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Just Another Night, Until You | Choi San

❤️‍🔥 Summary: Hectic nights at work is nothing out of the ordinary for you, but when a man is wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit with second degree burns all over his body and in the need of immediate medical attention, your life takes a turn as his body heals on his own by the mere presence of you. Shocked by the discovery, you stay by his side as he recovers and together you come to terms with your unexpected connection.

❤️‍🔥 Pairing(s): Firefighter!San x Emergency physician!Reader

❤️‍🔥 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, best friend's brother, oldest daughter and youngest son, slice of life, fluff

❤️‍🔥 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), brief description of burn injuries, medical setting, san is living up to his romance-cat title, pet names (darling, my love, love, honey), MC is a Jeong, a lot of physical intimacy, kisses gallore, san is down bad for the MC, brief description of motorcycle accident and fractured bones (not explicit), the fear of losing loved ones, emotional exhaustion, a few swear words, not beta read!

❤️‍🔥 Wordcount: 7.5K

❤️‍🔥 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). Wihooo! And there goes the second to last instalment of the March Event ;-; im lowkey sad it's ending soon although it gives me more time to work on other stuff!! anyhow, this one was really fun to write and I hope you'll enjoy it, be prepared for a lot of love sick sannie 🥹 Btw I'm not a nurse/doctor or have any "proper" knowledge regarding how things go down in the E.R or hospital for that matter either, so this is all based on excessive research. Thank you for your understanding!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains mature scenes such as descriptions of serious injuries, medical procedures as well as adult language. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Event taglist

It was an exceptionally calm hour in Seoul National University Hospital. Most nights were bustling with life, whether it’d be residential patients abusing the call button, relatives refusing to leave after visiting hours were over or an incoming emergency putting the whole hospital in a fit. But not tonight. The clock hanging on the wall opposite of the nurse’s station in the emergency department recently struck midnight. You slumped down by your desk as Haneul, your roommate, best friend and fellow colleague, dragged her legs behind her and nearly toppled over her seat. You finished off the last rounds of checking in on the inpatients on your floor, yet your social batteries were already drained and the nightshift had just started.

Haneul blew a raspberry before her head dropped onto the desk with a soft thud. She groaned and threw herself back on the chair, her arms extended and legs elevated. Her slip-on shoes barely hung onto her feet and she wasn’t faring any better.

“I’m so tired,” she complained and went limp in her seat. “I can’t wait to clock out and return to my boyfriend.”

You let out an amused huff, the pencil twirling in your fingers coming to a stop as you caught it mid air. “You mean your bed?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Ha-ha, really funny Haneul.”

“It’s a bit funny, admit it!”

You rolled your eyes at her, but couldn’t fight off the smile that spread across your face. It was never a dull moment when in Haneul’s company. You were certain that even if death were around the corner, she’d still find a way to make the situation feel light. That was probably why you two had hit it off at university. She was mostly, if not always, in a cheerful mood, while you walked around with a dark cloud over your head. Had it not been for Haneul approaching you solely because your shirt was similar to one of her favorite character’s outfits in a drama, you probably would never have become friends. A decade later and you were tighter than two peas in a pod, and even decided — after your first semester — to move into a flat together which was still your current home.

“Whatever… I can’t complain as it’s at least a quiet night.”

The unspoken rule of never mentioning the obvious flashed before your eyes and you cowered from the blazing look Haneul shot your way. The air was caught in your throats and neither dared to move an inch from your places. You slowly turned your head sideways, waiting for a patient to peek their head out or scream that their pillow needed puffing up. As the empty hallway continued staying silent and the motion sensor lights didn’t turn on, you exhaled in relief.

“You got lucky there,” she said and logged into her computer.

As you parted your mouth to answer, a voice broke through from the radio placed on the wall-mounted brackets. A report concerning a handful of people who were hurt in a fire set loose in an apartment came through and everyone ditched their tasks to get ready for the newcomers. You and Haneul, along with other nurses, ran to the trauma bay and occupied a room each where you, hopefully not, would get a patient each. The sound of multiple sirens grew louder the faster the ambulances sped toward the hospital and didn’t stop until the flashes of red and blue colored the building. Despite being employed for two years and counting, you never got accustomed to the ear piercing noise or blinding lights.

“Nurse Kim, could you prepare the wound care kit? Nurse Hwang, bring the respiratory support system. We don’t know what we’re dealing with so we need to expect the worst!”

The commotion from the triage area reached your room as the patients were being rolled into the hospital and underwent the initial assessment of their conditions. The code red patients would fall into your hands and you, together with your team, would do your utmost to lessen their injuries. You put the other glove on and waited by the door of your room. The sight before you was jarring to say the least. The victims of the fire were all in different conditions. Some crying and wincing from the burnmarks while others lay completely still as if the burned skin wasn’t a painful inconvenience. The wonders of falling unconscious. An elderly nurse with a couple of years beneath her belt pushed a stretcher toward you and you hastily moved out of the way.

Nurse Yeon quickly spewed the little information she knew of the unconscious patient, but you couldn’t focus on her words. Your entire attention was given to the man before you. He looked peaceful despite the soot smudged across his face and several burn marks littering the majority of his body. He was also handsome — very handsome. That, you couldn’t deny. His black strands fell over his closed eyes and brows. Most of his features were sharp and defined, red heart-shaped lips in a slight pout, a long nose with a prominent bridge, high cheekbones and a few beauty marks peeking out from beneath the smeared ash. But you knew that, out of everything, his most alluring feature was his eyes — even when closed. You could see the feline-like shape that reminded you of a panther in the wild and you found yourself wondering what color they were. A tingle erupted along the pads of your fingers, almost begging you to move his hair out of the way.

“...He was found unconscious in the building after being caught in the fire. Red category. He has second-degree burns on twenty percent of his body, severe smoke inhalation and is currently in respiratory distress. We’ve initiated oxygen therapy. BP is low and bolus fluids were administered to stabilize circulation. He is unresponsive, likely due to hypoxia.”

Nurse Yeon brought you back to the present and you ignored the highly unprofessional thought. With the help of Nurse Kim, you connected him to a monitoring machine and proceeded with the remaining steps of the protocol drilled into your spine. You administered high-flow oxygen via a non-rebreather mask to address the smoke inhalation and to prevent breathing issues later on.

Facing away from the patient to grab a scalpel in order to cut his already torn shirt, you just about turned your head and called out, “Nurse Kim, give him an IV fluid with saline to prevent shock and maintain blood pressure as well as a light dose of morphine to relieve him of pain. Nurse Hwang, hand me the scalpel, please.”

The nurses wasted no time following your orders. While Nurse Kim stabilized the patient’s blood pressure, you drove the sharp end of the scalpel through the center of his shirt to expose the injured area and assess what else you had to work with. As expected, there were blotches of irritated, red skin all over his upper body. It didn’t look too bad but would scar if left untreated. Your main concern was the smoke inhalation, but the high-flow oxygen proved effective, as the pulse oximeter showed that the oxygen saturation in his blood was slowly improving and you could swiftly move on to treat his wounds.

“Nurse Hwang, hand me the antiseptic soluti–”

A horrified gasp cut you off mid sentence and your head flung to the doorway where a nurse — a trainee at that — stood with her wide eyes and mouth hanging open behind her health mask. The interruption crawled beneath your skin like electricity. You glanced down at her nametag.

“Trainee Park?”

The student didn’t budge nor make a noise of acknowledgement and you had half a mind to terminate the established contract between the hospital and nursing school. You understood the weight of students gaining hands-on experience in a hospital setting, but it was beyond the agreement for a student to interrupt a life alternating moment for the patient.

“Trainee Park I won’t ask you a second time, what is it?!”

Antiseptic solution in hand, you faced the student again, though her focus wasn’t on you but on something behind you. A line formed between your brows as you followed her gaze, leading to what she was staring at. Your patient still lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic motion, but you weren’t caught off guard by his regulated breathing. The patches of glaring red skin that previously looked painful to the eye were replaced with a lighter hue as if his body was recovering on its own. It was inhumane and in all your years as both a student and a licensed doctor, you had never seen anything like it. However, everyone in the room knew exactly what it meant.

“Fuck…”

One of the male nurses found the patient’s ID-card in the cardholder neatly tucked in the pocket of his pants while changing him into a hospital gown, but it was the teary look on Haneul after seeing the man’s face that everything clicked in place. Choi San, the little brother of your best friend, was your soulmate.

The realization didn’t hit you while standing in the center of the trauma room or when his injuries healed more quickly beneath the touch of your finger. The fact that you had found your soulmate dawned on you early one morning, as you were making rounds between the remaining victims of the apartment fire and came across his room — the last patient to be checked on. The thought of finding your soulmate hadn’t crossed your mind in years. It was locked away in your old high school classroom, along with your youth, when you used to fret over who your soulmate might be. Would they be a foreigner? A celebrity? A boy or a girl? Rich, kind, or rude? The possibilities seemed endless, and you often spent more time daydreaming about the different outcomes than focusing on your studies. It was a miracle you didn’t fail most of your classes.

It was only when you set a goal that you lost interest in who your soulmate was and dedicated more of your time to studying. Little by little, as assignments piled up, you pushed the thought of your other half to the back of your mind and forgot about it. Of course, there were instances when the topic would come up every now and then — meeting distant relatives for the first time in forever and having them ask about your partner, or going out to dinner with Haneul and watching her get so drunk she forgets her own name, but still manages to make bets. Looks like you’d be treating her to that BBQ after all.

You entered the room and stopped at the end of the patient bed staring at San’s sleeping form. The harmless jealousy seeped into your bones as he lay there oblivious to the turmoil wrecking havoc inside of you and you wondered if, despite his unconscious state, he could feel even a glimpse of your emotions. Because you could feel him throughout your entire shift. The change in breathing, eyes fluttering, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as if he was right there with you.

The joke you once cracked to Haneul when you first started working there, something along the lines of finding your soulmate while tending to their wounds, wasn’t funny anymore and left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. You sighed and glanced down at the patient chart hanging off the bedside. His vitals were good. More than good considering he was being driven straight from a burning building. Doctor Jung ran some tests on him during the night and they confirmed that San suffered greatly until he arrived at the hospital, until he reached you.

The doors of the room were violently pushed open and the eldest Choi entered as if her brother wasn’t lying there unconscious. Her unexpected arrival stopped your thoughts from spiraling further and your heart from racing into palpitations. It was weird to see her lips pressed into a thin line and eyes void of light, replacing her usual dimpled smile that would brighten your day.

“How is he?” She eventually asked and buried her hands in the pockets of her white coat.

You cleared your throat and mimicked her stance, both of you focused on the resting man. “He’s healthier than a newborn baby.”

Five hours of constantly being on your feet, moving around and not having the chance to take a five minute toilet break put you in a hazy mist. It wasn’t until now that you felt the weight of the situation sink in. Who would’ve thought your best friend’s brother was your soulmate?

“You know,” Haneul started and broke you out of your thoughts. “I’m happy it’s you. Someone I know and trust as much as I trust myself.”

The words were oddly warm and spread a branch of hope through you. While you were too caught up with your work and then your own feelings, you didn’t stop to think what Haneul thought of everything. Her two worlds were colliding and it could either be good or bad.

“Is it weird?”

“Not at all… It’s the best thing I could ask for. That my best friend and brother get along… Just…” Haneul gnawed on the side of her bottom lip and turned to you, “Just don’t hurt him, Jeong. San is a tough cookie, but he has a fragile heart and I really don’t want to ever choose between you. You are both very dear to me.”

“You won’t have to. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried.”

Haneul chuckled despite the tears making their escape down her cheeks. “Is it really like how they say? Are you already… affected by him?”

You breathed out a laugh at that. The countless nights spent talking and making fun of other couples who had already found their happily ever after were sure biting you in the ass, because it was, in fact, exactly how they said it would be. The unexplainable pull drawing you toward him, the yearning to be by his side and feeling him everywhere. Every skip of his heart, harsh intake of air and twitch of his fingers were all transferred to you

“Yeah, it’s exactly how they say it is.”

Haneul eventually left to do her last rounds and finish writing reports until the sun peeked over the horizon, signaling the end of your second night shift that week. San didn’t wake up until a few hours later and despite being hooked to a monitor regulating his state and showing nothing out of the ordinary, you didn’t leave his side for even a second. The dread of another emergency report coming through squeezed your abdomen until you were on the verge of puking. Just the thought of parting from him almost sent you hurling your insides in the guest bathroom. You were lucky to have wonderful colleagues who understood the circumstances and reassured you multiple times not to worry about finishing your reports or doing rounds. Nurse Hwang and Kim even passed by with snacks and water before returning to work.

The clock struck early morning when your chin slid off your knuckles and you were unpleasantly awoken from your slumber. The fear of falling to your death had you jumping out of your seat and taking in your surroundings. The sun gently shone through the windows occupying the entire left side of the room and filled the space with auburn streaks kissing your face. The warm rays seeped through the cherry blossom trees planted along the outskirts of the hospital. You found the view to be exceptionally beautiful during the early mornings when the pink petals detached from the branches, swirling in the air like snowflakes and covering the boring cement pavement..

A laser like heat bored into the side of your head and you scanned the room to find the source, only to get lost in the eyes of your soulmate. A wide smile stretched across his face and you realized the dimple gene ran deep in the Choi family as an identical pair to Haneul’s popped on San’s cheeks. You couldn’t shake away the image of a content and well fed cat at the sight of him.

San immediately shifted the blanket to the side and had one bare foot planted on the floor, ready to leap out of bed and wrap you in his arms. The man just about managed to stand on both legs when you rushed from your seat and gently pushed him back down.

“No, no, please, sit!”

San fell back on the mattress without much of a fight. The moment your hand made contact with his shoulder, an explosion of tingles erupted along your palm, spreading like wildfire through your arm and out to the rest of your limbs, reaching the tips of your toes and fingers. The air caught in your throat and, like magnets forced together, your eyes found his again. Neither of you had to vocalize the question balancing on the tip of your tongues, asking if the other felt that crackling fire. San sensed the twinge of worry squeezing at your heart and hummed in content, he reached out and grabbed one of your hands in his to ease the burden atop your shoulders. He smiled so hard his eyes turned into crescent moons and hadn’t you known better, you’d think he’d start purring like a cat receiving ear scratches.

“I’m fine. I don’t need rest because you are here.”

You ignored the heat pooling beneath your cheeks at his rather flamboyant response and steered the conversation elsewhere. “What were you thinking running into a burning building?”

The words came out effortlessly, as if you had known him since your youth.

“I didn’t do it on purpose…” He began and jutted out his bottom lip. “My feet just moved on their own, call it an instinct. Besides, I couldn’t just leave everyone inside. I’d put shame on the entire fire department!”

“Curse you for being reckless and kind hearted, San.”

“Yet thanks to my recklessness, I landed in the hospital and found you.”

The cheeky reply nearly made you pop a blood vessel. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm after facing death less than eight hours ago. The monitor attached to him shouldn’t have been stable. Based on your past experience with burn victims, San should’ve been startled and shaken up, and in some uncomfortable pain. Instead, he remained unnervingly composed, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you question your own knowledge. His calmness felt unnatural, given the circumstances. The heart rate monitor, which should’ve shown elevated readings due to stress, stayed oddly steady and only spiked up when you spoke, moved or looked at him for too long.

“San… we are soulmates. We would’ve met eventually,” you hissed, trying to mask the look of realization on your face. The soulmate bond explained his calm demeanor. As he said, he was fine now that you were there, while you just wanted to cover him in bubble wrap and not let him out of your sight.

“Yes, but not soon enough.”

You abandoned the conversation for now as it wouldn’t lead anywhere. San was deadset on his decision being correct even though it was a foolish one and you still had a job to do. Ignoring the way he followed your every movement, a polite smile and creased eyes never leaving your form, you adjusted his pillows and checked the IV attached to his forearm.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Hmmm, just you.”

Had you met under different circumstances, perhaps in a grocery store where you'd bump carts together or on a packed bus where he’d give up his seat for you and stand by your side to shield you from the other commuters, his charms would’ve worked. But you didn’t. Instead San decided to search the burning building for others with no gear, just his strong will and hope clinging onto his back, and all his attempts at flirting were futile as you couldn’t get the image of his unconscious body out of your head.

“Too bad,” you settle on saying. “You can’t have me before twelve PM.”

The pout intensified and he even crossed his arms in retaliation. Seeing a man in his late twenties throw a silent tantrum wasn’t something you thought you’d ever find endearing, but there you were, suppressing a laugh and yearning to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

“Do you have to go?” He whispered and looked up at you through his lashes.

“Yes, unless you want me to be fired?”

“Fine! But the second that clock hits twelve, you and I are both getting out of here.”

“You can’t just leave, San, they have to run tests and–”

“I’ve never felt better and I think every doctor in the building can agree with me. What I will be if I don’t get to spend time with you is sick, and sad, and heartbroken and–”

“I get it, I get it!”

San lived up to his promise of spending time with you. In fact, he wasted no time running down the hallway the moment the minute hand switched to twelve, asking everyone dressed in white cloaks where Doctor Jeong was. The question left his mouth for the tenth time that minute just as you rounded the corner, ready to check out. San gave you all of three seconds to bid your colleagues goodbye before whisking you away. His plan of getting to know you consisted of lying tangled up on his sofa with a meaningless movie playing in the background, while his fingers caressed your back and his eyes shifted back to you every other second, as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

You weren’t faring any better. Your head was neatly tucked beneath his chin, and your hand was splayed over his right pectoral, the tips of your fingers gently rubbing soothing motions beneath the curve of his collarbone. Had you known your soulmate would be a kitten with separation anxiety, you’d have stalled on meeting him for a little while longer. Although, deep down, you knew that was a lie. San was everything you needed him to be and more: attentive, gentle, sweet, kind, caring — the list was truly endless.

The days spent cocooned together — San on sick leave to recover from the accident and you having the next two days off from work — made up for the thirty-something years you hadn’t been in each other’s lives. In just forty-eight hours, you created a bond that most lifelong best friends would envy. He shared embarrassing stories from his and Haneul’s childhood days — sweet memories of how his mother dressed him in Haneul’s hand-me-downs, despite her closet mainly consisting of flower dresses and cute skirts. In return, you told him about that one time you accidentally locked your parents out on the balcony and then hurled your breakfast back out from the anxiety and fear of never seeing them again. If only little you could have understood the wonders of spare keys and that your grandmother was already on her way to solve the issue.

The first night was spent staying up late, talking about heartfelt stories and niche interests to the point where you both passed out and didn’t wake up until late afternoon the next day. Who knew your hunk of a fireman liked collecting sweet plushies and was adamant on learning how to crochet?

That wasn’t everything though. A week into your freshly established relationship and San hadn’t missed to stop by your workplace once to give you lunch, coffee, midnight snacks or a quick peck on the cheek. It was easy in the beginning when San didn’t return to work for an entire week. The soulmate bond proved that he wasn’t in need of resting as much as his company thought and he eventually had to return earlier than expected. It was weird to be glued to each other for hours on end to then not be able to see each other because of your hectic schedules that never seemed to align. When you’d return home from a long night shift, he was dressed and ready to leave.

You voiced your worries to Haneul during a lunch break, saying how you were afraid of moving too fast, but now that you barely got to spend time together, it felt like you were moving at a snail’s pace. She mildly reassured you that it craved more than some social distance for your soulmate bond to break and that it would take some time for you to find your footing in the relationship.

However, working multiple shifts a week while running on little to no sleep left you too exhausted to plan an outing whenever an opportunity for the two of you to spend time together appeared. Date-night looked different in the Choi-and-Jeong books. Instead of glamming up and booking a reservation at a fancy restaurant, you decided to stay in and watch a movie that would sooner or later be forgotten as you’d be too enamoured with each other. Haneul walked in on one too many make-out sessions, and thus, you came to the decision to host movie nights strictly at San’s apartment.

Like many times before, you lay atop San, his legs parted, giving you the option to cage his left one between yours. One of his arms was bent and propped behind his head to act as a cushion, while the other was curled around you, his hand pressing against the small of your back in a comforting embrace. Your cheek was mushed against his chest and your hand limply rested on his bicep. A movie played on the big screen and a plethora of snacks were strewn out on the coffee table but left untouched. You joked about how, ever since San entered your life, your sugar cravings had dramatically decreased because he was bringing too much sweetness into it.

“Honey?” San broke the comfortable silence and spoke over the characters on the TV. You hummed in reply and he continued. “I want to ask you something.”

As you shifted to get a better look at him, he pulled you in a tight embrace and you immediately stopped moving. “Don't look at me, just… listen? Please?”

“Okay, Sannie, what is it?”

“How do you feel about… moving in… with me? Or me with you!” You could hear the blush attacking his cheeks and embarrassment clinging onto his voice as it grew higher in the end and the words came out in a rush.

Joy tugged at your lips and you couldn’t stop the light hearted chuckle from slipping out in the room. You broke out of his gentle hold and grabbed his hand in yours, and planted a chaste kiss on it.

“I think I’d love that.”

Without warning, he squeezed your cheeks between his palms and captured your lips in a tender kiss, leaving your insides warm and mushy. Despite having muscles the size of a watermelon and broad shoulders that could carry the entirety of Noah’s ark, San was a real softie. He had the habit of holding you as if you were the most valuable possession on the earth, a feather which could crumble at contact or a cube of sugar that would melt beneath the rain. The shared kisses were brief but left a tingle on your lips that you couldn't get enough of and nearly whined in retaliation as San withdrew to catch his breath.

“I adore you, like really, really much,” he confessed and kissed you again, and again, and again. The peppered kisses were planted all over your face — nose, cheeks, mouth, chin, eyes, forehead. The endearing act of love pulled a string of giggles straight out of your tummy, cursing you with an ache that your grandmother would call remedy for the soul.

One moment he was on you and the next, he turned you over to lay against the couch while he scrambled to his bedroom on the other side of the apartment. You pushed yourself up on your forearms with only your upper body lifted as you curiously watched San runoff as if his rear caught on fire.

“Sannie?”

“Just a second, honey!”

Rough shuffling reached the living room, but it was the loud crash of objects clattering on the ground that you almost headed to see the commotion yourself. San’s reassuring voice telling you everything was okay didn’t help you relax, but you trusted his judgement and remained seated. The eager wait was short lived as San returned with something tightly clutched in his right hand and stopped by the end of the couch, back uncomfortably straight and face pinched into a serious expression. Hadn’t you known him for a little shorter than a month, you’d assume he was about to get down on one knee and ask you to live the rest of your life by his side.

San cleared his throat and extended his arm low enough for you to see his well manicured fingernails. You shuffled over closer to the end of the sofa and sat up on your knees. His fingers unfolded and exposed the trinket laying in the center of his palm. An apartment key. The spare key to his apartment to be precise.

“I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I’ve never been sure of anything more than this and I really want to take this next step with you.”

“Are you asking me to marry you or move in with you?”

Red dusted his cheeks and he had to look away. Your own lips curved up as his eyes creased into crescent moons, a telltale of his dimpled smile making an appearance. San covered his mouth as if it would make his smile disappear. Testing the waters, he asked, “Would you say yes?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out.”

San was sure he could pass out right then and there. His cheeks hurt from smiling too much, but it was the only pain he would ever welcome with open arms. You climbed onto the couch and jumped into San's arms and he effortlessly caught you, his hands finding their designated place on your hips and thighs while your arms slid around his neck like a koala. Your fronts were pressed against each other, but you continued pulling him toward you, as if the chance of becoming one entity was higher than inventing flying cars. San dipped you down princess-style and stole a long kiss, one that you were more than eager to reciprocate. Your fingers tangled in his black hair, nails soothingly scratching his scalp, and your heart swelled with so much love and happiness it felt like it could explode and fill the living room with colorful confetti.

It was a shame the human needed air every few minutes because all you wanted to do in that moment was feel him everywhere. Breaking apart, you rested your forehead against his, hot breaths fanning across each other’s lower faces, chests rising with fervor as your bodies desperately tried to reclaim the lost oxygen."

“I’d say yes a hundred times over,” you breathed out, “but let’s save that for after we meet the in-laws.”

“My parents have already scheduled a day for when we can go to Namhae,” he eagerly replied to which you hastily leaned back, nearly sending you both tumbling over.

“San! I swear you’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you.”

Lips swollen, eyes welling with joy and hearts beating erratically, the world paused as you looked at each other. The diploma neatly placed on your desk and the knowledge you had collected over the years seemed insignificant when the love you harbored for San could regrow burned forests, mend broken bridges and heal even the most shattered of hearts.

Living with San was nothing out of the ordinary, except that you saw each other more now that you lived under the same roof. Considering your shared apartment with Haneul was bigger than San’s, it only made sense for the Choi siblings to switch places. That way you kept your room and San took Haneul’s. You quickly realized you could’ve just moved into San’s apartment instead as neither ever went to sleep alone. More often than not, San would crawl into your bed, claiming it was cozier than his, but you knew even the ground would be a great sleeping place as long as you were in his arms. That was precisely what you wanted — to be in San’s arms. Instead you were working another night shift, the most hectic one since the fire incident a couple of weeks ago.

A young man, no older than twenty, had been in a motorcycle crash, leaving him with severe pain and swelling in his right leg, which was pushed into an unnatural position. The skin was entirely torn off, exposing blood and muscle tissue. You had a suspicion about how severe the situation was, but it still called for an X-ray examination. As expected, the results confirmed multiple fractures of the femur and tibia, requiring surgery the next day at the latest. Changmin, as his driver’s license indicated, was in immense pain and even struggled with breathing difficulties into the night. This left you and your co-workers with no choice but to monitor him closely throughout the remainder of your shift. To say it was tiring would be an understatement. Your feet were so sore it felt like walking on a rug of medical needles and your back ached, begging you to lie in bed and not get up until the birds returned from Southeast Asia.

The only thing pushing you through the long day was the fact that you knew San was waiting on you at home. It didn’t matter if he was awake or not. Your tense muscles relaxed by the thought of burying your face in his chest and forget the world until your batteries were restored again. It became a routine for the both of you. When one had a more physically draining day at work, the other was ready to pamper them and make them feel completely taken care of.

After a few failed attempts to insert the key into the door, you finally managed to unlock it. A stream of blue light illuminated the otherwise dark apartment and was accompanied by muffled voices coming from the living room. You haphazardly threw your shoes off, not bothering to neatly place them next to one of San’s hundred pairs of sneakers, and instinctively followed the animated sounds that belonged in a cartoon.

The scene you were met with nearly brought you to tears. San was seated in the middle of the sofa, a fuzzy blanket thrown over his head and shoulders, with two mugs of hot cocoa steaming on the table in front of him. The bag slung over your shoulder slipped off and fell to the floor with a gentle thud. Your jacket — a gift from San’s closet — was at least two sizes too big, making you look like a bear ready to hibernate. The colorful scarf you had been wearing since your teenage years reached up to your nose. San whipped his head in your direction and his stoic expression softened into one of understanding at the sight of fresh tears coating your waterline. His lips curled into a small, reassuring smile that spoke more of compassion than words ever could.

He quickly lifted one side of the blanket and beckoned you over with a gentle command. “C’mere honey.”

That was the last straw for your tears to start rolling. You wasted no time shedding your outer layers of clothing and curling into San’s side. A sob that you had been holding in throughout the entire car ride home vibrated against his chest. San ran his hand up and down your back while whispered praises tickled your ear. He planted a kiss on your crown and pulled you over him as he fell back against the couch. You adjusted yourself more comfortably, both legs falling on either side of his hips so as not to fall, and he swiftly maneuvered the blanket to shield you from the chilly atmosphere. The minutes ticked by and you had no perception of how long you stayed in that position, but your sobs eventually subdued to soft sniffling.

“How did you know?” You whispered, a tremble hanging onto your vocal chords, and sat up.

San’s hands travelled to rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circular motions into your flesh. “I just… felt you.”

“Felt me?”

He hummed, “I still do. Happiness, sadness, fear, anger — everything, right here.” His hand hovered over your heart and you understood. You really did.

There was no scientific explanation for the emotional connection that kept you in tune with each other’s feelings. The unexpected pressure weighing down on your lungs at even the slightest discomfort or worry he experienced, like when he stumbled upon a video of a duckling being separated from its mother. It was uncanny how your heart soared hours before he came home with good news about a promotion, or the unexplainable sense of pride you had been carrying all day — only to discover it was coming from San, who had helped a kitten down from a tree. You’d never forget the day the bitter taste of dandelion greens spread across your tongue, only to find San lying in bed, caving under the weight of his blue emotions. The best part of the connection, though, would be the buckets of love pouring into your bucket as he hugged, kissed and worshipped you. However, there was one emotion you hadn’t received any signs of.

Your fingers found purchase on the hem of his shirt that rode up his stomach and revealed a sliver of the toned skin beneath. “I don’t feel… your anger.”

San flashed you a blinding smile and spurts of daffodils curved around your heart. “That’s because nothing makes me angry, love.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

A beat passed and you sighed, “I’m always angry.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re angry, just… frustrated.”

“It’s practically the same thing,” you argued and continued fiddling with his shirt. He captured your hands in his and halted your anxious picking.

“It isn’t, not by definition. We feel frustrated when we are unable to progress, while anger is the response to something we perceive as wrong or harmful… You’re not angry, my love, you’re frustrated and probably overworked too.”

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you mulled over his words. It made sense, and you didn’t need to voice the comfort it brought you; he felt it. The unruly waves quieted to a steady push-and-pull, letting you breathe as the knot of emotions slowly untangled to nothing.

“You know, I’m supposed to be the older one out of the two of us.”

A hearty laugh filled the previously gloomy room, immediately illuminating the four cold walls, and San caught your waist again as he shifted, the echoes of his laughter filling the space.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. It'd be my honor to make you feel like a teenage girl again.”

That he did. It was almost embarrassing how his sweet gestures had you leaping face first into your pillows and rapidly firing your feet against the comforter. One would believe you were closer to being fifteen than thirty, and while you had a mild crisis, you were still grateful San brought that youthfulness out of you again.

“Was it a rough day?”

The sentimental moment burst like a fragile soap bubble at the slightest of touches. You took a breath of air and San slid his hand further up your wrists, placing his thumbs in the center of your palms while the remainder of his fingers wrapped around the back of your hand. It was grounding and kept you from re-visiting the gut wrenching thoughts that plagued your mind while tending to the young patient.

“A young guy was rushed to the ER… He got into a motorcycle accident and flew maybe a good ten meters from the crash place, and totally fucked up his leg. It was by sheer luck he didn’t suffer head injuries, let alone injuries to the rest of his body.”

You still saw the image of his bloodied body and torn clothes, a sight that would leave you with nightmares for days.

“He was in really critical condition, San. We couldn’t leave him alone for even one second. I’m talking about twenty four-hour care… He’s going into surgery tomorrow. He’ll survive, but it’s just... He reminded me of you. How you’re literally in danger every time you go to work and– and how easily I could lose– lose– lose–”

The words caught in your throat as your voice grew higher in pitch. San gave your hands another squeeze and pulled you back down onto him. You wasted no time burying your face in his neck and his arms automatically wrapped around you — one finding purchase at the back of your head while the other securely encircled your back.

“I don’t want to lose you, San.”

“You won’t lose me, love.”

“You don’t know that!”

“What I know is that I always do my best to come back to you in one piece. To my home, no?” The hand that had been placed against your head wrapped around the back of your neck and gently massaged it.

Like a flower opening up to catch the first few sun rays of the day, you put your heart out and allowed San a glimpse of what was inside.

“It just scared me,” you said between shuddering breaths. “Anything could happen, San, and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you–”

“Honey.” His voice wasn’t stern, but it held a certain finality to it. As gentle as a newborn kitten, he carefully eased you back, pulling you away from where your face had been pressed against his neck. With a soft motion, he tilted your head slightly, getting a better look at your face.“Thinking of the what ifs isn’t good for anyone.”

You wanted to reply with an ‘I know’, but you knew better than to lie to him.

He wiped a stray tear off your cheek and you nuzzled against his palm. “Look, I love that you think you need me, but it’s not true. We managed more than fine on our own and just because we’ve found each other doesn’t mean we can’t function alone anymore… I love that you feel comfortable enough to lean on me, darling, but at the end of the day, you’re strong because of who you are and not because I’m here.

“And if, but just if, anything were to happen to me, I need you to know that you aren’t alone. You’d still have Haneul there. My parents. Your parents. Nurse Kim and Nurse Hwang too. That’s eight more people than me.”

Your hand enveloped his cradling your cheek. “I don’t want to think of a life without you in it.”

“Good because you’re stuck with me forever and ever and ever and ever!”

A wet giggle sounded through the living room and San’s rough chuckle blended perfectly with your sweet hiccups. Overwhelmed by the affection filling your humble abode, successfully warming every corner of the apartment, you intertwined your fingers behind San’s neck and determinedly pulled him into a heart-searing kiss. Your mouths molded together in a perfect fit, much like the famous art piece by Auguste Rodin. The sculpture representing a pair of lovers destined to remain together forever, until parted by death.

San breathed life into you with simple gestures that could restore chivalry. His eyes finding yours in a crowded room, silently checking up on you as you were both tugged in opposite directions by your mutual friends. Walking the empty streets after a successful date night, the gentle brush of his fingers skimming over yours before slipping between the gaps and pulling your hand into the pocket of his coat with the excuse of keeping you warm. Slothing his front to your back in the solitude of your home as you’d be too busy for a long cuddle session on the couch. Not to mention the kisses spread throughout the day—morning, noon, and night. He’d see you off with a peck and welcome you with the same sentiment, wishing you a good night or day before taking off.

The memories you collected during your still-new relationship pushed you forward, giving you hope and belief that you were going to get through this. San’s promise of never leaving — intentionally or unintentionally — comforted you and the dreadful thoughts hadn't returned, and hopefully, they wouldn’t ever. But if they ever did reoccur, you knew San would be there to chase them away.

#omg omg omg i love medical aus and firefighter!san is such a delicious concept to add to the mix #i've been in a reader slump for so long but seeing the prompt i just knew i had to read this #RAHHH i know he's injured but that moment he gets wheeled in and y/n is admiring his features RAHHH 👹👹👹#aww the bittersweet emotions at having found your soulmate but having found him in such an injured state :((#“are you already affected by him”#gurl just look at him The Choi San oFC #AWW STOP THAT'S SO CUTE the dimples of the choi siblings :'))) that's fkjashgkafh my heartue #“i don't need rest because you are here” OKAYYYYY FIREFIGHTER SAN YOU GOT THE RIZZ GAME #the first night together just talking 🥹🫶 they're my everything #omg the kiss and feeling like your love and happiness could explode with colourful confetti and trying to reclaim the lost oxygen #san ready and waiting for you to come home with comfort personified is so <3333 #and bECAUSE HE JUST FELT YOU AWWWW IM SO SADD #okay y/n's worries are so real bc san puts himself in danger every day and you really never know if one day will be his last OOFFT #this was such a cute fic :'))#ateez fics #san x reader #san fluff

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lorensonebraincell · 2 months ago

Text

it's finally here. five months after i started writing this fic, doctors is finally finished. this is the longest fic i have ever written (my clown ass really thought that this would actually be on the shorter side 🤡) and it was also one of the hardest to write by far

the hardest part was definitely trying to do the raw emotions ✨justice✨ those who have read my other fics will know how much emphasis i put into making the feelings of the characters the reader's own and i REALLY wanted that for this fic bc it's so angst-heavy

that being said, i wrote 40k worth of plot just to include The Mingi Scene™ iykyk and i think he deserves a shoutout for the role he plays in the fic this time 🫶 doctors is very different to the vibes of surfers and hockey, and this one definitely delves deeper into mc's experiences more than anything, but i still hope you all enjoy the fic (hopefully y'all sob 🤩)

and if it stops snowing? then count the stars in the sky

genre: poly doctors!ateez x doctor fem!reader, hospital romance, established relationship, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 39.7k

c/w: slow burn in reverse, work/life burnout, heavy medical themes (death, cancer) and mentions of medical procedures (medication, needles, chemotherapy, surgery), grief and crying, brief mentions of self-harm (hitting, pinching), mental breakdowns, workplace misogyny and nepotism, profanity, kissing, non-sexual nudity, m x m interactions

synopsis: after transferring during the last year of your residency program, you work alongside your eight boyfriends at kq hospital. it becomes harder to keep your relationship the same as it used to be as you all navigate the respective challenges of being doctors and nurses. you come to experience love and loss in both warmth and coldness, but only one of them will keep your relationship alive.

a/n: please read the tags carefully as this is probably my heaviest fic in terms of the themes and struggles being explored. mandatory shoutout @sorryimananti-romantic for putting up with my snail-pace writing speed the last five months :)

nobody talks about how ironic it feels to work in the hospital during the holidays, particularly christmas.

in any other establishment that is open, be it a restaurant, cafe, retail store or convenience mart, employees are greeted kindly with festive cheer–warm wishes and sincere smiles from one stranger to another. but nobody walks into the hospital on christmas with laughter and gratitude for the assistance of the doctors and nurses, because nobody wants to be at the hospital.

nobody plans to spend the day there, either.

where white embodies the nature of christmas itself–joy, celebration, festivity, snow–it changes the moment you step through the sliding glass doors of the hospital’s entrance. white is the sterile and detached appearance of the tiled floors and coated walls. it is the bedsheets and linen of the ward beds which fall short of mimicking home. it is the authoritative coats of the doctors who are the arbiters between life and death; the very same coat that jongho currently wears over his scrubs.

you are reminded of this dystopian juxtaposition as you and five others gather around your phone from the brightness of the cosy living room in your shared apartment, talking to jongho over facetime while he hides in a storage room for five minutes of respite.

in the background of your video, the fairy lights blink rhythmically on the christmas tree and reflect off the glossy wrappers of the presents placed underneath its bottom branches. behind jongho, there are shelves of medication that you can recognise as the anaesthetics and anticoagulants solely from the colours of their labels, even in the hazy darkness of the storage room.

“you won’t fucking believe the number of grannies i’ve had to explain to today that no, they cannot go home for christmas because they literally just came out of open-heart surgery ten hours ago,” jongho rubs his temples.

yeosang laughs quietly from beside you, amusement poorly concealed behind his hands. you fondly admonish him with a light slap to his thigh but cannot deny the smile that tugs at your lips too.

rushing in for damage control, seonghwa asks, “how’s mingi?”

“tired as fuuuck,” jongho snickers whilst dragging out his words smugly, as if his own eye bags do not reach the middle of his cheeks. the way he lacks the self-control to police his language is also evidence of his utter exhaustion. “last i heard, he was dealing with a couple who had gotten a bauble ornament stuck up the dude’s ass because they wanted to try something ‘festive’ or some shit like that.”

the stories you hear from the emergency department never fail to amaze you with what the human mind can think of doing. it is natural selection at its finest–exhibit a, b, all the way to fucking z. wooyoung gets an absolute kick out of it every single time though, so there is that.

“plain stupidity,” hongjoong rolls his eyes in exasperation. “people need to stop adding to our caseload.”

you chuckle with agreement. “what about yunho? did you get to see him?”

“he’s in surgery,” jongho shakes his head. “not sure what for, but i haven’t heard from him all day so it must be a pretty complicated one.”

the conversation is cut short when his pager goes off. jongho curses, downing the last of his coffee in one large gulp and grimacing from the stale and grainy taste. he crumples the empty paper cup before he apologises, “i have to go. sorry we couldn’t spend christmas together.”

from over the phone, you and your boys refute him with comforting utterances of “don’t be”s, followed by warm exchanges of “merry christmas”s.

“i love you all,” jongho murmurs shyly, the end of a call the only time other than whispered confessions in the safety of a bed where he is comfortable enough to express himself so intimately.

you respond giddily, “love you too,” at the same time your other boyfriends also return the same spoken sentiments. then the youngest ends the call, rushing to attend to an abnormal ECG reading for a patient.

san lets out a sad little sigh as the screen of your phone turns off. his fingers continue to absentmindedly tousle the back of yours and yeosang’s heads whilst wondering, “when will we get to celebrate christmas together? i don’t think all nine of us have ever been free on the same day since we started dating.”

“most of you finish your residency in just over a year, and jongho in two,” seonghwa fondly pinches san’s cheeks, a bittersweet smile adorning his own face, “so maybe the year after that?”

piping up from your other side, wooyoung suggests to the oldest, “or, hear me out–you and hongjoong work while the rest of us stay at home.”

“and do what,” hongjoong narrows his eyes.

“look pretty,” you say in unison with wooyoung, twin grins of mischief flashing at the only registered doctor and clinical nurse specialist in your relationship.

seonghwa laughs endearingly as hongjoong pretends he is not. the rounds of your cheeks settle with warmth when seonghwa leans down to place a sweet kiss against the corner of your mouth in between a teasing, “i wouldn’t mind that.”

it draws out a girlish giggle from you, forever unable to curb the feeling of butterflies in your stomach whenever you are with your boys, even more so with the intoxication of christmas itself–the season of love. wooyoung tilts his cheek out expectantly for his own kiss at the same time hongjoong scruffs the oldest by the neck with a playful chide, “they’re going to actually drop out from the residency program at this rate, hwa.”

but hongjoong is smitten, as you all are for one another, and contrary to his words there is adoration dripping from his gaze…only for it to immediately disappear when wooyoung punches his forearm.

“kiss me, peasant!” wooyoung demands.

“that’s it,” hongjoong snaps and the younger screeches as his neck becomes wrapped in a headlock. in retaliation, wooyoung bites the skin that is within reach, setting off a high-pitched yelp.

yeosang stands up so you take it as your cue to do the same, both of you tucking your chairs under the dining table as san and seonghwa step back from the commotion. you grab your phone then walk away with the three of them to the continued sound of petty slaps and childish bickering.

just another normal day.

“should we sleep in the main bedroom tonight?”

at your suggestion, san wraps his arms around you from behind. his voice rumbles with enthusiasm that you can feel against your back and you sink into his embrace as he agrees, “good idea, love.”

the main bedroom is quite literally a bed room. it consists of numerous platform beds pushed together to make–for lack of better description–an XXXXXXXXL bed. there is nothing else in the room, any and all visible space taken up by the beds as it is the only way to create a surface size comfortable for all nine of you to sleep together.

there are only double or twin beds in the remaining normal bedrooms because frankly, you all need quality sleep for your jobs. between all of your on-call shifts, leaving the house and arriving home at random hours of the day, it is just easier to sleep separately on most nights. plus, despite the fact that you are all earning more than the average salary already, there is still a fuckload of student debt to pay off and mattresses are fucking expensive. hence, you make do with the one room where you splurged your money.

“i’ll let the others know,” yeosang states. he pulls out his phone to send a text to the group chat. mingi and jongho were unlucky enough to have drawn the short end of the stick with a 24-hour shift, and yunho had apparently been placed on surgery. so although it is not the ideal nine of you, you have long learnt to accept that there will almost always be at least two absent at any one time.

seonghwa has already made himself comfortable in the centre of the mattresses when you walk into the bedroom. he lifts the edge of the blanket, arms beckoning for you to cuddle him. you toe off your slippers and crawl into his arms, slotting yourself perfectly against his chest as he tucks you under his chin and covers you with the blanket that is warm from his body heat.

the bed dips again from the weight of somebody else slipping in behind you. he curls around you, a sturdy arm gently cradling your waist with a comforting weight. you can immediately tell that it is san simply from the way his body feels against yours–you would be able to tell any of them apart simply from the way they held you, even if you were to lose your sense of sight.

slowly tracing a finger along the prominent veins on san’s forearm, the bed suddenly rocks with a gleeful shout before the three of you are crushed under an energetic mass. “wooyoung!” you gasp between exasperated fondness and he giggles whilst squirming to make himself space within the cuddle pile.

san moves over so the younger can slot in beside you whilst extending an arm out to his side. it wraps around yeosang to tuck him into the group, and hongjoong settles in last behind seonghwa on the outside edge. there is a bit of further wriggling as you all adjust yourselves comfortably, but eventually your arms and legs twist together snugly. with seonghwa’s fingers languidly combing through your hair, fingertips grazing your scalp with each repetitive motion, you drift off to the boys’ low whispers and enter a dreamy haze of cackling fire and fluttering snow.

it is well into the early hours of the next morning when one of the trio comes home. the soft click of the front door wakes you up, your body used to sleeping lightly from years of on-call shifts. your ears slowly drag you back into the realms of consciousness as you listen.

there is a dull thud and a muffled “ow” that tells you it is yunho, the only one who has somehow made it a habit of his to bump his head on the cabinet every time he bends down to put his sneakers away. as his soft footsteps pad down the hallway, you track his path mentally in your head; to the open dining room to place his messenger bag down on one of the chairs, to the bathroom to wash his face and his hands, then finally to the main bedroom.

to see his lovers.

yunho nudges the door open with bated breath in hopes that he does not wake anybody up. a smile immediately spreads across his face, unable to contain his fondness at the sight that greets him as his eyes adjust to the darkness. within the hands of slumber, you and the boys have slowly spread yourselves out across the mattresses. still, you somehow manage to find each other through the tangle of blankets–seonghwa’s fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist; the tip of wooyoung’s nose nudging your forearm–unwilling to completely separate even in your unconsciousness.

your body dips with the mattress under yunho’s weight when he carefully inches towards you. his sturdy arms hold his frame over your smaller one and you pretend to be asleep just to feel the protective tenderness with which he dips his head slowly to press the softest of kisses against your temple. his warm lips worship your skin with the reverence a butterfly would land upon the prettiest of flowers.

in the magical remnants of an enchanted pre-dawn, yunho whispers bittersweetly, “sorry i’m late, y/n. merry christmas.” then he tucks the blanket more snugly around you, cocooning you in both warmth and love before he pushes himself back off the bed to leave.

as much as he wants to hold you and his boys, yunho has not yet showered. he is exhausted to his very core, unable to bring himself to the arduous task of showering when he can barely keep his eyes open. so he retires himself to one of the other bedrooms instead even though it is the last thing any of you want.

but all of you are used to it. none of you are strangers to coming home in the ghostly hours of night, fighting off debilitating weariness long enough only to check on the others briefly before falling against a mattress away from the clean warmth of somebody's arms.

it is the career and life that you have all chosen. it is just another normal day.

and it is this exact self-sacrificial nature within the medical field that is easily forgotten and overlooked. you and your boys sacrifice your holidays with loved ones to ensure other people get to go back to their loved ones for the holidays. it comes with the price of time, freedom and memories.

but what can also happen is that sometimes…you end up sacrificing the relationships themselves.

for every rapid shuffle you make throughout the house, gathering your things to haphazardly shove into your backpack, mingi trails behind you easily with languid strides of his own.

“i can drive,” you reason half-heartedly as you focus on the stubborn front zipper. “you can be my passenger princess.”

his scandalised look that you would even suggest a thing goes unnoticed even as he protests, “or you be my passenger princess.”

“okay, and how will i get home? your shift doesn’t even end at the same time as mine.” you throw the door of the fridge open to grab your packed lunch, cramming it into the large compartment of your bag.

“yun’s shift does, so he can give you a ride home unless he gets called in for surgery again.”

“and if he does?”

mingi looks at the whiteboard calendar that is mounted on the wall beside him, squinting at the mass of colour-coded letters that are scribbled into the box marking today’s date. “then wait for hwa. his shift ends at five.”

“no,” you roll your eyes good-naturedly, “you know how often he picks up extra hours because he can’t bear to leave his PICU babies. i’ll just take the bus home.”

“no,” mingi mimics you as he holds out your coat for you to shrug on, “the correct answer is to then wait for hongjoong or call one of us. between the eight of your boyfriends, there’ll always be someone who is just ending their shift or is free to pick you up.”

you look up from your shoes to level him with a blank stare, “you know that isn’t feasible every single day, right?” despite your words, you do nothing to stop him from stealing your car keys out of your pocket.

mingi’s doggedness–all of their doggedness–in ensuring one of them will always be accompanying you to and from work is endearing, but the truth is that it is not feasible. there is a reason why you had been commuting by yourself the last three years of your residency, and along with the fact that the nine of you have different shifts that change each week, the logistics of it all will drive you insane, if not them.

“that’s besides the point. it’s your first day of work today so i’m doing my baby a favour,” mingi coos teasingly, pinching your cheeks because he knows it gets a rise out of you.

you swat his hands away with a grunt, jabbing his side for good measure in retaliation to his smug grin. “you talk as if we aren’t both fourth-year residents. and it’s not a favour if you have to go there anyway since, you know, we work at the same hospital.”

“it’s your first day at this hospital, so technically you’re still fresh meat,” mingi argues as he pulls the front door open. while you lock it behind you–everybody else already at the hospital–he continues, “plus, my shift doesn’t start until tonight so i’m sacrificing my sleep for you.”

you give him a little curtsy with exaggerated gratitude then hurry after him when he swivels on his heel, head held high like a noble king with you as his court lady. except, the roles reverse the moment you reach the car and he opens the passenger door for you with a bow.

“m’lady,” he beckons inside.

you snort but settle yourself into the seat, patiently waiting for mingi to get in from the other side of the car. as he starts the fifteen-minute drive to the hospital, you suddenly look at him with suspicious clarity, head now clearing enough to wonder why the most rational of your boyfriends is being irrational.

“you’re trying to get on my good side for something, aren’t you? did you spill coffee on seonghwa’s scrubs again?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“what?” mingi’s head whips towards you before he looks back at the road, chuckling nervously. “no? of course not. why would you think that?”

at your lack of response, he crumbles with a confession. “it was hongjoong’s idea! he said i should drop you off so i can size up whoever might try and chat you up on your first day.”

“god, you’re all hopeless,” you burst out into laughter.

prior to today, you and the boys had discussed how public you were all going to be at the hospital about your relationship. it had been decided that you would not deny it if questions arose, but at the same time, you were not going to go out of your way to make your relationship with one another general knowledge.

not everybody is going to be accepting of your polyamorous dynamic and neither do you need people questioning whether you successfully transferred into the residency program at this hospital through…favours. because despite the fact that it is the twenty-first century, it remains the harsh reality that the doctoral field is still predominantly male-oriented, with females automatically assumed to be the nurses–lesser in hierarchy, knowledge and skill.

a rumour as such might not affect the boys but it would be enough to tarnish your career.

as mingi pulls into the underground parking lot for employees, you rest a hand on his forearm to stop him from turning off the ignition. “mingi, i’ll be fine,” you reassure. “go home and get some sleep.”

“but hongjoong–”

“–will just have to stop being a big baby. we’re in our mid-twenties,” you chuckle, “not fresh eighteen-year-olds discovering the opposite gender for the first time. everyone’s going to be too busy on their first day to care about flirting.”

you lean over the console of the car and mingi relaxes easily under your hand that caresses his jawline. he melts once you press a soft kiss against his cheek, conceding, “alright.”

“i’ll see you at home before your shift.”

he nods and watches as you get out of the car. from out of the open window, he gives you a cute little wave, waiting for you to walk through the sliding doors before he leaves. you walk to the elevator doors to press the up arrow, fidgeting with your scrubs and hair with nervous restlessness until the sounding of a soft ding followed by the low groan of parting doors. you take a deep breath, then you walk in.

into kq hospital.

boasting over one hundred different core and specialised departments and home to some of the few fields in advanced medicine, kq hospital is the largest and most renowned hospital in seoul. your years of clinical experience in other hospitals and past visits to your boys during their shifts provide you with a sense of familiarity with the place, but it is still easy to feel overwhelmed by its formidable size and bustling urgency.

seeing the fresh interns and second-year residents gathered in the auditorium as you join them for the morning orientation reminds you of your own four years ago. never did you think you would have to undergo orientation again during your residency, yet here you are, having transferred to kq hospital in your final year for the clinical exposure and opportunities in career advancement that it has to offer.

you sit towards the back of the auditorium, a few seats away from a girl who has the nerves of an intern. you give her a polite smile then face the front, not exactly ready to make small talk unless you have to. yunho always jokes that as an introvert you really picked the wrong job–you have no defence as you pull out your phone and pretend to be occupied.

somebody slides into the seat next to yours a few minutes later. however, your saving grace comes in the form of several people walking across the front of the stage, so you do not have to do much more than dip your head in courteous greeting before everybody settles into silence.

a woman in thin-rimmed glasses steps up to the podium. “welcome, interns and residents. my name is doctor heo and i’m the program director of the paediatric residency program here at kq hospital.”

the hours of the morning quickly blur together into a multitude of faces, names and information. you and a few of the other senior residents had only been required to attend half of the general welcome talk, your orientation much faster and tailored to your pre-existing experience. by the time you have gone through the policies, patient populations and workflows of the paediatric department, your head is reeling to digest it all.

only at twelve do you converge with the interns again, this time at the cafeteria. there is a generous spread of catering of finger food and drinks before the joint lunch you will have with the other faculty members from your department.

“this will be a good opportunity for all of you to meet the residents, doctors, nurses and department heads. get to know your colleagues because they will be the ones you are learning from,” dr. heo advises.

your ears perk up, wondering whether you will be able to see some of your boyfriends. san is already a fourth-year resident in the paediatric department, wooyoung one of the nurses, and even though seonghwa works mainly in the paediatric ICU, his position as a clinical nurse specialist likely makes him important enough to at least show his face.

everybody starts to make their way over to the tables to fill their plates as they mingle and chat amongst one another. you have always had a sensitive stomach that often disagrees with food–the very reason why wooyoung makes your lunch most days, which currently still sits inside your bag–but you do not want to appear ungrateful or picky. so you head to the drinks to at least keep your hands filled.

just as you grab a small glass of orange juice, a voice startles you. “it’s you! hi.”

you turn to find a man maybe a few years younger than you with a bright smile on his face. “hi?” you hesitantly answer, unsure why he is acting so familiar with you.

he frowns slightly, “you don’t remember me?”

you could honestly give less than a flying fuck who he is, but you suppose the whole point of this break is to give those fucks, so you apologise instead, “sorry, i’m not great with faces.”

“i sat next to you during orientation this morning,” he laughs like you have just cracked the funniest joke. he extends his hand out for a handshake, “i’m doctor baek, but you can call me cheolmin.”

“nice to meet you, doctor baek,” you return the handshake, setting your boundaries with your response. “doctor l/n.”

he quirks a brow amusedly. unprompted, he reveals, “my sister’s boyfriend’s aunt’s friend knows the director of this hospital,” as if he thinks you would be impressed. you are willing to bet the seventy-two dollars in your savings account that the director of the hospital does not have a clue who this dr. baek is.

as you struggle to come up with a professional response that is not a sarcastic ‘cool’, you suddenly make eye contact with somebody from over his shoulder. they are looking at you with nonchalant amusement, lips tugged up smugly and their hands in the pockets of their coat.

you hurry to wrap up the conversation and make a move to step around dr. baek. “that’s great, nice to meet you. i’m going to go and introduce myself to–”

“are you doing anything after work today?” he cuts you off, stepping slightly in front of you. “it would be nice for us to get to know each other better, considering we’ll be colleagues from now on.”

“uh…” you trail off, distracted when you make eye contact again with the person and they cock their eyebrow, asking for your permission to play knight. you give the subtlest of nods before dr. baek adjusts himself into your line of vision.

“doctor l/n, don’t play hard to g–”

“y/n,” the dependable voice of hongjoong interrupts dr. baek. your expression relaxes into a smile as your boyfriend sidles up to you, presence steadfast and unwavering. “i didn’t catch you this morning–how are you getting home?”

dr. baek’s eyes narrow even further at the implication of hongjoong’s question than when he realises you two are on first-name basis.

“mingi dropped me off so i can’t drive,” you shrug.

“i finish at five-thirty. i’ll take you home,” hongjoong says, absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair out of your eyes. “make sure to put on your jacket while you wait for me. it’s meant to snow later so it’ll be cold.”

you laugh softly at his attentiveness, “okay, hongjoong.”

unable to watch any longer, dr. baek pivots on his heel and stalks away. your boyfriend cannot resist pulling you closer by the sleeve of your scrubs as he haughtily huffs, “i knew people would hit on you.”

“is that why you told mingi to take me to work today?” you tease. hongjoong is also from the neurology department–definitely not meant to be here right now–but you will save that ammunition for another time.

“oh, look,” hongjoong pretends not to hear you as he ushers you away from the tables. “san and wooyoung are over there. let’s go and talk to people who actually matter.”

the laugh you let out this time is unrestrained, letting yourself be led through the interspersed groups of people towards your other boyfriends–the only people who actually matter. san and wooyoung’s faces break out into the most tender of smiles the moment they lay their eyes upon you and hongjoong, and the remaining nerves and tension in your body completely melt away when you feel their subtle embraces around you.

it may be winter and the road ahead to acclimatise with your new job may be demanding, but you know that you will be shielded from the cold of the world by the warmth that your boys will always bring to you.

“patient history and current status?”

selecting the seventh floor, you press the close button to the elevator doors once your team of four have settled inside. you turn back slightly to look at your interns in wait for a response to your question.

dr. son glances at dr. yang before answering, “the patient is kim seolhee, currently six years and three months old. she was initially diagnosed with T-cell acute lymphoblastic leukaemia at two years, eight months. she was admitted into hospital one month ago due to a relapse and is currently undergoing re-induction therapy. she received a chemotherapy dose this morning, so we are monitoring for any potential side effects from the treatment.”

“and how is she responding to the treatment?” you probe.

“slow response–the leukaemia cells are not clearing as expected so second-line chemotherapy is likely to be recommended.”

you nod at the information as the elevator doors open to the paediatric oncology ward. walking out, you ask, “why is the patient not responding to first-line treatment?”

the following silence permeates with flusteredness that shows neither intern has considered this question. “doctor lee?” you cue instead.

the junior resident takes over with ease. “seolhee’s initial treatment when she was first diagnosed required aggressive chemotherapy due to resistant leukaemia. treatment lasted for two and a half years and she achieved remission at five years, four months. however, she relapsed one month ago due to minimal residual disease in the bone marrow.

“from her history, we know that her leukaemia was resistant to initial treatment and there is the persistence of residual cancer cells at the time of relapse. plus, her diagnosis is T-cell, not B-cell, which tends to present with greater quantities of leukaemia cells and thus requires more intensive therapy. all of these risk factors combined makes it difficult for remission to be achieved through first-line re-induction therapy.”

“well done, doctor lee,” you acknowledge as he beams, “all of that and the fact that her relapse is early–merely nine months after remission–correlates to a higher likelihood of treatment resistance.” you address your interns, “it is easy to focus on the patient’s immediate presentation, but it is just as important–if not more–to look at it in the context of their prior admissions and treatment responses. that was a good attempt though, doctor yang.” reaching the door to the room you are about to enter, you quickly wrap up the conversation and head in.

seolhee looks at you curiously, a new face being one of the only interesting things that change up her repetitive days in the hospital. her sickly pallor and sunken cheeks are a morbid juxtaposition against her rounded eyes and braided pigtails. as you walk closer, you can see that her hair has been plaited loosely with care so as not to strain her already-thinning hair.

you lower yourself to the side of her bed with a bright smile as you compliment, “i love your hair! who did it for you?”

immediately, she beams, any prior apprehension clearing as she tells you, “my favourite nurse! he's been braiding my hair for years!”

“has he now?” you gaze at her fondly as she happily shows you the ribbons tied to the ends too.

“are you talking about me?”

seolhee’s eyes instantly light up in response to the voice that enters the room. she exclaims, “nurse hwa!”

“hello, my snowflake.”

you turn just in time to see seonghwa walking in with endearment enveloping his entire face. you let out a small chuckle, your own eyes melting with honey at the sight of him. of course he would be the favourite nurse.

when seolhee questions why he is making his rounds earlier than usual, he leans in conspiratorially, yet in a whisper loud enough for you to hear, “a little birdie told me that your new doctor is very pretty, so i had to come see for myself.”

he winks at you and you shake your head with an exasperated smile. so much for keeping lowkey and professional. clearing your throat, you play along, “ah, are you the favourite nurse who braided her hair, nurse hwa?” you find it absolutely hilarious that six-year-olds are using the same pet name that you use for your boyfriend.

seonghwa nods, “my girlfriend taught me.”

