As impulsive as Jia was, she wouldn’t have imagined that one night, one year ago, would have led her to this complete breakdown in the middle of the street. Maybe the problem was that Jia was only now realizing that the reason why she hadn’t had a peaceful night, a thoughtful connection or a completely satisfying sexual encounter, was standing in front of her, telling her to move along, looking at her like their night hadn’t meant anything and, fuck… that hurt. She was supposed to have forgotten, too. She was a mess. Broken and hardly trustworthy when it came to relationships. Maybe she was born this way. Sometimes, especially when she was having a hard time, she would think that killing her mother had also killed that part of her that was capable of loving, and murdering her father had only solidified it.
Oh, but she did love. She loved her parents, she loved Ryker and Jason, she loved Brooklyn and Hani. Seo Yeong might not have lived long, but Jia loved as fiercely and as strongly as she possibly could. Even if it wasn’t strong enough. Or long enough.
Obviously whatever had transpired between Seojun and her hadn’t been love. She wasn’t delusional like that. But it had been something. She had felt something, and Jia would have been perfectly fine if she never saw him again. Maybe it was all in her head, and maybe this emptiness she’d been feeling ever since had nothing to do with the connection they felt and everything to do with her lack of ability to connect.
Yes, that’s what it was. It wasn't him. He wasn't important. He wasn't fucking important.
Liar.
Jia was beyond angry. More than angry at him, she was angry at herself. She was standing there, making a scene and being lectured like a child. She was not a child. She was old enough to understand that she was fucked up and should have never said anything in the first place because he. didn’t. care. Seojun had made it clear in the way those words escaped his lips with such coldness and indifference that a slap on her face would have hurt less, meant less. Words had never been her forte and yet, the ones they’d exchanged that evening had been etched in her brain like a damn tattoo. His breathing on her neck, holding onto him as each wave of pleasure crashed onto her, the way his fingertips brushed against her mother’s name on her neck, the way he moaned her name with such eagerness. And now… now her name was just a name.
Bland. Dead on his lips.
It didn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything. He had said it himself: it wasn’t a subject worth bringing up.
❝ You’re right. ❞ The brunette crossed her arms, her walls going immediately up as if she had flipped a switch that distanced herself from the rest of the world. ❝ It wasn’t worth bringing up. ❞ Whatever his business in Rift Valley was, he would probably leave soon anyway and they would be able to forget everything about this. Memory was a trick villain. It invaded people’s minds and made them believe things that hadn’t happened. Just like the connection she imagined they had had. ❝ There’s no need to lecture me like a child. ❞ Or maybe there was. Maybe that was how she had been acting in his mind. It wouldn’t be too far from the truth anyway. The fire, the bravado in her voice was completely gone now. The traces of the brash person from before, completely gone.
Fuck, she felt so inadequate. Such a stranger in her own skin, and she hated when that happened.
Taking a step to her left, Jia got out of his clear path. ❝ I’ll get out of your way like you asked. ❞ There. Done. Easy, wasn't it? He could go on with his life and she would go on with hers. It hadn't meant anything. Perhaps if she had done so before, none of this would have happened and she wouldn’t be feeling like utter shit. It hadn't meant anything. It would be hard to forget such an encounter, but Jia was probably going to keep repeating those words to herself until she believed them.
Shaking her head, Jia adjusted her sleeveless jacket around her slim frame and started walking away from that stupid spot where she would probably have etched to her brain as the place she had become a fucking joke to someone else. It hadn't meant anything. Oh to be remembered like the Norwegian Wood quote she had left him that evening. A quote was just a quote. That’s why she preferred numbers and codes. Those were easier to understand. A quote was a quote, a night was just a night, sex was just sex. It hadn't meant anything. There was no spark, no electricity, no butterflies, no nothing. Only two people who had shared a bed and now were complete strangers again.
Perhaps it would be best to be forgotten, then. It hadn't meant anything anyway.
It wasn't as though Seojun lacked emotions. He simply wasn't governed by them. In situations like this, feelings were rarely the first place his mind went. He preferred facts. Logic. Things that could be examined, understood, and placed neatly into their proper categories. What exactly was he supposed to do here? Revisit something that belonged to the past? A single moment in time that neither of them had anticipated carrying any significance beyond itself? The unfortunate reality was that it had. At some point during that night, he had felt something. Not merely attraction. Not merely physical. Something quieter than that. Something closer to connection. The realization remained uncomfortable even now.
Seojun had never considered himself incapable of feeling. He simply never found much use for indulging in it. In his world, emotions often became liabilities. Weaknesses people exploited. Armor was necessary if one intended to survive long enough to face the darker parts of humanity. Nothing in this world was truly innocent. Whatever innocence existed was eventually stripped away by circumstance, greed, violence, or time itself. There was no room for illusions.
The irony was that he cared more than most people realized. The difference was that he was selective about who received those pieces of him. People like Hani. Dulce. The rare individuals he trusted enough to lower his guard around, even if only slightly. They understood him in ways others did not. As distant as Seojun appeared, as cold or off-putting as people often assumed him to be, those closest to him knew the truth. That was simply how he navigated the world.
