Chapter Text
It was early in the evening, the last bits of sun rays disappearing behind the buildings of Seoul, as the rain fell in relentless sheets, turning the narrow alleyways of the city into a slick, glistening paths that reflected the dim glow of neon signs, she wasn't familiar with her surroundings. She was just passing through town, or so she thought. Since she had some time after her daily tasks, she wouldn't mind taking her mind off the hustle and pressure, so she went into a slightly run-down bar she found between aging buildings that offered a haven for those seeking refuge from both the weather and the world. The city's usual hustle was muted, with only the occasional passerby hurrying to escape the downpour. Yara Han pulled her hood tighter, droplets cascading off the fabric as she approached the bar's entrance. The weight of her recent endeavors hung heavy on her shoulders.
She entered the small room, and as soon as she stepped inside, the bell above the door rang, signaling that the staff would have to serve another guest. Looking around, Yara noticed that almost the entire bar was surrounded by long-lost alcoholics, her defenses immediately jumped, knowing what kind of harassing situations could develop in the blink of an eye. Taking a step in, she was greeted by a haze of cigarette smoke and the low hum of conversation. The bar was dimly lit, with flickering fluorescent lights casting erratic shadows. Patrons sat hunched over their drinks, lost in their own worlds, paying little heed to newcomers. Yara scanned the room, her trained eyes noting exits, potential threats, and the general layout. Not wanting to stand out from the crowd, she shuffled over to the counter she made her way to the far end of the counter, choosing a seat that offered a clear view of the entrance.
Old habits die hard.
With her head bowed, putting her weight down, she lifted her wet hood off her head — which avoided anyone recognizing her on the street, not that it was much use — and ran a hand through her messy raven curls to wipe off some of the water and ease the moisture. A shorter woman appeared behind the counter, early thirties if she had to guess, a practiced smile plastered on her face. It was clear that this job wasn't for her, but she had to do whatever a common person could to support herself, and if that meant serving a few overly curious people, so be it. Rather than being forced to live on the streets. She cleared her throat before speaking, "What can I bring?" her voice was monotonous, not caring how many eyes the girl who had just walked in had drawn, even if it wasn't intentional. It wasn't her job, she was just working her evening shift and serving the guests, she shouldn't have cared.
She was silent for a few seconds before answering, "Just a water, please." Yara said. Rather than that, she decided to stay clear and sober for the night, considering that several were men staring at her from at least three corners, without having to dart an eye in their direction.
She had always been good at observation, an almost basic talent for it — she had been told this a few times over the years — as soon as she entered a room, she would be able to map out people who could cause her danger or trouble at a glance. She didn't treat them mercilessly, only when the so-called enemy came on stage first, as if they were directly provoking her to lose her temper and lash out at them, but in vain. When somebody was confused and shot a questionable look of distaste, as in why she wasn't willing to have a one enjoyable night with them, she just shook them off. However, when men wanted to claim her as theirs for the night, and she didn't try to even acknowledge their presence and started dragging her out, that's when she struck first.
The bartender returned with the water and placed it in front of her with a forced smile, Yara twisted the bottle around her fingers and took a sip, the cold taste of the ice was good as it slid down her throat, that's exactly what she needed in the moment, not a beverage that would make her forget some thoughts for the evening, but by the morning they would still be floating before her eyes, plus a headache-inducing hangover that would accompany her through hours of suffering.
Plumping her shoulders backwards, she relaxed for a moment. Underneath the warm pile of clothing she wore were fresh scars she had gotten with dried blood on her skin, she couldn't get rid of the crimson liquid yet, so she quickly throw on a few piece of loose coverage, in order to avoid getting caught with somebody, who might question why she looked like hell. Because it was true, Yara looked like hell. With messy raven-hair she couldn't get a chance to comb in the past few days, the lack of sleep she got visible by the dark circles beneath her dark eyes, the clothes she wore were torn at some parts, her skin revealed to the perpetual rain that fell outside as her heart was racing quicker than normally. It didn't need to be said out loud, but she was afraid of not being able to complete her task in the following days.
For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and she allowed herself a brief respite from the chaos of her life. Something in her gut was telling her tonight was going to be different, that an unexpected events would follow her path down for the time being she spent in the city. Then, the door creaked open, allowing a gust of cold air to sweep through the bar. Yara's eyes flicked to the entrance, her senses immediately falling on the incoming sight. A man stepped in, shaking off the rain from his coat. He was in late twenties, around her age, but a few years older, if she had to guess. His sharp features made him stood in the crowd, even if almost nobody payed attention to him entering, and an air of determination that set him apart from the usual men she worked for, or with.
