#sxnnielixie

The first thing you noticed about Kim Taehyung is that he never walks into a room like he belongs there.

Which is strange considering every room bends around him anyway.

Staff members straighten when he passes. Managers lower their voices. Makeup artists hover nervously like they’re handling something delicate and unpredictable.

But Taehyung himself looks detached from all of it.

Black hoodie. Messy dark hair tucked beneath a beanie. Large headphones around his neck. Expression unreadable.

He doesn’t greet anyone when he enters the studio.

Just walk straight past them.

You glance down at the clipboard in your hands.

Schedule changes. Wardrobe confirmations. Dinner reservation moved to eight.

Again.

You were new to the scene but you weren’t new to being an assistant to an idol. 

Just an idol like Taehyung. 

“Don’t take it personally if he ignores you,” one of the stylists murmurs beside you. “He’s weird at first.”

“At first?” you whisper.

She snorts.

Before you can ask what that means, movement catches your attention.

Taehyung stopped walking.

Halfway across the studio floor, he turns slightly.

His eyes land on you.

Not casually either.

Directly.

Like he knew exactly where you were the moment he walked in.

The room continues moving around him. People talking. Racks rolling across the floor. Music playing softly overhead.

But for some reason it suddenly feels quiet.

You straighten awkwardly under the weight of his stare.

Then—

He walks toward you. Not the director. Not his manager.

You.

Your grip tightens around the clipboard as he stops in front of you.

Up close, he’s even harder to read.

Pretty in an unfair, almost disorienting way. But exhausted too. Like he hasn’t slept properly in days. With a schedule like this, that wasn’t hard to believe. His gaze flickers briefly to your company ID badge before returning to your face.

“You’re new.”

It isn’t a question.

You nod carefully. “Assistant coordinator.”

“Hm.”

That’s it.

Just a low hum like he’s thinking about something you aren’t part of yet.

Then unexpectedly:

“You seem calm.”

Your brows lift slightly. “...Thank you?”

Another long stare.

And for one strange second, you get the unsettling feeling he’s trying to memorize you.

Then he reaches up, gently pulls one side of his headphones off, and says:

“Come with me today.”

Your mouth parts.

“I— sorry?”

“My assistant quit.”

He says it casually. Like commenting on the weather.

Behind you, someone nearly chokes. 

“Did he just?” one makeup artist said, “She has no idea what she’s in for if she goes with him.” another said. 

“You can organize things, right?” he asks.

You blink. “I mean… yes, but I’m assigned to—”

“You’ll do fine.”

And then— before you can properly respond—

He turns and walks away expecting you to follow.

No explanation. No discussion. Just complete certainty.

The entire room goes silent.

One of the managers mutters:

“Oh no.” he mumbled, “Go ahead and find another assistant. This one isn’t going to last long.” 

~~~~~~~

The company building is nearly empty by the time Taehyung finally finishes reviewing edits.

Your eyes burn from staring at schedules all day. 

Taehyung had you running around like a chicken with your head cut off. When he wanted something, he wanted it done right then and there. There were no negotiations. He had you look over 100s of pictures he took for a popular magazine in Korea, then he had you look over the interview questions without prior knowledge of what he wanted to answer and wanted to refuse, then to top it all off when one of the managers messed up his coffee order he expected you to go get a new one. 

Now you were staring at 100s of emails that wanted Taehyung to either promote their product, become a brand ambassador or just come do an interview with them. It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t have to also review BTS’ schedules as well to make sure they don’t clash with one another. 

The members as a group and as individuals were in high demand. Reading these emails was like reading an encyclopedia.  

Across the lounge, one of the managers gives you a sympathetic look while gathering her things.

“Good luck,” she whispers on her way out. You nod and wave before looking back down at your ipad.

You don’t even have the energy to ask what that means.

The door shuts behind her.

Silence settles over the room.

Taehyung is sprawled across the couch with his phone balanced lazily against his chest, long legs stretched out beneath the low table.

For the first time all day, he looks still.

Not restless. Not distracted.

Just tired.

You glance at the clock.

11:43 PM.

Carefully, you close the ipad in your lap.

“I finished reorganizing tomorrow’s schedule,” you say quietly. “I also moved your fitting to the afternoon since the photographer requested—”

“Okay.”

You blink.

Okay?

That’s the fastest he’s answered anything all day.

You stand slowly, gathering papers into neat stacks.

“Well…” You hesitate awkwardly. “Goodnight, Taehyung-ssi.”

No response.

You look up.

He’s already looking at you.

That same steady stare from earlier.

Unnerving. Focused.

Like he’s listening to something beyond your words.

Then:

“Did you eat today?”

Your fingers pause against the folders.

“…What?”

“You forgot.”

You stare at him.

“How would you know that?”

A small shrug.

“You get quieter when you’re hungry.”

Taehyung sits up slowly.

“Come eat.”

You glance toward the clock again. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Hm.”

“That’s your response?”

Another shrug.

“I don’t want to eat alone. Order some Japchae and get yourself whatever you want.” 

He said tossing his phone on the table before you before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. 

You paused for a second before taking his phone into your hands and ordering some food. 

The weight of the phone in your hand felt heavier than it should have.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, the bright display illuminating the confusion you had been suppressing all day. It was just Japchae and a side dish—a simple late-night meal—yet this sudden pivot from the demanding, unpredictable idol to a man concerned about your appetite felt like a trap you weren't prepared for. 

All day, he had treated you like a machine, a tool to fix his schedule and fetch his coffee, but now he was looking at you with that unsettling, focused intensity, noticing the subtle shifts in your mood that even you hadn't fully acknowledged.

You navigated the app with practiced efficiency, your mind racing faster than your fingers. 

Was this part of the "unpredictability" the files had warned you about? One moment he was the eccentric artist who expected you to read his mind, and the next, he was the only person in the building who realized you hadn't eaten since dawn. Very unlike you. 

The sound of the bathroom door clicking open startled you. Taehyung emerged, his messy dark hair now damp at the edges and the beanie gone, making him look younger and even more vulnerable than before. He didn't say anything at first, just walked over and reclaimed his spot on the couch, watching you with that same unreadable expression. 

"Ordered?" he asked, his voice a low vibration in the quiet lounge.

 You nodded, handing him back the phone while avoiding his gaze. 

"It’ll be here in twenty minutes."

He hummed—that same low, private sound—and for a fleeting second, the space between you felt less like an idol and an assistant and more like two people lost in the same late-night silence.

Like promised, the food arrived without any problems. As Taehyung pulled the food from the bags he realized it was very little for two people. So little they didn’t even include a second pair of chopsticks. 

“Did you get something for yourself?” he asked. 

“I didn’t want anything too heavy so I got some Baechu” you said softly. 

He didn’t respond. Instead he just sat down. 

He took the japchae and divided it evenly between you and him. He reached over and grabbed his bag, pulling out a cutlery set his parents gifted him and the members long ago that he became accustomed to carrying around. 

“Sit” 

It wasn’t a question or a request. 

You sat in front of the table on your knees while Taehyung sat with one leg propped up and his arm resting on his knee as he already started eating. 

“Eat” he said in between chews before grabbing his phone to check the group chat he and the members shared. 

“You didn’t have to share. I would have been okay until I got home-” 

“You haven’t eaten all day. Neither have I, let’s work on that.” 

That was the last thing he said before returning his attention back to his phone, fully expecting you to eat.

The penthouse was quiet. Not the uncomfortable silence of an empty home, but the peaceful kind that came with creating a safe space. A routine. 

Morning sunlight spilled across polished hardwood floors, warming the edges of neatly stacked books and semi-watered monsteras with cascading phalaenopsis orchids tucked beside the windows. 

Somewhere in the kitchen, a kettle clicked softly as it finished boiling.

You set your rose gold mug beneath the stream of freshly brewed coffee before walking back toward the bedroom. 

Always Bean & Bean Coffee Roasters. Never anything less. 

Everything already had its place.

Your passport rested beside your keys.

Your watch lay atop tomorrow's planner.

A Dior garment bag with its matching handbag hung neatly from the closet door.

Nothing was ever left to chance.

The bathroom mirror reflected the familiar sight of someone preparing for another ordinary morning.

At least...

As ordinary as your life allowed.

You reached into the small leather cosmetics pouch, which of course matched your Dior set, resting beside the sink.

The zipper opened with a quiet pull.

Lip liner.

Lipstick.

Gloss.

The motions came without thought now.

Years of repetition had turned them into muscle memory.

The familiar burgundy shade settled across your lips before you blotted it once against folded tissue, adding the smallest touch of gloss to the center.

Only then did you smile.

Not because of how it looked.

Because the routine was complete.

A knock interrupted the silence.

Three knocks.

Evenly spaced.

Right on time.

You already knew who it was.

