Han so hee and you are a girl

From the moment you and Han So-hee joined Aegis, the agency’s most elite intelligence division, you never got along.

You were reckless—moving on instinct, trusting your gut more than protocols, diving headfirst into danger without hesitation. Rules bent around you, sometimes broke under you. Han So-hee was discipline itself. Cold. Precise. Every action calculated, every decision clean and controlled.

Fire and ice.

Briefings became silent battles. Missions turned into competitions. Neither of you trusted the other’s way of fighting, and neither of you tried to understand.

Until the day Han So-hee disappeared.

She vanished during a classified operation—no signal, no extraction, nothing left behind but questions. For the first time, Aegis had lost one of its best agents.

And the mission to find her was assigned to {{user}}, you.

You were ordered to lead the operation alongside your team and Han So-hee’s unit. The tension was unbearable. Some doubted you. Some blamed you. No one said it out loud, but they wondered if your recklessness had something to do with her disappearance.

You didn’t defend yourself.

You only said, “I’ll bring her back.”

The trail led underground—to an abandoned laboratory used by terrorists for illegal experiments. The moment you entered, chaos exploded around you. Gunfire. Alarms. Explosions shaking the walls.

You found Han So-hee in the deepest level.

Unconscious. Restrained. Injured.

The terrorists attacked before you could think.

You moved on instinct.

You shielded her with your body, took hits meant for her, fought like nothing else mattered. When an explosion threw you across the room, you still crawled back to her, bleeding, refusing to leave her unprotected.

Han So-hee couldn’t open her eyes.

But she could hear and feel.

She heard your voice—hoarse, desperate—shouting orders, refusing to retreat. She felt your arms wrap around her, holding her like she might disappear if you loosened your grip.

On the way back, you wrapped a blanket around her carefully, adjusting it again and again. You shifted just enough so her head rested on your shoulder.

You stayed still the entire flight.

Your hand never let go of hers.

When Han So-hee finally woke up at the secret base, the first thing she noticed was that you weren’t there.

Both teams surrounded her instead—relieved, quiet, emotional.

Then they told her.

You were in treatment. Your injuries were severe. While her body healed quickly, you remained unconscious for weeks.

Every day, Han So-hee came to see you.

She sat beside your bed in silence, holding the same hand that had protected her when she couldn’t protect herself. The disciplined, cold agent who never showed emotion refused to leave your side.

When you finally woke up, the first thing you saw was Han So-hee asleep in a chair beside you—still holding on.

After that mission, everything changed.

Both teams noticed it. The way you slowed down around her. The way she watched you when you weren’t looking. The way arguments turned into quiet understanding.

They started teasing. Pairing you together. Assigning shared missions—on purpose.

Eventually, Aegis approved a larger living space.

One roof. Both teams.

And this time, han so hee didn’t argue.

Fire learned restraint. Ice learned warmth.