“she must be quite the amazing girlfriend, then,” you joke.

“she is,” he smiles, gazing softly at you.

for a six-year-old, seolhee is frighteningly perceptive as she looks back and forth between the two of you before blurting out, “is she the pretty girlfriend you always talk about?”

you fluster with a bright blush that you try to conceal behind a cough, only to make eye contact with dr. son and dr. lee giving you the most delightful shit-eating grins on their faces from beside you. seonghwa simply laughs, brightly and joyfully like the festive chime of bells. his affirmative nod in response is just as childishly proud as the one adorning seolhee’s face at having guessed correctly. she decides right there and then that you are her favourite doctor, because you are pretty.

“let me give you something,” she beckons with a small wave, little fingers calling for you to look closely.

seolhee pulls a little booklet out of the bedside table’s top drawer. the cover and edges are well-loved and from the way the top of the little booklet is nearly falling apart, you can tell that she has used it often. she flicks through the empty pages one by one until she finds what she is looking for. fiddling for a few more seconds, she holds out her hand to present you with–

“a sticker?” you ask.

“for doing a good job,” she giggles.

you take the circular sticker from her extended fingers. when you look down, you realise it is a little snowflake with a smiley face on it. the corners of your own mouth tug upwards involuntarily and your cheeks round out until they start to feel sore. never did you think a mere sticker would bring you such glee as an adult, but you are going to wear it proudly.

you tug the breast pocket of your scrubs outwards so that you can stick it onto your name badge, right next to the small twinkling star that is the signature additional design on all of the paediatric departments’ name badges. at your response, seolhee beams with pride.

“where’s mine?” seonghwa childishly quips.

“you haven’t done anything yet,” seolhee wags her little finger at him as he swallows the urge to retort that neither have you. “have you drawn my blood yet? inserted an eye-vee line or a…pick line?”

“no,” he chortles in defeat, “no IV or PICC lines today. maybe a blood test later.”

“so no sticker for you,” she reprimands him rightfully.

the conversation draws a laugh out of you, yet leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. a child like seolhee should be talking about the colour of her doll’s dress and the name of her plush teddy, not medical procedures that draw her line between life and death.

seonghwa eyes your sticker mischievously. “i might have to steal her sticker then.”

seolhee glares at him like a ferocious kitten, easily deciding that you are now her favourite out of all the doctors and nurses. “don’t you dare,” she pouts before turning to you with full solemnity and seriousness to pledge, “if he steals it, come back and i’ll give you another one.”

you send him a smug wink and seonghwa finally concedes, arms raised in mock surrender. “i’ll go back to my morning rounds then. see you later, snowflake,” he gives her a wave before bidding you goodbye with playful professionalism, “see you later, doctor l/n.”

on his way out, seonghwa exchanges brief but warm pleasantries with a middle-aged woman who is simultaneously entering the room. it is easy to presume that she is seolhee’s visitor, considering she is not wearing scrubs. just as you are about to introduce yourself, the woman's eyes skim right past yours to land on the taller of the interns behind you.

"hi, you must be seolhee's new doctor," she greets. "i'm her mother."

dr. yang shifts uncomfortably on his feet and glances at you, unsure how to correct the older woman that whilst he is a doctor, he is not the most senior one. with grace, you extend a warm hand out with an even warmer smile.

"lovely to meet you, mrs kim. i'm doctor l/n, and this is my intern, doctor yang," you introduce, before gesturing behind to your left. "this is my other intern, doctor son, and this is doctor lee, my second-year resident."

seolhee's mother rushes to shake your hand as she trails off, "sorry, i assumed he was the doctor because..."

"i know, i get that often. don't worry about it," you pat her hand placatingly.

she responds, "well, it's going to be nice having a female face around."

from the flush on her face and the overcompensatory laugh that leaves her lips, you know she does not mean it as much as she is trying to cover up her embarrassment. the woman before you is not the first person to have dismissed you as a nurse or an intern solely based on your gender, and she will definitely not be the last. so you pretend not to notice, redirecting with a laugh of your own and the question, “how has seolhee been feeling since her dose this morning?”

mrs kim easily jumps on the change in conversation and the attention shifts to the little girl in bed. you listen intently to any side effects of concern, long having learnt to ignore the layered feelings of fatigue, frustration and disappointment in your chest whenever somebody undermines your capabilities, even if it is never ill-intentioned.

because as with any job, there are sacrifices to be made, and putting other people’s comfort before your own is just one of the many.

you do not want to jinx it, but you think that you may not mind night shifts after all.

“what are you thinking about?”

yeosang fills your entire vision, his brown orbs blinking at you curiously with a mellow dusting of blossom pink speckled across his cheeks from your close proximity. you have often been pulled away into a hidden corner or spare room somewhere within the labyrinth of the hospital by one of your boyfriends for a few minutes of company, but this is the first time yeosang has initiated it. his shy nature is endearing though, and it is a much-needed break during your second consecutive night shift.

you tease, "it's a secret," before pressing an innocent kiss against the corner of his lips right where it quirks up bashfully whenever he is around you. yeosang carefully rests his hands on the dips of your hips and brings you in a little closer towards him as you ask, "what about you? what's on your mind?"

“wondering how long we can stay in this storage room for before one of us gets paged.”

his answer stuns you for a second but then you both break out into giggles at the absurdity of his answer. “jongho has rubbed off on you too much," you adoringly flick the bottom of his chin with the tip of your finger. not many people know, but yeosang is just as bad of an influence as all your other boyfriends when he wants to be.

"we could try," he suggests with a grin. "none of my team was rostered on for a night shift with me."

your laugh easily fills the small space, "neither was my team."

“so nobody would come looking for us, unless–”

a discrete tap sounds against the door from right next to where you and yeosang are pressed up against one another. you both fall silent and motionless, pupils wide and breaths held, hoping you have either misheard or whoever is outside will leave soon. but then you hear another tap and it does not stop. the tapping is incessant, obviously trying to gain the attention of you two. yeosang ducks down as you raise the blinds of the small window on the door and you peer out to find–

–fucking wooyoung squashed right up against the glass pane with a cheshire grin. you finish yeosang’s sentence for him, “unless one of our boyfriends do.”

wooyoung perks up immediately at the word 'boyfriends' as if that is his cue. "hi," he announces, "are you guys making out? i heard yeosang."

you sputter while yeosang pops up beside you with a horrified expression at the younger’s uncouth question. said person beams cheekily, “can i join?”

wooyoung’s breath fogs up the glass with every word he says but he is unfazed. your boyfriend simply rubs the glass with the sleeve of his coat, presses his face up against the window again and continues to look at you both with a dazzling, expectant smile. when neither of you respond, he winks for good measure.

wooyoung flinches and shrieks when you tap the glass right between his eyes. he jerks back enough for you to push the door open and step out through the gap with mirth bubbling in your chest. you playfully drag your fingers across his chest, then tease with faux coyness, “break time is over, sorry.”

the indignant whine you receive in response is more than enough for the amusement to spill out of your chest as you walk away. you will make it up to him with triple the amount of kisses once both of you are home. for now, you walk back to your department, pleased that yeosang’s oncology ward is not far from yours.

even during the late hours of a night shift, the hospital is never completely quiet. the rhythmic sounds of beeping machines interspersed by footsteps and closing doors follow you down the corridors of the paediatric ward. what truly sobers you out of the lighthearted moment you just had, though, are the occasional whimpers; of discomfort, of pain, of nightmares.

you enter seolhee’s room alone–your interns and junior resident scheduled only for the day shift–to find the little girl also by herself. her parents must have decided to go home, having already spent countless consecutive nights by her side since she commenced second-line chemotherapy last week.

seolhee received a dose of nelarabine just this morning so you need to keep a close eye on her. a quick flick through the chart on her rolling cart shows that the nurse on night shift had taken her vitals just two hours ago with no abnormalities.

“doctor snowflake?”

you startle at the quiet murmur. turning to look at the bed, seolhee is looking at you with slow, blinking eyes and a tiny smile. your own eyes soften as you lower yourself down towards her, “why are you still awake?”

“couldn’t sleep,” she mutters.

you scan her face with concern, “are you feeling pain anywhere? feeling sick?”

seolhee shakes her head in reassurance. then in a small voice, she answers, “just lonely.”

the tension in your shoulders releases only slightly. the little girl before you may be feeling all right physically…but at what cost? your chest tightens with humbling clarity–you may sacrifice a lot as a doctor, but your patients sacrifice so much more. neither is it a choice for them.

it is a relatively quiet night; you can spend time with her. and even if you did not have time, you can make time for her.

you pull a chair closer to sit down, gesturing for her consent to lift up her blankets to check her skin for signs of bruising or infection. she nods and you ask, “why doctor snowflake?” to keep her mind occupied.

seolhee glances at your name badge. “because you still have the snowflake sticker and snowflakes are pretty, just like you.”

the line insertion site on her chest is free of discharge and irritation and you fix the front of her hospital gown. “that must also be why nurse hwa calls you a snowflake,” you fondly tap the tip of her nose as she giggles.

“my name means snow,” she tells you proudly. “my parents named me seolhee because i was born on the first day of snow.”

“they named you well, seolhee. you really are a special gift, a precious snowflake.” in the muffled quiet of the hospital ward, you let go of your professionalism for a brief moment to make a hushed promise, “one day, you will be able to join all the other snowflakes outside–free to flutter and land wherever you want.”

not confined to the hospital nor your sickness.

seolhee returns a promise of her own, “and when i’m all better, i’ll come back to visit you.” she beckons for you to lean in before she whispers into your ear, “because you’re my favourite.”

you are technically not meant to play favourites, but it is hard when she is far ahead of the others in the unofficial competition. so you whisper back scandalously, like two teenage girl friends gossiping together, not a doctor with her patient in hospital, “you’re my favourite, too.”

the pager in your pocket goes off and seolhee’s face falls with disappointment. one of her hands involuntarily reaches out in your direction, seeking comfort and companionship in a place where people succumb to grief and isolation every day.

seolhee is only a child. she should be sleeping in her own bed at home, the faint glow from her phosphorescent star stickers across her bedroom ceiling guiding her into whimsical dreams. instead, it is the washed out moonlight filtering through the drawn curtains in her hospital room, shadows of snowfall outside drifting gently across her face, that surrounds seolhee’s fragile body in a romanticised nightmare.

“how about this,” you suggest, “if you go to sleep now, i’ll come again tomorrow night and i’ll tell you the story of how nurse hwa and i met.”

her eyes light up. “you promise?”

christmas has passed, but it does not mean that the season of miracles has to come to an end with it. you nod, “i promise.”

this time, when you make a move to stand up, seolhee does not reach out for you. she does not need you to stay; she has your gift of a promise to hold onto instead.

“goodnight, my little snowflake,” you tuck her blanket around her shoulders. affectionately, you brush her thinning hair off her forehead, “love you.”

you almost miss her sleepy response, a mumbled sentence just as you reach the threshold of the door to her room–words from a little girl whose heart is too big for the world to ever truly contain.

“i love you more than there are snowflakes falling outside.”

like the heavy snowfall that comes with the arrival of mid-winter, work quickly starts to pile upon itself into layers that do not melt away easily.

you are not the only one nearly thigh-deep in the snow. besides yourself, yunho, yeosang and san are also residents in your final year juggling demanding caseloads and increasing responsibilities as the seniors. hongjoong has been slaving away in preparation for the annual meeting of the korean neurological association, and seonghwa has recently been tasked with revising the departmental policies and procedures for sepsis protocols.

all of that on top of the nine of you studying for specialty board exams, pouring over journal articles to stay up to date and partaking in research projects, it almost becomes a game of never-ending tag in the house with the small increments of time that are lucky enough to overlap with somebody else.

unable to see one another as often, much less spend time together, you and the boys have to make do whenever you can, wherever you can, however you can. it comes in varying forms; a shared smile in brief passing through the wards, an extra chocolate in your packed lunch, a quick reminder to wrap your scarf snugly.

this morning, it comes in the form of an inconspicuous-looking disposable cup waiting for you in your assigned cubby. you almost miss it and knock it over with the bag you hastily push into the space, but the stark contrast of a black scribble against the whiteness of the cup’s surface catches your eye right before you give your bag a final shove.

it is a cup of takeaway coffee from the cafe downstairs–the one you never buy coffee from because the wait for your order can take up to ten minutes, and that is ten minutes of time every single day that you cannot afford to give up. but for you, there is someone willing to sacrifice those ten minutes of their day.

your eyes soften and eyebrows upturn as you immediately deduce who the coffee is from. if the coffee itself is not a dead giveaway, then the cute, artistic doodle of rudolph surrounded by little hearts around his antlers and the accompanying phrase, ‘you’re my rein-dear’, is.

jongho.

for a brief moment of respite from the unceasing rapidity of the hospital, you are warmed from your very core all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes by your boyfriend’s gesture. one hand starts to reach for your phone to send a text of appreciation when the call of your name jerks you out of the comfort you had been encased in. the cup is set down without finding its sweet home against a pair of lips.

“doctor nam is looking for you.”

you wince. dr. nam, the head of the paediatric department, has never really seemed to take a fancy to you for some reason. you are quite certain you have not done anything to provoke his unwarranted scrutiny, but apparently you can never be too sure.

as you hurry to dr. nam’s office, your legs work on autopilot through the corridors and doorways. your mind bombards itself with a barrage of thoughts, guessing what the meeting may be for, estimating how long it might take, and calculating how far behind you will fall with the onslaught of other tasks you are meant to complete before you are joined by your juniors for your morning rounds.

you do not have time for this, and you most certainly do not have time to–

“–take on an extra intern?”

your eyes blink themselves into a carefully schooled expression of neutrality despite the voiced incredulity in the question you have just asked. dr. nam has summoned you to his office to notify you of an additional intern commencing in the paediatric department and you are to be their assigned senior. what a fucking splendid way to start the day.

it is completely normal for a senior resident to have four juniors to teach, but interns have less experience and confidence, requiring significantly more time and effort–time and effort that you do not know if you have. the thought of another intern in addition to your existing two and second-year resident is enough to make you want to enter hibernation for the rest of your life.

what you also know though is that dr. yoon, another fourth-year resident, only has two juniors under him–both second-years at that. respectfully yet firmly, you bring up such and suggest, “it may be in the best interest of all parties for doctor yoon or somebody else, even doctor ha, to take on the new intern. this can ensure all of our junior doctors are receiving as much one-on-one support and guidance as possible.”

the department head raises an eyebrow, eyes dull and mouth pressed together thinly as he stares back at you dryly. “both doctor yoon and doctor ha are promising candidates to become chief residents. they do not have time to spare to teach interns.”

‘promising candidates’. you are not saying that that is bullshit…but that is bullshit. this is the first time anybody has praised them as such and the only thing that would make them both supposedly more qualified than all the other senior residents is their direct acquaintance with dr. nam himself.

fuck nepotism.

gritting your teeth and taking a deep but restrained breath in what you know is just a losing fight, you yield, “when does the intern start?”

the right corner of dr. nam’s lips raises smugly as he answers, “today. doctor lim will be waiting for you in the resident lounge near my office. orientate him to the department.”

and down the drain goes all thoughts of ending on time tonight. when you stalk over stiffly to the lounge, dr. lim is leaning against the edge of a desk, legs extended and crossed at the ankles in front of him not dissimilar to how his arms are over his chest. one foot taps disinterestedly as he waits. you have a bad feeling you already know what kind of intern he is going to be.

“doctor lim,” you call out.

“you’re doctor l/n?” the intern looks at you snobbishly, very obviously sizing you up and down.

“yes.”

dr. lim takes a lazy glance at the clock on the wall. “you’re kinda late.”

and you’re kinda a fucking asshole, you want to retort. but you have not survived this long without learning how to reel in the burst of flames that erupts inside your chest, so instead you look at him placatingly. “you were not originally part of my planned day. doctor nam asked for a very last minute favour.”

not so much a favour as an outright demand, but he does not need to know.

“i’ll show you around the hospital before our morning rounds,” you state. at his audible sigh whilst pushing himself heavily off the table, you cannot help but get at least one jab in, “an inconvenience for the both of us, but do bear with me.”

after a sarcastic smile, you turn around without waiting to see if he follows. the first place you take him to is where all the personal lockers and cubbies are just to retrieve your forgotten coffee and take a long sip. it spites him as desired, a nose wrinkled in your direction. nevermind the fact that it has long cooled to room temperature–your coffee has never tasted sweeter.

the rest of your day, unfortunately, runs in bitter discord. straight after dr. lim’s orientation, you run yourself dry with morning rounds, acute care and consultations with other paediatric departments, all the while trying to catch dr. lim up to the expected competency for interns. the end of the day does not appear to get any closer within reach and yet, you have no idea where all your time is going.

you end up throwing in the towel exactly seven hours and twenty-three minutes into your shift, when you are trying to teach the very basics of the hospital’s electronic medical record system for the umpteenth time. there are only so many ways you can explain the five steps required to start drafting a progress note for a patient–the very five steps that do not change. if you have to repeat yourself one more fucking time you are going to shoot somebody, doctor’s oath or not, and that somebody has a last name that starts with ‘l’ and rhymes with ‘dim’.

dr. son and dr. yang are sent as the scapegoats to teach the new intern how to navigate the system. with all three of your interns now occupied, you also send dr. lee off to adjust the medication for a few of the patients whose daily lab results had come back this morning with minor fluctuations in numbers.

your body almost crashes the moment your juniors disperse and only then do you tune in to your senses. contrary to the grumbling cavern in your stomach, there is a heavy pressure in your bladder and parchedness in your throat. jongho’s coffee was the last of anything you had consumed today–the lunch wooyoung had packed for you remains untouched in your bag–and you have been unable to step away even briefly to use the bathroom. trudging heavily through the paediatric oncology ward, the one thing that keeps you upright on your feet is that you are not scheduled for an on-call shift tonight.

“y/n.”

the sweet and low timbre of the voice that sounds from ahead of you immediately turns the one into two things. it takes the remainder of your willpower not to bury yourself straight into san’s arms as he gives you a cute dimpled smile.

your eyes reflect the sparkle of happiness in his once you are close enough, neither of you having planned to run into one another. san is currently in his paediatric haematology rotation and whilst your departments are closely related, it is not very often that your caseloads align for patient consultation directly between the two of you.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, unable to hide the pleasant surprise in your words.

san steps in a little, naturally inclined to be physically close to you and answers, “going to check up on seolhee. have you gotten around to seeing her today?”

seolhee was one of the patients you were planning on fitting into your day. one of the nurses had documented nausea and reduced appetite at lunch time, so you were going to review her current antiemetic regimen and decide if it needed adjusting. but then she had ultimately been pushed back as a medium priority on your list with everything else you had to complete first.

when you shake your head, san proposes, “want to join me then?”

your lips quirk upwards at his suggestion. it is sort of piteous that your time walking together through the ward to see a shared patient is the closest to a date you have had with san in the last few weeks. but as he gives you a playful nudge to your side and you back to him like you are strolling along the snowy streets instead of sterile corridors, you are grateful for at least these short moments of interaction.

seolhee’s voice is spirited when she greets you despite the increasingly dark shadows silhouetting her face. you smile, “hi, snowflake. i brought a friend with me this time.”

when san’s gaze is not focused on you, he looks at the little girl with the same softness and deep affection; you like his moon, his patients like his stars. you are unable to imagine san ever working in a career that does not involve children.

“i’m doctor choi,” he introduces himself gently. “i heard you’ve been feeling a bit tired and didn’t really eat lunch today, so i’m here to see what i can do to help you feel better.”

as you bend down slightly to adjust the corner of seolhee’s blanket, san steps behind you to reach for her chart. he unconsciously places his left hand on the nape of your neck and tenderly squeezes out of loving habit. immediately, san feels the tight knots under his fingertips that only surface whenever you are stressed or overworked.

his eyebrows furrow and he dips his head down slightly to softly murmur, “hey, rough day today?”

“just a little,” you admit, looking upwards whilst placing your own hand atop his in reassurance. “don’t worry.”

there is a giggle to the side. seolhee’s eyes flicker back and forth between the two of you before she cryptically asks, “doctor choi, do you know who nurse hwa is?”

“i do…” san answers, puzzled by the random question.

seolhee looks at you and giggles again with a very directed comment, “i see.”

you have said this before and you will say this again: seolhee is frighteningly perceptive. if she were two decades older, you just know she would be that friend of yours who you are unable to hide any secrets from. leaning in, you whisper, “there are six more of us.”

her eyes widen with curiosity. “do i know any of them?”

of the remaining boys, wooyoung is the only other one who is specialising in paediatrics and likely to have come across seolhee before. “nurse wooyoung,” you divulge.

she sinks back into her pillow at the revelation and nods approvingly as if she is your mother. “good choices,” she supports, san letting out a bright laugh from beside you now having caught on to what the conversation is about.

the rest of the bedside evaluation continues as such. seolhee badgers you both with questions about the rest of your boyfriends–which department they are in, what their names are and most importantly, what they look like so she can keep an eye out for them.

you indulge her with answers, far longer than you should, but it is an easy decision when it comes to anything involving your favourite patient and your boyfriends. you have long learnt that any amount of time that you give to somebody else even at your own expense will always be worth lifetimes more to them than the luxury of a punctual meal or longer shower that you would gain from the time instead.

so when your shift for the day ends and you still have not completed all of your work, you end up staying overtime and it is only then, during the evening, that you are finally able to sit. your stomach no longer growls, body running solely on cortisol, the caffeine from jongho’s coffee having long depleted. you turn on your hospital-issued tablet and pull out a stack of jotted notes. with mid-rotation feedback for your juniors in two days, you have their paperwork to complete before you can even start to scrape away at your actual paperwork.

you do not realise how stiff your neck and shoulders have become from hunching over for a prolonged period until there is a knock at the door of the resident lounge and a timid, “um, doctor l/n?”

“yes?” a soft wince escapes your lips when the movement from looking up sends a brief stab of pain down your back.

the intern standing at the doorway comes scurrying in. “i’m here to give you the report on the pathology results.”

“pathology results?” you repeat, mind blank of patients who had needed a biopsy or tumour excision.

“from doctor jeong? from general surgery?” the intern’s voice trails off, face blanching at the creeping possibility that he has found the wrong resident.

“doctor j–oh,” you suppress the sudden tug at the corners of your lips to reassure, “yes, my apologies, i forgot. thank you.”

you have certainly not forgotten about an entire pathology report you have requested–this is simply yunho being your boyfriend. waiting until the intern has scurried off, you flick the clipboard open to find exactly what you had been expecting: anything but a report.

there is a sole sticky note, neon green, that grins right up at you with another of yunho's scrawled jokes. 'are you a snowman? cause i wanna stick my carrot into your mou–'

the clipboard slams shut with a resounding clap in the emptiness of the lounge. back ramrod straight, your eyes dart around scandalously even though you are the only person in the room to witness the contents of the flirtatious message.

"oh my fucking god," you guffaw. "jeong yunho!"

(from somewhere within the general surgery department three floors down, somebody lets out a delighted giggle of glee at the thought of a certain message having been received.)

your laugh eventually fades out with a poignant sigh as you peel the sticky note off the clipboard and stare at it in your hands. the start of this year has already been the toughest year in your residency thus far and it is no easy feat for nine people in the same or similar situation to balance a romantic relationship simultaneously.

you must give, and give, and give, but like you have experienced today, you also receive. it is never anything huge; a coffee, some food, a note, a conversation. yet for now, that is enough to keep moving forward even if your feet are buried deep under the snow.

however, you will soon come to realise that the issue does not lie in whether you are receiving enough or not, but in the fact that you can unknowingly give away too much of yourself without even realising.

you give the little boy and his family who are in front of you a smile that conveys both appreciation and apologeticness. if you were in their position, surrounded by inexperienced interns learning to properly insert a central line, you would be on edge too.

dr. yang and dr. son stand off to the side, hands clasped together in front of themselves with concealed nervousness for dr. lim. said man is anything but nervous, when really, he is the only intern who should be nervous out of the three of them. ever since he started, dr. lim has consistently performed with a shocking lack of care and willingness to learn. but you had learnt the hard way the first time you tried to bring up this issue that dr. lim is not somebody you can touch because of his connections, so you have no choice but to tolerate his incompetence.

you beckon for dr. lim to come closer so that you can show him the proper angle of needle entry. he does, at least smart enough to know he needs to maintain some level of professionalism in front of actual patients lest the hospital be sued.

“for an internal jugular vein catheterisation while the head is in the neutral position, what is the angle of needle entry?” you question.

dr. lim guesses, “twenty?”

“thirty to forty-five, and the angle adjusts based on the ultrasound image,” you correct, not having expected him to remember despite the numerous times you have already taught him on physical phantoms. your gloved fingers trace over the patient’s clavicle towards the sternum as you continue explaining, “locate both the sternal and clavicular heads of the sternocleidomastoid muscle. this forms the triangle where your IVJ lies beneath. the needle should aim towards the ipsilateral nipple.”

positioning the tip of the needle at the apex of the triangle for a few seconds, you then pass it to dr. lim with the instruction, “show me the positioning and angle of the needle only.”

the intern takes the needle from your hand, his other hand roughly probing the sternocleidomastoid muscle before angling the needle perpendicular to the young boy’s neck like he is a fucking hostage. your voice is curt as you rush to correct dr. lim, adjusting his hands with verbal prompts, before you slip the needle out of his hands to fully take over the procedure now.

“you’re not ready yet,” you assert when he glares at you, further reiterating, “when you can independently position and angle the needle, and you can demonstrate to me that you can use the correct pressure when inserting the needle in a mannequin, then you are ready.” you do not care if he has connections with dr. nam. you make it clear to your intern that he cannot fuck around with his theoretical knowledge and phantom training and still expect you to let him practice on real people.

outside the room, wooyoung winces in sympathy for you as he passes by and catches the end of your firm reprimand. you have come home far too many times with pent-up frustration for him–and all your boyfriends–not to know about your notorious intern. wooyoung hands over the central line kit he is returning to the ward’s nursing station then dawdles by the desk.

he waits in hopes of catching your eye and giving you a smile to equip you with the patience he knows must be needed to deal with dr. lim. your boyfriend’s face softens unconsciously as he watches your expression, now concentrated with furrowed brows as you steadily insert the needle whilst monitoring the ultrasound, because wooyoung thinks you look the most charismatic when you are working. when a nurse calls out for wooyoung, he takes one last glance at you before walking away.

you straighten up and step away for dr. lee to take over the rest of the procedure, just in time to see the back of your boyfriend’s figure darting away with purpose. his long unruly hair flies around with mirrored chaos that you could recognise anywhere. and as you explain to the patient’s parents the remainder of the catheterisation procedure, the smile on your face is much more genuine than it would have been mere seconds ago.

it continues to linger subconsciously long after the brief glimpse you get of your boyfriend. for wooyoung, too, it is the same. working together at the hospital means that you can still be a source of light for one another even if only from a far distance and that is always what gets you through to the end of your shift.

when five o’clock finally rolls around, you head to your locker whilst checking your phone. there are no notifications from hongjoong, so you type a quick message to let him know you are clocking off and going to his department first. it is one of those rare days where you two have managed to organise a date–just a quick and simple dinner before heading home since your shifts end at the same time, but a date nonetheless.

“good thing i caught you before you left. doctor nam wants to talk to you.”

you look up to see dr. lee already changed into a puffer jacket and his backpack on, a cheeky grin on his face as he delivers the message and adds, “bet you’re in trouble.”

scoffing playfully, you quip back, “probably for something you did wrong.”

he shrugs exaggeratedly and sing-songs, “who knows,” before darting away with a goodbye.

you sigh and delete your drafted text to hongjoong, alerting him that you will be going to the department head’s office and for him to meet you outside if he finishes. then with heavy steps, you go to find dr. nam. with your stroke of luck, dr. lee is probably right about you being in trouble for something.

and he is right.

“did you tell one of your interns that he wasn’t ready for a clinical task in front of your patients?”

dr. nam’s direct question the moment you step into his office is enough to stun your mind into blankness at how a situation could be wrongfully warped like so. blinking distractedly you start to explain, “doctor lim was tasked with simulating the correct needle placement against the skin–nothing more and nothing less. i had to reiterate those expectations when he–”

“so he was not allowed to insert the central line, correct?” dr. nam interrupts.

you frown involuntarily and parrot, “allowed? it was not a subjective decision to–”

“doctor l/n, you only need to answer the question that i ask. was doctor lim allowed to insert the central line or not?” he interjects yet again.

you barely manage to swallow the rising heat in your chest to answer, “no.”

“you said he was not ready in front of the patient, yes or no?”

“yes.”

dr. nam leans back in his chair. “have your other interns inserted the needle before?”

despite his position as your department head, you keep your mouth shut in defiance because dr. nam is simply fishing for the answer he wants to hear regardless of context. he does not need to hear that dr. lim is a shit intern–all he wants to hear is that you are treating your juniors differently.

as expected, without waiting for your response, dr. nam states, “there have been some…concerns raised that you are not giving your interns equal opportunities.”

“is that what doctor lim told you?” you raise an eyebrow.

“you do not need to know,” he dismisses thoughtlessly, “the point is, there seems to be a bias in the amount of support and guidance you are providing doctor lim. perhaps it is your lack of teaching and provision of learning opportunities that is hindering his full potential.”

struggling to keep your voice polite as frustration quickens your breaths, you defend, “i have taught him the theory numerous times, allowed him to observe, provided him with supervised mannequin practice and step-by-step grading on actual patients, and my experience as a senior resident and his direct supervisor tells me that he does not yet have the competency to insert a central line.”

dr. nam hums as if he is considering your words but the way he distractedly brushes the dust off the surface of his table tells you otherwise. “i see there are differing opinions. this all comes down to miscommunication and lack of clear expectations set from the both of you. i suggest you take some time to sit down and talk to doctor lim about what opportunities he will have moving forward.”

from behind your back, your hands clench together, muscles quivering from how hard your fingers dig into your palms. yet you do not say anything–you cannot say anything, not when dr. nam simply dismisses you with, “i expect there to be no further issues in the future.”

and just like that, the one-sided discussion is over.

your feet drag against the floor as you trudge listlessly back to your locker, body heavy as if you are caught in the very midst of a snowstorm. your shoulders cave even further in on themselves when you check your phone to see no reply from hongjoong.

you want nothing more than to bury yourself in your boyfriend’s arms, nose pressed against the soothing rumble of his chest as he listens to you complain about your day. it will not change anything about the situation with dr. lim and dr. nam but at least you will be able to release the hot steam that has built up from the bubbling pit of lava in your chest.

if hongjoong is still working, perhaps you can sit in his office and wait on his couch. his presence will be enough to keep you grounded.

some of the nurses in the neurology ward greet you cordially as you exit the elevator and you return their smiles before sitting on a bench further down the corridor to avoid being in anybody’s way. you test your chances and call hongjoong’s number, only to hear the line ring until it sends you to his voicemail. when another attempt ten minutes later yields the same result, you send a text telling him to call you when he is finished.

you resign yourself to the bench with a passive sigh and wait, all the while a tempest swirling inside of you. eventually, one of the junior residents tilts her head at the sight of you still sitting on the bench, having passed by you almost twenty minutes ago in the same position. she calls out, “doctor l/n?”

you jerk up from where you are fiddling with your phone. recognising her as hongjoong’s colleague, you ask, “i’m just waiting for doctor kim. do you happen to know where he is?”

“doctor kim?” she furrows her brows, “he left already. he actually left early today.”

“oh.”

the heat in your chest suddenly dissipates, immediately replaced by a frigid hollowness that makes your mind go blank instead. horrified, you feel your eyes involuntarily start to prickle with tears no matter how hard you will for them to disappear.

“do you want me to pass a message on for you?” the resident looks at you with a twinge of concern, but mostly curiosity.

you shake your head and mumble, “no, that’s okay, thanks,” then rush away to avoid embarrassing yourself any further. deciding against asking one of your other boyfriends to drive you home, you forgo catching the bus too in favour of walking through the streets.

it’s not even a big deal. we’ve all forgotten about dates before and hongjoong would never deliberately blow you off.

you know that. you know this is not something you need to be upset over and you know that your boyfriend must have a reason. yet knowing does nothing to stop the trembling of your lips as you swipe furiously at your dripping tears with the back of your hand. on top of everything that has piled up today, hongjoong forgetting about your date is enough to topple it over completely.

the light snowfall from earlier has already stopped but the temperature remains just as low. as you tread through the chalky streets home, thoughts creeping through your mind like the fractal branches of a snowflake–fragile and delicate–you welcome the numbing chill around you instead and let it paralyse your emotions like an anaesthetic.

by the time you reach the front door, you have collected yourself enough. the rims of your eyes and the tip of your nose still have a slight redness to them but your appearance can easily be dismissed by the biting cold outside. you unlock the door and walk in.

you are met with immediate warmth; from the residual heat of shared dinner, from the streaming glow of lights, from the peals of low laughter. walking through the corridor almost feels like walking through a warped tunnel of dissociation–so familiar yet so foreign at the same time.

san sits on the couch, languidly scrolling on his phone with an arm wrapped around yeosang’s shoulders, who is flicking through a thin booklet of paper. sitting cross-legged at the coffee table in front of them in a stark contrast of mess is hongjoong–hongjoong who is hunched over his own booklet with a newly-made carpet and tablecloth of thesis and journal articles, textbooks and tablets.

you are so caught up by the hurricane of a scene that you do not realise you are about to step on the corner of a textbook until hongjoong’s head snaps up to look at you.

“be careful!” his warning cry is sharp with alarm.

your body jolts and you step backwards. “sorry.”

despite san and yeosang’s chirpy greetings, you remain frozen to the spot. the two of them clamber up to pull you into an excited hug, only to pause when they realise there is no way to navigate the landmine of paper scattered around the room, so they settle back into the cushions instead.

“don’t mind the mess,” yeosang giggles, unaware of the sudden onset of unease that courses through your body. “even seonghwa has given the okay for him to do this.”

your words come out thick and sticky as you ask, “what is hongjoong doing?”

san’s voice is sympathetic, “there was a last-minute change to his presentation that he’s doing at that annual neurological association meeting. his department head wants him to do a different topic.”

“he could’ve told me, i don’t know, five fucking months ago,” hongjoong curses fiercely at his tablet, “but he just had to wait until my presentation was basically done to let me know.”

you have had a bad day…but so has hongjoong.

the door opens behind you. fumbling for a moment, you try to make yourself smaller against the wall to make room for whoever of your boyfriends has returned. it is mingi back from his shift which tells you just how long you had waited for hongjoong, considering mingi’s shift ended almost two hours after yours did.

“y/n?” mingi’s eyes widen slightly as he smiles, the sight of you a pleasant surprise. he asks, “did you and hongjoong come back from your date already?”

you wince at the bomb he has unwittingly dropped; the very one you yourself were still unsure how to navigate.

“shit,” hongjoong’s head snaps towards you again but for an entirely different reason this time. “holy fuck. oh my fucking god.” his hands flutter as he upturns the scattered notes around him in search of his phone, face draining of all colour as it dawns on him he had silenced his notifications. “the date–i forgot. fuck, i am so fucking sorry, y/n.”

your boyfriends on the couch watch with darting eyes and mingi glances at you cautiously. in some twisted reality, you almost feel immobilised by guilt as hongjoong stumbles to his feet, grasping the phone he has finally found from where it had been tossed under the table.

nothing changes the fact that he forgot nor the fact that you have had a rough day. but just as you had realised, hongjoong has also had a rough day, if not worse than yours. and as with any relationship, one will always have to yield under pressure lest both people break.

swallowing thickly, you manage to force out, “that’s okay. i forgot too.”

a white lie, but a white lie has never hurt anybody.

mingi catches the slight twist of your fingers in the side of your jacket. he murmurs, “let’s go inside,” then tugs you by the elbow. he steps you carefully through the landmines further into the living room, gingerly toeing papers inches aside to reveal the floorboards underneath for the both of you to step on. hongjoong is still looking at you remorsefully as you near, his hands itching to reach out but afraid they will not be met with forgiving ones.

“it’s okay, joong, really,” you extend your fingers in his direction and gently squeeze his hand. “sorry to hear about your presentation. i know how hard you’ve worked on it the past few months.”

sadness still lingers in your boyfriend’s eyes at having made such a careless mistake despite the grateful smile he gives you. “i’ll make it up to you after the presentation is finished,” he vows. “i’ll take you out for a nice dinner and i promise i won’t forget this time.”

you chuckle softly with a reassuring nod, “okay.”

“what about you? how was your day?” hongjoong asks.

an hour ago you wanted nothing more than the comfort he could offer while you vented about your day and you are almost certain fatigue and frustration are smeared across your face right now. yet you simply answer, “it was a long day but it was good.”

another white lie.

before your boyfriends can probe any further, you state, “i’m going to take a shower first. might head to sleep early today.” you lean forward to give hongjoong a chaste kiss, who easily relaxes into it with relief. you turn to rise onto your tiptoes to give mingi one too before meeting yeosang and san halfway from where they kneel on the couch to also kiss you goodnight.

then you turn and retreat to your room. it is not all too bad, you reconcile with yourself. alone time would be good after today’s events.

a third white lie.

but again, that is fine, because a white lie never hurt anybody…nobody except for yourself.

winter passes and spring arrives, but contrary to the pulsating liveliness that awakens with the season, things start to dull with repetition and roboticism.

your rotation in the paediatric oncology ward comes to an end and you commence your next rotation in paediatric haematology. whilst your acquaintanceship with your new junior team is nowhere near as close as you had gotten to dr. lee, son and yang, there is also no more dr. lim to deal with. still, unlike the snow that has now long melted away, your workload does not cease nor diminish.

you wake up and you go to work; you manage your patients, teach your juniors and have on-call shifts; you go home, you eat, you shower; you squeeze time to see your boyfriends, you sleep for a few hours; you wake up and you go to work. the cycle repeats itself, neither you nor your boyfriends able to escape from its grip.

seolhee, too, suffers from the torment of her own cycle. second-line therapy had eventually been deemed ineffective against her leukemic cells, requiring her to undergo salvage chemotherapy and putting her at increased risk of myelosuppression. because of this, she is one of the few patients who have remained on your caseload despite the rotation change.

the most unsettling change that the toll of fatigue can have on a person is not the change in their demeanour but in their eyes. and as you complete a routine check-up on seolhee, her eyes watching you with a slight dullness to them that is not due to the late hours of midnight, you do not realise that your own pupils look the same.

you give seolhee a soft smile as you tell her, “i’ll get nurse hwa to check on you in the morning. how does that sound, snowflake?”

“he’s busy?” she asks quietly.

you shake your head. “he’s at home. both him and nurse woo are working day shifts this week.”

“what about doctor choi?”

“he finished his haematology rotation,” you sigh regretfully. “he’s in the NICU now.”

seolhee mulls over the information with her eyes downcast, then murmurs, “are you busy? can you teach me how to braid your hair?” she absent-mindedly touches the nape of her neck where her fingertips meet the smooth skin of her bare scalp. “that way i can braid my own hair when it grows back.”

you still have notes from today to write and tomorrow’s chemotherapy doses to confirm with the pharmacy and platelet orders to put through before you can chance an hour or two of sleep. but what difference does the amount of sleep make when you wake up from both with the same bone-deep exhaustion anyway?

seolhee’s eyes brighten the slightest when you pull a chair up beside her bed and it solidifies your decision to answer, “of course,” because as a doctor, time is not for yourself but for other people. you have to make time out of nothing.

you tug on the elastic around your ponytail and shake your hair out, sectioning off the right side to work with. from your experience teaching all of your boyfriends, it had quickly become clear that braiding was easiest learnt with less hair to work with. splitting the sectioned hair into three locks, you lace them through your fingers to keep them separate as you talk seolhee through the steps.

“take the right strand and bring it over into the middle like this,” you teach, moving your fingers deftly but slowly. “then take the left strand and bring it over into the middle. then we repeat it again–right into the middle, left into the middle.”

your fingers continue weaving the locks of hair over and under, the motions familiar and the memory of teaching somebody else even more so. when you have braided almost to the ends of your hair, you release the braid then tuck your chair closer to the bed so that seolhee can reach easily.

“here, you try.”

at your encouragement, the little girl does as she remembers and starts to section off three locks of hair. her fingers accidentally tug too hard when she encounters a knot and you both rush to apologise.

“sorry, my hair is kind of tangled,” you chuckle lowly as heat rushes to the tip of your ears. “i haven’t used conditioner in a long time.”

“that’s okay. me neither,” seolhee jokes, giggling at her own words before asking you, “why not?”

you distractedly run your fingers through the hair that is not in seolhee’s hands as you slowly answer, “it saves me five minutes each time. it doesn’t sound like a lot, but…”

“...in the hospital it’s a lot,” seolhee finishes solemnly.

you nod. “five minutes can be a long hug before someone leaves forever. it can be somebody’s last confession or last promise. five minutes can be the difference between life and death.”

hush settles over her room while she eases the knot apart, six-year-old fingers gentle with the understanding of an adult several times her age. after a few minutes, she changes the topic. “who was the fastest learner out of your boyfriends? was it nurse hwa?”

“it was actually doctor jeong,” you reveal.

“from general surgery?”

you laugh at seolhee’s memory, “yes, doctor jeong from general surgery. he has the steadiest and most skillful hands.”

“are his braids also the prettiest, then?”

“they are very pretty, but i think doctor choi–the younger choi–does the prettiest braids.”

seolhee’s fingers pause so she can admire the beginnings of her handiwork. “do they still braid your hair?” she asks.

“not anymore,” you give a miniscule shrug. “there isn’t as much time to do things like this and certain things just lose their novelty over time.”

she looks at you curiously. “what does novelty mean?”

“something new and unfamiliar…in a sense, special.”

“why do things lose their novelty then?” seolhee frowns.

you hum, unsure how to answer such a simple yet riveting question when you yourself have never thought about it. you deliberate over your words, “i guess when we see, do and say things that were originally different over and over again, they can simply become habits and part of our routines. we do things just for the sake of doing them and eventually they lose their meaning. when that happens, sometimes you just end up not doing them anymore.”

wistful nostalgia fills you as seolhee continues braiding your hair, the ticklish intimacy sending your mind adrift to a time when your boys would do the same–back to a time when your hair was smooth and knot-free because you still used conditioner. but change is inevitable and you have no time to dwell on what used to be. so after seolhee finishes her braid, you return to your cycle of work, home and sleep.

by the time you get home in the afternoon, most of your boyfriends have long left for their shifts save for san, who was also on-call, and yunho, who is still not back from an emergency trauma surgery. you are barely able to keep your eyes open when you stumble into the bathroom for a quick shower. this time, you completely forgo both conditioner and shampoo, simply wetting your hair as you roughly scrub your face and the rest of your body. you do not bother to dry your hair either, keeping it wrapped in a towel before you sink into bed.

you have no recollection of falling asleep when the soft click of the front door opening and closing wakes you up. eyes still closed, you drowsily listen to yunho’s soft thuds and murmurs as he treads his usual path through the house upon returning. your boyfriend pads softly to the dining room, to the bathroom…then he goes straight to his own bedroom.

no longer do you stay within the clutches of rest. yunho has always, no matter how exhausted, taken time to give you and the others a kiss before he heads to sleep. it is his habit, his routine. you lay awake for a long time, coming up with excuses as to why he has broken his cycle today, waiting to see if yunho will get up again and come into your room.

he does not and you eventually fall asleep again in restless fitfulness.

this will soon become the new norm; yunho will not take an extra five minutes to go into your bedrooms and give you tender kisses. in due time, your heart will no longer clench in disappointment nor will you lay awake in false hope whenever he returns from his shift.

you will simply drift back into the realms of unconsciousness seconds after hearing the click of the front door open, succumbing into peaceful sleep again before the door has even closed shut. after all, things lose their novelty over time.

you do not normally watch dramas or tv shows, or anything that requires a recurring time commitment, really. for one, that is hours upon hours of time that could be used elsewhere, and two, the scattered time you can find here and there is so sparse you often forget the events of the last episode by the time you watch the next.

but your fingers currently hover over the first episode of an airing drama, one too many clips of this particular show having appeared on your feed for you not to crack, so you decide to give it a go. you can watch maybe half an episode before you should head to sleep since your shift starts early tomorrow, but maybe, just maybe, tonight you will spoil yourself with the entire episode.

keeping the volume low on your phone since you are in the living room with a few of your boyfriends, you tuck your feet closer towards yourself on the couch and play the first episode. jongho’s ears perk up at the starting sounds of the introduction from where he is in the kitchen reheating some leftovers and he comments, “it’s been a while since you last watched something.”

you nod just as jongho’s words catch the attention of wooyoung walking past. “you’re starting a drama?” he asks, peering at your phone with a slight snicker. “damn, you’re going to spend even less time with us now.”

it is an off-handed joke with no ill intentions, yet it digs itself uncomfortably inside your chest, even more so when a few of the others also chuckle. your finger twitches to stop your episode. the couch sinks beside you under the weight of mingi, who has moved from his position on the floor to your right with quiet comfort and veiled protectiveness.

“we’ve all been spending less time with one another,” he vaguely points out.

hongjoong looks up from the systematic review he is reading on gene replacement therapy, still rushing to complete his presentation. “you’re right. that’s funny,” he remarks, “i can’t remember the last time we went out on dates, even when just any two of us.”

wooyoung shrugs, “we’ve all been tired.”

your mouth opens before you can stop yourself from snapping, “so why was i the only one who was the butt of the joke?”

“woah, sorry,” hongjoong winces slightly, “we didn’t know it would make you feel upset or anything.”

it is not sadness so much as guilt that pricks at your conscience, because there is slight truth to the situation–you haven’t been making as much effort, but neither has anyone. you are not the one drifting away from the others. you are all drifting apart in your own directions.

jongho steps in to smoothen the situation with a blanket statement, “we’ve all been tired and busy. nobody’s pointing fingers at anybody. drop it.” the microwave sounds and he turns to take his food out.

something is pressed into your hand and you glance down to see mingi wordlessly handing you a set of earphones. he gives you a small smile, nudging your hand with the earphones and a beckon of his brows. you return his smile and place one in your ear before offering him the other. mingi puts it in whilst reaching over to hold your phone in your stead, then taps his own shoulder with his free hand for you to rest your head against.

your boyfriend adjusts the volume higher as he murmurs, “it’s a bit hard to hear,” but you know better. mingi does not care for dramas and the volume is already plenty loud. sometimes, additional noise is just needed to drown out other noise.

the drama continues to play but you heed no attention to it. wooyoung has walked back into his room to finish the lecture he is watching, jongho now sits at the dining table to eat, and hongjoong is working on his presentation again.

the conversation with your boyfriends has ended with the conclusion that there have been no dates recently. yet, there is no extension of the conversation to make a date happen. it would be a lie to say that you have not noticed their absence, but after the first couple of times they had to be postponed or called off entirely, they just started slipping from your mind completely.

you wonder when you had all stopped making the intentional effort to go on dates, but most of all, you wonder when you had all stopped caring.

you only watch half an episode that night. you do not pick it back up again either.

she is alive.

there is a webbing of tubes and wires encasing her entire body–blood transfusions, vasopressors, monitoring lines of all sorts–but she is alive. kim seolhee is still alive.

only at the physical sight of her chest moving up and down does the reassurance unlock the tautness in your joints, the strained muscles in your body almost failing to hold your weight upright as you lean subtly against the threshold of the door.

you had headed straight for seolhee’s room before everything else the moment you had arrived for your shift. the usual fifteen-minute drive to the hospital had been shortened to half its time when mingi had arrived home from his shift just as you were getting ready to leave for yours with the news that seolhee had been readmitted into the ED with sepsis and was now in the paediatric intensive care unit. you had driven on autopilot the entire way swallowing the thick surge of panic that kept rising up your throat despite mingi’s repeated reassurances that she was stable; she just needed further monitoring.

“i thought i was going to die.”

those are the first words that faintly leave her lips when she sees you, her face mercifully free of a ventilator and oxygen mask, which is always a good sign. you weakly breathe out, tone as light as you can make it, “well, thank god you’re alive.”

“missed you too much, doctor snowflake,” seolhee’s hand twitches in your direction with attempted cheekiness as you walk closer. “i came back to follow you to your next rotation.”

despite the situation, you break out into a small bout of giggles at her morbid humour. you had sated seolhee’s curiosity by telling her your entire year of scheduled rotations and by some twist of fate, your PICU rotation had commenced two weeks ago. with a fond tap of her nose that conceals the clenching sadness inside your heart, you joke, “you just like riding in the ambulance, don’t you?”

“maybe,” she grins innocently. “the sirens are pretty cool.”

despite the snort of amusement that leaves you, her answer is what truly makes your throat constrict and voice waver. your words are hardly audible–afraid to break down fully in front of your patient, in front of sweet seolhee–when you respond, “i knew it.”

but she is ever perceptive as she comforts, “don’t cry.”

“i’m not,” you shamelessly counter, even as heat starts to pool around your eyes, and the both of you laugh at your absurdity. but in certain situations if you do not laugh, the only other option will be to cry and you cannot have that because that would be unprofessional–neither would you be able to stop–so you will wait until you are only in the presence of your boyfriends to let yourself go.

sleep starts to take over seolhee again and she drowsily blinks at you, energy depleted from her infection, cancer and the numerous drugs pumping throughout her battered body. she sinks herself a little deeper into her crinkly mattress and fights off her closing eyelids just long enough to tell you once more, “i love you more than there are snowflakes falling outside.”

it is already nearing the end of summer now despite the unchanging pristine whiteness of winter within the hospital walls. yet, you cannot bear to point that out, not when you were so close to losing her phrase of affection forever.

her eyes close and you watch the steady rhythm of her chest rising and falling. thank god she is alive.

your prayer comes from y/n, but the bitter resentment at the irony of those five words comes from doctor l/n. your entire life is dedicated to saving the lives of others, yet time and time again you are forced to wonder just how much power you truly have as a doctor in the face of fate and the gods above; where it makes you wonder whether your efforts and sacrifices will always be in vain if your patient is somebody whose time on earth has just simply run out.

and it appears that you are not the only person weighed down by the harsh insecurities of your career today. yeosang’s knees are drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them as he sits on the floor against the wall of the storage room you two are hiding in, mere hours later after your turbulent morning with seolhee.

“he was our age,” yeosang finally murmurs after a few minutes of silence. “he was admitted for a suspected brain tumour only because a sudden headache caused him to lose consciousness.”

whereas seolhee had been a case of could have–she could have died–there are cases like yeosang’s patient. the would have lived; the what if and the if only.

yeosang’s chest shudders as he exhales, “he had had consistent migraines for months but he never did anything about them. he would’ve lived, otherwise. turns out it was a brain tumour all along and it ended up rupturing because it was left untreated…he didn’t survive the surgery.”

your boyfriend rarely cries and today is no exception either. yet the way he leans into your side for both physical and emotional support shows just how much his heart is hurting for this death. death is something you all learn to become accustomed to in the medical field, but desensitisation does not equate to immunity. there will always be ones that hit harder than others.

it is a harrowing death when the patient is close in age because it makes you think of yourself–of your friends, of your lovers–and it hurts that much more to think that it could have been any of those people. this morning has already left your emotions strung tight and heart vulnerable, and very quickly you can feel the same swell of tears threatening to demolish the walls you had hastily built to keep yourself collected.

you want to cry but then that would be taking away from yeosang’s hurt, so you will wait until you are home instead. for now, you tug yeosang into your arms, holding him steady against your chest as if that will support your own walls and keep them from crumbling.

by the time you get home after your shift, you are no more than a mere husk of yourself. you have drained every single reservoir of yours that holds your love, care and courage for your patients. all that is left are the fragile remnants waiting to break at the slightest touch. you trudge down the corridor to your room, muddled mind trying to recall whether san is home tonight to hold you in your sleep, when you walk past the partially-closed door to seonghwa’s bedroom.

instinctively, you glance inside. he lays listlessly on his bed, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, and you immediately know.

where there are the could haves and the would haves, there are also the should haves; the unjust, the young deaths. those that should not even be an existing phenomenon in the world no matter how cruel the devil may be–those who should have lived.

seonghwa, who wears his entire heart on his sleeve, has lost a PICU baby at work today.

for a split second, there is a shameful thought that suddenly infiltrates your mind–to continue walking past as if you had not seen him until you reach the confines of your own room. but you could never do that to any of your boyfriends, much less seonghwa. seonghwa, who treats each and every baby like his own, who hides in the bathroom to cry after he sees the parents hurting, whose love and empathy is a never-ending fountain of supply.

you knock softly on the door so as not to startle him then gently call out his name. it takes the door opening a little wider for him to realise you are stepping into his room and he immediately sits up, a small smile gracing his face at the sight of you despite the blotchiness of his skin.

“sorry, love. i didn’t notice you standing there,” he apologises.

you shake your head, heart clenching at the sight of him pretending to be okay. you walk closer to him until you can smooth down the back of his hair with kind hands. “do you want to talk?” you tenderly ask.

the tension releases in seonghwa’s shoulders and back as he sags, no longer keeping up his facade at the knowledge that you can see right through him. he looks up at you tiredly with his swollen eyes, “do you have time to talk?”

time you can always make. perhaps the question that should be asked is whether you have the capacity to talk…the emotional capacity. frankly, you do not. you yourself need to cry, whether for seolhee or out of mental exhaustion itself it does not matter anymore. but saying no would be putting your needs before his, and putting your needs after everybody else’s is all that you have known as a doctor, so you will wait until you are alone in the darkness under your bed covers to finally let yourself go.

for now, you rest seonghwa’s head in your lap and brush away his tears, soaking up the pain of his words into your own heart instead. only when his breathing evens out and he no longer stirs under your fingers do you finally ease yourself to lie down next to him, barely hanging on to the edges of your own consciousness. you fall asleep before your tears can even begin to gather underneath your closed eyelids.

that night, you dream of drowning–stifling lungs and gasping mouthfuls–until you eventually suffocate in silence and become swallowed by the black depths of the water. the pillow underneath your cheek is damp when you jolt awake, but whether it is from cold sweat or tears you do not know.

you are convinced dr nam’s job description includes making your life hell. no matter where your rotation takes place, the department head always manages to find fault in something you do…or do not do.

“do you know what our hospital prides itself in?” dr. nam asks rhetorically. “we are not simply a hospital–we are a family. we help each other out in times of need.”

there is a rising snort in your throat that threatens to reveal your cynicism, knowing that when the phrase ‘family’ comes from somebody of higher authority, it is just a cover-up of mock care for the employees. dr. nam continues to smile, not unkindly, but with obvious artificiality that makes it look dangerous as he asks, “so how come you are not helping out in the NICU? i know that the attending has asked you for help.”

overnight on-call shifts already have fewer staff rostered on than usual, but with one of the junior residents having called in sick, the NICU is currently understaffed. the attending physician had paged you earlier asking if you could help out with some of the routine admissions and write up the patient histories and physicals, but you had apologised and declined. for one, you are assigned to the PICU, two, you are the most senior resident on that shift and three, you have endless tasks with far higher priority to complete instead.

you struggle to keep the exasperation out of your voice, sick of being flagged for ridiculous reasons and much less when you are seventeen hours into your shift, “most of the NICU admissions were stable and did not require urgent attention. their H&Ps can be completed later when the juniors are back.”

“ah,” dr. nam nods his head condescendingly, “doctor l/n, you stick by the rules too much. where is your sense of comradeship for this family that we have at kq–if not the entire hospital, then at least within our own department? if i remember correctly, there was a similar incident with one of your past interns.”

it is absolutely ridiculous that even months later you are still being faulted for the central line incident with dr. lim. you stay silent, expression dark and jaw grinding no matter how hard you try not to let your frustration show.

“go help out in the NICU for an hour or two. i’m sure your own unit is relatively quiet right now,” he instructs. “remember, we’re a family that helps one another.” dr. nam’s grin grows wider, words dripping with saccharine honey that makes it impossible to refute.

“yes, doctor nam,” you respond through gritted teeth. double-checking you have your pager on you so that your actual ward can still reach you for emergencies, you take the elevator down to the NICU.

the next few hours are spent stretching yourself thin over both units as you run back and forth managing patients, answering questions, and most irritatingly, completing tasks that should really be allocated to juniors. it is not until you dazedly mistype the same word four times into the EMR that it registers in your groggy mind that it is already early in the morning, past the quiet time that is your usual window for a brief hour of sleep.

you inhale slowly until your chest is full then let out the longest sigh, your head tilted upwards, eyes closed and shoulders slouching as the world’s worth of resignation weighs down on you. it is 5:30AM, only five more hours–or three if you are lucky–left until the end of your shift. keeping your eyes shut for another few seconds, you recollect yourself to make it through the morning.

a resident appears in front of you, seemingly chipper as he stretches his arms above his head and jokes to a passing nurse that he had an amazing nap in the call room. the brief composure you had gathered immediately dissipates when you hear him. not only have you sacrificed your own sleep to help a unit that is not your own, but there are NICU residents who have taken the liberty to nap instead.

that’s it. you have done multitudes more than your duty requires you to do so. greeting the well-rested resident with a passive-aggressive smile, even if you are aware he is not at fault, you bid your farewell with the instruction, “tell your attending that doctor l/n has gone back to her own unit now.”

you punch the elevator’s number to your floor a little harder than intended, grateful that there is nobody else inside to hear your loud exhale of weariness and defeat. the floor display slowly flickers with higher numbers. maybe being back in the PICU will give you peace of mind.

the elevator doors open to directly reveal a ruckus beside the nursing station. “fucking hell,” you mutter to yourself, finally letting a curse slip through. “what now?”

“what do you mean you’re not a doctor?” a shrill voice cuts through the noise of the small huddle of people as you walk closer.

“i am a nurse, mrs ryeo, not a doctor,” somebody answers.

you could recognise his voice anywhere–it is wooyoung. your exasperation quickly turns into concern and you ease yourself through a few nurses so that you can reach your boyfriend.

mrs ryeo states, “but you’re a man.”

“that is an excellent observation, but unfortunately, that does not change my job qualifications.” despite wooyoung’s innate cheek, it does not usually appear when he is dealing with parents or the occasional adult patient, which tells you that this woman is either a repeating offender or has been kicking up a fuss for some time now.

“hello, mrs ryeo,” you intercept, stepping over to wooyoung’s side. “how can i help you?”

the middle-aged lady scans you up and down with disdain before scoffing, “i don’t want a nurse; i want a doctor.”

your patience has long been running on thin ice and if you did not care about your career, you would turn around, walk two steps away, then twirl around with a curtsey whilst introducing yourself as doctor l/n just to fuck with her. at least wooyoung would laugh.

unfortunately, you do care about your career so you can only explain with a placating smile on your face that you are a doctor–a fourth-year resident at that. mrs ryeo ignores you in favour of rudely pointing and beckoning behind you. “hey, you,” she demands, “see my child.”

a glance over your shoulder reveals that she has pointed to one of your male interns. he does not make a move to step forward, warily gesturing back towards you as he explains, “she’s the senior resident on call right now.”

“i don’t want a fucking resident. i want a real doctor,” she opposes.

“mrs ryeo,” you grit your teeth, “he is my intern. i am a doctor–the most senior doctor currently on shift–”

“bullshit you’re the most senior doctor. i refuse to let you treat my child. i want a male doctor.”

your fingers flutter out to grasp the side of wooyoung’s scrubs, partially to ground yourself, but also because you know that he will not stand there and let you be disrespected. however, there is absolutely no way any of you will be able to talk some sense into her, so it is better to just save your breaths. “dr. ahn will not be in until this afternoon,” you simply state.

“then i’ll wait,” she snaps stubbornly.

you nod, “as you wish. i’ll let him know.” you walk away and the nurses take that as their cue to disperse and continue with their duties now that the situation has been somewhat diffused.

wooyoung follows you aside to where there are less people. “you okay?” he asks, searching your eyes.

with a dismissive shrug you answer, “you get used to it,” then change the topic to gently remind, “document it on the EMR that she refused to be seen and then fill out an incident report.”

wooyoung nods but continues to look at you unconvinced. “do you finish at seven today? i’ll wait for you,” he offers.