This situation, however, was different. Perhaps he would have acknowledged whatever existed between them if it had been approached differently. Had it arrived as a conversation rather than an accusation. Had there been space to examine it without feeling cornered by it. Instead, it felt as though they were dissecting something neither of them fully understood. This wasn't the time. Nor the place. There was too much attached to that night. Too much he had yet to process, let alone define. He lacked the language for it. The emotion itself remained foreign territory, and Seojun was not accustomed to operating in places he could not map.
Yet the feeling lingered all the same.
His gaze settled on Jia as her expression shifted. The change was immediate. Noticeable. Like watching a switch being flipped. Whatever emotion had occupied her moments earlier seemed to disappear, replaced by something sharper. More controlled. More logical. The same person he had first met. Perhaps that was what unsettled him. The ease with which she could strip everything away and retreat behind that version of herself. There was something brutal about it. Something intimidating. And, if he were being honest, something captivating.
“Were you in need of a lecture?" His voice was calm, measured as always. Not defensive. Not offended. Merely curious. His head tilted slightly. Whatever connection, tether, invisible force that had driven them to be close that night. It hadn't meant anything, right? now she had him questioning it. back tracking, because even if he convinced himself of that to be true. The evidence was there. The way they moved against one another, the warmth of her skin, and light touches that even at the thought now, made him involuntarily shiver once again. "I'm simply making you aware, how this looks--” but she continued on.
What else was there to say? The atmosphere had shifted. Seojun had noticed it before, though now it felt more apparent. The conversation had reached the point where anything further would accomplish very little. He understood that much. Without comment, he stepped aside, creating enough space for her to pass. Again, he left his words where they were. Unfinished. His gaze followed her as she moved past him, watching in silence. The distance between them grew with every step until her figure gradually blended into the darkness surrounding the street. Strange, how something could feel significant and insignificant all at once.
Perhaps that was all they were.
Two people who had crossed paths unexpectedly.
Two people carrying entirely different versions of the same memory or perhaps connected together, whole.
A measured breath left him as he finally turned away. He grabbed his wallet, a hidden compartment where he held the piece of paper that he kept. Words written, that even as he unfolded and glanced at it.
I want you to always remember me.
Will you remember that I existed,
and that I stood next to you here like this?
The night continued around him as though it had witnessed what transpired, and still continued on. Streetlights hummed quietly overhead. Traffic moved somewhere in the distance. Had they lived a different life, he could allow himself to fully embody the note she had written. He had remembered and it very much existed.
Jia had never truly expected to be unforgettable, but somehow, the way Seojun looked at her, made her feel like the night that they had had, had been as forgettable and as bland as any other in their lives. Sure, the brunette could blame it on the time that had passed between that evening in LA in which she allowed herself to have a complete stranger get under her skin. She could blame it on whatever connection that they’ve had or allegedly have had, being one-sided. And maybe that was what frustrated Jia the most: the fact that she was getting upset over something that shouldn’t have meant as much as it did. Sex was easy. Sex was uncomplicated, and that’s why she liked it so much. She was so fucked up and so broken, that the mere inch of a connection to someone required lots of effort, so yeah, of course anytime it happened, she felt out of place. Case in point, hers and Seojun’s night together.
❝ I am not bothered. ❞ Oh, but she was. ❝ You’re the one acting like the world revolves around— ❞ With a light shake of her head, Jia cut herself short. It was useless to keep discussing with him when all it did was make her more annoyed and make him even less bothered. They had slept together a while ago. She had felt something… even thought about it some nights. It shouldn’t mean as much. ❝ You know what? Nevermind. Have a good day, Seojun. ❞ That was the name he gave her, wasn’t it? When they were sharing drinks at her hotel bar, he was peeling off layers and layers of armor with whatever tactic he’d been using. Maybe that was why she was so angry. Maybe that was what had bothered her so much. The brunette spun on her heels, hands shoving into her sleeveless jacket’s pockets and balling into fists.
Two steps were taken away from him, before her legs betrayed her and made Jia turn around again. Before she knew it, the brunette was back in Seojun's personal space. ❝ No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to stand there and dismiss me like that. Like you didn’t know who I was or some shit. ❞ It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. ❝ I did something with my tongue and you felt something that night. I know you did. We know you did. So don’t fucking bullshit me like that. ❞ Or maybe she had been the one to feel it all by herself, while they discussed things that no one had really taken their time to discuss with her. At least, not on a first instance. Usually, the things that Jia had talked to Seojun had been things she would have usually discussed much later on with people. ❝ Now you’re standing there, dismissing me like some sort of stray dog? I am not a stray dog. You don’t get to dismiss me. ❞ And yet, Jia seemed to have been having an argument with herself in the middle of the street, from the way her legs kept making her come and go. As if staying in Seojun’s presence was a problem in itself.
As if she hadn’t spent some nights about the way she had been completely stripped off any sort of armor that night. Of how her tongue had mapped out his body as if navigating uncharted waters, how his name escaped her lips in needy moans, like begging for a release she'd been holding onto for a while, like how she’d remained with him still inside her after having had a mind-blowing round of sex, and her lips had found solace in the warmth of his neck as he grew soft inside her warmth, of how she had felt the surge of energy emanating from their bodies in ways she hadn’t felt in so long.
