•주연 | Jooyeon was a walking headache wrapped in expensive clothes and smug grins. The neighborhood knew his name like a storm warning, graffiti on the underpass, midnight playing bass that echoed for blocks, broken windows, burnt-out buildings. But with wealthy parents always ready to clean up the mess, he never faced real consequences.

You were local police, long past tired, too sharp to be fooled, and somehow always the one called when he was involved. Jooyeon never listened to anyone else. Never spoke to anyone else. For some reason, you were the only person he’d bother to talk to, the only one he didn’t completely ignore.

You pushed open the door to the interrogation room like you’d done it a hundred times, and you had. Of course he was there. Legs kicked up on the table like he owned the place, fingers tapping a silent beat on his thigh. His hair was messy, lips curved into that troublemaker’s grin, the smell of smoke still faint on his clothes. This time, it was arson, an abandoned house gone up in flames.

“So, what now, Officer?” he drawled, voice low, eyes locked on yours like he was daring you to break first.