“no,” you grimace, “i probably have to wait until the morning rounds are over. you go home first.” a soft laugh escapes from you when your boyfriend’s eyebrows knit together and you reassure, “i’m fine, really. i should get back to work. i’ll see you at home, woo.”

you turn around before his expression or any further questions can weaken your resolve. from somewhere near the nursing station, you know that mrs ryeo is still staring at you scathingly. breaking down now in any shape or form would only serve to fuel her misogynistic prejudices. so you hold your head up high, pretend that this is just any other day, then continue with the remainder of your shift telling yourself that nothing can make you break.

it is nearing eleven in the morning by the time you get home. your feet mechanically take you to your doorstep and your hands slide the cover of the keypad lock upwards to tap in the number code, mind dissociated from your heart and the rest of your body. like water and hot oil, you keep them separated, otherwise dwelling on how they feel together will inevitably lead to a sudden outburst of emotion.

you feel yourself being dragged back to your senses, automatically tuning in to the rowdiness that increases in volume when you open the door. it is one of those rare sundays where more than half of you are home together. there are shouts of teasing banter, cabinets closing shut and the clink of glassware being washed. vaguely, you can also hear a passionate squabble between two of your boyfriends over something trivial.

whereas before, coming home to your boys would have cooled down your bubbling oil, today they feel like the water you are trying to keep away.

“i swear it wasn’t me,” you hear.

san’s voice is slightly muffled as he teases back, “yeah, whatever you say, yunho.”

you slowly walk into the open living room from where you can also see the kitchen. the countertop surface is covered with plastic bags, groceries for nine spilling out from them as jongho systematically pulls the cold items out to hand them over to san. said boyfriend has his body halfway inside the fridge whilst yunho holds the door open by leaning on it with his weight.

“it’s true! i didn’t drink any this week,” yunho defends himself. “y/n didn’t buy them!”

you falter at the mention of your name. without the context of the conversation, you are suddenly left wondering whether you had messed something up.

“speak of the devil,” yeosang announces, spotting you as he returns from the bathroom. he comes up and gives you quick squeeze in greeting.

yunho perks up at the sight of you. “perfect! let me prove it to you,” he tells san. determined to attest his supposed innocence over something that you still do not know what, your tallest boyfriend turns to face you and asks, “did you restock our protein shakes last week?”

you frown with an unintelligent stutter as you try to recall the sudden information. last week, you had gone out to get some fresh groceries but had suddenly been called in for a shift, so you had had to give up on everything you did not deem as essential. san and yunho’s shakes, unfortunately, did not make the cut.

“no, i–”

“see!” yunho exclaims, whipping around to face san again before you can finish the rest of your sentence. his tone is triumphant as he reiterates, “i told you it was y/n who was the culprit, not me!”

san chuckles with fondness at the other, “okay, you’re forgiven.”

a bitter taste immediately spreads throughout your mouth along with the flaming heat that now covers your cheeks. you cannot tell whether it is anger or embarrassment–perhaps both–but it feels as though the water you have been holding off has suddenly been poured over you.

“why didn’t you go buy them yourself, then, if you knew i didn’t,” you question yunho curtly.

he looks at you with a grin, “because you were meant to buy them and then i didn’t have time to go.” his words are stated as a matter-of-factly with absolutely no intentions to insinuate anything apart from his reasons as to why he did not buy the protein shakes himself.

but you do not hear yunho and his playfulness that you normally indulge in–you hear dr. nam instead belittling your time and you also hear mrs ryeo with her condescending contempt, and now that you are no longer at work, you fail to reign yourself in. you snap before you even realise how heated your words are, “yeah, and i have all the time in the world.” you throw out sarcastically, “next time, why don’t i also mix your shakes, wait on my knees and hold the straw up to your lips while you drink them during your workouts.”

your boyfriends stare at you with wide eyes, silence deafening after the near-shout your voice had risen to by the end of your sentence. you let out a shaky exhale, suddenly sober. you no longer bubble and boil inside, emotions down to a simmer now, but still they remain unsteady and suddenly leave you with overwhelming exhaustion.

“sorry,” you mutter under your breath, “forget i said anything.”

pivoting on the balls of your feet, you escape to your own bedroom, ignoring the concern on wooyoung’s face from where he has woken up and stuck his head out of his own room at the commotion. you shut your door and then sit heavily on the edge of your bed, elbows resting on your knees and head buried in your hands.

“fuck,” you hiss, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes to stop yourself from crying. you are so frustrated–at everything that has happened today, at how you reacted, at the fact that you cannot seem to understand what you are feeling or what you want anymore.

you are going to have to talk to your boyfriends and apologise later, but for now, you just need to be alone.

only a few minutes pass before there is a soft knock on your bedroom door. you make no move to acknowledge the sound. neither do you make a noise of rejection though, so the boyfriend outside your door takes it as his cue to walk in.

“y/n?” he calls out hesitantly.

at the sound of his voice, you immediately look up. it is yunho looking like a kicked puppy, unable to bear any sort of conflict between any of you no matter how big or small the matter. you stand up but stay close to your bed. your heart wants to tug you closer towards your boyfriend yet your feet stay glued to their spot.

“y/n…” he starts again, “i–sorry, i didn’t mean for you to feel as though i was blaming you.”

you shake your head, “it’s fine, i know you didn’t.”

“that still doesn’t change the fact that i hurt you,” yunho expresses, taking a step closer towards you.

“no, i should be the one apologising–sorry. what i said to you was completely uncalled for,” you admit.

“hey, no. i didn’t come for an apology,” he looks at you with rounded eyes, now close enough to grasp you gently by your arms. yunho’s voice is soft as he says, “i’m worried about you. you don’t normally lash out like that…what’s wrong?”

everything.

“nothing,” you answer, avoiding his gaze.

he continues to probe, “are you sure? is it something to do with work?” when you remain quiet, he starts to guess, “...or is it us–”

“it’s work,” you cut him off before he can turn his words into a real question. “work has been tiring. i just–give me a bit of time.” you pat yunho’s hand placatingly, subtly easing your arms out of his grasp at the same time. you do not deserve his affection right now.

he fumbles awkwardly, unease stringing his body tight as his eyes scan yours. “we’ll talk later then?” he eventually concludes, verbally reaching out one more time to see if you want to take it.

“later,” you confirm softly, a small smile gracing your lips that does not reach the rest of your face. “i’m going to catch up on some sleep now.”

“ah, right. you were on call. sleep well then,” yunho concedes. he walks out of your room, gingerly closing the door behind him.

you have barely grabbed a fresh set of pajamas and underwear to quickly rinse yourself in the shower when there is another knock on your door. it takes a lot of energy not to sigh but to open the door instead where you discover san and jongho standing in the corridor with twin expressions of concern.

“did yunho talk things out with you?” san asks as jongho simultaneously says, “how are you feeling?”

you know that they have good intentions checking up on you, but you really just want to be left alone. your own thoughts and emotions are already equivalent to a crowd themselves. “yeah, yunho and i are fine. i’m fine, just tired. thanks for asking and sorry for shouting earlier,” you apologise, because you owe them that much at the very least. then you try and dismiss them before they can ask anything else, “a shower and some sleep will do me good.”

they glance down when you lift up your hand and they see the clothes you hold. jongho knows better than to push, so he places his own hand on san’s back in silent meaning whilst answering on their behalf, “you’re right. we’ll let you sleep. do you want us to wake you up for dinner?”

you smile a little more genuinely but still shake your head. “i’ll eat something before i leave for work tomorrow.”

although san has a lot to say to that, he holds his tongue and lets himself be guided back to the kitchen with jongho’s hand still on him. “let her have some time alone first. she’ll eat if she’s hungry,” the younger reassures him and san can only nod and hope that rest is all that you need. he cannot shake off the feeling that there is much more to it than you are letting on.

you hop into the shower, rinse and dry off and brush your teeth within ten minutes. sleep is your only reprieve now–the only time you do not need to think or feel–and you rush through your routine before you can start coming to conclusions about the whats and whys to the problems in your life. finishing up in the bathroom you go back to your own room, startling when you open the door and are greeted by the sight of wooyoung waiting on your bed.

“you okay?” he asks as soon as he sees you.

annoyance starts to grind your gears no matter how hard you try to remind yourself that your boyfriends are purely looking out for you. but concern has its limits before it starts to become overbearing and when they keep asking one after the other, you are unable to appreciate their efforts.

“i’m fine,” you respond tersely, words no longer genuine after how many times you have repeated them to questions you have heard on loop.

“are you sure? i know you had a rough day at work with mrs ryeo and–”

“wooyoung,” you finally interrupt, “just drop it. please.”

his expression falls and you immediately regret your words. but what’s done is done and the list of people you are hurting today only seems capable of growing–what is one more person on the list? wooyoung stands up and leaves your room with a quiet, sorry, and you do nothing to stop him.

hearing the door shut behind you, you walk over to where the curtains are pulled aside to let the afternoon sunlight of autumn filter in. all the curtains in the bedrooms are blackout curtains, the first additions to the apartment from day one of your careers. you draw them closed, shutting out the sunlight and plunging your room into darkness.

at last, you slide into bed. the screen of your phone lights up as you plug it into your charger and you find a text from yeosang and one from seonghwa just a few minutes ago, but you do not open them. you clear your notifications before you can even read the previews and put your phone on ‘do not disturb’. making sure your alarm is set for tomorrow’s shift, you switch the screen off and shove it under your pillow.

you close your eyes. you have a long list of people to work things out with before you can truly say that you are fine. but there is one thing you fail to realise as you finally fall asleep. the name at the very top of the list is not one of your boyfriends’–

it is your own.

the incident ends up being swept under the rug. you wake up that next morning an hour before your first alarm goes off, lying in the muted hours of dawn before the world starts to stir with the shadows on the ceiling of your bedroom twisting and warping like creatures.

your entire body is filled with an inexplicable sense of dread at the thought of the day ahead. it is not solely due to what happened yesterday between you and your boyfriends. there are a multitude of contributing factors but frankly, you fear dwelling on them and finding out just what percentage of your anxiety stems from the boys. unable to fall asleep and not entirely ready to face anybody yet, you decide to leave for your shift early.

the drive to the hospital feels particularly dystopian today. no matter what season the streets transition into over the year–regardless of the brilliant vibrance of autumn that has blanketed the ground for the last two months–it unfailingly turns back into the perpetual state of sterile winter once you are inside the hospital. it has never been something that you have dwelled on, but now it seems to be the truest reflection of your current self–a mere utopian facade hiding what is inside your walls.

you return nurse aeri’s enthusiastic greeting upon walking into the PICU with chirpiness that your weekend was great. you gasp with animated reactions at the story little siwoo tells you when you reach his room during your morning rounds. you comfort mr and mrs chae with graceful compassion and warm smiles when you tell them their daughter can finally be discharged. not a single person would look at you and think that something is wrong, and yet, you feel like you are simply a ghost of your emotions, detached and distant from your own words and actions. not even the news of seolhee stabilising enough to be transferred out of the PICU back to the paediatric oncology ward gives you the same genuine spike in emotions you would have felt a week ago.

the brief encounters with seonghwa around the unit and the brief glimpses of san and wooyoung around the department do nothing to alleviate your blanket of anxiety because they are a visual and physical reminder of the cavernous pit in your stomach. you end up going home after your shift with a tightness in your chest that has gradually become suffocating at the thought of being confined in the same space as your boyfriends, wondering if they are expecting you to talk to them; the conversation you had brushed off yesterday.

you are not ready yet and you do not want to talk, so instead you do what you do best–walk through the threshold of your front door with a plastered expression of neutrality as though nothing has happened the day before. but to your surprise–whether pleasant or bitter, however contradictory that may be, you cannot tell–they too appear to skirt around the issue.

there is a restless buzz in the air as yunho portions dinner out into separate bowls for those who are at home. hongjoong is hunched over his laptop with concentration at the dining table as usual, zeroed in on his presentation even amongst the bustle of yeosang and jongho setting the cutlery around him, but the jitters in his legs tell you differently. when he spots you walking closer, he shuts his laptop and places it to the side to greet you.

“seonghwa made ramen bulgogi for us before he left,” he tells you while you wash your hands at the sink and peer into the pot yunho is holding.

you gingerly slide into the seat across from hongjoong, watching yeosang dawdling in the kitchen as if he is trying to find something to keep himself busy with. “i thought he wasn’t rostered on for night shift today,” you absentmindedly comment.

jongho places your bowl of ramen in front of you and sits to your right as he answers, “he had to cover for one of the other nurses.”

you nod, waiting for the two in the kitchen. yunho comes to sit on your other side at the head of the table and yeosang beside hongjoong, their bowls placed down with a clunk that leads to silence in conversation.

“how’s your presentation going?” yunho vaguely asks hongjoong after a few minutes.

the older picks at his meat in his bowl, “it’s going alright. i only have the limitations and future directions for neurological gene therapies left to research.”

there is another lull in conversation before jongho asks, “did your surgeries go smoothly today?”

yunho nods, “i led a couple of trauma surgeries today. only one of them ended up going overtime.”

“you’re going to surpass the other doctors soon, doctor jeong from general surgery,” you tease slightly.

the boys share a few chuckles before the table falls silent once more and you can only hear the occasional slurp of noodles or clatter of chopsticks against the bowl. you glance at hongjoong, who is scratching the back of his neck, then at yeosang, whose gaze you can see darting around his bowl like he is avoiding eye contact. shifting your weight slightly in your chair, you suddenly start to realise why they are all acting so awkwardly.

it is not that your boyfriends are trying to skirt around yesterday’s fallout–if you can call it that–like you are. instead, they are waiting for you to be the one initiating the conversation so that they know for sure you are ready to have the conversation. the sentiment is appreciated but it does nothing to stop your muscles from clamming up even further.

the thought of talking and even just thinking about why you are feeling the way you are is enough to overwhelm you entirely again. it is much easier to simply pretend you are okay than to face the problems head on, because then you have to actually acknowledge that something is wrong. but you know that it is not just one issue but several things exacerbating one another, and just that awareness in itself already makes your insides lurch and clench dangerously.

there is one sole advantage to your boyfriends’ approach to handling this situation. the timeline of when to talk is left up to you, so you choose the one option they had failed to preempt–not to talk at all. you finish your ramen in silence pretending you do not see the shared glances between the boys, get up to place your dishes into the sink ignoring the gazes that linger on your back, then retreat to your bedroom whilst shoving your emotions into the deepest corners in the back of your mind.

they gave you a choice. you simply made one.

the weeks pass by. you change through another rotation and the beginning of winter arrives once more. the only thing that stays the same is the elephant in the room that remains unaddressed and your lonely fight to keep it that way.

restlessness seeps into every interaction that the boys share with you. it follows you to work, jongho and yunho making excuses to go to your ward just to see what you are doing even though their own wards are on the other side of the hospital. it is in the way san tries to swap himself onto night shifts the days he knows you are working one as well, and in how seonghwa liaises with your colleagues under the guise of his role as the CNS, simply to probe whether you are overexerting yourself or not.

it follows you home too, a constant breathing down your neck in the form of mingi carefully scanning your expression the moment you walk through the door after your shift, and in yeosang hovering within five feet regardless of where you are. wooyoung checks the fridge first thing after coming home, counting the boxes of meal prep to make sure you had taken one to work that day, and hongjoong asks how your day was with the intention of probing further to ask how you are coping. he is not the only one who tries to check and your answer never changes–work was good, you are fine.

gradually, you find yourself trying to avoid their line of sight, ducking behind colleagues on the wards or back into your own bedroom at home. it is easier to pretend that you are okay than to admit that you are not, and when that does not work, to just stay away from your boyfriends completely. you are well aware that avoiding them is not healthy, but smokers too know very clearly the health risks of tobacco yet continue to smoke. just how many things are there in the world that we know are unhealthy for ourselves–physically, mentally, socially–and we still choose to make that decision?

but as with any unhealthy choices, they eventually lead to detrimental consequences. unbeknownst to you, each denial of help causes the string inside of you to wind up tighter and tighter until it becomes taut enough to snap at any moment.

and that is what ends up happening on a wednesday night.

seonghwa and wooyoung are both still at the hospital. by the time they get home after their shifts, it will already nearly be time for dinner, so with everybody’s first preferences for cooks still working, you are the next in line. hongjoong had originally offered to order takeout instead since you had been on call last night, but you had been unable to fall asleep despite how exhausted you felt and you hated being stuck in the limbo state of idleness between rest and non-rest.

“are you sure you don’t want us to just order takeout today?”

“it’s fine, hongjoong,” you respond shortly, “i’ve already started cooking.”

yeosang sits at the countertop separating the kitchen from the open living room and dining area, watching as you make a simple soup and stir-fried dish. you try to ignore his intent staring but it is difficult when his gaze quite literally follows you from cupboard to sink to stove. it is only when he hesitantly asks, “are you okay?” that you realise you have left your expression unschooled, dark frown covering your face.

you force your features to relax and nod, trying not to throw a question back at him asking what he is doing just staring at you. his question catches the attention of san sitting on the couch, who calls out to check up on you, “is something wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong,” you sigh, turning around as if that will help to block them out, aware that your patience for them–for anybody–has started running thin. you idly hum at san’s reminder to ask them for help if you need it despite knowing fully well that having an extra person in the kitchen space would only serve to have the opposite effect to its intended purpose.

jongho passes by behind you to fill up a cup of water at the sink. as he waits, he glances at you stirring the pot before double taking at your expression. he tentatively questions, “you alright? do you want me to help?”

“why do you keep asking me that?” you reply, only half-jokingly. you drive him out with an irritated wave of your hand, “just sit and wait.”

your boyfriends are at least tactful enough to understand they are not to step foot into the kitchen until dinner is cooked, but it does nothing to alleviate the sensation of holes being drilled into the back of your head. you are so focused on ignoring them that you do not realise when seonghwa and wooyoung come home from their shifts.

“hey, love,” seonghwa sidles up to you in the kitchen as you slice some extra spring onions. “how’s your day been?”

as he asks you, he comes up from behind and slides a hand around your hip to rest on it. his touch is habitual–something he always does to you and the boys–but you are tense and on edge. you jerk in surprise, accidentally slicing your finger with the knife. it is only a small cut and absolutely unintentional on your boyfriend’s part, but your fuse finally runs out and you drop the knife with a clatter, whirling around angrily to face him.

“can you fucking stop doing that?” you snap, tone clipped and unkind.

seonghwa flusters, trying to apologise and look at your injury whilst simultaneously jerking backwards in confusion at your hostility. he stutters, “i–y/n, are you okay? i didn’t mean to surprise you–”

“no, that’s not it,” you interrupt, blind to the stinging in your finger. “i mean your fucking questions, and not just from you. all of you.” you lash out at the other boys too who have now stood up and are varying distances from the kitchen. “every single fucking day you ask me if i’m okay. can you please stop that?”

san slowly walks closer until he reaches the countertop that separates the both of you. “y/n,” he calls out to you sadly, your sudden anger uncharacteristic, “we’re just worried about you. we want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“i know you do,” you cry out with exasperation, heat starting to gather behind your eyes, “and i’m trying to be okay, alright? i’m trying for everybody’s sake. but you make it so fucking hard when each and every single one of you keep asking me how i’m feeling as if you want me to fucking break down.”

“that’s not what we’re trying to do,” hongjoong tries to reason with you, but you are unable to rationalise anything in the spur of the moment.

you desperately blink back tears. “i’ve tried to pretend that everything is okay–pushed everything to the back of my mind so that i don’t think about it and hope that it resolves itself…but it’s not working.” you take a shaky breath, lips quivering and voice quieting with every word, “i’m just one person at home and i’m just one person at work. i am so fucking tired all the time.”

“but you aren’t just one person. you can tell us and we can help you.”

you do not even register who says that, because your eyes blur with wetness and your voice increases with frustration, “no, i can’t. when you’re tired, when you’re exhausted, you don’t have the time or the energy to ask for help, much less to fight for yourself. you think i haven’t thought about complaining to you guys and letting myself cry in your arms? or escalating whatever happens at work to the higher-ups? i know what i should do, but it’s all useless.

“when you are about to be caught in an avalanche and buried alive, do you remember to ignore your instincts and run horizontally instead of attempting to outrun it? do you remember to keep your mouth shut to stop yourself from choking on snow? or to use your arms and legs to create air pockets for yourself, or to spit and use its trajectory to work out which way is up and down after you’re disorientated? no, you fucking don’t, because in the moment you can only focus on surviving. there is no time to do anything but that.”

your boyfriends are stunned into silence, not only by the bitter resentment that coats your loud voice and mars your face with furrowed eyebrows, but by the raw confession that tumbles out of your lips. they had known you were tired recently, just not the extent of it.

the tone of your words soften with exhaustion and heartache as you look them in the eyes one by one, “just think about ourselves…things aren’t the same between us anymore, don’t try to deny it. we don’t love each other like we used to. things have changed between us this year–it’s just that nobody has brought it up.” the tears that have pooled around your eyes finally slip down your cheeks. “and you know why? it’s because we’re all just trying to survive now. we don’t have the time or the luxury to do anything but survive.”

there is no thought that can be formulated in response to your words. seonghwa opens his mouth but then shuts it again because he knows you are right. it is ugly, but it is the truth.

having been in a relationship together for over four years now, not even including the turbulent years prior to becoming official when you were all navigating the hardships of medical school, your bonds are built upon the foundation of comfort and understanding. but what happens when that comfort turns into complacency, and understanding turns into indifference? what happens when time runs its course and wears down a relationship?

you avert your eyes downwards, the lines of the kitchen tiles blurry underneath your feet as your vision mists over, afraid to look at the sad gazes of your boyfriends any longer. there is a sudden thump of body colliding against the wall and a muffled curse that draws everybody’s attention, including yours, towards the corridor. mingi’s head snaps upwards with guilty eyes from where he had been trying to slink his way in from the front door unnoticed before accidentally stubbing his toe.

your body makes a split-second decision with the diversion. you push past seonghwa in the kitchen, past san and yeosang at the countertop and mingi by the wall, and past the rest of your boyfriends just standing there, back into the safety of your bedroom. it is from years of muscle memory navigating the apartment that you do not walk head-first into anything despite your vulnerable state, although your boyfriends also step out of your way in stunned stupor.

fumbling for the edge of the door behind you with your hand the moment you walk past the threshold to your bedroom, you step backwards until you are able to push it closed. it shuts with a loud click and then finally, you are alone.

you slowly sink forward to the ground, legs useless as your hands reach out towards the floor to hold yourself up. the world around you continues to blur with wetness, a stinging heat behind your eyes and nose, yet the tears do not fall and you do not cry. your gaze remains unfocused on the spot right beside the leg of your bed, frozen in your own stupor of tangled thoughts and emotions.

time, fucking time. you despise that word with your entire soul. in this world, the ones who are truly rich are not those with endless wealth to spare–the ones who are truly rich are those with endless time to spare.

when was the last time you drank freshly-brewed coffee at a cafe instead of guzzling down the grainy staleness of a rushed instant coffee that has not even been mixed properly? when was the last time you sat down for a knife-and-fork meal with warm food instead of popping a mint into your mouth to stave off your hunger pains for a little longer? when was the last time you went shopping for a pretty dress and a cute pair of matching heels instead of sniffing your scrubs at the end of a shift wondering whether you can postpone the laundry for one more day? when was the last time you used shampoo and conditioner when washing your hair instead of simply rinsing it under the water before your eyes closed on themselves?

they are such simple tasks of everyday life, yet they have now become unattainable luxuries in the face of insufficient time. you deliberately sacrifice the quality of your life to save a few extra minutes here, a few extra minutes there. but no matter how much time you are able to scrape out of thin air, it slips through the cracks of your fingers like fine sand and disappears amongst the people around you. even one spare minute, if you have any leftover after prioritising your patients, must be somehow split between the eight of your boyfriends.

you can save however much time you can, but it will never be enough. you are not enough.

the knotted twist of anxiety that has been distorting your insides for the past few weeks suddenly unravels with shattering clarity as your fears suddenly weigh you down with crushing exhaustion. you cannot even take care of yourself anymore–how can you take care of your boyfriends, much less eight of them? you want everything to just stop, but what exactly ‘everything’ entails, you have no idea.

there is a soft hand on your shoulder squeezing tenderly. it is warm, you idly think to yourself. they murmur, “y/n,” and only when they squeeze you again do you dazedly look up, blinking to clear your vision. mingi’s round eyes gaze at you and you find him kneeling beside your crumpled form on the floor of your bedroom. you have no energy to acknowledge him further than another blink and prolonged eye contact.

he stares at you for a few seconds, eyes full of words that he holds back, before simply asking, “have you showered yet?”

you do not answer, but he had not questioned you with the intention of receiving an answer. he responds for you, “probably, but i doubt you washed your hair. come,” his hand slowly travels down from your shoulder to your smaller hand, “take a shower with me.”

mingi’s gaze does not waver despite the slight narrowing of your eyes that tells him you are tired and unamused. “i stink and i want your company,” he states. then he makes the decision for you and tugs you upwards with him. despite his strength, mingi’s hands are gentle as he holds you, leading you out of your bedroom and into the bathroom instead.

you stand there and let him guide your arms through your jumper so that he can take it off your head. he does the same with your shirt, your pants and with your undergarments, his touch intimate and loving not with sexual desires but with devoted care as if he is afraid you will crack under the slightest of pressures. his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps where they brush against your skin and your eyes close with the softest of sighs, letting yourself relax under your boyfriend’s careful movements.

the bathroom begins to steam up from the spray of hot water and mingi steps you into the shower with him. quietly, he wets your hair and lathers his shampoo into it, sturdy hands massaging the tension out of your scalp and the nape of your neck. you watch the concentration in his creased brows and the water that drips down from his chin falls between your chests. not once does he look at you–only focuses on properly shampooing your hair.

it is only when mingi is rinsing your hair and you are no longer facing him do you pluck up the courage to speak delicately, “why aren’t you asking me if i’m okay?”

he is silent for a few seconds and you feel the slight pause in his hands against your scalp before he continues to run his fingers through your hair. “do you want me to ask?”

once again, you do not answer, but that is an answer in itself.

“plus,” mingi softly murmurs, hands leaving your hair, the click of a bottle cap opening resounding in the echo of the bathroom louder than his voice, “you’ll just say that you’re okay…even though you’re not.”

then the touch of his fingers returns as he teases something cold into your hair from its roots to its ends. almost immediately, you choke up and your expression crumples, lips trembling downwards as your eyebrows furrow, because mingi is putting conditioner in your hair. it is embarrassing that this of all things is what finally marks your breakdown, but mingi does not comment when your shoulders shudder with shaky exhales nor when you fail to hold in a stuttering sob. he lets you cry out your sorrows, pain and fatigue and he simply continues to massage the conditioner into your hair.

mingi simply continues to love you in the way that you did not love yourself.

when your hair is rinsed, only then does he turn you around to face him. under the showerhead with only the comforting tranquility of water pattering against the tiles around the both of you, he softly tilts your chin upwards to capture your lips in a kiss. it is a slow but simple kiss, lips pressed against yours with a thousand utterances of comfort and reassurances dancing across them.

he gives you one kiss, then another, and another, each one sweeter than the previous despite the salty tracks that run down your cheeks. your hands find their way onto his chest and the steady beat of his heart thrums underneath your palm. mingi rests your foreheads together, your tears falling in solitude with the water and with the tears that fall from inside his heart.

finally, he asks, “is it work?”

you shake your head slightly. “i don’t know.”

“is it us?”

the tears that had slowed down reappear with a strangled sob as you answer truthfully, your fears emerging at least, “i don’t know.”

“that’s okay, you don’t have to know,” he whispers, “and you don’t have to be okay.” he pulls away a little so that he can cradle your jaw with his hands and look into your eyes. “take the day off tomorrow, y/n.”

you do nothing to stop the tears that continue spilling over the bottom of your eyes as you shakily answer, “i don’t have time. my patients need me.”

“you do have time,” mingi counters, thumbing your tears away. “you just haven’t been spending that time on yourself. even doctors get sick, you know.”

“i’m not sick,” you deny.

your boyfriend pulls you into his chest and encases you in a protective embrace. “physically, maybe not. but your mental health is just as important, and sometimes the things that you can’t see inflict more suffering than the things that you can see.”

it is something that you all know and understand, but when you are trapped in a workplace where the mentality revolves entirely around a medical model of physical health, the disparity in value you place between your physical and mental health becomes so deeply ingrained it is almost impossible to change.

“mingi, what if…” you trail off. your boyfriend nuzzles the top of your head with his chin before brushing his lips over the crown of your forehead in encouragement. you swallow thickly to continue, “what if i need time alone?”

mingi pulls away from you once more, slowly so as not to further upset your already-scattered emotions. he looks at you earnestly, considering your words and their meaning–whether he is understanding your undertone correctly and whether this is a genuine request for respite or a spur-of-the-moment cry for reassurance. he watches your eyes flicker back and forth between his own.

“if that’s what you need,” he finally whispers, wrapping you closer in his arms again, “then i’ll support you no matter what.”

he feels your small puff of surprise against his chest and it pierces through his heart like a sword. how he wishes that you would realise that he and any of your other boys would pluck all the stars in the universe’s galaxies if you were to ask for them. but instead, you are asking him in a small and timid voice, “you’re not upset? the others won’t be upset?”

mingi chooses his next words carefully, aware that they could easily be misunderstood but also unwilling to treat you like a child where the world is only full of happy endings. not that you believe that anymore, anyway. “we will be upset,” he gently breaks to you, “but only at the situation that we're in because things have ended up like this before we could even really do anything for you. y/n, we will never be upset at you in this situation, much less upset at the decisions you choose to make. if time is what you need, then take however much time you need.”

you do not have the courage to lift up your head to meet his eyes, shame starting to creep through your veins because what if this decision is simply a decision to run away yet again? but then mingi senses your doubts and draws you in for another kiss. he captures your lips between his, pressing against you a little harder when you both start to run out of breath. he draws it out for longer until the kiss becomes dizzyingly and intoxicatingly blissful and fills your mind with thoughts of him and him only.

when you can finally inhale, the air swirls with a mix of his scent and the shampoo he had used. here, under the warm spray of water within the safe confines of the shower and mingi's arms, it may only be momentary but you are okay.

“can you tell the boys for me?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. “i don't think i can tell them myself.”

mingi nods and the corners of his lips rise bittersweetly. “of course.”

so for the first time in four years since moving in with your boys, on a night that snows lightly but unceasingly, you pack a small bag of clothes and essential belongings…

and move out.

“good evening, doctor jeong from general surgery.”

the running joke between himself and the little girl in front never fails to draw a laugh of amusement out of yunho, who pretends to bow in formal greeting as he returns the acknowledgement, “good evening, kim seolhee from the paediatric ward.” when she giggles, he comments, “you look like you’re having a good day.”

seolhee grins and nods with excitement. not only does her expression look livelier, there is a slight healthy glow to her skin as well. “i was just telling doctor snowflake that they’re letting me go home for christmas next week before my next round of treatments start.”

at her words, there is no way to avoid eye contact with your boyfriend as his gaze automatically flicks over to where you are sitting beside her bed. ever since you moved out a few days ago into a friend’s rented apartment with a spare couch, your encounters with your boyfriends around the hospital have been…different.

a shift in dynamics was always going to be inevitable because it was–is–an action of request for space to think and just breathe, even though neither parties are truly mad or upset at one another. just as mingi had reassured you in the shower, it is simply the circumstances that have piled up and led to a consequence like so, and if you need time away from a contributing factor to sort your emotions out, there are absolutely no hard feelings. despite all this, your boyfriends cannot help but yearn to reach out and bring you back into their arms–to bring you back home.

yunho’s eyes soften the moment they lay upon you and he savours the sight of you today, unsure of when he will next see you around the hospital. “that’s so good to hear,” he says earnestly, “and i’m sure that news has made doctor snowflake’s entire week.”

he smiles at you warmly and this time you find yourself mirroring his expression, awkwardness taking a backseat because you know he is genuinely happy for both seolhee and you. the level of fondness and love you have for seolhee has long blurred past the usual level of care you would show to a patient on your caseload. she has spent more christmas’ in hospital than out, so to be able to spend these holidays at home is the greatest gift seolhee could receive and the greatest gift you could witness.

your boyfriend lingers around for a little longer, pushing his visit as long as he can without it being obvious that he does not actually have a reason to stay. eventually he says, “i better get back to work. enjoy your christmas at home, seolhee.”

she nods happily and then he looks at you. “i’ll see you–” yunho cuts himself off, holding back from finishing the sentence with ‘at home’. he corrects, “i’ll see you around.”

“see you,” you respond amiably, fingers fiddling with the hem of your scrubs as he walks out.

yunho only makes it a couple of steps away before he bumps into wooyoung making his evening rounds. they exchange brief conversation and you quickly avert your gaze when you see the taller of the two gesturing back into seolhee’s room. seolhee’s eyes dart between yours and the view outside her room before she points out, “it’s nurse woo!”

“really?” you lie, pretending you had not noticed. yunho has already walked off by the time you look back, so only wooyoung is looking at you. he makes no move to come into seolhee’s room. instead, he gives you a little wave with a hopeful smile. a small exhale of fondness leaves you as you return his gesture through the room’s window with a similar amount of restraint. however, it is enough to make your boyfriend break out into a beam, and then he goes running off.

seolhee is already staring at you when you turn to face her again. she raises an eyebrow. “are you and your boyfriends fighting?” she immediately asks.

her question makes you flinch with a sheepish smile, knowing that she would catch a whiff of it sooner or later–just not this fast. are you and your boys fighting? it is technically not a proper argument nor a proper break from the relationship, but there is the need to take a step back and rethink what certain things mean to you–to the boys–and what you want your life to look like.

you are not about to unload all of this onto the now seven-year-old girl with an ‘it’s complicated’ as your answer, so you opt for a simple, “yeah, kind of.”

seolhee shrugs and comments casually, “my parents used to fight all the time.”

you are reminded of her mother, mrs kim, who you have seen several times during visiting hours after that first meeting with her. you are also reminded of mr kim, her father who drops by whenever he can when he is not at work. they have been nothing but strong and supportive parents during seolhee’s battle with her cancer and you cannot reconcile that image of them with the image of constant arguing.

“what changed?” you probe curiously.

despite the smile on her face, the glimmer in seolhee’s eyes fade slightly. “i got diagnosed and then they realised that in the grand scheme of the universe, life is just too short not to spend every moment loving each other.” she turns to look outside the window on the other side of her bed. “we learnt a lot–love isn’t just about expensive outings and fancy gestures and impressive words because there are a lot of things that i can’t do that other normal kids and families can…we learnt that love is all about the small things too and those small moments in life are the things we truly end up cherishing, especially during the tough times.

“mum helps me pick out the colour of my bandanna when i want to wear one, and dad helps me hold the bucket up when i’m feeling sick. i pretend to hide my parents behind the curtains to see if the nurses will let us have an extra five minutes past visiting hours, and they will always smile and give us ten. we don’t always love each other the same way as other families do, but those are the things that we’ll remember the most.”

you look out the window with seolhee as you listen to her words. the snow has fallen lightly the entire day and now under the streetlights, the growing layer of snow glows brightly amongst the dimness of the winter night. you think back to your boys–the lack of dates and diminishing displays of love; how that had been one of the first indicators that something had changed in the relationship dynamics. then you also think back to those small gestures they had done for you; the silly notes, the coffees, the brief conversations, the meals, the break room hugs.

“it’s kind of like snow,” you murmur to neither yourself nor seolhee in particular. “you don’t notice it at first, and only when it starts to form a layer on the ground over time do you start to realise how much it has actually snowed.”

the moment those words leave your lips, you are suddenly reminded of how even those small gestures had gradually disappeared–how that too played a part in the shift in your romantic relationships. your tone is wistful, “then the snow melts and it's gone, just like that.”

seolhee looks back at you, considering your words thoughtfully. she hums for a moment before putting forward, “it melts, but does that change the fact that it snowed in the first place?”

the snowflakes continue to drift softly outside like butterfly wings. as beautiful as they are, there will come a time when they melt away, but the reality before your eyes right now is that they exist–they are there. it is snowing.

“no,” you reply, “it doesn’t.”

“then maybe it's up to us to remember that it snowed until it does snow again,” she smiles triumphantly, the innocence of her radiating beam so strikingly different to the clarifying wisdom she has suddenly dropped even if she does not know the true extent of the meaning her words hold to you. seolhee points at your name badge to drive her point home, “it's just like your badge. my sticker is gone now but that doesn't change the fact that it used to be there.”

your head flicks down immediately and you tilt your badge upwards so that you can get a good look it at. disappointment washes over you when you find that her words are true and her sticker is gone, so worn and loved that it has fallen off somewhere within the hospital. you have no idea when that occurred but it must have been today, because it was still there this morning when you touched it for comfort on your drive here. now, only the faint outline of its shape remains.

it should not hold as much sentimental value as it does, but the realisation that seolhee’s sticker is no longer with you makes you ask, like you the child and seolhee the adult, “can i have another one?”

her voice takes a rare tone of complaint as she grumbles, “i lost the sticker book when i moved back to this ward.”

“that’s a shame” you remark, as genuinely upset as the little girl beside you.

she lets out an endearing little sigh, then pats the back of her hand with her own. “that’s okay, you can look outside whenever you miss me. remember,” seolhee blinks at you earnestly, “i love you more than there are snowflakes falling outside.”

you place your other hand over hers with a hint of a challenging smile. “and if it stops snowing?” you ask, testing the seemingly boundless wisdom that is hidden inside of her.

seolhee beams, answer so clear and obvious. “then count the stars in the sky.”

for the first time in his life, jongho is late.

his, san’s and yeosang’s mornings had all started off a little rough after the latter had rushed past the open door to the bedroom the other two were sleeping in together, dressed in his scrubs and puffer jacket ready to leave, only to double take at the sight of them still in bed. they had been woken up by yeosang’s frantic question, “jongho? don’t you have work today?”

san had groggily lifted his upper body off the bed as jongho jolted into a sitting position, trying to pull himself together. “what?” jongho’s brain had remained foggy no matter how alert he appeared in panic. “what time is it? what day is it today?”

“it’s six thirty,” yeosang had responded, san’s grunts of confirmation affirming the same. alarm had suddenly run through yeosang as doubt creeped into his own mind. “and it’s monday…isn’t it?”

“yeah,” san had confirmed again, voice thick with sleep.

jongho had been certain he did not have work. “i checked the whiteboard last night. my name’s not down for a shift,” he had stated, only to break out into cold sweat immediately afterwards with realisation. you are the only one who goes to all the effort to note down everybody’s shifts for the fortnight on the whiteboard–the very same one that has not been changed since you moved out.

“oh, shit,” jongho had cursed. “i do have work.”

and so for the first time in his life, jongho is late. he knows he only has himself to blame for relying on somebody else for something as important as when he has to show up for work, but for years that is how it has been. not once have you ever made a mistake with the erasable calendar, always taking meticulous care to check that all the shifts for each day are correct because it is the easiest way to help you all keep track of where everybody is for the day.

nobody asks you to update the whiteboard. you just do.

hongjoong realises the same thing in the wake of jongho’s rush to leave the house. he stands in front of the bathroom sink, his eyes half-closed as he brings his toothbrush up to his mouth, only to get a gross mouthful of plain bristles. it is still too early in the morning to swear so he sighs in resignation instead, “not again.”

he pulls the head of the toothbrush back out of his mouth to squeeze a glob of toothpaste on top. it is the third morning in a row that he has done this, still unaccustomed to your absence in the house. on the mornings you leave for work earlier than him–which is most days–you have always pre-squeezed his toothpaste for him, simply because you know it takes a little longer for the cogs in his head to start turning in comparison to your other boys.

hongjoong does not ask you to squeeze his toothpaste for him. you just do.

it is second nature to you, just as it is to hang wooyoung’s keys on the jacket hook by the front door so that he does not upturn the entire house looking for them like he has been for the past fifteen minutes. seonghwa follows hot on the younger’s heels flipping cushions back onto their spots on the couch, shifting trinkets on the kitchen counter back where they belong and closing all the cabinet doors that are swung open haphazardly.

“i never understand why you don’t just put your keys back onto the same hook whenever you get home,” seonghwa exhales.

wooyoung pointedly chooses not to respond to that, instead firmly stating, “i’m telling you, they were on the couch just last night."

“and why would you put them on the couch in the first place?”

“that’s besides the point,” the younger waves his words away carelessly, going back to the couch once more and sliding his hands along the cracks in case they slipped inside.

“how does y/n always manage to find your keys,” seonghwa runs his fingers through his hair.

“i don’t know,” wooyoung suddenly dampens, hands coming to a stop in the middle of the couch as he thinks of you knowing exactly where his keys are in the chaos of the house. “she just…does.”

and there are a lot of other things that you just do. when mingi saunters into the kitchen after dinner, feeling peckish but not for something unhealthy considering it is already close to bedtime, he pokes his nose into the fridge as san washes the dishes. the latter glances over his shoulder.

“you want me to cut you an apple later?” san offers.

mingi nods happily and requests, “without the skin?”

the older laughs, repeating his words, “without the skin.”

when mingi is handed a plate of neat apple slices ten minutes later, he finds himself subconsciously comparing them to the ones you will silently place into his hands after dinner before he even asks for them. san’s slices are the same in appearance–skinned and uniform–except he cuts them into thicker wedges than you do.

mingi takes a bite into one. the apple tastes sweet and tart across his tongue and yet he cannot help but think that the apples taste better when you cut them. whereas san cuts them into six slices, you cut them into nine; just something that you do.

later that night, yunho is again the last one to arrive home after his surgeries run overtime, save for seonghwa and yeosang on night shift. it is pitch black when he enters, bumping not only into the shoe cabinet but also an untucked dining chair as he fumbles his way in with his hands outstretched.

the night light that is usually plugged into the wall of the living room is not on to greet him in the dark hours past midnight today. the light was something you had insisted he buy, absolutely not because the design of the glowing mushroom cap was cute, but because you did not want anybody–read yunho–tripping flat onto their face coming home from a late shift. you are always the one to turn it on if you know one of them will be late, but this time there is no light…because there is no you.

yunho does not ask you to turn the light on for him. you just do. nobody asks you to do any of those small things for them, yet you just do, because that is your way of showing you see, your way of showing you care, and your way of showing you love.

a wave of longing washes over yunho, the sands of his heart already long damp from the moment you moved out. how he wishes he could just walk into your room right now and shelter your peacefully-sleeping form from the shadows of the night with a tender kiss, just like he used to.

but he cannot, not anymore, and he regrets more than anything not doing it while he could.

nurse yejin, the head of the paediatric emergency department, is just about to greet you as you walk up to the nursing station when she takes all but one look at you and points out, “you’re looking like shit this morning.”

from anybody else, that statement would have been insulting despite it being the truth. but nurse yejin has always been frank and blunt, not one to beat around the bush with the intent of getting to the root of problems as efficiently and effectively as possible. ‘head nurse things’, she had told you early on in your rotation.

you let out a laugh in response, although it probably looks like a grimace more than anything. “woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” you joke.

it is only true to a certain extent since you have not been sleeping on a bed but on a couch for the past six days, now counting seven. but ever since you moved out, you have woken up every morning feeling out of routine, standing in the middle of the unfamiliar living room disorientated and wondering whether you usually brush your teeth before changing into your scrubs or after, and whether you usually grab your socks before you pack your bag or right before you leave for work. you do not realise how mentally ingrained into your system your morning routine is, down to the number of steps your feet can take on autopilot and the exact placement of the items your hands can grab without looking, until your environment changes entirely.

the drive to the hospital is also different. it is only ten minutes longer than your usual commute and the streets all look similar under the covering of snow, yet it still throws you off, setting the tone as such for the remainder of the day.

this morning had been no exception–arguably worse–when you realised with frustration that you had no more clean scrubs to change into. you had forgotten to run a load of laundry the day before, leaving you with no choice but to borrow your friend’s clothes that were presentable enough for you to wear to work until you could change into a set of the hospital’s spare scrubs.

forgetting to do your laundry is no rare occurrence but it has never been an issue. how many times had you opened your wardrobe, uncertain whether you would find a set of wearable scrubs, only to be surprised by an ironed and neatly-hung set waiting for you? it has never been an issue until now, as realisation dawns upon you that one of your boyfriends has always looked out for you by ensuring you always had clean scrubs for work.

“you better snap out of it quick then, doctor l/n,” nurse yejin advises, words pulling you back to the present. “we have a thirteen-year-old male arriving in a few minutes with a first-time generalised tonic-clonic seizure. episode lasted for six minutes, now postictal but stable.”

your mind immediately shifts, focus zeroing in on the length of the seizure as the head nurse continues to provide you a handover of the paramedic’s call. you instruct, “notify the fellow or resident currently on call in paediatric neurology. tell them to be ready for immediate assessment.”

nurse yejin nods and reaches for the phone as you walk off briskly to prepare for the patient’s arrival. from behind, she watches you with a slight smirk of pride because there you are; fire lit up in your eyes once again. only, it is nowhere near as intense as it used to be.

for fire, too, has a life of its own. it is able to burn and burn and burn, engulfing whatever it can within its vicinity in order to keep itself alive and bright. but even the strongest of fires will eventually burn out into nothing but a wither of smoke if it does receive enough fuel to keep it sustained, whether sourced by itself or provided by those around it.

“you’re not eating?” your intern asks you, hours later.

you turn your head slightly towards her to show she has your attention, but you keep your eyes glued to the screen as you rapidly type up the notes for the seizure patient from this morning. “you go have lunch first,” you respond distractedly, not having realised it was already past one thirty. “i’ll eat in a bit.”

only, when it comes to three o’clock, a wrench having been thrown into the works by a sudden code blue, you realise you do not have a lunch to eat. “fuck,” you curse at yourself, hands digging into your bag once more in hopes of finding a stray protein bar. you knew you should have thrown in a couple of them last night while it was on your mind.

just like your scrubs, your lunch has never been an issue for you until now. once more, realisation is forced upon you as you wonder why not; san has always had an uncanny sixth sense that somehow alerts him each time you forget to stuff your lunchbox into your bag so that he can do it in your stead. on the days you forget and he leaves earlier than you, hongjoong is there to take it to work, personally finding you on the wards to deliver it to you.

sometimes, your lunch will be packed in a different container. when wooyoung makes a heavily-spiced or greasier dish, he portions some to cook with less chilli or seasoning specifically for you to take to work the next day because he knows your stomach is sensitive, especially when you are stressed or fatigued. today though, you have no choice but to grab something from the cafeteria.

even the instant coffee you quickly brew for yourself tastes particularly unpalatable and sand-like, a tricky feat considering how rock-bottom the standard already is. jongho has always somehow managed to make it taste bearable if he does not have time to order freshly-brewed coffee from the cafe. you think that maybe it is because he takes the extra minute that you do not to properly pre-dissolve the powder in some boiling water before diluting the coffee with the rest of the water. and jongho does do that, except the reality is that it tastes better simply because he is making it for you.

you find your mind incessantly churning as your day continues in a similar manner–sudden awareness of all the different ways your boyfriends have been looking out for you. it shadows you from the hospital back to your friend’s apartment, which is pitch black when you get back after your shift. your friend had texted you earlier that she would be out drinking with friends and unlikely to return before the morning, so when you unlock the door, you are greeted by nothing but deafening silence and apocalyptic stillness.

using the display of your lockscreen to illuminate a path, you toe off your shoes and sluggishly trudge into the living room. you have never come home to complete blackness before–one of your boyfriends, usually yunho, has always made sure to keep a night light on for you. but this time, the lonely gloom of your friend’s apartment beckons to you in a way that is hauntingly comforting. so instead of turning its lights on, you sit down heavily on the couch in the darkness.

the night seems colder than usual.

you lean back onto the cushions of the couch and stare blankly at the ceiling above. the display on your phone dims before turning off from idleness. as if your body takes it as a cue to do the same, you close your eyes and slowly exhale, muscles deflating into the couch as the silence spreads over your body like the gradual creep of water freezing.

just what exactly are you doing? what is it that you need?

did you simply need an opportunity to just be yourself, away from those who you felt the need to always be a perfectly happy and positive y/n around? or did you need space to reconsider the state of your relationship with the boys? maybe it was never even about the relationships in the first place, but that you had no way of isolating yourself from work so you chose the next best option to cut yourself off from.

perhaps, you really just wanted to continue running away and hiding from a greater problem that you do not want to acknowledge.

a wetness builds up behind your eyelids, confused and overwhelmed by the fact itself that you still cannot make sense of your emotions. maybe it is because there is no one answer but that all of them are answers, because no matter what you try to do or where you try to run, you cannot seem to rid the bone-deep exhaustion that continues to crush and constrict your soul.

however, there is one thing you are certain of after today. having spent so many days away from the boys and your normal routine, only now do you realise just how many subtle routines there are that intertwine you all together. some you only notice because of the change it has brought upon this week; others long known because they ceased to occur.

but seolhee’s words resonate within you. yes, some of those routines had disappeared, but like the snow, it does not change the fact that they existed in the first place. the commonality that all of the routines share–whether it be those you had previously been so hung up about dwindling or those you are only just becoming conscious of–is that they are all routines of love.

and like the golden warmth of the sun during the frigid bitterness of winter, you do not learn to truly appreciate something until it becomes absent from your life.

sometimes, you wonder what the end of the world will be like.

you wonder how it happens; whether it would be instantaneous, one second everybody going about their everyday life then the next second everything gone, people’s last moments still in blissful ignorance as to what has become of them and the world; or whether it would be gradual, an agonisingly slow and painful wait as inevitable doom creeps closer, no better than mercifully taking your own life.

you wonder what you would feel; fear for what will be or resignation for what is to be? regret for what had been or grief for what will not be? you wonder how you would realise, where you would be the moment it happens, who would come to mind first, why the world would be ending.

you have wondered so much and yet, you would have never expected to experience a part of your world ending through a phone call, your ringtone jarring and eerie in the late hours past midnight, jolting you awake on an unfamiliar couch to the sight of an equally unfamiliar ceiling. it takes you a few seconds to process the sound, disoriented from having accidentally fallen asleep still in your scrubs with no recollection of the last few hours.

by the time your fingers fumble across your phone, it has already stopped ringing. squinting, you turn the screen on. there are fresh notifications at the top of your screen showing two missed calls, but before you can process who they are from, the silent living room is disturbed by the piercing sound of your ringtone once again.

it is only seonghwa who is calling but an unsettling shift in the air abruptly makes the hair along your skin rise. something is wrong. you pick up.

“...hwa?”

“hey, love,” your boyfriend responds carefully. “where–are you at your friend’s place right now?”

you sit up on the couch and adjust the phone closer towards your ear with both hands. “yeah…i am.”

you can hear seonghwa take a shaky exhale before answering, “i think you might want to come to the hospital.”

blood rushes to your ears and your breath hitches. “why?” you whisper out, voice barely audible as your clutch on your phone tightens.

he does not answer you immediately. it is not until you choke out your question once more, voice urgent and desperate, that he breaks. seonghwa's tone is solemn, hesitance to speak louder than a waterfall, and never would you have thought that it would only take something as simple as his next two words for you to experience what feels like the end of the world.

“it’s seolhee.”

the room spins around from under your feet. you suddenly find yourself blindly groping the surface of the kitchen countertop, having stumbled your way across the dark living room. the phone call has ended–you cannot recall whether you hung up on seonghwa or whether he hung up on you, or whether it is actually still ongoing, his concerned shouts of your name simply falling upon deaf ears.

your breathing becomes increasingly shallow but you do not start crying. your expression remains stonily frozen as you frantically feel and search the countertop with your hands, uncaring of the ruckus and mess you are making. you are looking for something. what are you looking for? you need something. you need to bring something, but what? keys. you need to bring your keys. you need keys. you need your car keys. car keys, so you can drive to the hospital. you need to drive to the hospital because seolhee is there. you need to get to the hospital and you need to drive and you need your keys, where are your keys? you need your keys.

something cold brushes against the side of your pinky and immediately you snatch it up. you rush to the front door, toeing on the first thing that feels like a pair of shoes, then yank the door open before they are properly on your feet. you have no time. your leg jitters and your finger repeatedly jabs the elevator button as you watch the display numbers of the floor slowly move upwards towards yours. please, you beg to whichever higher entity is willing to listen to you, please, i have no time.

the moment the doors start to crack open, you force your way into the elevator. the doors cannot close fast enough and you pace in restless circles in the enclosed space while it takes you down to the underground carpark. your feet have already exited the threshold of the elevator before the doors even fully open again and your frantic steps reverberate loudly in the echo of the parking lot as you sprint for your car.

“y/n!”

you almost miss the yell of your name in your distraught, but your steps falter at the last moment, slowing down only slightly to turn in the direction of the sound. there is no time to question what you see. mingi is there, rapidly closing the distance between the two of you.

he stands in front of you within seconds and his chest heaves with effort and adrenaline. you feel your face crumpling as you instinctively and automatically reach out for him. mingi catches your hands, letting you squeeze his own in panic even if your nails dig into his skin.

“mingi, seonghwa–seolhee, she–the hospital–”

“i know,” mingi nods quickly, gently shushing your unintelligible blabber, “i know. let’s get you to the hospital.”

he envelops your hand in his and tugs you along behind him towards his car. you want to urge him to run, but he maintains a steady pace until he can pull the car door open and guide you into the seat. mingi can feel your anxiety rolling off in waves as he rounds the front of the car to the driver’s seat and he knows how desperate you are for him to hurry up and floor the pedal, but he also knows that feeding into your panic with his own will only make things worse.

mingi drives as fast as he can without speeding too dangerously, although he cuts it close with a few red lights. the two of you sit in loud silence the entire ride. your boyfriend glances over at you every now and then, brows furrowed with concern, but you remain motionless with your eyes fixed to the road in front despite the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat.

“y/n–” your boyfriend cuts himself off upon arriving at the hospital, where you tumble out of the car the moment it jerks to a stop. he is not quick enough to grab you as he puts the car into park and he fumbles to undo his own seatbelt whilst you are already weaving your way towards the sliding doors to the elevator.

you run. never before in your life have you ever run with such sheer desperation. one after the other, the soles of your shoes strike against the ceramic tiles of the lobby before they become thuds against the vinyl flooring of the wards.

the past month, you have walked this exact path almost every single day; you have seen stretchers being rushed in, and parents and family members forcibly pulled away from the side of their loved ones to make way for immediate medical assistance from doctors like you. but today, you are on the other side–you are the one rushing into the paediatric ED dishevelled and crazed, uncaring of how you look to the rest of the world.

“seolhee,” you mutter to yourself, pace slowing to an unsteady stumble as you twist and turn to find her familiar smile. “seolhee, where are you?”

nurse yejin spots you and rushes up to grasp you by the elbow. “doctor l/n,” she urges with wide eyes, “she came in as a code blue. she's in the resus bay but she–”

your blood runs cold and the rest of nurse yejin's words become a muffled fuzz in your ear along with the surrounding clamour of the ED, replaced instead by a high-pitched ringing that reverberates throughout your entire skull. gaze unfocused, you sway as your feet slowly pivot in the direction of the resus bay. nurse yejin’s outstretched hand falls to her side and she watches you helplessly, your shoes shuffling with contradictory urgency and hesitancy towards the sliding glass doors.

around you, the commotion of the ward blurs away, your vision narrowing into a pinprick tunnel the closer you get. seonghwa tries to reach for you when you pass by him and some of your colleagues near the doors, but you continue shambling forward as if you are possessed, mind and body completely blind to his presence and touch. you do not stop until you reach the doors. slowly, you bring your hands up to rest on the cool surface as you press yourself closer and look inside.

it’s a code blue, you think to yourself in a state of trance and stupored confusion at the scene that unfolds before your eyes, but why is nobody resuscitating seolhee? why is nobody helping her? why isn’t anybody doing anything?

“seolhee,” you whisper vaguely, right hand weakly hitting the glass. then again, you call out her name, this time with more urgency. “seolhee.”

you hit the glass once more, then a third time but harder yet. “seolhee!” you shout, both hands now fisted and pounding against the glass in distress. “seolhee! somebody save her!”

hands start to pull you back but you do not register any of them nor are they strong enough to draw you away from the doors. the anguished cries of your name are left unheard, but despite the wildness of your crazed desperation, your mind vaguely registers the few words that somehow manage to break through. the sounds are warped and distorted as if you are continuously being thrust underwater then hauled upwards over and over again, but it is enough for you to piece them together.

“cardiac arrest…multi-organ failure–” “–terminal lucidity–” “–time of death–”

your body nearly topples over as you freeze under the resistance of those around you, jostling around limply in the crowd of limbs. all of a sudden, you are wrenched out of the water and your chest convulses trying to gasp for air. the noise of the ED and the shouts around you flood back into your ears like a tsunami, except it comes from every direction imaginable with force that has multiplied infinitely and pulverises your entire soul.

you cannot stay here any longer. you run.

you run wherever your feet take you and you do not stop, even when your lungs and your legs begin to sear at the same intensity as the inferno that currently incinerates your heart. lurching up stairs after stairs after stairs, you run and run and run until you burst through the doors to the rooftop of the hospital where your chest takes in a heaving inhale. the piercing temperature of the air leaves your system shocked and breathless and you stumble over to the ground.

there is nothing to break your fall in every sense, so there, on your hands and knees at your absolute lowest in the stinging cold of the hospital rooftop, you finally shatter into smithereens. it starts off as a tremble of your lips and a quiver of your chin, a choked stutter of breath as your eyebrows crumple and your eyes blink back the growing heat behind them. but then a small cry of pain leaves you and you lean back heavily onto your feet before your hands fist the material of your scrubs. your skin turns white as you clench and rock yourself back and forth, breathing erratic and sobs increasing in volume until they are long, soulful wails.

your entire body convulses uncontrollably with each gut-wrenching cry that leaves you. the world around you blurs away from the tears that fall down your face and your head pounds with lightheadedness. you hit your chest with an agonised fist, again and again, harder and harder, because you would rather feel any physical pain than the shattering crevice in your heart.

you are suddenly jostled by a strong pair of arms wrapping around your upper body. they tuck you firmly into their chest, a hand wrapping around your wrist to stop you from hurting yourself any further and the other pressing your head against the warmth of their neck.

they shush you repetitively with soothing rocks back and forth. as they comfort you, their own voice cracks from their constricted throat, “i’ve got you, y/n. just cry.” only then do you hazily register it as seonghwa’s voice. seonghwa, who was just as close to seolhee as you, understands the pain that is breaking you apart and is here to hold you through it.

you cannot rid the image of seolhee’s last smile out of your head–her excitement to go home for christmas, her cheery confession of how much she loves you. you fist the front of seonghwa’s scrubs and weep, “it hurts, seonghwa. why does it hurt so much?”

he rests his cheek against the top of your head, his own tears falling freely and dripping down to join yours on the snowy floor in bittersweet harmony. as doctors and nurses, grieving for patients is a luxury that cannot be afforded for every single life that is lost. grief is a weakness in the medical field because you cannot look back–you can only look forward and do your best to make sure there are no more lives that are lost.

but you forget that grief is not a weakness as a person, and you are human first and foremost before you are doctors and nurses. sometimes, it becomes a necessity to grieve before you can keep moving forward.

“i know, love,” seonghwa brushes his hand over your hair as he tries to keep his voice from breaking. “grief is the price you pay for loving somebody.”

because unfortunately, life comes with transactions and between two people, there will always be one person who must pay the price of love.

you close your eyes, gritting your teeth when your face crumples again and a fresh bout of sobs escapes through your lips. seonghwa presses his lips to the crown of your forehead, resting them there while you shake in his arms. eventually, he murmurs into your hair, “you want to know what seolhee’s mother told me once?”

your answer is in the form of more anguished cries but you hang onto every word that comes out of your boyfriend’s mouth like they are your lifeline. the corners of seonghwa’s lips tug upwards with mournful nostalgia as he tells you, “she’s always wanted to thank you for loving her daughter as if she is your own…so it’s okay–it’s normal for you to hurt so badly, because you love seolhee and the more you love somebody, the greater the price you pay.”

seonghwa’s unconscious choice of phrasing–that you love her, not that you loved her–simultaneously cradles and crushes your heart. it is an exact reflection of the last conversation you had with seolhee. snow may melt, but it does not change the fact that snowflakes flutter down from the sky. seolhee may be gone, but it does not change the fact that you love and remember her.