~~~~~

You open the door.

A courier.

No words.

Just a matte-black envelope.

Then he leaves immediately. A small chuckle leaves your lips as you close the door.

You set the envelope on the island before pouring yourself another cup of coffee. 

No rush. Nothing. 

Because panic has never made anyone better at their job.

…And panic would only complicate things. 

In fact you got dressed, dismissing the envelope altogether. 

Inside...

One photograph.

One passport.

One plane ticket.

One destination.

Monaco.

You quietly exhale with a little tilt of your head.

"...It's been a while."

You flip to another page. Reading, rehearsing, planning. 

Studying. Until..something catches your eye. 

Your expression finally changes.

Just barely.

A tiny smile. A little amusement. 

"Freelancers."

She closes the folder.

"...This should be interesting."

~~~~~

A floor-length black leather trench coat flowed behind you, its sleek finish catching the faintest hints of light like polished obsidian. Thick black fur framed the dramatic shawl collar and lined the oversized cuffs, softening the severe silhouette with an air of extravagant wealth. 

The coat cinched tightly at your waist with a matching leather belt, sculpting an hourglass figure while allowing the skirt of the coat to fan gracefully around your legs as you stunted through the airport. 

When the front parted with each stride, it revealed a dangerously short black dress that disappeared beneath the coat’s hem, leaving just enough exposed thigh to make the look feel intentional rather than accidental. Sheer black tights hugged her legs like smoke and her knee-high, glossy black patent leather, fitting like a second skin with pointed toes and slim stiletto heel. Dark cat eye glasses concealed your eyes and your hair spilled in long, glossy waves down your back and over one shoulder.

You commanded the room without trying and that’s what made you unstoppable. 

“Must you be flashy everywhere you go, madam?” your driver asked as he escorted you to the jet. He had a small hint of amusement in his tone. 

“If this is flashy, then you have a lot to learn.” 

The flight to Monaco was brief, efficient but nevertheless comfortable. You spent it the way you spent most travel—quiet, analytical, reviewing floor plans of the casino that was to be the site of the night's objective. No nerves. No hesitation. Just the steady pulse of a job that needed doing. 

All while enjoying a lemon drop martini. 

When you arrived, the Mediterranean air was thick with the scent of salt and money. You moved through the terminal with the anonymity of a ghost, your luggage a single, sleek carry-on that hid tools far more specialized than simple clothes. 

Dior, of course.

Your contact in the city had set up a temporary safe house: a suite overlooking the harbor. It was elegant, cold, and perfect. You stood on the balcony, watching the yachts bob in the water, knowing that somewhere out there, the 'Freelancers' were also arriving. 

The file on your table was open to a grainy, black-and-white surveillance photo of the seven of them boarding their transport. A flicker of something crossed your face—not recognition, not quite—but a sharpness, a readiness for the game. 

'Let's see if you're as good as the file says,' you whispered to the empty room.

~~~~~

The Mediterranean sun was beginning its descent, casting long, amber shadows across the harbor as you stepped out of the suite. The transition from the clinical silence of the safe house to the humming energy of Monaco was seamless. You moved with practiced ease to the parking garage, where a silver Audi—gray enough to be invisible, fast enough to be a weapon—awaited. 

The drive to the outskirts was short. The private airfield sat nestled between the cliffs and the sea, its perimeter secured by layers of tech that most wouldn't notice. You pulled into a side hangar, the engine’s purr echoing against the corrugated steel. Waiting on a crate was a heavy, waterproof Pelican case. 

You didn't need to open it to know what was inside: the customized comms, the bypass kits, and the dress that was still fashionable and tactical…for the most part.

“Ooo, I like this one. Hopefully this one doesn’t rip.” 

 Before touching the gear, you tapped a sequence into your watch. A soft, encrypted chime signaled the connection. 

“Status,” a voice crackled—deep, devoid of inflection. Your handler. 

“Gear secured. Proceeding to the Casino de Monte-Carlo at 20:00,” you replied, your voice matching the cold efficiency of the line. 

“The Freelancers have touched down. We’ve tracked seven signatures at the Hotel de Paris. They aren’t hiding, which means they’re confident.” 

You checked the seal on the case, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. “Confidence is a vulnerability. Do we have a directive on engagement?” 

“Observation only, unless the objective is compromised. Discretion is paramount. If they see you, the agency doesn’t exist. Do not let the noise of their reputation distract you from the signal.” 