Yara noticed him.
If Jun-ho had to be honest, he was having a couple of rough months behind him. It hadn't been a long time ago that his recent promotion to a detective sent him to the edge, he been on the force for a few years, but the real work was only beginning to show in front of him. He was barely getting any sleep from the unsolved cases scattered around his desk, the amount of food he put into his system made him energy less by the end of the day. The latest case him toss and turn on his sleepless nights, it thrusted him into the darker corners of Seoul's underworld. It was one of those where the dots were somehow never connected, the evidence wasn't palpable enough and the witnesses — if there was any — weren't willing to speak. Jun-ho's madness was driving himself insane, he wanted nothing more than figure out how could illegal weapons be shipped between different countries, without the perpetrators getting caught.
He called it a night, deciding it was time to take a break and have drink — which he wasn't a fan of — because desperate times calls for desperate measures. Jun-ho wasn't sure where he was going, his instincts had led him to a dimly lit, which was the closest to him after walking in the rain for half an hour at least. Maybe it would turn out that he was being fortunate, just maybe this bar might harbor individuals connected to the city's recent surge in illegal activities. He scanned the room, uncertain what he was looking for, but he spotted a long, raven-haired girl busying a seat on one of the bar stools, his gaze briefly locking with hers before moving on. To the untrained eye, it was a casual glance, but Yara sensed the scrutiny behind it, her gut was telling her to walk away before he could do something, but she didn't. She remained composed, taking another sip of her water, her demeanor betraying nothing as the young man approached the counter, leaving a couple of stools between them.
The bartender acknowledged him with a nod, and he ordered a neat whiskey, his voice steady but laced with the fatigue of a long day. As he waited for his drink, Jun-ho couldn't shake the feeling that he'd walked into a den of secrets, his senses were on alert, in case of any moment of chaos was ready to strike. The bar's patrons seemed deliberately indifferent, their conversations hushed, eyes avoiding his. It was a familiar atmosphere — one where everyone had something to hide. His drink had arrived, and he took a long pull, the cold liquid offering a momentary distraction. But his thoughts kept drifting back to the woman at the end of the bar.
Jun-ho didn't mean to stare, but without an effort, his attention was captured by her presence, her long dark hair that fell into her face, the gloomy eyes of hers that were set in front of her staring into the space ahead, despite the background encounters filling the air with uncertainty. She seemed out of place, but somehow, everything about her was put into one piece. There was something about her — an air of controlled intensity, as if she was always two steps ahead of everyone else. Yara sensed his attention but didn't acknowledge it, she thought if the man who just entered would've wanted something, he was free to ask, she wasn't going to the the first one to speak up. Instead, she focused on her drink, her mind racing through potential scenarios.
Was he just another patron seeking solace from the rain, or was there more to his presence? In her line of work, coincidences were rare — impossible, even — and trust was a luxury she couldn't afford. There was a moment of tension lingering between them, Yara's gaze intense filled with wildness, Jun-ho was intrigued by her presence as his eyes were connected with her brown ones.
Minutes ticked by, the silence between them growing heavier. Finally, Jun-ho broke the stalemate, his voice cutting through the ambient noise as his torso turned slightly in her direction. "You don't seem like the type to frequent places like this." his comment was straightforward, but cautious.
Yara's grip on her glass tightened imperceptibly, it was inevitable to have a conversation, she expected him to talk, but not this swiftly. She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a measured look. "And what type do I seem like?"
He shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Someone who prefers to stay under the radar." he twirled his drink in his fingers.
She raised an eyebrow, her expression neutral. "Isn't that what everyone here wants?" she tried to stay nonchalant, slightly neglecting with the statement.
"Perhaps." He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving hers. "But some are better at it than others." he remarked, his tone sharper than before.
A tense silence settled between them, each assessing the other, searching for cracks in the facade. Yara had never seen him before, but from the short minutes they spent together, she figured whatever was going on with him was having an impact on him, so she decided to test the waters. "You have the look of someone with a lot on their mind. Rough day?"
Jun-ho chuckled softly, the sound devoid of genuine amusement. "You could say that. The city's changing, and not for the better." he shrugged, whipping around completely to face her.
"Change is inevitable," she replied, her tone philosophical. "It's how we adapt that matters."
"True," he conceded. "But some changes are more... destructive than others." he wasn't telling her a lie, the past weeks of chasing impossible criminals were making him look bewitched.
