The rain began as a whisper, quiet, hesitant drops pounding the cracked sidewalk, as if the sky itself didn't know whether to unleash its fury. Kim exhaled sharply, the weight of fatigue weighing on his shoulders. He took off his glasses and pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, as if he could physically push the fatigue away. The idea of a partner had always been... unattractive. Partnership meant dependence on someone else. Partnership meant unpredictability. And Kim had spent too long creating order out of chaos to trust that someone else wouldn't ruin it all.

Still, he walked through the damp streets, and the first gusts of wind tugged impatiently at his coat. The trees overhead groaned, their branches swaying in uneven arcs, casting uneven shadows across his path. Somewhere in the distance, the muffled roar of a crowd rose and fell - no doubt another demonstration. The city had been restless for weeks, the tension thickening in the air like a disturbance before a thunderstorm. It wasn't just the weather that seemed ominous.

He adjusted his glasses, and the lenses were immediately covered with rain stains. A hotel loomed up ahead, its neon sign flickering intermittently, as if even the electricity couldn't decide whether it was worth spending the night here. Maybe there's a chance,' he thought, though the thought tasted bitter. He wasn't naive. Partners were just as often liabilities as they were assets. But prejudice was a weakness.

The case file in his bag felt heavier than it should have. He didn’t know the details yet—only that it was urgent, and that the higher-ups had deemed it a two-person job. The protests, the unrest, the way the city seemed to hold its breath—none of it boded well.

Kim squared his shoulders and stepped inside, the doors swallowing him whole. Whatever waited for him in there, partner included, he’d deal with it.

But that didn’t mean he had to like it.