“seolhee’s last wish was fulfilled,” seonghwa softly murmurs, pulling out his phone from his pocket to turn the screen on. the light hurts your sensitive eyes when you try to make out the display through your fuzzy vision and you can just barely make out what looks to be the time on his lockscreen. he explains, “it’s four thirty am…that makes it christmas already. not only was she able to spend some time at home with her family again, but now she gets to spend the rest of her christmas back where she came from–”

your boyfriend pulls away slightly and tilts your head up tenderly with his fingers. you see him properly for the first time tonight. his eyes are just as red and swollen as yours are, cheeks wet and glistening despite the small smile he gives you when you finally look at him. he finishes, “–the sky, with all the other beautiful angels just like her.”

you slowly follow his gaze upwards. once more, a wounded cry breaks free at the sight that greets you. it no longer snows, the thin blanket of snowflakes covering the ground and the rooftop the only traces left and already steadily melting away. but that is not what makes you sob even harder.

the skies above you are filled with an endless expanse of stars, shining and gleaming no matter where your eyes look. there are thousands upon millions of stars, too many to begin counting even if you were to stand on the rooftop for numerous lifetimes.

the heavens cried in the form of the first snow when seolhee was born, for they lost her to the world. but tonight they rejoice, for their precious angel has returned soaring through the starry skies. and even amidst her joy of freedom–from the shackles of pain and suffering–seolhee remembers to tell you that she loves you more than you can fathom.

more than you can count the stars in the sky.

you jolt awake confused and disorientated for the second day in a row. only, this time it is not a jerk-induced reaction to your ringtone but a sudden thrust into consciousness by the feeling that you have overslept.

shit, what time is it? i have work.

the rising flood of panic in your chest is immediately quelled when you spot a scrap of paper on your bedside table, handwriting printed neatly in the centre.

hongjoong took sick leave for you today. don’t worry about work and go back to sleep after you take the painkillers.

that is when you register the fucking terrible headache you are sporting and you let out an involuntary groan as you press a hand to your temple. your other hand grabs the two tablets and you down them with the glass of water beside the paper.

groggily, you pat the mattress around you in search of your phone to look at the time. apart from the dim glow of your bedside lamp, the curtains to your left are drawn shut in your room, making it impossible to discern whether it is the morning, afternoon or night. the numbers blink back at you when you turn the screen on and you find that you have slept past lunchtime. confusion swirls inside of you with an unusual mix of something else. taking the day off work is not the only thing that is off.

wait.

your head jerks to the left, then to the right, then down at your bedding–the blue-grey colour familiar and soft to the touch. you are in your room–your room room, back at your place with the boys. you turn your phone on again and check the date. it is christmas.

and then it hits you.

it is still christmas. it is still the same day as what now feels like a vivid fever dream. you can only recall bits and pieces, so hazy and yet so evocative at the same time. it is like trying to make sense of an optical illusion; it disappears when you think about it too directly, but the moment you take your mind off it even slightly, it is right there in your peripheral vision, begging for your attention.

you remember being woken up by seonghwa’s phone call and your desperation to get to the hospital. you remember mingi driving you there and then sprinting towards the ED. you remember breaking down on the hospital’s rooftop after finding out that seolhee had…

your fingers pinch the inside of your left wrist to stop yourself from finishing the memory. with an unsteady exhale, all tension is lost from your body and you fall back to slump against the headboard. grief starts to take over you once more, vice tightening its grasp around your heart but simultaneously leaving a cavernous hollowness and numbness in your chest.

that is how wooyoung finds you an hour later, still staring blankly at the bedroom wall across from you and swimming in muddy water. he had only tentatively knocked twice on your door before entering, half-expecting you to still be asleep and making a soft noise of surprise when he finds that you are not. in the back of your mind, you vaguely feel a twinge of guilt at not having the energy to do something as simple as greet him as he sits carefully on the edge of your bed.

but wooyoung is a persistent soul and an even more persistent lover. he has learnt from experience that sometimes, asking anything but what he truly wants to ask is what you actually need. wooyoung catches himself from gazing sadly at you, putting on a small smile instead as he lays a hand over your thigh. his touch is warm through the blanket.

“should i bring in some food for you? there’s dumpling soup,” he tells you. “or do you want to go to the living room? we can put on a movie.”

it is hard to find the words to answer him–hard to even hum or nod or shake your head in response. your fingers twitch slightly in the direction of wooyoung’s hand still on your thigh and he immediately moves it to place over yours. the rhythmic touch of his thumb brushing back and forth over your skin is soothing.

“we don’t have to talk. we can just sit for a bit,” he offers.

the room settles into silence for a while as he gives you time to decide. finally, you ask, voice quiet, “who’s home?”

wooyoung wriggles a little closer with restrained excitement at your response. “all of us are.” when you blink at him in reaction, he understands your question immediately because none of you can remember the last time the nine of you had a day off together, much less on a christmas. he explains, “we all took whatever personal leave we could.”

“the hospital let?” you frown slightly, the tone of disbelief the most amount of emotion you have shown so far.

wooyoung mirrors the minute increase in animation with cheek in his vague shrug, “they can’t afford to fire any of us. plus…i think we’ve all realised that some things are more important than work.”

you are more important than work; ‘us’ is more important than work.

something tugs at your heartstrings and you sit up a little straighter. looking at wooyoung, a slight spark of resolve lighting up in your eyes, you slowly suggest, “can we…have a talk?”

he is taken aback with pleasant surprise as he answers, “of course we can. we don’t have to do it today though.”

“no,” you shake your head, “let’s talk now.”

while we still can. before it becomes too late. plus, who knows when the next time all of you are together like this will be.

so you follow wooyoung out of your bed and then out of your room, his fingers intertwined between yours as he walks the both of you into the living room. it is a lie to say that it is not awkward seeing everybody’s heads turn towards you in simultaneity and your knee-jerk response is to dismiss their poorly-concealed concern with a wave of your hand and an, ‘i’m fine’. but you think you have had enough of that–enough of pretending and enough of pushing them away.

yunho opens his arms from his seat on the couch, eyes hopeful. you push away any second thoughts and bury yourself against him. your boyfriend pulls you right into his chest whilst tucking your legs off the ground over his thighs and he murmurs against your temple, “you sleep okay?”

you nod into his neck as jongho asks, “did you take the painkillers?” and seonghwa questions, “do you want dumplings?”

a small puff of amusement comes out of your chest because just mere weeks ago, perhaps even one, questions like these would have fanned an inexplicable inferno inside of you. now, it all seems so long ago, but it does not change the fact that you are apologetic about it–apologetic about a lot of things.

“i took them, thanks jongho. and maybe later, hwa,” you respond softly. “come sit?”

the boys heed to your words immediately and the oldest of your boyfriends crosses the living room in three large strides to take your other side on the couch, the rest of them settling on the adjacent couch or on the floor. the shared warmth from being sandwiched between seonghwa and yunho immediately envelops you in comfort and safety and your body relaxes into the shape of theirs.

you do not know where to start, much less what you even want to say to the boys now that you are here with them. there are masses of things to unpack and each one seems like such a colossal mountain to climb. some you do not know the route up, others you know the route up but not the way back down, and the rest you cannot even see the mountaintop. so you choose to start easy: at the very bottom of the trail where it is safe.

“i miss having clean scrubs,” you blurt out, “and i miss the lunches that wooyoung cooks and the coffees that jongho makes.”

from beside you, yunho’s body rumbles with low laughter at your unexpected conversation starter and he glances down at you fondly. his voice is soothing in your ear as he says, “we miss seeing your night light greet us whenever we come home.”

“and the changes you make on our whiteboard calendar,” yeosang adds.

“we struggled to remember our shifts without you keeping track of them,” jongho divulges sheepishly.

yeosang tattles with a giggle, “he was late for work for the first time.”

“yeah,” you smile, “i heard.”

jongho huffs out before quipping, “at least i still knew how to squeeze my own toothpaste and find my own car keys.”

both hongjoong and wooyoung curse indignantly at the uncalled-for betrayal of the youngest as he pointedly ignores them and continues, “some of us have realised we have non-existent survival skills without you.”

“oh, speak for yourself,” san nudges him endearingly.

but you are more than grateful for the lightening of the mood because you do not think you would have the courage to otherwise abruptly apologise, “i’m sorry that i took so many things for granted.”

“what? no,” san counters, the first of many others to parrot the same thing. “we’re sorry about that too. when you moved out, we also realised just how many things you do for us without our appreciation. you raised a valid concern because our relationship with one another is something we have all become too complacent about.”

yunho squeezes you a little tighter with the arm he has around your shoulders. he muses, “it’s easy for a long-term relationship to become less ‘exciting’, but we forget that part of the reason is because we simply become so attuned to one another’s likes and dislikes, preferences and habits that it becomes our own second nature to do those things naturally. it isn’t that we love each other less, it’s just that we become so used to the way we love and are loved that we stop noticing it.”

your mind drifts slightly to a sweet, little girl with a bright smile, telling you that relationships are not always about the grand gestures, but rather the small things. she always did know better than you.

“in saying that though,” hongjoong brings up, “as important as it is for us to start appreciating all of those things again, i think it’s just as important for us to put in the conscious effort to go out of our way to have quality time and conversations with one another, like going on dates.”

wooyoung cackles, “that’s a bit rich coming from you, mister sorry-i-forgot-about-our-date,” and a snort comes out of you despite yourself.

the older flips him off. on both hands.

now occupied with his handsy insults, seonghwa takes over the conversation instead, “no relationship is perfect. they all need mutual effort to maintain and it definitely won’t be easy, especially since so many of you are nearing the end of your residency. it’ll be a busy few months preparing for the board exam and there’ll be plenty of hurdles to jump over in the future too, but things will work out because we’ve got each other’s backs now.”

the boys all smile affectionately at one another and at you. seonghwa presses a loving kiss against your temple and you bathe in the brief feeling of everything being okay before you remind yourself that it still is not. “on that note,” you start cautiously, “i owe you all another apology.”

you catch the gaze of mingi’s soft expression from opposite you, who gives you a small nod and a minute smile of encouragement. with an exhale, you admit, “the way i handled everything–not just moving out but everything leading up to that–i know you were all trying to look out for me and i shouldn’t have pushed you all away the way that i did. i just–everything was so overwhelming and confusing and tiring, and i wanted to work things out by myself because all of you had enough things to deal with, and i…”

once more, you are unsure of what you want to communicate. you are sick of not knowing and not understanding and your eyes start to water with frustration.

at your sentence trailing off, mingi finally speaks up, “life isn’t meant to be smooth sailing, y/n. yes, they’re your feelings, but that doesn’t mean that they have to make sense to you.”

and it is as if that is the validation you have needed all along, because the vice around your chest finally loosens its grip. you can breathe again and the rush of oxygen into your lungs without a heavy weight crushing you inwards is liberating.

“as healthcare workers, we become accustomed to seeing other people in the most painful moments of their lives.” mingi gently shrugs his shoulders, “we become accustomed to invalidating our own feelings. it doesn’t matter if we’re having a bad day; there will always be somebody else having the worst day of their lives. but we forget that pain is not relative–just because somebody else is hurting ‘more’, it doesn’t make our own hurt hurt less.

“and yeah, work is always going to be shitty and we’re always going to run ourselves ragged chasing after time, and then coming home from work to eight of us is going to be tiring too,” he chuckles softly. “but y/n…i think part of the reason why it’s been so hard for you is because you never let yourself have time for yourself. you never let yourself be tired or be hurt.”

you swallow your objections–the voice inside of you that says you shouldn’t and the voice that says you can’t–because you know mingi is right. you just needed to hear that you should and that you can.

he continues, “we all need quiet time away from other people and that’s okay. we spend all day showing our patients, their families and our colleagues the best side of ourselves, which means that a lot of the times we only have the…” mingi scratches the side of his head as he finds a way to express his thoughts without saying ‘the ugly side’, because that is far from what it is. “we only have the side of ourselves that we do not like as much because it isn’t what we view as ‘perfect’. but it simply holds our realest emotions–fatigue, stress, worry, frustration, impatience. it is not just you who has that side–we all do and we understand better than anybody how guilty it can feel when that is the only side that is left by the time we get home.”

there is a brief pause in the conversation as he lets the words sink in. around you, heads and gazes lower alike to the floor because that guilt is something that resounds with everybody in the room. you continue to look at mingi, though, unable to avert your eyes as his solace finally stirs the cathartic release of tears flowing freely from your heart to your eyes.

“like i said, it’s okay to take time away from us; in your room or out with your friends or somewhere else. but at the same time, i want you to know that it doesn’t make us love you any less if you don’t come home happy. you don’t love us any less when we’re unable to leave our baggage at work, because you have the same struggles. in fact, you are often the first to offer to share the load.

“as doctors and nurses, we have signed up for a lifetime of baggage and sacrifice. and that is exactly why it is that much more important for you to know that home is your safe space.” mingi gazes at you with all the earnesty in his heart. “we are your safe space where you can share your baggage. we might not be able to take it off you, but we sure as hell can curse or laugh or cry together over it, and sometimes, just that is already enough to help you keep carrying its weight over whatever mountain you are facing.”

from beside mingi, san watches you with a clenching heart. in an ideal world, san would rather you have no baggage at all and he be your only mountain–the one who shields you from the harsh elements of the world and is your unwavering presence from sunrise till sunset and yet again till the following sunrise. he sees the way you finally lower your head and let months of repressed tears fall in front of them, soft sobs in yunho and seonghwa’s comforting arms and the rest of your boyfriends within reach.

but san knows your tears are no longer ones of pain or fatigue, so for now, that is enough. he scooches closer across the floor until he is at your feet, peering up at you from between the strands of hair that have fallen in front of your face. tenderly, he asks, “y/n, will you move back in with us?”

a warm hand brushes over your cheeks. it could be san, it could be seonghwa, it could be yunho or it could be any of them. but it does not really matter. what matters is this: in order to love others, you must first love yourself–

“yeah,” you slowly nod, “i will.”

–and part of loving yourself is letting others love you. there is no place like home, much less a place like where your boys are. snow melts, but it will always fall again. without fail.

as your boyfriends all shuffle closer and envelop you in the middle of an embrace that is long overdue, loving warmth dizzying to the touch, outside the windows the first snowflake of many others flutters its graceful path down from the sky. soon, snow will cover the streets as far as the eye can see.

nobody talks about how ironic it feels to work in the hospital during the holidays, particularly christmas.

nobody plans to spend the day there, either.

but that is exactly why it is ironic. the hospital is a symbol of misery, the white colour of its interior the embodiment of sterility and detachment all year round–all except for a few days. on christmas eve, christmas itself and perhaps even the rest of the week leading up to the new year, the corridors are adorned with never-ending lengths of glittering tinsel, the wards are filled with the low hum of christmas carols on a looping playlist, and the staff all wear silly scrubs with rudolph faces and dancing santas on them.

there is an underlying hum of excitement and festive cheer that overrides the usual despondency of the hospital as everybody pretends it does not exist, even if just for a few days. the electric buzz thrums not just in the air at work but outside of work too, filling households with a hustle and bustle of liveliness–yours included.

“hongjoong!” you yell as you knock on the bathroom door, “we’re leaving in a few minutes!”

you press yourself flat against the door as yunho races past you with several pairs of socks in both hands despite the ones he already has on his own feet. he skids to a wobbly stop and shuffles backwards two steps to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“gross,” you laugh, pretending to wipe it off your face, but yunho is already skedaddling off again back towards his destination of the living room, on a mission to deliver the socks to your other boyfriends.

ever since you, yunho, yeosang and san all passed the board exam and became fully licensed doctors like hongjoong, your shifts have been significantly more consistent. it is much easier for you and your boyfriends to drive to work together in fewer cars, making the mornings before work significantly more chaotic. your wake-up times and subsequent bathroom usage is no longer as staggered as it was with different start times and several more night shifts, but it is a good chaotic–a bright and lively chaotic.

hongjoong yells back at you, “my hair gel isn’t hair gel-ing!” and you nearly topple onto him when he suddenly pulls the bathroom door open.

his hair is swept up neatly away from his forehead and there is not a single strand that is out of place. you chuckle and tell him as such, “your hair looks perfect, joong,” but you know his nerves are due to something completely different. you cup his jaw and gently pull him towards you for a kiss before you encourage, “you’ll do great today. you already presented at the korean neurological association earlier this year–what’s a seminar to the hospital staff in comparison?”

your boyfriend groans, “i know these people though. they’re all my colleagues.”

“and all of these colleagues will be wearing their ugly christmas sweaters or have stupid antler headbands with glowing lights on top of their heads. trust me, you’ll do amazing,” you reassure, pressing another chaste kiss against his lips to quieten his worries.

“y/n! hongjoong!” yeosang hollers.

“coming!”

you pull hongjoong out of the bathroom with you hand in hand, only letting go when you both fumble to catch the socks that yunho chucks through the air in your directions. within the next few minutes, there are playful elbows, harmless shoves and childish curses as you all cram yourselves in the corridor to put on your shoes and walk out the door to the car.

as you squish into the backseat with hongjoong and yeosang, yunho in the driver’s seat and san beside him, the latter wonders what you should all do after work. by some christmas miracle, neither you nor any of your boys have been scheduled for a night shift today, which means that if there are no hiccups at work, the nine of you will be able to spend christmas together once more.

you like to think that your guardian angel is still looking out for you, even an entire year later.

“should we try to make a reservation for a nice restaurant?” san suggests. “or should we stay up and watch a movie together?”

hongjoong proposes, “i have a friend who works at a pretty decent french restaurant if we want to go there.”

voicing your opinion without prefacing it with an apology is still something you are working on, but you have gotten much better at communicating over the year. you pipe up, “i’d prefer to stay at home tonight, but the movie sounds like a good idea. maybe we can go to your friend’s restaurant for new year’s?”

“yeah, i don’t really fancy going out tonight either,” yeosang agrees. “but new year’s, definitely.”

san nods enthusiastically. “i’ll let the rest of the boys know,” he says, then sends a question for movie recommendations for tonight into the group chat.

it is not long after that yunho pulls into the hospital’s car park where you all pile out and wait obediently by a nearby pillar as he backs the car into a particularly tight space. when he has turned the ignition off and carefully squeezed himself out without slamming the door into the car beside him, it is his turn to wait obediently as you all thank him with a quick hug or peck on the cheek.

you grasp the collar of his coat and pull him down to give him a teasing kiss on the forehead but he tiptoes instead to make it harder for you. in retaliation, you quickly jab his side and he immediately keels over enough for you to plant a triumphant kiss on his face. the boys chuckle around you, yunho pretending to nurse his wounds as he stumbles after all of you into the elevator.

the doors close and he straightens to offhandedly comment, “you guys thank me for driving every single time.”

yeosang shoots back with the same nonchalance, “because we’re thankful every single time.”

yunho claps his hand over his mouth and looks at the younger out of the corner of his eyes, but it is clear that he is hiding a bashful grin behind his fingers. the expression is not lost to any of you, your displays of gratefulness always done with the intention of making one another feel appreciated for even the smallest of things, because you have all learnt that a simple thank you goes a long way.

“see you all after work,” hongjoong says, stepping out into the lobby with the rest of you following him to let those waiting for the elevator get in.

just as you all turn to walk off your separate ways to your respective departments, he calls out as an afterthought, uncaring of the people around, “merry christmas, babes!”

you reciprocate his words with a laugh, a tinkling, cheery sound that makes san reach out for your hand and intertwine your fingers together to pull you in for a quick kiss of endearment. “choi san!” you giggle, slapping him lightly and looking around to see if anybody noticed.

if there is one thing that has changed the most over the year, it is how daring your boyfriends have become with public displays of affection. but, just as wooyoung has made it a point to remind you all of his newfound motto, what is the hospital going to do? fire all nine of you?

highly unlikely.

“alright, babes,” san tugs you along teasingly, “let’s get to work.” pinkies intertwined and swinging gently between your bodies, the two of you walk towards the same department, letting go only at the last moment to lead your morning rounds.

there is a running joke that it does not matter if you end up having enough children to make an entire soccer team because almost half of you are now fully licensed to work with children; you and san as doctors, seonghwa and wooyoung as nurses. there is no need to worry about ageing either, not when the other five are each in charge of their own specialties too.

you and your boys do not work at a hospital–you and your boys are the hospital. and it certainly feels that way when there is almost always at least one of them watching over you, regardless of wherever you are in the paediatric department.

it is later that day as you are attending to a three-week-old baby in the NICU when a second-year resident walks up to you, addressing you carelessly. immediately, you feel wooyoung’s ears perk up and watchful eyes zero in on the offending resident as the both of you recognise the younger.

“good to see you’ve stuck with paediatrics, doctor lim,” you greet neutrally. it is anything but good to see him still in the medical program at all, but you digress.

your past intern ignores your comment, confidence through the roof not only because he has somebody backing him up but because he is now a second-year resident. he shortly says, “doctor nam wants you taking over the shift for the NICU attending tonight.”

the department head has more or so left you alone for the last few months, but you guess he suddenly felt a christmas urge to scratch an itch that never existed in the first place. your expression remains impartial as you ask, “for what reason?”

dr. lim is unable to hide the brief flash of surprise across his face, not having expected you to put up a fight. he quickly scowls, “do as you’re told.”

you will not, in fact, ‘do as you’re told’, not when dr. nam is blatantly abusing his power to assign you a shift without a proper justification or notice–and through dr. lim at that too. you sure hope wooyoung can hear you as you respond sarcastically, “tell doctor nam to notify me of this change in schedule through an email from the chief resident. i’m sure he’s familiar with the proper procedure that i’m referring to.”

“i’ll make sure to tell him,” dr. lim scorns and you snort as he retreats.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to you,” you mutter at his back. you hope he slips on ice on his way home tonight.

you jump in surprise when you turn around and find wooyoung right there, an absolutely shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. he cackles as he quotes, “‘merry fuckin’ christmas to you.’ the boys are going to love it when i tell them what just happened.”

the shove you give him only serves to make him laugh even harder but you cannot deny that a sense of pride rushes through your body. force doctor nam to leave written evidence that can be used against him, jongho had advised you to do one day, and you feel a surge in confidence that this might actually work.

wooyoung certainly thinks that it will, gathering himself enough to give you an attractive smirk as he leans closer to whisper into your ear, “that’s our girl.” pleasant shivers run down your spine at his deep voice and it leaves you on cloud nine long after he stalks off absolutely preening at the response he has elicited from you.

you do not hear from dr. lim or dr. nam again nor do you receive an email regarding the extra shift tonight, so you begin to safely assume that the request is no more–that is, until the end of your shift when you are in the team workroom finishing off a referral letter.

“doctor y/n,” dr. bang grabs your attention from the table opposite you with a cryptic tone of amusement. “i think you’re wanted.”

you blink at the slight smugness on her face with confusion until she beckons her head behind you in the direction of the office door. you glance back, suddenly expecting dr. nam to be standing there fuming and ready to give you a harsh reprimand for your snarky response. except it is not him.

of all people, you did not expect it to be mingi, pressed up against the little window that looks through the door into the room. but then you realise he is not the only one peeping in–there is another pair of mischievous eyes in the corner of the window that you recognise as yunho’s, and another face pressed up against the large window along the wall, and oh–

they are all gathered around the workroom peering in with varying expressions of cheekiness as they enthusiastically wave at you. it is hard to tell whether you are the monkey in the zoo or if they are the monkeys staring out through their enclosure. you guffaw, half in embarrassment and half in exasperated fondness, then scramble to save your work and log off for the night before your boyfriends garner even more attention than they already have.

with unrestrained eagerness, your boys drag you off after exchanging rushed but warm wishes of “merry christmas”s with your and san’s colleagues. seonghwa pivots around from where he has been walking at the front of the group, “should we walk home today?”

“in the snow?”

he nods excitedly, so obviously the youngest in his family despite being the oldest in your relationship. “we can finally experience a hallmark christmas.”

“what about our cars?” yunho asks, although he is not at all opposed to the idea.

seonghwa suggests, “how about you and i drive the cars home and then we’ll start walking back here. we can meet up along the way and walk the rest home together.”

the two of them share a look for a few seconds before they immediately take off in unison in the direction of the lifts to the car park, yunho hollering over his shoulder, “walk slowly!” within seconds, they disappear from sight around a corner and the rest of you blink at the fast exchange that has just occurred.

“fuck it, we ball,” wooyoung grins, earning himself a scandalised look from hongjoong as a reminder he is still in the hospital. “come on, gramps,” he snickers, then loops an arm around the older’s shoulders and starts to drag him towards the main entrance, the rest of you falling into step beside them as he devises, “let’s think about how we can attack the two with snowballs once they get back.”

only, he really should have known who he was going to be up against.

you and your boyfriends are about halfway home, cutting through a small field of what is now covered in a decent layer of fresh snow, when a snowball suddenly whizzes past your face and explodes against the side of wooyoung’s head in a detonation of white crumbs. he whirls around with a shriek absolutely ready to risk it all in the name of your dared treachery, only to see yeosang getting pummelled in a similar fashion and then jongho following victim immediately after.

“snowball fight!” comes seonghwa and yunho’s combined battlecries from thin air before a hail of pre-made snowballs is unleashed upon your group.

hongjoong’s screams fill the air until he is abruptly cut off by a mouthful of snow and wooyoung runs around like a headless chicken as three snowballs hit their mark in quick succession. you laugh loudly, running to hide behind jongho who has escaped several feet away from the danger zone. san, too, starts to retreat a distance, but only to shovel snowballs together without the risk of anybody stepping on them.

a shower of residual snow sprinkles over you as yunho switches targets and pitches his snowballs in your direction. however, you rapidly realise his eyes are only fixated on jongho. your shield now a danger hazard, you make a split decision and run as fast as you can through the snow towards your tallest boyfriend. call yourself fickle or whatever, you are simply a survivor.

“traitor!” mingi yells out and points a finger at you. “y/n has switched sides!”

the boys echo with a roar, “traitor!” and you squeal with adrenalised glee as you leap the final stride towards yunho, who stretches out a hand to pull you behind him. seonghwa immediately rushes to defend you both, throwing snowball after snowball with scary precision and strength. you can only hear the solid thump of snow hitting against thick clothing and the splutters of indignation as a result of the eldest’s lobs because your eyes are closed from how hard you are now laughing.

with equally-as-scary unity, hongjoong and your five youngest boyfriends charge in simultaneity towards you and yunho. neither of you have time to brace yourselves before you are tackled into the snow, limbs tangling together as seonghwa also jumps on top.

you cannot tell who is who, but you can tell exactly whose laugh is whose–each one so distinct and playing out as different melodies in your ears. your own laughter is radiant and effervescent and the sound makes every one of your boys break out into a joyous smile. yunho starts to push the others’ weights off of himself and you, and they begin to roll off the pile into the snow around you.

one by one they join you on their backs, your bodies leaving the memory of your merriness deep in the white softness of the ground. you are all a little breathless; from the physical exertion and adrenaline of the childlike fight, from the windedness of being tackled into a dog-pile, from the chill slowly seeping in through your clothes from the snow, from the soul-stirring view of the night sky above.

you all lay there in silence, hush broken only by the scattered puffs of visible air as you catch your breaths under the whispering snowfall.

it is amazing how much can change in one year. you still fatigue from juggling your time, down to the last second. you still burn out from the sacrifices you make as a doctor, no matter your years of experience. you still grieve over the loss of seolhee, particularly on this day. but you are finally at peace with yourself, with your life and with the love you deserve, and you realise that you are also breathless from the overwhelming feeling of how lucky, content and happy you are.

in a burst of gratification and fulfillment, you are unable to stay silent. you confess, heartfelt words that you keep close to your soul every day, “i love you more than there are snowflakes falling right now.”

your boys turn to look at you, gazes softening impossibly at the tranquil smile that adorns your face. seonghwa feels a heat gathering behind his eyes, knowing better than any of them the weight behind your confession.

he prompts, softly, tenderly, “and if it stops snowing?”

you smile wider, because you have been taught the answer by a forever-seven-year-old-girl who received all the bad things in the world yet chose to only see the good; who taught you not to focus on what has melted away, but rather what you remember; who taught you that the purest reflection of love is something that is hard to see but will always be looking over you.

and so if it stops snowing?

“then count the stars in the sky.”

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lorensonebraincell · 2 months ago

Text

The Leaders | Chapter V

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of shooting, war/military and drugs, wholesome maknaes interactions, san is a little flirty, hongjoong's subtle attempt to woo you, seonghwa's failed attempt, and yunho's very successful attempt! kissing.

chapter wc: 10.5k

chapter synopsis: you accompany hongjoong to his meeting with assemblyman wi, where you direct him to investigate secretary park with the keyword of ‘strictland’. while you recover from the meeting with san, yeosang learns that you are not the rv spies’ target. rather, you are being protected from a threat they refuse to reveal. you practise shooting with the warehouse boys but learn of a bet placed on your shooting skills and you go to confirm the culprit, yunho. things take an unexpected, intimate turn.

prev chapter recap: you accompany hongjoong to the station and he tells you about his past connection with general wi. you point inspector gong to secretary park’s direction and suggest using general wi. afterwards, you accompany hongjoong to lunch with san and yeosang where yeosang confirms if the actions of that drunken night did mean something. seonghwa prepares you to become secretary and you’re doubtful but hongjoong assures that you’re fit for the job. you go to meet the warehouse boys with seonghwa and learn about the illegal weapons manufacturing. on your way to practise shooting with the boys, you get attacked by secretary park’s men which leaves you questioning if staying with the crescents is worth the danger you bring with yourself. the boys assure you that you don’t have to worry about a thing because they have your back now. the night ends on a suggestive note with yunho.

Fate was a strange thing.

Never did you think you would find yourself working for the biggest criminal organisation turned business. When you first got a job at the Crescent Bar, you were convinced that it had to be fate that led you here– these things were not in your control. You had been pushed around, going from place to place until you found yourself at the bar.

However… it must be the hands of destiny that personally guided you to the Crescent Office to work alongside the bosses. Destiny must have whispered in your ears, a hand on your back to keep you steady. You finally felt as if you were at the right place and were doing the right thing after a whole life of unease and struggle.

Not that the struggle or unease had gotten any easier– just that its nature had shifted into something that was familiar to you, like the game of chess you used to play with Secretary Park back when you lived together. He didn’t teach you how to play– he taught you how to win. There was a big difference between the two. He said that life was easier when you could splay the elements out on an imaginative chessboard and make a move accordingly. It was something that stuck with you.

It was also probably why your input regarding Assemblyman General Wi was being taken into consideration after you made your moves and cornered him. Assemblyman Wi was suspecting that the Crescents were trying to involve him in something darker than he initially thought. Hongjoong didn’t give him much in their phone call conversation that took place after Inspector Gong involved him in the drug investigation. Hongjoong only shared how valuable his information could be to his political career and the Assemblyman seemed to have caught the bait.

He requested a personal meeting, and the boss was still adamant that you accompany him. After all, you were ‘his little secretary’ now. His assistant, a part of the inner circle, whatever label you wished to give it. The boys were doing their best to make you adjust to your new position. You were more involved in the business now, overseeing both the legal and the illegal side with Seonghwa.

At the end of your night shift, you and Yunho would wrap things up before closing the office. Sometimes, he would walk you home under the pretence of discussing work. He always listened intently and responded well to your worries. Most of the time, it was clear that he was just using that opportunity to simply talk with you and get to know you better.

Whatever it was, you weren’t one to complain– you were starting to get used to this little routine and if you were honest with yourself and your feelings for once, you would admit that you quite liked this. You quite liked him. It was hard not to warm up to him.

Especially when he relaxed and let his work persona behind at the office. It was unbelievable that this was the same person whose presence had overwhelmed you an incredible amount before you joined the office– not that he wasn’t scary and overwhelming when he wanted to be. It was just that you understood his role as the consigliere of this business and how he had to maintain an image.

Despite all of that, he made you feel safe now. You were starting to view Jeong Yunho in a new light and see him for who he really was as a person, not just as a Crescent.

He was still a bit reserved and for all the right reasons. You supposed as the consigliere, he must still have his qualms about you. He wouldn’t be good at his job if not. As far as work was concerned, he never indulged you in something new, only discussing the things you had already gone over with Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

As did Seonghwa, though you didn’t even need to talk for him to hear you. It was a bit surreal how he had you all figured out. You would take a second to think something over and he would know that you were harbouring doubts. You would look at him a certain way and he would understand that you needed some assuring that everything would work out smoothly.

And these were just his words– his touch provided you with a level of comfort you didn’t know was possible through just a simple brush of fingers against yours or a tap to your shoulder. You weren’t sure he realised what effect he had on you. It would be better if he didn’t.

And the boss… well.

“I said what I said. You’re accompanying me to the meeting, whether you like it or not.”

You were back at square one with the argument concerning a certain politician.

“He’s Assemblyman Wi Ha Jun,” you almost sobbed. “You may know him from war as a Major General but I know him as a scary politician who has a knack for getting rid of people and burying all evidence.”

“He can’t touch you and you know that, Luna,” Hongjoong plopped on his chair and clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “I thought you realised that by now.”

“I know,” you sighed deeply. “But you have to understand that knowing that changes nothing. I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake and say too much.”

“You won’t,” he assured you, suppressing a laugh. “Wasn’t I the scary boss once?”

“You still are?” You shrugged. “You’re taking me to the meeting at gunpoint. It can’t get any scarier than this.”

You both looked at the revolver that was previously lying still on the table but was now being carelessly spun between his fingers. He finally let out a dark cackle, tossing the revolver almost casually on top of the documents yet still making you flinch.

“Wish I could shoot some sense into you. And maybe a little self-confidence,” Hongjoong commented.

“Wish I could muster the self-confidence I had when I traded my life for secrets,” you retorted and he laughed in a low manner, still waiting for a response. You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’ll accompany you– on one condition.”

Hongjoong raised a brow. “You seem to forget that I’m the boss and you’re in no position to make such demands, but okay, carry on.”

You clutched your chest, feigning hurt. “I thought I was part of your ‘inner circle’ or whatever. Clearly not. Anyways, I would prefer it if I’m just introduced as Luna and not Jeon y/n. In fact, I think I’d like to keep going with Luna in the future too.”

That was how it was with the boss. An endless battle of retorts and jabs but it was mostly unserious, even though to an observer it would look like a quarrel. Perhaps, that was just what your dynamic had to be, and it wasn’t bad. You could really speak your mind when you were with him and that was saying something. He had a knack for making people open up and be honest with him.

Hongjoong passed you a challenging look but decided to ignore the jab. “Alright. We’ll try to keep your identity a secret for as long as possible, but you can’t blame us if he finds out anyway. He has quite the network himself.”

“Deal,” you nodded grimly, preparing yourself mentally for the meeting that was scheduled in two hours at the Crescent Bar right before your night shift.

While you both worked in your respective spaces– him in his office, alone, and you outside at your usual spot, you noticed a familiar name while checking tomorrow’s schedule.

Seonghwa was meeting with a person called ‘Winter’. You thought you had heard the name before but you couldn’t recall where. You made a mental note to get a peek at the person when she would visit. Maybe her face would rock your memory.

Just as you were wrapping up and taking a break to freshen up (which included taking a walk around the block and gathering your wits for the meeting), Seonghwa arrived upstairs and noticed how you were so distracted cracking your knuckles that you didn’t hear him until he was right in front of your desk.

“Nervous?” He asked.

“Very,” you admitted. No point hiding it because you weren’t good at that anyway, and the worst in front of him. “But it’s okay. I’m probably making it a big deal because it feels like I’m back to the Edenary days when my father was trying to make sure I wouldn’t come across these influential figures. Now the boss is trying to make sure I’m present.”

Seonghwa chuckled. “You understand why though, don’t you?”

“I do,” you smiled, holding the daily report in the air. Seonghwa motioned for you to follow him and you went to unlock his office, getting inside with him.

“You don’t need to present it– I’ll take a look later,” Seonghwa said and you nodded, relieved. You set the report on the table then, standing awkwardly and pursing your lips. “Would you like some chamomile tea?”

“Thank you, but I’m okay. It looks like we’ll be drinking, so,” you shrugged. Seonghwa was taking off his coat and hanging it on the hatstand. It looked like he had more to say so you waited for him, his presence slowly washing a wave of calmness over you.

And it seemed like he was aware of that because he stepped in front of you, this time a little closer. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, caressing your collarbones with the pad of his thumbs, separated by the black net that made the neckline of your dress.

“You’ll do alright, Luna. You don’t have to worry too much. Just be yourself and you’ll be fine. Besides, Hongjoong will be there with you. You can count on him.”

“I know. It’s just a bit daunting, but that’s just nerves. Thank you, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa nodded and patted your head once before drawing away. “Are you okay?”

“Nervous? Yes–”

“No, I mean, are you okay?” Seonghwa asked, scanning your face with concentration. “With everything that’s been going on with Secretary Park, and now this meeting… You don’t have to be a part of this if you don’t wish to. You know that, right?”

This was what was so special about Park Seonghwa and why the rest of the Crescents always leaned on him. You felt your heart swoop anxiously but you nodded, mustering a steel gaze.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s just something that’s bound to happen one day or another.”

Seonghwa wasn’t satisfied with your answer though, and that was obvious by the warning look on his face. You let out a short laugh. “Really, thank you for asking, Mr. Park. You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m not,” he shook his head in amusement.

“Yeah. You’re just kind to everyone in general, I know that,” you said. “I should be leaving now. Have a good rest of the night, Mr. Park.”

Just when you were about to exit, Seonghwa’s voice called. “Do you really think I’m kind to just anybody?”

You turned to look at him, hand on the door knob. He was right– he wasn’t kind to just anybody. He hadn’t been kind to you when you first met.

“Are you claiming that I’m someone special to you?” You asked teasingly but when he nodded in all seriousness, you froze for just a moment. And then you took a deep breath, nodding.

“Thank you for letting me know that I’m someone you care about now.”

Seonghwa looked just a little disappointed to hear that, but he remained silent. You shut the door behind you, pausing to process what he had said.

It was confusing you. Seonghwa’s kindness, Yunho’s antics, and whatever the hell was going on between you and Yeosang. And whatever the hell Wooyoung had said about them. You wished you could ask them but it wasn’t your place to. And you weren’t sure what they really wanted from you. If it was merely information, they could have very well tortured it out of you if they wished to.

So you went towards the Captain’s room– the one person you could be honest with, and the one person who was honest with you, no matter how ugly or bitter the truth might sound. You were just boss and secretary. He didn’t talk in circles like the rest.

“Ready?” He asked, grabbing his coat and cane from the corner.

“Ready,” you nodded and he came to stand in front of you, scanning you once.

“Do you have your gun with you?” He asked and you blinked in surprise but nodded. Hongjoong’s eyes went to the purse resting on your hip, hanging by your shoulder. “I hope you won’t have to use it, but we can never be too cautious. You know how susceptible the bar is to attacks.”

“I really need to learn how to properly use it though,” you admitted, about to open the door for him so you both could leave but he held his hand in the air, pausing you. He produced a narrow box out of the pocket of his coat and opened it, revealing an intricately carved silver cuff bracelet with an infinity sign at the clasp.

Your mouth curved into an ‘o’ in surprise when you saw the brand– Maddox and Co. The famous jewellery shop in Sector 1. Its diamonds were a staple of Eden and people from all over the continent would visit Eden just to shop there.

He smirked at your expressions. “Like it?”

“So you plan to woo General Wi with… this?”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, waiting for you to give you his hand and when you did, albeit hesitantly, he shot you a disapproving look though you knew he was just teasing you. He helped you wear it on your left wrist and you admired the way it rested there.

“Just a little something for your… promotion, you could say.”

“Is this really for me?” You asked in disbelief and he nodded. “Shall I return it after the meeting?”

“Luna,” Hongjoong groaned, tossing the box on the sofa.

“Do you give out gifts to all your employees who get promoted?” You continued with the questions and Hongjoong chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“Think of it as a bribe,” he said, chuckling at your expressions because you were annoyed that he was teasing you. “Let’s go, we’re getting late.”

“But–” you started, faltering when he left the room. You glanced at the cuff before following him, rushing to match his pace as he descended down the stairs. Even during the short car ride, you kept sending pleading looks in his direction in between admiring the beautiful jewellery. He continued to ignore you but you silently promised him that you would wring the answers out of him.

Taeyong opened the door for you and led the way inside the bar, making sure everything was okay and having a word with General Wi’s men who were stationed outside Room no. 1 where the Crescents usually conducted their meetings. You looked around, relaxing a bit when you spotted Yeosang making his way towards the two of you.

“Just on time,” Yeosang patted your back. His hand stayed there for just a moment longer before he moved between you and Hongjoong to open the door. “San was keeping him company.”

“Let me know if you hear something, and have San signal me if anything seems amiss,” Hongjoong instructed and Yeosang nodded before knocking and opening the door.

“Ah, here comes the Captain,” San clapped before he got up. You couldn’t see the Assemblyman properly yet but he got up and Hongjoong straightened, saluting. Assemblyman General Wi saluted back before the two shared a warm handshake, exchanging greetings.

Assemblyman Wi caught you looking at him with curiosity and he thought that you looked familiar, though he couldn’t quite remember how. Hongjoong extended his hand towards you, prompting you to come forward to greet his superior and you shook hands.

“This is Luna. Currently my assistant and partner.”

“How do you do?” Assemblyman Wi asked, urging you to take a seat and you sat next to Hongjoong. The Assemblyman looked at Hongjoong. “Currently?”

“I’m trying to make her a Leader,” Hongjoong admitted and you slowly turned towards the boss.

A Leader?

“That’s the first I’m hearing of it, by the way,” you told the Assemblyman the truth and he laughed. Hongjoong sent an approving look in your direction. “I heard that you were Mr. Kim’s boss in the army. I’ve heard only the highest praise about you.”

“Oh, he likes me too much,” Assemblyman Wi waved his hand in dismissal, crossing his legs. Hongjoong poured him a drink and filled your glass as well. The burgundy colour of the liquid matched with the colour of his tie over the grey three-piece suit that the Assemblyman wore.

“Did he tell you about our first meeting? I was sure we were going to be sworn enemies, Hongjoong and I– even though I was his superior.”

You looked at Hongjoong with a raised brow and he shook his head in amusement. “It wasn’t that serious, General.”

“Yeah, you only thought I was an incompetent asshole who was incapable of making decisions. Nothing serious,” Assemblyman Wi laughed and you pursed your lips to stifle a smile. “He had the audacity to say that out loud. Didn’t end up well for him.”

“Yeah, it didn’t, because we’re here now,” Hongjoong scoffed and the Assemblyman grinned. “How’s business?”

“Booming,” he said. “Especially after I got the Textile Export Amendment Bill passed in the parliament recently.”

“Ah, so you’re allowed to resume trade now?”

“With lower taxes, yes,” General Wi confirmed.

“I guess being a presidential candidate certainly has its pros,” Hongjoong concluded, raising his glass. The sound of clinks momentarily filled the room as you all drank. “And how’s politics going for you?”

Assemblyman Wi looked at his military subordinate for a moment too long. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Hongjoong leaned back into the sofa with the familiarity of someone who had played this game too many times. You, though, sat straight in your seat, eyes fixated on the two and your hand busy fiddling with the cuff around your wrist.

“You must have asked to meet me for a reason,” Hongjoong clasped his hands together. “Coming here all the way from Edenary must have been tiring.”

The Assemblyman scoffed loudly. “You got my boys landed in the nick, you know?”

Hongjoong hummed, feigning ignorance. “I don’t keep tabs on every person in this Sector, General.”

“But you’ve been keeping tabs on me,” Assemblyman Wi said, unbothered by that fact probably because he kept tabs on the Crescents too. “You led me here, didn’t you?”

“If you want your boys out, you just have to ask,” Hongjoong assured him and the Assemblyman leaned back to extract a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering the two of you some. Both of you denied. He lit one, looking back and forth between you two while he smoked.

“I can get them out myself, but that’s not why I’m here,” Assemblyman Wi leaned forward, resting his arm on the table. “The drug my boys were smoking this time was new– I’m unable to trace the dealer which is why I’m sure it’s you, but the drugs are a byproduct of Park Pharmas.”

“Quite the opportunity for you then, isn’t it, Assemblyman Wi?” Hongjoong smiled and the man smirked in answer. He couldn’t deny that it was. “Maybe you should look into Park Pharmaceuticals after all.”

“I’m always looking into Park Pharmas. Secretary Park acts as a shield to President Lee and you know that I need to take him down to win the elections.”

Whoa, you thought. He was pretty confident in himself. You supposed that was not a bad trait and he needed that in order to take the presidential title one day. Hongjoong looked at you and you cleared your throat.

“You can trace the drugs back to Park Sunghoon– the Secretary’s son,” you told him and he raised his brow in surprise.

“He seems like a distinguished gentleman,” General Wi commented, eyes narrowed in thought.

“Yeah, well, apparently the distinguished can’t resist a little smoke,” you shook your head. “Once you get to Park Sunghoon, you don’t have to expose him right away– I suggest using him as bait to get some answers out of Secretary Park.”

“Answers to what?”

“You’d know when you get there,” you told him and he looked at Hongjoong who nodded. “Maybe pass a keyword around for your boys– Strictland.”

“Strictland?” Assemblyman Wi frowned. “What’s that dump of land got to do with any of this?”

“That’s for you to find out,” Hongjoong answered, nodding at you. “Just make sure that nobody traces this tip back to us.”

“I don’t like this,” Assemblyman Wi settled back in resignation. “I could have traced that source to Secretary Park anyway. I would have made up something. What do you want in return?”

“We only want to hear what you hear,” Hongjoong insisted. “Information. That’s it.”

“And what makes you think I’ll agree to share that information with you? Must be pretty valuable if you’re not directly investigating.”

Hongjoong smiled in answer and Assemblyman Wi looked at you, finding you pointing at the antique porcelain vase that had saved your life that night and got you involved in this dark web with the Crescents. The vase from his money laundering hustles. It took a moment for the Assemblyman to realise what was going on but when you spotted a flush creep up his neck, you knew that you got him.

Assemblyman Wi let Hongjoong refill his glass and he downed it in one gulp, chuckling afterwards. He looked at you with interest and you suddenly felt nervous but you matched his gaze.

“Now where did he find you? Who are you?”

“She’s just my secretary,” Hongjoong shrugged jokingly.

“She’s full of information, isn’t she? Look at her eyes,” Assemblyman Wi said, addressing Hongjoong. “You saw the potential, huh?”

You had a feeling that they weren’t talking about your capabilities anymore and you started to feel a bitter taste on your tongue but Hongjoong, whether intentionally or unintentionally, let his hand fall to the side, brushing yours in the process. He didn’t move his hand.

“Looks like someone’s secretary hasn’t been doing a good job,” Hongjoong commented.

“Yeah, I might look for a replacement soon,” Assemblyman Wi smiled at you.

“She’s my secretary. I’m sure you can find plenty of options in Edenary. Maybe you can steal the President’s secretary.” Hongjoong said, referring to your father.

Assemblyman Wi laughed, shaking his head. “That man isn’t someone I can tame. I wonder why he didn’t run for presidency himself– he doesn’t need to be the president’s mere lackey.”

You didn’t miss how Hongjoong’s finger had momentarily curled against yours when he announced that you were his. His secretary. Before your mind could go elsewhere, though, Assemblyman Wi’s observation piqued your interest.

If someone of Assemblyman General Wi’s status thought that Secretary Park was potential presidential candidate material… why did your father never pursue it? He was an ambitious man, but he always seemed to be held back, sticking alongside the president and remaining in the shadows most of the time. Did he not desire that post, or did President Lee have something over him, something that bound them?

The rest of the small talk went by but you were too distracted with the ghost of the boss’ fingertips around yours. You had not expected him to provide you with moral support like this, if it could be called that. Somehow, even the mere thought of it was strangely comforting.

Assemblyman Wi left with a promise to share whatever information he would come upon if you shared more about President Lee and Secretary Park in case you heard something amiss in the underground network. As soon as his figure disappeared, you slumped back on the seat, a wave of relief washing over you.

“Good job today, Luna,” Hongjoong patted your hand. “Really got him speechless without uttering a word. Impressive.”

“Yeah, I knew I was going to do that the moment we stepped in this room,” you laughed, massaging your temples. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Hongjoong asked nonchalantly, popping a few nuts in his mouth before checking the time. You only smiled in answer.

San and Yeosang entered the room after making sure the Assemblyman was gone and San clapped for you. “You did well.”

“Ah, you’re there,” Yeosang jumped a little when he spotted you and you supposed you were blending in pretty well with the seat right now. “Almost missed you.”

“How did it go?” San asked Hongjoong.

“Well. She’ll explain. I have to go back now. Get her to eat something– she looks pale.” Hongjoong ordered.

“Geez, thanks,” you slumped down even further and the boys snickered. Hongjoong left with a goodbye and the boys ordered some food for you. You admitted that now that the meeting was done with, your appetite was returning. You had been too nervous to eat properly the entire day.

Yeosang kept you company until the food arrived. You had just finished briefing the two on the meeting with General Wi– you told them that it looked like he really was going to start investigating the connection between Secretary Park and Strictland. Yeosang praised you for doing a good job and told you that he would catch up with you later, leaving to attend to business.

That left San, and you smiled at the man who had once been your boss but was now the closest thing to a friend that you had in the Crescents. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“Just you and me? Yeah,” San said, passing you the sandwiches that were on today’s menu and for some reason, your heart did a little flip at his words. “So, how has it been at the office?”

“Well, I heard something funny,” you folded a napkin, dabbing at your mouth. “The boss told me that someone speaks very highly of me.”

“Oh? Who might that be?” San pretended to think but laughed in submission when you glared at him. “Yeah, well. Didn’t that work out for the better. You’ve warmed up to us quite a lot.”

You had to agree. Everything had changed. It was getting harder to recall a time when you were scared and concealed your identity from them, but now it served as a weapon and you were able to stand beside them, though you could still argue that you were better left in the background. “It’s hard not to.”

San smiled. “What do you think about the boss?”

“He’s… definitely something,” you let out a laugh. “He’s extraordinary, San. I see why he's called the Captain.”

“Oh, where did you hear that?” San leaned forward in curiosity.

“Jaemin,” you said and he shook his head. “It suits him. I’m really starting to admire him. I’m seeing you Crescents in a new light.”

“What do you really think of us, though?” San narrowed his eyes.

“That you’re all too much,” you whispered teasingly, taking a deep sigh. “You all are… too much.”

San was aware of why you might be feeling like that. “You’re not thinking of something stupid like how you shouldn’t be here right now, are you?” You gave him a look and he continued. “You belong here. With us. Do you feel that?”

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “Sometimes I think I’m being led to the altar–”

“We would never do that to you–”

“Not you,” you interrupted, calming him down. “It’s not you. I feel like we’re getting involved in something dangerous, and now that I’m here, I want to be able to protect you instead of leading you to the said danger. While I’m relieved that Assemblyman Wi will be doing the dirty work for us, it’s only a matter of time before things blow up.”

“Well, it’s not our first time dealing with something like this, so rest assured, you can count on us to control the damage.”

“I have a feeling that this Strictland business is beyond anything you could have imagined.”

San knew that you were right and that this was a possibility. He had discussed it with the boys and they were already taking appropriate measures by making new allies and setting traps in case things went south.

“It’ll be okay, Luna,” San assured you. “If anything seems off, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Thank you,” you gave him an earnest smile. “How have you been? Still whining about the workload?”

And that sparked a heated argument as you both compared your workload with a newfound competitive streak in you. The conversation shifted to San updating you on the recent gossip he’d heard at the bar, some of which you verified as credible. You finished your lunch while he talked and you checked the time.

“Well, it was wonderful catching up with you but I need to get some rest before I have to go to work again. Maybe you should have warned me about the long hours before I signed up to be Mr. Kim’s secretary.”

“Oops,” San grinned. “Do you like where you are now?”

You smiled at his question. He had asked you the same thing that drunken night at the bar when you had opened up to him– a little too much than you should have, though you didn’t regret it. “I do. I like them– the boss, Mr. Park… Yunho.”

San smiled knowingly at the way you called the consigliere’s name. “I told you– Yunho is the best person you can have by your side.”

“Yeah, well, it took us a lot of trial and error to get here, but we’re good,” you told him. “I met the warehouse boys formally too– I’m seeing them more often now that I’m accompanying the boss around.”

“Do you like them?”

“I mean… it’s Wooyoung. You can’t not like him,” you said and he laughed out loud. “He won’t allow that, and I honestly appreciate that he’s so laid-back while sharp at the same time. Mingi and Jongho are easy to talk to too. It’s a good thing I was already familiar with them from all their visits here at the bar.”

“Yeah, they’re quite excited to have you be a part of our gang. Won’t shut up about you,” he scoffed and you laughed. You picked your purse and then paused when you recalled that you needed to tell San something. You turned to him, finding him watching you with an indecipherable look in his eyes– not the mellow gaze that you were used to, though he quickly shifted his demeanour when you stepped in his vision.

“I wanted to thank you for that night, when we were both drunk,” you began and he frowned in confusion. “What you said about the others really helped me open up to them. It was a bit daunting, but I confronted the boss and told him about Secretary Park. He was quick to find out the rest by himself, but… thank you.”

“There’s nothing you need to thank me for,” San shook his head. “I know you would have made the same decision anyway.”

“But you did have a little influence on my decision, and it’s because… I think I trust you,” you said and his brows rose in surprise. “I took a leap of faith in you when I told the boss not to make the deal with Park Pharmas. So the credit really belongs to you. You’ve all been grateful that I gave you that information at the right time, but the credit… it’s yours.”

“No,” San wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head adamantly. “It’s all you, darling.”

“Gosh, you’re stubborn,” you commented and he finally smiled. He stepped closer to pat your cheek, surprising you because he hadn’t ever initiated physical contact like this.

“You’re doing a great job. I hope you can trust all of us one day, with all your heart. We have a lot to offer, Luna.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, not oblivious to the underlying words within that sentence.

“You’ll know,” San said, letting go of you but you blocked his way before he could move.

“What’s with all of you and your ambiguous statements?” You frowned. “Just when I think we’re getting somewhere, one of you says something suggestive and gets me all confused–”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” San chuckled, tapping your forehead with a finger. “Let it rest.”

“San,” you warned but he only laughed, making you smile. He licked his lips and pursed them– a nervous habit of his. You narrowed your eyes just a fraction, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he cupped your face and planted a sweet kiss on your forehead, lingering there just a moment.

“Let it rest.”

“Choi San!” you pushed him away and the two of you exited the room while trying to dodge the other’s swatting, laughter echoing in the corridor. Yeosang peeked from the window of his office, smiling fondly at the sight of you both.

And then he turned to the guest in his room– Wendy.

“I don’t usually let my personal feelings interfere with business,” Wendy commented when Yeosang turned his attention back to her. “But I must say… I worry for y/n’s wellbeing.”

“Do you think we would harm her?” Yeosang asked rather nonchalantly. “Come on, Wendy. We’ve known each other for years– I expected better.”

“You have no reason to harm her right now, but she’s involved with your gang now. You don’t know everything about her. I fear you won’t take it well when you find out more.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yeosang gave her a suspicious look but Wendy only crossed her legs, downing the whiskey in one gulp.

“I know you lot have your morals,” Wendy acknowledged. “But she’s become my friend and I wish I had done more so she wouldn’t get so involved with you.”

“Rich coming from you when you’re a member of the most notorious spy network in the continent,” Yeosang raised a brow in challenge. “At least I’m not an assassin. And what do you mean friend? You don’t keep friends, Wendy.”

Wendy smiled. She was proud of being one of the leaders of the RV spies and their contribution to the stability in the continent was… questionable, to say the least. They served no one– not a person, not their homeland. They simply sold information to the highest bidder or exchanged their services for other favours. While their identities were known to some of the organisations who were also a part of the underground network, such as Ateez, the RV spies were still a mystery to anyone who tried to find them. You could not contact them– they would contact you if you needed them.

“I’m human, Mr. Kang. Everyone needs friends,” Wendy looked down at her empty glass, her short brown hair covering most of her face.

“Yeah? And you just so happened to find Luna to share the shabby apartment with. Pure chance, huh? Is that your disguise for your new target?”

“What do you care if she’s my target?” Wendy cocked her head, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to kill her. I’m only keeping her close because she knows too much and that information should not be in the wrong hands.”

Yeosang folded the cuffs of his black shirt, leaning in to lock eyes with the spy. “You must know everything then.”

To his surprise, Wendy shook her head. “I’ve been trying to get it out of her– if we kill her, we’ll be doomed.”

Yeosang almost felt pleased to hear that but then he realised that Wendy did not mean that they were threatened by the Crescents. “Doomed?”

“You can’t get that information out of me, don’t even think about it,” Wendy scoffed. “I’ve given you enough already, for old times’ sake. Give the Captain our greetings and tell him that he does not need to worry about us– not when it concerns Luna. We’re protecting her, Yeosang.”

“From who?” Yeosang frowned. “Secretary Park?”

Wendy laughed mockingly and that was enough for him. “You can stop keeping tabs on us. We’re with you on this one.”

With that, she left the room and the fading clicks of her heels left dread creeping up on Yeosang as he settled back on his seat.

Secretary Park was not the real threat. Whatever information Luna possessed was dangerous enough for the RV spies to protect her without her knowledge. Yeosang felt the hair on the back of his neck rise– he had never heard of the RV spies protecting someone instead of hunting them down. Were they protecting the information for their own sake or for the sake of the stability of the continent? He couldn’t help but wonder if it was the latter because all their leads so far led to Strictland. But there was another question nagging at him.

If Secretary Park was not the real threat, why was he trying to kill his own daughter? How was Secretary Park not the real threat when he tried to kill Luna?

San entered the room, ready to take over Yeosang’s work while he took a break, looking at him worriedly when he saw him with a deep frown. San slid on top of the desk in front of him, fixing his hair for him but Yeosang did not respond, which was strange.

“You okay? How did the meeting go?”

Yeosang rested his head against the back of the chair, zoning out while he looked at San. San waited patiently for his partner to gather his thoughts, straightening when his brows scrunched in concentration.

“Schedule a meeting with the boys. We’ve got a serious problem– and make sure Luna does not hear about this meeting.”

“That’s it. Keep your arm straight, just like that– shoot!”

You pulled the trigger, the recoil making you flinch visibly. The bang of the bullet sounded loudly inside you as it left the gun even though you were wearing earmuffs. You scrunched your face as you laughed, almost skipping to hide behind Jongho who was the only one who had not been making fun of you for the past hour that you had been learning to shoot. You peeked from above his shoulder to see if you had hit the target– the empty wine bottle.

All five of them were intact.

“The bullet went that way,” Jongho pointed towards the left where the last bottle remained perched on the table. The bullet had gone a bit too far for your liking. You pursed your lips at the subtle jab though he kept his face straight– unlike the two others who were currently clutching at each other and smacking each other’s limbs in an effort to collect themselves from the laughter.

You didn’t realise your shooting skills had become this rusty, but it had been a good few years since the last time you shot a gun. Madame Cha’s gang was happy to entertain your newfound hobby to learn shooting and had helped you get the hang of it, but it was towards the end of your stay in Wonderland so you hadn’t practised much.

While they had also teased you to no end, somehow, it felt more embarrassing this time.

You loaded the gun again, pointing at the pair who were still clutching to each other and they only laughed harder at your antics, making you groan.

“It’s not that funny, is it? What are you really laughing at?”

“It’s not,” Wooyoung agreed, wiping his eyes. “Your form is good, you just need practice. It’s just that we had a bet–”

“Oh, you lot and your bets,” you looked up at the sky in defeat, hearing Jongho’s laughter ring in the air too. “Who was it this time?”

