#neweraboygroups

When your sergeant walked up to your desk, littered with crumpled balls of paper and unwashed coffee mugs, you started to feel nauseous for some apparent reason. Probably due to anxiety or that bad muffin you had for breakfast.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, ma’am?” You breathed out, feeling an odd, fluttery sensation in your stomach. You had a habit of growing nervous at even the most minuscule of situations.

An unreadable smile spread across her cheeks, and she placed a file down on your desk. “I have reviewed your application as well as your qualifications, and Chief and I have come to a mutual consensus. You will be transferred over to the Homicide Division as an assistant inspector.” She announced the good news.

“Ma’am, are you serious? I’m being transferred?” You asked again to make sure your ears weren’t betraying you. She replied with a small nod, and a goofy smile emerged on your face.

“Don’t sound too excited just yet. You’ll have a lot of cases to review, and I know for a fact that Inspector Bang won’t go easy on you.”

“I won’t let you and Chief down! I’ll- wait...Inspector Bang? I thought it was Inspector Park this entire time. That’s why I requested a transfer weeks ago,” you said, and you wondered why the bureau would switch out such an experienced detective like her. 

Your sergeant tapped the wooden desk in front of her. “Inspector Park retired. It was about time too. Also, we don’t take back our decisions. That would be such a shame and disrespect if you reject your promotion now, Y/N.”

“No,” you answered immediately. “It’d be my pleasure to work under Inspector Bang. I just expected Inspector Park, that’s all.” Even if this was a different inspector, that shouldn’t change your desire to work in the Homicide Division.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get along with Chan. Funny story. You’re about the same age too.” Sergeant Oh humored, walking away from your cubicle.

Chan. Inspector Bang. Bang Chan. It sounded all too familiar. Specifically “last night” familiar.

»»————————-««

“HAN JISUNG. OUT OF EVERYONE YOU KNEW, WHY DID YOU SET ME UP WITH HIM? WHY?” You shouted at your best friend, who was currently seated on your living room couch, with orange juice in a wine glass. 

A complete waste of a nice wine glass.

Jisung feigned an innocent expression and opened his mouth to say, “Y/N, you should know this. All my close friends are from work, and to be fair, Chan fits the description of your ideal type best.” He gave you a “duh” face and walked over to the bar in the center of your kitchen, grabbing the bag of half-opened chips before settling back onto the couch.

“I’ll be so dead when I transfer in.” You sighed and took the remote control from him, scrolling through Netflix mindlessly.

“What exactly happened on the blind date?” He asked, and you turned towards him with a pillow on your lap, preparing yourself for a long story time.

(FLASHBACK)

Jisung gritted his teeth as he prepared to leave the restaurant, leaving you stranded in unexplored territory. “Be nice to him this time, c’mon.”

You mentally groaned and became speechless. This was the third date Jisung had set up. On one hand, you’re completely flattered for such a caring and thoughtful friend. And on the other hand, you just want to wrangle the life out of him because you hated blind dates, for several reasons actually.

One. 

What if the guy were some pathological liar? You worked in the police department, and you’ve seen many cases with date rape and instances where the guy would try to drug the girl or vice versa. Dates with complete strangers rarely ended up well, and not to mention extremely risky.

Two. 

Some guys were just cocky and arrogant, much like the first guy Jisung tried setting you up with. He spent literally half the meal bragging about his project of the year; he was the CEO of a rising tech company, and he wouldn’t shut up about his data analysis. You completely understood that it was alright to be proud of something you had spent much time and effort on, but seriously? Two hours into a date and you’re still discussing HTML? Gosh, eat a chill pill. 

Three. 

You would rather stay at home and eat food like the couch potato you were meant to be. In the end, nothing beats the comfort of home. You’re alone, and the soft ambience of the kitchen lamp soothes you. Some people may find it lonely, but you loved your little apartment with your bag of chips by your side, a place you call your haven.

Four. 

You wanted to deal with this petty heartbreak on your own. It was quite annoying, actually. Every time you thought about dating, you remembered how he used to hold your hand. How he used to press his fingers on your skin and his mouth onto yours as you kissed him underneath the dim street lights in front of your apartment. You remembered how he would grab your hand as if it were the most important thing in his life, leading you to the most unromantic of places, like the train tracks, and you loved it. And most irritable of all, you remembered how he would drop kisses on your neck and whisper sweet nothings in your ear whenever you felt down.  

Jisung was adamant about you finding someone, and he wasn’t planning on giving up.

And in the end, it looked like you had completely neglected reasons number one to four as you stood in front of the restaurant, on yet another blind date.

“Oh, Chan says to meet him at his hotel room above the restaurant. He just moved from Australia, and he’s barely getting his apartment renovated. The hotel’s his home for the meantime,” Jisung explained, and his voice was soft and serious, almost as if the person you were meeting was important to him.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and eyed him weirdly. “What if he tries something on me? I’m in the police force, you know? You’ll be an accomplice too if something bad happens to me.” You responded, swiftly retorting as you jeopardized his job in the forensics lab.

“Just listen to me, you inconsiderate prick. Chan meets all of your standards, I swear. He won’t treat you like the last guy did.”

He hit a sensitive topic, and you closed your eyes, deciding to give this Chan guy a chance.

“Fine. What room is it?”

Jisung lifted an index finger and pointed up. “Fifth floor. Room 507,” he said, and you rolled your eyes, pushing through the glass doors that led to both the lobby and the restaurant. 

You glanced right, and the restaurant was bustling with people, waiters and waitresses serving guests left and right. If only you were in the restaurant. Instead, you were headed up to a complete stranger’s room and accommodating to his needs. 

Walking straight ahead into the already opened elevator doors, you felt a soft collision with your right elbow as files scattered on the floor.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you apologized, picking up the files and sorting them into a neat pile. The elevator doors closed, and you quickly scooted the files away from the doors.

“You should really pay more attention, miss.” He replied, sounding almost annoyed at the little mishap. He bent down and attempted to sort his files back into place, his fingers accidentally brushing over yours unintentionally. 

If it weren’t for his snide attitude, you would have swooned over his charming Australian accent and smooth voice. But personality wins over something as superficial as voice.

When you finished, you pursed your lips in a thin line as you handed him his files back. The guy merely grabbed them from your hands without a polite “thank you” or an acknowledging nod. 

What a jerk.

“What floor?” The jerk decided to ask, his hand reaching towards the buttons.

You responded promptly, not wanting to stay in the elevator any longer with this rude bastard. “Fifth.”

He simply pressed the button and returned to where he was standing previously, with one arm securely around his files. 

Guess he was going to the fifth floor too. 

Your eyes started to wander and for some reason, they landed on his reflection through the metal doors of the lift. The rude jerk was wearing a white long sleeve button up, framing his broad shoulders perfectly, with a pair of tailored black pants. He also had on a pair of comfortable black shoes and a black silk tie securely tied around the collar of his crisp white shirt. His hair was an ebony black, a stark contrast against his pale skin. His features were pronounced, especially his tall nose bridge where his circular specks sat comfortably on. Circular specks were hard to pull off, but this jerk managed to make them look nice.