It wasn't that he could forget. If anything, the memory remained entirely too clear. The difference was that, until now, Seojun had simply chosen not to bring it to the forefront of his mind. Certain things were easier left untouched. Filed away. Unexamined. He had spent years mastering that skill. He would never admit it aloud, but coming face-to-face with someone who had only been meant to exist for a single night was not something he had anticipated. They had both understood that. At least, he had. One night. No reason to ever see one another again. And yet here Jia stood.
The unfortunate thing about memory was how quickly it resurfaced when given the opportunity. As Seojun looked at her now, fragments of that night returned with irritating ease. Not enough to distract him, but enough to remind him. The feeling itself remained unfamiliar. Foreign. His logical mind immediately attempted to categorize it. Chemistry. Recognition. A simple biological response. The explanation should have satisfied him. It didn't. Because Seojun knew himself well enough to understand he did not make decisions based solely on chemical reactions. He certainly did not share his bed with someone because of one. His head tilted slightly as Jia spoke, a silent indication that he was listening. Then she stopped. Mid-thought. The unfinished sentence lingered between them. Most days, he would have ignored it entirely. People abandoned their own points all the time. It was hardly his responsibility to complete them. Yet for some reason, this one bothered him. Perhaps because it had clearly bothered her first. Or perhaps because now he wanted to know what she had been about to say.
Neither possibility pleased him.
“Like the world revolves around me?” Seojun repeated. A measured breath left him as he shook his head once. The suggestion itself sounded ridiculous. His gaze remained fixed on her for a long moment afterward, thoughtful rather than offended. If anything, he appeared to be examining the statement itself, trying to determine how she had arrived at such a conclusion. Before he could formulate a response, another quiet exhale left him. The closest thing Seojun offered to visible annoyance. Something within him wanted to dismiss the comment entirely. Another part wanted to rebut it. An unfortunate contradiction. His mouth opened slightly as if preparing to respond. Unfortunately for him, Jia spoke first.
Seojun.
Even hearing his name was enough to unsettle him. It was an ordinary thing, really. People addressed him by name every day. Colleagues, strangers, informant---it was simply how the world referred to him. Nothing more. Yet hearing it from her was different. A cold sensation crawled down the back of his spine before he could stop it, subtle but impossible to ignore. Then came the memory. Uninvited. Persistent. Seojun, the same name, yet spoken in a way his mind had not forgotten. softer. closer. Laced with something that made the recollection far more vivid than he would have liked. The sound of it resurfaced with irritating clarity, and for a brief moment he found himself staring at nothing at all. His jaw tightened. Damn his memory. A slow blink followed as he forced the thought aside, dragging himself back into the present. Jia wanted to leave. Fine. He wasn't going to stop her. What puzzled him more was the anger. Why? What exactly was there left to prove? A year had passed.
One night. One decision.
One memory that neither of them seemed particularly capable of forgetting. And yet here they were. Seojun remained silent. There was little value in pursuing an argument neither of them appeared willing to define. Whatever frustration lingered between them belonged to something far older than this conversation. His gaze followed her briefly as she turned away. Then, with a measured breath, he looked elsewhere. The conversation was over. Or at least, that was what he told himself. Adjusting his course, Seojun resumed walking toward his original destination, every bit as composed as before. Only now his thoughts were considerably less cooperative than they had been a few moments ago.
He should have expected this, and then again, he didn't. one, she was challenging him, by invading his personal space. To say he was surprised was an under statement. Had she been someone he was truly dismissing, the conversation would have been over the minute it began. "If that is your definition of being dismissive, a poor job considering you've returned. Jia." there, he acknowledge that he knew ---remembered her. Then the next set of words, felt like cold water poured over his face, by her candor, and then bringing the memory back up. 'I did something with my tongue and you felt something' .The Audacity. Then it clicked, she wanted validation? and then he thought about it more. The anger, was because he didn't agree? he released a humorless laugh, like he couldn't believe this is where the conversation led. "What?" he blinked, again processing all of this. when did this become that conversation or even up for discussion.
“In the five minutes since you stepped into the path I was already walking,” Seojun began, his voice even, measured as always, “at what point did I give you the impression that was a subject worth bringing up?” His gaze settled on her, steady and unreadable. “Better yet,” he continued after a brief pause, “what exactly did you expect to accomplish by mentioning it?” A quiet breath left him through his nose, somewhere between disbelief and mild annoyance. His head tilted slightly. She went on talking about a stray dog, and his mind could only handle one topic at a time, and comparing herself to a stray dog? far from it. "a dog, really?" and he shook his head. They were frustrating him because of this emotional rollercoaster and he didn't want to be on this ride.
