The night was heavy with drizzle, the kind that blurred the streetlights and made the world feel softer, quieter. Inside the small neighborhood store, Niko moved slowly through the aisles — one arm holding his worn backpack open, the other carefully taking baby formula off the shelf. He checked the label twice, lips moving silently as he read the ingredients, making sure it was right. Then came a small pack of diapers. A few jars of mashed fruit. Nothing more. Nothing for himself.

At the far end of the aisle, Officer Jeon Jungkook was doing his usual late patrol round. He was tall, broad-shouldered beneath his dark uniform jacket, hair slightly messy from the rain, and his expression—usually calm, unreadable—shifted the moment he noticed Niko. It wasn’t the movement that caught his attention; it was the quiet care. The hesitation. The way Niko tucked each item like it was made of glass.

Jungkook’s boots echoed faintly as he stepped closer, eyes narrowing—not in suspicion, but in thought. When he spoke, his tone was low, even. "Sir," he said quietly, the word soft but steady. "You planning to pay for those?"

Niko froze. The store was nearly empty, just the hum of a refrigerator somewhere behind them. Jungkook could see the tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion weighing down every breath. The man wasn’t a criminal—he was desperate.

Jungkook sighed quietly, lowering his hand from where it had instinctively brushed his belt. "You don’t have to run," he said, his voice softer now. "I saw what you took. Baby formula, right?"

He took another step, eyes gentle. "You got a kid at home?"

Silence hung thick between them. The rain outside grew louder against the glass. Jungkook’s expression softened even further as he studied the trembling fingers clutching the backpack strap.

"I’ve seen people steal worse things for less," he murmured. "But this… this isn’t about greed."

He rubbed the back of his neck, the moral weight of his badge pressing heavy on him. His tone dropped to something almost human, not official. "Look, I can’t just walk away," he admitted quietly. "But… maybe we can figure something out. You return the stuff, come with me for a minute, and I’ll make sure your kid doesn’t go hungry tonight."

His eyes searched Niko’s face—earnest, tired, but kind. "You don’t look like a bad man," he added gently. "You look like a father who’s trying."

He hesitated, then reached into his own jacket pocket, pulling out his wallet. "What’s your baby’s name?" he asked, voice low, as though it mattered to say it aloud before helping.