Squinting slightly, you tried to make out his face as you mentally scolded yourself for forgetting to wear contact lenses. Despite that, you saw him roll his eyes at you, and you scoffed under your breath. Was he cocky enough to think that you were checking him out? 

Okay, maybe you were, but not the point.

Not only did you have a blind date to attend, you had to deal with this impolite guy in your current field of vision. Why was the elevator moving so darn slow? Maybe it was a sign to bail on this blind date.

Before you could even finish your thoughts, the doors opened, leading you and the stranger to the fifth floor. The douche beside you shoved you lightly out of the way before you stepped out, knocking his shoulder against yours. What person in the right mind would shove someone out of the way? Was he late for a wedding or something? 

But you knew Jisung wouldn’t set you up with a rude bastard like him.

You huffed and stepped out after him, looking for the room number. Checking the numbers on the doors, you turned left as you heard a door slam in the distance. You rolled your eyes for the nth time this evening, and it was all because of the nasty encounter. You quickly made your way to Room 507, following the noise of the loud slam.

Right as you lifted your hand to knock on the door, you received a call from Jisung.

“Where are you?” He asked just as you answered the call, his voice urgent and confused.

“What,” you responded simply.

You heard your friend let out a soft sigh. “Chan just complained that you’re taking forever. How long does it take for you to go up to the room?”

Closing your eyes, you let an inherent, loud puff of air escape your lips. “I bumped into some jerk, and his files scattered everywhere. Then I had to pick them up,” you replied briefly, not wanting to revisit the whole elevator scene.

“Just hurry up, Y/N.”

You hung up and slid your phone into your back pocket as you knocked on the polished white door in front of you.

“It’s open.” An oddly familiar voice shouts.

Not thinking much of it, you slowly twisted the handle and was immediately greeted with a beautiful, l-shaped leather couch. Facing you was the entire skyline displayed through the enormous glass windows in front of you. The suite was dimly lit as if Chan had just walked in and wasn’t planning on staying for long. This Chan guy was pretty well off if he was able to afford such a luxurious suite.

As you stood there admiring the hotel room that you could never afford, a voice spoke up, breaking your daydream. “Sorry, I was running a bit late.”

That Australian accent.

You twirled around to see the same prick from the elevator, only this time, he was ten times more attractive, if that was even possible. 

He wasn’t wearing the white dress shirt from before nor did he have those geeky specks on his face. The jerk was wearing a grey oversized hoodie with a black shirt underneath, and instead of the boring slacks from before, he was wearing ripped black skinnies. They were fitted, and you hated how he pulled off the effortless boyfriend look.

Also, scratch the formal shiny shoes. He had on a pair of worn out Vans. And his hair, it was perfect. You never liked it when a guy’s hair was gelled and tampered with. You preferred the messy, casual look, and this jerk’s hair was the epitome of that. Soft curls sat on top of his head nicely, making you feel the urge to suddenly run your fingers through them. 

You could finally make out his face. Like you had previously thought, his features were definitely pronounced: clear eyes, tall nose, full lips, and were those dimples? Jisung definitely knew your ideal type.

Chan smiled as he fixed his hair, his natural curls emerging after a long day of work, but once he saw you, his smile faltered.

“Oh, I’m the one taking forever huh?” You remarked, eyeing him with utter disapproval.

“You’re the one who dropped my files,” he said, glaring in your direction.

You scoffed again, writing yourself a mental note to call Jisung afterward and scream at him for setting you up with an inconsiderate little twerp. This guy was ridiculous; he was the one who wanted to meet in the hotel room instead of the restaurant in the first place.

“Are you ready to go now?” You asked him, placing emphasis on the “now”.

“I don’t know. Are you done ogling my place?” Chan retorted with a smirk on his face. Gosh, you wanted the wipe that perfect smirk off his good-looking face.

Without replying, you forced a fake smile on your face and walked towards the entrance of his suite. Chan grabbed the hotel card on the slot insert and rushed after you, the lights turning off in the process. 

“Wait up, Y/N.” He chuckled at you as you neared the elevator. That was the first time he said your name, and you quite liked how your name rolled off his tongue. Maybe it was just the whole accent thing.

You stopped walking and narrowed your eyes at him. “How do you know my name?”

“I make sure I know basic stuff about my date before I agree to the date. What if you’re some crazy serial killer? Yikes.” Chan shrugged as he pressed the “down” button on the elevator.

“Slightly creepy, but with good intentions,” you replied, shifting stances as the two of you waited for the elevator to come back up.

After what seemed like a million years, the elevator finally opened, and Chan made a kind gesture signaling you to step in. “Ladies first,” he directed, leaning in with hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

You rolled your eyes at him. Who was the one who shoved you out the elevator fifteen minutes ago? And who was this womanizer in front of you right now? Complete nonsense. You bet loads of women fall for his charming accent and attractive smirk, but you weren’t giving into his “too good to be true” facade.

“Did you make a reservation?” You asked as the elevator doors closed, breaking the silence from before.

“Yeah, for two.”

The process of walking in and getting seated was brief, and the view wasn’t as bad as you previously suspected. The sky was dark and the street lights were on, giving the sidewalk an ethereal glow. It was an aesthetic view.

Chan smirked and laced his hands on top of the table in front of you, his napkin neatly across his lap. You took notice and quickly did the same. Can’t have your date thinking that you were a total slob.

“So...what’s your favorite color?” You asked out of the blue. You wanted to strike a conversation, just so this date wouldn’t be as shitty. 

“Give it a rest, Y/N. I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other after this.” He cut you off abruptly.

You clenched your jaw and stared him square in the eyes. “Look. I just want to shift gears and change the topic from me slandering you to something random, like colors or seasons. And Jisung tried really hard to set me up on a date with you.”

Chan held his hands up and apologized. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and I just moved here. I’m just overwhelmed by the piles of paperwork I need to catch up on,” he responded earnestly. 

That was a first.

You cracked a small smile and made eye contact with the waitress, who was preparing the take your order.

“Hello sir, may I take your order?” She smiled shyly at Chan and batted her lashes in the most dramatic manner, her blouse buttoned lower than appropriate. 

“Actually, I would like two plates of chicken alfredo with a side of soup. Also, I believe this is a Michelin-rated restaurant, and public indecency is condemned here. So button up your shirt and stop flirting with my boyfriend.” You finished your order and smirked, closing the menu in your hands.

The waitress glared at you with reddened cheeks. She scribbled down the order harshly and stormed off into the kitchen.

“Wow. Boyfriend huh? I didn’t know you claimed me as yours already,” Chan said, that same infamous dimpled smirk on his face.

Your smirk immediately faded as a bored face replaced it. “Don’t get too cocky, Bang Chan. I just can’t stand indecent people, much like yourself.”

(END OF FLASHBACK)

“YOU INSULTED HIM? Damn, this is bad.” Jisung got up from the couch and abandoned the chips, pacing back and forth in your living room.

