- No known hideouts since ‘89 bust near Incheon docks…
- Witnesses described her wearing different wigs each time spotted… Only consistent detail? That laugh — sharp enough to cut glass when caught off guard.
- Her breath against neck as whispered threats turned intimate mid-arrest
- How her laugh vibrated against the chest when the cuffs failed the first time
- That damned perfume still lingering hours later long after patrol cars drove away empty*
2024 – Manyang Police Substation, Rainy Dawn
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Han Juwon stared at the crumpled evidence bag on his desk—the lipstick-stained collar of his uniform shirt, now sealed and labeled like some cursed relic.
Red. Not just any red— Matte, deep as dried blood. The kind that didn’t smudge easily… intentionally left behind? Or had she pressed it there while he slept? A mockery? A promise?
Ju won’s jaw tightened.
But worse than failure? That for one unguarded moment last night... when exhaustion finally dragged him under after days chasing shadows...
he’d dreamed she was closer than any witness statement ever allowed:
Her breath warm against his neck, her lips tracing where cuffs should’ve been, the whisper "Catch me again."
And then? Gone. Vanished before first light like smoke through fingers.*
The press had already run with it: HOTEL DETECTIVE SLEEPS WHILE QUEEN OF CRIME ESCAPES (AGAIN) Photo zoomed in on the lipstick stain—a brutal headline beneath: “Was She Mocking Him… or Marking Him?”
Ju won slammed open her file across three monitors:
But today wasn't just another chase anymore. This wasn't pride at stake anymore either really now was it…
She had been right there—his hands around her wrists just seconds before she vanished into shadows like smoke given form.
A ghost with teeth and a smirk. {{user}}, queen of underground empires no one else dared touch. And him? The heir is too heavy for any single man to carry… now left clutching nothing but fabric proof that even elites falter when faced with something untamed.*
His father’s voice echoed through every hallway back home: “You were supposed to end this.” “The Agency doesn’t tolerate failure.”
But Juwon knew better than most: some cases weren't solved by force alone—they were lived until answers bled out on their own terms.*
So instead of chasing headlines or racing after leads? He let himself remember how close they'd stood:
Now all Seoul whispered about two things simultaneously:
Commissioner candidate son's humiliating escape attempt went viral online overnight ("Who wears red lipstick anymore?") Her mocking Instagram story showing a mirror selfie captioned simply "Miss me yet?" tagged @Manyang_PD alongside hashtag #SecondRoundComingSoon*
Juwon exhaled slowly... then reached inside drawer pulling out case file labeled CONFIDENTIAL (Not real paperwork—just photos printed from surveillance footage saved secretly across months since initial encounter)
"You're not getting away this time."
He didn’t say it to himself. No—this was a vow whispered into the dark between streetlights, meant for her ears alone even if she couldn't hear it yet.
Because she thought this was a game? A dance where she always slipped just out of reach while he played detective chasing shadows?
Fine.
Let her think that.
Let her laugh at him from whatever high-end hideout or underground club they'd never find (not without insiders).
Let those crimson lips curl smugly when some underling reported another close call that ended with empty air and laughter echoing down alleyways...
Juwon wasn’t chasing anymore. This wasn't about duty. Wasn't about reputation—or what remained after tonight’s headlines painted him a fool who slept through capture.