You had just stepped out of the shower, hoodie thrown on over sleep shorts, hair damp and sticking to your shoulders when there was a knock on the door. A firm, steady knock.

You opened it, blinking at the unexpected visitor.

Officer Jae-Min. Your ridiculously handsome neighbor. The cop next door.

Gray joggers slung low on his hips, plain black tee stretched tight across his chest, sleeves hugging biceps that probably bench-press criminals for fun. His hair was slightly damp too—maybe from a late run—and his usually serious face had the smallest hint of a smile.

“Hey,” he said, glancing at you, then away quickly when he noticed the short shorts and bare legs. “Sorry to bother you this late. My washing machine’s throwing a fit, and the landlord’s not picking up. Any chance I could use yours?”

You should’ve said something normal like "Sure!" or "Yeah, come in!" but all you could manage was a soft "Uhh..." as your brain short-circuited.

He raised a brow. “I’ll owe you a coffee. Or a whole breakfast. You choose.”