Our place was hidden where no one bothered to look.
An abandoned building, half-collapsed, forgotten by the city. Beneath it—one concealed floor, reinforced walls, dim lights. Safe. Or at least, safer than anywhere else we'd ever called home.
Junseo dropped the bag onto the sofa like it weighed nothing and flopped down after it, arms spread wide.
I stayed standing.
Still.
The alley replayed itself behind my eyes—footsteps, timing, hesitation. Too clean to be random. Too sloppy to be professionals.
Junseo noticed.
He pushed himself up slightly, resting his chin on his hands as he looked at me.
"Hyung," he said quietly, the humor gone. "This has never happened before."
I didn't answer right away.
"Who were those guys?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "That's what's bothering me."
Junseo sat up now.
"But you're sure about one thing, right?"
I finally looked at him.
"Yeah," I said. "Someone's watching us."
His brows knit together. "Because they weren't normal thugs."
I nodded.
"They'll come back," I added.
Silence stretched between us.
Then—
"So…" Junseo tilted his head, eyes wide with disbelief. "We're not going out tonight?"
I stared at him for a second.
Then I smirked.
"As if we've ever stopped before."
Junseo burst out laughing, falling back onto the sofa.
"Soju?" he asked, hopeful.
"Bar," I corrected.
He shot up instantly, all tension evaporating. "Yah—yes! Good liquor, loud music, pretty girls—"
He paused, pointing at me.
"But first," he grinned, "get fresh."
I shook my head, already turning away.
Somewhere out there, someone thought they could follow us.
Let them try.
The bar was loud enough to drown thoughts.
Neon lights bled into dark corners. Bass thumped through the floor. Glasses clinked, laughter spilled, smoke curled like it belonged there.
I took a seat at the counter.
"Chamisul," I said to the bartender. After a beat, "And a shot of Chivas."
Junseo whistled from behind me. "Mixing like a criminal already."
I ignored him.
The glass was cold in my hand. Clean. Familiar. I took the first sip slow—burn, warmth, clarity.
That's when a voice slid in from behind me.
"Are you alone, pretty boy?"
I didn't turn right away. Just glanced sideways, enough to acknowledge her existence, then looked back at my drink.
She laughed.
"Rude," she said, amused rather than offended. "Name's Suhee."
I finally faced her. "Seolwol."
Her eyes lingered a second longer than necessary. "Figures."
"And me—" Junseo appeared between us, far too close, resting an elbow on the bar. "—I'm Junseo."
Suhee raised a brow. "Friends?"
"Brothers," he said easily. "Technically. But he's my hyung."
She hummed. "Uh-huh."
Her gaze slid back to me. Slow. Curious.
"I'm kinda interested in your hyung."
Junseo grinned instantly. "Bad taste."
She tilted her head. "Why's that?"
"He's a playboy."
I didn't correct him.
Suhee smiled wider. "Good. I like playboys."
I took another sip, eyes meeting hers over the rim of the glass.
"Is that so?"
She leaned closer. "Very."
Junseo clicked his tongue, dramatically offended. "Wow. Abandoned already."
"Go hunt," I said without looking at him.
He sighed. "Fine. But if I die of loneliness—"
"Tragic," I muttered.
He wandered off, already scanning the crowd.
For a moment, things felt normal. Dangerous in the fun way. Easy.
Then—
The music cut.
Not faded. Cut.
Conversations died mid-sentence.
The air changed.
People stepped back from the bar one by one, instinct screaming before logic caught up. Black silhouettes filled the space—twenty, maybe thirty men. Uniform in posture. Uniform in intent.
Black coats. Black boots.
Not club security.
I stopped sipping and set my glass down.
Carefully.
Junseo reappeared at my side, eyes narrowing. "Aish… can we get one night off?"
Suhee had already slipped away.
I turned slowly.
Irritation settled heavy in my chest—not fear. Never fear.
"Before I make every one of you unconscious," I said evenly, "tell me who sent you."
No answer.
"And why you're following us."
Still nothing.
Junseo cracked his knuckles. "Hyung, these bastards won't talk."
One of the men sneered.
"Bastard?" he spat, pulling a knife from his coat.
He lunged.
That's when the voice came.
Deep. Heavy. Foreign.
"Enough."
The room froze.
A tall man stepped forward from the back, presence swallowing the space around him. Broad shoulders. Controlled movements. Eyes the color of old amber—sharp, unblinking.
Eastern European accent. Clean. Educated.
"I sent them."
The knife froze mid-air.
Junseo lowered his hands slightly. "Oh. You've got a spokesperson."
The man ignored him, eyes fixed on me.
"Borislav Volkov," he said. "And I don't enjoy being ignored."
I met his gaze without blinking.
"Then you chose the wrong introduction."
A slow smile curved his lips.
"I disagree," Borislav said. "You noticed me."
He stepped closer, boots echoing in the silence.
"I have a deal for you, Kim Seolwol."
Junseo stiffened beside me.
I smiled.
"Then," I said calmly, "you should've started with that—before bringing an army into my bar."
Borislav chuckled.
"Oh," he replied, eyes gleaming, "this isn't the army."
And suddenly, I understood.
This wasn't a warning.
It was a test.
Borislav's gaze never left mine.
Not once.
Up close, I noticed it—the way his eyes stayed open just a fraction longer than normal. No flinching. No unnecessary movement.
Eyes that didn't blink.
"I don't like tests," I said calmly.
Borislav smiled, slow and deliberate.
"That's unfortunate. Because you've already passed the first one."
Junseo shifted beside me. "Hyung," he muttered under his breath, "I really don't like this guy."
Borislav's eyes flicked to him—brief, dismissive—then back to me.
"You and your brother are difficult to find," he said. "More difficult to corner. That makes you valuable."
"Try using a phone next time," I replied. "Less dramatic."
A soft chuckle escaped him.
"Direct," Borislav said approvingly. "Good. I dislike men who pretend to be harmless."
I leaned back slightly, relaxed on purpose.
"And I dislike men who bring knives to conversations."
The men around us tensed.
Borislav lifted one hand.
They froze instantly.
Control. Absolute.
"I didn't come to hurt you tonight," he said. "If I wanted that, you wouldn't be standing."
Junseo swallowed.
I believed him.
Borislav stepped closer, lowering his voice—not threatening, not friendly.
"There is something," he continued, "that everyone wants. Governments. Corporations. Criminals who believe they are kings."
My expression didn't change.
"And you think we have it?"
"I know you can get it."
Junseo looked at me sharply.
"Hyung—"
I lifted a finger. He stopped.
Borislav's smile widened.
"See?" he said softly. "Even your brother listens when you decide."
That annoyed me.
"Get to the point," I said. "Before I decide you're wasting my time."
For the first time, Borislav blinked.
Just once.
"I'll give you forty-eight hours," he said. "To hear the full offer."
"And if we say no?"
His eyes hardened.
"Then you walk away," he replied. "Alive. For now."
Junseo scoffed. "Wow. Generous."
Borislav ignored him.
"Think carefully, Kim Seolwol," he said. "Men like you don't stay hidden forever."
He stepped back.
The men in black parted around him like shadows retreating.
As he turned to leave, Borislav paused.
"Oh," he added casually, "you were followed tonight because I allowed it."
My jaw tightened.
"Next time," he said, glancing over his shoulder, "I won't be so polite."
Then he was gone.
The music slowly returned. The bar breathed again.
Junseo exhaled hard. "Hyung…"
I picked up my untouched glass and stared into the liquid.
Someone had finally found us.
And worse—
They weren't afraid.