“YEAH, maybe next time, you’ll set me up with a guy who’s not my FUTURE BOSS. Oh wait, this is the last time I’m going on these blind dates because I’m done. And to think you knew what kind of guy I liked.” You hissed as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, feeling unsettled about tomorrow.

Chan was the head inspector of the Homicide Division and knowing him, he wasn’t going to treat you well. You mustered up a tense smile, thinking that there were probably heaps of paperwork sitting on his desk, hundreds of cases to look through. Looks like you were going to spend more nights at the precinct. 

Jisung sighed. “If you get fired on the first day, at least you’ll know why.”

“I know. I called him ‘indecent’. I’m screwed aren’t I?” You trailed on, repressing the memories of the blind date. You threw your body onto the couch and thrashed angrily; Jisung wasn’t even fazed by your reaction, because if he were in your shoes, he would have reacted the same way.

Shit. Why did he have to be Chan?

»»————————-««

You looked back at Changbin, a fellow inspector from the Homicide Department, one last time with a distressed expression on your face, praying that he would get you out of this mess. He shrugged and shook his head helplessly. The jerk was probably his superior too. 

Chan’s office was in front of you, and you were more than ready to get fired. You read the placard on the door several times, double checking that this was actually real and not a reoccurring nightmare. 

Walking through the doors, you took a deep breath, ready to get fired.

“Hi, my name is Y/N. I’ll be your new assistant inspector, sir.” You mumbled quickly as your eyes fixated on the wooden desk in front, unable to meet his eyes.

Although your eyes were cast down, you could feel his intense stare, daggers hitting your every nerve. You nibbled on your bottom lip due to nervousness as he failed to give you a response. Frankly, he didn’t say a word.

“Tsk,” he started. “Make eye contact with me when you’re introducing yourself. Don’t be such a rookie, Y/N. I can’t have a rookie working as my assistant inspector.”

“Are you going to fire me now?” You responded quietly. When it came to your job, you took it very seriously. You didn’t go through years of schooling to work at some convenience store, and plus, crime scene investigation was actually something you enjoyed. As much as you disliked Chan, your job was a priority.

Chan was taken back by this sudden change. This wasn’t your usual audacious attitude. Who was this demure girl in front of him? 

“I’m not going to fire you.” He said, getting up from his desk as he walked towards you, cornering you against the bookshelf. Your breath caught itself in your throat as the proximity between you and Chan lessened drastically. Chan pulled you by your arm, his hand firmly encircling your wrist, and crashed his body against yours. “Firing you would be too easy. I’m going to give you a hard time, Y/N.” 

“And that means you’re going to want to quit,” he finished.

“What’s your problem?” You hissed at the sudden contact, struggling to rotate your arm out of his strong grasp. On the exterior, you seemed calm, your cheeky attitude emerging. On the inside, you felt stiff as a board, your heartbeat hammering in your rib cage. You were sure your face had at least grown five shades redder, and if it weren’t for Chan pressing his body against you, your knees would have given away.

Chan tilted his head and smirked. “You’re in my way,” he said. He reached up behind you and pulled out five thick portfolios, each with at least thirty pages in them. He let go of your wrist and dropped the files on his desk with a loud thud.

“What are those?” You asked, rubbing your wrist.

“Those,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you to face the files. “Are the cases you have to solve,” Chan insisted.

You shoved his hands off and leaned down to measure the thickness of the files. You then turned around and held the thickness in front of his face; it had to be at least half an inch thick. “Are you shitting me? You’re saying that I have to solve these cases alone?” You gaped in disbelief. Gosh, he was infuriating.

“Precisely. By next week.”

“Are you kidding me? I just transferred here.” 

He smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he tilted your chin upwards with two of his fingers. “You wanted the job didn’t you?” He retorted, his tone a lot softer than his words. 

Chan pursed his lips and considered, “You know what? I’ll help you.” 

What did he just say? Did he just say the words “I’ll help you”? And before you could even stare in awe, he walked behind you and picked up the files, shoving them into your hands.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled fakely as he pushed you out his office, slamming the door behind you.

A stray hair fell before your eyes, and you blew the piece of hair away in annoyance. You tightened your grip on your portfolios until your knuckles became white.

“I mean, at least you’re not fired.” 

The comment came from Changbin, who only had two portfolios on his desk. You, on the other hand, had a whopping five in your hands, each filled with nothing but headaches.

»»————————-««

Apparently, the Homicide Division had a sleep study, something you didn’t know even existed in bureaus. Changbin had informed you that many investigators often spent nights in the sleep study, looking over cases and analyzing data, trying to look for patterns and trends. 

You placed your box and duffel bag (which Jisung had the common courtesy to run back to your apartment and fetch your belongings) on the empty desk in the corner of the room. Above the desk, there was a cork board and pins, along with a whiteboard in front of the room, blank canvases to work with. The simple layout excited you; it was all beginning to feel like you were a part of some CSI television show.

The room had four bunk beds, and all of them had different bed sheets. Changbin had mentioned that his was the black one with white dots, and there were two others with blue sheets and grey sheets. You assumed the unmade bed was yours, right below the one with grey sheets.

Deciding to deal with the bedding later, you threw the duffel bag on the mattress and removed the lid of the box, carefully taking out the five thick portfolios. You turned on the lamp and pulled out a pen as you sat down on the metal chair, crossing your legs comfortably underneath the table.

“Let’s get these cases over with.” You huffed and shifted your sitting position, an elbow propped on the desk with a pen twirling in your hand.

Three out of the five were pretty regular murders, each with their own set of fingerprints and a concrete list of suspects. You dug deeper, and at least one of the suspects in each of the three cases matched the descriptions and the fingerprints, pretty straightforward. As for the motives, all of them were driven either by revenge or an obvious motive, like money. Killing someone was probably the murderers’ tipping points, having no previous criminal record or charges.

The fourth one caught your attention. The suspected killer was in high school? You’ve seen cases like this before, and it was usually a case of bullying which led the victim to commit suicide. Strange, it didn’t belong to the Homicide Department.

“What are you doing here?” A familiar voice in an evil, yet endearing accent asked.

You held a finger up, yawned, then proceeded. “I’m looking through the cases you assigned me to. Am I doing something wrong, Inspector Bang?” Chan looked better after work. Instead of the suffocating CEO attire, he wore simple black jeans and a plaid t-shirt underneath his black leather jacket.

“Yes. Go to the library. The sleep study is for sleeping and group collabs, not for analyzing cases you were just assigned to.” Chan responded, his tone serious and stern. He wasn’t playing cheeky this time.

“Chill. It’s just some bullying case. This file doesn’t even belong in this department.”

Chan scoffed, “You clearly didn’t analyze the case well enough then.” He raised a perfect eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Bullies hurt others to make themselves feel big, and granted, it may lead to the suicide of the victim if it goes overboard. Psychopaths hurt others to get what they want. Obviously, you haven’t even touched the third page.”

