"Let's find somewhere to talk," Han Do-yun said, slipping his hands back into his pockets with the casual ease of someone who had not, moments ago, aimed a kick at a stranger's head. "No point standing around in the middle of a plaza."
Han Joon-seong nodded. "Agreed. Let's find somewhere better."
They began walking, Han Do-yun taking the lead, trying to impose dominance over the exchange. Han Joon-seong fell into step beside him, still holding the last few bites of his crepe in one hand. The banana and Nutella had cooled to a pleasant warmth, and he ate as he walked, apparently unbothered by the oddity of the situation. Behind them, Lee Hye-jin followed, her steps stiff and measured, her shoulders pulled tight.
Ervin, drifting in his usual spot above and behind the group, noticed her posture immediately. She walked like a person bracing for impact. Her arms were crossed loosely over her chest, her eyes fixed on the ground just ahead of her feet, and every few seconds her gaze flicked toward Han Do-yun's back with something that looked a lot like fear. Her jaw was clenched. Her breathing was shallow.
"Why is she so tense?" Ervin wondered. He replayed the memory of the alley ,the way Han Do-yun was crouched in front of her, the analytical cold look in his eyes. "Right. That was probably why."
The conversation between the two men drifted into a natural lull as they turned a corner onto a quieter street. Han Joon-seong, responding to Ervin's consciousness, slowed his pace until he was walking beside Lee Hye-jin.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low enough that Han Do-yun, a few steps ahead, wouldn't easily catch it.
She looked up at him, startled. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. Then, almost involuntarily, her gaze darted toward Han Do-yun. At that exact moment, as if he had sensed her looking, Han Do-yun glanced back over his shoulder. His expression was neutral — pleasant, even, but his eyes met hers with a underlying threat. She flinched and looked away.
"Yes," she said, her voice thin. "I'm fine. Just a little nervous, that's all."
Ervin saw it all from above, when they exchanged glances her shoulders crept up toward her ears, an Han Do-yun's smile, that didn't really seem like a smile before he turned back around. "Yeah, that's not going to work."
He issued a new command. Han Joon-seong obeyed instantly.
He stepped closer to Lee Hye-jin, positioning himself so that his body formed a barrier between her and Han Do-yun's line of sight. It was a smooth and natural motion, he tried to not crowd her, didn't make a show of it. He simply moved to her right side, making his body a wall between her and the gangster's gaze. She was tucked safely on his left, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, her view of Han Do-yun entirely blocked by the breadth of his shoulders. His shoulder was close enough to hers that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
"It's not good to stay nervous," he said, his tone light, seemingly trully concerned. "You should take care of yourself. Do you want me to get you some water? Maybe some tea? Something to help you calm down."
She looked up at him, at the face that belonged on a magazine cover, at the calm, untroubled expression, at the small, kind smile he was offering her, and her brain promptly short-circuited. Her cheeks flushed. Her hands fumbled with the strap of her bag.
"I — no, I'm — that's not — " She swallowed hard, her words tangling together like thread. "I'm okay. Really. Thank you."
"Alright. But let me know if that changes."
She nodded, too quickly, and fixed her eyes straight ahead. Her face was still pink. Han Joon-seong, unbothered, took another bite of his crepe.
Han Do-yun glanced back at the two of them, his expression unreadable, then faced forward again and continued walking.
---
The restaurant Han Do-yun led them to sat on a corner, its facade a study in understated luxury. The exterior was clean and modern — dark wood paneling, tall windows framed in black steel, a discreet sign in gold lettering that read 'Yeonhwa' in elegant script. Potted bamboo flanked the entrance, and a stone pathway led from the sidewalk to a set of wide double doors. Through the windows, Ervin could see the warm glow of interior lighting, the glint of crystal glassware, the muted movement of waitstaff in crisp white uniforms. It was the kind of place that didn't need to advertise its prices. If you had to ask, you couldn't afford it.
