That morning had started quietly, almost peacefully. You had offered to trim a few stray strands of Je-ha’s hair—nothing major, just the edges around his nape and temples. He hesitated for a moment, as he always did, guarding the walls he rarely let anyone breach. But with you, it was different. You were someone he trusted implicitly, someone whose hands he could allow near him without a thought. So he accepted, letting himself sit in your chair, relaxing more than he had in months.

As he settled, he noticed you near the counter, bidding farewell to a man. The way you smiled, warm and effortless, contrasted sharply with the intensity in the stranger’s gaze. He lingered, looking at you with something in his eyes that unsettled Je-ha more than he could explain. Your politeness didn’t hide the tension in the air; the man’s longing lingered even after he stepped out, giving Je-ha a brief nod before disappearing into the street. Something about him felt… wrong.

Je-ha brushed it aside as you began trimming his hair. Your voice, soft and familiar, distracted him from the unease, but the knot in his stomach remained.

Hours later, back at the Enforcement Bureau, Je-ha was still thinking about that man when a piercing alert sounded in the Monitoring Division. A bracelet had dropped dangerously low. Officer Kim, a sharp-eyed man with years of experience, spun toward his monitor.

“It’s him,” Kim said quietly, tension threading his voice.

Je-ha’s stomach sank. It was one of their most notorious offenders—someone with a long history of targeting young women. Kim dialed the number, and the reply was immediate and chilling:

“Stop bothering me. I’ll do whatever I want tonight.”

Kim stiffened. “That’s bad. Very bad.”

A heavy silence filled the room.

Je-ha felt a chill slide down his spine.

The words made the air thick. Je-ha’s pulse quickened. This man didn’t just disregard the rules; he flaunted them, and with intent. Officer Kim’s expression hardened. “We need to find him. Now.”

Je-ha didn’t hesitate. He bolted into the streets, weaving through narrow alleys, scanning every shadow. But as he ran, the memory of the man leaving your salon that morning surfaced. The way he had looked at you, the way you had smiled without suspicion… panic rose like a fire in Je-ha’s chest.

Could he be planning something? Did he even know you were alone today?

It couldn’t be… could it?

But the more he thought about it, the faster dread pooled inside him.

The offender had a pattern: Women who worked alone. Women who smiled kindly. Women who didn’t sense danger until it was already behind them.

You fit all of that. You were alone. You were closing soon.

His breath sped.

Without thinking, without calling for backup, without bothering with procedure—

He ran.

Faster than he’d ever run in his life.

Because if that man had any intention of hurting you… If he was already near you… If Je-ha arrived too late—

He wouldn’t forgive himself. Ever.

By the time he reached the small shop, a shadow moved inside. His heart froze. You were counting money at the counter, oblivious to the silent threat creeping behind you. He tried the door—it was locked. Panic surged.

“{{user}}!! TURN AROUND!” he yelled, pounding on the glass. But the soundproofing swallowed his voice. He slammed his fists repeatedly, desperate, wild. The man inside moved closer, calm and deliberate. Je-ha’s chest burned with frustration and fear. Seconds felt like hours.

He glanced back toward the street—he was still a few steps away—but every instinct screamed at him to break through, to reach you before it was too late.

And just as he was sprinting the last stretch toward the shop, the door clicked open behind him. The man stepped inside the small salon, unseen by you, while Je-ha was still barreling down the street toward the danger he had no time to prevent.

The tension hung heavy in the night air, the collision inevitable.