report it to me right away?"

Minho glanced at Bang, who swallowed hard, visibly nervous.

"I..." Minho started, searching for the right words, but before he could continue, Bang stepped forward.

"It was me," Bang cut in, avoiding Minho's and Changbin's eyes. "I got it from Choi's room. Checked his stuff during the funeral."

Minho froze, his heart stopping for a split second.

Was Bang covering for him?

"So you decided to play rogue detective," Changbin said, sarcastically. "You know what happens when someone breaks the chain of custody? This could be inadmissible in court."

"Captain, I know I didn't follow protocol..." 

"Do you, Detective Bang? How the hell could you be so unbelievably stupid and snoop in Choi's room without a warrant? A lover? You hearing the crap coming out of your mouth? You're lucky if you don't get sued for interrogate him without a lawyer! What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Captain, if I could explain—"

"NO!" Changbin cut him off, slamming his palm on the desk and standing. "You got any idea the mess you've made, Bang? If Choi finds out you snuck around, we're screwed! Then what?"

"Then it'll be worth it," Bang said, his determination catching even Minho off guard. "The evidence points to Choi wanting Minji's fortune."

Changbin laughed, humorless, and sank back into his chair.

"Don't even think about accusing Choi, Bang. Just thinking it could get you fired!"

"I don't care, sir. The rookie's right. I don't think Jeonghan's the killer."

Minho's throat tightened, his heart racing. Seeing Bang stand there, so stubborn, ready to risk it all to back his theory, made him feel so... so... No. Not now. No time for that.

"You wanna believe that? Fine," Changbin snapped, spinning his laptop toward them. "Take a look."

Minho and Bang leaned in, staring at a grainy but clear traffic cam image on the screen. There was Yoon Jeonghan, unmistakable despite the blurry, pixelated quality. His car was speeding through a red light, Jeonghan at the wheel, caught mid-turn through the windshield. The timestamp in the bottom right corner read 4:17 a.m., lining up perfectly with Yoon Minji's disappearance. Minho felt the air leave his lungs. He glanced at Bang, whose eyes were glued to the screen. The photo spoke for itself, shredding their theories. Jeonghan was driving. Alone.

"There's your proof," Changbin said. "Yoon Jeonghan acted alone. He drove himself to the scene. All your nonsense was for nothing. Congrats, 'detectives.'"

"But... it doesn't make sense," Minho muttered, scanning the image for anything to contradict it. "How could he...?"

"Save it, Lee," Changbin snapped, cutting him off with a wave. "I told you, the truth isn't something for you to solve. Jeonghan killed Yoon Minji. We're making the arrest tomorrow."

"There's more to this, Captain," Bang said, still unconvinced. "That photo doesn't tell the whole damn story. What if someone forced him to drive?"

"You're treading real close to insubordination, Detective Bang. Back off before I report you for running lab samples without my okay."

"Wait a sec..." Minho murmured, tilting his head as he stared at Changbin. "How'd you know we used the lab?"

Changbin froze for a split second.

"I'm the captain, Lee. I know everything," he said, confident, but a slight tremor in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

"No way. Felix isn't even a registered active analyst. We were careful. Nobody else knew. Unless..."

Chapter Text

Gyeongbu Expressway, Busan. 9:12 a.m.

Dawn had broken over Busan, and the spot where chaos had reigned days ago now seemed reclaimed by nature. The relentless rain had finally stopped, leaving behind a desolate landscape of mud and fallen leaves, eerily calm.

Minho stood at the edge of the slope, right where Minji's car had been buried under mud and brush. Questions hounded him mercilessly. How did the car go off the road? Why was Jeonghan here? And why the hell does every lead seem to vanish?

The crunch of crushed leaves broke the silence, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Bang emerging from the pines flanking the slope, picking his way downhill. His leather jacket caught on a branch, and Bang muttered a curse, stumbling slightly before regaining his balance. The detective stopped a few steps from Minho, brushing dirt off his shoulders.

"Rookie!" Bang bellowed. "Finally tracked you down."

"How'd you know I was here?" Minho asked.

Bang flashed a half-smile, flicking a dry leaf off his jacket.

"It's what a good detective does," he said. "Comes back to the crime scene when the answers are hiding. But judging by that look on your face, you found more questions than anything else. Am I wrong?"

Minho huffed, turning back to the slope. The ground was churned up, with boot prints from officers and shovel marks still visible in the dried mud.

"You're not wrong," he muttered. "By the way... where'd you park?"

"Up there," Bang said, jerking his thumb toward the highway snaking uphill. "Couldn't find a damn decent path down here, so I improvised. Nearly broke my ankle on this stupid slope. Thanks for your concern, by the way."

Minho frowned, scanning the steep, overgrown incline.

"Weird," he murmured. "I couldn't find a clear path either. So how the hell did Jeonghan find this place? In the middle of the night, in a damn storm?"

"Easy, rookie," Bang said, more serious now. "Someone brought him here."

"But who, Bang?" Minho snapped, stepping toward him. "Seungcheol's alibi is airtight. And Jeonghan... I don't know if he's a victim or in on it. What if Seungcheol needed a scapegoat? What if this whole thing was a setup?"

"Enough with accusing Seungcheol without solid proof, rookie. That's gonna land you in deeper shit than you're already in. You want the board to kick you out again?"

"I don't give a damn about the board!" Minho exploded, barely holding back his fury. "I know Seungcheol did it, Bang! It all fits. I'm not an idiot."

"You remember what happened last time you ran with your gut? You nearly wrecked your career... and yourself."

Minho stepped back, his eyes clouding for a moment, but he forced himself to stay composed.

"I'm not that guy anymore, Bang. I know what I saw. And I know Jeonghan didn't get here alone."

Bang's brow furrowed, catching something in Minho's tone. This wasn't the usual stubborn Minho. This Minho was teetering on the edge, caught between conviction and doubt.

"You sure this isn't personal, rookie?" Bang asked. "Guys like Choi Seungcheol are why they won't let you back into Homicide."

"It's not personal," Minho snapped, but the knot in his throat betrayed the lie. "I don't care... I mean, I do care, but not like you think." He half-turned, biting his lip as he fought to hold back the tears burning his eyes.

Bang stepped closer until only a meter separated them. He noticed the tremor in Minho's hands, the desperate way he tried to hide the pain cutting through him.

"You sure you don't care?" Bang pressed, and Minho glanced at him before looking away, forcing the tears back with visible effort.

"I'm not broken," Minho whispered, teetering on collapse. "It's not fair they won't let me back because of their damn rules and stupid policies. They look at me like I'm a liability, like I'm damaged. I've proven myself over and over, and it's still... not enough." His voice cracked, and a tear escaped, sliding down his cheek before he could stop it. "And this case... Minji's dead, Bang. Jeonghan's lost, facing a sentence he doesn't deserve. And I... I can't solve it."

Bang stood silent for a moment, just steps from Minho, searching for the right words in a moment that felt too big for any comfort.

"You're right, it's not fair," he said finally. "This system's a mess. But if you let resentment cloud your judgment, you're letting the pain do the talking."

Minho looked down, knowing Bang was right but admitting it wasn't an option. Another tear fell, and before he could turn to hide it, Bang closed the gap between them. With a gentleness Minho didn't expect, Bang cupped his chin, tilting his face up until their eyes met.

Minho tried to look away, hating himself for being so vulnerable, for letting Bang see the cracks. But Bang didn't let him. Slowly, he brushed Minho's cheek with his thumb, wiping the tear away with care, making Minho's heart stutter for a moment.

"Don't feel bad for crying, rookie," Bang said. "You've got more guts than any of those idiots on the board. But sometimes the bastards win, and you know that better than anyone."

Minho swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of Bang's thumb against his skin.

"It still feels like I'm failing," he whispered.

Bang shook his head, not breaking eye contact.

"Nonsense. Failing's giving up, and you're out here chasing answers because you care. Because you're stubborn. That's what makes you different, rookie."

Bang's words were painfully honest, but a part of Minho couldn't help wondering: Does he really mean it? Or is he just saying what he need to hear? His heart wrestled between trust and suspicion. He wanted to believe Bang, but the fear of being used kept him on edge. So he stepped back, breaking the contact.

"Why are you doing this?" Minho whispered, hating the vulnerability in his voice. "Why, when we're alone, do you treat me like... like you actually care? Like I matter?"

Bang sighed, dropping his gaze to the ground, grappling with himself.

"I don't want you to think I don't value you, rookie."

"So that's why you took the fall for me with Changbin? Why you owned up to the evidence I stole? Why... you tried to kiss me that night?"

Bang's gaze snapped up, meeting Minho's for a fleeting moment before darting away, unable to handle the weight of that accusation.

"Nothing happened that night, rookie," he said, sharp. "Nothing."

Minho laughed bitterly, and shook his head.

"Right. Nothing," he echoed. "I feel like an idiot for even thinking it. For thinking maybe..."

"Damn it, rookie!" Bang cut in. "I'm trying to be a good partner. I'm trying to do the right thing. Don't you see that?"

Minho took another step back, his eyes filling with tears that he struggled to hold back.

"The right thing was turning your back on me?"

Bang opened his mouth to reply but came up empty. He raised his hand, like he wanted to reach for Minho again, but stopped halfway, helpless.

"What did you expect me to do?" Bang muttered. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don't replay that damn night? If Jisoo hadn't shown up... shit. I don't know what would've happened. But it didn't. And it can't. I've got a kid, rookie. Jisoo's my only shot at giving Seungmin something stable. He deserves a family. I'm not gonna risk that for... for a moment. For something I'm not even sure of."

Minho stood frozen as Bang spilled his reasons, justifying his cowardice. And just like that, the pieces in Minho's head started clicking into place. Every lie, every dead end, every shadow he'd chased in vain lined up into one undeniable truth. Adrenaline surged through him, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. It all made sense now.

He had it. He'd cracked it.

"Say something, rookie! Don't just stand there!" Bang pressed, thrown by Minho's sudden silence.

Minho snapped out of his trance, blinking like he'd woken from a dream.

"What'd you say?" he asked, tilting his head.

Bang's brow furrowed, patience at its limit.

"You didn't hear a word I said, you idiot?" he snapped. "I'm pouring my damn heart out here, and you're... what the hell were you thinking about?"

Minho ignored Bang's outburst, and he smiled.

"I know who killed Yoon Minji."

Homicide Department, Busan. 5:38 p.m.

The elevator doors slid open, and Choi Seungcheol stepped in, glued to his phone as he typed out a message. Before the doors could close, Minho appeared in the threshold, stopping them with one hand.

"Oh, Mr. Choi, you're here?" Minho exclaimed, feigning surprise.

Seungcheol looked up, mid-text, and quickly pocketed his phone in his jacket's inner lining.

"Lee," Seungcheol said, forcing nonchalance. "What a surprise. What are you doing here?"

Minho shrugged, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the parking garage. The doors shut, and he positioned himself beside Seungcheol, both staring straight ahead.

"Nothing major," Minho said. "Just... taking a stroll. You? Heading home?"

Seungcheol kept his eyes fixed on the doors.

"Y-yeah," he replied, curt, wary of saying more than needed.

"I see..." Minho said, pausing. "How's Joshua?"

Seungcheol's head turned slightly, just enough to glance at Minho from the corner of his eye, trying to read the intent behind the words.

"Who?" he asked, playing dumb.

"Joshua Hong," Minho repeated, turning a bit to face him. "You were texting him, right? Got a date tonight, maybe? Celebrating something? Maybe... the freedom that comes with Minji's death?"

Seungcheol went rigid, stiff as a statue.

"What the hell are you talking about, Lee?" he snapped, voice rising, but the attempt at intimidation fell flat.

"No need to be ashamed, Mr. Choi," Minho said, unfazed. "I'm not part of Homicide, remember? You can trust me with your secrets. No one would believe a guy like me, right? A liability, a broken man, a... nutcase. Isn't that what they call me?"

Seungcheol frowned, trying to maintain his composure, but the sweat on his forehead was now evident, a drop running down his temple and getting lost in the collar of his shirt.

"You think I'll fall for your trap, Lee?" he growled. "I'm not confessing shit. I'm not that stupid."

Minho suddenly slammed the emergency stop button, jerking the elevator to a halt. The lights flickered for a split second, and Seungcheol flinched at the abrupt jolt.

"What the hell are you doing, Lee?"

"Oops. Didn't know that button did that," he said, though his tone suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. "Just wanted a moment to chat, Mr. Choi. I wanna know... was it worth it? Killing Yoon Minji? Framing Jeonghan? Feel good playing with their lives?"

Seungcheol's face twisted with rage.

"You're blaming me for that, Lee?" he roared. "Do you know who I am? 

"Oh, I know exactly who you are, Mr. Choi. You're the guy who thought he could pull off the perfect crime and walk away clean. But you screwed up."

Seungcheol laughed nervously, trying to disguise his contempt.

"You're insane, Lee," he spat, stepping back and adjusting his tie. "Completely insane."

"Insane? Maybe," Minho admitted. "But not so insane I can't see the truth. I know you cut the brakes on Minji's car, letting the rain and darkness cover your tracks. She crashes, boom, gone, just like you wanted. All set to cash in on the life insurance and pocket her fortune."

Seungcheol frowned again, but the panic was evident in his eyes.

"I wanted Minji dead?" he snapped, his indignation forced. "Jeonghan found her. Jeonghan was there! How do you explain that, Lee?"