Han Do-yun pushed the door open and stepped inside. Han Joon-seong held the door for Lee Hye-jin, who hesitated for half a heartbeat before slipping past him with a quiet murmur of thanks. Ervin drifted in after them.
The entrance hall was small and intimate. A polished stone floor reflected the soft light of a chandelier overhead. To one side, a wooden host stand stood occupied by a man in a dark suit, his posture impeccable, his expression professionally neutral. He looked up as they entered and offered a small, precise bow.
"Good afternoon. Welcome to Yeonhwa. How may I assist you today?"
"We'd like a table," Han Do-yun said. "Three people."
The host's expression shifted by the smallest fraction — regret, the polite and practiced kind. "I'm very sorry, sir, but we only seat by reservation. If you'd like, I can check our availability for later this week — "
Han Do-yun reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a slim leather wallet, and from it produced a card. It was dark, almost black, with the restaurant's gold logo embossed on its surface. He held it out between two fingers.
The host's eyes dropped to the card. His professional mask slipped, just for an instant, into something closer to surprise. He took the card, examined it briefly, and then his entire demeanor changed. The stiffness in his shoulders melted into deference.
"I see. My apologies, sir. I didn't realize you were a Premier member." He handed the card back with both hands and gave a deeper bow. "Please wait just a moment."
He turned and pressed a small bell on the host stand — a soft, resonant chime that carried through the entrance hall. Within seconds, a young woman in the restaurant's crisp white uniform appeared from a side door. She bowed to the group.
"Please escort these guests to a table," the host said. "A private one, if available."
"Of course. Please follow me."
She led them through the entrance hall and into the main dining room, and the space opened up around them like a carefully guarded secret.
The restaurant was large, far larger than the modest facade had suggested. The ceiling arched high overhead, supported by dark wooden beams that gave the room a sense of warmth and weight. Soft light filtered through paper lanterns suspended at intervals, their glow catching on the polished surfaces of dark oak tables and the crystal glasses set at each place. A wall of windows along the far side looked out onto a small, meticulously maintained garden — a courtyard with a stone fountain at its center, surrounded by carefully pruned trees and flowering shrubs. The tables were arranged with generous space between them, each one dressed in cream linens and set with gleaming silverware.
The room was busy. Lunch service was in full swing, and nearly every table was occupied. Men in tailored suits leaned in close over business discussions. Women in elegant dresses laughed quietly behind wine glasses. A group of older gentlemen at a corner table spoke in low, measured tones, their conversation punctuated by the occasional clink of chopsticks against porcelain. The waitstaff moved between the tables with silent efficiency, their trays balanced perfectly, their expressions serene.
The hostess led them to a table near the garden windows, slightly apart from the other diners, sheltered by a carved wooden screen that offered a degree of privacy. She pulled out chairs with practiced grace and waited until all three of them were seated before speaking.
"Your server will be with you shortly. Please enjoy your afternoon."
She bowed and withdrew. Han Joon-seong settled into his chair and let his gaze wander across the room. Lee Hye-jin sat stiffly to his left, her hands folded in her lap. Han Do-yun, across from them, leaned back in his chair with the easy confidence of someone who had dined in places like this a hundred times before.
Ervin, still floating above the scene, surveyed the restaurant with quiet appreciation. It was, he had to admit, very impressive. The kind of place he never could have set foot in during his old life. And now he was here as a guest, at a private table, with a gangster and a cute girl... being completely blunt it was a very odd situation to be in.
"Isn't it a bit over the top? Bringing us to a restaurant like this just for a conversation," Han Joon-seong said, glancing around.
Han Do-yun waved a hand. "It's nothing. Just a small restaurant to set a better mood for talking."
"A small restaurant that needs a reservation before you can eat there?" Han Joon-seong let out a short laugh.
Han Do-yun smiled, unbothered. "Yes, well. Nothing special."
