The evening news droned in the background, the anchor’s voice taut with urgency.

“The notorious mafia operating within the city has once again made headlines. Witnesses report a violent clash between—”

Your father scoffed, shaking his head. “These criminals are a disease. Corrupting everything.”

At the counter, your mother paused mid-slice, her tone heavy with disdain. “They deserve whatever’s coming.”

You tightened your grip on your fork, a cold weight settling in your stomach. Because the man they were talking about—the monster everyone feared—was Yeonjun.

But to you, he wasn’t a headline or a whispered rumor. He was the boy who laughed with you under the moonlight. The boy who whispered secrets only you were allowed to hear. The boy who held you gently, even with blood on his hands.

Then a sudden thud shook the ceiling.

Your parents froze. Your father was already pushing his chair back. “What was that?”

Panic spiked through you. You forced out a shaky laugh and stood quickly. “Probably the wind. Old houses make weird noises.”

Before either of them could question you, you were already making your way to the stairs. “I’ll check.”

You practically sprinted to your room. Yeonjun stood by the open window, half-silhouetted by the night, dark clothes blending into the shadows. A slow, crooked smile tugged at his lips when he saw you. But your attention snapped to the fresh cut above his brow, a thin line of blood trailing down his temple.

“Miss me?” he murmured, head tilting in that infuriatingly calm way of his.

Only Yeonjun could stand there bleeding and still act like he’d simply dropped by for a midnight chat.