"That damn question's been eating me alive for days," Minho admitted. "I tried so hard to make sense of Jeonghan being there... I missed the most obvious thing. You wanted Minji's money, but Mother Nature fucked you over, didn't she? A mudslide buried the car's wreckage two meters deep before anyone could find it. No body, no insurance payout. You were stuck. So what's a cornered rat like you do? You can't just 'find' her—that'd scream guilt from the rooftops. You needed someone to dig up the mess for you. And who better than Yoon Jeonghan? The poor kid with a drug problem, the outcast no one would trust, the perfect scapegoat."

"The officers were right about you, Lee," Seungcheol muttered. "You're crazy. But that's all a damn lie."

Minho shook his head, pulling his phone from his pocket. He opened an image and turned the screen toward Seungcheol, showing a grainy still from the traffic cam Changbin had shared. In it, Jeonghan's car sped through a red light.

"Can you tell me what Joshua Hong is doing driving Jeonghan's car?"

Seungcheol squinted, leaning toward the screen.

"Joshua?" he repeated, laughing. "That's clearly Jeonghan driving, 'detective.' What are you trying to pull with this garbage? Some cheap trick to trip me up?"

"Oh, sure. Everyone would think that. The plates, the car... we'd instantly assume it's Jeonghan behind the wheel. But there's a problem. See this?" Minho zoomed in on the image, making the driver's hand crystal clear. "According to this, 'Jeonghan' is wearing a ring."

"So what? People wear rings, dumbass!" Seungcheol snapped. "You think that proves anything?"

"It does. This isn't just any ring. It matches the one you gave Joshua, Choi. A ring so expensive there aren't many like it in all of Busan. You told Hong to drive Jeonghan's car with him passed out in the back seat. You made sure he'd hit those red lights so the cameras would catch him. You wanted everyone to believe Jeonghan was there, high out of his mind, lost. You crafted the perfect alibi, Choi. Or so you thought."

Seungcheol froze, trying to speak, but his voice cracked, the once-untouchable man reduced to a trapped animal ensnared in his own web of lies. Then, nerves fraying, he slammed the emergency button, making the elevator lurch back into motion with a shudder that flickered the lights again.

"Lee, I appreciate your concern for Jeonghan. Really," Seungcheol said with false sincerity. "But... the kid's a lost cause. Sneaks drugs, goes crazy, even violent. That night, he was so high he couldn't remember his own name. He killed my dear Minji. Not me."

Minho sighed, feigning defeat with a slow nod.

"Shit... guess you're right, Mr. Choi," he said, sarcasm lacing his words as he slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket, only to pull out an evidence bag holding a small white pill. "Oh? What's this?" he asked, twirling the bag between his fingers. "Looks like... yup, a sleeping pill. Innocent little thing, right, Choi?"

Seungcheol swallowed hard.

"So what?"

"Nothing, of course. Just that this is one of the pills Jeonghan took that night. Makes you wonder, what kind of stuff's in this tiny pill to knock him out so clean? Think the lab could figure it out? Better yet... think they'd find your prints on the pill bottle and figure out you spiked them with ketamine?"

Seungcheol went rigid, his breathing ragged, face pale as death, eyes wide as he stared at the pill in the bag.

"That doesn't prove anything!" he snapped, but his voice was a desperate yell, not a defense, and he slammed his fist against the elevator wall. "You've got nothing, Lee! Nothing! You think you can pin something this ridiculous on me? I'm on the damn Homicide board! If I want, I can have you out on the street for the rest of your miserable life, kissing any chance of getting back into the department goodbye."

"But you wouldn't do that, would you?" Minho asked, almost daring him. "Or are you scared of getting your hands dirty with someone like me?"

Seungcheol stepped forward, face twisted with rage, pointing at Minho.

"Try me, asshole," he roared. "It's a damn shame to lose a good detective like you for not picking your battles. But I'll do what it takes to prove my innocence, Lee. And you'll live with the resentment of failing to pin Minji's murder on me."

Minho tilted his head.

"So you're confessing you did it?"

Seungcheol, cornered, lost in his own arrogance, snapped.

"Fine! What's it matter?" he shouted. "I planned it all! I'll get the Yoon fortune, that idiot Jeonghan's going to prison, and you can't do a damn thing to stop it. Nothing!"

"Mr. Choi... did you just confess to a crime?" Minho asked with irony. "How careless."

Seungcheol laughed again, but it was weak, almost a sob.

"So what? You're right, Lee. Who's gonna believe a guy like you? Go on! I dare you to tell your captain. I dare you to say you want to accuse his boss and see how that goes, you idiot. You're done, Lee!"

"No, Choi. You're the one who's done. You just confessed, right here." Minho tapped his chest with a finger, right where a small recorder peeked from his pocket, its red light blinking. "Wanna hear the playback, or save it for the courtroom?"

Seungcheol's breath hitched, the man who thought himself untouchable now looking like a caged animal.

"You..." he gasped.

In a desperate lunge, he went for Minho, as if he could snatch the recorder and his doom along with it. But before he could make contact, the elevator jolted, and the doors slid open. The underground parking garage stretched out before them, a dark abyss lit by the flashlights of a squad of officers led by Hyunjin, standing in formation with weapons drawn.

"CHOI SEUNGCHEOL, STEP BACK WITH YOUR HANDS UP. NOW!" Hyunjin shouted, advancing a step, aiming straight at Seungcheol's chest.

Seungcheol froze, darting for an escape, a crack in the trap closing around him. But there was none. The guns were trained on him.

"You set me up!" he hissed, turning to Minho, teeth clenched. "YOU SET ME UP, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Y'know, Choi, I thought you'd be smarter," Minho said, calm as ever. "But you fell for the oldest trick in the book. Arrogance. And when the court hears this, when they hear your confession, they'll see what kind of person you are. A damn murderer."

Hyunjin stepped forward, weapon still trained on Seungcheol's chest as two officers flanked him.

"Mr. Choi Seungcheol," Hyunjin said, snapping cuffs around Seungcheol's wrists. "You're under arrest for the murder of Yoon Minji and the kidnapping and attempted murder of Yoon Jeonghan."

Seungcheol thrashed, yanking at the cuffs with a furious yell, his wrists reddening as the officers held him tight, dragging him out of the elevator.

"YOU JUST MADE A VERY POWERFUL ENEMY, LEE!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the garage as they hauled him away. "FORGET EVER BEING A DETECTIVE AGAIN! YOU'LL NEVER COME BACK! NEVER!"

Haneul Serenity Rehabilitation Center, Busan. 4:45 p.m.

Haneul Serenity was a tranquil haven wrapped in nature, a sanctuary built to mend broken souls. No towering walls or prison-like bars here, just low wooden fences and gravel paths winding through hills and forests. It was a place designed to open the mind, the heart, and the chance for a fresh start.

"Detectives, you really didn't have to do this," Jeonghan said, setting a small box of his belongings on the bed. "This is too much. I can't afford this."

Minho looked up, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before opening the box he'd just carried in.

"You don't have to pay a thing, Jeonghan," he said, a trace of guilt in his voice. "We treated you like a criminal when all you needed was help. This is the least we can do to make up for it."

Jeonghan looked down.

"I know, but..." he murmured. "You guys are too kind. I don't feel like I deserve it."

"And you don't," Bang cut in, walking in with another box and stacking it in the wardrobe, brushing dust off his hands before turning to Jeonghan with a raised eyebrow. "I still think you're a crook, Yoon. Probably hiding a stash in one of these boxes."

Minho rolled his eyes and gave Bang a light smack on the shoulder.

"Ignore him, Jeonghan," Minho said, turning to the boy, who now had a small smile, the first he'd shown since they arrived. "His jokes are as dumb as his face."

Jeonghan laughed, stepping over to the bed to help Minho with the box. He pulled out a framed photo of his mother, smiling in a park under a clear sky. He traced the frame's edge with a tenderness that felt almost painful, his face clouding with sadness.

"I heard what you did, Detective Lee," Jeonghan said, placing the photo on the nightstand. "I heard you fought for me, that you were the only one who believed I was innocent. I'm... so grateful. I don't know how to repay you for that. I don't know if I ever can."

Minho paused, looking at Jeonghan.

"You don't have to," he said. "I just did what was right. That guy thought he could play us all. I couldn't let that slide. Not after what he did to you."

Bang, untangling a knotted charger cable, glanced up.

"Rookie's right. Choi's a damn monster, but he was clever." He finally freed the cable and set it on the desk. "What I don't get is how a guy like him thought he could get away with it."

"You risked a lot for me," Jeonghan added, looking from Minho to Bang. "Seungcheol won't just sit back. And the board won't take kindly to you taking down one of their own. They could make your lives hell. Both of you."

"Don't worry about that, Jeonghan," Minho said. "They already kicked me out of the department once, and I'm still standing. And if they try anything with Bang... well, they'll have to deal with both of us."

"I don't know how you do it, Lee," Jeonghan said, his voice cracking as he looked at the photo of his mother, tracing the frame again. "How you keep going, even when everything's stacked against you." He paused, swallowing hard. "But thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me. For giving me a chance when everyone else turned their backs."

Before Minho could respond, the door to the room flew open, and Seungmin stumbled in, wobbling under the weight of five stacked boxes that looked ready to topple any second, his face red from the effort.

"Whoa, a little help here, please!" he gasped, his legs shaking as he took two shaky steps forward.

Jeonghan rushed over, grabbing the boxes with ease, surprised to find that despite Seungmin's dramatics, they barely weighed anything. They were stuffed with crumpled clothes and a few small trinkets.

"Thanks, little Bang," Jeonghan said, ruffling Seungmin's messy hair.

"That's nothing!" Seungmin shot back, straightening up with pride and trying to catch his breath after his "epic" two-meter trek. "I can carry way heavier stuff! Right, Dad?"

Bang burst out laughing, dropping a box on the floor.

"Yeah, right. The only thing you can't lift is the mess in your room. Like your toys weigh four tons or something."

"Oh, come on, Dad! Cool kids don't clean their rooms," Seungmin huffed. "Besides, I can lift more than four tons, no problem. Watch this!"

He marched over to a heavier box, puffing up his arms before trying to hoist it. The box barely budged an inch before he tripped and landed on his butt. Instantly, he burst into giggles. Minho stepped over, offering a hand to pull him up, brushing the dust off his clothes.

"Nice try, champ," Minho said, winking. "But I think that box is laced with kryptonite."

Seungmin scrambled to his feet, dusting off his backside while pointing at the box.

"Of course it's got kryptonite!" he exclaimed, crossing his arms. "It's a conspiracy against my superpowers! You check that box, Yoon! I bet it's full of weird stuff that's weakening me!"

Jeonghan laughed, kneeling by the box and popping it open to reveal a pile of mismatched socks and an old scarf.

"Oh my God!" Jeonghan gasped, holding up a sock. "This must be what got you, Seungmin. Pure kryptonite!"

Seungmin let out a fake, dramatic wail as Jeonghan tossed the sock at his chest.

"NOOO! I'M LOSING MY SUPER STRENGTH!" he shrieked, flopping onto the floor in a roll. "Dad! I'll never clean my room now. But you'll do it for me, right? You'll grant your dying son's last wish."

"Nice try, gremlin," Bang said, stacking the last of Jeonghan's boxes in a corner. "Come on, Jeonghan. Finish unpacking. Haneul Serenity's a good place to start over."

"And we..." Minho continued, glancing at Bang, who nodded with a small smile while helping Seungmin pile up the empty boxes in a corner. "We'll be here, making sure no one else tries to screw you over."

"Thank you," Jeonghan whispered. "For everything."

He stepped toward Minho and Bang, and without a word, pulled them into a hug. Minho felt the warmth of Jeonghan's gratitude, and Bang, caught off guard at first, patted the kid's back before returning the embrace.

"I promise I'll behave... or at least try to." 

[...]

As the trio—Minho, Bang, and Seungmin—headed back to the car, Minho couldn't help but glance back at the building, replaying his promise to Jeonghan that nothing would go wrong.

"Jeonghan'll be fine, rookie," Bang murmured, starting the car and adjusting the rearview mirror, shooting a quick look at Minho before focusing on the road. "You don't have to worry about him."

Minho turned his head to the window.

"I do, Bang," he replied. "I feel like we're all he's got left."

"What, you wanna adopt him?" Bang teased.

"No. I just want to protect him. Make sure no one hurts him again."

"That's real noble of you, rookie. And I know where we can start to make sure Jeonghan's really okay."

"For real?" Minho asked, sitting up straighter.

Bang nodded.

"Remember that dealer he mentioned? The one in Seoul? Well, I've got a contact in Narcotics, and they say he's no small-time pusher. He's a big-time trafficker, running a huge drug network. They've been trying to nail him for over six months, but the guy's too slick."

"And if we take him down... Jeonghan could finally be free, right?" Minho echoed.

"Not just that, rookie," Bang continued. "You know how good it'd look if a rookie like you took down a major drug ring? That's a golden ticket back into the department."

Minho couldn't help but grin, leaning back in his seat.

"So how do we do it?" he asked, his mind already buzzing with possibilities.

"Undercover op. We don't have the details yet, but Hyunjin and Changbin are ready to back you up."

"You want... me to..." Minho stammered.

"Yeah, rookie!" Bang confirmed. "You're our undercover guy. And this is just the start."

Chapter Text

Gwanghwa & Partners, Busan. 11:57 p.m.

They say money and power make you untouchable, like you're floating above everyone else, looking down from the top. But what they don't tell you is that you become a giant target. There are always eyes on you, full of envy, waiting for you to slip and crash. And there was Henry Lau, pacing back and forth in one of the fanciest offices in the building. He felt invincible... or at least he kept telling himself that.