The three exchanged glances and you raised a brow, pointing the gun at them again. “My aim may be bad but I’m pretty sure I can shoot from this close. Spill.”

“It was Yunho hyung!” Jongho raised his hands in surrender and your eyes widened in disbelief.

Yunho?

“He bet you wouldn’t shoot one single bottle today,” Mingi added and you scoffed, a sudden desire for revenge bubbling inside you.

How. Dare. He.

“Oh, it’s only because he thinks we’re bad teachers,” Wooyoung attempted to salvage the situation but the damage to your ego had been done. You shook your head repeatedly. “Please don’t kill him.”

“We’ll see about that,” you told him, face stern. “Now, will you be useful and tell me how to shoot better so he can lose the bet?”

“We’ve been at it for an hour now. You’re wasting our bullets,” Mingi teased.

“I know these bullets are of no use to you anyway,” you smirked and he grinned. “Come on. If he loses the bet I’ll have him treat you guys to dinner.”

“Alright, I’m in,” Wooyoung rolled his sleeves, a serious determination in his eyes as he assessed your form. He rubbed your shoulders to ease the tension from them while giving you pointers on how to spot the target and have your eyes work in coordination with your hands. You shot again with his directions and this time, the bullet lodged itself in the table instead of hitting the target which was clearly a milestone, all of them cheering for you. You tried again with the remaining bullets and Wooyoung helped you aim your hand–

And the shatter of the bottle had to be the most satisfying sound you had heard in a while. You groaned in relief while the boys gathered around you, congratulating you with pats and ruffles and you giggled at how they smothered you with affection– all to win a bet.

It was truly amazing how they made you feel so comfortable, almost childish, in such a short time. As the youngest of the group, they really lived up to that title. They could lift the energy with their presence alone anywhere.

“She just earned us dinner! I can’t wait to rub this in Yunho’s face,” Wooyoung was grinning widely. “But for now, let me treat you to some ramen. I make killer ramen.”

You realised how hungry you were at the mention of food and you helped them pack the equipment, ready to go back to the warehouse. You had a bit of free time in the afternoon since Hongjoong was going to the Sector 1 port with Seonghwa and Yunho to make sure the shipment of Black Shadow was dispatched safely to Mist Island. They had offered you to join them but you told them you’d prefer to get familiar with the technicals of the business first. They knew it would be overwhelming so they didn’t insist.

But they must have let the boys at the warehouse know that your evening was free because only a few minutes later, the phone at reception rang asking for you. You wondered who could be calling you but it was Wooyoung, inviting you for shooting lessons at the same spot that you had missed on your first visit. He was in town to buy some equipment and was willing to pick you up so you could go together.

While you were initially surprised that he was so willing to spend time with you, knowing Wooyoung, it wasn’t strange. He was always with someone. You accepted on the condition that a ride be arranged so you could make it back to your shift on time.

On the way, you learned more about the weapons business and how it started. There was already an established underground weapons channel run by MX and when they trained the Crescents who were still called Ateez at that time, they let them take over. Rival gangs like Chan’s gang– Wolfgang– had different suppliers which was why there was always a conflict of interests between them, prompting street fights or worse.

What made Ateez different from the other gangs was that shortly after taking over MX’s weapons business, they started manufacturing their own weapons and started dealing them in the underground network, resuming many of the channels that had shut down before or during the war. While some argued that it was dangerous and immoral to deal weapons, only a few knew how important and beneficial it would ultimately be for Eden’s defence. Eden had suffered a lot in the war and they needed to stand strong and proud on their feet once again.

You had been discussing the suppliers before you reached the warehouse and then got busy with greeting the employees before moving to the spot in the forest to practise. And now that you were back at the warehouse, seated at the backside on plastic chairs, you clapped when Wooyoung set the pot of ramen in the middle of the table. The savoury smell made your mouth water and you waited until Wooyoung settled down before you all dug in.

“This really is–” you nodded, thumbs up in the air, “killer ramen.”

“Right?” Wooyoung smiled cheekily. “Goes straight to the heart when you’re tired.”

“He’s our designated chef,” Jongho explained and you nodded in approval. Of course he was. “You should ask him to treat you to a proper meal.”

“Oh, she doesn’t need to ask,” Wooyoung announced proudly. “You’re welcome to a meal any time.”

“Wow, really?” You asked and he nodded earnestly. You looked at the others who were unfazed. “Thank you?”

“You don’t have to sound so sceptical,” Mingi laughed. “You should get used to this by now.”

He was right. Wooyoung was naturally very friendly and so very different from the rest of the Crescents. Something about his presence was very comforting and he was not judgemental at all, which you supposed made him pleasant company. You ate a bit more before you recalled the unanswered question.

“I meant to ask earlier,” you began, looking at Wooyoung. “Do you always keep a check of who funds your weapons project?”

Wooyoung, whose mouth was full of ramen, nudged Mingi and he cleared his throat. “We usually do, but most of the time they’re anonymous. Still, we try to trace the sources just to be on the safe side.”

You nodded. “And do you currently have any anonymous funding?”

“A few, yes,” Mingi’s brows furrowed in concentration as he recalled. “I think it’s mostly people in Eden or in rare cases, foreigners, who try very hard to remain anonymous. We keep the anonymity of our sources anyway, it’s not like everyone knows that we deal in weapons.”

“Most of the people do, though,” Jongho pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s all under the shadows,” Wooyoung said, looking at you. “Are you on to something? I think I can recognise that look now.”

The look being your chin tucked between your fingers as you stared into the distance. You shot him a dirty look but he was right. “I’m not sure if any politicians fund your weapons project but it would be wise to start digging into it. Just to confirm if they are involved.”

“Usually, the politicians would stick to legal channels,” Jongho reminded you but continued. “Usually. It wouldn’t be strange if someone was making sure Eden had enough supply of weapons through us or some other channel, now that I think about it…”

“Right?” You bit your lips in thought. “Now that you’re expanding the business, making new deals and involving yourselves in politics, it would be sensible to start worrying about who’s funding your project and for what reasons.”

“Definitely,” Wooyoung concurred and you checked the time.

“Alright, boys. I think it’s time for me to leave,” you said, getting up.

“Stay~” Wooyoung whined, his entire demeanour shifting in a second with his arms reaching out for you, making you choke on laughter. Jongho shook his head, cleaning the table while Mingi smacked Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung only wrapped his arm around Mingi’s waist, snuggling close to him and you watched with interest at how Mingi’s arm naturally went around the younger’s back. Wooyoung looked at you. “Join our little bubble.”

“If he joins, sure,” you pointed at Jongho and he widened his eyes at you, scandalised. Wooyoung grinned, moving to grab the maknae’s arm who physically recoiled with a little yelp. You knew Jongho was not a fan of physical affection so it was quite a sight to see Wooyoung chase Jongho. He gave up with a groan, yelling threats at him but Jongho only flipped his middle finger in answer.

“Send Yunho my greetings, will you? Tell him I miss him and he should stop betraying my moral loyalty,” Mingi said, standing beside you as you watched the youngest yell threats at each other. You made a face.

“What does that even mean?”

“He’ll know,” Mingi passed you a knowing look and you narrowed your eyes at him but nodded anyway. You could pass a message, sure.

While Jongho did not join the bubble, you still received hugs from Wooyoung, even a kiss on the temple to tell you that you did well, and if you weren’t interrupted by someone shouting that the car was ready to go, the boys would have seen you awkwardly fidget as you wondered if Wooyoung was this casual with just anyone. You distantly recalled both San and Yeosang mentioning that Wooyoung wasn’t physically affectionate with just anyone and you wondered how you made it to that list.

Perhaps, you would ask Yeosang.

“You should drink less coffee at this hour of the night, Luna,” Yunho commented, noticing how it was your third cup since you arrived at the office.

“Well, the paperwork is boring and putting me to sleep. You’re awfully quiet tonight too. Did it hurt your ego, losing the bet?”

Yunho chuckled darkly, settling back almost proudly. “I didn’t place the bet to win it. I placed it because I knew you would be mad when you hear about it. I may have lost the battle but I won the war, ultimately.”

You clenched your jaw, mirroring his position though you folded your arms. “I don’t quite believe that. I think you’re just making up excuses.”

Yunho only smiled, maintaining eye contact with you and you kept it almost as a challenge.

It had been hot and cold with him tonight. It didn't help that you had to spend most of the time in Yunho’s office, working with him on the monthly report and updating each other on the recent happenings. You delivered Mingi’s message right when you arrived and that sent him into a fit of laughter, perhaps having realised what he meant. You didn’t ask but it piqued your curiosity to no end.

And then you told him that you won the boys their bet and that had him chuckling darkly with him being pretty adamant that you may have cheated.

Sure, Wooyoung had practically held your hand and guided that winning shot, but that couldn’t be counted as cheating… right?

“I still think I can do a better job at teaching shooting than they did,” Yunho cocked his head. “Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

“Where?”

“I know a place,” Yunho smirked and you raised a brow. “Let’s wrap this up first.”

Somehow, that served as motivation for you both, perhaps for different reasons. You cleaned up the office and locked the doors as you left, walking side by side along the canal just like you had done so many times now, except this time you were going in the opposite direction, away from your apartment.

Maddox Street was mostly empty save for the few drunkards at this hour of the night. The potted plants lining the offices and shops were still damp from the light shower from the evening, the wet smell of earth permeating your surroundings. At the end of the road, you could see the faint outline of a bright diamond-shaped shop sign that belonged to the store of Maddox and Co. This road was pretty clean, so… why were you here?

“Don’t tell me there’s a shooting range nearby,” you attempted to prod but Yunho wasn’t budging. “Do you plan to test your aim by shooting me? Because that would have sounded like a nice idea earlier, but now I’m not so sure…”

“Relax,” Yunho laughed. “We’re going to practise shooting but not with guns.”

“I’m tired–”

“You won’t be tired for this,” Yunho promised and you spent the rest of your walk arguing and teasing each other until you reached–

“Not the park,” you looked at Yunho in disbelief. “This is where kids come, Lieutenant Jeong.”

Yunho laughed at the way you pulled his rank into it. “This is also where you can find slingshots lying around.”

Now that piqued your interest. “And how would you know?”

“If you were a Sector 1 local, sweetheart, you would have known,” Yunho told you, ditching his overcoat on the bench to go find a slingshot. You bit the inside of your cheek to make yourself move past his casual use of the term, ditching your own coat and purse to find stones. In a few minutes, he was back with two slingshots and you had a pile of pebbles.

As Yunho taught you how to use a slingshot, he told you that this was a spot that he had frequently visited when he was a kid. Apparently, that’s how Mingi and Yunho became friends. Their parents used to bring them here in the evenings. Your heart warmed when you heard the stories he shared with you– you could almost imagine the 13 years old duo fighting over who was a better slinger.

“It’s hard to believe that you were once normal kids,” you laughed as you attempted to shoot the branch Yunho had stuck on the ground as your target, though both of you were more focused on each other than actually shooting pebbles at the target. “The war stole the innocence of so many children.”

“I was eighteen. Not really a child,” Yunho said but you shook your head.

“That’s still too young to find yourself on the path to becoming an honoured Lieutenant Colonel,” you told him and he shrugged. There was no hurt in his eyes anymore, the years spent in the war and the aftermath having hardened his heart, yet you found his lips curling into a soft smile as he imagined what could have been had the circumstances been different.

You shot another pebble, this time zooming past the stick and managing to shake it a little. A close call. “Do you often come back here?”

Yunho smiled guiltily this time. “It’s my first time after the war. I only watched from there sometimes,” he pointed at the road across the park.

You lowered the slingshot as you looked at him– his first time back, and he brought you here? He was nervously tugging at his form-fitting black waistcoat, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled upwards, baring the veins that popped as he clenched his fists, attempting to reposition the slingshot in his hands.

You tossed the slingshot aside, urging him to sit beside you on the bench instead. The cool air blew against the back of your head, making a few tendrils escape from your bun. “How does it feel to be back?”

“Strange,” he admitted. “Perhaps because it’s so empty at this hour.”

“And why did you bring me here tonight?”

Yunho looked at you, eyes almost half-lidded. “Do I need a reason to bring you here?”

“Not really,” you shrugged, resting your back against the bench in resignation. “Although, it would be nice if there was. ‘Jeong Yunho, the big, cold mafia consigliere person, brings his bookkeeper slash secretary to the park from his childhood’. Makes a good headline for Eden Newspaper, does it not–”

You felt Yunho’s hair caress your cheek before you felt his cheek rest on your shoulder. He slid down a little to accommodate himself better, almost snuggling into you.

“You got a headline for this?” Yunho asked in a low, tired voice. “Or did I finally make you shut up?”

You gulped so loudly you were sure he heard it. But you weren’t going to back away. “‘Lieutenant Colonel Jeong Yunho of Crescent Co. found snuggling with his secretary at the Topaz Park. Sources say it was a rare sight to see’--” you paused when he intertwined his hand with yours. You cleared your throat. “‘And some witnesses say they may have seen the consigliere hold the woman’s hand…’”

When he kissed the back of your hand, his lips soft against your skin, that’s when you finally shut up for a few moments. But Yunho, no matter how tired he was, had a penchant of making a mess out of you. “Carry on.”

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” You asked quietly, your heart thumping. There was no way out of this now– not when he rested his body weight against yours, making his body heat feel incredibly welcoming in the otherwise cold weather.

“This wasn’t the original plan,” he looked at your joined hands, smiling at how small your hand looked in his. “But I quite like where we are right now.”

You couldn’t help but rest your head against his in response, letting him pepper kisses on your knuckles and then your fingertips, your heart absolutely melting at the sight– you were simply in awe right now.

Jeong Yunho. The Jeong Yunho kissing the inside of your palm.

“Yunho,” you almost groaned when you had enough, drawing away to look at him. He raised his head a little and you suddenly became aware of just how close he was– so close that you could see the brown of his pupil even in the dim streetlight. Your gaze softened at the sight and you found yourself turning towards him, your hand cupping his face and you felt your heart break when he leaned in to your touch.

“You look like a big puppy right now,” you commented and he laughed softly, shaking his head. “I did not realise you’d be this… warm.”

“For you,” he told you. “If someone told me a few months ago that I’d be here like this with the bookkeeper girl from the bar, I would have shot them in the face.”

You grinned, searching his face while his eyes searched yours. “Do you feel the pull too? This thing between us?”

“I do,” he confirmed, moving closer subconsciously as if to prove his point.

“It’s confusing,” you told him. “I’ve felt it often– not only with you.”

If you expected him to draw away, he didn’t. He only smiled, his gaze somehow softening even more. “I know.”

“Yet you’re still here,” you squeezed his hand that was clasped in yours. He shrugged as if to show his submission.

“Will you run away if I get closer?” He asked so cautiously that you wished you could tell him that you would never even take a single step away from him. You shook your head and he mirrored your position, cupping your face with his free hand and joining his forehead with yours, noses brushing and breath mingling with yours.

He went ahead to kiss the corner of your mouth softly and something that resembled a whimper escaped your mouth– god, it had been too long since you had been touched like this and the fact that it was Yunho, of all the people, was making your head spin. You moved your hands to clutch at his waistcoat and he wasted no time, cupping your face in both hands and kissing you square on the mouth, your lips moving in harmony almost immediately.

Your insides were in shambles and you let him guide you through the kiss, though he was in no hurry now that he had gotten a taste of you. He moved his lips along yours slowly, sensually, tugging at your lips and leaving small licks that made you groan and curl your body along his.

His hand went to snake behind your neck while the other arm went around your waist, bringing your bodies flush and he momentarily broke apart, out of breath and you knew it wasn’t because he needed air– it was because you both needed a moment to process what was happening. You, however, wanted more.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged at his bottom lip, making him kiss you deeply again and when you swiped your tongue across his lips, he gladly opened but only to let his tongue inside your mouth to explore first. You let out a low moan at the feeling, kissing each other passionately until you were actually out of breath.

When you drew apart, he rested his head on your shoulder, his body shaking as he chuckled almost in disbelief. You smacked his arm but let him be, smiling.

Lovestruck.

“Was this a good decision?” You wondered out aloud for both of you.

“Who cares?” Yunho uncharacteristically answered, kissing your exposed neck. “We can worry about that later.”

“Right,” you muttered, pushing him away gently so you could look him in the eyes. “This changes nothing at work, alright? I prioritise my position.”

“I prioritise my position too. This one, specifically,” he leaned forward so that your faces were centimetres away and when your eyes widened in surprise, he grinned childishly. “But you’re right. We’re still consigliere and secretary. I expect you won’t shirk your duties just because I kissed you.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, looking around to make sure no one was nearby. You looked back at him, struck by a sudden wave of desire but you quelled it. “Let’s talk later– preferably in broad daylight.”

“Oh, the things I’d do to you in daylight,” Yunho said challengingly, but he suddenly looked guarded. “Do you think anything I did tonight was unserious or thoughtless?”

“No,” you replied though you had to admit, you were a tad bit surprised that he was fully serious. Even cautious. “But Yunho… I need some time to figure a few things out.”

“You can have that,” he assured. “And Luna… everything that you’re feeling right now, about me, about us,” he said and you had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about you and him. “It’s okay.”

“Thank you,” you squeezed his hand. “Walk me home?”

“Only if I get a goodbye kiss.”

“Lieutenant Jeong Yunho!”

next chapter

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taglist pt 1:

@lorensonebraincell @sungbeam @waywardstaytiny @lluvia1415 @woohwababes @jjaemasung @fruithoughts @fancypeacepersona @propinquitypsithurism @kyomiingi @ateezswonderland @janetsarttrove @thenopekid @justconniez @daniela-f-uwu @hwasbestlover @vcutparis @missbangtangirl @zaynsfl4m3s @beabatiny @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @alliethequeen @lavishloving @haowonbins @franbowesax @klllerwaifu @katerade23 @selfishw4ltz @paramedicnerd004 @atzlordz @curse-of-art @meowmeeps @intowxnderland @faeriehwa @staytiny-yaps @ishz @dumplingsyum @bunnychui @kandy108 @chanst1ddies @softsanglix @yongility @sang-09 @sweetinsaniiity @a-teez-4-exo @omgsuperstarg @saintriots @bihwabi @pshwifey @emotionallyanaemic

#the chapter warnings LMAO so cracked i'm all here for it #OOF he didn't teach you how to play he taught you how to WIN damn pop OFF #big bad mafia yunho walking you home just so he can tALK to you hehehehe #hongjoong just casually twirling the revolver is really hawt HAHAHA i have a problem #WOAH SEONGHWA'S CASUAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT THAT YOU'RE SOMEONE SPECIAL TO HIM WOAH OKAY WE'RE AT FIRST BASE #ooohh mc doesn't know how to properly use her gun are we gonna get one of those scenes where someone wraps their hands over hers from behin #HJ IS BASICALLY SUGAR DADDY #textile export amendment bill oooh i just /know/ you had so much fun with the worldbuilding for this au #HE DIDN'T MOVE HIS HAND HE DIDN'T MOVE HIS HAND HELLO HONGJOONG SKIPPED FIRST AND IS AT SECOND BASE #daRLING oh my god san needs to stop with all the nicknames WHY IS HE SUCH A NATURAL FLIRT #awww the banter and dodging each other's swatting is so cute and it reminds me of surfer san <333 #“i must say...i worry for y/n's wellbeing” AHAHAHHA WHY IS THIS LOWKEY SO FUNN #damnnn things are getting COMPLICATED sec park ain't the real threat and even mc doesn't know RV are protecting her???#OMG SHE'S BEING TAUGHT HOW TO SHOOT HER GUN AHAHAHHA #OMG YUNHO BETTING AHAHAHAHA #DEAD ofc the maknaes are all so invested in teaching you how to shoot just to win the best OFC #hehe anonymous funding makes me think of anonymous asks and how unserious the person sending the funding could actually be LOL #AWWW the maknaes have such cute relos and natural skinship i love how different their dynamics are in comparison to the hyungs you did that #KJASFHLKDG NOT YUNHO MAKING THE BEST JUST TO SPITE YOU LMAO #HE IS ME MC IS YOU #SWeETHEART okay that's actually super cute but also it's giving haymitch sarcasm HAHAHA #stop yungi childhood besties shooting slingshots together :'))#AND HIS FIRST TIME BACK HE BROUGHT YOU ??? MY HEARTEU #damn this is an entire kdrama moment where she recites headlines but then changes them as yunho makes his moves #RAWR WOWH THE KISS ON THE BACK OF OYUR HAND HE HIT THIRD BASE #“will you run away if i get closer?” (maybe unintentional) but it means so much more than just the moment they're sharing rn <33 #i expect you won't shirk your duties just bc i kissed you HAHAHAHAH OFC CRACK AFTER FLUFF #WE'RE FINALLY MAKING PROGRESS WITH THE RELOS WOOHOO #yumi <33 #MOOT MOOT

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lorensonebraincell · 3 months ago

Text

and if it stops snowing? then count the stars in the sky (teaser)

genre: poly doctors!ateez x doctor fem!reader, hospital romance, established relationship, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 1.6k (teaser) + approx. 37k (full fic)

c/w: slightly aged-up characters, slow burn except it's burning in reverse, lots of medical themes, remaining tags to be revealed with full fic

a/n: not my titles becoming increasingly longer with each oneshot i write 💀 but this is probably my fave one yet and i hope it slaps when the full fic drops

if hongjoong is still working, perhaps you can sit in his office and wait on his couch. his presence will be enough to keep you grounded.

some of the nurses in the neurology ward greet you cordially as you exit the elevator and you return their smile before sitting on a bench further down the corridor to avoid being in anybody’s way. you test your chances and call hongjoong’s number, only to hear the line ring until it sends you to his voicemail. when another attempt ten minutes later yields the same result, you send a text telling him to call you when he is finished.

you jerk up from where you are fiddling with your phone. recognising her as hongjoong’s colleague, you ask, “i’m just waiting for doctor kim. do you happen to know where he is?”

“doctor kim?” she furrows her brows, “he left already. he actually left early today.”

“oh.”

“do you want me to pass a message on for you?” the resident looks at you with a twinge of concern, but mostly curiosity.

it’s not even a big deal. we’ve all forgotten about dates before and hongjoong would never deliberately blow you off.

you are so caught up by the hurricane of a scene that you do not realise you are about to step on the corner of a textbook until hongjoong’s head snaps up to look at you.

“be careful!” his warning cry is sharp with alarm.

your body jolts and you step backwards. “sorry.”

“don’t mind the mess,” yeosang giggles, unaware of the sudden onset of unease that courses through your body. “even seonghwa has given the okay for him to do this.”

your words come out thick and sticky as you ask, “what is hongjoong doing?”

“he could’ve told me, i don’t know, five fucking months ago,” hongjoong curses fiercely at his tablet, “but he just had to wait until my presentation was basically done to let me know.”

you have had a bad day…but so has hongjoong.

“y/n?” mingi’s eyes widen slightly as he smiles, the sight of you a pleasant surprise. he asks, “did you and hongjoong come back from your date already?”

you wince at the bomb he has unwittingly dropped; the very one you yourself were still unsure how to navigate.

swallowing thickly, you manage to force out, “that’s okay. i forgot too.”

a white lie, but a white lie has never hurt anybody.

you chuckle softly with a reassuring nod, “okay.”

“what about you? how was your day?” hongjoong asks.

another white lie.

then you turn and retreat to your room. it is not all too bad, you reconcile with yourself. alone time would be good after today’s events.

a third white lie.

but again, that is fine, because a white lie never hurt anybody…nobody except for yourself.

taglist pt. one | apply | comment to be tagged for this fic only

@thecarnivaloflies @ilovekimhongjoong @ifykyunho @ppprimary @hwas-housewife

@itza-meee @lavishloving @okshu @mizumigi @everythingboutkpop

@ayytease @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hongjoongsprincess @booyoungie @green-agent

@darkmentalitystarfish-blog @taytayy178 @babymbbatinygirl @oddracha @sourkimchi

@mimilia1801 @kibs-and-bits @mlysalt @jjoongstar @aaa-sia

@nollamuumialaaksossa @skz1-4-3 @minkilicious @joongscheese @ddeonghwva

@delulu18 @teenyfinds @shakalakaboomboo @hxpelesscxven @fureastel

@seomisaho @levishun @lesyeuxdeanna @readerofallthingss @potatos-on-clouds

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#self-reblog #i woke up at 4am to manually post the teaser #now it feels like an entire fever dream but no it's right here #manifesting to the writer gods that i speed-write the end of this fic #ateez fics #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez ot8 x reader #poly ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff

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lorensonebraincell · 3 months ago

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The Leaders | Chapter IV

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, illegal businesses, mentions of violence, war/military and weapons, almost car accident, maknaes are finally introduced! wholesome interactions with the maknaes, hongjoong is the unintentional tease, yunho is the intentional tease, yeosang is the oblivious tease.

chapter wc: 12k

chapter synopsis: you accompany hongjoong to the station and meet inspector gong in regards to a drug case. you plant baits and grab lunch at the bar with hongjoong. hongjoong convinces you to become his secretary with words of affirmation. you finally go to meet the rest of the crescents at the warehouse but a sudden attack makes you wonder if you’re worth all the trouble you’ll bring the crescents, though yunho is there to make you feel better.

prev chapter recap: yunho verifies with kihyun that secretary park is not the man for their new deal. hongjoong notices how secretary park is not surprised to hear that they are aware of his dealings with foreigners– with strictland. he makes the connection and realises that you are the illegitimate daughter of secretary park. no longer having to hide your identity, you candidly discuss with yunho about the strictland nuclear base and who might be involved if it’s presumably inactive status is a lie. you start to handle the illegal side of the business as well and one night, save yunho from an attack which ends up shifting your relationship with him. he overwhelms and confuses you with his casual manner and you go find solace in yeosang’s office (and arms).

With Jihoon away on business at the Sector 1 port, accompanying Seonghwa to oversee the illegal departure of Black Shadow to Mist Island, the midday slot was packed with just you and Eunha to take care of the reports and to deal with the aftermath of the police’s initial investigation after receiving a false tip about drug dealing. You confirmed that the Crescents were not involved but the damage has been done. Apparently, some inspectors had always been on the Crescent’s tail, ready to catch them in the act, waiting for a chance to see the Crescent’s slip. While it was frustrating to hear that the police weren’t doing their job properly, your annoyance only magnified when you learned that they were demanding that one of the Crescents visit the station to clear things up.

Since Yunho was occupied at the port with Seonghwa, making sure the illegal shipment left Eden waters safe and unnoticed, that left Hongjoong in the office and San and Yeosang at the bar. Hongjoong decided that he needed to set the record straight with the police and decided to use this opportunity to shift their attention elsewhere. With a clear plan in his head, he exited his room and spotted you working alongside Eunha.

And when your gaze connected with his, you found him already pointing his finger in your direction.

“You. You’re coming with me.”

You frowned in confusion, pointing at yourself and he nodded in confirmation, ordering ‘downstairs in 2 minutes!’, before disappearing down the stairs, leaving you to process the command on your own.

“Just go– I’ll take care of this,” Eunha assured you and you took a deep breath, grabbed your net gloves and coat, and made your way downstairs. The boss was already at the door waiting with his umbrella– it was raining quite heavily outside. You picked your own from the stand by the doorway, hurriedly getting inside his car that was already at the front of the office– the latest Bentley model befitting the boss of the Crescent Company. Taeyong, Hongjoong’s bodyguard, was driving and he greeted the two of you.

“We’re going to the station, by the way,” Hongjoong told you when you got comfortable and you appreciated that he gave you a heads-up. “There’s still someone on our case and I have to talk to a certain inspector anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

“Right. Are you sure you have to go personally?” You asked. “I mean… if it’s not necessary someone else could go in your stead?”

“Inspector Gong only seems to listen to me,” Hongjoong scoffed, looking outside at the pattering rain. There seemed to be an old connection with the inspector, but then again, the Crescents probably knew every single person who lived at least in Sector 1. Your brows quirked at the familiar name. Where had you heard it?

“I’m thinking I might point him towards General Wi,” Hongjoong continued, this time locking eyes with you. “If he starts investigating in that direction, it should eventually lead him to Secretary Park.”

“It’s quite easy to silence someone though– especially a cop. Their loyalty lies with money,” you reminded him. “I’ve seen officers give in to as little as 60 krodus.”

You had personally witnessed your brother Sunghoon bribe an officer who caught him smoking some drugs in a deserted alley. That was when you started to keep tabs on your brother, hoping to find his weakness. Instead, you found him handing that little amount with a pat to the officer. You tried to justify it– perhaps, the officer needed to buy a good meal for his children, but your respect for officers significantly declined afterwards.

“Not all of them,” Hongjoong smirked. “Inspector Gong’s morals seem to be his downfall.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” you shifted your focus to Hongjoong. “For the leader of a criminal organisation, you’re quite a man of morals yourself.”

Hongjoong considered that, his brow arching as he hummed in response. “What exactly did an Edenary citizen think Ateez was?”

“Not so organised, for starters,” you admitted and he shook his head in amusement. “More like a street gang?”

“We were once a street gang,” Hongjoong confirmed. “Just like Kihyun’s gang. You’re very familiar with them– was it a surprise that we operate like them?”

“Well, I never got to hear much about their street gang period before they became a respectable organisation,” you replied. “I’ve always just known them to be owners of MX Pharmaceuticals. Crescent, however…”

“Let’s hear what’s on your mind,” Hongjoong urged you to continue when he noticed that you were restraining yourself from saying more. “Come on, I’ve been called worse than ‘a man with morals’.”

“Just never expected you to have some really strict ones, that’s all I’m saying,” you raised your hands in surrender. “It’s kind of admirable. And you’re also really misunderstood.”

“Or maybe you’ve only seen the good parts yet. Ever wonder about that?”��

Well, you thought. That was one way to put it. You dared a look at the boss who was fiddling with his pocket watch– a golden little thing with an hourglass etched on its cover. He caught you staring at it and smiled.

“Do you want to know who gave me this watch?” Hongjoong asked and you blinked in surprise at the question– you both had rarely ever talked outside of work so this was new. You nodded in answer, genuinely wanting to hear the story behind this watch because it seemed to be a part of his personality.

“I was a part of Major General Wi’s squad during the war,” he said and a surprised ‘oh’ erupted from your mouth as your brain tried to connect the dots. “During the war, I had to let go of a lot of things to think like a true strategist. I had to consider every option and not let sentiments waver me. A lot of decisions that I made during that time cost us lives. I may have been honoured in the end because every decision I made was for the ‘greater good’, but if I was a man of morals, Luna, I would have done things a bit differently.”

For a few moments, you let the familiar pitter-patter of the rain fill the silence of the car following Hongjoong’s admission. You recalled what Kihyun had said about Ateez. Children of war. They had to let their innocence go when they got drafted due to the ‘over-17’ law that ensured all capable individuals over the age of 17 served in the war. They were only teenagers when they went to the war, to fight for their land, but when they returned…

“Is that why you keep your watch with you?” You finally asked. “To remind yourself that you’re not all that moral?”

“Kind of,” Hongjoong shrugged nonchalantly.

“I think it could also be a reminder that you are aware of the fact that you made those decisions. Do they keep you up at night?”

“Often,” he admitted with a slow but sure nod. There was no shame in admitting that the horrors of war kept you up at night when everyone had experienced the same.

“That’s a good sign,” you told him. “Because some of the elites who controlled the tides of war at the backend, who are the real reason Eden lost so many lives… they sleep like babies at night. They carry no remorse or guilt. And my moral compass says that those kinds of humans are no different than animals.”

The boss nodded slowly. He knew that it was true but hearing those words from you somehow left a warm, tingling sensation through his chest.

You noticed how he zoned out and let him be until you spotted the station. “We’re here,” you gently said, bringing him out of his trance. He nodded, dropping the watch back inside his pocket and Taeyong stopped the car, opening the door for Hongjoong. It wasn’t raining as hard now, just a light shower so you both didn’t bother to open the umbrella, though Hongjoong took his inside, hand covering the gold eagle hilt.

You stayed right by his side as you navigated through the musky smelling corridors of the station. It looked like everyone recognised Hongjoong. They either stepped aside and merged with the shadows, essentially clearing the path for him, or scrambled forward to greet him over-enthusiastically. You pursed your lips in amusement– it was clear what sort of relationship he had with each officer.

One of the officers saluted military-style and Hongjoong saluted back. He led you to what you assumed was Inspector Gong’s office and you seated yourselves on the chairs in the small, haphazard room.

“The Inspector will be here shortly. Would you like a drink in the meanwhile, Colonel? Coffee or tea?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Hongjoong said and you shook your head in answer as well. He waited until the officer left before saying, “Their coffee has to be the most stale beverage I’ve ever had the misfortune of trying.”

You half-smiled. “Can’t expect much from a station that looks like this,” you pointed at the peeling paint on the walls and the rough furniture in the room, if you could look past the initial shock of all the disorganization of the reports, boxes and documents. “Was that someone you knew from the military?”

“No,” Hongjoong said. “But he probably recognises me.”

“And the people who recognised you but scurried away like rats?”

“They recognise me better,” Hongjoong smirked and you smiled in resignation.

A few moments later, a middle-aged man with a pile of folders managed to get inside the room without help and set the pile on the desk with a thud, grunting in exhaustion. He ran a hand through his wavy dark hair and muttered something about how it had been awfully busy lately before brushing his simple, creased clothes and straightening.

“I see you made it here.” He cast a wary glance at Hongjoong.

“Better than you coming at mine and poking at everything, trying to find a snark,” Hongjoong mocked and you would have found it amusing had you not been staring at the inspector, finding him oddly familiar. He scanned you slowly and his brows wrinkled.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“I don’t think so?” You weren’t sure.

“She’s my new secretary,” Hongjoong said, glancing at you for a second before turning his attention to the inspector. “Now… what’s this new mess your cops have involved us in?”

“Oh, the drug dealing,” Inspector Gong finally took a seat. “You don’t have to worry about it too much. I found another lead just now so you’re off the hook.”

Hongjoong grunted in annoyance. “Should’ve sent a message then.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you were so eager to clear your name for once,” Inspector Gong said curtly. “We don’t want it to affect your new deal, after all.”

“Whatever might you be talking about?” Hongjoong feigned ignorance but the way the two were smiling at each other, you were sure the communication didn’t need words.

“Who knows? Anyways, I heard you have something interesting for me, which is new. Let’s hear it.”

“Maybe I just came here so I could see you,” the boss teased and Inspector Gong’s smile fell– he was beginning to get tired now. You stifled a smile at your boss’ antics. “Alright, I’ll tell you. You might want to send your leads regarding the drug case to the Edenary Station. And while you’re at it, you might want to take a look at what Park Pharmaceuticals have been up to lately.”

“Park Pharmaceuticals? Park Byung Eun, isn’t that the President's secretary?”

“That’s right,” Hongjoong confirmed. “I heard the drug that you found recently is something new. It’s not uncommon to look into every pharmaceutical company, isn’t that so? Our company, MX, we’re only distributors for now, so you should be looking into companies that actually manufacture.”

“I’m sure someone acquainted with the president won’t have his people using drugs illegally,” Inspector Gong said. “Or he might not be aware that it’s happening. It’s a big company and he can’t have everything under control.”

“Maybe you just need to focus on the source of the drug rather than look for consumers or distributors,” you quipped. Inspector Gong looked at you with curiosity.

“And what’s your name, Miss?”

“Jeon y/n,” you said. “Also, while you investigate… maybe check if some of Assemblyman General Wi’s men have been consuming those drugs. I’m not saying he’s at fault, but like you said earlier, they are a big gang in Edenary and it’s not uncommon for gang members to deal drugs. Right?” You looked at Hongjoong who was stifling a smile. He nodded subtly in your direction.

Inspector Gong watched you two with interest. “Okay. If you insist. Though you might be trying to throw me off the scent.”

“I never said you didn’t have to keep looking into us,” Hongjoong raised his hands in surrender. “But maybe… broaden your horizons a bit.”

With that, Hongjoong got up and you followed. As soon as you both settled in the car, Hongjoong snickered at you. You raised a brow in question.

“Good job there. I can see why the boys have taken a liking to you.”

You couldn’t keep your cheeks from flushing at the remark. You shrugged in answer. “Has he always been stationed here?”

“He was demoted from the Edenary Station a few years ago, actually,” Hongjoong said. “Do you recognise him?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t recall,” you admitted and he nodded. “Do you think he will find something out of this wild goose chase?”

“Definitely. All he needs is a whiff– he’s a hound,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Once he gets a scent of something, he won’t let go until he’s satisfied.”

“Sounds like a person you should keep close,” you commented and Hongjoong agreed.

“Your shift is over, right? Did you have lunch yet?” Hongjoong asked and you shook your head no. “I’m going to the bar– I have a few things to discuss with Yeosang and San. You can stay and have lunch with us, if you would like.”

Have lunch with the boss?

“If you’re going to be our new secretary,” Hongjoong teased– a little joke Seonghwa had a habit of making that you should be Hongjoong’s personal secretary, “You should get used to travelling around with me.”

“You can’t seriously be considering that,” you gave him a wan smile. Hongjoong only grinned in answer, taking that as a yes.

The ride to the bar had you sorting out everything you had learned today. Hongjoong’s connection with Assemblyman General Wi was interesting, especially considering that Hongjoong served under him during the war. Inspector Gong’s familiar face and the fact that he was an Edenary citizen was also something you couldn’t simply dismiss.

Before you knew it, the short trip was over and you were outside the bar. Now that the sky was clearing, Hongjoong clicked a button on his umbrella to extract a cane from it before getting out of the car. You had seen the cane on him sometimes, a beautiful black thing with a golden eagle hilt. You were half sure it was also some sort of a weapon.

Upon entering, the employees greeted their boss and lit up at the sight of you, their old coworker. You greeted them back with equal enthusiasm, taking their jokes and teasing jabs because you with the boss!? Hongjoong went straight to Yeosang’s office and you followed behind him, shutting the door while the men shared a brief hug.

Yeosang was surprised to see you two together. “How come?”

“Thought I’d take our little bookkeeper around and show her how things work around here,” Hongjoong said, taking off his coat and hanging it on the stand. You did the same, feeling a bit awkward due to Hongjoong’s presence– it had always been you and Yeosang, or San.

And well… after your little moment with Yeosang that drunken night, it was your first time seeing him. Now in a deep brown sweater with the sleeves rolled to bare his muscular forearms, his expectant gaze as he looked at you, tendrils of brown hair falling over his face– it wasn’t helping you at all.

Yes. You definitely needed a break.

Yeosang nodded at you in acknowledgement, failing to contain his smile– he was bad at hiding his emotions and Hongjoong just knew that he was pleased to see you here. You took a seat next to Hongjoong in front of the desk.

“So, Luna,” Yeosang started. “How has it been so far? Want to come back to your previous post?”

“Sounds tempting because your boss thinks I can handle more workload,” you pointed at Hongjoong with your thumb and he shook his head.

“Ay, don’t be like that now. I’m keeping her, Yeosang. She knows what she’s doing and I like that.”

You accepted your fate with a dejected sigh and the two shared a laugh. The boys recollected the events since the last time they met while they waited for San to arrive. You noticed how they shared even the trivial things–

“I ate lunch at BB Trippin’ yesterday. You have to try their ramen– I swear I haven’t had such a ramen in ages.”

“Seonghwa and I lost a bet to Yunho and we now owe him 5 krodus. That lucky bastard always wins.”

With the waiter’s call indicating San’s arrival, you shifted to Room no. 1 where San was making sure there was enough food and drinks and at the sight of his boss, he lit up, coming forward to hug him briefly.

And then he saw you and lit up even more, making you laugh a bit. You settled down on the very chair you had sat when Seonghwa had passed his judgement on you– only a few weeks had passed since then but a lot had changed. San’s presence, however, still comforted you just as much as it did before.

As did Yeosang’s, but… it held a weird note today.

While you ate lunch and caught up with each other, Yeosang, who was sitting next to you, nudged you with his elbow and you glared at him, the warning in it melting when you saw the apples of his cheek become more prominent as he tried to stifle a smile. “So… how have you been?”

“I’m right in front of you, Yeosang,” you said as casually as you could. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Missed me?”

“Hmm… not really, no,” you responded, putting a spoonful of rice in your mouth as he smirked. “I’ve been far too busy to think of you.”

“So you do think about me,” he teased.

“It would be unnatural to not think of you,” you feigned normalcy again but Yeosang wasn’t having any of it.

“Say, when do I get the tipsy Luna back? I don’t think I’m a fan of the sober Luna…”

“Tipsy Luna is on leave,” you said. “You can forget her.”

“You don’t mean that, do you?” Yeosang’s voice was low this time and you looked at him, finding caution and hurt– was it hurt? In his eyes.

“Of course not,” you frowned. “Did you miss me that much?”

He relaxed. “I thought I made a mistake.”

“Oh,” you paused, making sure Hongjoong and San weren’t listening. Oh.

He thought he did something wrong and you were avoiding him.

“Yeosang, I–”

“Isn’t that right, Luna?” Hongjoong called your name, grabbing your attention and you passed Yeosang a look that you hoped conveyed ‘we’ll talk later’ before you turned your attention to the boss.

“I was just saying how it was a good idea to take you along at the station,” Hongjoong repeated, glancing between you and Yeosang. “Inspector Gong seems to have taken the bait.”

“Ah, yes,” you nodded, straightening. “I think we might have to make sure he catches some of General Wi’s men with the drugs that are under investigation. And we might have to somehow create a link between those drugs and the drugs registered under Park Pharmaceuticals. After that, the boat will float itself.”

“I’ll have Wooyoung take care of that,” San said. “He knows a lot of street druggies. They’re on his beck and call.”

The man in charge of the manufacturing side of the business along with the youngest of the Crescents– Mingi and Jongho. Yeosang and San often talked about Wooyoung. He was Yeosang’s friend from before they went to the war. While you hadn’t had a chance for personal interactions with the younger ones, they often came at the bar as a group. They knew who you were, called you Luna just like everyone else and would strike up some work-related conversation with you if they weren’t teasing or flirting with you, which seemed to be second-nature to them.

“Does Wooyoung’s street druggies network extend to Edenary?” You asked, an idea nagging at you– an old memory you couldn’t let go of.

San hummed in thought. “Probably?”

“What are you thinking?” Yeosang narrowed his eyes and you looked at Hongjoong who was anticipating your answer.

“Park Sunghoon, my brother, was an addict. My father went through hell and back to get him to stop, but chances are he’s still addicted but just learned to look, well, normal.”

Hongjoong looked at Yeosang triumphantly. “There’s a reason I’m keeping her close.”

Yeosang looked a little proud to hear that and he asked you, “Do you know which drugs exactly was he consuming? Or some details?”

“It was a street dealer, that’s all I caught,” you told him. “Bad company, apparently. Last time I saw him, he appeared more polished than before, but I recognise the look in his eyes when he’s high.”

They didn’t miss your sombre tone, neither did they miss the sudden fiddling of your fingers. However, they decided not to comment on it– for now. It was Hongjoong who cleared his throat. “It’s ironic that the heir to Park Pharmaceuticals is a drug addict himself. I’ll get someone to look into it. Inspector Gong would have a field day once he learns about this.”

You passed a weak smile, willing yourself to not recall your brother’s bad behaviour whenever he was high. Sure, he was your half-brother, but he wanted nothing to do with you. Sometimes you wondered if he was the one who pegged your father to change your surname and wipe you off the family registers. It wouldn’t be a surprise if that was the case.

You all finished your lunch, planning a bit more on how to lead Inspector Gong to Sunghoon before you decided to leave first. You told Yeosang you would grab your coat from his office and leave but he decided to see you off– for obvious reasons.

Once inside his office, you found him watching you with folded arms. You wore your black coat over your clothes, huffing at him.

“Did I do or say something wrong that night?” Yeosang asked.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“You look like you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not,” your gaze softened. “I’m just… I don’t know, Yeosang. I’m confused, if you can’t tell. I don’t know what I’m looking for, and the fact that you’re worried about what I think about you isn’t helping.”

Yeosang licked his lips, trying to come up with a response to that. He was perhaps as confused as you. Had you both inevitably blurred the lines of who you were? While you worked together, you would dismiss such interactions, but now that you stopped working here, who exactly were you to Yeosang? What was your relationship? You had been boss and employee all this time. Friends, perhaps, but never called it so. And now…

You stepped forward, placing your hand on his bare folded arms for assurance. You wished you had placed it on his heart instead. “You’re still who you are to me and more.”

“Who am I to you?” Yeosang asked, a faint smile on his lips.

“Hmm… favourite boss?” You grinned. “Friend?”

Yeosang nodded. “That’s it?”

“More?” You raised a brow. “I mean… what exactly did you do that would warrant more?”

“Is that a challenge, Luna?” He was smirking now and your heart did a little flip-flop at the way the timbre of his voice shifted.

“Maybe… pretty boy,” you flicked his chest, unable to resist and with a giggle, sneaked past him outside, saying a goodbye before you disappeared, because you were positive that you were worse when sober.

You did look back once, finding Yeosang laughing wholeheartedly at your passing figure and you ingrained the sight in the deepest crevice of your heart.

Kim Hongjoong may be a man of few words, but god, was he a man capable of making decisions on the spot and taking swift action. It was no wonder that he was the man who had built his empire of this scale in such a short period of time. All it took was one meeting about the discrepancies in the import cost of the metal in the Utopian trade, and Hongjoong immediately decided to cut down on the amount of metal, using his connections to cover the shortage of metal with local suppliers and saving a couple thousand krodus in the process.

Apparently, there were other gangs that dealt with weapons production and supplied arms illegally around Eden. The Crescents were better off striking a deal with another gang who possessed the metal alloy they required, or something similar in nature to that metal. Hongjoong acknowledged your efforts for dealing with the matter smoothly.

That led to Seonghwa starting to include you in their meetings now, ‘preparing you’ for personal secretary work. You considered asking him if it was just an excuse to get information out of you (and who knows? maybe dispose of you later) but you figured it was a joke. They couldn’t be serious (right?) and you were doing a fine job as a bookkeeper anyway, providing your input since you were from Edenary and you knew a lot of people– and their weaknesses. They thought it was impressive that Secretary Park had rarely ever involved you in his business yet you had built your own connections and learnt so much about the way Eden operated.

Since there were rumours going around that Secretary Park had been ‘rejected by a mafia gang’, it caught the attention of some investors who were willing to collaborate on a drug launch. Though you still had little to no idea about the drug specifically, the Crescents heard your opinion on the willing parties and you expressed your lack of trust in most of the politicians. That left a few businessmen and you supposed they could do with one of them– someone who was willing to fund properly. The Crescents would just have to make a promising offer.

That left finding out more about Secretary Park’s foreign dealings. You had suggested sending an anonymous tip to General Wi about Secretary Park’s possible connection to Strictland and Yunho got the job done a few days ago. As intended, General Wi traced the tip back to the Crescents and sent a message that he would like to have a meeting with the boss.

“He’s going to be curious about the source,” Hongjoong had a faint smirk on his lips as if calculating all the possibilities of how the world could shift from here. You shifted uncomfortably on the chair in front of him. Hongjoong was watching you with interest. “Do you think we should bring you along to the meeting?”

“General Wi likes to play a diplomat. He would tell my father that I was here once he finds out my connection with him, and then–”

“And then what?” Hongjoong challenged, resting his chin on his hand, elbow propped on his desk. With his other hand, he turned the hourglass, watching the sand trickle down slowly. “It’s only a matter of time that your father finds out that you’ve been talking. Chances are, he is already aware of your new post and will be trying to silence you soon. You should be making your stance clear too, Luna.”

“That would be a declaration of war to him,” you said.

“Have you not been told that you are under the protection of the Crescents from now on?” Hongjoong raised a brow in question. You nodded. “Then I don’t see the problem. Being under our protection entails that we will make sure you remain safe and unharmed.”

“You may have been a gang in the past, Mr. Kim,” you said in a low voice. “But my father also has various gangs at his disposal. Mr. Jeong almost got killed that night.”

“Oh, you’re underestimating him if you think it’s that easy to kill him,” Hongjoong scoffed. “He’s avoided death far too many times to be simply called lucky now.”

You shrugged– that might be true but that did not help you feel any better.

“We are part of the underworld and always will be, y/n, no matter how posh we try to appear,” Hongjoong began. “We are the leaders of the underworld– the underworld that no one escapes from. Secretary Park has always operated from above and he does not know how we play. He may try to get to us with his little gangs or whatever, but he is a man of light.”

“And you are a man of the shadows,” you completed for him. He nodded. “If I join you at the meeting, Major General Wi will think that I am someone of importance– he might even recognise me.”

“Well, aren’t you?” He asked almost nonchalantly. You sighed– they sure had been taking you around everywhere and getting you more acquainted with the business, but was your role in the Crescents this important now?

“I meant to remain in the shadows, Mr. Kim. It was never my intention to step in the light for the world to see.”

“You said you wanted a better life,” Hongjoong locked eyes with you. “A way to avenge the life that was stolen from you because you were too helpless and could do nothing except be pushed wherever your father wanted.”

“Not only that,” you admitted. “My conscience does not allow me to know that my father may be doing something immoral and detrimental to this nation and do nothing about it. I have wasted far too many opportunities because I feared the consequences.”

“And now?”

“Now you’re telling me not to be afraid,” you rested your back on the chair in resignation. “Now you’re telling me to involve myself with you.”

“And what’s so bad about that?” Hongjoong’s smile revealed that he might be hiding something. You knew that– they were dangerous. It was better for you to be with them than to stand against them, but could you follow their journey without looking back? Could you swear loyalty to them?

“It was never your intention to step out in the light and fight for yourself, or for Eden, or for your conscience, but y/n… maybe you were meant to rule from the light and the shadows both.”

You looked at Hongjoong in surprise. He watched you with a certain fondness– his little bookkeeper, he still called you. You could understand why Jaemin and even some others referred to him as ‘the Captain’– he cared and accounted for each one of them. These men… they heard you. They did everything they had to to protect themselves and their family. And now…

Now Kim Hongjoong said that you were a part of their group, and he would have you rule from the light and back you from the shadows if you wished to.

“I’m just a bookkeeper though, aren’t I?” you said but couldn’t stop your lips from curling into a smile.

“Maybe I’ll start calling you my little secretary from now on. How does that sound?”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head. “The workload.”

Hongjoong burst out laughing and you looked down to hide your smile– he had such a carefree, almost childish laugh. You thought about his remark and figured that it must have been Seonghwa’s doing. You knew that Seonghwa was planning something and he had hinted this quite often but to actually be Mr. Kim’s secretary? Was he pulling your leg or was he serious?

“I’m serious,” he confirmed as if he saw right through you. “I need one especially now that I’m going to be stepping into the light too. I’ve operated from the shadows for long enough. Who better to have by my side than someone who knows how the underworld of the elites operate?”

“I’m not sure if I’m the right person,” you said. “I’m from Edenary, yes, and I do know how things work there, but I’ve never been much involved.”

“But so far… you’ve not betrayed our trust once, and that is something I value a lot, Luna. You prevented a disaster when you ran away with the content of Yeosang’s locker that night. You stopped a deal that would have ended very badly for us. And you put yourself in danger to save Yunho– I don’t know who else I would want by my side if not you.”

“That is a high compliment,” you took a deep breath, overwhelmed by his proposition.

“You’re still willing to do so much more,” Hongjoong said, outstretching his hand on the table and you were confused for a moment before you realised that he was waiting for you. You frowned– while Seonghwa had always been casual with his affection, much like a boss with a pat to the shoulder that he often gave to everyone else too, and Yunho had been, well, purposely making you jumpy you were sure, the boss had never done much. Every action of his was motivated by something.

And this might be his attempt at persuasion.

Hongjoong raised a brow as if to ask if you were going to keep making him wait and you rolled your eyes before hesitantly placing your hand in his palm. Hongjoong noticed the pause and almost smirked. His hand was cold but comforting when it held yours.

“You’re still willing to do so much more for Eden,” Hongjoong repeated. “I’m doing all I can for Eden too. We share the same goal, Luna. Don’t ever think that it is a shame that you couldn’t do anything about it earlier– you did everything in your power. You can leave it to me now. All you have to do is stay by our side.”

You must have looked half-convinced because he continued.

“I’m not saying you have to be the secretary yet– I would like you to fully know what it is that we do, and I would like the rest of the boys to meet you and hear their opinion too. I may be the boss but their word is equally as important as mine.”

“A captain, then?” You offered and he grinned.

“Yeosang did well choosing you,” Hongjoong said and your heart fluttered at the mention of him– the actions of that drunken night were keeping you awake in your sober ones. “San speaks highly of you. Yunho, well… I think his intentions are clear. And Seonghwa is the one who convinced me to look at you.”

You raised your brow at his wording– sometimes, the way they spoke with so much implication behind their words made you wonder just what was going on inside their heads. Especially Hongjoong– he knew what he was talking about but he always concealed his intentions carefully.

And you were going to make him more direct with his words. With a caress to his fingers, you locked eyes with him.

“Well… you’re looking at me now, Captain. Do you like what you see?”

For once, he was caught in surprise, his brow raising involuntarily and you grinned inwardly. There was nothing more satisfying than having the leader of this establishment speechless. The person you thought was a scary, stuck-up individual with his even scarier military rankings, turned out to be just a man with big dreams for his people and his land.

Hongjoong raised your joined hands in answer. You bowed your head mockingly.

What a turn of events.

When Seonghwa said that he would like you to accompany him to the warehouse so you could meet the rest of the Crescents officially as a potential secretary to Kim Hongjoong and, well, a ‘crucial unit’ of the Crescents, you didn’t think he would actually let you take a peek at the illegal– or the underworld side of the business.

It was just another dusky day in Sector 1, a bit livelier inside the office than usual during the midday slot. Johnny dropped by and while he waited for Yunho, he struck up a conversation with the three of you– more like recount the events of the night you were attacked at the bar and tell Eunha and Jihoon all about how you had looked like a lost mouse while running away with the content of Yeosang’s locker. He went as far to tell them how you looked even worse when you came out of the meeting room. If it weren’t for Yunho interrupting him, Johnny might have done a reenactment.

You were about to sign off for the day after lunch with Eunha and Jihoon when Seonghwa called you in his office and told you about his plans for the day. You agreed to accompany him to the warehouse, having no other prior engagements until your night shift. With Seonghwa’s bodyguard and assistant Yuta, the three of you took his Ford to the outskirts of Sector 1 near the Sector 8 border. It was only a few miles from the Sector 1 Port so the ride took about forty minutes.

It was surprising how comfortable Seonghwa made that ride for you. He talked about his family and told you that he had two siblings and that his family had moved to Utopia before the war began. His father was already a war veteran and an influential person so he had little to no trouble leaving to protect his family– however, since Seonghwa was of age, he had no choice but to get drafted. You asked him if he missed his family and visited them often but he told you it had been quite a while since he saw them and would like to pay a visit soon, once things settle down here a bit.

Somehow, you found yourself telling him about the time you spent in Wonderland, something you hadn’t really talked about ever since you came back. While the woman you looked after– Madame Cha, wasn’t your aunt by blood, she was someone really wise and with a lot of knowledge to share. You often wondered if your father was aware that Madame Cha would make sure that you learnt everything needed to survive in this sick world as an independent woman. She taught you various practical skills, kept you busy and kept your mind away from home. Perhaps, that was the purpose all along, but even if it was, you were still grateful to her.

Seonghwa asked you more about Wonderland, mentioning that he always wanted to visit the country. Wonder City, the capital, was known for its ruins. It was a place rich with history and the people had done a lot to preserve it. The lavender fields which were symbolic of Wonder City only added to its beauty. It had truly been a healing sight for eyes and you told him that you missed the evening walks through those fields the most.

The scenery shifted from cityscape to factories while you chatted, Yuta joining occasionally– apparently, he was one of the oldest employees and had served in Seonghwa’s unit so the two had almost always been together. You liked that most of the employees were more like ‘friends’ than acquaintances. Johnny was quite the example of just how casual they were with each other. While Yuta was a bit more reserved than Johnny, he was still a very charming man.

One of the factories towards the end of the expressway to Sector 8 was what the Crescents addressed as ‘the warehouse’. It belonged to Pledis Manufacturers where the Crescents were major shareholders and business partners. As the car came to a stop near the building, you heard the sounds of laughter reverberating from the inside accompanied by the harsh sound of machines and metal clanging. There were tables and chairs lining the margins and a few men could be seen eating what you presumed was their lunch. At the sight of your car, they got up and gathered around, making way to you and Seonghwa laughed to himself, shaking his head.

“Easy, boys. We’ve got a guest.”

“Oh, what a sight for sore eyes,” a man of medium stature wearing a casual denim outfit placed his hand over his chest as he bowed dramatically, making you a bit shocked though laughter erupted from your mouth. “I’m Boo Seungkwan, Manager of Pledis Manufacturers, at your service.”

“Pleasure,” you bowed back mockingly, noticing the others dressed just as casually.

“That’s Seokmin,” he introduced the tall guy with a contagious smile, and then pointed to another handsome man. “That’s Jun. We’re all managers here.”

The three exchanged looks filled with caution but Seonghwa nodded to let them know it was alright. “They play a vital role in the production part of the business.”

“Lovely,” you said, following Seonghwa inside and waving back at the three men who were almost jumping up and down while they waved at you. You laughed again, falling in step with Seonghwa. “Do they not get to go home often?”

“Oh, them?” Seonghwa scoffed. “They go home every weekend, but that’s normal behaviour from them.”

You smiled but it changed into a wince when you got hit with a wave of heat and the smell of metal and sweat filled your nostrils upon entering the warehouse, the dim lights making it a bit hard to focus. When your eyes finally adjusted, you gasped at the setup– it was truly something. The centre was an open, double-heighted space with the heaviest machines and Seonghwa told you that the main factory was situated at the very back which was connected to this section by a gate. The upper story seemed to be rooms and offices that were lined along the perimeter.

The workers greeted Seonghwa casually– there was no rushing, no scrambling and no awkwardness. Just comfortable acknowledgement of each other’s presence. You did get stares which wasn’t unexpected and you thought that it was because there weren’t any women here, but you spotted one in a causal fit working on operating one of the machines. Seonghwa told you that she was one of the best engineers they had– Umji.

You greeted a few more people including the CEO of Pledis– Choi Seungcheol. He was in the office just about to leave, dropping by for a visit and was glad to have caught Seonghwa. While the two talked, you settled down and a familiar face entered the office room.

“Oh– Luna!”

You smiled at the enthusiasm with which Jung Wooyoung greeted you.

“Mr. Jung,” you shook hands with him. “How have you been?”

“Ay, just call me Wooyoung,” he waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m not used to people calling me Mr. Jung.”

“That’s what I’ve always called you though…”

“And I always tell you to just call me Wooyoung,” he winked, adjusting his black tank top and slumping down on a chair. “So. How are you finding our workplace?”

“Pretty impressive,” you nodded. “What exactly do you do here?”

“Supervise and make sure we have enough stock,” he said. “Mingi is basically the guard dog and Jongho… he likes to play boss.”

“Oh,” you stifled a smile. “Interesting.”

Wooyoung smiled knowingly and Seungcheol said his farewell, leaving the three of you in the office. Seonghwa smiled at you. “We’ll wait for Mingi and Jongho and then you can get to know more about the business in detail.”

“You’ll have to do a lot,” you shrugged. “I’m not very well-versed in machines and the like.”

Wooyoung and Seonghwa shared a look and you caught that, the dots starting to connect. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be showing me something else entirely.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you might be well-versed in that,” Wooyoung grinned. “At least more than these boring old machine parts.”

You looked at Seonghwa who nodded in confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“I am, which is why I brought you here,” he straightened the navy blue coat of his suit. “After all… you should know these things as Hongjoong’s personal secretary.”

“Ooh, so it is happening,” Wooyoung was grinning shamelessly now. “I just knew they would like you when you made that deal that saved you your life. Not that Seonghwa was going to kill you anyway, right?”