“Understood,” you said, severing the link. The silence of the hangar returned, heavier than before. You tossed the case into the trunk. The game was no longer theoretical. 

Tonight, someone was leaving Monaco with the prize.

You had every intention of making sure it was you.

Yoongi left the building without a word to anyone. Like normal.  

He had been working for 12 hours straight and he was dying to have some sort of relaxation for himself. He’s been working on countless songs and producing them for himself  as well for his clients, his days slowly began running into each other. Each day looked the same. He woke up at the same time, ate at the same time. 

He damn near breathed at the same time. 

Other than his craft, he really didn’t have much to do. 

He really didn’t care for anyone. He didn’t hate anyone nor did he go around being an asshole either. But he also didn’t like anyone nor did he care for anyone. It didn’t bother him if people came or went. It made it no different for him. He didn’t try to make friendships or get into relationships. He never invited anyone out nor did he answer any invitations he received. He had all his focus on his work, he didn’t have time to add other people’s problems to his own. 

He was born alone and he’ll die alone. 

But that didn’t mean he never had fun. 

He liked clubs and bars. He liked the music and he loved the liquor. He found himself going every week but only once or twice, not too often. He’d never gone to the same club or bar twice. It was for any reason in particular, it’s just because he’d get bored easily if he always went to the same place. As of late, he found joy in going to the Gentlemen’s Club and even started going regularly. He would come just for the drinks and to sometimes watch the  pretty dancers that would prance on by, but he wasn’t interested in becoming a lover.

He wasn’t desperate for sex and if he was, he didn’t have to pay for it to get it.No pussy was that fucking good. He kept coming back because he liked the fact that no one threw themselves onto him. No one tried to force him into anything, they just allowed him to vibe. Especially on the days he didn’t want to be bothered. 

Until you came by and caught his eye. You were sitting in the far corner of the club with two men standing in front of you while all the others had just one. You were dressed in gold, almost royal like. He was stunned by how beautiful you were and how you carried yourself. He thought that was interesting, he wanted to know what made you special? He realized you kept your head and didn’t speak to anyone. 

He figured out soon after that you worked for the club and just what type of club this was. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Finally reaching his car, getting in and pressing the button to start his car, he let out a sigh of relief when the warm air hit his ice cold body. He adjusted the heat a bit more to his satisfaction and held his hands in front of the vents that pushed the heat out. He sat there for 10 minutes, just soaking in the warm air the cold stripped from him while walking to his car. He began to drive through the quiet street and to his home when he decided to swing by the club tonight to see you. He was giving himself a few days off so why not go spend a few hours with you? He already came to see you twice this week like he normally does but one more night can’t be any trouble. 

 Once he was pulled into his driveway, he reached over to retrieve his bag. Heading into his home, he went straight to his room and took a shower. After he was done with his shower, he loosely wrapped his towel around his waist. He ran his digits through his wet hair as he entered his room. As he looked around for a fit to throw on he imagined the way your fingers ran through his hair when he ate you a little too good for you to handle. A small chuckle fell from his lips at the thought when his at home assistant walked in. His smile faded as his eyes met with hers, he nodded his head towards her telling her to speak. She straightened her body and tried to calm her nerves before speaking. “M-Min Yeona is asleep now sir.” Yoongi’s heart fluttered hearing her name. His heart became warm and his face was soft. She was the only one that had Yoongi’s heart, she was the only one that Yoongi fell victim to. 

“How is she doing? I know that she wasn’t feeling well when I left this morning.”

“She’s feeling much better sir, she was able to keep her food down today. She had a really good nap as well today, so I think she’ll be feeling good soon.”

Yoongi smirked to himself and got dressed, not caring to cover himself from his assistant. Her cheeks blushed red as she tried her hardest to keep her eyes off of her boss. He was everything she ever wanted in a man. He was successful and handsome, smart and strong, the only thing he was missing was his connection to his emotional side. 

After finishing up, he headed out, walked past his assistant and headed towards Min Yeona’s room as he finished putting on his watch. He opened her door and softly peaked in. Yeona was tucked in and sleeping peacefully. Yoongi watched her head rest on her pink pillow and her chest slowly rise and fall again. She softly shifted in her sleep, knocking her soft and fluffy bear onto the floor. A smile fell onto his lips, he headed over to the side of her bed to pick up the bear. 

Once he had it in his hands, he placed it right back in between her arms and kissed her hand sweetly. She snuggled the bear close and nuzzled her face into its neck. 

“Goodnight , my sweet princess. Please get well for me. I need you well” he sighed, pressing his lips against her head. He looked at the time and stood, heading back to the door. The moment his hand touched the door knob he heard the bed slight shift and a small yawn followed by a gentle 

“Daddy?” 

Yeona had sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes softly looking over to her father. Yoongi smiled as he closed the door back and walked back to her. He sat on her bed and immediately she climbed into his lap and cuddled her daddy. 

“Princess,” he started, “You weren’t sleeping, were you?” he asked, seeing the paused movie on her ipad next to her pillow. Her cheeks tinted red as she hid her face in Yoongi’s jacket. A small chuckle left his lips as he looked down at her.

“I couldn’t sleep, I-I wanted to watch a movie and-and say hi to you..” She said cutely, “I didn’t see you all day” 

“Daddy was working, but he won't work tomorrow. We’re going to have some fun.” 

Yeona sat up with the biggest smile on her face, “Really daddy? Really? Just you and me?” 

“Just you and me princess. Daddy will take you anywhere you want to go. But you need to get some rest.  We’re going to be gone all day” he smiled. 

Yeona quickly hopped out of Yoongi’s arms and back into her bed, getting under the covers. 

“Goodnight daddy!” she said, cuddling her bear once again. 

Yoongi chuckled and kissed her head again, taking her ipad from her pillow, placing it back on the charger before heading to the door leaving it cracked slightly, so his assistant could hear if Yeona needed anything.  He looked over to his assistant and advised her to keep a close eye on her throughout the night. 

“I should be back in a couple hours but for whatever reason you need me, call me” 

“Yes sir” 

Yoongi nodded and left his home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were cleaning your room for your next Love when you heard the door open. The cold air and strong smell of booze enter the room along with Jimin. You looked over to him with a sad look on your face. You wanted to speak to him about why The Lady wanted to speak with him and what had happened, but you knew better to bring it up with Jimin. 

“Are you ready for your next Love, princess?” he said, closing the door behind him. You sighed and nodded. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be I guess.”

Jimin nodded. He headed over to you and pressed his lips against your forehead, and just for a moment, you felt safe. 

“Just this last one for tonight. We’re closing early tonight for some reason. You have some free time tomorrow right?” 