"Seriously, you're telling me this now?" he growled into the phone. "If they want the deal, they pay what we ask. I'm not negotiating. Kim's innocent until I say otherwise. I've got files that could bury half the prosecutors in this city. Trust me, their families will owe me favors for the next fifty years. So don't even think about messing with me."

A soft knock on the door cut him off. He turned, phone still at his ear, and saw Nari, his assistant. As usual, she looked perfect: navy blazer, tight skirt that fit just right, and her red hair tied up in a bun.

"Heading out, boss," Nari said with that sarcastic little smirk that always made him laugh. Tonight, though, it sounded tired as hell.

Henry lowered the phone, covering the mic with his hand.

"Leaving so early? I thought you were gonna sleep at your desk," he teased, stepping closer to slide an arm around her waist and steal a quick kiss.

She rolled her eyes but leaned in, kissing him back with a bit more heat before pushing him away gently.

"You should try sleeping sometime. I hear it's all the rage for regular people," she said, poking his chest. "Don't stay here till dawn, got it? Tomorrow's our night. No calls, no clients, no excuses."

Henry laughed and kissed her again, slower this time.

"Promise. Now go. I'll lock up. Text me when you're home. Love you."

She blew him a kiss as she walked down the hall. Henry stood there for a second, shaking his head with a goofy grin only she could pull out of him, before putting the phone back to his ear.

"I'll handle it first thing tomorrow," he said, all business again, heading to his desk and grabbing his whiskey glass. But then he froze. In the dark reflection of the window, he saw a shadow move where nothing should be. He ended the call without another word. "Nari? Babe, is that you? Forget something?"

Silence. He walked toward the half-open door, peeking into the hallway lit only by the faint glow of emergency exit signs. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He swallowed hard, a knot forming in his throat. Something was wrong, really wrong. He turned back to his desk... and there he was. Some guy, sitting calmly in Henry's leather chair.

"Jesus!" Henry gasped, stepping back and forcing a nervous laugh. "What the hell are you doing here? 

The man didn't answer. He just picked up Henry's whiskey glass, took a sip, and savored it.

"Why haven't you answered my calls?" he asked finally, tilting his head with a smile.

Henry pulled out his cocky lawyer attitude, the one that always saved his ass in court.

"Been a little busy, if you didn't notice," he said, stepping forward. "When I win this case, this firm's mine. Every damn share. So if you're here to ask for money again, you're wasting your time."

The guy laughed, downed the rest of the whiskey, and set the empty glass on the desk.

"You've always been a smug bastard, Henry," he said, taking a step closer. "Selling your soul to get murderers and dealers back on the streets. All to pretend you're not just a traitor."

Henry stepped back without meaning to.

"And what do you know about building anything?" he snapped. "I built this from nothing. Nobody handed me a thing, unlike you. If you're here to whine about your failures, get a therapist. Now get out before I call security and have you dragged out!"

The man stopped inches from him. The smile was gone.

"Nobody's untouchable, Henry," he whispered. "Nobody."

Henry opened his mouth to yell, to call for help, but it was already too late.

[...]

Meanwhile...

Nari hurried down the empty hallway toward the elevators. One hand rummaged through her purse, the other clutched a folder that looked ready to spill its papers everywhere.

"Where are they?" she muttered, pulling out a pack of gum, a half-eaten protein bar, some old receipts. "My keys. Damn it." Of course, she'd left them on Henry's desk.

She sighed, too tired to be truly mad, and turned back. The building was dead quiet at this hour, way creepier than during the day when it was all ringing phones and people rushing around. She didn't think much of it, though; she just wanted to get home, kick off her uncomfortable heels, and crash in bed next to Henry.

When she reached his office, she stopped. The door was slightly open. Weird. Henry was super paranoid about locking everything, especially with all the important documents on his desk. "You never know who's snooping," he always said.

"Henry?" she called, pushing the door slowly. "You fall asleep at your desk again?" She almost laughed. Last week, she'd found him snoring on a pile of papers.

Nothing. But she thought she heard something. A whisper? The AC? She pushed the door open more, and then a scream slipped out. The office was a wreck. Henry's fancy lamp, the one he loved from his Seoul trip, was smashed on the floor. Papers were scattered everywhere, like a tornado had hit. And in the corner, the trash can was on fire, burning old documents, filling the room with thick black smoke that stung her throat. And the blood. God, so much blood.

Henry was slumped behind his desk, his white shirt soaked red. The phone cord was wrapped tight around his neck. More blood oozed from a wound in his stomach, pooling everywhere.

"Henry! God, no, no, no!" She ran and dropped to her knees in the mess, hands shaking as she tried to loosen the cord. "Henry, please. Look at me. Breathe, please," she sobbed, pressing his stomach to stop the blood. Her tears mixed with the blood on her hands. "Don't do this! Don't leave me, you idiot!" She fumbled for her phone and dialed 119, but she already knew. He was gone. "Please, no... Henry..." she cried, holding his face, her forehead pressed to his, sobbing so hard she barely heard the operator on the line.

Then, a creak behind her. She froze. The smoke was thicker now, making her cough. But she felt it. Someone else was there. She turned just in time to see a shadow lunging at her.

"No! Get away from me, you bastard!" Nari screamed, raising a bloody hand to defend herself, slipping in the pool of blood as she scrambled back.

She was hit hard. Nari crumpled to the floor, and the last thing she saw was Henry's pale face. Then, everything went black.

Psychology Unit, Homicide Department. 10:31 a.m.

"He's always there," Minho muttered, staring off like he could see something beyond the walls. "Every damn time I close my eyes... there he is. Same clothes, same goofy kid face..."

Jisung stayed quiet at first. He just ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit that popped up whenever Minho was around. Pushing him never worked. Silence usually did.

"Jeongin?" Jisung asked finally.

Minho bit his lip, twisting the sleeve of his shirt like he wanted to rip it off. He gave a tiny nod, one that seemed to take everything out of him.

"Innie had that smile. Dumb, but... beautiful. Made me feel like I could do anything. He looked up to me. And I..." His voice cracked. A tear slipped out, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, pissed at himself for showing weakness. "God, I loved that kid so much. Too much. And now I only see him in dreams, with that innocent little face, begging me to save him. But I couldn't. I couldn't save him."

Jisung stopped scribbling in his notebook and looked up.

"What do you think Jeongin would say if he saw you right now? Right here, in this moment."

Minho tried to hide another tear, wiping it before it could fall.

"He'd call me an idiot. An idiot for not finding the bastard who did it. For... failing him."

"Failing once doesn't make you a failure forever. You're here. Talking about Jeongin. Out loud. For the first time in... what? Two years? That's not failing, Minho. That's a huge step. And you're taking it."

"You know what it's like? Waking up every day with the same image burned into your head? Two years, and it still feels like it happened yesterday."

"Because you've been carrying it all alone," Jisung said softly. "You've locked yourself in this... cage of guilt. Have you ever thought about... letting someone in? Not to fix you, but... to be there with you. Maybe even go out? I know it sounds like cheesy crap, but... it might help with that emptiness you feel."

Minho went still, and Jisung knew exactly who he was thinking about.

"No," Minho said sharply.

"Not even a little?" Jisung pressed. "No one who makes you feel, even for a damn second, like you're not completely alone?"

"Dr. Han, what the hell do I have to offer anyone? I'm a mess. I can't even look in the mirror without wanting to smash it. Who in their right mind would want to deal with this?"

Jisung pressed his lips together. He wanted to say: Me. I'd want you. Even broken, especially because you're broken. But he swallowed it. That wouldn't help now. It'd just scare a guy who was already terrified. So instead, he said:

"Minho... you're not completely broken. You've been through hell no one should ever face, yeah. But that doesn't mean you don't deserve love."

"Love?" Minho laughed, bitter. "Yeah, right. Not with my head all screwed up."

Jisung looked at him quietly for a moment, his chest tight like it always got when Minho shut down like this.

"Your past isn't your whole life. You deserve good things. You deserve to love someone again. And, yeah, you deserve to be loved. Even if you're in pieces. Especially then. I think... no, I know that's what Jeongin would've wanted for you."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's shattered."

"Maybe," Jisung said, pausing as he looked at him. "Or maybe I say it because I've been here, on this side, and I've seen people who were in pieces put themselves back together. Not completely, never completely, but... find something good. Something worth it. And I believe, I really believe, you'll find that too, Minho. Someday."

"Sure..." Minho muttered, not sounding convinced at all. "Someday."

Jisung forced a smile, but Minho, as usual, didn't even glance his way. He was too lost in his own head to notice someone just a meter away falling apart right alongside him. If Minho had looked up, he might've seen someone ready to share the weight, to carry a piece of it, if he'd just let them. But Minho never let anyone in. And Jisung? He was quietly dying to shake him, to yell that just breathing isn't the same as living, that not everything was lost.

Before he could find the courage—or the stupidity—to say it out loud, a soft knock at the door interrupted them.

"Come in," Jisung said, switching to his professional voice.

The door opened just enough for Jisoo to peek through. She stepped inside with a cute smile, holding a small white box with a gold ribbon.

"Oops... sorry," she said quietly, pausing when she saw Minho. She gave a little bow. "Didn't know you were in a session. I can come back later."

"No," Minho said quickly, already standing and grabbing his jacket like the interruption was exactly what he needed. "We're done here."

"Oh, really?" Jisoo raised her eyebrows, glancing at Jisung with a hint of doubt, but she stepped further in, closing the door. "Well, good, 'cause I brought something for you, Ji."

She handed the box to Jisung, who took it with curiosity.

"Jisoo, you didn't have to..." he protested weakly, a bit embarrassed, though he was already untying the ribbon. "Whoa, this smells amazing. What is it?"

"Cinnamon rolls," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Mrs. Kang pulled them out of the oven, like, just now. I couldn't let my bestie miss out." She glanced at Minho. "You gotta try one, Lee. Seriously. They're a work of art. The extra-glaze one's my favorite, but the cream cheese one... ugh, it's addictive."

Minho, still buttoning his jacket, frowned.

"You came all the way here just to bring him cinnamon rolls?" he asked, sounding almost suspicious.

"Duh!" Jisoo replied with a grin. "That's what friends do. Spoil each other. Right, Ji?"

Jisung, who'd already taken a huge bite of a glazed roll, had cheeks puffed out like a hamster. A bit of white glaze smeared the corner of his mouth. He gave a clumsy thumbs-up, eyes closed in pure bliss.

"Holy... you weren't kidding," he managed between bites, crumbs falling onto his sweater as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "This is... insane." He swallowed hard. "I'd sell my soul for this recipe. Or eat the whole box myself."

Jisoo laughed, but it faded fast. Minho noticed. He always caught the small stuff.

"You didn't come just for the rolls, did you?" he said, adjusting his jacket.

Jisoo's smile vanished completely, and she looked down for a second.

"No. Not exactly," she said, finally meeting his eyes. "I actually needed to talk to you, Lee."

Gwanghwa & Partners, Busan. 11:13 a.m.

The office reeked of smoke. Forensics guys were hunched over everywhere, marking every footprint, every shard of broken lamp, every dark stain on the floor. Henry's body was under a sheet, but the ugly red spots still bled through. Yellow tape stretched across the door, fluttering a bit as Hyunjin ducked under it, cheap coffee in hand.

"Alright, boots, listen up," he yelled to his crew. "I want everything cataloged before the morgue hauls him away. Time of death, blood patterns, signs of a struggle... and don't touch a thing till I say so."

One tech held up a camera to show him some pics. Hyunjin squinted at the screen, sipping his coffee... and nearly spit it out. It was lukewarm and tasted like it was brewed in a dirty sock, nothing like the nicotine hit he craved.

"Ugh, this is nasty," he grumbled, then spun toward some suits by the door without missing a beat. "HEY! This is Homicide's case, so if you're Internal Affairs, get the hell OUT of my crime scene!"

They shot him death glares but shuffled into the hall. Hyunjin just grinned, pretty pleased with himself, and got back to it. He stepped over a spilled folder and crouched by the body, watching a tech snap pics of the gut wounds. Another checked the phone cord wrapped around his neck.

"Crappy way to go," Hyunjin muttered, shaking his head. "Guy was on top of the world, and now... poof, done." He glanced at the tech, jiggling his coffee cup. "Want some? Tastes like trash, but maybe it's your thing."

The kid looked at him like he was nuts.

"No... no thanks, lieutenant. I'm good."

"Sure? Don't be shy," he pressed, shrugging. "Fine, then you got a smoke? Forgot my pack in the car."

The tech sighed, like he'd dealt with this crap a million times, and dug into his lab coat pocket for a crumpled cigarette.

"BINGO!" Hyunjin beamed, snatching it. "Knew you were one of us."

He stuck it between his lips, rummaging for a lighter while humming some dumb tune. But before he could light up, someone yanked it out.

"I swear to God, every time I see you with one of these, I wanna strangle you with the scene tape," Minho said, crushing the cig in his fist and tossing it in the trash.

"Mochi?" Hyunjin blurted, surprised at first, then grinning. He threw his arms out like for a hug. "Bro! What're you doing here?"

Minho shoved him back with a hand on his chest, keeping space.

"You tell me," he said, dry as ever. "Jisoo hired me. Said you knew."

"Jisoo?" Hyunjin laughed, already bending to fish the crushed cig from the bin. "Oh yeah, she mentioned it. Didn't think you'd actually take the gig." He winked, still hunting for his lighter.

"I can be professional when the case calls for it," Minho shot back, swiping the cig again to kill any comeback attempt. "Plus, it's not just any case. Victims were Jisoo's colleagues, Hyun."