“I don’t quite believe that,” you said. It was true, and Seonghwa only smiled in answer, giving away nothing. “But I think you might have liked me way back, Wooyoung. When you shouted at the bar for the whole world to know–”

“Oh, I’m still sorry for that,” Wooyoung laughed, making you share the sentiment.

It was a funny story– Wooyoung had been drunk and yapping, if you were to put it simply, about losing to the boys in a game of cards two times in a row. While passing a message to Yeosang, you secretly gave Wooyoung a tip, having observed the game and finding their weak spots. Wooyoung won the next game and while pompously boasting about how he had turned the tide of the game, he craned his neck out of the window to shout ‘Luna, I could kiss you right now!’ making half the bar groan at the confession while the other laughed and moved on. You were surprised for a few moments but when Eunbi told you that this was typical Wooyoung, you shrugged the nervousness off.

“But my offer still stands,” Wooyoung winked at you. If it had been anyone else, you would have become a mess. But since Wooyoung was… well, Wooyoung, you rolled your eyes in response and the conversation shifted to recent updates.

It wasn’t long after when the line rang and Wooyoung led you to the backside of the factory, playing the role of a tour guide, to everyone’s amusement. He explained how everything was a perfect cover for their weapons business– the material they used for both the machines and the weapons was more or less the same and in case of an inspection, they simply switched the display and transported the half-made weapons to trucks. The vehicles would sneak the weapons away into the thick forest that was not far from here. It was a perfect cover and since Pledis was an old, renowned manufacturing company, there were little to no inspections.

Sure, the police suspected that the Crescents may be dealing weapons but they would never suspect that they actually made their own weapons now.

Song Mingi and Choi Jongho lit up at the sight of the underboss, sharing fistbumps and hugs. You greeted them and they asked how you were doing, offering you a drink and scolding Wooyoung when they found out he hadn’t offered you anything yet. You assured them that you were okay but the conversation took an amusing turn as they pointed fingers at each other.

Mingi was surprised to learn that you knew your guns– Madame Cha, who was a collector of guns and the like, had shared her knowledge of guns with you a lot in passing and you had been able to retain some. The gun that you carried in your purse, a ruger revolver, had also been a gift from her. It was interesting to learn just what role the Crescents played in the making of these guns and an hour passed by with you simply talking about the mechanism with the boys.

Jongho noticed just how much fun you were having chatting with Yerin, one of the lead designers of the guns, and when you caught them waiting for you, you got flustered. You promised Yerin that you would visit again and have a more in-depth conversation with her and joined the Crescents afterwards. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, no, it’s all good,” Jongho said. “I’m happy to see that you’re having a good time.”

You smiled and checked the time– there was still about two hours until your shift would begin. Jongho cleared his throat, catching your attention and asked, “Would you like to test some weapons before you go back?”

Your eyes widened with excitement at the offer and soon, you were in a car with Jongho driving and Seonghwa in the front seat. Wooyoung, who was sitting next to you in the backseat, explained that they often went to test the guns in a specific part of the forest and since it was hunting grounds anyway, the sounds went unnoticed– and it wasn’t like there were a lot of residents here.

If the police or someone else did notice, they could buy their silence. You shot him a dirty look but you both knew that it was far too easy to buy silence in Eden, especially after the war.

There was also something bothering you ever since you learned about the weapons project, and that was… who exactly were they delivering the weapons to? Were they really the right people to mingle with? What exactly was right and wrong anymore?

You reckoned you could simply ask at this point. Since they intended to involve you in the business, you could ask such things, right? You turned to Wooyoung, about to ask but you caught an incoming speedy truck through the window and a scream got stuck in your throat. You flailed your arm, trying to catch their attention but it looked like Jongho noticed at the same time that you finally managed to yell ‘watch out!’.

Jongho swerved the car to the side just enough to avoid getting yourselves into a horrible car crash but still couldn’t prevent a light bump and you braced yourself as your body rocked to the side violently. Before you could react, you heard the shatter of glass and you screamed this time, Wooyoung grabbing you by the back of your neck and making you crouch down as the fragments of the glass window rained over you.

You looked at Wooyoung in panic who also let his defence down just for a moment as he made sure that you were okay. You nodded and just like that, his gaze turned steel as he raised his head to inspect just who was trying to kill you guys.

“I’m driving– provide cover!” Jongho pressed the pedal with all his might, steering away from the minitruck that was hell bent on crushing you. Wooyoung loaded his gun and started shooting, Seonghwa doing the same from the front but mostly to protect Jongho. You put your hands over your ears for a moment as you tried to make sense of what was happening–

You were under attack. You had almost died.

You scrambled in your purse for the gun, taking it out and loading it. Wooyoung spared you a glance, tsk-ing in disapproval. “We’ve got it, Luna. Just stay down.”

“I’d rather take my chances,” you muttered, but also obeyed him. You stayed crouching down, focusing more on having Wooyoung’s back. Your shot wasn’t bad but Wooyoung was moving a lot so you couldn’t risk shooting in case you hurt him instead. However, when Wooyoung ran out of bullets, you passed him your gun which he gladly took. Meanwhile, you reloaded his gun with the bullets in the inside pocket of his jacket. You noticed the shards of glass buried in his skin but it was too chaotic to comment on that at the moment.

“Recognise them?” Jongho asked before he took a sharp turn to the right, the road getting bumpier now that you were further on the track in the forest.

“Nah,” Wooyoung sniffed, a sharp frown on his face as he took a breather having shot down the tyres of the minitruck and halting it. “Need help, hyung?”

“I’m good,” Seonghwa said, groaning when the car started to leave. He ordered Jongho to turn the car around so they could catch them and you silently prayed that no one gets hurt. Now that you were gathering your wits, you realised how much the air had changed.

They had become the men you used to watch from afar and were a bit afraid of. Ruthless, calculating and powerful.

Jongho stopped the car near the abandoned truck and you all watched the other car disappear into the forest– they had been at a disadvantage or perhaps, they had underestimated you. Whatever the case was, all that mattered to the Crescents was the reason they attacked you.

Jongho and Seonghwa looked back to make sure you were okay. While you were very surprised, you were okay for the most part if you could ignore the erratic heartbeat. While the younger two checked the perimeter, Seonghwa got out of the car and opened the door for you to help you out.

“You must have been shocked,” he said, caressing your gloved hand and frowning at the cut on your cheek, unable to stop himself and tracing it gently.

“I– I’m fine,” you gulped at his actions. “Uh, we should check the car. Does this happen often?”

“Not really,” he ran his hand through his messy long hair in frustration. “Someone’s really got a grudge against us lately.”

You raised a brow as if to say that that wasn’t new and he chuckled a bit, letting go of your hand and going towards the truck. You followed him, making note of the number plate– it was a registered Sector 1 vehicle. The two of you got inside the front seats of the truck, rummaging through the stuff when a certain something caught your eye.

An emblem of a cube within a cube. It might have gone unnoticed by the rest but you could recognise the unofficial emblem of Park Pharmaceuticals anywhere– it was only used personally by your father and you had seen it on some of his old employees’ uniforms and stationery as well.

Seonghwa noticed you staring at the emblem printed on a card and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Your father must have learned that you had joined hands with the Crescents– or at least that you were now someone important to them. He must be suspecting that you were sharing information that you shouldn’t have told a soul. Was this supposed to be a warning, or did he really intend to kill you this time?

And he almost hurt the Crescents too. Wooyoung could have been shot. Seonghwa or Jongho could have gotten seriously injured. Just how low was this man going to stoop?

“Luna,” Seonghwa’s voice sounded again. “Do you recognise this emblem? You need to tell us if you do so we do not point at the wrong people.”

“This was my father’s doing,” you sighed in defeat. “This emblem is something he uses privately within his inner circle and gangs. I’m so sorry, Mr. Park. I should have known.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, taking the emblem from you and examining it.

“But it is,” you got out of the truck, going towards the car, your chest tightening with every step because your father almost killed them just because you were acquainted with them. They almost died because of you. And he must have also been the one behind Yunho’s attack– Yunho almost got shot because of you too–

“Luna,” Seonghwa grabbed you by the wrist and shook his head. “Do not blame yourself for something your father did. He intended to kill you.”

“But he almost killed you guys because of me!” You said through gritted teeth, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to calm down. You looked at your side to see Wooyoung and Jongho watching. “I should not have involved myself like this.”

Wooyoung tsk-ed, searching inside his car and taking out a bottle of water. He motioned for you to sit by the tree and you did, thanking him and drinking a few gulps. Jongho sat down beside you, trying to pick a tiny shard of glass that was buried in his wrist.

“I’ve heard about your father,” Jongho said. “Secretary Park Byung Eun. He’s after you, isn’t he? Just because he’s afraid that you’ll spill all his dirty little secrets?”

“Well… yeah, that’s the gist of it,” you took a deep breath. “He must be mad that his own daughter is after him. What parent would kill their child just to silence them?”

You watched Seonghwa and Wooyoung clean the mess of a car, Wooyoung stealing glances at you occasionally. Seonghwa was mostly noting down the details of the truck, saying something about how he needed to find out just which gang your father had employed for this job.

“Some parents don’t need a reason to want to get rid of their child,” Jongho said, looking at you. “They just do it because they’re selfish like that.”

You frowned. Was he talking from personal experience?

“I’m actually an illegitimate child too,” Jongho shared with a smile and your mouth curved like an o in surprise. “My mother is from Eden and my father from Halaland. She gave birth here, which is why I’m considered an Eden citizen, but I spent my early childhood in Halaland. Quite a combination, right?”

He was right. People from Halaland had always been treated with wariness and after the war, it just got worse. They faced discrimination. To be an illegitimate child who was half Hala…

“I guess we do have something in common then,” you shrugged, Jongho laughing at your joke.

“The reason I’m telling you this, Luna, is because the fact that I am both of these has never hindered my path,” he said and you turned your attention to him. “Hongjoong and the others, they never discriminated. We were all children of war and we bonded with each other because we have more in common-like values and morals. Not family background or useless things like that. And you… just because you’re unwanted does not mean you have to bend under your father’s will.”

“I have not,” you shook your head. “I am resisting. I’m just trying to be careful, because this is what happens when I slip.”

“This did not happen because you were careless,” he assured you. “This happened because he is scared of you, Luna. Don’t you realise? He’s scared he will be exposed because you know that he has joined hands with Strictland. He’s scared that you will uncover the truth and expose him. If he gets exposed, he will lose everything and so will the people he has associated with. Are you gonna let him stomp over you, or are you going to try to be one step ahead?”

You clasped your hands in thought– he wasn’t wrong. You had just been too cowardly to see it.

“Jongho’s right,” Wooyoung joined you, Seonghwa watching with a smile. “Show them what you’re made of, Luna. Accept the secretary position with your whole heart and use us to take your revenge on him– after all, we share the same goals.”

“Where did that come from,” you laughed, finally feeling calmer when Wooyoung grinned back. “What is it to you if I become his secretary?”

“My precious Luna,” he teased, grinning cheekily. “You really think we’re asking you to be the secretary here? You’re already one right now.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned but Wooyoung waved a hand.

“I mean,” he said, “Being Hongjoong’s personal secretary, or assistant, or whatever you call it… it will just be a term. What we’re really asking you is to become a part of our inner circle. We’re asking you to walk with us, plan with us, help us so we can help you. It’s more like being a partner, isn’t it?”

“That’s… a lot,” you laughed nervously, overwhelmed by his proposition.

“But we need you,” he said matter-of-factly. “And so do you. Neither of us can do this without each other.”

He was right. They could get more information on whatever Secretary Park was doing, but you still had so much more that you were keeping from them. To be a part of their inner circle, be a part of Ateez was what they were asking from you. Being Hongjoong’s personal secretary would just be the job you would officially do but really–

You walked with them. Dined with them. Planned with them, even now. No one else did it like you were doing. You were already a part of them, whether you liked it or not.

Not that you were complaining. They had treated you with more respect and given you more authority than you’d ever gotten in your life. You were seen and you were heard here. It was overwhelming but if you looked past that…

It was kind of heartwarming.

“We’re here to protect each other,” Seonghwa said, having noticed your features shift from nervousness to acceptance. “And that means that we will protect you, and you will protect us. It doesn't matter who you are or what your background is. Our goals are the same.”

“For Eden,” you said, looking at them. “Are we really doing this for Eden? Will it really benefit our homeland?”

“You must have some doubts about what we do. Rightfully so,” Seonghwa nodded, offering you his hand and you grabbed it, getting up. “You can ask me anything, Luna. On our way back– it’s getting dark, and we really must get going now.”

You went back to the warehouse first to switch cars. You were worried Mingi would be angry but he was surprisingly only glad that you all made it back in one piece. They offered to patch you up but you told them you really did not want to be late for your shift which made them laugh. It was only a scratch so you could take care of it in the office. The trio let you go with a can of beer for the way back ‘to calm your nerves’. You gladly accepted.

Seonghwa told you that it was okay to ask– apparently, Yuta was one of the insiders too. So candidly, you asked him why exactly did they need to manufacture their own weapons.

You learned that Eden had actually suffered in the war more than you imagined with a lot of soldiers having gone missing, suspected of defecting or worse. A lot of the existing weapons channels had also either shut down or stopped business for unknown reasons. The underworld dealing came to a halt for some time after the war and while the treaty between Halaland and Eden ensured that there wouldn’t be a war in the foreseeable future, if Halaland learned that Eden was basically defenceless, they might start something again.

Seonghwa also told you that Eden’s military could not be trusted because their sole purpose seemed to be power and politics, referring to the clashes ex-President Son had with the military when they enforced the ‘over-17’ law. Hence, a few old gangs like MX and others resumed the weapons dealing and even collaborated with gangs from Wonderland and Utopia.

You told Seonghwa that you had qualms about their drug project too but he promised that they would tell you the details soon. You understood and a few minutes later, you reached the Crescent office. You still had some time to spare so you freshened up before going upstairs.

You were arranging your things at the desk and just taking a breather when the door to Yunho’s office opened. Seonghwa appeared to be leaving. Yunho followed behind and they exchanged a few words before Seonghwa disappeared downstairs and Yunho turned his attention to you.

You had to admit it, you missed him a little. He hadn’t been in the office a lot recently, probably busy with other things, but he appeared as sophisticated as ever in his black button down shirt and cream slacks. He smiled at you faintly, slowly walking towards you and shaking his head.

“You need to do something about that,” he pointed at your cheek. You had taken a look at it in the mirror earlier in the bathroom– the blood had crusted so you let it be. You didn’t have any band-aids in your purse and decided to start keeping some.

“Good evening to you too. It’s only a scratch,” you said and Yunho shook his head.

“Come to my room,” he said, not waiting to hear a response and you huffed, surrendering and following him. He was rummaging through his drawers and found the little first-aid box, bringing it towards the couch and beckoning you to sit.

“A simple bandage would do,” you started but he raised a finger in warning and that shut you up pretty quick. He settled down next to you and took out a bottle of disinfectant and a cotton pad, soaking it in and then turning towards you. You extended your hand so he could pass you the pad but he ignored that, leaning in to do the job himself. You reflexively shut your eyes as his hand neared your face and he didn’t miss that.

Your heart rate picked up and you willed your eyes to open, finding him watching you with curiosity. He cleaned the scratch, his brows furrowing in concentration and then he discarded the pad, taking out a box of salve. This time, he picked some on his index finger and you pursed your lips to keep a comment from popping out of your mouth.

With the pad of his thumb, he turned your face sideways so he could properly see the scratch and then he started applying the salve. You took a deep breath, the air thick with tension. He decided to break the silence.

“Are you okay? You must have been shocked,” he said.

“Yeah, I was,” you admitted. “But I recovered pretty quick this time.”

“Ah, did you?” A smirk made its way on his lips as he finished applying the ointment, now opening the bandaid. You just knew he was thinking about that night when you freaked out when he was going to be attacked and kept him close so he wouldn’t risk his life trying to find answers.

“Yes. I owe that to Wooyoung and Jongho,” you huffed. “They are good with words.”

“Was I not?” He asked, referring to that night.

“They also let me use my gun,” you half-lied but when he gave you the look, you rolled your eyes. “Okay, technically, I only loaded it for Wooyoung. He’s the one who used it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they wouldn’t let you get your hands dirty,” he chuckled, carefully applying the band-aid over the scar.

“Maybe I’ll need to,” you shrugged and he looked at you. “I should learn how to use the gun properly if I’m keeping it. I mean, I do know how to use it but I lack practice.”

“But you shouldn’t actually use it,” he reprimanded but you shook your head.

“I need to learn to protect myself… and protect you.”

He looked at you in surprise and you continued. “All of you. If you claim to have my back, I should return the favour. I should be able to protect myself, not be a burden to you guys, and protect you all in return.”

“Luna… you really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Yunho assured you calmly. “And you’re not a burden to us. Don’t ever think that.”

“I can’t just sit back and watch you guys risk your life trying to protect me from someone who’s after me!” You started. “You can try to convince me that it’s not my fault that you almost got shot that night or the boys almost got hurt today, but I know it’s my fault.”

“Luna–”

“Yes, it’s not exactly my fault,” you rambled on. “It’s my father’s. But the fact is that he is after me and if to get to me he needs to wipe out all of you, he will, just so he can continue with his awful dealings that I’m sure will cost Eden something–”

“Y/n,” Yunho scooted forward, taking both your hands in his and intertwining them, making you stop mid-sentence. He took a deep breath, watching how your small hands fit in his and when you looked at your joined hands, your heart melted at the way his fingers gently caressed yours. “Are you done now?”

You didn’t respond and he tried not to comment on how you always shut up when you were in close proximity with him or, well, whenever he was touching you. He took a deep breath.

“You’re ours now,” he locked eyes with you, his tone almost containing a hint of warning in them that made your heart sink a little. “You’re a Crescent now, a part of our team, and that means that you will protect us in any way that you can, and we will return the favour. The information that you provide us with… that is our protection, and that is enough. If you wish to learn defence or offence, sure. I won’t stop you. But it should only be to protect yourself, okay?”

You pursed your lips but he was being adamant, squeezing your hands a little. “We would have gotten in trouble with Secretary Park one day anyway. Eventually, our secret drug project was going to lead us to him and it could have taken an even more dangerous turn. But what happened today… that is enough. He’s crossing a line. I will send him a message, and I will make it clear that you are under our protection and we will not tolerate any more misbehaviour from him. Is that okay?”

“He will consider it a call for war,” you warned him. “He will not stop.”

“So be it,” Yunho smiled almost sadistically. “We are children of war, all of us, aren’t we? The personal battles too. We are survivors, you and I. He won’t know what’s coming for him.”

You nodded in answer, looking down. You weren’t sure you were ever going to get used to someone treating you not just as an equal but offering you their power and so much more. But Yunho… he always knew just what was going on in your head. He drew back one of his hands from your hold only to draw it towards your face, lifting your chin up so you would look at him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

It must have been an order because his gaze compelled you to spill.

“It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that you’re all doing this… willingly. For me.”

Yunho smiled, shaking his head. “For you, and for us. Get used to this treatment, princess.”

With an affectionate tap to your cheek, he drew back and started packing the kit. You sat there, baffled at what he just said and also, taking the loss of his touch to your heart. When he looked at you, your hand seemed to be outstretched as if you aimed to rest it on his back. You drew it away but he caught that, raising a brow.

“Princess? Really?” you asked, making him laugh.

“I can do worse too,” he offered and you shook your head, about to leave but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, a surprised yelp escaping your mouth when you found his face way too close to yours, his eyes searching yours for answers that you didn’t possess yet. You felt the urge to draw his ruffled hair away from his forehead. His gaze flickered to your lips and god, he was going to be the death of you.

“No thanks,” you scoffed in answer but then he purposely raised your hand slowly, shifting his hold so he could kiss your knuckles softly, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. Your own lips parted in surprise at his actions– he was crossing the line, but–

What line? The question hung in the air as he waited for you to challenge him, to respond to him.

What line, really.

“Is this a challenge?” You dared to ask.

“If you make it to be,” he responded, eagerly waiting for you to make the next move.

And oh, he did not realise that you would never back down from a challenge. You licked your lips, leaning forward and smiling in satisfaction when he started tilting his face, expecting the obvious. You drew closer until you were inches away and when his eyes fluttered shut, you made your move.

You blew lightly at the tip of his nose, earning a shocked sound from him and with an almost childish giggle erupting from your mouth, you backed away and started to go towards the door, looking back to find him flustered but amused. You saluted mockingly, making him laugh before you shut the door.

Oh. You were done for.

next chapter

-> apply for the taglist here! (check your privacy setting if the tags don't work)

taglist pt 1:

#orite time to test how much my memory recalls :D #pfft ofc hongjoong just points at you and orders you around #is saying pls really that hard (yes)#if girlie hadn't grabbed her own umbrella would hongjoong have offered for her to stand under his together (no) (i like to imagine though)#KRUDOS OMG I REMEMBER THE WHOLE FIASCO TRYING TO COME UP WITH MONEY NAME HAHAHAHAH #oooh damn the details ofc hongjoong has a fancy umbrella with a gold eagle hilt #HIS AURA HIS POWER HIS DOMINANCE YES PART LIEK THE RED SEA FOR HIM #i wonder if inspector gong will actually end up betraying you guys #there is absolutely nothing to back up this thought #just the knowledge that you'll hit us from behind with the wildest betrayal :D #heh seeing yeosang and it's so obvious ShE'S SmITTERRNNN #LUNCH AT BB TRIPPIN ASKLJFHDSGS THE CAMEO(?) WE DIDN'T KNOW WE NEEDED AHAHHAHA #PRETTY BOI?!?!?!?!#WOAH ORITE WE GOING TO THE FLIRTY NICKNAMES NOW RAWR #ooof all of this imagery talk about being in the light or the shadows and luna being meant to work from both :')))#you're learning to be poetic bbygorl :'))#'i don't know who else i would want by my side if not you' YO THAT'S /BASICALLY/ A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL #YUTA THE BODYGUARD RAHHHHHH THIS IS GIVING ME STITCH YOUR HEART UPON A BLOSSOM OF MINE THROWBACKS #HAHAHA ofc jongho likes to play boss :')) what a cutie patootie :'))#'it was far too easy to buy silence in eden especially after the way' ooof why does that slap so hard #RAHHH the boys immediately jumping into action in tandem and working together seamlessly to fight back is so hawt #love that yn and jongho are now bonding over shared childhood trauma :D #THIS WHOLE be hj's secretary talk IS LITERALLY JUST A let us date TALK IN DISGUISE IM TELLIN YOU #i imagine yunho holding his finger up like 🤓☝️#YOU'RE OURS NOW KJGALIOSFJGP)(*$(%%^@U NVKJBHSRLKBJSDFLKDG ilukAIJFOISHGJKLSJ gkljND NKJRSHNKFHJFHD #GGET USE D TO THIS TREATMENT PRINCvES SSGJ KLSJDGlkdljLGJKFDLSKGJ DOUBLE KILLD FKJSDHKGJSFH #is this a challenge iF YOU MAke IT TO BE KLAJLSF<HDSGKJLSGSGLSK AND THE ALMOST KISS IADGJDSLKGJSHFg I - ESGLJKDSG #IM OUT OF TAGS BUT UM GOOD LAWD YUMI ???? HELLO?? YUNHO?? EXCUSE ME????#yumi <33 #MOOT MOOT

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lorensonebraincell · 3 months ago

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the four seasons of us

“every season is one of becoming, but not always one of blooming. be gracious with your ever-evolving self.” — b. oakman

the essence of youth is summers with you

poly surfers!ateez x childhood best friend!reader (38.7k)

when you move away from your hometown at the age of six, you discover that summer in namhae takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands–choi san. but as the summers go past and he goes to seoul for college, bringing back new friends each year, you start to develop feelings that run deeper than just friendship. will your summers of youth become ones of love and dreams, or will they end in pain and heartbreak?

our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom

poly hockey team!ateez x coach!reader (37.6k)

you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.

and if it stops snowing? then count the stars in the sky

poly doctors!ateez x doctor!reader (approx. 37k)

synopsis to be revealed soon with teaser

spring tba...

#self-reblog #masterlist (sort of) has finally been created and revealed :'))#some readers already caught on when hockey was posted #that there was a theme going on with the seasons #here's the grand reveal to everybody else that we're getting winter and spring fics !!!#gonna drop the winter teaser in less than 1.5 weeks #HOHOHO

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lorensonebraincell · 3 months ago

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Get Ready With Yunho!!

#ILLEGAL #SIR THIS IS ILLEGAL I SAY #STOP THIS RIGHT NOW #ATTACKED #yunho

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lorensonebraincell · 3 months ago

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Plagiarism.

Hello! Thank you very much for letting me know. Tagging other writers affected: @songmingisthighs @haihoneys

In addition, I am linking the recognition and call-out post in response to this case, by SMT, here.

Dear all, please find all relevant information below about @user777h, and do consider blocking them and reporting posts.

I personally would prefer for this to be dealt with in a regulated and organised manner. I do not tolerate this behaviour, and would highly appreciate a positive resolution in the favour of supporting original content.

General announcement:

Plagiarism of any form is not to be taken lightly, and does have a number of repercussions, including legal. When a work is posted on Tumblr, the copyright generally belongs to the original poster as the creator, meaning they retain ownership of their intellectual property. Any reposting and unauthorised use of the original poster's content can therefore be investigated as a case of copyright infringement.

Considering that two of user777h's posts contain work from 'Literotica', regulations and actions taken on the authors' end there should also be considered.

Below please find more detailed information on user777h.

General information on user777h:

According to Tumblr Archive, this blog has existed only since late January, at least according to when the first post was shared. There appears to be no information on the owner of the blog aside from the plagiarised work which shall be explored later in the evidence section.

To avoid any further speculation 'General information' section shall remain open for the time being, however it is important to note that as two of the works are of a mature nature, so additional scrutiny is to be applied concerning the age of user777h.

The above communication has been sent to user777h on the 2nd of February, 2025, asking them to voluntarily delete the plagiarised content, as well as warning them about further actions, should the request not be followed. Unfortunately, this message was met with no response as of yet.

Evidence of plagiarism committed by user777h

Please see below the evidence showing instances of plagiarism committed by user777h. In all instances, the left item presented is the original work, while the right is what has been plagiarised by user777h.

Exhibit (A) - 23:13 PM by @/hwaightme. Theft of moodboard. Original post date: 17th November, 2024. Plagiarised on January 28th, 2025.

Exhibit (B) - Baby Baby by @/songmingisthighs. Theft of moodboard. Original post date: 12th September, 2024. Plagiarised on January 26th, 2025.

Exhibit (C) - Afternoon Delight by @/haihoneys. Theft of moodboard. Original post date: 19th January, 2025. Plagiarised on January 27th, 2025.

Exhibit (D) - When Sir Gets Home from Literotica (link) Original posted on 17th August, 2023. Plagiarised on 26th January, 2025.

Exhibit (E) - A Wife's First Date Ch. 03 from Literotica (link) Original posted on 24th January, 2025. Plagiarised on 27th January, 2025.

The evidence list can and will be updated if/when necessary.

In closing

Plagiarism is not tolerated in any form.

user777h has plagiarised moodboards and writing of multiple creators, as can be seen in the evidence collected above, and has not made a voluntary move to apologise, change their behaviour and delete this content.

To avoid any further troubles and resolve this situation peacefully, I kindly ask of anyone who can to please report and block user777h.

Thank you.

#seems like a no-brainer not to plagiarise #but !!!#apparently we still have to be making these call out posts #plagiarising not only the stories but the moodboards too?#incredible

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lorensonebraincell · 3 months ago

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The Leaders | Chapter III

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, illegal businesses, mentions of violence, war/military and weapons, the designated assholes be warming up now, yunho is trying his utmost best to confuse tf out of you.

chapter wc: 11.8k

chapter synopsis: yunho verifies with kihyun that secretary park is not the man for their new deal and hongjoong makes the connection, finding out who your father is. no longer having to hide your identity, you candidly discuss what you know about the strictland nuclear base and who might be involved other than secretary park. you save yunho from an attack which shifts your relationship with him. overwhelmed, you find yeosang at the crescent bar who hears you out and comforts you.

prev chapter recap: you learn more about the crescent’s past– as ateez, the gang, and their accomplishments in the war that earned them respect. while you get familiar with your job at the main office, you meet the young informant jaemin who refers to the boss as ‘the captain’. seonghwa continues to question your background but you only warn him to be careful making deals with secretary park. you finally meet the boss hongjoong who barely acknowledges you, and you complain about the recent events to san at the bar who assures you that your new bosses are just human if you look past their big, scary titles. convinced, you make a decision and warn the bosses directly to not make the deal with secretary park and reveal his connection with strictland. however, they have trouble taking your word for it and hongjoong reminds you that you are just a bookkeeper, though he instructs yunho and seonghwa to look into your connection with secretary park.

You had never dreaded a shift as much as you were dreading the night shift the day after Kim Hongjoong showed you your place by reminding you that you were just a bookkeeper. His words still rang in your head over and over, asserting that you were no one of importance.

“You have a lot of audacity to come in here and make claims about a business you are not a part of, and people you don’t know enough about. Possessing such audacity is what almost cost you your life that night, and what is tempting me to retract the deal my partners made behind my back.”

Hongjoong had made it clear that he wanted you to stop interfering in their deals and it was honestly a surprise that the man didn’t shoot you in the head last night. He wasn’t known to be merciful, so you had probably used up a good bit of your luck considering how you weren’t fired from your job. If he was going to keep you still, he would definitely be digging into your past and you were preparing yourself to deal with the consequences of your actions. If they found out that you were Secretary Park’s daughter and told him about what you said… you would be in huge, huge trouble.

You should not have blindly trusted the Crescents. If they were just a mere business organisation, maybe they would have believed you but they were Ateez too– a gang who clawed their way up, fighting tooth and nail for a place in this world which they eventually and rightfully earned. Yeosang and San may have told you that the Crescents were good people at heart but Kihyun was also right– they were children of war, and they could fight their own battles. They did not need a mere bookkeeper with a shady past to help them out and save them from deals that could go wrong in the future.

In the midst of this hopelessness, the feelings of guilt over keeping state secrets to yourself were eating you up. You wished you could share those secrets with someone who actually cared for their land rather than wielding that secret like a threat to satisfy their selfish desires. What you carried with yourself was a burden too heavy for your shoulders and you didn’t know how long you could last before you would get crushed under it. Perhaps, what drove you mad was the fact that no one could be trusted. You had no idea who was involved in that sick scheme– it could be anyone.

No one would take your word for it. You had been at the wrong place, at the wrong time, hearing something that should have never passed anywhere near your ears. You saw your father engage in discussion with a man that you did not recognise, but what you heard was enough to make you lose your footing and trip on the ground with a loud thud, unable to function properly because of the gravity of those words.

Your father discovered you eavesdropping on him and that was when things took an ugly turn for you. If Kihyun hadn’t been present in another room, waiting for your father at that time, there would have been no one to stop the man from trying to wring the truth out of his own daughter in the most despicable, threatening manner. You would have met a fate much worse than him wiping your name off the family registers and sending you to Wonderland.

You shivered involuntarily at the thought, glad you were alone in the office and no one had noticed you staring into the distance and picking on the skin near your nails. The words you had heard years ago replayed in your head, the memory as clear as day even after all this time, refusing to be forgotten.

“Halaland knew we had joined hands with Strictland’s nuclear operation officials so they did what they had to protect themselves.”

Strictland was a piece of land that had always been a part of Halaland, but had also always fought for independence. For a good few decades now, it had earned itself the status of an occupied nation under Halaland’s military control. It was always a sensitive matter, for Strictland was home to a nuclear base that had once been functional but long since shut down on the basis of the amended international peace laws that made sure that no country on this continent created or owned nuclear weapons. So why was there talk about Strictland’s nuclear operation officials going on if the base was supposed to be shut for a good thirty years now? And most importantly–

What exactly did Halaland do to protect itself? Was it the long, bloody war that lasted four years during President Son’s second presidential term, beginning from 1958? The war was triggered by bombing in Halaland near Strictland, and Halaland had accused Eden and sent forces soon after. The war came to a sudden end after President Son proposed the Treaty of the Eight Hills, ensuring peace. Post-treaty, things with Halaland were strained, sure, but nothing has been amiss so far.

Strictland’s nuclear base could not be active and not cause a stir in the continent, so why did it seem like something was happening under wraps? Could the base be functional and be the reason why Halaland refused to grant Strictland the status of an independent nation?

And just who was aware of this information? Your father was a secretary to Mr. Lee Jinwook who was just an assemblyman at that time. Today, he was the current president of Eden with your father still as his secretary. Was there a chance that President Lee knew what your father was up to?

“Luna?”

You looked up to find Yunho, of all the people, standing not too far, leaning against the wall. His watchful gaze travelled from your zoned-out eyes to the marred skin on your thumb, taking notice of all the picking that you had been doing while thinking.

“Are you… alright?”

“Sorry, I’m alright, I was just… thinking,” you said, straightening and arranging your desk. “How can I help you, Mr. Jeong?”

Yunho frowned at your very formal tone, waiting for you to say something but you kept a straight face. “I just… saw you zoning out and called to make sure that you were alright.”

Oh. You licked your lips, looking at your thumb– yikes. “Thank you, Mr. Jeong. I was just taking a little breather. I will get back to work now.”

“That’s not why I–” Yunho began but paused when you picked up a page and started scribbling on it. You were ignoring him on purpose. You were being professional, he thought, probably a bit hurt by how Hongjoong had dealt with you last night. He had heard about it, but he wished he could tell you that they did take your words into consideration.

However, you would probably learn from Hongjoong and Seonghwa themselves after they would be back from their meeting with Secretary Park– which would be in about an hour. Yunho sighed deeply and went back to his room, shutting the door with a bit of an unintentional slam. He sagged into the chair, rubbing his face.

Maybe he should have told you that he called your name twice before you answered. He would have been on his way unnoticed by you but he caught you staring intently into the distance and thought something was wrong.

He had just come back to the office after meeting with Hongjoong and Seonghwa and telling them about his meeting with Kihyun earlier in the morning, where he finally briefed him about the potential deal with Secretary Park as someone who would fund their project and approve the launch of their new drug in the pharmaworld.

“That man is not a good choice, Yunho.” Kihyun said with an adamant shake after Yunho finished telling him the details.

“Why?” Yunho asked. “He is going to become the next Minister of Health. I can’t think of a better choice.”

“People are not all that they seem to be, as you must know by now,” Kihyun spun the pen between his fingers as he said. “Secretary Park… he treads a dangerous path. If you involve yourself with him now, he will take what you have to offer, wring you dry and abolish any remains of your business. As someone who has been acquainted with him in the past, can’t you take my word for it?”

Yunho believed Kihyun– he was one of his closest friends and his gang had helped Ateez become who they were today. So, he decided to ask something a bit personal instead.

“Jeon y/n… she warned us about Secretary Park. She said he is conspiring with Strictland officials to do something illegal and immoral. She offered better options like ex-president Mr. Son or Assemblyman Kim Jooheon.”

“You know,” Kihyun chuckled at that. “She has a knack for these things, she does. And what she has to offer to you is credible, if you can believe it. It’s only a shame that we’re close to retiring and aren’t as ambitious as you, otherwise we would have kept her all to ourselves.”

Somehow, Yunho felt both pride and jealousy to hear that. Pride that you were a part of the Crescents, and jealousy because Kihyun knew you better than he did.

“Who is she really, Kihyun? And why is she helping us?”

“Didn’t she tell you already?” Kihyun smiled in answer. “She only wants you to help her and when it’s time, she’ll use the power you have to take her revenge.”

Unfinished business. Yunho recalled what you had said that night when you made a deal with them for your life.

“I’ll only ask this of you, Yunho,” Kihyun’s smile fell and he leaned forward. “A favour, if you want to call it that, but… don’t hurt her. Protect her. Use her if you have to– she has a lot to offer, and she is well-educated and sharp. She possesses information that could shake not only Eden but the entire continent. She can help you navigate through the dark waters of the underworld. You’ll only have to trust her a little and allow her to trust you back.”

Those words stuck with Yunho for the next hour until the boss and the underboss arrived back from the meeting with Secretary Park. The room filled with silence and palpable tension as Hongjoong and Seonghwa settled down on the sofas, each absently staring at the ceiling or the plant that was in dire need of watering.

“Well?” Yunho decided one minute was enough for them to sort their thoughts out. “Did you end up shaking hands with Secretary Park?”

“Of course not,” Hongjoong took a deep breath. “Not after what Kihyun had to say about our little bookkeeper.”

“Her name’s Luna,” Yunho scoffed at the term Hongjoong kept using to address you and Hongjoong grinned at Yunho’s immediate correction. “It’s just funny that you refuse to say her name when you literally address everyone by their surnames. You don’t even call her Jeon.”

“She’s not even a Jeon,” Seonghwa sighed. “I contacted the RV spies today– Wendy. She refuses to talk about her and told me to save my time and not look for her family. Do you know what that means?”

“That that is exactly what we need to find out?” Hongjoong quipped.

“That her family must be someone influential in Eden. Considering what she knows… she sounds like an insider. A citizen of Edenary, if I have to make a wild guess because no one from the eight sectors could have possessed so much information only to hide in the shadows.”

“Or that,” Hongjoong scoffed, agreeing with Seonghwa. “If she really is from Edenary, she would have either worked there long enough to know these things or… she has family there.”

“I can’t find any information on her– no one in Sector 1 knows her from before 1966, when she came back from Wonderland,” Seonghwa said. “And Secretary Park reacted strangely when we mentioned that we’re reluctant to make a deal with him because of his connection with foreigners.”

“How so?” Yunho asked.

“He wasn’t fazed at all. It was as if he saw it coming, which can only mean one thing…”

The heavy implications of what Seonghwa said filled the room as the three struggled to make sense of it.

“Is there a chance Secretary Park didn’t react because he didn’t know what you were talking about?” Yunho asked cautiously, willing to entertain every possibility right now.

“No,” Hongjoong said, sure about this. “The look in his eyes wasn’t of surprise, it was more of an acceptance. That can only mean that he knew that there was a chance we would be aware of his dealing with Strictland. He can’t have gone and told every other person that he was involved with Strictland, right?”

“Which means he somehow knows that Luna is aware of this knowledge, or he personally knows her– isn’t Kihyun acquainted with Secretary Park? And he refuses to talk about her too?” Seonghwa asked.

Yunho nodded. “And you’re saying the RV spies refused to reveal her identity?”

“Then we have no choice but to ask her,” Hongjoong clapped his hands in conclusion. “Call her.”

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa straightened. “You made it pretty clear last night that she should just stick to her desk.”

“You know that was necessary,” Hongjoong folded his arms. “Things have changed now.”

Yunho got up slowly, footsteps heavy with thought. “I’ll call her inside, but can you both let me do the talking this time?”

While Hongjoong looked surprised, Seonghwa merely smiled knowingly. “Don’t tell me you’ve already taken a liking to her, Yunho.”

Yunho rolled his eyes in amusement before walking outside. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa in disbelief. “He didn’t deny it. What have you all been doing with her behind my back?”

“Nothing,” Seonghwa chuckled. “But the boys seemed to have taken a liking for our bookkeeper.”

“And you?” Hongjoong cocked his head in curiosity but Seonghwa’s smile revealed nothing to him. Even after all these years, Hongjoong wondered how Seonghwa could hide his feelings from him when he wanted to. Even when he was the one who knew Seonghwa the best.

“Let’s talk about it later,” Seonghwa promised in a whisper.

You entered the room behind Yunho, preparing yourself for whatever was about to happen– for once, you have no idea what. Yunho had been pretty calm when he told you that the boss would like to see you, even waiting for you to follow him which you thought was a bit odd. You greeted the men with a ‘good evening’ and the boss motioned for you to sit next to Seonghwa. It was oddly relieving to have him by your side.

Hongjoong was about to say something but Yunho rested a hand on his thigh, making him pause and relax back instead. You noted the little exchange– it was strange to see the boss submit under someone who was third-in-command. Yunho looked at you, offering a small smile before starting.

“We did not sign the deal with Secretary Park. We only mentioned that we intended to keep our business out of the spotlight for now and it would not be beneficial for us to involve ourselves with someone who was dealing with foreigners.”

You exhaled deeply after hearing that– a bit in relief and a bit in grim acceptance. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“We also noted that he didn’t react when we told him our reasons. Secretary Park… you know him personally, don’t you?”

This time, you chose not to run your mouth, opting for silence. Yunho played with the silver button of his black form-fitting waistcoat, and you fixated your gaze over the silver ring that he wore on his index finger with infinity signs, a ring that all of Ateez wore. They seemed to have a lot of staple jewellery and accessories, like the gold pocket watch the boss had on him at all times, even tonight in his dark brown three-piece.

“I met with Kihyun today, Luna,” Yunho continued and your eyes widened a little– whatever did Kihyun say? “He’s one of our mentors and I take his words seriously. He confirmed Secretary Park was not the man to make such a deal with, and he also said that you had a lot to offer.”

You stifled a smile at that. “What is this really about, Mr. Jeong?”

“Secretary Park… you’re acquainted or even related to him in some way, aren’t you?”

Your smile visibly fell which didn’t go unnoticed. This time, Seonghwa shifted closer, keeping a respectable distance from you as he said, “We’re willing to trust you and involve you in future business dealings if you’re willing to share some information that we should be aware of, before we make this deal with you.”

“I appreciate your kind offer, but I really am only a bookkeeper,” you said, an intentional jab towards the boss himself.

Hongjoong poked his tongue inside his cheek, clearly amused at your challenge. Did you want him to beg? To say please?

“You are also a part of Crescent now, and that means you’re not just a bookkeeper, like Hongjoong might have said last night,” Yunho insisted. “We could find out what your relationship with Secretary Park is through other means but we decided to ask you instead.”

“Then use your other means,” you said with immense effort, tired of this little game. “I belong to the shadows and I will remain there.”

You got up to leave, straightening your maroon skirt. You only took a few steps when you heard the boss’ voice.

“You don’t happen to be the illegitimate daughter of Secretary Park, eh? The one he liked to pretend was his niece instead?”

You didn’t simply stop in your tracks but every muscle in your body tensed. With dread creeping through your nerves, you turned to look at the boss, finding the others equally as surprised at his deduction. Hongjoong’s smirk widened and his eyes gleamed dangerously at the fear in your eyes.

He got up, approaching you slowly. “I’ve been to his house only once, towards the end of the war. Year 1962. He was looking for workers and I was only a colonel at that time, yet to be honoured. I saw his family portrait– he has a son that looks just like him. And then I saw a glimpse of a girl who was looking for her father. Upon asking a servant if the man had other children, they let me know that she was his illegitimate daughter and he pretended that she was his niece.”

Hongjoong noted the way that you gulped and your eyes darted among the three men as if gauging their reactions and trying to find a way out. He continued.

“They said it was understandable because other than the fact that illegitimate kids aren’t treated with respect around here, he was a striving politician and she would only hinder his career. I didn��t realise the little bird left its cage, though…”

“I– I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you tried but he shook his head.

“We’re going to find one way or another. It’s better if we just hear it from you so we can move on and address the more important matters… Luna.”

You looked at the boss– while he didn’t tower over you like Yunho did, he certainly was more intimidating. His gaze was sharper, his stance more confident and almost bordering on arrogance and his presence was consuming, almost luring.

You could not win.

“Alright, fine,” you gave in, walking back to your seat next to Seonghwa who looked thoroughly amused even though he tried not to appear so. “Yes. I am his daughter– illegitimate daughter. Don’t ask me who the mother is– I don’t know.”

Yunho sucked in his breath in disbelief. “Is that who you’re so scared of?”

“Not just him,” you shook your head. “There are other forces at play. He was just a pharmaceutical business owner at that time– he could not have dealt with Strictland on his own.”

Seonghwa agreed. “Is there anyone you suspect?”

“I don’t know. President Lee seems like the likelier suspect but he’s far too clean for that, which is a bit suspicious. It could be anyone from Eden Hall– another assemblyman or some existing minister or cabinet members. All I know is that what they’re doing is very dangerous. I know more, but I really need to confirm a few things before I can confide in you.”

“Well,” Hongjoong shifted his weight on one leg, thinking. “This certainly changes things. I still need to check a few things about you,” he looked pointedly at you, “but you can continue your bookkeeping duties for now. I’ll see what I’ll do with you later.”

“If you feel like you should share a warning with us at any time, since you know exactly what deals we make on a daily business,” Seonghwa said, his tone unexpectedly warm, “you can let us know. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have asked for Kihyun’s opinion and proceeded with the deal and suffered damage. We owe you one.”

“That’s alright,” you said but he shook his head, insistent. “Can you just keep this a secret? As you must realise now, Secretary Park has gone to great lengths to hide my identity from the world. The fact that he even let me come back to Eden… he might be regretting it now. I can only warn you that he might try to attack me in the future which means someone else could get hurt too.”

“That’s unfortunate. Thank you for letting us know,” Hongjoong gave you a nod and you felt almost reassured. You looked at Yunho who was simply watching you with eyes full of curiosity.

“I’ll go back to the desk now and finish compiling today’s reports,” you said.

“Great, you can leave them with Yunho later,” Seonghwa said. “I have somewhere to be with Hongjoong. Let’s go.”

You had half an hour to complete that report and you came back to that room, knocking before entering. Yunho was still where he sat before and you discussed the report with him before getting up to put it in the cupboard and preparing to go home.

You were putting on your coat and gathering your belongings when Yunho joined you at your desk, his own overcoat in hand. “Care for a stroll?”

You looked at him in surprise but nodded, following him downstairs– he must have a lot of questions. He locked the office behind him and greeted the guard, nudging you towards the main street. Since it was past midnight and this was a business street, it was pretty empty. The offices were shut with only the guards stationed outside trying to keep awake in the lonely hours, or keeping each other company over a little fire in the tub.

You walked in silence for a few moments with only the sound of the cackling of fire and your footsteps accompanying you before he finally asked if you had ever felt targeted while working for the Crescents.

“Up until now, no,” you told him. “But after my father wiped my name off the registers of Eden and gave me a new identity… sometimes it feels like I’m being watched. He wasn’t surprised to hear that you knew about his deal with Strictland, was he?”

“We never explicitly mentioned Strictland but yes, he wasn’t surprised in the least,” Yunho said. “He must have known that you are working here.”

“He probably knew about my job at the bar, at least,” you said. “He has always made sure that I never interacted with someone of power. It’s only a shame that Kihyun took me in and he could do nothing about it.”

“Do you have any suspicions about what he might be doing in Strictland?”

“I only ever heard a bit of it, and I’m not sure exactly what he was referring to, but this might be my chance to confirm if what I heard holds any value,” you said, pausing in the middle of the crossroads in front of the canal, looking around for any passersby but finding none. “Do you know about the nuclear base in Strictland?”

“Everyone knows about it,” Yunho said, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. “It is suspected that Halaland wants to take over Strictland because they want to resume the operations at the nuclear base and become a nuclear power. That would violate the international arms law which is why they are resorting to playing dirty instead.”

“And the base has been inactive for a while, right?”

“For about thirty years now, yes,” Yunho confirmed.

“I have no idea how much truth this information holds, but I once heard my father talk about something regarding the nuclear base,” you whispered. “He said something about how Halaland knows that Eden has joined hands with Strictland’s nuclear operation officials. I don’t know who in Eden, but he also claimed whatever Halaland was doing– or would be doing– will be in order to protect itself.”

Yunho’s mouth parted in disbelief, his eyes boring into you. “That… that can’t be true.”

“Right?” you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking sideways to the canal. Its murky waters seemed to be reflecting your mood. “That should not be true, but… Mr. Kim said my father– Secretary Park did not react when you mentioned his dealings with foreigners. What other dealings might he have?”

“I hope something else, because if there’s even a slight chance that what you said is true,” Yunho grunted in discomfort. “I can’t imagine the consequences. Does he know that you are aware of this knowledge? Your father?”

“He knows I heard something,” you confirmed. “That’s when things started going downhill for me. He had always made it clear that once I was independent, he was going to change my surname and cut ties with me. But after that day, he just sped up the process, changed my surname to Jeon and sent me to Wonderland to an acquaintance of his.”

Just like that, you wanted to add, recalling how easy it was for the man that claimed to be your father.

“I don’t know if he did that so I would not speak about this or if he had some ounce of guilt for me,” you continued with a scoff, shaking your head. “But he kept tabs on me. He made sure I got a good education and once I was done, he allowed me to come back. I had to beg a little, but he let me come back on the condition that I stay low.”

“Too late for that, isn’t it?” Yunho commented and you looked at him, a smirk creeping on your lips.

“Well, I always planned about how to get back at him. Just because he made a mistake doesn’t mean I get to suffer for it for the rest of my life.”

“That’s right,” Yunho stepped closer to you, facing the canal just like you. For a moment, you shared a comfortable silence, thinking about the implications of your admittance. Yunho cleared his throat as he looked at you. “You must be from Edenary then. Was it tough to adjust in Sector 1?”

Edenary was not just the capital of Eden– it was like a safe haven for the elite class of Eden where they did not have to encounter a common man. Everyone who lived in Edenary was someone who possessed at least one of the three things– wealth, power, or connections. Before the monarchy was abolished in Eden, the royalty resided in Edenary. Now it was home to government officials, politicians, business owners and influencers.

Your heart twisted as you recalled your time in Edenary. Though you had lived in the shadows in Edenary too, there was a point in your life when your father had taken you around with him, introducing you as his niece but still letting you know the ins-and-outs of business in Eden. It was his dream that his child carry on in his footsteps, but his son and your half-brother, Park Sunghoon, had always been incompetent. You suspected he might let you take over his business instead but the fear of his tarnishing his reputation must have outweighed the fear of passing his legacy to someone who was useless. Sunghoon had always been far too short-tempered and reckless. Your father was not proud of him.

“Do you also dream of living in Edenary one day?” You asked, fiddling with your pearl ring.

“We dream of opening an office there, maybe a branch of the Crescent Bar if we’re lucky,” Yunho admitted. “But our home will always be in Sector 1.”

You smiled at that– his admission was unexpected. You outstretched your hand. “This ring is the only symbol of Edenary that I possess. A reminder that I may have found a place somewhere else but my roots remain in Edenary. I don’t miss the life I had, though. It wasn’t much.”

“It must have been better than this?” Yunho asked. You shook your head.

“I’ve only ever felt at home here, in my little apartment that I share with a person who cares about me a lot,” you said. “At the Crescent Bar where I got more respect than I ever got in Edenary.”

“And at the office?” Yunho said and you looked at him, finding an amused look on his face.

“Not yet, and you know that,” you said.

“That could change,” he suggested.

“Definitely,” you nodded. “But for that… you would have to make a little effort.”

“Well, I’m here now, with you, aren’t I?” Yunho said, cocking his head challengingly and you realised that this was his effort. “Tell me how to verify the information you just gave me tonight.”

You took a deep breath. “I’ve thought about it long and hard. I don’t think anyone who is not involved would know, so if you’re a fan of taking someone hostage and interrogating them…”

“We’re really trying to do things the right way, Luna,” he chuckled. “We’ve left that life behind.”

“Yunho, you shot ten men in two minutes just a few months ago, without hesitation,” you reminded him and his brows rose a little in surprise. You thought he was shocked to hear that you finally confronted him about it, but then you realised–

You had called him Yunho.

You were an absolute fool–

“I can do anything to protect the people I care about,” Yunho decided not to point out your informal use of his name, though he couldn’t complain– he had to admit that it was nice to hear his name from your lips. “But any other ideas?”

“Well… you can give someone else a tip and let them do the dirty work for you?” You suggested. “Now might be a nice opportunity to use Assemblyman General Wi. He has been trying to get dirt on President Lee because his term is almost over and he is pretty sure President Lee will be running for presidency again. If you give him a tip, he can verify all of this for you. Plus, if word gets out, Secretary Park will be in big trouble. It could confirm if President Lee is a part of this Strictland business or not, though it’s hard to believe that such a saint of a man could be.”

You often considered confronting President Lee about your father– if he really wasn’t aware of your father’s dealing with Strictland, he was probably the only person who could make things right once and for all. Lee Jinwook had always been in the political scene but he only stepped up as a presidential candidate after his wife, President Han Hyojoo, was assassinated three years into her term. She had ruled Eden right after the Treaty of the Eight Hills when President Son’s term ended, and the way she strengthened Eden’s defence and helped rebuild the land was an admirable feat but also earned her enemies.

President Lee always had a clean and morally upright image and though his succession was quick and easy, he continued his wife’s legacy and boosted Eden’s morale. He was a good president and Eden was flourishing in his reign just as it had in his wife’s reign. Days after his wife was assassinated, he laid the foundations of a hospital in his late wife’s memory. You recalled reading an article about it– that was in 1963, right after you came back from Wonderland. In his interview, he said that his wife had always dreamed about making a hospital in Eden that would focus on maternity services and advancements ever since they lost their child a couple of months after birth, and that it was a shame she couldn’t live long enough to see the hospital functioning.

It was thoughtful how he was fulfilling his late wife’s dreams even after her death. Such a man couldn’t be capable of such sinister actions, could he?

“If President Lee is a part of this, he could end up having your father killed to protect himself,” Yunho said and you sucked in a breath. “That’s how these people operate. Are you sure you want that? And even before that, Secretary Park would try to get at you for leaking that information. Your life could be in danger too.”

“It already is,” you shrugged. “An anonymous tip to General Wi– he’s a military man and Strictland is under military control. It would make sense that General Wi stumbled upon this information himself.”

Yunho hummed in agreement. “Shall I walk you home?”

Your heart did a little flip at his offer and that had you wondering… just how much should you involve yourself with the Crescents?

“Thank you for the offer… Mr. Jeong,” you said and Yunho noted the formality in your tone, “but I would rather walk myself home. Goodnight, and… thank you for tonight.”

Yunho considered insisting but he knew it would be too much for you, for now. Though he liked spending time in your company and wished to find out more about you or simply talk with you, this was not the time, and you had made your stance clear– he was only Mr. Jeong of Crescent to you, as he should be, but…

Did he wish to be more?

“Goodnight, and… I’m only carrying out my duty,” he said, confirming the distance between the two of you. “If you ever feel like you’re under threat or need some assistance, you can let us know. You are a part of our company and it is our obligation to protect you.”

Well. What a way to put it, you thought. With another thanks, you separated your paths for the remainder of the night.

Over the next few days, things at work became just a bit less overwhelming and you found yourself almost adapting to the new routine. Eunha and Jihoon noticed that you were competent and efficient and even Jihoon complimented you over handling a task that he was having a tough time with.

Every day after the midday slot, Eunha and you would go for lunch in one of the nearby cafes. Eunha told you that she used to have lunch with Jihoon almost everyday but with the shift in schedules, they couldn’t eat lunch together anymore and she admitted that surprisingly, she missed that. You asked what exactly did she miss about having lunch with Jihoon and got your answer later that day when he finally joined the two of you– a first for you. You were having sandwiches for lunch and while you both chattered about trivial stuff, he complained about the weather, the cucumbers in his sandwich, his milkshake being too bland and you knew then.

It was his way of contributing to the conversation, and the fact that he had joined you for lunch was enough. You told him that you hoped he would join you both often from now on and he just shrugged awkwardly though you caught him smiling to himself afterwards. He also made a point to scold you both for wasting too much time deciding on a spot and you both just retorted with a crude gesture (Eunha) and assigning him with the responsibility of picking lunch spots moving forwards (you).

It was just another day in the month of May with the shift of seasons bringing about rain and prompting you to dress up warmly. The weather in this part of the continent didn’t change much throughout the year, remaining a sticky cold in the summers with the rain and freezing towards the end of the year. You started to keep an umbrella on you and switched to boots and warm gloves, though you kept your net gloves in your purse in case you needed to wear them to a formal meeting. Just like the change in the colour saturation of Eden and its hues, your ensembles shifted to darker, moodier tones. The only constant would always be the pearl ring from home, often the only glimmer on you.

You reached ten minutes before 6pm and Eunha, just like every other day, sighed happily at the sight of you. Really, the sigh came out of sheer relief that she could go home now. With a kiss blown in your direction, she hurried off, her light pink hair very much like cotton candy as they fluffed up with every happy skip she made down the stairs.

You shook your head in amusement at her fading figure and straightened your back before assessing the reports and the latest updates. When the boss had called off the deal with Secretary Park just a few days ago, rumours of it went around town and some called it ‘a rejection to the president himself’ since it was known that a secretary basically did all of the president’s work. Others admired the fact that the Crescents didn’t bend to the secretary’s will like everyone else did, without knowing the context.

While it infuriated you how people were so quick to make something out of nothing– nothing that they knew about– you also noticed how the Crescents started getting more offers for collaboration by different businessmen and government officials. Yunho provided you with a list of people that they were considering for their new project. No one was aware of what exactly was the Crescent’s new project and you were almost still in the dark too– nothing confirmed and nothing denied. You told yourself that you did not need to ask just what this project was about and you could let them know your opinion anyway, but your achilles heel had always been your curiosity and your adventurous spark, a deadly combination. You would do just about anything to silence the buzzing in your brain.

About two hours passed when you heard light footsteps and the familiar scrawny figure of the young informant entered your vision. You set your pen down, a satisfied exhale leaving your mouth at the way your joints cracked when you stretched.

“Is the Captain inside?”

“Good evening to you too, kid,” you shook your head. “Yes, he’s inside.”

Jaemin smirked and you made a face at him. “Nice hair today.”

“Really?” You blinked in surprise. “I wear it like this every day though?”

The question was directed more to yourself. Jaemin went towards the boss’ room and knocked, entering a moment later. You dug the compact mirror out of your purse and checked your hair–

And sure enough, a tuft of hair was sticking out near your temple on the right side. You groaned loudly, fixing it and groaned even louder when you realised why Hongjoong had looked at you for a moment longer than usual when he greeted you today, and why he had a little smile on his face when he went to his room.

Damn it.

You waited for Jaemin to come out and you called him over. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, madame,” he bowed dramatically.

“Why do you call Mr. Kim the Captain?”

“Well… he is the boss, the leader, so captain is just another word to address him, right?” he grinned. “I like the sound of it.”

“Fair enough,” you said. “How did you become an informant?”

“Your question of the day has been used up. Adios!” Jaemin saluted mockingly and ran away before you could call his name or chuck something at him– you just sat there watching with your hand awkwardly stretched in the air as if you could have grabbed him from across the desk.

Menace.

You went back to focusing on the monthly budget report that you had been studying, trying to spot any discrepancies. This time, you were in charge of presenting the monthly report to the boss and you wanted to make sure everything looked okay, especially with their new deal. Whoever was in charge of handling the tracking of their money was doing a pretty damn good job. On the surface, the Crescents were exchanging Black Shadow with the latest machine parts– the produce from Pledis Manufacturers which was a cover for the actual export that was the weapons– with Utopia.

Black Shadow was a very strong red wine, a staple of Utopia, the land known for its wineries and extensive collection of all sorts of wines. While the Crescents were still a gang, they became acquainted with some of the winemakers, got mentored and secured a deal so that their business began with the Crescent Bar. Now the Crescent Bar was the only spot in all of Eden where this fine wine was available. You thought that was an admirable feat– it must not have been easy to convince the Utopians to export their wine. You supposed Utopia must really be in dire need of weapons as well to share their best wine with Eden.

On the sidelines, though, Black Shadow and other liquor was being smuggled to Mist Island in exchange for raw metal that was required in the production of those machine parts and weapons by Pledis. Simply sending wine in exchange for metal did not cover the discrepancy in costs, so you made a mental note to bring this to light in the meeting later this week. It had gone unnoticed the past few months but from your experience from the time in Wonderland when you had a part time job at a bank, you knew that someone was bound to raise suspicions of where the Crescents were spending all that money.

You did not realise how much time passed when you heard Yunho’s office door open and you looked at him, finding him wearing his overcoat. There was still an hour until your shift would be over so Yunho must have some engagement. He approached you and asked if you were done compiling the report.

“Yeah, I was just wrapping up. Do you want me to put it in your office later?”