“I do but you know how that goes. Things could change. Are you okay Min? I know you don’t like talking about it but I just-” He lifted his hand before resting it on your cheek. His thumb slowly creased your cheek and he placed his forehead on yours. You sighed and held his hand against your face. 

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. This is nothing new to me.” 

Your heart ached for Jimin. You had been through this for a while yourself but you know that Jimin has been through this much longer, he’s seen many people come and go. 

You both protected each other as much as you could, even though it was mainly him protecting you and you were just supporting him. 

“Min Yoongi is here and he’s waiting for you. I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, Jungkook and I will be right outside like we always are.”

He kissed your head again before leaving the room to which Kook popped his head in and gave you a bright smile before Jimin threw him back out to close the door. You smiled softly as you got the room ready for Yoongi. He’s not much of a talker but he does love hard liquor. So you always tried to have some on hand for when he comes by. 

“Hello darling” 

You turned to look at Yoongi. A small smile appeared on your face. He closed the door behind him, slowly making his way to you. His demeanor always drove you crazy, he always carried himself with high class and dignity. 

“What brings you here tonight? You usually don’t make surprise visits like this” You spoke, filling his glass with a special edition cognac, on the rocks, Just like he likes it. Pouring yourself a glass as well, you took them both and sat on Yoongi’s lap, handing him his own glass. 

Yoongi’s arm wrapped around your waist, rubbing your exposed thigh and taking his first sip of the night. The smooth and sharp liquor set Yoongi at ease, he was particularly stressed or anything but he could always use a drink. 

“I’m taking some time off from work for personal reasons, I thought I should stop by more often. That’s okay with you, right Kitten?” he wasn’t asking you, he was more like telling you. Either way, you didn’t mind seeing him. 

“Of course, you know I’ll never tell you no.” you smiled softly, taking a sip of your own glass.

Yoongi watched as you drank the liquor. He watched the lump in your throat as you swallowed. He watched you lick the escaping liquid fall from your mouth as you were drinking. He imagined that liquid being his hot cum dripping from your mouth after you sucked him off. He imagines you looking up at him, mouth full of his cum, smirking as you swallow every drop like the good girl you are for him. 

He was getting work up and he hadn’t given you orders yet. Honestly, he didn’t know what he wanted from you tonight. Half of him wanted to make love to you while the other wanted to use you like his little play thing. Yoongi brought his glass back to his lips as he continued to eye you down. 

“Everything okay, Yoongi?” you asked, feeling his eyes burn a hole in your neck. Yoongi usually tells you what he wants from you the moment he steps foot though your door, but today, he didn’t. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it made you wonder if he was alright. 

“Everything is perfectly okay, just wondering how a pretty girl like yourself can get into some mess like this.” Yoongi said, setting the glass on his knee as his fingers that were around your waist gently moved to your thigh, creasing it softly. You froze at the sudden curiosity. 

“Oh...well I wanted to be here. The pay is nice and the hours are...long but they supply your every need.” you lied, something you found yourself doing often when it came to this. Yoongi didn’t buy it. 

“Sorry Kitten, you aren’t a great liar like you think you are. I doubt you really want to be here” 

You looked from your glass and at Yoongi. His eyes were no longer on his own glass but they were looking directly at yours. Many thoughts were running through your head, too many to count. ‘Why was Min Yoongi all of a sudden curious about your lifestyle?’ ‘Has he heard something from somewhere?’ 

Or worse. Has he become an investor?

“What’s with the sudden questions Yoongi” you ask sternly. His eyes soften a bit. 

He didn’t mean to offend you, he was just curious. 

“Just wondering. From the beginning of time, or at least since the time I’ve seen you, you’ve been held to a higher standard compared to the others. You have your own private room, two annoying guards, you only have 5 steady clients while others take on God knows how many, but yet you’re like a prized possession around here. If you told me it was because of your pussy, I’ll believe you, but there’s something that’s telling me that it’s more than just that.” he started, “You don’t have to go in detail, I’m not sure if I care enough to know but if you tell me, I’ll listen.” he finished. 

You had half the mind to tell him the truth but you knew better. This wasn’t just about you but also the people you needed to protect. Instantly, Jimin and Jungkook flooded your mind. 

“Some days, I don’t want to be here, but that’s like any job. Unfortunately, even if I wanted to leave, I’m not in the position to leave.” You half admitted. 

The truth is, you could leave anytime you wanted. 

But if you left, both Jungkook and Jimin’s fate will be sealed right along with yours. You’ll easily become prey that’s being hunted. You didn’t care about what happened to you but you couldn’t dream of what could possibly happen to them if you did leave. 

Yoongi nodded understanding where you were coming from. He too could leave any time he wanted, but he had things he had to protect. Beyond his music, beyond his career or his title. 

He could meet the same fate, not again. He was given a second chance and he wasn’t going to fuck that up. 

“I get it, you don’t have to go any further. Just wondering.” he said looking over at you. 

Yoongi wanted to know more but from the look on your face he knew better not to probe anymore. 

Jimin and Jungkook heard the conversion from their ear pieces that connected to the mics in your room. It was one of the fucked up things this place did to keep their objects in check. Jungkook was lost while Jimin was conflicted. 

“Aren’t they supposed to be fucking, why is he asking Princess for her whole life story?” Jungkook asked, clearly annoyed. Jimin shrugged his shoulders. 

“I have no clue, he usually doesn’t speak much. At least not about personal things pertaining to Y/n anyway.” Jimin said. 

“Should we remind him that he needs to do what he came to do?” Jungkook asked, not really sure how to word the question without sounding disrespectful. Jimin shook his head. 

“He paid for that session, so if he wants to spend it talking, that’s on him. We just need to make sure he stays on his own time” he said. Jungkook nodded and kept his eyes on the clock. 

Meanwhile , there was another who was curious about you. 

ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ

𝗿𝗼•𝗺𝗮𝗻•𝘁𝗶𝗰

/rōˈman(t)ik/

adjective

1.

conducive to or characterized by the expression of 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲.

•(of a person) readily demonstrating feelings of love

◦relating to 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 or to 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 relationships.

•name: ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ

•age:26

•occupation: ᴛᴠ ʜᴏsᴛ

Personality: ɢɪᴅᴅʏ, sᴍᴀʀᴛ, sʜʏ

Namjoon always wondered why you would do such a job like this one. He reported many young women who end up seriously hurt in this line of business everyday. It would kill him to have to be the one to report something happening to you. 

Every time he walked into work, he prayed he didn’t hear anything happened to you. Just like now. He was doing the late night report. He normally does the mornings and weekends but he was asked to do the nightly as well, just to fill in while the normal report tended to his wife and newborn. 

