The air was thick with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline, the flashing red and blue lights cutting through the dusk. shattered glass littering the ground like fallen stars. People were panicked, injured victims groaning in pain as paramedics rushed to their aid.

You had arrived with your medical team, wasting no time assessing injuries and stabilizing the wounded. your hands moved on instinct—bandaging wounds, checking pulses, offering words of reassurance.

Among the uniformed figures securing the scene stood Sunghoon, his police badge glinting under the flashing lights. He was calm, composed—giving orders, keeping bystanders at bay, and making sure everything was under control.

After what felt like hours, the last of the victims had been treated and transported to the hospital. A wave of exhaustion hit you, but relief quickly followed. Everyone had survived. That was all that mattered.

With a deep breath, you dusted off your scrubs and turned to leave. But before you could take a step, a familiar voice called out.

“Doctor.” you stopped and turned, only to see Sunghoon standing there, holding something between his fingers.

“You dropped this.”

He extended your identification card. the one clipped to your coat earlier, now smudged with dust. You blinked, reaching out to take it, but just as your fingers brushed against the card, his gaze flickered to yours.

“You did good today,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. There was something unreadable in his expression—something almost appreciative.