She tilted her head, feigning casual interest. "Such as?"
He studied her for a moment before responding. Honestly, he wasn't supposed to share any details about the case to anybody who wasn't involved, but it wasn't like he was spilling out the entire situation, just key moments. Jun-ho thought it wouldn't hurt to tell somebody what was going on with his life, there wasn't anybody for him to talk to about these types of topics. His brother was still grieving from the loss of his wife and unborn children, it had been years, but he couldn't seem to move on. He was calling less and less, barely contact — he was slowly disappearing from earth. His mother was still with him, but she was too busy to have enough time for a more thoughtful conversation, as every attempt of hers to reach his older brother was a dead end.
He hesitated for a moment, "An influx of illegal weapons, for one. Dangerous ones. Rumors say they're being funneled into the city, destined for places far worse."
Yara was still, her lips pressed into a flat line as her exterior remained calm. "So, you're a detective, huh?" she wondered, that was a train of events she take an account for. "Sounds like a problem for law enforcement."
"It is," he agreed. "But law enforcement can't be everywhere. Sometimes, we rely on information from those who know the streets better than we do."
She smirked amusedly, a hint of challenge in her eyes. "And you think I fall into that category?"
Jun-ho raised a brow, interested. "Do you?" whoever this mystery girl was, she was getting more and more intriguing.
She leaned back, her posture relaxed but her mind wandering to dangerous corners of her thoughts. "I think you're fishing, Detective."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "And I think you're hiding something."
The air between them grew charged, the underlying tension threatening to surface. Yara was aware he was trying to figure her out, and she had to be careful with her next words. One wrong move, one slip of the tongue, and everything she'd worked for could unravel. She decided to deflect. "Everyone has secrets, detective. The question is, whose are worth uncovering?" Jun-ho's jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his eyes. He was close, so close to something, but she was a master at this game, her words outdoing his questions, but he was going to back down from a challenge.
Before Jun-ho could respond, the bartender interrupted, her gruff voice cutting through the tension. "Another round?" the short girl questioned towards Jun-ho, but she shot a questionable look in her direction, too. Yara glanced at her glass full of water, then back at Jun-ho.
Maybe getting one glass of alcohol wouldn't be so world colliding. "Why not? Get me whatever he has." she politely said to the bartender. "It's not every day I get to spar with a detective." she chuckled lightly.
Jun-ho's lips twitched into a sliver of a smile. "I hope I'm not disappointing." he remarked, the sound of her faint laughter was glued to his mind, it was mesmerizing.
She nodded, even a genuine smile that surprised even her. "On the contrary, it's been . . . enlightening."
As the bartender poured their drinks, Jun-ho leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. "You know, if you ever wanted to share any . . . insights, my door is always open." Yara met his gaze head-on, the challenge clear.
Yara tilted her head to the side, "I'll keep that in mind." the girl behind the counter set the new round of drinks on the counter, and she picked up her glass, raising it slightly toward Jun-ho. "To new secrets." she said, her tone light but her eyes locked with his, daring him to acknowledge the undercurrent of their conversation.
Jun-ho hesitated for a split second, then clinked his glass gently against hers. "To new secrets." he echoed, a subtle smile tugging at his lips.
The two of them shared a quiet moment, both aware of the game they were playing. The tension between them simmered, a quiet understanding passing through their words. There was a connection, an unspoken acknowledgment that they both knew exactly what the other was doing. Neither of them was completely honest, but that was part of the dance. Before he entered, the tension was unbearable, but after a tiny part of respect made the silence comfortable. Neither of them spoke up for a few minutes, Yara turned her body in his direction. "I never caught your name." she chimed in, her tone curious.
A minor smirk tugged the corner of his lips, "I already thought you were never gonna ask." he responded, taking another sip of his whiskey.
"I was expecting you to ask me first, since you're such a gentleman. Or a type of a guy to be genuine." she shrugged, rubbing her forehead.
Jun-ho laughed at her choice of words, "Really? What else do you think about me?" his words a sort of challenge, frankly nosy to get an answer out of her.
"You tell me."
The raven-haired girl downed the rest of her drink, the burning sensation rolling down her throat, it was a feeling she was familiar with. And she welcomed the flames.
He pressed his lips into thin line before speaking up, "Jun-ho. That's my name." he nodded, as if she would've double questioned her, but she never did.
"Yara." she revealed, unsure if she was on thin line or not.