Sipping on his freshly made coffee the moment he dreaded finally came. The assistant walked over and handed him the nightly report and as always Joon’s eyes landed on the crime section. He scanned the various names, looking for yours, relieved that he didn’t find yours. Sitting back in the chair as he got his hair and makeup done, he looked over the reports as he got a text. 

“Just because you changed your lifestyle and place of business, don’t mean you aren’t the same ole’ Joon. A zebra can’t change it’s stripes and you can’t teach an old dog...new tricks”

While the number was unknown, he knew exactly who was texting him. The same person he’s been trying to get rid of for years. Namjoon’s face fell which didn’t go unnoticed by the makeup artist. 

“You alright? Is it too much?” She asked, referring to his hair that she fluffed for tonight’s broadcast. Slipping back out of his mind and back into reality, he smiled. 

“I’m okay and I think it looks fine Sunni” he said nodding. Before he could lock his phone back to focus on his work, another text registered “I guess this is something you’ve gotten used to doing. Biting the hands that feed you, leaving the ones that were always there for you high and dry. You are now doing me like you did our poor little sister.” 

Joon’s heart damn near stopped. He hadn’t thought about that night in over 10 years ago. He told himself he wasn’t going to respond again. “I was fucking 16, there was nothing I could have done. I told her not to leave. I told her not to follow me” he texted before locking his phone. Tears were threatening to leave his eyes as he thought about that night once again.

His whole world stopped. He promised never to speak of that night nor what happened ever again. Another text registered, this time in a different tune. 

“Then right your wrongs Joon, do what’s right. Come back what you really know, what you really are. Who you really are.”

The day starts like most others do. 

You wake before your alarm, a habit born of an uneasy vigilance, and the first thing you notice is the light—or the lack thereof—seeping through the blinds. Lately, you haven’t been sleeping the best. Your roommate has a new boyfriend and they have kept you up most nights than you would like to admit. You don't jump out of bed. Instead, you spend a quiet ten minutes with your eyes closed, cataloging your day, not for excitement, but for what’s needed out of you today.

“The university’s romance festival is today…that means class will be short today.” you say softly and slightly relieved. That meant you had an early start to your weekend and relax. 

As much as you could any way. 

You start with the essentials. A shower,hot, not too long though. You dress simply, but still fashionable. Comfortable but not rushed together. You wore a white long sleeved crop top and baggy jeans. Opting to put on cute gold simple jewelry, layered necklaces and a simple dark grey jacket just in case you get cold. You did simple makeup and your hair felt ready for the day. 

You didn’t always post on social media but you did decide to post a quick story selfie. Slipping your phone into your back pocket, you quickly head to the kitchen. 

Breakfast is the same small meal everyday-or most-well some days. Whenever you remember. Toast with butter, jam, strawberry, always strawberry, fried eggs, sometimes scrambled or boiled, depending on the day with an iced coffee that you never compromised on. As you eat, you pull out your schedule for the day, noting which classes you had today and which classes were shortened for the festival. You slipped on your cute pink bag with a small teddy bear keyring and a ‘IDK ask Jesus about it’ push pin on your shoulders and headed out the door. 

~~~~~

You arrive on campus early, the air still cool, the walkways quieter than usual. You like this part of the morning best—before the noise, before the rush—when it feels like the campus belongs only to you. You had your airpods in as you liked listening to music while you walked. You pulled one out as you noticed someone else’s presence. 

“Good morning.”

Jimin falls into step beside you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s smiling, bright and familiar, holding out a coffee you don’t remember asking for.

“I thought you might want this,” he says. “You always look cold in the mornings.”

You take it automatically, fingers warming around the cup. “Thank you.”

He beams, pleased in a way that makes your chest flutter. You tell yourself it’s just kindness. Jimin is kind to everyone. You just… happen to be nearby more often lately.

In class, Seonghwa is already seated when you arrive. Your usual chair is empty—waiting. He glances up briefly as you sit, nodding once in acknowledgment before returning to his notes.

He slides a printed handout your way without looking.

“You missed this last lecture,” he says quietly. “The professor passed it out while you were gone.”

“Oh—thanks,” you murmur, surprised. “I guess I  can mark that off my list of to-dos.” you said softly with a smile before sitting in your seat.

He hums in response, calm, composed. You notice how neat his notes are, how every margin is used efficiently. There’s something comforting about his presence—solid, grounding.

“Are you guys going to the festival tonight?” you asked softly, opening your notes. Jimin’s eyes lit up, “Is that an invitation?” Seonghwa rolled eyes but remained calculated and calm. “She’s not inviting us. She’s just asking if we are attending.” 

Jimin’s eyes turned dark for a minute as Seonghwa spoke but he quickly returned back to his bubbly persona. You could feel the tension build between them, it was undeniable. 

“If you are going, then I guess I’ll go as well.” Seonghwa said never lifting his eyes from his writing, not even briefly. Jimin chuckled, “My friends and I thought about going if you wanted to join us,” Jimin said, taking it a step further. 

Seonghwa’s hand stopped writing for a split second as if he was offended by Jimin’s request. Your cheeks warmed up and you found yourself blushing. 

“I was just asking because my friends and I are going. I just wanted to see if you guys would be there too.”  you said with a small smile. Jimin smiled and nodded, sitting in his usual place behind you. 

Between them, the day passes easily.

Jimin walks you to your next building, chatting softly, pointing out a poster he thinks you’d like. Seonghwa holds the door open when your hands are full, steps aside so you can pass first. 

It all feels… normal.

Safe. A little too safe but you weren’t complaining. 

It isn’t until later, as the sun dips lower and the day starts to wear on you, that things shift.

“You’re staying late?” Jimin asks as you shoulder your bag after your final class.

You nod. “Yeah only for a little. There are a few hours left until the festival so I told a friend I’d help her with something after class.”

“Oh.” he trailed off.

It’s just one word, gentle and thoughtful—but his steps slow, just slightly.

“You didn’t eat today,” he adds casually. “You only had toast and eggs this morning.” 

You blink. You remember posting a story this morning but you didn’t post your breakfast. 

That you were certain of. 

“How did you—?”

He smiles, soft and fond. “You skip lunch on Mondays. And Thursdays. You always say you’ll eat later. You’ve also mentioned that toast and jam is your favorite. Strawberry jam only though, sometimes you will have eggs.”

There’s no accusation in his tone. No judgment. Just familiarity.

Still, something tightens in your chest but before you could say anything Jimin started again.

“You look tired,” Jimin continues, adjusting the strap of your bag and pushing the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering, his smile gentle.

“It’s okay to cancel sometimes. People should understand when you need rest. Also we have a busy night tonight so maybe you should get a little rest before then”

You hesitate. You are tired. It would be nice to go home early. Especially since you were going to be out late tonight.

“I guess…” you say slowly.

“Good,” he replies—too quickly, too relieved. “I’ll walk you home.”

By the time you pull your phone out, the message cancelling your plans is already typed out. All you have to do is send it.

Jimin watches you, smiling gently. Like he already knows you will.

Later, you tell yourself you’re overthinking it.

But it did linger a lot longer than you would have liked. 