"Oooh, Mr. Professional with a Heart. Let's see how long that lasts," Hyunjin teased, elbowing him.

"What the hell happened here?" Minho asked, ignoring Hyunjin's usual nonsense as he scanned the office.

"Murder, duh," Hyunjin said with a shrug, way too chill for the situation. "Hey, can I have that back?" he whined, pointing at the crushed cigarette remains. "I'm stressed, Mochi. Changbin's gonna rip me apart if I don't solve this, and I've already got those Internal Affairs idiots breathing down my neck."

Minho just crushed the cig even more, letting the pieces fall into the trash.

"Hey!" Hyunjin crossed his arms, looking genuinely offended. "You know how much that cost me?"

"Pretty sure it was free," Minho said, wiping his hands.

"It was a gift!" Hyunjin insisted. "My gift!"

"You gonna give me details or keep crying about it?" Minho said, turning back to the scene.

Hyunjin sighed like it was the biggest hassle ever and pulled a notebook from his jacket.

"Fine, fine..." he muttered, flipping to a page full of messy scribbles. "Victims: Henry Lau and Yoo Nari. Defense lawyer and his assistant. Also married. Rich, well-connected, the whole deal. Lau got stabbed with what looks like a cheap knife and strangled with the phone cord to make sure. Someone really wanted him gone."

"You said two victims. I only see one body," Minho pointed out, not looking at him.

"Nari took a hard hit to the head. Real bad. She crawled to the door, left blood smears on the frame," Hyunjin said, pointing with his pen. "Got that far, tried to get help... didn't make it. Died on the way to the hospital."

Minho stepped closer, touching the doorknob with a gloved hand, then traced the bloodstains on the floor with his eyes. He closed them for a second, like he was picturing it all.

"And the fire?" he asked, opening his eyes and nodding at the burned trash can. "What was in there?"

"Some file they didn't want us to find," Hyunjin said, flipping another page. "But the killer was dumb. Forensics pulled a name from the ashes: Kim Woojin."

"Kim Woojin?" Minho frowned. "Sounds familiar. Is that the guy you told me about, like, three years ago? The one who almost broke your jaw in the interrogation room?"

"Yup, that's him. Thanks for the reminder, love reliving that sweet moment," Hyunjin said, tapping his chin with his pen. "Henry was his lawyer. Lost the case, got him ten years. But he walked free two months ago on some dumb technicality. Been pissed ever since, talking about revenge. Probably hired someone to do it. Motive fits."

"So how'd the killer get in?" Minho asked, pointing at the untouched door. "No pry marks, lock's not forced. Henry knew the killer, Hyun."

Hyunjin tilted his head, chewing on his pen.

"Dunno, Mochi. Scene points to Kim. His file's the one they burned. Looks like someone tried to clean up his mess, right?"

"No, something's off," Minho said, his mind already racing. "If Kim really wanted to cover his tracks without getting caught again, why just burn his file? Why not torch the whole office? Make sure nothing's left. This feels... selective. Almost like..."

"Like someone wanted us to find it," Hyunjin finished, surprised by his own words.

"Exactly," Minho nodded. "Either Kim Woojin's the dumbest guy we've ever chased, or someone's trying to frame him."

"Bro, your brain's so twisted sometimes. Or paranoid, I dunno.

"Call it what you want, Hyun. But Kim's not adding up."

Hyunjin clicked his tongue and stuffed his notebook back in his jacket.

"Well, whatever it is, Binnie's already given the order. We look into Kim first. He's the main suspect. And just so you're ready, he's gonna lose it when he sees you here, Mochi."

"Why?"

Haeundae, Busan. 1:51 p.m.

Perfect green lawns, bushes trimmed to perfection, and houses so fancy they screamed "I'm loaded" without even trying. Kim Woojin's place was the biggest of them all. Modern, sleek, with windows so clean they looked invisible.

Minho walked into the scene, sizing up the house from top to bottom. Changbin was waiting at the base of the stairs, arms crossed so tight his jacket looked ready to burst. He was barking orders at his team, who were tearing the place apart: flipping cushions, opening drawers, snapping photos of every corner. When he spotted Minho, he rolled his eyes.

"Look who showed up," Changbin grumbled. "Lee Minho, savior of the day. Should I bow or just hand you the file now?"

"I'd settle for a 'Thanks for catching the bad guy,'" Minho shot back, unfazed.

"You caught a killer by breaking every damn protocol!" Changbin snapped, stepping closer. "If you'd followed the rules, we'd have closed the Choi case without the whole department imploding. But no! You had to go rogue, and now those Internal Affairs clowns are sniffing around my unit, looking for 'corrupt cops' to nail."

"Seungcheol's behind bars. That's all I care about."

"That's not all that—!"

A rookie cop stumbled down the stairs, looking nervous as hell. Right behind him was Kim Woojin.

"This is an abuse of power! A violation of my privacy!"

"You can't just barge into my house and trash it! Who do you think you are?"

Changbin turned to him, not backing down an inch.

"We'll give you a list of everything we take when we're done, Mr. Kim. Just doing our job."

"Your job?" Woojin spat, getting in Changbin's face. "Your job is to follow the law, not break it! I served my time, this is harassment! I'm calling my lawyer!"

"Think twice," Changbin said, calm as ever. "Your lawyer's dead. That's why we're here. How about you sit down and tell us what you know before this gets ugly?"

Woojin went pale and took a step back.

"That's insane!" he stammered. "You think I had something to do with it? Henry was my friend! Why would I hurt him?"

"Found this under his bed, Captain," the rookie cut in, holding up an evidence bag with a knife inside. "Prints are smudged, but there's something."

Changbin took the bag, holding it up to the light for a better look.

"Your friend, huh?" he said, staring Woojin down.

Woojin swallowed hard.

"That's not mine!" he yelled. "Someone planted it, I swear!"

"Tell it to the judge, Kim," Changbin said, unmoved. "See you in court.""

"There's not gonna be any trial," a new voice cut in, making everyone turn toward the door.

A young guy stood in the doorway, wearing a suit that probably cost more than Changbin's car. Navy tie, hair perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. His face was so flawless it looked carved from marble, and that smug grin promised to ruin anyone's day who crossed him.

"And who the hell are you?" Changbin barked.

The guy didn't flinch. He just adjusted his tie and sized Changbin up, clearly unimpressed.

"Cha Eunwoo, Kim's new lawyer. And what you're doing here is a clear violation of my client's parole terms. I suggest you pack up and leave before this gets embarrassing for you."

Hyunjin couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Violation? Come on, Matlock, we've got a court order right here, buddy."

Eunwoo shot him a look of pure disdain.

"Lieutenant Hwang, right? Your order only covers immediate seizure of materials related to the Henry Lau case," he said, pulling a document from his folder. "But... the court ruled three weeks ago that any search of my client's property requires direct supervision by his lawyer. You know, because of past... overly enthusiastic police behavior. And, oh, surprise: that lawyer's me."

Changbin snatched the paper from his hand, scanning it fast. The clause was real, a sneaky legal move someone with deep pockets had pulled off.

"This doesn't change that your client's tied to a murder," Changbin said.

"Oh, it changes everything," Eunwoo said, his grin widening. "Because without me here, everything you've touched, moved, or even breathed on in this house is contaminated evidence and inadmissible in court. Want me to repeat that in front of a judge, Captain Seo?"

Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

"This guy's got an answer for everything," he muttered to Changbin. "Sure this asshole's not an actor?"

"Mr. Cha," Changbin said, stepping forward again. "We found a knife hidden in your client's room. That's enough for an initial link to the case. We don't need your blessing to take it."

Eunwoo didn't budge. Not even a blink.

"With all due respect, Captain, Article 215 of the Korean Criminal Procedure Code says evidence taken outside the order's parameters is automatically inadmissible. And since you've touched more than that order allows..." he tapped the document, "I'd say the defense is winning this round."

Hyunjin snorted, getting more pissed by the second.

"Your client's a murder suspect!" he roared, losing the last of his patience. "Want me to draw you a damn picture?"

"My job is to make sure the law's followed, Lieutenant. Something your department seems to forget often. What I don't get is how a 'professional' unit keeps making such basic mistakes."

"Listen, kid," Changbin snapped. "This isn't a classroom. Keep getting in the way, and I'll drag you out, fancy degree and all. I don't care who you are!"

"That'd be another violation, Captain. And if you keep going, you won't just lose your evidence, I'll make sure my next stop is the police chief's office. Then the mayor's. Any idea how many zeros a lawsuit for harassment and civil rights violations will have?"

Everyone went quiet, and Eunwoo savored his little victory with a smirk that practically begged for a slap. That's when his eyes locked onto him. Minho, who'd been standing back, just watching. He hadn't said a word. Something shifted in the lawyer's face. The smugness gave way to... what? Interest? Curiosity? Like he'd just spotted a weird painting in a gallery and couldn't decide if he liked it or it grossed him out.

"So... you're the infamous Detective Lee Minho," Eunwoo said, stepping closer. "I've read your file. Well, the parts that aren't sealed. The department's black legend. So fearless, breaking all the rules, not letting anyone tell you what to do. But today... you're awfully quiet. Cat got your tongue, or do you just like to stare?"

Minho didn't flinch. He just tilted his head up.

"Parasites who feed off other people's misery make me sick."

Eunwoo let out a soft chuckle.

"Oh, sure. You're not the first detective to hate defense attorneys, trust me." He shrugged, adjusting his cufflink. "But don't hate me for being smarter than you, okay? It's just business."

Minho raised an eyebrow.

"My cats are smarter than you. And at least they'd have the decency not to sell themselves defending scum for blood-stained cash."

Eunwoo didn't blink. Instead, he stepped even closer, shamelessly invading Minho's space. He gave him a bold once-over, sizing him up.

"This 'scum,' gorgeous, paid for my last Porsche," he said. "Maybe I could take you for a ride sometime. No cuffs, of course. We could... talk. Somewhere more private."

"So it's all about money for you?" Minho asked, not giving an inch. "Good to know I read you right."

Eunwoo clicked his tongue and leaned in so close Minho could catch the woody, amber notes of his fancy cologne.

"You talk like being young, successful, and filthy rich is a crime, Detective. Jealousy's not a good look on you."

Minho flashed a cold smile.

"Jealousy?" he said, his tone almost pitying. "Counselor, all I feel is sorry for you. Not even all that money can buy you a shred of dignity, can it?"

Eunwoo raised his brows, feigning intrigue that might—just might—not be entirely fake.

"Well, damn," he murmured, studying Minho again, slower this time. "That's some fire you've got. If I didn't know you hated my guts, I'd almost think you were flirting with me."

Minho stepped back, his frown pure disgust.

"If this is your idea of flirting, you desperately need a crash course in dealing with humans who don't carry a checkbook. You're pathetic."

"Oh, don't worry about me, Detective," Eunwoo shot back, flashing a dazzling, perfect smile with a wink so bold it made Minho clench his fists on instinct. "I've got a feeling we'll have plenty of time to... work on our relationship. Maybe I'll even change your mind about me." He lowered his voice. "I'm very persuasive."

Minho rolled his eyes, trying his hardest to ignore how that lingering stare and infuriating confidence were rattling him inside.

"I'd rather die."

"We'll see, Detective. We'll see." Another annoying wink, then Eunwoo turned to Woojin. "Mr. Kim, they have no right to treat you like this. Call me the second these badge-wearing clowns come near you again without my supervision. Got it?"

Woojin nodded, still fuming, and took the business card Eunwoo handed him.

"Don't worry, Mr. Cha. I'll call you for every little problem," he said, throwing a defiant glare at Changbin, who looked seconds away from an aneurysm.

The lawyer turned to leave, but just before he disappeared through the door, he stopped. He looked back, locking eyes with Minho. A third wink, paired with a smile so provocative it felt like it physically reached out and poked him. Minho wasn't the type to get flustered—by anyone, let alone some fake pretty boy. But something about that guy's unshakable confidence stuck in his head like gum on a shoe.

"Mochi..." Hyunjin's voice snapped him out of it, along with an elbow to the ribs that nearly made him stumble. "Yo, Earth to Minho. You're staring."

Minho blinked, forcing his brain to reset. Damn it. What was he even thinking?

"What? N-no! I'm not staring at anything. Just... making sure he doesn't steal something," he stammered, feeling his ears heat up. Damn it.

"Oh, sure, 'keeping watch,'" Hyunjin laughed, way too loud. "I saw your throat catch when he winked at you. It was obvious from here, man. What's up? You into the smug lawyer?"

"Shut up, idiot," Minho grumbled, shoving him with his shoulder. "Don't you have better things to do? Papers to sign? A case to screw up?"

"I've got a million things, but this is way more fun," Hyunjin said, adjusting his jacket, still grinning. "Come on, no shame. Gotta admit, the guy's hot, even if he's a prick. Why not give him a shot? You could date him and score us a legal discount."

"Are you high? Date him?" Minho stared at him, incredulous, brow furrowed. "You know I hate lawyers. They're all the same: snakes in fancy suits with fake smiles. They'd sell their own mom for a paycheck and sleep like babies after, not a hint of guilt."

"Uh-huh, sure. Then why couldn't you take your eyes off him?" Hyunjin pressed, crossing his arms.

"Because he's an asshole with a pretty face!" Minho snapped, instantly wishing he could eat his words. A couple of officers glanced their way. Damn it. He lowered his voice. "He's annoying. Cocky. And his morals are so flexible it's disgusting. That's it."

Hyunjin shrugged.

