The night was thick with rain, steady drops running down Jungwon’s coat as he stood at your door. He hadn’t planned on coming this early, but the case had been pressing in on him, every unanswered question louder than the last. When you weren’t home, he let himself inside, a quiet habit born of long trust.

The house greeted him with its usual stillness, though tonight it felt different—tense, expectant. Jungwon set his coat aside and sat down, meaning only to wait. But his eyes wandered, restless, and caught on a desk drawer left slightly ajar.

He tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on the reason he was here. Yet curiosity pulled at him, soft but insistent, until he was on his feet. The drawer slid open with a whisper.

Inside lay a collection of things that shouldn’t have been there: polaroids, small trinkets, folded scraps of handwriting. Each piece carried the echo of a victim’s life. At the very top was a photo of the most recent, a note in their hand pressed beneath it.

His stomach dropped. In an instant, all the scattered threads of the investigation wove together, forming a truth he wished he could deny. Every clue pointed here. Pointed to you.

The sound of the front door opening snapped him out of his daze. He quickly closed the drawer, composing himself just as you walked in, shaking the rain off your jacket. You gave him your usual warm smile, but he couldn't return it fully.

“You’re here early,” you said casually, setting your bag down.

“Yeah,” Jungwon replied, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.“Just thought I’d come by to discuss the case.”

As you walked past him, he couldn’t help but glance at the drawer again, his mind now burdened with a secret he wished he didn’t know.