The air in the bar seemed to thicken, the chatter of the other patrons fading into the background as their focus remained on each other. Outside, the sound of rain tapping against the windows was the only thing that punctuated the silence. Time seemed to stretch in the space between their words, both Yara and Jun-ho were enjoying the company on the night out, exchanging words that made them laugh.
And then, the spell was broken. A loud voice suddenly cut through the silence, jarring Yara out of her thoughts. "Hey, pretty lady!" her eyes snapped toward the source of the disturbance, and her muscles tensed. The voice was slurred, thick with alcohol. It was coming from an old man who had, apparently, had a little too much to drink. He was stumbling toward her from one of the corners, his fellow guy friends snickering in pleasure, his gait unsteady and his breath smelling heavily of liquor. Yara's posture remained unchanged, but her body was already mingling with discomfort and a semblance of unfazed.
The man, oblivious to the dangerous air that now surrounded him, leaned in far too close for comfort to her ear. "You look lonely, I'm sure this guy wouldn't mind me borrowing you." he said, his voice lecherous as his cold whispers sent a shiver down her spine. "Why don't you come home with me? I'll show you a good time."
Her grip tightened around her glass, her knuckles white. She hated disgusting men like this one, using women like her to entertain themselves and treat their bodies like object. Jun-ho sensed from her straightened posture she wanted to intervene, he was too close for his liking. The bartender, sensing trouble, shot a look in their direction, but she didn't say a thing. It was clear that this bar wasn't unfamiliar with such disturbances. Yara didn't flinch, it wasn't a something she didn't handle before. Instead, she simply turned her head, meeting the man's bleary gaze with a snarky, calculated expression. He reached out, an unsteady hand brushing against her arm, the touch of his fingers were sweaty and soft, the man was surely appreciated the reaction he received from the raven-haired. The air in the bar seemed to hold its breath. The old man chuckled to himself as if expecting some playful response, but Yara's eyes were cold as steel.
One wrong move, and she wouldn't hesitate to raise a fit. With a swift motion, she stood, pivoted in his direction completely, elbowed him under his chin and then sent a sharp punch directly to between his upper lip and the bridge of his nose. His head snapped back, and he stumbled, letting out a pained gasp. Jun-ho was already on his feet before the man even had the chance to fully react. His hand instinctively went to his badge, though he had no immediate intention of drawing it. He was ready to cut off the argument before it even broke out, but made an amused, yet surprised face at the ability she had to put the drunk man in his place.
The man, now flailing, tried to regain his balance, cursing under his breath as he looked at Yara, blood flooding out from his nose. "Don't make me regret that," she said, her voice low and dangerous, as she wiped her hand on her jacket. She wasn't shaken neither by the confrontation, nor by the jab she sent, but the old man seemed to sense he was no longer in control, as he was cursing her with names she didn't like being called.
The detective moved swiftly, stepping between Yara and the drunk man, his authoritative voice filling the space. "That's enough." The old man's bleary eyes darted from Jun-ho to Yara, and for a moment, he seemed too disoriented to understand what was happening.
Disbelief was written all over his face, "You're arresting me? You should be doing that to that slut. She broke my nose." he slurred.
"I am," Jun-ho confirmed, his voice firm, ignoring the part she was labelled, afraid he would be the next one to break his face, too. "For harassment. You're coming with me." the drunk man made a low attempt to argue, but Jun-ho was already on him.
He grabbed the man by the arm, guiding him away from Yara with ease as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his back and locked it on his wrists. The old man stumbled, muttering curses under his breath, but he didn't resist. Yara watched with detached interest, her gaze lingering from the old man to Jun-ho for a moment longer than necessary. There was a flicker of respect in her eyes, but she hid it quickly behind a neutral expression. She hadn't expected him to act with such authority. In all honesty, when he entered the pub and she observed him, the first thought of him would be trying to talk to her, which eventually happened, but not standing up for her when she could've eased the situation easily.
Jun-ho's gaze briefly met hers as he guided the man toward the door, his eyes softening just slightly. "Stay safe," he said, the words almost surprising in their quiet concern.
Yara's response was simple, her voice steady, betraying nothing of the subtle appreciation she might have felt. "I'll be fine," she said, her eyes flicking back toward the door as the rain continued to drum on the windows. "I'll put this for a secret." she remarked, flashing a smirk in his direction, he chuckled.