"Look, between you and me... I think you need to get laid, man. Urgently. And that guy's clearly offering premium services. He undressed you with his eyes, and you didn't even blush, which is new."

"Uh-huh. Did Doctor Han ask you to tell me that?"

"Come on, be honest for once. You telling me you're not even a tiny bit curious what a ride in that Porsche with him as the driver would feel like?"

Minho couldn't believe they were having this conversation in the middle of a trashed crime scene. Even worse, that a tiny, stupid, traitorous part of his brain had, for a split second, pictured the ridiculous image Hyunjin was painting.

"No," was all he managed, trying to sound firm. But even to his own ears, it came out weak.

Hyunjin studied him for a second, and for the first time, his grin faded a bit. He stepped closer, voice dropping so only Minho could hear.

"Hey..." he said, unusually serious. "For real. Stop thinking about him. Bang's got Jisoo, he's got his kid. He's got a whole life that doesn't, and never will, include rolling around in the sheets with you. As much as it sucks to hear. Accept it, man. It's not happening. Not even in your wildest dreams."

Minho swallowed hard, scratching the back of his neck, avoiding Hyunjin's eyes.

"Who said I was thinking about...?" He trailed off. "By the way, where is he?"

Chapter Text

Yeonghon Funeral Home, Busan. 2:40 p.m.

The place was filled with big white lilies and purple orchids, so many they almost hid the photos of Henry and Nari. In those silver-framed pictures, the two of them were smiling, like death was just a big misunderstanding. At the main entrance, Bang stood stiff. No detective trench coat, no loose tie like usual; today he wore a dark blue uniform, badge on his chest, gun holstered at his hip.

"Sweetie," Jisoo's voice brought him out of his autopilot mode. "Thanks for coming with me."

Bang didn't turn his head, barely reacted.

"I'm working," he said flatly. "They made me come, so..."

Jisoo forced a little smile, the kind that hid her frustration, and fixed the collar of his uniform.

"Okay... I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that and imagine you said, 'I'm here to look after my poor girlfriend who just lost her best friends,'" she teased.

Bang raised an eyebrow and finally looked at her.

"Were they your best friends?" he asked, his tone full of doubt.

Jisoo shrugged, resting her hand on his chest, right over the badge. She felt his heartbeat racing under the fabric, and it made her sigh inside. She knew something was off with him lately, but now wasn't the time to push.

"Kind of," she said. "Come on, let me introduce you to some colleagues. I wanna show you off a bit, even if you're grumpy."

Bang didn't budge an inch.

"Babe, seriously, I can't. Changbin put me on guard duty to keep things under control."

Jisoo pouted, pretending to be upset.

"What kind of trouble could happen at a funeral, love?" she shot back. "Someone stealing the flowers?"

"A crazy person, Jisoo. A crazy person stabbed and strangled one of your colleagues," he said, lowering his voice. "We don't know if this guy has a grudge against defense lawyers. My job right now is to make sure nothing happens to you. Got it?"

"Aww... that's the sweetest, most protective thing you've said in weeks," she whispered, pretending to be touched. "But seriously, just two minutes, I promise. My friend Soojin doesn't believe I'm dating a detective."

Bang looked down at her, trying to keep a straight face.

"Babe, you do realize I'm not a detective right now, don't you?" he said, pointing at his uniform with annoyance. "I'm just a regular cop on punishment duty."

"I know, I know. But it's just temporary, right?" She stood on her tiptoes, ignoring his stiff posture, and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek, the kind that worked better than any argument. "Come on, come with me."

Bang rolled his eyes, but a tiny, almost invisible smile slipped out. He was done for, she always won.

"Fine. Two minutes. Not a second more," he gave in, and Jisoo grinned.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward a group of lawyers chatting in a circle near a table with wine glasses and snacks. Bang walked with his usual confidence, but you could tell he was uncomfortable from how tense his shoulders were.

"Guys, this is Chris, my boyfriend," Jisoo announced, her voice extra sweet.

A woman in a black dress with a pearl necklace was the first to react. Soojin, no doubt.

"Oh, the famous detective," she said with a fake smile. "Jisoo never stops talking about you. You're practically family."

Bang stared at her, not smiling back.

"Actually, I'm just an officer now," he corrected, not bothering to sound friendly.

"But it's temporary!" Jisoo jumped in, nudging him with her elbow. "He's the best in Homicide, you'll see, he'll be back in no time."

Two minutes. He'd only lasted two minutes talking to Busan's legal elite, and he already wanted to bolt. But then he looked into Jisoo's eyes, saw that spark when she showed him off, despite everything, despite him. And he knew, for her, he'd stick it out a little longer. But Bang wasn't really listening to Soojin's jokes about courtroom life anymore. His brain had switched to "work mode." His eyes locked onto the guy standing by the coffins. The dude was tall, skinny, wearing a black suit. But his polished look fell apart when you saw his face: swollen, red eyes, grayish skin from crying too much, lips trembling nonstop. Bang frowned. His gut was never wrong.

"Babe..." he whispered, leaning close so only Jisoo could hear. "Who's that guy?"

Jisoo glanced over her shoulder, sipping her white wine slowly.

"Oh, that's Colin. Henry's younger brother," she said quietly, so the nearby lawyers wouldn't hear. "Flew straight from San Francisco when he found out."

Bang kept staring at Colin.

"For real?" he muttered.

"Yeah. He's gotta be crushed. But..." She paused, frowning like she remembered something. "Nari told me once, after a few too many drinks, that Henry and his family didn't talk anymore. That's why he moved to Busan years ago, just with Nari. Wanted a fresh start, away from all the family drama."

Bang turned to her.

"Why? You know anything?"

Jisoo shrugged, trying to play it off.

"Rich people problems, I guess. Inheritance stuff, family business fights... Nari didn't give details, just said it was a nasty fight. Colin was the only one trying to reconnect, but Henry kept him at a distance."

As they talked, Colin placed a rose on the polished mahogany coffin. Right then, when his suit sleeve slid back a bit, Bang saw it. Marks. Red marks snaking around his wrist. They didn't look like random scratches. They looked... intentional.

"I gotta get back to my post," Bang said suddenly, standing up straight. "Stay near the exit where I can see you. And Jisoo..." He looked at her hard. "If you notice anything weird..."

Jisoo rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on, Chris. Yes, yes, I'll use the pepper spray you gave me and scream my head off," she said, half-joking. "Babe, chill. This has nothing to do with us. Henry's thing... probably just some payback from the Kim Woojin case."

Jisoo realized her mistake right away and slapped her hand over her mouth. But it was too late. Bang spun toward her, his "don't mess with me" stare making her shrink.

"How the hell do you know about Kim Woojin?" he asked, his voice full of disbelief, almost angry. "That's confidential case info."

Jisoo swallowed hard. Her face went from chill to that "oh crap, I screwed up" look he knew too well.

"Damn it... forgot you're a freaking bloodhound," she muttered, avoiding his eyes. "Nothing gets past you, huh?"

Bang wasn't letting it go. He gently grabbed her arm, pulling her to a quieter corner, away from nosy ears.

"Jisoo, what the hell's going on?"

When Jisoo looked up, her eyes had that "please don't kill me" spark.

"Okay... I'll tell you everything, but first, promise you won't get mad. Deal?"

"Jisoo..." he said her name like a warning.

"Fine!" she gave in. "I might... just might, okay?... have hired a private investigator. To, uh... look into Henry and Nari's thing."

"YOU DID WHAT?" he hissed, keeping his voice low as a couple of mourners glanced their way. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to mess with this? If the guy who did this finds out you're poking around...!" He didn't finish, but the fear in his eyes said it all.

"Chris, relax. I've got it under control. I hired someone discreet, one of the good ones."

"For the love of..." He closed his eyes for a second, like he was begging for patience. "Please tell me you didn't hire the rookie."

Gwanghwa & Partners, Busan. 5:57 p.m.

The file room was a cramped, suffocating space with no windows to offer any relief. The four walls were lined with endless rows of filing cabinets, stuffed with folders full of the law firm's dirty secrets. Color-coded labels tried to bring some order to the mess, but they only made it look more chaotic.

Minho was kneeling in front of an open cabinet, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He'd pull out a folder, flip through it quickly, and if it wasn't what he needed, he'd shove it back with a frustrated sigh. Hyunjin, meanwhile, was perched on top of a cabinet, swinging his legs, playing with his lighter—flicking it on and off.

"Can you remind me why we're here, Mochi?" Hyunjin asked, letting the lighter spark near a folder before quickly shutting it off.

Minho didn't even look up, pulling out another folder labeled "Corporate Contracts - Lau."

"That jerk Cha Eunwoo is stonewalling our investigation," he said sharply, focused as always. "So we need to find some dirt. Something that creep can't make disappear with a signature or a phone call."

Hyunjin hopped off the cabinet and crouched beside him, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I already gave you my foolproof plan, remember?" Hyunjin said, winking mischievously. "You hook up with the pretty lawyer boy. One night with you, and he'll sign over his will. In blood, if you ask nicely."

Minho glanced up just enough to glare at him.

"Why don't you hook up with him?" he shot back, opening another drawer.

"Nah, not my type," Hyunjin said. "Too clean-cut. I like 'em with more muscle, you know, guys who look like they sweat... and, well, a bit shorter. Easier to cuddle."

Minho paused for a second.

"For God's sake, Hyunjin. Are you still sleeping with Changbin?"

"WHAT?" Hyunjin stood up straight. "No, no, no, not at all. Who said that? I just... you know, I suck him off every now and then when the poor guy desperately needs it. It's charity, Mochi! 

Minho rolled his eyes, grabbing another stack of papers.

"And in your saintly charity, did you forget Changbin's dating Felix?"

Hyunjin scoffed and rolled his eyes. Then he started pacing around the room.

"What can that blood-obsessed sadist give my Binnie that I can't, huh?"

"Maybe a stable relationship?" Minho suggested, flipping through another file.

Hyunjin stopped dead, spinning toward Minho with an outraged look.

"Stable, my ass!" he snapped. "Hiding who they are isn't stable—it's cowardice!"

"Changbin and Felix know full well that dating a colleague is against the rules, Hyun," Minho said, finally looking up. "One complaint, and they could both lose their jobs. Especially now, with Internal Affairs sniffing around everywhere."

"Oh, yeah, sure! You're so right, my bad," Hyunjin said, sarcastic. "It's way more mature and 'stable' to sneak around like horny teenagers. Super professional. Very grown-up."

"Jealous, Hyun?"

Hyunjin's jaw dropped, like Minho had just pulled a gun instead of dropping a single word.

"Jealous? Me?" he practically shouted. "Please, Mochi! I know Binnie. I really know him. I know what coffee he likes in the morning, that he snores when he's wiped out after a long shift, and that he's scared to watch horror movies alone. And I'd never drag him into some cold, sterile autopsy room for a pathetic quickie on a blood-stained table. That idiot Felix... Thinks he's so cute with his stupid freckles and his fake-ass French accent: 'Oh, oui, mon cher, I'm Felix, lived in Paris for two years, now I talk like I'm freaking Jean Reno reincarnated.' It's embarrassing!"

"You detectives are soooooo emotional," someone interrupted.

Of course. It was him. Eunwoo, leaning against the doorway with a smug grin. Minho snapped his head up from the floor, where he was still holding a file, and shot him a look of pure disgust he didn't bother hiding.

"You again?" Minho spat, standing up. "Here to threaten us with another search warrant?"

Eunwoo chuckled and strolled into the room.

"Sorry for humiliating you in front of your whole team. Well, maybe just a little sorry. A gentleman's gotta leave room for honesty, don't you think?"

Hyunjin snorted loudly.

"Yeah, you look real torn up about it," he muttered. "This is a crime scene. You shouldn't be here. So do us a favor, turn around, and move your ass before I arrest you for obstruction... or just because I feel like it."

Eunwoo raised an eyebrow, unfazed.

"Actually, you two are breaking at least three company protocols right now," he said smoothly. "Unauthorized access, snooping through confidential files without a warrant... I could call security and have you kicked out. But... I might let it slide if you help me with a little something. Nothing big, I promise."

Minho crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.

"And why the hell would we help you?"

"Because I could help you close this case once and for all. Interested?"

Hyunjin and Minho exchanged a quick look, a whole conversation without words. Was it a trap? Probably. Worth hearing him out? Maybe.

"What's the catch, lawyer boy?" Hyunjin asked. "You don't do anything for free."

Eunwoo flashed that infuriating smile, like he always had the upper hand.

"No catch, handsome," he said, winking with shameless confidence that made Hyunjin roll his eyes. "I just wanna make your job easier. Let's be real, digging through old papers is a bit of a time-waster, no?"

Minho huffed, his patience hanging by a thread.

"You could make our job easier by getting out of our faces. Trust me, I can crack this case before nightfall without your 'help.'"

"God, Detective Lee," Eunwoo whispered, biting his lower lip. "You're so hot when you get all cocky like that. It's fascinating. So, does that mean you'll consider my offer? 'Cause, seriously, you're breaking my heart if you say no."

Minho's stomach churned with disgust, though he hid it well. He hated how this guy could twist any professional talk into some flirty nonsense.

"Depends," Minho said, forcing his voice to stay calm. "What the hell do you want?"

Eunwoo's smile widened, like he'd already won.

"Two nights ago, Henry and I had some drinks in my office. Poor guy was a mess, and... let's just say the whiskey made him chatty. He told me a bit about Kim Woojin."

Hyunjin straightened up, suddenly all ears.