You gritted your teeth and flipped the page harshly, eyes skimming over the post-it notes and evidence on the page. There had been video footage of the high school student shoving the victim off the rooftop; it indeed was a homicide case.

“Wait, so the murderer pushed the victim off because he was envious of his life?” 

“Hence, psychopath. He wanted him dead because he hated seeing him every single day in class. Psychopaths feel no remorse, for they lack the ability to experience emotions. You’d be surprised at the amount of time they train themselves in front of the mirror to teach themselves how to act human because they possess nothing of it,” Chan explained, instilling new information in your head. Jerk or no jerk, he was good at his job. “Also, the last case, Y/N. You might want to hit the library for that one.”

You blinked in confusion. “Why? I can’t be reading books if I want to find patterns and hidden traces of evidence,” you said, not following what he was telling you.

Chan sat down on your mattress and leaned his elbows on his knees, lacing his hands together.

“The previous four cases were basically solved, with evidence all pointing at the top suspect. The killers’ motives were clear too, each elicited by either revenge or hatred. All you needed to do was the piece the evidence together, then case closed. This one’s different. It requires a more literary analysis,” Chan said, his eyes averting from yours and onto the last unopened file on your desk.

“How so?” You swallowed the lump in your throat. Why was there a sudden nervousness emerging from the pit of your stomach?

Chan’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, fear evident in his gaze.

“He’s not done killing yet.”

»»————————-««

“The press calls him ‘The Sinner’, and he’s been killing since last month. A murder a week on the same exact day and we don’t have any whereabouts,” Chan explained, running his fingers along the books on the shelf.

He had managed to drag you along to the library with him. It wasn’t too bad, since you wanted to know more about The Sinner, and Chan was the best person to hear it from.

“I mean, ‘The Sinner’ is kind of an obvious serial killer name for anyone who commits murders. A killing a week? That’s insane, and how has he not left any fingerprints or slip-ups? Unless he chartered a ghost to kill for him.” You commented, trying to alleviate the solemn atmosphere.

Guess it didn’t work.

Chan rolled his eyes, eyeing you as if you were some clueless idiot. “You’re a miracle, really. He’s called ‘The Sinner’ because he justifies his crimes using the world’s ignorance of the Seven Deadly Sins. This twisted bastard believes that he received a sermon from a heavenly being, prompting him to rid of the sins in this world.”

 “So he kills people who characterize themselves as the sins like, for example, a prostitute would probably be lust,” you deduced, slowly grasping the understanding of the case.

“Yes, and you would have to do some research regarding the modus operandi of the killer. You have to get inside his mindset and see what’s his motive for killing these innocent people.” Chan removes a few books from the shelves and stuffs them into your arms. “You’re here to do research, so there,” he smirked.

His asshole persona was back. You almost missed when he was in work mode. 

Your eyes darted back and forth; the library was closing and the desk lamps were slowly dimming one by one.

Chan took notice of your silence and asked, “What? Afraid of the dark?”

“How-how many crimes did ‘The Sinner’ commit?” You stuttered as you scooted closer to Chan. You hated talking about death in such a dark atmosphere, your sixth sense messing with your nerves.

If these innocent victims were deemed sinners by the killer because they tainted the surface of Earth for obvious reasons like sloth or gluttony, then wouldn’t he be considered one of them too? He was the one doing the killing himself, a guaranteed sinner in every aspect. He doesn’t let the innocent slide, so there’s no way he would let himself off the hook either.

“Five. Pride, greed, lust, gluttony, and sloth.”

You placed the books on the shelf and grabbed the top book, followed by dragging Chan’s hand to the nearest table. Setting down the book, you flipped to the table of contents and located the list of the Seven Deadly Sins. 

“There’s only wrath and envy left. The serial killer either represents wrath or envy, but my bet’s on envy.” You pointed out, your determined eyes searching Chan’s for validation. This was your first homicide case, and it would be great if your deduction mirrored the killer’s methodology.

“You’re actually not as dumb as I originally thought,” he said, earning a scoff from you. “My bet’s also on envy. This guy is an obsessive freak, and as you can tell from the pictures, the murders were all staged in a very particular manner. Clues were left in very intentional places, like in the victim’s mouth or neck. The sick bastard is playing us, and he knows that we’re only one step behind him. Plus, he’s not going to kill a random stranger on the street unless that person meant something to him. He exemplifies envy, which means that wrath is the last sin.”

Your eyes lit up. “That means that he’s going to deviate from his trend and kill, or threaten to kill, someone important to ‘wrath’.”

“Right. And if ‘wrath’ decides to kill him, then ‘envy’ is taken care of, completing the Seven Deadly Sins.”

“No? Then ‘wrath’ would still be alive. It’s not complete yet.”

Chan flicked your forehead and spoke, “Are you dumb, or are you dumb? If someone killed the person you loved the most, would you necessarily be alive? No. You become something similar to the living dead. You’re alive, but you lack liveliness.”

You rubbed the sore spot on your forehead and scowled. “But the question is, who does he envy? Who represents wrath?”

“Well, who has the capability of killing him in an instant? Who is he playing games with?”

“The detectives,” you breathed out, the entire library suddenly spinning. Your head was pounding upon the realization that you could be “wrath”.

Chan clenched his jaw and took out his cell phone, calling a number on speed dial.

“CG, this is Inspector Bang. We’ve figured it out. ‘The Sinner’ could be targeting anyone in the Homicide Division. I need you to have all of our families under lock-down and twenty-four-hour undercover police supervision. I’ll fax over the detailed report regarding this matter as soon as I get back to the precinct.”

You pressed your fingers on top of your closed eyes and sighed. This was your first day on your job, and this happens. You were a big, fat red target for Korea’s most notorious serial killer.

»»————————-««

Chan swiftly took careful strides back to the precinct  – being overly cautious and stressed about the current situation the two of you were in. Wasting no time at all, Chan located your figure lagging behind him and grabbed your arm, pulling you in front of him.

“Walk in front of me. I get uneasy when people walk in back of me,” he ordered, letting go of your limp arm as soon as you were safely in front.

You obliged without your usual snarky comment or eye roll, feeling far too anxious about The Sinner. Even though this was your first day as the assistant inspector, you were sure that killer knew; he knew everything. Like Chan said, he was a step ahead of the game.

“Y/N, go take your duffel bag and stay with me.” Chan placed a hand on your shoulder, noticing your worried demeanor. You widened your eyes, wondering if he had been possessed by an angel, before speaking softly.

“Chan, you’re my boss. You’re not obligated to cover for me. If I’m his target, and he hurts my family, I’ll deal with it on my own.”

You felt sick at the thought of The Sinner going after your parents and your younger brother, who was currently still in high school. Especially your brother Jeongin.

“I’m your boss, so I take responsibility if you get hurt, or any of your family members. My family is not in Korea right now, so it’d be hard for him to target overseas. You, Changbin, and Felix are probably at risk.” His eyes bore into yours, and his hands were now resting comfortably on your shoulders. 