He led the old man out into the night, his footsteps echoing faintly as they disappeared into the rain. The bar fell quiet again, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. Yara remained standing for a moment, her body tense but composed, as she watched Jun-ho and the drunk man leave. The door swung shut behind them, and the muffled sound of their footsteps faded into the distance. Yara wouldn't have imagined her night like this.
The bartender, sensing the change in the atmosphere, returned to her station behind the counter, wiping down the counter with a rag. Her eyes briefly flicked over to Yara, but she didn't offer a word. She was no stranger to this kind of bar; it wasn't the first time something like this had happened to her elsewhere, and it likely wouldn't be the last. She let out a quiet breath, the burst of adrenaline already starting to subside, her life involved fights like this, but the risk a hundred times better. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of her glass, the cool surface grounding her as she took a moment to reflect on what had just happened. Surprisingly, her mind wandered back to Jun-ho.
Yara was never one who took time to take part in any kind of relationships, she had far more important matters in her life to manage. But, this night was an exception. There had been something in the way he reacted to the situation, a kind of raw instinct that piqued her interest. Most people — especially in his line of work, as he revealed he was a detective — would have hesitated, perhaps called for backup or some kind of stricter protocol to follow. But Jun-ho had acted without thinking, stepping in without hesitation. The only barrier that stopped him that Yara was long done with the drunk man than he had to interrupt them.
It was almost admirable. A slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she quickly erased it, wiping her face with the back of her palm. No time for distractions, she had to remind herself, after a chaotic events of the night, she couldn't afford to fall out of line. She had a plan to execute, and it wasn't going to wait around for some detective to get in her mind with his contagious smile. With a final, deliberate glance at the empty door, Yara gathered her things. She tossed a few bills onto the counter, more than enough to cover the drinks and leave a generous tip. The bartender gave her a curt nod but didn't say anything.
The few hours she spent there was enough for her to know that nobody asked questions. Not here. She turned to leave, her coat fluttering behind her as she made her way toward the door. The heavy rainfall had stopped, leaving only the misty remnants in the air as she stepped into the cool night. Vivid neon lights from the bar flickered weakly behind her, casting a muted glow across the wet pavement. Yara paused for a moment, her gaze scanning the empty street. There were no immediate threats. No one was following her. For now, she was alone, and that was how she preferred it. The tension that had built up in the bar was already fading, but something about the night felt different. As if something had shifted. She wasn't sure what it was — perhaps it was the encounter with Jun-ho, or perhaps it was simply the quiet after the storm. She shook her head and pulled her hood up, hiding her features once more.
There was work to be done, and her time in Soul was short-lived to make it quiet for far too long. As she walked into the shadows, her mind wandered back to the detective. The man who had seen more than he should have. The man who might be a problem down the line. But for now, there was no need to dwell on it. Not when she had her next move already planned out. She had the left the pub a few streets behind, now her way to edge city stretched ahead of her, glistening from the earlier downpour. Neon signs buzzed overhead, casting sharp pinks and blues against puddles that mirrored the grime of the city. The raven haired walked steadily, her footsteps light but purposeful. Behind her, two of her most trusted men — who joined her in the discussed alley — followed without speaking, a silent formation they'd perfected over the years.
No unnecessary chatter. No distractions. The job tonight required precision, not conversation, she needed to be focused to get everything settled in the right way. Yet, her mind wasn't entirely on the job. She kept her hood up, head down, but her thoughts flickered back to the bar. Specifically, to him. Detective Jun-ho. She hadn't expected him. Not in that bar. Not then. Not anyone to have a civil conversation.
She had felt it the moment he stepped in — the subtle shift in the room, like the drop in temperature before a storm rolls in. His eyes, sharp and curious, had scanned the space until they landed on her. And when they spoke, it hadn't felt like idle small talk. Every question, answer was sharp, but hidden curiosity and playfulness lingered on both of their lips. It had felt like a question she couldn't quite answer. Yara wasn't a woman who let herself dwell.
Too dangerous. Too indulgent.
She was taught discipline, she was shaped into that. But tonight, there was something in the air that wouldn't let her shake the encounter off, it was concerning her thoughts, even if she didn't say it out loud. She turned down a narrower alleyway, her team following a few paces behind. A left at the end of the alley would lead to the old warehouse. Another transaction. Another shipment. Weapons that would be dismantled, catalogued, sent back all the way to Russia, to test labs where men and women wouldn't walk out whole. Yara had been managing this operation long enough to know every cog in the machine. She was the one who's eyes were set on the pursuit, of course — Yara wasn't the one who was willingly leading and organizing these kinds of actions, just one out of the plenty of pawns.