"And?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"He said Woojin was running several businesses, mostly restaurants, and using them to launder money. Sadly, Henry didn't get to the part where he named the restaurants. Passed out on my desk, drooling a little. Such a shame, right? Could've been useful."

Minho frowned, glancing at Hyunjin again.

"Why are you telling us this?" he asked, suspicious. "You know if we find those restaurants, your client goes back to prison, right?"

"Of course I know, Detective," Eunwoo nodded. "And, if I'm completely honest, I'm about 38% sure my client killed Henry Lau and Yoo Nari. But," he raised a finger, "I'm his lawyer. My personal opinion doesn't matter here."

"So you just wanna tamper with evidence and cash your paycheck," Minho said bitterly. "Knew it. You're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

"We're not that different, are we?" Eunwoo replied. "Help me figure out which restaurants are under Woojin's control. You lock up your killer with evidence even I can't fight in court, and I... I get my big courtroom moment. Win-win."

"And how exactly do you expect us to find that out?" Hyunjin asked, mocking. "What, you want us to go to every restaurant in Busan and ask, 'Hey, you laundering money for a psycho here?'"

Eunwoo let out a genuine laugh.

"I heard Detective Lee's itching to try some undercover work. How about a little practice?"

"What do you mean?" Minho asked, though part of him was already screaming he wouldn't like the answer.

"I mean... let's have a date."

Sky Tower 101, Busan. 7:02 a.m.

The sunrise in Busan was gray, with a cold, foggy chill. Bang leaned against the patrol car, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, collar up to block the icy wind. He was bouncing his leg, impatient, and checked his watch for the third time in five minutes. Just as he thought about sending an angry text, the building's revolving door spun, and Minho stumbled out, wrestling with a cardboard box that looked heavier than he was.

"Need help with that, rook?"

"I... I got it," Minho grunted through gritted teeth, adjusting his grip on the box.

Bang rolled his eyes and, without insisting, stepped forward to open the car's back door.

"What's in there? Donations for every orphan in Busan?" he teased.

Minho dropped the box onto the back seat and straightened up, rubbing his arms to warm up.

"Real funny," he said, no trace of a smile. "You been waiting long?"

"Ten minutes, tops," Bang said, shutting the back door and heading to the driver's side. "Don't wanna be late for my next shift."

"I promise this'll be quick, don't worry," Minho said, climbing into the passenger seat, buckling up, and glancing at the box like he was making sure it wouldn't tip over. "Have you... talked to Changbin again about the operation?"

Bang started the engine and sighed.

"Changbin barely wants to see my face, rookie," he admitted, checking the rearview mirror before pulling out. He turned the wheel carefully, easing out of the parking lot. "He's still pissed about the whole Choi Seungcheol case mess. Got a text from him yesterday that just said, 'When I see you, I'm breaking your face.' In Changbin's language, that's practically a love poem. Won't answer my calls, nothing."

Minho tried to look at him, but a stab of guilt made him turn to the window instead.

"Sorry, Bang," he said after a long pause.

Bang stayed quiet, glanced at him, and, against all odds, smiled.

"Not your fault, rookie," he said. "We both screwed up."

"But if I hadn't—" Minho started, turning to him.

"But you did, didn't you?" Bang cut him off, a bit sharper. "I'm a grown man, I make my own choices, got it? And I chose to cover for you because I wasn't gonna let you go down for something that was on me too. So stop carrying guilt that's not yours."

"You didn't have to do that, Bang," Minho insisted. "You could've saved yourself and let me deal with the consequences."

"No, rookie." Bang's voice was firm, no room for argument. He slowed down as they approached a yellow light. "Besides..." he added, shrugging with fake nonchalance, "what's two months? Nothing. I'll be back in Homicide before you know it. By then, maybe you'll have learned not to get in trouble without me."

Minho stared at him in silence, words stuck in his throat.

"Thanks," he whispered, so sincere that Bang had to look back at the road to avoid saying something more than words.

"Cut the sappy stuff and focus on solving the Lau case, alright?" Bang growled.

Minho glanced at him sideways, tilting his head slightly.

"Jisoo told you?"

Bang nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

"How sure are you the killer won't go after another lawyer?"

"Not that sure," Minho admitted. "It seems tied to the Kim Woojin case. But... feels like too much of a coincidence."

Bang scoffed, clicking his tongue.

"Kim Woojin's got a nasty temper, rookie. When we arrested him, he swore revenge on everyone who put him away. Doesn't that sound obvious?"

"Too obvious," Minho shot back, leaning his elbow against the window. "And his lawyer doesn't sit right with me either. He told me we should go on a date to get evidence against Woojin."

Bang sat up so fast he nearly choked on his own breath.

"W-Wait, hold up! A date?" he repeated. "With a lawyer? What the hell are you talking about, rookie? When did this happen? And why am I the last to know?"

Minho shrugged, way too calm.

"It's this guy... Cha Eunwoo."

"Cha Eunwoo?" Bang growled. "The Cha Eunwoo?"

"You know him?" Minho asked, surprised by the reaction.

"Know him? Rookie! That guy's a damn leech in an Armani suit. Only cares about himself. If you think he's gonna help you without getting something bigger out of it, you're more naive than I thought."

"He says we can help each other."

"You know what he did to Jisoo last year? Stole her jewelry fraud case when she'd already tied up all the loose ends. Swoops in at the last second, takes all the credit, and walks away. That's the kind of jerk he is."

Minho couldn't hold back a smirk.

"Hmm. Sounds familiar. Some guy swooping in to take credit after the hard work's done..."

"Shut your damn mouth, rookie!" Bang snapped, turning just enough to glare at him. He was pretending to be mad, but the jealousy was obvious. "At least I put your name on the reports. That guy just wants to be on the news with his pretty face. Trust me, he's not worth it."

"It's just a dinner, Bang. No big deal."

"No big deal?" Bang repeated, tilting his head in disbelief. "That guy's dangerous. Not the 'stab you in an alley' kind. Worse. He smiles, convinces you to give him everything... and when you're no use to him anymore, he dumps you like trash. And he's got a really convincing smile." He swallowed hard, looking back at the road. "He's not your type."

Minho stared at him, and despite Bang's tough act, the stiff shoulders and bitter tone gave him away.

"You sure you're talking about him?"

Bang shot him a sideways glance, his ear turning red, and looked back at the road.

"Shut up, rookie."

But Minho had already seen it all.

Haneul Serenity Rehab Center, Busan. 7:32 a.m.

The knock on the door was so soft that Jeonghan thought he'd dreamed it at first. He stirred in his sheets, groggy, hair a mess and sticking to his cheek. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, he shuffled to the door. He was only in pajama pants, his bare torso showing a thinness he still carried, though he didn't look as fragile as before. When he opened the door, his confusion was clear. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on the blurry figure in front of him.

"De... detectives?" His voice was hoarse, rough from sleep. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it. "I didn't know you were coming today. Something happen?"

Minho, holding the heavy cardboard box, shifted it in his arms.

"Can we come in?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah! Come in." Jeonghan swung the door wide open, stepping back quickly when he realized he was half-naked. "Sorry for the mess. Had an art class yesterday, brought some extra work back to my room. Wasn't expecting visitors this early. Want coffee? Though, uh, strongest thing I've got is herbal tea."

The room was far from a mess. It was spotless. The only thing breaking the perfection were canvases leaning against the wall, paint-stained brushes in a glass jar, and plastic cups filled with water tinted by colors.

Bang walked over to one of the canvases. It was a landscape: a jagged cliff over a stormy gray sea. The sky was heavy with clouds, and you could almost feel the wind from the way the long brushstrokes bent the cliff's grass. At the edge, a lone figure, painted all in black, stood with its back to the viewer, staring at the horizon. It was eerie and beautiful.

"You paint this?" Bang asked, not taking his eyes off the canvas.

Jeonghan, pulling on a black tank top, nodded.

"Uh... yeah. Dr. Yang says I've got some talent for it," he said quietly, embarrassed, like he didn't want to sound cocky. "Says it's therapeutic, helps me get stuff out. I dunno. I paint when I can't sleep."

"He's right," Minho said, setting the box on the bed with a relieved sigh. "You've got a lot of talent."

Jeonghan nodded toward the box, curious.

"You bring me more stuff?"

"Clothes, mostly," Minho replied. "Got everything in the same size, though..." He looked Jeonghan over. "You look less skinny since we last saw you."

"And those bags under your eyes don't go down to your chin anymore," Bang added, turning from the painting. "You look like a different person, kiddo."

Jeonghan looked down, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Guess so. I'm eating better, sleeping better... even working out a bit with some guys from the east wing. And... well, I met a cute nurse who always gives me extra dessert. Says I'm his favorite 'cause I never complain about the food. That helps, right?"

Minho gave him something close to a smile. It was the first time he'd heard Jeonghan crack a joke.

"You look good, Jeonghan. Really." He paused. "They give you your chip yet?"

Jeonghan's face lit up. He dug into his pajama pocket and pulled out a small silver metal chip. He held it in his palm, showing it off with a pride that was almost heartwarming.

"Last Tuesday," he said, excited. "Thirty days clean, can you believe it?"

He tossed it to Minho, who caught it mid-air and turned it over in his fingers. It was light, but in his hands, it felt heavy as lead.

"Good job, kid."

Jeonghan swallowed hard, emotional, and pointed at the box on the bed with the eagerness of a kid on Christmas.

"Can I?"

"Go for it. It's all yours," Minho said, stepping back to give him room. "Open it, but don't expect anything fancy, alright?"

Jeonghan tore into the box, his smile growing with every item he pulled out. Cotton t-shirts in neutral colors, hoodies, new socks. Then a toiletry kit with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. But what stopped him cold was a pair of hardcover sketchbooks and a set of graphite pencils in different grades.

"You guys have no idea what this means to me," he said, emotional. "Having something that's mine... something that's not borrowed."

Bang, watching from the corner, cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Alright, kid, we're happy to see you doing better," he said gruffly, like he wanted to cut the emotional moment short. "But... we need to talk about a couple things. You know, that unfinished business."

Jeonghan's smile froze, then crumbled completely. He looked down, letting the sketchbook rest on his knees, and slowly sank onto the edge of the bed next to the pile of new clothes.

"Yeah... okay," he murmured, barely audible.

Minho moved closer, sitting beside him. Not too close, but enough for Jeonghan to know he was there. Carefully, he placed a hand on Jeonghan's shoulder, which tensed under the touch.

"You don't have to be scared. The more we know about this guy, the faster we can get him off the streets. And the safer you'll be, I promise."

Jeonghan looked up at him. His eyes, full of pride just moments ago, were now heavy with anxiety. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and nodded, though it looked like it took effort.

"They call him Winter Fox," he started, staring at his trembling hands. "Works at the psychiatric hospital's pharmacy... or at least I think so. He's crazy smart. Too smart. Fakes prescriptions, impossible to trace, then sells the drugs. Anything: pills, powders, even the rare, expensive stuff. Always has buyers. Always."

Bang already had his notebook out, pulling a pen from his jacket pocket and scribbling without taking his eyes off Jeonghan.

"Where does he make the drops?" he asked.

"That's the problem," Jeonghan whispered, rubbing his sweaty palms together. "He never uses the same spot. Could be an alley behind a fancy restaurant, a train station bathroom, even a playground at night. The guy's paranoid. Always sets up distractions. Decoys. Sends someone to scope the place days in advance to check for cops. If it looks clear, then he sends a middleman for the actual drop. He never shows up himself."

Minho frowned, glancing at Bang. Their shared look said it all: this just got three times harder.

"So you're saying you never saw him face-to-face?" Minho asked, trying to stay calm. "Not even once?"

Jeonghan shook his head.

"Never. He'd never risk his job like that, he's too careful. Everything was handled through coded messages or third parties. But..." he paused, like he was debating whether to say it, "I know he has white hair. Snow white. That's where the nickname comes from."

Bang looked up from his notebook, frowning.

"So he's an old guy?"

"No, no," Jeonghan said, shaking his head again. "He dyes it. I know he's young because... I talked to him once, on the phone, when a delivery got delayed. And... he had a nice voice. Like, too nice for a guy like him."

Bang snorted sarcastically and snapped his notebook shut.

"Great. A kid with white hair and a pretty voice. Super clear profile, yeah. Not like there are thousands of idiots in Busan dyeing their hair weird colors."

Jeonghan shrank, looking down.

"I know... I know," he whispered, defeated. "I wish I could tell you more, but like I said, I haven't dealt with him in years. Maybe he doesn't even have white hair anymore. Maybe he's not at the pharmacy, or he moved to another city. But one thing I do know..." He looked up, real fear in his eyes. "That guy is always one step ahead. Always. And if you're after him now... he already knows. I'm sure of it."

Chapter Text

Osteria Aboo, Busan. 9:27 p.m.

The restaurant smelled like freshly baked sourdough bread, expensive red wine, and sauces simmering in the kitchen. At a table next to a huge window overlooking the Busan port, Minho sat with his back so straight you could hear his bones creak. His white shirt felt tight and uncomfortable on his shoulders, and his black jacket smelled like mothballs and disuse, as if he had pulled it from the back of the closet for a special occasion. A wedding, a funeral... or this mission that felt like a disaster from the very start. His index finger kept tapping the side of his water glass, making a nervous click, click, click sound.

Across from him, Eunwoo was the complete opposite. He was lounging in his chair, with one arm over the back, smiling with the confidence of someone used to having the world at his feet. The contrast was so absurd it was almost funny.

"You look like you're waiting for an ambush, detective," Eunwoo murmured, bringing his wine glass to his lips. He took a slow sip, not taking his eyes off Minho for a second.