Your eyes watered involuntarily, and without a doubt, you had started to fall for Chan. Despite his asshole side, he had a caring side too, and you hated the fact that he was right. You didn’t like relying on people, and this definitely hurt your reputation and pride. Heaving a sigh, you looked back at his dark, intoxicating eyes.

“Fine. I’ll grab my duffel bag. Can you make sure that there are undercover police officers inside my parent’s house? In case the killer decides to show up? If I can’t be there myself, I want to know that they’re safe,” you negotiated, making Chan unfold a small smile in return.

»»————————-««

Chan pulled up outside the driveway of his renovated apartment – the black iron gates opening upon his arrival, leading the two of you into a secluded complex. You felt tiny little butterflies fluttering and dropping into a mosh pit in the bottom of your stomach, feeling overwhelmed with the current living situation. You had never lived with any man other than your father or uncle, not even your ex. And definitely not Chan.

Coincidentally, despite you viewing him as a womanizer, Chan had never spent one night alone with a female. 

You were the first.

He parked the car in the small parking complex below his apartment, right outside his balcony. At that moment, he felt a rush of nervousness course through his veins. Perhaps, he too had found you intriguing after the elevator encounter two nights ago.

“It’s getting late. Are you tired?” Chan asked, clicking his seatbelt off. You were unresponsive, so he leaned over and removed your seat belt, breaking you from your reverie.

“Huh? Oh yeah, a little. I’ll be better after I eat and plop asleep. My mind’s a mess right now,” you replied, dragging your aching body out of his car. Chan opened the trunk and carried your duffel bag out of the trunk before locking the doors. He handed you the bag.

What’s he so nice for?

You pondered but took the bag from his hands. Chan pressed a series of numbers and inserted a key to his lock, twisting it in a full circle until you heard a click. As soon as you stepped inside his apartment, the lights turned on automatically, the simplistic yet elegant light fixtures warming the rooms. The apartment had definitely been renovated, with the fresh smell of paint and the pristine condition it was in.

“The smell of paint is still there, but if it bothers you too much, you can sleep in the living room. Don’t open the windows. You know why.” Chan informed you as he locked the front door shut.

You nod silently in response, eyes darting around the brightly lit room, to the portraits hung on the walls, to the minimalist decor. 

“You’re pretty much free to use anything, as long as you pay interest,” Chan said, adding the last bit with a sly smile.

“Yes,” you replied, not really paying attention to what he was saying. “Wait, what? What interest?” You snapped back, suddenly realizing what he had said previously. 

Chan laughed and rolled his eyes. “I was testing you. Seems like my intuition was right, you weren’t listening to me. Anyways, take the bedroom to the right down the hall on your left.” Chan had two bedrooms; one he planned on using for sleeping, and the other was probably a guest room or an office. He offered you the one for sleeping.

“Oh, thanks.” You responded, taking your duffel bag and walking towards the short hallway. Stopping abruptly, you turned to face him.

“Are you sleeping in the bedroom on the left?”

Chan smiled ardently and wiggled his eyebrows. “Why? Are you planning on joining me?” He challenged, his voice laced with a tinge of flirtation that made your cheeks blush a darker shade of red.

“You pervert! I just have trouble sleeping in new places, and you happen to be the most familiar thing in this entire apartment. I just wanted to know where you were for me to be at ease,” you confessed, your voice getting lower and lower at the end of the statement. Your sentence came out timid, much to your surprise.

Your inspector bit his lip to prevent himself from grinning – you were too cute for your own good. Chan knew you were scared of the serial killer, your worries a fiasco thus adding onto your anxiety. Since you were staying with him, Chan felt more at ease because you were safer under his supervision than any other person. Changbin and Felix had each other, but you were a new transfer – he could relax more knowing that you were sleeping soundly in the next room.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.” Chan walked over to his bathroom and grabbed a towel from the closet. “Goodnight.” With that, he stepped inside and locked the door.

You shut your eyes tightly, placing a hand on your chest to calm your palpitating heart. Why did he have such an effect on you? Even the last bastard you dated didn’t have this effect on you. Your last relationship stayed in the honeymoon phase and went downhill from there, but Chan left you wanting more.

»»————————-««

Of course. 

Jisung packed clothes that made you look like a complete bum. 

You shook your head and pulled out your shirts one by one. The prick knew you were sleeping over at the sleep study, initially, and he packed baggy shirts and shorts. Couldn’t he have the decency to at least pack a neat set of pajamas? You emptied out your entire bag, flipping it over and tossing out the contents.

“Han Jisung. You complete idiot...you forgot my teddy bear.” You mumbled, checking the pockets and compartments on the side. You sat on the bed and threw a small tantrum, texting your dumb friend.

He responded immediately with a shrugging emoji, making you hiss in disbelief. 

Ten years of friendship and he forgets your teddy bear, the most crucial thing that saved your sleeping pattern. Deciding to forgive him after a long day, you grabbed a baggy t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, finally getting undressed for the night. Before long, you slipped into the clean white sheets of Chan’s bed, his scent enveloping you like a blanket, a mixture of vanilla and pine, a pleasant musk. You snuggled deeper into the feathered pillows and closed your eyes as you pictured your body floating on fluffy clouds.

In less than a minute, your eyes shot wide open. Soon after seconds bled into minutes and minutes bled into an hour; you couldn’t sleep, constantly tossing and turning in bed – your mind filled with the serial killer and other random events – and obviously Chan who was sleeping in the room across the hall. You wondered, pulling the covers up to your chin and rolling onto your side, if Chan were already asleep. When he was asleep, did he look more angelic? Or did he still have the bitch face he had on during your first encounter?

You coughed, your throat suddenly feeling dry. “I need water. I bet he has water in the fridge, right?” You whispered to yourself. Of course, he had water. What kind of human being didn’t have water?

You threw the covers off your body, placing your bare feet on the cool wooden floor beneath the bed. Quickly, you glanced at the time and realized that it was already 1 AM, no way Chan would be awake. You straightened your wrinkled clothes and stood up from the bed, making your way to the kitchen stealthily and quietly.

»»————————-««

Chan lounged on top of the living room couch – his office didn’t have any furniture yet, and he offered you his bed. He laid there, scrolling through Twitter on his phone while placing a hand behind his head. He heard the door to his room creak open, and he locked his phone, turning it over face down on the coffee table, and nestled back into the couch.

The room was dark and his eyes wide open, he heard your slippers padding lightly toward the kitchen. Chan craned his neck up, squinting his eyes right when you switched on the soft light in the kitchen. He heard you opening the cupboards in search of something, then he heard a soft clink. A water glass?

He slowly threw his quilt off and sat up on the couch. Smiling wryly, he saw you opening the fridge and rummaging through the bags of groceries like a raccoon at night. He liked to stock up on food early in the week because chances were, he’d be too busy during the week to go shopping.

