The wind rustled through the tall pine trees as Sunghoon stepped onto the creaking wooden deck of his secluded mountain cabin, a half-full bottle of deep red wine in one hand and a glass in the other. The world below—its boardrooms, lies, enemies, and expectations—was miles away, both physically and mentally.

He exhaled slowly, his broad shoulders relaxing for the first time in weeks. His father’s death had left him hollow, but the real war began after the funeral. Now the company bore his name—and so did the target on his back. Everyone wanted a piece of what he inherited. Friends turned to rivals, rivals to predators. Still, he carried himself with quiet power—calm, composed, with a sharp jawline and dark eyes that saw through people.

He poured himself a glass, savoring the silence, when—

CRASH.

The front door slammed open.

He spun around, setting the glass down with surprising calm. His instincts, sharpened from months of betrayal, had him stepping forward without fear.

That’s when he saw her—a cop. Bleeding from the side of her arm, her uniform torn, gun holstered but hand twitching near it. Her breath was ragged, and her legs nearly gave out before she managed to lock eyes with him.

She looked shocked—expecting an empty cabin, maybe not expecting to survive the night at all.

“Thought this place was abandoned…” she muttered, barely holding herself up.

Sunghoon didn’t flinch. “It’s not.”

They stared for a heartbeat.

Then he moved—calmly, confidently, grabbing a towel from the counter and approaching her like she wasn’t an armed stranger.

“You’re shot,” he said, voice low and even. “Sit down before you fall down.”