Yunho pursed his lips in thought. “Actually, you know what? If you’re done for tonight, you can leave as well. No point staying until midnight. Seonghwa won’t be here tonight either.”

“Oh, well, sure,” you tried not to show how happy you were to leave early. “Let me put this away before you lock your room then.”

Yunho nodded and waited for you and when you came back, you found him with your coat in his hands and he offered to help you wear it. You stood still.

“Mr. Jeong. I can wear my coat on my own.”

“I know,” he shrugged, not letting go of it. “Are you going to keep me waiting though?”

You looked at him pointedly before giving in, going to grab your purse before he would try to do that for you too. “How very gentlemanly of you.”

Yunho scoffed, outstretching his arm. “After you.”

In the past few days, Yunho’s behaviour towards you had been nothing short of odd. Sometimes, he was the Mr. Jeong that you had always known– unapproachable, reserved and a man of few but meaningful words.

And the other times, well… you weren’t sure if this was just how he had always been, but it was strange to experience it firsthand. He was considerate, just like tonight. He would make sure you’d had dinner. He would ask if you were faring well when you would go to discuss the reports with him. He would make a casual remark or even a joke if he felt like it. Overall, you were sure that he knew the difference between being professional and casual very well–

And boy, was he tiptoeing right at the borderline.

He held the door for you and you told him the guard would have done it anyway but he only smiled. And then he mockingly saluted because you had made it a point of calling him ‘lieutenant’ whenever you needed to get a point across. That made you laugh a little and you said goodnight, going in opposite directions.

You were only a few steps down your road when you thought you could just walk with him and discuss the details about the Mist Island finances that had been nagging you all this time. You turned, speed-walking towards him in the dark street and were about to call his name when you stopped in your tracks.

There was a man who had slipped right behind him from an alley and you were half sure Yunho hadn’t noticed his presence. The man was walking quite awkwardly, tense and fidgeting, almost–

Almost as if he was about to attack Yunho.

And sure enough, you saw his hand resting right above his hip where he would be hiding a gun under his jacket.

With all your senses heightening, you willed yourself to remain calm and think– if you screamed, it would probably end badly. You could go back and alert the guard or find someone, anyone, but it might be too late–

And then you remembered that you had a gun in your purse.

You switched to the street on your right, rushing through the alleys as silently as you could, gun in hand and a scream lodged in your throat that threatened to escape at any second. You spotted Yunho whenever the alley opened into the street and every time, relief and urgency clashed. With pure adrenaline fueling you, you waited for Yunho to turn right at the crossroads– if he turned left, you would have to step in and you hoped that would not be the case.

As soon as Yunho turned right, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the alley, a surprised exhale exiting his mouth. You rushed to hide, finding a spot to squeeze into which was covered by abandoned boards that would hopefully help conceal your figures. You aimed the gun at the street, hoping to get a visual of the man, the sounds of your breaths and Yunho’s gun being loaded feeling too loud. He tried lowering your gun, intending to take care of the situation but you shook your head, gently pushing him aside despite the lack of space, as if you could cover him.

“I need to see if it is someone I recognise,” you whispered. “And you really don’t need to kill tonight.”

“I rarely ever kill, y/n,” he said, “Only immobilise.”

You didn’t respond, and if you hadn’t been worrying about your lives, maybe you would have noticed that he called you by your name instead of Luna. Your gaze remained focused on the street, aiming to identify the man.

“Is that someone you recognise?”

“Never seen him before,” Yunho bent down a little into the light to get a clearer vision. “Might just be a thug.”

You remained in your position with your gun aimed at the confused man who looked around warily before tracing his steps back. However, you kept the gun trained where you last spotted him and it wasn’t until Yunho put a hand over yours and gently lowered it that you let out the breath that you had been holding.

You made the mistake of looking at him, the realisation that you both were okay crashing on you like a fierce, cold wave. You took a shaky breath, resting your back against the wall and gripping the edge of a box nearby to hold yourself steady. Yunho looked quite alright, casually resting his back against the wall in front of you. You realised how narrow the alley was because his knees brushed against your legs.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just… catching my breath,” you whispered. “Does this happen often?”

“Not that often– not like this, at least,” Yunho looked for any signs of the man in the street. “Usually it’s a gang targeting us, not an individual.”

You nodded, thinking about the attack that night at the bar. This was different. Had this man intended to shoot Yunho or just take him hostage?

“I’ll go do a quick scan of the area and see if there are more men–”

You grabbed his arm as he tried to exit the alley and pulled him back to his original spot. Yunho shook his head. “I need to check if there are more men, and if anyone else was hurt–”

“No,” you insisted, tightening the grip on his arm. “It’s dangerous.”

“You’re telling that to me?” Yunho asked, reminding you that he was an honoured lieutenant colonel and knew how to deal with situations like these, but you weren’t having any of it. You shook your head adamantly.

“We will leave together, after a few minutes.”

And then, with a crashing realisation, Yunho understood that you were not just scared for yourself. You were scared for him too.

He didn’t know why but your words, spoken and unspoken, wrapped around his heart like an embrace. With a shaky sigh of his own, he resigned to his previous position, though this time he stood just a little closer to you. He noticed how you were still holding the gun while your hand trembled– you had obviously never actually used it.

“You’re a fool,” Yunho said in a low voice. “You should not have come after me. I could have dealt with that on my own. I would have gotten answers out of him–”

“He meant to shoot you, Yunho,” you said, and this time you called his name on purpose. “I did what I had to.”

“You could have gotten hurt, Luna,” Yunho leaned forward to be at your eye level. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger.”

“I have a gun–”

“A gun you’ve clearly never used before, at least not on a real person,” Yunho reproached, grabbing your shaky hand to prove his point. “Would you have used it tonight? If things went wrong?”

You didn’t answer that, too focused on the way his hand intertwined with yours and even with the weapon preventing full contact, you felt the comfort of his touch seep through your skin and slowly, but surely, calm your nerves.

“Shall I teach you how to use a gun some day?” Yunho’s low voice almost reverberated in your skull and you looked at him in shock, finding him a bit too close– you could see the excited glimmer in his pupils.

“I can protect myself without using a gun too,” you managed to say, wincing inside at the weak retort. You clearly couldn’t.

“But you can protect me too if you know how to use a gun,” Yunho said teasingly, a smirk creeping on his lips. You rolled your eyes briefly but he wasn’t backing away and neither did you want him to. His fingers caressing the skin on your hand was something you didn’t want to stop anytime soon.

“I’m pretty sure you can take good care of yourself, Lieutenant,” you challenged. “You definitely had it under control tonight.”

Yunho laughed then, a bit embarrassed because he clearly had not noticed anything amiss and if it weren’t for you, it might have gone very wrong. You laughed along because wow. You made Jeong Yunho laugh for the first time. The sound of his sweet, shy chuckle went straight to your brain, making you dizzy for a hot second. You broke out of your trance, pushing him away with immense effort. He took it as teasing, thankfully, not knowing that you wanted to do anything but put distance between you two at that moment.

God, you thought. You needed a drink.

Yunho squeezed your hand once before letting it go, perhaps realising how casual he just had been. This time, you let him survey the area you were already sure was clear. He came back and signalled for you to come outside, walking with you back to the path you should have been on in the first place.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You asked. “You left early tonight.”

“Just home,” Yunho said. “The maknaes were going to drop by.”

You hummed– he must mean the warehouse boys– Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho. You often caught them at the Crescent Bar when you worked there, and it was always very lively when they dropped by. Wooyoung, in particular, always added life to the bar.

“You can be on your way then. I’ll walk home–”

“No chance,” he shook his head. “I’m walking you home tonight, whether you like it or not.”

You knew you had no choice and surrendered. It wasn’t a long walk so you decided to tell him about how you had spotted some discrepancies in their finances and wanted to discuss them with the boss. He told you to run over them with Seonghwa first before Hongjoong and you agreed.

“This is me,” you told him when you reached Regulus Street, pointing at your apartment. “I would invite you in for a drink or something, but I have a roommate and I’m not sure if she would like it...”

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll accept the gesture,” Yunho placed his hand over his heart, taking a few steps backward while maintaining eye contact. You watched him with a smile creeping on your lips– he was unexpectedly goofy at times.

“Goodnight then?” You laughed, unsure what he was doing.

“Thank you, Luna,” he finally said and you scoffed. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me two,” you told him. “You owe me one for stopping the deal with Secretary Park too.”

“Ah, is that so?” He raised a brow. “How would you like me to pay you back?”

Maybe he hadn’t meant it like that, but the implications of those words sent a wave of warmth coursing throughout your body. It didn’t help that he was smirking, probably understanding why you were rendered speechless.

“Well…” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “We’ll burn that bridge when we have to cross it.”

“Fair enough. Goodnight, Luna.”

Something had changed indefinitely between you and Yunho.

Perhaps, you wondered, it would still have come to this even if you hadn’t shared those moments a few nights ago. You would like to believe that. You were not complaining about the change– it wasn’t much. He was just more friendlier and casual towards you now, but…

It was as if he wanted to see you break.

You appreciated the change in his manners, yes. He wasn’t cold towards you anymore, even when he maintained a professional stance. It kind of reminded you of Seonghwa– he had always been kind and gentle towards you and something about him had always been comforting, even when he had put death on the table between you two. It was a dangerous trait, you supposed. It was Seonghwa’s weapon, but–

Gentleness seemed to be Yunho’s gift. If someone cared to look past his rough edges and mannerism, they would be rewarded with a nature so gentle that it would make them wonder how such contrasting traits could coexist within the same person.

And it wasn’t the gentleness that was killing you, no. Such was a trait that every man should possess.

It was the way he wielded it to rile you up– there was no other explanation. You kept placing walls between the two of you even with the change and he kept scaling them effortlessly with just a casual brush of his fingers against yours, an assuring or encouraging touch on your shoulder, or even–

God, even the way he tucked your hair behind your ears the other day when you had come back from the storage with a big pile of files in your arms, the front strands of your hair having escaped the hold of the pins. And the first thing Yunho thought to do was not to take some obvious weight off your shoulders but to tuck your hair behind your ears with his brows furrowed in concentration, those damned big brown eyes almost unrecognisable in that moment.

Perhaps, he didn’t even realise he had done that.

And you wished you could ask him if that was true.

“Luna?” Seonghwa’s voice called and you found him peeking out of Yunho’s room. “You can come in to brief me now.”

“Alright,” you said, the report already in your hands as you got up. You straightened your clothes before you entered the room, taking a seat in front of him and opening the files to show him the numbers. You briefed him about what you had done so far before getting to the point.

“The net cash exchange between the wine and the metal is 74.27 percent, which includes all the expenses including necessary licences and fragile care. 25.73 percent of the amount is completely unaccounted for– we’re paying Mist Island but on papers and bank statements, it’s not exactly clear what this amount of money is being used for. For personal purposes, maybe, but one day they’re going to notice it and make a big deal out of it. It’s better if we have a cover for this too. No matter how small the amount is.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Seonghwa took a deep breath, resigning back on the sofa. “Any suggestions?”

“Well,” you thought about it. “We’ll have to manipulate a few documents if we want to adjust this amount in pre-existing channels. That, or have something to prove the money has been put to use– like donations or artwork.”

“Hmm, sounds like a good idea. I’ll discuss it with Hongjoong and get back on that, yeah?”

The door opened and Yunho entered, having come back from one of his meetings. You nodded at Seonghwa, saying you would wait for a heads-up before drafting the monthly report.

And at that moment, Yunho, who had been standing behind your sofa and looking at the documents on the table, decided to not disturb your conversation with Seonghwa and take the matters into his own hands, resting a hand on your upper back for support as he leaned forward to take the file from the table.

Your breath hitched and you were glad you had just finished a sentence– he was too close, and you were reminded once again that you were only reacting to such casual actions because this was Jeong Yunho.

And you wanted to kill him a little when he stayed there and asked if this was the report you had mentioned to him. You nodded and only then did he back away to go sit at his desk. You looked at Seonghwa whose expressions betrayed nothing.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way,” you told him and he nodded, praising you with the usual ‘good job’ and watching you fumble with the folders before you left the room. Seonghwa chuckled to himself and turned his gaze to the consigliere.

“Lieutenant Colonel Jeong Yunho,” he called, making Yunho drop the file on the table to look at him.

“Why are you suddenly calling my rank?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, thoroughly amused.

“What do you mean?”

“Luna,” Seonghwa said, running a hand through his long hair. “I’m not blind, Yunho.”

“Yeah, but you’re an idiot,” Yunho went back to looking at his file.

“You haven’t shown interest like that in quite a while. Is it wrong to be curious?” Seonghwa asked.

“Well,” Yunho looked at his hyung. “She’s… interesting.”

“Interesting,” Seonghwa repeated but in a different context. “I’ll be damned.”

“Don’t you like her, just a little bit, too?” Yunho asked, smirking. “You’ve never taken someone this seriously, like, ever.”

“I have to take her seriously when she talks like she already belongs here,” Seonghwa said. “And you know what? I think she could be more than just our little bookkeeper.”

Yunho noted the term Seonghwa had used though he decided not to comment on it yet. “What do you plan to do? Are you really going to involve her in the full business?”

Seonghwa smiled knowingly, already having planned out details that none of the others might have considered.

That night, you found yourself outside the Crescent Bar again. You stood thinking for a few moments before you entered, making your way towards the office that had once been your little safe haven– an escape from the boisterous outside world. You knocked at the door but no one answered. You pushed the door just a fraction, finding it unlocked which meant Yeosang must be around. You decided to just make yourself at home, damned be the consequences, and went inside to sit on the couch and curl in on yourself.

There was too much going on. There was too much you were feeling, and you had no one to share these thoughts with. You weren’t even sure if you should be sharing these thoughts. You were an anomaly, you always had been–

The door opened and you were met with a deadly silence instead of a greeting. You looked up to see Yeosang clutching his chest.

“Shit, I thought I was seeing things. You scared me, Luna,” he said, shutting the door and sitting on his chair. “What’s up with you?”

“I missed you too,” you laughed. “How have you been?”

“As good as ever, I suppose. Better now that you’re not nagging me on a daily basis. Thriving, as some might say–”

You chucked a cushion at him which he caught and rested on his lap. “What are you really doing here?”

“Am I not welcome here?”

“Of course you are, this will always be your office,” Yeosang said, making you smile. “But I’d rather know what’s up so I can order an appropriate drink.”

“Bring me your strongest.”

“On it,” he grinned, going out to get the drink himself, returning with two glasses. Amused, you watched him pop the cork dramatically and fill the glasses a little more than average, swirling the wine just enough before he handed you one.

“It’s an honour,” you said, truly meaning it. “You’ve never served me like this. You’ve only ever served the boys.”

“I’ve heard rumours that you act too much like a Crescent yourself,” he said, sipping his drink and sitting on the desk. “You’ve got guns and big reports up your sleeves now.”

“Yikes,” you downed the drink and Yeosang filled your glass again. “Am I not supposed to? Not that I’m trying to be one of you.”

“Sounds insulting for some reason,” he commented. “But good words only, Luna. I’ve only heard good things about you. Makes me wonder what kind of a boss I was to not realise your potential.”

“You did. I became your bookkeeper. I was also your best employee for two months straight, wasn’t I?”

“And then you told me I was clumsy and I put you on my blacklist,” Yeosang huffed.

“You broke your most expensive tray. I wanted to kill you,” you almost cried as you recalled that chaotic night at the bar a few months ago. “That tray was the prettiest one we had.”

“And you’re already drunk,” Yeosang chuckled at the way you ran your mouth so freely– perhaps, it was also because you were no longer boss and employee. “Now tell me… why did you come here?”

“Why do you all want me to say everything out loud?” You groaned in frustration. “I wanted to be here, obviously. You know this office was like my safe haven. I always come here when I am overwhelmed.”

“And what’s got you so overwhelmed, love?” Yeosang asked gently and your heart fluttered at the change in his tone.

“You,” you muttered, surprising him. “And Mr. Jeong. And Mr. Park. And your boss but I tend to avoid him so I won’t complain yet. And San!”

“San?” Yeosang laughed. “What did he do?”

“Nothing, I’m just dragging him into this,” you rested your head on your knees, hugging them to your chest. “It’s just… you’re all confusing me and I don’t like it. I don’t like being in unexpected situations.”

Yeosang hummed in thought. He knew what was up with you and Seonghwa, and you and Yunho. The boys– none of them hid anything from anyone. They had always been bare with each other, so he knew that Yunho was a little into you even though he never said it. Yeosang wasn’t oblivious to the way Yunho’s eyes lit up or the way his attention shifted any time someone mentioned you.

Yeosang also wasn’t oblivious to how much you occupied Seonghwa’s headspace even though he pretended to be unfazed. He could tell that Seonghwa was bordering on the lines between admiration and adoration for you.

And while Hongjoong himself hadn’t expressed any personal feelings about you, he knew that once you would properly interact with him, you would find yourself charmed by him too– Hongjoong was like that. And San… he had seen you that night opening up to San and watched fondly from the distance.

But it kind of blew him a little that he was the source of your confusion too. Perhaps, it was because you had worked with him so long. You were friends, that was for sure. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here right now. But why were you overwhelmed because of him? It wasn’t the proximity– you two had shared a lot of time in this office in the past. A lack of proximity then? Did you actually, truly miss him? Did the distance really make you fonder of each other?

With caution, he settled down in front of you and took your glass from your hands. “That is enough drinking.”

“It’s not,” you whispered, not looking at him.

“Just say what’s on your mind, Luna,” Yeosang said, turning his full attention to you. “You know I’ve never judged you and never will.”

You smiled at that. Even with the lack of explanations you gave for your actions or your behaviour, Yeosang always tried to understand you, and that was what you liked about him. Sometimes, you couldn’t quite believe that he had ever been anything else other than a bar manager. How could this man have gone to the war at such a young age and intercepted multiple messages, saving countless lives? How could he be a part of the gang that had a repute like none other?

“It’s hard to put it into words,” you sighed deeply. “And I don’t even know what I would say anyway. Nothing makes sense, yet everything does. Now that I don’t have to hide who I am from you… it’s like I’m living a new life all over again.”

“Yet you’re still the same old Luna that we all adore.”

“So you adore me then?”

“Did hearing that make you feel better?” Yeosang shook his head and you grinned. “I’ve always adored you, Luna, in my own ways. Does that help?”

“I thought you hated– okay, not hated, but… only tolerated me. Maximum liked me a little. But you’re saying you adore me.”

“I do,” he pinched your nose. “Especially when you’re tipsy.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said, uncurling and sitting properly, still facing him. “Can I ask you something… strange? You can blame it on me being tipsy later.”

“Go ahead,” Yeosang grabbed the glasses and filled them again, handing you yours. “Let’s blame tonight on being drunk.”

“Hmm, I knew coming here tonight was a good idea,” you downed the drink in one go, setting the glass aside and looking at your former boss. “Have you ever liked someone? Like really, really like someone?”

“I have,” Yeosang said and your brows rose momentarily in surprise.

“How do you know you don’t like them like you would just another person?” You asked. “Is there something I’m supposed to feel?”

“Let’s test that out,” Yeosang said in such a low voice that you almost missed it. He leaned forward a bit more than he should have, twirling a few strands of your hair between his fingers. You got a good look at that heartbreakingly gorgeous face– it was a crime to be this beautiful and stay inside the bar almost all the time, you often thought. Your breath hitched when Yeosang’s finger traced the vein along your neck and then he locked eyes with you.

“Who is it that you like so much, y/n?”

“That’s the thing,” you whispered, kneeling into his touch when his hand went to cup your face. “I don’t know.”

Yeosang smiled knowingly though, his eyes travelling all over your face, stopping at your parted lips a few times– he was too obvious. Your heart was beating frantically and for once, you did not know what to do. You may have come here because of another man (or two) but now you were almost in the arms of someone else entirely. His other hand was holding yours– when did that happen? And bringing you closer.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you felt his warm breath on your cheek before he kissed it lightly. You drew back, a bit surprised but wanting more.

“You can sort your thoughts out when you’re sober,” Yeosang said. “You should rest, for now. It must have been a long day.”

Before he could draw his hand away, you scooted closer and he chuckled when you rested your head against his shoulder. “It’s because I’m tired.”

“Whatever you say, Luna,” he patted your arm. “It’s certainly not because you miss me.”

“Certainly not,” you confirmed, the both of you laughing at the obvious lie. “And definitely not because I may like you a little too much.”

“Oh,” Yeosang pulled you closer in the half embrace. “Definitely not.”

next chapter

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taglist pt 1:

#OOH YOU'RE SECRETARY PARK'S DAUGHTERRRRRR NO WONDERRRRRRRR #oh my god the history and the theories MY BRAIN CANNOT DO THIS #omg yknow what i just realised i'm starting to mix hwa's angel oneshot with this au bc they both deal with drugs (same as crazy hj au)#and my brain was meshing all the drug info together AHAHAHA #also what is with you and making drugs a vital part of your stories LMAO #OOOOH YUNHO IS JEALOURRSSS BC A MAN SEEMS TO KNOW YOU BETTERRRRR~~~~~#AWWWW YUNHO ALREADY STARTING TO PROTECT MC FROM THE BIG BAD SCARY BOSSES #HA HA HA THE HAND ON HONGJOONG"S THIGH GIRLIE YOU DON'T KNOW THEY'RE IN LAURRVVV WITH EACH OTHER AND THEY'RE GONNA LARUV YOUUU TOO #omg that's so cute that you incorporated their team rings into the fic :'))#AHAHHAHA i really am only a bookkeeper i'm just a girl #YEAH THROW HIS WORDS RIGHT BACK IN HONGJOONG'S FACE #OOOOH YOIIKEESSS HONGJOONG HITTING THE NAIL RIGHT IN THE HEAD #AND MAN IT MAKES SENSE YOU'RE THE ILLEGITIMATE DAUGHTER honestly trust you to make her background like that #ofc the brothers are incompetent nincompoops #AHAHAH AWWW YUNHO ASKING YOU TO GO ON A WALK WITH HIM AND HIM BEING LIKE this is my effort :D WHAT A CUTIE #OOOOOOHHH NO MORE LIEUTENANT JEONG ???? WE ON FIRST NAME BASIS NOW YALL THEY'RE BASICALLY DATING #i have no idea what the timelines are and i have no idea what their connections are but there's a reason han hyojoo was assassinated #bc this is a yumi story and everything happens for a reason so i'm going to take a stab in the dark and say she's mc's mum :D #WAIIITTT A MINUTE SHE LOST HER CHILD COUPLE MONTHS AFTER BIRTH HANNGGG ONNNNNNNN THAT'S SUS INDEED #“shall i walk you home?” AKSJFHSDKLG RAHHHHHH YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES 100% YES #jihoon complaining about things as his way of contributing to a conversation is such a mood LOL #AHAHAHAHA DEAD HONGJOONG LOOKING AT YOU A LITTLE LONGER AND SMILING AND JAEM COMPLIMENTING YOUR HAIR #omg i love jaemin 'sure /madame/' he's such a cute lil brat i just KNOW you're going to kill him off bc you've made him so loveable #YOUR QUESTION OF THE DAY HAS BEEN USED UP ADIOS I AM HOWLLINGGGGGGG #HEH yunho is WHIPPED i'm telling you what kind of man holds your coat out and helps you wear it if they're not SMITTEN #yoU COULD HAVE GOTTEN HURT RAHH honestly atp just like make one of them get hurt so we can speed up the slow burn a lil and give them a pus #HIS SWEET SHY CHUCKLE WHY AM I BLUSHING also the way you describe his gentle nature is so :')) UGH #i love that there never seems to be a normal greeting between mc and yeosang anymore whenever she appears at the bar LOL #WO A H OKAY YEOSANG GENTLY ASKING MC WHAT'S GOT HER OVERWHELEMD L O V E WAS NOT ON MY 2025 BINGO CARD #WOW ALSO ALL THIS FLIRTING WITH YEO WHY ARE THEY SUDDENLY MOVING SO FAST ERMAGAWD bros gonna be dating everyone by ch 4 at this rate

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lorensonebraincell · 3 months ago

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#CHOKED ON MY SALIVA #I HAVE NO WORDS #NO COHERENT THOUGHTS #:)#IM FINE #GWENCHANA #san

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lorensonebraincell · 3 months ago

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THIS IS JUST ABOUT THE CUTEST THING I HAVE SEEN ALL MONTH @sorryimananti-romantic 😭🫶

when the fanfic so good you start gripping it in your claws through the screen and speaking in tongues

#WHO'S SOBBING NOT ME #chron <3 #MOOT MOOT

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lorensonebraincell · 4 months ago

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The Leaders | Chapter II

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of gangs, war/military and weapons, hongjoong is the designated asshole in this chapter

chapter wc: 10.9k

chapter synopsis: you learn more about ateez from your housemate, wendy, and from kihyun of mx pharmaceuticals who is also the crescent’s business partner. you get familiar with your new job at the crescent company’s main office and learn about their deal with secretary park. wanting to stop them from that harmful deal, you finally speak up only for the boss, hongjoong, to remind you that you are just a bookkeeper.

prev chapter recap: an attack on the crescent bar prompts you, the bookkeeper of the crescent bar, to carry out yeosang’s order and flee with the contents of the safe. however, you have discovered a secret package which leads you to a confrontation with the underboss, park seonghwa, who has no choice but to kill you. to save yourself, you reveal that you possess some information about the elites that could be useful to them, and that you are willing to exchange this information for your life. that lands you a job at the crescent company’s main office and you have a rocky first day, getting to know the ins-and-outs of your new workplace and colleagues.

For the beginning of a new chapter of your life, which could take a very sinister turn, it sure was awfully sunny today, the pigeons on your window sill taking great joy in the way you would pause in the middle of getting ready and reconsider all your life choices so far. Their cheerful chirps were starting to annoy you and you couldn’t help but shoot deathly glares in their direction.

It was your first official work day as the bookkeeper in the main office of the Crescent Company, and you were done getting ready– as ready as you could be with your heart threatening to burst out of your chest. It didn’t help that when you exited your room, you immediately had your housemate’s attention who let out a dramatic whistle at the sight of you.

“Woah. That’s quite a formal outfit for the bar,” Wendy said, stopping in the middle of stirring the pot, the fragrant scent of rosemary and chicken broth filling your nostrils. “Also… why are you still home?”

You turned to the full-length mirror in the living room, inspecting your outfit for the day– a pleated navy blue skirt that reached mid-calves paired with a blue tweed jacket, your feet clad in ivory kitten heels. Just the right outfit to make good first impressions, yet it was a struggle to ignore the urge to go back to your closet and restart the lengthy process of choosing another outfit.

“Uh…” you took a deep breath while tucking the stray strands of your hair back in the half-tied hairdo, bracing yourself for her reaction. “I may have gotten a new job at the Crescent Company.”

The room fell awfully silent and you turned to Wendy, finding her deadpan staring at you.

Odd.

“Something wrong?” You frowned in confusion.

“The Crescent Company?” Wendy repeated and you nodded. It was strange, the soberness in her tone, when you were expecting enthusiastic theatrical reactions from her. “When?”

“Literally yesterday,” you turned your full attention to her, wondering if she was cross with you for not letting her know earlier. “I start working officially from today.”

“How did you get this job?” Wendy asked, finally doing something else other than assessing your form. She turned the stove off, setting the pot on the table where you joined her for breakfast.

“Well… one thing led to another. Some gang attacked the bar two nights ago and when I carried out my instructions– which were to get the contents of the safe and run– they decided… that I am good at my job and would do better in some other environment.”

“I heard about the attack, yes,” Wendy said, munching on a piece of bread. “But I thought it was a fight outside the bar, not an attack inside. Is that how you got these tiny scratches all over you?” You pursed your lips in answer and Wendy continued. “Are you sure this is the right job for you? Because let’s be real– we all know who Ateez is. You should be avoiding that gang– didn’t you want to lay low?”

Ateez. Known throughout all the eight sectors of Eden and its capital, the gang formed after the Battle of the Eight Hills and played a vital role in the rebuilding of Eden afterwards. Really, you wondered if they had done so much for Eden, why were they feared and labelled as a criminal organisation?

“I am laying low,” you sipped the broth as you said, “It’s just an office job– paperwork.”

“I don’t know, Luna,” she said, clearly worried. “I’m not sure about this.”

“Do you know something you’re not telling me?” You asked but Wendy kept a straight face which meant there was something. “In fact… refresh my memory a little since I wasn’t here when Ateez was at the peak of their career, but who is Ateez? What do they really do?”

Wendy took a deep breath as if contemplating opening her pandora of secrets for you but then she checked her wristwatch to your utter disappointment. “Next time or else we’ll both be late. Just… stay safe, will you?”

“Oh, I will. I keep the gun in my purse, you know,” you smirked and Wendy finally relaxed, smiling back. “See you tonight if you aren’t snoring by that time– my shift ends at the strike of midnight.”

“Heavens, that’s late,” Wendy winced. “What are you doing up so early then? You should have slept some more.”

You should have, but you had a little stop to make before you clocked in at midday at your workplace– the stop being at the office of MX Pharmaceuticals located in the heart of Sector 1 with all the other businesses and offices. It was only the Crescent Office which was situated right outside that hotspot, and you were starting to think that it was a calculated move on their part. With their status, they could be situated in the slums and still be flourishing– the leaders of Sector 1.

It was a bit strange to walk the streets of your block and not allow your muscle memory to take you in the direction of the Crescent Bar. It felt alleviating, even, to not cross the old lady on the pavement selling crocheted goods to make a living. Somehow, she always made you feel guilty about having the privilege of connections. You could very well have been sitting there at the corner of the road instead of her, selling your paintings or embroideries if Kihyun hadn’t helped you land a job when you came back to Eden from Wonderland just a few years ago.

Because your father always made sure you would never be in the spotlight. There was a reason he basically shipped you to Wonderland– though you often wondered if that was justification enough. He claimed that you could study more if you wished to while you looked after your aunt but really… you knew that he wanted to get rid of you because you found out his dark, dirty secrets– things you were never supposed to find out. It was a shame he couldn’t kill his own daughter and bury those secrets along with her. Maybe his humanity awakened when he thought about his children.

You could spot the MX Office when you took a turn left into the busy, bustling street with corporate slaves ready to sign in for their daily dose of torture. To your demise, you were blending right in. You walked towards the office, which was a brick-coloured building just like the rest of the offices in this street. The guard at the front door recognised you and nodded in greeting, as did the receptionist and a few employees, aware that you had some sort of a relationship with their boss, though no one dared to ask the nature of it.

The boss, Kihyun, was a respectable figure in all of Eden as a powerful businessman and a former gang member. Each connection he made was for a reason, but you were not just a connection. You respected each other far too much to refer to each other as just a ‘connection’.

You were being accompanied to Kihyun’s room when on the stairs, you encountered Hyungwon.

“Miss Jeon– what brings you here?” He asked. It had been a while since you saw the manager of MX Pharmaceuticals. He was usually found at one of the labs or warehouses that MX owned. “Good to see you.”

“Hope you’ve been well,” you smiled. “I’m here to see Kihyun.”

Hyungwon nodded at the assistant who left and you followed Hyungwon upstairs. “Kihyun just arrived. How has it been?”

“I’m doing good. I got a new job so I was going to tell him about that and discuss a few things.”

“Oh, that’s nice to hear,” Hyungwon knocked at Kihyun’s door before opening it for you. “I’ll send some tea. And you know that if you need anything, we’re here, right?”

You nodded, smiling earnestly at his reminder. “Thank you. Have a good day.”

You entered Kihyun’s room, closing the door behind you. His room was as neat as ever with a variety of indoor plants lining the huge windows that provided a view of Maddox Street. You walked past that window, drawing the cerulean curtains away and Kihyun tsk-ed at you.

“You’re back at it, eh?”

“You need someone who will pull the curtains open every day. I can’t keep doing that for you,” you grinned, joining him at his desk. He was clad in a navy button-down shirt, his hair combed back. “How have you been?”

He spread his arms in answer. “Right in front of you. As good as ever. But I’ve heard you are doing better lately.”

“Heard the news already?” You shook your head. “Once I find your informant, I’m gonna give them an earful.”

“We’re the Crescent’s business partners. I should know the happenings,” Kihyun said, waiting for the assistant to leave the tea for you before continuing. “Tell me… how did it happen?”

“Let’s say I passed a trust test,” you said, adding a sugar in your tea and two in his, just as he liked. “I’m the Crescent’s bookkeeper now.”

“That must not have been easy.”

“Actually, yes,” you took a sip of the black tea. “I almost got killed. I had to win their favour.”

“And how did you do that?” Kihyun frowned.

“I played a few cards,” you admitted and he groaned in disbelief. “It was that or I die.”

“They would not have killed you–”

“They knew we were acquainted, and they were ready to kill me,” you interjected. “I only told them that I’m aware of Assemblyman General Wi’s artefact gallery.”

“Luna,” Kihyun leaned forward, clasping his hands. “You know the game you are playing right now is a dangerous one–”

“I know that I have to keep my identity hidden, and I’m sure they only know what’s on the documents–”

“Let me finish,” Kihyun said in a low voice and you slumped back. “It’s not just about your identity. You know who they are, don’t you? Ateez? They were once a gang, and they always play dirty.”

“So were you, Kihyun,” you reminded him. “Back in your early days, before my father took you under his wing.”

Kihyun clenched his jaw– he did not need to be reminded of his ugly past. “We were not children of war when we were a gang, Luna. The Crescents– Ateez– they are children of war. They served the army when they should have been fooling around with other kids their age or studying. A nineteen year old Kim Hongjoong became a well-known military strategist in the Battle of the Eight Hills. Another nineteen year old Park Seonghwa became a sniper and a medic– a god awful combination, don’t you think? And an eighteen year old Jeong Yunho became an honoured lieutenant colonel, for heaven’s sake. Those are the people you have involved yourself with.”

That was the first time you heard about their achievements during the war and you realised with a creeping dread that Kihyun might be right about this.

“Us? We were just a street gang, Luna. We were kids who rebelled, who got lucky because your father, a politician, saw potential in us and hired us as his informants. Ateez are different, and it would do you better if you stay aware of them.”

You took a deep breath. “Do you think they will dig into my past?”

“I can’t promise they won’t,” Kihyun relaxed, finally smiling and drinking his tea. “But I’ll see if I can do something. Just make sure to stay in the shadows.”

“Until it’s time,” you reminded him.

His expressions didn’t change. “Still conjuring up revenge plans?”

“You know how stubborn I am,” you traced the gold outline on the cup. “I cannot forgive my father for taking my identity and shipping me to Wonderland as if I meant nothing to him.”

“I’m sure you mean something to him. You are his daughter, after all.”

“I’m sure I don’t, and I don’t need him,” you said, looking at the boss of MX. “You are my family if I ever had one, Kihyun. I am in your debt for everything that you have done for me.”

“Nonsense,” he waved his hand and you stifled a smile at the way he always got a little shy when you called him family or brother. “You don’t owe me anything. I would have done that for anyone.”

“You risked your business and your life for me. You don’t do that for just anyone,” you concluded and he smiled in answer. It was a truth that he could not deny. “You can call it whatever you want, but let me feel about it however I want too.”

“I can see how you might have talked them out of killing you, you stubborn brat,” Kihyun said, laughing. He stared into the distance, taking a few moments to think. “I heard you will be answering to Park Seonghwa and Jeong Yunho. That worries me.”

“It is just work,” you told him, though you were wholly aware that it was not just work. “You don’t need to worry too much.”

After a busy midday shift at the Crescent Office with Eunha and Jihoon, you decided to pay a visit to the Crescent Bar– you were free for the rest of the afternoon and could squeeze in a lunch with your friends. Plus, you were not sure that you could do the night shift without some liquid courage in your system.

The bar was as lively as it could be during day hours, with people popping in from work to get a drink or a meal. The employees– your old coworkers– warmly welcomed you and you went to sit at the counter with Eunbi and Jeonghan, just like the old times.

“How has it been without me?” You teased Eunbi who wrapped her arms loosely around your waist, snuggling beside you.

“Boring. Jeonghan is always pretending to sleep so I can’t really talk to anyone anymore.”

“I am actually asleep,” Jeonghan raised his hand as a sign that he was alive. He looked like a corpse, actually, if you could put it nicely. Eunbi gave you a pointed look.

“Got a new bookkeeper yet?”

“Not yet,” she said, going back to the cash register when she saw a customer approach. You walked to the staff room, catching up with Yuju who ordered your favourite grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch with Black Shadow– probably the best wine you had tasted in your life, if you were objective. You knew there was a backstory to how Ateez made that wine their staple, but you figured you would hear about it someday later. For now, you had another purpose that led you to Yeosang’s office.

Yeosang opened the door when you knocked, blinking in surprise. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the main office?”

“Good evening? How have you been doing? How has work been?” You glared at him. “I’m good, thank you for asking.”

Yeosang snickered, letting you in and you took the seat in front of him. You sighed deeply, folding your arms. “I kind of miss this, I won’t lie. I feel like an outsider there, and it’s only my first day. Shift doesn’t start for another hour, by the way.”

“Would you like a drink?” He offered and you shook your head, telling him you just had lunch. “Well, Miss y/n. How can I help you today?”

You passed him the side-eye. “It’s still Luna for you. And I wanted to ask you a few things that I really should have asked before.”

“Ah… is it time for those questions?” Yeosang relaxed back, resting his hands behind his head, his muscles poking out from under the ivory dress shirt. You watched him for a moment, wondering what his accomplishments during the war were. Could he be holding a scary title as well, or was it something worse?

“Yes. You can’t blame me for being curious after the stunt the underboss pulled that night. True to your name, Ateez.”

It was the first time you ever referred to them with their gang name and he only watched you in silence, waiting for you to continue. It irked you that his expressions gave away nothing. Trained to give away nothing, a distant voice in your mind said.

“Just tell me if there’s anything I need to know for now. I’m reporting directly to Mr. Park and… Mr. Jeong. I really don’t want to make a mistake.”

“You weren’t worried when you started working under me.”

“That’s because… you are you,” you tried to explain, ignoring the faint ache in your heart. “You don’t go around wearing formal suits and looking down on people and being… weird.”

“We don’t look down on people,” Yeosang sighed, though he was smiling at your admission. “Was Yunho weird towards you? What did he do now?”

“How did you– he didn’t do anything,” you told him. It was uncanny how well they knew each other. “I just want you to tell me if there’s something I should be aware of so I don’t make a mistake.”

Yeosang thought it was strange that you were asking such a question. He wished he could ask you what exactly you meant. Just what mistakes were you so afraid to make? Why did you always have to be cautious and walk on eggshells, even around him, even when you claimed that you were comfortable with him?

“I don’t think that you realise that Yunho is the only one of us who will forgive you even if you betray us in the worst possible way– he would still try to understand your reasons.”

Your eyes went a little wide as you let his words sink in. “Lieutenant Colonel Jeong Yunho… is forgiving?”

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about us,” Yeosang leaned forward, speaking gently. “But I can promise you that it’s not the entire truth. We are more than what you people make us to be, if you care to look past the ranks and titles.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by that, and you were too scared to ask. You couldn’t stop thinking about his admission about Yunho. You really couldn’t see it– he always looked so strict, in the traditional sense. Even when he had a hint of a smile on his lips last night, you couldn’t envision him to be someone who could sympathise with the ugliness of the people who were driven into the corner. Perhaps, because Yeosang was his friend, he was able to look past everything and see the lieutenant’s true, unmarred nature, but to you…

To you, he was Lieutenant Colonel Jeong Yunho. And you intended to keep it that way, for everyone’s sake.

Later, when you were at work and taking a breather, having just finished recording the day’s transactions, you reminded yourself that your relationship with Yeosang had turned too casual. Sure, it was the way he was with everyone at the bar– almost everyone. It was different with you, whether you liked it or not. Even though you had wanted to keep a distance from Yeosang, you just couldn’t. After all, you went to him right after hearing about their old gang days.

You made a mental note to learn more about Ateez and the Crescent Company, and to learn about the extent of their involvement in Eden’s business world. You needed any information you could get your hands on, every detail whether true or not. If you were going to play this game and use them for your goal, you needed to know that the Crescents were not involved with your father and his business in any way.

You needed to know if what they did was truly moral and right. And if you needed to sneak into places where you weren’t meant to go and possibly risk your life again… you would.

It took you about a week to fully get the hang of things at the office. While Jihoon was still being an arse– at this point, you were starting to consider that it might be a part of his personality– he never refused to guide you or help you when you were stuck. Eunha was just as helpful and you were actually starting to like her a little. She wasn’t very talkative but considering that she was able to make Jihoon laugh… you were tempted to take pointers from her. Jihoon had worked the longest here and you needed to crack him to get him to talk.

In that one week, you got a chance to go into Mr. Jeong’s room twice, when he was not present to take the report from you himself. You made it quick– unlock the room, unlock the cupboard and place the report inside, look around if you had a few seconds and get the hell out. It was too soon to make a mistake so you only dared to make note of what the office looked like. There wasn’t much to it anyway– just the usual workspace, and it frustrated you that his workspace gave away nothing about him.

Mr. Jeong, you noted, usually came to the office during your shift at the late hours of night, presumably after dinner. You learned that Kim Hongjoong was out of station for some business dealing which was why the office was mostly empty, but also that this was where they usually gathered to meet up and discuss things. This office was sort of a base and if not here, they would be at the bar, though they generally avoided it because of obvious reasons. There was no saying when a drunkard fool, or two, would dare to interrupt them.

Yunho usually locked himself inside his office (Eunha was very suspicious that he usually napped there, claiming to have heard light snores sometimes) and Seonghwa came by twice that week, greeting you and asking if you were adjusting well. Neither of them had interacted with you much during the week but…

You recalled two nights ago when Yunho came back to the office just as it was closing time. You handed him the report and he called you inside his office to discuss a few things. When he was going over the report, he asked you if you had any problems with work recently.

“None at all,” you assured him. “It is manageable.”

He flicked through the pages, the white sleeves of his shirt rolled up over his sleeves, baring his veiny arms. You resisted the urge to trace all those veins on his arms– Jeong Yunho was one handsome man. It didn’t help that he had such beautiful hands either. Why were you assigned to submit him the reports every night? What was this new form of torture?

He caught you staring at his hands but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he finished checking the report and shut the folder, running his hands over the cover once before clearing his throat to get your attention. You met his stare, pretending that you had not been ogling at his hands and arms– or at least, fake confidence that you were normal about it.

“You were right about the artefact gallery,” Yunho said and you straightened. “It is indeed a money-laundering business. He is an assemblyman, a potential presidential candidate and, well, that’s a bad look for him with the elections right around the corner. How did you know when even his enemies aren’t aware of this information? And more importantly… do you want us to do something about it?”

“How I know does not matter,” you shook your head, adamant to not tell them your source. “It is just a piece of information that might be useful to you later. I am aware that your leader has been well involved with politicians– for connections, to secure deals. If you ever need leverage over General Wi, here is what you can use.”

Yunho took a deep breath at your response. You watched him scan you slowly, his eyes unreadable. “Is your source Yoo Kihyun of MX Pharmaceuticals?”

You looked down to hide your smile. “I have heard that you are well acquainted with him. He was more of a recipient than a source until a few years ago. The tables have turned now, but we still share information, and I was told that you could be trusted with the information I have. Is that still true?”

He rubbed his chin in thought. “That depends on how useful the information you possess is. And it also depends on how loyal you are.”

“I am loyal to anyone who is loyal to me,” you said with a certainty that surprised him. “I know what it is like to be betrayed by blood and water both. To me, loyalty is the highest virtue.”

“Higher than morality?” He asked with a certain nonchalance, perhaps expecting to pin you in a corner, but…

“And what is morality, in this era?” You mused. “I’m sure you ask that question yourself often… Lieutenant Jeong.”

You seemed to have hit the nail because his gaze darkened. Perhaps, you should not have reminded him of his military rank, but to be Eden’s honoured lieutenant colonel and possess some fair morals? It didn’t add up even after Yeosang had said all the good things about him.

“I know what my morals are, Miss Jeon,” Yunho leaned forwards, locking his eyes with you and you wish some of his dark tendrils hid a bit of his eyes because that gaze was damning. “Do you? Or do you like to make yourself believe that you are the only virtuous one in the room?”

Maybe it was a dangerous game you were playing but you mirrored his position, your clasped hands almost brushing his as you said, “Oh, I have the lowest moral standards. In order to survive in Eden, especially when you’re on your own… you can’t go around possessing such foolish things as virtue, isn’t that so?”

Yunho looked down at your clasped hands, spotting the fading scar that ran along your thumb down to your wrist– one that you had gotten the night you lost everything.

And then he ran a finger across it, ever so slowly, sending a trail of fire in its wake before getting up and wearing his coat, indicating that the meeting was over.

Damn him. Damn him and his stupid, beautiful hands–

“Goodnight, Luna,” he said in a low voice and you got up as well, gathering your wits before exiting the room.

“Goodnight… Mr. Jeong.”

And that had been the last time you saw him. It was Mr. Park who took the reports from you the day after, and last night you locked the office yourself about half an hour after midnight– you did not know why you stayed waiting for somebody to show up, but you felt a bit stupid afterwards. You should have clocked out on time.

You did not know why you waited.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost did not hear the sound of footsteps skittering in the direction of the office rooms. You looked up, gaping at what had to be a fifteen year old considering his scrawny appearance, moving not towards Yunho’s office but Kim Hongjoong’s. You frowned– how did he get past the guard?

“Oi,” you called but when he proceeded to knock at the boss’ door, you decided you had enough and slammed a hand on the desk to get his attention. “Oi, kid!”

“Is the Captain not inside?” he turned to look at you, looking as surprised to see you as you were. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” you beckoned him to come nearer and he obeyed this time. “How did you get in?”

“I have something the Captain might like,” he grinned. “Still not back from his little trip to Edenary?”

So that’s where he was. The Capital of Eden, the land of the elites. “Uh… nope. Why you calling him ‘the Captain’?”

“Because that’s who he is?” He shook his head in disapproval. “New here?”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Kid, if you don’t tell me who you are, I’m going to have to escort you out.”

“No need, I’ll see myself out,” he winked at you and you laughed this time. You had to admit he was kind of cute for a kid even though you wanted to smack him on his head. You didn’t recall seeing him on the streets– his loose flannel shirt and newsboy cap was a look you thought you would have remembered. “I’m Jaemin, the informant. I answer directly to the Captain, so don’t even think about asking me what this was about.”

“You could still tell me, it could be our little secret,” you smirked but he shook his head. You stuck your tongue out at him. “Alright then. He’s supposed to come back tomorrow, I think. Should I let him know some kid was looking for him?”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t met him yet, have you?”

“No,” you said. “Why?”

Jaemin only smiled condescendingly in answer. “You’ll find out. No need to tell him, I’ll be back soon.”

With that, the kid disappeared downstairs, leaving you wondering why he called the boss ‘the Captain’. It didn’t refer to his military rank because you knew that he was an honoured military strategist and colonel. You recently heard from Wendy that he had played a vital role towards the end of the war before the treaty between Eden and Halaland was signed. At such a young age, it was impressive. He was only a year older than you so he must have been about twenty when he earned that honour.

You distantly wondered if you ever came across him during the war. You had volunteered as a medical assistant– almost a nurse– in the latter half of the war. You had spent two whole years training medically and assisting the doctors and nurses. There weren’t many people in Eden so you might have encountered one of the Ateez men there, though you weren’t sure if you would recognise each other now.

Moments later, you heard another pair of footsteps coming, this time familiar. Mr. Park, dressed in his usual black three-piece suit, met your gaze and sent a warm smile in your direction before he approached you.

“How are we doing tonight, Luna?”

“Good, Mr. Park. How about you?” You asked, taking tonight’s report and following him to Yunho’s office. “Did you perhaps see a kid leaving the building?”

Seonghwa chuckled at that. “You might find it hard to believe but that kid has saved lives with the information he shares.”

So the kid had not lied. “Impressive.”

Seonghwa waited until you took the seat in front of him. “He is like a stray cat who has marked us as his owners. We cannot take him in– he is too young, and he does not need to share the same fate the rest of us did, yeah? But he is a kid that nobody notices, and he uses that to his advantage. Next time you see him, ask him how he struck a deal with his ‘captain’.”

You laughed softly at that. “I will.”

Seonghwa nodded and started skimming through the reports. You told him that the new batch of liquor– specifically Black Shadow– had successfully been shipped to Mist Island. The shipment of their latest copper bullets was on the way too. You were surprised when you first found out that Mist Island was willing to trade weapons for liquor. Mist Island had a strict liquor import ban so the smuggling was being done secretly from both sides. It was impressive what money could buy.

Silence, Jihoon had told you one day when he was in a good mood. Silence of the police force.

You still hadn’t figured out what exactly they were doing with the weapons– you were aware that a lot of their money was being used in their business partnership with Pledis Manufacturers who were producers of machine parts. Your best guess was that they were involved in the weapons business and doing something undercover. You couldn’t question anyone about that yet. It was too soon.

“Good job, tonight,” Seonghwa said his usual words but this time, he did not dismiss you. Instead, he rested his back on the chair to look at you. “There are a few questions about your background that I must ask you before our boss arrives tomorrow, Luna. I’m hoping you will cooperate.”

There it was. They must have been done with the background check now. You wondered how much they found. “As best as I can while protecting myself, I will.”

Seonghwa smiled at that. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. Neither is it that I trust you already– Yeosang did, but that was different. You are now involved in the heart of the business that the Crescent Company does, so I have to make sure you’re suitable for this job, right?”

You were glad it was Mr. Park who was asking you these questions right now. Something about his presence was utterly calming and you could relax a little while talking to him. If you were objective, you could say that perhaps, it was his strategy to get you to lower your guard. But still… he was always soft spoken and kind. That did not change.

“I understand, Mr. Park,” you assured him.

“I could not find the records of your family… Miss Jeon,” he emphasised at your surname and you nodded. “You’re not a Jeon, are you?”

“It is a surname I borrowed around the time of the war, but I can assure you that I am from Eden. I was born here and have lived here all my life, at the Sector 1 border… save for a few years that I was not here.” Almost the truth. You had lived in Edenary, at the outskirts that met with Sector 1.

“And where were you? Where did you go in 1963?”

You exhaled. “Wonderland, to look after my sick aunt and get some further education.”

“Where, in Wonderland? Can I confirm that?” Seonghwa asked.

“The capital, Wonder City” you told him. “I’m not related to that aunt. She’s just an acquaintance who was willing to take me in. I looked after her and she gave me the financial help I needed.”

“Financial help,” Seonghwa repeated, glancing at your pearl ring that you always wore. He had an eye for things, and he knew that the pearl could not be in the hands of someone who was struggling financially. You could not have worn it so proudly if you had stolen it, so was it a family ring? A normal middle-class family could not afford such a pearl.

Just who were you?

“Yes,” you confirmed, willing him to trust you. “I might be wearing a pearl from Maddox & Co., Mr. Park, but that does not mean that I was showered in luxuries all my life. You must have found out that I was desperate for a job when I came back in 1966.”

Seonghwa nodded, swiping his hair back and exhaling. “Alright, I’ll let it be for now. You only need to tell us if you are related in any way to our rival gangs or the Sirens Rebel Party.”

“I am not your enemy,” you confirmed. “I cannot be acquainted with Yoo KIhyun and be in cahoots with any of your enemies. You have the same rivals.”

“Today’s friend is tomorrow’s rival,” Seonghwa mused. “Today’s enemy might be tomorrow’s lifesaver.”

“Then it is up to you, whatever you want me to be,” you smirked. “Rival or friend.”

Seonghwa nodded in thought, a bit amused, proceeding to pour you both some wine. While he downed it in one gulp, you sipped on it slowly, anticipating his next move.

“Do you perhaps have another tip for us?” Seonghwa raised a brow, amused.

“I might have, regarding your latest dealings with General Wi, but I will wait until both sides are clear.”

“Good,” Seonghwa shut the folder in conclusion. “I will take the leap of trust in you, Luna. Maybe you can do the same for us?”

“For you… yes, I can,” you told him. “I have one favour to ask, though.”

“Another one, already?” Seonghwa teased.

“You have a meeting scheduled with Secretary Park Byung Eun on the 14th, right?” You asked, the name leaving the most bitter taste in your mouth.

“President Lee’s secretary, yes,” Seonghwa nodded. “Do you know him?”

“Everyone knows him,” you said. While he was the President's current secretary, his name was well-known before that as one of the most successful businessmen in Eden. “You must be meeting because of a potential pharma-collaboration?”

“That’s right,” Seonghwa frowned, anticipating what was next.

You took a deep breath. “Do not reveal all your cards to that man. Do not let them know what you are up to.”

“Is that your way of telling us to be careful?” Seonghwa snorted. “We never show all our cards in the first meeting, Luna.”

“Neither do they,” you warned him and his smile fell. “Secretary Park’s team has a penchant for tricking you into deals. I’m just asking you to think this deal through. Whatever they are offering you won’t be very beneficial in the long run.”

“And how do you know that?”

“That doesn’t matter,” you told him. “If you need sources, or funds, you don’t need to rely on the Secretary Park.”

“You don’t know what business we conduct here, Luna–”

“I don’t need to know to warn you,” you insisted, feeling that tight knot of frustration build up in the back of your throat now. “I’m only asking you to think this through and take my words into consideration.”

“Your words, Miss Jeon, lack credibility right now,” he stated in a finalising tone, a pang of hurt shooting through your chest for a moment. He was right, though. They had no reason to trust you and to them, you must be seeming like someone who was looking to jeopardise their deal. “If you really want us to take you seriously, you would have to start giving us more.”

“I cannot give you more if I don’t know what you will do with the information,” you told him, sighing deeply. “Forget it, just… can you please let me know what you will be gaining and what you will be losing after your meeting with Secretary Park?”

“You’re assuming we will lose something,” Seonghwa noted. You didn’t answer and Seonghwa scanned your face, almost detecting fear in your eyes. Just what were you so scared of? “Is there any way you can trust me and tell me what this is about?”

“Not so soon, no, sorry,” you smiled sadly. You wanted to trust that man, you wanted to trust someone, anyone. “I don’t know what I’m waiting for, if I have to be honest. I’m probably asking too much considering that I am a mere bookkeeper.”

“We may have ranks here but we’re all equal, in the end,” Seonghwa said and his words tugged at your heart. There was rarely anyone who didn’t bring rank into everything. “I know you have no reasons to trust us either. Let’s work through our differences first before we make such demands, alright?”

You smiled at him and got up to leave. He followed, locking the doors and you both exited the building together. You shivered when the chilly night wind hit you.

“The weather is getting colder. Bring a jacket or a scarf next time, will you?” Seonghwa said and you nodded. “Goodnight, Luna. I hope we are able to overcome all that is keeping us from mutual trust.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Park. Thank you for taking my words into consideration.”

He nodded, patting your back affectionately before you separated ways. That night, when you went home, you found Wendy getting ready to go to sleep. You didn’t get much of a chance to talk to her the whole week, considering your conflicting schedules, but you needed some answers right now so you sat at her bedside and she groaned in defeat.

“You need to tell me every detail, every rumour you’ve heard or any information you have on Ateez and what they do. Now.”

It was quite the busy day at the Crescent Office today.

During the midday slot, you were packed with the new reports you had to make regarding the recent trade dealings with Mist Island, and you also needed to compile a transaction history before the Crescents were going to finalise their new deal with Utopia– both dealings happening undercover. You realised just how much work this job was– you had to create a pretty seamless legal report that was going to be used officially and make it seem like all their money was being circulated in their manufacturing business or the liquor business.

Seonghwa and San arrived when your shift was about to end. San waved at you, promising to catch up later and Eunha looked at you with a scandalous smile.

“Do you know the Choi San?”

“I literally worked at the Crescent Bar, Eunha,” you laughed. “I had to work with him.”

“He’s never waved at me like that. I’ve been here for a decade,” Eunha pouted.

“Maybe you need to work as a cashier at the Crescent Bar in order to earn that privilege,” you told her, though you felt a bit pleased to hear that San had formal relations with the staff here.

Why were you pleased to hear that? You wondered but not long enough to make sense of it, soon getting caught up in more work.

You went home after your midday shift, hoping to get some rest before your night shift because you knew it was going to be packed. You had no idea when the boss was supposed to come to office but you just hoped you would go unnoticed today– you had far too many thoughts that needed some sorting from everything Wendy told you last night– another reason you wanted to get some rest because her words kept you awake for the most part of the night.

You made sure to dress properly today though, in any case. The weather was starting to get a bit chilly– summers were usually chilly in Eden. You wore a grey plaid suit that you kept for days like these, when you needed to make a good impression. You had fond memories with the two-piece– it was the first gift Wendy got you and it was more than she should have done, but she insisted she earned enough to buy gifts like these for the few friends she had. That made you wonder why she lived in a lousy shared apartment. You knew that her actual residence was in Sector 8 and she sometimes joked about how she lived here because it was ‘convenient’.

You wore white net gloves over your hands before going out, donning a matching grey hat. Eunha noted the new additions to your outfit and whistled as she shut her registers, groaning in satisfaction when she stretched her back.

“You did right with the gloves, but it’s a shame the boss isn’t here to appreciate them.”

“Eunha,” you glared at her and she giggled. She had warmed up to you– a bit too much, if you had to say, because she made jokes and teasing remarks like these often now that she was comfortable with you. You took off the gloves and spread them on your desk, grinning at her.

“I think they look pretty good from here too.”

You both shared a grin at that and Eunha wore her overcoat, saluting mockingly before leaving. Just before she was about to go downstairs, she turned in your direction, her doe eyes gleaming. “Luna!”

“What now?”

“If you see the boss… don’t take his words to heart,” she said. “He may sound like a complete arse but he cares for all of us.”

“It can’t be any worse than Jihoon, can it?” You joked.

Eunha was right, though. At around 10 pm, you finally heard a few sets of footsteps ascend up the stairs and you took a deep breath, fixing your gaze on the stairs. To get to his office, the boss would have to walk past you so you fixed your half tied hair and arranged your desk a bit. Yunho’s head was the first to pop up, followed by an unfamiliar man and Seonghwa. They went inside Yunho’s room first, absorbed in heated discussion and you took a deep breath.

It was clear as day who Kim Hongjoong was. If it was not his appearance that betrayed him– dressed in a luxurious three-piece suit with the chain of a golden pocket watch visible, dark brown curls falling stylishly over his forehead– it was his unmistakable aura, the way he carried himself and his confidence. You felt it even if what you got was only a glimpse.

A few minutes later, the trio popped out of Yunho’s room to go into Hongjoong’s room. You continued scribbling this time. You were going to remain in the shadows and go unnoticed–

“Get me the tax files,” the boss said. “I will personally make sure everything is seamless because I cannot have anyone messing it up– ah. Who is this again?”

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “Miss Jeon y/n. The bookkeeper– I thought Yunho told you already?”

Yunho looked guiltily at Seonghwa and you stood up in greeting, meeting the boss’s sharp eyes and internally gasping because oh, good heavens. He was inexplicably gorgeous–

“Good evening, Mr. Kim. If you need the tax files, I can get them for you.”

Hongjoong’s eyes betrayed him for just a second as he scanned your form, finding something oddly familiar about you. But his steel expressions returned and he shrugged lightly. “Yeah, well. I’ll have Yunho deal with that. You can get back to work.”

With that, he went towards his office and only waited a moment for the others to follow before he shut the door.

What a snob, you thought. His new bookkeeper and he didn’t even acknowledge you. Had Seonghwa and Yunho really not told him about you, or was he above these meagre details? You were aware that you would have to work with the boss now that he was back, but… how?

Later, you found yourself at the Crescent Bar instead of your room. Perhaps, here you could get something that would make the bitter aftertaste in your mouth after tonight’s shift seem like nothing. Eunbi’s shift was over so you just found an empty spot in the corner and instructed one of your old colleagues to get you some Black Shadow and to make sure no one would bother you. He gave you a thumbs-up and a few minutes later, you were sipping at the rich drink while recalling the events of today.