Chan stood up, barefoot, and tiptoed softly to the kitchen. The light underneath the fridge cupboards illuminated your form, slightly bent over as you craned to reach the water pitcher. He held his breath in his lungs as he observed the way your big t-shirt covered half your thighs – this was his favorite look on you. Undeniably, Chan narrowed his eyes as he inched up behind you.

»»————————-««

Just as your hand came in contact with the water pitcher at the back of the fridge, behind fifteen bags of vegetables, you felt a presence. That caused you to straighten up and stiffen as you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist, and you let out a small gasp, knowing that the presence was Chan. His light cologne more than familiar.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He said, his breath feathering the nape of your neck. Chan could feel your uneven breathing underneath his hands, and he smirked. You gulped, feeling vulnerable as his body pressed tightly against your back, leaving no room for even a slip of air in between.

“Why are you in the living room?” You asked slowly, feeling his heartbeat beating quicker through his thin shirt. You eyed his hand as it lifted away from your torso, pressing against the door of the fridge, and closing it completely. 

He backed up from you and said, his voice significantly deeper, “Because you’re in my room.”

You pursed your lips, almost missing his warmth. “Why did you do that? I would have been fine on the couch. I feel terrible.” You spun to face him, and he locked eyes with you.

“You need it more than I do.”

The jerk did have a heart after all. It was thoughtful of him. To accompany you to the library even though his shift was over. To offer you a place to stay (even if it was his barely renovated apartment) when you were beyond terrified. To give you his bed, leaving the couch for himself. You almost forgot the blind date incident after today.

Chan reached forward and held your hand, letting his hand travel up to your waistline. He stepped closer and pressed his body to yours again, the other hand finding its way around your waist as well. He let his head rest comfortably on your shoulder. As he did, you blinked slowly and turned your head slightly towards him, letting your head fall back as you parted your lips, accommodating your breathing. 

“Do you like me, Chan?” You managed to let out as you pushed him away lightly, hands on his chest. “Or are you playing with me?” 

Chan let in a sharp intake of air before grabbing you by your waist and lifting you clean off the floor and onto the granite island’s top. Before you even had a second to process that, a second to breathe, his lips found yours immediately as his hands pressed firmly on either side of the countertop, trapping you between his arms. His kisses were demanding, yet gentle as you opened your mouth to let his tongue softly caress yours – butterflies exploding in your stomach.

He broke away and leaned his forehead on yours. 

“Does that answer your question?” He whispered deeply, tilting his jaw back a nuance to gaze into your eyes.

Upon seeing his sincerity, you placed your arms over his shoulder ever-so-lightly, captivating his full lips on yours once more.

»»————————-««

Something soft hit the side of your cheek as your vision slowly came into focus, recognizing the grey curtains of Chan’s living room and the sound of obnoxious birds at dawn. You stirred gently, stretching slightly as your fingers accidentally dug into something soft draped across your waist. Slowly, you opened your eyes to Chan, well, Chan’s curly mop of hair.

Oh right. 

You buried your face in your hands as you thought back to last night and what had happened when you wanted to get yourself a glass of water, the neglected water glass still on the island top. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you reminisced further, recalling the way he had kissed you. You never kissed your blind dates, but moreover, no one had ever kissed you the way he did, not even your ex.

Chan stirred beside you, making your heartbeat increase tenfold in your chest as he wrapped his arm tighter around your torso.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Chan said in his husky morning voice, tiredness lacing his tone. “Did you sleep well?” 

Your hand flew up to your hair unconsciously, attempting to straighten your bird’s nest to make yourself look less like a bum, as if Jisung’s choice of sleepwear didn’t already do the job.

“Yeah, I slept fine.” You responded in a soft voice as you continued to fix your hair. “And you?”

Chan’s lips curled into a dimpled smile as he snuggled up close to your neck. “Like a baby.” 

He took notice of your stiffness and your thinking face, your mind probably racing miles per hour. Chan propped himself up on the arm of the couch and looked down at you, arm still securely around your waist.

“What’s wrong? You look...constipated,” he pointed out.

“I was...well, I was just wondering if...if you meant the kiss last night...” you trailed off, tapping your fingers on his arm lightly, tracing the prominent veins on his arm.

Chan smiled warmly at you. “Maybe I ought to tell you this. You’re the first girl I brought home, much less slept on the same couch with. If I didn’t mean the kiss, would I have offered you a place to stay?” His face seemed to inch closer to yours as your heart stopped, his words having a tremendous effect on you.

“I didn’t give you a definitive answer last night, so here. I like you, Y/N,” he confessed, a slight roughness to his answer. Chan entwined his fingers with yours, maintaining eye contact with you as you gazed into his brown ones.

His captivating words had chased all the lingering doubts out of your mind. “So...what are we?” You accidentally voiced your thoughts and mentally scolded yourself, biting down on your bottom lip harshly. Chan managed to hold back a chuckle at how cute and straightforward you were. Right then, he leaned his head on top of yours, and you melted in his chest.

Chan whispered, “I’m your boss, and you’re my assistant inspector.”

The smile on your face dropped, pushing him away harshly as he rolled off the couch.

“I’m kidding, Y/N. Gosh, you’re strong.” He whined, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder.

»»————————-««

Telephones and pagers rang on every detective’s desk, creating havoc in the precinct as reporters from every station lined up at the entrance to get the latest, juiciest scoop on The Sinner. Workers and officers were bombarded by questions. Why did Inspector Bang suddenly have the station on lock-down? Were more innocent people at risk? Did the detectives finally manage to figure out The Sinner’s next move?

Chan gripped both of your shoulders and turned you to face him, his gaze stern, devoid of the childish playfulness he embodied this morning. “We’re going to give the reporters out there one minute of our time, just one minute until the door’s closed. No matter what you do, don’t say anything about the killer’s next move. They’re the press. They don’t keep secrets like we do,” he instructed clearly and thoroughly.

“Got it,” you reassured him, nodding obediently.

“Here we go,” Chan mumbled, opening the doors to the precinct, just enough for the two of you to slither through. And immediately, five microphones were shoved in front of your face, along with bombarding questions regarding the case as Chan had predicted.

A lady in red asked, “Inspector, have you found the culprit yet? Are the civilians in danger?”

Chan responded professionally, “No, we have not found the killer, but we do have a sufficient amount of evidence to rightfully accuse him if he were to perhaps, slip. The civilians do not need to worry. This killer targets specific types of people, and it is unlikely for him to go after a random passerby.” His hawk eyes darted around the crowd of reporters, trying to see if anyone was behaving weirdly.

“Inspector! Inspector! Why is the station under a lock-down? Do you think you’re being targeted?” Another man in blue questioned you.

“The precinct has its doors closed because we are all very busy, answering calls back and forth. It’d be inconvenient for people to walk in and press charges at this moment. The killer is on the run, and we want to catch him as soon as possible. Of course, the police station is a plausible target, but then again, anyone who meets his standards could be the next victim,” you said, earning a nod from the reporter. You looked to Chan for approval, and he squeezed your hand in response.