~~~~~~~

“It’s so romantic,” Mi-rae said, looking at all the cute pink and white lanterns and pretty decorations. You, Mi-rae and Skye were walking with linked arms, you in the middle of course, just taking in the drastic difference of your university at nighttime during festivals. You smiled as she became so elated by the romantic atmosphere. You almost forget how crowded campus can get. Especially for something like this. 

By the time the sun starts to dip, the walkways are lined with booths and strings of lights, laughter spilling over itself. Music hums somewhere in the distance—bass vibrating through the pavement beneath your shoes. The air smells like sugar and oil and something fried you can’t quite name.

“I wonder if Jimin will be here” Mi-rae teased, determined to get the two of you to spin alone time with one another. Skye shook her head “The real question should be if Seonghwa would be here. I doubt it because he’s too mature for things like this.” 

“So why are we here?” you asked, poking fun at Skye to which made her blush and Mi-rae giggle. “That doesn’t count for girls, of course we can be here.” 

The three of you continued your way through the festival, finally catching sight of both Jimin and Seonghwa, even their friends too. 

“Stay close,” Jimin says lightly, already reaching for your wrist.

It’s instinctive, the way your hand turns in his. You tell yourself it’s just practical—there are too many people, too much movement—but his grip doesn’t loosen even when the crowd thins.

Seonghwa walks on your other side, steady and unhurried. Where Jimin pulls, Seonghwa guides—one hand hovering just behind your back, close enough that you feel the heat of it through your clothes.

“You’ll want to see this booth,” Seonghwa says, nodding toward a row of department stalls ahead. “It’s quieter.”

Jimin hums. “Or we could go get food first. You haven’t eaten.”

You blink. “I—”

“It’s fine,” Jimin adds quickly, smiling. “I already checked.”

You don’t remember saying you were hungry.

They move together through the festival as if they’ve done this before, weaving you between them with practiced ease. Someone bumps into Seonghwa’s shoulder; he doesn’t flinch, only shifts closer until there’s no space left to invade.

At a game booth, a student behind the counter grins at you. “Want to try? First throw’s free.”

You hesitate—but Jimin’s already handing over a ticket.

“She’s good at this,” he says confidently, watching you instead of the booth. “Aren’t you?”

You’re not sure how he knows. You throw anyway. The ring lands cleanly, perfectly.

The prize—a small plush—ends up in Jimin’s hands first. He presses it into your chest like it belongs there.

“See?” he says softly. “I knew it.”

Later, at a wish board strung with ribbons and handwritten notes, you pause with the pen hovering over the paper.

“What are you going to write?” Jimin asks, peeking over your shoulder.

Seonghwa waits silently, eyes on the blank space.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

Jimin smiles. “Something happy.”

Seonghwa speaks a second later. “Something lasting.”

You laugh quietly, trying to brush off the strange weight of it, and write something vague instead. When you tie the ribbon to the board, Seonghwa adjusts the knot—tightens it so it won’t come loose.

Music swells from the main stage, cheers rippling through the crowd.

“Let’s go closer,” Jimin says, already pulling you along. Your friends are living for the interactions between you three.

In the press of bodies, Seonghwa shifts behind you, his hand settling at your waist to keep you steady. Jimin stays in front, clearing a path, glancing back every few steps to make sure you’re still there.

You are.

Always.

During the performance, Jimin doesn’t look at the stage. He looks at you. Seonghwa watches the crowd instead.

When it’s over, when the noise fades and the lights dim, you realize something small and unsettling—

You don’t remember choosing where to go next. You only remember following.