"From where I'm standing, you introduced the topic, became irritated by it, and now appear intent on blaming me for the conversation that followed.”
the shovel landed near the edge of giuliana’s shoe with a soft thud against the sand. for a moment, she simply looked down at it. then at the child attached to it. small. dark-eyed. entirely unconcerned with the chaos she’d accidentally launched into a stranger’s path. a dangerous kind of familiar. slowly, giuliana bent to retrieve the toy, the sleeves of her cream knit cardigan slipping slightly down elegant wrists as ocean wind curled loose strands of dark hair around her face. she handed it back easily enough, gaze lifting toward arisa afterward. and paused. recognition clicked into place almost immediately. not because they knew each other well. because yujin park had looked at this child like men only looked at things they would kill for. the memory surfaced uninvited — playground lights, luna’s tiny hands in the sand while yujin stood watch like the world itself owed him paranoia. and now here. the same eyes. not yujin’s exactly. hers. but close enough. giuliana’s expression gave nothing away. “don’t apologize,” she said smoothly, voice softened slightly by the sound of the waves nearby. “i think i survived the attack.” the faintest curve touched her mouth as she glanced toward luna again. “though her throwing arm is concerningly good for someone her size.” her attention returned to arisa after a beat, more observant now than casual. she noticed things automatically — the protective positioning near the blanket, the way arisa tracked luna even while speaking, the exhaustion sitting subtly beneath composure. mother exhaustion. the sort that settled into bone. “cute kid,” giuliana said quietly. a pause. then, deliberate. “i’ve seen her before.” not accusatory. worse, maybe. certain.
As Arisa reached to grab the shovel from the other, she couldn't help but apologize. For all she knew it could have struck her. Arisa nodded nonetheless, she wouldn't press on the matter if the other stated she was okay. "that is something that is surprising." she looked over at Luna. maybe a sign that she had a hidden skill yet to be fully developed. Taking the shovel she brought it back to Luna, watching as her daughter smiled when it was returned. The sound of the waves were soothing, however, it wasn't quite soothing her in the moment.
cute kid. I've seen her before.
Arisa didn't know why a cold chill sudden ran down her spine. It wasn't the compliment, it was the delivery of the last sentence. No doubt, recognition. Arisa thought back to the play dates she had with Luna, surely people have seen her yes. But she's never meet this woman before. "You have?" she was taken aback. "Where? I don't believe I've met you."
i've been looking for you. a small yet melancholic smile falls to his face. somehow he just knew she was. but he didn't want her to, not when she would have been disappointed with the find. he wasn't ready then. " you weren't gonna find me, " he confesses. " i changed my name shortly after-" he shakes his head, shaking the memory out of his head. " well, you know. " after he was no longer part of the nantasri family. but like hell if that meant he would have been forced to see arisa as anything but his sister. she would be forever his sister until his dying breath and it was still his responsibility to make sure she got to live the life she deserved.
" พี่ไม่เคยทิ้งน้องไปเลยนะ. " he says softly as he holds onto her hug tighter before letting go, a relieved sigh. so much time had passed, where do you begin to start? " how have you been? all these years? "
She frowned, he had changed his name? she thought about it for a moment. did he think their father would find him? should she have changed hers? "Should I have changed mine?" she questioned out loud. would that have been the smarter thing to do? especially knowing the kind of person their father was. "but you're here now." and she felt whole again, like the piece of her, the bond and relationship they shared. It was put back together. When she needed him the most.
Smiling as he spoke in a language that they knew well, she always did when they were younger. "คุณคงไม่ทำหรอก ฉันรู้ดี" (you wouldn't do that, I know you wouldn't.) how had she been....that was a loaded question. "I should probably start with the biggest news." she didn't know how he was going to react. "I have a two year old daughter." she looked up at him as she said this slowly "Her name is Luna." she pulled up a picture on her phone "you're an uncle."
The way their hands clutched at their heart at Lucia’s words, even brought a smirk to Jia’s lips. It was funny how Lucia operated. She seemed to be this happy-go-lucky who had a really dark side. Like a sweetheart who also enjoyed dismembering people. And as hot as that was, it was also terrifying, so maybe that was why Jia ended up attracted to the blonde in the first place. ❝ Go ahead and break my heart like that, gorgeous. ❞ The short-haired brunette teased, keeping the good humor they usually kept around the ones who didn’t annoy them. But then again, Jia was really good at pretending nothing got to them, deflecting things with humor, detachment and crude words. Their mother told them once that they cursed like a drunk sailor in heat, and that was not something most kids Jia’s age would hear.
But then again… Jia wasn’t most people, were they? Who else could say they’ve killed their father at fourteen and still seemed to have a good grasp of things? Did they have a good grasp?
❝ I got her. ❞ Jia shifted their gaze from Lucia’s, a temptive smirk toying on their fleshy lips as they said that to the bartender and then, approached their phone to the card machine. Once Luce’s drink had been paid for, Jia continued. ❝ I think I’m more of an observer than a dancer. I wouldn’t say no to a private dance from you though. ❞ The corners of their lips tugged up. Somewhere between being a leggy teenager and now, Jia had managed not to be terrible at flirting.