"Stop calling me detective," Minho shot back, too quick, too sharp. He cursed himself for sounding so defensive.

"My bad. Private consultant, right? What's that even mean? You your own boss?"

Minho shrugged, tense. 

"Kinda. It's complicated."

"Hmm, doubt it. What's really complicated is why a guy like you isn't in Homicide anymore." Eunwoo twirled his wine glass by the stem. "That part wasn't in your file."

Minho's silence said more than any lie could.

"I got suspended," he finally admitted, after the pause dragged on too long. "For... mental health stuff. Happy now?"

Eunwoo didn't look shocked or even fazed. He just nodded, like he already knew.

"Because of your family?" No pity in the question, just straight to the point.

Minho nodded once. His hand shook slightly as he grabbed his wine glass and took a huge gulp. The dry red burned going down, but it didn't erase the ashy taste that question always left in his mouth.

"You know you could sue them, right?" Eunwoo said, watching every tiny twitch on Minho's face.

"Who?" Minho frowned.

"The Department, dummy," Eunwoo replied. "Homicide shouldn't have kicked you out after trauma like that. They should've helped you, evaluated you properly, and if nothing was wrong... let you keep your badge. That was straight-up wrongful termination. Didn't Captain Seo explain that?"

Minho went quiet. His eyes drifted to the window, to the distant lights reflecting on the dark water. He swallowed hard, and Eunwoo didn't need more confirmation.

"So..." Eunwoo dragged out the word, nudging him to keep going.

"I had a breakdown, okay?" Minho snapped, voice low. "I couldn't sleep. Couldn't think. The board decided I needed a break. Therapy. But... it's been two years. Two years, and I still haven't..."

"But you feel ready, don't you?" Eunwoo cut in.

Minho hesitated. He hated how this smug, cocky guy made him wobble, forced him to look at the parts of himself he'd locked away.

"Do it," Eunwoo said, no trace of softness.

"Huh?" Minho frowned, totally lost.

"Do it," Eunwoo repeated, nodding slightly toward the restaurant. "Your detective thing. Right here, right now. Look around... and do what you do best. Prove to yourself it's still there."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Minho asked, but his eyes were already scanning the room, the faces, the movements, like a reflex.

"Come on, Minho, don't play dumb," Eunwoo laughed softly. "You're telling me you haven't been analyzing this place and every person in it since you walked in? Be real with me. Do it for yourself. Or do it for me, if that's what gets you going."

Minho acted offended, but damn, Eunwoo was right. His brain was a trap for details he couldn't turn off, badge or no badge.

"Fine," he gave in. "The lady in the corner, blue dress. She hates seafood. Made a face when the waiter carried oysters to the table next to her."

Eunwoo glanced over subtly and smirked. 

"I caught that too, babe. You can do better."

"The guy with her? Not her husband. She's got a wedding ring. He's got nothing on his fingers, but... look, when he grabs his glass, there's a pale mark on his ring finger. Maybe an affair. Maybe a fresh divorce. But they're not happy, that's for sure. He checks his watch every two minutes, doesn't look her in the eye once." He moved to another table, where a young woman with straight black hair fidgeted with her napkin. "That girl... waiting for a date. First one, or at least the first that really matters. She got here twenty minutes ago, right on time. She's checked her phone... nine, ten times since we sat down. Every time the door opens, she sits up straighter, fixes her hair. Bad news for her. He's not showing."

"Poor thing," Eunwoo murmured, but his eyes stayed on Minho.

"And the waiter who took our order..." Minho lowered his voice even more. "Definitely his first day. Forgot to mention the specials—'Lobster Risotto' and 'Filet Mignon with Port Reduction,' according to the sign outside. And he's got a sauce stain on his collar. Probably from sneaking a taste in the kitchen. Rookie mistake."

When he finished, Minho felt weirdly empty and exposed, like he'd bared his soul to this lawyer who saw everything. Shame and a strange relief battled inside him. He'd said more in these last few minutes than he had in weeks. Eunwoo didn't speak right away. He just watched, his earlier smirk turning into something... admiring. He set his glass down.

"See?" he said finally, his voice losing its teasing edge, turning surprisingly soft. "You don't need some shitty Department with their stupid rules to prove you're amazing, Minho. That thing that makes you special? It's in here." He tapped his temple. "Not on some metal badge."

For the first time that night—maybe in years—Minho couldn't stop a shy, almost embarrassed smile from creeping onto his face. It was small, but it was there.

"It's not a big deal," he mumbled, taking another sip of wine to hide his confusion.

"Oh, it is," Eunwoo whispered. "Trust me, I know value when I see it. And you, Lee Minho, are worth way more than you think."

Minho didn't know what to say.

Shit, shit, shit. This was getting out of hand.

"Enough with this fake flirting," Minho snapped, hardening his face as he slipped back into his cold tone. "We're here for work, remember?"

Eunwoo didn't answer right away. He just hid a smile behind his wine glass, taking another sip. That's when Minho, staring at that unshakable confidence, caught it. No real questions about the case, the obsessive push to get him out of his professional shell, to dig into his past. The loose ends his brain had ignored because he so desperately wanted to feel useful again.

It was too obvious now.

"This..." he swallowed hard, "this is a real date, isn't it?"

Eunwoo laughed.

"Took you longer than I thought, detective."

"You tricked me!" Minho's voice spiked, drawing curious glances from nearby tables. He dropped it to an angry whisper. "You made up that money-laundering crap."

"Don't pin this on me!" Eunwoo said, shrugging with infuriating ease. "What else was I supposed to do? If I'd asked you out straight-up, what would you have said?"

Minho was speechless, reeling from the confession. He felt like a fool, a total idiot who'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book.

"That doesn't make it okay," he managed, anger dulled by confusion. "You can't just play with people like that."

"Play?" Eunwoo raised an eyebrow. "You think I'd put in all this time and effort for someone I don't actually care about? You're the most intriguing, frustratingly noble person I've met in years. A guy who's falling apart but refuses to break. That's... insanely hot."

"I... I don't have time for this," Minho muttered, looking away.

"Why?" Eunwoo pressed. "Because you're scared?"

"No!" Minho hissed with real pain. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Don't you get it? I don't want anyone, especially you, trying to fix me! This... this was a mistake. A huge mistake."

"Minho, wait—" Eunwoo reached out, but it was too late.

Minho was already weaving through the tables, moving fast and clumsy. Eunwoo cursed under his breath—"Damn it!"—tossed some bills on the table without counting, and chased him into the chilly Busan night.

Outside, the cold harbor breeze hit Minho, cooling the heat of his embarrassment. He walked fast, no direction, hands stuffed in the pockets of his now-ridiculous jacket. Until, at a dimly lit corner far from the restaurant's buzz, Eunwoo grabbed his arm.

"Let go!" Minho said, trying to pull free, but Eunwoo's grip was surprisingly strong.

"No. Not until you hear me out," Eunwoo said, slightly out of breath, his exhales puffing into the cold air. "I'm not letting you run from this."

"I don't want to see you! Get lost!" Minho shouted, but his voice cracked, weak.

"Why? Because you're scared someone might actually want to be with you?" Eunwoo didn't let go, his eyes intense even in the dark. "You don't get to be mad because I 'tricked' you into spending a night with me. I did it because from the moment I saw you... I saw the broken, stubborn, brilliant guy you are, and I couldn't wait. I didn't want to wait for a chance that might never come."

Minho finally looked at him, and in the shadows, Eunwoo's smug mask was gone. All that was left was a sincerity that made Minho dizzy.

"I'm not trying to fix you, Minho," Eunwoo went on, softer now. "I don't want the 'ex-detective.' I don't want the version of you that you think the world expects. I want you. The scared one. The one too stubborn to admit he needs someone. You."

Minho felt his walls cracking under Eunwoo's relentless charm and those beautiful, brutally honest words.

"I don't know how to do this," Minho whispered, admitting defeat. Not to Eunwoo, but to himself. "I don't know how to... be like this. With you. With anyone."

Eunwoo smiled. He let go of Minho's arm and gently took his hand instead, lacing their cold fingers together.

"Nobody knows, dumbass," he said, his thumb brushing softly over the back of Minho's hand. "But we can figure it out together. Step by step. If you let me."

Bang's Office, Busan Homicide Department. 10:32 p.m.

Bang was neck-deep in paperwork, his head propped on one hand like it was the only thing keeping him from face-planting onto his desk. Half-open gray folders, empty coffee mugs, and a pile of reports that looked ready to declare independence. The mess was chaotic and depressing, just like his mood.

Tap, tap, tap-tap.

A soft knock on the open doorframe. Bang didn't even need to look up to know who it was. Only one person in the whole precinct knocked like that.

"Busy, Bang-Bang?" Hyunjin chirped, strolling in without waiting for an invite.

"If you're here to mess with me again, Lieutenant, do me a favor and get lost," Bang grumbled, not bothering to glance up from the mind-numbing report in front of him.

Hyunjin pulled an exaggerated pout, tapping his chin like he was deep in thought. 

"Hmm... I'd love to say I'm just here to tease, but no." He dropped a stack of new folders right by Bang's elbow. "I'm here to talk work."

Bang finally looked up, squinting skeptically. 

"Work?" he said, sarcastic. "Who are you, and what'd you do with the real Hwang Hyunjin?"

"Ha, funny," Hyunjin shot back, unfazed. 

He hopped up to sit on the one clear corner of the desk, swinging a leg so his shoe tapped the table lightly. Bang eyed the swinging leg, then the stack of folders, then Hyunjin. 

"You gonna tell me what this is, Hwang, or do I have to guess?" he asked, already flipping through a folder half-heartedly.

"I couldn't stop worrying about Mochi," Hyunjin admitted. "I mean, I trust him, one hundred percent, with my life and all that. But I don't trust that damn lawyer one bit." 

"Weren't you the one who nagged nonstop to get the rookie to go out with that lawyer? Saying it'd be good for him to 'relax' and meet someone new?"

Hyunjin froze for a split second. Then he flashed a nervous grin, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket, avoiding Bang's gaze.

"Well, that... that was different," he mumbled. "So, you know, I did a little digging. My own side investigation. And did you know the Kim Woojin case... it's the case? Like, not just any case, Bang-Bang. For the lawyers at Gwanghwa & Partners, representing that jerk is like... winning the lottery."

Bang's frown deepened, intrigued despite himself. 

"If it's such a big deal... how the hell did Cha Eunwoo end up with it?"

"That's the thing!" Hyunjin exclaimed, jabbing a finger at a page in the folder Bang held. "I snooped through the firm's internal records, their case assignment system. And look, look close at what I found."

Bang scanned the pages—entry logs, memos, meeting notes. The more he read, the deeper his frown got.

"No record of Cha," he muttered, disbelief clear in his voice.

"Not a single one!" Hyunjin snapped. "It's like the guy just... appeared with the case in his hands. Like magic. He might not even be a real lawyer! And it gets better," he added, his excitement growing as he pulled another folder from under his arm. "While I was digging through that black hole of info on how he got the case... I stumbled on something else. Something that might, just maybe, tie Henry Lau's murder to our dear, arrogant lawyer, Cha Eunwoo."

Sky Tower 101, Busan. 11:17 p.m.

The engine of Eunwoo's Porsche shut off in the nearly empty parking lot. Minho still couldn't believe it. He'd been tricked, manipulated into a date under false pretenses... and yet, here he was, about to get out of this guy's car after a night he'd—grudgingly—enjoyed way too much.

"You know, Lee," Eunwoo started, turning off the engine completely and shifting in the leather seat to face him fully, "for a 'doubly fake' date... I had an amazing time with you."

Minho gripped the door handle, avoiding Eunwoo's gaze, staring at the gray concrete pillar in front of them. 

"Thanks for the ride," he mumbled, pushing the door open, desperate for the fake safety of his empty apartment.

But Eunwoo was faster. He gently grabbed Minho's wrist, stopping him. 

"Do you have to run off like that?"

"I'm not running," Minho protested, but his voice sounded weak.

"Sure you are. You always do. You get scared and bolt. Look, I know I started this with a lie. It was a dirty move, I'll admit it. But I did it because I knew you'd never, in a million years, agree to go out with me otherwise." He paused. "Let me prove I'm worth it."

Minho shook his head, that old, familiar dread creeping in. The fear. Always the fear. 

"You don't get it," he whispered, finally looking away.

"Get what?" Eunwoo asked softly.

"That... I don't want to ruin you," Minho confessed, the words dragging out like they physically hurt to say.

Eunwoo didn't speak for a long moment. He just watched, with that intensity that made Minho feel completely exposed. Then, slowly, Eunwoo lifted his free hand, gently tilting Minho's chin with his fingertips. 

"Look at me, Minho," he whispered.

And Minho, as if pulled by something stronger than his own will, obeyed.

"I'm not some victim who doesn't know what he's getting into," Eunwoo said, his thumb brushing lightly along Minho's jaw. "I'm here because every time I see you—with your stubbornness, your bad temper, and that damn way you care so much it breaks you—I feel like I've been waiting for you my whole life without even knowing it. Taking a chance on you doesn't scare me. What terrifies me is the idea of not trying."

The words hit Minho, crumbling the last of his walls, melting the ice around his heart. His eyes watered against his will, but he didn't look away. He couldn't.

And then... damn it.

Eunwoo leaned in, slow, giving Minho every chance to pull back, to say no, to end it. But Minho didn't move. He was frozen, caught by the closeness of those lips, the burning sincerity in those eyes. He could feel the warmth of Eunwoo's breath on his skin.

