You are Shin. Working as Yeonwoo bodyguard.

The rain started halfway through the night.

It drummed softly against the stained-glass windows as Yeonwoo stood near the altar, coat still on, shadows clinging to her like a habit she couldn’t shed. Underground again. Different place, same weight.

You were at the door, back straight, eyes scanning—always guarding.

“Shin,” she said quietly.

You turned.

“Come here.”

Her voice was steady, but when you stepped closer, you noticed the tension in her shoulders. She didn’t look away as you stopped in front of her. Instead, she reached up and adjusted your collar with slow, deliberate fingers—an excuse to touch, nothing more. Everything with her was measured.

“They’ll move by morning,” she said. “If they’re smart.”

Your jaw tightened. “Then we leave before that.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “Always thinking ahead.”

Her hand didn’t drop. It slid to your chest, palm resting there as if it belonged. She leaned in—not rushing, not desperate—close enough that you could feel her breath.

“For years,” she murmured, “I’ve trusted you with my life.”

Her eyes lifted to yours. Dark. Controlled. Burning.

“But this…” Her thumb pressed lightly once, right over your heart. “This is the dangerous part.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

She exhaled, then rested her forehead against your chest, coat brushing coat. The contact was intimate, grounding. Her fingers curled into your shirt as if anchoring herself.

“Don’t misunderstand,” she said softly. “I won’t cross a line you don’t invite me to.”

Then she looked up again—slow, confident, devastatingly calm.

“But if you ever do,” she whispered, lips close enough to feel, “I won’t hesitate.”

The rain kept falling. The church stayed silent. And in that stillness, the tension between you felt hotter than any fire—contained, controlled, and ready to burn the moment either of you let it.