And neither of them lets go.

~~~~

The library is quiet when you arrive, the late afternoon crowd thinning out. You scan the room out of habit—and stop.

Your usual seat is taken.

Not by a stranger.

Seonghwa looks up from his laptop as if he’s been expecting you.

“I moved your things,” he says calmly, gesturing to the chair beside him. Your notebook sits there, aligned perfectly with the table’s edge.

“Oh,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize—”

“It’s better here,” he continues. “Less noise. Fewer distractions.”

You glance toward your usual table.

“That spot’s reserved now,” Seonghwa adds evenly. “A study group requested it.”

“I didn’t see a sign.”

“I took care of it earlier,” he says, already sliding your notebook closer. “You focus better when you’re not interrupted.”

The chair beside him is already pulled out.

Waiting.

You sit down before you realize you’ve decided.

Seonghwa resumes typing, unbothered, as though everything is exactly as it should be.

From across the room, you catch Jimin’s reflection in the glass—watching, smiling softly when your eyes meet.

Something settles in your stomach then.

Not fear.

Not yet.

Just the quiet, creeping sense that the day has been gently… adjusted around you.

Morning came like it always did for Yoongi—orderly, predictable, quiet. Every step of his routine had been the same for years, down to the exact seat he claimed at his desk. Nothing in his world shifted without his permission.

He still couldn’t tell if it was discipline or just routine. 

Whatever it was, it was comfortable for him.

Wake up at 4:00 AM, precisely. He’d lay there, in the dark, staring at the ceiling and listening to the soft hum of his humidifier. Just a few minutes his body sprung into action. 

First, his cold shower, then, a quick, high-intensity workout in his home gym – a series of pull-ups, push-ups, squats,and burpees. 

Purely did it out of discipline and routine. 

Next, a second shower, this time nice and warm. 

‘Center yourself…’ he told himself.

After his second shower, he brewed himself a pot of his signature black coffee, the same that he drank every single day. 6:00 AM, he was dressed in a crisp, dark suit, this time navy, his hair laid on his shoulders and behind his ears. One singular strain of hair laid on his forehead, completing his look. Yoongi was finally ready to start the day. 

But something was a little different. 

He felt his phone buzz an ungodly amount of times. He frowned as he opened his phone to find his team had made a group chat and had already had one hundred messages between them. 

Just then an unrecognizable number also responded in the group chat. 

Unknown #:  you guys are so funny. Thx for the warm welcomes! 

Jimin: I’ll always give my wife the warmest of welcomes. I have some even warmer ones if you'd like.

Jungkook: evy1 knos I give the warmest of welcomes

Yoongi rolled his eyes. His team was already off their game and being annoying. Thank God they didn’t wake him out of his sleep. He just got into his car and headed on to work. 

‘Definitely going to be trouble.’ he mumbled to himself.

Heading to his desk as he always did, to his surprise, you were already there, going over some case files. In that moment he looked over at his desk but you had already figured where his mind was going. 

“I didn’t touch anything. Jungkook said I could look through his files since you don’t like your stuff touched.” You said with a soft but genuine smile looking over at Yoongi. Yoongi didn’t give it any more thought. He kept his head down and headed to his desk when he noticed that there was a fresh cup of coffee on his desk. For a moment he thought he had forgotten to clean it out but then he felt the heat radiating from it. 

“I’ve noticed that you drank a lot of coffee yesterday, so I thought since I was here before you I’d pour you a cup.” You said sweetly. 

Yoongi felt this overwhelming anxiety washing over him. 

Another part of his routine disturbed.

‘Mm gotta fix it. Need to fix it’ he thought to himself

Without another word Yoongi grabbed the cup and dumped it into the trash before walking away to wash his cup. You sat there dumb founded. A small part of you felt disrespected by this stranger’s actions. 

You were just trying to be nice. 

Your mouth slightly fell ajar until he returned. 

Yoongi simply went back to the coffee pot and poured him another cup hoping to fix this crippling feeling before it got worse. 

‘It’s fine…she didn’t know. You don’t have to feel this way. You don’t have to react this way. Breathe.’ he told himself. He reminded himself. 

But no matter how much discipline he had and no matter how many times he had to tell himself that it was okay. 

It was clear as day…that it wasn’t…

As much as you wanted to be upset, you couldn’t be. 

Not when you can feel how the air shifted. 

“Hey are you okay?” You asked softly, standing. 

You saw how his hands began to shake softly, how his ears turned red and the sweat coating his forehead. You started to walk over to him as you watched the constant war go on in his mind. 

“Yoongi!” you said moving his cup just in time before it overfilled. The hot coffee spilled on your hands caused you to hiss before you rushed to put it to the side, shaking your hand as if it was going to stop the burning. Yoongi snapped out of it. 

“I-I’m so sorry.” Yoongi’s words came out rushed and sympathetic as he grabbed paper towels to help clean you up. You shook your head, “There’s nothing to apologize for.” you said taking the paper towels from him and dapping your hands. “I’m okay.” 

His composure, usually as unyielding as stone, fractured. The meticulously built walls of his routine, the ones that kept the chaos of the world—and his own mind—at bay, were crumbling. It wasn't just the spilled coffee; it was the unexpected, gentle presence of you, the casual concern in your voice, the way you had so effortlessly disrupted his carefully constructed order. A surge of raw, unadulterated anxiety pulsed through him, hot and suffocating, threatening to drag him down into the depths of a panic he fought so desperately to control. 

He was exposed, vulnerable, and the feeling was alien and terrifying.

He’d do anything to make it stop. 

"I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Y/n. Are you okay?" Yoongi repeated, his voice still laced with a frantic edge, his eyes scanning your hands for any sign of injury. A small frown grew on your face. It was like he didn’t hear you at all. 

"Yoongi, really, it’s fine," you insisted, a soft laugh escaping you. “I’ve been through worse than this.”  You gently took his shaking hands in yours, a silent attempt to ground him. "It was just a splash, see? The redness will go away sooner or later. No harm done." You squeezed his hands reassuringly, your gaze steady and kind. "It was an accident. Please don’t worry about it."

His eyes, wide with alarm moments before, slowly softened as he looked at your face, then down at your hands, still held in his. The rigid tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, just a fraction. He took a deep, shaky breath, the color slowly returning to his cheeks.

Just then, the familiar boisterous voices of his team echoed through the precinct as they approached their corner.

"Morning, Hyung! What’s all the fuss about?" Jungkook called out, followed closely by Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin, all looking curious. Their eyes landed on you and Yoongi, your hands still clasped together, and the spilled coffee on the floor.

Yoongi, as if a switch had been flipped, instantly pulled his hands away from yours. His face, which had just begun to show a hint of vulnerability, hardened back into its usual unreadable mask.

"Nothing," he blurted out, his voice flat, turning sharply back to his desk. He picked up a clean cloth from a nearby drawer and began meticulously wiping down the spilled coffee, his movements precise and economical once more. You moved to the side watching him closely. The moment of fractured composure was gone, replaced by the familiar, almost robotic efficiency that defined him. He was back to his routine, the walls rebuilt, the silence once again unbroken.

You decided not to make it a big deal. Turning to the rest of the guys, you smiled brightly. “Nothing, it’s okay. I’m a little clumsy in the morning. I spilled Yoongi’s coffee by accident.” you said. 

Jungkook and Jimin rushed by your side checking your hands in a panicked manner. 

“Oh goodness, is our Y/n okay?” 

“You didn’t spill it on yourself did you?” 

“She did! Her hands our red, we need to get her to the hospital QUICK-” 

“Stop being so dramatic, kids. Y/n do you need medical attention?”  Seokjin asked, stepping in between you, Jimin and Jungkook, taking your reddened hand into his.

You laughed softly, “No, it’s okay. I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me and thank you, Yoongi for cleaning the mess. I really appreciate it.” you said, turning to him. 

His eyes met yours. 

He couldn’t explain what he was feeling but it felt…safe. It wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t need to cover for him but the fact that you did made him feel safe.

It saved him from making more of a fool of himself. 

 They softened just a bit as you both know the truth. He nodded. 

“Of course. Don’t worry about it.” 

A few hours later, you were sitting at your desk, going over the files with Jimin as he was getting you up to speed about the current cases. 

You probably should have gotten this information from Yoongi but you didn’t want to pressure him into talking any more. 

Especially after everything this morning. Something told you that it was best that you allowed him time to recover. You took notice of the way he kept apologizing and how his hands started to shake. 

It was more than him being rude or needing things a certain way.

He needed control. 

“The main thing we are dealing with right now is a lot of teenagers are finding themselves in sticky situations. Some of them come from good homes while the others’ families are struggling. Both of them want one thing and that’s money. These kids will do anything for it, sadly.” Jimin sighed as he looked over the papers in his hands. 

“What type of situations are they getting themselves into? Is it something like petty theft?” you asked. That’s when Jungkook came by and sat on the corner of your desk. 

“It’s more than that, my pretty girl. A lot of these kids don’t have any priors or they’re small things. It starts as petty theft but it increases into things like drugs, fights and gambling, almost quickly too. A lot of these kids are managers to things like bowling alleys and gaming cafes that are known for having an underground operation.” Jungkook added as he stood behind you. His arms are wrapped loosely around you, his hands planted flatly against your desk as he looks at the files over your shoulder. “We just found this kid a few days before you got here. We have officers protecting his home as we speak.” 

Your heart dropped. You felt awful for these kids. You understood that if someone does a crime, they must pay the repercussions for their actions…but these are teenagers.

“What type of adult would put these kids in this type of situation?” you asked softly, taking the pictures of these children into your hands. 

“Someone with a lot to lose. They sell these kids a pipe dream. They tell them that they will pay their parents’ debts off or they will let them borrow a large amount of money in exchange for doing dirty work for them. And when these kids ask what will happen if they get caught they tell them that their time will be less or they won’t get any time because they are young. They fall for it every time.” Jimin replied, Jungkook nodded. 

“They may pay their parents’ debt but they’ll be in debt to the one who they work for and little do they know that every day that goes by their debt goes up by nearly five percent. These people take everything from these kids to force them to need them and not rely on their parents. Most never come forward in fear for their lives and their families. It’s an endless cycle.” Jungkook added. 

Your heart ached for the families. You knew that some if not most of these kids had good intentions. They only wanted to make things easier for themselves, not thinking about the cost.  

You hoped that you could at least help some of them if not all of them. 

The chief came in and didn’t waste time. “Since you’re officially partners now, I’ll ease you in with something simple. There’s a witness down at the train station—the shop owner saw someone suspicious hanging around last night. It probably is nothin’ but I think it’ll be good for the two of you to get used to workin’ with one another.  Min, you’ll take her.”

Yoongi closed the file he’d been reading, stood, and buttoned his jacket without a word. You scrambled to grab your bag and followed him out.

The ride was quiet. Too quiet. You tried twice to start a conversation, but all you got in return were noncommittal hums. By the third attempt, you leaned back in the passenger seat and muttered just loud enough for him to hear,

“You really are allergic to words.” Now that you saw him crack you knew, you were close. 

Yoongi’s eyes flicked to you, then back to the road. “Words are unnecessary if you listen properly.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Wow. So you do talk in full sentences. I was starting to think you only came with one-word replies installed.”

For a moment, the corner of his mouth threatened to move again—his heart skipping a beat—but he hid it by tightening his grip on the wheel.