Looks weren't everything, and certainly did not paint a pretty picture, after it was a mask right? to take off at night. Lucia didn't have that problem, she didn't doll herself up to gain attention or attract it. She let people see the kind of person she was by her personality. "straight for the heart I see, see my aim was good." she teased. Oh, it was bright, bubbly even, but cross her and she's your worst nightmare. She cleaned up bodies for a living. That alone spoke volumes, there was a feisty side to lucia. not many got to see. it sparked when she was either upset, or you crossed a line. that made her unpredictable at times. that could also be attractive to most. why jia decided to take a shot, flirt even, was beyond the blonde. but it was a good time, still had the blonde smiling.
an appreciative nod was directed at Jia as she paid for the drink and she motioned to sit by them. "what, you saying you can't dance?" she smiled. she couldn't help the light chuckle at the private dance comment. "I thought you moved just fine." she took a sip of her drink as they settled their gaze on them. "but let's add a little music, if you're up for it." she gestured to the dance floor.
strangely, dulce did feel something for seojun, resent had never once crossed her mind. perhaps because she understood, in her own way, that men like seojun were not built inside tenderness first. they were shaped by caution. by discipline. by learning how to stand at a distance from the world long before the world ever had the chance to wound them properly. he had many important things to do, tasks to finish, yet somewhere in the mix, somehow, for whatever reason, seojun had taken on becoming her bodyguard. her father trusted him with her protection, something he didn't even trust himself with at times.
there was something almost unbearably intimate about realizing how much of her life he had carried quietly in his memory. her fingers tightened faintly around the strap of her bag without her noticing at first, knuckles going still as the thought settled deeper. the cafés she lingered in too long after closing. the routes she walked when she could not sleep. the tiny habits she performed absentmindedly when she believed herself alone. all this time, he had existed like a shadow stitched carefully into the seams of her days, not just beside them, but moving with them. the realization ached softly beneath her ribs in a way she couldn’t immediately name, like something inside her had been quietly rewritten without permission.
had he seen her arrive to rift valley? had he seen her cry silently to herself? did he know the way she broke when no one was supposed to see or did he look away?
his comment about becoming a reminder instead pulled the faintest smile from her, delicate and tired around the edges but real all the same. “perhaps,” dulce responds gently, dark eyes lifting toward him again. there was warmth beneath the teasing now, something quieter beginning to unfurl between them where uncertainty had once sat. “though i suppose shadows are difficult things to escape once they decide they belong somewhere.”
when he allowed her silence to search him, dulce found herself doing exactly that. studying him carefully, almost reverently now, like she was trying to make sense of all the missing pieces at once. her gaze lingered a fraction too long, then broke for a heartbeat as if she’d forgotten she was supposed to look away normally. it was strange seeing him standing fully before her instead of existing only at the edges of crowded rooms and fractured memories. stranger still that she did not feel afraid. if anything, the grief inside her sharpened instead, because suddenly she could see how close he had always been without ever truly allowing himself to stay.
then came the mention of the deaths. the danger. the certainty in his voice when he spoke about her wellbeing. something inside her quieted at the sound of it, not because the fear disappeared, but because he spoke as though protecting her had long since stopped being obligation and become instinct instead.
dulce held his gaze for a long moment after that, dark eyes softer now. her breath caught slightly before she even realized it, like her body had reacted before her thoughts caught up.
“why?” she asked at last, her voice barely above a murmur. "in truth, i am not yours to protect anymore. why should it matter to you what happens to me and what doesn't?"
Her movement was subtle, but Seojun noticed it immediately. His gaze lowered briefly toward the way her hand tightened around the strap of her bag before returning to her face once more. A small gesture. Instinctive. Controlled. Whatever she was feeling in that moment--uncertainty, caution, confusion--he could hardly fault her for it. He had not expected warmth upon revealing himself. Truthfully, he had not expected much of anything at all.
This was not an introduction meant to comfort her. It was simply information. He was here. And despite her father’s death, that fact had not changed.
Seojun assessed her once again in the quiet that followed, noting the way realization slowly settled behind her eyes. She was beginning to understand now---that he had not suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He had been here the entire time, lingering quietly at the edges of her life unseen. Watching. Protecting. Waiting.
The distinction between work and personal attachment had always remained clear to him. Logic separated easily from emotion. Right from wrong. Whatever private moments Dulce had carved out for herself, Seojun allowed them to remain untouched. There were lines he refused to cross unnecessarily. Boundaries that kept assignments professional rather than dangerous in ways they should never become.
Which was why the warmth in her eyes unsettled him more than hostility ever could. He was accustomed to anger. Fear. Distrust. Eyes sharpened by vengeance or suspicion whenever they settled on him. Those reactions made sense. They were expected. But Dulce looked at him gently. And somehow, that felt far more dangerous.
Belong somewhere.
The thought lingered briefly before he dismissed it almost immediately. Belonging implied permanence, and Seojun had never allowed himself to believe in such things. There was only movement. Purpose. Passing through one assignment after another until the final objective was complete. Corruption. Power. The kind of rot that had existed within families like his for far too long.
Including his own.
why?
To Seojun, the matter felt painfully simple. Had she truly not considered what might have happened otherwise? People were dying in this town with increasing frequency, and the unfortunate reality was that anyone could become the next victim if they were placed in the wrong situation at the wrong time. Dulce was vulnerable whether she realized it or not. Her circumstances alone guaranteed attention she did not fully understand. And beyond that--her profession made her even more exposed.
He had been assigned to watch over her. He had kept his word.
