#yayis

The wooden door opened, revealing her.

She was slightly disheveled from the wind outside, her coat damp from the rain, a determined look on her face that Chanyeol knew all too well. The very same look she used to win every debate against him back in their second year.

“I knew you'd be here,” she said, closing the door behind her and setting her briefcase down on one of the chairs along the path to Chanyeol's desk. “The lights in your office are the only beacon still left on in this entire damn building.”

Chanyeol adjusted his glasses once more before resting his elbows on the desk and intertwining his long, tattooed fingers. When he finally spoke, his voice had returned to that formal tone he always used as a shield whenever he was around her.

“The Prosecutor's Office isn't a social club for alumni, counselor. What are you doing here at this hour?”

She moved closer to his desk, ignoring the distance in his voice. Stopping just a few feet away, she forced him to lift his head to meet her gaze. The scent of her perfume began to fill the office, completely overtaking the smell of cold coffee and old ink.

“My client gave a detailed description of her attacker this morning, Chanyeol. And it doesn't match the suspect Jongin's unit arrested at the docks tonight. They have the wrong man.”

Chanyeol didn't blink, but his knuckles turned white.

He knew she was right.

He also knew that by having that information, she had just stepped straight into the wolf's den...