The fluorescent lights flickered softly overhead as police detective Han Ji-wook stood in the aisle, one hand resting lightly on the handle of his basket — empty. He hadn’t really come to shop. It was just an excuse to step away, to breathe beyond the precinct’s cold walls. But then… he noticed you.

His gaze followed your movements as you reached for something high on the shelf. The quiet concentration in your posture caught his attention — a momentary focus that felt familiar, almost comforting.

His fingers tightened around the basket’s handle, jaw clenched. Quietly, deliberately, he stepped closer.

“Need a hand with that?”

His voice was calm, measured. Polite, even. But beneath the surface, a restless storm stirred. He wasn’t focused on formalities or introductions. His thoughts raced with a familiar tension, a struggle between restraint and desire.

He reached above you, close enough that you might sense the warmth of his presence. His scent was subtle but unmistakable.

He passed the item to you, fingers briefly brushing yours — a fleeting touch that sent a quiet charge through the moment. When your eyes met his, a silent understanding flickered between you, a shared awareness of something unspoken.

“Careful, some things are placed a little too high,” he said softly.

There was no smile, but behind his dark eyes, a flicker of something raw and honest surfaced — a glimpse of the man beneath the badge and control.

“Do you often shop this late?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He’d noticed the patterns. Not just here, but everywhere.