A woman in black shoved through the crowd and inquired Chan. “Will you take responsibility when the killer strikes again this week? It’s been a constant trend.”

“All of our inspectors are working hard to catch The Sinner, and of course, as the police force, we will take full responsibility if anybody’s life is harmed in response to our delay. However, if the killer decides to deviate from us and attack elsewhere, we are not at fault,” Chan replied.

“Alright, doors close now! Thank you, and we will not be taking any more questions.” He announced right after the last inquiry, placing a hand on your shoulder to guide you back to the precinct.

You were about to enter when suddenly, you heard your name being called in the faint distance. “Y/N! Y/N!” A man’s voice called.

You turned your head around abruptly, completely neglecting Chan as you heard the voice chanting your name in a sing-song matter. Soon after, you were met with a microphone right at your lips, the owner a man in black, cap hung low.

“Y/N, what would you do you if were targeted as The Sinner’s next victim?” His voice was eerie and dark, and you felt shivers down your spine as if the Angel of Death had arrived.

“E-Excuse me? How do you know my name?” You questioned the man in confusion. The police force never divulged the names of their detectives, and you were also a new inspector in the department. No could have known your first name.

Chan’s hand tightened around your shoulder. “Let’s go. We don’t have time for this. Remember, a minute,” he reminded, determined to get you inside before something bad happened.

The man chuckled, a cold laugh, and the entire world froze as he opened his mouth to say the next few words. 

“What would you do if something happened to your dear best friend?”

What? What did he just say? You wondered how he knew your name, and why he mentioned your best friend. What was he insinuating? Then the one thing you feared popped in your mind, your biggest nightmare. And it made you regret transferring to the Homicide Division. It made you regret every single decision you’ve made so far.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO JISUNG, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” You screamed as tears threatened to spill, the crowd of reporters inching backward at your sudden outburst. Hundreds of flashing cameras blinded your eyes, but you lunged forward and grabbed the suspect’s collar. You raised the fistful of fabric up, dragging him along with you, and hissed in front of his face. “Tell me where he is right now, or else...” you trailed off, thinking back to what Chan said.

“Or else what? You’ll kill me?” He challenged, the right side of his lips quirking up to a vile sneer.

Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to calm yourself. You thought back to Chan, who was standing beside you, completely shocked that The Sinner decided to just turn himself in. And you remembered what Chan had told you yesterday, that this was all just a game to The Sinner. You were “wrath” and if you killed him, he would win, completing the Seven Deadly Sins. You tried to control your anger, and it reached a point where you didn’t want a breather because you were too scared that your emotions would finally catch up, causing you to snap.

Your gun was in your holster right by your side, and with one shot, he’d be lifeless. What good would that do you though? The number one priority right now was finding Jisung, dead or alive. If he were dead, you demanded a corpse. If he were alive, you demanded him back.

Taking the gun out of your holster, you cocked your gun right by the side of his forehead. Chan widened his eyes and grabbed your arm, holding you down, but you brushed him aside.

“Show me Jisung. Dead or alive.” You spat, each and every word enunciated clearly for the bastard to hear. Upon hearing your answer, Chan loosened his grip on your hand. He too took his gun out, clicking it before aiming it at The Sinner.

A small, barely noticeable smile crept to the bastard’s face as he turned around with his hands in the air, bandages on every finger. No wonder forensics couldn’t find any fingerprints. He consistently cut off the skin of his fingertips, disabling DNA fingerprinting.

“Follow me, Y/N. But tell your boyfriend to put his gun down. This is between you and me only.”

Chan walked forward and placed metal cuffs on the both of his hands, dropping his gun right in front of him.

“Her boyfriend will, but you’re getting these cuffs.” He muttered, his brows creased restlessly.

»»————————-««

Despite not having his gun in his hand, Chan followed you closely, making sure your emotions didn’t consume you whole. He knew it was part of The Sinner’s scheme to turn himself in, prompting you to get hurt and perhaps even kill him. Jisung was a cop himself, part of the forensics team, and if anything, he’d have the basic self-defense skills. If he really did kill Jisung, then he would have to personally get inside the precinct, capture Jisung without making any noise, and make a successful escape. The thing was, the entire precinct was under lock-down. How would someone go in and out unannounced?

Chan reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and took out his cell phone, quickly dialing a number. At the same time, he kept his eyes locked up front, trailing behind you slowly.

You swallowed a lump in your throat. The killer had led the two of you to the outskirts of the city, not too far from the station. It was a flat field by the side of the main highway, with nothing in sight but an abandoned trailer, and the trailer had been there for years. Untouched, but no one bothered looking because it was a useless trinket. It wasn’t the trailer that caught your eye, but the box beside the trailer.

“Oh, she sees the treasure box. Why don’t you go and open it?” The Sinner sang, his chuckles airy. 

“Hyunjin, call bomb squad,” Chan said into his portable transmitter as he took precautions.

The killer laughed, and in split second, he kicked the box towards you. “The only thing exploding will be Y/N once she sees what’s inside the box. Open it!” He ordered, gesturing madly with his head, beads of sweat rolling down his face.

You struggled to keep your gun in your clammy hand as your left hand reached towards the box. Chan walked up behind you and placed a hand on top of your dominant hand, stabling the gun. Your throat ran dry as you lifted one of the flaps to the box, growing dizzy as you saw a blood stain emerge. Taking a deep breath, you lifted the other flap and peered in the gap. 

What you saw emitted a bloodcurdling scream from your throat.

“You sick bastard! How could you? How could you do this to him?” You thrashed and shoved Chan aside, aiming the gun to his forehead, the cold metal leaving an indent on his temple. 

“Because I envy you. And your perfect tip-top shape kind of life. You’ll never understand what it means to suffer, and now you will,” he sneered, lapping his lips with a foul smile.

Tears were streaming down your face at the sight of your best friend’s mutilated body parts inside the box. “I’m going to kill you. If anyone’s rotting in hell, it’s going to be you. Mark my words.” You grit your teeth, your body shaking with anger.

Chan’s face was suddenly filled with insecurity and fear before he grabbed your arm harshly, pulling you back. Not a moment too soon, he had received a callback, and that proved his deduction.

“Let go of me! I don’t care about winning or losing anymore! I just want this bastard to suffer, and after what he did to Jisung, I want to see him beg,” you hissed. You weren’t logical. You weren’t in the right mind. You were blinded by vengeance, much to The Sinner’s advantage. You were wrath, and nothing was standing between you and killing him, not even Chan.

Chan’s eyes hardened as he clenched his jaw, his hand grabbing your wrist firmly for you to give him your undivided attention. He turned you to face him, his eyes glowering down on yours.

“Listen to me. Jisung’s not dead, and whatever you saw inside the box isn’t him. He just called me from the precinct,” he whispered frantically as he searched your eyes. He looked for reason, for something other than fear and anger. “He’s safe,” he reiterated.

Safe. Jisung was safe.

“Shoot me.” He hissed. “Shoot me, I dare you. I killed your best friend. You said you wanted a corpse, so here’s his corpse. My job is done, so shoot me!”