Yet tonight, there was a weight on her chest, the night came unexpected events, and her gut told her it wasn't over just yet. She kept replaying the way Jun-ho had stood between her and the old man, how quickly he'd stepped in — it was his duty, that's true, but it appeared to be his instinct, too. He hadn't hesitated. His eyes, steady, concerned, but not condescending. Almost like he'd known she could handle herself, but still decided to intervene and arrest that alcoholic guy. A man like that — she guessed he was new to his detective rank, but already understanding how rotten the world could be — was dangerous in ways most people weren't. He looked at her like he could see the cracks beneath her carefully built exterior.
She hated that. She hated being protected.
Yara walked faster, her boots splashing through shallow puddles. The faint hum of the city drummed in her ears. She could see the faint outline of the warehouse now, its windows dark, its entrance shielded from street view. It was supposed to be safe and reliable. This part of her life had always been permanent. Ruthless but certain. And yet... she thought back to the decisions — that she didn't make — led her here. Being born in a country she never belonged to, parents who'd vanished before she could even remember their faces or learn their names. Raised by criminals, generated into something cold and sharp and useful. Instead of lullabies, Yara was taught how to unleash death. For so long, she hadn't questioned it. She did what she had to do, because there was no safety net waiting for girls like her. No second chances.
You fought, or you disappeared. But every now and then — uncertain nights like tonight — she wondered what would have happened if she'd stopped fighting. If she'd let herself want something else. A life that didn't involve backroom deals and weapon shipments and blood money. If only she could experience the definition of freedom. She shook the thought off immediately, weakness. That's what it was. Still, the image of Jun-ho standing there, badge glinting under fluorescent lights, kept creeping back in. His calm voice. His steady gaze. Like he was trying to figure her out and crave her existence into his mind. Everything was questionable for her.
To be concerned was one thing, but to be horrified from one guy she met a few hours ago wasn't part of her list. When her and Jun-ho made eye contact, his dark eyes giving a head-over and admiring his view as if it could disappear in a blink of an eye, the way when she slightly chuckled and her voice was the best thing that ever could've been his. But the thinking about it like that, was forbidden. No matter how many glance was stolen, every unspoken word meant a semblance of falseness.
May this romance wove silent sonnets in the dark, forever near, forever untouchable.
Ahead, her men paused at the warehouse door, one of them glancing back for her signal. Yara, still lost in thought and slowed, she wrapped her leather jacket around herself tighter to prevent from the cold. For a moment, she allowed herself the smallest hesitation. Could she walk away? It wasn't like anyone was holding her here, chained to this life. She, herself didn't have money, but she built connections. Enough power to vanish if she wanted. Disappear, start over. Somewhere far away from her taunting past, far away from detectives who asked too many quiet questions with their gazes. But that wasn't who she was, was it? No, she wasn't the kind of woman who ran. Yara was known to be calculated and cunning, every step of hers measured, she watched from the sideways and rushed throughout the flames, if necessary. She couldn't quit now, not when the end was nearing, she couldn't risk all that debt she owed letting to go waste over suffering decades.
Her eyes flicked to the warehouse door, her team was waiting for her new instructions. Another night to prepare another shipment. And maybe, far in the future, she'd cross paths with that mysterious detective again. Maybe he'd still be looking, trying to understand her. Maybe one day, she'd let him. But not tonight. She tugged her hood back up, wiped the last lingering thought from her face, and gave her men the nod.
Business as usual.
Her men stood at attention as she approached, their movements subtle but disciplined. These weren't common street thugs. They were professionals — handpicked, trained, and bound by loyalty that went deeper than money. Each one knew their role, and none of them dared to question her authority. Over the years, it wasn't hard to learn that messing with a woman like Yara wasn't affordable if they wanted to made it out. She crossed her arms over chest and ran a hand through her dark hair, her sharp eyes scanning the room. The crates had arrived on schedule, stacked neatly along the far wall. The shipments were intact. That was the first priority. Everything was happening as it should be, for now. "Status?" she asked, her voice even, controlled.
A man stepped forward — Kwon, her second-in-command. He was older than the rest, built like a brawler but moved with the grace of a man who had spent years surviving in the underworld. His loyalty wasn't just about money. It was about respect. Out of every man, she tolerated him the most, and he was fortunate for that. His posture was straightened as he spoke up, "All accounted for," he said, gesturing toward the crates. "No damages. We checked everything twice."