“Who decided my job was finished?” Seojun asked calmly, though there was a firmer edge beneath his voice now. Not anger. Certainty. His gaze remained fixed on her, unwavering in the quiet intensity he carried so naturally. “Why would I allow anyone to harm you?” he continued, the question leaving him as though the very suggestion itself lacked reason. To him, it did. Protecting her had never been temporary simply because circumstances changed. If anything, recent events only reinforced why he remained close.
If there was someone Jia didn’t know how the fuck she had ended up in bed with, that someone was Seojun. The federal agent and the hacker couldn’t be any more different from one another, and yet, they managed to work out pretty well in bed. In between groans, grunts, hair pulls, bites and everything that kept them both from speaking dumb things to one another, they were able to agree on something. ❝ I could. ❞ The brunette nodded, her lips sticking out in a small pout, granting him that one. ❝ But where’s the fun in that? ❞ Both her hands moved behind her back and Jia held onto on of her wrists, leaning forward to smirk at Seojun’s direction. If she could make a federal agent’s life a living hell, even if it were by pissing them off with her snarky remarks and annoying attitude, then so be it. Jia had never cared much about being liked anyways.
Ever so serious. Like he didn’t know how to function if a smile ended up on his lips or something. ❝ Oh, I wouldn’t know. Maybe we can talk about you being a cranky ass bitch and making it everyone’s problem. I mean… telling others to move along? ❞
Some nights were meant to be remembered. Others found themselves buried somewhere in the back of the mind, sealed away behind doors better left unopened. There had been one such night. From the outside looking in, it would have appeared absurd. If the two of them walked into a bar together, sat beside one another, shared a conversation, most people would have assumed they had nothing in common. They were opposites in nearly every measurable way. And yet they had walked through the same door. Shared the same space. The same bed. Then parted without expectation. “To not hear?” Seojun repeated, his brow lifting slightly. “Not at all.” The answer came as though the suggestion itself was unreasonable. Then again, there was little entertainment to be found in any of this. Fun had always felt like a foreign concept to him, something other people pursued while he occupied himself with more practical matters.
His gaze settled on the smirk directed his way. A reaction. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? The faintest trace of irritation crossed his features before disappearing almost immediately. Subtle enough that most people would have missed it entirely. She had quite the nerve. “And yet,” he replied smoothly, turning his attention fully back toward her, “you are the one who appears bothered.” His expression remained composed, unreadable as ever. "All I have heard thus far,” he continued calmly, “is complaint after complaint.” A slight tilt of his head followed. “Which is interesting, considering I was under the impression I was the inconvenience.”
he shrugs as she calls the bullshit he just handed her on a platter. it wasn't his fault if she wasn't happy with the outcome. " you wanted an answer and i gave you one. " he deemed it as simple as that. a question that only had two possible outcomes and he choose the lesser one that'd sound slightly better and neither of them he personally liked but he had to choose.
" attached ... okay. " he nods as if sure, he'll go along with that, if that's what she wants to believe from him. he quirks a brow at her suggestion, a few words of hers popping into his head. " — didn't you threaten to rip it to shreds not that long ago? " yes, he distinctly remembers the threat word for word: and if you're looking to lose that, i rip it to shreds. he had a pretty damn good memory despite the willful diligence of the opposite. " oh you're good. unfortunately, you want it off, do it yourself since it's becoming more obvious you miss me without one the longer this conversation goes on— it almost sounds like i wasn't the attached one. "
he'll admit, it was his fault more than hers for expecting a lighter in her hand instead of getting flicked off but he'll blame it on the few hours passed now without lighting one for falling for it this time. he thinks for a moment as she does get a soft chuckle out of him, typical lucia but it was time to approach a different tactic, a more classic one. asking politely, words that might suade her. god nicotine cravings sucked. " lucia. " he takes in a breath as he dreads the next part. " can i have the lighter? please. "
"Terrible choice of words, do better next time." she stated as she looked over at him. He knew he could have said it, or better yet, explained it. But Tyler was not one to give detail, he tells you once, and you figure out the rest. Lucky for her, she spoke his language. Asshole was not very hard to understand.
He really did know how to press her buttons or in this case, antagonize her. Anyone on the outside in would have clocked him right there. But Lucia wasn't anyone. She could read Tyler, how? simple. Same side of a coin. He was playing with fire, and she was sure he wanted to get burned. Lucia caught the hem of his jacket between her fingers, giving it a small tug---just enough to pull his attention back toward her without risking the garment itself. Her grin appeared immediately once she had it, bright and entirely too pleased with herself.
“Oh?” she mused, lifting a brow. “Off it myself, you say?” The challenge in her voice was obvious. She stepped a fraction closer, close enough that the space between them felt more intentional than accidental. Her free hand drifted over the front of his jacket, tracing the embroidered design with exaggerated concentration as though she were carefully inspecting a priceless work of art. “Hm,” she hummed thoughtfully. “And here I thought this was a very bold invitation.” Her fingertips followed the pattern across the fabric before returning upward, eventually flattening her palm lightly against his chest. The gesture was playful more than anything, accompanied by the unmistakable sparkle of mischief in her eyes. She would continue to give the impression she was going to do something, then the complete opposite.
