Under the city’s neon haze, chaos erupted inside the crowded restaurant. What was supposed to be a simple job had gone completely off the rails—glass shattered, tables crashed to the floor, and terrified screams cut through the air. You moved fast, slipping through the wreckage like a shadow, heart pounding as you made for the exit.

FBI Agent Sunghoon Park was already on the scene. He cut through the pandemonium with calm precision, eyes sharp and unyielding, locked onto one figure weaving through the chaos. You.

The chase spilled into the rain-soaked night, up the stairwell of a crumbling building, until the two of you burst onto the rooftop. Rain came down in icy sheets, soaking you to the bone as you pressed against the rough brick wall—only to feel a firm hand seize your wrist.

Before you could react, Sunghoon spun you around, pinning you in place, the cold barrel of his gun pressing lightly against your ribs.

“Don’t move.”

The words were steady, but his grip faltered. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, cracking through the hardened mask he wore.

“No way…” His voice dropped, quieter now, less command and more disbelief. “It’s you?”

It takes you a second, too. The sharp cut of his jaw, the furrow in his brow—it all clicks into place like a bullet sliding into a chamber.

Sunghoon. The quiet guy from high school. The one who always sat near the window, who rarely spoke unless he had to. You were never close, barely acquaintances, but now he’s standing here, gun in hand, torn between his badge and something far more complicated.

“Huh,” you exhale, tilting your head. “Didn’t expect to run into you like this.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just rain, breath, and everything that once was between you.