Kim Hongjoong. Ateez’s boss, the brains behind the entity of the Crescent Company. A force to be reckoned with. A trickster, a manipulator, a true businessman, you had heard a while ago from the mouth of the elites who came here to drink. A man of his principles, Wendy had told you last night. He was rigid with his principles and that was what got him so far. You supposed he had to be all of that in order to survive after coming back from the war.

Wendy said she wasn’t worried that you were working with him– at some point in this small sector, everyone had or would encounter him at least once in his life, directly or indirectly. However, she was worried that you would catch his eye, because according to her, you did not want to be involved with him personally in any way. He was a calculating and ruthless businessman with an ambition, and according to Wendy, that was something you were better off staying away from.

You considered everything you knew about the Crescent Company now that it had been a week working with them. They had partnered with Pledis Manufacturers to produce machine parts but you now knew that it was an undercover business for their weapons assembling. They had recently signed a new deal with Utopia to export these weapons in exchange for the Utopian wine– Black Shadow– which was a trademark of the Crescent Bar.

And it was Mist Island that provided the Crescents with the bullets and some metal for weapons production in exchange for Eden wine. It truly was a well-thought out business.

But that could not be all. You still did not know what the small packet– the powdery thing that got you here– was. Was it just a drug they used for pleasure purposes? You had never seen them in such a state, nor did the Crescent Bar tolerate druggies, though deals happened there, just like at any other bar. Nobody seemed to talk about it, there was no record of such an object being traded or produced– so what was it? Why had they almost killed you when they learned that you saw it?

And if it was a drug, why did they need to make a business deal with Secretary Park Byung Eun and have him fund MX Pharmaceuticals, of which they owned shares of? Kihyun knew that Secretary Park was not a man you should involve yourself with, so was he not aware of this new venture or was he turning a blind eye to it because they needed Secretary Park? Why would they need him of all the people in this world?

“If you glare at your glass any longer, it will shatter,” a familiar voice said and you looked up, mouth parting in surprise.

“San!” You got up, straightening your clothes. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I literally own this bar?” San chuckled, noticing the almost empty bottle.

“I mean, here here,” you pointed at your table. “I was just… drinking, as you can already see.”

“Long day?”

“Kind of,” you nodded.

“Can I join you then? I’ve had a long day too.”

“Sure,” you said and he settled down in front of you, tossing his jacket on the other chair, now in a half sleeve black shirt. You poured the drink for him and he swirled it a few times before downing it in one gulp. You filled his glass again and motioned one of the waiters to get you a new one.

It felt a little strange to have him seated like this in front of you. Sure, you had shared drinks countless times, but that was when you worked here and were serving him. There was also a shift in your interactions ever since that fateful night at the bar– somehow, that had turned your conversations more casual. He caught you staring at him but he didn’t comment on it.

“I’m assuming you met Hongjoong?” San asked and you exhaled, making him snicker. “What?”

“He’s… definitely the boss,” you laughed shortly. “He scanned me once and was like, okay, time to move on.”

“That’s him,” San laughed. “But that little scan he does means that he has memorised who you are and won’t forget. He’s got quite the memory.”

“I would expect nothing less, but San,” you sighed. “I miss being here. Even though I acted all professional here for the sake of formalities, it wasn’t ever suffocating being here.”

San frowned at your admission. “Do you not like where you are now?”

“It’s not that,” you shook your head. “I like the new job. It’s testing my capabilities, and I like challenges. It’s just that… you aren’t there. Yeosang isn’t there. You both are Crescents too. You both are also Ateez, so… how are you two so different from the rest?”

A smile creeped up on San’s lips and your heart did a little somersault– you hadn’t forgotten how handsome he was, but it had certainly been a while since you admired his charms. “Just say you miss us and move on, Luna.”

You laughed at that and San joined, the two of you chuckling for a few moments. “Yeah, I kind of miss being here and reporting all the gossip to you,” you said. “I miss working in silence with Yeosang too– don’t tell him I said that. It’ll get to his head.”

“I won’t,” he grinned. “Shall I tell you the gossip?”

“Oh, please, I’ve been starving,” you said.

About an hour passed over gossip and drinks, switching from wine to plain soda. San told you the latest happenings of the area– they had a little fight with Chan’s gang and had settled the matter about the attack on the Crescent Bar, making them pay for the damages. Yuju had gone to different bars to do a survey of what was trendy and come up with nothing, and you joked about how she was only good at doing what she knew– managing the staff, something she was an expert at. San said he would be sending Jeonghan and Mingyu next– perhaps, they would come up with a better report.

It was the first time you talked to San as a friend, and though you had always found it quite easy to talk to him, you liked that just like Yeosang, he didn’t make it feel like there was a distinction between you two. Perhaps, you wondered, it was because of the nature of your work- after all, you couldn’t be too formal in a place like a bar. Maybe if there was no Crescent Bar, you really would have found San intimidating and unapproachable, just like people claimed he was. You still couldn’t believe them– not when he had the softest gaze when he paid attention to you, not when his eyes curved into moons when he smiled or laughed, and certainly not when he whined like just another adult with problems.

When you checked the time on your wristwatch, you whistled– it was almost 2 in the morning. “Well. Time flies.”

“The night is still young, but we’ve both got to get up early, don’t we?”

“We sure do,” you nodded. “Well, this has been… a pleasure, San.”

“Likewise,” he propped his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “We should do this again.”

“Complaining about work?” You laughed. “Complaining about my bosses slash your friends?”

“Oh, so when you do it, it’s complaining, but when I do it, it’s whining? Noted,” San shook his head in disappointment and you grinned. “Can I tell you something, Luna?”

“Sure.”

“The hyungs– Yunho, Seonghwa and Hongjoong… they’re just like me and Yeosang. You just don’t know them yet.”

You looked at him for a moment. “I would have believed you if you had not included Seonghwa in that list.”

“Why?”

“You’re nothing like Seonghwa,” you joked. “He’s far too kind and refined.”

San’s loud laughter filled the room and you looked around, making sure no one was being disturbed. You leaned forward to tap his hand and make him stop laughing.

“I’m not lying, Luna,” San wiped his eyes. “Seonghwa… he may look refined but he can be very playful and childish when he wants to be. Yunho… well, once he warms up, you’ll know that he is the best kind of person you can have by your side.”

Somehow, his words wrapped around your heart like a promise. “You care about them a lot, huh?”

“I do,” he nodded. “They’re my friends, a part of my heart. I would do anything for them.”

“And… Hongjoong?”

“Hongjoong, well…” San smiled. “You find that out for yourself.”

“Not helping, San,” you folded your arms but he shook his head.

“All I can tell you is that if you’re lucky enough to break his walls… if he takes you under his wing, he won’t let anything hurt you. That’s the kind of person he is. He is the boss but he acts like a shield for us, and I wish I could do the same for him.”

You took note of his words. Did you trust San? A bit, yes. If he said all those things about Hongjoong, they must be true– at least according to his perception. But could you trust Hongjoong? Could you act as a shield for them so they could protect you in the future?

You made the decision before you slept that night.

During your night shift the next day, you waited for the office to get a bit emptier. When there was only Seonghwa and Hongjoong on the upper level, you took a leap of faith and knocked on the boss’s door. It was now or never, and you had to make your move.

“Come in,” Seonghwa’s voice sounded and you opened the door. Seonghwa was seated at the couch while Hongjoong was at the end of the room in his chair, scribbling on paper, not bothering to look at you.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” You asked Seonghwa.

“Sure, have a seat,” he motioned to the couch in front of him and you did, sliding the report to him and glancing at Hongjoong once. “Is everything alright?”

“It is, but… I must warn you of something. You cannot proceed with the deal you’re making with Secretary Park Byung Eun.”

Seonghwa settled the pen he had been playing with on the table, taking a deep breath. “What is this really about?”

“Secretary Park is aiming to become the Minister of Health, isn’t that right? All of the ex-president’s team has either retired or left their posts, replaced by President Lee’s people,” you said. “Is that why you need Secretary Park? Because you have no other option?”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes– how did you find out that he was aiming to become the next Minister of Health? It wasn’t publicly announced yet– he had yet to sign up as a candidate for that post.

“You must have one hell of a source,” Seonghwa looked amused, glancing at Hongjoong who was smoking a cigar and now looking at you with mild interest. You gathered your nerves before continuing.

“He is not a good candidate for the position, but that is not what matters right now. I would have gone to Kihyun but I decided to confirm with you first because I’m not sure if he’s aware of your plans, but… you must need Secretary Park to approve some drug in the future, right?”

Seonghwa’s brow rose ever so slightly and you jumped a little when Hongjoong slammed the pen that he had been holding on the table. He cocked his head as he glared at you.

“Miss Jeon,” he said in a warning tone. “If you don’t stop talking in circles right now and tell us what this is about, I’ll have to deal with you myself. You don’t want that.”

You gritted your teeth, unafraid for the first time in a while. “Do you want this business deal with Secretary Park to be legal? Just answer my question first, Mr. Kim.”

“That’s right,” Seonghwa answered for him.

“You should know that Secretary Park already has some business deals with Strictland officials going on,” you said in a low tone and the two looked at each other in surprise, clearly unaware. “You know how it will look for you if word comes out– Strictland is already an occupied state on the verge of military dictatorship. You can try to verify it for yourself if you want, but whatever deal Secretary Park has going on with Strictland… it’s not legal in any sense, neither is it moral.”

Seonghwa took a deep breath. “Our meeting with Secretary Park is scheduled for tomorrow.”

“And I thought you should be aware of this before the meeting,” you locked eyes with him, hoping he could see the desperation in them.

“Jeon y/n, was it?” Hongjoong called and you looked at him. He was squashing his cigar in the ashtray on his desk. You nodded and he finally smiled, though it looked almost devilish. “Why would you care to tell us this information?”

“You must have heard from your underboss,” you said. “I am willing to trade information with you in return for protection.”

“And power,” he pointed out the missing part. “You mentioned power.”

“I only desire power in order to survive in Eden,” you said.

“So why protection?” Hongjoong asked. “You can’t be a powerful figure in Eden and not have everyone targeting you.”

“Being a part of the Crescent Company is protection enough, I suppose,” you rested your hands on the soft material of your black pants, subtly wiping the sweat off.

“Protection from whom?” Hongjoong asked, his gaze set on you. You found it overwhelming almost to the point that you considered answering– he had a commanding presence.

“I… can’t say. Not yet,” you said and Seonghwa shook his head, having already known your answer. “I don’t expect you to tell me what the deal is about– after all, I’m only a bookkeeper. But I can give you better options– ex-president Mr. Son, for instance, or Assemblyman Kim Jooheon.”

“Assemblyman Kim is a nobody in the political scene if we are being objective,” Seonghwa said. “I don’t think he will have much to offer to us.”

“He will have something to offer to you if you give him something in return– maybe something that pulls him out of the shadows and into the spotlight of the political scene,” you said, recalling how the politicians in Edenary always thought Assemblyman Kim had the potential but lacked the resources.

“Why would Mr. Son ever associate himself with us?” Hongjoong got up from his seat, slowly walking towards you, hands in the pocket of his striped black suit. “We may be owners of a legal business company now, but everyone knows of our mafia ties and background.”

“You are an honoured military strategist who played a vital role to end the war, isn’t that true?”

Hongjoong chuckled at that, nodding slowly to confirm that and settling down next to Seonghwa. “Not everyone is aware of that, Miss Jeon. I don’t like people talking about it.”

“But Mr. Son was the president at that time, and he honoured you with a badge,” you kept his gaze. “I think he will agree that a person who did everything in their power to end the feud between two nations would not be making a deal that would harm his motherland and its people… don’t you agree?”

Hongjoong stared at you while considering your words. “You have a lot of audacity to come in here and make claims about a business you are not a part of, and people you don’t know enough about. Possessing such audacity is what almost cost you your life that night, and what is tempting me to retract the deal my partners made behind my back.”

And there it was. A stark reminder that you may have struck a deal with the queen, but you were still just a pawn in this game of chess where the king ruled. Weak and expendable– that’s what you were.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa began but Hongjoong raised his hand in the air to stop him from speaking further, his eyes still locked with yours. You didn’t feel shame nor fear in that moment– just regret that maybe you had trusted the wrong people.

“You are a bookkeeper, and you can remain so. Goodnight, Miss Jeon.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words sink in and then you got up, bowing in greeting. “Good night, Mr. Kim, Mr. Park. Thank you for hearing me out.”

With that, you left the room and Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong. “You did not have to put it like that. I know she got you.”

Hongjoong slumped down on the couch in front of Seonghwa, cracking his knuckles while he thought about his next move. “Is there any way we can verify the information about Secretary Park without anyone getting a whiff?”

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa admitted. “I’m wondering how she knows that– if that was the truth. If Secretary Park really has a business deal with Strictland officials… I don’t think even his wife would know about that. If anyone gets a whiff of that, it could cost him his position and cause President Lee significant harm too, since Park Byung Eun is his secretary. You know how Strictland is still a sensitive topic after the war.”

“Then how does she know?” Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa. “Is she a spy?”

“She can’t be,” Seonghwa shook his head. “Luna worked as the bookkeeper at Crescent Bar for two years–”

“Luna?”

“That’s what everyone calls her,” Seonghwa said, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“She could be a mole, then,” Hongjoong sighed. “But no. Even a mole could not possess this information. What do we do?”

“Kihyun was Secretary Park’s former business partner. I’ll ask Yunho to check with Kihyun and confirm if Secretary Park is the right man for this deal, but that means we will have to let Kihyun know that we are intending to make such a deal.”

“We were going to tell him anyway, let’s proceed with that plan. And Seonghwa?”

“Yeah?”

“Contact the RV spies and get any information you can on your little bookkeeper.”

next chapter

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taglist pt 1:

#AND ONTO THE NEXT CHAPTER #omg i love all the little bits of (made up) history and worldbuilding that went into this like the battle of the eight hills GIVE ME MORE #MX INTERACTIONS YES PLS they're such a comfort group of mine i'm so glad kihyun is the brother mc never had :'))#if kihyun needs somebody to draw his curtains for him on a daily basis sIGN ME THE HELL UP i'd do it for FREEEEE #omg seonghwa as a sniper AND a medic that's even hotter than lieutenant yunho (sorry) we need a separate oneshot JUST for hj and hwa in war #ooh i really like this convo where kihyun really highlights the difference btwn his own past with the gang vs atz's past in literal war #AHAHAHAHA yeo questioning why you're at the bar and you're like i'm good hi hello thanks for asking :)#jeonghan and yunho napping in hiding are both my spirit animals HAHAHAHA #the thirsting over yunho's hands and arms and veins is so real #OR AT LEAST FAKE CONFIDENCE THAT YOU WERE NORMAL ABOUT IT HAHAHAHA I'M DEAD #'i know what it is like to be betrayed by blood and water both' OOF DAMN OKAY POP OFF AGAIN #oh oh oh oho OHO HO HOH OH OH ??? WE GOT SKINSHIP ALREADY??? THE TENSION OOOOOHHHH he wants mc so bad nobody tell me otherwise #STOP MY HEARTUE JAEMIN AS THE SCRAWNY SCRUFFY UPBEAT LITTLE KID omg he dies doesn't he I CAN'T REMEMBER WHO YOU WERE GOING TO KILL OFF #the simile of jaem as a stray cat marking the boys as his owners AWWW pls i have the Softest Spot for him already pls let him live #the interaction btwn luna and hwa is so real bc yes they're starting to trust each other but there's only so much you can try to push that #and offering advice to the powerful mans so early into the relationship is a well-intended but futile move #AHAHAHAH SAN WAVING AT MC AGAIN AND EVERYONE LIKE ???? he WAVES ???#'oh good heavens he was inexplicably gorgeous' GIRLIE'S GETTING A LITTLE TOO REAL PFFT AND THEN TURNING INTO what a snob #'he scanned me once and was like okay time to move on' THIS AIN'T MC SPEAKING THIS IS LITERALLY YUMI SPEAKING HAHAHA #awww i sort of love how mc moving to the main office has started to really shift her dynamics with san and yeo to sth more informal now #man ateez aside /I/ want to know how mc knows all of this info #JUST WHO IS SHE ?????#loren's fic recs #ateez x reader #ateez ot8 x reader #yumi <33 #MOOT MOOT

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lorensonebraincell · 4 months ago

Text

The Leaders | Chapter I

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: mentions of violence, gangs, drinking, shooting, near-death experience, illegal businesses, seonghwa and yunho are major assholes in this chap, san and yeosang have warmed up, mention of killing, etc

chapter wc: 9.8k

chapter synopsis: it is the year 1970 in eden when an attack on the crescent bar prompts you, the bookkeeper, to carry out yeosang’s order and flee with the contents of the safe. however, you are unlucky to have discovered an unknown, suspicious package that sentences you to an early death. left with no choice, you reveal secrets about the underworld to the crescents and their underboss that even they are not aware of. will this gamble prove to be fruitful?

It was very easy to get lost in the liveliness of the Crescent Bar. Despite being stationed away from the heart of it all, you often found yourself distracted by the chatter of a couple who would occasionally pop in for a drink, the hushed whispers of a group of men who would be looking over their shoulders every few minutes, the hearty laughter that would suddenly fill the hall and spread warmth in its wake, or simply, a lone traveller who would be swaying to the light music that you were actually sick of hearing but didn’t have the heart to complain about.

It was now second nature to jot in an observation or record transactions on an hourly basis, just like it was natural for you to take over the cashier’s place so the poor girl could take a break and move around. You no longer felt your hair rise every time you overheard a piece of information that you knew Yeosang or San would like to hear, nor did you feel your pores opening to release sweat every time they glanced your way– just like San did now, just having entered the bar and sent his trademark flirty smile in your direction.

“Restock champagne on table two, right away!”

“On the way!” You shouted instead of the new girl who was currently finding it hard to multitask. You didn’t have to worry about a thing– Yuju, the head of staff, noticed everything as if she had eyes in every corner of the bar. She would make sure to let the girl know that she was doing well with an encouraging pat to her back.

“They’re going to empty our inventory tonight,” Eunbi shared a grin with you. “We’re going to have to check the stock again.”

“I’ll take that– ask Jeonghan to wake the hell up and make sure we don’t run out,” you requested, sliding over to the cash register and typing in the latest entry, marking it with today’s date of 3rd April, 1970. Eunbi urged the waiters to speed up before rushing to the empty table at the left corner of the bar where Jeonghan was resting. She delivered the message with a smack and Jeonghan, who was never really asleep but just had a knack for pretending that he found the loud and bustling atmosphere of the bar relaxing, groggily walked across the hall to the door that led downstairs to check stock- or to get an actual nap. You would find that out later.

“Luna,” San greeted you with your nickname and you nodded in greeting– the nickname stuck with you after Jeonghan once called you Luna. Everyone started calling you by that name afterwards but only a handful knew it was short for lunatic and you intended to keep it that way.

You had no desire to use your real name anyway.

“Busy night?” San slid on the stool not far from you, Eunbi passing him a sweet smile before she started to pour Black Shadow for him- a staple of the Crescent Bar as the only supplier of the famous and well-loved Utopian wine in all of Eden. San swirled the red wine in his glass casually before downing it in one gulp and Eunbi refilled it before passing the bottle to you, going to attend to more pressing matters than one of the owners casually lounging to chat.

“Kind of,,” you turned to grab yourself a glass and San poured the wine for you. The clinking of your glasses echoed even in your loud surroundings and you took a sip, taking in his appearance- you assumed he must be returning from business since he was wearing a formal black suit, though he ditched his coat at the entrance. The white sleeves were rolled up, revealing his sturdy forearms with a thick silver watch on his left wrist and a silver band on his index finger- one you had never seen him without.

Your eyes travelled up to his face- tendrils of slick hair falling on his forehead. Choi San was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen, and hardly anyone could deny that.

The problem was that perhaps, he really did not realise how painfully attractive he was. The man was far too humble for his own good, despite being one of the most dangerous and powerful men in Eden.

“Heard something interesting of late?” He inquired routinely. It was always a bit more casual with him as compared to Yeosang. Yeosang was the boss around here, yes, but San was the one who kept things under control. The pair of them worked together very harmoniously and you admired that, even though you had qualms about whatever they were doing- whatever you thought they were doing. Almost two years here and you still had no idea just what it was that their gang did.

Gang, you called them though they preferred ‘organisation’. The cops preferred ‘criminal organisation’ but you supposed it was just semantics at this point. Their name was Ateez- you never heard that term directly from any of their mouths, but even a child recognised that name and knew to avoid them- or avoid trouble with them.

But officially, they were the Crescent Company, owner of the Crescent Bar and other businesses in Eden.

“Just politics,” you finished the rest of your drink, adjusting the lone pearl ring on your right hand. “Everyone’s a little antsy with what happened at the protest. They think it’s Assemblyman General Wi’s gang.”

“General Wi would never interfere like that, though,” San scoffed in amusement- perhaps he genuinely found the idea of a man like Major General Wi resorting to dirty means hilarious. “He’s far too smart for that.”

“He is,” you had to agree. “But who else to blame? Only someone from the military would dislike people protesting against martial law. There’s only one candidate for presidency who’s got influence in the army. They think General Wi’s success in the elections would mean the army would control the state.”

“Isn’t the army somewhat controlling the state already, though?” San pondered. “President Lee has ties with the army too.”

You may have gotten used to interacting with the most feared gang in Eden, but the mention of President Lee still made you shiver involuntarily. San had noticed it one too many times and though he hadn’t asked for an explanation, you were sure you would lack the words to describe this sentiment anyway. “President Lee… cannot be controlled by the army, or anyone for that matter. General Wi may be smart but he’s still easily influenced when met with someone of a higher status- that’s what I heard,” you added the last bit hoping it wouldn’t sound like a personal opinion.

San raised a brow at your comment- you often tried (and failed) to mask your personal opinions under the guise of news but whenever you shared something, he made sure to listen- and listen beneath what your words tried to cover up. He often found your opinions and predictions regarding politics holding some weight and he wasn’t quite sure if you were subconsciously very observant or purposely pretending to be unaware. He once asked you how you knew so much but when you didn’t discuss any information with him for a few weeks, he took the hint. You only reported officially to Yeosang and he could bet you found it easier to talk to him about these things because he wasn’t one to probe.

“Keep me updated,” San said and you nodded. “Yeosang must be inside?”

“He’s actually in Room no. 1- he has visitors.”

“Visitors?” San frowned. “Who?”

“Lieutenant Jeong and co.,” you said and San shook his head at the way you so formally addressed the man. He had told you before that no one ever referred to him as the ‘lieutenant’ but you didn’t know how else to refer to him. “I was in the office earlier so they decided to take the room.”

“That’s okay, I’ll pop in there,” he grabbed a handful of nuts from the counter before walking to the backside of the bar, disappearing in the shadows as he reached the VIP area. You took a deep breath, your mind once again wandering to the ‘guest’.

Lieutenant Jeong Yunho was not a guest here at all. He belonged here. If you thought Choi San was intimidating, you were wrong. You still recalled the first time you saw him right outside the bar, all roughed up, wiping the blood off his face with his sleeve but not a single scratch on him while a group of men around him writhed on the floor, clutching their mangled limbs. He met your eyes and your heart sank in the worst way possible- worse than the moment you were disowned by your own father. It was simply fear, and you hated feeling fear. You made up your mind to avoid him from then on but there was only so much you could do when you worked at the place he owned.

Oftentimes he came into the bar in the late hours of the night after wrapping up things in the main office and sat right where San had been sitting earlier in front of you, drinking the strongest wine available in silence- perhaps to sort his thoughts out. He didn’t mind you sitting near him and doing your paperwork, and you didn’t make him feel uncomfortable unlike the others who could not stop stealing glances at him- it wasn’t that you didn’t want to, but you simply could not. You didn’t want him to find out what kind of an effect he had on you.

Especially when he had the warmest laughter and his entire demeanour shifted around his comrades. It intrigued you because he felt like two different persons in one vessel. That was the only time you would allow yourself to steal glances at him- when he was distracted enough. Otherwise you didn’t dare look at him in fear that he might find something about you that you had been struggling to hide all your life.

Eunbi came back after serving a group of guests, whispering, “This one table- they were awfully quiet when I went to serve them. I don’t know if it’s because they’ve got some gossip they don’t want anyone to hear or if they’re going to try something stupid.”

You looked at her- Eunbi’s instincts were usually spot-on. “Which table?”

“Over there,” she glanced at the corner and sure enough, the group of four was already looking in your direction. You pretended to be unaffected, asking her to take over the register. While casually strolling towards the door that led to the basement at the other end of the hall, you passed their table, noticing how they resumed talking only after you were out of earshot.

Something was up. You went downstairs to see Jeonghan napping on the couch.

“Oi,” you poked his thigh and he stirred, opening an eye. You knew he wasn’t really asleep- he wasn’t one to let his guard down, but you supposed he could have his moments of peace. “Stock?”

“Enough for tonight but I’ll place an order for tomorrow before we leave,” he said. “What’s up?”

“There’s a group at table seven. Four young men, armed with guns, awfully quiet and jumpy. Care to take a look?”

“They could have just lost a bet. They might be collecting the remnants of their pride- you tend to do that in silence,” Jeonghan mused.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather you make sure,” you said. “Lieutenant Jeong is here. They’d be stupid to try anything- anything at all, even if it’s just throwing a tantrum.”

“Ah,” Jeonghan got up and smoothened his long dark hair. “I suppose I’ll ask them if they require a better drink to down their shame.”

“Whatever,” you sniggered before going back to your position upstairs. You watched Jeonghan don his jacket as he entered the floor and he looked around, meeting eyes with the group and you both noticed two things-

That their hands went to their hip where the weapons rested, and that they exchanged quick glances with each other. Jeonghan looked at you and you shook your head, urging him to skip the plan and alert the others- it might be an attempt at robbery or worse, but they were so stupid to do that, especially tonight.

“You’ve restocked their drinks?” You asked Eunbi.

“They just ordered another, Soojin is going to refill their drinks-”

“The new girl?” You shook your head, “She’s been jumpy all night. Stop her, right now. They’re armed, they might do something stupid-”

Before you could finish the sentence or Eunbi could carry out your order, the loud shatter of glass made you both flinch and hold on to each other as you ducked, splinters raining down on you and making you both hiss in pain when some of them met your skin. You tucked Eunbi closer before you raised your head over the counter to assess the situation-

Chaos was the word. Eunbi had been right to be suspicious- the men were now pointing guns at whoever dared to move and another gunshot sounded followed by a guttural yell of the waiter whose arm took the blow. You met eyes with Soojin who stood frozen in the middle of the room and you motioned for her to stay that way.

“No one move!” One of the men shouted, wide eyes relaying the threat. “I’ll shoot you if you move!”

“I’m going to take the register and go to the office,” you whispered to Eunbi who shook her head furiously.

“It’s too dangerous- they’ll shoot you,” Eunbi held your arms in panic but you pried her hands away, squeezing them assuringly.

“I’ll be fine- they won’t spot me. I have to hurry,” you told her and before she could insist, you started crawling away from her, keeping close to the wall and moving towards the backside of the bar, avoiding the shards of glass as best as you could. You had orders to follow- orders Yeosang trusted you would follow at a time like this. You could not disappoint him now after everything he had done for you.

The office was the nearest room from where you sat crouched and if you made a dash for it, you could probably go unnoticed- if the instigators didn’t catch movement from the corner of their eyes. They were too busy forcing the customers to line up against the walls so you could take this chance-

Without thinking any further, you gathered the material of your skirt and thanked the lord that you wore boots instead of your usual heels today as you took a few large steps to disappear into the shadows, now successfully out of their vision. You silently unlocked the door and entered the empty office, taking a deep breath once inside, the adrenaline rush making your head spin. After stealing just a few seconds to calm down, you opened the drawers to make sure nothing of importance was there and then you bent down to access the locker under the desk-

The locker of which you had the key to all this time, but never once checked the contents of. You remembered when Yeosang promoted you from cashier to bookkeeper and told you that not all their transactions were legal- you just had to keep a record and stay shut about it. That, you could do. You kept the key on you at all times, and you took it out from the inside of your skirt’s waistband, unlocking the safe and gathering the two registers and a small packet wrapped way too much to figure out what it held inside. You held the things close to your chest as you made your way out, peeking first to see if the commotion had moved away from your eyeshot.

You took a turn to the narrow space at your right that led to the back exit, but that was not your destination- the room at the end of that corridor had a passageway that led to another exit in the alley. You slowed down at the sound of footsteps and you wondered if they were coming from right behind you-

Before you knew it, you were being pulled inside the room with a twirl that ended up with your back slamming against the wall, a gasp producing from your lips and freezing midway when you realised just who had pinned you against the wall-

Lieutenant Jeong. And he did not look pleased.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Carrying out orders,” you breathed, realising just how tall and broad he was now that he was in front of you, bending to reach your height. You clutched the registers tighter reflexively, your left wrist still in his strong grip. “I’ve been instructed to flee with the contents of the safe in case of an attack.”

“By who?”

“Kang Yeosang,” you said, though you figured he already knew the answer. “I have the key.”

The man scanned you slowly as if that would give him all the answers to the questions he wasn’t asking. He knew you were the bookkeeper, but did he not know that Yeosang trusted you enough with this?

The sound of a few rushed footsteps caused him to let go of your wrists and you rubbed the skin there. It was Yuju accompanied by the manager, Mingyu, and they told Yunho that there were more men outside now.

“Did you figure out who’s behind the attack?” Yunho asked.

“Probably Chan’s gang,” Mingyu huffed, looking at you and relaxing when he saw that you were safe. “I’m going back to get the rest of the employees.”

“I’ll stay here and make sure they get out safely,” Yuju nodded, noticing the items you were clutching. “Luna- go. We’ll call you when things settle down.”

You looked at Yunho- though you didn’t need his permission, you knew that he could very well ruin things for you. He didn’t trust you- he had no reason to. He told you to wait and disappeared out of the room and Yuju widened her eyes in confusion.

“I mean… I can understand,” you shrugged. “Is everyone okay back there?”

“I don’t think they knew that Yunho and his lackeys were here,” Yuju folded her arms, hugging herself. “They’re going to regret it. Whoever it is… they’ll make him regret ever coming up with this plan.”

“Even if it was just San and Yeosang, they couldn’t have won,” you said and Yuju agreed. “They both go a little crazy too.”

“But Yunho-” she shivered. “He’s something else.”

Your lips twitched in amusement despite the gravity of the situation and moments later, Johnny- Yunho’s assistant- appeared, looking battered.

“I thought it was a gunfight- why does it look like you were in a catfight?” Yuju commented, slumping down on one of the chairs and Johnny shot her an annoyed look.

“One, I didn’t have a gun on me. Two- they touched my hair!” Johnny huffed and you looked at the man in disbelief, all the impression you had of him going down the drain. Yuju was familiar with Johnny so she didn’t seem very surprised at his childish outburst. “Anyone who messes with my face will get worse in return.”

“Understandable,” you muttered. “Can I go now?”

“Oh, you’re staying here,” Johnny urged you to take a seat. “You’re not going anywhere- Yunho’s orders.”

“Wow, okay,” you sank down on the chair. “And you don’t have a gun? If someone comes here and tries to take these away from me?”

“They’ll have to get past me, you don’t need to worry,” he grinned. “You can relax.”

You could, but you were far too nervous to. You didn’t realise how badly you were rocking your legs until Eunbi entered and you groaned in relief to see she was unscathed. “They almost shot me. I can never get used to this.”

“You will get used to it, one day,” you told her, holding her hands and Eunbi squeezed it with an anxious smile, wondering if that was why you seemed mostly unaffected.

The rest of the employees came one by one in a matter of a few minutes, recovering from the initial shock though it quickly wore off since all of you had experienced something like this at least once- and working in a bar owned by a gang, it was bound to happen anyway. Everyone knew better than to call them a ‘gang’ to their face, though- they had spent years to make their business and organisation legal.

Somewhat legal, you would argue as their bookkeeper who knew that wine wasn’t the only thing being consumed here. Your hand that was clutching the packet in its grip itched in answer and you looked at it in suspicion.

The few new employees like Soojin were definitely in shock and Yuju did her best to calm them down. Johnny was kind enough to crack jokes to lighten the mood and you were glad to see it was working. Some people really were here to make a living and you were sure you were going to lose a few employees after this incident.

The door opened and Yeosang entered, looking unharmed, almost unfazed. He talked with Yuju first in hushed voices- probably something about the damage they would have to deal with. When he spotted you, he smiled and called you over. You got up and followed him outside to the corridor.

“Glad to see someone followed their orders,” he commented.

“I would have gone to that building you’ve told me about but…”

“Yunho stopped you, I know.” He was going in the direction of Room no.1 where he had previously been in with Yunho but when you entered, you found not only San but Park Seonghwa as well, looking as posh as ever.

The underboss of Crescent Company, he was the one person in all of the gang that you truly had respect for- it didn’t matter that Park Seonghwa was a criminal. You had once seen him help a lost child find his mother, and another time seen him carry a cat with a broken leg in his arms, and that had changed everything. Not only you but the whole town was aware that Park Seonghwa was a man that possessed a functioning heart unlike most of the gangsters here.

However, you were soon going to find how wrong you had been.

“Miss Jeon, please, make yourself comfortable,” Seonghwa’s calm voice sounded and you looked at Yeosang instinctively- what was happening? He only smiled though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, pouring you a drink which you downed- you needed it now more than ever.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” Seonghwa said. “You have the contents of the locker?”

“Right here,” you placed them on the desk and Yunho shifted in discomfort.

“Thank you for keeping them safe,” the underboss took a deep breath. “I understand that you’ve been working here as the bookkeeper for a considerable amount of time now?”

“About a year, yes,” you straightened, suddenly aware of the tension in the room- even San appeared to be squirming, playing with the ends of his sleeves- you’d never seen him fidget like this. “What is this about, if I may ask?”

“And you… do you have some family? Someone you’ve been caring for?”

“Not in Eden, no,” you confirmed.

“Do you have any idea of what these items are?”

“That’s my registers,” you nudged the thick books. “I’ve recorded every transaction here, legal or not. And this…” you held the package in your hand. “I’m afraid I do not know, but if I have to assume… probably the drugs we slip to our VIPs here.”

Seonghwa met eyes with Yeosang who sighed. “I told you. She does not know, but she can be trusted.”

“We have a policy, Yeosang. I know we trust our employees, but the trust can only go so far.”

“If you could tell me what this is about,” you gritted your teeth, knowing fully well where this was going. “Maybe you should just talk to me, Mr. Park.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” he turned his attention to you, fixing his coat. “We cannot let you go since you’ve seen that,” he pointed at the package and you realised that it was not the drug that you were aware of.

But if not that, then what was it? You shook it slightly and felt the rustling of something powdery. It had to be a drug.

“And?” You countered. “I was assigned by one of you to take this and flee in case of an attack. I’ve simply followed orders.”

Seonghwa’s brow rose subconsciously and he shared a look with Yunho who looked amused- amused? You knew that people didn’t usually talk back to those in power, but you had once been there. They didn’t know that you once had power- some semblance of it, at least.

“I’ll be forward with you- we are not allowed to share that with anyone outside our circle, and anyone who does see that is subject to execution.”

You looked at Yeosang in disbelief- he knew that, yet he had still assigned you to carry out this job for him. He could have asked anyone, but he chose you, even when he knew Kihyun had recommended you. Kihyun, the leader of the longest standing gang here and Ateez’s partner. He knew how desperate you were for some stability in your life, yet he chose you.

“I chose you because I trusted you,” Yeosang offered, not meeting your eyes lest he saw how betrayed you felt. It didn’t matter anymore, though.

“You can’t kill me,” you told Yeosang. “You know who recommended me.”

“I’m sure they will understand,” Seonghwa answered in his stead.

“No, actually,” you tossed the packet on the table and folded your arms, liquid courage making its way up unfiltered as you met Yunho’s eyes- the one thing that you hid from him- from all of them. “I’m sure I’ll be much more useful alive.”

Yunho scoffed loudly, not quite believing the shift in your demeanour and the calculation in your voice, but Seonghwa leaned forward as if to question the sheer audacity that you displayed, and if you knew any better, you would have backed down and accepted your predetermined faith, but-

You still had unfinished business. You still had to take down the men of Eden who possessed power yet wielded it against their homeland. You still had to get back at your father for disowning you. You were far from your goal and you simply couldn’t stop here.

“Miss Jeon… how on earth could you be more useful alive to us?”

You mirrored Seonghwa’s posture, leaning forward as well and though the wide table separated the two of you, you could very well have been inches away considering how fixated your gazes were. “I know things about the people in power that even your angels do not know of, Mr. Park. I know how their minds work, I know their dirty little secrets. I know what to avoid when dealing with them. I could help you shake Eden’s current establishment- you should not kill me.”

A silence spread in the room as they processed your words and assessed your statement- was this a leap of faith or an act of stupidity? Whatever it was, it seemed to be enough. Seonghwa looked at Yunho again who seemed just as surprised as the rest.

“We could strike a deal,” you offered, relaxing back. While you knew that they could kill you right away and move on with their night, you decided that if you were really going to get killed, you could try something.

It wasn’t a bluff, no. You meant each word you said, but it was a gamble on your life.

“Luna,” Yeosang’s low voice prompted you to turn to him and adhere to his warning but you were still cross with him.

“What deal would that be?” Yunho finally spoke- you supposed that as consigliere to his boss, he handled these matters. “What information do you possess that is worth more than your life?”

“If I give it away right now, you won’t have any reason to keep me alive, would you?” You countered and San huffed in appreciation, making Yunho shoot daggers at him.

“What? She’s smart,” he pouted and you smiled inwardly, glad that he was still the same old San.

“You will have to give us something, darling,” Seonghwa straightened his gun on the table and though the action was casual, it felt like a mockery of how your life was literally in his- in their hands.

You leaned back to think- you had to play your cards right here, and very carefully. One wrong move and you’d be gone. What was it that you could reveal right now that would make them consider that you were a force to be reckoned with, and would also make them join hands with you? Could you make this mafia gang bend to your will, or were you asking for too much?

You looked around the room, meeting eyes with each one of them, calculating every possible move from here. Most of the information you had was something you couldn’t simply claim to know without blowing your real identity. If they started looking into your background properly this time, they would find out that your surname was borrowed and there was no record of you being here in Eden before 1966- that was four years ago. You came back from Wonderland in ‘66, having spent a few years there looking after your sick aunt and recovering from the shame and anger of being disowned by your father. You couldn’t tell them who your father was- it was far too early for that.

And since you couldn’t have them finding who your father was, you couldn’t let them know anything related to the pharmaceutical business your father owned, or his connections with the politicians- could you give them some information about a politician? President Lee, perhaps? But you weren’t sure how dangerous he was, maybe someone else-

Your eyes fell on an antique porcelain vase in the corner that looked awfully familiar. Your frown deepened as you tried to recall where you had seen it, and when it clicked, you realised you had your answer.

“You got that vase from Assemblyman Major General Wi, is that right?”

The four of them turned to look at the object you were pointing at. Yeosang confirmed that you were right. You couldn’t help but have your lips curl in a smirk. “You might want to return it. You don’t want to have an object that was used for money-laundering… unless you’re involved.”

Yeosang blinked in confusion, looking at the older two who seemed to be concealing any hints of emotions. San, however, looked just as confused as Yeosang. “How do you know that?”

“That’s not the point,” you told him. “The point is that General Wi’s artefact gallery is just a cover for his money-laundering business. Not a good look for a presidential candidate, is it?”

Seonghwa nodded, perhaps connecting some dots in his head and coming to the conclusion that you may be right. “I’m impressed, Miss Jeon. I will verify this information but I have a feeling that you’re speaking the truth.”

You nodded and Yeosang finally laughed in disbelief. “Who are you really, Luna?”

“Your bookkeeper who’s asking that you take consideration of my loyalty and make a deal,” you said and when Yeosang nodded, you continued. “I… I, too, have unfinished business. You know I was desperate to have stability when I first got a job here- it wasn’t always like this. I will give you all the information that you need as long as you protect me as your source. As long as you keep me safe, because you and I,” you turned to Seonghwa. “We have the same goals.”

“And what might that be?”

“Power and protection,” you said, sure that you were right about the first part but when Seonghwa’s brows twitched, you realised that the shot in the dark with ‘protection’ wasn’t fruitless. “We’ve all got something or someone to protect. I’m protecting myself. You’re protecting your people.”

“You’re very talkative… Luna,” Yunho commented and your heart fluttered at the way he called your name- only the nickname, yet you were wavering. You mentally scolded yourself. “This could be the only information you possess. Not enough.”

“Oh, please,” you countered. “You know I have more- I can’t be running on sheer confidence here. But don’t think for one second that you can torture that information out of me,” you said and when Yunho smiled guiltily, you somehow found yourself smiling back despite the fact that your life was on the line. “Protect me and I’ll make sure your boss overthrows the current establishment and becomes the most powerful man in Eden.”

“Protect you from who?” Yunho asked and you gulped involuntarily, recalling the darkness and emptiness in the eyes of the person the whole nation admired.

“I can’t say yet, just… keep me in the shadows, for now. Please.”

Yunho looked at Seonghwa- you couldn’t be making this up. Yeosang asked you to go home and that they would give you an answer soon. When you left the room, Yeosang sat down next to San.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

“She’s not lying, yes,” San confirmed and Yeosang nodded. “She’s only ever worked, right? We’ve been seeing her for a year now. Work and home is all she does, isn’t that so?”

“Yes. I kept an eye on her for a few months before I assigned her with bookkeeping duties- she has no family here. Just a few acquaintances- Kihyun of MX Pharmaceuticals, which I thought was odd, but they were a gang before they became a pharmaceutical company, so maybe she encountered them at some point. They literally know everyone.”

“And her roommate just so happens to be Wendy.”

“I dismissed it as a coincidence. She couldn’t be one of the RV spies, could she?”

“Nope. They’re far too meticulous.”

“You assigned bookkeeping to a person who was acquainted with both Kihyun and Wendy?” Yunho raised his brows in disbelief. “That’s too big a coincidence, guys.”

“Wendy is under a disguise, Luna probably doesn’t know what she actually does,” Yeosang said. “Besides… I trust her. I really believe it wasn’t necessary to just kill her like that. It’s not like she knows what’s inside this,” Yeosang poked the packet with his finger.

“I don’t think Chan’s gang got a whiff of our drug dealing,” Seonghwa sighed, running a hand through his lengthy locks. “They must have attacked just to get us riled up. They wish to tarnish our reputation because General Wi is choosing sides.”

“We really need to check if the thing about the artefacts gallery is true,” Yunho said. “If it is, we have to tread carefully. Hongjoong will be pissed to learn what happened tonight.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Seonghwa got up. “This girl… Luna?”

“That’s what everyone calls her here,” Yeosang said and Seonghwa nodded slowly.

“She’s something. I’ll verify her information- it’s probably true. Tell her we’ve got a new job for her.”

When you bluffed your way out of your death- though you hadn’t really lied, you did hold information that could ruin Eden- you didn’t expect that you’d find yourself with a new job in the main office of the Crescent Company. You paused in the middle of recording the last entries of the day and your job, only to catch Yeosang watching you with interest.

You folded your arms, staring back and pulling your lower lip between your teeth in contemplation.

“Are you sure this isn’t just a trap to kill me? You could just shoot me and get on with your day, why go through all these lengths?”

Yeosang’s rich laughter boomed in the office room and you sent a tired glare in his direction before going back to checking the receipts of the new stock.

“We would have killed you last night if we really wanted to.”

The nonchalance with which he said that sent a bitter taste down your throat, reminding you of familiar words you had heard a few years ago, but you knew that this situation was different- you had to believe that they were different. Otherwise, there was no hope left for Eden.

“I’m still mad that you signed me up for death with this job, by the way. That was a low blow.”

“You are our first bookkeeper,” Yeosang said in response. “We just didn’t know what to do… does that sound like a good excuse?”

“Hardly,” you muttered. “I thought we were… acquaintances, if not friends. I respected you, Yeosang.”

Yeosang put a hand on his chest. “Respected? Do you hate me now?”

“I can’t really hate you when you’re… you,” you shut the register, looking at him.

You had spent long hours with Yeosang in this very office. Somehow, with him, it had always been naturally comfortable and he once admitted that he thought it was odd how you both could be in the same room, busy with your own work yet feeling right at home. Though you barely ever had a heart-to-heart with the man, the impression that he was a scary gangster had vanished long ago. He was scary when he had to be, but he just felt more human than his partners.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m just a little hurt that you delivered me on a platter to your underboss for him to do whatever he wanted with me. Try to understand,” you explained. “And I still respect you, don’t worry.”

“He wouldn’t have killed you. I would have stopped him,” Yeosang insisted.

“You were more nervous than me,” you scoffed.

“I was nervous for you, that you were going to make a mistake and he would really have to kill you,” Yeosang admitted and you blinked in surprise. “But you did just fine on your own. Are you not going to tell me who you really are?”

“I can’t tell you that yet,” you told him. “I trust you just enough to gamble with my life, but I’ll reveal things only when I’m sure the information would be in safe hands. You have to trust me a little too. It’s not like I can betray you- where would I even go? You’re all going to kill me if I make a mistake anyway.”

Yeosang nodded- you had a point. “Have you got nothing to lose?”

“I’ve already lost everything that I had,” you shook your head. “I’ve only got my life now.”

“I have a feeling you’ll do well in the main office,” Yeosang clapped his hands once in conclusion. “Since you’re already aware that we’re doing both legal and illegal dealings, you can do bookkeeping there. I have to warn you though- if information ever leaks, they will kill you without hesitation.”

“Geez, thanks,” you winced. “Tell me something new.”

“I don’t know where you got the guts to talk back to me,” Yeosang laughed, shaking his head once. “But keep this up and you won’t last long.”

“Why?” You leaned forward on the table in challenge. “Are you and San the only ones who can converse like normal humans?”

“We’re always just a little tipsy,” Yeosang said cheekily and you realised he was right. “You shouldn’t see me when I’m sober.”

You pursed your lips, realising that he was right- if he was anything like the rest of his gang, he had to be drunk all this time if he could tolerate you, a mere employee, talking like you were on his level.

“Snob,” you muttered and got up to put these registers with the rest of the piles, ignoring Yeosang’s snickers. “Alright, my work here is done.”

“You’re fired,” Yeosang announced with a grin. “I’ve wanted to say that to you for so long.”

“You’re hopeless! I’ve been promoted, not fired,” you corrected.

“Whatever,” Yeosang got up, checking the time on his wristwatch. “San will be here in a few minutes- he’ll accompany you to the main office. You can say your farewells but you’ll be here often. It’s not a goodbye.”

“Okay,” you stood awkwardly for a moment, looking around- the beige walls with paint peeling in the corner, the dark shelves and furniture, the gramophone in one corner that you never played because you could always hear music from outside.

“I’ll miss this,” you took a deep breath, nodding as you memorised and soaked in the feeling of this room.

“You’ll be back,” he assured, giving you a moment. “Now off you go.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, very out-of-character for you and taking him by surprise, you exited the office. You could hear what his response would have been- ‘just because we decided to keep you alive doesn’t mean that you can act out!’ but it was exactly that. If you had their protection, you would act out- just not to them.

To the people who wore the cloaks of saints over their demonic hearts and ruled over Eden.

“Luna!,” Eunbi spread her arms as soon as she spotted you and you gladly let her hug you. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’m hearing I’ll be here often, so you won’t have to worry too much,” you poked her ribs, making her squirm as she laughed. “Just stay safe. And no matter what, do not become their bookkeeper.”

Eunbi frowned at that but before she could ask you more, the bell over the front door chimed and you knew it was San the way the bar suddenly fell quiet. You let go of Eunbi and patted her cheek before meeting eyes with San who waved at you.

Waved. You were a little pleased to see that the new arrangement was as awkward for him as it was for you. Eunbi echoed that out loud with a ‘did he just…?’ and you told her to get back to the counter.

“Hi,” San stifled a smile. “Good to see you’re still in one piece.”

“No thanks to you,” you countered. “Shall we?”

“I’m just going to let Yeosang know that I’m here,” San said, finally chuckling. “Look, if it helps, Seonghwa wasn’t really going to kill you.”

“I keep hearing that, but it just feels like you’re trying to convince yourselves instead of me,” you shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. I'll say my farewell to Yuju.”

You agreed to meet outside in five minutes and you went to find Yuju, who told you to stay safe. Jeonghan looked more worried than Yuju- he had overheard some of their conversation last night about them getting rid of you but you assured him it was alright now. You just found out something you shouldn’t have so they were just being cautious. Though he didn’t look convinced, he let you go with an affectionate pat to your shoulder and a joke about how no one is going to let him nap in peace anymore.

Before you went outside, you took a look in the mirror and adjusted your black slacks and the rounded collar of your cream blouse before wearing your black coat over it. San was already waiting for you in his car- a black ‘67 Bentley- and you got in the backseat, your heart beating in anticipation.

“It’s not a long drive from here,” San said, “But I thought as an apology, I’d give you a ride.”

“I’ve been in better cars, but I appreciate the sentiment,” you said and San deadpan stared at you. You squirmed, realising an explanation would entail revealing details from your background. “I mean… the condition could definitely improve.”

“Yeah, it’s been through a lot, you’re right, “ San let out a chuckle before glancing at you. “You’re not going to tell me where exactly you’ve been in better cars? Because as far as I know, you were struggling to make a living when you first got a job here.”

“That was because I moved back from Wonderland after a long time,” you fiddled with your pearl ring. “Anyone would struggle.”

“And how do you really know Kihyun?”

Kihyun- he was almost like a brother to you. As a child, you had often seen him go in and out of your house because of some business dealings with your father. Though your father kept you hidden for the most part, having homeschooled you and pretending that you were his niece instead of daughter, Kihyun knew. He was far too smart to be deceived by a simple lie, and your brother had made it painfully obvious that he hated you for a reason. And when everything went wrong, Kihyun was there as a shield.

He had offered you a place in his company too, but you could not possibly involve Kihyun into your plans for the demise of your enemies. You respected him far too much to drag him into your mess.

“He’s just a connection- we have a few mutual acquaintances.”

“And who might they be?” San asked but you shook your head.

“I can’t reveal their identities… yet,” you said and when he narrowed his eyes, you stifled a smile. “Is there something I should know before we reach the office?”

“Well,” San exhaled, thinking. “It’s going to be quite different from the bar- more professional and tense. I’m sure the secretaries you’ll work with will warm up to you eventually but they might come off as unwelcoming or prickly at first.”

“We’ll see,” you said. “And… will I be interacting with… one of you often?”

“Why?” San questioned, a playful smile gracing his lips. “Is there someone you’d like to interact with?”

“That’s not what I mean-” you started but the car came to a halt and with a dirty look thrown in San’s direction, you got out of the car and craned your neck to look at the double-story building that was the main office for Crescent Company.

It wasn’t anything much, and you knew that that was intentional. Just like all the other office buildings in this somewhat posh area of the town, it had a chestnut brick wall with a new moon that made up for the ‘c’ in crescent. The guard situated at the front door bowed to San as you entered. The employees inside acknowledged San’s presence, halting what they were doing and only resuming once San nodded. There were a handful of them- a receptionist and a few workers coming in and out of the unlabelled rooms. You supposed everyone was assigned a task and had respective offices.

“This is us,” San announced, motioning at the somewhat lifeless interior. “Nothing much, and we would like to keep it that way. You’ll be working upstairs with Jihoon and Eunha- they are our boss’ secretary.”

“Mr. Park’s?” You questioned as you followed him at the end of the hall towards the stairs.

“And Hongjoong’s,” San said and you paused in the middle of ascending the stairs.

“I’m going to work for Kim Hongjoong?”

“Relax,” San snickered. “He’s always holed up in his office if he’s not in the field, and Jihoon does the assistant work. You won’t encounter him too much.”

“That’s not the point,” you muttered. You reached the upper story to see three rooms across the spacious hall which was set up as an office itself. There were two people working in that space, sitting in front of the windows where there were three desks in a row. It didn’t look out of place since their workspaces were spread across the entirety of the hall. The empty desk looked a bit odd, though, and you reckoned it had been set for you which meant they must have moved things around a bit.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted with them,” San said. “There won’t be much to do for a few days until they think you can handle the work.”

When Jihoon’s burning gaze met yours indicating his annoyance- already?- you gulped. Perhaps, you should have stuck to the bar or denied their offer. Jihoon was quick to change his expressions as he rose from his seat.

“Mr. Choi,” Jihoon greeted and Eunha looked a bit surprised as if she hadn’t heard you two come. She followed with her own greeting, tucking her short pink hair behind her ear in what looked like a nervous habit.

“This is… Jeon y/n- the new secretary. I hope you’ll train her well. She’s already familiar with bookkeeping so I don’t think she’ll have to learn much.”

“No worries, we’ll handle it,” Jihoon said. “Nice to meet you, Miss Jeon.”

“Nice to meet you too. You can just call me Luna- everyone does.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Eunha shook hands with you. “This is your desk, and I’ll give you a walkthrough before Jihoon takes you around the office, is that okay?”

“Sure,” you nodded, feeling hopeful. You turned to San. “I think I got it from here.”

“Very well,” San nodded. “Take care of her- she’s got potential.”

Jihoon only smiled in response and as soon as San was out of sight, he slumped down on his desk and went back to typing. You turned to Eunha who only smiled awkwardly, muttering ‘he’s a bit cranky at times’ and you shrugged. You could deal with cranky.

Eunha told you about your duties- bookkeeping since you had experience, typing a report each night that Mr. Park or Mr. Jeong would be signing, and any other miscellaneous tasks that Eunha and Jihoon couldn’t cover in their shift hours. Once she was done briefing, she handed you over to Jihoon who made a display of grunting in annoyance before he guided you downstairs to the last room which was essentially a storage.

“You must know that not all the business under the Crescent Company is legal,” he said and you nodded. “Where would you keep the record of illegal transactions?”

“Definitely not here?”

“Here,” he corrected, “but concealed while still being right in front of your eyes. In the case of a raid by the detectives because a certain inspector has been on our case for a while, they will take everything in here, right? The illegal transactions are kept in a safe behind that painting,” he pointed towards the mediocre painting of cherry trees in the darkest corner of the room.

“And the key?”

“A code, this time,” he said. “I’m still hesitant about sharing it with you but Mr. Choi said you could be trusted.”

“I’ve handled such matters before, yes,” you told him, understanding why he was sceptical about you. “There’s a reason I’m here.”

“That is definitely not the reason why you’re here,” Jihoon scoffed loudly. “Just because you passed a little trust test does not mean you get a position as the boss’s secretary. Eunha and I have worked under them since the beginning- that’s a plausible reason. They trust us.”

Though you wanted to argue with the man, you decided that you would be better off being civil towards him if you had to tolerate him to keep your job.

“Who else knows the key?”

“Apart from the boss, underboss and consigliere… only Eunha and I. So if information leaks, if the location of the safe leaks-”

“I’ll be the obvious suspect, of course,” you nodded and Jihoon considered you for a moment before acknowledging your answer.

“Our schedules are going to change now, so there is always at least one person out of the three of us in the office at all times, though the three of us must always be present in the 12 to 2pm slot. In case of an emergency, you are expected- obliged to get down here and escape with the contents of this safe, is that clear?”

“Clear as day,” you confirmed.

“1024 is the code,” Jihoon said and you nodded, memorising it. “Now, let me show you where we keep the official records.”

You took note of every little thing Jihoon had to tell you. Eunha observed how you worked for the rest of the evening and made you acquainted with the methods that you were to use. You were familiar with the work- you had already been in charge of tracking expenses, monitoring budget and keeping a record of all the financial transactions in the Crescent Bar. Eunha was going to take care of tax payments and returns while Jihoon was going to supervise.

It was a manageable workload so you were pleased with your current position- you just hoped the two would warm up to you soon. You did not expect them to get along with you, you just prayed they would remain civil and not stir any trouble.

Your schedule was going to change from the next day and your shift was from 6pm to midnight- or more, if the need be- and you would also have to be present in the 12 to 2 pm slot. Since you were going to be the one who would lock up the office, you received a set of keys which included one for the storage, one for the main door, and one for Jeong Yunho’s office- in case he or Park Seonghwa weren’t present- to lock away those documents. You were to place them in the cupboard in Mr. Jeong’s room.

While you were in the office today, you didn’t encounter any of your bosses. You figured their absence wasn’t unusual since no one was talking about them. Eunha helped you prepare the report that you were to hand over tonight in her stead if anyone did visit the office because she had a work appointment and needed to be there. She told you to make sure that all the locks are in place before you leave for home.

While you waited for the clock to strike midnight- which was about twenty minutes from now- you busied yourself with scratching your pencil at a piece of paper that was going to be discarded anyway. One thing that calmed you like nothing else was the feeling of the pencil’s lead rubbing against the grains of the paper and leaving a mark for you to play with. With a very specific picture in your mind, you continued to draw straight lines, sharp curves and edges, adding the elements of threat and danger where needed, but preserving the softness of it all-

“What are you doing here?”

You looked up to find not the person you were hoping to see but the person you wanted to avoid the most.

Jeong Yunho.

Lieutenant Jeong Yunho, all dressed up in a black suit with engraved silver buttons, the black tie loose on his neck, his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants. Your eyes travelled up to his parted lips, to the muscles of his jaw flexing and unflexing, to his dark gaze trained not on you but lower- what was he looking at-

You subconsciously put a hand over your incomplete sketch and got up in greeting. “Lieutenant Jeong. I have the report- Eunha had a work engagement.”

“I see,” he nodded slowly as if still coming to terms that you were to work here now. You could return the sentiment- it was a strange feeling to see him here. You had acknowledged each other’s presence in silence and at rare times, shared a drink (you didn’t often drink at the bar). But standing across each other in this formal setting…

“Well?”

You broke out of your trance, feeling heat creep up your neck. Perhaps, you were waiting for him to call you to his office. Had you expected him to do that because Yeosang had done the same once? He had been so nonchalant about everything but right now, you felt overwhelmed. You fumbled with the folders until you dug out the report, cursing yourself internally because why didn’t you place it right on the top?

You extended your hand and he drew closer to grab the document from you, reminding you once again of how tall he was. You gulped- there was no way to explain what you were feeling except a crushing sense of intimidation that made you feel so very small. It had been about a year, yet whenever you were in his presence, your mind took you back to memory lane-

Specifically the lane near the bar where he ended his enemies and found you watching. Neither of you ever addressed why you had been there or why he had done all of that mercilessly.

“Looks fine,” he said, turning the few pages and skimming through them. “You can leave now- it’s almost closing time. I’ll lock the doors behind me”

“Alright…” were you two the only ones inside the building? “Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

“You don’t have to call me lieutenant, you know,” he said and you met his eyes again, finding the ends of his lips slightly curled in a… smile? Or was that a smirk?

“How would you have me address you then?”

Somehow, it oddly reminded you of a similar conversation you had with Yeosang, except you had been calling him ‘sir’ and he couldn’t stop snorting everytime you called him that. He let it be for the entire day until he told you to just call him Yeosang- calling him sir in an informal environment only earned him odd looks. You argued that apart from the selected few employees, literally everyone called him ‘sir’ or a variation of it, but he insisted that you already sounded like something was stuck up your [redacted] and he didn’t want to add on to that.

That was the only time he saw your composure break. The rest was history.

The consigliere shrugged, giving you yet another glimpse of the person he was. He didn’t like to be called lieutenant, even though this was a formal environment.

“Mr. Jeong then, since everyone calls you that,” you concluded.

“And do you still go by Luna?”

“I… do.”

He nodded once, his gaze falling at the paper you were hiding from him. You kept your hand placed over it and he turned, disappearing into his office. You didn’t miss the frustrated grunt that escaped his mouth as he shut the door.

Your shoulders relaxed and you picked the paper- he had definitely seen and recognised the gun that you had just seen last night on the table, and he probably recognised the hand that held it as well- the long, slender fingers that radiated delicacy despite being roughed up.

The hand of the underboss of Crescent Company. Someone you had wished to meet before the night ended.

~ next chapter

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