He was so adamant about you shooting him; he was using you to rid of his sins. Someone had to finish his legacy, so he picked you to complete the Seven Sins. However, was the person in the box really Jisung? Or was the person an unfortunate pedestrian?

“Trust me, Y/N,” Chan’s jaw tensed.

Where was the reason in this? Then you remembered: a murder a week on the exact same day. Chan had mentioned this before back at the library, that The Sinner only killed on Tuesdays. Undeniably, he wanted to be killed on a Tuesday. Therefore, regardless of what, he would need someone to be “wrath” in order for him to be killed. Chances were, the person in the box wasn’t Jisung, and Chan was right.

You started nodding in your head, scoffing slightly as your grip slackened, and the gun hung loosely in your hands.

“You’re a liar. I’m not sealing your fate, you anal bastard. Tuesdays, right? You have to kill on Tuesdays. That body isn’t Jisung’s.”

“SHOOT ME, Y/N! I KILLED HIM. I KILLED ALL THOSE SINNERS.” He screamed like a maniac.

You raised your gun at him and hooked your index finger around the trigger. 

“Very well then,” you said simply.

“Y/N. Don’t do it!” Chan yelled, a rush of oxygen escaping his lungs, his eyes and ears betraying him. He thought you understood.

Then, a single gunshot rang through the field.

»»————————-««

(ONE WEEK LATER)

“If it isn’t our lovely Mrs. Bang, how are you, Y/N?” Jisung asked with a grin when he saw you stroll in the precinct a week later, smirking secretly upon the realization that the blind date he had set up worked for you.

You threw a clipboard at him as Chan trailed behind you. “We’re not married, you fool.”

“You don’t even come back to your apartment because you practically live with Chan now, and the two of you bicker like an old married couple.” He said as he leaned back in his chair, bumping fists with Changbin who was next to him.

“Yeah? How does it feel being best man for five of your friends’ weddings? What’s it like being a thirty-year-old spinster?” You retorted, your eyes narrowing down on your best friend.

Jisung grumbled, turning away from you with a playful scowl. “I didn’t know Chan had a thing for EVIL PEOPLE.”

Chan chuckled when you sat down on his chair, kicking back like you owned the damn place. “She’s just cranky because Gordon Ramsay eliminated her favorite contestant on MasterChef,” he exposed, and his transmitter started beeping. “Chief wants me. I’ll be back in a few.”

He squeezed the back of your neck reassuringly before leaving you alone with Jisung and Changbin. 

“Why does he have so many new cases? How prominent is crime around here?” You said as you stared at the neat pile of untouched portfolios, at least seven of them.

Jisung “tsked” and started playing a game on his monitor. Easy for him to say, he was stuck in a lab all day doing science experiments, barely any paperwork.

Changbin nodded in agreement. “That’s what you get for being the head inspector of the Homicide Division. Chan has the capability and the experience to become the Chief of Police, but no, he likes serial killers,” he chuckled.

“The man’s weird, but I like weird.” You commented the last bit, and the two officers gagged in front of you, cringing at your profound cheesiness. You rolled your eyes at their dramatic reaction and puffed out a breath of air before reaching over to the case files. Grabbing a wad of sticky notes, you opened the first case file.

Then you remembered what Chan had mentioned when the two of you first met at the precinct. Some cases required a more literary analysis in order to develop a deeper understanding of the serial killers’ methodologies.

“Hey guys, tell Chan I’ll be at the public library downtown with his cases. Oh, also tell him that I want a caramel macchiato when he stops by the cafe across the street for his daily dose of caffeine,” you told the other two. You picked up the portfolios and stuffed them in your bag, along with the sticky notes and a handful of colorful pens.

In return, you received two weird looks your way.

“Y/N, good morning. Where are you off to?” Felix walked in with a case he just ran by the forensics in his hands.

“The library,” you chirped, throwing a wave back at the three before walking out the sliding doors.

Felix scrunched his face in confusion as he thought he heard the word “library”. Why would you be on a library date with Chan when you had a pile of cases that needed to be solved? He looked to the two older officers for an explanation.

Jisung tapped restlessly on his keyboard, trying to save his character from dying in the game. “Don’t ask, Felix,” he mumbled, groaning as the little dinosaur fell down a pit of lava.

»»————————-««

Turns out Chief wanted Chan and Changbin to analyze a crime scene an hour away, and grudgingly, Jisung texted you that he and his forensics team were “camping with the bears”. You figured they were in the wilderness somewhere, and Chan didn’t arrive at the library until it was eight in the evening. 

Chan ran up the winding staircase, carrying two very overdue cups of caramel macchiatos in his hands, skipping two steps at a time. His footsteps came to a stop when he saw apple-shaped sticky notes attached to each of his files and two piles of books on the desk.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Chan spoke up with amused eyebrows as he moved to place the cups of coffee on top of the desk, standing in front of you.

“I solved them for you.”

Chan’s eyes widened as he picked up one of the files, flipping through the pages and analyzing your detailed notes on every picture. “You solved them? All in a day?”

“I still need more evidence for some of them, but I have the suspects listed. I’m pretty sure they’re correct, but they might require more substantial evidence for them to be closed cases. Just follow the outline I did on the last pages of each file.” You tapped your pen on the areas to point them out.

Chan was stunned. These were all leads, and he would be able to find the culprit sooner with all the cases laid out in a neat outline. His eyes darted up to look at you, and for a second, you were afraid that he was mad at you for messing up the files. You were new to the division, and what if your leads were all nonsense? You were second doubting yourself.

“Marry me.”

Your jaw dropped, baffled by his answer. “You haven’t even met my parents yet.”

“Well, it’s time to book a train to Busan then,” he said, walking behind you to wrap his arms around your sitting figure. He bent down and kissed to the side of your left cheek.

“You dork.” You snorted, your hands holding onto his arms as you leaned back, your head on his chest.

Thinking back to it, maybe Jisung did know your ideal type pretty well. He did somewhat introduce you to Chan, and maybe your hapless fate wasn’t so unfortunate after all. The universe had definitely messed with your life, several times actually, but this was actually your happy ending. 

Chan was your sun, and because he entered your life, you found meaning. Without him, you would have killed The Sinner instead of wounding him in the leg. Without him, you would never be a good detective because you would be stuck staring at blank pages, trying to look for hidden patterns without background knowledge. And without him, you wouldn’t be able to learn to love again. Because he was the sun, you were the moon. He made you shine your brightest.

Now that you look back at it, the sun and the moon’s love story wasn’t a forlorn one. It was a beautiful one. Although they were only able to see each other during those transient moments of dawn and dusk, those moments were happy and cherished. Sometimes, the universe would give mercy, creating a rare phenomenon permitting the sun and moon to finally meet. In other words, their love was truly eternal. At day, you see the sun, shining bright in the sky. At night, you see the moon, glowing mysterious in its domain. And sometimes, you see the sun kiss the moon, thanking her for her company. Even the sun and the moon had their happy ending.