Yara nodded and walked toward the nearest crate. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled out a switchblade and slid the tip beneath the wooden seam. The crate groaned as she pried it open. Inside, nestled in layers of protective casing, lay the weapons — sleek, deadly, and expensive. The exact way her master ordered. She reached in and lifted a compact rifle, examining the craftsmanship. Russian-made, just as expected. These weren't the kind of weapons that ended up in the hands of street gangs. They were designed for something far more sophisticated. And far more dangerous, like being tested on people in her hometown -- that was the most aching part of her job, hear the shouts of bullets being shot onto humans. She managed to get somewhat used to it, but her stomach still twisted at every sound.
She set the rifle back down and shut the crate. "Distribute half to the buyers," she ordered. "The rest stays here until I say otherwise."
Kwon exchanged a glance with another man — Denis, younger but sharp, quick with his hands and quicker with his mind. "That's different from the usual split," he noted carefully.
"I don't like how fast things are moving," Yara said, uncrossing her arms. "We need leverage. Holding back some of the supply gives us control."
Denis smirked. "The buyers won't like that." he took pleasure taking a risk, and in situations like this, he appeared to be slyer than ever.
"They don't have to like it," Yara said smoothly. "They just have to keep paying."
Kwon gave a slow nod, understanding her logic. The less desperate they seemed, the more power they held. Yara never made a move without considering the long game, even if she despised every part of criminalities she committed, she, herself was aware she had a controlling hand over it. The raven haired turned toward the men gathered around. "Once the drop is made, I want the rest of you off the grid for the next days. Keep your heads down, don't draw attention."
Kwon frowned slightly. "You expecting trouble?"
Yara hesitated for just a fraction of a second before answering. "Not yet," she admitted. "But we've been running too clean. That never lasts." it was true, her and her team hardly ever got caught, but it's been a hell of a long time since the last time they did. Better to be careful. The men exchanged looks, but none of them questioned her. They had all been in this business long enough to know that silence was survival.
Kwon was the last to speak. "And you? Where will you be?"
Yara exhaled, her thoughts briefly flickering back to the bar, to Jun-ho's quiet intensity, to the way he had looked at her — a doubting dot he wanted to figure out. A puzzle, a question. Perhaps she wanted to see him again, but drooling over somebody wasn't on her behalf. "Handling other matters," she said vaguely.
It was all the answer they needed. Kwon nodded. "We'll be done in an hour. We'll contact you when it's clear." he informed lastly, heading back to his tasks to get it finished. Yara watched as her men got to work. They moved efficiently, distributing the shipments, securing the warehouse. There was no wasted movement, no unnecessary words, a few annoying questions, but nothing serious. One by one, they finished their tasks and filtered out into the night, disappearing into the city like ghosts. When the last of them had gone, she stood alone in the dim light of the warehouse, the crates stacked neatly behind her.
For a moment, she let the silence get arranged. Then, with a quiet sigh, she pulled her long, dark curls into a loosen ponytail as she took of her jacket and tossed it aside. Despite it being cold and humid, the temperature was bearable for her liking. The warehouse was silent now. She leaned against one of the crates, arms crossed, listening to the faint hum of the city outside as a few lights shined through the city still. Yara exhaled slowly, the weight of the night settling onto her shoulders. It wasn't exhaustion — she had long since learned to survive without rest. It was something else, a feeling she couldn't quite place. The operation had gone smoothly. No loose ends, no complications, it was meant to be easy, it was, but she was against the idea of it. An unease lingered in her gut, a quiet whisper of warning that she couldn't shake. She rubbed her forehead in frustration and pushed off the crate. Time to move, she couldn't just stay there. It was difficult to keep herself hidden at a crime scene.
But just as she was about to leave and reach for the door, a quiet sound stopped her. Footsteps were approaching from the distance. Not the careless shuffle of one of her men returning, not the heavy drag of a drunk stumbling past the warehouse district. No, these were hurried and unsteadied. She should've recognized, if it were any of her men coming back for something. Red and blue lights vividly flashed, as she noticed them she knew in that instant something went terribly wrong. The police was about to get her arrested, she got cornered. Yara's body tensed, her mind raced. How, was the question. No one knew she was still here, no one except — a thought flashed through her mind, cold and sharp. Were they seen and got reported, or a snitch was among them?
She inhaled and stepped into the shadows, pressing herself against the cold steel of a shelving unit. Her fingers hovered over a gun hidden in her pocket, but it didn't matter she had it or not. She was caught red handed, there was no point at making a run, so she just stayed in a frozen simple position as the footsteps stopped just outside the door.