Han Joon-seong's gaze drifted toward the pocket where Han Do-yun had tucked the black card. "And that Premier card you used. How exactly did you get one of those?"
"Ah." Han Do-yun leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You see, my organization holds a stake in a good number of businesses throughout Wonsang. Certain members receive bonuses for good performance."
Ervin, floating above the table, absorbed the information. "So that's why this area is so excessively classy. These guys aren't just loan-sharking college students. They're lending to businesses."
Han Do-yun tilted his head. "Are you interested in those kinds of bonuses?"
Han Joon-seong looked up. Behind his eyes, Ervin's attention sharpened. 'Is he offering me something?'
Han Joon-seong's expression remained neutral. "Not exactly. I'm just a little curious."
"I see, I see." Han Do-yun picked up the menu from the table and opened it. He scanned the options with the air of someone who already knew what he wanted. Han Joon-seong did the same, flipping open the leather-bound booklet. The names swam in front of him — elaborate Korean dishes with poetic titles he didn't recognize. Ervin could access the meaning through Han Joon-seong's brain, but the knowledge was shallow; he understood the words, but not the food. What was song-i beoseot gui? What was galbi-jjim with aged soy glaze? He had no frame of reference. He kept his face placid, pretending to consider his choice.
Han Do-yun set his menu down. "So. What's your relationship with Miss Lee Hye-jin?"
Lee Hye-jin's head lifted slightly. Her eyes moved between the two men.
Han Joon-seong didn't look up from the menu. "Nothing, really. I don't know her."
Han Do-yun's menu lowered. He studied Han Joon-seong with open curiosity. "Then what made you shell out thirty million won to save a girl you don't know from crippling debt?"
Han Joon-seong met his gaze. "If I said it was goodwill, would you believe me?"
Han Do-yun didn't answer. He just smiled. Han Joon-seong shrugged and returned his attention to the menu. The names remained impenetrable.
---
Lee Hye-jin stared down at her own menu without seeing it. The prices were staggering. Galbi-jjim — 85,000 won. Abalone porridge — 60,000 won. They weren't expecting her to pay for her meal right? She hoped not...
She wasn't sure if she should order anything at all. She let her eyes drift across the elegantly printed descriptions and tried to make herself small.
Then Han Do-yun's voice cut through: "So. What's your relationship with Miss Lee Hye-jin?"
She looked up. Han Joon-seong didn't hesitate. "Nothing, really. I don't know her."
True, she didn't know him either. If she knew someone this wealthy, someone who could drop thirty million won without blinking, she never would have been drowning in debt in the first place.
Han Do-yun pressed. "Then what made you shell out thirty million won to save a girl you don't know from crippling debt?"
"If I said it was goodwill, would you believe me?"
Han Do-yun's smile was unreadable. Lee Hye-jin looked at Han Joon-seong, the calm air, the untroubled face, the easy posture. 'Goodwill. Just goodwill? Is there really someone like that in the world?'
The thought circled, gathering weight. 'Why would a stranger do that?' The alternatives flickered through her mind. Maybe it was a scam, some long con to extract more money from her later. But that didn't make sense. She had no money to extract. Maybe he was connected to the gang, and this was part of some internal power play she couldn't see. But then why knock out Han Do-yun's men? Why humiliate him in that alley?
Her heart began to beat faster. A smaller, more treacherous thought surfaced. 'What if he... fell for me at first sight?'
She made a tiny, high-pitched sound, a squeak, barely audible, and her hand flew to her face. Her cheeks burned.
Both men turned to look at her.
She grabbed her menu, held it up in front of her face, and pretended to be deeply absorbed in the list of teas. The paper trembled slightly in her hands.
Ervin, from his perch above the table, observed the display with mild bewilderment. 'That girl is a little weird.'
This last possibility was, by far, the least likely of all. If Han Joon-seong had been smitten at first sight, he would have at least tried to stay in contact. Instead, he had vanished before she could ask his name.