~~~~~~~

At the train station, the shop owner began nervously recounting what he’d seen. Yoongi cut in with sharp, direct questions: time, location, description. Efficient. Exact.

You, however, leaned in kindly, asking if he felt safe, if he wanted water, making him relax enough to add details he might’ve skipped.

He noticed the small, almost imperceptible shake in the shop owner's hands, the way his eyes darted around the busy station. Yoongi registered these details, but his focus remained on the facts. You, on the other hand, saw the man, not just the witness. You asked about his day, offered a calming smile, and watched as the tension slowly drained from his shoulders. It was in those moments of shared humanity that the true depth of the situation began to unfold, the subtle nuances that a purely factual interrogation might miss.

"Did you notice anything unusual?" Yoongi asked, his gaze fixed on the man.

The shop owner wrung his hands. "Well, not at first. Just a kid, really. But he kept coming back. Like he was waiting for something or someone."

"What did he look like?" Yoongi pressed, pulling out a small notepad.

"Young, maybe sixteen. Dark hair, kind of messy. And he had this… this anxious energy about him. Kept looking over his shoulder." The man paused, then added, "He bought a coffee, but he didn’t even drink it."

You stepped forward gently. "Did he say anything to anyone? Or did anyone approach him?"

The owner shook his head. "No, ma’am. He just sat there, fiddling with his phone. But then, later, a black car pulled up outside. Really fancy. And he just… got in. Didn’t even look back."

"A black car?" Yoongi repeated, looking up from his notepad. "Can you describe it?"

"Just a regular sedan, I think. Dark tinted windows. Couldn’t see who was inside." The shop owner shivered slightly. "It all just felt… off. Like he was being picked up by someone he didn’t want to be with."

Yoongi closed his notepad and bowed to the older man, “Thank you.” With that he left without question.

You sighed and turned to the man with a smile, bowing as well as you took his hand. 

“Thank you for everything. If you have any other questions or you remember anything else, please call us or come down to the station.” You said sweetly. 

When you  stepped back outside, Yoongi was silent, hands in his pockets. You glanced up at him, waiting for some acknowledgment.

“Well?” you prodded. “That went fine, didn’t it?”

He finally looked at you, studying your features, your perfume and the way your smug face laid across your face. “You talk too much.”

But his tone was softer than before, and she caught it—like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind as much as he wanted her to believe.

“No–I was just trying too–” you started to which Yoongi chuckled and shrugged as he opened his car door. 

“Get in, we have another witness waiting for us” 

Just a few blocks away, another shop owner wrung her hands as she spoke, eyes darting nervously between Yoongi and you.

“It was late. Near closing time. I saw a man just… standing there. Watching the crowd. Didn’t buy a ticket, didn’t move. Just stared.”

Yoongi’s voice cut in, calm but firm. “Description.”

The woman rattled off a few details—height, dark coat, cap pulled low. Yoongi scribbled in his notebook with clean, angular strokes.

When the witness faltered, you leaned forward with a gentle smile. “You’re doing great. Take your time. Did he do anything unusual? Something small you noticed?”

The woman hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Actually… yes. He kept looking at the timetable, but… it wasn’t for the trains leaving Daegu. It was for the ones coming in. From Busan.”

Your brows knit together, curiosity sparking. Yoongi’s pen stopped mid-stroke.

“From Busan,” he repeated, more to himself than anyone else. His gaze flicked, almost imperceptibly, toward you.

The woman nodded again, anxious. “And when he left, he dropped something. I—I didn’t touch it. It’s still behind the vending machine outside.”

Yoongi didn’t waste time. He strode outside with you at his heels. Sure enough, tucked behind the machine was a scrap of paper, folded neatly in half. He slipped on gloves and opened it.

One word, scrawled in harsh handwriting: “Soon.”

You peeked over his shoulder, your long hair blowing in the wind. “That’s… creepy.”

Yoongi folded the note with the same precision as always, sliding it into an evidence bag. “It’s a warning.”

Your voice softened, teasing again, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, but even you sound spooked.”

He looked at you then, eyes steady, expression unreadable. “If it’s who I think it is… you should be spooked.”

The air between them shifted—your easy warmth brushing up against the edge of his unshakable calm. For the first time, you wondered if working beside him might be more dangerous than you thought… not because of him, but because of what followed him.

“Is this someone you’ve been looking for awhile?”  “‘A while’ is an understatement. He might as well not even exist.”