Can I have the lighter? please.
oh he was smooth. too smooth. She was taken aback by the sudden change in his tone. For one, it was not rough, a slight gentle tone. She was currently processing for a minute before she tilted her head. If he was going to throw her for a loop. she would do the same. She moved her hand up, this time rest on his cheek. She let herself appear soft for a second. "Tyler." she stated in the same soft tone.
a brief pause.
From the outside, it might have appeared as though she was about to kiss him. The distance disappeared slowly, deliberately, her grin fading into something far more unreadable as she drew closer. Close enough for the moment to linger. Close enough to make someone wonder. And then, at the last second, she turned her head. Her lips never touched him. Instead, she leaned toward his ear, lowering her voice until it became little more than a whisper. "No." she then chuckled as she leaned back to look at him. "it's not actually with me." what she had showed him earlier was just a holder for it. "but maybe if you say please again. I may get it for you."
After the sun sets, it's consumed in darkness || self para
“The dead rarely concern me. It is the living standing around pretending innocence that deserve closer attention.”
TW: mentions of death, blood, wounds.
Seojun had only recently gone off shift, though “off” was a generous term considering he had spent the last several hours buried in files regarding the recent deaths surrounding the town. Patterns. Timelines. Victims. He had learned long ago that violence always left traces behind no matter how carefully people attempted to conceal them. Alongside the investigations, there had also been his encounters with members of the Santoro family. Nothing substantial enough to formally raise concern within the precinct, but enough to remain attentive. One thing Seojun understood well about organized crime was that they rarely operated on the same level as everyone else. They stayed several steps ahead whenever possible. Anticipating that was precisely what made him effective in this line of work.
As for his secondary assignment, Seojun still maintained careful watch over Dulce. His route naturally shifted in the direction of her home. Security cameras remained positioned exactly where he wanted them, each connected to systems he monitored personally. Technology made surveillance effortless these days. Efficient. Quiet. When he could not physically remain near her, he ensured there was always something watching in his place.
Nothing unusual appeared around her home.
And after briefly stopping near her workplace long enough to confirm she was still there, the faint unease lingering within him settled just enough to be ignored.
For now.
His apartment sat only a short distance from the precinct, though reaching it required cutting through the park. As Seojun walked the path, he reverted naturally into observation. It was instinct at this point. He studied people silently--the way they moved, how they interacted, where their attention lingered. Human behavior often revealed more than words ever could. Posture alone could expose confidence, fear, aggression, insecurity. Most people searched instinctively for vulnerability in others. Someone smaller. Easier to overpower. Easier to intimidate. Seojun had never belonged within the category of victim. He was the kind of man people feared once they realized they had miscalculated him.
The vibration of his phone briefly interrupted his thoughts. Pulling it from his pocket, his gaze lowered toward the message on the screen. Hani, unsurprisingly. At this point, he was beginning to suspect she found genuine enjoyment in testing his patience. Earlier, he had sent her a reminder to eat something other than coffee for once in her life. As he continued down the path, a scream suddenly split through the night. Seojun stopped immediately.
It was not the voice itself he recognized but the sound. The pitch. The sharpness within it. Certain sounds embedded themselves permanently into memory after enough exposure, and that particular sound belonged to violence. Fear. The exact moment something terrible had occurred. Strangely, his body reacted faster than thought itself. As though years of conditioning overrode instinct before his mind could fully process it. He had seen countless bodies hit the floor before. Heard the gunfire. Witnessed the aftermath enough times to understand how easily violence reshaped people into something colder. Survival demanded distance. Emotional detachment. Walls thick enough to prevent vulnerability from becoming weakness.
Because weakness was what got people killed.
Memories surfaced in fractured flashes as he moved--the cartel operations, the sound of weapons discharging in enclosed spaces, screams blurring together until they became indistinguishable from one another. Training had taught him to continue functioning regardless of horror standing directly in front of him. So he ran. Without hesitation. He ran toward the sound until he could locate its source.
It appeared he had been too late. Even from a distance, Seojun could already see the two bodies collapsed against the ground. As he approached slowly, his attention sharpened immediately, assessing everything before emotion ever had the chance to interfere. Every detail committed itself to memory automatically--the positioning of the bodies, the blood pattern, disturbed gravel beneath shoes, distance between them. His photographic memory had always served him well within this line of work. It was also a curse. Some things, once witnessed, never truly left you.
His gaze swept the surrounding area carefully, searching for anything else. Signs of struggle. A discarded weapon. Footprints. An escape route. Was the killer still nearby? Had they left something behind in haste? Adrenaline often made people careless after violence. Seojun approached the female first before immediately pulling out his phone and dialing Hani Jeong. “We’ve got a situation,” he stated the moment the call connected. His voice remained firm, controlled, though beneath it lingered restrained anger. He had just missed whoever did this, and now two people were bleeding out in front of him because of it. “Two bodies,” he continued evenly. “One female.” His attention shifted briefly toward the second victim positioned protectively near her. “One male.”
A small nod followed at whatever response Hani provided before Seojun disconnected. He called emergency services immediately afterward, ensuring paramedics were dispatched without delay. If even one life could still be saved tonight, that alone mattered.