The door burst open, the metallic clang echoing through the empty space. A flashlight beam sliced through the darkness, searching. Her eyes shut off for a few moments from the bright lights as several officers raised their weapons directly at her. Somebody else waltzed into the warehouse, somebody that caught her attention. "Yara?" his tone carried disappointment and surprise, expecting anyone but her to be there.
The voice sent something strange through her chest. She knew that voice. She had spent the last few hours recalling the way it sounded — calm, composed, yet filled with an intensity that unnerved her. It belonged to Jun-ho. For a split second, she felt a sudden wave of strange feeling pang in her chest, she wasn't familiar with it. If she was going to put behind bars and interrogated, she will treat the Korean police as she did every time she got caught. The raven haired tore her gaze from his to the ground, masking her uncertainty to if it weren't a big deal, when inside, her mind was burning with dozens of thoughts.
Jun-ho stood in the doorway, gun pointed, but steady. Behind him, another series red-and-blue flicker of police lights painted the night, she was surrounded. There was no denying in that, and from the amount of backup he got arrived with, the cops weren't taking it off-shoulders. Yara exhaled slowly. "Detective." she smirked, nodding her head in a mocking way.
His jaw tightened. She could see it even in the dim light. His grip on the gun was firm, but there was hesitation in his stance. Jun-ho obviously didn't want to believe what was unfolding in front of him, but it was a sight for sore eyes. Whatever affection he had shared with the girl standing right in front of him, had to be left in the past, it was just a manipulation she showed to him. It wasn't real, she played him, he reminded himself.
"You got here fast," she said smoothly, as if they were back in the bar, exchanging words over a glass of whiskey instead of standing on opposite sides of a crime scene. She didn't even seem fazed by the amount of guns pointed at her, he wondered if it happened to her more than she let on.
Jun-ho didn't answer immediately. His eyes flickered to the open crate behind her, the weapons were exposed, undeniable. Evidence. There was no turning back now, "I got a tip," he said finally, voice unreadable.
But Yara knew better than to observe him, she would be to caught up examining his behavior, instead of focusing that she was getting arrested. She tilted her head. "Anonymous?"
His silence was answer enough, so that's how it was. Someone had set her up. She wasn't sure who — yet — but once she got out of the interrogation progress, she wouldn't rest until she manages to find the one who sold her out. The raven-haired gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "Seems like your mates are taking your orders." she noted. "What, didn't trust anyone else to bring me in?"
Jun-ho scoffed in disbelief. "Seems like I underestimated you in guise."
For the first time, something in his expression cracked. It wasn't subtle — just the briefest flicker of unbelief in his eyes. But she caught it as something twisted in her chest. This was different. She had been arrested before, had dealt with cops who saw her as nothing more than another criminal to process. Every officer who she got cornered by sent her resentful and scornful looks, but Jun-ho... he wasn't looking at her like that. He was looking at her like someone who had actually let himself believe she might be more.
It made her question her own thoughts, none of this was supposed to end like this. Yara took a slow step forward. "And now?" she asked, voice lower, more stern.
He didn't move for a second, didn't lower the gun, but she saw the flicker of hesitation. "You shouldn't have done this," he said, and there was something almost pleading in his voice. "Hands up in the air."
Yara exhaled sharply through her nose as she did as told, "You don't know shit about my actions." she shook her head. "This is survival."
"I don't believe that," he said. "Not with you."
That stung. Because for a second — just a second — she wanted to believe him. But belief didn't change reality. Yara couldn't make herself look weak in front of any of them, reality was reality, not imagination he shaped from their first meeting.
Jun-ho exhaled, just barely. The tension in his shoulders didn't fully ease, but there was something like relief in his expression. He stepped forward, keeping the gun steady as he pulled out his cuffs. "Turn around." she did, as she didn't say another word. "You're under arrest on suspicion of illegal possession of weapons. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?"
Yara muttered as small yes, the cold metal clicked around her wrists, a sensation she had felt before — but this time, it felt different. He wasn't rough, wasn't treating her like just another case. And that was the problem, she didn't want to be treated differently, especially not by Jun-ho, who in such a short amount of getting to know each other got her attention. Yara was captured by him, in two ways. As he guided her toward the waiting squad cars, neither of them spoke, but she knew one thing for certain. This wasn't the end, it was far from it, and if they thought it was — they were wrong for that.
Jun-ho thought otherwise... well, he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.