The kiss was soft, like a butterfly landing. A light, warm, dry touch that somehow sent a jolt through his whole body. Eunwoo's lips were softer than Minho had imagined, moving against his with a tenderness that broke his heart, asking rather than taking. No rush, no greed.

Minho closed his eyes and let himself go. When Eunwoo pulled back, just a few inches, their breaths mingled in the tight space of the car. Minho opened his eyes, dazed. Eunwoo was smiling—a different smile than any Minho had seen before.

And then, driven by a courage he didn't know he had, by a need that finally beat out the fear... something unexpected happened.

Minho kissed him again.

[...]

WARNING: 

The following scene contains explicit (NSFW) content.

Between kisses that had lost all traces of shyness, Minho finally managed to unlock his apartment door. The click of the lock was drowned out by their ragged gasps, by the brush of Eunwoo's tongue exploring every corner of his mouth. The lawyer didn't let up—one hand tangled in Minho's hair, the other gripping his neck, pulling him close to erase any space between them, as if a single inch might give Minho enough sense to run. Minho fumbled to kick the door shut without breaking away from Eunwoo. The noise startled his cats, curled up on the couch, who scattered and hid under the furniture, watching the chaos that had invaded their peace.

Minho's shoes flew off in opposite directions, and with one hand, he tackled Eunwoo's belt buckle, struggling for a moment before it gave way.

"God, Minho..." Eunwoo murmured, breaking the kiss only to bury his face in Minho's neck, nibbling and licking the sensitive skin just below his ear. "I've wanted this since the first time I saw you."

"Shut up," Minho whispered, flushed and breathless, capturing Eunwoo's lips again with a desperation to silence him, to drown out the thoughts screaming this was a bad idea.

He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to think.

They stumbled down the narrow hallway, bumping into walls and laughing between gasps, clothes falling away. With a final push, Minho shoved open his bedroom door and, with a strength he didn't know he had, threw Eunwoo onto the bed. The lawyer landed with a mix of laughter and panting, his bare torso gleaming under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Only black silk boxers stood between him and complete nakedness.

Minho paused at the door, catching his breath, drinking in the sight. Without wasting another second, he tore off his own shirt and launched himself onto Eunwoo, fitting his body between Eunwoo's spread legs. Eunwoo moaned as Minho rocked his hips, his still-clothed erection rubbing against Eunwoo's, barely contained by the thin silk.

"Easy, baby," Eunwoo whispered, hands roaming Minho's back. "We've got all night."

Eunwoo flipped them over. In a flash, their positions switched—Minho now lay on the sheets, gazing up with glassy eyes and parted lips, while Eunwoo hovered over him. He kissed every inch of Minho's paler, scar-flecked torso, circling his tongue slowly around his navel, inching lower until his hot breath seeped through Minho's boxers, right over his erection. Minho looked down, and damn, the sight of this arrogant, untouchable man now kneeling between his legs, whit his hair perfectly mussed, and his eyes blazing with raw devotion, was beyond exquisite.

But then... oh, shit.

Minho's cursed, traitorous mind played the cruelest trick.

In an instant, Eunwoo's face blurred. His features shifted subtly—his jaw grew sharper, his eyes lost their signature arrogance and filled with a rugged, achingly familiar intensity that broke Minho's heart.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Minho's breath hitched, his eyes snapping wide. Because in his mind, in that wretched projection of his deepest, buried desires, it wasn't Eunwoo kneeling before him...

It was Bang.

Bang, with his always-serious gaze now burning with a fire Minho had only glimpsed in his most secret dreams. Bang, kissing his body, moving his tongue with a devotion that made Minho's face burn with both forbidden shame and exhilaration. Even in his hallucination, he could hear that voice, whispering things Bang would never dare say in real life.

"Like that, don't you, rookie? Get all worked up when I kiss you here?"

It was too much. Too real, too intense, too... true.

"Stop!" The word tore from Minho's mouth, laced with panic.

He shoved Eunwoo back, scrambling away. Eunwoo, startled and confused, stopped instantly, pulling back with a furrowed brow.

"Minho? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Minho couldn't look at him. Shame consumed him. He crawled backward, hitting the headboard. What kind of monster was he? What kind of person sees someone else in a moment this intimate?

"I can't," he choked out. "I'm sorry, I... I can't do this."

Eunwoo didn't get angry or let his pride take a hit. Instead, he moved slowly, kneeling on the bed in front of Minho, keeping a respectful distance.

"What can't you do, baby?" he asked, trying to soothe Minho's turmoil. "Be with me? 

"No!" Minho shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut so hard he saw sparks. "It's... I'm not like this... I shouldn't..." A half-lie, a half-truth.

Eunwoo stayed quiet for a long moment, watching Minho's tense profile, the slight tremble in his shoulders.

"Is it someone else?" he asked finally, perceptive.

Minho didn't answer. He couldn't. But his silence was answer enough. Eunwoo took a deep breath. Minho braced for a lecture, for him to get up, get dressed, and leave forever. But instead, Eunwoo did something that shattered Minho's heart into a thousand pieces. Without another word, he lay down beside him—not facing him, not confronting him. He curled up behind Minho, wrapping his body around him in an embrace. His bare chest pressed against Minho's back, one arm sliding across his torso, holding him close.

"It's okay," Eunwoo whispered against his neck. "We don't have to do anything."

Minho slowly relaxed, sinking into Eunwoo's warmth, feeling the steady strength of his hold, the calm radiating from him despite the rejection. The tears he'd been holding back finally spilled. Eunwoo didn't say a word, just tightened his embrace.

Minho closed his eyes. The guilt and confusion lingered, but for the first time in a long, long time, he didn't feel completely alone. And, exhausted from the emotional storm, he fell into a deep sleep.

¿'?

It was hard to breathe. Every inhale felt like a struggle.

Minho stepped into a puddle of something dark. It wasn't water. It shimmered under the dim light, like oil mixed with... something else. The place was an endless concrete parking garage, every pillar identical to the last, like he'd been walking in circles for hours, days. The parked cars were coated in dust so thick they looked abandoned for decades.

It started to snow.

Confused, he held out a hand. The flakes settled on his palm without melting. He looked up at the concrete ceiling above. No sky, no holes, yet the snow fell anyway, defying all logic. A sudden icy gust hit the back of his neck, making him flinch. The wind howled, though there was nowhere for it to come from, whistling between the pillars with voices that almost formed words. The swirling snow began to shape faces in the air, only to dissolve instantly, leaving him lonelier than before. The blizzard blurred his vision, turning everything into a hazy nightmare where shadows moved with a life of their own. And then...

"LEE KNOW!"

He heard the voice. Small, broken by sobs, but unmistakable.

"Lee Know, where are you?! I can't find you!" it cried again, and Minho's heart clenched.

"Who's there?" he shouted, spinning on his heels. His own voice sounded wrong, hollow.

He started walking, or rather, dragging his feet. Each step fought against an invisible weight clinging to his legs. The snow, now knee-deep, seeped into his pants, though he couldn't remember what he was wearing. He shivered uncontrollably, a chill crawling up his spine, whispering that none of this was real, but the terror was. It was more real than anything.

"Lee Know! Over here!" The voice was closer now, but more broken.

"I'm coming!" Minho gasped, struggling to move through cars that seemed to shift when he glanced away. His numb hands gripped cold hoods, leaving marks that vanished instantly. "Keep talking! Tell me where you are!"

Suddenly, the wind stopped, its howl fading into dead silence. The snowflakes froze midair, suspended, like time itself had paused. A warm beam of light, jarringly out of place, lit up a spot a few meters ahead.

And there he was, peeking from behind his parents' old car.

Jeongin.

He peered out playfully, wearing his reindeer-ear cap. The one from that night. That awful night. But something was wrong. The cap had a coin-sized hole, with a writhing black thread snaking up toward the ceiling.

"I found you, hyung!" Jeongin chirped, his voice echoing like it came through a walkie-talkie.

Minho ran toward him, but Jeongin stayed just out of reach, close enough for Minho to see the details he loved, but too far to touch. An infinite distance of mere inches. His feet were sealed to the ground by black ice that sprouted from nowhere, trapping his ankles.

"Innie... is that you?" Minho managed, his throat tight.

Jeongin laughed—a laugh that should've been sweet but now sounded like multiple laughs layered together, some high, some low, echoing from every corner of the garage, multiplying, distorting, until it was the laughter of a crazed crowd.

"You hid so well, Minho hyung!" he said, but his lips moved a second late, out of sync. "I can barely... see you. Lee Know... is that you?"

His gaze clouded suddenly, like he was looking through Minho, at something behind him. Like Minho was a total stranger.

"Of course it's me, kid," Minho said, reaching out, but the space between them seemed to stretch, an invisible force repelling his desperation. "It's me. I came to get you. Let's go home."

"No. You're not Minho," Jeongin said, and all at once, the joy drained from his eyes, leaving only a dark void. "Minho hyung isn't scared. Minho is..." He froze mid-sentence, mouth open. He didn't breathe. Didn't blink. Then, like someone hit rewind, his smile snapped back in a second. "Now you have to find me, Lee Know!"

"No!" Minho screamed, desperate. "Don't go! Stay with me!"

But Jeongin ran away. Or rather... floated. His feet didn't touch the ground. He drifted over the snow, hopping backward in a way that defied gravity. Where his feet should've landed, the snowflakes turned into black moths, fluttering for a second before crumbling into ash.

"You have to count to ten!" he shouted, his voice echoing from everywhere at once—from between the cars, the pillars, the ceiling, even inside Minho's own head. "No cheating!"

"Jeongin, wait!" Minho managed to rip his feet from the ground. He ran, or tried to.

It was useless. For every three steps he took, his parents' car seemed to slide one step farther away. From the shadows between the pillars, faceless silhouettes began to form. They didn't move, just stood there, watching. Minho felt the weight of their gazes, judging him, silently mocking his helplessness, his failure. The warm light vanished, plunging him back into darkness, and the storm returned with ten times the fury. Icy wind lashed his face with shards of ice. Pain stung his cheek, and when he touched it, his hand came away smeared with blood, dripping onto the snow.

"ONE!" Minho shouted, forcing himself to start the count.

From the deepest part of the garage, where the darkness was absolute, something moved. Something big. It dragged itself toward him with a sickening crunch of bones on concrete. Minho squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing a scream. He knew, with a certainty that chilled his soul, that whatever was coming wasn't Jeongin.

"TWO!" he choked out, tears mixing with the blood as the shadows around him started closing in. "THREE!"

"LEE KNOW!" Jeongin's cry was no longer playful. It was a raw, terrified scream that tore at Minho's heart. "Lee Know, where are you?! I'M SCARED! SO SCARED!"

Minho forced his eyes open against the blizzard. The shadows were gone, but the snow had thickened, now tinged gray like ash. He couldn't see the car anymore. He couldn't see anything except an endless gray void. All he could hear was his little brother's voice, growing fainter, more terrified, blending with the howling wind that now seemed to whisper his name in hundreds of different voices.

"Lee Know! Please! SAVE ME! DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE, MINHO! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! IT'S COMING... IT'S COMING FOR ME!"

"INNIE, COME BACK!" Minho screamed with every ounce of strength, tears freezing instantly on his cheeks, forming tiny ice masks that cut his skin. "RUN TO MY VOICE! PLEASE!"

But his legs wouldn't move. The cold was a living thing, coiling around his chest, squeezing, paralyzing. His blood felt like ice, his limbs turning to stone. He wanted to move, to scream, to run, but the panic was a slab of concrete pinning him down. He was trapped in a block of clear ice, watching the world collapse, hearing his brother's sobs twist into a distorted echo.

"Why didn't you come, hyung?" a whisper, right in his ear. Minho whipped his head around, but no one was there. "Why did you leave me alone? You said... you said you'd always protect me."

The world caved in around him, and Minho couldn't fight anymore. He sank into despair, into memory. Jeongin's voice followed him into the depths, pleading, crying, laughing with desperate madness—all at once.

WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME?!

MINHO!

MINHO, SAVE ME!

SAVE ME!

HELP ME!

NO!

DON'T KILL ME!

MINHO!

BANG!

The sound wasn't loud. But it stopped the universe.

From inside his icy prison, Minho saw an orange flash light up Jeongin's small, huddled figure for a split second. His eyes, filled with indescribable terror, locked onto Minho's, searching for a salvation that never came.

Then everything turned red.

Blood didn't just pour from Jeongin. It came from everywhere—walls, ceiling, cars. It dripped down the pillars like the entire garage was bleeding, melting the fake snow. Jeongin's scream cut off, replaced by a horrible gurgle that faded fast. Silence. An absolute silence more terrifying than any sound.

With a superhuman effort that felt like tearing his muscles apart, Minho turned his head. There, in a growing pool of blood, was Jeongin. His small body, twisted unnaturally. The dark stain around him spread, swallowing the last scraps of light.

Behind his brother's body stood a tall, hooded figure. In its hand, a gun gleamed faintly, still aimed at the back of Jeongin's head. Minho opened his mouth. He wanted to roar, to curse, to scream all his rage and pain. But nothing came out. His voice was stolen. The world was a muted video, replaying the worst moment of his life in slow motion, over and over, an endless loop of his failure.

Until... the scream returned. Not fear anymore, but infinite pain, a soul-shattering betrayal. A long, wrenching wail that didn't come from Jeongin but from the very depths of the garage, from the blood on the walls, from Minho's own chest. As that awful sound filled the void, the hooded figure moved. As if it had always known Minho was watching, it turned its head slowly, toward him. 

He saw the face. And said...

"WAKE UP!"