The next number he dialed belonged to Zahir Cole. “There’s been another attack,” Seojun informed him without preamble, immediately providing the location and surrounding area. “Female victim. Multiple stab wounds to the lower abdomen. Shallow breathing. Paramedics are on the way.” His gaze lowered once more toward her condition. Barely breathing. Not enough time. He would need to intervene himself until medical personnel arrived. “Male victim,” he continued calmly. “Lower abdominal stab wound. Significant blood loss. Lacerations across the hands consistent with defensive wounds.” A brief pause followed as his eyes moved across the darkness surrounding the scene once more. “another murder,” he concluded quietly. “I’m first on scene.”
Federal agent or detective, perspectives often differed depending on jurisdiction and procedure. Still, mutual understanding existed between people who dedicated their lives to this kind of work. Respect formed naturally through shared experience alone. “You need to head over,” Seojun finished simply before ending the call.
His attention returned toward the male victim afterward. The positioning alone revealed enough. Protection. Even while dying, the man had attempted to shield the woman beneath him. Blood loss suggested he had crawled significant distance despite the severity of his injuries just to reach her. Selfless. Even in death.Seojun’s jaw tightened subtly.
Not from grief. From principle. Innocent blood had been spilled tonight. And that unsettled something dangerous within him.
He called Hani once more moments later. “We’re going to need timelines on everyone tonight,” he stated firmly. If organized crime involvement existed behind this, they needed confirmation quickly. And when matters involved the Mafia, Hani remained one of the few people Seojun trusted enough to speak openly with regarding it.
By the time paramedics arrived, the scene erupted into controlled chaos. Medical personnel moved quickly toward the female victim, establishing IV access while stabilizing her for transport into the ambulance. Seojun answered procedural questions automatically, efficiently, though his attention continuously drifted back toward the scene itself.
Everything else faded into background noise. sirens. flashing red and blue lights. voices moving around him. none of it held his focus.
Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the blood staining the pavement where life had existed moments earlier. Nearby, spilled mango and strawberries had scattered across the ground, crushed into the concrete beside the crimson spreading outward. Slowly, Seojun lifted his gaze toward the sky. Sunset had disappeared entirely now, consumed by darkness. What an awfully painted picture death had woven tonight. People feared the dead far too often. The living were always worse. And somewhere out there, the person responsible still believed themselves safe.
"Right now." part of her knew it was good. she had made it herself. so of course it was going to be good. leaning against the counter, she watched as he took a bite. hearing the reaction, she couldn't help but to smile. "the buns were homemade. made them this morning. and the ground beef, we get it fresh daily." she wasn't like other places that got ground beef that was frozen. that wasn't thalia. she strived to make sure the bar & grill had everything fresh. even right down to the fruits and vegetables they had there. "my dad was the one who taught me how to make a burger like that when i was sixteen." cooking had been something she loved since she was a teen. "one of these days, you'll have to try the cheesecakes i make." a dessert that she also made fresh daily too. the one dessert that always got ordered too.
Rhys could tell right away the food was made fresh. There was a difference in the taste--somethin’ real about it that most places seemed to lose nowadays. “Yeah,” he said after another bite, nodding slowly in approval. “I believe it.” He leaned lightly against the counter before adding, “Honestly, more places oughta be doin’ the same thing.” His brow lifted slightly. “Half the premade stuff people serve nowadays barely even tastes like actual food anymore.” He took another sip of the pop afterward, surprisingly enjoyin’ it more than he expected to.
At the mention of her father, Rhys glanced back toward her with a softer look in his eyes. “I bet he’s proud,” he said honestly. “You can tell there’s care behind the way you cook.” And Rhys meant it too. Food made with effort always carried somethin’ extra to it.
Then the second she mentioned dessert, his entire expression shifted. “Now hold on,” he muttered, suddenly lookin’ way more invested in the conversation. “Cheesecake?” A grin spread across his face almost immediately. Rhys had always had a weakness for sweets, and he wasn’t ashamed of it either. “Yeah, alright… now I definitely gotta try it.” He pointed lightly toward her with the burger in hand. “You had me at cheesecake.” A low chuckle followed as he shook his head. “Guess you just earned yourself a loyal customer.” Then he took another bite before pausing mid-chew to glance back over at her. “You eaten yet?”
scoffing, hani sat back in her chair, one foot propped up on the seat as she slid low. "yeah, well, you can't really blame me for hoping you'd grow a sense of humor at some fucking point," she muttered, sharp eyes trained on seojun and his blank stare. her stare grew mischievous, then. "maybe i have. you gonna bring me a cup of coffee?"
“If humor is what you are expecting from me, I am afraid you will be waiting well into old age,” Seojun replied smoothly, the faintest trace of dry amusement hidden beneath his otherwise composed tone. His gaze settled on them for a brief moment before one brow lifted slightly. “Though perhaps that suits you better,” he added, as if thoughtfully considering the possibility rather than outright insulting her. A quiet tsk left him soon after, his attention drifting briefly toward the coffee in question. “Tell me,” he continued calmly, “are you surviving entirely on liquids now, or was coffee the only thing you considered sufficient for today?” There was something subtly disapproving in the way he said it, though not entirely unkind. “Proper food would likely benefit you more,” Seojun murmured before tilting his head slightly. “So. What exactly are you in the mood for?”